#where after in from the cold I had to change the glam entirely

[seaseren]

If this was dyable (and accessories weren't such a pain) Entlona would never take it off

[boredout305]

Kid Congo Powers Interview

Kid Congo Powers was a founding member of the Gun Club. He also played with The Cramps and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Powers currently fronts Kid Congo and the Pink Monkey Birds and recently completed a memoir, Some New Kind of Kick.

           The following interview focuses on Some New Kind of Kick. In the book Powers recounts growing up in La Puente—a working-class, largely Latino city in Los Angeles County—in the 1960s, as well as his familial, professional and personal relationships. He describes the LA glam-rock scene (Powers was a frequenter of Rodney Bingenheimer’s English Disco), the interim period between glam and punk embodied by the Capitol Records swap meet, as well as LA’s first-wave, late-1970s punk scene.

           Well written, edited and awash with amazing photos, Some New Kind of Kick will appeal to fans of underground music as well as those interested in 1960-1980s Los Angeles (think Claude Bessy and Mike Davis). The book will be available from In the Red Records, their first venture into book publishing, soon.

Interview by Ryan Leach   

Kid Congo with the Pink Monkey Birds.

Ryan: Some New Kind of Kick reminded me of the New York Night Train oral histories you had compiled about 15 years ago. Was that the genesis of your book?

Kid: That was the genesis. You pinpointed it. Those pieces were done with Jonathan Toubin. It was a very early podcast. Jonathan wanted to do an audio version of my story for his website, New York Night Train. We did that back in the early 2000s. After we had completed those I left New York and moved to Washington D.C. I thought, “I have the outline for a book here.” Jonathan had created a discography and a timeline. I figured, “It’ll be great and really easy. We’ll just fill in some of the blanks and it’ll be done.” Here we are 15 years later.

Ryan: It was well worth it. It reads well. And I love the photographs. The photo of you as a kid with Frankenstein is amazing.

Kid: I’m glad you liked it. You’re the first person not involved in it that I’ve spoken with.  

Ryan: As someone from Los Angeles I enjoyed reading about your father’s life and work as a union welder in the 1960s. My grandfather was a union truck driver and my father is a cabinetmaker. My dad’s cousins worked at the General Motors Van Nuys Assembly plant. In a way you captured an old industrial blue-collar working class that’s nowhere near as robust as it once was in Los Angeles. It reminded of Mike Davis’ writings on the subject.

Kid: I haven’t lived in LA for so long that I didn’t realize it doesn’t exist anymore. I felt the times. It was a reflection on my experiences and my family’s experiences. It was very working class. My dad was proud to be a union member. It served him very well. He and my mother were set up for the rest of their lives. I grew up with a sense that he earned an honest living. My parents always told me not to be embarrassed by what you did for work. People would ask me, “What’s your book about? What’s the thrust of it?” As I was writing it, I was like, “I don’t know. I’ll find out when it’s done.” What you mentioned was an aspect of that.

           When I started the book and all throughout the writing I had gone to different writers’ workshops. We’d review each other’s work. It was a bunch of people who didn’t know me, didn’t know about music—at least the music I make. I just wanted to see if there was a story there. People were relating to what I was writing, which gave me the confidence to keep going.

Ryan: Some New Kind of Kick is different from Jeffrey Lee Pierce’s autobiography, Go Tell the Mountain. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but think of Pierce’s work as I read yours. Was Go Tell the Mountain on your mind as you were writing?

Kid: When I was writing about Jeffrey—it was my version of the story. It was about my relationship with him. I wasn’t thinking about his autobiography much at all. His autobiography is very different than mine. Nevertheless, there are some similarities. But his book flew off into flights of prose and fantasy. I tried to stay away from the stories that were already out there. The thing that’s interesting about Jeffrey is that everyone has a completely different story to tell about him. Everyone’s relationship with him was different.

Ryan: It’s a spectrum that’s completely filled in.

Kid: Exactly. One of the most significant relationships I’ve had in my life was with Jeffrey. Meeting him changed my life. It was an enduring relationship. It was important for me to tell my story of Jeffrey.

Ryan: The early part of your book covers growing up in La Puente and having older sisters who caught the El Monte Legion Stadium scene—groups like Thee Midniters. You told me years ago that you and Jeffrey were thinking about those days during the writing and recording of Mother Juno (1987).

Kid: That’s definitely true. Growing up in that area is another thing Jeffrey and I bonded over. We were music hounds at a young age. We talked a lot about La Puente, El Monte and San Gabriel Valley’s culture. We were able to pinpoint sounds we heard growing up there—music playing out of cars and oldies mixed in with Jimi Hendrix and Santana. That was the sound of San Gabriel Valley. It wasn’t all lowrider music. We were drawn to that mix of things. I remember “Yellow Eyes” off Mother Juno was our tribute to the San Gabriel Valley sound.

Ryan: You describe the Capitol Records Swap Meet in Some New Kind of Kick. In the pre-punk/Back Door Man days that was an important meet-up spot whose significance remains underappreciated.

Kid: The Capitol Records Swap Meet was a once-a-month event and hangout. It was a congregation of record collectors and music fans. You’d see the same people there over and over again. It was a community. Somehow everyone who was a diehard music fan knew about it. You could find bootlegs there. It went from glam to more of a Back Door Man-influenced vibe which was the harder-edged Detroit stuff—The Stooges and the MC5. You went there looking for oddities and rare records. I was barely a record collector back then. It’s where I discovered a lot of music. You had to be a pretty dedicated music fan to get up at 6 AM to go there, especially if you were a teenager.

Ryan: I enjoyed reading about your experiences as a young gay man in the 1970s. You’d frequent Rodney’s English Disco; I didn’t know you were so close to The Screamers. While not downplaying the prejudices gay men faced in the 1970s, it seemed fortuitous that these places and people existed for you in that post-Stonewall period.

Kid: Yeah. I was obviously drawn to The Screamers for a variety of reasons. It was a funny time. People didn’t really discuss being gay. People knew we were gay. I knew you were gay; you knew I was gay. But the fact that we never openly discussed it was very strange. Part of that was protection. It also had to do with the punk ethos of labels being taboo. I don’t think that The Screamers were very politicized back then and neither was I. We were just going wild. I was super young and still discovering things. I had that glam-rock door to go through. It was much more of a fantasy world than anything based in reality. But it allowed queerness. It struck a chord with me and it was a tribe. However, I did discover later on that glam rock was more of a pose than a sexual revolution.

           With some people in the punk scene like The Screamers and Gorilla Rose—they came from a background in drag and cabaret. I didn’t even know that when I met them. I found it out later on. They were already very experienced. They had an amazing camp aesthetic. I learned a lot about films and music through them. They were so advanced. It was all very serendipitous. I think my whole life has been serendipitous, floating from one thing to another.  

Ryan: You were in West Berlin when the Berlin Wall was breached in November 1989. “Here’s another historical event. I’m sure Kid Congo is on the scene.”

Kid: I know! The FBI must have a dossier on me. I was in New York on 9/11 too.

Ryan: A person who appears frequently in your book is your cousin Theresa who was tragically murdered. I take it her death remains a cold case.

Kid: Cold case. Her death changed my entire life. It was all very innocent before she died. That stopped everything. It was a real source of trauma. All progress up until that point went on hold until I got jolted out of it. I eventually decided to experience everything I could because life is short. That trauma fueled a lot of bad things, a lot of self-destructive impulses. It was my main demon that chased me throughout my early adult life. It was good to write about it. It’s still there and that’s probably because her murder remains unsolved. I have no resolution with it. I was hoping the book would give me some closure. We’ll see if it does.

Ryan: Theresa was an important person in your life that you wanted people to know about. You champion her.

Kid: I wanted to pay tribute to her. She changed my life. I had her confidence. I was at a crossroads at that point in my life, dealing with my sexuality. I wanted people to know about Theresa beyond my family. My editor Chris Campion really pulled that one out of me. It was a story that I told, but he said, “There’s so much more to this.” I replied, “No! Don’t make me do it.” I had a lot of stories, but it was great having Chris there to pull them together to create one big story. My original concept for the book was a coming-of-age story. Although it still is, I was originally going to stop before I even joined the Gun Club (in 1979). It was probably because I didn’t want to look at some of the things that happened afterwards. It was very good for my music. Every time I got uncomfortable, I’d go, “Oh, I’ve got to make a record and go on tour for a year and not think about this.” A lot of it was too scary to even think about. But the more I did it, the less scary it became and the more a story emerged. I had a very different book in mind than the one I completed. I’m glad I was pushed in that direction and that I was willing to be pushed. I wanted to tell these stories, but it was difficult.

Ryan: Of course, there are lighter parts in your book. There are wonderful, infamous characters like Bradly Field who make appearances.

Kid: Bradly Field was also a queer punker. He was the partner of Kristian Hoffman of The Mumps. I met Kristian in Los Angeles. We all knew Lance Loud of The Mumps because he had starred in An American Life (1973) which was the first reality TV show. It aired on PBS. I was a fan of The Mumps. Bradly came out to LA with Kristian for an elongated stay during a Mumps recording session. Of course, Bradly and I hit it off when we met. Bradly was a drummer—he played a single drum and a cracked symbol—in Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. Bradly was a real character. He was kind of a Peter Lorre, misanthropic miscreant. Bradly was charming while abrasively horrible at the same time. We were friends and I always remained on Bradly’s good side so there was never a problem.

           Bradly had invited me and some punkers to New York. He said that if we ever made it out there that we could stay with him. He probably had no idea we’d show up a month later. Bradly Field was an important person for me to know—an unashamedly gay, crazy person. He was a madman. I had very little interest in living a typical life. That includes a typical gay life. Bradly was just a great gay artist I met in New York when I was super young. He was also the tour manager of The Cramps at one point. You can imagine what that was like. Out of Lux and Ivy’s perverse nature they unleashed him on people.

Ryan: He was the right guy to have in your corner if the club didn’t pay you.  

Kid: Exactly. Who was going to say “no” to Bradly?

Ryan: You mention an early Gun Club track called “Body and Soul” that I’m unfamiliar with. I know you have a rehearsal tape of the original Creeping Ritual/Gun Club lineup (Kid Congo Powers, Don Snowden, Brad Dunning and Jeffrey Lee Pierce). Are any of these unreleased tracks on that tape?

Kid: No. Although I do have tapes, there’s no Creeping Ritual material on them. I spoke with Brad (Dunning) and he has tapes too. We both agreed that they’re unlistenable. They’re so terrible. Nevertheless, I’m going to have them digitized and I’ll take another listen to them. “Body and Soul” is an early Creeping Ritual song. At the time we thought, “Oh, this sounds like a Mink DeVille song.” At least in our minds it did. To the best of my ability I did record an approximation of “Body and Soul” on the Congo Norvell record Abnormals Anonymous (1997). I sort of reimagined it. That song was the beginning of things for me with Jeffrey. It wasn’t a clear path when we started The Gun Club. We didn’t say, “Oh, we’re going to be a blues-mixed-with-punk band.” It was a lot of toying around. It had to do with finding a style. Jeffrey had a lot of ideas. We also had musical limitations to consider. We were trying to turn it into something cohesive. There was a lot of reggae influence at the beginning. Jeffrey was a visionary who wanted to make the Gun Club work. Of course, to us he was a really advanced musician. We thought (bassist) Don Snowden was the greatest too. What’s funny is that I saw Don in Valencia, Spain, where he lives now. He came to one of our (Kid Congo and the Pink Monkey Birds) shows a few years ago. He said, “Oh, I didn’t know how to play!”

Ryan: “I knew scales.”

Kid: Exactly. It was all perception. But we were ambitious and tenacious. We were certain we could make something really good out of what we had. That was it. We knew we had good taste in music. That was enough for us to continue on.

Ryan: I knew about The Cramps’ struggles with IRS Records and Miles Copeland. However, it took on a new meaning reading your book. Joining The Cramps started with a real high for you, recording Psychedelic Jungle (1981), and then stagnation occurred due to contractual conflicts.

Kid: There was excitement, success and activity for about a year or two. And then absolutely nothing. As I discuss in my book—and you can ask anyone who was in The Cramps—communication was not a big priority for Lux and Ivy. I was left to my own devices for a while. We were building, building, building and then it stopped. I wasn’t privy to what was going on. I knew they were depressed about it. The mood shifted. It was great recording Psychedelic Jungle and touring the world. The crowds were great everywhere we went. It was at that point that I started getting heavy into drugs. The time off left me with a lot of time to get into trouble. It was my first taste of any kind of success or notoriety. I’m not embarrassed to say that I fell into that trip: “Oh, you know who I am and I have all these musician friends now.” It was the gilded ‘80s. Things were quite decadent then. There was a lot of hard drug use. It wasn’t highly frowned upon to abuse those types of drugs in our circle. What was the reputation of The Gun Club? The drunkest, drug-addled band around. So there was a lot of support to go in that direction. Who knew it was going to go so downhill? We weren’t paying attention to consequences. Consequences be damned. So the drugs sapped a lot of energy out of it too.

           I recorded the one studio album (Psychedelic Jungle) with The Cramps and a live album (Smell of Female). The live record was good and fun, but it was a means to an end. It was recorded to get out of a contract. The Cramps were always going to do it their way. Lux and Ivy weren’t going to follow anyone’s rules. I don’t know why people expected them to. To this day, I wonder why people want more. I mean, they gave you everything. People ask me, “When is Ivy going to play again?” I tell them, “She’s done enough. She paid her dues. The music was great.”

Ryan: I think after 30-something years of touring, she’s earned her union card.

Kid: Exactly. She’s done her union work.

Ryan: In your book you discuss West Berlin in the late 1980s. That was a strange period of extreme highs and lows. During that time you were playing with the Bad Seeds, working with people like Wim Wenders (in Wings of Desire) and witnessed the collapse of the Berlin Wall and the GDR. Nevertheless, it was a very dark period marred by substance abuse. Luckily, you came out of it unscathed. As you recount, some people didn’t.

Kid: It was a period of extremes. In my mind, for years, I rewrote that scene. I would say, “Berlin was great”—and it was, that part was true—and then I’d read interviews with Nick Cave and Mick Harvey and they’d say, “Oh, the Tender Prey (1988) period was just the worst. It’s hard to even talk about it.” And I was like, “It was great! What are you talking about?” Then when I started writing about it, I was like, “Oh, fuck! It really wasn’t the best time.” I had been so focused on the good things and not the bad things. Prior to writing my book, I really hadn’t thought about how incredibly dark it was. That was a good thing for me to work out. Some very bad things happened to people around me. But while that was happening, it was a real peak for me as a musician. Some of the greatest work I was involved with was being done then. And yet I still chose to self-destruct. It was a case of right place, right time. But it was not necessarily what I thought it was.  

Ryan: Digressing back a bit, when we would chat years back I would ask you where you were at with this project. You seemed to be warming up to it as time went on. And I finally found a copy of the group’s album in Sydney, Australia, a year ago. I’m talking about Fur Bible (1985).

Kid: Oh, you got it?

Ryan: I did.

Kid: In Australia?

Ryan: Yes. It was part of my carry-on luggage.

Kid: I’m sure I can pinpoint the person who sold it to you.

Ryan: Are you coming around to that material now? I like the record.

Kid: Oh, yeah. I hated it for so long. People would say to me, “Oh, the Fur Bible record is great.” I’d respond, “No. It can’t possibly be great. I’m not going to listen to it again, so don’t even try me.” Eventually, I did listen to it and I thought, “Oh, this is pretty good.” I came around to it. I like it.

Ryan: You’ve made the transition!

Kid: I feel warmly about it. I like all of the people involved with it. That was kind of a bad time too. It was that post-Gun Club period. I felt like I had tried something unsuccessful with Fur Bible. I had a little bit of shame about that. Everything else I had been involved with had been successful, in my eyes. People liked everything else and people didn’t really like Fur Bible. It was a sleeper.

Ryan: It is.  

Kid: There’s nothing wrong with it. It was the first time I had put my voice on a record and it just irritated the hell out of me. It was a first step for me.

Ryan: You close your book with a heartfelt tribute to Jeffrey Lee Pierce. You wonder how your life would’ve turned out had you not met Jeffrey outside of that Pere Ubu show in 1979. Excluding family, I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone who’s had that sort of impact on my life.

Kid: As I was getting near the end of the book I was trying to figure out what it was about. A lot of it was about Jeffrey. Everything that moved me into becoming a musician and the life I lived after that was because of him. It was all because he said, “Here’s a guitar. You’re going to learn how to play it.” He had that confidence that I could do it. It was a mentorship. He would say, “You’re going to do this and you’re going to be great at it.” I was like, “Okay.” Jeffrey was the closest thing I had to a brother. We could have our arguments and disagreements, but in the end it didn’t matter. What mattered was our bond. Writing it down made it all clearer to me. His death sent me into a tailspin. I was entering the unknown. Jeffrey was like a cord that I had been hanging onto for so long and it was gone. I was more interested in writing about my relationship with him than about the music of the Gun Club. A lot of people loved Jeffrey. But there were others who said they loved him with disclaimers. I wanted to write something about Jeffrey without the disclaimers. That seemed like an important task—to honor him in a truthful manner.

Ryan: I’m glad that you did that. Jeffrey has his detractors, but they all seem to say something along the lines of “the guy still had the most indefatigable spirit and drive of any person I’ve ever known.”

Kid: That’s what drove everyone crazy!

Ryan: This book took you 15 years to finish. Completing it has to feel cathartic.  

Kid: I don’t know. Maybe it will when I see the printed book. When I was living in New York there was no time for reflection. I started it after I left New York, but it was at such a slow pace. It was done piecemeal. I wanted to give up at times. I had a lot of self-doubt. And like I said, I’d just go on tour for a year and take a long break. The pandemic made me finally put it to bed. I couldn’t jump up and go away on tour anymore. It feels great to have it done. When I read it through after the final edit I was actually shocked. I was moved by it. It was a feeling of accomplishment. It’s a different feeling than what you get with music. Looking at it as one story has been an eye-opener for me. I thought to myself, “How did I do all of that?”

           I see the book as the story of a music fan. I think most musicians start out as fans. Why would you do it otherwise? I never stopped being a fan. All of the opportunities that came my way were because I was a fan.

[morbidly-malicious-muffins]

What Kind of Music Slashers Would Vibe to Headcanons♪

This little thing popped into my head. Fyi, the canon timelines are thrown out the window for this so... Yeah.

Bring forth the bop~

RZ Michael Myers

"Let my weapons be your children, let my armies be your damned. Try to suffer on in silence, try to stop me if you can." --- This Cold Black by Slipknot

I think he'd really enjoy metal in general. I can totally see him unknowingly stomping to some Marilyn Manson and Meshuggah, though the lyrics and message probably will just fly over his head.

He listens to some heavy shit, but probably all the more mainstream bands/artists.

The loudness and organized chaos of the genre fills the void in his soul and reflects the state of his mind, despite his stoic and non-verbal outer demeanor.

Someone please do everyone a favor and introduce Michael to some death metal. Admit it, it really fits his aesthetic.

This is just based on speculation, but I suspect a 70% possibility of RZ Michael resonating with Cannibal Corpse. Fight me.

He hates classical music with a burning passion. Back in Smith's Grove, they played Bach's Air Sul G on tap. (its canon in the first movie lmao) He hates it. Mikey no likey.

Freddy Krueger

"No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel, gonna spin it, nobody's gonna mess me around." --- Highway to Hell, by AC/DC

Freddy listens to classic rock, period.

This guy is ngl a supporter of music taste discrimination. You listen to pop? Disgusting. You listen to Jazz? Disgusting. Classic rock is the epitome of all music.

He'll call you music-related slurs you never knew existed.

As stubborn adamant as Freddy is, he does harbor some guilty pleasures, including 70's hair metal and glam rock. Pshh. What a heckin hypocrite.

Some of his all time favorites are Guns N' Roses, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, and AC/DC.

(Basic bitch)

*Hip thrust movements to go with his 'The Sprinkler' dance moves, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses blasting in the background*

OG Michael Myers

He doesn't listen to music, but if he did, he would probably enjoy Jazz.

Michael only listens to Miles Davis because he enjoys his music and can't be bothered to discover more artists.

Oml Michael I know Miles Davis is amazing but don't neglect other iconic artists plzzz. Someone please make him listen to some Teddy Wilson and/or Dave Brubeck.

I imagine him sitting stiff-straight on a rocking chair (he just likes how it moves), knife in his lap, rocking and zoning-out relaxing to 'Blue in Green'. (I love that piece)

#AfterHeFinallyKillsLaurie

#RetirementGoals

He also hates classical music because of the same reason as RZ Myers. Seriously, if either of them so much as hears the opening chord of Air Sul G, expect the speaker to be stomped to a pulp in a split second.

Bubba Sawyer

Alright let's all be honest with ourselves... 70's pop and country is Bubba's shit.

Look me in the face and tell me he wouldn't adore ABBA, The Jackson 5, and Dolly Parton. Thats right you can't

Everytime 'Dancing Queen' starts playing on the radio, Bubba will drop everything and start busting down.

Ain't nothing and nobody stoppin him. Drayton is powerless against the supreme sovereignty that is ABBA.

But let's also appreciate the fact that our Bubster can motherfuckin get down. *wipes sweat from forehead + heart eyes*

He would also do passionate lip sync with his heart and soul, to Dolly Parton's 'I Will Always Love You'.

50% chance of him starting to cry right after he finishes his earnest performance.

*Holding Bubba in your arms, rubbing comforting circles on his back as he bawls hysterically, incoherently babbling on about how much he loves you*

I also feel for some reason he'd really like Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.

Thomas Hewitt

"For one moment, I wish you'd hold your stage, with no feelings at all. Open minded, I'm sure I used to be so free." --- Citizen Erased by Muse

Y'know what I have a hard time imagining the type of music Tommy listens to. Kutos, Mr. Hewitt, you have defeated me.

siKE

(This is where I yeet the timeline out of the window y'all)

Thomas enjoys Muse, Evanescence, and Radiohead. (Fight me)

He just loves how emotional their songs are. He'd have one earbud in as he works away at his projects for hours. The music helps him concentrate, it is also a source of emotional support to him.

Hearing the heart-wretching lyrical content of 'Lost in Paradise' performed so beautifully by Amy Lee's angellic voice is really comforting to him. It's like hearing about another person's experiences. It makes him feel less alone in dealing with his emotional and mental turmoils and burdens.

The first time Thomas heard 'Creep' by Radiohead, he almost cried.

He also listens to My Chemical Romance sometimes. He only knows the Black Parade album, but he loves it. If 'Creep' didn't make him cry, listening to that entire album from top to bottom sure did. He started sobbing half-way through 'Famous Last Words'.

Tommy is emotional boi 🥺

Brahms Heelshire

C l a s s i c a l

No matter how stinky Brahms is, you can't tell me that he's not classy.

Schubert is his bitch. Schubert's style tends to be quite majestic and/or dreamy, (generally) and can change color/sound very abruptly yet appropriately. (This is just my opinion based on experience with Schubert's pieces, but then I only know his piano pieces soo) (let's still cue that maestoso to scherzando transition)

But of course, Schubert isn't the only thing he listens to. He prefers the romantic period, so Mendelssohn, Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Shostakovich, Brahms, Schumann, you get the gist, all the staples. Oh yeah Elgar too. To be a proud English lad.

*Brahms swaying in the living room with the grace of a baby giraffe, engrossed in the beautiful melodies in Schumann's Kinderszenen.*

(Oml please check out 'Von fremden Landern und Manschen' and 'Kind im Einschlummern') (For those who play piano, they aren't that difficult too totally recommend) (Ok sorry I'm done now)

Brahms would totally waltz around alone to Chopin's waltzes and nocturnes.

Oh yeah apart from that classy shit, he likes to jam to meme songs.

"Hey now, you're an all star, get your game on, go play---"

*cut to Brahms passionately fortnite dancing*

Listens to The Strange Man Who Sings About Dead Animals for a good laugh. (Please, all of his songs are gold)

Vincent Sinclair

He'll have 'emo' and 'classical' with a side of metal, thanks.

I headcanon that Vinny McWaxy is an INFJ, so the boy is likely prone to crippling existentialism. It would make sense for some aspects of his music taste to reflect that.

*cut to Vincent sitting rock-still on his workbench/stool, hands hover in mid-air, staring straight ahead, some John Cage piece playing*

You'll never hear this from Vincent but he enjoys sexy-time music. He has this whole erotic playlist he listens to while working. (Boy likes to feel sexy on the job, I respect that.)

I think its pretty much canon that Vinny loves MCR. (Hello fellow emo piece of shit 👋) His favorites are everything by them really. A hardcore fan. He used to have MCR, P!ATD, and 30 Seconds to Mars posters plastered everywhere in his workshop until he had to remove them all to add to the intimidation factor of his waxy hell for passer-bys. For the record, he is very gay for Frank Iero.

On the metal part of his spectrum is mostly classic metal, groove metal, and thrash/heavy metal.

Rammstein, Pantera, Vildhjarta, new and old Metallica, Dream Theatre, Coheed and Cambria. His bitches.

He also uses music to scare victims when bringing them down to his workshop. *cue horror movie soundtracks*

*KI KI KI MA MA MA*

Is a whore for the dramatics when in a good mood.

*Lacrimosa by Mozart plays as he makes a point to bring the wax painfully slowly down toward a drowsy and petrified victim*

A lament for your upcoming death, pitiful human.

Bo Sinclair

"The day has come for all us sinners, if you're not a servant you'll be struck to the ground." -- Beast and The Harlot by Avenged Sevenfold

Bastard boy is into dad-music™. (same)

Dad rock, classic rock, pop punk, punk rock, old school pop, his shit.

He listens to a lot of the same bands as Freddy, but Bo (generally) doesn't discriminate and explores a more diverse variety of music.

Its a fandom canon that Bo loves Avenged Sevenfold. I totally agree.

A7x is the perfect amount of cynical, political, and shred for Beauregard, (I hc that ge hates his full name so plz don't ever call him Beauregard)

He listens to the radio whenever he's at work. Whatever that might be.

Will NEVER admit it, but he thinks Vinny's music taste is dope as hell.

He'll turn off the radio just to strain his ears to listen to Vincent's music downstairs. No one will ever know that though. You don't.

Actually likes classical music too. Its not one of his main genres but there's one piece he really likes, Second Movement of Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major.

He never thought he'd enjoy this type of music. Its so.... Calm. He discovered that piece from Vinny's playlist. When he first heard it on his brother's speaker, he fell in love. It was one of the extremely rare cases in which he'd be committed enough to ask Vinny the name of the music.

Tiny shuffle for man-kind, huge fuckin step for Bo. Good job Bo, we're proud of you.

Also pleeeeeaaase message me or request stuff, I'm bored and have little inspiration 🦊

I might do a pt2 of this, since I didn't write many of the boys and gals🤷‍♀️

Also sorry if I've neglected some genres/artists (Like i've neglected non-piano classical pieces.... Bc ya girl is just a pianist), a person can't know everything😗

---Zali 🖤

[queenmylovely]

The Best Things Ain’t Free

Summary: Roger Taylor x fem!reader. After meeting through friends, Roger is impressed with your lifestyle and you’re impressed with his prettiness. 

Word Count: 10.9k listen... she’s long

Warnings: cussing, smut (oral sex, fingering, etc.) (18+!! marked with ***)

A/N: This idea has been on my mind for ages because I can’t look at certain pictures of Roger in a fur coat without this thot. PSA that the most fictional part of this fic is reader being rich bc your girl ain’t. Let’s all use our best imagination and enjoy the life of the wealthy for a minute. Please leave feedback in any form whether it be tags, replies, asks, or messages, because I really do love hearing from you!

Masterlist; BLM Resources, Register to Vote (U.S.)

(these are what inspired this entire thing bc look at them!!! pics edited by me)

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Normally, you wouldn’t be one to go to a dingy pub to watch some band play a set. If you wanted to hear good music, you’d go to a concert in a real venue, with box seats and catering. And if you wanted a drink you’d go to the Ivy, Grenadier, Star, or if you really wanted a nice time, the Ritz. But your friend, Kalaya, from your time at Oxford (she had attended on a merit-based scholarship, bless her heart), had insisted that you come.

“They’re one of the best bands I’ve ever heard!” Kalaya gushed, trying to convince you to go.

“Better than the Stones? The Supremes? Janis?” you asked, referencing all of the concerts you had taken her to in uni. “We saw Janis the one and only time she played solo in London, are you telling me this student band is going to match her?”

“I said one of the best bands I’ve ever heard. And it’s not like you’ve never been to the bar before, it’s Angel’s, I took you there after exams junior year, remember?” Kalaya prodded, hoping that since it was at least somewhat familiar, you might be more likely to go.

“Oh yeah, I remember. Someone spilt a drink on me and I stunk like cheap beer for the rest of the night,” you said, wrinkling your nose in annoyance.

“C’mon you can’t condemn a whole pub just because one drunk idiot made a mistake,” Kalaya reasoned.

“Never would’ve happened at the Ritz,” you said with a huff.

Lucky for her, Kalaya never took you as seriously as you wanted to be and she laughed, “Stop being so stuck up, it’s not flattering.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, and she just rolled her eyes.

“Please, I need you to go. I fancy the guitar player and I can’t show up alone, you know I get nervous in crowds on my own,” Kalaya reminded you with her best puppy-dog eyes.

Your face broke out in a grin, “You didn’t say you fancied someone, oh my gosh, of course I’ll go! Tell me more about this guitarist.”

_____

The one caveat you had made Kalaya agree to was new outfits for the show. You would go to a grungy student pub to support your friend, but like hell were you going to dress the same as everyone there. After a few hours traipsing around Oxford Street, you both had completely new, fabulous outfits that were sure to stun, on your dime of course.

When you had first met Kalaya, she hadn’t liked you paying for things for her, but when you insisted that it only made sense for you to do or else you would be doing everything alone, she began to accept it. Plus, you had told her, the money was doing a lot more good being spent on fancy dinners and trips to the sea than sitting in some bank account in Switzerland. Anyway, your parents owned the largest shipping company in England, or something, so it wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty to spare.

“It’ll take about an hour and ten minutes by car, so we should leave about two and a half hours before the concert so we can get there early,” you planned out two days before the concert, during dinner at your shared apartment with Kalaya.

“Car? We can just take the train, it’s practically the same amount of time,” Kalaya replied.

“And get our new outfits all dirty before the show? No way, Chay can take us. I already told him about it and he’s bringing Martie so they can go too,” you explained. Chay (short for Charlie, short for Charles) was your family’s driver and Martie was his wife. They were in their early thirties so they still appreciated new music.

“What if something happens with Brian and I want to stay? Won’t Martie and Chay want to come home?” Kalaya said sheepishly.

“When that happens, we’ll just get rooms at that Inn on the boulevard and wait until morning to bring you home,” you said with a smirk.

Kalaya got her own cheeky smile, “And what about when you inevitably sweep some unknowing pretty boy off his feet? Where will they go without you to get the rooms?”

You hummed, thinking about all the boys that might be at the concert, “They have their expense card, of course.”

_____

The afternoon before the concert, the four of you met at the drive of your parent's house, ready and dressed for the night. You’re in dark wash bell bottoms, an emerald green satin top, and black leather platform boots. Draped over one arm you had your favorite fur coat, a dark brown mink, because although it was August, it got cold late at night, especially in Oxford. Kalaya had chosen a black flowy dress that came to her mid-thigh and made her medium-brown skin richer in comparison, and black suede booties. It would’ve been boring except for the silver and gold thread embroidering it, making it look like a starry night sky. She had told you it would be perfect because Brian studied stars.

Martie and Chay were a little more understated, as was to be expected since they didn’t have to try to catch anyone’s eye. Martie was in an orange floral dress in a similar cut to Kalaya’s, but a few inches longer. The orange of the dress and the yellow and olive green flowers complimented her dark brown skin with its warm undertone. Chay was in black bell bottoms, a dark red button-down with a paisley print, and regular black boots. You told him that he was lucky his skin was still tanned from the summer holiday because his typical paper-white skin combined with the outfit would’ve made him look like a vampire. Chay laughed sarcastically and Martie changed the subject by complimenting you two girls and then turned back to Chay, noticing his large collar was a little crooked and fixing it.

Everyone, including their overnight bags just in case, got into the car and Chay immediately turned the radio up, the four of you singing along the whole way there.

_

Once you got to the bar, the four of you grabbed drinks and sat at a table near the back because it wasn’t crowded yet. The group chatted easily, laughing at each other’s jokes and stories. You were all more like family than anything because Chay’s father was the family driver before him and he and Martie had been together since they were teenagers. Since Kalaya always came to all the family vacations (that Martie and Chay also came to, as “employees;” their only duty being a designated driver), the four of you were used to hanging out and going to clubs and concerts together.

Slowly, the bar started filling up and you turned to Kalaya, “We should probably go to the front now so we can secure a spot.”

Kalaya nodded, “Are you guys coming?”

Martie and Chay looked at each other, communicating silently in that way couples do. Martie answered, “No, we’ll stay here. Don’t wanna be around a bunch of sweaty students.”

“My sentiments exactly,” you said with a roll of your eyes and Kalaya elbowed you. Then you looked at Chay with a sheepish smile, “Can I leave my coat with you?”

“Yes,” Chay huffed with his own eye roll, but he was still smiling. “Now go on, get up there.”

Kalaya and you laughed and waved, hurrying to get a good spot close to the stage. That was one positive of a small venue, being close enough to the band to do some serious damage to your hearing as well as being able to actually see the sweat dripping down their temples and chests once they really got into the music.

The crowd grew around you and you were jostled a couple of times, but once you glared at the people who did it, that seemed to stop. The energy of the crowd grew and grew in anticipation and you heard lots of chatter about how excited they were to see the band. Maybe Kalaya hadn’t oversold them.

It wasn’t long before all of the stage lights went out and a booming voice came from all around, announcing the arrival of, “Your entertainment tonight, Her Majesty, Queen!”

You laughed, appreciating the audacity of the name as someone who liked to be somewhat outrageous yourself. The lights flashed back on and you realized that the band was already onstage; they went right into the first song, drums, guitar, and bass starting strong. You listened to the music, enjoying it already, but were more focused on checking out the band, which was easy because you were only ten feet away from the stage.

The singer was a slim, elegant man with light brown skin and jet black hair. His eyes were a warm brown and when he looked out at the crowd it was as if he was connecting with every person. Round lips and large teeth caught your eye and as you watched them enunciate every syllable, you couldn’t help but think they must make a wonderful smile. He was wearing a black satin jumpsuit embroidered and embellished until it shone in the light. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut and eyeliner just the same kept him on the rock side of glam, any softer and he could’ve been considered disco. And even though the concert had only just started, he was already completely into it; the energy he gave off as he strode about the stage only adding to the crowd’s.

Next you looked at the guitarist, Brian, who Kalaya was already staring at, mouth hanging open in a way that told you she didn’t realize how obvious it was. You gently reached over and tapped her chin, bringing her out of her trance and her eyes widened as she realized what she was doing. She started swaying to the music and looked around the stage in a much more casual way.

Back to the guitarist, as Kalaya had told you he was extremely tall, with some of the longest legs you had ever seen on anyone. With velvet black pants and a flowing white blouse, he was as glam as the singer. He was even more slim than the singer, and with the mound of curls that made up his head he kinda looked like a lollipop, nothing you would ever tell Kalaya. He had pale white skin, a prominent nose, and otherwise delicate features, but your main attention was brought to his hazel eyes that looked at the crowd as if he was surveying them. Overall you were thoroughly impressed with Kalaya’s choice to fancy him.

On the opposite side of the singer was the bassist, made clear by the fact that his guitar only had four strings and a longer neck. His clothing was a little more reserved than the other two, simply a black satin suit with a white satin shirt underneath. His chestnut brown hair was long and wavy, and it framed his also pale white face well. He was pretty relaxed in his playing, like it wasn’t that hard, but watching his hands you could tell the skill it took to stay on beat through some of the most complex rhythms. A soft nose, green-grey eyes that seemed kind, full lips, and a familiar feeling endeared him to you instantly, a smile coming to your face as he smirked when the singer pressed up against him.

Lastly, you turned your attention to the drummer, and just about gasped. Yes, the other three had been beautiful, but none of them were as pretty as him. His hair was shaggy, wavy, and dirty blonde, and heaven knew you loved your blondes. His white skin was lightly tanned which just made his baby blue eyes stand out even more. He was wearing some sort of black blouse but it was completely unbuttoned, leaving his chest that was toned from drumming totally exposed. You couldn’t see much else because of his kit but what you could see, your eyes ate up. As he drummed, his lips stuck out in a pout and his hair swooshed, glinting gold as he played the cymbals.

Kalaya had only been half-joking when she talked about you finding your pretty boy and now you had, your sights completely set on this drummer. Plus you figured that if Kalaya knew Brian, you had an automatic in.

Suddenly, you were making eye contact with the drummer but instead of being surprised or flustered, you started your mission. Biting your lip in a smile, rocking your hips to the rhythm he was playing, and tilting your head to the side, you made it clear you were checking him out. That seemed to spur him on and the drums got louder as he played harder. If he was trying to impress you, it was working, but more because it was a testament to his stamina than to his skill. Besides, you could see that you had done plenty to impress him by subverting his expectations and staring him down instead of swooning as soon as he caught your eye with his.

Not that there was anything wrong with swooning, in fact Kalaya was swooning over Brian at this very second because he had smiled at her, but you liked being the one to cause the swoon. You knew you were attractive and knew other people knew it too. You were confident and knew what you wanted, an energy you liked to radiate when you were around pretty boys.  

The drummer was the one to break eye contact first, looking around the room for a minute as if trying to distract himself. Then he looked back at you and you just smiled and waved at him. By the way his eyes widened and cheeks pinkened further than they already were, you could tell he was a little flustered, and laughed, something you were sure he could see as well. He didn’t seem to be looking away this time, so you did instead, turning your attention to Kalaya to make sure she was doing alright.

“How’s it going, babe? He in love with you yet?” you half-yelled into her ear because the music was so loud.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “More like I’ve just fallen further in love with him. But he has smiled and waved at me a couple times in between songs.”

“See? Don’t be all modest!” you urged.

“Well what about you? I see the eyes you’re making at that pretty boy drummer. He’s just the epitome of your type, huh?” Kalaya shot back.

You sighed happily, “He really is.”

_

About an hour later, the last encore was done and a cheap curtain had separated the band from the rest of the pub as they packed up their instruments. But apparently they would be joining the crowd later on, based on the talk of the people that had been standing around you up front. Not everyone seemed aware of this fact or maybe they just didn’t care, because the crowd thinned by half once the set was over. Quickly making a game plan, you and Kalaya decided to wait by the bar but not at the bar, in the path the band would most likely take from backstage to get a drink.

After waiting for only 10 minutes, you saw a curly head of hair bobbing through a doorway and realized they were on the move. You signaled to Kalaya with your eyes that they were appearing behind her (now out of their stage clothes), not interrupting what she was saying in an effort to remain casual. Once she had realized what you meant, she slowed her words, hoping to get interrupted. The blonde came into view and you flicked your eyes over to him just once, letting him know you knew he was there.

“Kalaya?” Brian asked, tapping her shoulder lightly.

Expertly, Kalaya turned like she was surprised, “Brian!”

They hugged quickly and she pulled back, “You all were amazing, just like last time.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad I actually have a chance to talk to you this time, instead of rushing off to deal with a flat tire on the van,” Brian smiled. Then he looked over to you and Kalaya jumped in.

“This is my friend,” she introduced you. “We went to Oxford together. She already knows all about you.”

Brian looked a little pleased at that, and Kalaya brought a hand to her mouth, realizing her faux pas.

“She means your band. She had to make a hard sell for me to come all the way back to Oxford to see the show,” you explained away what she said even though you all knew that wasn’t what she had meant.

“Well I’m glad you both made it,” Brian said with an easy smile. “Speaking of the band, I’d better introduce them all.”

Brian stepped back so he was in line with the other three and Kalaya turned so she was facing them next to you.

“This here is Freddie, our wonderful singer. Then we have John—”

“You can call me Deaky,” he interjected.

“Deaky then, our fantastic bassist. And finally our resident pretty boy himself, our drummer, Roger,” Brian finished with a bit of a smirk.

You all exchanged pleasantries and as Kalaya was drawn into a conversation with the rest of the band, Roger stepped closer to you.

“Pretty boy, huh?” You asked with a teasing smile. He nodded, about to say something in defense or make a jab at Brian, but you spoke first, “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Roger flushed at that, a small smile coming to his face, but he changed the subject, “So you went to Oxford?”

“Yes,” you said slowly.

“Not a big fan?” he asked.

“No, I did really enjoy it here, just kind of small for my taste. I mean, over an hour to get to where anyone big’s playing and never having heard of fine dining? I suppose it was a good change of pace, or at least that’s what my parents say, but I’m glad to be back in the city,” you explained and Roger listened intently.

“So raised in London then?”

“Yes, except for the summers. Then it was Nice or Barcelona. Oh and one year New York,” you knew you were being a little overt with the flaunting of your upbringing, but you could tell that Roger was the type of person to enjoy the best things in life, and his eyes were as big as dinner plates as he listened to you, clearly impressed. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m just from Truro, not quite as glamorous as all those,” Roger told you and while he wasn’t exactly embarrassed, you could tell he was waiting for your reaction.

“Truro’s in Cornwall, right?” you asked and Roger confirmed with a nod. “Then I’ve been there! Yeah a couple years ago Kalaya and I went on a trip to the sea and took a little detour to Truro, we loved it! Perfect for a little weekend getaway.”

Roger smiled big, your praising of his hometown charming him, “But how is Truro on the way to the sea? Wouldn’t you just go to Brighton or Southend?”

You smiled, laughing at yourself, “Well I got it in my head that I wanted to go to the very western tip of the country, and luckily Kalaya is a good enough sport to go along with my whims.”

“Do you often have these types of whims?” Roger asked and there was more cheek behind the words than in their meanings.

“Well I adore travelling,” you said, a little smirk coming to your face. Then you fixed your gaze to Roger’s eyes, “And my personal philosophy is to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whoever I want.”

Roger swallowed, his mouth parted, and he blinked a couple times before responding, trying a laugh to cover for his reaction to your words, “A bit hedonistic, no?”

“Hmm, a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, no?” you responded quickly. Not that you actually knew that Roger was similar to you in that way, but watching how he reacted to everything you said made you sure enough to say that.

Scoffing as if that weren’t true, all he could say was, “What?--who?”

“How are the two of you getting on?” the bassist, John-- Deaky, interjected, coming to stand so the three of you made a triangle.

“Well Roger here just called me hedonistic,” you said matter-of-factly, looking at Deaky with wide eyes.

“Ha! You’re one to talk, Rog,” Deaky told him, clapping him on the shoulder and laughing.

Roger just looked at you, surprised that you would’ve brought it up to Deaky. You just stuck your tongue between your teeth and smiled victoriously; you loved to keep boys on their toes, especially ones that looked so cute when they were surprised.

Deaky turned to you, “You look really familiar, have we met before?”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing, but you had shorter hair, right?” you looked at him more closely.

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, this is pretty new.”

“What university did you go to?” you asked.

“Chelsea college in London, I was in electrical engineering,” Deaky replied.

You exclaimed in recognition, “The scholarship dinner! You got my family’s engineering scholarship, that was like five years ago.”

“That’s right! We hung out during that tour of one of the facilities when our parents were talking endlessly,” he remembered and you laughed along with him.

“Wait, I thought the only private scholarship you got was from that family with the shipping business that are, like, filthy rich,” Roger said and you and John just looked at each other and then at Roger, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then his eyes went wide, “That’s your family?!”

“Might wanna close your mouth Rog,” Deaky said with a laugh, tapping Roger’s chin as you had Kalaya’s.

A voice came from the bar and you looked to see Brian waving the three of you over. Deaky immediately started walking but you hung back next to Roger.

He seemed to be walking slowly because he was still processing the information, “I kinda thought you were exaggerating about the summer trips. And you weren’t kidding when you said whatever you want whenever you want, were you?”

You reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair away from his face and Roger looked at your hand as it dropped back to your side, “Mm-mm, wasn’t kidding about the whoever, either.”

Roger looked back up at you and you winked before turning to the others and gladly accepting the drink held out to you by Brian.

Chatting in a little group with Brian, Kalaya, and Deaky, you noticed that Freddie and Roger were off to the side but didn’t pay it too much mind. You were more focused on whether this Brian liked your Kalaya as much as she did he, and judging by the way he stared at her with adoration in his eyes as she talked, he did.

Standing apart from the rest of you with Freddie, Roger took a gulp of his drink as he looked at you laughing with the others.

“Fred, man, I can hardly keep up with this girl. We’ve only been talking for like ten minutes and all the things she says! I hardly know whether I wanna be with her or be her,” Roger told Freddie.

“What do you mean?” Freddie said with a confused laugh.

“Well she’s beautiful and funny and smart, sophisticated, has great taste--” “I think you’re confusing her with me,” Freddie interrupted with a sly smile.

“Ha-ha, Fred. Did I mention she’s also loaded?” Roger deadpanned.

“She’s got me there,” Freddie admitted. “Well are you going to do anything about it?

“I would, but she’s kinda intimidating,” Roger said and when Freddie looked confused he elaborated. “Like, she’s been flirting more than me tonight, even when we were onstage.”

“That’s saying something,” Freddie agreed.

“Exactly, so I feel like she’s someone who would want to make the first move,” Roger pointed out. And then a little quieter, “which you know I have absolutely no problem with.”

Freddie laughed loudly, “Well if things don’t work out between you two, I might just have to make her my best friend.”

“Hey, that’s me,” Roger said with a frown.

Patting Roger’s arm, Freddie rolled his eyes and told him, “I know darling, it was a joke.”

Deaky, Kalaya, Brian, and you got up from your seats at the bar, catching their attention, so they walked over to where you were.

“We’re walking the girls out,” Deaky explained because Brian was too busy chatting with Kalaya. Freddie and Roger nodded and then Deaky led the way, cutting through the crowd to the exit. Brian and Kalaya were lock-step behind him, and Freddie, Roger, and you followed up last, in that order.

“Leaving already?” Freddie asked you.

“Yeah, well if we want to get rooms for the night we better head over,” you explained.

“Oh are you staying at the Inn too?” Roger asked, his ears pricking up.

You nodded with a little laugh, “Seeing as it’s the only lodging in town, yes.”

Freddie laughed and Roger smiled sheepishly, thinking of something to say when you put your hand on his arm.

“Hold on a second, I gotta grab our ride,” you said quickly before heading towards the tables in the back.

Freddie and Roger shared a confused look, having assumed that the two of you would call a cab. You were walking back only twenty seconds later, slipping on your fur coat.

Roger gasped softly and gripped Freddie’s arm, “Fuck Fred, I’m in love.”

Freddie laughed, but his surprise-widened eyes were on the coat too, “With her or the coat?”

“Both,” he whispered back as you came up next to them, joined by a man and woman.

“Okay, quick introductions,” you said, realizing that you were standing halfway obstructing the doors. “Freddie, Roger, this is Chay and Martie. Technically Chay’s my family’s driver, but they’re both more like my siblings that I drag along to things like these. Chay and Martie, this is Freddie and Roger, of the band.”

“Yes, we assumed,” Martie said with a laugh, shaking Freddie’s hand first and then switching with her husband.

“Looks like we should head outside,” Chay pointed out, and the five of you exited into the cool night air. “We loved the set, you all were fantastic. And by the way, she did not have to drag us here, we were rather excited to see you guys ourselves.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Freddie said with a warm smile and it was infectious enough that everyone smiled as well.

“Well, shall we go bring ‘round the car, babe?” Martie asked, always good at keeping Chay from getting too distracted.

“Yes, right, nice to meet you,” Chay said, and they all did their goodbyes.

You turned to Freddie and Roger, “Guess I’ll be leaving in a minute. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more, Freddie, I feel like we’d have a lot to talk about.”

“Me too dear,” Freddie said warmly. Then he gave you a pointed look, “But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

You both knew what he meant, and by the looks of Roger’s flushed face, he did too although he pretended not to hear. It was hard to help the pleased smile that came to your face when you realized Roger must have talked about you to Freddie.

Freddie took a look at Roger and then said to both of you, “I’ll just go say goodbye to Kalaya then.”

He walked away and you took a couple steps toward Roger, until you were only about a foot apart. Roger wasn’t much taller than you, especially in your platforms, but from that distance you had to look up to look him in the eyes. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him and waited until he blushed again and looked down for a second, eyes landing on your coat.

“That coat looks great on you,” he rushed out, tucking a piece of hair behind his hair, which did nothing to calm him as it just reminded him of when you did earlier.

You looked down at your coat too, hands brushing over the soft, brown fur, “You like it?”

“Who wouldn’t?” he said quickly and you chuckled.

“You know Roger,” you stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. “I think we’d have a lot to talk about too. Probably have lots in common. You should call me sometime to figure out all what that is.”

With that, you reached into the inside pocket of your coat and pulled out one of your cards that you always kept handy ‘cause you never knew when a networking opportunity would present itself. You held the card up between your index and middle finger before reaching behind Roger and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. You let yourself linger that close to him and drank in his wide eyes, the way his mouth parted and how he seemed to be leaning down closer and closer to you.

“The car’s here y/n!” Kalaya called out to you, pulling both you and Roger out of the moment.

You looked at him once more, touching his arm again and then walking away. Throwing him a smile over your shoulder, you called, “See you later, pretty boy!”

Kalaya and you got into the back of the car and waved through the window to the four boys that were watching you leave. Once they were out of sight you turned to her.

“Good catch interrupting me and Roger then,” you told her.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more, right?” Kalaya said with a grin.

You laughed, “Right, exactly. By the way, things with Brian seemed to be going good.”

“They were, we had a lot of fun talking tonight. I think he likes me,” she said with a hopeful smile.

You nudged her, “I know he likes you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night.”

“Same with Roger and you,” she pointed out.

“Well, I know he likes me too,” you said with a smirk and the whole car laughed. “You know if I were the type of person to get embarrassed, that’d do it.”

_____

A week later, during a giant heat wave that left no one able to do anything but sit inside and swelter, Roger called you around 7:00pm. Because you were lying on your bed with a fan pointed directly at you and you had a phone right next to your bed, it only took one ring for you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, y/n?” you could tell by his voice it was Roger, but you kept that to yourself.

“Yep, who’s this?” you asked pleasantly.

“Roger from, um, Queen,” he said hesitantly.

“Oh, Roger, hello! You don’t have to say ‘from Queen,’ you know, I remember you perfectly,” you told him, sitting up so you were leaning back on your arm. Before he could say something in response, you started again, “So how are you, how are you doing? Have you had any more shows?”

“Good, I’m great. We had two more shows last weekend further north and we’ll have more next week around town--”

“Oh really? I think Kalaya and I would really love to go to another show, we so enjoyed the last,” you interrupted.

“Brilliant, you should definitely come, both of you, I can get you the details,” he returned and you interjected with a quick thanks. “But, what about you? How are you?”

“Ugh I’d be better, but it’s just so hot today,” you complained, flopping back onto the mattress.

“Well what are you wearing?” Roger asked and you grinned.

“Oh, getting a little cheeky are we, pretty boy? Haven’t even gone out and you’re asking what I’m wearing?” you asked mock-incredulously just to make him flustered.

“No--no, I just meant like if you’re hot, like maybe,” Roger was babbling, trying to find the best way to explain what he meant. “Just if you’re wearing layers or something thick or something I just--”

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you,” you said with a giggle. “Let’s see, I’m wearing satin running shorts, that to be honest are too short to run in, and one of those little strappy halter crop tops, you know the kind?”

“Y-yeah,” was all Roger could muster.

“So nothing that’s making me hot. And I’m not even wearing a bra so that’s not making me uncomfortable,” you reasoned as if this were a reasonable conversation.

You could hear his breath quicken over the phone and there was a pause where neither of you said anything.

“Maybe I should just go nude.”

You knew what you were doing, practically torturing the poor boy, but he had been the one to bring up what you were wearing, and it was the truth. But if you were simply answering his question with no impure intentions you would’ve been a lot less descriptive.

Roger made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and then that was it so you sat up and kept going, “That reminds me, I’ve just had an idea. Today seems like a write off because it’s too hot to function, but it’s supposed to be cooler tomorrow, are you doing anything?”

He cleared his throat before he answered, “Um, no, I’m not busy.”

“Great! Kalaya and I were going to go shopping but I guess she’s hanging out with Brian instead. You can come with me and offer advice,” you told him.

“You’d want my advice?” Roger asked, confused.

“Yeah, I’ve seen your clothes both onstage and off. You have great style, Roger,” you affirmed and he smiled at the praise.

“Thanks, so do you. Um, that sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay, do you know the boutique on the corner of 10th and Wilder?” Roger hummed yes. “Good, let’s meet there at 11:30?”

“Perfect, looking forward to it,” he said flirtily.

You smiled, “Me too. Well, I should probably go, Kalaya and I are going swimming tonight at my parents’ to make up for her flaking out tomorrow. I’d invite you along, but even though my parents are out of town, they’d definitely hear about their daughter skinny dipping with some random pretty boy they don’t know. See you tomorrow!”

“I… bye,” Roger said, sounding incredibly sad that he couldn’t stay on or go swimming.

You hung up and then immediately rushed to Kalaya’s room to tell her all about the conversation.

_____

When you walked into the boutique at 11:25am, the clerk, Ayan, waved to you, as you were a frequent patron of the store. You had probably already seen all that there was to see, but thought that Roger’s fresh eyes might see something you hadn’t given much thought to before. There were a couple other customers around, but it was a little slow for a Saturday morning so you went to chat with Ayan about any new arrivals while you waited for Roger to arrive.

They were explaining that the boutique had gotten some fur coats from an estate that were in impeccable condition. The boutique was one of your favorites because it stocked mainly independent designers, consignment, and didn’t turn up its nose at thrifted finds of luxury items. In fact, it was where you had gotten your fur coat a few years before from the estate of a well known West End actress from the forties.

“There’s this one really lovely coyote--” Ayan cut themself off, eyes widening as they looked towards the door. “Don’t look now, but some special type of pretty boy is just about to walk in.”

Thinking only one person could fit that description, you looked, smiling as Roger walked in, scanning the store for you.

“You looked!” Ayan whisper-yelled and you couldn’t help but laugh. The sound drew Roger’s eyes over to you and you waved before turning back to them.

“Don’t worry, he’s meeting me. See you in a while with loads to buy under your commission,” you told them, winking.

“That’s why you’re my favorite customer,” they joked and you chuckled as you walked away.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said cheerfully as you reached him before leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. He kissed you back and when you pulled back his cheeks were the cute pink that you were getting used to seeing.

“Hey, nice shirt,” he complimented.

You looked down at yourself. You were wearing high waisted medium wash denim shorts and a Hendrix t-shirt tied to the side at your waist.

“Thanks, I got it at his concert I went to,” you explained, smoothing it out.

“Where’d you see him?” Roger asked curiously.

“Royal Albert Hall, in ‘69. Me and Kalaya went together, it was a great show,” you said, remembering how it felt to see him perform.

“No way, I went to that concert too!” Roger exclaimed and you laughed excitedly.

“I wonder if we saw each other at all,” you said, smiling at the thought.

“Uh-uh, I would’ve remembered you perfectly,” Roger told you with a bold smile and this time, you were the one that was flustered.

“Should we start? I’m counting on you to find whatever I’ve overlooked in this store,” you said, changing the subject as you turned towards a rack of clothes.

“Do you have anything specific that you need?” Roger asked distractedly as he flicked through the hangers.

“The only need I have is to have all the best things this store has to offer,” you said airily.

Roger laughed and turned to you, saying teasingly, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re spoilt?”

“They usually stop when I pay them not to,” you said straight-faced, but Roger’s laugh made you break and you laughed together, leaning closer until you were sharing the same air and you placed a hand on his arm to steady yourself.

You were just wearing sandals, so Roger was taller to you than the week before and you actually had to tilt your head up to make eye contact this close. Roger’s laughter-brightened eyes looked at your still smiling lips and you noticed, the shift in mood making your breath quicken and your heart race. Under your fingers, the warm skin of his arm made you want to feel that warmth all over, and you wondered how long it would be until you could.

Then another customer brushed by, mumbling an “excuse me” awkwardly and the two of you were pulled away from a moment yet again. Your hand dropped from his arm and he turned back to the rack. It wasn’t long before your chatter started up again, especially as Roger found things that he liked for you to try on.

When he had made his way through the entire store, he had six things for you. He would have had a lot more but most of what he liked you already had.

First up was a black mesh long sleeve shirt that Roger told you to try on underneath your band shirt. It was longer than your t-shirt and you tucked it into your shorts, so your midriff that was exposed by the gap in between your clothes was covered by the mesh.

You came out of the dressing room, holding your arms out for Roger to see and doing a twirl, smiling widely.

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling to match.

You nodded enthusiastically, “You know, when I saw this weeks ago I had no idea how to style it, but I love this! Very punk, street fashion, I’m a woman of the people.”

“Oh my gosh, never mind, I’m not sure you deserve to wear that,” Roger reached out and grabbed the sleeve, acting like he was going to pull it off.

“Stop!” you said through laughter. “You’ll stretch it out!”

He let you go and you went back in to try on more. There ended up being two dresses that you didn’t like because of color for one and the sheer amount of ruffles for the other. Then a shirt you realized you had in another color at home and a skirt that was itchy. Finally, there was a denim shirt that you didn’t really like because it was so plain. But you put it on anyway, figuring you’d humor him.

It was medium wash, the same color as your shorts, and it had some flowers embroidered in colorful thread which you supposed were nice, but overall it looked blah.

You stepped out of the dressing room again and Roger saw your not-so-happy face.

“What’s wrong?”

You scrunched up your face, “Don’t like it, it looks weird.”

Roger rolled his eyes with a smile, “That’s because you’re wearing it wrong. C’mere.”

You stepped close to him and he said a soft “may I” to which you nodded. His long fingers unbuttoned the bottom two buttons of the shirt. Then he tied it in a knot, fixing the ends so they laid correctly. His fingers brushed your skin and though they were warm, the feeling made you shiver. Roger was moving his hands so delicately, precisely, and you felt a rush of want go through you.

“And since you’re wearing a t-shirt,” even more carefully, he undid the upper buttons, leaving only the middle two done. Then he turned you around to look in the mirror and immediately your mind was changed. The way Roger styled it emphasized your waist instead of hiding it and now the monotone look worked instead of looking drab.

“How do you feel about it now?” Roger asked with a proud little smile.

“I love it, thank you,” you said, looking at him through the mirror.

Roger stepped past you into the dressing room and grabbed the mesh shirt, “Well here are your two finds.”

He handed the shirt to you, but before he could return his hands to his sides, you grabbed one of them, sliding your fingers along his to his palm and feeling the calluses there from drumming.

Roger watched your hand on his and only looked up when you started talking.

“Did you see anything else you liked?”

“Oh, do you want more than these two things? I can look again,” Roger suggested.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand, “No, I mean did you see anything you liked for yourself? So I can thank you for helping me with these.”

“You don’t have to,” Roger protested.

“I might be spoiled, but I like to do some spoiling myself. I want to get you something, and this shop is too good for nothing to catch your eye. Anything you liked, nothing’s too much,” you told him, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand.

“Anything?” Roger hesitated.

“Anything, Roger,” you said, using your free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. That seemed to reassure him.

“I did see this display with this really gorgeous…” he trailed off, still uncertain, looking down.

“Really gorgeous… what?” you prompted.

“… fur coat,” he looked up to see your reaction. You were beaming.

“That’s the one Ayan was telling me about, the coyote one, right? It is gorgeous, they'll be so happy that it’s gonna sell already!” you exclaimed, using your hold on his hand to pull him over to that part of the store.

Roger followed you, a little confused about what you said, but glad that you seemed so happy. You let go of Roger’s hand, set your clothes on the corner of a nearby table, and pulled the coat off the mannequin, handing it to Roger. He pulled it on carefully, pulling the sides so they were equal.

“Here,” you put your hands behind his neck and then collected the hair that had gotten trapped underneath the coat and moved it to where it should be. He smiled his thanks and you smiled back, before turning him around to face the mirror he was standing in front of.

You stepped a little to the side of him and watched him look at himself. He let out a little laugh, the kind that meant “damn, I didn’t think I’d look this good,” and you had to agree.

Then he turned back around to you, “Whaddya think?”

You looked him up and down, the desire you felt earlier only growing, “You look… hot.”

Roger was a little surprised at your outright statement, but that was nothing compared to the surprise he felt when you grabbed the lapels of the coat and used them to pull him to you, kissing him full on the lips without hesitation.

As shocked as he was at the spontaneity, kissing you was something he had been thinking about for a while, so he recovered quickly, kissing you back. He put one hand just above your waist and the other on one of your hands, keeping it there.

But before either of you could deepen the kiss, you heard the sound of heels clacking and pulled back. Roger’s lips followed yours, and you giggled, leaning back towards him. You only planned to give him another peck but his soft lips distracted you for another five seconds or so before you remembered what you were doing.

You pulled back, dropping your hands, except Roger kept the one he had been holding and linked his fingers with yours, smiling at you. He still looked clear-eyed and focused after the kiss, so you decided that you had to get him home quickly so you could remedy that.

“So I was thinking we should go ring up and then go to my place. To drop off my new clothes and… stuff,” you said, a bit of a suggestive emphasis on the last word.

“Let’s,” Roger said, picking your shirt up off the table.

The two of you ended up taking off your new finds, figuring it’d be too hot outside for a fur coat and denim shirt, and then headed to the checkout. Ayan was pleased, but not all too surprised that you were taking home the new fur, even if it was technically going to Roger’s home. Roger, to his credit, didn’t have any more trouble with you paying, but insisted that he carry back all the bags. You agreed with the stipulation that he would still hold your hand, which he did.

You only lived a ten minute walk away, and Roger had taken the underground, so you walked the way home. There was chatting along the way, but it was hard to get too deep into any one topic with the feeling of each other’s hands and the anticipation of what was to come distracting you.

Once you got to your building, you were ushered in by the doorman that tipped his hat and wished you both a good day. Then the lobby manager told you a package had arrived and gave you a little thin rectangular box the size of a book. Finally you got into the elevator and the attendant hit the button for the highest floor, yours.

“It’s from my parents,” you told Roger about the box.

“Are they still travelling?”

“Yeah, they should be in Barcelona right about now,” you replied.

“Must be beautiful there,” Roger mused and you hummed in agreement. Then the elevator dinged and the two of you got off, waving to the attendant as the doors closed. You unlocked one of the two doors that were in the hallway (the other was the stairs), and opened the door, ushering Roger in first since he was carrying things.

You took off your shoes to the right of the entryway, next to a pile of other shoes and Roger did the same. Then you grabbed the garment bag that held Roger’s fur coat and hung it on the coat stand. You also took the paper bag with your shirts and put it on your dining table with the package as Roger followed you the rest of the way into your apartment. As you walked about, putting things where they went, Roger was looking around at your place. You had a dining area that turned into a living room with giant floor to ceiling windows on the walls that looked out over the city. Roger was absorbed by trying to see if he could see his building from here when he heard you calling him.

It took him a minute to figure out where you were; there was a long hallway that led to many doors. But it turned out you were in the first off of the dining room which was the kitchen.

As he came into the room, you looked up at him with a smile, “Here, wash up, I cut us up some peaches, if you like them.”

“Love ‘em,” he replied sweetly as he headed to the sink.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have water, soda, tea…”

“Water’s great,” Roger answered and you got two glasses. “I was looking out the windows, you have quite the view.”

“We’ll have to eat this in my bedroom, you can see Hyde Park from there,” you told him and he grinned excitedly, grabbing the bowl of peaches and then walking behind you, nudging you forward with his knee and you laughed.

“Right so, what are all these doors then? Seems like an awful lot for one flat,” Roger teased and you chuckled.

So you pointed to each as you came to it, “Bathroom, office, guest bedroom that Kalaya uses as a closet, Kalaya’s bedroom with an ensuite, closet that also leads to my room--”

“Wait, like a walk-in closet? Oh I have to see this,” Roger said, heading for the door.

“Later, later, I promise,” you said, grabbing his sleeve to pull him back. “We still have the pièce de résistance, my bedroom.”

With that, you pushed open the door and nudged Roger to walk in. He did, eyes quickly taking in your four-poster bed, vanity, bookshelves, record player and collection, chaise lounge, and finally matching windows to the ones in the living room. He walked over to the chaise which was in front of the windows and set down the bowl on the little side table, looking out the windows. You set down the glasses and stood next to him.

“Do you spend a lot of time here?” he gestured to the chaise.

“Yeah, when I’m home alone. I’ll just sit and watch the city live its life for awhile. It’s like people-watching but on a bigger scale,” you explained and he nodded.

So Roger sat down on the chaise, back against the raised end and legs spread out in front of him. He smiled at you and patted the space between his legs. You sat there, your back against his front, but you tilted yourself to the side so you could face each other more easily.

Roger grabbed the peaches and the two of you fed each other slices as you watched the city. It was a quiet and lovely moment with a growing underpinning of desire as the juices dripped down your chins and you kissed away the excess. Once the peaches were gone, you turned more towards him, catching his lips with yours fully once again. The taste of peach lingered on both of your lips, and the kisses were just as sweet as the fruit, just as soft as its skin.

Bringing your hands to Roger’s face, you swiped your tongue along his lower lip, moving it inside when he opened his mouth. Roger made a soft sound and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until your chests were flush. Your breaths pushed you even closer and the feeling was intoxicating, all your senses consumed by the warmth of the moment. You tried adjusting to straddle Roger’s legs, but the angle of the chaise wasn’t very easy for that, so you pulled back, laughing lightly.

Roger had been even further into the kiss than you were so he wasn’t exactly sure why you were laughing but smiled all the same. This time, you saw his unfocused eyes and the tilted grin on his face and felt very proud of your work. Standing up, you brought Roger with you, grabbing the belt loops of his jeans to pull him with you as you walked backward towards your bed. Then you spun him around, pulling open one side of the gauzy curtains that were draped over the frame of your bed, and pushing Roger onto the bed. He laughed as he landed, scooting back so you could get on as well, letting the curtain fall back to its original place.

The light filtering through the curtains was hazy and soft, painting both you and Roger in amber light. Roger sat so his back was against your pillows and you made your way up his body, straddling his hips. His hands tentatively rested on your thighs, but he looked around your room once more.

“If this wasn’t already obvious, I really like your-- your decor,” Roger’s voice faltered as you took off your shirt, leaving you only in your bra.

You smiled mischievously, “I thought you would, pretty boy.”

***

Then you reached for his shirt’s hem, pulling it over his head. It left his waves a bit of a mess, so you combed your fingers through his hair. He hummed and closed his eyes as you did. When you were done, you threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and leaned in for another kiss. The two of you already had a rhythm of push and pull that made it easy to get lost in the kiss. Your free hand smoothed over the tan skin of Roger’s torso, sliding across his pecs and down to his waist, and you felt goosebumps erupt over his skin, smiling into the kiss.

Roger’s hands moved from your thighs, up your torso to your breasts, feeling your nipples harden through your bra and when you moaned as Roger thumbed them, he smiled as well. Your hands went down to Roger’s waistband and you unbuttoned his jeans, pulling down the zipper and starting to shift them down his body. But his hand over one of yours stopped you and you both pulled back from the kiss.

“Can I… eat you out first?” his request wasn’t what you were expecting, but the look of desire in his eyes and the slout pout of his lips sent a bolt of heat to your core and you nodded quickly, switching places with him.

He did take off his pants, tossing them aside, left only in his boxer-briefs. You could see his hard-on, but he was focused on you. Roger unbuttoned and unzipped your shorts, slower than you had his, and pushed them down your legs with your underwear.

Spreading your legs gently, Roger laid between them, turning his head to kiss up the inner thigh of your left leg. His mouth pressed wet kisses into the skin, making your tummy flip and just when he got to the top of that thigh, he switched to the other. Once he was done with both, he pressed kisses over your slit before dragging his tongue up through your folds. You let out a shaky breath as his tongue pressed on your clit, and you tangled your fingers in the hair at the crown of his head.

Roger formed his mouth around your clit and sucked softly, making you moan lowly. He pressed a kiss to your clit then looked up to you with wide eyes and asked, “Is that good?”

The way he asked wasn’t condescending like he already knew the answer, but more eager like he wanted to make sure it was.

So you hummed and nodded, “Yes, Roger, you’re so good, keep going.”

His mouth returned to your clit and he swirled his tongue around it, making you gasp out, “Oh-- yes, Roger, just like that, fuck.”

The praise made him even more set on making you feel good, so he brought a finger to your entrance, and pushed it in slowly. His mouth didn’t slow on your clit, but he was searching with his finger to find your g-spot, knowing he did when your legs twitched. Roger slipped in another finger with the first, immediately working on your g-spot and the feeling was so strong and so good that it was almost too much and your legs tried to close around him.

But Roger just used his free arm to hold you in place. He kept the same rhythm with his fingers and mouth and the pleasure within you just grew and grew. You could feel the tension in your lower stomach tightening with every brush of his fingers inside of you and every circle of his tongue on your clit.

“Oh, I’m close, Roger, fuck,” you managed to get out and Roger moaned against you, making your breathing uneven. “You’re such-- such a, fuck, a good, oh, such a good boy.”

Roger whined against you and you immediately came, the vibrations spreading hot pleasure all over your body as your back arched and you moaned loudly, tightening your grip in Roger’s hair. He kept going, wanting to make you feel as good as possible, partly because he couldn’t believe how hot it was to see you like that.

You were breathing like you had run a mile, but slowly coming down and you loosened your hold on Roger’s hair, combing through it again. Roger’s hum on your clit made you jump a little so you touched the side of his face to get him to stop; he propped himself on his elbows to look at you.

With a playful smileful you asked, “Did you like that, pretty boy?”

He just looked at you confusedly, so you explained, “Well you’re grinding into the mattress so I thought it must’ve been good.”

Roger’s eyes widened as he realized what he had been doing. He stopped, sitting up quickly.

“It’s okay. No need to be embarrassed,” you told him, sitting up and running a thumb over his pink cheek. “I’m glad you felt good too. Now, why don’t you let me make you feel even better, huh?”

He nodded and swallowed, “Yeah.”

You switched spots with him and leaned down for a kiss, running your tongue into Roger’s parted mouth and getting a taste of yourself in return. Reaching behind you, you undid your bra and took it off. Roger’s hands went to your breasts and you bit his lip when he pinched your nipples, moaning together.

You kissed from his lips to his jaw then down his neck, nipping again on his pulse point and where his neck met his shoulder. As you made your way down his chest, you pressed soft kisses basically wherever you could reach, and Roger squirmed a little underneath you, bright blue eyes watching your actions closely. A few kisses to his tummy and above his waistband and then you took off his underwear with his help, his cock hard and flushed red against his stomach.

Settled on your knees between his legs, and putting one hand on his thigh to steady yourself, you grabbed his dick in your other hand and bent down, pressing kisses along the shaft and then peppering them on the head. Roger moaned softly and you started pumping him and tongued his slit.

You sucked on his head, using your tongue to swirl around it and he groaned, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Pulling off, you pressed a couple more kisses to this head and stroked him, “Such a pretty boy and such a pretty cock.”

Roger’s hips bucked and you hid your smile by going down on him again, not giving him any break. You worked your mouth down along with your hand, building a rhythm that was making precum bead on his head, which you happily sucked off.

Looking up at Roger, you saw that his head was tossed back, eyes closed with his lip between his teeth. You lifted your hand from his thigh up, brushing your thumb along his lower lip so he would let it go. As he did, he looked at you, tilting his head forward. His pupils were blown and he looked desperate as he watched you. You got an idea and a shiver ran across your body. You stuck your first two fingers out and slowly pushed them into his mouth, Roger’s lips immediately closing around them and starting to suck.

Both of you moaned; him around your fingers and you around his cock, making his hips buck again. You took him deeper in your mouth, as deep as you could go, gagging twice around his cock before pulling off again. You let the excess spit in your mouth fall onto his dick and used your hand to spread it around, jerking him off faster than before.

Roger was watching you intently, moaning whenever you twisted your wrist. You licked your lips and swallowed, “Your lips look so good around my fingers, Roger. You’re such a pretty boy, all desperate for me.”

He tried to say something that you could barely make out as “please.”

“Shhh, I got you. Do you wanna be a good boy and come for me?” you asked sweetly, lowering your head back towards his cock.

Roger nodded, keeping your fingers in his mouth, so you brought his head back into your mouth and sucked in time with your hand. You could tell Roger was getting close with the way his hips were shifting and you could feel the vibrations of his moans on your fingers stronger. His thighs were tensing so you pulled your fingers from his mouth, gripping his thigh with your wet fingers, and the slight dig of your nails into his skin set him off as he warned you hoarsely, “I’m gonna come-- fuck.”

He came as you jacked his dick off into your mouth, swallowing his cum as quickly as you could. His high moans of your name ignited a burn between your thighs but you focused on the task at hand. You pulled off, stroking him slowly now and using your tongue to lick any leftover spots of cum off his head. As his breath evened, you pressed one more kiss to his head and then sat up and moved to lay next to him.

***

Roger turned towards you and you kissed him quickly. You tangled one leg between his and started brushing his hair away from his still flushed face. One of his hands rested on your waist, tapping out a simple rhythm.

“You’re-- you’re good at that,” he told you with a little smile.

“Thanks, so are you, pretty boy,” you said, smiling when he flushed. “Are you ever not going to blush when I call you that?”

He looked away, then looked back, an unbelieving laugh escaping him, “Probably not.”

“Good,” you laughed, bringing him in for another kiss.

_

Later, after cleaning up, as the two of you were redressing, Roger remembered that he had yet to see your closet.

“You promised,” he reminded teasingly.

“I remember,” you rolled your eyes, but opened the door and led him in. He stepped in slowly, taking in every inch of very organized racks of clothes, shoes, and accessories with his eyes, which was a lot of inches.

“This closet is literally the size of my living room. My clothes would only fill one rack. Oh, I want this amount of nice clothes,” Roger said wistfully, running his hands across the racks.

“You know, I could help with that, for a small price,” you said with a smile.

“Are you thinking… sex? Because I’m already feeling like your sugar baby with the coat immediately turning into us hooking up,” Roger said and you could not tell if he was joking.

A look of amused shock took over your face as your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped, “I was thinking more like you keep helping me with my own shopping so I focus on finding the best things instead of buying everything in the store, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” Roger said with a sheepish smile.

“And excuse you, ‘immediately turning into us hooking up?’ it’s not like I jumped you in the store!” you said, pushing his shoulder.

“Well, you kind of did jump me,” he countered, stepping in front of you and placing his hands on your waist. You scoffed, not touching him. So he took your hands and put them on his shoulders, placing his back on your waist. You pretended to be mad and looked away, not making any move to separate yourself from him.

Roger leaned closer, only a few inches from your face, “I was gonna say that I wouldn't mind being your sugar baby, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh, looking at him, and he did. “It’s a sweet deal for you because you get stuff and sex. I can get sex from anyone, the only payment worth it from you is your sense of style.”

“Well then I’ll happily pay with that,” Roger nodded. He smiled and you rolled your eyes at his absurdity, but let him press his lips to yours in a kiss that made up for it.

★★★

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[pergaias]

excerpts from books i’ll never write ; ii

the varying lengths of these excerpts mess with me  and my perfectionism istf - some are long, like this one, others are short, but hey - all of them lead to the same place. nowhere. 

this is the entire first chapter of a story that i will never finish so um - enjoy ?

title: checkmate word count: 3030

CHAPTER ONE

1.1 ‘YOU THINK YOU’RE FUNNY, RIGHT?’

“VENETIA VERNE, INTERN FOR The White Knight Herald.”

Venetia Verne was done. Done with her job-- being a reporter only sounded fun in theory-- done with her outfit-- what in the world was she thinking-- and of course, done with Octavia Tyrell.

Tavi. Her buttercup. 

Venetia was pretty sure her eyes were so swollen that her cry-fest would be painfully obvious, and was also pretty much positive that she looked like a wreck. 

Not even the fancy perfume she stole from Octavia last night would mask the smell of abject heartbreak.

Seventeen years old but acting twenty-three, Venetia always prided herself for being mature, collected, and a total bitch. 

Of course, the bitch part was usually used affectionately-- Tavi had always called her you bitch! as an endearment, just like the way Venetia used to squeeze her hand and whisper buttercup.

Seventeen years old, but acting twelve when it came to breakups.

“Right this way, Miss Verne,” a female assistant led her across the hall, and Venetia surreptitiously straightened her skirt out. She had chosen a dove-colored skirt and a very vintage white blouse-- vintage chic had always been her style, even though Tavi always pushed for her to look more preppy-glam.

As if. Octavia managed to look like Elle Woods but black-and-white. Venetia was stuck as a Forties poster ad.

“Thank you,” Venetia tried for a smile, but it came out vaguely grimace-like. Had she spent all night crying? Possibly. Was she tired of life, the universe, and everything? Also possibly.

For the record, the answer was not forty-two. Screw the flying dolphins and their musical number about fish.

The assistant nodded, her hair in a bun so tight that Venetia’s scalp sympathized. “Our director is quite excited to meet you, Miss Verne-- he says you’re the best in your generation, and our boss at the Herald has never been more excited about a high school prospect-- you must be doing something right.”

Venetia tried for another smile, but this one looked like a leer. The assistant smiled sympathetically, her heels clicking rhythmically against the tiled floor of the building. She was probably tired of everything, too-- the office had the feel of a morgue. 

As Venetia trailed behind her, her mind kept wandering to Tavi’s coily dark hair, her rich laugh, the way her brown eyes caught the light and turned to gold. Tavi’s lips on the other boy’s, her hands reaching up his shirt--

Venetia broke off. Octavia didn’t know she saw-- to Octavia, everything was still all well and good. Of course, Tavi was used to having everything she wanted. Spoiled, rich, princess bastard--

“We’re here, sweetie,” the assistant motioned to an imposing-looking door, a slightly condescending note to her voice. 

“I appreciate the concern, but it’s Venetia, love.” Venetia allowed herself a smirk at the now-shellshocked assistant before opening the door herself.

Venetia Verne had no interest in being polite or heterosexual. 

“Hi, Dad,” Venetia deadpanned, plopping down in front of the central feature of the office-- a heavy, fancy desk-- and all but putting her feet up. Today was just punch after punch after punch-- of course, Venetia could have rescheduled, but all that bitch energy had to go somewhere, right?

“Venetia.” Cyprian Jung looked no different from the day he divorced her mother, choosing a career and a fancy business conglomerate instead of a wife and tenacious daughter.

Let’s face it. Venetia was still just a little bit bitter. Just a little. 

“Hi. Venetia Verne, intern for the White Knight Herald.” Venetia kept her coy smile, putting emphasis on her mother’s surname. “My final high school project involves me reporting on the crimes of--”

“You’re reporting on the crimes of the White Queen?” her father’s face snapped up, dark hair and hawkish nose and slanted eyes the color of pond scum. 

“Yes,” Venetia said primly, her eyes narrowing. 

“Venetia, sweetheart,” 

“Don’t sweetheart me.” 

“Venetia.”

“Venetia what, Father?”

“Venetia, do you know why I let you interview me?” Cyprian sighed, stroking his nonexistent beard with two fingers. Like, if he actually had one, Venetia was so going to pull an Aang-and-Firelord-Ozai and yank him down by the stupid goatee.

Think calm thoughts, Ven. Less violent, more… Passive-aggressive? Put salt in his coffee instead of sugar?

“Because, like you said. I’m the best of my generation.” Venetia’s gray-green eyes glittered. “And as we both know, the pen is greater than the sword.”

“What do you need to know?” 

ON CYPRIAN JUNG

AS HARD AS IT may be to believe, Cyprian Jung wasn’t always a douche CEO and The Worst Father of the Year. 

Once upon a time, Cyprian might have been Venetia’s favorite person in the world-- but Venetia always skips over that information, and more often than not, likes to pretend that her father didn’t exist. 

Because being raised by a single badass mother sounded a lot cooler than “yeah, my dad decided that his business was a better child than I was, lolol”

But when an new upstart reporter’s article landed on his desk one drizzly Monday morning, Cyprian was shocked to realize that his very gay, very disappointing daughter was the one who wrote it.

Now, we can go two directions here. We can say that Cyprian was so proud and so moved by his daughter’s shrewd reporting skills and her article, or we can say that Cyprian saw something in his daughter that he realized he could exploit, like any good, cunning businessman.

Venetia Verne, who looked-- and acted-- nothing like her father (who seemingly embodied every single fucking Asian stereotype-- how did he even do that?) was proud that she was her mother's daughter.

She hated every resemblance she had with Cyprian, of which she unfortunately had a multitude.

And here comes the plot twist: Cyprian Jung, even though he seemed like he didn’t care for his daughter at all, did. 

That was why he called her into his office on an unnaturally-bright Saturday, the day after Venetia and her girlfriend went to a Friday night house party and Venetia stumbled in on her girlfriend in the middle of a hot make-out sesh with a boy.

And before Venetia turned to her mother for advice on her problem, and before she decided to become who she wanted to be for herself, her father would do one good thing for her.

And it would be the only good thing that Venetia would ever, grudgingly, accept that he did.

1.2 ‘CALLING ME DRUNK WHEN IT’S TOO LATE AT NIGHT’

VENETIA CAME BACK FROM her interview with her father a little satisfied and a little angry. 

Satisfied because she had the outline for her next article all set out and ready to go-- complete with quotes from her father about the White Queen-- and angry for two reasons. 

One, because her father really thought that way? Screw him. 

And two, because Venetia had always gone to lunch on Saturdays with Octavia at their favorite boba shop, munching on Taiwanese food and complaining about how difficult ‘life-ing’ was. Octavia had always managed to make Cyprian (and her own father’s) bigoted ideals about feminism (and gay culture, honestly) seem funny.

Venetia pressed her lips into a tighter line as she finally got out of her father’s ice-cold office building and onto the street, where the motion and movement of the city slowed, if not stilled, her thoughts.

Her flat shoes dragged against the gritty pavement as Venetia trudged towards, actually, Venetia didn’t know where she was going. She just kept walking, her bag over her shoulder and one hand brushing against the folds of her skirt.

Venetia hated not having purpose. Saturdays were hard because those were the days that lacked the most schedule-- school days had school, with designated wake-up and go-the-fuck-to-sleep times. Saturdays were full of freedom, and Venetia Verne didn’t know what to do with it.

So she continued walking, wishing that she had something to do. There was always lunch with Tavi to look forward to, or thrift shopping if she wanted. She could walk around the city aimlessly, or she could go home and mope around--

In her bag, her phone buzzed insistently. Only one person ever texted and didn’t call-- Tavi.

Tears burned the backs of Venetia’s eyes, and a lump formed in her throat. Octavia was probably calling wondering why she wasn’t at the shop yet, knowing about her girlfriend’s affinity for punctuality and structure. 

Octavia was just going to ignore it.

She didn’t confess to a fuming-but-hiding-it Venetia last night that she had cheated, nor had she acted any differently. With her cheerful I love you, bitch and her insistent flirting with anyone who spared her an appreciative glance but her fake assurances that she was Venetia’s and Venetia’s alone.

Venetia’s fingers tightened around the material of her skirt, twisting the fabric until she was positive the texture would be printed onto her fingers. Her calculating eyes swept over the people around her, dresses in shades of black and white and navy. All business suits or pencil skirts.

Her phone buzzed again, and Venetia ignored it further. 

If Octavia was going to ignore the elephant in the room, Venetia sure as hell wasn’t going to point it out. She remembered the way her stomach had dropped when she pushed the door open looking for her jacket, the way that outrage pulsed through her veins, tempered by shattering disappointment. 

If Venetia had marched in and screamed at Octavia, what would it have changed? Tavi was used to getting everything she wanted. 

So Venetia had gently shut the door and crashed into a different-- thankfully unoccupied room-- and splashed her face with the coldest tap water she could get, staring directly at the bathroom light so she wouldn’t cry. 

Venetia hated crying, hated showing any form of vulnerability. Because Venetia Verne was a sphynx, carved out of stone. Her father had always called her Sphynx, because when she was upset she tended to not show it. 

Well, Venetia’s resting bitch face was downright legendary.

If Venetia had said something, what would it have changed? Octavia, skillful with words, would have laughed and said that her girlfriend was drunk, or sleep-deprived, or both. 

And Venetia knew that she herself would have believed it. 

Octavia could paint pictures with words in a way that Venetia had never seen before-- and her mother was a supervillain. 

And that was the other reason why she was angry.

Because her mother was the White Queen, and her father’s opinion made her blood boil.

It really puts opinions into perspective when people are ignorant: if you uploaded a picture of yourself to an internet forum-- not saying that it was yourself-- and asked people to describe it, what would they say?

Venetia’s phone kept buzzing.

Her fist kept clenching.

And the spiral-- no, noose-- of her thoughts tightened. 

1.3 ‘TELLING ME TRUTHS THAT YOU KNOW ARE LIES’

“OKAY, AM I ALLOWED to be done with this?” Venetia fumed to her secondary best friend Gray, who Venetia was positive was sick of her. She only came running over to the mild Australian boy when she lost another of her friends, and ditching him once she made a new one. If Venetia wasn’t such a heartless bitch, she would have felt bad for the way she treated him.

“Yes, you are,” Gray said patiently, trailing meekly behind her.

 “Well, good,” Venetia snapped, storming through the halls of the local high school.

The rest of her dreary Saturday had come and gone in a whirl of anger-grief-bitching-stress eating, and Sunday the same. 

“Hey, Ashie!” Venetia was in a seriously pissy mood, and decided then and there that she was going to call everyone by obnoxious nicknames only that day. Asheton Shore, who adamantly went by Shore, was her first victim.

“It’s Shore!” the boy bellowed.

Behind her, Venetia heard Gray scurry behind a wall of imposing-looking seniors. “Ashie,” Venetia drawled, walking closer to him. Her skirt swished with each step she took-- while Asheton Shore’s close companion Maeren Sepia liked vintage too, Venetia always secretly knew that her style was better.

“Fruck,” Shore muttered-- no, it was Ashie, Venetia told herself firmly. 

“Come on, Venetia.” Gray was back, his eyes shifting around nervously as he carefully took her by the arm and steered her away.

“Damn it,” Venetia hissed, digging her fingers into the material of her skirt. 

“Okay, I know you’re--” Gray cringed, “bitching about the whole Octavia thing, but--”

“You can say the word bitch, Gray.”

“I don’t want to call you a bitch, Ven.”

“Oh my fucking god, Gray. When you think of the word bitch you should think of my face.”

“I don’t like cursing.”

“Fuck that.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Right back at you, Gray.”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Thanks.”

Venetia huffed; Gray bit his lip, sighing. Yes, he was very much done with Venetia and her bullshit. Venetia herself was done with Venetia and her bullshit. 

Like Ashie, Gray went exclusively by his last name. Then again, when you had a name like Devlin-Tibereus, you wanted to purge that name from your memory. And ‘Asheton’ didn’t even seem so bad if you had the misfortune of being named Devlin-Tiberius Gray-- the Second.

And no, Venetia was not allowed to call him Take Two.

“Come on, we’re going to be late to class.” Gray was tugging at her sleeve insistently. Sometimes Venetia thought of him as an insistent-yet-adorable puppy, the kind that was a total sweetheart until they gave up and peed on your carpet.

“I wanna ditch,” muttered Venetia, who was very acutely aware that Octavia would be attending the same class. 

And even though Venetia spent a weekend moping around mooching off of Octavia’s Netflix and eating half-melted ice cream, ghosting Octavia when she tried to call, and doing everything except think about Octavia-- which was a form of thinking about it-- she wasn’t ready to face her. 

At all. 

Gray blew out a breath-- yes, he was very, very sick of her already.

“Let’s ditch.” Gray said suddenly, planting his feet and nearly throwing Venetia off-balance. 

Venetia gaped. “Where the fuck is Gray and what did you do with him, Take Two?”

“I am not take two! Ven, how many times do I have to tell you? Come on, let’s ditch.”

“You’re finally speaking sense, Gray.” Venetia patted his back appreciatively as they blew past the classroom they were supposed to be in and towards the exit. “About time.”

Gray smiled, flashing his elusive dimples. “No shit.”

1.4 ‘YEAH, YOU THINK YOU’RE FUNNY, RIGHT?’

“SO,” VENETIA SAID LAMELY, her feet dragging against the dusty pavement as she and Gray trudged away from the school, casting furtive looks over their shoulders to make sure that they weren’t being followed. “How’s Teddy? Do people still get to call her Taffy?”

“Taffy’s fine,” Gray said, and didn’t elaborate. Venetia didn’t press-- she knew she was already pressing her luck with her friend-- if Gray could even call her that-- by dragging him with her.

Teddy-- or Theodosia-Amélie Frances Gray-- was Gray’s little sister, who was affectionately called ‘Taffy’ by her close friends and family. Venetia wasn’t sure if she fell in that category, but like most only children, she had a fascination with siblings.

Like how both Gray and Teddy had the same smile and mousy hair and dimples, but they shared different things with their parents, like how Gray and his mother had the same nose but Teddy had the same pattern of freckles across her cheeks.

“That’s nice. Where do you want to go, coffee?” Venetia asked, and suddenly laughed. Out here there was no Octavia, no pressure, no teachers breathing down her neck as she struggled through trigonometry. 

Gray’s elusive dimples flashed. “Coffee sounds nice-- as does the idea of ditching, honestly-- and you can rant to me about Octavia. You know, you shouldn’t call her Octavia or Tavi. What about Tyrell?”

“Why shouldn’t I call her Octavia?” Venetia asked, bemused. 

“I don’t know!” Gray grinned. “Maybe… I don’t know, Octavia sounds too nice. I’d say ‘call her a bitch’--”

“But I’m the bitch.” Venetia finished, mirroring Gray’s grin. She and Gray always clicked-- no matter how Venetia abandoned him or pushed him aside for her other friends-- not that she had any, which was the irony of it-- Gray was always waiting with his remarks and banter and coffee-fueled highs.

“Exactly.”

“I really am a bitch, you know. Makes you wonder how Buttercup-- I mean Tavi-- I mean Tyrell-- fell for me in the first place.”

“Eh, probably the bitchiness itself.”

“True, true.”

Gray grinned again. “I missed you-- which probably is the wrong thing to say, but hey-- Taffy tattles on me for swearing all the time, while you swear just as much--”

“More. I swear more than you, Tibe.” Venetia smirked and quirked an eyebrow, and Gray sighed. 

“I’m never going to win that argument, am I?” he asked, half smiling. 

Venetia winked-- or tried to, since she couldn’t wink to save her life-- and nudged Gray’s shoulder with her own. “Never, Take Two.”

“You know, I can call you Veni Vidi Vici.”

Venetia scowled. “My mother really had something against me naming me Venetia Lavinia, didn’t she? Veni Vinny Verne, I mean, seriously?”

Gray smiled, flashing his dimples again. “Someone’s in good spirits.”

“Just drink your damn coffee, Gray.”

“Just let us get to the damn coffee shop, Verne,” Gray mimicked her tone, his wavy hair bouncing as he walked. 

“You’re almost as annoying as,” Venetia paused to snap her fingers, “whatshisname Lock. Lochlan Ryals-- don’t some people call him Cinnamon?”

“Lock?” Gray asked, his eyes lighting up. “That’s a compliment.”

“Well, I sure didn’t mean it that way,” Venetia said dryly, her eyes trained on the coffee shop that was coming into clearer view.

“Well, time to order coffee black as my soul,” Venetia said brightly, swinging the door open and following Gray inside.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

“I’m hilarious,” Venetia deadpanned, tossing her pin-straight hair. 

“You really do think you’re funny.”

Venetia smirked. “Yep, I think I’m funny, right?”

[tiesandtea]

Mr. Lazy – fanzine interview with Alan Fisher, December 2004

intrepid suede globetrotters elina and sirje conducted this interview with alan fisher, the man about whom songs like "lazy", "high rising", "beautiful loser" and, according to the man himself, "the most of the others as well" have been written. (editor's note: not to suggest that alcohol played any part in this q&a session, but it did take place in alan's local. oh, and in other locations in the uk, plus morocco & finland, in both oral & written forms. anyway, surely worth all the so-called trouble.) no animals, be they cats or terrapins, were harmed during this interview, but a considerable amount of wine bottles did get destroyed.

how long have you known brett? where did you grow up?

i have known brett since i was 16/17 – near on 20 years now. i grew up in sussex, near haywards heath.

how does it feel that so many of brett’s lyrics are about you? (did you ever get the feeling that brett was just kind of observing you or waiting around for you to do something flamboyant so that he could write about it?)

it’s very flattering to know that some lyrics are about me. however i was never aware of brett observing me purposely to get lyrics or ideas for songs. it’s funny because there are so many songs that are very personal to me, and you think some part of the song is about you, and they are not. over the years many friends who have been in close contact with brett and the music think that songs are about them, because of various lyrical content. i think brett has ability to take elements from friends’ lives or chapters and create a story blended together, a fusion of characters in one song. i remember when i heard “the big time” and the last line – “now we’re in the big time and you’re in the way” i was extremely put out, i took it very personally. i thought it referred to me, but luckily it didn’t. however i’m pleased to say that my favourite song has to be “lazy”. the original version i think went like this – “here they come with their make up on as lovely as the birds come and see them” which i think is very beautiful. which changed to “here they come gone 7 am bla bla bla”, which was about being up all night, then putting on make up so as to hide the effects of being on a bender, and going down to off-license to buy cornflakes and bottles of red wine.

what was the best experience traveling with suede? (what happened in las vegas?)

difficult question, as i’ve had many amazing experiences on tour with suede. two very contrasting escapades were one journey in japan, and one on the west coast of america. brett and myself had the fortunate experience of visiting a buddhist temple in japan called the “moss gardens”. we visited a temple that was so beautiful and peaceful, and the entire gardens were immersed in moss with beautiful ponds and waterfalls. we sat in the temple and wrote a mantra admist buddhist chanting, which i believe influenced the song “introducing the band”. the other experience was a trip to la, san francisco and las vegas. i seem to remember i hadn’t been to bed for a few days, and when i was there i didn’t sleep much for various reasons. we stayed at a friend’s house in beverly hills called michiko, a house of pure opulence, with plenty of alcohol and other fineries. i seem to remember that towards the end (in vegas) brett wouldn’t let me sleep – just more alcohol. and i think that when i went to bed brett checked to make sure i was alive.

what will/do you miss the most about suede?

the thing i miss the most about suede is being around when a great song is created. i’d come home and brett would say “i’ve got it.”, some missing song on the album and consequently we would stay up night after night listening to the same song over and over – the poor neighbours.

at what part of his career was brett at his happiest?

when he was writing happy songs. actually i don’t think brett ever made happy songs. only joking! i don’t know when brett was actually the happiest. i think maybe when the band first started and the first album came out, that’s when he realised his dreams were coming true.

has brett being famous ever bothered you?

brett being famous has never bothered me; in fact it’s been quite a relief; it’s taken the limelight away from me.

fame can and has certainly changed many people who obtain it. how do you think it's affected brett over the years? has it affected your friendship?

i don’t think fame has changed brett’s fundamental characteristics, obviously it has shaped his life aspects like walking down the street, or having a drink in pub. i think living with me for so long has definitely fucked him up.

is there a lot of divergence between brett's public persona and the man underneath it all?

not really. he’s the same complex, passionate and artistic character at home and on stage, i don’t know about the bedroom though!!

how were the new band members really welcomed?

some dreadful, unmentionable initiation ceremonies.

was brett & bernard getting back together a surprise for you? how do you like the new material? how about brett’s solo material?

not really; they had a magic chemistry together that never really fulfilled its potential. and the new stuff is absolutely great! wait and see!!

what's all this about brett meditating? it was mentioned in the love & poison book.

i haven’t actually read love & poison, which is extremely lame of me, eventually i will. however, i think brett has some interest in meditating, maybe from visiting japan’s buddhist temples and being influenced by their way of living, zen and all that.

is brett good at pub quizzes?

brett, i could imagine, is very good at pub quizzes if he entered them. they have a quiz at our local pub, i think brett and mat osman entered once, and came a very admirable second place, which is no mean feat, because it’s a very professional affair in that establishment.

have there been times when brett did something you wish he hadn't? musical decisions or anything.

i can’t think of anything that resembles a mistake or regret in terms of musical direction. over the years, artists are faced with monumental decisions to make in terms of artistic development; single releases; band commitment and general themes for the forthcoming albums. however, i think brett has the ability to listen to other people’s opinions as well as his own, to come up with the best viable decision. considering the turbulent times of drug taking and various band members coming and going, i don’t think he’s done too badly.

how posh is brett?

how posh is brett – what a strange question – in fact the hardest one i’ve ever been asked! – not at all. crikey, well for somebody that came from a council house and bought second hand records/clothes. he now drinks tea at 4 o’clock in proper bone china tea cups – doesn’t get any posher than that. oh! and he has a butler called jessica rabbit.

does he watch sports on tv?

well it has to be football, brett hates posh sports like cricket & rugby (un)like me. he is very obsessive over the england football team, ipswich and manchester united (because that’s my team, and i always cry when they lose).

what's brett's best quality?

brett’s best quality is having good taste in friends and good taste in music, i.e., suede.

and his worst?

i can’t think of his worst qualities, but i remember the worst thing living with him, he would always become too comfortable on the sofa which would mean i would have to rewind the suede demos and go out and get another bottle of wine from the off-license.

we're sorry this is all about suede/brett... when we start an alan fanzine we’ll interview you about yourself... ok?

ok.

tell us a secret

my favourite colour is black.

how much do suede lie in the interviews? (if you read them)

i’m too busy to read suede interviews, i’ve got my own press cuttings to examine.

what do you think brett would have become without suede?

i’m sure it would have only been with some musical compaction. however, our living arrangements would have resembled something out of “the servant”.

what about you? how much has suede affected you?

suede were the most important thing in my life. as my girlfriend just put it a moment ago whilst i was writing this, it’s like going out with three people: her, me and suede. as i tell her, it could have been worse: i could have been friends with ronan keating.

do you love us? what do you think of suede fans in general? a lovely bunch on whole, or have you had some harrowing experiences with obsessed loonies?

well, i’m a suede fan myself, so i would have to say they are great. obsessed loonies? i am one; i have been stalking brett for 20 years, but he doesn’t realise.

there are lots of mentions of yours and brett's drug use in l&p. is this an accurate characterization of the state of affairs or did it get glammed up a bit for press?

it’s all a myth, i once smoked a joint with brett, it was really far out man! oh, and i snorted some glue at a dinner party once, it was so chic.

tell us something about suede that we don't know.

they are a figment of your imagination!!

tell us something about brett that we don't know.

i know something extremely juicy, real top gossip. but you’re going to have to wait to see whether he meets my blackmail demands.

if you were an animal, what kind of animal would he be? what kind of animal would brett be?

brett refers to me as an electrocuted rabbit, something similar to the mad hatter in alice in wonderland. i think brett would be a very feline cat.

speaking of cats, they tend to go missing, don’t they?

we had a cat called meisk – when brett was on tour it went missing. when i found it on the street, i thought it had a cold because it had a funny meow – it turned out to be the wrong cat. i remember brett was extremely pissed off. we had another cat called sphinx that was an incredibly lively character, it had a long run up – then produced its claws and wham!!

have you ever been arrested?

yes! on several occasions, on suspicion of being sinister and bad influence on society.

dave thompson’s yet-to-be-published suede-book, an armchair guide to suede, includes this: 

"‘young men’ developed out of lyrics written for a joke band, the bruisers, that anderson, his flatmate alan and a hairdresser friend named gary hatched one evening;"

can you tell us anything more about this?

after one crazy night early in the morning we had this inspiration to form a band based on idea of national front skinheads with the title song “british bulldog”. brett and gary were both very amusing and inventive with songs like “santa ain’t a wanker” etc.

besides that, have you ever been musically inclined or in a band yourself?

after hearing brett playing an instrument called the melodica, something like a mouth organ with a pipe attached to it, waking me every morning, it put me off music for life.

what other music are you into besides suede?

sigue sigue sputnik and mozart.

have you and brett ever had a fist fight? have you ever fought over who does the shopping or cleans the toilet or whose dirty plates are in the sink?

we have never had a fist fight in 20 years. however, we once had a duel at sunrise over who was the vainest.

that’s it then. say something nice. or mean. whatever you like. thanks!

stop asking me questions about brett, and more about myself!

Source: Pornographic & Tragic, the official Suede fanzine, issue 2 (December 2004).

[goldenkookietae]

Cosy Creams | JJK

BTS one shot

Pairing: Colleague!Jungkook x reader

Word count: 4,173 words

Warnings: Fluff, cute

Summary:  It’s your first time on a date with your office colleague / crush and you are beyond nervous. When a dashing Jungkook turns up at your door, you could never have imagined an exhilarating ride and a delicious treat for the sweet tooth you’ve got.

A/N: I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but I really really liked this one while writing it. And I am defo going to write more parts. This Jungkook is just too boyfriend material.

Disclaimer: This story is an AU fanfiction that I have created using the names of the members of BTS. I do not claim any ownership over the members of BTS. The plot and the personalities of the characters are entirely my own.

Do not plagiarize my work and do not repost.

*

Moodboard

*I do not claim ownership over any of the pictures. They are credited to their original owners.

She leaned closer to the mirror, as she struggled to get her eyeliner perfectly. It wasn’t every day that Y/N decided to glam up for a night out. But this wasn’t just one of those regular weekend parties that she was reluctantly dragged to by her best friend. This one she had agreed to on her own, perhaps even suggested it. As if the effort coming from her side hadn’t already been enough, for the first time in so many years, she had actually wanted to dress up.

It wasn’t as though the date was fancy. He had asked her to dress up casually and she was more than thankful that he’d suggested that. But that didn’t necessarily mean that she was going to go make up free. Just casual make up would do. That included BB, mascara, eyeliner and some light lip gloss. Nothing too special.

“Crap! There goes my seventh attempt at symmetrical eyeliner. Just why do we have to put this shit on?” she cursed.

“Sweetheart, you know you have the choice of totally skipping it, don’t you?” her best friend leaned against her door frame, a box of strawberries in his hand while he bit into one.

“Thanks a lot Hoseok, that’s making me feel so much better.” She huffed before setting down the stick and slumping onto the bed with her typical eye roll.

“Now, there there, kid. You don’t have to get so down about it. I can help you put it on.” Hoseok smiled as he pat her head, loving the way her eyes lit up.

“But I don’t see the point in it because you’ll look like Winnie the pooh either way.” He laughed, also loving the frown she gave him.

“I hate you.” She muttered laying back on the soft sheets and staring up at the ceiling.

“Nothing ever works out with any crush of mine. Not even eyeliner. What has my life become?” Y/N sighed as she extended her hand upward and then dropped it down onto her stomach.

Hoseok chuckled at his little drama queen for a best friend. “Come on now, you didn’t really expect anything out of your crush over Scarlett Johansson, did you?”

“It still broke my heart.” Y/N replied in the same gloomy tone.

Hoseok simply grinned before he caught her arms tight and pulled her into a sitting position.

“Now let’s get you ready for this date that’s making you this dramatic. What was his name again? Jungmin?”

“Jungkook.” Y/N snapped her eyes to Hoseok instantly, giving him a small glare. “And why’re you acting like you don’t know him, you guys are practically glued to each other all the time.”

“Awww is that making you jealous?” Hoseok cooed, pinching her cheek only for his hand to get slapped away.

“Alright I’ll stop. I’m serious now. It’s quarter to eight already.”

“Already? He’s gonna be here in fifteen minutes and I’m still a mess! Argh!” Y/N shrieked, clutching her hair with a hand.

“Sweetheart, you got nothing to worry about when your hope is right here.” Hoseok nods as he points to himself and then fixes her with an intense stare.

“Time for Mission: Jungoo Jaw Drop, now in progress.”

“It’s Jungkook.” Y/N groaned, receiving a ‘tsk’ in response as Hoseok picked up the eyeliner from where she had left it.

What could be the reason for all this drama, one might ask. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at how cliché she was being. Her mind going back to the times she would crush over the popular guys in high school. This time was no different. The only things that had changed were that, she was no longer a student, but an intern and the guy she was crushing on was a colleague from her workplace.

While she pondered over her three-month-old crush, she was snapped back to reality when Hoseok shook her shoulders.

“Y/N? The doorbell just went off, I think it’s-”

“Jungkook.” She whispered, before looking into the mirror frantically.

 “Why do you sound like aliens are out to get you? Relax, it’s just a date. He’ll be drooling all over you trust me.” Hoseok held her shoulders and in that moment Y/N felt as though he was transferring energy to her.

It wasn’t her first time going out with him, they’d hung out together multiple times before and even been alone together. However, it was the first time, they had labelled this as a date. That was what made her nervous.

“You’re right, let’s go.” Y/N huffed, marching towards the door and pausing right before as she calmed herself and slowed down. As soon as she opened the door, she could hardly keep herself from blushing and looking away under his intense gaze.

“Y/N, you look beautiful.” Jungkook muttered, biting his lower lip making her swoon. Regaining her composure, she scanned him from head to toe shamelessly, taking in his attire. Black shirt, ripped jeans hugging his figure and a red leather jacket that gave him a ragged look.

Deep in her mind, she tried to match his outfit to hers. A dark blue ruffle blouse paired with blue jeans and black coat. Not that she could find anything similar.

Surprisingly, some of her confidence came back. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow. Jungkook grinned, “Well, I’m glad. Exactly what I was aiming for.”

They stared at each other for a while, their cheeks hurting with how much they were smiling and how much they were trying to not let that show.

“Ahem.” Both heads towards Hoseok leaning against a wall sipping what Y/N assumed was coffee.

“Hi Hyung.” Jungkook waved and Hoseok waved back. When nothing more happened, Hoseok sighed and made a shooing movement with his hand. “You both should get your asses out now.”

“Yes, right. Shall we?” Jungkook smiled, taking her hand and leading her out into the cold night. She mentally pat herself on the back for adding on a coat, learning from past experiences.

And when their ride came into view, she could feel the excitement burst through her veins. She was taken aback the first time she had seen it, having never travelled on a motorcycle before. But once she got a taste of it, she realised nothing else could bring her the same thrill. To add to that, nothing topped off riding on the motorcycle, sitting behind him, holding onto his waist and feeling the warmth pass from his torso to her body.

While she was busy reliving the feel of it, Jungkook had already mounted their sweet ride and was now grinning at her. “Hop on.” He knew she loved it.

She staggered towards him slowly, taking in how drool worthy he looked sitting there on a Harley Davidson. Her eyes slipped down to his thighs, the muscle straining against the taut material of his jeans. His sharp features made him stand out even when he wasn’t trying to. Before she could get on however, he caught her wrist and pulled her to face him.

“Here.” He pulled out the helmet resting on the handle, and fit it onto her head, clicking the buckles into place under her chin. The first time she’d refused saying it would ruin her hair. That was when Jungkook had taken it upon himself to put it on her every time she rode with him. “Safety first.” He’d said. She had never since complained.

“Now, get on.” He said, putting on his own helmet. And unlike her first time, she had now mastered the art of getting onto a motorcycle without falling down. She gripped his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex underneath and flung her leg onto the other side, lowering herself slowly onto the raised hump. Satisfied, she slipped her hands around his waist and held tight. Maybe this was one of the reasons she loved the ride so much.

Jungkook had noticed on their previous rides that Y/N never really talked much during their ride, he watched her from the mirror, her head tilted upwards a little and if he focused, he could also see her eyes closed. She just simply enjoyed the rides and it made him smile. Sometimes, late in the night, when the roads where empty, she’d take off her helmet and press her forehead to his back and he could feel her letting go of whatever stress she was going through for that moment. That made his heart soar and made him glad he’d bought the Harley.

He kept checking on her in the mirror, telling her usually to hold on tighter because there was a bump in the road or he just wanted to feel her against him and other times he stayed quiet, content with the fact that she was enjoying the ride. The fact that she only had him to take her on such rides made him want to show her more of such things. The normal parts of his life had suddenly become special because of her and he just hoped she wouldn’t ever tire of them, or him. When he spotted their destination getting closer, he sighed knowing he’d miss the feel of her holding on tight to him.

“Kavanah.” Y/N read out loud as she got off the bike, taking in the cosy vibes from the place. Jungkook was standing beside her now and she felt his hand touch her back subtly guiding her through the gates.

“This place has the best brownies you could ever find. Since you love them so much.” He stated, biting his lip at how her eyes sparkled. It wasn’t as though she had told him that, but it would be stupid to miss.

A month ago, Jungkook had joined his first job after an internship, along with seven others. Three from the bunch were interns, and he had never met them until they were all sent off to a different city for a new joiner induction training. Five days, they were together in the same hotel, walking to another hotel where the training was held and having dinner at whichever restaurant came on the way back to the hotel. Not to miss all the late nights they were out, simply walking through the quiet place or street shopping.

Every supper meal they’d had on the trip ended with ice cream and brownies at the request of Y/N. Wasn’t really hard to figure out that she loved them.

Jungkook took her hand and led her into the brightly lit place, glancing at the display of a variety of delicious cakes. Straight past the brightly lit place he led her to the end, pulling open the glass door for her and following her as she stepped out.

The place was beautiful, the entire space was open to the sky, covered in green, lit only by twinkling lights hanging on the trees and the lamps set on each table. The benches were made out of wood and every table was separated from the others by enough distance to not be overheard. A cool breeze ruffled their clothes making her shiver and Jungkook stepped in front of her holding the sides of her coat and pulling them together tighter.

The urge of taking care of her came to Jungkook so naturally he could say it was a reflex or an instinct. He often felt it was because he was older than her by about four years. At the same time, he also thought that sometimes it was an instinct to take care of and protect what was his.

Together they headed to the table and Y/N was ready to burst when he pulled out the chair for her, giving her a soft smile and heading over to sit down across her. Something about Jungkook being so gentle always amazed her. One would think he was one of those bad boys, showing her tricks on how to finish up work faster, wearing leather jackets, ripped jeans, biting lips, intense gazes and riding a bad ass motorcycle. But then, there was also him, putting a helmet on her for safety, pulling her coat tighter against the cold, holding her hand while walking on the streets, giving her soft smiles and hugs.

“You’re going to just stare at me or you’re going to order something?” Jungkook asked suddenly and that was when Y/N noticed a menu sitting on the table right under her nose. Jungkook was already looking through his and she bowed her head in embarrassment.

“Ye-, Yeah.” she stuttered opening up the menu and looking through all the colorful pictures. Y/N realised that with all the preparation she had done for this date, she had completely forgotten about feeding herself.

“Have you decided on something?” she asked him, looking up from her menu to see him flipping through the same pages over and over again.

“No. Have you?” Jungkook asked her and she nodded. She had in fact decided on a dish but there was a small complication.

“But. The problem is the serving they’re offering is too much and I won’t be able to finish it.” she blushed, her eyes slipping to the menu by instinct.

To further her embarrassment Jungkook laughed out loud and clear before shaking his head. “Baby, you don’t have to worry about that, I’ll share with you okay? Order whatever you want.” he smiled.

After a mumbled okay, Y/N placed her order and waited for Jungkook to place his, but he simply sent the waiter away.

While they waited, Jungkook asked her how she liked the new city, having only moved there three months ago. While she hadn’t really toured much owing to her work habits and the need for lazying every weekend, she could come to a conclusion that life in this new city was quite hectic. Every morning she’d have to travel an hour to reach office, while back in her quiet hometown, such time would get you to the outskirts of the city. Being new to the corporate world in a new city with new people was very nerve wracking and she was still getting used to it. Jungkook listened to her patiently and gave her hilarious reactions and she could never forget the shock on his face when she’d told him that back in her home town the maximum time one could be stuck in traffic was five minutes tops.

“No way! Are there even people in your hometown?!” He said, with his jaw hanging low and eyes the size of a bunny.

She laughed and continued with such stories and hadn’t even realised when the food was served. She was so fascinated with the way his eyes seemed to be fixed into hers, and the way he seemed so interested in just listening to her. It was when he’d raised his eyebrows and asked her, “How is it?” had she realised that he’d fed her a spoon from the dish she had ordered and was asking her how she’d liked it.

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, because of the fact that Jungkook had just fed her when she hadn’t even realised and also because she couldn’t remember what it tasted like because she was so mesmerized by the chocolate eyes she was looking at.

“It’s really good.” she muttered anyway and Jungkook gave her a knowing smile before picking up the spoon and taking a bite as well. It must’ve tasted really good as his eyes lit up and he quickly stuffed himself with another loaded spoon.

“Here.” he fed her more spoonfuls and Y/N didn’t feel awkward in the slightest. If she had thought he couldn’t be much more of a gentlemen before, she thought this was the most endearing thing that could ever happen to her. At one point she had picked up her own spoon and started feeding herself because Jungkook seemed keen on feeding her the entire thing and he looked as though he was full just by watching her.

The meal before them finished in no time and Jungkook ordered for another serving which Y/N thought might’ve have happened anyway. She knew Jungkook had a huge appetite and if she was being completely honest, she absolutely loved that fact. It was something she had gotten from her mother, cooking in huge quantities and feeling the ultimate satisfaction when people would still lick the dishes clean. In a moment of teenage fantasy, she imagined cooking for him while he watched her from across the kitchen counter.

The second serving arrived in lesser time and Y/N had to keep reminding Jungkook to eat because he was so excited in telling her about Tomorrow’s land that he wanted to visit one day.

“Yes, the party is so huge and the music is crazy! And the theme is different every year. How awesome is that? One day I’m going to save enough money to go there!” He exclaimed while Y/N nodded. She wasn’t really a huge fan of partying, but if Jungkook ever did go to this event, she wished she would too, just so she could see his eyes sparkling in excitement.

And like that they’d finished the entire meal and Y/N felt a fuzzy warmth building inside her. “Now, it’s time to satisfy the sweet tooth you’ve got.” Jungkook grinned, taking her hand and pulling her back into the brightly lit store of Kavanah. She immediately skid over to the huge display of pastries, ogling at each and failing to decide on one. A whole minute later, Jungkook nudged her shoulder and chuckled.

“Have you settled on one yet?” He asked, his eyes glancing to the display. Her eyes instantly found the mouth watering mud cake sat inside the air conditioned display and she practically drooled.

Pulling away, she tossed him a look. “Guess which one I’m thinking of getting.” she grinned. Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up in a challenge and he slowly skimmed through all the options in front of him, until his eyes found one.

“This one, the blueberry cheese cake.” He said, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She shook her head softly.

“Oh, my bad.” Jungkook chuckled before pulling out a menu from the counter. “But I do know, what you would like to have more than these.” he handed her the menu and Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god, how can I get a pastry when they have sundaes here!” she squealed and Jungkook stared at her fondly. While her order was the quickest thing ever, Jungkook noticed how she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other and he just knew that she was tired at that point.

“Hey, I’ll get this. Why don’t you go wait at the table, you left your purse there so you should be looking out for it. And I don’t want anyone stealing our seats.” He suggested, knowing she’d never agree if he told her to sit down because he knew she was tired.

As expected her eyes grew wide when realisation dawned. A few minutes after their order was placed in front of him, he had already paid and was watching Y/N waiting at their table patiently.

“Tada!” he laughed, placing the sweet delicacy right under her nose and she immediately dug in. Another thing Jungkook had noticed was that Y/N never paid attention to anything else when a brownie was involved. He watched her savour the first few bites without giving a damn about his presence and it amused him that she could enjoy her food that passionately. Even if it was in small quantities.

“You’re so adorable, it’s making me fall for you.” He whispered and she stuffed another piece of brownie and chocolate into her mouth.

Chuckling, he reached out to the dessert before it was too late. “Hey, you’re supposed to be sharing with me! Let me take a bite.” Jungkook whined before he dug into it. Apparently, when he meant a bite, it meant a whole half. And even if Y/N wanted to have more of it, she was just too full and close to bursting.

Y/N knew she was sleepy when she clutched onto Jungkook as he led her back to his bike.

“Wait a second, my bike won’t start.” Jungkook looked up at her horrified as soon as she’d touched his shoulders to get on. She immediately jolted out of the slight stupor she was in and watched him try to kick start it twice, thrice.

“Not happening, Y/N could you climb down once. I’ll try starting it up again.” Jungkook asked and she slid off the bike and took a few steps back. When he tried it again, the Harley immediately roared to life and Y/N frowned at it.

“I think I figured it out. This only happens when you’re around my bike Y/N. Maybe we should take the taxi next time but what if the tires get punctured?” Y/N slapped Jungkook’s arm as hard as she could and Jungkook burst out laughing. She knew he was talking about the cab tire going flat as soon as she got on, during their trip. Ever since, he would pull this prank on her, faking how things would stop working as soon as she touched them.

“You’re so mean.” Y/N huffed, and crossed her arms pouting.

“And you’re adorable, come here.” He pulled her closer and gave her a giant warm hug melting away her pout into a huge, shy smile.

She didn’t even complain when he took off his jacket and made her wear it because the night was becoming colder and he didn’t want her catching a cold. The roads were empty and this time she rested her head on his back. His warmth felt wonderful against her cold cheeks and she snuggled into him closer and held his waist tighter. The musky fragrance from his jacket and his shirt put her in a haze, making her take deep breaths to get more of it. If Jungkook had noticed, he hadn’t said anything and at that point she was in no control of her actions.

When she felt him coming to a stop, she looked up to see her house she and Hoseok rented together. But it was the end of the ride and she didn’t want to let go, so she tightened her grip on Jungkook.

“Baby you’re sleepy, it’s cold and late, you need to go in.” Jungkook cooed, clutching her hands around his waist and pulling them apart. If it was up to her she would’ve stayed that way the whole night, but she knew she had to let go because of a reason that she couldn’t quite remember. But she knew it was right.

With a big whine she let go of him and slid off the bike, moving to take off his jacket, but he stopped her. He brought the ends of the zipper together and zipped it up high, patting her shoulders as if admiring the fit on her. He then pulled out a paper bag and Y/N could make out the logo of the restaurant they’d just left and she wondered what it was.

Pressing it into her hand, he walked her back to the door, silently watching as she pulled out the key and opened the lock. Hoseok was already asleep she assumed or was pretending to be, because as per his words, things might go onto a different level and he wouldn’t want to walk in on them doing it.

When she got in, she turned back to Jungkook who stood at the door smiling softly at her before he pulled her in for a long hug. He nodded to the paper bag in her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I know you didn’t eat much, but in case you wake up hungry in the night, just have that okay?” He asked cupping her cheeks and bending to her height to look into her eyes. When she nodded, he pressed another kiss to her forehead and stepped outside.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he stroked her cheek once and ushered her inside. She watched him leave from the window, sighing and pressing her nose to his jacket.

When she woke up three hours later, clutching Jungkook’s jacket, she instinctively reached over to her phone to check the time. There were also two texts from Jungkook.

Thank you for today, baby. Whatever we call this night, I want more. I had a wonderful time and I hope you did too.

She hid her face in his jacket as though shying away from Jungkook himself. That moment was cut short when her stomach grumbled and she immediately retrieved the paper bag Jungkook had given her, surprised that she’d put it in the refrigerator. What greeted her from the neatly wrapped box surprised her even more.

A slice of the mud cake.

As she bit into it, her eyes scanned his second text.

P.S.: I know you too well, I never get it wrong.

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[virtchandmoir]

TESSA VIRTUE ON LIFE IN A NEW ARENA + HER MAC MAKER LIPSTICK

One of the most decorated Olympic figure skaters of all time chats with Beautygeeks about adjusting to a less structured life, finding a new "safe space," and navigating her beauty journey.

April 28, 2020

Tessa Virtue is one of only two best-ever ice-dancing athletes on the planet. Scott Moir, her on-ice partner of 22 years, is the other one. Together the duo shattered multiple world records and racked up an unprecedented number of awards, national and world championships, and five Olympic medals, including gold in 2010 and again in 2018, after which ESPN called Tessa one of the most famous female athletes in the world. Since retiring from competition, Tessa's been busy with a number of projects and contracts with brands including Mattel, Nivea Canada, Colgate, Sick Kids Hospital, Adidas and more. Last month, she celebrated the launch of her first lipstick with MAC Cosmetics, which gave us an excuse to have a good chat about how her life has changed since stepping away from the ice...

BEAUTYGEEKS  Makeup and skincare must have started early for you; you've been skating since you were quite small. (Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir became ice-dancing partners in 1997, when she was seven and he was nine.) TESSA  I remember having conversations at a really young age with coaches and advisors, trying to figure out what was age-appropriate for a Latin-style program and how we do makeup and costuming and everything that works for 10-year-olds. One of my coaches, Rebecca Babb, used to do my makeup for competitions. That was always something that I really looked forward to. I think there was an awareness early on about how I presented myself in the skating world, simply because it's judged and it's such an aesthetic sport. It's part of the entire package of telling a story. As I evolved and grew as both an athlete and a performer, I really came to enjoy and appreciate that element of it because it's really what sets figure skating apart from most, especially winter, sports. That balance between art and athleticism – and part of that was the costuming, the hair, the makeup, the ability to take the ice and get into character, and make someone feel something. The makeup routine became part of my mental preparation, too – meditative. I would get into the zone as I was applying makeup, and also have fun expressing myself in different ways.

Tessa Virtue in Barbie form; at Toys R Us

BG  Now that you're into another life chapter, what's your beauty routine? TESSA  You know, it's funny, I'm at both extremes, and I used to say this about my wardrobe. I was fully athletic wear or black tie. There was very little in between. Friends would ask me to go for coffee and I would rock a power suit or something because I just didn't have that sort of casual in-between mode. Maybe that's part of being an athlete: you compartmentalize and you're a bit of an extremist. And now with makeup, I'm either working with some of Canada's best glam teams or I'm wearing nothing as I travel or do my own. Mascara, blush and lipstick is sort of my go-to every day. Stepping away from skating and having fun in the beauty industry and in fashion world in a different way has been really liberating because I've tried to take some risks, explore different looks and aesthetics. I think like most of us, when I'm doing my own makeup, I'm so tempted do the same routine. Picking up tips and tricks from others along the way has been really great. I've also learned that the getting-ready process is actually the most fun part of any event.

BG  When you're sitting down for hair and makeup, do you have photos to say "let's try this" or do you consult with your team? Has the process changed now that you're in a different arena? TESSA  Often I'm getting ready to do something work related. In some way I'm always focusing on what my task is and what I have to offer in the upcoming event, strategizing on how I can maximize that for whoever has hired me or whatever I'm representing, whatever charity I'm trying to help. I use that time to talk with my team about that. So when I sit down in the chair, I completely put my trust in the people around me. I've worked so closely with those artists, and I've realized that they become your family; they're some of my closest friends. I value their expertise. And I think there's fun for them with that too, because they're empowered to try anything and everything.

BG  Those are good friends to have. And your time with them is so intimate. TESSA  I feel so lucky. Sometimes we're on set and there'll be a hundred people who all have an agenda of their own, who all have someone to answer to and are all trying to accomplish something in their own right. It's nice to have the security of a glam team or a stylist or someone to come back to – that's your safe place, where you can sort of recharge, get energy and then put yourself out there again. There's a vulnerability that comes with stepping into a spotlight, so to speak. I think that's taken on greater meaning as I put myself in different work positions too.

BG  So in some respects, members of your beauty team are touchstones as well. TESSA  Exactly, yes exactly.

BG  I love that. Let's hit skincare: has yours evolved since leaving the ice or was it particularly involved beforehand? TESSA  I realize now just what harsh conditions I put my skin under when I was training. And that was partly because of the cold and the dry arenas, but also the sweat and, in my case at least at competition, having to sweat with makeup on. I'm still conscious of hydrating, but I find less and less need for that. Although I suppose I'm on airplanes and traveling quite a bit, so that sort of replaced the arena. I've always been of the less-is-more mindset when it comes to skincare. That's thanks to my mom. She always told me to touch my face as little as possible. So I'm pretty simple with micellar water and moisturizer. I make sure that I get all my makeup off at night so my skin can breathe, and if I'm traveling, I don't really put anything on my face.

BG  It's also a good thing that your skin was at its peak when you were training and performing – you had so much natural hyaluronic acid, collagen and resilience because you were so young. You're still really young. (Tessa turns 31 in May.) TESSA  Well, thank you. But you know, there's also stress, hormonal changes and everything that goes along with competing and performing. That's not easy. Sometimes when you're battling stress, hormones, not feeling confident, and then to continue to put yourself out there... But yes, thank you. I do feel pretty fortunate. I know a lot comes down to genes, so I can thank my parents for that.

BG  How important is sleep to you? Do you need a specific number of hours? TESSA  I'm still stuck in that athlete mindset of needing eight hours a night, at least. What I miss are those mandatory naps that were part of our daily disciplined routine! I'm probably sleeping much less now because I'm on the go – and every day is different. That more than anything has contributed to a sense of, depending on the day, either unease or complete liberation. There was a time when I was training that I could have told you that eight years from now, on March 1st at 2:30 PM, this is what I'll be doing. That sense of structure is so incredibly important as an athlete. And now every day is different, and I'm really trying to embrace that. I think it makes it a little bit harder. Things like sleep, fitness, easy nutrition – it's harder to find a routine in that realm. But I do feel pretty lucky that every time I leave the house I get to do something I love to do.

BG  You've had 22 years of an incredibly goal-oriented lifestyle. How have things changed for you now that that goal has been not only met, but surpassed? TESSA  That was a hard transition. But I found it was harder to go from being a competitive athlete to a performer. I was so focused for decades, saw everything through the lens of "how can this make me a champion?" Whether that was a meal, an event, a sponsor, a friend – everything was filtered through this very simple mandate of "how can I be my best?" and "will this assist or prohibit me from becoming my best?" That was a singular focus, and then suddenly I was thrust into this place where I was wearing a hundred different hats, and I felt like maybe I wasn't doing anything all that well. At the same time, that support network – the sports psychologists, the trainers, the therapists, everything, this whole safety net that we had built – on February 21st, 2018 was gone. And I felt so alone. At a time when everyone expected me to feel a certain way, I just really struggled. There's an inherent low that comes after any kind of high. Whether it's a competition, a wedding, a degree, any monumental occasion is often followed by a bit of a crash, and so I just had to live that at a time when everyone thought I was living out this fairytale. It was an interesting thing to reconcile. You started the question with something about goals. I think that's been a saving grace for me: I've set new goals. If you give me a task, I can figure out a way to work towards it. That's when I feel confident and competent and more settled.

BG  So you can recognize yourself again in that particular mini structure. TESSA  Exactly, yes.

BG  I can't imagine the change. I mean it's 900% more complex than transitioning from working in an office for several years to going freelance, for instance. TESSA  I think a transition of any kind is difficult. I was feeling a little bit ostracized, so on my own for a little bit. And then I realized that no, everyone is going through that in some capacity. I mean even Kaylee [MAC's PR director in Canada] coming back from having a baby and getting back to work, like any kind of life transition, takes its toll and, and it's all relative. Right? So don't diminish that change for yourself, that would've been huge.

BG  You mentioned it's harder to slot regular fitness into your schedule these days, but do you manage any kind of routine somehow? TESSA  I don't have a routine, which is kind of strange, but also necessary at the moment and I'm learning to exercise when I can, because I do need that dopamine hit. I need to sweat, I need to move my body. But I'm also learning to be kind to myself. So if that means taking a day or two off, or having an extended period of time when I'm focusing my energy elsewhere, I try to be gentle and not get too caught up in that. And when I'm working out, it's so interesting. There was a very specific cycling class I did last year and I felt – I'm pretty sure I wrote a note in my phone about the feeling – a tangible weight being lifted off my shoulders. I realized I'm just doing this for me. I'm not trying to be a better ice dancer, I'm not trying to do this so that I can represent Canada. This isn't functional. It's really just so that I feel good, and suddenly I felt a hundred pounds lighter because that mindset had shifted. And I think right now as I explore boxing and spar classes and spinning and peloton and yoga, I'm just trying to figure out what makes my body feel good in the moment, and take the pressure out of needing to do something. Instead it feels like it's a privilege to be able to work out.

BG  It sounds like you're having an adventure there, too. TESSA  Yeah, I am and I think that's just the nature of my lifestyle at the moment when I'm traveling so much. And also I have to admit that I'm still not in that place where I just go to a hotel gym and motivate myself. For someone whose job for two decades was to work out, I would wander around quite aimlessly. So it's been fun to explore different avenues and try new things that I wouldn't have been able to do when everything needed to be, as I say, so functional.

BG  Do you actually have any more leisure time than you did before? Because it sounds like you're incredibly busy. TESSA  I'm trying to build that into my schedule now and I think I'm doing that somewhat successfully. But the difference is that being an athlete and having downtime, I mean that's part of the job, that recovery and it was also part of our job to sort of block out the rest of the world and really insulate ourselves in this bubble. And I was very cognizant at the time that there would be no other opportunity, so I really had to do that. But now, I'm planning on getting my MBA starting next Fall, and I know I won't be able to isolate myself fully and immerse myself into that world because that's just not life. People rely on you, people depend on you. You have to carry on. And yet as an athlete, it's quite a selfish pursuit and endeavour. That's been the biggest change as far as downtime. I'm trying to work it in now – self-care is just such a buzz phrase. But we're also in the midst of this busy culture where everyone is busy and that seems like a status thing, or it seems like somehow we're more important if we're busy. I think I got wrapped up in that a little bit and ended up wanting to work, work, work, feeling like it was a kind of validation. Now instead I'm trying to focus more on the things that matter to me work-wise, and also fit in time to be fully present with friends and family. I haven't really had the tendency to do that over the years; they've had to accommodate me so much.

tessa virtue's mac maker lipstick

BG  Let's talk about your new MAC lipstick. How did you decide on the shade? TESSA  Well, I started with a mood board, unsurprisingly, and just kind of curated this aesthetic, which ended up being actually really beautiful. Just a bunch of different kind of pink tones and shades that I was drawn to. I have to be totally honest: there are three or four lipsticks that have been on my rotation for many, many years and they're all MAC shades. There's Syrup and Mehr, Soar and Brave, and they're all sort of in that shade family.

Next the MAC chemists took my inspiration and did their thing. They came back with about three different testers and from there we made some tweaks and some adjustments. But it was pretty clear from the moment I saw this particular one, which I affectionately nicknamed Tutu, that it's exactly what I wanted in a lipstick. I'm not lying when I say that I've worn it every single day since. It's been a struggle because people ask me what shade it is and I've not been able to tell them! It was important for me to have it be an everyday lipstick, one that works for a coffee run and also for an event, and a shade everyone can wear. That's very MAC too, to be inclusive and welcoming and accessible to as many people as possible. I wanted it to be hydrating, as well, so we chose a satin finish for extra comfort as opposed to matte.

BG  Where did the inspiration for the packaging itself come from? TESSA  I had instantly thought pale pink – it's my favourite colour – and polka dots. And I'm hesitant to even say this because it seems like an incredibly egotistical thing, but I kind of loved that the polka dots were reminiscent of medals. It just came about really, really, really organically. And it just felt right as soon as I saw the final draft.

BG Good move – if there hadn't been a nod to gold medals, I bet we'd all want to know why not. Do you think you might get involved in more beauty collaborations in the future? TESSA  I don't know. I feel, so fortunate. This is something that I never thought that I would have the chance to explore and I'm been able to really dive in and learn about the company and the industry in a different way. And that's been really refreshing. I think what MAC has done, with both the Canadian Originals campaign and with this MAC Makers, has been really inspiring. It's getting back to the roots of an originally Canadian brand and our values that we can all be proud of. It's such a privilege and a joy to participate.

Tessa Virtue's MAC Maker Lipstick is a limited edition; find it at maccosmetics.com.

—beautygeeks

[missytearex]

If you know anything about me, you will know that I love fic and I try to read as much of it as I possibly can. I have loved so many fics from this year and these are the ones that had especially lasting impressions on me. I am so grateful to the authors for sharing their work, so if you check any of these out, remember to leave kudos and a nice comment.

Please note that this list reflects my personal taste and is by no means a “best of 2019″ kind of list. Fics are listed according to posting date.

✨Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by @toomanydreamers — [fic post]

larry | 126k | mature

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they’re forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

✨ The Lone Hydrangea by @lightwoodsmagic — [fic post]

larry | 77k | explicit

the post Hogwarts AU where Harry’s a florist, Louis’ a muggle who edits fantasy books, and they both have no say in how quickly they fall for each other.

✨ Kill Me/ Heal Me by @millionlittletings — [fic post]

larry | 92k | teen and up

The kingdom of Scotland hasn’t been in peace for decades now. In the heart of the country lies the rivalries, hate, and struggle of power. Amidst the chaos, five young men discover the meaning of life, friendship, love, hate, and heartbreak through their journey. Louis, who is struggling to find a place where he belongs. Niall, who will protect what belongs to him with his life. Zayn, who is learning to navigate through life. Liam, who knows when to use his heart and when to use the brain. Harry, who is set to kill anyone who will come into his way of finding the truth about his mother. From dealing with their personal issues to finding out the real culprit who changed the course of their lives, these five men are set to uncover the deepest and the darkest secrets of the kingdom.

✨ An Unbalanced Force by @kingsofeverything — [fic post]

larry | 110k | explicit

Harry has the rest of his life planned. Marriage. Career. Kids. Happily ever after.

But sometimes plans don’t work out.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

✨ Let Our Hearts Collide by @crinkle-eyed-boo — [fic post]

larry | 76k | mature

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he’s been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne’s family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he’s always longed for…and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU

✨ Consequences by @allwaswell16 — [fic post]

larry | 78k | explicit

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

✨ Shine On (You Crazy Diamond) by @larrymaybe22 — [fic post]

larry | 58k | mature

The year is 1974 and Britain’s glam rock scene is in full swing. Enter Louis, a broke and dejected student who finds himself on a tour bus of all places, working as a roadie for the enigmatic “womanizer” Harry Styles. Along the way, Louis discovers the cruelty of fame and that maybe there is more than meets the eye beyond the curls, cocaine, and crazy suits.

A 1970’s/Glam Rock AU

✨ The Changer and the Changed by @homosociallyyours — [fic post]

larry | 59k | mature

It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians.

Louis Tomlinson works at a popular women’s bookstore in the Lower East Side, Womon’s Direction, where she spends her days reading feminist literature, writing poetry, exchanging friendly barbs with her boss Niall, and dreaming of finding someone to love.

When Harry and Louis meet, their connection is instantaneous. Slowly but surely, Louis welcomes Harry into her community of women. Stonewall veteran and old school butch Niall; Liam, a land dyke who’s moved to the city for love; and Zayn, a lesbian musician who’s been ostracized by a vocal part of women’s community for being trans, welcome Harry with open arms, ready to help her find her place in New York City’s bustling lesbian scene.

It’s a time of growth for everyone involved.

✨ After Dark, After Light by @becomeawendybird --- [fic post]

larry | 71k | explicit

Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

✨ Tired Tired Sea by @mediawhorefics​ — [fic post]

larry | 113k | mature

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

✨ You Don’t Care About Me (One More Night) by @lululawrence — [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 60k | not rated

“Nick. You’re into guys. What should I do?”

Nick snorted. “You think just ‘cause I’m gay, I know what you should do?”

Louis blinked at him and Nick admired his eyelashes against his will. “Well. Kind of, yeah.”

“That is not how this works,” Nick said. “Besides, it’s not like you can just go and suck someone’s dick to be sure you like it the way I did. You’re too famous to try it my way.”

Louis’ expression changed to one of awe. “That’s how you figured it out? You sucked some random’s dick?”

Nick shrugged. “Yeah. Basically. I mean, I knew for pretty damn sure before that, mind you, but that did solidify the matter for me.”

“I need to suck a dick,” Louis said, turning to look at the wall of Nick’s room.

“You could suck mine, if it would help,” Nick offered before he could stop himself.

Or the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.

✨ ferricadooza! by @suspendrs — [fic post]

larry | 65k | not rated

Harry can’t even fathom the idea of surrendering; he’d fight ‘til he died, if he had to, anything to keep from surrendering.

Or, the year is 1963, homosexuality is illegal in the UK, Louis owns a gay bar, and Harry’s an underground boxing champion with an unfortunate enemy.

✨ Baby, I think we might be too cold to float by @forreveries — [fic post]

larry | 81k | mature

Harry is a journalist that goes to Lake Tekapo, New Zealand, to look into a girl’s disappearance after a year of no movement from police. What he finds instead is his ex boyfriend Louis, who, six years earlier, ghosted him after five months of dating in university. A story of trauma, secrets, and the power of finally letting people in.

✨ Not That Gone by @a-brighter-yellow --- [fic post]

larry | 61k | explicit

A few weeks after Louis and Harry, *ahem*, reconnect at their high school reunion, Harry temporarily moves back home. Louis isn't sure he has the emotional fortitude for a prolonged fling with the man of the dreams.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Love me, love me not ~ pt.1

01: When Grayson meets Y/N

Summary: Y/N meets the twins, leaving a lasting impression on both of them.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst

Word count: ~ 2k

Love me, love me not ~ Series Masterlist

Grayson looked himself up and down, one last check up to make sure he was perfect.. as perfect as he could be. After all, he was about to meet a girl, someone who had the power to both make his career and destroy him entirely. To make the matters worse, she looked like an angel who had her wings clipped by the world and she was to be his companion for the next few months, at least.

He couldn't leave a bad impression.

"Ready, bro?" Ethan leaned on the door-frame, pressing his lips together as he gave his brother a pointed look.

"Just opened the gate for her." Ethan added, sighing as his brother kept up the silent treatment. While Ethan understood his brother's predicament and that this situation is far from perfect, especially to a romantic sap like Grayson, he lacked the feeling of guilt for giving him this opportunity. He had opened a door for him, the door he clawed at for a year now and hadn't made a dent, so yes, Ethan didn't feel even the slightest bit of guilt for getting his brother what he wanted, despite it being a less than perfect way. And yes, in this moment, Ethan felt grateful he chose college before acting, unlike Grayson who wouldn't even consider trying the academic way to his dreams.

"And you better get a smile going because she's doing us a bigger favor than we could ever do for her. You're the one benefiting here." Ethan glued himself from his position, walking over to the door he knew would be knocked on any second now, leaving Grayson to deal with his feelings a moment longer.

Ethan wouldn't let him fuck up.

And right on cue, Ethan was there just in time to open the door for her, moments before her fist connected with the wooden door.

"Oh, wow. Hi!" Ethan had seen her photos, many interviews and her previous work, but she never looked as beautiful on the screen as she did right before him. He stumbled over his words, secretly wishing he had gotten himself a sweet PR deal with her instead because he would love nothing more than a taste of her dark, pink lips - her signature lipstick.

"Sorry, I'm excited!" He offered a hand to shake, noticing her cold smile finally reach her eyes as if he had managed to melt a few inches of the iceberg inside her soul, even for a moment.

She gladly accepted his hand, her smile widening as he shook it vigorously.

"It's no problem really. I'm Mercy." She felt herself cringe with the use of the nickname they've pushed on her, trying to claim her as theirs - the public's doll for entertainment. But she figured it would be best if she kept her distance, after all, this was just a business arrangement...nothing more.

"Oh, Gosh, you're so nice." Ethan giggled to himself, certain he's completely red in the face and too eager looking. He had to reel his inner fanboy in and stop overwhelming his guest.

Y/N cocked her head to the left, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she still held onto his hand, not minding the contact because the one thing you have to get used to in Hollywood is touching strangers, way too long and way past your preferred place. So, with that in mind, a hand-hold lasting a bit long because someone got a little excited didn't seem as bad. She's had worse.

"You're not Grayson." She stated plainly as if it's so obvious and unimaginably unmistakable to her.

It was Ethan's turn to realize he's still holding onto her slightly smaller, much colder hand in his for too long, but also to admire her observation skills. Not many people could tell them apart, much less when they've never met before.

"And you're right. And I'm holding your hand for too long, so I'm just gonna let go and go get my brother." Ethan smiles awkwardly, getting a nod on her behalf before letting her hand go - hers a little warmer than before and his a little colder. He walked backwards, sending her a weird wave, adding:

"Make yourself at home."

So, as Ethan left, nearly hitting a wall, Y/N looked around. First thing she noticed was the large wall painting right across from the door front, finding the blend of a cityscape and colors modern and appealing. That's until she gasped once her eyes found the expensive looking panther in the corner, scaring the life out of her.

In the meantime, Ethan had rushed into Grayson's room, finding him buttoning up a different shirt, a little sweatier than before and quite jittery.

"Bro, she's here! She's pretty and she's nice and her hands are cold!" Ethan listed, making Grayson stop, frowning deeply as he turned to look at his brother and the starstruck look in his eyes.

"Her hands are cold?" Grayson deadpanned, wondering what the hell is he talking about, and if his brother needed a good slap back to reality.

"Yes, Grayson, her hands are cold and you are always running warm, so go and charm her and hold her hands until they're warm." Grayson shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh as he nodded, refusing to keep questioning Ethan's sanity right now when his ticket to success was all alone in their living room. And apparently, her hands are cold.

"Take a chill pill, bro." Grayson whispered as he passed a crazed Ethan, feeling his legs turn to lead closer he got to where Y/N waited for him.

He tiptoed, stopping at the wooden barrier, silently watching her through the cracks. Never before had he seen the use in those wooden stacks between the hall and the living room, other than decorative, that is, but now he understood as it allowed him to take a quick peak and assess the situation without making himself too obvious and her too uncomfortable.

She stood with her back turned to him, her hand running along the shelves he built and always boasted about being earthquake proof. She wasn't overly dressed, not like most celebrities he had met. She looked almost...normal? Human? Something other than a pretty doll or a wicked witch the media painted her as.

"You know, I can tell you're there, right?" Her voice caused his heart to start an unhealthy pace, feeling it skip every few beats as if it's stumbling over itself.

"How did you know?" Grayson breathes out, stepping out and around the wooden mock wall, rubbing the back of his neck, hence showcasing his sweaty pits. She frowned slightly at the boy before her, taking in account that he not only scratched his neck and sweats like crazy, but avoids eye contact and talks like a frail old lady as well. He's nervous and jumpy and that's not what she needs right now. And while most people would tiptoe around the subject or ignore it entirely, Y/N wasn't the type.

"You're a mess and what I need right now is a man who can put on a convincing show and use his acting skills to make the public believe I'm an angel sent from above and that he's madly in love." She stated, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes unblinking as she waited for Grayson to look at her.

Which he did, right after he tensed up as if she was a cold shower he desperately needed - blunt and unforgiving as the cold.

"Can you be that man or do I need to go somewhere else?" She asked, not blind to the way he had swallowed thickly nor how he gave her an awkward nod.

"Words, Grayson. I need you to say it and I need you to mean it." She insisted, placing her right foot a few inches forward, finding a balance to give him the proper scrutinizing look.

Grayson cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep eye contact with this girl who had an incredible presence, an undeniable charm and very sharp claws. Some women talk a lot and still don't say enough, but Y/N needs only to look you in the eye and you know exactly what's on her mind.

"I can do that. I will do that." He emphasized, making sure there's no mistaking his intent. He isn't the type to back down from a challenge and most certainly not one that would benefit him so greatly. His father always taught him to keep his word and never give empty promises. And he gave her his word already.

She smiled with his underlying promise, clapping her hands together only to clasp them and bring them under her chin as if to support the smile on her lips, as if she's not used to a simple, lighthearted kind - only the heavy, ice dripping smiles that had a particular effect on people. Some were chilled by it, others mesmerized, but Grayson? He saw through it, through her. That wasn't a smile from the heart, but one from her head and people who are ruled by their mind were always much more dangerous and calculating that people like him - people who trusted their heart.

"Great! So, I suppose you're familiar with the terms of our agreement?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, stepping closer to him with a raised eyebrow, but Grayson seemed oblivious for that step closer had lead her right into the one spot in the entire room the sun reached, giving her an ethereal glow and he finally understood his brother's erratic behavior - she looked like magic, like art - a true beauty, despite the lack of her usual glam she had in all her photos. She wasn't what he expected - a little colder, brittle like glass and perfection incorporated, just like one of those artifacts with 'Do Not Touch' signs placed in front of them. But glass is only brittle until it breaks, changing itself into something much more dangerous - something sharp and ready to draw blood.

"I'm fucked." Grayson mumbled under his breath, incoherent for her to understand, but clear enough for his heart to feel the pain breaking through time and space - all the way from the future. He knew he'd have a hard time saying goodbye when the contract was up, certain it would be as easy as breathing for her.

"Excuse me?" She interrupted his inner turmoil, stepping out of the sunlight and taking his warm hand into hers.

"Your hands are cold." Grayson stared at their hands, clasped together as if it's the only way it should be. He stared at the way her lips parted with that notion next, only to allow himself the gift of looking into her pretty eyes.

"They always are." She shrugged, trying to pull her hands out of his, awkwardly looking away only to look back with a sharp intake of breath once she found resistance to her attempt to create some distance.

"Think we should practice." Grayson mussed, smirking as her cheeks turned a shade darker, knowing he had made this doll blush.

"For the public? Plus, I promise to keep your hands warm." Grayson winked, carefully studying her face for any signs of discomfort, finding none but a blank canvas with dark pink cheeks matching her lips.

"Sure. I suppose it will do us good considering we need to go on our first date now." She offered him a shy smile, one so out of character in comparison to the woman-in-charge facade she put up at first and Grayson just knew...if he could only melt her heart, nothing - not heaven, nor hell Hollywood is comprised of, would keep them apart.

Tags: @xalayx @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @peacedolantwins @maybgrayson @nowheredolan @graydolan12 @beautorigin @justordinaryjen @starrydolan @pitreshawn

[chimchimsauce]

Hit or Miss (3)

In a desperate attempt to rebuke the advances of her overly energetic coworker, YN asks her quiet roommate Jungkook to pretend to be her boyfriend until Taehyung lays off. But YN comes to realize that there’s more to the quiet man than she could have ever imagined.

I guess they never miss, huh?

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If you want to be on the tag list, add yourself here!

Chapter Two

Chapter Three - Just One Day

The Sociology professor's words are slow and boring, the middle-aged man having the inflection of a robot. Regardless, YN tries her best to pay attention, scribbling down anything that might be useful for the upcoming final.

The rest of her classmates don't seem to share her intense desire to do well in his course. Half of them are blatantly knocked out, one guy a few rows ahead of her even snoring loudly. One girl is dazed all the way out, chewing loudly on a piece of bubble gum and blowing a large pink bubble every so often.

But the most distracting people to YN's concentration have to be the three girls right behind her who are not so subtly whispering. At first, YN wasn't paying them any attention but she perked up a bit when she caught Jungkook's name coming off of one of their lips. Normally, she wouldn't really care, but now that she's apparently dating him, she can't help but be curious.

YN still doesn't know much about Jungkook at all so gossip could give her a bit of an idea of how he usually carries himself around people.

Still taking notes but now half paying attention to the lesson, Yn ever so slightly leans back a bit and moves her hair out of the way, listening in as best she can.

"Really? He's really dating now?" One girl asks.

Her hair is pulled tightly into a sleek ponytail that must have taken half a can of hairspray to achieve. She looks like she's just stepped out of the hottest new beauty guru's glam makeup tutorial. A bit much for just a day in class, but who is YN to judge?

"Yeah, the whole music department's been talking about it ever since someone saw Jungkook and his band with this girl last week," girl number two says.

She almost looks like a clone of the first girl. Their faces are identical but that has more to do with contouring than with relation.

"But I thought Jungkook didn't date. He doesn't even hook up at parties and stuff," girl three says.

She's dressed a lot more like YN who wears a simple shorts and t-shirt combo. It is beginning to get hot.

"You think that they're just friends?"

"No, Jungkook doesn't have friends. Well, none that aren't part of his band,"

"Damn, I wish that were me. Jungkook could honestly step on me and I'd apologize for messing up his shoes," Ponytail says.

"Oof, true. Have you seen his body? That boy is so fine," Clone says, fanning herself.

"He could come up to me right now and get me to do anything, honestly," T-shirt says.

"That's cuz you're a hoe,"

"Where's the lie, though?"

"I wonder what made him choose her of all people. JK has girls throwing themselves at him everywhere he goes,"

"I don't know. From what I've heard, she isn't all that pretty. Not ugly, but definitely not on his level. He could do so much better," Ponytail says with her nose up in the air.

YN feels a quick flash of hurt, not having expected to be insulted.

"Oh, like you?" T-shirt retorts.

"Obviously,"

"Well, apparently he isn't interested since he turned you down at the last frat party,"

Ponytail huffs and YN decides not to listen to them anymore, not wanting to hear anything else these girls have to say.

She's distracted the rest of class, thoughts drifting off to Ponytail's comment. YN knew Jungkook was on another level but did she really look so out of place next to him that people felt the need to comment on it?

YN is startled when everyone stands as class is dismissed, the girl too lost in her thoughts to notice that it was winding down. She packs up wordlessly and leaves, walking home by instinct.

YN hasn't seen much of Jungkook since she hung out with him and his friends in their practice room. His schedule clashed with hers entirely, meaning she only interacted with him right before she leaves in the morning as he's just getting back home.

So nothing's really changed since they've made their agreement expect that Taehyung doesn't bother her anymore. As a matter of fact, he hardly speaks to her at all, only giving her a courtesy smile whenever they pass each other between the shelves. Even though YN's glad to be free of his annoying babbling, she is a bit concerned by the complete one-eighty his personality has taken.

Maybe she and Jungkook can already "break up". Even though he insisted that he genuinely likes her, YN doesn't really believe him. She doesn't think that he's lying, per se, but she doesn't think he's being truthful either. How can you like someone without really knowing them? Even if you count the time they spent together last week, that certainly isn't enough time to develop true romantic feelings.

YN sighs. All this thinking and over thinking is beginning to make her head hurt. She'll take some aspirin and lay down for a nap before tackling homework and getting up for her shirt at the library.

The air conditioning is welcome against her slightly sticky skin. YN plops her bag on the floor haphazardly, not caring enough to place it in her bedroom. A quick trip to the bathroom and YN finds the bottle she's looking for, shaking out two white pills. She'd take them in the bathroom but she detests tap water, instead traveling back into the small kitchen and rifling through the fridge for something cold and refreshing. She's confused when she sees a bottle with a bright green sticky note attached to it.

Pulling it out, YN is pleasantly surprised to realize it's her favorite drink. She'd run out of them a few weeks ago and hadn't had the chance to go pick more up from the grocery store.

Make sure to stay hydrated - JK

YN can't help but smile. She takes her medicine and sits on the couch, intending on finishing it before she heads to bed. She's almost done, maybe one or two more swallows left, when the front door beeps, Jungkook stepping inside.

"Hey,"

"Hey," she replies, watching as she brushes his hair out of his eyes and adjusts his backpack on his shoulder.

"You're home early,"

"Yeah, the professor canceled class,"

"Oh," YN says, suddenly feeling kind of awkward.

She's not sure how to act around him and his confession did nothing to help.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet. I was planning to grab something before my shift started,"

"That's hours from now, though. Let's get something together,"

"Okay," YN says, not seeing any real reason to deny him.

Now that she thinks about it, she is kind of hungry.

"Just give me a minute to put this away and then we can go," he says, flicking his head at his bag.

"Yeah, sure. Me too," YN says, picking up her backpack and awkwardly smiling at him before retreating into her room to put it away.

Jungkook's constant cleanliness had never motivated her to keep her own things tidy before, but now YN finds herself wanting to make a good impression on him even though they've technically known each other way past the good impressions phase.

Jungkook chuckles, still in the living room, before shaking his head and going to his own room.

"Cute,"

Not even three minutes later, the couple leaves their apartment, walking down the sunny sidewalk.

"Any clue where you wanna eat?" Jungkook asks her standing so close that their arms bush as they walk.

"Not really. I'm good with anything, really," she says.

"Burgers?"

"Yeah, that'd be good!" YN says.

It's been a while since she's had a really good burger.

The two of them take the city bus downtown where there are more restaurant options available. The somewhat stinky bus is mostly empty, only a little old lady and someone just getting off the graveyard shift the only other people inside. YN and Jungkook sit in comfortable silence, watching the buildings go by. YN gets the feeling that Jungkook isn't much of a talker, that he's more the type to simply enjoy another person's company without feeling the need to fill the space between them with chatter.

It makes it easy to relax around him.

Before long, the bus pulls up to their stop, YN and Jungkook exiting to the busy streets.

"Where are we headed?"

"You've never been here before?" Jungkook asks, surprise evident.

"I haven't been most places," YN says, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Well, it's just a cluster of shops and places to eat. A lot of students come here on the weekends or after class,"

YN nods her head, stepping closer to Jungkook due to the large number of people going by. The last thing she needs is to get lost in a place she's never been at before. After nearly being separated after a man rams straight into her, Jungkook takes YN's hand, squeezing it in reassurance. Thankfully, Five Guys isn't as packed as the rest of the shopping center, the couple is able to find a table without a problem.

Once food is ordered, they fill their soda cups and sit on the hard bench. Jungkook props his head on his hands, watching her silently as she sips her soda.

"I've missed you," he says.

"I haven't gone anywhere,"

"Still. I've missed you. I hadn't realized how little I actually see you,"

YN's heart flutters slightly and she feels herself begin to blush. She clears her throat.

"Well, we'll be on break soon, so I guess we'll see each other more often," YN says, voice quieter than she'd like it to.

Jungkook's smile is instantaneous and bright.

"Yeah, I guess we will,"

"So, uh, how have your classes been going?" YN asks him.

"Fine. I'm just waiting for them to be over,"

"Yeah, me too. This semester has really been exhausting. I'm ready for the sweet, sweet, release of summer break,"

"Mm. I'm excited to be done with school but I'm not too sure that I'm really ready to be out in the adult world,"

Before YN can ask him to elaborate, their order is called, two beautifully silver foiled burgers and a cup of hand-cut fries shoved in a brown paper bag. Jungkook stands up and retrieves the food and they both dig in, occasionally brushing fingers as they eat their shared fries. For a moment, YN just watches him, watching the way he seems so natural here, less like that untouchable stranger he was only weeks ago.

It's not that he's any less gorgeous or unknown to her, but this is one of the first times that he seems normal, like he really might be just another young man instead of the sexy enigma she's always believed him to be.

"Do I have something on my face?" Jungkook asks.

"What?" YN says, slightly startled, "No, there's not. I just . . . got distracted,"

Jungkook smiles slightly.

"So when are you going to prove it?" YN asks in a sudden bout of unexplainable courage.

He lifts an eyebrow before smirking slightly and taking her hand.

"Just you wait," he says, winking at her.

Somehow they both know that he's already begun.

[kaitycole]

Coming Full Circle

Summary: It’s been three years since Drake and Riley were supposed to get married and it’s the day of the royal wedding! Will this one go off without a hitch? Or will bombshells be dropped here too?

This is the finale of My Best Friend’s Wedding.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for coming along for the ride! When I started this with Lonely Liam it was supposed to be a one shot, but so many saw potential and now here we are at the end of the series! This won’t be the last we hear of this universe, I promise! (:

Shoutout to @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore for helping me wrap everything up! (:

Pairings: Drake x MC (past tense), Liam x MC, Drake x Olivia

Warnings: Fluff, ANGST, Slight Violence, Savageness 

Word Count: 3398

Tag List: @liamxs-world@lynn1214@mynameiskaylabella @mrswalkers-blog            @drakelover78 @gardeningourmet @zilch3@speedyoperarascalparty  @umccall71 @mrsdrakewalkerblog @hopefulmoonobject @sleepwalkingelite            @annekebbphotography@jared2612@indiacater @lodberg  @lauradowning29 @dcbbw @araihc-ce @cora-nova @pedudley @custaroonie​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @drakesensworld

“We really don’t have to go.”

           “Oh no, we are going. We RSVPed and I had my dress custom made.”

           “It’s a far drive, Livy.”

           “Drake.” He sees flames behind her eyes, knowing he’s already lost the fight.

           “Okay. Okay. I’ll get the bags in the car and then we will leave.”

           “Thank you,” she smiles, climbing in the back of the limo. Most days Drake drives, but since it’s an official royal event, he agreed to being passenger. This would only be their second official royal outing, the first was when they decided to go public about their relationship since the press had already started rumors: Will Lythikos finally have a Duke, was plastered on all the tabloids. She managed to keep the rumors and news away from the palace.

           They have been dating for two years now, she’s impressed by how much Drake knew about court life since he spent most of his life ignoring it. She told him multiple times she’d understand if he didn’t want to continue their relationship, being a Duke was no easy task. He said he would go anywhere for her and take any title he had to. The citizens of Lythikos adore Drake, he really fits in here. She had even bought some land in a neighboring area where Drake could have his own stable for when it was too cold at the duchy.

           Drake slips into the limo and they start their journey to the palace. A place neither have been since the wedding, a little over three years ago.

           She rests her head on his shoulder, dozing off. She has been extra tired lately, the doctor told them it was normal for her diagnosis but Drake still worries.

*          *

           “Ouch!” Riley shouts, the hot curling iron has touched her scalp.

           “My apologizes, Lady Riley,” the maid nods.

           “Don’t do it again. I don’t want to be anything less than perfect today.”

           As Riley looks in the mirror in front of her, her mind takes her back to the last time she had been in this position. This time will be different, this time it’s meant to be. Though I can’t help but wonder where Drake is.

           Letting out a breath, she sees Hana finally appear, “You’re here!”

           The maid puts the curling iron down as Riley stands to hug Hana. Hana takes over curling Riley’s hair and the two chat lightly.

           “Have you heard from Drake?” Riley asks. Hana has recently started her own clothing line and has frequent visits to the states.

           “We’ve texted here and there. He ordered a custom suit not too long ago.”

           “A suit? Drake? Drake Walker? My Drake?”

           Hana gives a disapproving look, “Your Drake?”

           Riley tries to play it off, “You know what I meant.”

           “Yeah, he ordered a really nice formal suit. When I was in Texas, I ran into Savannah who asked for me to design her wedding dress.”

           “Savannah’s getting married?” Riley seriously is out of the loop.

           “Yes. To some ex-boyfriend Chuck. I assume he’s getting the suit for her wedding.”

           Riley absentmindedly plays with her engagement ring. It’s a lot larger than the small and modest one Drake gave her. Her engagement ring from Liam is around 15 carats, probably even larger, and the stone is an extremely rare light pink diamond. She remembers talking to Liam about it, wanting something unforgettable, something eye catching and jaw-dropping. Yet on some days, she misses the light, small oval diamond.

           I’m getting everything I want. The glitz, the glam, but why do I miss what little he had to offer? She shakes her head, as if that can erase the thoughts.

*          *

           “Liam! You excited!?” Maxwell slaps the back of his shoulder.

           “Can grooms get cold feet? Because I think I have them.”

           “Well yeah, everyone’s feet can get cold,” the saying clearly going over Maxwell’s head.

           “I always thought my best man would be Drake, ever since we were children.” Liam looks out the window.

           “Did you invite him?”

           He shakes his head, “I didn’t know where to send his invite. I contacted his mother who said he hadn’t planned a trip to the ranch and I know he’s not been at the cabin.”

           “Maybe he’ll show up,” Maxwell shrugs, “You never know.”

*          *

           “Livy. Livy,” Drake whispers as he brushes hair out of her face, “Time to wake up.”

           “Five more minutes.” She snuggles closer to him.

           “I can just leave you in the car.”

           “You will do no such thing!” She sits up, yawning.

           “Let’s go then,” he chuckles, reaching out for her hand to help her out of the vehicle. She holds tightly to his hand, allowing him to support some of her weight, the doctor said it was normal, but Drake doesn’t like taking any chances.

           There’s ton of people gathering in front of the palace. The press swarming around, looking for who is attending, what they are wearing and who they are with. Olivia planned this, she has purposefully kept her relationship from the palace for this bombshell. She loves Drake, deep down she knows she always has, so she’s not above a little payback.

           Drake isn’t too keen on the idea, with her medical condition, he doesn’t want her stressing out or lashing out, two traits that he admires in Olivia when they aren’t being used against him.

           “We could always slip in the servant entrance, I know the way.”

           “Of course, you do, honey.” She pats his cheek, “We are going through the front.”

           The limo driver begins taking their back out when Bastien runs over, stopping him.

           “I will take these.” He meets their eyes, “Drake. Lady Olivia.”

           “Please, just Olivia, Bas.”

           Bastien likes these two together. On the outside, you wouldn’t see it. You’d see fire and gasoline, oil and water, but if you looked deeper they go together like a hammer and a nail, buttons and bows. Riley and Drake were two jagged broken pieces, trying to force themselves to fit, but Drake is a new man, a better man, with Olivia by his side.

           “Of course, Olivia. I’ll get these to the cabin.”

           “I’ve never been with a guy in a cabin before,” she winks.

           “As much as that tempts me, you heard what the doctor said about overdoing things.”

           She playfully pouts before taking his hand, “You ready?”

           “Always.”

*          *

           “We have Lady Penelope here, wearing a beautiful dress in her house colors.” Ana De Luca smiles into the camera.

           Whispers start filling the area as Olivia’s black dress and hair catches everyone’s attention. All cameras and reporters turn to her immediately.

           “Duchess Olivia! Where have you been?”

           “Olivia, is it true that you’ve been in hiding?”

           “Lady Olivia, where have you been”

           She smiles, taking Drake’s hand before the press erupts in more of a frenzy. Several questions swarm around them before she finally lifts her hand to address the press.

           “Ms. De Luca, please go on.”

           “Wow. Okay, I’m guessing this handsome man on your arm is your boyfriend?”

           She smiles, “Yes, Drake Walker and I are in a committed relationship.”

           “Drake Walker? The one who that Riley left at the alter? The King’s best friend?” A new young reporter starts questioning before Olivia turns and gives her the Nevrakis signature look.

           “I think you meant Drake Walker, total badass. Do NOT attach his name to Riley or Liam again, okay?”

           The young reporter slowly sinks into the crowd, the Scarlet Duchess leaving her trembling.

           Drake notices Olivia is a little out of breath, another symptom of her medical condition, he squeezes her arm before speaking, “I know you are all excited about seeing Olivia, but we really should be getting in.” He helps usher her into the palace, where everyone is rushing around, putting the last touches together.

           “Shall we go take a seat?”

           “First, I need to find Hana, I need to change my dress.”

           Drake knits his eyebrows togethers, “You aren’t wearing this one. It looks lovely.” He glances down at her black dress.

           “It’s bad luck to wear black to a wedding,” she smirks, “Plus the other dress looks better.”

*          *

           “Doesn’t it look lovely Hana!?!” Riley says, gushing at herself in the mirror. Her dress has a dramatic sweetheart neckline and the sleeves rest just below the tops of her shoulders. It has a huge ballroom style skirt and is encrusted in diamonds. Hana thought it was entirely over the top, she was a little hurt that Riley didn’t ask her to design it but after seeing what she picked, she’s glad she didn’t, Hana wouldn’t want her name on that mess. Riley’s hair was down, the curls cascading over her shoulder, just the right amount of makeup and her stunning diamond ring. She finally feels like a bride.

           “Excuse me, Hana?” A maid asks.

           “Yes?”

           “Ms. Nevrakis wants you to help her change into her dress.”

           “Of course! I’ll be back.”

           Nevrakis? Olivia is here? Oh. I assumed she wouldn’t attend since she refused to send a suitor from Lythikos for the social season.

*          *

           “Olivia!” Hana exclaims.

           “Hana!” The two share a quick and short embrace. Hana visited Drake frequently and the three had become rather close, Maxwell even joined the group every now and then.

           “I’m glad that you and Drake could make it,” she smiles.

           “It took a lot to convince him ever since the doctor said I needed to take it easy.”

           Hana smiles, this softer side of Olivia was great, funny how a rough, rugged, calloused man like Drake molded Olivia into a someone who could be sweet as pie. Hana helps Olivia into the custom Hana Lee. It sits off her shoulders, long sleeved, and it’s simple. Perfect for Olivia. The material stretches smoothly over her body, hugging the right places. As a gift for being Hana’s first client, she made a tie from the same material for Drake.

           “Do you think I’ve lost my edge?” Olivia runs her hands down her sides, she loves the soft material.

           “Never. I think being with Drake just enhances you. Just like you enhance the good qualities in him.”

*          *

           “I think you look way better, Livy,” Drake whispers as Riley is ushered down the aisle by Bertrand.          

           “If I ever wear anything that tacky at our wed-“ she freezes, turning her attention back to the ceremony.

           I can’t believe I just said that. We haven’t even talked about that yet, I mean he’s been through so much that last time he had a wedding, an engagement, a relationship, I just hope he didn’t hear me.

           Drake pretends he doesn’t hear her, making sure she doesn’t sit there anxious for the rest of the day. Our wedding. That has a nice ring to it.

           He hadn’t thought about getting married or having a wedding for a long time. But hearing her say that, makes him excited for the future. He gently squeezes her hand, she smiles at him as she rubs her thumb across his skin.

           He looks at the altar, Riley standing there in her diamond encrusted dress. How is that not itchy? Why spend money on that? So unnecessary.

           The ceremony drags on for what feels like forever, he and Olivia both choked back a laugh when they both talked about “waiting forever for each other” and “not having any secrets.”

*          *

           “You ready?”

           “Ready,” Olivia smiles as Drake escorts her to the reception hall.

           Everyone stops, jaws drop and the cameras flash like crazy. Whispers fill the room and it’s not long before Riley and Liam catch the sight of Drake and Olivia.

           Riley turns red with anger, seeing all the attention on Olivia. A pregnant Olivia. A pregnant Olivia clinging on to Drake. Her Drake.

           “Lady Olivia! When are you due?”

           “We are due in September.” Olivia smiles up at Drake.

           “You are about six months along?” Another reporter questions.

           “Yes, I believe around 26 weeks, right Livy?” Drake says and she nods.

           She still couldn’t believe how involved he has been in the whole process. Every time she finishes a pregnancy related book, he picked it up and started it. He was the first to start the name discussion, to start thinking about a nursery theme, and spoke to her belly every chance she got. Olivia knew she was going to have children, that was the only way to continue her family line but she never thought she’d be this happy. Never knew she would be looking forward to having a baby especially with the perfect man.

           “Should we expect pink or blue?”

           “We are waiting to find out.” Drake answers, Olivia is truly amazed by this man. He fought so hard to push court life away, but he can handle himself well. He had truly been underappreciated by everyone, including herself.

           “I don’t see a ring, is another royal wedding in the future?”

           “If I answer that, then I couldn’t surprise her,” he nods towards Olivia who is completely covered in blush.

           “We are planning to have a sit-down interview once we return to Lythikos that will be aired live as well as printed to catch everyone up.”

           “How does it feel to be here with everything that happened all those years ago, Drake?” The same young reporter asks, Olivia looks like she’s going to rip her head off, but Drake prevents her death.

           “If you are asking how I feel about the wedding, I am happy for each other them. If you are asking if I’m bitter, how could I be? I’m here with the woman I love, whose having my child, I couldn’t be bitter when I’m this blessed.”

           The couple walk away from the press, ending up face-to-face with the newly married king and queen.

           “Olivia. Drake.” Riley says, her mouth twisted.

           “Your majesties,” Olivia says, “I’d bow but…” she points at her stomach.

           “No need for those formalities between friends.” Liam smiles.

           Friends, ha. Drake thinks to himself, seeing Olivia is thinking the same.

           “How far along?”

           “My pregnancy or relationship?” Olivia spits back, clearly realizing she’s getting under Riley’s skin.

           Riley just stares Olivia down before Drake speaks up, “Six months pregnant. Two years dating.” He doesn’t direct this at either Riley or Liam, he simply just states it.

           “Moved on pretty quick, eh?”

           Olivia’s face starts twisting up in anger, she has always been protective. It’s her nature, but with Drake it’s different. She’d snap the new queen’s neck without a second thought, “That’s rich coming from you. Don’t you think?”

           “I am the Queen, watch how you speak.”

           “And I control Lythikos. It’s best you don’t end that alliance.”

           Drake shifts his weight between his feet, watching Olivia being protective, territorial, so in charge is actually arousing. It takes all he can not to rush her off to the cabin.

           Liam’s usual stoic expression is gone; not sure to believe Olivia’s threat or not. Scared to know the outcome of either. “Ladies. I’m sure we can all discuss this calmly.”

           “Tell me Olivia, how do you like my sloppy seconds?” Riley hisses at her as she sees Drake’s nostrils flare up with anger and Liam stands in complete shock.

           What has gotten into her today? He wonders about her new bride.

           “Well you know what they say, you have to have a rough draft before a masterpiece,” Olivia winks towards Riley, only pissing her off more.

           “Who do you think you are? I am the Queen of Cordonia, I demand respect!” Riley shouts, several of the other nobles turn their attention to the two couples in the middle of the room.

           “Listen here, you can make all the demands you want, but that little title of yours doesn’t scare me. Your ‘power,’” Olivia uses air quotes, “comes from your husband. My power is my own; it comes from my people, my land, my lineage, Drake and my child.”

           Liam steps forward, holding a hand up, “Lady Olivia, I think that is enough.”

           “Oh, so now we use formalities because you don’t like the truth being said?” Drake speaks in, defending Olivia.

           “I had Drake first!” Riley stomps her foot, frowning.

           “What are you five? You didn’t want me, you didn’t want this. You wanted Liam. You wanted the palace not a cabin. You wanted extravagant not simple. No one is to blame here but you.”

           Riley looks as if someone’s slapped her, maybe she did get slapped by the truth because for the first time, she’s speechless. Finally trying to speak, she ends up stammering before she gets it out, “That didn’t mean you were supposed to have it with someone else.”

           Hearing enough, Drake grabs Olivia’s hand and begins walking out of the ballroom. Liam follows them, trying to convince them to stay.

           “Surely she didn’t mean that. She’s been under great pressure recently. I think this was just a shock to her. It certainly was to me.” His eyes shift nervously between the pair.

           Drake opens his mouth to speak but it halted when Olivia’s hand comes in contact with Liam’s cheek, “How dare you. How dare you defend her when she’s made it obvious she doesn’t’ fully care for you. How dare you question the love Drake and I share when you slept with your wife just moments after her wedding to your best friend was called off. Take the board from your eye before trying to take the splinter from ours.”

           Liam stands there, the whole room giving its undivided attention to the three former friends. Riley quickly rushes over and shoves Olivia, “Don’t ever touch my husband again!”

           Drake steadies Olivia before looking at Riley. His eyes are burning hot, there’s a flame in them that Riley has never seen. As long as she’s known him, of all the stories she heard about him, none described this level of anger before.

           “Don’t EVER touch the mother of my child AGAIN. Is that clear?” He’s standing between Riley and Olivia, completely defensive and protective. Riley feels herself shrink, she didn’t know he was capable of yelling or being angry, he never stood up for her like that before.

           “Don’t speak to my wife like that,” Liam says, squaring up with Drake.

           “it’s not worth it, Drake.” Olivia pulls on his hand.

           “Let’s go,” he talks Livy’s hand and begins walking before stopping, “I’ll have all my things removed from the cabin tomorrow when we leave. After that, you can tear it down. My family and I have no reason to come back here.”

*          *

           Later that night, Drake and Olivia are lying in bed. Drake’s wearing his favorite pair of plaid pj bottoms while Olivia wears the matching button up shirt. They really did piece each other together.

           “I’m sorry,” she whispers to him, her head on his chest.

           “For what, my dear?” He leans his head forward slightly, pressing his lip to the top of her head.

           “I made us come here. I shouldn’t have let Riley get under my skin like she did. I’ve been trying so hard to not be old bitchy Olivia anymore.”

           “Why would you do that? I fell in love with her. She didn’t need to say what she did, you were protecting me, like I protect you and our baby.” He rubs her belly gently.

           “Did you mean what you said? That I’m your family now?”

           “Of course. You and this baby are the most important things to me now.”

           “But this cabin is all you have left of your dad. This is your home.”

           “No, I have the memories in my heart. I have you. I have a child who could end up reminding me of him every day. This is just four walls where most of the memories I have are feeling like I didn’t belong. You and this baby are my home now, no matter where we end up.”

           She snuggles closer to him, inhaling his cologne, the only scent that hasn’t made her nauseous her whole pregnancy. It’s a simple, crisp, clean smell, but it brings her so much comfort.

           He feels her breathing slow, knowing she’s close to falling asleep. He smiles, thinking about doing this for the rest of his life.

           “I love you, Drake.” She says with a yawn.

           “I love you too, Livy.”

[rebelminxy]

Once a King, Always a King- Sunday

Pairing: KingBacchus!Jensen x PlusSize!Reader

Word Count: 6960

Square Filled: Dirty Talk

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Explicit Content, NSFW, 18+, Oral (Male Receiving), Some drama, Smut, Unprotected Sex

Summary: Jensen is heading to New Orleans to participate in Mardi Gras as the King of Bacchus. But there is one girl he wants to celebrate the fun filled weekend with. Now that he has the chance to show her how he really feels, while being in her hometown and having some fun together, will their relationship blossom to more than just friends?

A/N:  So, first off, I have total respect for the Ackles family. I adore their family dynamic and this fic isn’t meant to offend them in any way whatsoever. This is purely written for fun and I send the Ackles family all the best positive vibes I have hoping they continue to be as happy as always. For this fic, Jensen is single. I got the idea after seeing a few videos of his time down here for Mardi Gras and seeing him dressed as the King of Bacchus at the parade. This is my fifteenth square filled for @spnkinkbingo.  Feedback is welcomed and hope y’all enjoy it!

A/N 2: I honestly don’t have Jensen’s entire schedule that he had while he was here, so I will mention the ones we know about from social media and add a few things here and there that he could possibly have done while in the city.

SERIES MASTERLIST

SPNKinkBingo

Masterlist

“Are you sure we have everything?”

              (Y/N) stared at Jensen like he was crazy, grabbing him by the hands the moment she saw the worried look in his eyes. She pulled him close and looked into his eyes.

“Everything is set. The outfit fits you perfectly and all will go well, ok?”

“What if I fall off the float? What if I get too tired to stand up the entire time?”

              (Y/N) leaned in and gave Jensen a soft kiss on the lips. That simple kiss helped calm his nerves just a bit. He placed his forehead on hers and they both kept their eyes closed as she whispered for him to breathe along with her. Once Jensen felt his nerves calm down more, he opened his eyes to see her looking at him.

“You will be great. If you do get tired there is nothing wrong with you sitting down.”

“Wish you were up there with me.”

“Trust me bud, wishing the same right now. But keep in mind, if you get nervous, remember I am waiting for you at the convention center, and I can’t wait to see your float ride in.”

              Jensen took in a deep breath and smiled as he let it go. He placed a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into a hug. As he heard his name being called out, he looked down at (Y/N) and nodded his head, letting her know he was going to be alright. She smiled back at him and let him go, waving at him as he climbed into the bus that would take him to the beginning of the parade route.

              That morning had been a hectic one. (Y/N) distracting him the best she could, making them stay in the hotel room until it was time to leave for Jensen to get into his king costume. And even after her distractions and calming words, he still felt nervous about this. Luckily his friends would be riding the float he was on, but they would be wearing masks. The bus ride to the start of the route was loud and rowdy, he and his friends making a toast with the champagne they were provided, but Jensen couldn’t drink more than one glass from fear of getting too tipsy.

              When the bus arrived at the spot where all the floats were waiting, Jensen’s mouth dropped to see all the people sitting along the street, waiting for the float. An officer that was guiding Jensen and his friends to the float he was riding smiled at him.

“Just so you know, the majority of these folks have been out here since six this morning. The tourists and locals alike take their parade spots seriously.”

              Jensen could only look on with wide eyes as he watched people all around, some eating and other barbecuing.

“And this is only the start. Wait til y’all get on St. Charles,” the officer continued as the group finally reached their destination.

              Reporters were surrounding the float and once they saw Jensen arrive, they flocked around him.

“Happy Mardi Gras everybody!” Jensen exclaimed at the reporters, pulling on his megawatt smile for the cameras.

“What are you looking forward to tonight?” asked one reporter.

“What am I looking forward to?” Jensen asked back, debating his answer. “Umm, getting on that throne, looking around. I think, its that turn on Napoleon, right?” he asked the Captain of Bacchus who was next to him. “Coming ‘round Napoleon, seeing that crowd, that’s what I’m looking forward to. I’ve heard about it, just talked to Andy Garcia about it. He’s like ‘stay tethered, my friend. Stay tethered,’ so that’s what I plan to do.”

              A few more reporters asked some questions, but the Captain told them that it was time for Jensen to get on the float. The reporters were moved out the way as Jensen and his friends made their way to the float.

“Yo, J! You got a text message!”

              Jensen turned to his best friend who was holding his cell phone for safe keeping. He grabbed the phone from his friend and looked to see a text from (Y/N). He unlocked his phone to open the message and what she wrote to him had him wanting to blush.

‘Can’t wait to see you riding that float when you get into the convention center. Seeing you in that king costume and crown, makes me want to kneel at your feet and service you like a slave would to her King. You, sitting on a throne as I suck you off. Good luck!’

              Jensen quickly turned his phone off, doing his best to get the visuals out of his head after that. He handed his phone to his friend and followed the Captain. He was sure after that text message, he wasn’t just nervous, but turned on as hell. But, he did his best to control himself and got up to his seat on the float. He was locked into his harness and was told to hold on to the posts next to him at any turn made so he won’t fly off the side. He was given bags of beads and told not to throw so often so as not to run out. He also had bags of coins. If he ran out, he was to make a sign at one of the riders so they can lift another bag by him.

              It was all easy to remember, and they even placed a few bottles of water behind him if he got thirsty. He was told that there would be two spots where they would stop at and he would be presented with a glass of champagne to cheer on the parade, which made Jensen glad he only had that one glass. Once the Captain was done explaining all he had to, he climbed off and left Jensen at his spot on the throne. Jensen took in a deep breath when they alerted everyone the parade was beginning and he kept in mind (Y/N)’s words before they left the hotel.

‘You got this and remember to enjoy the ride. This is a once in a lifetime thing so enjoy it as much as possible. Plus, you got tons of fans out there waiting to see you, so smile and be your lovable self. Just view this as a con, and this is your solo panel. You gonna rock it, J.’

====================

              Once Jensen spotted the convention center, he smiled to himself as he grabbed some beads to throw over to the crowd. It was a long ride, already dark out by the time his float reached Canal Street. And cold. He couldn’t believe how many people were out on the street in this cold, many who rode out the heavy rain that poured in between the parades. Even in his costume, he still felt the wind chill.

              But the entire ride was exciting. The moment the parade began to roll, Jensen forgot about his nerves and his excitement level grew as the crowd began growing wild. He threw coins and beads out, smiling and happy to see a few fans out there. He heard people scream his name and camera’s flashing or recording him. It was all welcoming and not once did he worry about getting too tired or falling off. He felt more at ease as the ride went on. Once they reached the final stop on Canal, he was greeted by Mario Lopez and Harry Connick Jr. in front of the Marriot hotel. They thanked him for being King of Bacchus and welcomed him to the roster of kings.

              This would be one of the greatest nights of his entire life.

              His float rode into the convention center where crowds of people waited for them to roll in. He scanned the crowd, trying to see if he could spot (Y/N) as he threw out the rest of his beads and coins. He couldn’t see her, but he had hoped to see her at the area where the float would stop at so everyone could climb off. And when they arrived there, his eyes fell upon the beauty standing below, waiting with a bright smile and waving up at him.

              (Y/N) had gone back to the hotel to get changed it since on his way to the parade route, she wore her AKF t-shirt and a pair of washed out jeans. But here she stood in a black and cream satin and lace dress. The skirt was short in the front, barely hitting the middle of her thighs, and long in the back hitting right at the top of her calves. She wore a black leather jacket, black heels, and giant black hoop earrings. Her makeup was to par, all glam with a black smokey eye and her hair loose in waves around her face.

              Jensen couldn’t stop staring at her as he climbed down, his friends already surrounding her. Once he joined them, he noticed she was handing out sunglasses with plastic around them. She looked at Jensen and smiled at him, handing him a pair.

“They are glow up glasses. They all change color gives more of a party or rave feel. They are giving them out to everyone here but grabbed a few for y’all just in case.”

“Man, (Y/N), you are the best!” one of Jensen’s friends exclaimed, giving her a high five.

“Plus look how pretty she is looking tonight. Jensen, you lucky dog!”

              Everyone laughed at the comment, Jensen wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s waist to pull her close to him. Once his friends dispersed to the big party room, Jensen pulled (Y/N) to a dark corner and pushed her up against the wall.

“What was with that text message before the parade?” he asked huskily.

“Just wanted to help with the nerves,” she groaned back as Jensen’s hands grazed along her curves. “Did it help?”

“Just gave me something to look forward to for later.”

“Yo! Jensen! They need you for reporters!”

              Jensen groaned in complaint, wishing he could just leave with (Y/N) back to the hotel so they could spend the night together.

“Time for you to play the role of King, J.”

“Wanna join me with them? Don’t have to say a word, just keep me company.”

“Ooo, be the king’s personal handmaiden as he is being interviewed by his subjects?”

“Don’t give more ideas sweetheart.”

“OK, ok I will behave. But let’s go before they really come looking for ya.”

===========================

              Turned out the interviews had to wait. The Captain wanted him ready to welcome in the crowd once the last float had arrived. As Jensen stood on the stage, waiting to talk, (Y/N) stood behind the curtain, giving Jensen a bit of relief, he wasn’t on stage so alone. The Captain began his introduction of Jensen.

“I would like to introduce, our wonderful King of Bacchus fifty-one, Jensen Ackles!”

              As the Captain passed Jensen the mic, the crowd went wild with cheers and applause. Jensen smiled at the crowd and thanked the Captain for the introduction.

“Thank you, Clark, and thank you to all of you that showed up here today on what turned out to be an unbelievable Sunday afternoon for Mardi Gras. I want to give a special thanks to the Brennan family, I want to thank the Bacchus crew. I want to thank the city of New Orleans, I want to thank each and every one of you. This has been an absolute thrill of a lifetime for not only me but my family and my friends. And as I was saying earlier, I can’t imagine doing this once every ten years. These guys do it every twelve months, you guys are crazy,” Jensen said as he turned to look at the Captain who was smiling back. “But then I realized that on doing a little bit of research about Bacchus, that he’s not only the god of wine and fertility, he is also the god of ritual madness.

              After looking at the crowd, Jensen turned back to the Captain and continued.

“Which I see you have accomplished here this evening. And it is also said about Bacchus that if you partake in his powers, and in his mysteries, then you become possessed with the god himself. So let’s get some ritual madness up in here tonight and let’s get possessed with the spirit of Bacchus! You guys are unbelievable! Thank you so much!”

              Jensen handed the mic to the Captain and shook his hand. He smiled at the man and then turned to the crowd. As the Captain beckoned everyone to have a great night, Jensen bowed before the crowd, hearing people scream his name as the applause rang through the building. Jensen was then guided off stage and was greeted by (Y/N) with a hug and a smile.

“You were great out there, J!”

“Just like a panel, right?”

“Yeah, just like a panel,” she giggled back as she wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him towards the reporters.

              Once they reached the area of reporters, Jensen casually answered their every question, introducing (Y/N) as a close friend and co-worker whenever they asked who she was. He held her hand the entire time, glad to keep her by his side. No one asked anything personal, only about his ride and how he felt about the parade. When he reached the section of a local station, he was asked of (Y/N) could stay out of this shot, keeping it only to him. (Y/N) smiled and let go of his hand, pulling out her powder puff to powder his face lightly.

“Bright lights gotta make sure not one wrinkle can be seen.”

              Once she was done, she moved to stand behind the camera and smiled at Jensen, giving him a thumbs up while they gave him a mic and set of headphones. Because of the headphones, he had to remove his crown, which he handed to (Y/N) to hold for him. Once the cameraman let them know he was ready, they began their interview.

“Well, this is the way to end a show, the rendezvous, we have Bacchus fifty-one!”

“Yes we do!” exclaimed the female reporter dressed in a red formal dress. “Jensen Ackles and we should say Happy Birthday! It’s your birthday weekend, right?”

“Well yeah,” Jensen responded. “My birthday was on Friday, March 1st so…”

“Awesome!” the reporter exclaimed.

“I can’t think of a better way to celebrate a birthday. In fact, now I should stop having them.”

              The two reporters laughed at his little joke.

“This was a good one. And you well known for being a fan of the Big Easy and the Saints. You said in one interview that you have a close friend from New Orleans,” the reporter stated.

“Yeah, being from Texas, I have always traveled here to the city for some relaxation and fun. And my friend, (Y/N) (Y/L) here,” Jensen pointed at (Y/N) as he smiled at her. “She was born and raised here in New Orleans and has told me many things about the city that I have yet to discover. She was the one that gave me the idea to even be in the parade in the first place, talking all about Mardi Gras. I mean, this has been the highlight of a lifetime for sure.”

“As you were talking on stage with the Captain,” interjected the male reporter in a tux. “About doing this every year, I mean this is a lot to do. You said, ‘I couldn’t do this every ten years, much less every twelve months.’

“Yeah, no, I mean looking around me, and when we came into this convention hall on the float. First of all, the trip through downtown New Orleans on that float is unlike anything anyone has ever experienced. If you ever have the chance to ride in a Mardi Gras parade, do yourself a favor and it will change your life.”

              Jensen turned to the camera slightly, then back at the reporters. On a small screen, they had videos of him on the float throwing beads out to the crowd. It was one thing to do what he just did that evening, another to see it on a screen.

“But doing that and then ending it in here, with all these incredibly beautiful people and this wonderful band, I mean you can’t write this stuff.”

“But, Jensen,” began the reporter. “There’s one thing riding in the parade, and there is another being Bacchus or king. It’s good to be the king!”

“It is GREAT to be the king!” Jensen emphasized with a smile. “I will say, being up on that throne, I was worried about, ‘Well, what happens if I have to go to the bathroom? What happens if I get tired? What happens if I get hungry? Thirsty?’ None of that happened after five hours. It was all adrenaline for the entire time. I never sat down and I never wanted to. It was incredible.”

“And it’s an adrenaline weekend, is it?” the male reporter asked. “It starts at Children’s Hospital and it runs all the way through.”

“I kept hearing that it’s not a sprint it’s a marathon. It’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. And I think it’s a super marathon. I think it's one of those hundred-mile marathons. So, oh there I am!”

              Jensen looked back at the small screen in front of them to see himself throwing out coins at the Children’s Hospital days earlier.

“That was so cool, meeting with the kids, meeting with the staff there, they’re doing really, really good things. It’s a brand-new facility, that was one of my highlights as well, just being there.”

“And, not to feed your ego, but one of the guys from Bacchus was saying they never had the kind of response online that they had when you became Bacchus.”

“Well, that’s just because of my mother,” Jensen said, causing the reporters to laugh. “She, umm, she spends a lot of time online, making sure that they don’t say anything bad about me.”

“Your mother and a ton of other women!” exclaimed the female reporter. “Let’s talk about this, is this your first Mardi Gras?”

“It’s my first Mardi Gras,” Jensen responded.

“Ok, that’s insane!” she continued. “So now your perspective is as king, I don’t know how you will come down from that.”

“I don’t know,” Jensen responded. “Well I had a little conversation with Andy Garcia just a moment ago and he said, ‘Now you gotta come back and you gotta wear a mask and be incognito.’ It’s a whole different experience, so I plan on doing that soon.”

“What was the biggest surprise for you from this experience?”

“Ummm,” Jensen thought on that question for a moment before responding. “You know what the biggest surprise was the amount of people and it was as far as the eye can see. And because I’m the first float, their all looking at me waiting for me to come down the road, and I’m just hearing like, ‘THROW ME A BEAD!’. So. I’m trying to get them out as fast as I can, I mean, I think I got a couple of bloody fingernails now.”

“Did you talk to other stars who had been Bacchus to get some advice on, like, ‘Geez, what is this like,’?” the male reporter questioned.

“Well, yeah, I had a few people tell me some things. And like I said, I talked to Andy both before and after the parade. And I,” Jensen began to laugh to himself, thinking back on Andy’s words of wisdom. “I actually went up to him before we got on the float and I said, ‘Andy, c’mon. One piece of advice?’ and he just goes like, ‘Ohhoho, no.’ “

“And he is one of the guys that comes every year,” added the male reporter.

“And he got it right!” continued Jensen. “He came up to me after and gave me a big hug and said, ‘Am I right? You can’t explain that you can’t put that into words,’ and he’s right. And I said, ‘There is nothing in Hollywood that does it this big. There’s nothing that I can think of that goes this big, to this extent, and puts on this much of a show and it’s truly one of a kind.”

“And you know what? You know you’re a big star when even the rain stops for Jensen Ackles.”

“Well as apparently Charlton Heston once said, ‘It will not rain on Bacchus,’ and it looks like he’s still pulling some strings upstairs.”

“Well Jensen, thank you and congratulations. You’ve made a great Bacchus!”

“Thank you very much, it’s been an honor,” Jensen said, and he bowed his head to the reporters.

              Once the cameraman gave signal they were done, Jensen removed his headphones and handed the cameraman the mic. He shook hands with both reporters and thanked them again. He noticed that they were the last batch to talk to him, so he quickly grabbed (Y/N) by the hand and pulled her down to the party area, happy that he was finally able to have fun.

“Gosh, that was a lot of talking.”

“But you were great, J. It all went smoothly and now all that’s left is to party the night away. But first, food for you since you haven’t eaten since the room service we ordered around lunchtime.”

              Jensen laughed as he felt his stomach grumble at the mention of food.

“Yeah, I am dying for something to eat.”

“Then let’s get that belly full and happy so we can have fun!”

==============================

“Go Jensen! Go Jensen!”

              Jensen was dancing beside the DJ as everyone cheered him on. After the song ended, he made his way back down, laughing with his friends as they hugged and patted him on the back. He was having so much fun and knew he would miss all this coming morning. As he made his way through the crowd, he found (Y/N) talking to some folks he didn’t know at their table. He couldn’t help but watch her smile and laugh along with them, his heart bursting with joy. Once he reached her, he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward, placing a kiss on her ear.

“Mind introducing me?”

              (Y/N) turned and gave him her megawatt smile that he adored and began introducing the three people with her. They were old friends that still live in the city catching up with her. They greeted Jensen with open arms and before he knew it, they were sharing stories of their time growing up with (Y/N). They told the embarrassing stories of when they were in middle school and how (Y/N) was such a shy bookworm to their crazy days in high school of skipping class and still getting good grades.

“Oh, did you know Chris is here?” one of (Y/N) asked while they finished talking about the exes.

              Jensen noticed how (Y/N) stopped laughing and her eyes grew wide. She stuttered out that she didn’t know and started looking around.

“Who’s Chris?” asked Jensen.

“He was the last guy (Y/N) dated,” her other friend said with a look of annoyance on her face. “He was the asshole that…”

“Shut up.”

              Jensen looked back to (Y/N) who was looking down, avoiding everyone’s gaze. The way she twirled her fingers between each other and her bouncing leg, it seemed like this was someone she didn’t want to see.

“And speak of the freaking devil.”

              Jensen looked up to see this tall guy walking towards them with a smile on his face. He greeted the trio happily, but when his eyes fell on (Y/N), they started to shine.

“Hey, (Y/N). Long time no see.”

              (Y/N) nodded her head without looking up at the guy. Jensen felt the green monster rise from inside as he watched how this guy got closer to (Y/N), kneeling beside her.

“How have you been?” the guy asked as he tried to get her to look at him. “Ya know, I’ve missed you ever since you left for Vancouver.”

“Yeah right,” she mumbled, her body leaning closer to Jensen’s.

“Why do you think I would lie to you?” he asked so smoothly.

              Jensen looked over at the trio, expecting them to say something. But the friend that looked very annoyed leaned over to him and whispered in his ear.

“This is every single time they see each other after a breakup. Been this way since high school. Wins her over with a few words and back to square one. I hope she doesn’t fall back again, she deserves better.”

“So, this is the asshole that made her mistrust?” asked Jensen.

“Not just mistrust, but he made her feel like she could never be independent, make her own choices. That’s why we convinced her to take the job in Vancouver. Far from him, easier to heal and hopefully forget him.”

              Jensen went on high alert once he saw Chris grab hold of (Y/N)’s hand mumbling something to her.

“No, Chris,” she responded to him, which made him laugh.

“C’mon, babe, you know you always come back to me.”

              Jensen immediately wrapped his arm around (Y/N) and pulled her closer, facing the guy as he reached over to pull her hand out of his.

“Sorry bud, but (Y/N) is with me tonight and we really need to get going,” Jensen said with a fake smile plastered on his face. He put a finger under (Y/N)’s chin and made her look up at him, her eyes wide in fear. “Ready to go? We got that flight to catch back to Vancouver in the morning.”

              (Y/N) nodded her head, turning to say goodbye to the trio. They all hugged her and wished her a safe trip as Jensen walked over to Chris. Jensen gave him a glare and blocked his path towards (Y/N), staring him down.

“Now, Chris, right?” Jensen began. “I suggest you keep away from my girl because I wouldn’t be too happy with you trying to hurt her.”

“She isn’t your girl, she will always…”

“She isn’t yet, but I know a few other guys that care for her like a little sister that would love to have a go at you for making her suffer and struggle for so many years.”

              Jensen grabbed Chris by the collar and pulled him close, their faces inches apart.

“I hear that you get near her, I will make sure you regret that choice, you hear me boy?”

“J, please.”

              Jensen turned to see (Y/N) standing there, her arms wrapped around her as her eyes begged him to stop. Jensen let Chris go and gave (Y/N) his full attention, pulling her into his arms as they made their way out the convention hall. Jensen texted his friends that he was leaving as they made their way to the exit, when (Y/N) pulled Jensen by the hand. She guided him towards an elevator and pulled him in with her once the doors opened. Jensen was confused by the sudden change in directions and before he could ask what was going on, she only whispered to him to just follow her.

              They made it to the third floor and (Y/N) guided him down the dark hall towards a restroom. She got them both inside and locked the door behind her. As Jensen looked around, he turned to ask her what was going on. But instead, he got her arms wrapped around his neck and (Y/N) pulling him into a kiss. It was sloppy and wild, but Jensen didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

              They moaned into each other’s mouths, (Y/N)’s tongue exploring his mouth as if it were the first time. She pushed Jensen towards the wall at the other end and tried to climb onto him. She rubbed her body against his, making his cock grow harder with each push. But even with the perfect distraction, Jensen fought to break free from her. He finally shoved her away and caught his breath, watching her as she stared down to the floor.

“Not like this,” he whispered. “I won’t have sex with you if you aren’t in a clear mental state.”

              (Y/N) laughed, looking up to the ceiling as she walked over to the sink. She leaned on it and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Why do you have to be so proper and respectful at a time like this?”

“Because I am not an asshole that takes advantage of a woman, no matter how much I want to right now with you.”

“At least you’re honest, J.”

“What’s wrong?”

              (Y/N) raked her fingers through her hair, taking in a deep breath. She kept silent for a couple of minutes, Jensen patiently waiting for her response. He kept his distance though, not wanting to give in if she made a move again.

“I swear, I thought if I ever saw him again I would be able to fight back,” she began, her voice low. “Yet he had me all caught up again.”

“Do you still love him?”

“God, no! I hate the asshole after the last time.”

              Jensen felt a moment of relief at how quick she answered.

“It’s just, something about him makes me lose, power. Like he knows what buttons to press to make me feel like I HAVE to go along with everything. That I have no say in things. Hell, he asked me if he could hold my hand and even though I said no, I still didn’t fight him when he took it.”

              Jensen could see the tears begin to slide down her cheek as she continued.

“It’s like, I become weak again and I hate it. I never want to be that weak woman that accepted every single thing he did just to keep him. He never loved me, he just wanted someone who would do everything he asked without question. I let him walk all over me and I hate myself for it.”

“Hey, no, don’t knock yourself down like that,” Jensen whispered as he moved to stand behind her. “Yes, you were like that before, but because of that horrible experience, you became the woman you are now.”

“Yeah, a great woman that lets her ex walk over her the moment he sees her.”

“(Y/N), look up.”

              (Y/N) looked up at him through the mirror, his face stern.

“Do you see what I see?” he asked, getting a no from her. “I see such a strong, beautiful woman that runs by her own rules and strives to be the best in her passion. You fight for what you believe is right and any man would be proud to say that you are his.”

“Even with how tubby I am?”

“You are not tubby, you have such a beautiful body with perfect curves. Any man that doesn’t appreciate it deserves a slap in the face.”

              (Y/N) giggled, her tears no longer falling. Jensen smiled at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to lean against him.

“You deserve a man that walks beside you, not in front. Someone that loves you and shows it to you every single day. That he worships the ground you walk on and respects you for every choice you make. Loves you for you.”

              (Y/N) smiled at him, her hands rubbing his as she watched him through the mirror. Jensen placed a soft kiss on the top of her head before turning her to face him. He wiped away the tears that fell and kissed the tip of her nose.

“You deserve all that and more, (Y/N). Any man would feel lucky to be by your side, to know that they have the best woman on this planet.”

“What about you, Jensen? Do you feel lucky to have me right now even if it’s just for the weekend?”

“Yes, I surely do.”

              Jensen leaned in and kiss her gently, treating her like she was made of porcelain. He enjoyed the soft plumpness of her lips as she leaned into his body, her moans vibrating against his mouth. He slid a hand into her hair, grabbing the back of her head as he held her close. His erection grew back again, enjoying the feel of her body against his. Their tongues clashed for dominance, Jensen eventually letting her take control of the kiss. They finally broke free for some air after such a long, passionate kiss. Jensen looked down at (Y/N) through his hooded eyes, her eyes blown and dark from lust.

“I want you right here, right now,” he whispered, gaining a smile from her.

“Then take me, I am all yours, my King.”

              Jensen moved in and began to ravish her mouth, kissing her like his life depended on it. Jensen didn’t know how long they had before getting caught, so he knew they had to be fast. He moved his hands to his pants and began to unzip himself free, pulling out his length to rub against her stomach. She groaned out at the feel of his length, rubbing her body against him. Jensen broke their kiss and leaned into her ear.

“I want you to suck my cock, show your King exactly what that little mouth can do.”

              Without hesitation, (Y/N) slide down his body to her knees, her face inches away from his pulsing cock. She grabbed him with both hands and licked the tip carefully, teasing him as she licked his length. Jensen grabbed hold of the edge of the sink, getting a hold of his balance. She hadn’t taken him into her mouth and he was already struggling to hold back. But the moment she wrapped her lips around his cock, he let out a shaky breath.

“That’s right, baby, suck it like you love it.”

              He felt the groan the reverberated from the back of her throat as she sucked him, her tongue licking right under the head of his cock. Jensen looked down to watch her head bob up and down his length, stroking him as she sucked him greedily. Jensen grabbed the back of her head and began guiding her, groaning out his pleasure.

“Just like that baby, take it all. You know you want this cock.”

              He felt her other hand cup his balls and she began to squeeze and stroke them, toying with them in the palm of her hand. Jensen grunted, pushing her head faster against him as he felt himself lose control.

“That’s right fuck just like that. Fuck baby, I’m about to cum…”

              Jensen came all inside her mouth. He felt her swallow his load as she sucked him clean once he finished. But that wasn’t enough for him, as he was still hard and pulsing. He pulled her head away and made her stand up, kissing her as he tasted himself. He turned her, so she was facing the mirror and bunched her skirt up to her waist. She lifted a knee to place it on top of the sink, so her legs were open to him. His chest rumbled from his deep laugh, noticing she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He slid a finger along her slit, rolling his eyes as he felt how soaked she was.

“Looks like someone was expecting something tonight.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” she moaned out as Jensen stroked the tip of his cock against her pussy.

“Tell me how much you want this cock, baby. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I want it so much, please, My King,” she begged as she pushed her ass against him.

“You want his cock, baby? Want me inside you, fucking you?”

“Yes…,” she gasped out as he lined himself up with her soaked folds.

“Then here you go baby,” he responded with a growl as he pushed his cock inside her with one swift motion.

              The moment she was fully wrapped around him, he groaned out his pleasure. He could hear the whimper that escaped her lips as he stretched her. He stood still for a moment, loving the feel of her silk wetness surrounding him. He knew he would never get tired of this feeling, wanting to stay inside her for the rest of his life. But in the back of his head, he knew they were in a possible chance of getting caught if a guard came around here. So, he wasted no time in pulling out and ramming himself right back into her. There was nothing slow and gentle, just fast paced and rough fucking.

              The slapping of skin echoed in the bathroom as their groans and moans of pleasure joined the music of their fucking. Jensen rammed into her without stopping, gripping her waist tightly. She used the mirror to stay balanced, her palms flat on it with her leg still on the sink keeping her wide open. He felt how her pussy clenched him, making him want to cum even faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna fucking cum in this tight pussy,” Jensen rasped out as he pumped into her.

“Fuck, yes, fuck me!” she screamed out as her body jerked with his bucking.

              Jensen felt her pussy tighten around his length, knowing that she was almost at the edge.

“Yes, cum all over me baby. I wanna feel you cum.”

              (Y/N) screamed out in pleasure from how quickly she came all over him, her slick bathing his cock and slipping down her thigh and he continued to fuck her. He felt how her pussy spasmed and squeeze his length. Jensen felt himself get closer to his release as she rode out her high.

“Tell me you want all my cum inside you.”

“I want it all inside me, J! Give it to me!”

              Jensen’s body went stiff when he came, spilling himself inside her as his hips jerked against her ass. As Jensen came back down from his high, he grunted and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on the back of her head as he slowly pulled out, a whimper coming from her once he was completely out.

              Jensen grabbed some paper towel and cleaned himself before tucking his already softening cock back into his pants. (Y/N) had gotten back onto her two feet and used the sink to balance herself form her shaky legs. Jensen got some more clean paper towels and used the sink behind her to wet them a bit, using them to clean her up before straightening out her skirt. Once he threw the towels away, he turned to see her smiling at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she giggled as she moved towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down so his ear was near her lips. “Just loved it when you talked dirty to me.”

              Jensen smiled and turned his face to catch her lips in a kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close. She giggled against his lips as she felt him get hard, rubbing her body against his.

“Thank you for helping me back there and being respectful. Don’t know what I would have done without you there, J.”

“You know I got you, sweetheart.”

“Now, let’s get out of here before the guard comes up.”

              Jensen laughed as (Y/N) moved away from his grasp and ran out of the bathroom. He followed her, walking a few paced behind as he watched her sway her hips as she strutted towards the elevator. He couldn’t help hearing her sing as they made their way towards the elevator.

“One and two and a three and four. Come on let me know if you want some more. You know what I like, now get it right. Boy talk that talk to me all night,” (Y/N) sung as she turned to face Jensen, pointing a finger at him. She motioned for him to follow her as she danced along with her singing. “Yeah boy I like it, yeah boy I like it! Love it when you talk that talk to me yeah. Yeah that talk to me yeah. Love it when you talk that talk to me, yeah.”

              Jensen laughed as he jogged over to her as the elevator opened at her pressing the button. Once in the elevator, he pulled her into his arms as she danced against him, grinding against his length, causing him to get harder.

“God, you are insatiable,” he groaned against her ear, gaining a giggle.

“Well, we still got the rest of the night to fix that issue,” she responded as the elevator doors opened.

              She guided him out the convention center and they walked back to the hotel which was only a couple of blocks away. They laughed and enjoyed each other’s company, holding hands the entire way. They arrived at the hotel and made their way up to their room. On the elevator ride up, Jensen kept her in his arms, kissing her at every chance he had. Their walk to the room took longer than normal, their hands memorizing each other as they made out. Jensen wanted to remember this night, make it last as long as possible.

              Reaching their door and unlocking it, he made a promise to himself that he would not leave New Orleans without letting her know exactly how he felt. She might think this was a weekend only thing, but he wanted to make it clear to her that he wanted more than just this weekend.

              But for now, as they undressed and made their way to the bed, he would take all night to show her what he was going to say come morning.

Tags:

@coffee-obsessed-writer @holylulusworld @janicho88

[onlyinmyimagination]

Love is Blind

Jason Todd X Reader

This did not turn out how I wanted at all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maybe I’ll attempt a rewrite in the future but right now I am so tired of this story. I sincerely hope you guys like it more than I do. I’m so done.

Very loosely based on this prompt: “As a dating company professional, I never thought that I’d be able to match you with anyone because honestly, you’re such a terrible human being. But, in our search we found someone who fits your profile, and since you paid us to help you find a match, here is their information. God Help us.“

Also inspired by those social media au posts that float around the fandom. those are bomb af.

Genre: Romance, fluff I guess idk

Sorta social media au/celebrity au??? idk (someone tell me what kind of AU you think this is)

Warnings: Some foul language.

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It started when Jason needed to quickly get a date to a launch party of some clothing brand by Wayne Enterprises (he never really cares for whatever new business venture Bruce Wayne busies himself with). He was supposed to glam it up with a partner at his side but he had put it off until the very last minute. His solution was to call up a reputable dating company because he simply didn’t have the time to screen the potential candidates on Tinder. And just like that, you were the dating professional assigned to him and he became your client.  

He hadn’t been the politest over the phone. He had been curt, a little aggressive, and much too particular about his preferences. Right away you knew he was trouble. But you resolved to do your best and stay professional. You had to compile his profile quickly and it was then that you found out that your newest client is a local celebrity. Hearing the name Jason Todd over the phone didn’t ring any bells at the time, but upon further research on your client you knew he’d be a challenge.

He had said he needed a date in less than a week and to his relief, you were able to meet him the next day with a potential match. Upon seeing your client in person you realized why his demands were so high. Not only is he the son of a billionaire, he’s also ridiculously good-looking and oddly intimidating. It must’ve been hard to find a suitable partner all by himself.

He had introduced himself, even though you knew very well who he was. He didn’t have as much attitude as he did over the phone, and he didn’t act as haughty as you expected him to be. With a practiced script and a customer service smile plastered on your lips, you invited him to sit at a nearby café while you reviewed the file of his potential partner with him.

He took the information with satisfaction and thanked you for your time. Unfortunately he didn’t last long with the match you found him, and you got another call from him a few weeks later. He needed another partner for an upcoming gala. And thus, the cycle continued to repeat itself, with your patience wearing thin and professionalism quickly dissipating with a few months. Before you met Jason Todd Wayne you’ve had a near perfect reputation, with an almost one hundred percent success rate with your clients. But he was ruining your reputation and it upset you tremendously.

“Jason, did you seriously ditch her last night?”

“It’s not what you think!”

“What do you...” you pause to take a deep breath and calm yourself.  You continue, “You literally ditched her at a party you brought her to.”

“Yeah, but for a good reason!”

“And what reason would that be?”

“Uhhh...I can’t say. But it really was a good reason!”

You give a skeptical look. “Did you even call her afterwards? Did you even think to apologize for leaving her alone?”

“...No. I got a little sidetracked, but I’ll do it right now!”

“She doesn’t want to see you again. I doubt she’ll want to talk to you.”

“Well that’s her loss.”

“Is it really, though,” you mutter to yourself.

“She seemed more than happy with me last night.” Then he adds, “Before I left her anyway.”

“What a coincidence—she said the same thing to me. I painstakingly searched through hundreds of files for her, and this is what you do? After you messed up all those other dates, it’s been near impossible digging up more matches for you.”

“I know, I know. I’m an asshole. But I also know you’ll find me another date in time for Bruce Wayne’s next big gala.”

“Can you at least try to be nice,” you say while shaking your head and rummaging through your files. “Nicer, I mean. I’m trying to find a potential lifelong partner for you here.”

“No guarantees, cupid.”

You eye him as you press your lips into a thin line. “I found a realtor who lives less than an hour away. Her profile is similar to your past matches and she seemed like she’d be able to put up with you. Realtors tend to have a lot of patience. Very admirable.”

“That’s pretty cold of you to say.”

“At this point, the one I feel sorry for is her.”

“Brrr...chilly.”

“From all the complaints I’ve been getting, you’re not exactly the easiest to be around.”

“You’re holding up just fine.”

“It’s part of my job.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that we’ve hung out longer than I’ve dated any of the partners you’ve set me up with. Technically you could say,” he says slowly, suggestively, “I’ve been on more dates with you than any of those matches of yours.”

“Like any of that is my fault. You get dumped after one date almost every time and I’ve got to set up a new match for you in time for your next big party.”

“Why don’t you just be my date from now on?”

“Not gonna happen. I don’t get involved with my clients.”

“A little uptight, aren’t you?”

“If you’re just going to pester me about how I do my job, then this meeting is over. I’ll see you in a week after this next one dumps you.”

“That’s ice cold.”

“We’ll see what happens in a week.” You plaster a professional smile on your face as you bid him goodbye but once you turn around you bite your lip anxiously. You didn’t want to admit his nonchalant invitation to be his date made your chest squeeze. Just the slightest interest toward you has you feeling a little too giddy even when you keep reminding yourself how much of a jerk he is. The more he flirts with you, the harder it is to stay professional. You feel awful and guilty about it, but you don’t get many chances to feel this way.  

Being a professional matchmaker left you on the sidelines as you constantly watch couples meet and fall in love. Finding love for yourself just seemed to be out of reach for you when you’re busy finding love for other people. And pursuing romance with Jason Todd is entirely out of the question. It became impossible the moment he became your client. So, you vow to keep him at a distance.

Just as you had predicted, a week passes and Jason Todd Wayne contacts you again for another meeting to discuss another partner.

You glance at the time and see that he’s twenty minutes late. You roll your eyes at this. It’s nothing new. His lack of punctuality is part of the reason his dates got so fed up with him. Bored, you scan your surroundings and see an ice cream shop next to the café. Seeing no harm in getting yourself a treat, you buy a scoop of your favorite flavor. You choose the cone over the cup to savor your treat. The purchase takes only a few minutes and you’re soon back at your meeting spot, with still no sign of Jason, of course. It’s a few more minutes later when you hear your name being called.

Pausing mid-bite, you turn to see Jason and don’t bother with a greeting. “See? What’d I tell you? It’s been a week.”

He chooses to ignore your jab and says, “Is that ice cream? You bought ice cream without me?” You’re caught off guard for a moment and you open your mouth to answer but he continues childishly, “Let me have some.” His hand is suddenly around your hand that’s holding the ice cream cone, and he’s guiding it to his mouth.

You’re fumbling over your words as he takes a bite and you finally say, “Go get your own!” You snatch your hand out of his grasp and gesture to the ice cream shop. He licks the ice cream from his lips as he looks over to the shop. That’s when you see the side of his face where a greenish-yellow bruise adorns the outer corner of his eye, just below his eyebrow.  

“What the hell? That was not there last week” you say, lifting a hand as if to touch his face. Then you realize what you’re doing and drop your hand again. “That looks bad. Did you ice it?”

“I did. But you should’ve seen it last night, it was so much worse,” he says good-humoredly but then clamps his mouth shut as if he had just revealed a secret.

“I don’t even want to know,” you remark with a shake of your head. You had heard about Jason’s mysterious bruises and wounds, but you never saw them on the visible parts of his body. Your clients on the other hand had often complained about him showing up with mysterious injuries, suspecting him of getting into brawls, fooling around with other lovers, and God knows what. You understand now why they chose to break up with him. Showing up with serious injuries and refusing to offer an explanation as to how he got them (or making some outlandish lie) would make anyone in his company uncomfortable. It’s disconcerting. But the longer you stare at his bruised face, the more you pity him. “Let’s just get you some ice cream.”

“For my face?” His fingers lightly brush over his bruise.

“I was thinking for your mouth or your stomach.”

He laughs and makes his way into the ice cream store. “What flavor should I get?” he asks as you follow him inside.

“Just get your favorite flavor,” you suggest curtly.

“But that’s boring. Predictable.”

You roll your eyes. “Then try a new flavor.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

You act annoyed to keep up a withdrawn attitude toward him. But if you didn’t know better, he seems like he’s biding his time on purpose and you can’t help but wonder why. “Please just choose something, Jason.”

He’s not fazed by your snippy attitude and asks, “You don’t want to share with me?” He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he examines the choices beneath the glass.

“You can share with your next date partner,” you suggest as you continue consuming your treat. He narrows his eyes at you and you hide your smile behind your ice cream.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbles.

It takes an agonizingly long time with a lot of back and forth between you before he could successfully pick a flavor. Then, in an unexpected turn of events, you both end up walking around while finishing your cold treats. You discuss the next profile with him as you both stroll leisurely through a shopping center. During this time, you find Jason isn’t all that bad. The complaints about him have been mostly regarding his carelessness after all, rather than his attitude. But you hate that you find him so charming. As if his good looks didn’t make you curse him enough already.  

The next time you see Jason is after a few weeks and you’ve agreed to meet at a local bookstore. You’re not surprised to find that once again, Jason is late and nowhere to be seen. While skimming the shelves, a book catches your eye and you flip through it curiously.  

“That book isn’t very interesting.”  

You turn to the familiar voice and shut the book. “Then what do you recommend?” you ask lightly, remembering that reading is listed as one of his hobbies.

“Well, you can’t go wrong with the classics.”

“Classics? As in?” you prod with a raised brow.

“Well there’s Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters,” he says. “What kind of stories do you like? Or do you like poetry? Plays?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask so much about your interests. But you remind yourself to stay professional, so you steer the conversation to the purpose of the meeting. “We can discuss books next time. I have another client’s profile for you.”

“Still as uptight as ever. Thought you eased up a little since we last met.”

“It was...a unique occasion. I won’t let it happen again,” you say while turning away in case your face gives anything away.

“So I have to get knocked around a little for you to be nice to me?”

“I am nice to you,” you say indignantly. “I’m just trying to do my job and find suitable partners for you.”

“Alright, cupid. Then who do you have for me today?” he asks with annoyance, holding out his hand for the file. He acts almost... sulky.

You hand him a folder and he flips through it quickly. You explain, “They live almost two hours away but—”  

“Too far,” he states as he closes the folder and gives it back to you. His dismissive attitude stuns you and you look back at him with a bewildered expression. Jason had never declined the potential partners you’ve presented to him before. Then he says, “Can’t you just be my date from now on, cupid?”

You blink and take a moment to gather yourself. “I told you, I don’t get involved with my clients.”

"What do I have to do to get a date with you? Am I supposed to fire you? Even for me, that’s kind of a douche-y thing to do.”

Your breath still at this. The thought of being fired distresses you, but at the same time, Jason’s intention behind his words has your heart racing.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

“Yeah. You gotta admit we have fun together, right? And don’t say it’s because it’s your job.” He is interrupted when his phone suddenly goes off and he takes out the device as if he had just gotten an important notification. You cross your arms while waiting for his attention to return to the conversation. As he scrolls through his phone, you wonder fleetingly if he’s simply just tired of all his failed partners you’ve matched him with. “Listen, I gotta run,” he says while stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “But how about we meet again tomorrow? Are you free?” Realizing he’s ready to speed off, you stop him with a pointed finger.

“Hold it right there! You can’t just ditch our meeting today!”

“But—but it’s an emergency!” he insists.

“Then come back after!” you reply. “If you really need to talk to me then meet me in front of the library at eight tonight. That’s where I’m meeting my last client today and I should be done by then. Will you be able to come?”

“Uh, I guess I could do that.” He looks unsure as he glances at the time.

“Try, Jason. I have meetings with other clients tomorrow so unless you can wait a few more days, that’s the best I can do.”

“Okay, okay. Tonight in front of the library, got it.”

You don’t manage to get another word in as he takes his leave. This must be the infamous disappearance act where he just ups and leaves, ditching his partners. Despite being annoyed with his flaky attitude, you’re more bothered by the conversation that just transpired. Did he really want to fire you?  

Regardless of whether he fires you or you resign as his matchmaker, you aren’t even sure it would work out with Jason if you agree to a date him. You didn’t exactly approve of his attitude after all, and who’s to say the relationship would last? You wouldn’t even be able to go back to being matchmaker and client if you ended up breaking it off, and then you would have no reason to contact him again. The thought leaves you feeling strangely forlorn, so you push the thoughts away and continue your day.

Later that night you bid your last client goodbye and you loiter around the supposed meeting spot. As expected, Jason is nowhere to be seen, and you lazily sit on the cement planters in front of the library to wait for him. After thirty minutes, you toy with the idea of calling him. But you conclude that he’s just being his usual self.  

While waiting, you pass the time on your phone. You visit Jason’s Instagram profile, telling yourself the action is strictly professional and for the sake of research. You notice a post from yesterday. It’s a picture of a playbill for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He must’ve gone to see the play locally. You scroll down a bit to read the accompanying caption he wrote:  

“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

“Cupid, huh,” you mutter under your breath. The post has half a million likes and hundreds of comments, most of which are heart emojis. Did Gotham even have that many people in it? You don’t dwell on it too long and proceed to add the activity to his dating profile.

It’s another thirty minutes later when a noise behind you draws your attention and makes you flinch. It sounded like a thud, like something had fallen.  

“Why are you still here?” a voice asks, and you turn to face the infamous vigilante in the red helmet. “It’s late. You should be home.”

Red Hood is addressing you and it stuns you. But you’re distracted by the way he slowly staggers forward while leaning on the side of the building for support. This guy is not in the best shape.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” you say unsurely as you stand. Not many people have had the opportunity to converse with Gotham’s vigilantes. Not as common an occurrence as one would think. “Am I not supposed to be here? Um, should I go?” You can’t help but dwell on his wording, the way he had phrased his words. A sudden thought creeps into the back of your mind that you didn’t want to surface, that you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Heh. I’ve always thought that seriousness of yours is pretty cute.” Then he loses balance and falls forward.  

“Are you okay?!” you exclaim. Instinctively, you move forward to catch him and the next thing you know, you’re holding up half his body weight. As you help lower him to a more comfortable position on the floor you slowly register his words, and when you do, your breath stills. You had tried to push it down, keeping it at the back of your mind, but the implication is impossible to ignore. The timing is too perfect to simply be a coincidence. You nervously scan Red Hood’s appearance as you sit next to him. “Jason?” you try, not sure what answer you are hoping to hear.

He hums in response then he vaguely says, “You know me pretty well, cupid. Looks like you don’t need your eyes to see me at all.”

His words throw you off but then you’re reminded of Jason’s most recent post on his social media. If you hadn’t seen it, you probably wouldn’t have understood what he just said to you. “Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind,” you say softly and slowly, trying to recall the quote. “And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Shakespeare. Or have you been stalking me?”

“I have to keep up to date with my clients’ interests, okay?” you say to defend yourself. “I needed to update your profile.”

“Oh. Right, right.” A short chuckle escapes him but he groans right after and he clutches his side in pain. He leans his head back against the wall behind him.

“Are you okay?” you ask in panic, completely forgetting he came to you barely standing. Your hands hover just over his wounded body, wanting to help but unsure how to. You don’t care that you’re losing your cool in front of him. Professionalism be damned. It’s impossible to control the turmoil of emotions flowing through you, especially the guilt. All this time, you had criticized his awful habits and nonchalant behavior. Now everything about him is suddenly clicking into place.  

“You should be going to the hospital or something with these injuries,” you say while eyeing the blood seeping from his side. You notice cuts all over his body and even the helmet is cracked. “Why did you come here when you’re this hurt?”

“Well I said I’d come, so here I am.” His tone is light-hearted despite the heaves of his chest as he struggles to intake air.

“You’re already super late anyway, idiot,” you snap back, though you can feel tears pricking your eyes. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I was about to leave.”

“Kinda relieved you didn’t.”

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait until our next meeting?” you demand. You figure the sooner you get the reason out of him, the sooner you can get him some help.

“Come on, don’t be mad. It makes it harder to say if you’re mad at me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and say in a controlled tone, “I’m not mad.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” he says before taking a deep breath. “I just didn’t want you to find me another date. I needed to tell you...God, this is going to sound so sappy but to hell with it. I don’t want any more matches, or profiles, or whatever. I’m in love with you. I don’t want to see anyone else. Look, I know you’re wary of me but give me a chance. Even Cupid was able to fall in love, right?”

For a moment you’re speechless but you organize your thoughts and say, “I consider Cupid’s love story more tragic than romantic. He really shouldn’t be a source of inspiration... or object of affection.”

“You’re totally missing the point of my speech.”

“You’re the one who likened me to Cupid,” you reply, trying to keep your emotions under control.

“Oh, so we’re just going to ignore my heartfelt confession, then.” He moves to sit up straighter and groans while doing so. You reach out to help support him but he grabs your hand instead. “I’m serious about you, really. Give me a chance. I promise I’ll be more honest. I’ll try harder to be on time. I’ll keep our dates. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“Okay, okay!” you hastily answer out of nervousness. “But how am I supposed to date you if you’re dying right in front of me?!”

“This is nothing. I just need to make a call, and everything will be fine. Easy-peasy.” He groans again as he leans back. He continues to grip your hand, clutching it to his chest. “But more importantly, now that we’re officially dating, can I publicly announce it?”

“You should be making this call of yours the priority right now,” you say while desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping across your face.

He sighs dramatically. “Can’t you let me savor this moment a little while longer?”

“Well excuse me for worrying! If you weren’t bleeding out, I would let you savor this moment however long you wanted.”

“I can’t help it if I want to celebrate. I’ve finally caught Cupid, after all.”

You study his expressionless helmet. "What would you have done if I still said no?” you ask curiously.

“Remember how I said I didn’t want to be an ass and fire you? Well I would probably try to get you to quit instead. Then ask you out.”

An incredulous expression crosses your face and you ask, “Get me to quit? How?”

“Oh, probably a little bullying here and there. Just me being more of a jerk than I already am,” he says while using one hand to slide his helmet off. You’re glad to see his familiar face after staring at his mask for so long.

“Wow, that is just as bad,” you remark, your voice laced with humor. “That’s an equally terrible thing to do.”  

“Doesn’t matter now, cupid. I don’t have to do any of that stuff anymore.” He grips your hand again and tugs you closer, making you lean over him slightly as a result.

“Yeah, because you made me a promise,” you quip, attempting to maintain your composure despite how close you are to him.

"Indeed, I did,” he says in agreement, his voice dropping lower and making your legs weak. He tilts his head and his lips ghost just over yours. “So now I can be cupid’s match.”

Your lips stretch into a smile. “Then, as of now, I officially resign as your matchmaker.”

.

.

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[sunnysynthsunshine]

Electric,Etherial musical Angel (Freddie Mercury x Reader)

Those days

Remember those times, dancing with drag queens and glam rockers, sipping wine while looking divine,

You were more into the popular synth music scene but you had known them before from their appearances on Top of the Pops and the local radio.

You frequented a few clubs and got to know some people with famous jobs.

It was like any other bash at the club, you’d jive, you’d drink, you’d dance.

You never thought you’d see him of all people but there he was on the platform showing a prance.

His ken doll looking attire and hair locks reminded you he was not just a regular club goer but a legend of rock

He shook his shoulders and legs about to the beat after starting a conversation he asked you if you’d like something to eat

You feasted on some chicken before it was time to go, you didn’t go to your place you wanted to see what it was like at his residence

Garden Lodge it was called, leaves and flowers so bright you could ignore the cloudy fog

He walked as you entered in,off to the kitchen you could see a litter of kittens

Learning that this interesting man treated his cats like his children

You overheard an Irish bloke walking downstairs, he made you feel welcome and at home there

He and the main dude had a thing for each other, that visit showcased a lot of love, cheer and laughter

You met at a few other events, but they weren’t that recurrent touring the world could take up years but when you’d think of the times you spent with him it would make you grin

He taught you theatre,culture and opera, the latter not really being your taste but you liked that operatic collab he did which became quite popular

The last night you reunited was on the set of one of his last videos, where his style appeared that of a more gothic sort of fellow with one of his bandmates' heads being covered by a kettle

He giggled and smirked like before but little did you know that would be the final day you saw him anymore.

His body was not the supersonic sheild it was before, weaker than a snail, his skin felt frail like glass, the medication did barely anything as he was not healing,

Losing balance, his mind feeling like a dissociative trance,it was overtaking him,it wasn’t caught early, so he just kept getting sickly,the lungs not feeling very steady, like the symptoms of a severe cold if they didn’t stop, with the flu additions that wouldn’t leave even when injected with a medicine shot

The aches and exhaustion made him lose his tune, it was autoimmune

After making it through 11 horrendous months his body had enough

Like a light with a dead bulb, he was switched off

It took time for you to get over the grief, but after watching the tribute concert you felt a bit of comfort

The world still felt more empty without their mercury

Knowing he would not be on earth again for an eternity

Even with astral lucid dreaming, he could only be viewed via a hologram into the galaxies

there he was in blue pyjamas, his hair greying a bit due to age, but still the same Freddie he always was, you couldn't believe your eyes

“Why are you crying, Darling?”

You sniffled “because you're not here anymore”

“Darling I’m not gone, I just no longer have a place on this planet, it was my bad health that caused it”

You nodded trying to hold back the tears, “I know, but the world just feels so bland without you brightening our lives up with your larger than life personality”

“Grief is hard dear, I know that before I got the viral autoimmune disease some of my ex-lovers had it, but you still have the memories when I was feeling like nothingness I still wanted to make art to amaze the masses”

“B-but the research is better now you could’ve made it”

“I know, but you can’t change the past, not many people were as educated then about the disease’s effects and because it wasn’t caught early the more I ignored it the more severe my symptoms would get”

“Then what are you now?”

“A ghost, an angel, a Beelzebub, one of the spiritual creatures, you can’t see these invisible wings, I prefer to glide instead, I and Jim are still together, always and forever, with Deliah, Goliath and my entire cat and kitty family

“I am a spirit I collect energies, I occasionally visit earth anyway, I can’t be seen though, being on earth now is like always wearing an invisible cloak, not always being able to clearly see humans interact and joke,

“I sightsee for cats, I wonder for Brian and Roger overhearing them having chats, taking photos of this future, the timeframe your living in even if you can’t physically see me”

“Yeah, thanks Freddie, thanks for everything, the music, the garden lodge nights, I will always think of you when I look into the light”

He smiled as he shook your hand politely and kissed your cheek “It’s ok Darling, I’ve always been here dear, now go and enjoy that beautiful future you have there ”

You awoke from your dream, you realised your laptop was asleep, you clicked it on and the final audio line of “These were the days of the Lives was shown “I still love you” as Freddie smiled at the camera in the black and white coloured set disappearing into the distance

It reminded you of your necromantical experience but the connection was probably just a nice coincidence.

[rorykillmore]

so i have an extraordinary number of friends with march/april birthdays, and now that it’s technically the 26th, it’s @tailsthesales!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIZ!!! they asked me to write a little leon/laura thing for our panfandom site soooo i gave it a shot! luv that alliteration they have goin’ on,

but first, to get mushy for a second... giz, i know you deal with a lot. you’re not one to complain very much or put it on other people but.... i know you do and i also know that you work so hard to stay strong and positive and kind for your friends and i love that SO MUCH about you. thank you so so much especially for everything you’ve helped me with staff-wise on denny lately and just, in general, for making my life a little brighter and better. i hope you have a wonderful birthday because you deserve the WORLD <3 <3 <3

anyway now enjoy leon and laura laughing alone with salad(tm) at the gala event 

What is it with her and nice guys?

Okay, not ‘nice’ -- genuine, kind, decent fucking human beings. They make Laura feel so empty in comparison.

In life, Laura had never considered herself a self-conscious person.

In death, she’s sheer, walking defiance. Mad Sweeney cracks his seventieth dead wife joke, and she doesn’t give a fuck. Random passersby stare to her pale, discolored face half-masked by the usual giant pair of sunglasses she wears, and she doesn’t give a fuck.

As a rule: she generally does not give a fuck. It’s one of the best things about being dead.

It’s one of the things she doesn’t miss feeling.

But there’s something about getting glammed up to go to a high-end political gala that’ll smack the self-consciousness right back into a gal.

No amount of washing, it turns out, will give her hair back the natural sheen and bounce it had when she was alive, and no amount of make-up is going to convincingly return the glow to her skin. Laura guesses she was pretty, once. It had never been very high on her list of concerns, mostly because Shadow would have looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world even on a terrible day.

Tonight, she’s just trying for presentable. But Leon beams at her when she actually shows up anyway, kind of like Shadow might have, and she’s not sure if it makes her feel better or worse.

“Hey,” she says when she’s close enough to greet him, feeling a bit silly as she wonders if that was somehow too informal.

“Hey, Laura,” Leon returns amicably. “You look great.”

Laura raises her eyebrows at him, in a ‘come on, you can say it’ kind of way, but as per usual, Leon seems nothing if not sincere. She decides not to ruin his mood by griping, even if she can’t understand how someone who’s been through everything he has can look at a dead woman and feel anything but uneasy at best.  “Thanks. You too.”

It’s not a lie on her part: Leon cleans up nice. It’s a little jarring to see him in something other than casual attire, but his clean, pressed black suit makes him look a little less weighed down, somehow.

Or maybe it’s just the vibe of this place. Laura can already tell from out here that the gala is thrumming with a kind of excitable energy that even she can kind of feel. She guesses most rifters haven’t had anything quite like this to look forward to in a long time.

“Shall we?” she asks Leon, only a little sardonically.  He offers her his arm and she rolls his eyes and takes it carefully, quietly grateful that it’s not skin to skin contact.

“You’re taller in heels.” Leon notes, catching Laura off guard by teasing her.

“Shut up.”

The banter settles her nerves a little, and they head inside. Everything’s a little too bright, or at least it feels that way to Laura, fresh out of the night and down her usual pair of shades. Maybe ‘zombie’ has been missing the mark, this whole time. Maybe she should’ve been making vampire jokes this whole time. 

“You okay?” Leon asks her, and Laura tries not to feel taken aback at how quickly he notices her discomfort.

“My eyes are a little sensitive, that’s all. You know I don’t even really see in color anymore?”

“That’s probably lucky, in this particular situation.” In mild amusement, Leon watches some kid strut past, and even Laura can tell that his suit’s the gaudiest fucking thing she’s ever seen.

Wait --

“Let’s go this way,” she says suddenly to Leon, tugging his arm perhaps a little harder than she meant to and unbalancing him as she jerks them both out of the Technical Boy’s eye line.

“Hey --” It takes Leon a moment to find his footing. He glances over his shoulder. “Who was that?”

“No one important,” Laura says, knowing it’s technically a lie but also that it isn’t, because that particular God is not particularly important to her. “Just one of those awkward ‘I don’t want to run into anyone I know’ situations.”

“Why was he dressed like that?”

“I ask myself that question every time I see him.”

Leon chuckles, and Laura manages to smile a little despite her slightly frazzled state. “What about you?” she continues.  “As an... official member of the MLD, you’re probably expected to do some socializing, or something. Right?”

Leon glances at her, slightly pained. 

“Shitty co-workers?” Laura prompts, and is a little pleased to hear him laugh again.

“I just don’t know them that well,” he tells her gingerly. “Except for the chief -- Felix? He’s actually pretty decent.”

“Surprising, for a police chief.”  Idly, Laura scans the room as if she thinks she might be able to pick Felix out on sight, even though she’s never met him before. “Well... if you don’t want to introduce me, what do you want to do?”

He looks pensive for a second.  “We could get some drinks?” Then he nearly stammers over his own words, giving her an apologetic double-take.  “-- Sorry. I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Laura needles him, though it’s entirely playful. Somehow, some of her earlier self-consciousness has ebbed away without her noticing. “It’s fine, Leon. I don’t care if you wanna get a drink -- you’ll probably need it.”

But Leon is shaking his head, and his expression is different now in a way that Laura can’t quite read.  “...Or... we could dance?”

Laura stares at him, deadpan.

“Is that a no?” Leon asks, smiling easily, and Laura knows that if she did say no he wouldn’t push her. But that doesn’t make her feel any less like she’s starting to put a damper on his night. 

“No. I mean, yes. I mean --”  She huffs a little, or at least goes through the motions, since she doesn’t technically breathe anymore.  “Nevermind. What kind of asshole comes to a thing like this and says they don’t want to dance? Let’s go.”  

She leaves his side to stalk out onto the dance floor, praying that whatever universal karma is almost definitely working against her at this point doesn’t prompt the DJ to start playing Thriller, or something. Leon follows a little more slowly, and looking back at him, Laura suddenly wonders if he hadn’t expected her to say yes. The slight uncertainty in his posture makes her feel a little better about her own nerves, at least. She doesn’t think she’s done this since her’s and Shadow’s wedding, and even then, she wasn’t stellar at it.

“So...” Leon begins as they come to a standstill.  Laura can’t bear the thought of them awkwardly sizing each other up any longer, so she reaches up to put her hand on his shoulder, and uses her other to take one of his. She knows she must be cold to the touch, as she always is, but to Leon’s credit he doesn’t flinch. 

“You lead,” she tells him. “‘Cause I will definitely fuck us up.”

Leon carefully settles his other hand on her waist, and Laura only thinks about the fact that there won’t be any pulse for him to feel for a second. She’s more preoccupied with trying to remember how to slow dance without looking like an idiot.

Not that anyone said that this was supposed to be romantic, but it’s so entirely the opposite as they both try to find their footing that she kind of wants to laugh. Which, in a weird sort of way, makes her feel a little better. Soon, they settle into an easy, swaying rhythm with the music, and -- sure, maybe it’s not the total, cheesy, embarrassing nightmare she might have imagined it as.

It’s almost kind of nice. And because she can’t let herself have nice things for too long, Laura starts to circle back around to feeling guilty again.

What is it with her and nice guys?

Okay, not ‘nice’ -- genuine, kind, decent fucking human beings. They make Laura feel so empty in comparison.

But then again, pretending that Leon isn’t capable of being a reasonably aware judge of character after all he’s been through is probably doing a disservice to her. And telling herself that nothing has changed - that nothing will ever change - since she was alive won’t get her anywhere.  

And Laura’s not sure where it is she wants to be... but she doesn’t want to be standing still.

Neither does Leon, she thinks. That’s why he’s always pushing forward, why he’s already secured his position in the MLD, why he still wants to help people even though Laura knows he’s probably met too many people who were beyond helping to count.

It’s not like Laura wants to be his charity case, or anything, but she’s not so sure she likes the idea of being beyond help either. So maybe they can help each other.

If only for tonight. If only a little, in passing moments like this one.