#Just moving it to a new post to make things tidier! ^^

[outoftheirdifferences]

@multi-muse-transect / continued from (x)

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Spinoff games...?"

Whoops, there went the fake-posh accent. Oh well: Vanellope, waving her hands for the other to slow down, was far more curious about what was being said here. As far as she was concerned, there was only Sugar Rush and... well, that was it. Wasn't like they were a franchise, least as far as she knew.

Or was this another thing that she'd missed the memo on while she'd been branded a glitch, and that no-one had thought to fill her in on? The game had been around for like a decade by now at least, after all.

"Lemme see those..."

Leaning dangerously far over the edge of her branch, she stretched to try and grab the phone and take a closer look, found it still beyond her limited reach. Frowning, Vanellope glitched down to the ground besides her visitor, doing her best to snatch the phone out of her hands in passing.

(She'd give it back, of course. She just wanted to flick through it at her own pace.)

Of course, the glitching alone might clue the other into the fact that something wasn't quite as she was expecting. After all, it wasn't exactly like she was your typical version of the character: there wasn't a Vanellope in all the other Sugar Rush cabinets of the world who was quite like her, Vanellope was certain. No other game's version of her would have the experiences she did, or her glitchy superpower...

She might be about to get some sort of reaction, the little racer was sure.

[omegaremix]

Record Store Victory Tour, 2018.

Having three shoulder operations to beat cancer has been the ultimate life victory thus far. It was the most amazing and largest outpouring of support ever. Friends, family, allies, co-workers in good-standing, and even names whom I haven’t seen or heard from in years came to congratulate me and wish me onto a speedy recovery. I don’t know if nine months is what you call “speedy”. Nine months of shoulder replacements, ten weeks of in-home nurse visits, a MRSA infection, six weeks of in-home intravenous antibiotics, and missing two label showcases were balanced out with staying up until 4AM every morning finding endless music (Negril, Robert Ashley, and Steve Khan to name a few), daily postings, heavy amounts of sleep, and Dad’s daily deliveries of free food full of steak, sushi, pizza, chicken, egg rolls, and pasta. With a nine-month blackout period of not leaving the house ever, you had to make the best of it. I knew that after this I would never ever answer to any random nobody about my shoulder. And looking back at it, I say to myself as to why I even let it go so far.

Working for a great company and playing your cards right, you could sit and collect benefits while staying at home doing almost next to nothing. I now had more money in the bank when I last left work. So I promised myself that after I fully recover, I’d treat myself like I never had before. I decided that I would go on a record-store victory tour. I would hit up each and every independent record place, go crazy, and buy up everything I can. After nine months of being bed-ridden and staying home, I needed to treat myself with retail therapy. I needed to get out there and be myself again. Of all I been through and endured, I deserved it.

I didn’t immediately do it, however. It took me a few months to earn back the $2,000 I lost in savings when the benefits ended. While that happened, I enjoyed hot August days walking from my house to the veteran’s park and back, witnessed my ex- Yenny get married, attended Hospital Productions’ 20th Anniversary showcase (a day I will never forget), had a night out in my neighborhood Dave & Busters with my co-workers, and started getting in touch with a Brooklyn witch. I made two label orders with Italians Do It Better and RRRecords which help things get started. As you see, it only got better.

February came and we got a surprise $1,000 from our company. Tax refunds and a third paycheck of the month sealed the deal and all systems go. My first stop was at Patchogue’s Record Stop, their new location since moving from their Shirley warehouse, and thumbed through whatever old-school hip-hop, 12” singles, and other small easy victories I could find. It wasn’t until places like West Sayville’s Vinyl Paradise was when spending three hours minimum searching in stores and $200.00 a visit on music was normal. I can also count West Babylon’s Looney Tunes, Mineola’s Mr. Cheapo’s, and Amityville’s High Fidelity who could’ve matched the totals I had from that store. It’s all about finding the most for less. Whether it’s Seventies’ jazz / fusion on vinyl, discount 12” singles, used CDs, dollar hardcore / punk 45’s, or other long-awaited finds, amassing history and style points is the most self-serving and exciting hunt I take part of. Other stores such as Northport’s Record Reserve, Massapequa’s Infinity Records, Riverhead’s Sunday Records, and Rosie’s Vintage (the smallest of them all) allowed for tidier spaces and friendlier prices for me to walk out with, with smaller receipts ranging from a mere $30.00 to $100.00.

Of course, with many victories come disappointments. Plainview just opened a new store called Vinyl Bay 777. It’s one of the cleanest and shiniest stores on the island, but also the most expensive. With a penchant for ambition and grading, their selections are anywhere from three to five times the price of what you’d find in others store. It was the only experience of the tour that I left feeling poor and let down. The other disappointment? Innersleeve Records all the way at the East End / Amangansett. Why? I’m disappointed that I wasn’t able to go.

And almost every store have their own legacy. Record Stop’s been around since 1974 starting in Ronkonkoma, then shuffling to a warehouse in Shirley before finally settling in Patchogue. The family-owned and highly-awarded Looney Tunes had survived a summer fire and took them 90 days to rebuild. This year they’ll celebrate their 50th anniversary. Mr Cheapo’s has two locations, the only store on the island to do so. High Fidelity moved to larger and cleaner digs which solved their storage issues. Record Reserve just moved again; their fourth time in ten years of operation. Infinity Records was the only store on the ropes during the pandemic relying on crowd-funding to make up for the rent. Rosie’s Vintage isn’t owned by Rosie. In fact, Rosie doesn’t exist. It’s a rockabilly wife named Thea who owns an antique store. And you can’t get any literal than Sunday Records, which is only open on Sundays. It’s the only store I know who classified their records not on genre but radio stations and chart positions.

The entire experience was great and I looked to do it again the year after. Unfortunately, I had lots of traffic tickets, fees, and violations to pay. With a vehicle in disrepair and an expired inspection, driving out in daylight without the police spotting me was not ideal. Then I looked to do it last year, and we all know what happened. The pandemic paralyzed and killed businesses left and right. With immediate closures and stop of life, everyone stayed home for their lives.

Next time, it’s going down.

Essential money was saved all throughout the pandemic. Two stimulus checks later, a third on the way, tax refunds, a third bi-weekly check in April, and a bank transfer means I’m ready to do it all over again. In fact, it’s already started! Rough Trade announced it’s relocating from its’ Williamsburg spot. With 25% off books, merchandise, and CDs, it was an incentive to get to it. With me waiting forever to go, now was the chance. I found the perfect March Wednesday to do it and I finally made it happen. What you’ll read later on became the most expensive purchase I ever made at a record store, and also the greatest.

Most locations (except Vinyl Bay 777, replaced by any given one New York City store) are on the list for the next record-store tour. I healed mostly from last summer’s depression and I had a trouble-free winter. With a day out at Williamsburg’s Rough Trade, the spring euphoria and hope came back like it did the first time around. With money in the bank, vaccines, and everything coming back into play, it’s time to have fun again like I want to.

For those who can’t be harassed by looking up our series and reading our visits one-by-one, here’s the final results of 2018’s tour:

Record Stop:

Sugarhill Gang “The Lover In You” 12”

Grover Washington Jr. Mister Magic

Carmen McRae In Person

U.T.F.O. “Roxanne, Roxanne” 12”

Ahmad “Back In The Day” 12”

DJ Yella “4 Tha E” 12”

L.A. Style “James Brown Is Dead” 12”

Knucklehedz “Hed Rush” 12”

Flatlinerz “Live Evil” 12”

Blondie “Rapture” 7”

Chemical Brothers Come With Us

Royal Trux Thank You

Delerium ft. Sarah McLachlan & DJ Tiesto “Silence”

Prime Minister Pete Nice & Daddy Rich “Rap Prime Minister & Daddy Rich (Rat Bastard)” 12”

Vinyl Paradise:

Laura Nyro Christmas And The Beads Of Sweat

Genesis Invisible Touch

Clash, The Black Market Clash 10″

Delegation The Promise Of Love

Herbie Hancock “Rockit”

B-52’s, The Wild Planet

Blondie Parallel Lines

Spyro Gyra Catching The Sun

Brecker Bros. self-titled

Herb Alpert Rise

Heart Dreamboat Annie

Tom Scott Blow It Out

Pat Metheny American Garage

Martha Velez Escape From Babylon

Stanley Turrentine Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

Bob James & Earl Klugh One On One

Sister Sledge All-American Girls

Black Moon “Who Got The Props?” b/w “Fuck It Up”

Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock “It Takes Two”

Shannon Let The Music Play

Jellybean “Wotupski?”

Fu-Schnickens “Sum Dum Monkey” b/w “Visions (20/20)”

Tortoise & Autechre “Adverse Camber” b/w “To Day Retrieval”

Shirts, The Inner Sleeve

Freedom U.S.A. Hardcore

Coke Bust Confined

Ressurection I Am Not: The Discography

Spit It Out self-titled

Vice Flawed

Terror The Walls Will Fall

This Is Hell Bastards Still Remain 

Subterfuge Fight Back 

Bikini Kill self-titled single red 7″

Hangman A Vile Decree 

Dead Kennedys “Nazi Punks Fuck Off!” (with lyric bag and armbands)

Until Your Heart Stops We Are Not Coming Down

Corrective Measure self-titled

Soft Cell “Tainted Love”

Kraftwerk “Pocket Calculator” b/w “Dentaku” clear yellow 7”

Six Weeks label America In Decline CD

Tear It Up The December 2000 Sessions CD

Dee Cracks “Be My Valentine” red heart-shaped flexi

This Means War “Use It Up” flexi

Broadcaster b/w Aspiga (Secret Audio Club Wax Pack)

Marathon b/w Fire When Ready(Secret Audio Club Wax Pack)

Looney Tunes:

Up In Arms / Eternal Youth split 7”

Defiant Trespass / Cold Like December split 7”

Make Or Break Down For Life! 7”

Arcadius / 7654 Stories split 7”

Pissed Jeans demo 7”

Search Bloc Life, By The Code 7”

Proud Youth Nothing’s Changed 7”

UN Bodies Unremarkably Mortal 7”

Force Of Change The Bond We Share 7”

Self Defense Family “Indoor Wind Chimes” b/w “Cottaging”

Tolerate self-titled 7”

Joe South & The Believers “Walk A Mile In My Shoes” b/w “Trespass”

Bread And Water / Reason Of Insanity split 7”

Stigmata There Is No Mercy Here 7”

Degenerats, The 7”

Monster X 1993 demo 7”

Last Dead Word 7”

Let It Burn From Jersey With Love 7”

Slak Another Disaster 7”

Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These” 7”

Toni Basil “Mickey” 7”

Squeeze “853-5937″ 7”

Nena “99 Luftballons” 12”

Staple Singers City In The Sky

Unsung Heroes “What Would You Do?” 12”

White Mystery self-titled

D.S. 13 Vad Vet Vi Om Kriget?

Killing Joke Brighter Than A Thousand Suns

Marc Hurtado & Vomir 2011 / Sang+

Razed In Black Shrieks, Laments, And Anguished Cries

No Future Plan Of Attack

Die Krupps & Front Line Assembly Remix Wars

Maldoror She

Self Defense Family Heaven Is Earth cassette

Unholy Archangel The Wrath Of Kosmostistis cassette

Tod Hate Campiagn, Hymn To The Death cassette

Krieg Blue Miasma cassette

Hekseri The Atrocity (Early Demos) cassette

Crebain Under Black Wigs Of Night cassette

Riddle Of Meander End Of All Life And Creation cassette

Black Flame Torment And Glory cassette

Xasthur self-titled cassette

Krieg Songs For Resistance cassette

Striborg A Procession Of Lost Souls cassette

Tod Black Metal Manifesto cassette

Cheapo's (Commack):

Blackbyrds, The Action

Deodato 2

Jon Lucien The Best Of…

Bob James 2

Hubert LawsRomeo & Juliet

Deodato Love Island

Rolling Stones Undercover (stickered)

Bob James 3

Deodato Whirlwinds

George Benson White Rabbit

Bob James 4

Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth Mecca & The Soul Brother

Jedi Mind Tricks Legacy Of Blood

Naughty By Nature self-titled

M.I.A. Arular

P.O.S. Never Better special edition disc

Unseen, The Explode

Richard Hell & The Voidoids Blank Generation

M.I.A. Kala

All Dogs 7”

Last Shop Standing DVD

Katt Williams The Pimp Chronicles Vol. 1 DVD

Jerky Boys, The Stop Staring At Me cassette

Paula AbdulForever Your Girl cassette

Record Reserve:

Cars, The Shake It Up

Rolling Stones, The Some Girls (cut-out)

Peter Gabriel Melt

Weather Report Heavy Weather

A Clockwork Orange motion picture soundtrack

Genesis Abacab

Laura Nyro self-titled

Stranglers, The IV

Samantha Fox I Wanna Have Some Fun

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Cars, The Candy-O

Peter Gabriel Scratch

Debbie Gibson Out Of The Blue

Spent Idols “Chinese Suicide” b/w “Gacy’s Gone” 7″

Out Cider D.C. label Raise The Flag: DC Hardcore Vol. 1 7″

High Fidelity:

Prurient & Kevin Drumm  All Are Guests In The House Of The Lord

KMD  Mr. Hood

Sonic Youth   Evol

Algiers  self-titled

ESG  A South Bronx Story deluxe disc

No Age   Nouns

Greymachine Disconnected

Killing Joke   Hosannas From The Basements Of Hell

Television   Marquee Moon expanded disc

Esther Phillips  Capricorn Princess

Severed Heads  Cuisine With Piscatorial

Elastica  self-titled

Sonic Youth & Mats Gustavsson & Merzbow  SYR8

Killing Joke  Pandemonium

Eric Gale  Multiplication

Front Line Assembly  Echoes

Wavves  King Of The Beach

Strawberry Switchblade  Since Yesterday 12”

Bjork   Telegraph

Public Image Ltd.  Second Edition

Esther Phillips  Performance

Hatebreed  The Rise Of Brutality

Killing Joke  Night Time

Wilbert Longmire  Champagne

Grover Washington, Jr.  A Secret Place

Young Black Teenagers  “Tap The Bottle” 12”

Sagat  “Funk Dat” 12”

Crash Crew   “Breaking Bells (Take Me To The Mardi Gras)” 12”

Prurient   Pleasure Ground

Victory Records  Victory Style II

Esther Phillips & Joe Beck  For All We Know

Sonic Youth  Confusion Is Sex + Kill Your Idols

Swell Maps  A Trip To Marineville

Severed Heads   Rotund For Success

Whodini  Escape

Killing Joke   Revelations

Stop The Violence Movement, The  “Self-Destruction” 12”

Eric Gale  Part Of You

Professionals, The   “The Magnificent” 7”

Guyana Punch Line  self-titled 7”

Heart   self-titled cassette

Infinity Records:

Self Defense Family “Self Immolation Family” b/w “World Virgins” 7”

Peter Gabriel Security

Mantronix The Album

Eric Gale Forecast

Arsonists As The World Burns

Beat Street motion picture soundtrack

Kool & The GangLight Of Worlds

Dire Straits Making Movies

Shirts, The Street Light Shine

Belinda Carlisle Belinda

Makers, The Rock Star God

Bug, The Infected

Peter Gabriel Car

Filter Short Bus

Warzone Fight for Justice

Mood Doom

Jane’s Addiction Nothing’s Shocking

Depeche Mode Ultra

Curve Cuckoo

Rosie's Vintage:

Genesis Abacab

Nice & Wild “Diamond Girl” 12″

Shabba Ranks “Mr. Loverman” 12″

Dire Straits self-titled

Mad Skillz “Nod Factor” 12“

Boogiemonsters “Recognized Thresholds Of Negative Stress 12″

Blahzay Blahzay “Danger!” 12″

Harold Faltermeyer “Axel F” 12“

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Malcomb McLaren & The World Famous Supreme Team “Buffalo Gals” 12″

Sunday Records:

Cabaret Voltaire  The Arm Of The Lord

Nitzer Ebb As Is

Strawberry Switchblade  Who Knows What Love Is?

Steve Jones  Mercy

Patti Smith  Easter

Ramsey Lewis  Tequila Mockingbird

Doors, The  Greatest Hits

Cabaret Voltaire  Drinking Gasoline

Utah Saints “Something Good”

Image In Vogue self-titled EP

Steely Dan  Pretzel Logic

No Age  Losing Feeling

Dead Or Alive “Brand New Lover”

Cabaret Voltaire  The Drain Train

Public Image Ltd. “Home”

Gary Numan “Cars” / “Metal”

Malcomb McLaren “Soweto” b/w “Zulu’s On A Time Bomb”

J. Geils Band “Centerfold” b/w “Rage In The Cage”

Fad Gadget “One Man’s Meat” b/w “Sleep”

Tony Basil “Mickey” b/w “Hangin’ Around”

Stray Cats “(She’s) Sexy + 17” b/w “Lookin’ Better Every Beer”

Madness “Our House” b/w “Cardiac Arrest”

Todd Rundgren “Hello It’s Me” b/w “Cold Morning Light”

No Age  Eraser 7”

Suzanne Vega “Luca” b/w “Night Vision”

Siouxsie Sioux & The Banshees “Hong Kong Garden” b/w “Night Vision”

Mr. Cheapo’s (Mineola):

Mic Geronimo “Masta I.C.”

Jemini The Gifted One “Funk Soul Sensation”

Hi-Tek “Hi Teknology”

Schoolly D “Livin’ In The Jungle” b/w “Gucci Again”

Richie Cole New York Afternoon

Dott & Night School Carousel split e.p.

Joe Beck self-titled

Chick Corea Return To Forever

Hank Crawford Hank Crawford’s Back

Steve Khan Tightrope

Tappan Zee label Best Of…

Shabba Ranks “Ram Dancehall” b/w “Original Woman”

D&D All-Stars “1, 2 Pass It”

Rayvon “No Guns, No Murder”

Doug E. Fresh & Beenie Man “Hands In The Air”

Black Moon “Black Smif-N-Wesson” b/w Smif-N-Wesson “Headz Ain’t Redee”

Goats, The “Burn The Flag” b/w “Typical American”

Little Shawn “Don Perignon”

Specials, The More Specials

Lee Ritenour The Best Of…

Steve Khan Arrows

Genesis Invisible Touch

Vacancies, The Tantrum

Nobodys, The Generation XXX

Easy Action Friends Of Rock & Roll

New Bomb Turks Scared Straight

Roots, The Do You Want More?!!!??!

Eric B & Rakim Don’t Sweat The Technique

Boogie Down Productions Edutainment

X Clan Xodus

Lords Of The Underground Here Come The Lords

Buckshot LeFonque self-titled

Channel Live Station Identification

Funkdoobiest Brothas Doobie

Method Man & Mary J. Blige “I’ll Be There For You” / “You’re All I Need”

GZA / Genius Liquid Swords

Milk Never Dated

Naughty By Nature19 Naughty III

Das EFX Straight Up Sewaside

Grand Puba 2000

Naughty By Nature Poverty’s Paradise

Ol’ Dirty Bastard Return To The 36 Chambers (dirty version)

George Michael Faith

Vinyl Bay 777:

(No purchases.)

[demonicheadcanons]

Could I suggest the brothers reacting to MC confessing to them accidentally?

MC Confesses to the Obey Me! Brothers By Accident

AN: Cute prompt! Sorry I took so long to get to this, nonny! This post is romance based, so if you’re looking for something more platonic I’m sorry but this one’s not it ;u;

They’re literally almost all sleepy in these, I’m having a day where I find that really cute ^^”

.

Lucifer

Lucifer feels exhausted, half-dozing off at his desk when you walk in and poke him square on the forehead. It startles him enough that he sends you a harsh glare through his hair. You grin at him, and he responds only by scoffing and turning to the side, stretching his arms out. Well, he is grateful you woke him up to some degree - he has a lot of work to get done and has to remain focused.

But there’s something enchanting about how he looks and moves when he’s too tired and trusts you enough that he doesn’t feel the need to remain guarded. He’s graceful as always, but allowing someone to see him looking, for a lack of a better term, like his feathers were thoroughly ruffled and he was ready to turn in for the night, was a rare treat, and one sweet enough to crush your own walls.

By the time you realise you’ve just admitted to liking him aloud - something simple, but he knows what you mean when you say that maybe you like him a little too much, mumbled under your breath mindlessly - he’s already standing in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face with an unreadable expression.

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he requests - or demands, its hard to tell - that you repeat what you just said. "I like you?" you say, although it sounds like a question, and he smiles and asks, "Are you sure? You don't sound it," with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You don't get to respond before he hums and straightens up, crossing his arms. "How much?" he asks, sitting against the front of his desk and watching you carefully.

"What do you mean, how much?" you sigh, frustrated. This proud man was getting on your nerves. Its not like confessing is easy, planned or not, and he had the gall to tease you about it?

"How much do you like me?" Lucifer's smile widens. When you don't respond, and you start to look somewhere on the edge of hurt, he sighs, rubs his eyes and stands up, tossing his pen unceremoniously onto the desk. He opens his arms and waits for you to walk into them, thoroughly confused by this entire interaction. "I like you too. I thought I'd get to confess first, but it seems you were so determined to beat me to it you did it without thinking."

You blush and glare up at him. That proud smile of his is softer around the edges now, and his hair is still just messy enough from where he's been running his hands through it whilst working that it makes your heart race. You lean into him, press your face against his chest, and release all your pent up emotions in a sigh. Lucifer responds with a chuckle, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Would you like some tea, my dear?"

.

[[Others under the read more!]]

Mammon

- You two tended to relax together. Things were stressful, it was hard being in a new world and Mammon had been the first to befriend you, even if he refused to admit how much he cared for you most of the time.

But he's tired now, and its a little different. He'd brought over a blanket again and he was on the floor of your room, where he tended to spend a lot more of his nights now, but also where he'd found a place for himself since the very beginning when you first arrived. He leans up on his elbow and looks up at you, and you watch him in turn from the bed. You'd just been talking about something or other but now he's simply grinning at you, something devilish and handsome, and you can't stop yourself.

"I really like you," you half-whisper, and then cover your mouth immediately as if you can stop him from hearing it, can stop the words from leaving and making their way to him. They don't, and he tilts his head, face slowly turning red.

"Huh? What'd you just say?" he asks, sitting up and staring at you. His eyebrows twitch down into a frown, and he looks puzzled, and almost a little bit hurt? "D'you mean it?"

Before you can respond, he barks out a laugh and lays down, staring at the ceiling and covering his face with one arm. “Ah, yeah. We’re friends, right? I like you too.”

You shake yourself out of your stupor to glare at him. “I don’t mean as friends, Mammon.”

He sits up again, looking offended. “What, so we’re not even friends now? Wow! Way to break it to me.”

“You-” you half-growl, before taking a deep breath. Your face is burning, and he’s maybe starting to piece things together, but you can’t stand any more of this. “I like you. I want to go on dates with you, and be your partner, and spend as much time with you as possible. I like seeing your smile when I wake up and knowing I have someone I can trust.”

His jaw drops open and he turns away, covering his face with one hand. “Gimme a second,” he mumbles, and when he looks back at you there are tears in his eyes and he’s grinning. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the Great Mammon!”

His voice catches, and then he’s laughing and crying and you scramble out of your bed to kneel next to him, startled and concerned. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you down on top of  him.

“I like you too, MC.” He kisses the top of your head, watery giggles still rattling through his chest.

.

Leviathan

In all fairness, neither of you were expecting it. It was late, or maybe it was early? You could never really tell in the Devildom, and you didn’t want to move right now for fear of ruining the moment.

Levi was curled up against your side, eyes fluttering closed and then bolting open again as he tried to focus on whatever show he was supposed to be presenting to you. He’d been talking through a lot of it, and you still had the remote in one hand so you could pause it to listen to him properly each time without missing anything. After about an hour of that, he’d started to look tired, and then eventually flopped down against your side, defenseless and unworried, too tired to really process what he was doing.

Your other arm was wrapped around his shoulder, touch featherlight on his jacket for fear of startling him. He was cute, adorable even, and whilst you quite enjoyed seeing him flustered, it was nice to see Levi free of it as well, even if it was a spell only going to last until he woke up a little more.

That moment, as it were ought to, came quite soon. The episode was fading out and the outro music just starting to play when you mumbled, “God, I really do like you.”

Without warning, Levi sits bolt upright and headbutts you in the process, clinging onto his own head as he stares at  you with wide eyes and a tomato-red face.

“H-h-huh?” he stutters, lowering one hand to cover his mouth. You fan at your own - he’d made you bite your tongue, and you were trying to process things when he started to mumble to himself at a mile a minute.

“There’s no way you could mean you like-like me right? I mean, I’m me. And you’re you. Why not one of my brothers, or even Lord Diavolo? He’s going to be the king soon! And-”

“Levi, please, one moment,” you groan. Your chin and mouth were sore and you needed a second, and even if you were planning to confess to him sooner or later it really wasn’t like this, and you didn’t need him denying your feelings so soon. You take a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside a little. Levi helps; he hands you a cold can of something or other, purses his lips until they become nothing but a thin, worried line, and waits.

You start laughing soon after. “I do like you. You, Levi. And I know I could spend all day explaining why and you still wouldn’t accept it, so I’m just going to need you to trust me.” You look at him, nervous and already feeling thoroughly rejected, and smile. “You don’t need to return my feelings, but I hope you can accept them as the truth, at least.”

Levi tears up, and he nods, gripping the bottom of his jacket in both hands. His face takes on too many different expressions in those painfully silent moments, and then he opens his mouth, trying to force something out. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“I l-like you too, MC.” He sighs, clenches his hands tighter as he tries not to stammer too much through his words. “I... I...” He laughs, then, holds his head. “It hurts, so its not a dream, right?” His smile is small but glorious, and you can see his sharp teeth. “Yeah. I like you. And you l-like me?”

You take his face in your hands and laugh. “I like you.” He’s bright red but continues to grin anyway, and you poke at his cheeks with your thumb, smiling in kindness.

.

Satan

Satan is curled up in one of the few tidier parts of his room, and you sit somewhere close by, occasionally glancing up to look at him over a stack of books.

The mess had been more disturbing at first - there were books everywhere, and he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to you knocking down a stack or two of them. He wouldn’t lose his temper, not at you - he hadn’t in a long time, not since before you’d made a pact with him. And despite how awkward it was to try to find a little space big enough for you to sit in every time he requested you come to his room instead of the library or your own, it was nice having that place and knowing you fit there, with him and all of his precious books.

He chuckles and pulls you back to reality, and you’re glad he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You look down at your book and back up again in a weak attempt to cover up what you’d been doing, and Satan smiles all too knowingly, as he often did, and tips his book at you.

“Listen to this, MC,” he says, voice somewhere between cheeky and amused. He’d definitely caught you staring. You blush but tilt your head all the same, curious, and he continues. “It’s a human world story about an admirer who can only ever sneak glances at the person they admire over the top of books. How charming is that?” His bold smile was annoying and handsome at once.

“It’s daring of you to assume I was actually looking at you,” you grumble. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“But you didn’t deny the admirer part, hmm?” Satan laughs. He doesn’t mean anything by it, isn’t really making assumptions. He’s just trying to poke at you a bit, trying to feel out your reactions so he can better guess at them in future ahead of time. He did that often, and it was something you were getting used to. But this time he was right, and it was a little bit different.

“I can’t deny what’s true,” you mumble at your book. It was quiet, and usually he’d be so engrossed in his own again that he wouldn’t hear you, but you don’t hear pages turning, can’t feel the aura Satan has when he’s thoroughly engrossed in something.

You look up at him and he’s still looking at you, puzzled smile and flushed cheeks catching you off guard. Oh no.

“Do you like me, MC?”

Satan sounds unsure, and you can only swallow and nod as if you weren’t admitting to something you’d planned to keep to yourself for so much longer. Maybe you’d have told him someday in the future, when you were long back in the human world and had met someone else, or were at least starting to get over your feelings. But no. You’d just gone and done it now, with books piled precariously on either side of you and the subject of your affections staring at you, dumbfounded, over an unsteady pile of them.

He absorbs your words slowly, and you know you can’t stand and rush out of there without knocking over enough books to piss him off, so you stay and wait. So what if he knew? Satan wouldn’t get mad about something like that, and he was respectful enough to just ignore it and get on with his life. If it were Lucifer, he might tease you about it, but Satan won’t. And if he reciprocated?..

“Ah, that’s good then,” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He lets out an airy laugh, and you can tell that as much as he’s trying to hide it, he really is feeling flustered. “I was never sure. But, hmm...” Satan clears his throat, looks at you and genuinely smiles now, showing you something deeper than the usual facade he put up to make himself appear like more than just his anger. “I like you too, so its quite convenient, isn’t it?”

You laugh, then, and a weight leaves your shoulders... only to bring on a new one. Your sudden movements topple one of the book piles beside you, and Satan lunges forward to try to catch some of them before they can hit you as you protect yourself with your arms.

When the last one falls, you hear Satan groan as he sits up and pushes the books off of the two of you. He looks around, grins, and then laughs before offering you a hand.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” His emerald green eyes sparkle in the low light, just bright enough to read. “Shall we go out somewhere else? I’d love to take you on a date.”

.

Asmodeus

(Mildly suggestive at parts. Sorry ;u;)

It was a weekly tradition, to go to Asmo’s room and put on a face mask and relax. He gossiped, although it was harmless - there was no judgements passed on anyone - and you listened and offered insight on things. Asmo would show you whatever new makeup or perfume or clothes he’d gotten, would sometimes go for a full impromptu fashion show, or would rest his head on your thighs and let you run your fingers through his delightfully soft hair.

Today, it was the latter. You’d missed last week for some reason or other - Mammon had probably distracted you, or Lucifer dragged you off somewhere with him, not giving the chance for you to refuse. Sometimes the brothers did it intentionally; rather than setting up their own days to spend with you, they had decided to sabotage your days with Asmodeus instead. You were able to prevent it most of the time, to sneak off to his room or at least away from whoever was trying to draw your attention, but after missed weeks where you couldn’t find enough excuses or an escape route, Asmo tended to cling to you and not let go, begging for some affection. It felt best from you, he’d said once, and you were sure he was joking, because Asmo often commented about how he’d done much more with others in the past and surely you petting his hair and listening to him didn’t compare to that, right?

He opens his eyes now, and looks up at you from your lap. His eyes were always startling, because they were incredibly intense even if his powers didn’t work on you. They were beautiful, as well, much like the rest of him, and your gaze flutters away after a bit because you know they’ll draw you in and force you to admit to things you don’t feel ready to talk about yet.

Asmo chuckles, and you wind a hand through his hair and pull it slightly, frustrated. He pouts at you, face colouring, and you perhaps regret it.

“Don’t be a tease. You’ll ruin my hair if you pull at it like that,” Asmo whines. “I mean, of course I don’t mind that much, but-“

You cover his mouth and shush him, tutting as you put your hand back in his hair and played with a lock or two. Asmo only laughs again, and you can’t help but think how he’d only adore making you more and more flustered, and would even risk irritating you so long as he got to see you a blushing mess. He didn’t push too far, though - he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and more than that he’d be left on his own with no one to run their fingers through his hair if you decided to leave because of it. Or, well - he could easily find someone willing to do so, but it wouldn’t be you, and that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

He closes his eyes again and you feel it tug at your heart, something like a desire, but maybe more innocent than what he was used to drawing out of people. You pause, and Asmo opens his eyes to look up at you again, confused, and when met with that gaze, you can’t really hold it back the words that had been threatening to spill for weeks, now, and moreso on days like this when he was seeking delicate affections and smiled at you so beautifully it made your breath catch.

“I like you, Asmodeus,” you half-whisper, and you know he’s heard it because his eyes are wider now and you can see the yellow of his iris, and you half think to push him square off your lap and book it, but then he’s kneeling in front of you with a firm grip on your wrist.

Asmo’s mouth opens and closes, like he isn’t sure what to say. Something like ‘do you mean it?’ or ‘of course you like me, who doesn’t?’ or, maybe, ‘I like you too, love you even!’ Nothing comes out, everything jumbling together in his head. It was rare to see him at a loss for words, as he was a stickler for keeping his composure in almost any situation - it was attractive to be in control of your emotions, wasn’t it? But the silence was painful, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, because as much as Asmo’s mind was racing right now, you weren’t psychic. You couldn’t tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to confess.

Eventually, Asmo settles on doing something he knows how to do better than finding the perfect words for this. He leans forward, hesitates as if checking you were okay, and then kisses you. It’s soft and gentle and not nearly as deep as what he momentarily considered making it, but it’s just right for a confession. He pulls back only to kiss you again, and this time smiles against your mouth when you kiss him back. When you smile too, he throws his arms around your shoulders and laughs, burying his face against your neck and pressing light kisses against the skin there, too, although you can still feel him smiling too much to do it properly.

In the end, it’s not really said aloud, but you know what Asmo is trying to say. He likes you, too. And he is so, so incredibly happy.

.

Beelzebub

9 times out of 10, when you get the urge to go to the kitchen for some reason - to cook, to get a drink, or to get a snack - Beel can be found there. The main rooms in the house he goes between are the common room, where he spends time with his brothers, his own bedroom, and, of course, the kitchen. And lo and behold, here he is now, eating something you can’t actually recognise and talking to Belphie, who slumps against the counter, half-asleep, but offers you a tired smile when you enter the room.

Beel himself doesn’t notice your presence until Belphie stands up and stretches, looking between you and Beel pointedly. Maybe you had been obvious, or maybe it was because Belphie was actually quite sensitive to people’s emotions when he decided to be and when it involved Beel, but he would often leave you alone with his brother if you bumped into the two of them, as if he were trying to give you a chance. His knowing smirk as he passes you on the way out, mumbling a quiet and lazy goodbye, didn’t help.

“Ah, MC!” Beel beams, and your breath catches. Generally, Beel looked quite pissed off. It was just his resting expression, and you knew he was content or thinking about the next meal he’d have, or something like that. But when he smiled? If you didn’t think it might offend him, you would absolutely compare it to that of seeing an angel. His expression hid nothing, betrayed his delight, and he grinned every single time without fail whenever he greeted you, unless he was seeking you out because he’d had a disagreement with Belphie and needed support.

And now as he stands in the kitchen, unknown food in hand and delighted smile on his face, you consider telling him he’s beautiful. Not like Asmo, not in the same sense. But he truly was stunning, and you wanted him to wear his smile with pride for eternity. He deserved to be so happy, and it would be a nice treat for you, too, to be able to see that expression anytime you wanted. You might sell your soul for that much, you joke dryly to yourself.

Beel looks puzzled when you return from your thoughts, and you realise you haven’t even greeted him yet. Perhaps that was how Belphie had noticed.

“Beel!” you chirp, and you think maybe he grins wider when you say his name, although it’s hard to tell. You lean against the counter where Belphie had been resting. “Did you find something nice to eat?”

He nods enthusiastically, and then seems to consider something before he closes the fridge and stands beside you, resting against the counter too. “Do you want to try some?” he offers, and you can’t help but think that he really only offered food to you and to Belphie, and what did that mean? Did he love you as much as his brother, and was it in the same way, or something different like how you felt for him?

“Am I being selfish by liking you so much?” you think. Or rather, say. Out loud. For him to hear. Unfortunately.

Beel freezes, and his ears go bright red. “You-.. hmm? What do you mean?” he asks, and you can tell he’s looking for a specific answer in the hopeful way he looks at you, but you don’t know what it is. If you admit to liking him and he sees you as a sibling, wouldn’t that be awkward? But if you lied you’d have to carry that with you, too, and it would be hard to correct in future.

You sigh and take a deep breath, and look at him, speaking with whatever confidence you can muster. “I like you, Beel. Would you be interested in... dating me?” You think to tell him that it’s okay if not, it’s okay if he’s not interested or he doesn’t want things to chance, it’s alright if he doesn’t think of you like that. But you can’t bring yourself to, and it’s too late anyone to take back what you’ve said, and what’s the point in confessing only to shut yourself down and reject your own advances before he even gets a chance to?

As you wait, Beel’s face steadily gets redder, and he seems to be fumbling through his own thoughts as if he can’t find the right one, the right answer to this question. And, eventually, he nods, and that smile returns, and your head spins because these last few minutes had been too much to deal with and now you have this huge demon grinning at you as if you’d just handed him the sun with a kiss on the cheek and promised him the world, too, on top of it.

“I like you too, MC!” he beams, and sweeps you up into his arms, food forgotten for the moment. You’d panic if his grip wasn’t so firm, and if you weren’t so sure he would never even risk dropping you. Beel’s eyes twinkle and you think you see a spark of mischief peeking through his delight before he holds you tight to his chest and spins, and you can only hold on and listen to his laugh. You bury your face against him and laugh, too, and you feel as warm and bright as his smile.

.

Belphegor

(Mild spoilers for up to lesson 16 / 17)

Although you thought you would be able to suss out where Belphie would be - as Beel had his places, Belphie had his own; the planetarium if he couldn’t sleep, so he could look at the stars and think without being disturbed, or the library if he was scheming with Satan, or the attic if he wanted to sleep and wasn’t in his room - you found that it was actually more tricky than that.

You see, after being released from the attic where he’d been trapped for months, Belphie found himself seeking out his brothers on odd occasions. He’d do so anyway, before all this nonsense had occurred, but now there was more meaning behind it. He’d missed them, and he liked to curl up and play games or just fall asleep near one of them. Finding him on those days was almost impossible, because he could be anywhere.

You almost feel like giving up on it - the two of you had agreed to spend time together, but he was nowhere to be found and was probably off sleeping somewhere with no idea what time it was - and felt thoroughly dejected when you bumped into Lucifer, who was quietly leaving the music room, movements near silent and with a gentle and rare smile on his face. When he sees you it vanishes, goes back to his usual expression as if he’d just put on a mask, but you can tell he’s concerned because he puts a hand on your back and leads you down the corridor with him. He only stops at the end of it and leans down to quietly ask if you were feeling okay.

“I’ve been looking for Belphie and I can’t find him anywhere,” you mumble, automatically responding at a similar level to him. It felt like you were sharing a secret. “We were supposed to go on a walk together.”

Lucifer smiles, then. “Ah.” He tilts his head, and for a moment considers telling you it’s a shame he can’t help, but you look so dejected he can’t bring himself to do it. “Now that I think about it, he did mention something like that before he fell asleep in the music room. I didn’t want to wake him up, but he might not mind if it’s you.”

He chuckles quietly when you cheer up, thanking him before you rush off back down the corridor and open the doors of the music room. You see Belphie sleeping on one of the seats near the piano - he’d probably been listening to Lucifer play something or other, and had passed out in the middle of it all.

You can’t help but smile as you crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair away from over his eyes. As usual, he doesn’t even stir - you weren’t sure if he was a light sleeper or a heavy one because it seemed to vary by the day. but most of the time you could get away with little things like this without waking him. It makes you consider just letting him rest until dinner. You would still have time to go for a walk after, and it’s not like anything would change - there was no day and night in the Devildom. It would remain just as cold and dark as it always was. Any time would be the best time to go out, really.

Belphie shifts in his sleep, and you watch as his hair falls back over his face. You stifle a laugh as you push it away again, allowing yourself to run your fingers through his fringe slightly. His hair is soft, delightfully so, and he looks so peaceful and cute whilst sleeping that you absentmindedly let out a sigh.

“I like you, you know?” you mumble, only just stopping yourself from poking him in the forehead, because that would wake him up and it wouldn’t be a good idea to do so right now. “I really do.”

And, much to your horror, Belphie half smirks and opens one eye. You let go of his hair and sit back on your heels, startled, and he stretches and yawns.

“You’re awake,” you say, as if you were accusing him of something, and he laughs.

“Someone decided they wanted to play with my hair,” he grins, lopsided and with sleep still filling his voice, pitching it lower than usual. He clears his throat. “How could I not wake up? And just in time to hear you confess, too!”

Belphegor sits up and watches you cheerfully, and you pout at him. He liked to tease you, but this feels like it should be a forbidden topic. Something he shouldn’t poke and prod at you about.

“I wish you’d just pretend not to have heard it,” you grumble, but it only makes him smile more, and he tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion. Before he can ask why, or tease you more, you cut him off, focusing your gaze on the floor. “It hurts to be teased about this. If you don’t like me it’s okay, but please don’t make me regret liking you.”

“And who said I didn’t like you?”

You look up at him again, and he only sighs and gets up off the bench to kneel in front of you. He looks like he’s waiting for an answer, or waiting for something at least, but when you don’t respond, he pats you on the head and stands, holding out a hand.

“Don’t we have a date to go on? Get up off the floor, it’s dusty,” Belphie says. You take his hand and stand, and he pulls you closer to him, half hugging you as you walk. He was a pain to deal with and he knew it, but he was determined to prove himself worth the effort.

[kitlaurie]

Hard-Knock Life (Klaus Orphan au) Extra - Haircuts, part 1

This was an idea I actually had very early on (back in early 2020) and had finally started writing earlier this year. It's supposed to be another before/after meeting Klaus kind of thing. I've been having trouble even looking at my own writing recently though, so I've only managed to wrap up the first "half" with Jesper and the kids. I've been sad thinking about it just sitting in my documents never being read, so I hope you enjoy what there is of it for now!

-

Jesper had decided very early on in his stay at the post office that the “bathroom”, what there was of it, was suitable only for the most necessary things. So most matters of personal grooming had been moved downstairs by default.

Which is how he found himself cutting his own hair in the middle of the post office late one evening with a warped mirror and a set of new scissors which, along with an only mildly suspect razor, he had decided were perfectly reasonable purchases before he’d had to reconsider his entire method of budgeting.

And of course, as with most things he tried to do around here, he had his little audience.

At first Yvette seemed to be the only one interested in this new routine of his, watching quietly as Jesper trimmed his own hair with a practiced and steady hand.

She was rather conspicuously running her hand through the front of her own choppy ragamuffin hair over and over again. It had grown out quite a bit since he’d first arrived and it hadn’t escaped his notice that she was frequently pushing it out of her eyes these days.

By the time Jesper set the scissors down he wasn't even surprised when she came up and asked if he would cut her hair too.

“Can’t you do it yourself?” He asked, still inspecting his own hair in the mirror.

“Can I borrow your scissors?” She asked, eyeing them on the desk.

Jesper looked down at her. He wasn’t going to risk his scissors running off somewhere. Not in this town, not with these kids.

“Ok, fine. I’ll cut your hair. Get up here.” He said, patting the top of the desk.

Yvette wasted no time hopping up on top of the rickety makeshift desk with a victorious smile on her face. She sat cross-legged with her back to Jesper, barely able to keep still in her excitement.

“You’re gonna have to stop wiggling if you want me to do a better job than whatever it was you did to yourself last time.” He told her, cautiously inspecting her overgrown and uneven hair.

The idea that her haircut would actually be better than before only seemed to make her more excited, but she did her best to stay still with her back rigidly straight. In fact, she was so rigid and stiff that Jesper had a hard time getting her to move her head so he could see what he was doing.

It wasn’t long before Yvette’s haircut attracted the attention of the other kids, with the boys especially interested. They crowded so close they were almost in Jesper’s way.

When Jesper was finished he handed Yvette the mirror and watched as her face lit up in awe at the sight of her slightly shorter, slightly tidier hair.

"Oh this is good." She said happily, never taking her eyes off the mirror as she turned her head this way and that to try and get a better look.

There was no "thank you" but Jesper felt his mouth twitch up into the slightest hint of a smile.

But the moment Yvette jumped off the desk Jesper had the boys crowd in even closer, begging for their own haircuts. He looked at their grubby red curls with a grimace and sighed.

"Alright, fine."

Oliver was the first to take his turn up on the desk. Of the two of them he seemed marginally better at sitting still.

“How come you know how to cut hair?” Oskar asked as he watched his brother take his turn.

“Oh, well when I was little I hated getting my hair cut. Hated having some stranger touch my hair.” Jesper explained as he concentrated on making sense of Oliver’s tangled curls. “I threw a huge fit the first time my parents tried to get me to sit for a real haircut, I screamed if the barber even got close to me. So my Dad ended up doing it.”

“Your Dad?”

“Mmhm.” Jesper hummed as little bits of red hair fell to the floor.

“How come he knew how to cut hair?”

“Oh, he cut his own hair when he was at the academy. I think it was less about saving money and more about saving time?" Jesper said uncertainly. "Honestly, I can only make so much sense out of most of his Academy Days stories.”

To Jesper’s surprise that got a few giggles out of his little audience-turned-clients.

“But that’s why your Dad can cut hair.” Oliver said, turning to look up at him. “Why do you know how to cut hair?”

“I was getting there!” Jesper told him, gently turning the boy's head forward again. “So, at some point my parents decided I was too old for the Dad haircuts and that I should be mature enough to sit for an actual barber without any problems. I strongly disagreed.”

“How old were you?” Joelle asked.

“Eleven? Twelve? That part’s not important.” He said quickly, still carefully trimming the ends of Oliver’s hair. He chose to ignore the scattered and poorly hidden giggling around him.

“So what did you do?” Oskar asked, eager for Jesper to keep going now that this was shaping up to be a proper story.

“I hid. They asked the barber to come over to our house and I hid until he went away. But of course,” Jesper continued. “My parents were expecting my hair to be cut, and I figured I’d watched my Dad cut my hair enough times, I could probably just do it myself.”

He paused for a moment to inspect his work on Oliver’s now slightly tamer curls. Not the cleanest job, but thankfully the boy’s hair seemed pretty forgiving.

“So I did.” He said, picking the story up again. “I locked myself in the bathroom and did it myself. And when my parents came home all they had to say was how nice a job the barber had done. Which, honestly, is when I should’ve known they were letting me get away with everything just shy of murder. My hair was a total hack job.”

He took the bit of old tarp he'd used as a makeshift smock off Oliver and shook it out as he continued talking.

“And it went on like that for years. They eventually stopped wasting the barber’s time, and I got better and better at cutting my own hair. Seemed petty at the time. But hey, it's definitely coming in handy now.”

“I’ll say!” Oliver said, inspecting himself in the little mirror Jesper handed him.

Jesper appreciated the enthusiasm, even if he didn’t think the quick trim had really made enough of a difference to get so excited about.

“Me next! Me next!” Oskar cried, tugging roughly at Jesper’s sleeve.

Jesper obliged and helped the boys swap places.

He was hoping that would be the end of it, after Oskar was done, but Jesper ended up spending the better part of an hour convincing Joelle that no matter how much she wanted bangs she really didn’t want him to be the one cutting them for her.

But eventually the children all left him be and went to bed and he was able to safely stash his scissors and razor and little hand mirror away again.

He looked down at the mix of blonde and black and red hair scattered across the floor and wondered how he’d gotten roped into doing all that for them, but he had a smile on his face as he swept the mess of hair clippings out the door.

[mmonamona]

petty fights and lonely nights [corpse husband x reader]

synopsis: it’s the first time visiting your boyfriend, and with new experiences comes you first serious argument. fluffy ending cus I’m a sap.

a/n: ahhhhhh I’m nervous to post this but I’ve been simping too long and I need to get this idea out of my head. Also if you follow me and you see this, no you didn’t❤️ also also if anyone want to request anything, go ahead. Uni is kinda hectic but writing relaxes me so feel free to do so.

It was just another night, really. You could hear Corpse’s laughter from beyond the wall of his recording room as you prepped dinner, remembering the intricacies of his diet and preferences. You weren’t an amazing cook, but you were definitely better than him when it came down to it, and you refused to have him order takeout once again.

Since you had come to visit Corpse for the week, you noticed he seemed apologetic about pretty much everything in his life. He apologised his apartment wasn’t clean enough; he apologised he couldn’t do anything but order takeout for every meal; he apologised about his irregular sleeping pattern, and so on. Over and over you assured him that it was no problem, to which he would give a somewhat wary smile and a kiss on your forehead, only to continue with his everyday tasks. The week had almost gone by and already his apartment was looking tidier and his cupboards more stocked. It wasn’t that you were a clean freak per se, but you wanted to help the man you loved. You opted to doing smaller everyday tasks he wouldn’t normally be able to do without much effort because of his anxiety, like buying groceries and taking out the garbage. It was almost as if you already lived together.

With dinner now arranged, you wandered over to his door of his recording room to be greeted with silence. A peek inside confirmed that he had ended his stream and was now editing, so you walked in and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey babe, dinners ready. You should come eat,” you smiled encouragingly.

“I’ll come later, gotta finish editing this.” He said, giving you a quick glance before looking back down wrapping himself back up in his work. The pressure of gaining fame so quickly was clearly taking a toll on him, and you couldn't help but notice even with how much as he tried to hide it from you.

“Corpse, you’ve barely eaten anything all day. And you have to eat soon if you wanna fall asleep-”

“I know ok? Stop coddling me.” He grunted, not taking his eyes off the screen, but he seemed to halt his work on the computer in front of him. You paused, processing his words.

“...Coddling you? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“You’ve been treating me like a child this whole week. I’m not bedridden, I can do things for myself.” He said, not even having to raise his voice for his words to sting.

“So thats what this is about? You think I-“

“Just fuck off, I don’t need you mothering me.”

His words lingered in the silence of the room like a bitter taste you couldn't wash down, and neither of you seemed to have a rebuttal. You could’ve shouted at him real nice and loud, given him a piece of you mind, but as you stood there imprisoned in your own thoughts, you realised it wouldn't be worth it. 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air. “Fine.”

With that, you left the room, the door closing shut behind you as you stomped across the apartment. Your stubbornness had you in a frenzy, impulsively pushing you through the living room and past the dining table, your mind set on leaving there and now. You opened the front door and- ..oh.

You didn’t have any shoes on. Or a jacket. And where would you even go? It’s not like you had any friends in the area. Or a car. And your phone was still inside.

These realisations were enough to snap you out of your stubbornness and make you roll your eyes at you rash behaviour. Fuck, you were really dramatic when angry.

You lived nowhere near, and you sure as hell weren’t getting a hotel room just because of a silly argument. With a sigh you stepped back into the apartment and slammed the front door shut, walking back into the living room and spreading yourself on the couch.

‘Our first fight’ you thought. It was so stupid, and now that you were calming down, you realised you could’ve handled that so much better. You peeked at the door of his recording room, guilt and regret flooding your mind. Admittedly, you didn’t know what you were expecting, but there was no sign that he had even moved from the position you left him in. As much as you wanted to go back and give him a hug and apologise, you thought it was best if you let him cool down too.

You figured he wasn’t coming out anytime soon, so you grabbed your dinner plate and sat back on the couch, settling for eating in silence. Watching a movie or something on your phone just didn’t attract you right now, not when you had so much on your mind.

Had you been coddling him? It wasn’t like you meant to baby him around, it’s just that you wanted to help him. You wanted to show him that you cared, that he could rely on you and that you would help him in any way. You didn’t even realise he could have taken it the wrong way, and it made you feel even more guilty. You frowned as you munched on your food, feeling lonely for the first time since you stepped foot into the apartment. Sure, you weren’t always with each other even now, but with the tension between the two of you, you couldn’t help but think that you missed him, even if it had barely been 10 minutes since you exchanged words.

God you wanted to slap yourself. You had only been dating him for a couple of months and yet you had fallen so hard. You almost laughed at yourself as you got up and put your empty plate in the sink, realising just how whipped you were. You turned back to the dining table, the remaining plate making you frown again, but you just walked back to the couch and sat down, pondering on how you could spend your time. You figured mindlessly scrolling through twitter could help you pass the time.

It couldn’t have been 20 minutes before you heard a door open, the sound of footsteps and sniffles echoing in the silent apartment. 

...Wait- sniffles?

Your head whipped around, and you were met with the sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorway of his recording room, his face stained with tears so uncharacteristic of him, his eyes clearly searching for you in the dark living room. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness and the fact that he couldn’t find you with his temporarily impaired vision was freaking him out, the eyepatch he still had on not doing him any favours.

“Y/n?” His voice wavered, lip trembling as if he was on the verge of tears once again.

“Babe. I’m here,” you replied quickly, getting up off the couch and towards him, where he met you in a warm embrace. You felt his figure relax against you; he released a shaky sigh to calm his breathing and held you tight, almost as if he was afraid you'd disappear from between his arms.

“I thought you left,” he whimpered, face buried in your neck. You rubbed his back in a comforting manner, and your other hand went up to play with his hair like you had every night all week when he couldn’t sleep, “I heard the front door-”

“No baby, I would never leave you. I was just angry, you know I’d never do that.” you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes.

“I’m so fucking sorry, I’m such an idiot and I s-shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay Corpse, I know you didn't mean it,” you cooed, reassuring him with a kiss on the cheek as his breathing steadied, “I just- I don’t mean to pamper you or whatever,” you started. “And I don’t do it because of your health or because I pity you. I do it because I love you. Because you mean the world to me and I wish-“ your voice cracked, and you felt him tighten his arms around you even more; you recognised the sound of him holding back his cries. 

“I wish I could love all your problems away, but I know I can’t so I just.. I love you in the ways I can. You’re never a burden to me. And you deserve the world and I just wish I could give it to you.” You rambled, voice heavy with emotions. You buried your face in the soft fabric of his hoodie, wishing you could remain like this until the end of time.

“I love you too,” he sighed, “and I don’t need the world. I just need you.”

[matildainmotion]

What’s Your Dreamhouse? Or What do you House in your Dreams?

'I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.’ Gaston Bachelard

Our house is on sale. It says so on the post by the gate, that appeared overnight like some strange, thin, straight-trunked tree - a bright, new front garden growth, beside the blossoms.

We have only had two viewings so far. The estate agent said it would be better if we were out when he and the ‘viewers’ came round. I rushed about the house, putting away the clothes that are usually draped over the bed-ends, straightening pillows, laying a patterned cloth over an especially grubby section of carpet, hoovering, mopping, stacking the papers on the desk into a rectangle of order, making the house cleaner and tidier than it has been the whole time we have lived in it. I both dread it and take a perverse satisfaction in the artifice of it: it makes me think of putting on make-up (which I rarely do), or posting social media images that present us all as gorgeous (which I never do) - smiling kids, blue skies, neat lawns, lovely house, perfect life.

Because it’s all about the look, isn’t it? They are called ‘viewings’ after all. Not hearings - that’s a different procedure altogether. Not touchings. And yet of course those other senses come into play. Because we have done our share of ‘viewings’ ourselves, round properties that we might buy, and we don’t only look. We feel. The atmospheres of the different houses we have viewed have been extraordinarily potent. There were the ones on sale as the result of a separation - half the furniture gone, half still in place. The beds, not made in haste - left intact for weeks. A walk-in wardrobe, still full of a woman’s shoes. And then there were the ones on sale because the owner had died. Freezing cold rooms. A hole in the floorboards. A wonderful opportunity for renovation, the agent said. There was the one, too, that was brand, sparkling new - never been lived in - all gleaming glass, and a polished marble breakfast bar that hadn’t witnessed any breakfasts.

It is a very strange thing - to be shown around a stranger’s house, to let strangers look round ours, to consider selling, or buying the rooms through which we walk. It makes me think about the relationship between the house and the life that fills it, how intimate this is, how hard it is to separate them. I watch my daughter, playing on an iPad app that enables her to buy and furnish a new house for a family of rabbits, and I think of friends who indulge in ‘property porn,’ who go on Rightmove just for the hell of it, because they like to look at houses they will never buy. I think the attraction must be to do with this close relationship between the house and the life it holds, or how, as Bachelard puts it, ‘the house shelters day-dreaming,’ and so a new house invites a new dream. That’s the game, as we view houses: we have to try to look into the middle distance, past the soft furnishings, to dream into what it might be like to live there.

Meanwhile, my daughter is grappling, not with daydreams, but nightmares. She has a roof over her head. She lives a privileged, sheltered life. And yet she is terrified that the wolf might be at our door, or even in her bedroom. That she could be cut, maimed, or changed in some terrible, irreversible way. That a witch might come to take away her smile. Or worse. that I might be the witch or the wolf in disguise. She lies on top of me, the lights blazing at 3am because she can’t bear the dark, wide awake, quaking, raising her head to check on me, to check I haven’t transformed to reveal my true, awful identity. And no matter how many times I tell her she is safe, that neither I, nor any wolf, witch or other creature wants to harm, she feels terribly exposed.

Image by Zoe Gardner @limberdoodle​

I don’t know if it is because we are moving that these fears have started to take hold of her with such intensity. I am sure it is part of it, but I think it is also the age she has reached, where she is struggling with the whole dichotomy of the real and the imagined, the house and the dreams within it. By day, she puzzles over whether unicorns are real. I am fascinated by her reasoning. She says they could be real but possess a potent magic that renders them invisible. But if this is the case, she is surprised the magic never wears off - why don’t we get an occasional glimpse of one? Or, even if their magic were infallible, why don’t we bump into them, and wonder what has hit us? Or might their magic be powerful enough to make them, not only invisible, but immaterial as well? In which case could we walk through them, without noticing? All those rooms, full of furniture, that walk-in wardrobe, full of shoes, could also house a unicorn. I love this. And she may be right - I mean, consider how many magical, mythical beings, with the power to be both unseen and untouchable, could flit about the world? But like the clunky, over-thinking adult that I am, I ask,“How about if unicorns are imaginary, but that imaginary things are as powerful as real things?” She doesn’t like this suggestion. And, while I might go on about the potency of dreams by day, at 3am when she is quaking, I too find myself falling back on the old: “It’s just a story. It isn’t real. There are no wild wolves in the UK,” - as if the wolf’s lack of reality were enough to undermine its status as a terrifying beast. As if denigrating the imagination could solve it. Ha. It doesn’t work - why do I keep repeating it?

I suppose because it’s everywhere. The idea of the real and its regal status, its unbelievable sense of entitlement - except we all believe it. Even when we know it’s fake. Even when we know the brochures of the houses are made to look glossy, and that a life in this or that property won’t simply, by association, be shiny with promise. We know how adverts work, but they still work on us. Everything asserts that the real and the imaginary are segregated, can be clearly differentiated, and at the same time everything relies on and uses/ abuses the fact (the hard fact) that actually their relationship is extraordinarily porous - that the two are threaded through and through each other, and through us, and that dreams are what reality relies on for its sovereignty.

So, what to do? How to navigate the houses, the viewings, the unicorns and the wolves? The outer walls, and the inner dreams, and horrors? I feel like I have been wrestling with this question ever since I was my daughter’s age and had my own night terrors. Mine were of worms in the bed - they might have softer mouths than wolves but they can still munch through you.

I think Mothers who Make has been one of my attempts to answer this troubling question. Because it takes two things that are pitted against each other and yet intimately linked - motherhood and making, care and creative practice, sheltering and dreaming - and attempts to explore how it might be to give them equal value and visibility. Is it possible to see the bright bedroom, and the invisible unicorns, and the imaginary wolves? And not to make them all the same - not to eradicate difference (that’s another MWM tenet) - but to recognise that they each have a valid, particular place in this world, and a profound effect on us, and that they fold back and into one another? A mother’s arms can be a solid place of shelter, a space to rest and dream, and at the same time the idea of ‘mother’ is a kind of dream too, which is part of why I could be a witch while I am in the role. I still remember the shocking moment of realising, once when she took her glasses off, that my mother was a real person who had a life, long before I was born, and was still, to some people, Henrietta, and not ‘Ma,’ which is what I used to call her - a name that itself came from a story book.

So I am not ‘just a mum.’ And the wolves are not ‘just make-believe.’ I think a dream can shelter you, and a house can haunt you. And when I prepare our house for the next viewing, tomorrow morning, although I will still make an effort to tidy up, I might deliberately ask a unicorn to stand, in full view, in the middle of our living room, which our prospective buyers may not see or feel, but they might sense her, pawing the carpet, adding real value to our property.

And you?

What’s the house of your dreams?

What are the dreams in your house?

Where do you find shelter? Inside which walls, or under what images? Within whose arms?

How do you view everything?

And can your viewing be far-reaching enough, close in enough, to see or sense the lot - the whole awe-full regal, real weave of it? The soft furnishings – life’s rich tapestry.

P.s. And if you want to buy our house, let me know. It’s very nice and it comes with a free unicorn.  

[tarantulas4davey]

"■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon" and "♥ - family headcanon" for al or race (or both)!!!!

jac, my love, you know me so well (extra proof of that is you put both because,,,, y e a h)

this post is probably going to be horrifyingly long so lmk if the read more thingy doesn’t work

tw: i mention death under both of their family hcs, and drinking/alcoholism and abuse under albert’s. it’s nothing graphic, but it’s there. oh and race’s bio dad gets arrested but i don’t describe it or mention what he did lol

- race

◻️.

his room either looks like a bomb went off or it’s perfectly clean and there’s ABSOLUTELY no in between

cause he’s either been too lazy to clean it for the past month or he’s got randomly motivated for no reason and cleaned everything in one afternoon

he has a bad habit of just putting dishes in the sink and never actually washing them

he also just leaves all the stuff he used to cook out constantly cause he’s too excited for the food

he’s somehow both the best AND the worst roommate

like yeah it kinda leaves messes everywhere BUT he also keeps your stuff how you like it and won’t eat your food

overall a bit of a mess but he means well and nothing gets burned or broken (very often)

❤️.

his birth mom died when he was,,,, 6? and his dad was arrested a couple months later (could’ve been related, could’ve not been, fuck if he knows), so he ended up in the foster system

because of this, he’s always seen his friends as his family cause they’ve been more stable than his home life

when he was 14 or 15 he was taken in and later adopted by the lovely miss medda larkin (along with 16 year old jack kelly and 13 year old charlie ‘crutchie’ morris, not the point)

his idea of family changes a lot after he’s adopted, cause he’s in a healthy, happy, stable home for pretty much the first time in his entire life

he still sees his friend group as his family, too, cause they’re his people and they understand him and they’re all trauma bonded for life

so when him and albert (yes this is ralbert we all know what you expected when you saw my username nobody be surprised) finally get together and are out in the real world living together and graduating college and getting married it’s really nothing new to him cause he’s been forging his own little family for as long as he can remember

whenever he DOES have kids, he makes sure that they get what he never got from the very beginning, cause as much as he loves his family, all of them have been through far too much and he wants to break the cycle

- albert

◻️.

everything in his room has a place but it only makes sense to him

like sure, to most people it just looks like he’s got random shit thrown all over his desk, but to HIM everything’s in its place and he can find everything easily enough

he’s generally tidier than race, but he cleans MUCH less often so if there’s a mess it’s staying there for months

he doesn’t mind doing the dishes but he has never once even LOOKED at a vacuum or duster (he didn’t even know they had any in the apartment til race was cleaning the sitting area when he got back from class one day)

he’s the type of roommate that prefers going shopping together so that there’s not really any “off limit” foods cause you bought it all at the same time but he’ll respect the ‘this is mine’ notes if they’re there

shouldn’t be allowed to cook cause he burns shit CONSTANTLY. they have a stool against the wall under the fire alarm cause albert sets it off like once a week and it’s not worth the effort of dragging a chair over

❤️.

i feel the need to state that albert (just like pretty much all the newsies, it’s just a thing babe) also has a very found family vibe but it’s different to how race’s found family works so ✨here we go✨

his mom died when he was 11, and his dad, who had always been a bit of a drunk, started drinking even more heavily after her passing

al has 2 significantly older brothers - the oldest moved out when he was 10, and both were out of the house by the time he was 12

the abuse started when he was 14. his dad lost his job and the drinking escalated even more, and he started taking his anger out on albert - especially now that there was nobody around to protect him

albert didn’t talk about it for over a year, but eventually it got so bad he was visibly busted up one day at school and his friends noticed. he was dismissive about it at first, then angry and defensive when they kept pushing out of worry

a couple days later it got even worse, and he snuck out his bedroom window and ran away. he showed up on medda’s doorstep at,,,, 3am? 4am? crying and bloody and asking for help. from there, medda got in contact with his maternal aunt that lived in the city and he lived with her until he went off to college

the abuse, coupled with the fact that his brothers had both seen what was happening but did NOTHING to help him out of fear, changed the fundamentals of how he viewed family

his main support was race, as well as medda considering she was the one that helped him get out of the situation, and he was close with his aunt for the rest of his life. she was young and ill-equipped to deal with a teenage boy, let alone a traumatized one, but they learned together and figured it out as they went.

his childhood was normal, for the most part (other than random bouts of shouting matches between his parents and drunken rages from his dad, but those were inconsistent at their worst), until the death of his mother, but he still wants to ensure he never makes his kids feel as helpless as he did

aka ralbert working together to make sure they break the cycle and create a healthy, happy environment for their kids, AND that they support eachother whenever life gets rough :))))))

i- I LOVE THEM SO MUCH FJEHHDHDVD

apparently i had a lot of Thoughts™️ cause this is such a long winded post

✨anyway✨ thank you jac ilysm !!!

[yourehomesickiunderstand]

About/Rules/Verses

Hello, and welcome to my Bofur RP blog. This post is a HUGE wall of text, if you are on desktop and would like to see it a little tidier, please see the separate pages in the sidebar to the right. 

Promo Post Found Here

About the Mun

1. Firstly I am over 30, own a house, have a husband, 1 baby, 2 cats, and a wealth of commitments and responsibilities. I will do my best to reply in a timely manner, but will state up front that sometimes life gets in the way.

2. I am in EST and work M-F from 9-5, plus a half hour commute. Please understand that I can not post from work, and will not be posting during those times.

3. In addition, I am Mom to a very active toddler who is my priority over writing and who’s nap schedule tends to dictate when I can post.

4. My native language is English, though I can understand French, and a little bit of Spanish and Japanese. Don’t bank on me carrying on a decent conversation in any of those languages though.

About the Blog

1. When I first set up this blog I didn’t realize that secondary blogs can’t follow back, ask, or submit. My main blog name is Saffity, so if you see that blog follow you, it’s me. If I send an ask or submit, I will mention this blog name so you don’t get confused.

2. My inbox, ask, etc. is open. Please feel free to write me any starters, questions, or whatever.

3. Please send any critiques or suggestions to me. I’ve been on Tumblr forever, but have never really been a poster. If you see me doing basic noob mistakes with my posts that can be easily fixed, please let me know.

4. I will be tracking #yourehomesickiunderstand so please use that tag with our threads.

Mun’s Playing Style

1. I prefer my Bofur straight. I understand Boffins and other ships and have no qualms with them, I’ve been known to enjoy a good fluff fic once in a while, but this Bofur is straight.

2. Please send me an ask or fan mail if you would like our characters to have an already established relationship, I’m totally cool with it. I respond to all cannon characters as known as it shows in the books or movies, but if you are an OC and want something other than a “Nice to meet you” please let me know first.

3. I’m willing to do some fluffies, but not full on smut, if the thread calls for smut (which will often happen), I’ll fade to black when I’ve gone as far as I feel comfortable with. (Don’t worry, I’ll fade when I’m ready, you’ll never get any angry messages from me about going too far.)

4. Bofur here is multiverse, au, indie, whatever you want to call it. I’m sure he’ll fit into whatever crossover or world you decide to drop him in, he’s very easy going after all.

5. I tend to write in the past tense, third person. If you’d prefer a different style, just let me know and I’ll try to accommodate.

6. I’m bad with my images, so bad! I’m still figuring everything out, so if I’ve royally screwed something up, please let me know and I will delete and repost correctly.

7. I am super okay with editing anything I write if it doesn’t jive with your character or where you want the plot to go, please just let me know.

8. I mainly play on mobile, as such, I’m not able to cut my posts down. Please do so whenever you feel the need/want, I won’t be upset.

Head Cannons that go across all verses

1. Bofur has a Northern Irish accent and his hat, always his hat.

2. Bofur has named his hat Bundushathur, which in Khuzdul means “Cloudyhead” and will sometimes refer to his hat as a sleeping rabbit. If Khuzdul does not exist in the verse (like Modern) then the hat is called Cloudyhead and still referred to as a rabbit.

3. Bofur is the everyman, he isn’t special or high born. He is good natured, friendly, and the world’s best wingman, even if it means connecting someone he pines after with someone else. He would rather see them happy and keep their friendship than try to force his feelings on them or lose their friendship because of his pride.

4. The main characteristic about Bofur is that he is unimportant in the hierarchy of society.

Main Verse - The Hobbit/LOTR

Bofur is 4'6" but fairly thin for a dwarf.

Bofur is a dwarf who’s family line comes from Moria. He is of the mining class. He was born and raised in Ered Luin with his brother. Shortly after Bofur became an adult, his parents died, leaving him to raise his brother. Shortly after that, Bifur was injured in an orc attack. Bofur and Bombur took Bifur in, however there were a number of difficult years as they all got used to Bifur’s new personality.

Once Bifur was stable enough, the brothers decided it would be a good idea to head out and find new customers for their skills. They ended up at Bree, opening up a shop to sell Bifur’s fabulous toys, and offer tinkering services.

During their stay in Bree, Bombur got married to a passing female dwarf and moved his overly large family near the shop. Bifur and Bofur live together in living quarters at the back of the shop, Bombur lived with them until he got married.

Bofur travels around Middle Earth, usually west of the Misty Mountains, and most often between Bree and Ered Luin by way of the Shire. He collects supplies, sells wares, and visits many friends and family that are about the lands.

When Thorin calls for assistance in taking back Erebor, Bofur and his kin lock up their shop and head for the Shire.

After the quest they settle in Erebor, though Bofur heads back to Bree to close up their shop and settle accounts prior to settling in for a long life of enjoying his 14th share of the treasure.

Head Cannons that can totally change if my partner is a Bifur or Bombur

1. Bofur’s father was killed in Moria at the battle of Azanulbizar, his Mother died in an Orc attack when Bofur was in his 40s. He has taken care of his brother ever since.

2. Bofur took Bifur in after Bifur was orphaned as well, the three are like brothers, having shared the experience of loss and growing up together.

3. Bombur stopped speaking after their mother died. Bofur’s tried to get him to speak, and has managed to get him to speak sometimes, but usually just small replies and often with much prodding. Bifur and Bombur use the same sign language to speak to each other and those who don’t speak Khuzdul. Bofur takes care of both of them and is the one who speaks to customers.

Modern Verse

High School

Bofur is not popular, though he’s friendly and basically knows everyone. He enjoys shop class, classical music, and historical literature.

Studious and hard working, Bofur can often be found with his nose in a book, when not sitting on the bleachers playing the tin flute he always has on him.

College Student

Bofur is a TA in college. His major is historical literature, and his goal is to eventually become a professor. His passion is delving into historical fanatasy from cultures other than England and Western Europe.

He enjoys learning languages in order to read what he is researching in its original state.

General Modern Adult

In most modern adult verses Bofur is a general labourer, most often a janitor. If he is a teacher, he teaches music and drama.

Ice Cream Shop

Bofur runs a small home made ice cream shop that is part of a coffee shop run with a companion or family member (his partner can be any member of the company). He makes a variety of flavours, and offers lactose and gluten free varieties.

He prides himself on being able to guess his customers’ favourites on sight (like the movie Chocolat).

Marvel

Bofur is a janitor within shield. He can be found on the helicarrier, within the Avengers training base, or basically anywhere the heroes may be destroying things that need to be cleaned up.

While he is quiet and without powers, he has wisdom and a patient ear to lend to those supers who require a moment to vent.

Star Trek

This is the only verse where Bofur stands out. Bofur is a red shirt, but by some miraculous turn of events, he has gone on a number of away missions and made it back alive. Poor Bofur would love to get off the enterprise with his life, and shirt, in tact, but it appears some of the higher officers like to see him lose his mind and suggest him for more away missions, even if only in jest.

Head cannons that exist in all modern verses

1. Bofur and his family are from Northern Ireland, though Bofur travels around, goes to school abroad, and in general can pop up anywhere in the world.

2. Bofur is short for a male - 5'6", with a stocky build, and fairly strong.

3. Bofur’s younger brother Bombur is still at home (or married with kids depending on their age).

4. Bofur’s parents took Bifur in after he got injured during Armed Forces training, as Bofur’s family lives closer to the rehab resources that Bifur requires.

[heatherwitch]

Hi Mouse! I was wondering if you had any thoughts on treating a room that just feels, off. My home office is supposed to be my most productive area, but I can't stand staying in there and I can't figure out why. Even when clean it feels cramped, even though it's the same size as the front bedroom which feels very light and airy. It also has the same size window facing the same direction, but I swear less slight gets in in the office. I'd really like to make it a working space. Thanks!

Hello! Yes I do, I recently went through this process with my bedroom a couple months ago, despite keeping it tidy, cleansed and warded something felt off. What I did was a very deep/thorough cleaning and cleansing (and bedroom specific), I’ll share what I did but do what’s realistic for you!

What I did recently:

(Summary at bottom)

The first thing I did was remove nearly everything. I knew I like the layout of the furniture so those stayed, but every item I moved into my living room. Things like curtains and blankets I either washed or aired out in the sunshine for a bit. If you’re not sure about the layout I’d recommend removing everything and starting with a blank slate.

I then swept + mopped my floor, removed any cobwebs I missed in routine cleaning, washed down my walls, washed my window, dusted my shelves and made my bed with freshly cleaned bedding.

I redid my wards and cleansed the space.

After that I went through all the items and decided what I wanted to keep vs. donate/gift to someone else. I also noticed what energies I was getting from them, this was an excellent way to figure out what was contributing to the off feeling in my space (there were a few things I got rid of/released because of their energies). I smoke cleansed every single item before placing it back in my bedroom.

Be intentional with where you put things + adding things that create good energy. Layout can influence this, and so can have items you love or items you feel give off a certain energy (I put crystals, plants and altars/devotional spaces in different spots in my bedroom, for example).

I did a second cleansing + blessing when everything was how I liked it to finish it off, and haven’t had any off energy in the space since then!

To summarize:

Remove what you can from the space, giving you a blank slate.

Deep clean, take care to get the spaces you often miss.

Cleanse and ward while it feels like a blank slate.

Figure out what you want to put back in the space, see what energies you’re getting from them and cleanse as needed.

Layout and items can help bring desired energy, be intentional with it.

A second cleansing and/or blessing to finish it off never hurts!

A few random tips:

Sometimes air flow can help make a space feel better, if the area doesn’t have a window that opens or if it gets stuffy, consider adding a fan of some sort. (Even a small one that sits on a desk can help).

Scents can also help, I like using wax melters and different scents for different things. Reed diffusers are also great! Or a room spray.

If it feels like there’s less lighting, consider getting an additional light source. May also be a good place to add something like a salt lamp (or lava lamp). Sometimes having something that lights up can make the space feel brighter, even if it doesn’t actually provide illumination.

I find the tidier a space is, the more energetically pleasing it is. Even if you need the room for storage as well, try to keep it out of sight/organized.

If the energy still feels a bit off, consider making some sort of energy trap/filter. (Bowl of salt, salt lamp, negativity absorbing buddy, a witch bottle of sorts, etc.)

Don’t forget to have fun with the space! Add some decorations, make it feel like a space that you belong in and feel happy in. Might be a fun time to get a new plant that stays there or to check out your local thrift shop to see if any decor catches your eye (when applicable around covid).

Other helpful posts:

[dameronology]

the one where you do an anakin (obi-wan x reader)

summary: after you pull a reckless stunt on a mission, obi-wan comes to remind you that you are a good jedi - and perhaps something even more to him (it was originally a drabble based on this prompt but...oh gosh darn this evolved into something much longer) 

also: on this blog, anakin is now a verb as well. to do an anakin is to do something dumb and reckless, hence the title - which i am still, for some reason, naming in the style of friends episodes

enjoy,

- val x 

Obi-Wan Kenobi had always joked that you and Anakin Skywalker were a match made in hell. Between your impulsiveness and his overconfidence, you were an accident waiting to happen.

And boy, it had happened.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Yes, you had failed your mission and yes, your robes had been utterly barbecued and yes, the Jedi Council were going to be angry and – you’d forgotten where you were going with this. The main point was that you were both in one piece, give or take a few minor injuries. The only thing that had been really hurt was your pride.

‘We probably shouldn’t have tried to take on the droids on our own, huh?’ You played with edges of your charred robes, eyes glued to the floor.

‘I don’t think that’s the part they’re going to be upset about.’ Anakin replied. ‘I have a feeling they’ll be angrier about the fact we blew up seven jets.’

‘Oh, I forgot about that part.’ You mumbled. You dropped your head against the wall, over-dramatically groaning.

You and Anakin had been sat outside of the council room for the better part of an hour. You weren’t really that worried about what they were going to say – you were both still relatively new Jedi knights, and you had a bit of room to mess up. It was Obi-Wan’s reaction that you were dreading – he hadn’t been your master, but he’d very involved in your training and you hated to disappoint him.

‘On a scale of one to ten, how angry do you think Obi-Wan is going to be?’ You nudged Anakin.

‘I don’t think such a short scale can adequately express that kind of thing, to be honest.’ The blonde boy replied.

You shuffled in your seat, trying to get a better view of what was going on in the meeting room. Worst case scenario, you’d have to take the trials again. You’d been pretty damn good at the them the first time so it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Part of you wanted to blame the Jedi Council for thinking that the combination of you and Skywalker would ever have had a happy ending, but you suspected you might make the situation worst by mentioning that particular point.

‘He’s pacing slowly,’ You mumbled. ‘That’s his version of freaking out.’

‘The only thing worse is when he’s stood completely still.’ Anakin commented.

‘Oh no,’ you whispered. ‘Now he’s standing completely still.’

You saw the figure on the other side of the window begin to move again, and a few seconds later, the doors to the council room flung open. Cloak flowing behind him, the Master Jedi made his way down the steps, eyes immediately meeting yours. They darted between you and Anakin for a moment, before settling on your form as he walked towards you. You both scrambled to stand up, preparing yourself for whatever strongly worded lecture was coming your way.

‘You two are going to be death of me.’ Obi-Wan announced. ‘You should be grateful that they’re not banishing you to a desolate temple in the outer rims.’

‘That would be no fun.’ Anakin quipped, but he dropped his smirk when he saw the look on his face. ‘Sorry, master.’

‘And you should be!’ The Jedi pointed a finger at his former Padawan. ‘And you, Y/N. I expected better of you.

‘So, what are they gonna do?’ You pushed.

‘You should consider yourselves lucky that they recognised your new knight status.’ He retracted his hand back, using it to push his hair back. ‘Needless to say, they’re going to be keeping a close eye on both of you. I’m going to be keeping a close eye on you – especially you.’

‘Why me?’ You scowled.

‘Were you not the perpetrator in all this?’

‘That is insulting!’ You tried to argue, but then you saw the look of doubt on Obi-Wan’s face. ‘Yeah, okay. I kind of was.’

‘So, we’re not in trouble?’ Anakin pushed.

‘Not with them.’ He replied. ‘I’m not going to forget about this though, not for a long while.’

Some deep-seated, childish part of you was slightly thrilled at that. It went without saying that you’d always had a certain fondness for Obi-Wan; it had started as a juvenile thing, as a school-girl crush on a more mature man. But, now you were an adult, and not much younger than he’d been when he’d become a new knight himself. You’d started to like him for his humour and wit, and his kindness – and his endless patience for you.

After muttering a sheepish goodbye, you scurried off to your quarters. You were more than ready to shed your robes and finally catch a break – you’d spent the last three days living on a ship, losing sleep over Anakin’s perilous piloting skills. It would be nice to sleep in a bed that didn’t run the risk of flipping upside down in the night.

Dropping your bags onto the counter, you headed for the refresher. You picked out some casual clothes and turned on the shower. You almost revelled under the icy cold water, washing the dirt marks and soot off of your arms. There’d been on longer missions, and harder missions – but that had been as a Padawan. There was a whole new weight on your shoulders now.

Once you’d dried off and dressed in some loose trousers and a large t-shirt, you turned your focus to unpacking your things and warming up your room. It had been vacant for several days, after all.

A few moments later, there was a knock on your door. There were very few people who knocked this late – younglings would occasionally come to you for advice, and Padme would sometimes swing by to show you a new outfit (naturally).

‘Come in!’ You called, rushing to hide some of the mess on your bed.

You were surprised to see Obi-Wan Kenobi – you weren’t entirely sure what he was usually up to at this hour, but you were certain he’d never been to your room this late (or ever, for that matter). Part of you wished that it was slightly tidier; your robes were strewn across the floor, and there was a pile of books scattered across the desk.

‘Obi-Wan,’ you greeted him. ‘You’re in my room.’

‘Really?’ He quipped, raising his eyebrows. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

You thinned your eyes at him, shutting your suitcase and motioning for him to come in. He peered around the room, almost curious to see what it was like. It was quintessentially you; filled with all the books and weapons needed to make a good Jedi, but they were a little skewwhiff. That summed you up fairly nicely.

‘Let me rephrase that – why are you in my room?’ You leant against one of the posts of the bed. ‘Not that I don’t like your company, of course.’

‘I spoke to my former Padawan a bit more about the stunt you pulled on the mission.’ Obi-Wan replied. ‘I know that you didn’t mean for it to go wrong, and that you had both yours and the missions’ best interest at heart.’

‘I don’t do dumb shit like that for fun.’ You muttered, eyes falling to the ground. ‘It’s a big step up from being a Padawan to being a knight.’

He took a step closer to you, faltering slightly when he saw the change in your body language. He’d come here to try and clear things up, not remind you of your mistakes. It came from a place of caring; he hated to admit it, but he was attached to you. Seeing you grow from a reckless, young adult to an even-more-reckless Jedi knight was something he considered to be an honour.

‘My point is,’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat, ‘that you are a good knight, and an excellent Jedi. It’s shown in your intentions – perhaps not so much your actions, but that’s something that improves with time.’

‘Thank you,’ you smiled up at him.  ‘Though somehow, I don’t think the council will be sending me on any more missions in the foreseeable future.’

‘I have something for you, actually. I’m off to Corellia tomorrow for a few days. It’s not a lot, just a security detail, but it’s something, and you’re welcome to join me. And the city is nice – there’s a lot of places we can visit in our free time.’

You poise swayed for a minute, and you tried to hide the surprise on your face. You knew it was a mission, and literally your job – but why was he asking you? Why not Anakin? Or literally any other Jedi who hadn’t just been chastised by the council a matter of hours ago?

‘Are you sure?’ You asked. ‘Like, are you certain you don’t want somebody who’s a bit less…well, me?’

‘Perhaps that’s why I’m asking – because you are so quintessentially…well, you.’

You smiled. ‘In that case, I’ll join you.’

Obi-Wan beamed at you. ‘Then it’s a date.’

i might do a part 2, a what happens in corellia, stays in corellia kinda thing

[lasting-inkpressions]

I Put A Spell On You (Because You’re Mine) [2/11]

Summary: Denali is in love with her very much straight best friend, but a break up later and one drunken night together changes everything.

Note: Definitely NSFW.

Prefer reading it on AO3?

“Rosie Rosie Rosie.”

Denali chanted her name repeatedly as Rosé continued pumping her fingers into her, her head thrashing against the pillow as she whimpered. She watched Denali unravel beneath her ministrations, marvelling at how she looked even more beautiful when she was consumed in ecstasy. Pushing herself up, her fingers never stopping, she pressed her mouth to Denali’s, groaning when she felt the other woman’s mouth open, allowing her to sweep her tongue in. Rosé curled her fingers and Denali’s hips jerked, head turning and disengaging from Rosé’s lips with a sob.

“So beautiful.”

Rosé sucked a new mark on Denali’s jaw, trailing kisses down her neck as she moaned her name louder.

“Rosie, Rosie…”

Rosé grinned, pressing her face against Denali’s neck.

“Wake up Rosie!”

Rosé’s eyes flew open and she shot up, panting hard.

Fuck, it was just a dream.

And it wasn’t the first time Rosé had dreamed of Denali in that way either. Sighing, she tossed back her covers and got out of bed, rubbing her face in frustration. She left her bedroom and walked over to the kitchen, deciding that some water was what she needed to cool her off.

“Rosie?”

Stopping, Rosé registered Denali sitting cross legged in the middle of the pink fur rug in the living room, with her notebook opened and records with post its stuck on them scattered about on the ground. How on earth had Rosé not noticed her earlier?

“Nali? What are you doing up so late?”

“Just working on some music and choreography ideas. Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

Rosé swallowed and shrugged as she retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. “Just had a nightmare, that’s all.” Nightmare was definitely not the right word, but she couldn’t exactly tell her best friend that she had been having vivid dreams of fucking her for the past week now, could she? Walking back out to Denali, she saw her scooting over on the rug and patting the space on her right. Hesitating for a second, Rosé moved over and sat next to her, taking a drink of water. Setting the bottle down, she turned to find Denali staring at her mouth.

“Denali?”

The younger woman blinked and cleared her throat, her cheeks tinged pink for a moment before stuttering. “Yeah, so I’m just brainstorming for my choreography classes. Was thinking of maybe finding some new tracks, or at least less mainstream ones. Have to keep things fresh while educating the people with good music, right?”

Rosé chuckled. “That’s my Nali, always educating the masses.” She looked over the post its stuck on the records, trying to make sense of them when Denali leaned over, reaching for the record on Rosé’s right. Rosé froze, hit by Denali’s scent and struggled not to react to her hair brushing against her bare thigh, assaulted by the images of her latest dream, of Denali writhing beneath her, moaning her name over and over again. Rosé took a deep breath and clenched her fist, forcing herself not to think about it.

“Check out this record I managed to find the other day.” Blinking back to reality, she looked at Denali and then the album that she was holding out. Taking it out of her hands, she flipped it over and scanned the track list as Denali rambled on, then looked back at Denali’s bright face.

Rosé liked moments like these, when Denali was talking about work. She always admired how Denali injected so much life and passion into her dance, and listening to her talk about it was always a breath of fresh air. Denali’s eyes were bright and alive, lips stretched into a big smile and her dimples were out in full force. Her hands were moving in tandem as she spoke, pointing to the different records she had laid around her as she explained her thought process. One of her hands moved to rest on Rosé’s knee and suddenly Rosé was hyper aware of how warm her hand was on her skin. Biting the inside of her cheek and fighting the urge to hold it, Rosé nodded along, until she noticed Denali was starting to yawn. She looked over at the clock and noted that it was close to 3am when she felt a weight on her shoulder. Peering to her left, Denali smiled sleepily at her as she leaned against her. Rosé smiled back, patting her head.

“Looks like it’s time for someone to go to bed.” Shaking her head and whining, Denali burrowed into her shoulder. “Not yet, don’t wanna. Just wanna sit with you for a while.” Smiling fondly at the sleepy Denali, Rosé wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, letting her rest at her side for a while. They sat in silence, Rosé breathing in Denali’s scent and enjoying the feel of having the younger woman against her as she rubbed soothing circles on her waist.

It wasn’t too long before Rosé heard soft little snores and noticed Denali had fallen asleep. Deciding against waking her, Rosé carefully picked Denali up and carried her to her bedroom.

Gently tucking the young woman in, Rosé sat on the bed, watching over Denali for a bit. She looked more innocent in the moonlight, a contrast to her lively self when she was awake, her features soft and peaceful. Rosé reached out, wanting to stroke Denali on the cheek, but stopped herself just an inch away. Retracting her hand and sighing, Rosé instead pulled the blanket up and left Denali’s room for her own, hoping to be able to have a more restful sleep this time.

———————

It was one of those rare days where Denali had some time off where there were no classes that day, and she had decided to take the time to do some house cleaning. It wasn’t that Rosé and her were messy, it was just that sometimes their schedules were so packed that they didn’t have the time to actually tidy up the house. Thankfully, the only class she had that day had been a private one that had been cancelled due to a conflict in her student’s schedule.

After mooching about on her bed in the morning, she had gone through her catalogue of records and set a random one she had to play on the player in the living room, setting the volume to be loud enough to be heard throughout the house, but not too loud to disturb the neighbours. Dressed in nothing but a tie dye crop top and denim shorts, hair pulled into messy bun, Denali whisked around the house, starting with the living room.

When she had first moved in with her original roommate, the living room had been generic, just a typical white washed one with the basic amenities. Once her roommate had moved out, she had slowly personalised it with a beanbag, moved her record player out from her bedroom with a small shelf of her record collection and hung a few of her favourite pictures on the walls. Denali hadn’t really been keen about finding another roommate and had been stalling on that. She had enjoyed having the place to herself, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to handle paying the rent on her own for long. When Rosé had broken up with her boyfriend and needed a place to stay, Denali was more than happy to have her best friend as her roommate.

When Rosé had moved in, the living room had reflected that. The photos on the walls now included Rosé’s pictures, a pink fur rug was thrown next to the beanbag, a Nintendo Switch set up by the television and her own records were mixed in with Denali’s collection. It was a lot cosier now, not as cold and impersonal as it once was. It wasn’t that Denali’s old roommate had been boring, it was just that they never really got to know each other, so the relationship had been nothing but cordial, a necessity. With Rosé, the apartment seemed to liven up more, with both their personalities touching the whole place.

Denali sat in front of the shelf of records and started sorting through the ones that were strewn about on the floor. She honestly loved the fact that both their things had mixed so well together, their aesthetics and tastes similar. Even their interests were pretty similar. There were days where the both of them would just play a random record and dance about just because they could, or they would push the furniture to the sides to do some yoga, which would inevitably end up with Rosé grunting in frustration for the harder poses and Denali laughing at the faces that she’d make.

Sliding the last record into the shelf, she moved on to tidy up the rest of the room, humming as her mind began to wander back to her best friend.

Lately, Denali had noticed that Rosé was acting a little off, and she couldn’t exactly pinpoint when the change had started. It wasn’t glaringly obvious, but somehow she seemed to be treating Denali differently.

It had been subtle at first, just catching Rosé looking at her every now and then, and every time she caught her, Rosé would just turn away and carry on with whatever she was doing. And then there were the increased number of casual touches, fingers grazing against hers when taking something from her, brushing against her side if she happened to walk past her, sitting closer to her on the couch, their hands bumping together when they walked side by side. If she hadn’t known any better, Denali would think that this was in reaction to the night they slept together, but it seemed impossible since it had been more than a month ago and the slight change in her behaviour was more recent. Besides, Rosé seemed to have forgotten all about it and had never brought up their time together.

Then again, neither did Denali. As much as she had treasured that night, she had buried it deep inside her, not wanting to do anything to jeopardise their friendship.

Just like how she would never let Rosé know her true feelings for her.

Hours later, Denali had finished tidying up their shared quarters and was finishing up with the kitchen. She was getting tired and her skin felt grimy, but she felt accomplished with how much tidier the house was. She’d even tossed the dirty laundry into the wash, and the dryer was now humming happily with the load of clean clothes, the smell of fresh laundry detergent permeating through the house.

Denali was putting the dried dishes away in the kitchen shelves when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Honey, I’m home!” Rosé playful voice echoed in the house and Denali laughed. “Welcome home Rosie! Notice anything different about the house?”

She grabbed the last cup to put it away and was eyeing the last bit of space on a higher shelf when she heard rustling and footsteps coming up behind her. The footsteps stopped just as she tiptoed and stretched upwards to push the cup into place when she felt a hand on the bare skin of her back to support her and another hand guiding her own to slide it in. Smiling, she turned around to thank Rosé but the words died on her lips when she was met with smouldering eyes. Denali inhaled sharply as Rosé took a step forward and crowded into her space. She noticed Rosé’s eyes raking her figure, lingering at the swell of her chest before settling on her slightly parted mouth. Licking her lips and swallowing the lump in her throat, Denali whispered.

“Rosé?”

As if snapping out of a trance, Rosé took a step back and cleared her throat, then smiled at Denali. “Someone did a bit of house cleaning I see.”

Blinking at the lightning quick change, Denali nodded slowly. “Yeah, I even did the laundry.” Nodding back at her, Rosé seemed to think for a second before dropping a quick peck on Denali’s cheek. “Thank you, Nali. What do you want to order in for dinner? I’ll pay since you cleaned.”

Stunned, Denali watched Rosé as she left the kitchen, her mind wandering back to how oddly Rosé had been acting lately. Another thing to add to the growing list in her head.

“You might want to take a shower first though, you don’t smell as clean as this house right now.”

Sputtering at Rosé’s comment, Denali abandoned her train of thought as she chased after Rosé with an indignant, “Hey!”.

———————

Rosé didn’t know why, but lately she felt as if her control was slipping and she was beginning to act more impulsively than usual when she was around Denali. Everything the younger woman did seemed to taunt her.

When Rosé had gotten home the other day and entered the kitchen, her breath had been knocked out of her when she saw Denali tip toeing and stretching up to put a cup away on the kitchen shelf, the smooth curve of her back exposed. The next thing Rosé knew, she had her hand cradling the small of Denali’s back and her hand covered hers, supporting her. When Denali had turned around, Rosé couldn’t stop herself from getting closer, desire clouding her mind as she took in Denali’s form. The crop top she wore revealed a toned midriff, the swell of her chest barely covered and as her eyes travelled up, her heart stuttered at the pink that dusted Denali’s cheeks, slightly parted lips and loose dark strands falling around her face.

If Denali hadn’t said her name, Rosé didn’t know what she would have done then and there.

Now here she was, knocking back a few drinks at the bar with some of her friends. She knew alcohol had been the root of her problems the last time, but Rosé needed something to distract her from the object of her desires dancing in the middle of the club. Denali was her best friend, she shouldn’t be lusting after her the way that she was right now. It was just so wrong on so many levels.

Ordering another vodka shot, she knocked it back and turned back to the dance floor, her eyes automatically drawn to Denali. She gripped the shot glass in her hand as the colourful neon lights lit her up, her moves fluid as she danced, leaving many staring at her in awe, Rosé included.

“Looks like someone’s got it bad for her bestie.”

She turned to see Gottmik watching her, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“I meant you. You haven’t stopped staring at Denali since she went off to dance with the others.” Scoffing at the shorter boy, Rosé discarded the shot glass on the counter, resisting the urge to order another.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gottmik shrugged at her reply. “I wouldn’t blame you, the girl’s gorge. I’d go for her if she wasn’t clearly interested in only women.”

Rosé snorted and turned back to look at Denali just as she spun around. The younger woman spotted Rosé looking her way and grinned, waving her over. A part of her wanted to stay away, but the need to be close to Denali outweighed that and soon she found herself going towards the other girl, leaving Gottmik with the others.

The music thumped rhythmically around her as she joined Denali on the dance floor, Olivia and Joey not too far away.

“Hey angel.”

“Hey Rosie.”

Denali took hold of Rosé’s hand and playfully tugged her closer, causing Rosé to laugh and spin her around by the hand in return. The two of them danced to the music, bodies moving in sync. There were times when others tried to intrude, but the two would simply brush them off, not wanting anyone else to join in their small happy bubble. It wasn’t long before the alcohol in Rosé’s system started to take effect, and she began to regret her decision to have those last few shots. As the night wore on, more people started joining the dance floor, forcing her and Denali to dance even closer.

The fog in her mind started to increase the closer she got to Denali, and soon she found herself more and more enamoured by the woman practically dancing in her arms, her hold on Denali slowly tightening, pulling her closer than necessary. They younger woman hadn’t registered their intimate proximity and instead was happy to carry on dancing with her, smiling up at her with wide innocent brown eyes, and Rosé felt the control she held onto so tightly slipping even more. Before she could do anything she would regret, she quickly excused herself and left Denali on the dance floor.

Pushing her way out of the crush of bodies, she exited the club and made her way to the side, her mind racing with too many thoughts. She leaned against the brick wall, breathing heavily as she tried to reign it in.

What was wrong with her? Just one night together with Denali, and suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about her. It had gone way past unhealthy and bordered on obsession, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d lost count of the number of times she had wanted to drag Denali to her, to kiss and touch her all over, to completely devour her whole until there was nothing left. Denali didn’t even need to do anything, and Rosé was panting after her. She couldn’t understand herself. How could she go from being in a relationship, with a boyfriend, to wanting her best friend?

Her very much female best friend?

“Rosie?”

Rosé shut her eyes at her familiar voice. Denali was the last person she wanted to see right now.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

She felt a gentle hand on her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see Denali staring back at her in concern, feeling herself drown in warm brown eyes.

Beautiful warm brown eyes.

Denali came closer, pressing her forehead against Rosé’s, and she had to bite back a groan. Denali was too close, and Rosé’s tenuous control was fraying.

“You feel a little warm, do you want to go back?” Not trusting herself to speak, Rosé nodded in response and to her relief, Denali pulled back. The relief was short lived though as Denali took her hand and pulled her to the road to catch a cab.

Suddenly all her focus was on that one point of contact, and Rosé couldn’t help but notice how well their hands fit together. Years of being friends and casual hand holding, and only now did she notice how soft and warm her hands were, almost petite against her own strong ones. She was pulled out of her daze as Denali tugged her into the backseat of a cab she had managed to hail. Denali rattled off their address to the driver then pulled Rosé to her side, resting the older woman against her shoulder and hummed to her, never once letting go of her hand and completely oblivious to the effect she had on Rosé. In the small cab with no where to run, Rosé was getting more and more intoxicated with Denali’s scent and being, the soft hum of her voice, the warm soothing touch of her hand, the press of their thighs together.

It was too much.

The fog in her mind got heavier and she lost track of the time between getting into the cab and reaching home, because the next thing she knew was Denali was dropping her off on her bed, and was moving to leave when she grabbed hold of her hand, not wanting to let go.

“Rosie?”

Denali looked down at Rosé in confusion, and gasped when Rosé pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, slowly pulling the younger woman closer to her as she kissed her way up her fore arm, stopping to nip the skin at the crook of her elbow, before wrapping her arms around her waist, pressing more kisses round her middle and pulling Denali down onto her lap.

Burning hazel eyes met innocent brown ones before Rosé hungrily pulled Denali into a blazing kiss.

———————

There was too much. Too much going on at once. Clothes had been hurriedly pulled off of her, her body pressed down onto the bed as Rosé touched Denali everywhere with her hands and lips.

This wasn’t what she was expecting. She hadn’t expected this again.

At first Denali had tried to protest, smelling the faint scent of alcohol on Rosé’s breath, but her words were simply swallowed by Rosé’s lips. She didn’t fight very hard, her own feelings getting the best of her, the feeling of the woman she had been so in love with all these years finally in her arms. She had tried to forget that fateful night all those weeks ago, and had been mostly successful, but with each kiss and caress from Rosé, she started to unravel. She found herself giving in, letting Rosé do whatever she wanted to her body, until Denali was a shaking mess. She had tried to return the favour, but each attempt was met with more ardent kisses and the feeling of being so utterly consumed.

She felt like she was burning with all the attention Rosé was giving her, all the constant touches and teasing leaving her feeling absolutely wrecked, Rosé seeming to derive her own pleasure from pleasuring her.

Denali panted hard, feeling as if her third orgasm had been yanked out of her. She felt absolutely boneless, her bare skin damp with sweat from the exertion. Barely seconds later, she felt fingers slide back into her and she gasped, the feeling of curling fingers too much on her sensitive walls. She weakly tried to push the hand away but stopped when she felt a strong hand push down against her left hip. Denali looked down and whimpered when her glassy brown eyes met burning hazel ones. Shaking her head as tears started forming, she tried to push the hand away again. “Too much.” She gasped. “Rosie please, it’s too much.”

Denali tossed her head back with a ragged moan when the pressure increased, Rosé’s fingers relentless.

“Just one more, baby. Please? For me?”

It was just getting too much, the overstimulation, the tangy sweet scent of sweat and vanilla, Rosé’s very being enveloping her completely. Denali felt like she was going to combust, her senses overloaded. She wanted to say no, wanted to stop to recover, but with how Rosé was looking at her, worshipping her body, her own feelings of longing for the older woman overriding all reason, she gave in, nodding weakly in consent. Rosé smirked, the hand that had been holding down Denali’s hip wandered down to join her other hand as she pressed her thumb against the sensitive bundle of nerves, before pulling her fingers out, spreading Denali open with both hands and pushing her tongue in where her fingers had just been.

Denali nearly screamed, having to bite at the back of her hand to muffle it as she felt Rosé lapping at her walls, fingers teasing the bundle of nerves and sliding in to stimulate her even more.

It was too much. Too much all at once, as she felt Rosé continue to absolutely wreck her, alternating between her fingers and her tongue, face buried between her legs. Denali buried her fingers in Rosé’s pink hair, tugging her up and she heard her groan, pulling away, face shiny with her slick, pupils completely blown. She swooped back down and kissed Denali deeply, one hand palming her left breast while her other hand never left her core. It wasn’t long before she felt her walls clench around Rosé’s fingers, hips jerking as Denali came undone with a sharp cry. Rosé let her ride it out, continuing to stroke her through the aftershocks until Denali whimpered at her to stop, only then did she pull her fingers away, massaging her sides as she cooed at how good Denali had been.

They younger woman’s eyes were glazed over, her breathing shallow as she felt herself slowly recovering from her back to back releases. She faintly registered Rosé leaving the room and returning moments later, and felt herself being wiped down with a damp cloth. Finally coming down from her high just as Rosé was done cleaning the sweat and slick off of her, Rosé carefully manoeuvred Denali into her arms, spooning her. She wrapped the younger woman in her arms, pressing soft kisses to the back of her neck and murmured quiet words of praise as she traced mindless patterns on her hipbone, letting Denali finally rest and drift off to sleep.

———————

So... That happened. It's a lot. A lot more than I expected.

Now let me go hide my face in the sand as I question my life decisions.

[mermaidcashton]

dance in the living room, love with an attitude

authors: claire (@mermaidcashton) & laura (@maluminspace)  ship/AU: michael clifford/ashton irwin, roommates AU  prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”  wordcount: 10k+ warnings: swearing, implied & explicit sexual content  a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘only human’ by the jonas brothers dance in the living room, love with an attitude *** The music was probably turned up a little too loud, but it helped to drown out the nerves starting to bubble away in Michael’s tummy.  ‘I hope ‘Ashton’ likes MCR’ he thought as he half-heartedly wiped down the kitchen counters with a damp cloth. He wanted the place to look mildly tidier than it usually did for his new flatmate. First impressions counted for a lot, as his mum had told him twice this week already.

Once the splashes of milk from this morning’s mishap with the cereal had been washed away along with the crumbs from last night’s dinner of peanut butter on toast, he stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall over in the living room area. It wasn’t quite midday, which meant he had a little over an hour until his new roommate was due to arrive. That should mean that he just about had enough time to vacuum the whole flat and take a shower.  Throwing the dishcloth into the little cleaning basket on the window ledge, Michael focused on  screaming the lyrics to ‘Thank you for Venom’ and tried not to focus too much on the anxiety about the rest of the day.

Agreeing to live with someone he’d never met in person probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas. It’s not like Michael had been given much choice, though. His last flatmate had given him less than a week’s notice when she decided to move in with her short-term girlfriend and left Michael with a whole bunch of bills that his meagre paycheck could never stretch far enough to cover. Luckily, his best friend Luke had a work colleague who desperately needed a new place to live since his landlord had slapped him with a very short notice period to move out of his current flat. Luke had offered to give this work friend Michael’s contact details and the following morning, Michael had woken up to a text from a guy called Ashton who was very interested in Michael’s recently vacant spare room. 

After explaining the cost of rent and other bills in a few subsequent texts, Michael had received a very grateful reply from Ashton asking if it would be possible to  move in that weekend. Of course the blonde had agreed, eager to get the awkward first meeting out of the way as soon as possible.

Determined to get his most hated chore done before he could start collecting his thoughts and mentally preparing for the arrival of his new flatmate, Michael grabbed the portable hoover from the charging port on the tiny bit of the kitchen wall that was not taken up by the counters and cabinets. He was just about to press the ‘ON’ button when a knock at the door put an abrupt halt to his plans.

Michael huffed as he made his way over to the front door. The only people that had the security code for the entrance of the building were his parents and Luke, neither of which were due to visit today. That left only someone who had the wrong flat, or one other possible visitor; his neighbour, Calum. They’d hang out sometimes, whenever their days off matched up. Their shared interest in certain obscure and rare computer games and a mutual love of sushi and beer made for hours of fun without the chore of actually having to leave the building. Michael had definitely made sure to let Calum know that he was expecting his new flatmate to arrive today, though, so he was a little confused as to why his neighbour would be dropping by now. 

That feeling only intensified when a glance through the spy hole on his front door revealed that Calum was accompanied by a stranger. He opened the door cautiously, still feeling a little bewildered. 

“Hey, mate.” Calum grinned, waving a handful of unopened letters in greeting. “Just found this guy outside with a bunch of boxes. I knew you were expecting your new flatmate today, so I helped bring his stuff up.” His dark brown eyes surveyed Michael with something like confusion from beneath the rim of his seemingly ever-present black bucket hat. 

Michael could only imagine that his neighbour was mirroring his own befuddled expression because Ashton wasn’t due to arrive for another hour. He forced himself to look over at the stranger, whilst his mind worked over what was happening.

It appeared that Calum was right in assuming this was Ashton. He was indeed carrying a large cardboard box labelled ‘bedroom’ that would definitely suggest he was moving house. There were also a bunch of smaller boxes piled against the wall beside the front door which supported that assumption. 

“Do you guys need any more help?” Calum offered, “I’m free if…”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Michael cut in quickly. “We can take it from here, thanks Cal.” The last thing Michael wanted was more people to see the apartment in its current state. 

“No worries.” Calum smiled, “You know where I am if you change your mind.” He turned his attention to his little fluffy dog who had been patiently waiting for his post-walk nap. “C’mon Duke.” 

Once Calum and his little fluff ball had wandered off across the hall towards their own apartment, Michael turned his attention back to Ashton. Three things struck him about his new flatmate in very quick succession;

Ashton was incredibly hot. His curly black hair hung loosely around his handsome face, framing his chiselled cheekbones and clean shaven, angular jaw beautifully. His hazel eyes were striking from behind the horn-rimmed glasses perched neatly on his perfectly ski-slope shaped nose. 

He looked vaguely familiar. Michael knew that he’d seen Ashton’s face somewhere before but it wouldn’t quite click in his brain. Not that it would be entirely surprising if they’d met before, they did share a close friend after-all. It just seemed a little off that Luke hadn’t reminded Michael of the occasion they'd met at before suggesting they live together.

Despite his silence, Ashton looked somewhat annoyed, possibly bordering on angry. That struck Michael as odd. He had been known to piss people off fairly regularly but seeing as he’d barely even spoken to Ashton, this would be an all time record.

“So you must be Ashton…” Michael smiled, awkwardly tucking a strand of his messy blonde hair behind his ear whilst offering his free hand out for his new flatmate to shake. “I’m Michael, or you can call me Mike if you want. Most of my friends do.” Ashton didn’t accept the offer of a handshake, in fact he made no movement whatsoever. He simply glared at Michael with an increasing level of irritation. “Are you kidding me?” 

Michael knew that he was not the prettiest of people. He dressed casually most of the time and due to Ashton’s early appearance, he’d not yet had a chance to shower and make himself a little more presentable. He didn’t think that he quite deserved such a cutting greeting, though. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you yet, I was just…”

“You don’t even remember me, do you?!” Ashton interrupted, his tone dripping of resentment now. “Fucking unbelievable!”  Michael couldn’t remember ever feeling more confused in his life. Ashton hadn’t mentioned that  they’d previously met in his text messages so why would he be so angry that Michael hadn’t immediately recognised him now? 

The newcomer’s harsh tone had caught Calum’s attention, causing the neighbour to pause in sorting through his mail and stare unashamedly at the scene unfolding across the hall.

“This could only fucking happen to me…” Ashton huffed, adjusting his grip on the box in his arms. “I get turfed out of my flat because my landlord suddenly decides he wants it for his daughter and just when I think I’ve landed on my feet with a new place, my new fucking flatmate turns out to be a one night stand who doesn’t even remember me! Talk about kicking a guy when he’s down!”

Michael barely registered Calum’s audible gasp as realisation crashed around him. Suddenly the memory of the beautiful man that had swept Michael off his feet at a bar a few months back replayed in his head like a movie he’d seen once but hadn’t been able to remember the title of. He’d only known the guy as Ash and he’d assumed it was short for Ashley. Despite the fact that Ash’s hair had been a sexy shade of crimson, styled in a neat quiff and he hadn’t been wearing glasses, it was definitely the same guy that was standing in front of him right now. 

“Ash…” the word escaped Michael almost of it’s own volition. “But I thought that was short for… oh my god, this can’t be happening.” He cupped his own face in his hands as the reality of the awkward situation began to settle into the very fibre of his being.

“Wow, you can’t make this shit up.” Calum gasped, an almost delighted smile on his face. “What’re you guys gonna do?” 

Despite Calum’s annoying rubbernecking, it gave Michael the perfect excuse to look away from Ashton for a second. “Well I’m gonna throw something at you, if you don’t get lost right now, Calum.” He hissed. 

“He’s not the one coming across like a shithead right now.” Ashton scoffed, setting the box in his arms onto the floor. “Being a nosey neighbour still makes you a hell of a better person than the guy that flatters their way into your bed and gives you amazing sex but then gives you a fake number!”

“That’s right.” Calum agreed. “People that do that are the worst. At least have the balls to tell the other person you’re not looking for anything long term before you disappear the next day.”

“Calum, I swear to god…” Michael hissed. 

Ashton shook his head angrily. “He’s right, if you never wanted to see me again, you could have just said. I wouldn’t have wasted some of my best moves on you.” 

“Oh, what were the moves?” Calum smirked, prying his way further into the conversation. 

His neighbour’s blatant disregard for the seriousness of the situation was annoying to say the least. It was also the last thing Michael needed to deal with right now. “Piss off, Calum!”, he snapped. 

Duke yapped disapprovingly at Michael, his tiny eyes focused on the blonde man as his human’s smirk grew even further across his face.

“Oh, you can shut up as well!” Michael snapped at the tiny pooch. “Now you’re yelling at a dog.” Ashton rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s a good thing you blew me off, looks like I had a lucky escape from dating an arsehole!”  Michael really couldn’t envisage the situation getting any worse. At this rate he was going to be searching for another roommate instead of enjoying a pleasant lunch with this one, like he’d hoped. 

“I didn’t give you a fake number!” Michael protested. “I swear, I’m not like that, and I really liked you! I broke my phone, the same weekend we...met.” He felt his cheeks begin to colour, trying his hardest to ignore Calum’s snort as he focused on Ashton’s disbelieving face.

“It took me two weeks to sort out a new one, I had a little pay as you go in between, I had a different number, and I-you did call, then?” Michael paused his blurted explanations to blurt out a question, instead. He had been wondering every time it was late and he was alone for 6 months whether or not he’d missed a call from the best one night stand of his life. 

“Of course I did!” Ashton threw his hands up in exasperation, startling Duke and sending him scuttling back into the still-open doorway of the opposite flat. “I thought we had a connection, we said we wanted to see each other again; that doesn’t happen that often for me! Maybe it does for you…”

“Oh, it definitely doesn’t.” Calum smirked. “The only man who comes to see Michael regularly is the Domino’s delivery guy.” 

Before Michael could blow up at him, Calum backed up properly into his flat, resting his hand on his front door. “It’s a shame, actually,” he continued, smiling encouragingly at his neighbour. “Michael is really a great guy. He always has time for me and Duke; whether it’s for beers, a listening ear, or belly rubs.” 

He throws a wink to Ashton as he shuts his front door with a click. “I’ll leave you to figure out which one is for me. Welcome to the building!” 

Michael knows he needs to gain control of the slightly-stunned silence left in Calum’s wake, fast. He needs to say something apologetic, or charming, or cool. “Do you like fish fingers?” Or that. 

Ashton blinked a few times in quick succession, and Michael wanted to throw himself down the stairs. 

“Do I like fish fingers?” Ashton repeated, pushing his long black hair back with both hands.

Michael flushed again, at least thankful for the fact that he no longer had an audience for the most embarrassing encounter of his life. “It’s just, I thought we could have lunch, and talk, and I’m not really much of a cook, but I have fish fingers, right, and everyone likes fish finger sandwiches...don’t they…” He trailed off, hoping Luke perhaps had another co-worker who needed immediate accommodation. 

Ashton fixed him with the most intense stare he’d ever received in a conversation about freezer food, and Michael tried to match his unrelenting gaze in a way that would make him look less like he wanted to cry. Ashton’s eyes really were beautiful, seeming almost magnified by his glasses. He looked thoughtful and sad now, rather than judgmental and angry, and Michael would take that.

“I do.” Ashton decided on, after what felt like an eternity. He stooped down to pick up his box again, muscles tensing, and Michael’s mind began to wander. 

He remembered Ashton’s arms looking just like that as he lifted him up for the last few feet of the journey to the redhead-at-the-time’s bed. Michael could almost feel his fingers digging into the bare skin of his thighs all over again. The memories of slow, wet, considered neck kisses being broken with teeth, and the delicious burn that started low and spread like wildfire as Ashton stretched him out like he was born to do it.

“Michael? After you?”  Michael snapped out of his daze, dragging his eyes away from Ashton’s lips where they had landed at some point in his reminiscing. He stepped back so Ashton could enter the flat and set the box down by the sofa. “Yeah, great, come in, make yourself at home, I’ll get the rest of your boxes!”   As soon as he was outside in the corridor, Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. ‘Okay, Clifford - you need to snap out of it. Relax and smooth things over so you two can live together.’ He told himself, as sternly as he could manage. ‘We need a roommate more than we need to get laid.’

‘That’s debatable.’ Another voice - which sounded more like Calum than himself - chimed in before Michael shook it off and picked up the stack of cardboard boxes cluttering up the corridor.

‘Okay, you can do this. Damage control. Just be normal. Go in and face this head on. You can do this.’ Michael murmured, running his tongue over his bitten lips as he took his first steps back to where Ashton was waiting.

He hip-checked the front door closed as he re-entered the flat, placing the boxes next to one Ashton had carried in, before straightening up to see Ashton sat on the sofa, looking both nervous and delicious. 

“I…” Michael faltered under Ashton’s almost shy gaze, then caught sight of a slice of Ashton’s firm, hairy stomach from where his t-shirt was riding up slightly.

“I just need to go to the bathroom. Then we can...talk, and eat. Okay?” Michael forced what he hoped was a casual, winning smile, and then scuttled across to the bathroom the moment Ashton made a noise of agreement and nodded his head.

Michael clicked the lock shut and put the toilet lid down as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. He began tapping away with urgency as he took a seat on the toilet, pulling up his message thread with his best friend.

SOS!!!! 🚨

Luke!!!!

Where are you

LUKE FUCK HELP ME YOU DICK

With each message he sent, Michael could feel his panic beginning to swell back up in his chest. Finally, three dots began moving across the message to indicate Luke was writing. Help was on the way.

🥺🥺🥺 What’s up

Michael felt what he knew was an unjustified rage at Luke and his fucking emojis as he furiously typed a reply.

Oh nothing, I just had sex with my new roomate!!!

Michael jumped when his phone immediately started vibrating relentlessly, sliding his finger across the screen and holding it gingerly to his ear. 

“Hello?” He whispered into the receiver. 

“WHAT!!! What do you mean you’ve slept with him?! Ashton was due there at 12, and it’s now...12 minutes past 12! That’s INSANE, even for you! I cannot believe-”

“Luke!” Michael hissed through clenched teeth, turning on the cold tap on the sink before he spoke again. “Not today, idiot! Remember, months ago, when I broke my phone? That weekend, I hooked up with that guy I met at The Alchemist? Red hair, big arms, amazing mouth-”

“Yes, I remember! What’s that got to do with it?” Luke cut in. 

“It was Ashton. I only knew him as Ash, remember? And obviously I never saw him again because I had no way to contact him after I broke my phone. But it’s him, Luke - he’s in my living room! In OUR living room! What am I gonna do?! I am freaking out!”

“Oh my God! You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Mike! You’ve had your new roommates dick in your mouth before he even moved in! Classic you.”

Michael could practically hear Luke’s eyeroll. “This is not classic me! Dick! Help me, Luke!”

“What do you want me to do, I can’t unfuck him for you!” Luke shot back. Michael let out an involuntary whimper and slumped further down on the toilet. He was so screwed.  

***

Michael emerged from the bathroom, Luke’s advice ringing in his ears as he approached Ashton on the sofa.  ‘He’s a really nice guy, Mike; just talk to him. Explain what happened after you hooked up, and say you hope you can put it behind you and be friends. I think he’ll be cool, honestly. Just try not to trip and land on his dick and you should be golden.’ 

He took one last deep breath as he sat down on the black leather beside his one-time lover.

“So, Ashton...I...listen, I’m sorry that I broke my phone and made you think I’d ghosted you. I’m just an idiot that dropped his phone outside Sainsbury’s. And I’m really sorry I didn’t recognise you straight away, I was just expecting someone I hadn’t, and your hair, and glasses, and-” Michael could feel himself starting to babble but he couldn’t stop himself; he was so desperate for Ashton to like him. He was trying not to think about why it was this important to him. 

Ashton held his hand up to stop him with a small smile. “Michael, it’s okay.”  

Michael stopped short in his unravelling with a look of surprise. “It is?”

Ashton’s smile grew wider. “Yeah. I was just a bit blindsided, and I was hurt at the time back then, you know? But you explained, you apologised, and you seem like a nice guy. Luke sure can’t talk you up enough, and I trust him. I have no reason not to believe this is gonna be all good.” 

Michael blinked, unsure if this was too good to be true. “Yeah? So...we’re good? You’re gonna...stay?”

Ashton relaxed back into his seat, toeing his shoes off and under the coffee table. “If that’s okay with you, yeah. We’re both grown ups; we can keep it platonic and put the past behind us, right? Friends?”

Michael nodded, trying to hide the gulp in his throat. “Yeah, of course. Right. Great. Friends.” He could definitely do this.

***

He could definitely not do this. 

It’d been a long one month, two weeks and three days of trying to convince himself that he didn’t want to be anything more than Ashton’s friend and roommate. 

Some days, Michael thought it was possible to put those lingering feelings away and focus on their blossoming platonic relationship. After all, Ashton was everything most people could ever want in a flatmate. He was tidy, considerate, fairly quiet and respectful of personal boundaries. The slightly older man was also great company. Michael has had many pleasant conversations with him over breakfast and in the evenings before they went to bed. 

As lovely as all of that was, Michael had started questioning if it was worth the growing ache in chest for more. Each new thing he learnt about Ashton made him more sure that he was probably the closest thing to the perfect man that Michael would ever know. It was a cruel twist of fate that had meant his one opportunity to have Ashton for himself had slipped through his fingers, quite literally. He cursed himself on a daily basis for that one clumsy moment when he’d fumbled pulling his old phone from his too-tight jeans outside the supermarket and had been forced to watch his only chance with Ashton sink into a muddy puddle. 

Whatever higher powers existed had been even less kind to have that strong, gorgeous, well-hung man turn up on Michael’s doorstep months later, as his only hope of being able to keep the flat he’d grown to love. 

Every day since then, seemed to have presented a new challenge or torture. First it was the tight t-shirts and vests Ashton wore more often than not. They accentuated every muscle of the raven-haired man’s torso and displayed his strong biceps in all their glory. 

Then came the sleepy morning routine they’d subconsciously fallen into. Ashton would emerge from his room in nothing but his loose grey sweats and crooked glasses, his hair ruffled and his eyes heavily lidded, before joining Michael for a hasty breakfast which usually consisted of cereal or toast and mug of strong coffee. It was during these sluggish mornings when they’d started to bond over their mutual love of crime dramas and fantasy movies, among other things. That had naturally led to evening-long Criminal Minds marathons whole weekends debating whether the Lord of the Rings movies or the Harry Potter movies were the better adaptations of their original books. Those playful arguments had spilled over into text messages now, so Michael couldn’t even escape his torturous living situation when he went to work. 

Despite all of that hardship, the most latest and arguably the toughest challenge Michael found himself facing, was Ashton’s morning yoga. At first, the older man had kept that part of his morning routine confined to his bedroom. For some reason or another, over the last week or so, Ashton had decided that the living area was a more suitable location for this activity. 

If Michael thought that sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton was hot, then sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton doing the ‘downward dog’ was positively off the fucking scale. The way his large hands pressed into the yoga mat and the way his strong arms and legs tensed as he straightened his back and pushed his arse up into the air lingered in Michael’s mind all day. These images often flickered through his mind at night too, when he was alone in his bed with nothing but his hand for company. 

Deciding that a little get together with some friends would help dispel some of the tension, Michael floats the idea of asking Calum and Luke over for a ‘lads night’. Ashton had agreed easily, being a generally social person, he’d seemed enthusiastic about the possibility of hosting a mini party. 

A group message is created and it doesn’t take long to settle on the following Friday night for beer, snacks and a FIFA tournament. 

Ashton seemed to have been looking forward to it, often mentioning how excited he was to get to know Calum better and asking Michael to help him decide between certain snacks to purchase for the occasion. 

All in all, Michael was proud of himself for the idea, focusing on hosting a couple of friends had certainly given both him and Ashton something new to focus on. 

It was only when Friday arrived that Michael started to doubt his plan. Watching Ashton arrange plates of snacks on the kitchen counter, with the cutest concentration face he’d ever seen, started to make Michael wish they were spending the evening alone instead. He quickly pushes the thought of his head, berating himself for thinking something so stupid. It’s not like anything could happen between them even if they were alone, they were roommates now, that’s where their relationship ends. 

“So....” Ashton broke the silence enveloping the flat as he finished pouring a bag of cheesy Doritos into a bowl. “Did you finally solve the mystery of who was stealing people’s shit from your fridge at work?” 

Michael was caught off guard by the question. He’d been watching Ashton so intently that he momentarily forgot about everything else. It took him a moment to remember that he’d been keeping Ashton up to date with the ongoing lunch burglar drama at the DIY store he worked at. “Oh, umm no, not yet! But Brenda finally told Linda to stick her fake friendship where the sun doesn’t shine.” 

A genuinely delighted smile burst into Ashton’s face as he headed into the living room area. “Good for her! Linda sounds like a bitch…” 

It really meant a lot to Michael that Ashton took such an interest in his work life. The fact that he cared so much about people he didn’t know, but was aware they meant a lot to Michael, was also heartwarming. 

Before Michael could go into more detail about the break time drama, a knock at the front door interrupted him. “Oh yay! Our first guest!” Ashton beamed, jogging off towards the front door to greet Calum.

***

As soon as the beer and wine had started flowing, Michael’s ever-present pining for Ashton dulled to an almost non existent haze at the edges of his mind. Sure, his knees felt weak every time Ashton flashes him that dopey smile of his and he might have blushed whenever their knees touched as they competed against each other in a thrilling game of virtual soccer. 

That was all better than his usual all-consuming lust, so Michael was somewhat proud of himself. He even managed to surprise the urge to let Ashton win their game, and was almost smug when his player sent the football flying past Ashton’s keeper to secure a 2-1 win. 

“Motherfucker!” Ashton grumbled, throwing his control pad into the sofa as he fixed Michael with look that was almost definitely the hottest gaze he’d ever been caught under. “I’m gonna get you for that, Clifford.” It sounded like a promise that held more weight than the simple challenge to a rematch it was probably meant to be. 

Michael had to fight back a whimper, staring into Ashton’s beautiful hazel eyes this closely was too much. The intensity of it all rendered him momentarily speechless and he was all-too glad when Ashton got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. 

“I need to drown my sorrows.” The black-haired man laughed, breaking the tension that had descended on them before heading off to the kitchen. Ignoring the knowing looks from his two friends, Michael picked up Ashton’s discarded controller and tossed it to Luke. “Your turn to face me, Hemmings. Let’s see if I can beat my all time record of beating you 6-1” 

“Fuck off! You have never beat me that badly.” Luke huffed, picking up the control pad that had just landed in his lap. “I’m gonna enjoy kicking your ass in front of your new boy-“

“Shit, we’re out of beers already!” Ashton’s interruption came at exactly the right moment in Michael’s opinion. He really hadn’t wanted Luke to finish that sentence and now he wouldn’t get the chance. 

“I’ll go to the shop for some more, does anyone have specific requests?” The eldest friend asked as he traipsed back into the living room area. 

“Oh you don’t have to go!” Michael shrugged, “you should stay here, we’ll send Luke instead, he sucks at this game anyway.” 

Luke scoffed, waving his hand defensively. “You’re not getting out of playing me that easily!” 

Ashton laughed, his eyes sparkling as he checked that his wallet was still in his jeans pocket. “It’s fine. I’m already out of the competition and I wouldn’t want to give anyone else an unfair advantage.” 

Maybe it was just the effects of the beers he’d already drank, but Michael could have sworn that Ashton’s gaze lingered on him a little longer than it probably should have. “You’re too nice.” The blonde beamed fondly, “I’ll transfer you my half of the money in the morning, unless you wanna take a tenner from my room?” 

“Oh is that an open invitation?” Calum asked, a lazy smile curling the corners of his lips. “You owe me at least that from when we bet on whether or not Luke could drink that tzatziki sauce last time.” 

“Fuck off, Calum! I don’t owe you a penny, I won that bet, Luke’s a fucking wuss…” 

“Hey! I am not!” Luke interrupted incredulously. 

“Okay, I need to hear that whole story when I get back!” Ashton giggled. “I’ll just grab a case of whatever beer is the cheapest though, yeah.” 

There was a general murder of agreement before Ashton headed out of the front door. Michael fond him watching until Ashton had disappeared into the hallway, swinging the front door closed behind him. “He’s so nice…” The blonde sighed dreamily, still gazing at the closed front door. “Don’t you think he’s just the best?” 

Calum and Luke exchanged a ‘is he for real’ glance before silently agreeing that this was the perfect opportunity to tease Michael about his blatant love for Ashton. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty special.” Calum agreed, smirking slyly. “You really can’t sing his praises highly enough, can you?” 

Shaking his head, Michael finally returned his attention to the TV. “You really can’t, he’s just so kind and sweet.” 

Calum nodded in agreement. “Not bad to look at either!” 

“Right?!” Michael giggled, oblivious to the fact that his tipsiness was making his lips too loose.  

“Hey Mike.” Luke cut in, reaching over to nudge his friend’s shoulder. “How’s being in love with your flatmate working out for you?” His conversational tone was entirely at odds with mischief in his eyes. It confused Michael but the youngest friend’s words were altogether too bold, a blatant overstep if ever there was one. 

Despite his inner rage at being called out like this, Michael fumbled, unable to cobble together an appropriate response. “Ugh, I don’t even… You’re so far-“ 

“There’s no point denying it anymore.” Calum chuckled, “I can feel the sexual tension between you two from across the hall!” 

“God, I bet it’s like watching a car crash, isn’t it?” Luke asked, picking up the bowl of M&M’s on the coffee table. “It’s horrific but you can’t tear your eyes away? Am I right?” 

Calum nodded. “It’s like watching a bad fucking soap opera.” 

Michael felt offended and embarrassed but still no words seemed to form coherently in his mouth. 

“At least it’s a bit less tragic now we can be sure it’s not entirely one sided!” Luke stage whispered with a calculating look on his face as he met Calum’s gaze.

“Yeah, it’s mildly less irritating!” Calum laughed. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Michael sputtered. “Ash and I agreed that our one night stand is ancient history, we’re not-“ 

“Oh puh-lease!” Calum scoffed. “If you two haven’t fucked again by the end of this month I’ll eat my bucket hat.”

***

Ashton had returned with a case of twenty four bottles of beer and as a result, lad’s night had ended up running into the early hours of Saturday morning. 

Having drank his way through more than his fair share of that case, Michael didn’t end up rising from his pit until noon had long since been and gone. 

“Ah you are still alive!” Ashton chuckled, tearing his attention away from the TV to look at his flatmate. 

This was definitely not fucking fair. Michael didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that he looked exactly as he felt - rough as all hell. Ashton on the other hand, still looked as dreamy as ever. His black curls, although slightly ruffled and fluffy, were still on the stylish side of messy and he’d somehow found the motivation to get dressed, too, something Michael wasn’t even contemplating.

 “I’m glad you’re up now, though, I wondered if you had anything planned for dinner?” Ashton asked, peering at Michael from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. 

The thought of food made Michael’s stomach lurch unpleasantly and he had to fight to hold back a wretch. 

Ashton gives a sympathetic giggle before pausing his show and rising to his feet. “I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry, buddy. I have a plan but first…” he jogged over to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. “Why don't you go and take a shower while I make you a tea? You’ll feel better after that and then we will talk dinner!” 

As Michael plods over to the bathroom, he shoots one last look over at Ashton, busily preparing mugs on the countertop and tries his absolute hardest to remember a time that he wasn’t in love with his flatmate.

***

As always, Ashton was proven to be 100% correct. 

Michael felt a million times better once he was showered and snuggled on the sofa with a mug of steaming tea. 

“You look a little more alive now.” Ashton smirked, sparing Michael a sideways glance before returning his attention to ‘Law and Order’. “Do you think you can handle talking about dinner yet?” 

The ache in Michael’s stomach felt a lot more like hunger than it had done when he first woke up and the thought of food didn’t make him feel like throwing up anymore so he nodded. “What’re your plans, chef?” 

Ashton’s cheeks turned a rosy pink as he shrugged. “I couldn’t bear to see you try to cobble together another freezer meal so I thought you might like me to teach you a simple pasta dish?” He suggested, his tone a little shy like he was worried what Michael’s reaction would be. “I’ll do most of the work, but I thought if you helped out, you’ll learn how to make something other than Super Noodles.” 

Michael couldn’t even be mad at the subtle dig at his cooking skills. He was terrible in the kitchen and it was just a little embarrassing that Ashton had noticed just how dyer his cooking skills were. “When you say simple, do you mean like a recipe and technique you can write on the back of a postage stamp because that’s about the level of my skill.” 

Rolling his eyes, Ashton casually threw his arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Don't be so hard in yourself, buddy! I once taught Luke how to make scrambled eggs on the stove so he didn’t have to be a savage and use the microwave anymore, so there’s definitely hole for you, I promise.” 

Michael tried to focus on the hat Ashton was saying but all that his slow, hungover brain could process was that he was pressed against his stupidly gorgeous flat mate’s side. The heady smell of Ashton’s minty body wash and the soft scent of his fabric conditioner felt intoxicating and Michael could do nothing besides allow his head to drop into Ashton’s shoulder. 

To the blonde’s surprise, Ashton shuffle away or call him out on it. He simply rests his own head on Michael’s and laughs. “We’ll make a chef of you yet, Clifford.” He promised.

***

They spent a good three hours, watching reruns of C.S.I and making plans to start a Marvel movie marathon after dinner. They sat close to each other the whole time and Michael noticed Ashton watching him from the corner of his eye on at least three separate occasions. 

By the time Ashton suggested they start making dinner, Michael had gone over his conversation with Calum and Luke the previous night, about sixty times. His two best friends had convinced him that Ashton wanted Michael just as much as Michael wanted Ashton. 

“The way he looks at you, dude.” Calum laughed. “He’s practically imagining you naked at any given moment. It’s getting uncomfortable.” 

“Don’t be stupid!” Michael reprimanded. “He doesn’t think of me like that anymore. We had a one night thing months ago. That’s it. Nothing else will ever happen between us again, we’re just flatmates.” 

Calum and Luke exchanged a sceptical glance before bursting into laughter. 

“Yeah right!” Luke huffed sarcastically. “Do you know how many times I hear your name come out of his mouth at work these days?” 

Michael’s cheeks reddened. He had no idea that Ashton talked about him at work. It felt kind of surreal to imagine his roommate relaying snippets of their home life to Luke. 

“Let me guess!” Calum interrupted. “About a thousand…” 

Nodding, Luke drained the last of his beer. “Yeah and that’s just before lunch!”

“Honestly, if they don’t bang soon I’m gonna knock their heads together.” Calum sighed. “Did you know Michael comes over to my place most mornings so he doesn’t have to watch Ashton do topless yoga?” He asked Luke disbelievingly. “I want my lie-in’s back!” 

At the time, Michael hadn’t believed his friends. He didn’t think that there was even a remote possibility that Ashton still carried a torch for him. But in the clear light of day, Michael couldn’t deny that all the signs were there… perhaps there could be more between them after all. 

He followed Ashton into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his grey oversized sweater, trying to clear his mind enough to be able to process learning a new skill. 

“Okay, this is like the simplest recipe I know but it’s delicious and tastes so much better than the freezer junk you usually make for yourself.” Ashton rambles as he grabs a saucepan and a frying pan from the shelf near the cooker.  

“Hey, freezer junk has been my lifeline on many occasions, I’d probably be dead without it.” Michael scoffed, only half joking. 

Ashton rolled his eyes fondly, handing Michael the saucepan. “Fill this with water for me and then put it on the back hob, while it’s boiling I’ll teach you how to make the sauce.” 

As Michael carried out his instructions, he couldn’t help but admire the concentration on Ashton’s face when he began rifling through the fridge and cupboard, pulling out various ingredients. 

Once the pan of water was safely on the job Ashton had indicated, Michael returned his full attention to the slightly older man.

“Right, the first thing we do for the sauce is put 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil into this cold pan.” Ashton explained, pushing his glasses up his nose a little, reminding Michael of a hot English teacher or something… fuck, it was already difficult enough for Michael to concentrate without random fantasies about Ashton fucking him over a desk running through his mind. “Usually I’d never add oil to a cold pan, but for this particular recipe, it works because if the pan was already hot, the first ingredients would burn before the rest was in there.” 

There was something about the way Ashton talked with such passion and confidence that made Michael wish he was confident enough to just drag him to the bedroom, his need for more from Ashton becoming unbearable. He forced himself to nod, pretending like he understood when really, Ashton could be telling him absolutely anything right now, and Michael would not know the difference because all he can think about is the way Ashton had groaned at the feeling of Michael’s nails running down his back and how he’d growled Michael’s name as he neared his climax. 

“Can you pass me the basil?” Ashton asked, pulling Michael out of his memory. 

The blonde surveyed the ingredients on the countertop. Luckily he recognised most of them, so he picked up the basil by process of elimination and handed it to Ashton like a dutiful sous chef. 

Ashton looked mildly impressed as he took the bag of basil and took out handful. “We want about ten or so decent sized leaves and we tear them in half before adding them to the oil, okay?” He waited for Michael’s nod of understanding before tearing the leaves in his hand and dropping them into the pan. 

“Then we need to chop 6-8 cloves of garlic directly into the pan.” Michael looked back at the little stack of ingredients and frowned, noticing an instant problem. “We only have one clove of garlic…” he pointed out, biting his bottom lip worriedly. 

Ashton burst out laughing as he picked the garlic up from the counter. “This is a whole bulb, babe…” he explained, apparently not even noticing his use of the supposedly accidental pet name. 

It was difficult for Michael to feel too offended by Ashton’s laughter when he’d just called him babe, though, so he let it go, focusing on the term of endearment, no matter how accidental it might have been, rather than the humour at his dumb mistake. 

“It’s the smaller, wedge shaped pieces that are cloves, please don’t mix that up if you make this without my help.” Ashton chuckled, breaking six cloves from the bulb and picking up a tiny knife he’d laid out next to the oven. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” Michael pouted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.” 

Ashton gave him a fond smile. “You’re not alone in that, I promise…” 

It was hard not to feel comforted by Ashton’s lopsided smile, so most of his embarrassment slipped away fairly quickly. 

“I just chop off the little hard parts at the bottom of each clove and peel the skin off before chopping it directly into the pan. Don’t chop it on a board or you’ll lose some of the flavour.” Ashton explained carefully. 

Michael watched with interest as Ashton demonstrated his technique with the first two cloves. He handed the third to Michael along with the knife and gestures for him to add it to the pan. 

It took him probably three times longer to chop that one clove into the pan, than it took Ashton to do the first two, but he was encouraging and patient. The older man praised Michael for completing the tiny task, seeming genuinely impressed.

Once all six cloves of garlic had been added to the pan, Ashton turned on the hob into a medium heat. “Okay, so we stir this together for about five minutes. Can you do that while I open the tin of tomatoes?” 

Michael nodded, picking up the wooden spoon from the counter and storing the simmering ingredients together. It already kinda smelt like his favourite Italian restaurant and his tummy grumbled impatiently. 

“One thing I should specify is, you need to use tins of whole tomatoes, not chopped.” Ashton explained as he poured the first tin of tomatoes into the sizzling pan. “Can you pour in the second one?” 

Michael did as he was told and watched as Ashton squished the whole tomatoes down and stored them into the red eat of the ingredients. 

“Mmm it smells so good.” Michael sighed, breathing in the delicious smells. 

Ashton looked proud of himself as he offered a smile. “Can you take over the stirring while I add the salt?” 

Michael took the spoon from Ashton, ensuring that their fingers brushed. 

There was a moment of eye contact and a silent shifting of tension between the two of them. If ever there was a time to bite the bullet and kiss Ashton, now would be it. His nerves failed him though and he dropped his gaze to the simmering pan. 

Instead of moving around Michael to pick up the salt as he’d done for the tomatoes, Ashton simply reached past the blonde, pushing him against the counter momentarily before he pulled back to add the salt to the pan. 

If Michael had been fully alert, he’d have recognised that for the flirtatious move it was meant to be, as it was, he put it down to a simple lack of judgement on Ashton’s part and continued to concentrate on stirring the sauce.

***

The tomato pasta tasted as good as it had smelt. It turned out to be exactly what Michael’s hungover body had needed. 

He and Ashton had eaten it at their little table in the kitchen. Conversation had flowed freely as always, skirting around flirtatious at times but never quite enough for Michael to pluck up the courage to take things further. 

“The only thing that would have made that better would have been a nice glass of white wine, but I thought you were still a bit too delicate for that.” Ashton giggled as he picked up the empty plates from the table and carried them over to the kitchen sink. 

“Hey, you drank as much as I did!” Michael pouted, picking up the empty glasses and following Ashton to the sink. “How’re you not hungover.” 

Ashton chuckled as he ran the water into the washing up bowl. “You’re just a lightweight, Mikey.” 

It wasn’t the first time Michael had been called that so it didn’t take him by surprise. He laughed it off as he grabbed a tea cloth ready to dry the dishes that Ashton washed. “One day you’ll stop teasing me, Irwin.” 

Ashton shook his head. “Don’t count on it, babe… you’re too easy to make fun of, that’s not my fault.” 

There it was again, that little slip, a fond nickname that roommates probably shouldn’t have for one another. 

Quickly pulling himself together, Michael nudged his flatmate in the arm, just hard enough to pull a surprised “oof” from him. 

“Careful now.” Ashton warned jokingly. “You don’t want to start a scuffle you can’t finish, Clifford.” 

Michael threw caution to the wind and nudged Ashton again, deliberately keeping his gaze on the plate he was drying. 

“That’s it!” Ashton huffed, scooping up a handful of bubbles and swiping them across Michael’s face. 

The blonde spluttered and shook his damp fringe out of his face before fixing Ashton with a glare. A few acts of retaliation flashed through his mind. He could have whipped Ashton with the tea cloth or splashed him with dishwater but none of that happened. 

There was something about the way Ashton’s eyes were sparkling, almost like he was daring Michael to do the thing he’d been too scared to do this whole time. He refused to let another opportunity pass like before when they were making the pasta sauce. Michael tried not to overthink as he stepped forward and cupped Ashton’s face with one hand before leaning in and kissing him. 

The raven-haired man’s lips felt every bit as soft as they had done on that night seven months ago. Ashton didn’t kiss back with the same hunger and desperation that he had done back then, though. 

Michael stepped back, feeling his cheeks heat up in an embarrassed blush. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Ash…” 

Ashton bit his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at Michael intently. “No…” He said, finally breaking his silence. “You just shouldn’t have waited so long.” 

The older man’s words had barely penetrated Michael’s brain before he was being  pressed against the counter behind him. Ashton’s lips were on his again but this time they were working just like they had been that night at Ashton’s old place. 

The intense kiss pulled a whine from Michael and he automatically wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck. 

It started as a fairly simple kiss but it quickly began to build momentum. It was the crack in the dam holding back all of their emotions for all this time. 

“Ashton…” Michael gasped as they pulled apart for air. “I know we said we should just be friends but…” 

“Fuck being just friends.” Ashton mumbled as he worked kisses down Michael's neck. “I can’t pretend anymore.” 

Those words were all Michael needed to hear in order to relax into this. “I can’t tell you how bad I’ve wanted this.” He whispered. 

Ashton slipped one of his thighs between Michael’s as he nipped at the blonde’s neck. “I think I have some idea.” He groaned. “I never stopped thinking of the way you moaned my name that night, Michael.” The older man confessed, pulling back just enough to look Michael in the eye. “Wanted it again since the moment I walked in here.” 

The way Ashton was looking at him like he wanted to devour every inch of Michael, had the blonde melting. “Me too.” He crashed his lips against Ashton’s in another desperate kiss as he subconsciously rutted against the older man’s thigh. After the months Michael had spent feeling kind of lonely and touch-starved, the tiny amount of friction was enough to have him whimpering against Ashton’s lips. 

“Uh, you sound and taste even better than I remember.” Ashton muttered, pressing his thigh harder against Michael’s crotch to pull another little gasp from him. 

“Ashton! Fuck, please, I…” Michael’s head tipped back as he lost his fight to regain any sort of control over his own body. He was in Ashton’s control now, and Ashton knew it.  

“Come on…” Ashton coaxed, stepping back from Michael as he took both of his hands in his to pull him away from the kitchen counter. Michael whined high in his throat as he easily followed where Ashton led. 

Michael had hardly been into Ashton’s bedroom since he had helped him move some furniture the day he moved in; it had almost felt too intimate to go into Ashton’s personal space given the history between them. Seeing it now, cozy and dark with slithers of light coming through the window from the lamp posts outside, gave Michael a chill; it felt like Ashton was sharing a secret with him.

He followed Ashton’s lead dutifully all the way to the bed, accepting the deep kiss Ashton offered him as a reward, before the older man peeled his oversized sweater from his torso, breaking away to pull it over Michael’s head. Michael wanted more contact, but was disappointed when Ashton gently but decisively laid him down among the crisp sheets, instead. 

Ashton pulled his own t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion and flicked the lamp on his bedside table on, bathing the bed in a warm glow that made Michael feel like he was in a dream. 

Michael gazed in wonder at Ashton as he climbed into bed beside him, letting his eyes travel all over his arms and chest, taking in the extra tone and definition in his body since the last time he’d been able to stare at him like this; clearly, the yoga was doing more than just allowing Ashton to ‘find his centre’. 

He didn’t think he was anything special to look at, but he could see Ashton mirroring his own actions, eyes full of lust searching all over the parts of Michael’s body he could see, and even his gaze lingering on a part he couldn’t.

 “Ash,” Michael breathed out, surprising himself with how far gone he sounded already. “Take ‘em off, I wanna…” He trailed off as Ashton’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, holding eye contact for only a moment before he nodded almost imperceptibly, shuffling down the bed and taking hold of the waistband of Michael’s sweatpants. He returned his gaze to the pale man before him, biting his own lip as he allowed his fingertips to graze the skin of Michael’s hips. “These too?” Ashton questioned in a low voice as he brushed the fabric of Michael’s underwear.    

“Oh God, yeah”, Michael answered, squirming slightly from the infuriatingly gentle feel of Ashton’s touch. Ashton didn’t need to be told twice. Michael shivered with the feeling of being suddenly completely exposed as his sweatpants and underwear hit the carpet. Michael looked up at Ashton through his lashes, braced up on his knees in his black, ripped jeans. “You’d better be planning on losing those in the next second, Irwin.”

Ashton smirked as he undid his jeans. “And I mean your underwear, too!” Michael amended hastily, hungry to see if his memory of Ashton’s body was accurate. 

The dark-haired man’s smirk grew wider at Michael’s clarification, pulling his zip down and allowing his jeans to fall open, exposing only bare skin beneath. “Underwear?” 

Michael’s jaw dropped a little, prompting a deliciously filthy laugh from his roommate. “For the record, roomie - I don’t wear underwear.” Ashton winked as he yanked his jeans down as far as he could in his current position, before wriggling around to pull them off completely. Michael was pleased to see that, if anything, his memory had been selling Ashton short. Blame it on the alcohol. 

Michael didn’t know how to decide on what to do first; on one hand, he wanted to kiss Ashton non-stop for the rest of eternity, but on the other hand, if he didn’t get filled up in the next 10 minutes, he was definitely going to throw a tantrum. Luckily, he realised, it probably wasn’t up to him. All of his experience with Ashton so far told him that the older man would definitely be taking the lead, and this was definitely not a problem for Michael. Indeed, it had worked out very well for him last time, when his staff night out started at the bar and ended with Ashton eating him out like his life depended on it. 

“What are you thinking?” Ashton’s sultry voice broke through his thoughts, apparently wanting a coherent answer despite the fact that he had just begun to run his fingers up and down Michael’s sensitive, pale inner thighs. Michael let out a shuddery breath as he tried to use his words to tell Ashton he wanted anything and everything possible between them, right there and then. Perhaps the way his cock twitched when Ashton let one his nails run over a faded stretch mark right at the base of one of his thighs would speak for itself. 

“Maybe we should get right to, huh, gorgeous?” Ashton teased, withdrawing his touches to lean towards his bedside table. He pulled open the top drawer, fumbling only for a moment until he found what he was looking for. The lube and condom were dropped carelessly onto the mattress as he shut the drawer again, returning his attention to the man almost-beneath him immediately. “We’ve got plenty of time for all the other goods stuff; right now, I need to fuck you, and I know you need me to fuck you...don’t you?”

Michael wondered at what point in his life he had begun to communicate exclusively in whines, but Ashton seemed to be into it, so it didn’t matter. Michael watched impatiently as Ashton popped the top on the half-empty bottle of lube, wasting no time in squirting a generous amount onto two fingers on his right hand and pulling Michael’s leg fully around his hip with his left.

Michael’s heart jumped as much as his cock when Ashton breathed gently on the lube coating his fingers in an attempt to warm it slightly before he brought them straight down to Michael’s bare hole, rubbing over it in a firm circle.

Michael was glad he didn’t have the problem of not wanting his roommate to hear him getting fucked, anymore, as he let out his loudest, neediest whine yet. Ashton proved he had meant what he said about not taking their time with their second tryst, sinking his index finger inside Michael in one fluid motion. Before Michael had got to 10, Ashton was opening him up at a steady, delicious pace and was driving Michael crazy in record time. 

Michael wouldn’t claim to be a pornstar or anything, but he didn’t normally have a problem with stamina. If Ashton kept it up like this, though, Michael was in danger of coming before Ashton’s thick cock got any closer to him, and that was unacceptable.

“Ash, please, I can’t...I want, ne-your cock, please!” Michael cried out as Ashton probed his spot one last time before immediately acquiescing to Michael’s begging. Michael wriggled at the loss of Ashton’s fingers, but took comfort in the fact that Ashton was already tearing the condom packet open. 

Michael watched in awe-tinged anticipation as Ashton gave himself a couple of loose tugs once he had the condom on, before closing in on his lover once more, making sure Michael was laid comfortably on the pillows as he positioned himself over him. Michael clung to Ashton’s shoulders as he lined himself up, just resting the tip on Michael’s slick hole for a moment.

Ashton’s hazel eyes bore down into Michael’s green ones with a soft fire as he raised one hand to brush Michael’s fringe out of his flushed face. Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as Ashton pushed in - slowly, but all the way.. He felt like he was sinking and floating simultaneously, and wrapped his arms around Ashton’s neck to anchor himself here, with him, in this moment. 

Ashton pressed his face deep into Michael’s neck, kissing and sucking his way up towards Michael’s ear. “You good?” He murmured, shifting his hips a miniscule amount. “Yeah,” Michael breathed, “S’good, please…”.

With a final nip to Michael’s neck, Ashton pulled back slightly and began to move his hips properly, his cock sliding halfway out each time as he began to build a steady rhythm for them. Michael felt that perhaps in their sexual relationship so far, he was earning himself the reputation of a bit of a Pillow Princess, and so he began to move his own hips to meet Ashton’s building thrusts. Ashton groaned, long and loud, at the heightened sensations Michael’s movements brought, and they began to work together towards their goal. 

Suddenly, Ashton’s mouth was crowding his, his tongue sliding into his mouth in a glorious kiss that Michael never wanted to end. He couldn’t tell if it had been 10 minutes or 10 hours when he felt that familiar feeling begin to bubble in the lower stomach. Ashton had begun to up the pace of his thrusts, his hips occasionally stuttering as groans rumbled low in his throat, so Michael knew they were on the same page. 

“Ash,” He murmured in the millisecond between kisses. “Touch me, please, I’m getting so-” Michael broke off into a moan as Ashton was already wrapping a firm hand around his neglected cock, stroking it with determination and flicking his thumb over Michael’s dripping head. “You close, baby?” He murmured, eyes drifting over Michael’s face and the arousal present there. Michael was starting to writhe slightly and his head was flopping to the side on the pillow, but Ashton wanted his attention. With his free hand, he took Michael’s chin and turned his head to meet Ashton’s stare. The moment Michael was forced to meet his strong, heated gaze, his hazel eyes boring down on him with such intensity, Michael felt the kick of heat and it was all over. He cried out Ashton’s name and let out a series of curses and moans as he came, hard and hot over Ashton’s hand and their sweaty stomachs in equal measure.

Michael hadn’t finished himself before he felt Ashton taken by surprise, as well; his hips shooting forward to fill him to the hilt for the last time as he spilt into the condom, releasing Michael’s chin to brace himself through his orgasm on the pillows. “Michael, fuck!”

Michael regained enough control to watch Ashton’s face through hooded eyes as he came, moaning and unrestrained as he finished. He thought he looked heavenly. 

As they both fought to catch their breath, Ashton pulled out gingerly, releasing Michael from his grip as he moved away to remove and dispose of the condom. Michael wriggled in place, trying to get comfortable to recover from what he hoped would be the first of many. Ashton came back from the bin in the corner and flopped back down, alongside Michael now, lifting his arm to allow Michael to snuggle in under it when he wrapped it around him. “So…” He said, sounding casual as you like. “About the whole platonic, friendly, roommate thing…”

masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab  • my masterlist

[the-delta-42]

The Reveal that Wasn’t

Based on This Post by @lenoreofraven

The Reveal that wasn’t

Marinette ducked behind a dumpster as Chat Noir entered the alley, she had just transformed in. Tikki quietly munched on a macaron that was in her purse.

“Alright, Plagg,” Said Chat, making Marinette’s blood go cold, “Claws in.”

A flash of green told Marinette that Chat was now in his civilian form.

“That was exhausting,” Groaned Plagg, “I better get some extra camembert for the number times you used Cataclysm.”

“Sure, whatever, Plagg.” Chat laughed, as he went to leave.

“Although, I don’t think transforming in an alley is a good idea, someone could’ve spotted you.” Said Plagg, his voice starting to grow fainter as he moved away.

“What, and the news that Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste?” Laughed Adrien, as Marinette’s blood turned to ice.

“You need to say that again, I pretty sure that a couple of people in China didn’t hear you.” Said Plagg, as he and Adrien left the alley.

Marinette sat behind the dumpster before she jumped to her feet and raced after Adrien, calling his name and telling him to wait up.

‘I’m going to tell him,’ thought Marinette, as she raced to catch up Adrien, ‘I’m going to tell him how I feel, I’m going to tell him I’m Ladybug and Chat Noir loves Ladybug and Chat Noir is Adrien and Adrien loves Ladybug and… Adrien only loves Ladybug.’

Adrien stopped and turned to face Marinette, his stomach sinking.

“Hey, Marinette,” Said Adrien, his hand finding its way to the back of his neck, “what’ up?”

“I-” Marinette stuttered, her mind now full of doubt, “I’m looking for Alya, I was wondering if you’d seen her.”

Adrien relaxed, he had been worried that Marinette now knew his identity.

“I haven’t seen her since class,” Said Adrien, “maybe she’s still at school.”

“Yeah.” Said Marinette, her mind elsewhere.

‘Adrien loves Ladybug,’ Marinette thought, ‘Chat Noir has been pushing for us to reveal ourselves to each other, but he’s never respected my boundaries and whenever I haven’t appeared for something, he’s thrown a tantrum…’

“See you tomorrow.” Said Adrien, continuing on his way back to the school.

“Yeah…, see you tomorrow…” Said Marinette, as Adrien walked away.

‘Adrien only likes the mask.’ Thought Marinette, as she walked towards the Bakery, ‘He’s never shown any interest in anyone outside of Ladybug, except for Kagami.’

Marinette stopped, before she turned around and raced towards the school. Kagami should be leaving soon, so if she’s fast she might run into her.

Kagami was putting some of her books back in her locker, when Marinette skidded to a stop behind her.

Kagami scowled, her first few interactions with Marinette had not been in a positive light and her most recent interaction had made her aware of Marinette’s more eccentric side. Especially when it involved Adrien or Luka.

“Kagami, I’m glad I found you,” Marinette huffed, her face red, “Are you free this weekend?”

Kagami’s face went from a scowl to a blanche.

“I appreciate the offer but-” Kagami managed to get out before Marinette interrupted her.

“You’re meeting Adrien at the movies, either today or at the weekend,” Said Marinette, regaining her breath, “so are you free this weekend?”

“I-I should be.” Said Kagami, completely bewildered at the apparent change in Marinette.

“Good.” Said Marinette, straightening up, “Okay, now to find Adrien and tell him to meet you.”

“Marinette,” Said Kagami, as Marinette started to walk away, “what’s changed?”

“Huh?” Said Marinette, her expression blank.

“You’ve turned Adrien down multiple times and you’ve contradicted yourself every time he asked you somewhere,” Said Kagami, her eyes narrowing, “but now, your setting me up for dates with him. So, what’s changed?”

Marinette was confused, “The only person I’ve been turning down is some guy over the internet, as far as I’m aware Adrien only sees me as a friend. Despite my wishes to be seen as something more.” Marinette muttered the last part under her breath, but Kagami still heard her.

Kagami silently watched as Marinette left. What Marinette had told her directly contradicted what Adrien had told her, from what Marinette said, Adrien was the one doing the stringing along.

Kagami didn’t know what to think, she only hoped beating some at fencing could clear her mind.

TRTW

Marinette bumped into someone as they walked in the door, she fell back on her rear, while the other only took a couple of steps back.

“Oh, sorry.” Said the person, making her look up. He was one of Adrien’s more recent fencing friends, Ethan, if she remembered correctly.

“It’s fine, I’m currently looking for Adrien.” Said Marinette, as Ethan helped her to her feet.

Ethan scowled, which was missed by Marinette, “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Said Ethan, “Adrien’s been talking about you and what he’s said…hasn’t been kind.”

Marinette’s heart froze.

“R-right,” Marinette stammered, “Could you please tell him that he has a date with Kagami this weekend.”

Marinette then left, leaving a satisfied Ethan and a confused fencer who had witnessed the exchange.

Ethan continued smirking until he saw Adrien chatting with another student.

‘I’m going to enjoy this.’ Ethan thought. Ethan had been watching Marinette for a while, he knew her movements, her daily routine, as many of her secrets as he could decipher. He knew about her continental sized crush of Agreste and how she had started to back off from him, all he needed was for something to happen between the two that would drive a wedge between them and Marinette would be free for the taking.

“Agreste,” Said Ethan, as he walked up to the model, carefully concealing his disgust, “One of your classmates asked me to tell you they’ve set you up on a date.”

“With who?” Adrien asked, wondering if Nino and Alya had something to do with this.

“Tsurugi, Mary was on her way to tell you, before she asked me to pass the message along.” Said Ethan, carefully choosing his words.

“There’s not Mary in my- Oh, wait a minute,” Said Adrien, “You mean Marinette.”

Ethan struggled not to scowl at the fond tone Adrien’s voice had taken. How could he not know how he apparently feels about the girl.

“Yeah, her.” Said Ethan, his eyes narrowing slightly, not noticing a small black creature watching him, “By the way, do you know if she’s free?”

Adrien’s whole demeanour suddenly went cold, “What’s it to you?”

“Well, she attractive, single and,” Said Ethan, “from what I’ve heard, quite exotic, if you know what I mean.”

A hand rested itself on Adrien’s shoulder, making him look towards the owner of it.

“Calm down.” Said another one of Adrien’s fencing mates, “I’m sure Ethan didn’t mean it like that, right?”

“No, nothing meant in that,” Shrugged Ethan, “I’ve just been keeping an eye on her for some time and was just hoping.”

“That’s up to Marinette.” Adrien grit out, before moving past Ethan, “Let’s start.”

Ethan smirked, already of thinking up ways to make Marinette hate Agreste. Sam and Kagami witnessing the altercation, both silently vowing to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

TRTW

Marinette placed the last of the Adrien picture in a bag to go out to the rubbish, her walls now much tidier without the excessive number to pictures. Marinette then sat at her desk and stared at her new desktop wallpaper.

“Now what?” Marinette asked herself, her mind drawing blanks.

TRTW

The weekend arrived too quickly for Marinette’s liking, as she glared at the board with the class schedules on it, carefully placing Ivan and Mylene’s animal shelter event on the board.

“Marinette?” Called her mother, making the girl jump.

“Yes, Maman?” Responded Marinette, going towards her trapdoor.

“One of your friends in here to see you.” Said Sabine.

“Okay, send them up.” Replied Marinette, turning back to the board.

There was a thumping as they climbed the stairs and opened the trapdoor.

“I’m sure Nino didn’t mean to do whatever he did, Alya.” Said Marinette, before the person spoke.

“Why did I let you make me agree to that stupid date?” Came Kagami’s strained voice.

Marinette turned and saw how tense Kagami was, “I take it didn’t go well?”

“No, it didn’t,” Huffed Kagami, which Marinette thought was unlike her, “He kept thinking about that other girl and when he’s not doing that he’s thinking and talking about you and how great you are. How dense is he?!”

Marinette frowned slightly, “Adrien said nice things about me?”

“Yes.” Came the short reply.

“But the other guy said Adrien says bad things about me.” Said Marinette, getting Kagami to look at her.

“Brown hair and blue eyes, looks like an idiot?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s Ethan and he thinks you’re exotic.” Said Kagami, her arms folded, “Adrien didn’t even pay attention to the movie!”

Marinette sighed and turned away from the board, “You know what, I’m going to get some tea, I have a feeling this is going to go on for a while.”

Half an hour later, Marinette returned with a pot of tea, two cups and a plate of cookies.

“Okay, from the top, what happened?” Asked Marinette, as she set the tray down.

The two talked for little over two hours, slowly migrating towards each other, until they were practically side-by-side.

“I don’t even know how to challenge him on it, it’s like he’s being deliberately obtuse!” Exclaimed Kagami, getting a chuckle out of Marinette.

“I know that feeling.” Muttered Marinette, turning her head to look at Kagami.

However, unbeknownst to her, Kagami was doing the same thing. Both stiffened as they unintentionally kissed each other. The two separated, before moving towards each other again. Kagami’s hands went to Marinette’s hair, while Marinette’s hands wrapped around the back of Kagami’s neck. The sound of the teapot falling to the floor jerked the two from their embrace.

“Fuck!” Exclaimed Marinette, quickly running down the stairs and grabbing some kitchen paper, before running back up the stairs and covering the puddle of lukewarm tea with it. Kagami sat there in a daze, until her phone started to go off.

“I’ve got to go.” Said Kagami, as soon as she silenced her phone.

“Okay, I’ll see you…whenever.” Said Marinette, mopping up the tea as Kagami left.

After hearing the door close, Marinette sighed deeply and rested her head against the floor, “Way to go, Marinette, you try to get over your crush and you kiss the one you set him up with.”

Chat Noir tried to ignore the sting in his chest, when he saw Marinette get up. He had followed Kagami to Marinette’s after the former stormed out of the cinema and saw everything to Kagami ranting to Marinette to the two girls kiss.

Why did his chest hurt so much?

Chat was so distracted, that he almost missed a red blot flying over to Marinette. Almost.

Chat zeroes in on the blot, instantly recognising it as a Kwami.

“It’s not all bad, Marinette.” Said the Kwami, floating next to the biracial girl.

“Yeah, at least I now know that Kagami’s a good kisser.” Came Marinette’s sarcastic response, which was followed by a sigh, “Sorry, Tikki, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Tikki. Chat remembered her as Ladybug’s Kwami.

“Marinette’s Ladybug?” Said Chat, getting Marinette’s attention.

“Chat Noir?” Came her surprised tone.

Chat winced, before slowly climbing down through the skylight. Both Marinette and Tikki staring at him.

“I’m sorry.” Said Chat, looking at the floor, “I didn’t mean to find out.”

Marinette sighed, “For the love of- Adrien, sit down.”

Chat froze as soon as she called him by his name, “You-you know…”

“Since Monday.” Confirmed Marinette, holding her arm.

“W-when you said…”

“I was looking for Alya, yeah.” Said Marinette, before spotting Kagami’s jacket.

A few seconds later, there was a knock on the front door. Marinette sighed a headed down the stairs, returning a few seconds later with Kagami. Kagami stopped dead at the sight of Chat Noir.

“Guess who I found on the balcony.” Said Marinette, dryly.

“Plagg, Claws in.” blurted Chat, before transforming into Adrien.

“For the love of- Really?!” Exclaimed Marinette, her hands going to her head, “That’s the first thing you do?!”

Adrien tried to shrink in on himself.

“Could this day get any better?” Marinette asked sarcastically, “First, yours and Kagami’s date goes tits up, then I find you sitting on my balcony and now this?!”

Marinette’s phone started ringing.

Groaning, Marinette answered it, before looking over at her computer and going pale.

“A-Alya, how long has it been on?” Asked Marinette, who looked as if she was going to faint.

Neither Adrien or Kagami heard Alya’s response, only seeing Marinette’s eyes roll into the back of her head and her collapse to the floor.

TRTW

Not even fifteen minutes later, Alya and Nino turned up, Alya carrying smelling salts and Nino a bucket. Without a word to the other two, Nino placed the bucket on the floor and sat Marinette up, positioning both so that they weren’t too far from each other and Alya placed a peg over her nose and unscrewed the lid, before positioning the salts under Marinette’s nose.

Marinette lurched forwards and grabbed the bucket, before heaving into it.

“Why did you do that?” Whined Marinette, leaning away from the bucket.

“You fainted.” Said Alya, “After I told you that Nino and I knew you were Ladybug because you forgot to turn off your web-cam.”

“Oh.” Said Marinette, before she fainted again.

TRTW

Adrien shifted uncomfortably, as he sat in the café waiting for Marinette and Kagami. It had been three weeks since the unintentional reveal and the two girls entering their relationship. Marinette had collared him after patrol and told him that she and Kagami wanted to talk to him.

“I was worried you weren’t going to turn up.” Said Marinette, sliding into the neat across from Adrien, with Kagami sitting next to her.

“Any chance to get away from my room.” Quipped Adrien, looking at his partner.

“Right, so,” Said Marinette, “Kagami and I have been talking, namely about our feelings,”

“Both for each other and other external assets.” Kagami interjected, getting a dirty look from her girlfriend.

“And we still have feelings for you.” Said Marinette, “As well as each other.”

“Okaay.” Said Adrien, not sure what to say.

“We’re open to expanding our relationship with you.” Said Kagami, bluntly.

Adrien was quiet, before he realised that they wanted a response.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Stuttered Adrien, his cheeks going pink.

“Well,” Said Marinette, reaching across and grabbing Adrien’s hand, Kagami doing the same with his other hand, “A yes would be preferable.”

[wordsnwhiskey]

Masterlist & Taglist Updates!

Ok, so part of this is an excuse to show off this amazing board that P @pascalslittlebrat made for me for As It Should Be. JUST LOOK AT IT! (I love you P!)

The other part of this to announce two changes.

Since I've got more than just AISB now, tomorrow, I'll be posting a new masterlist that'll reflect the characters I have some ideas floating around for or who I want to write for in general.

The other thing is that with the change in the masterlist, I'm moving to a form based taglist. It's a lot tidier this way and it'll be easier to make sure that everyone who wants to be tagged gets tagged! I'll include a link in the masterlist and in upcoming fics/chapters [it actually already made an appearance in Statesmen & Demons]

[omegaplus]

# 3,687

Record Store Victory Tour, 2018.

Having three shoulder operations to beat cancer has been the ultimate life victory thus far. It was the most amazing and largest outpouring of support ever. Friends, family, allies, co-workers in good-standing, and even names whom I haven’t seen or heard from in years came to congratulate me and wish me onto a speedy recovery. I don’t know if nine months is what you call “speedy”. Nine months of shoulder replacements, ten weeks of in-home nurse visits, a MRSA infection, six weeks of in-home intravenous antibiotics, and missing two label showcases were balanced out with staying up until 4AM every morning finding endless music (Negril, Robert Ashley, and Steve Khan to name a few), daily postings, heavy amounts of sleep, and Dad’s daily deliveries of free food full of steak, sushi, pizza, chicken, egg rolls, and pasta. With a nine-month blackout period of not leaving the house ever, you had to make the best of it. I knew that after this I would never ever answer to any random nobody about my shoulder. And looking back at it, I say to myself as to why I even let it go so far.

Working for a great company and playing your cards right, you could sit and collect benefits while staying at home doing almost next to nothing. I now had more money in the bank when I last left work. So I promised myself that after I fully recover, I’d treat myself like I never had before. I decided that I would go on a record-store victory tour. I would hit up each and every independent record place, go crazy, and buy up everything I can. After nine months of being bed-ridden and staying home, I needed to treat myself with retail therapy. I needed to get out there and be myself again. Of all I been through and endured, I deserved it.

I didn’t immediately do it, however. It took me a few months to earn back the $2,000 I lost in savings when the benefits ended. While that happened, I enjoyed hot August days walking from my house to the veteran’s park and back, witnessed my ex- Yenny get married, attended Hospital Productions’ 20th Anniversary showcase (a day I will never forget), had a night out in my neighborhood Dave & Busters with my co-workers, and started getting in touch with a Brooklyn witch. I made two label orders with Italians Do It Better and RRRecords which help things get started. As you see, it only got better.

February came and we got a surprise $1,000 from our company. Tax refunds and a third paycheck of the month sealed the deal and all systems go. My first stop was at Patchogue’s Record Stop, their new location since moving from their Shirley warehouse, and thumbed through whatever old-school hip-hop, 12” singles, and other small easy victories I could find. It wasn’t until places like West Sayville’s Vinyl Paradise was when spending three hours minimum searching in stores and $200.00 a visit on music was normal. I can also count West Babylon’s Looney Tunes, Mineola’s Mr. Cheapo’s, and Amityville’s High Fidelity who could’ve matched the totals I had from that store. It’s all about finding the most for less. Whether it’s Seventies’ jazz / fusion on vinyl, discount 12” singles, used CDs, dollar hardcore / punk 45’s, or other long-awaited finds, amassing history and style points is the most self-serving and exciting hunt I take part of. Other stores such as Northport’s Record Reserve, Massapequa’s Infinity Records, Riverhead’s Sunday Records, and Rosie’s Vintage (the smallest of them all) allowed for tidier spaces and friendlier prices for me to walk out with, with smaller receipts ranging from a mere $30.00 to $100.00.

Of course, with many victories come disappointments. Plainview just opened a new store called Vinyl Bay 777. It’s one of the cleanest and shiniest stores on the island, but also the most expensive. With a penchant for ambition and grading, their selections are anywhere from three to five times the price of what you’d find in others store. It was the only experience of the tour that I left feeling poor and let down. The other disappointment? Innersleeve Records all the way at the East End / Amangansett. Why? I’m disappointed that I wasn’t able to go.

And almost every store have their own legacy. Record Stop’s been around since 1974 starting in Ronkonkoma, then shuffling to a warehouse in Shirley before finally settling in Patchogue. The family-owned and highly-awarded Looney Tunes had survived a summer fire and took them 90 days to rebuild. This year they’ll celebrate their 50th anniversary. Mr Cheapo’s has two locations, the only store on the island to do so. High Fidelity moved to larger and cleaner digs which solved their storage issues. Record Reserve just moved again; their fourth time in ten years of operation. Infinity Records was the only store on the ropes during the pandemic relying on crowd-funding to make up for the rent. Rosie’s Vintage isn’t owned by Rosie. In fact, Rosie doesn’t exist. It’s a rockabilly wife named Thea who owns an antique store. And you can’t get any literal than Sunday Records, which is only open on Sundays. It’s the only store I know who classified their records not on genre but radio stations and chart positions.

The entire experience was great and I looked to do it again the year after. Unfortunately, I had lots of traffic tickets, fees, and violations to pay. With a vehicle in disrepair and an expired inspection, driving out in daylight without the police spotting me was not ideal. Then I looked to do it last year, and we all know what happened. The pandemic paralyzed and killed businesses left and right. With immediate closures and stop of life, everyone stayed home for their lives.

Next time, it’s going down.

Essential money was saved all throughout the pandemic. Two stimulus checks later, a third on the way, tax refunds, a third bi-weekly check in April, and a bank transfer means I’m ready to do it all over again. In fact, it’s already started! Rough Trade announced it’s relocating from its’ Williamsburg spot. With 25% off books, merchandise, and CDs, it was an incentive to get to it. With me waiting forever to go, now was the chance. I found the perfect March Wednesday to do it and I finally made it happen. What you’ll read later on became the most expensive purchase I ever made at a record store, and also the greatest.

Most locations (except Vinyl Bay 777, replaced by any given one New York City store) are on the list for the next record-store tour. I healed mostly from last summer’s depression and I had a trouble-free winter. With a day out at Williamsburg’s Rough Trade, the spring euphoria and hope came back like it did the first time around. With money in the bank, vaccines, and everything coming back into play, it’s time to have fun again like I want to.

For those who can’t be harassed by looking up our series and reading our visits one-by-one, here’s the final results of 2018’s tour:

Mic Geronimo “Masta I.C.”

Jemini The Gifted One “Funk Soul Sensation”

Hi-Tek “Hi Teknology”

Schoolly D “Livin’ In The Jungle” b/w “Gucci Again”

Richie Cole New York Afternoon

Dott & Night School Carousel split e.p.

Joe Beck self-titled

Chick Corea Return To Forever

Hank Crawford Hank Crawford’s Back

Steve Khan Tightrope

Tappan Zee label Best Of…

Shabba Ranks “Ram Dancehall” b/w “Original Woman”

D&D All-Stars “1, 2 Pass It”

Rayvon “No Guns, No Murder”

Doug E. Fresh & Beenie Man “Hands In The Air”

Black Moon “Black Smif-N-Wesson” b/w Smif-N-Wesson “Headz Ain’t Redee”

Goats, The “Burn The Flag” b/w “Typical American”

Little Shawn “Don Perignon”

Specials, The More Specials

Lee Ritenour The Best Of…

Steve Khan Arrows

Genesis Invisible Touch

Vacancies, The Tantrum

Nobodys, The Generation XXX

Easy Action Friends Of Rock & Roll

New Bomb Turks Scared Straight

Roots, The Do You Want More?!!!??!

Eric B & Rakim Don’t Sweat The Technique

Boogie Down Productions Edutainment

X Clan Xodus

Lords Of The Underground Here Come The Lords

Buckshot LeFonque self-titled

Channel Live Station Identification

Funkdoobiest Brothas Doobie

Method Man & Mary J. Blige “I’ll Be There For You” / “You’re All I Need”

GZA / Genius Liquid Swords

Milk Never Dated

Naughty By Nature 19 Naughty III

Das EFX Straight Up Sewaside

Grand Puba 2000

Naughty By Nature Poverty’s Paradise

Ol’ Dirty Bastard Return To The 36 Chambers (dirty version)

George Michael Faith

Cabaret Voltaire The Arm Of The Lord

Nitzer Ebb As Is

Strawberry Switchblade Who Knows What Love Is?

Steve Jones Mercy

Patti Smith Easter

Ramsey Lewis Tequila Mockingbird

Doors, The Greatest Hits

Cabaret Voltaire Drinking Gasoline

Utah Saints “Something Good”

Image In Vogue self-titled EP

Steely Dan Pretzel Logic

No Age Losing Feeling

Dead Or Alive “Brand New Lover”

Cabaret Voltaire The Drain Train

Public Image Ltd. “Home”

Gary Numan “Cars” / “Metal”

Malcomb McLaren “Soweto” b/w “Zulu’s On A Time Bomb”

J. Geils Band “Centerfold” b/w “Rage In The Cage”

Fad Gadget “One Man’s Meat” b/w “Sleep”

Tony Basil “Mickey” b/w “Hangin’ Around”

Stray Cats “(She’s) Sexy + 17” b/w “Lookin’ Better Every Beer”

Madness “Our House” b/w “Cardiac Arrest”

Todd Rundgren “Hello It’s Me” b/w “Cold Morning Light”

No Age Eraser 7”

Suzanne Vega “Luca” b/w “Night Vision”

Siouxsie Sioux & The Banshees “Hong Kong Garden” b/w “Night Vision”

Nice & Wild “Diamond Girl” 12″

Shabba Ranks “Mr. Loverman” 12″

Dire Straits self-titled

Mad Skillz “Nod Factor” 12“

Boogiemonsters “Recognized Thresholds Of Negative Stress” 12″

Blahzay Blahzay “Danger!” 12″

Harold Faltermeyer “Axel F” 12“

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Malcomb McLaren & The World Famous Supreme Team “Buffalo Gals” 12″

Self Defense Family “Self Immolation Family” b/w “World Virgins” 7”

Peter Gabriel Security

Mantronix The Album

Eric Gale Forecast

Arsonists As The World Burns

Beat Street motion picture soundtrack

Kool & The Gang Light Of Worlds

Dire Straits Making Movies

Shirts, The Street Light Shine

Belinda Carlisle Belinda

Makers, The Rock Star God

Bug, The Infected

Peter Gabriel Car

Filter Short Bus

Warzone Fight for Justice

Mood Doom

Jane’s Addiction Nothing’s Shocking

Depeche Mode Ultra

Curve Cuckoo

Prurient & Kevin Drumm All Are Guests In The House Of The Lord

KMD Mr. Hood

Sonic Youth Evol

Algiers self-titled

ESG A South Bronx Story deluxe disc

No Age Nouns

Greymachine Disconnected

Killing Joke Hosannas From The Basements Of Hell

Television Marquee Moon expanded disc

Esther Phillips Capricorn Princess

Severed Heads Cuisine With Piscatorial

Elastica self-titled

Sonic Youth & Mats Gustavsson & Merzbow SYR8

Killing Joke Pandemonium

Eric Gale Multiplication

Front Line Assembly Echoes

Wavves  King Of The Beach

Strawberry Switchblade Since Yesterday 12”

Bjork Telegraph

Public Image Ltd. Second Edition

Esther Phillips Performance

Hatebreed The Rise Of Brutality

Killing Joke Night Time

Wilbert Longmire Champagne

Grover Washington, Jr. A Secret Place

Young Black Teenagers “Tap The Bottle” 12”

Sagat “Funk Dat” 12”

Crash Crew “Breaking Bells (Take Me To The Mardi Gras)” 12”

Prurient Pleasure Ground

Victory Records Victory Style II

Esther Phillips & Joe Beck For All We Know

Sonic Youth Confusion Is Sex + Kill Your Idols

Swell Maps A Trip To Marineville

Severed Heads Rotund For Success

Whodini Escape

Killing Joke Revelations

Stop The Violence Movement, The “Self-Destruction” 12”

Eric Gale Part Of You

Professionals, The “The Magnificent” 7”

Guyana Punch Line self-titled 7”

Heart  self-titled cassette

Cars, The Shake It Up

Rolling Stones, The Some Girls (cut-out)

Peter Gabriel Melt

Weather Report Heavy Weather

A Clockwork Orange motion picture soundtrack

Genesis Abacab

Laura Nyro self-titled

Stranglers, The IV

Samantha Fox I Wanna Have Some Fun

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Cars, The Candy-O

Peter Gabriel Scratch

Debbie Gibson Out Of The Blue

Spent Idols “Chinese Suicide” b/w “Gacy’s Gone” 7″

Out Cider D.C. label Raise The Flag: DC Hardcore Vol. 1 7″

Blackbyrds, The Action

Deodato 2

Jon Lucien The Best Of…

Bob James 2

Hubert Laws Romeo & Juliet

Deodato Love Island

Rolling Stones Undercover (stickered)

Bob James 3

Deodato Whirlwinds

George Benson White Rabbit

Bob James 4

Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth Mecca & The Soul Brother

Jedi Mind Tricks Legacy Of Blood

Naughty By Nature self-titled

M.I.A. Arular

P.O.S. Never Better special edition disc

Unseen, The Explode

Richard Hell & The Voidoids Blank Generation

M.I.A. Kala

All Dogs 7”

Last Shop Standing DVD

Katt Williams The Pimp Chronicles Vol. 1 DVD

Jerky Boys, The Stop Staring At Me cassette

Paula Abdul Forever Your Girl cassette

Up In Arms / Eternal Youth split 7”

Defiant Trespass / Cold Like December split 7”

Make Or Break Down For Life! 7”

Arcadius / 7654 Stories split 7”

Pissed Jeans demo 7”

Search Bloc Life, By The Code 7”

Proud Youth Nothing’s Changed 7”

UN Bodies Unremarkably Mortal 7”

Force Of Change The Bond We Share 7”

Self Defense Family “Indoor Wind Chimes” b/w “Cottaging”

Tolerate self-titled 7”

Joe South & The Believers “Walk A Mile In My Shoes” b/w “Trespass”

Bread And Water / Reason Of Insanity split 7”

Stigmata There Is No Mercy Here 7”

Degenerats, The 7”

Monster X 1993 demo 7”

Last Dead Word 7”

Let It Burn From Jersey With Love 7”

Slak Another Disaster 7”

Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These” 7”

Toni Basil “Mickey” 7”

Squeeze “853-5937″ 7”

Nena “99 Luftballons” 12”

Staple Singers City In The Sky

Unsung Heroes “What Would You Do?” 12”

White Mystery self-titled

D.S. 13 Vad Vet Vi Om Kriget?

Killing Joke Brighter Than A Thousand Suns

Marc Hurtado & Vomir 2011 / Sang+

Razed In Black Shrieks, Laments, And Anguished Cries

No Future Plan Of Attack

Die Krupps & Front Line Assembly Remix Wars

Maldoror She

Self Defense Family Heaven Is Earth cassette

Unholy Archangel The Wrath Of Kosmostistis cassette

Tod Hate Campiagn, Hymn To The Death cassette

Krieg Blue Miasma cassette

Hekseri The Atrocity (Early Demos) cassette

Crebain Under Black Wigs Of Night cassette

Riddle Of Meander End Of All Life And Creation cassette

Black Flame Torment And Glory cassette

Xasthur self-titled cassette

Krieg Songs For Resistance cassette

Striborg A Procession Of Lost Souls cassette

Tod Black Metal Manifesto cassette

Laura Nyro Christmas And The Beads Of Sweat

Genesis Invisible Touch

Clash, The Black Market Clash 10″

Delegation The Promise Of Love

Herbie Hancock “Rockit”

B-52’s, The Wild Planet

Blondie Parallel Lines

Spyro Gyra Catching The Sun

Brecker Bros. self-titled

Herb Alpert Rise

Heart Dreamboat Annie

Tom Scott Blow It Out

Pat Metheny American Garage

Martha Velez Escape From Babylon

Stanley Turrentine Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

Bob James & Earl Klugh One On One

Sister Sledge All-American Girls

Black Moon “Who Got The Props?” b/w “Fuck It Up”

Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock “It Takes Two”

Shannon Let The Music Play

Jellybean “Wotupski?”

Fu-Schnickens “Sum Dum Monkey” b/w “Visions (20/20)”

Tortoise & Autechre “Adverse Camber” b/w “To Day Retrieval”

Shirts, The Inner Sleeve

Freedom U.S.A. Hardcore

Coke Bust Confined

Ressurection I Am Not: The Discography

Spit It Out self-titled

Vice Flawed

Terror The Walls Will Fall

This Is Hell Bastards Still Remain 

Subterfuge Fight Back 

Bikini Kill self-titled single red 7″

Hangman A Vile Decree 

Dead Kennedys “Nazi Punks Fuck Off!” (with lyric bag and armbands)

Until Your Heart Stops We Are Not Coming Down

Corrective Measure self-titled

Soft Cell “Tainted Love”

Kraftwerk “Pocket Calculator” b/w “Dentaku” clear yellow 7”

Six Weeks label America In Decline CD

Tear It Up The December 2000 Sessions CD

Dee Cracks “Be My Valentine” red heart-shaped flexi

This Means War “Use It Up” flexi

Broadcaster b/w Aspiga (Secret Audio Club Wax Pack)

Marathon b/w Fire When Ready (Secret Audio Club Wax Pack)

Sugarhill Gang “The Lover In You” 12”

Grover Washington Jr. Mister Magic

Carmen McRae In Person

U.T.F.O. “Roxanne, Roxanne” 12”

Ahmad “Back In The Day” 12”

DJ Yella “4 Tha E” 12”

L.A. Style “James Brown Is Dead” 12”

Knucklehedz “Hed Rush” 12”

Flatlinerz “Live Evil” 12”

Blondie “Rapture” 7”

Chemical Brothers Come With Us

Royal Trux Thank You

Delerium ft. Sarah McLachlan & DJ Tiesto “Silence”

Prime Minister Pete Nice & Daddy Rich “Rap Prime Minister & Daddy Rich (Rat Bastard)” 12”

[sugaurora]

to look within | 01

Strange to see the pieces laying there on the floor, so perfect when placed together save for the web of cracks along the surface.

Chapters: 01  02  03

Pairing: Yoongi x Female Reader

Genre: Producer!Yoongi; Angst

Word Count: 2400+

Warnings: Profanity; Sexual content; Mutual pining?; Cheating mention; Depiction of post-traumatic stress symptoms

Sequel to: To Be Without. The events here will make more sense if you read that story first.

If you enjoy my writing, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi!

Crossposted to AO3

Writing Masterlist

“She’s finally asleep,” Yoongi whispered, slumping against the hallway wall just outside the bedroom. You nodded and peeked behind him before heading towards the living room. There was no way you wanted to chance for a second that she might hear your voices and stir again. You heard his quiet steps follow you to a safer place to talk.

Yoongi’s cozy one-bedroom apartment was tidier than you always expected, if only for the lack of things in it. In the main room of the space, a tv hung on one wall, a couch set up across from it that doubled as Yoongi’s bed. A small, cloth mat, bright with colors was laid out near the window, host to a small collection of Sowon’s drool-covered toys. The rest were organized neatly in the single bedroom which looked miles different from the bare white of the rest of the place. Yoongi had decorated it in pinks and yellows, hung glow-in-the-dark stars and fairy lights and storage for Sowon’s supply of toys and clothes. If only he’d take care of himself as well as he did your daughter.

Sowon was three months old now and occasionally he had trouble getting her down for the night. His new place was only a twenty-minute walk from yours, so you high-tailed it over as you had a few times before to help him lull her to sleep.

“Thank you for coming over yet again,” he sighed, his smile filled with gratitude. He headed to the fridge to find you something to drink, a habit he’d kept since the first night he’d called you over in a panic. Assuming, without words, that you’d be thirsty after making the walk and soothing your daughter. It was such a Yoongi thing that you didn’t even question it, just accepted the gesture. “Nothing I was doing was helping.” You nodded in understanding and accepted the cool bottle of water Yoongi pressed into your hands.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” you encouraged, then took a deep swig from your bottle. He was right after all, you were thirsty.

You both shared everything about Sowon’s life, clearing schedules with each other to make sure someone could always watch her. Since breaking up, Yoongi had taken a job as an in-house producer at an up and coming entertainment firm. The regular daytime hours took a lot of adjustment, and it also meant that your mother often watched Sowon during the day while you both worked. Evenings you usually both traded off, adjusting for each other's social lives and overtime commitments.

Sowon was nothing short of an angel, even with the constant back and forth. She had her father’s eyes, your nose, and plump lips from somewhere between your genealogies. Most times she was a calm baby, sleeping at the drop of a hat, observing much more often than fussing. But occasionally she refused to be put to bed, crying for one of you to come and rock her or sing to her before she would sign off.

It was on those nights that Yoongi reached out to you for help.

He stood in front of his fridge door, staring inside as if trying to will food to knit itself together before him. He had lost a noticeable amount of weight in the wake of your breakup. And the sharp lines of his jaw, the loss of muscles he’d been slowly building up told you that he hadn’t put much effort into getting it back. You hadn’t even seen his workout equipment since you’d both moved, the dumbells disappearing along with happier days.

“Have you eaten at all?” you asked, then bit your tongue lightly at the question. Damn old habits. Taking care of Sowon meant you’d had to push everything else between you both aside. You didn’t talk about what had happened and your conversations had become focused on your daughter and the occasional chat about work. Neither of you seemed to want to test the waters for anything deeper, which was fine by you. Easier.

But as time passed and you got used to the rhythms of parenthood, things had been slowly growing less awkward between the two of you. So you slipped sometimes, like falling into an old pair of jeans.

You headed over towards the fridge, setting your half-drunk bottle on the counter and smiling as you peered inside. There wasn’t much there. Eggs, kimchi, a half-eaten sandwich. A couple of takeout boxes that were who knows how old. And the bottles of breast milk you’d dropped off earlier in the evening.

“Still keeping up the superior nutritional habits, I see,” you joked.

“I meant to shop, but work ran late and I didn’t want to throw off your evening by not being in time for Sowon.” He grimaced. “Though I did it anyway.”

He let the fridge door close with a sigh, removing the only thing between you both. In his tiny kitchen, it suddenly prickled across your skin exactly how close you were to him.

“Guess I better find something to order,” he said, smile sheepish.

“If you’ve got some leftover rice in there, I can make you something,” you offered. Old habits. His smile turned bright, a gentle hand reaching for yours, taking your wrists in his fingers.

“Fried rice?" he asked, eyes twinkling. "Fuck, I miss your fried rice.”

“I promise I’ll only charge half the delivery fee. And it’ll taste at least half as good too,” you laughed. Yoongi laughed with you, and for a moment everything was nice. Happy. But standing so close and staring into his cat-like eyes, some defense dropped in you both. The air changed in that tiny kitchen, the drop leaving you almost dizzy.

His hand gripped your wrists a little tighter, the smile fading from your face, both your giggles gone quiet. You felt him draw closer, body leaning against yours, the heat from him seeping past your clothes. His eyes stared into yours for what felt like a lifetime. And then his lips were on yours and your hands were tangled in his hair. He gripped your waist, stumbling across the room and letting you both fall back onto his couch-bed. His tongue was feverish, your need even more so.

Yoongi knew your body like no one else could, lips, hands, breath finding each spot that let gentle moans waft from between your lips.

“Yoongi,” you panted. His hand squeezed your tender breasts through your t-shirt. God, his hands. How much you’d missed them, strong, lithe fingers. And he could wrap you around each one.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby.” His lips were just below your ear, kissing and licking. The heat of him spreading down, blazing between your thighs. You could feel his stiffness pressing against you and you melted against him, hungry, desperate for it all, all of him.

As his hand slid underneath your shirt, you flinched. You hadn’t let anyone see you there, didn’t want him seeing you, still embarrassed about the marks childbirth had left on your body. Childbirth of you and Yoongi’s baby. Yoongi kneeling on the floor of your apartment, naked and pleading and ashamed, holding your pregnancy test. Yoongi burying his cock into that woman on your bed, over and over while you watched from the bedroom doorway, unable to peel your eyes away, unable to breathe, to scream.

Take it deeper you fucking slut.

Time slowed. You couldn't feel his hands anymore, his lips. You felt yourself float away from your body. For an instant. For a day.

And then suddenly you were back, time slamming into you as your breath struggled to catch up.

You didn’t remember shoving him away. Only the echo of your scream ringing in your own ears as you pulled your knees to your chest while you eyed him from the other side of the couch. His cheeks had turned pink, dark hair tousled from your hands in it. Lips swollen from your kissing, tent in his pants still easily visible. You were gasping for air as though it had all been knocked out of you.

“Y/N-” he started, reaching for you, eyes wide in surprise.

“No!” you said, half-screaming, barely recognizing your own voice. “No. Don’t.” It was too much. You were disoriented, confused about what had just happened, about why you’d let it happen. He had hurt you and here you were kissing him, ready to give yourself to him as if nothing had ever changed. As if he hadn’t changed everything.

You scrambled up from the couch. “I h-have to go.”

“Y/N, wait, please. I’m sorry, I-”

Both your heads snapped up at the sound of Sowon’s cries. Yoongi looked back at you, desperate to finish his sentence, but you were already off, back down the hall as fast as you could move. Your baby needed you. You didn’t hear him follow, couldn’t hear anything beyond her wailing. But he showed up next to you all the same.

This time it took a little longer to soothe her to sleep. Whether from the echoes of your scream or the way your heart was thudding in your chest, she squirmed and sniffled, until peaceful sleep slowly, finally found her again and you laid her back into her crib, stroking trembling fingers across her perfect forehead.

Yoongi didn’t say a word the entire time, watching over you both, handing you a burping cloth quietly when you thought she might spit-up. But nothing else. And now with Sowon down, you felt yourself wanting to claw out of your own skin. It was time to go, you had to get out of there. You turned on your heel and pulled yourself towards the front door, to the exit.

Yoongi didn’t follow immediately and you thought for a merciful second that he would just let you go, would see that you both needed to forget. Then you heard his footsteps in the hall as you neared the door.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t. Please, Yoongi, let’s just forget it.”

You tried to clear your head, focusing on pulling on your shoes. Why wouldn’t your hands just stop shaking?

“You have plenty of bottles to get through the night and Sowon’s finally asleep.” You had to get out of there. It felt like you were suffocating, unable to process anything else. “I’ll be back for her in the morning before work.”

He was quiet as you buttoned your coat, but as you reached for the doorknob, his hand grasped your other.

“Y/N, can’t we talk about this? Please?”

You flinched involuntarily and knew the response hurt him, but you couldn’t look at him. You weren’t ready. You didn’t know if you’d ever be ready.

“Baby, please don’t leave like this.”

It cut so deep. Why did it still sting so badly, like the wound was fresh and bleeding, refusing to heal? So much time had gone by in between, it should’ve done something. But time hadn’t done shit. It felt dramatic, felt like something you should be able to control, to easily move past like everyone else, to get stronger, happier like in the movies. But you couldn’t, hadn’t yet found your strength and it was infuriating and painful, draining and sad.

“Don’t...don’t call me that. We’re not…”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand didn’t let go. You didn’t have the courage to face him. Not because you were afraid of him, but because you didn’t trust yourself. Because if you turned and looked into the face of the man you still loved so desperately, you knew you’d end up back in his arms. And that wasn’t how things should be. They couldn’t be.

You tugged your hand from his, but also let go of the doorknob, turning towards him. But you wouldn’t look him in the eyes. You couldn’t. You settled for his hands, eyes scanning the rough surfaces, the veins you used to absently trace with your fingers.

“I didn’t mean to force myself on you like that,” he said in a quiet, breathless voice. “I’m sorry, alright? Please don’t run away from me.” It was funny, you thought. Yoongi, whose presence always demanded attention, who was impossible to ignore. You’d always felt he was larger than life. And before this moment, you’d never heard him sound so small.

“You didn’t,” you breathed out. “You didn’t force anything. I just can’t.”

“I love you, Y/N. I always have and it hasn’t gone anywhere for me. Please.”

The words were tumbling from his mouth in a rush, like a dam had finally broken. You didn’t respond, eyes still settled on his hands. Something was rising in your throat and it was taking all your strength to ignore it, to press it down as deep as you could manage. Why wouldn’t he stop?

“I know I hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself for it. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking-.”

“Don’t-...I don’t-”

“We’ll never get past it if we don’t talk about it.” His voice was still gentle, still quiet. But you could hear the exasperation. “I’m not saying it will solve anything, but ignoring it won’t either. I know that.”

“I can’t.” You sniffled, realizing you were crying. “I’m...I’m not ready, Yoongi. Please.” Your voice was barely audible, throat thick with tears.

You could tell by his movements that he was nodding. He started to reach up, to pull you into his arms. But he stopped, hands clenching for a moment. Then he reached up and adjusted your coat collar instead.

“..Alright,” he said. “Let me walk you outside.” So small.

At the door to his apartment complex he leaned in, sending a wave of panic through your chest. But he only pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night.”

It was freezing out you guessed, if the small wisps of air escaping your nose meant anything. But you were numb to it if it was, numb the whole way home. You didn’t cry once you were in your bed. You thought you wanted to, thought the heavy sobs might help relieve the tension behind your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t come. You felt locked up, unable to grasp any one thought whole.

That night you dreamt of a water bottle. Swirling with pink and yellow water, growing so tall you were afraid it might come crashing down. But when it fell, you didn’t fight the oncoming wave of pastel. Instead, you closed your eyes and let yourself drown.