#thanks for mentioning my fic darling xxxx

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hiii☺It's my first time asking for a fic!I LOVE your fics so much so i thought i would ask you. I really hope you'll like the idea🤞It's a bit long tho.(smut fic🙊)

Larissa and Reader are best friends, they know everything about each other, they flirt and challenge each other, talk about sex and everything but never had sex. They're close.

Larissa invites R to spend the evening with her in her quarter, have a drink and watch a movie (that they'll never pay attantion to as usual).They talk, laugh and get a bit tipsy and R ask Larissa why she choosed not to have tattoos or piercing and then at some point, Larissa ask "how many piercing do you have? You never told me." So R gets up and show her the one on her nose, her lip, cheeks, a sternum piercing , maybe 3-4 each ear and maybe a lower back dimple piercings (those are ideas, you can add or change the piercing's places) and then she could sit back down and say "and i have my nipples pierced and a Christina's piercing. Would you like too see them too?" (half) joking because she thought Larissa would never say yes (not that she really minded showing her, she trusts her enough) but Larissa sensed the challenge there and decided to take R offguard and say yes, thinking that reader were going to back down, but then R gets up again and Larissa realised that she was REALLY going to show her and her eyes went wide at the idea but she didn't back down.....and then smut smut smut😅

You can add any kinks, toys or both,i'm fine with that!You can also add things about the beginning of the story if you think about something!I hope you want to write it and if not,it's ok too!Thank you xxxx

-Anon🌠⭐-

The Way You Adore Me (Like No Other) ~Larissa Weems xFem BestFriend!Reader

Summary— Larissa and Reader are best friends. They have been for as long as they can remember, the kind of friends who do all together and talk about it all. But what happens when you have a little too much to drink, and you find out that Larissa has a thing for your tattoos and piercings…?

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Anon response— Hi hi anon!! Thank you for your kind words, I greatly appreciate them 🥰 and I love your request! I hope I did your idea justice. Thank you for the request, and welcome to my anons!! (if you’d do me a favor and clarify what emoji you’d like, I’d appreciate that, thank you!) Hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smutty smut, drinking, little angst, little fluff, oral sex (both f receiving), fingering, face sitting, body adoration, tattoos and piercings adoration, teasing, light begging, implied overstimulation, confession of feelings, etc.

Enjoy (;

You sighed in relief as you enter Larissa’s private quarters. Being with your best friend always made everything better. You two just clicked perfectly.

Literally. You were such a good match. You talked about all kinds of shit. You have fun toying with one another, neither of you being one to back down from a challenge. Nothing was off the table when it came to you two.

You dropped your bags by the door, closing it behind you.

“Hey ‘Ris!!”

You called out your close friends name to indicate to her that you had arrived. Larissa had invited you to a sleepover this particular Friday night. She had mentioned something about a terribly stressful week, and being the good friend you were, you immediately took up the opportunity to care for and be with your friend.

“Oh Darling, Hello, Come in!” Larissa exclaimed, coming into the main entrance which connected to her living room, and greeting you.

The tall woman came up to you, giving you side kisses on each of your cheeks and then pulling you into a friendly hug. You sighed into Larissa’s embrace. Her hugs always made you lose all worry in your life.

You then properly came into her quarters, and the two of you ended up sitting comfortably on her couch. Larissa had brought a bottle of red wine and some glasses for you two to share. And like most sleepovers, the two of you planned to put on a movie. Although you both knew you wouldn’t pay much attention to it…

Tonight, you both decided on Three Thousand Years of Longing, a movie with Idris Elba and Tilda Swinton apparently about genies. Neither of you had a particular interest in genie movies, so it was a perfect pick to play in the background and just forget about.

As the movie began, Larissa popped the cork of the wine bottle and poured two glasses out for the two of you. She handed you your glass and you thanked the blonde. You then sat in each others company and just talked.

Larissa spilled all the details about her stress at work, and you as well. You talked and talked, the only thing visibly affecting the atmosphere was the every now and then sex scenes that came up from the movie. It caused a good deal of blushes, breath hitches, and clearing throats…

A couple of hours later the movie was almost over. And you had to confess that your knickers were damp from all the sex sounds that had been coming from the television… You didn’t know, but Larissa had admitted a similar thing to herself.

Your conversations could go in any and all directions. Especially when you were both tipsy. And that you were. By now, your conversation had shifted to talk about tattoos and piercings.

“I know you’ve probably told me this, but why don’t you have any tattoos again?” You tipsily asked.

Larissa took a moment to muse and think about her answer.

“Well, If I ever do get a tattoo, I think it’s important that it matters to me and will matter for the rest of my life… And I have never found something that fits that requirement.”

You hummed and nodded your head in response, going for another swig of wine quickly afterward.

“How many piercings do you now have?” The blonde asked curiously, her eyes lightly roaming up and down your frame.

You pursed your lips and smiled.

“Well… the nose ring, bottom lip, dimples, sternum, nipples, and a Christina piercing.”

You explained each piercing, indicating where each one was as you said it. Larissa’s eyes widened and darkened after every piercing location was revealed to her.

“And tattoos…?” She said, almost sounding breathless.

Larissa had put her wine done at this point. And she had scooted close to you.

“Ooh, I’ve got a lot of those… Wanna see them?”

You had responded in a particularly teasing and playful manner, half-way joking, and not expecting the blonde to take to up on your offer.

Larissa’s eyes sparkle and her pupils dilated at your words. She could never refuse a challenge, especially not from you…

“Yes. And the nipples piercings too…”

You nearly chocked on your own air, as your eyes widened at record speed. It’s not that you minded, you didn’t, you truly trusted Larissa. You just hadn’t expected that from here.

“I—Ok…!” You chocked out, standing up in front of Larissa to give her a better view.

Larissa leaned forward in anticipation, bring her lips and clasping her hands together over her legs. You then started to show the blonde each of your tattoos, one by one. Eventually you finished your tour, leaving your last two piercings.

You had to admit that you were a little nervous. But you were also tipsy. And those two things kind of cancelled each other out in your case.

So you lifted your shirt with ease, showing the woman your piercings on your exposed breasts. Larissa damn near chocked on her wine at the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. Her eyes widened and she fought to keep her mouth from dropping.

Larissa, almost dumbfounded, stood up and walked a few steps forward, where she was right in front of you. She reached out delicately, running a finger around your left nipple piercing. Your breath hitched lightly.

“And then I have my Christina piercing…!” You quickly said, redirecting the focus of the conversation.

Larissa’s eyes popped back up from your tits to your eye level.

“What’s that?” She innocently asked.

“It’s… I…” you stammered, your words lost on you.

“It’s— a piercing above my lower lips…”

Larissa’s eyes widened.

The wine was affecting you both by this point…

“Show me.”

You sensed the woman’s challenge and you decided to just show the woman.

You pulled your skirt down to pool storing your feet, and you carefully moved your underwear to the side, enough where Larissa could see the silver piercing near your sex.

Larissa had no words, and for a moment she just stood there. But you blinked once, and all of a sudden Larissa was on her knees, her mouth attacking your cunt.

Your knees threatened to buckle and your groaned loudly, your hand desperately grasping Larissa for stability.

“Jesus Fuck—!!”

Larissa pulled away after one simple lick, staring up at you with wide eyes. Your breath hitched and you stared back.

“You taste so good…” she whispered.

You wanted to combust right there. Your hips instinctually bucked towards the woman’s face.

“Don’t stop on my accord” you whispered back, your words turning into a groan as Larissa immediately dove in face first.

One of your hands flew to her free locks, which she had unpinned throughout the night. Your other hand desperately cling to Larissa’s shoulder.

Larissa’s tongue expertly lapped through your folds, but only after a swipe around your Christina piercing each time. It was teasing torture.

You groaned out in a whiny and breathy tone after ten minutes of this teasing.

“Oh for fucks sake Larissa— just fuck me already!!”

Larissa didn’t need to be told twice, simply humming in delight into your cunt, and then sliding her tongue into your core. You both moaned out in delight, your grasp at her head tightening.

The woman had you seeing stars minutes after this. Larissa stopped for a moment, coming up to your face and smashing her lips into yours. You moaned at your own taste on her lips. As you did so, Larissa was swift in undressing you.

“Want to see all of you… all of your piercings… all of your tattoos…” she breathlessly pled.

After all of your clothes had been discarded, Larissa playfully pushed you onto the couch. She went to straddle you, her dress still adorning her body.

“Is this okay…?” Larissa asked, a little concerned about her weight on you.

“More than…” you groaned with a post-orgasmic smile.

Larissa smirked and nodded, slipping to kneel right in front of the couch. Her hand grabbed your legs and hooked them up and above her shoulder for her easy access.

You gasped. Larissa then took a second to let her eyes wander at all of your piercings and tattoos. She licked her lips.

You were still buzzing from your previous orgasm when Larissa began swirling a finger around your slick folds. She continued to tease you clit and the entrance to your sex on and off while she sucked and licked and marked your skin. She eagerly focused her efforts on your tatted and pierced area of exposed skin.

Your head rolled back and you let out a breathy groan. Your one hand landed back in Larissa’s platinum locks, while your other was stabilizing yourself against eh couch.

“ ‘Rissa… please…” you breathily moaned, begging the woman to take you and stop all the teasing.

Larissa chuckled, and while she didn’t stop caressing and loving on your exposed skin, she did slip one of her fingers inside your wet heat. You hummed out in delight, her one finger providing your walls something to clench around, while you didn’t feel quite full or stretched yet.

While Larissa pulled and pushed her one digit in and out of you, her mouth was latched onto one of your perky, pierced buds. Strings of more breathy groans and pleading followed out of your mouth.

“M-more please ‘Rissa…!”

Larissa chuckled, pulling her one digit out, and then slipping two fingers inside you. Now this started to stretch you out. You hissed in response, your eyes rolling back.

“Taking me so well, Darling…” the woman cooed, biting your ear lobe where you had your lobe piercing.

“God F-faster—!!” You cried out breathily.

Larissa happily obliged, fucking into you with her fingers at a faster pace. The combination of her two digits and her sultry tone had you cumming a second time for the woman that night.

This time you screamed for Larissa as she made you see stars, and your legs were wobbly and shaking even more than last time.

“That’s it, doing so good…” she encouraged you, helping you over your high.

But she didn’t stop afterwards. No, she showed no signs of stopping. Her lips quickly attached to your clit, and she slid a third finger into your aching and sensitive core. You groaned and hissed, and your hand was pushing Larissa’s head further into your cunt.

Larissa’s hot mouth put the perfect amount of suction against your puffy clit and her three finger combo made you crash over into third, smaller, but still substantial orgasm.

You fell into the couch cushions, going limp, and Larissa finally pulled away, licking her fingers with wild eyes and a wicked smirk.

“W-wearing too many clothes ‘Rissa…” you huffed, completely out of breath, raising your hand lazily and indicating to her attire.

Larissa chuckled and immediately went to unzip her dress. It pooled at her feet, and she was quick to get rid of her silky undergarment set as well. In a second, the woman had you laid back along the couch, as she hovered on top of you.

She licked her lips.

“I was right by the way… you taste insatiably delicious.” Larissa purred, staring down at you.

You gulped and took the moment to admire the woman’s frame above you. Before Larissa could do anything, you raised yourself up and latched your tongue around one of her nipples. Larissa shuddered and let out a yelp.

“I think…” you hummed, letting go of her perky bud with a pop, “It’s your turn.”

Larissa’s eyes widened at your words and she nodded lightly.

“Alright…” she breathlessly spoke.

You looked the woman up and down before deciding.

“Sit on my face.”

Her eyes widened and her expression changed to one of concern.

“Oh. No, I don’t think—”

Larissa was stopped mid-sentence, gasping and groaning, by your lips trailing from her breasts and down her stomache, as you shimmied down the couch and towards her core.

“Trust me ‘Rissa…” you purred, licking through her folds only once.

Larissa’s hips immediately jerked towards your mouth for more. And she let out the hottest moan. She seemed convinced… Larissa carefully positioned herself above your face, you eagerly grabbed her hips and stuffed your face full of her needy sex.

Larissa’s hands landed on the couch to stabilize herself, as her head was thrown back and strings of leud groans and whimpers escaped her pristine lips.

Larissa looked lake a goddess above you, as you lapped away at her folds and into her core. Her hair and tits swayed in tandem, and the moment slowed perfectly for you to just revel and delight in the other woman.

~

When you woke up, you weren’t in your own bed… and you weren’t alone… Twisted in what you assumed to be expensive, silk sheets, you found yourself to be naked and with a strong enough headache.

You knew that you should have laid back on the alcohol…

You looked around and realized that you were in Larissa’s bedroom. And then you looked next to you in the bed, and sure enough, there lay a sleeping Larissa, just as nude as you.

You gasped lightly, sitting up, as all the events from last night came back to you. Part of you felt guilty that you both had been drunk enough, but a bigger part of you was so happy that it had finally happened.

But what if Larissa didn’t feel the same…?

“What’s on your mind, Love…?” A croaky, sleepy, yet still sultry British accent spoke out, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You looked towards Larissa who was still turned towards you, but this time her eyes were lightly opened and her sapphire gaze was upon you. You blushed lightly and sunk back into the bed.

“I… I feel like I may have taken advantage of our drunken state last night…” you whispered, not being able to look the woman in the eye as you spoke.

Larissa’s hand emerged from the covers, lightly directing your face by the chin to meet her gaze.

“Darling. If anything, I took advantage of you. I practically attacked you.” She breathed out.

“No no…” you shook your head, “I loved it.”

Your words came out before you could check them, making you blush even more intensely. At this Larissa chuckled lightly.

“I did too…”

You both smiled at each other, enjoying the newfound silence and love.

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[istorkyou]

The Price Of Love (Modern!Ivar AU)

A Modern!Ivar x F Reader

Warnings - See individual chapters. STRICTLY 18+

Synopsis - Money isn’t everything.

Word Count - 1685

Note - This is the second fic I ever wrote and I’m not sure why I never posted it. I think I started writing The Arrangement not long after and kind of fell out of love with this one. Still, it’s been festering in my completed docs for well over a year so I figure I might as well post it 😬 It’s fluffy, and maybe a little cheesy (and by a little I mean a lot!) so if that’s your bag I hope you enjoy it!

Moodboard - The beautiful moodboard is made the magical, amazing @serasvictoria. Thank you so much xxxx

This was beta read by my aussie wife who has left Tumblr. All love, all the time Lou x

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @momowhoo​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me​ @heavenly1927​​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint​​ @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy​ @petite-hime​​ @serasvictoria​​ @mimiiinspace​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @lonewolf471​​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​​ @draculasbride-blog​​ @love-all-things-writing​​ @southernbe​​ @redhead7799​​ @kaybee87​​ @ivarlover​​ @ivarhoegh​​ @idgafiamallthefandoms​​ @darkphoenix5037​​ @profoundtyrantharmony​​ @snarling-through-our-smiles​​ @crazyunsexycool​​ @xceafh​​ @bragisrunes​​@noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree

Masterpost

CHAPTER 13

The dress comes, it doesn't quite fit right, it’s too long and the bust area is too big. You start to panic.

“My mother has a seamstress on staff, I will call her.” He's on the phone before you can stop him and your heart starts pounding. He leaves the room to speak to her, leaving you to stew in your own nervousness. Surely you won’t have to meet his mother? It will just be the seamstress? Shit.

“They are coming over in an hour,” he announces.

“They?” you gulp.

“Mother is coming. She wants to meet you,” he says, as if it’s nothing, as if you haven’t almost just lost your lunch with fear.

“OK,” nerves are coursing through you and no more words are forming.

The elevator pings an hour later and out strides Aslaug and an equally elegant woman with a pull-along case dragging behind her.

“Ivar, darling,” she pulls him for a hug.

“Mother, I would like you to meet Y/N,” he pulls his mother to you and you can see her run her eyes over you. You wish you had changed out of the short leather skirt and tucked in Nirvana t shirt before she got here, You suddenly feel like an imposter in her presence, like you don’t belong here at all.

“My dear, lovely to meet you,” she shakes your hand. “Esmé, shall we go into Ivars bedroom and get this dress fitted?”

You follow her into his room and Esmé is opening the case of her tools.

“Hi Esmé, thanks so much for doing this, the dress is too long and it’s a bit roomy around my boobs,” your head whips to Aslaug when you say ‘boobs’, is there an acceptable way to mention your tits in front of your boyfriends mother you met twenty seconds earlier?

“That is an issue I always have as well, Y/N,” Aslaug smiles at you briefly.

“So, which designer are you wearing?” Esmé asks you. “Some are easier to alter than others.”

“Oh, it’s not a high end designer, I sourced it from a supplier I use for my shop,” you tell her, walking over to Ivars en-suite where you have hung it on the back of the door.

“Oh! Ok, let me see it then,” Esmé says, you can tell she is a little shocked at your words.

You bring it out and hold it up for them to see, you slowly turn it around for them to see the back.

“Got it!” Esmé says excitedly, “we might also want to make sure the fabric near your bum is snug, don’t want anything on show when you sit down.”

“Oh god I hadn’t even thought of that,” you say with a worried look on your face.

“Don’t worry, will we make it fit like a glove,” she gives you a tiny wink.

“It’s rather plain.” Aslaug says suddenly, eyes on you waiting for an answer.

“Oh, yes it is, I suppose. The back is quite dramatic. It’s totally my style though,” you answered awkwardly.

“What you are wearing now isn’t plain,” she looks at you, but her face is totally neutral.

You can’t read her. Is she just making a statement? Is she being rude?

“Well, Mrs Lothbrok. This is the first time I’ve been to an event like this. I want to wear something that I am totally comfortable in as, honestly, I’m pretty nervous about the whole thing, I’m worried I will mess up in some way, that I will embarrass Ivar. If I am wearing something I love it will be one less thing for me to be stressed out about,” you tell her honestly.

She nods slowly, eyes not leaving you.

Esmé breaks the exchange. “Let's get you into it and we will see what we are working with.” She leads you into the bathroom, closing the door. You turn to face her, you don’t say anything, but your face must have an expression of fear on it. She walks to you, runs her hands up your arms in a comforting way and whispers “you handled it well. She appreciates candour.” You give her an appreciative smile.

“Right!” Esme says in a breezy loud voice, “put it on.”

When it’s on you both leave the bathroom and walk to the full length mirror. Esmé takes out her step and has you stand on it as she surveys the length.

“Y/N, I’ve got some shoes that would be perfect with that dress if you would like to borrow them?” Aslaug offers, “Ivar told me the colour of your dress and we are the same shoe size so I’ve bought some with me, he said you hadn’t found any yet.” Her face is almost hopeful.

“Thank you, that’s very kind Mrs Lothbrok, my heel collection isn’t big and I don’t think boots or Nikes go with this attire,” you joke. You see her smile as she pulls out some beautiful black stilettos with a line of sparkly stones running over them.

“These I think. Do you like them?” She walks over with them in her hands. You can see the name of the designer inside and your eyes widen, knowing how much the cost.

“They are beautiful, Mrs Lothbrok, thank you. I will take very good care of them.” Your eyes don’t leave them.

“Please, call me Aslaug.” Your eyes meet hers and you smile and nod.

“Aslaug. Thank you.”

You slip the heels on and Esmé sets about her work as you and Aslaug chat about your shop and, of course, Ivar. Your face lights up when you talk about him and you can see it pleases her.

When the dress is pinned in place you turn to the mirror to give yourself the once over. Esmé has worked wonders. It looks sensational on you, it’s like she’s waved a magic wand and made you look ten times better than you usually do.

“Jesus, Esmé. You are amazing, look at it!” Esmé laughs at you.

“Now we have the task of getting it off you without stabbing you with any of the pins. I will only need a couple of days for the actual alterations, shall I drop it back here when I’m finished?”

“No, I will come and get it from you, I don’t think your place is too far from my shop so I’ll give you my number, just text me when it’s ready and I will pick it up.” You smile at her. “Thank you so much, I’m so happy with it.”

“You do look radiant in it, Y/N. I take back my comment about it being plain. It’s classic.” Aslaug nods at you. “Jewellery?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Sorted, my best friend is a jeweller and she’s making me something special,” you reply.

“Thank you for hooking me up with Esmé and the beautiful shoes. It’s much appreciated,” you smile at her.

You all head towards the door of the bedroom when you get a sudden burst of bravery.

“Aslaug, can I talk to you alone for a minute?” You smile at Esmé who leaves the room quickly.

“I just wanted to address this ‘‘gold digging’ title I’ve been graciously bestowed by the media,” you say awkwardly, your heart is beating so hard you think it might bust out through your chest, you are wringing your hands together.

“I want to assure you that I am not that. I have never taken anything from Ivar, and I have no interest in his money. I own my own shop, I do alright for myself, I have a strong work ethic and I’m not with him for any other reason than I’m very much in love with him.” You take a massive, steadying breath.

“I know dear, he has told me all about you. Endlessly.” She laughs. “I know that you took him to task over the bracelet he tried to give you. I’m aware you don’t like material things,” she says slowly.

“I like nice things, Aslaug, I just like them better when I’ve worked hard for them and can buy them for myself, that’s what I’ve always done and that isn’t going to change just because my boyfriend is successful.” You shrug. Her eyes narrow at your words.

“There’s no harm in letting the man you love spoil you a bit though, Y/N,” she whispers with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Without wanting to sound like a chess ball, I prefer it when he spoils me with attention and affection. I just hope you understand that I don’t need him. I want him.” You reply. You can see on her face she approves of your response.

“I appreciate how upfront you are, Y/N. Ivar is a brilliant judge of character, and he trusts you completely and therefore so do I,” she tells you and you nod quickly.

You both see them out to the elevator and when the doors shut you feel all the tension leave you.

“So how did it go?” Ivar asks excitedly.

“I’m not really sure if your mother likes me or not,” you grumble.

“Of course she does, I heard her use the word radiant, she’s not free and easy with compliments.”

You notice his gait is more laboured than usual as he comes toward you for a kiss.

“Ivar, please tell me you didn’t spend the whole time I was with your mother pacing the apartment? You are in pain, I can see it.” You hold his hand frowning at him.

“Not the whole time…” he looks at you with puppy dog eyes, trying to avoid a telling off. You tut at him.

“Go and sit down, I will get your medicine.” You walk back into his bedroom to get the tablets he needs. You head back out to the living room and see him lying on the couch.

“Will you rub my legs, please?” he asks tentatively. He’s always shy about asking for this. You smile at him, hand him his pills and a drink and get into position.

“Anytime.”

Chapter 14

[likesomekindofcheese]

We are all fools in love (Queen One-shot for LOC event)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x fem! Reader

Word Count: 2115

Summary: Roger Taylor’s your best friend...but looks like the band may need to give you a little push and you both need to admit the truth. Some good ol’ Friends to Lovers.

A/N: Hello @39-ers​! Here I am- your Secret Santa revealed!!Here is my gift to you for @dtfrogertaylor​ Level of Concern Event! It was fun to write and it was wonderful to get to know you- I hope you enjoy it!!! Also shout out to my beta @spicyspideyme​! for your quick eye and generous input!!

cw: swearing, smoking, bits and hints about sex (but no actual smut), and mentions of fictional violence. Freddie being the matchmaker like he always is in my fics. Matchmake me plz Freddie

“We’re gonna hold hands, but we aren’t together together!” Roger insisted as you walked through the park.

“How come?” you asked.

The autumn breeze chilled you a bit. A couple leaves fell right before your feet. Stepping on them, there was a satisfying crunch that made you smile. A few park workers were taking away the pumpkins for Halloween festivities and replacing them with banners promoting bonfires for November.

“Because I just don’t want you to get lost! This is a bloody huge city! And the crowds are big!” Roger explained, he waved his arms around the place.

The band and you had hit the dry hours. Other than a few workers, you barely saw a soul.

“I think you forgot…I live in this city. Same as you!” you retorted.

Roger shrugged, scratching the back of his head.

“I just want you to be safe!” he cried.

“Well if it makes you feel like I will be safe, I’ll do it” you said.

Pouting slightly, you accepted his large, smooth hand and continued your walk. 

Though the other three just keep laughing in the back at you two making little fusses just like that, eyeing each other at the odd comment and mouths tight shut to keep themselves from laughing.

“It’s like they’re married already,” Brian observed, tightening his red scarf.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but…something has got to got to happen…” John commented.

Freddie waited until you and Roger were far enough away and then turned to the others.

“I’m sick of it! And they are sick of it too! You see it- of all of the sweet glances when the other one isn’t looking! And I’m so fucking sick of hearing Roger keep talking until the cows come home about “how bloody lovely y/n is,” or “y/n did this and it’s amazing! No one’s as smart as y/n!’” he added, lifting his voice up a few pitches to mimic Roger’s.

“Are you lost or what!?” you called behind, looking at the three.

Without another word, Fred led the way quietly for the rest of the walk. But his mind was restless.

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

Roger insisted on visiting the vintage shop with you by his side the next day. Not that much had changed in a day, you said. He refused to hear of it.

Opening the door, you were greeted by a retail worker who pointed you to the rack of sale items. There was the smell of old leather and furs already deep in your nose as you noticed a coat from at least the forties. 

This is Perfect.

You perused prices, ranging from the extreme to the frugal. 

But Fred, knowing you both visited regularly, came in. He stayed away, half hiding behind some blue dresses at least a decade old. 

“Doing anything Sunday, Rog?” you asked.

“I’ve got nothing on Sunday, Sundays are always boring!” he complained.

He stared in shocked awe at a garish orange blouse with ruffles on it before moving to the next item.

“Rog, I think Sundays are nice! They’re quiet, peaceful…”

“Ha! You think! It’s too bloody quiet and only the church is open,” he interjected.

Turning your head, you folded your arms crossly.

“Sunday’s are nice, Rog!” 

One certain outfit caught your eye when you noticed the mannequin, but checking the price tag you shook your head and let out a small sigh.

“Wanna bet!?” Roger said, offering a hand to you with a smile.

Fred stifled a laughter following the ridiculous little bout. He even bent his legs to hide deeper behind the fifties dresses with starched, crinoline skirts.

“No, no need to bet. There are horror movies that come on Sunday night, I’ll show you! You know how much I love horror movies!” you begged.

Roger’s eyes lit up and he blinked. Then his smile returned rather than his immature pout.

“Really, what channel?”

“Rog, you really have to know. Do you really just go to bars and clubs on Sundays? Just get drunk?”

‘Well, at least they aren’t boring, Y/N!” he argued.

Rolling your eyes, you walked over to where there were pants for women. But you couldn’t help but smile. Roger was an intelligent man. He was just an intelligent man with the instincts of a child sometimes. Secretly it always charmed you.

“Whatever just come over. And don’t get drunk. Not yet,” you said.

Freddie had a deep smile on his lips. He stayed hiding in the shop until you both left. He looked right at the outfit you were eyeing.

This is perfect he thought.

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

On Sunday afternoon, there is a red blouse and the nicest pair of pants you had ever seen on your bed, laid out, fresh from the vintage shop. 

Your jaw dropped and you held back a small scream at the sight. The shirt you found was a blouse: smooth as silk. The pants fitted you perfectly: lighter colored with a subtle pattern.Walking in front of the mirror, you looked nicer than you ever had before.

Next to where your clothes had been was on a small piece of paper with typewriting on it:

“Thought you’d like it! Please wear tonight! MY gift! XXXX- Rog” 

“Well…it’s not too girly and it’s not racy at all…but I better put on a jacket to make it safe.”

Biting your lip, you looked at it in the mirror, examining every inch.

But no. Roger could not have meant it. Not for you at least. You knew there had to be some girl. He would buying lingerie for her. There were always crowds of women after him at parties. He was always calling women up and talking to them. 

“There’s just some chick he’s crazy about and he isn’t telling me because he doesn’t want to make it weird…or maybe he’s really into Fred or John or something.”

The thought always made you sad.

“Still, wouldn’t hurt to doll up though, especially if he asked for it…” you thought, feeling that brief glimmer of hope in your belly.

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

As Roger sat in his home, reading while smoking his cigarette like a meditation, there was a sudden knock on the door.

“I’m back already!” Fred announced, slightly muffled from the door blocking the way.

When he walked over, Roger could barely breathe a hello when Fred leaned over closely, taking in a large whiff.

“Oh! You’re smoking! I’m dying for one myself- let’s go out!” he announced, his ringer hand grabbing Roger’s arm.

“It’s fine in here, why?” 

Freddie flashed his full smile and waved away the apartment entrance. Though at the force Roger was being pulled out it was as if he didn’t have a choice

“Well, darling, you don’t need the landlord on your neck for any reason: and it’s lovely tonight! Moon and stars and all that!” he declared.

They wandered out, talking about everything in between blowing out grey smoke. Though Freddie was changing subjects fast and talking a mile a minute, even for Roger’s standards. But he kept up. 

Until he heard her. Y/N’s footsteps and their certain rhythm.

You saw your friends on the side of the block, right outside the flat complex. Finally, you walked up in a light coat, a little odd from the feeling of the outfit. 

Oh God, I’ve known both of them for years…why am I suddenly feeling so odd? I look…I must look like a groupie to them, not myself.

“Oh, Y/N! How are you, dear?” Freddie greeted, waving his arms up.

Waving back, you gave him a small hug. Right as you greeted Roger, you heard Freddie ring out from behind you.

“Have to head out! I’ve got to meet someone for a drink- a sudden date, you would say! Farewell, loves! I’ll return later, Rog!”

He was practically waltzing away from the two of you. There was a pause. The breeze picked up and you held your coat tighter for warmth.

“S’bloody cold, Y/N, let’s go in,” Roger offered. 

He walked into the complex to where his door was. As he took out his key to the door, you began to talk, albeit shyer than usual.

“By the way, thank you for the gift.”

Roger turned to you, head tilted and squinting.

“Huh? What gift?” he asked.

As his key went in, he noticed it was already unlocked. Barely shrugging it off, he opened the door.

It was filled with candles and roses. 

You both gasped, a little shocked and smiling. Though your insides felt like butter. There was distant patter of footsteps a few feet away, like a small stampede of horses. But when you glanced out to the other doors there was no one.

“Roger, it…it looks beautiful!” you praised.

“Why it…it does, but Y/N…I didn’t do it,” he confessed.

He looked down and scratched his head. His cheeks were the color of the rose petals.

“What, really?” you asked.

As you took off your jacket casually to hang it up in the coat closet, Roger kept staring at your outfit. Now his whole face matched the roses.

“That’s…pretty weird. But…nice of them. The boys, I mean.”

“I just got this outfit with a card saying it was from you,” you recalled.

Roger huffed and scuttled over to the chairs and turned the knob on his tv set. He continually checked his watch to be safe for the time.

“Anyway, uh, films on, let’s…let’s watch it!” he blubbered.

 And the mysterious gifts and their origin were left ignored. 

Roger folded his arms and tried his best to stare at the movie best he could, biting back almost a laugh or even a smile.

But as the killer in the movie was revealed, stabbing his screaming victims, you felt Roger’s eyes continually wander to you. First in flutters. Then in glances. Then in staring. You knew because everything you looked up briefly at him, his yellow head turned away.

Both of you sat still. Neither one asked the other for a drink or a snack or anything as the movie went on.

“You do look, really…really nice Y/N,” he complimented.

Your head flipped over. The breath in you stopped and you felt it suddenly flush back in, going a little dizzy.

“I mean, you’ve always looked nice and I swear, I never really…you just look especially nice tonight!” he clarified.

Smiling, you mumbled a thank you, while looking down at your lap.

As the movie went on, you both relaxed a little more. Your shoulders dipped down. A natural grin let up your face. You saw one on Roger as well.

Roger’s hand moved closer. Inch by inch. Then you felt it over yours.

Sweating, you accepted it. Although now the sudden threat of a masked serial killer that lurked in the night was nothing compared to your reality.

You scooted closer to Roger. He scooted closer in kind.He looked into your eyes. You looked in his. 

“Roger…I…just…I just…” you blubbered, words running out before you could stop them.

“What is it?” he asked.

Now they dashed out as quick as the breaking of a dam.

“I’ve always liked you but…liked liked you- oh god, I must sound like a kid.”

“You don’t, you…you actually make perfect sense!” Roger answered, he began to chew his lower lip.

“What d’you mean?”

“I…I’ve loved you! It sounds ridiculous coming out of me- I am not a sap! I swear! I hate sappy things! But, but-but I’ve always wanted to just scream it from the top of some hill- I love you!” he confessed.

He put a hand against your face, gently caressing it. You leaned in closer to it, almost shivering from the sensation. Softly, Roger leaned forward too.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” he cursed right before tilting his head and kissed you.

It was wet and you could taste the chicken he ate and the strong tobacco from the smoking. He was so close, and so warm, with the smell of sweat and shampoo. You felt your hands go over his arm, pulling him closer. 

You pulled away, and then you went in for another kiss, to make sure it was all real. His hands went to your back and pressed you against him closer. You were one mind and flesh for only a few seconds. Both of you pulled away briefly. There were a few soft chuckles released with a puff of released breath. He then pressed a forehead to yours. Your eyes closed for a second, feeling it, taking it all in. The two of you were breathing in unison, feeling that space between you that was desperate to be filled back again, to finally disappear.

Meanwhile outside, Freddie only leaned against a stoplight, barely looking at the window of the place. Brian and John stood by him, with their hands in their pockets. Seeing the light go out in Roger’s place, they all knew their job was done and they left to celebrate.

Taglist: @queenlover05​ @stardust-killer-queen​

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

a good time

I had Dusan’s dumb ass in mind for when I wrote this. And here you are, my lovelies. I promised Dusan fic, you will get Dusan fic. Enjoy! Downsizing is the property of Alexander Payne

Tim Curry once said "it's not easy having a good time," and Sara Dufresne, recently downsized and unceremoniously dumped afterwards, could very much relate. She stood in front of the rows of colors, trying to decide on which color she could use. She wasn't really paying much attention to her surroundings, so lost in her own little world, that she very well would have jumped out of her skin when someone asked her a question.

               "Er, I'm sorry?" She asked once her heart ceased trying to break out of her ribcage.

               "I was asking if you were all right," the man said sheepishly. "You looked kinda lost." Sara shrugged, stuffing her hands into her oversized olive green jacket.

               "I'm good," she replied, though not looking good at all. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

               "Are you new? I don't think we've seen you around here." The man continued awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, have you recently downsized?"

               "I've been here about four months," she said with a shrug. "My story's kind of a boring one."

               "I've got time. My wife is off looking at produce, she usually takes about twenty minutes judging the groceries before she buys anything." He said with a small chuckle. Sara gave him a sideways glance. He didn't seem all that intimidating. He was relatively average-looking and he seemed pretty normal. Nothing seemed off about him. Sara decided to put her trust in this painfully average person.

               "Well, my boyfriend and I were trying to raise enough money to get married." She started. "We agreed that downsizing would be the best way to go, so we got everything together, said our goodbyes to everyone and went through the process. At least, I thought he did until the prick called me and told me he wanted to see other people. And that he was still big." She sighed bitterly. The man raised his eyebrows, looking as if he'd heard this story before.

               "Sounds like me and my ex," he said sympathetically. "She backed out at the last minute too, though I never thought she'd be seeing someone else." Sara laughed, but there was no humor in her expression.

               "Yeah, turns out the asshole was dating some other girl while we were together anyways." She said as she picked up a color and examined it. "I mean, I went completely straight for this guy. I stopped with the partying, took out my piercings, settled down, that sort of thing. I gave up a life of fun for him because I thought I loved him and that he deserved better. Guess I was wrong."

               "How long were you two dating for?"

               "Two years," she sighed. "And it's two years of my life that I will never get back." He made a face.

               "Shit."

               "Yeah." There was a bit of a pause in the conversation as she put the dye back and took down another. "I've decided to just live life," she said. "I can do things I used to and don't have to worry about being judged for them. Like dying my hair blue." She turned to grin at him. "So, carpe diem." There was something about her grin that reminded the man of something or someone and he smiled back.

               "You know," he began. "Um, I'm not meaning to freak you out or anything, but a friend of mine is hosting a party later. Maybe you should go and meet some new people?" Sara raised an eyebrow.

               "Are you inviting me, or am I going to be crashing?" She asked. He laughed nervously.

               "I guess I'm inviting you," he said. "I don't really go to them anymore. Not after last time."

               "What happened last time?" Sara asked, interested.

               "Never mind that," he said hastily. "The point is, I think you might have some genuine fun there. And my friend is really accommodating. He's a pretty nice guy all things standing. I think he might be able to cheer you up. Here, I'll give you the address." He took out a little notebook and scribbled something on it before handing it to her. Sara thanked him and pocketed the little slip of paper.

               "Cool," she smiled. "Well, I should buy my dye now. I think I've stared at nothing and wallowed in self pity long enough. By the way, I never got your name. I'm Sara."

               "Paul," he smiled and shook her hand. "It was really nice to meet you, Sara."

               "Yeah, likewise." She said pleasantly. "I guess I'll see you around?" Paul nodded and headed to the produce aisle.

               "Sure, I'll see you." He replied with a wave. Sara beamed and headed for checkout while Paul caught up with his wife who was busy judging tomatoes.

               "What take so long?" She asked, eying him curiously. Paul shrugged.

               "I was just chatting with a newly shrunk," he replied. "She seemed kinda down, so I thought she could use a bit of cheering up. I invited her to Dusan's." Ngoc Lan raised an eyebrow.

               "You try to get her high?" She asked. Paul shook his head.

               "Well, no. But I think Dusan could cheer her up a little. She was recently dumped." He explained. "She's had it rough for the past few months, so I thought she might need a bit of fun." Ngoc Lan placed the tomatoes in the cart.

               "You invite her to Mister Dusan's, you set her up for more heartbreak." She replied sagely. "She gonna need Jesus." Paul laughed, but he couldn't help but disagree with her. Dusan was a bit wild, yes, but he had a pretty decent heart. As long as he didn't destroy it with narcotics.

xxxx

Sara stared at the door for a solid two minutes. She'd had an internal discussion with her feet about just heading in and pretending like she knew what she was doing, but it seemed as if she were frozen to the spot.

               "Ugh, this is such bullshit." She said to herself. "I mean, it's just a party. It's not like a ritual sacrifice or anything. There is no need to be this frickin' nervous." She stared at the door and took a deep breath. "Okay, I just need to knock and introduce myself as a friend of Paul's. Or acquaintance. Or whatever it is you call it when two people have a moment in a grocery store." She raised her fist. "Just knock." She kept telling herself. "Just knock." And she did. She was petrified beyond belief, but she did it. The door swung open and a very inebriated girl was standing in the doorway, looking confused and most likely high.

               "Uh," Sara started and smiled a bit awkwardly. "Hi there. Are you a friend of Dusan?" The girl stared at her for a moment before smiling syrupy sweet and pulling her in.

               "Ohmigawd, are you new here?" She asked, slurring her words all over the place. Sara could smell the fruity drinks on her breath.

               "Kinda. I'm a friend of Paul's." The girl didn't seem like she knew what she was talking about, but she was sweet enough and showed Sara around.

               "Ohmigawd, you have to tell me who did your hair!" She said, petting the blue strands carefully. "It's so vibrant!"

               "Uh, thanks. I did it myself." Sara said a little nervously.

               "Dusan is usually at the bar or on the dance floor." The girl continued. "I don't know, he's everywhere and nowhere. But you should totally meet him. He's like, super chill and cute." She giggled again. "Here, I'll get you a drink and you can like socialize or dance or whatever." Sara really wanted to know the drunk girl's name, but she slipped away before she could say anything.

               "Okay," she said to herself. "Welp, that was a bust. Now, where's the food?" She started looking around, trying not to bump into people until she inevitably did. "Oh fuck a duck!" She blurted out. "I'm sorry about that, man." The man she'd bumped into waved it off and grinned at her.

               "It's no problem," he replied in an accent that sounded Russian. "Hi there! You look new." She nodded.

               "Yeah, kinda. I mean, I was sort of invited here, I think? Guy's name was Paul." His eyes lit up.

               "Ah, you mean my neighbor!" He said with a grin. "Yeah, Paul told me he invited someone here. Failed to tell me she had blue fuckin' hair though." Sara smiled a little self-consciously.

               "Paul's your neighbor?" She asked. He nodded.

               "Yeah, nice guy. Funny, too." He shook his head. "Anyways, I'm Dusan." So this was the person Paul had mentioned, Sara thought. Well, he certainly seemed like a decent human being.

               "Sara," she replied. "So, this is your place?" He grinned wolfishly and nodded.

               "Sure is. Come on, we can get a drink. You look like you're about to pass out and not in the good way." She followed him through a throng of people greeting him rapidly. He seemed relatively cheerful and good-natured, and Sara found herself rather liking him a little. He got her a drink and they sat at the bar.

               "You were the one with relationship issues, right?" He asked bluntly. Sra blinked.

               "Uh, yeah." She replied, somewhat offended. It wasn't exactly her fault the relationship soured now, was it. "Yeah, you could say that."

               "American boys have no idea how to treat a lady," he said through a huff. "It's ridiculous." She shrugged.

               "I dunno, I mean I guess he was all right at first." She sipped her drink, feeling the burn. "Shit that's strong."

               "Pure Serbia, darling. That shit's the good shit." Dusan said, grinning wolfishly. "So, he just up and left you tiny, did he? What a dick."

               "Yeah, he was." Sara agreed. "So, you're Serbian, huh?" Dusan nodded.

               "Have been all my life."

               "Yeah, I was kinda wondering what the accent was." Sara said. "The more ya know. And knowing is half the battle." Dusan laughed and she found herself drawn to the line of his throat. Though that was most likely the vodka speaking.

               "So, why did you get small?" Dusan asked. She nearly choked on her shot.

               "Well, at first I wanted to get married to the prick who left me. Now I just live day to day, doing shit, getting paid to do shit, meandering through life like a slug." She shrugged. "Not exactly living, is it?"

               "I couldn't say," he replied. "But yeah, it sounds fuckin' terrible." She knocked back her shot.

               "It is. It's the worst." She sighed and put her chin on her arms. "Man, I need to get laid big time." Dusan tilted his head a little.

               "Yeah? Is that an invitation?" He asked, looking her over. Sara looked up at him. He was a good-looking son-of-a-bitch, she'd give him that. And he looked like he might be a good time. And he was being pretty chill with her and letting her vent her shit at him. Honestly, it wasn't a bad idea despite having just met the guy.

               "Maybe," she said with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. "Or it could be the alcohol talking, I dunno." He shrugged.

               "Drunken words are sober thoughts," he pointed out with a bounce of his eyebrows and she had to laugh. "And you're pretty fuckin' cute, so that's a bonus." She felt color rush to her cheeks.

               "Haven't been called cute in a while," she said. "You wanna dance or something? Maybe we could see where the night goes afterwards?" He nodded and stood from the bar.

               "I think I could live with that."

xxx

That was the last thing Sara remembered. The next morning, she found herself in an unfamiliar room, still dressed and with a pounding headache. Her brain screamed at her for her stupidity and all she wanted was for the room to stop spinning. Someone knocked on the door and she groaned and hid under the pillows.

               "Why do you hate me, God?" She groaned softly.

               "You okay in there?" Dusan's voice came from the outside. He sounded pretty hungover himself. "I'm coming in. If you're naked, don't throw shit at me. I'm not awake enough to deflect it yet." He opened the door and gave her a tired smile. "Hi." He greeted. She groaned in response.

               "Fuck my life," she moaned into the pillows. "I am never drinking again."

               "I said the same thing a few months ago, it never stuck." He said as he sat next to her. "You, uh, you remember anything?" She shook her head. "Well, you drank me under the table." He said. "And, uh, you challenged me to a dance-off." She groaned.

               "Drunk Sara thinks she can dance," she said. "I bet she embarrassed the shit out of herself." He shook his head.

               "From what I can remember, you weren't half bad." He replied with a smile. "But you passed out halfway through and I had to carry you here."

               "Thanks for letting me stay the night," she said with a grateful, hungover smile. "It was really sweet of you." Dusan shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

               "Friends don't let friends drink and drive," he replied. She finally sat up and rubbed at her eyes.

               "I'll be out of your hair in a minute," she informed him. "You know, until after the sunlight stops trying to kill me."

               "Understandable. If you can stomach it, I could make you breakfast." Dusan offered. At the look on her face, he laughed. "Only if you want though." She stood up a little shakily and ran a hand through her shock of blue hair.

               "Nah, it's all good son." She said with a wry grin. "I'll probably see you at your next party or whatever. Right now, I just need to go home and die a little." He nodded.

               "I'll show you out." He said as he headed out the door with her. It took her a little bit to process that he wasn't wearing very much outside of the blue robe...which he'd deliberately left open. 'Was he always that hot, or am I still drunk?' Sara wondered. She followed him to the door and they stood there for a second.

               "So...see you, I guess?" She ventured. He nodded, running a hand through his hair again.

               "Yeah, I guess." They were awkwardly quiet for a minute as Sara's feet refused to carry her out the door again. She seemed to be making her mind up about something as she stared at Dusan for a solid ten seconds. Looking a little pale, she stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling back and blushing like she was 18 goddamn years old.

               "Thanks for letting me crash, and for the good time." She said a little shyly. He looked somewhat surprised, but before she could leave, he took her wrist and crashed his lips against hers. Sara's eyes went wide, but she definitely welcomed it. She grabbed hold of his robe and kissed him back eagerly. He pulled back to wink at her.

               "Until next time?" He asked. She nodded, head reeling a little.

               "Yeah...next time." She said, dazed. He waved at her as she turned and left with something of a bounce in her step that Paul would later ask her about the next time he saw her.