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tonycries · 23 days

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One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will.

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.”

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it.

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement.

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him.

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity.

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place.

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home.

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life.

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle.

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit.

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably.

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.”

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side.

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?”

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted.

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips.

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.”

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again.

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes.

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between.

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock.

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh?

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face.

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him.

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt.

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman.

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin.

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night.

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?”

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you.

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue.

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely.

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument.

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth.

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs.

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner.

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick.

But oh was he pretty - so pretty. Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow.

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins.

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers.

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard.

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock.

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now.

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster.

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him.

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard.

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him.

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-”

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him.

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.”

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders.

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him.

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over.

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.”

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours.

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice.

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all - anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt.

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically.

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly.

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely.

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt.

But no matter.

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him.

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips.

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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oogaboogaspookyman · 3 months

Text

@sm-baby

I COULD BE HAPPY WITH SOMEONE NEW BUT MY HEART ACHES

[JUST FOR YOU]

It's been a while, hasn't it?

The office door creaks open

"Heya Pom! Brought back the paper i asked you yesterday?" Jax sounded so cheery. So happy while you just sat there on the chair like a drunkard... Well he's not a romance guy, of course he would be happy on his own. Damn rabbit.

"Not a word? What, still miss Sir Dentures?" He chuckles. He doesn't stop chuckling. What a clown... Thinks the jester. Ironic.

"Hm..."

His smile fades into a sincere frown.

Sigh

"Look here, Pom... It was necessary. He's free, paid for restoring us, we're all good now. No more murder and i got my nice charming scarf back and my favorite brushes, i'm the cool art teacher again!"

"So turn the dumb frown upside down aaaand please give me the paper i asked you? Please and thank you?"

"You're not a romance guy, of course you're fine. [___]hole..."

...

Oh...

"Oh for the love of- the censor is still here?! God darn it, i wanna say the f word for once! I loved doing that!"

You grip onto the table until it began to crack at the memory of him. Him, him, him. That stupid fucking human.

"Pom you may wanna lay off the grip there, i paid a lot for tha-"

A chunk is crushed. Like paper.

...

"Ah..."

Pomni lets go, revealing the chokehold put on the table left a permanent mark.

"Did ya dissociate again? I spoke well 'n clear, i paid a lot for that one!"

"Suck me, rabbit, you can get your s[__]t yourself" Pomni gets up and storms off from the office with no more words.

"Eh... Christ she's not okay..." Jax sighs

"Wonder if things coulda been better?"

Nobody helps at all.

Gangle offered to distract her, have a play, but Pomni wasn't in the mood.

Zooble offered a smoke but she didn't wanna try that kind of stuff.

Bubble is too much of an agent of chaos to give a shit, offered to commit "one (1) arson".

Kinger is just too far gone in his dementia, lucid when it was fucking funny and nothing more...

Nobody helps.

He knew how to help...

Only he knew...

Him...

The door to Ragatha's room creaks open

"Oh hey Pomni! How's your day go... Oh..." Ragatha notices Pomni is not any form of happy, if anything she looks like she's empty inside and wants to die...

"Oh you're not alright... Would you like to talk over tea..?"

"Mm... Will you let me vent properly?" Pomni groaned, still doubting that she won't pull out the whole everything is fine bullshit

"Oh- u-uhm- yes of- of course! Of course, i- i apologize for my past behavior, i really wasn't in my... B- best moments, at the time..." Ragatha stuttered. Don't stutter, you pretentious... ... Anyhow.

"Okay... Do you remember... Caine?" Ragatha already caught wind of the situation...

"The human with the dentures head? Yes, i remember him just fine, he restored us..."

"Yeah..."

"He was a good man, although didn't have the best manners he was alright nonetheless, knew how to make some laugh..." Ragatha and Pomni chuckled at the memory of Caine's wacky way with words. Jumping jellybeans? Seriously? That's a man right there!

A good dude...

"..." Pomni's pupils turned into black scribbles at the thought of him. The chuckling had faded as soon as it started, replaced by...

"I loved that human, if i'm being honest... He knew how to cheer me up, how to make the situation seem less bigger than it actually is... He knew how to kiss, god did he know..." Ragatha let out an "oh my" after hearing Caine kissed her, what else did they do..?!

"He... He was... He's amazing. Just that, amazing..." Pomni sighed, sipping on the tea she's given... "I loved him..." She began to sniff, putting down her cup.

"Oh dearie, come here-" Ragatha put down her cup and welcomed Pomni with open arms, knowing full well she needed to let it out of her system.

And that she did. Pomni got up and hugged Ragatha as tight as she could, and began to sob her lonely heart away, "He loved you too, Pomni, that cannot be denied..." Ragatha spoke as she held Pomni close. The poor jester, so alone...

How ironic.

She has friends, and yet she's lonely.

Caine had filled up a hole nobody could fill, and now that he's gotten out of the game after restoring everyone to their better conditions... That hole is empty once more, a gaping void and nothing to fill it.

How lonely this jester must be...

But it was necessary. He's free now.

#tadc au #the amazing digital carnival #carnival au #spooker's writing #tadc showtime #showtime ship #pomni x caine #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #the rest are only mentioned i ain't tagging them #heehoo funi sad stuff makes me giggle heeheehoo #SoundCloud #curtainfall

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katzkinder · 23 days

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Servamp headcanons, ice cream edition! Because my grandma got an ice cream maker and we’re all super eager to try it out but then she broke her back (she’s fine, don’t worry)

Mahiru: plain old vanilla. Misono introduced him to vanilla BEAN ice cream though and he’s feeling a little guilty about wanting to splurge a bit for the more expensive, creamier stuff… Kuro is an enabler and his encouragement is the only reason he’s still managing to resist. Just do it Mahi!

Kuro: Cookies and Cream is his favorite, but he’s also partial to cookie dough, or crumbled chocolate mint cookies as topping. He likes both the taste and the texture

Misono: chocolate lol. He’s predictable. His absolute favorite though are those ultra decadent brownie batter type of chocolate ice creams. Yknow the ones. Chocolate pieces, brownie bits, hot fudge swirl… He gets sick off the stuff easily though, so even though he loves it, self control is everything

Lily: vanilla bean with strawberry topping and cheese cake bites! He loves fresh strawberries in his desserts, and often he and Misono will trade bites if they’re getting flavor fatigue. Also very rich but the strawberry helps cuts through the sweetness

Tetsu: a Basic Boi who loves GariGariKun the most. Prefers popsicles over dairy treats. Yeah technically this isn’t ice cream but like. It’s the taste of summer and after bath refreshments. I’m not taking that from him

Hugh: vanilla with hot fudge sauce (and/or blood). He still prefers his chocolate parfaits, or better yet for this scenario, a milkshake

Licht: yknow those ultra sweet cotton candy flavors? If it’s ice cream by itself, he loves that. But if it’s a float, it’s gotta be vanilla in melon soda. If you take him to marble slab or similar place that lets you mix in a bunch of toppings, he will make a beeline for the gummy bears. Gets disappointed every time that they turn hard and unpleasant to eat, even though he already knows the outcome

Lawless: he has two favorites. Coffee bean (distinct from just plain coffee flavor) and moose tracks. I’m not sure what that’s called in other places? Basically it’s vanilla with peanut butter cups and fudge. Only goes for this when he’s depressed, if I’m honest. Otherwise it’s too sweet.

Mikuni: haagen daz amaretto almond crunch and their hojicha latte flavor. Forever sad that the former was limited edition and doesn’t make seasonal returns. It was absolutely perfect for his and jeje’s terrible Netflix movie nights (with the occasional appearance by johannes so they could make fun of the bad science together)

Jeje: since Mikuni only buys haagen daz (spoiled pretentious shit) he’s grateful they a rich pumpkin flavor that becomes available during autumn. He also really likes horchata milkshakes for the comforting taste of cinnamon.

Iduna: Tried butter pecan once and was hooked. The crunchiness of the pecans is her favorite part. It’s her go to for when Haagen Daz Creamy Vanilla Pudding flavor isn’t in season. Back home, though, it’s got to be the rather… Unique. Salty licorice flavor. She gave some to shuuhei one time just to watch him gag. She knows what she’s doing to that poor boy.

Freya: the simple freshness of strawberry ice cream is her guilty pleasure. She been thinking of making her own with an old hand churner. It would be fun, right? And it’s not like it would be difficult to get the ingredients she needs.

Nicco: Pistachio gelato, though he also enjoys the tartness and slight bitter aftertaste of limoncello flavor. He likes taking Ildio with him whenever there’s a new flavor he wants to try but isn’t sure he’ll like. Even if he doesn’t care for it, his servamp probably will. Does that make him mean?

Ildio: No preference as of yet. He’s still figuring this whole… Tasting your food thing out

Tsubaki: as expected, he loves matcha and red bean flavors. REALLY excited some of the Hagen daz hanamochi series is becoming a permanent flavor

Sakuya: rocky road. Sweet, crunchy, and a little bitter on the back end from the chocolate. Refuses to admit it but he also enjoys the hanamochi series. He’s stubborn. Whenever he wins a free popsicle he gives the stick to Mahiru, so inevitably when they hang out, that’s what he buys if they stop at the konbini, just for the chance to maybe earn some good boy points with his best friend and crush. And he thinks he’s subtle—

Reblog with your own headcanons! I love seeing what people add to my posts :3

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dilfhos · 7 months

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sooo this is gonna be a messy rant on the observations ive made between different writer communities, blog interactions and overall “status”. just silly little things I’ve noticed in my 4+ years being on tumblr btwn 2 diff blogs. and this is about no one specific, a very generalized post so if you find urself offended i honestly dont know what to tell you?? :o do better ig. & if you relate, i feel for you. TLDR @/end.

i dont like interacting/ building connections with people but not for the reasons ppl think. im not stuck up or pretentious or weird or anything. just another anime-enjoyer who loves to write in her free time. nobody special by a longshot!! i enjoy writing, always have since before i was a teen. (wasn’t always ff tho!).

but over the years ive just noticed fandom writing has its gritty sides that no one talks about often and its no mystery why so many prolific/ popular writers deactivated, me included. i had some shitty experiences and have seen friends go bc of it.

firstly, I’ve noticed, once you start interacting and building friendships with people, it’s easier to see the bigger perspective of where ppl stand and the blatant hierarchy of friendships and groups. same applies to that outside. like its literally just me n’ my bsf then my acquaintances bc mfs be weirddd omg its like cults or something. like thats why initially I didn’t interact w/anyone starting on my new blog. that n’ fear of drama following from my last blog ugh. ‘Cept the few i’ve met on my old blog (like my wifey)

not to mention i have bad anxiety. and sometimes im cue-deaf. i dont always pick up what people put down and vice versa and it makes me conscious in a lot of my interactions. so a part of me doesn’t want to interact at all to avoid all awkwardness and possible miscommunications. that’s not to say i don’t notice subtle changes in interactions after one situation / conversation or so forth, that in myself or witnessed between other ppl. (im perceptive, just not that good conversationalist lol. like i really have to try.)

but then…if you don’t interact with people on here, your chances of building an audience or a reader base is slim to none. the likelihood of developing relationships is zip. because you’re already perceived and pegged as just another tumblr writer. pause. to clarify, a writer who doesn’t want any recognition or interactions from mutuals or new friends. or just a lonely writer? a introverted, lonely writer. which leads to little to none interactions (anons, reblogs, moots —exposure.)

so then its like you’re kinda placed btwn a rock n a hard place. and there’s absolutely no problem with that! in fact this is the best part—meeting friends and like-minded people! people that make being online all the more worth it right? thirsting over fictional characters and sharing in each other’s works!

but you have to be in specific circles it seems. but then you can’t imply that you want to be in those circles bc then you’re desperate.

but well, then you cant purposefully want to be independent or be on your own or else you’re a hater, hypocrite or stuck up. not to mention, no one will reblog your stuff lol. no one will interact fr, and you’re friendless essentially. and god forbid if you disagree on something as if opinions don’t exist btw! then you’re being ganged up on. (like omg grow up!)

but then if you reach out you’re seen as trying to wedge in or kiss ass? you interact and follow and you’re ignored or left hanging? (bc im gonna touch your hand when i say this—it never gave fan, your majesty of horny nerds) and this is about ALL the writing communities and fandoms—spicy content, black content and dark content. ALL.

yet no one wants to talk about the pregnant elephant in the room—bias. and favoritism. also people seem to have a hard time being direct with how they’re feeling toward/about someone ( in a good or bad way) which in turn leads to a lot of miscommunication and subliminal attacks. (not to mention hate anons? one of my moots just had her inbox flooded w/them recently, ew.)

you can lead a horse to water AND you can write a 500-word essay on the observations made on tumblr writers as a whole. (a long ass post on the truth on behalf of those feeling this too)

also, slapping a HEY LOOK AT ME! IM A WRITER WHO WANTS INTERACTION AND FRIENDS! on a blog is frankly embarrassing. it shouldn’t even take all that seeing how easy it is for others wanting the same thing.

or doing less to achieve the same result.

not to mention, yall shit on ppl who essentially feel this way altogether bc you peg them as sb who doesn’t “try” or just jealous when their own works are phenomenally written themselves. ive seen it. and ive lived it. never gave jealousy baby.

at the end of the day, we’re all writers— either longterm or hobbyists. (personally, im longterm) self-indulgent or not! and its absolutely amazing when people are being fair in how they spread love and feedback to their writers.

Secondly, its not news that people have to want to reblog your fics so that their followers can reblog, so they can reblog, and their followers can reblog and so forth. but ppl honestly dont care atp bc once they’ve already read it, they owe you nothing. and apparently asking for reblogs is crass and bold. (imma do it anyway) but putting your very all into a story just to turn and see a half-thought out hc soaring 3k in 2hrs and 5k in a day — you have to stfu, open your ass and take it. keep it cute!

you’re getting fucked after all!!

because if you complain—you’re just jealous and lazy and uncreative!! and i hate that to seem like a writer worth a damn, you have to change up your writing style every two weeks to fit in with trending waves.

“no more poetic long fics, nobody’s into that! short, snappy slutty shots are all the rage!” “ppl are only into these specific tropes but you can’t exceed 2k words!” “only add trending characters to these hcs! ppl love them only!” “don’t write too much about a specific character or else ill unfollow you!” its exhausting.

i am well within my right as a literary artist to desire more feedback and interaction on anything i put out. period. and you are too! 🫵

God, im tired of that stupid, ‘you have to enjoy your writing for yourself and not worry about notes’ line. i do love my writing! don’t get me wrong there’s nobody id rather write like if not myself fr. not to mention the inspiration i draw from famous literary authors. however, i would love feedback and the same energy that i see with others in my same caliber.

and when i see others that didn’t even try fr—its a slap in the face to put it bluntly.

i can want silly little comments and notes about something i cherish and put out for that reason and yall aren’t gonna make me feel bad about it. sorry! like yall really be making people feel shitty for wanting the same type of interactions you get! especially when its harmless, bye asf. nb want to recipe to ur peach cobbler b!

the only one giving push back are those appointed popular /top blogs n’ cliques tho. now personally, i honestly dgaf if you have 20 followers or 25k, writing is writing and if its good you should want to support it regardless of following count/interaction right?

unfortunately, and quite unsurprisingly its not the case for the rest of this hellhole lol. there’s always gonna be some “big blog” in any part of tumblr or any social media for that matter.

but when the sole purpose being on a site like tumblr to write is mainly exposure, then it just makes it ten times worse especially if it seems that these blogs are steady at the top of every. single. tag. and listen, i know how initially stupid that sounds but when you’ve picked up on patterns for as long as i have, well iykyk.

so imma be real bc no one else will, half of the posts that yall see with 25k notes have alr been done. just different characters, different words, different dialogue. And 8/10 its been done by sb who only received 100 notes. Thats the evil part. whats more is that it lacks the creativity the one post with 100-300 notes is filled with completely.

POP QUIZ! what post would readers be more inclined to read? — one that says 10k (ohhh that must be popular!) or the one with only 150 (oh i guess nb really liked that one) that no one is even willing to reblog for MORE. and BOOM. now yall wonder why so many great writers LEAVE, its a fucking joke.

so unfortunately its no longer only about or only on readers anymore. its about who you know and who you know is willing to support your fr. who is willing to REBLOG your fics for their friends and followers, so that their friends and followers can reblog. to fit in you actually have to get in these days and it makes it all less enjoyable. makes it a chore and if you aren’t ‘doing it right’ ultimately it makes you feel shitty about your writing. (Please don’t, you are doing amazing. its the platform.)

it makes people not want to jump into writing. it pushes away those who actually want to join writing communities and meet people without feeling like they have to jump thru hoops to thrive or worse—live in other ppls shadows. and then it deters those from speaking up in fear of being shut down by bigger groups. ive seen it happen time and time again.

lastly, and this is the juiciest part! you absolutely cannot say anything about any of this bc you’re complaining and a fisher just looking for attention and not someone who just want things to be fair all over. play the game, right? ( wrong. and if this is your logic, you suck! )

its no longer about making flashy banners and pretty themes. its no longer about how many clever directory links you add or how many games you initiate on your blog or whether or not you’ve reblogged your fic three times already. its about your “friends”, other mutuals, and blogs willing to support you too. not just the audience. audience gonna do what they want regardless. reblog, don’t reblog, whatever. “at least ive read it right?” but everyone knows this. duh! but it’s obvious who doesn’t care as long as they’re on top of that tag! its admirable in a way but it sucks for those wanting to break out and build some kind of readerbase and/or make friends.

TLDR; people need to stop being bias and be fair and open lol. stop picking favorites and share the love all around. you see another person writing your favorite character or trope, give them a fucking chance and reblog, regardless if they’re in your ‘circle’ / radar or not. regardless if you know them or not. hell, let them put you on to a new fandom. bc writing is writing and making new moots and finding new fics seem to be what everyone loves to showcase until its time to actually do it. no wonder people get discouraged to make friends and write, yall treat it like some kind of secret society when its supposed to be fun💀 not a competition. (yall need to dead this clique-y shit. )

#writers #writers of tumblr #WATCH EVERYONE SKIP OVER THIS DHDHDJDN #OH OH OH #and im black #LMAO THATS THE PUNCHLINE #so #all of this isnt only happening in a general writing fandom #but the little corner for my black people??#and in the corners of other minorities #IT HAPPENS HERE TOO DHGSGJG #nb is safe🙅🏾‍♀️#i thought we were escaping exclusivity?#and assumptions made about other people??#trust when i say this is NOT about anyone specific #just silly little observations #and pieces of my experiences #so any complaints #SHOVE IT SHOVE IT SHOVE IT!#will delete if this starts a revolt #or not bc i love chaos in the name of truth #i hope yall can feel the sarcasm this is kinda longer than i intended but i wanted to be as thorough as possible in my point #been working on this for a min #im not tagging as discourse bc this isn’t what this is #and if you treat is as such imma just assume you’re exactly who im talking about and keep it pushing🤷🏾‍♀️#just be better is all im saying #BYE I JUST CAUGHT SO MANY MISTAKES #the shame #i was caught up #but yall get it

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littlemisslipbalm · 2 years

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You're My Best Friend

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Summary: When your best friend Jake asks you to watch his cats and apartment for him, memories of your time spent together in his home come to mind. When he comes home, things are the same yet also completely different.

Enjoy!!! Also pls let me know what you think...through reblogs or messages to me. I love to talk about my little stories, it means so much to me. Also I'm already thinking about a part 2 w smut so if that sounds like something you'd be interested in lmk.

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: swearing, cats, a little angst over money, slow burn, besties to lovers, Jake being just a regular dude (my favorite)

Being best friends with Jake Kiszka was a lot of fun. Good music, good alcohol and good times were all things Y/N enjoyed with him. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a life when Jake wasn’t around, she had other friends and plenty of interests that didn’t involve him. But the thing was that for the past two and a half years, Jake had been around.

The pandemic had kept him in Nashville by her side rather than touring the world. Because of the pandemic, it also meant everyone was limited from seeing people. Not being able to see anyone besides his brothers led Jake to seek comfort in something else. And as much as he loved hanging out with Y/N, he could only see her every so often. Much to his brothers and her confusion, he decided to adopt some furry friends.

Jake had called her up and said, “Which do you think cats prefer, fish treats or shrimp treats?”

“Shrimp are better,” She replied easily. “But why?”

“Ok, shrimp. Oh…I have become a father.” He said easily.

“Jake, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’ll see, come over later, shrimp.” He finished and then hung up. From that moment forward, Jake had found a new nickname for his best friend.

When Y/N showed up at his apartment later, she saw what he had been talking about. Two cats. One was an older blonde mancoon mix. The other was a younger, maybe just a year old, black long haired cat. Pretentiously named ‘Falcor’ and ‘Onyx’ but actually called ‘Cheese’ and ‘Hot Dog’. Jake spoiled them with treats and learned all of their idiosyncrasies over the next six months. As much as she liked cats, Y/N honestly didn’t spend all that much time with them. Before long the world was back in a place where the band could tour and naturally music was Jake’s first love and the cats couldn’t exactly jetset with him.

This was the first time Jake had asked his best friend to do more than just water a few of his plants while he was gone. And even that she felt like she was a little out of practice with. Still, watching cats was a lot more than going over to his place every day for half an hour to water the plants. This required her to stay at Jake’s place.

Jake walked her through the cats’ entire spiel, but still the first day left Y/N confused and worried about how she would perform as their caregiver. She tried her best to make them happy, feeding them the shrimp treats and turning on the shower faucet so that Cheese could drink water the way Jake said he liked.

Jake asked her to send as many pictures as she thought was best, so she sent multiple videos and pictures a day, hoping they’d give him some joy while stuck inside planes and buses. Still, a lot of her day was relatively empty. It left her to explore Jake’s apartment. She’d been there hundreds if not thousands of times. It was, by all accounts, extremely Jake.

The walls were a nice off white and delicately and tastefully decorated with art that was dark and interesting along with a few band posters that were signed and framed. House plants littered a bookshelf that received plenty of sunlight from the large windows at the front of his second story place. A blue rug spanned across the living room.

There was a room with a door Jake kept shut from the cats. His music room. One Les Paul hung left behind on the wall next to his first ever acoustic that his dad had given him. Various awards were placed lovingly across a vanity and a futon was in there if Jake ever had a guest.

Despite the futon, Jake had insisted that she sleep in his bed while he was away.

“You can use my bed,” He said off-handedly as he gestured to his bedroom.

“Not the futon?”

“Why would you sleep on the futon when the bed is open and perfectly and completely comfortable, shrimp?”

She wasn’t really against it, but it felt weird to be sleeping in Jake’s bed for over a couple months. “It’s your bed.”

“And? You’ve slept in it before, shrimp, now it’s just gonna be without me. The boys like sleeping in it when someone’s in there, too.”

She smiled tightly, finding no way to refuse, not really knowing why she would refuse anyway. “’Kay. Me and the boys’ll keep it warm for ya’.”

Jake had grinned at her with his sparkling brown eyes and thrown his arms around her in a squeezing hug. “Miss you already,” He mumbled into her ear before making kissy noises to the two furballs lurking in the hallway before walking out the door.

On some occasions she’d wander into the music room to take the acoustic down from the wall. She’d take a seat on the futon and check the tuning of it. When Jake learned that his best friend knew how to play guitar – barely, as she always said – but didn’t tune by ear, he scoffed and insisted that he teach her.

He also thought capos were the devil, but she refused to acquiesce to his music snobbery and brought one of her own. She placed it against the third fret and began to strum at the strings. They weren’t new, but they also weren’t terribly old, she could feel them against her fingers. Jake must have restrung them within the past three months.

Thinking about Jake, playing his beloved guitar in his music room made her fingers twitch into a familiar pattern. The first song Jake had also insisted that she learn, four years ago. She told him she mostly just played old country songs her grandfather used to play for her as a child. While Jake had genuinely smiled and silently admired her playing, he had also ribbed her for being a country bumpkin and insisted she learn something not so boring. She had rolled her eyes and reminded him that he was from a smaller town than she was.

“You gotta learn something more upbeat. Get the blood pumping.” He elbowed her playfully and carefully shoved his guitar into her lap.

“What song?”

Jake shook his head, instead instructing her on which chords to play. “Strum an F major 7, C, good. G. Just repeat that five times.”

He nodded his head as she strummed and listened to his words. Every so often she looked between the neck where her fingers played a little clumsily and Jake’s face. His lips quirked in an encouraging smile as he raised his brows at her, wanting her to continue.

“Okay now A minor. Then back to C, and G.” He pauses when she fumbles the chords. “Repeat through A minor and then a Dsus 2.”

She went through the chords, slowing as it becomes more complicated and then pausing completely when she gets to the Dsus chord. She felt embarrassed, her face flushing. At the time, Jake was already a good friend, but it was still relatively early in their friendship. They’d only known each other for a year. She still got overwhelmed by his famous musician energy, as well as his sheer undeniable talent. It was hard to ignore in a situation like this.

“I don’t, um,” She took a breath, eyes fluttering down at the guitar where her fingers hovered, confused. “I don’t know that one. I just know the basics, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jake smiled quickly, immediately remembering when he was an initial learner and dialing back his instruction. Less demanding and more explanation. “Here,” He offered, scooting closer on his futon, bumping their knees together when he reached his left hand to cover hers.

His body had angled to almost envelop hers so that he could comfortably have his hand over hers on the neck. He moved her fingers into the correct pattern to create the chord. It wasn’t all that complicated in truth, but something new was always daunting simply because it was previously unknown.

She glanced at his face for confirmation that she had gotten it correct after experimentally strumming the chord. His hand still encassed hers as he smiled back at her. He had taken a breath through his nose and she remembered it hitting her cheek, warming her further. The strands of his hair had been falling in front of his face, almost tickling her as well. He had been so warm and soft against her before returning to his more respectfully distanced seat a few inches away.

He murmured a few more repeat chords and she followed his guidance before he made her start over. As she strummed more assuredly, Jake began to sing softly and the song became clear to her. A grin spread across her lips as she looked over at her friend singing one of his favorite songs as she strummed it, only fumbling a few of the chords. She laughed when it happened, no longer taking the playing too seriously. Jake giggled along with her while singing the words, causing them to grin at one another.

“I should’ve known it was Jumper,” She said after they finished. “You’re such a Third Eye Blind junkie, so predictable, Jacob.”

Jake shook his head in slight embarrassment, “What can I say? They just speak to my emo soul.”

Now she was alone on the futon, working through the chords. Smiling down at the frets, she sang the words softly, wishing it was Jake’s pretty voice instead of hers.

A lot of the days she lounged in Jake’s bed, luxuriating in the fluffy expensive comforter Jake had bought to cover his bed. He had an uncharacteristic amount of pillows. Six for one man, she thought it was absurd until she slept there for two weeks and found it unbelievably comfortable. He was a genius, she thought and let him know over text with a picture of the two cats curled against her neck and her stomach while she laid in his bed.

Jake responded almost immediately with a request to facetime. I miss my boys, he texted. Need some boy time. She giggled to herself, looking down unattractively at her screen, before pressing the facetime call, adjusting the camera angle and immediately fussing with her hair a little bit in the camera.

It connects and before she knows it, Jake’s face is appearing on her screen. He looks to be seated on a couch with a window behind him, the scenes moving quickly behind him. He was on the tour bus, hair messily braided and eyes looking tired but delighted at his own screen. His face looked tanner than the last time she’d seen him in person, a mustache and a little goatee trying to take residence on his face. The little hoops Jake had gotten when she had gone to the piercing and tattoo parlor with him a few days before he left were on display and made her smile at the memory.

“Hey rockstar, your boys miss you,” She pans the camera to show Cheese who was still against her sternum. The blonde cat nuzzled his head at her attention and writhed onto his back, somehow knowing to make a show of it for Jake.

Jake laughs happily and greets Cheese before Y/N brings it back to her face, making sure to keep Hot Dog in frame. She brings the camera closer to the black cat who was sleepily cuddled against her shoulder. He chirps at Jake in the screen, causing Jake to coo childishly. His best friend laughs and shakes her head at him, returning once more to the original framing of the video.

“There’s your boys, your children,” She smiles. “How are the other boys, your brothers?”

Jake flicks a falling strand of hair out of his face and looks to his right, before looking back at the screen. “You know, never a dull moment on the road.” He rolls his eyes and she gives him a knowing look. Two weeks and already they were getting on each other’s nerves. It wasn’t unusual, but she always felt bad when Jake seemed clearly agitated. She made a note to send extra videos and pictures for the rest of the week and check in a little more often.

She smiles back sympathetically and scratches at Hot Dog’s ears for Jake.

“I see you made yourself comfortable, shrimp” He notes, changing the subject.

“You said I could sleep in your bed,” She shrugs with her free shoulder, “And if I remember correctly, you actually insisted that I do.”

Jake smirks before arching an eyebrow at her. “I was talking about my shirt that seems to have found its way onto your body.”

She flushes and readjusts to a more seated position, changing the angle of the phone, attempting to distract Jake from her embarrassment. “Oh,” She laughed. “I ran out of sleep shirts and I’ve been too lazy to drive across town or do my own laundry. I didn’t think you’d mind…I’ll make sure to wash everything and put it back before you get home.”

Jake laughs good-naturedly, biting his lip and pausing in thought for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. Looks better on you anyway,” He winks.

“Save it for the paying customers, Jacob.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at his charms.

He laughs it off and she lets him talk to his cats a little more before he mentions that he has to go.

Later that day, as she’s making her lunch, she finds herself messing with the shirt. It was grey and a little distressed from constant wear. The neck was a little loose from Jake’s constant pulling and her fingers furthered it. She found herself holding it up to her nose for a moment as she stared into his quickly emptying fridge. Jake had also told her she could eat or drink anything he wanted and she was slowly but surely going through his stash.

As she contemplated what to drink, she realized how weird it was that she was indulging in trying to smell Jake even when he was hundreds of miles away. She dropped the shirt quickly, as if anyone other than the two cats might see her, and grabbed a spindrift from the shelf.

She poked around different crevices of Jake’s home that she normally didn’t get the chance to explore as she made herself more comfortable. One day while she’s waiting for Cheese to get his fill of faucet water, she’s mindlessly scavenging through the different toiletry shelves Jake had things bestowed upon. In his shower, there was a hanging plant, along with large bottles of shampoo, conditioner and a few various body soaps and scrubs. Jake was almost cat-like in how he groomed himself so intensely yet remained looking untouched.

The shower curtain was childish with cartoon sharks and other fish in pirate outfits pictured beside ships and treasure chests, all deep blues and gold accents. She had giggled which turned into hysterical laughter the first time Jake had her over and she’d gone to use the restroom. Now she found it endearing and sweet that he hadn’t changed it for the past three years. A bathroom should be fun, he stated when she questioned his choice.

On a wooden tower beside the shower lived more toiletries. Her hands drifted over them tactilely as she inspected each of them, having grown bored of the television show she had been binging on Jake’s huge tv. It wasn’t like she’d never seen It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia before either, it was just a good comfort show that she could half watch with the cats.

Nothing caught her eye until an amber liquid filled glass bottle came into view on the bottom shelf. It was full and its delicate bottle had a vine etched on its front. She uncapped it and sniffed the bottle that was nondescript until the scent hit her nose. It was Jake’s everyday cologne. She was familiar with it and as it filled her senses, she realized it must be his extra. His other undoubtedly on the tour bus with him right now.

She sniffed it again, eyes slipping shut as she pictured Jake applying the cologne in this very bathroom. Uncapping the bottle before spritzing it once against his extended neck, the sensitive skin that stretched over his adam’s apple, his head tilted back as he stared at himself in the mirror, and then once to his left wrist, placing the bottle down to rub it against his right.

She remembered when she had walked in on him once when they were getting ready to go to a pregame of some party the band was invited to. His hair was already perfectly disheveled. She knew that secretly Jake spent almost as much time on his hair as his twin in hopes that it looked like he’d never touched it at all and it just fell the way he wanted it to.

When she walked into the bathroom with her mascara wand already out and needing the better lighting in this mirror, she half expected Jake to be messing with his hair. She had been wrong. He was in the middle of spritzing himself and the room smelled overwhelmingly of Jake, warm amber, woodsy tobacco and smoked whiskey. Usually there was some eucalyptus mixed in from his shampoo or body wash, she wasn’t sure, but the fresh cologne overpowered it and she was taken aback. The smell and the sight of his tilted head, almost like how he held it in posed pictures, but a little further.

Jake’s eyes flitted from their intent place on his reflection to his best friend in the doorway, her eyes traveling from his neck down his chest where stray droplets fell and disappeared into his golden soft skin.

“Yes?” He questioned with a raise of his eyebrow, finishing spritzing his left wrist and rubbing them together casually .

Her lips pursed as she met his eye before holding up the mascara, “I need better working conditions, Jacob. How am I supposed to be the dutiful side piece if I look like shit?”

“You could never look like shit,” He side stepped to allow her some room in front of the mirror while recapping the cologne and placing it in its spot on the shelf. It was all very calm and natural, like they shared the space often. In reality, this had been one of her first times back at his place since he had gotten the cats. The first time it seemed okay to go out. “Plus, everyone is always looking at me, anyways,” He smirked.

She laughed and swatted his covered bicep. “Then why do you drag me along?” She asked, looking in the mirror at her eyes, attempting to apply the lash slick mascara evenly. She even ignored the swish of a tail around her legs, despite the pull to pet whichever cat had just said hello to her.

“Because you love it, free booze and food…Plus even the eye candy needs someone to look at.” He straightened his collar in the mirror before messing with it so that it wasn’t straight.

“And you’re the eye candy?”

He chuckled and tilted his head down, causing some of his hair to fall in front of his face as he looked at her. “Duh.”

She cackled, pulling out her dark lipstick now, still glancing at Jake through the mirror every other moment as she started to apply it. “It’s good you’re so confident.”

Jake tilted his head to the side, a half smile threatening on his lips, “What does that mean?”

She finished applying the lipstick and retreated out of the bathroom. Jake repeated himself, “What does that mean?”

The memory fades as she almost fumbles the cologne bottle after deciding it would be weird to even consider wearing Jake’s signature cologne. She puts on her big girl pants that day and does all of the laundry she had been putting off and runs out to the grocery store to restock the cupboards and fridge.

She makes some trips home, hanging out in her own apartment every so often to keep it relatively maintained or stopping by to grab different clothes. It wasn’t that important, though, since she lived with a roommate. Other days she wanders around Jake’s neighborhood of Nashville. It had a few coffee shops, a record store, a music store, some artisan and boutique style shops and an amazing taco place they always went to together.

The first time she and Jake went together was the day after his birthday. Hangover tacos were his last birthday wish and what kind of best friend would deny a battered, freshly turned 23 year old from greasy amazing tacos and the best horchata in all of Nashville. He’d ordered six tacos and managed to scarf down half of them before starting to not feel well again. She had brushed the hair out of his face and swept it into a low ponytail and pressed her horchata cup against his forehead.

“You’re a real trooper, Jake. You’re the only person I’ve ever seen even attempt to get out of the house after how much you drank last night.” She rubbed soothing circles across his shoulders and then down his back before returning to the top and starting again.

He looked a little sickly, but his eyes hadn’t lost their beautiful sparkle even after all the tiring festivities of the day before. “You’re my best friend,” He said her name, looking at her seriously. It was the first time he had called her his best friend.

“And you’re mine, dude.” She smiled and gave him a side hug, his right arm had limply wrapped around her front as he leaned his head into her neck. That night they returned to Jake’s place, where he showered and then climbed into his bed beside his best friend, the pair curled up and exhausted before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

While kicking it alone in Jake’s apartment, she feels close to him through not only the myriad of his possessions but also his responses to the videos and pictures she sends of the cats. Hot Dog had a cardboard scratching box setup that Jake had deemed his car because Hot Dog liked to ‘drive’ it. In reality, the black cat just sat in it and scratched but Jake found it hilarious. She sent him many videos and pictures of Hot Dog either hard at work in the car or simply asleep at the wheel. She woke up one day to it broken and Hot Dog laying in it, still looking pleased. The picture she sends Jake is accompanied with the text: “Like father like son. Hot Dog totaled the car.” Jake sent multiple texts of laughter and his memoji, with his big black hat included, crying.

Hot Dog also strangely plays fetch so she sent a few videos of that phenomenon every so often. Jake hearts every single message. Cheese kept more to himself, but she would take pictures of him staring out the windows that held images of green leafed trees, creating a beautiful backdrop for the majestic golden mancoon. Those often had jokes including “When will my father return from war?” or “Why does father leave us to be with other pussies?”

Jake laughed at each joke but shook his head at his best friend. “Why are my boys asking about other pussies? How do they even know about that, they’re much too young for all that?”

She shrugs while trying to contain her own amusement, scratching between Hot Dog’s ears as they spoke over facetime. “I don’t know. Ask your sons. Honestly though, I get a bit of a gay vibe from Hot Dog. Or ace. I don’t think he’s interested in other pussies.” She tries to sound serious but Jake is grinning at the camera and so is she, until another voice chimes in.

“What’s this about pussy?”

She groans at the sound of the other Kiszka twin. She loved Josh, but he liked to comandeer any conversation he was privy to.

“Go away, Josh,” Jake says. “I’m having my court mandated alone time with my boys.”

“Oh, is Y/N on the line? Hey mama! Finally telling the Cat Daddy about how your kitty–” An ‘oof’ is heard as the phone clatters to face the ceiling and then a squeak of a distant ‘sorry!’

The camera moves again and then Jake’s face is back in frame, staring at the screen intently, a light pink staining his cheeks now – out of exertion from kicking Josh’s ass or his own mild embarrassment, she didn’t know. “Sorry about Josh being Josh. As always.” His voice is lower now, speaking softer, making it more gravelly.

She smiles sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it. I’m the one who brought up pussy, I should’ve known Josh is like a bloodhound with that kind of stuff.”

Jake laughs genuinely at that and they stare at their screens for a little while longer, shooting the shit, making plans for when Jake gets back to Nashville.

On the Saturday before Jake is set to come home, she gets tacos from their taco place and digs around Jake’s record collection before deciding on a classic that both of them loved. Deja vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. She curls up on the couch with one cat, Hot Dog, laid out on her right and Cheese beneath it. It was his favorite spot besides sitting in the window.

“Your dad’s comin’ home tomorrow, my dudes,” She talks to the cats as she eats. “Isn’t that great? I’m not gonna lie though, I kind of wish I could stay. I love you guys and this apartment, it’s bigger than mine. Plus way better roommates.”

She rambles the night away. When she wakes, she tidies each of the rooms, putting away dishes she had left out, refolding the blanket on the back of the couch, remaking the bed. She showers, puts on real clothes today, rather than the usual sweats, and spends a little extra time to look presentable. Her reasoning is that she’s seeing a human she knows rather than just two cats. It has nothing to do with it specifically being Jake.

He gets in in the late afternoon. She hears the key in the lock and her heart starts to beat a little faster. The cats can tell something is up when they notice her fidgeting, more on edge than any of the previous days spent by her side. She didn’t quite understand why she was so anxious to see Jake after two and a half months. Seeing each other over facetime wasn’t the same even if she told herself it was enough.

She tries to play off the nerves by talking to the cats again, “Look who it is, Hot Dog, Cheese. Your long lost father!”

The cats are elated when Jake gets through the door, weaving through their legs as she tries to be cool and just say a normal hello to him. The grin on Jake's face stops her in her tracks as he moves quickly down the hall after dropping his leather duffel by the door. His hat almost falls off his head as he wraps his arms around her in an intense hug.

“Missed you guys so much,” He murmurs into the skin of her neck. “Missed you so much, shrimp.”

She laughs, breathless and unable to form any coherent thought with Jake surrounding her, invading her senses. Any thought beside how wrong she had been. Jake’s cologne didn’t smell like Jake. Neither did his soaps and shampoos. Something was so uniquely Jake that changed his cologne when it was on him, same for the other products. He embodied them, making them more than they were, making them his. Kind of how he was making her his as he held her, changing her entire being with his presence.

That was too much to say to a best friend she had just cat sat for. “How was it?” Would suffice.

Jake holds on for a little longer, her arms having taken up residence around his shoulders and neck with his around her waist but clutched at the tops of her own shoulders. He takes a deep breath before pulling back. While looking down at her, he removed his hat and threw it through the doorway of his bedroom, landing it on his bed smoothly.

She was silently impressed, but Jake’s smirk let her know he could see through her facade. She rolled her eyes at him and pushed away from his chest making him smile more sweetly.

“Incredible as always,” He follows her into his living room to sit on the couch while they catch up, his tone giddy. The cats followed. “We even finished a bit of new music. But like always, I’m happy to have a break from it all. Ready to just soak in this life for a good while.”

“Ready to be Jake Kiszka, cat dad, Criminal Minds aficionado and shrimp’s best friend, not Jake Kiszka, guitarist of Greta Van Fleet, rock god and panty dropper.”

“Exactly,” Jake giggles, pulling at the hairtie keeping his hair pulled back, letting the brown locks loose. “Still panty dropper, though. I can’t just turn that off.”

She nudges one of her feet that is on the couch against Jake’s thigh in chastisement. He moves his leg to press back at her and they stay connected as they regard each other. Hot Dog had followed them and was jumping up into Jake’s lap while Cheese was sauntering across the back of the couch, inspecting his freed hair.

Jake feels his blonde cat’s presence and tilts his head back, allowing the large cat to sniff the top of his human’s scalp. Jake’s eyes slip shut at the sensation, the side of his lip quirking up. Hot Dog chirps while he pets him absently but carefully, between his ears, just like he liked it. She admires her friend basking in his pets’ love and attention. The reunion was quite cute and she wished it could be like this all the time. The four of them, happy and content.

“Speaking of Criminal Minds,” Jake raises his head back up after a reasonable amount of comfortable silence, besides the black cat’s purring. “All I’m in the mood for is vegging out on this couch. Will you stay? We can order Thai?”

“Eh, I’ve kind of had my fill of cats,” She says and watches as Jake’s eyes widen momentarily before he neutralizes his features and smiles, albeit a little sadly. She doesn’t even let him get a word in, placing a hand on his shoulder after brushing back a piece of his hair. “Kidding. Consider it your payment for the cat/plant/apartment-sitting.”

Jake laughs, relieved before furrowing his brow and saying her name seriously. He rarely did that, over the last year she hadn’t heard him say it more than a handful of times. “I’m gonna pay you for the cat sitting.”

She laughs awkwardly and removes her hand from him. “That’s not necessary.”

“You stayed for two and a half months, caring for them every single day. Plus you did my laundry, watered the plants and who knows what else.” He pauses to glance around the room, waving his hand to the corner. “Reorganized my records and bookshelves since I’m lazy and don’t always put them back in alphabetical order.”

“I lived in a nice apartment for two and a half months, ate the food there, enjoyed all the amenities and got to hang out with two cute furry friends whenever they wanted. The food and your company is payment enough.” She hated when Jake offered her money, even in this case where he really was paying her for a service. It still felt weird to take money from her best friend like this.

“I insist,” He pushes. “You deserve it.”

“Jake, seriously,” She huffs, standing to walk away from the couch. He follows quickly behind, the pair of them making their way into the kitchen. “I don’t want your money. It’s weird, this was just a favor for my best friend.”

Her real life job was something that she didn’t feel particularly strong about anymore and since Covid she’d been able to do all her work remotely. All communication was online and she never had to go into an office again if she didn’t want to, so she’d been making her own money while at Jake’s place without him giving her his.

He puts his hands to his hips as he watches her open his fridge and ignore him staring at her. He rolls his eyes when she still won’t look at him and instead pulls out a kombucha she had bought a few days ago and takes a long sip. Finally she meets his eyes after shutting the fridge and leans against the counter beside it, placing them on opposite corners of the room.

“Fine, I won’t pay you for your service. I will simply pay you in Thai food and other take out until I deem fit. How’s that sound?”

She smiles at his persistence. “And drinks for life,” She speaks over the lid of her drink, eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at him from her reclined position.

Jake chuckles, elation spreading across his face, his tired eyes still bright despite everything. “That’s why you denied physical money. You’re an incredible con artist, shrimp. Guaranteeing libations for life. I respect it.”

She laughs and walks out of the kitchen, Jake following behind like one of his cats following himself. “I imagine I’ll take care of your cats again in the near future and then you’ll try to pay me again. I’m trying to mitigate having this conversation over and over.”

Jake ahh’s in understanding as the pair take their spots on the couch once more. She grabs the blanket while Jake grabs the remote, easily falling into routine.

“There’s intricate levels to it all.” She muses, laying it flat against their bodies. Jake scoots closer so that the blanket can cover more of both of their pairs of legs.

“You’re much smarter than me.”

“Now that’s a compliment from sir Jacob Thomas Kiszka.”

She leans into his side as he moves his arm out of the way and onto the back of the couch, allowing her to further lean against his warm chest. He chuckles offhandedly at the name she had used.

“Call for Thai after the opening credis, yeah?” Jake asks as he mindlessly flicks through the streaming service to their favorite shared show.

She nods against him, tickling him slightly, and hums her assent to his question.

Jake calls for the takeout and she takes the time to change into sweats. In Jake’s room, the room that had been hers for a few months, but now was refilled with his presence, she looked at the hat on the bed. She left the door cracked, not on purpose but she also didn’t mind as she pulled the crop top from her body. She looked at her bag that was already zipped up, remembering she had neatly put everything away in preparation of leaving after Jake returned home. Her eyes cast around the room and landed on the pile of neatly folded shirts and sweatshirts of Jake’s she had worn during her stay and subsequently washed. Her hands plucked the grey shirt off of the top of the pile without thinking too hard about it as she slipped it over her head before realizing she also wanted to change her pants. Jake didn’t leave any sweatpants behind for her to mooch from, so unzipping her bag became necessary. She felt a little silly wearing Jake’s shirt now, but it wasn’t that weird so it was only a passing thought.

For a brief moment, she is just in her red cotton panties and Jake’s stretched out t-shirt standing in Jake’s bedroom. The shirt was slightly cropped due to her breasts, leaving the lower part of her stomach, just below her belly button exposed. The hem in the back brushed at the red lace that ran around the band of the panties. The fabric of the sweatpants slipped up her legs just as Jake was walking up to the door to inform her of when the food would arrive. His eyes caught the flash of red lace disappearing beneath the brown cotton and it stopped him in his tracks.

An audible gasp must be heard because she’s turned her head over her shoulder to look at him through the crack in the door as her hands are busy tying the tie on her sweatpants, cinching them to her waist.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a girl’s panties before, Jacob.” She pushes the door open further and tilts her head to look up at him quizzically.

His pinkened cheeks are delightfully youthful on his mature face, the mustache he’d been trying to grow a bit of a shadow on his face now. She smiles, pitying her best friend’s boyish response.

“I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t,” He tries to laugh it off, looking down at the floor for a moment, unsure why he felt so bashful about seeing her dressing. It wasn’t even like he’d seen her ass, just the top band of the panties as they were covered. “Just the red…didn’t know you wore red lace –” He cuts himself off, rubbing the back of his neck for a quick moment as she laughs at him.

“God, you’re such a tween boy sometimes,” She pushes at his shoulder when she passes by him, leaving him leaning against his doorway, the information about the food forgotten on his lips momentarily.

Jake gets the door when it rings with their food a reasonable 20 minutes later. He resumes his seat beside his best friend as she throws the blanket off of her, sitting up to look at the array of food Jake was setting out from the brown paper bag. The night is filled with laughter, tasty food and murder mysteries the pair could likely quote at this point, they’d seen all the episodes so many times together.

“His favorite album is the White Album! That’s insane, I forgot. Jake, Hotch and I are literally soulmates.” She muses, staring at the screen with wide eyes and then looking at Jake.

He laughs as a noodle falls from his chopstick just as it was about to enter his mouth and she grimaces at how adorably messy of an eater he was. There was a smudge of Pad Thai sauce on the corner of his lip and she didn’t have the heart to tell him, especially considering that it would reappear in the next five minutes. She just had to wait until they finished eating to assess the damage.

“That’s why the fictional FBI man is your soulmate?” His tone was incredulous and amused.

“Mhmm,” She nods in confirmation, taking a bite of her fresh roll and then humming in satisfaction at the taste. “Fuck that’s good.”

Jake raises his left brow at her and watches her for a moment longer, in her own little world as she continues to chew on the roll of vegetables. Even eating in his frumpy tattered shirt and her sweatpants, with her feet tucked beneath her on the couch, he was unable to not be taken with her beauty. He was struck silent even more as he marveled at her like this than at the glance of her underwear.

He knew his friend was beautiful, he’d seen people come and go in her life, attempting to hold her attention long enough to call it a relationship but they never lasted. He was pretty sure he knew why they didn’t last, they didn’t understand that while she was beautiful to look at, there was so much more beauty hidden inside of her head, inside of her heart. She was kind when she wanted to be, hilarious without even trying and wiser beyond her years.

So it didn’t matter if she was stretching her arms above her head in a lacy panty and bra set or hunched over herself in old sweats, he found her transcendently breathtaking. As a friend. Friends knew each other’s worth, noticed the beauty in them, enjoyed their company.

They binge-watched television until the cats began to chirp at Jake, imploring him to settle into bed so that they could then take up residence around him.

“Got one last night in you?” Jake questions as they clean up the food and turn off the television.

“Don’t you want your bed to yourself and the boys?”

“Nah,” Jake shakes his head emphatically. “I’m tired of sleeping alone. Sleep better next to someone, I think. Stupid twin thing.”

She cackles at his words, already beginning to prepare to sleep over. “You think your sleeping companions are a stand in for your insane identical twin brother? That is so freaky.”

She hears Jake’s laughter from a room away, loud and clear. The joy is evident in the volume and she imagines his grin is taking up his entire face. She wished she could see it, even with her it was rare.

She slips her bra from beneath Jake’s shirt and debates switching to her sleep shorts she thankfully had brought for lounging or sleeping in the sweats. Thinking about the space heater of a human that was going to be beside her, plus his two mini heaters of fur, she went to her zipped bag once more. Her hands rooted around the insides contents, cursing herself silently for not realizing she’d be staying over as she fucked up her nicely packed belongings.

As if on cue, Jake finishes putting away the leftovers, dealing with utensils and shutting up his apartment just as she’s taking down her sweatpants. She takes them and throws them over her bag, before picking up her sleep shorts to do a quick change between her cheeky panties and the navy blue shorts with little bees on them.

Jake’s already walking through the door not realizing her state of undress. She holds the shorts in front of herself slightly awkwardly and he stops when he realizes her legs are bare.

“Sorry,” He says, a chuckle under his breath as he ducks his head and turns around.

She rolls her eyes to herself and finishes changing. “I’m beginning to think you want to see me in my underwear with your timing.”

Jake knows she’s done when she taps his shoulder. He turns and finds her seated at the edge of his bed, still in his shirt and the tiny blue shorts she had been holding to cover the lace red panties that Jake wasn’t mad about seeing again.

She noticed the way his adam’s apple bobbed for a second as he swallowed and she tilted her head up at him in confusion.

“You’d know if I wanted to see you in your underwear, shrimp.” His voice is almost hoarse as he speaks, lowering it to keep the rasp at bay. It sounds melancholy and she thinks it’s just because he’s tired and sad his touring is over but he’s also happy to be home. She thinks because of that she should probably ignore it and try to lighten the mood, keep the bit going.

She blinks up at him, voice a touch dreamy. “Would I?”

Jake’s lips curl up in silent response and then he unbuttons the last two buttons on his shirt and pulls it casually from his body, all while staying in front of her. Then his hands go up to his hair, retying it into a messy ponytail. She frowns at how he had done it and sighs, laying on her back as he removes his pants, leaving him in his boxers, light blue and surprisingly crisp looking.

“C’mon shrimp, brush your teeth or you’ll hate yourself in the morning.”

She groans in response and sticks her right hand into the air, silently requesting for Jake to pull her up. He obliges quickly and carefully, pulling her to a complete stand directly in front of him. His strength was surprising and she steadied herself with her free hand against the lightly tanned skin of his chest.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” He raises his eyebrows at her. Her eyes are wide as she regards his face right in front of hers.

Jake feels her fingertips against his chest and the warmth is so welcome he doesn’t let go over her hand that he’s holding. They’re just stuck staring at each other, one step apart from being chest to chest. Her fingers flex into his skin, curling over his collarbone.

A swish of a soft tail weaving between their legs sends them apart and allows for laughter to fill the room. She walks out of the room first and Jake mutters a quick ‘thanks Hot Dog’ at the cat who was hopping onto the bed and curling up at the foot of it.

Jake finds his best friend sitting on the closed toilet seat, toothbrush between her teeth and his toothpaste left open on the sink. They brush their teeth in silence and he lets her wash her face before him, their nighttime routines coexisting in a perfect dance.

Before she leaves the bathroom, she rests her head against his back for a moment, her temple against his spine. He pauses, his hands hovering in front of his face with suddsy water.

“I’m happy you’re home. This place is meant to have you in it.”

He tilts his head back, placing it atop hers in recognition of what she’s said. This was home. Not the apartment, persay, but with her by his side.

She walks back to the bedroom because she knows that Jake’s nonverbal responses were sometimes the only response he gave. The cats were both thankfully at the foot of the bed so that she and Jake wouldn’t have to fight for space to sleep. She gets in on the left, where she had slept for the past two and a half months, knowing Jake preferred the right.

Her knees are tucked up to her chest as she sits against the headboard when Jake walks into the room, flicking the main light off. It leaves them in complete darkness for a moment while Jake crosses to his nightstand and turns on the lamp. This causes him to disappear and then reappear right beside her which she finds only mildly disturbing, residual Criminal Minds thoughts swimming around her brain.

Jake sits beside her, making no move to go to sleep. The room is quiet besides the occasional cat purring and it brings a contented smile to Jake’s face.

“Shrimp,” he speaks up, turning his neck to look at her before sighing and saying her real name. “I don’t know if this is too much, but we’ve known each other for so long, I feel really awkward bringing it up.”

“You can tell me anything, Jake. You’re my best friend,” She chuckles when she thinks something. “You know I’d help you bury a body wherever. No questions asked.”

Jake mirrors her laughter, albeit a little more stilted. His hair is loose again and he runs a hand through it. He could never make up his mind about it. But he knew what he had decided about this.

“It’s not a dead body…yet.” He takes a deep breath and takes her hand closest to him. Her breath catches at the move, so familiar yet different, the calluses of his fingers simultaneously smooth and rough. “I just thought a lot about it while I was on tour. You’re my best friend, too, if that wasn’t clear.”

“You’re rambling, Jake.” She informs him gently, rubbing her fingers over the back of his hand that remained inhers.

He flushes and she notices it on his chest before returning her gaze to his face.

“Sorry,” He replies but she smiles at him, communicating that it wasn’t something to be sorry for. “I’m just nervous. I really want to kiss you right now.”

Her eyebrows raise in surprise but the expression is immediately replaced with joy. “Then kiss me.”

“Really?” Jake’s eyebrows mirror hers from seconds before. She nods and then they’re meeting in the middle.

Their intertwined hands don’t drop one another as they press against each other’s lips in a much overdue embrace. It’s soft and sweet, loving. Jake is tender and insistent upon her lips, nothing like she had ever imagined he would be with other partners. But this was Jake with her, his best friend. He was determined to take his time loving her. With every kiss, he was going to show her how beautiful he thought she was. He wanted to show her the beauty he saw in her.

She sighs against his mouth after a few minutes of the sweet yet passionate kisses. “Is this why you insisted I brush my teeth?”

He giggles, uncharacteristically sweet, against her lips and presses another kiss in response. “Maybe.”

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lizzibennet · 5 months

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do you have any modern!Kathony fic recs for someone who usually has a hard time getting into modern aus for ships from period dramas/stories that take place during historical periods? :)

god anon i hope you have a lot of free time

sidelines by ramarro - “Kate sees Anthony's bumble profile and finds it very pretentious. It does not stop her from obsessively drawing his arms though. Until he starts dating her sister.” SIDELINES MY BELOVED!!!!!!! probably my favorite modern au (which is why i’m recommending it first). it’s just delightful. i don’t wanna give too much away just read it!!! i promise you will not be disappointed

most eligible by amalin (firstglances) - a ‘the bachelor’ au. if that means nothing to you don’t worry, it meant nothing to me too. you can get by with very little knowledge of the show besides the basic premise. i love this one

a supercut of us by joekavaliers - basically a buzzfeed unsolved au where kate is ryan and anthony is shane. probably more enjoyable if you already like bfu but it’s really funny

prima facie by katelai - kate, anthony and tom dorset are all famous actors starring in a new film. drama and speculation follow them because while kate and anthony are married and happy, anthony and tom are exes. this is really really good, super interesting, anddddd hot. this author has a bunch of really intriguing fics - i haven’t read all of them, but i really liked the ones i have! mind the tags though

just go with it by suitsusboth - kate jokingly selects the title of viscountess as she is booking a flight. much to her surprise, there is an actual viscount on board, so she’s moved to sit by her husband, because that’s obviously what they are. right?

operation: barista series by starkswinterfelling - OMG OPERATION BARISTA HIIIII. i love a good text fic tbh and this one is about all the sibs trying to get anthony and that cute barista from that coffee shop in their town, kate, together. so cute <33333

the little things you do by zegabz - flower shop au. kate finds a floral arrangement she made just as she is heading to a bar to meet up with friends. incidentally, the man who so rudely discarded the bouquet she made is there too. screams

it had to be you by zegabz - when harry met sally au. need i say more

june, after dark by stutteringpeach - edwina is friends with daphne whose wedding celebration is taking place in her grand fancy estate in the country, so obviously she drags kate along. daphne’s brother is very annoying, but also familiar to kate… hmmmmmm

soulmates au by teabrigadier - soulmate au in which the first words your soulmate will ever say to you show up on your wrist on your 18th birthday, and both kate and anthony have very decided opinions on their soulmates, since both of them have very asshole-y soulmate marks. there is an anthony pov and a kate pov!!

a place to rest by lookingforthestars - kate runs a little bed & breakfast. anthony shows up suddenly one late night. they go from there

you are the light that is blinding me by lookingforthestars - anthony is just one of kate’s vaguely dickish, annoying coworkers - until she starts eavesdropping on conversations between him and a mystery woman, and a side of him she was not aware of is revealed. peak idiots being idiots love them

i can’t find the words, so i guess it’s time by pentaghastly - k&a have a one night stand after much unresolved sexual tension. to kate’s surprise, he starts being a regular at her tea shop.

I could go on but lol

#anonymous #what is my ask tag again

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 4 months

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20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged on this by @unexpectedstormy ! I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to respond like it was a chain or make my own post, so I just went for it

1. How many works do you have on A03?

Two. There will be more coming, because Blood Drops on Roses is just arc one of this story, and there's a lot of snippets for Prologue floating around.

Blood Drops on Roses: Linked Universe

BDOR Prologue: The Yiga and The Sheikah

2. What's your total A03 word count?

51,493 words since mid-August, when I finally got an account XD I've been a lurker for YEARS ya'll.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Linked Universe only, so far.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

See above XD I hope to get enough fics out there that I can sort my work like that, but for now it's just those two.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I respond as soon as I can, they are like crack to me. Maybe because I'm new to sharing my work or something, but I would die for each and every one of you that leaves even as much as a <3

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

NONE OF MY FICS ARE FINISHED YET AAAAAAAAAA. Arc 1's ending is going to be pretty angsty though.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hm, I see that this questionnaire is not meant for me. There is a Prologue section "The Trap" that I'll be putting out soon through, its ending is pretty sweet I would say.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet. I am afraid that it's gonna happen, but so far everyone has been so nice, so I hope not D:

9. Do you write smut?

Nah. Don't really read it either. Just not my thing.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I mean unless you count LU as a crossover between all the Link's respective fandoms, no

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Gosh I hope not. How does one steal a fic?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. If I ever get good enough at Spanish, I would like to take a crack at translating my own fic once its all published, but it would probably be laughably terrible. Eh, practice is practice.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet. Hey @needfantasticstories, I think Clippy Wind and Pug Sky need to go on some adventures together, don't you?

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Tbh I don't really ship. I do think Malon/Time and Legend/Ravio are cute though. I'm just not really interested in exploring the romantic side of stories, even in published literature.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Geez I hope that I finish all of Arc 2 at this point. But I may be too early into the game to answer this.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Heck if I know. I had someone say in my comment section that they liked how I characterize people, so we'll go with that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I write too much and probably in too much detail. Sometimes it would be better to say "They crossed the bridge and set up camp" but nooooooooooo lets add 7,000 words to this already bloated fic.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Italics. I was about to whip out my decade of Latin for part of this fic, but I decided against it because I'm pretentious but not that pretentious. Also because I still don't understand word order at ALL.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Now that I'm thinking about it, I think I have some fanfic from the dog series of Warrior Cats lurking somewhere that I wrote when I was like 12. Survivors, or something? I should probably go delete it, I'm sure it's trash. I'm scared to even look, it probably hasn't seen the light of day since I wrote it.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Well I've only got one big fic out right now so let's go with BDOR

@needfantasticstories and @somer-writes I'm kicking this your way.

#linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #cheetoanswers #ao3 #linked universe fanfic #hope i did this right #I'm just kinda new so idk how to do this crap lol #bdor #blooddropsonroses

18 notes · View notes

borahaerhy · 2 years

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Love and Sarcasm (1) - knj

Summary: The second semester of your sophomore year in college has started and there are only two people in your creative writing class that have published works: You, and Kim Namjoon; a pretentious know-it-all that just so happens to be in the same frat as your best friend.

Pairing: Fuckboy!Namjoon x Demi!Chubby!Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, College! au, eventual smut

Warnings: Namjoon is toxic, Jimin drinks some wine before driving but he's not intoxicated, College parties, the entirety of bts being in a frat, Y/n has a caffeine addiction, references to Jimin and Y/n partying a lot while underage.

Word count: 5.6k

Previous | Next

Note: Hey guys! I decided to make it a mini series, It should be 4-5 parts because I wasn't even half done and we were almost at 15k words so I decided I should split it up xD. I hope you enjoy :))

“There’s my favorite librarian,” You looked up from the cart of books you had been organizing and at your best friend of almost 10 years, holding a large coffee that you desperately hoped was for you.

“Did you get me the good stuff?” You asked as he handed you the cup, rolling his eyes as your eyes rolled back into your head as the hot bitter liquid met your tongue.

“Of course, I also got you a donut because coffee isn’t breakfast,” you gasp at his bold statement clutching your chest as exaggeratedly as you could muster.

“Says who?” You question as you gently set your coffee down on your desk, features still exaggerated

“Most people, I’m pretty sure. Eat the damn thing; and next time you wake up late ask someone else to get your coffee for you, I have shit to do,” he dropped the bag with the donut in it on your desk as you resumed organizing the books.

“Where have you got to be before 4pm?” You scoff, eyeing your friend out of the corner of your eye as he yawns.

“I’ll have you know,” he speaks through his yawn, “That my classes are early this semester. My first ones at 10,” You give a slight smirk as you shake your head lightly.

“Wow, look at you up and out of the house a whole 2 hours before you have to be anywhere – if I didn’t see it I wouldn’t believe it,” he narrows his eyes at you even though you weren’t even close to facing him.

“Haha, very funny. When are your classes for this semester?” He questions, sliding his hands into the pockets of his winter jacket.

“Uh, my Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes start at 9, so I should actually probably leave here soon. I have creative writing then at 2, I have one of the 40 English classes I have to take. Tuesdays and Thursdays are just Child Development which starts at noon,” You furrow your eyebrows, struggling to remember your new schedule off the top of your head.

“That English class, is it with Duncan?” You look over at him before nodding, picking up your coffee with one hand and placing the other on your hip as you take a sip. “Thank god, you know I hate reading, you’re going to be my lifeline, my little nerdy friend,” You cock an eyebrow at his mention of the word little.

“Jimin, we’re the same height, and I think I’ve got a few pounds on you, please stop calling me little,” you set down your coffee and look down at the sheet for the books that are due back today and start crossing off a few that had already been returned.

“I meant more figuratively. You’re emotionally 5’2,” You roll your eyes, a small smile creeping through you try to hide. “I need to get going, I have to meet up with the frat before I get to classes today,”

“Still can’t believe they let you into a frat,” you stood up straight again, taking one last sip of your coffee before you pushed the cart of books out from behind your desk.

“Still can’t believe you refuse to come to my frat parties.”

“Can you seriously see me going to a frat party?” You asked, almost laughing at the thought. Jimin nodded.

“I have actually physically seen you at several frat parties, Y/n,”

“Yeah, in high school,” He shrugged as he started walking backwards toward the front door.

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen the party girl in you, babe. Don’t pretend she doesn’t exist anymore – she was hot,” you rolled your eyes as he pulled his hat back down over his ears before stepping out into the cold.

You made your way to the back of the large lecture room, sitting in the back row next to a very large window that overlooked the snow-covered campus. You placed your 2nd coffee of the day down on your desk before sitting down, satisfied with your view of the board in front of you. It wasn’t a large class, so by the time everyone else had made their way in, you were still the only person in the back row.

“Good morning class, my name is Helen Swain, and I’ll be your professor for this semester,” She went on for a few more minutes, talking about what was going to be covered in the class and what to expect, even handing out a paper syllabus before announcing that she expected physical copies of all of your assignments. Looks like it’s time to invest in a printer.

“And I just have one more thing to announce before we get started. As this is a creative writing class, I thought it would be nice to highlight some of your classmates that have their very own published works! To the two who have their work published, would you please stand and tell us a little bit about it?” Your heart sunk as you reluctantly stood up, one other student a few rows ahead of you standing up as well. All eyes fell to him first.

“Young man in the front, why don’t you tell us a bit about yours?” He nodded and clasped his hands together.

“Yes, of course. It was a deep and very meaningful poem I wrote when I lost someone who was very close to me. My high school English teacher actually turned it in to a competition where it won first prize and got published,” The professor smiled widely as she began to clap, the rest of the class joining awkwardly as he sat down.

“That sounds wonderful, I’m glad you had a teacher in high school that saw your talent,” she paused for a moment, turning her gaze to meet you, your hands awkwardly shoved into the pocket of your oversized hoodie. “And what about you, in the back?” All eyes were now on you, but thankfully you were seated much higher up than all of them, so you could largely ignore them.

“Um, it’s called Sarcastic, and it’s an acrostic of the word sarcastic, that I wrote when I was 15 and turned in to a competition because I had to for a grade, and apparently it was just edgy enough to make the cut,” A couple of the students laughed, not that you minded – it’s hardly impressive and extremely funny that it had even happened. The boy who went first seemed to think it was absolutely hilarious, though.

“Well, you must’ve been extremely talented to have written something so well at such a young age,” You smirked lightly and gave a thumbs up as you sat down, without any applause.

She continued on with teaching, the class relatively uneventful as it was only the first day, but you still had an assignment due on Friday: a fictional piece of at least 5,000 words. You wrote down the assignment in your planner that you only ever used the first week or so of new classes, then completely disregarded the rest of the semester, before getting up and walking out of class with everyone else, tossing your long empty cup in the trash on the way out.

With the hour you had between classes, you decided to go to the schools café and get yourself an iced coffee to have a little variety. From there, you made your way to where you knew Jimin would be getting out of his lecture shortly and want to rant about something before he had to go sit through another 4-hour lecture.

“Looks like people will probably come to me for help,” you turn behind you, feet still moving in the general direction of when you needed to go before you turned back around as he caught up to you. “No offense, I just think my poem seemed a little more impressive than yours,” You hummed in agreement as you nodded, taking a sip of your coffee as you watched the smirk on his face grow confused.

“No, that’s good, actually, because I really hate it when random people come up to me and start talking about thing’s they generally know nothing about,” you both stopped walking, now turned to face one another as you took another sip of your coffee before slapping him on the shoulder. “So, thanks for that, bud.”

You turned and continued walking to Jimin’s classroom, which thankfully was right down the hallway from where your next class was going to be. “Oh my god I almost fell asleep like 20 times, who knew philosophy was so boring?” Jimin whined the second he was out of the classroom, causing you to snicker.

“Literally everyone, Jiminie,” you smiled as he linked arms with yours as you started slowly walking down the hall to your next subject.

“You like it,” he shot back as you shrugged.

“Because I’m boring Jimin, c’mon man, wake up!” You snapped in front of his face as you aggressively told him to wake up, sipping your coffee before he noticed you had a new coffee in your hands.

“That’s not the same coffee I bought you this morning, Y/n, and did you even eat your donut?” You scoffed.

“Of course I ate my donut that you so graciously bought me, what kind of a person only drinks coffee all day and has their first meal at 7pm?”

His expression fell as you turned to face each other outside of your class, his arms now folded across his chest. “You, asshole, that’s why I asked,” Granted, you had thrown the donut away after only having one bite; it was way too sweet too early in the morning. And he most certainly did not have the right to judge you on your coffee habits.

“Well, new year new me, Jiminie. I'll have you know I'll be eating food along with my ten cups of coffee a day,” you smiled, entering the classroom.

“Can you at least narrow it down to seven cups?” He followed you to the back of the room, the only acceptable place to sit.

“Never.”

After class, Jimin walked you home and then invited himself inside of your quaint apartment, plopping himself down on your couch before you could even finish getting your winter jacket off.

“So, what’re you going to wear to my party on Friday?” you scowl at him as you kick your shoes off, dropping your bag next to them before you cross your arms, moving over to where he’d occupied a large amount of your sofa before you squeeze in next to him.

“Who says I’m going to your party?” You retort, Jimin’s smirk never fading from his face.

“Me,” he spoke proudly, as if he’d just found a loophole in the system that forced you out of your house. He has not.

“Friday you said?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as he nodded as if in deep thought, pondering your options, before you shook your head and moved your eyes back to meet his. “Sorry, can’t, that cuts into my brooding time. Maybe if it were on a Tuesday–”

“You’re hilarious, you know?” He asked sarcastically after rolling his eyes. You nod.

“Duh,” his face softened as he turned to face you, grabbing your hand in the process.

“Seriously, Y/n, I think you might actually have fun if you come,” he elongated his words as he tugged on your hand slightly, his bottom lip jutted out as he begged. You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your hand back out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let you. “C’mon, babe, I've been trying to not push you, but you seriously need to get laid,” You immediately pull the pillow that you had been resting on out from behind your back before hitting Jimin as hard as you could with it, causing him to let go of you and chuckle, hands hiding his face as you swung a second time before propping the pillow back behind your back.

“Asshole,” You started, gaining his attention, “You know I’m an emotional bitch that can only sleep with people I’m in love with, we can’t all be sluts,” he chuckled softly at your words, rubbing the arm you hit as if it was a serious wound.

“Well then you need to go make out with someone or at least, I don’t know, get drunk and relax. I can’t remember the last time you just chilled the fuck out and had fun, ” his face became more somber as he spoke, trying not to sound like he was worried but still wanted you to know that he cared.

“If you wont come for you then come for me, the only people I hang out with at these things are fuckboys and they’re not near as fun as you. I promise I won’t leave you halfway through the night to be slutty either, I’m all yours if you agree to be my arm candy for the night,” You groaned loudly as he finished his sentence, making him stop because you know he would keep talking if you didn’t stop him.

“Can we find a new topic of conversation if I agree to think about it?”

“Only if you agree to think about what you’ll be wearing to the party you’ll definitely be coming to,” he smiled, his round cheeks hiding his eyes as his grin spread across his face. You sighed, sitting back up before grabbing the remote.

“Fine, I’ll go to your frat party, Jimin. Now, do you want to watch Harry Potter with me or not?” You asked, turning the tv on.

“Of course, I’ll order the pizza.”

The week went by much faster than you would’ve liked it to, between working and getting used to the long class hours. You had finished the writing assignment due for your creative writing class on Wednesday; you had always been an overachiever when it came to writing assignments that you had free reign on, so it’s a bit longer than necessary as well, but you figured that would help your grade, if anything.

You thankfully didn’t have to go into the library this morning, so you were able to get an extra couple of hours of sleep before you decided to walk to campus, seeing as it had snowed last night and it was beautiful outside. You, obviously, picked a hot black coffee on your way, the hot cup warming the fingertips your fingerless gloves neglected before you finally made your way to the large building your lecture was in.

Having an extra few minutes before your professor would even open the door, you slid your bag off your shoulder and set it down on a bench near the entrance of the building. You opened it, putting your coffee down next to it as you realized opening a zipper is hard to do with one hand, and pulled out your assignment, wanting to be able to hand it to her before you even took your seat.

You absentmindedly scrolled through your phone for a few minutes before you started to notice a few of your classmates walking in the building. You put your phone away, picked up your things before you went along with them.

“Ah, Ms. Y/l/n and Mr. Kim, the two paper’s I'm most excited to read,” You turned and realized that Namjoon was right behind you, smile wide as he held his paper out at the same time you did. You both took notice of the fact yours was longer, by at least a few pages, before you both started walking to your seats.

“Quality over quantity, Y/l/n,” he spoke lowly as he stepped quickly to keep up with you. You smirked.

“Hmm,” you hummed, taking a sip of your coffee before turning, facing him as he threw his bag down on the table. “Hasn’t anyone told you, Kim? Size always matters,” you turned on your heal and walked up to your seat that overlooked the class, satisfied with the baffled look that was on his face when you left.

“Okay, I know I'm basically forcing you to come to this party, but that doesn’t mean you can just wear your work clothes,” It was 30 seconds after you had walked into your apartment after taking some overtime in at the library, and Jimin was already in your apartment, drinking a glass of wine with his hand on his hip as he looked at you judgmentally.

“Did you bring your own wine glass to wait for me in my apartment to get off work so that you can scold me for not being ready 4 seconds after I walk in the door?” You cocked an eyebrow as you cross your arms across your chest, but Jimin only looks at you and nods as if that’s obvious and completely normal. You rolled your eyes as you put your things down, shedding yourself of your winter coat, gloves and hat before you walked past Jimin, taking the glass of wine from his hand and taking a sip as you walked back to your bedroom. “Besides, what’s wrong with looking like a librarian?”

“We’re going to a frat party, not a book sale,” He scoffs, following you into your room and taking his wine back from you as you open your closet and begin to think, piecing different things together.

“No shit, Jiminie. You just have to give me a second to get ready,” you pause, pulling a mini skirt out of your closet, looking around to see if there was any way you could pair this with something without freezing your tits off. “If someone drugs my drink it’s entirely your fault for making me look hot,” You pulled out a tight cropped sweater with a zipper down the front, holding them up together to see if they went well together. They did.

“If someone drugs your drink, I’ll murder them,” he said nonchalantly as you heard him opening your dresser drawer. “And if you’re wearing that, you’ll need these,” He throws a pair of fishnets over the hanger of the top before he begins rifling through your shoes.

“Well, while you figure out my outfit for me, I’ll go do my makeup,” he merely grunted and waved you off as he set his wine next to him, throwing your converse across the room.

“You’re going to catch a cold without a jacket, babe,” Jimin walked you out of your apartment and down to the street, where you had to then try to find his car in the snow-covered and cramped parking lot with your arm linked with his. You were now at least a good few centimeters taller than him, your chunky knee-high heels barely giving you enough traction to stay vertical as you walked through the ice.

“That’s what the coffee’s for, Jimin. It makes my heart beat so fast my body temperature never drops below 100 degrees,” you smiled as you walked unaffected by the temperature to his car, which was conveniently parked at the end of the lot. He opened the door for you before racing to the driver’s side and jumped in.

“Joking about your coffee addiction isn’t making me feel much better about it, Y/n,” you only smiled as he started the car and drove the short distance between your apartment and his house. It was massive. You’ve never been inside, but you’ve seen the outside of it many times. Between Jimin being overprotective of you and you not really liking to party anymore, he just always came over to your place when you wanted to hang out.

But now as you looked up at the large house that was already blaring music with people pouring into it, you started to get intimidated, almost wishing you’d gone to at least one of these things before so this didn’t seem so daunting.

Before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, Jimin had your door open, hand extended to help you get out. You quickly unbuckled yourself and stood, taking Jimin’s arm as you walked up to the house, walking right in the front door into the living room swimming with already drunk people dancing on each other.

You made your way through the sea of people and found a space between the living room (dance floor) and kitchen (bar) that had fewer individuals.

“Jimin, why didn’t you tell us you had a foxy girlfriend?” You turned around along with Jimin to see what was probably the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. He extended his hand, waiting for you to take it as his smile spread sweetly across his face. You gave him your hand, to which he turned it up and gently placed a kiss on your knuckles, not letting his eyes leave yours. No wonder he didn’t trust these guys, I would give this man whatever he wanted no questions asked.

“Because I knew you’d try to take her away from me. You know, like you’re doing now?” Jimin pulled you back slightly by your hips, wrapping a protective arm around you as the handsome one smiled.

“Not his girlfriend. I’m Y/n,” his eyes widened slightly as he looked back and forth between the two of you.

“I take it you’re single then, Y/n?” He asks. Jimin tries to step on his foot, but he moves it away quickly, eyes still boring into yours with so much intensity you almost forget how to speak. Almost.

“That I am,” you smile, ignoring Jimin’s attempts to get you to stop talking.

“Well you, miss Y/n, are welcome here anytime,”

“DRINKS, lets go get drinks, Y/n, you must be parched,” Jimin pushed you away from the pretty man giving you attention and into the kitchen where there were alcoholic drinks and mixers scattered over every surface.

“Which one was that?” You ask as Jimin finally let’s go of you, grabbing a red solo cup from where they’re stacked neatly in the corner.

“That was Jin, you’re not allowed to date him no matter how good at talking he is. Tequila?” Jimin asks, holding up the bottle he’s already poured a shot from into his own cup.

“I’ll take a beer, thanks,” Jimin rolled his eyes, grabbing you a beer and uncapping it before he still grabs another solo cup and fills it with a shot.

“You still have to take a shot with me, it’s for good luck,” he takes the beer from your hand as you sip it and puts it on the counter, shoving the cup in your hand to replace it. He holds out his arm, waiting for you to link yours around it so you can take your shots together. As you roll your eyes and comply, Jin stood at the bottom of the stairs watching you and Jimin before a large hand landed on his back, bringing him back to reality.

“You didn’t get drunk without me, I hope,” Namjoon smiled as he followed Jin’s gaze. His eyes landed on you, arms linked with Jimin, your curves on full display as you knocked your head back, letting the liquor fall smoothly down your throat before you separated, Jimin wrapping an arm around your back, resting on your hip casually as he filled his cup up once more, this time with much more than a shot. “How the fuck did Jimin pull that ass?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for his older friend to reply.

“He didn’t. That’s Y/n.” Namjoon's eyes widened as he looked at Jin.

“Y/n? As in the childhood best friend he never brings around?” Jin nods, looking back over at you. Namjoon thinks for a second before patting Jin’s shoulder again. “Dibs,” He doesn’t wait for him to respond before he makes his way over to you, walking past you to grab a beer before turning again, looking you up and down. You looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Who's your friend, Jimin?” he spoke, grabbing both you and Jimin's attention as he took a swig of his beer. Jimin sighed.

“Namjoon, with is Y/n. Y/n, Namjoon–”

“Oh hey, size doesn’t matter guy! How’s that working out for you?” You smirked widely as you took a small swig of your own beer. Jimin started laughing at your comment, not having any idea of the context but not needing any. Namjoon’s face fell as realization set in.

“You know, you look a lot different without the baggy hoodie and the coffee cup glued to your hand,” Namjoon smirks as he takes another sip of his beer, now much more intrigued by you.

“Okay wait, what am I missing here?” Jimin interjected as he finally stopped laughing, trying to figure out how you and his friend know one another.

“Remember the asshole I told you about from my creative writing class?” your eyes never left Namjoon’s, your head only shifting slightly to the side to face Jimin, who looked at Namjoon with you, mouth open. Namjoon moved his hand over his chest, faking hurt.

“Asshole? Wow, Y/l/n. That hurts, even from you,” the smug smirk never left his face, nor yours. You shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ve been called worse. C’mon, Jiminie,” you looked away from Namjoon for the first time since he’d arrived, pulling Jimin and his now very full cup of tequila that you were 90% positive he didn’t add a mixer to. “I wanna dance.”

“I’m not that drunk, I will be fine,” it was probably somewhere close to 3 in the morning, and you were ready to get out of here and go to bed. Jimin was probably about as drunk as you could be without completely blacking out.

“You’re not going to walk home or take the subway in the middle of the night looking like that in the dead of winter, getting buried in a pile of snow is a best-case scenario. Just come up to bed with me,” Jimin’s eyes were barely open as he leaned against the front door, trying his best to look stable by relying all his weight onto something to hold him up.

“I don’t want to put you out, plus you live with like 20 dudes, several of whom tried to grab my ass at some point,” He pushed himself off the door, putting both his hands on your shoulders before he turned you around and pushed you toward the stairs, now relying on you to remain upright.

“Then I’ll lock the door. I won’t be responsible for your death and I’m too tired to worry about you,” You rolled your eyes as you accepted defeat, helping Jimin up the stairs and into his bedroom at the end of the hall. He made sure he locked the door after you both got in the room. He hastily peeled off his shirt and threw it on the floor before falling onto his bed face first.

You pulled off your shoes, your feet thanking you as they felt flat ground again. You pulled down your skirt and fishnets, leaving them on his dresser before you slid under the covers beside Jimin, who instinctively wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him, nuzzling himself into your neck as you both drifted off to sleep comfortably in each other’s embrace.

It truly was a good thing you worked in a library, because on days you were hungover the quietness of it all made your head hurt less as you readjusted back to normalcy. Not that you were hungover often, especially at work, but on days you were, you knew it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it was when you worked in a McDonalds.

You finished putting away yesterday's returns and walked back up to your desk, stopping the cart beside you as you sat down, drinking your hot coffee, begging the caffeine to take away your headache.

“Was that you I saw sneaking out of my house at seven in the morning?” You looked up from a pile of paperwork to see Namjoon with a wide smirk on his face and a book tucked under his arm as he strolled up to your desk. You looked back down at the papers on your desk that seemed to be multiplying, words evading your vision as you tried to read them.

“I wasn’t sneaking, I just didn’t want to wake anyone,” he dropped the book down in front of you, leaning his elbows on the taller portion of the desk as you scanned over the book. The Forgotten Fire by Adam Bagdasarian. Interesting book for a frat boy.

“Whose room were you coming out of?” You wrote the title of the book down on the sign out log, before inputting the same information into the computer.

“Why don’t you ask your buddies, I’m sure whoever it was would love to brag about the encounter,” You wrote the date on a card and put it back into the book.

“Ah, did you get burned, Y/l/n?” You ignored his question, handing him back his book, your sarcastic customer service smile taking over.

“It’s due back in two weeks,” You extend your hand with the book in it cover pointed out to face him as he glances down at it, smug smile still playing on his lips before he takes it from your hand. You let your gaze fall back to your desk as you continued to look over your papers.

“See you then, Y/l/n, try not to miss me too much,”

“Only in your wet dreams, Kim,” your comment conned a genuine smile out of him as he walked out the door to the library. He didn’t know why, but Namjoon needed to know who you were with, and you gave him a pretty good suggestion. He made it not even 10 steps away from the building before he pulled out his phone, opening the group chat that all the members of his frat were in.

Namjoon slid his phone back in his pocket before he could read Yoongi’s complaints.

No one had ever really stood up to him, especially when it came to his intelligence. Namjoon had prided himself on being the smartest person back in his high school, and even while he knew he had no hope of being the smartest person in the college, he’d at least hoped to be smarter than most of the people he came across.

When he saw you walking on campus on the first day of class, he thought he might try his luck at flirting with you. While he didn’t think you seemed to be the most attractive based of the over-sized sweater and hair definitely not done, but you were the shy one. Face red as you spoke allowed about your poem is a self-deprecating manner, sitting as far away from others as possible. You kept away from people for the entirety of class, and then walked by yourself to get a coffee.

You seemed easy. He’d tease you before throwing a compliment or two at your feet, and you’d be all over him. Instead, he got to the teasing part, and you’d shot back at him. You’d shot back good. He didn’t even know how to respond, so he didn’t. That’s when he decided it’d be fun to have a little rivalry with you. You didn’t talk unless someone spoke to you, but God when you did speak? It’s never something he’s expecting; and he can’t get enough.

He hated losing, and you were the only competition he’d have this semester, all his other classes seemed to go by like a breeze. But your confidence alone would make you the most fun person to go up against.

Then he saw you at the party – saw what you could really look like if you put effort into yourself and knew the feud he’d started with you was probably going to be the hardest one he’d have to overcome.

There were two ways he could win: Get better grades, get better at comebacks, and prove that he was the smartest.

He could ruin you.

He’d never seen you at any parties before, so the likelihood of you being someone who liked to sleep around was low. That, and the fact Jimin wouldn’t even let you come to meet them meant he didn’t trust you around them; scared they’d break your heart or try to. So, you were probably emotional when it came to sex. If he could get you under him, he’d always come out on top.

Note: I TOLD YOU NAMJOON WAS TOXIC BUT I PROMISE IT'S NOT PERMANENT

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fabyzay-blog · 1 month

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The one where two ex-lovers meet again in a reality TV show.

Hi! When I was first reading LITG S5 I wrote a little something to help me understand the plot better because I love details and we were bearly getting any. So a wrote what I was thinking about how Suresh and my MC (Rays) met.

It was always meant to be just for me but I was browsing on my computer the other day and decided to share it here. (English is not my first lenguage so I apologize for any errors)

Summer 2022

Rays entered the Love Island Villa hoping to finally move on from Suresh. This was her new beginning, her chance to open herself up to love again. But what she didn’t expect was for him to be there too.

Rays thought she had left him behind, that her wounds were finally healed, and that she was ready to move on to someone new. But then she looked into his emerald, green eyes again and all the feelings that were locked away in the deepest parts of her heart a year and so ago came back like a bucket of cold water.

He looked just like she remembered, his hair perfectly slick back, clothes that fit perfectly (purple swim trunks, her favorite color), and that confident cocky grin that always adorned his face.

He looked perfect, just like the first time she met him almost three years ago.

August 2019

Rays was good at her job. She was just an intern, but she worked her ass off to be the one to get promoted to writer before the end of the year.

So, when her boss asked one of the interns to take care of everything the attorneys the law firm had sent to take care of the merging the company was going through at the time, she did not hesitate to volunteer herself to the task. This did not fall within her usual responsibilities at the magazine she worked at, but she was going to be the best assistant those pretentious lawyers have ever had.

However, she did not expect the job to be this hard, and it was all because of him. Suresh De Silva.

The team was composed of two lawyers. Andrea who was in her forties, and barely needed her for anything. Suresh on the other hand was younger, closer to Rays age, smoking hot, and was always calling her over to the conference room the company had given them to work in.

He needed coffee, and documents she had forwarded to him thousands of times before, among many other things she could have given him the previous day or sent over in an email. She did not complain even once, she wanted that promotion, and the fact that he was so good-looking made her forget he made her go to his office multiple times a day. With time the dynamics started to change between them, he started to be the one to bring her a coffee and go to her cubicle every once in a while to get what he needed.

There was some tension between them from the beginning, but they never acted on it, after all, they both had to keep it professional.

One day Suresh came without Andrea to the office, so he asked Rays to work with him in the conference room instead of her cubicle so that she could keep him company and she agreed. They barely got any work done that day, they got to know one another, gave each other side glances, and flirted at every chance they could.

By the end of August Andrea and Suresh had finished their work at the magazine, and after weeks of flirting with each other their flirty banter in the office was over. She never asked for his personal number and neither did he, so she did not see him again, until three weeks later.

It was almost the end of September when Rays and a few of her friends decided to try a new club on the posh side of town in hopes of finding a rich guy who would pay for their drinks instead of the guys that frequent the club they always went to. After a few hours, she had already got a few free drinks and turned down a couple of guys trying to get her to go home with them that night, all of which she rejected.

She had spotted Suresh half an hour ago while she was dancing with a redhead, he was a few meters away from her dancing with a brunette.

He also noticed her half an hour ago, neither of them approached the other, they were playing a game. The teasing game and the one to stop teasing the other first would lose.

She grabbed the redhead by the neck and started grinding on him, biting his earlobe, and kissing his neck, all while looking at Suresh straight in the eyes. He started whispering into the brunette's ear and then they walked away to a corner of the club, he started kissing the girl's neck, all while looking at Rays straight in the eyes. So naturally Rays started making out with the guy she was with, her body facing towards Suresh, he could see the way they were kissing and his wild hands on her ass.

He wished that those were his lips, his hands. He parted away from the brunette to go to the bar, technically losing the teasing game but confident that he would be winning something else tonight.

When Rays stopped kissing the redhead she no longer saw Suresh. She cursed to herself thinking that he had taken the game to another level with the brunette and her plan had backfired on her. But after doing a quick scan of the club she spotted him, alone at the bar, staring at her with a cocky grin. She excused herself to go get a drink and made her way to Suresh.

“Having fun out there” he said to her when she finally arrived at the bar.

“I am” she answered “You?”

“I am, but not as much as we could have together,” he said confidently while sipping his drink. She gave him a flirty smile while getting closer to him, so close that he could smell the coconut shampoo of her hair and the sweet perfume on her skin.

“What makes you think I could have more fun with you tonight?” She whispered in his ear, making him shiver.

“I have a couple of ideas” He whispered back to her, she bit her lip and stroked his arm.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She asked him, and as quickly as they could they were walking out of the club together towards his car.

That night in September started them into this dangerous game of being friends with benefits. With time the nights together started to become days and mornings waking up in each other's arms. That translated into getting coffee before work together and fancy dinner dates.

By the beginning of October, the lines of their relationship started to get blurry, she had a key to his place, and he had a drawer in hers.

By the middle of October, they realized they were kind of more that fuck buddies and decided to give it a go at a relationship.

And even though she was his first proper girlfriend Suresh was a great boyfriend to Rays. He was spontaneous, adventurous, loving, and caring. He showed her a word she didn't know. Growing up with a single mother, Rays had barely gotten out of Edinburgh, but she had a bucket list of places she wanted to visit, and Suresh made it his mission to show them to her, to make sure they visit all those places together.

She was everything he didn't know he needed, his sunshine, he wanted her to be happy and always feel loved and protected by him because he did, he loved her with everything in him. He loved her, his family loved her, even the cat who hated everyone loved her.

She was it for him.

He was everything she ever dreamed, everything she wanted. She loved him, her family loved him because they saw how happy he made her all the time.

He was it for her.

Summer 2022

Rays remembers everything from the beginning of their relationship. She remembered how he made her feel, all the love she felt for him, and how loved he made her feel all the time.

But that was a long time ago.

Now looking at him she could only feel hate and hurt.

She remembered all the tears, the therapy sessions, the sleepless nights, and how broken she felt when she found out he cheated on her. How her world fell apart, and how stupid she felt for buying that ring the same day he decided to throw their relationship away.

However, looking at him again after all this time and under the hate and the hurt she was feeling, she knew that she never stopped loving him. And at that moment Rays realized that a part of her would always love Suresh.

This was going to be one heck of a summer.

#litg suresh #litg s5 #litg ex in the villa #love island the game #litg #suresh x mc #I hope someone read this jaja

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willowfics · 2 years

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every guitar string scar on my hand

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie asks the reader to come to one of corroded coffin’s shows, then invites them to spend the night at his place.

a/n: hello, this is my first fic on this account and i’m very nervous and excited to be posting it as reader inserts and smut are both out of my usual wheelhouse, however i think this turned out alright and i hope you enjoy it!!

content: smut, afab!reader, gender-neutral language, sucking fingers, hand kink, ring kink, fingering, a bit of light choking.

Being friends with Eddie Munson was not an easy task.

Not because of his personality or anything. Sure, he could be loud, obnoxious, and frankly ridiculous at times, but those were all traits that drew you to him. No, the thing that made being his friend so hard was the fact that you were undoubtedly, horrendously attracted to him.

The big, brown eyes. The curly hair. Those tight, ripped jeans that hugged his body in a way that should be illegal. And his hands…His fingers were thick, and covered in rings, and sometimes when he touched you, the cool metal against your skin made something stir deep in the pit of your stomach. Something like desire.

You had only known Eddie for about a year, and he was one of the first people in Hawkins that you befriended, which didn’t do much for your social standing as the new kid. You didn’t care though. He always tried to include you in his D&D meetings, and you had begrudgingly agreed, only to find that it was actually pretty fun. And although he could be pretentious about his music taste, he often let you choose the music in his van.

On Friday, he approached you at your locker.

“I’m playing a show tonight, at The Hideout. You coming?” he asked, sparing no time on the pleasantries before getting to his point.

“Can’t. Homework,” you replied simply, digging in your backpack for your favorite pen. The one that wrote in smooth, black ink and never smudged. You just had it last period, where could it have gone?

Eddie leaned against the locker beside yours, giving you a pout. “It’s the weekend, come on! Your grades aren’t gonna suffer if you take one night off. If you come, you can spend the night so your parents don’t flip about curfew. Tell ‘em you’re with Robin.”

You looked up at him. “...I’ll think about it.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a grin. “Aw, I knew I’d win you over, sweetheart. Pick you up at seven?”

You rolled your eyes, giving his shoulder a shove. He easily caught your wrist in his hand, giving it a little squeeze before letting go, winking, and walking off.

You had already made up your mind. You were going to beg on bended knee for your parents to allow you out.

As the next few classes went by, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The causal way he leaned against the lockers, his childish pout at being told no, his gleaming smile. The way his hand had wrapped around your wrist, the light reflecting off his rings, how strong his grip was without even trying. It was making it absolutely impossible to concentrate.

At the end of the school day, you made your way to the parking lot where Eddie’s van was parked. He had started driving you home because your house was on his way, and he claimed that it would be impolite if he didn’t offer his services. You had obviously accepted, because any time spent with Eddie was time well spent. Plus, it was more convenient. You only told him the second part, though.

As you climbed into the passenger’s seat, the car smelled like weed and his woody cologne as usual. He gave you a grin as you buckled your seatbelt and immediately begun searching through his collection of tapes, already knowing exactly what you wanted to play: Judas Priest.

“So, are you comin’ tonight or what?” he asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

“I still have to ask my parents,” you replied, popping the tape in and listening as Rob Halford’s voice spilled through the speakers. “But if they say yes, I’ll come.”

“Yes!” Eddie exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

You couldn’t help the fond quirk of your lips. “Both hands on the wheel, Munson.”

He obeyed. “You’re right, I can’t drive so recklessly with precious cargo,” he said.

You felt your cheeks heat at his comment, but refused to let your embarrassment show, turning to look out the window as if Hawkins was actually a scenic town and not a shithole. You could feel his gaze linger on you though, and fidgeted in your seat.

He pulled up in front of your house, and you grabbed your backpack and hopped out of the van, giving him a wave. “I’ll call you when I know if I can come.”

“See you at seven,” he replied, lingering outside until you were safely in the house.

After getting the okay for a “sleepover at Robin’s house” you immediately called Eddie and let him know, before digging through your clothes for something to wear. After settling on something comfortable and somewhat fitting for the punk atmosphere, you threw your toothbrush, some pajamas, and other necessities into a bag.

At seven on the dot, Eddie pulled up outside with his other band members in the back. He saved the passenger’s seat for you, though. What a gentleman.

“You look good,” was the first thing Eddie said

“Thanks,” you replied. ‘So do you,’ you didn’t say.

The drive to The Hideout was a quick one, and you bounced your leg nervously the whole time, half-listening to the banter between the guys in the back. When you all arrived, you tried to help them bring in their equipment and set up, but they refused your offers and told you to go inside. So, you did.

It was a small, seedy venue, and you hung close to the wall with your arms crossed, feeling slightly out of place, but not regretting your decision to attend. You were there to see Eddie, after all, and it would be worth it to support him.

Plus, his band didn’t suck, which was a bonus.

As Eddie and the guys filtered onto the stage, testing their amps and muttering amongst themselves, you slowly moved closer and closer to the stage until you were right in front.

Eddie caught your eye and grinned. You smiled back, giving him a wave.

The crowd was small, and yet the moment Eddie leaned into the mic, everyone’s attention was captured. Some of them were friends, some of them were strangers, but everyone was enthralled by Eddie’s energy as he addressed them, including you.

The first song was heavy, and had most of the crowd jumping, head-banging, and whooping during instrumental moments. You allowed your head to nod, your body to sway, but it was a subtle, calm movement that didn’t quite fit the music.

The whole show, you could feel yourself staring. You wondered if he noticed, or if your gaze blended with all the other eyes on him. You listened to his voice, the raspy quality to it as he sang. You watched the way his tongue poked between his lips in concentration as he played. Mostly, you watched his hands. The way his fingers played each chord, strummed out every riff. The way his rings were shining in the lights, you imagined what his hands on your skin would feel like…Those calloused fingers, rough palms, the way those rings would dig into your skin, the metal a shocking cold compared to his warm skin.

You thought about those hands wrapping around your throat, squeezing gently. Unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down your thighs with no patience. Slipping inside of you, that skull ring he wore bumping against your clit and sending shockwaves through you.

The sound of clapping interrupted your thoughts; the set had ended, and you applauded like everyone else, although your mind was still a million miles away.

“Thank you guys so much for coming out tonight,” Eddie said into the microphone, a smile spread across his face, showing his dimples. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

You gave a little cheer, and locked eyes with Eddie. His smile widened. Your heart fluttered.

As the band packed up their things and the audience trickled out, you stayed put, fidgeting on the spot as you not-so-patiently awaited them to be finished. Eddie packed up his guitar and hopped off of the small lip of the stage, coming towards you with open arms.

You giggled and opened your arms as well, pulling him in for a hug and ruffling his curls.

“You were amazing,” you said.

“Thanks,” Eddie replied, looking almost shy at the compliment. “You ready to go?”

You nodded, and off you went. He dropped off each member of the band, one by one, before heading in the direction of his trailer.

“Thank you for coming,” he said to fill the quiet, the radio’s volume not blasting for once.

“Of course,” you replied. “It was cool.”

He smiled, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, almost nervous. Those fucking hands, always distracting you. “It uh, it meant a lot. To me. You know, I, um…” he trailed off as the van crept down the side streets.

You had never seen Eddie Munson speechless before. As he pulled up in front of the trailer, he parked but didn’t shut off the engine yet.

“I really fuckin’ like you, if it wasn’t already obvious,” he spit out after a moment, turning his body towards you. “Like, a lot. And like, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I can bring you home right now if you want, but like, I had to get it off my chest, or I—”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, feeling breathless, and leaned over the center console to press your lips against his. He let out a muffled sound of surprise before kissing you back, his hands coming to cup the sides of your face, his thumb tracing along your jaw.

You kissed until you were both breathless, pulling away only when the need to breathe became too strong.

“Inside?” Eddie panted.

You nodded fervently, grabbing your backpack and flinging open your door, and he turned the car off and got out as well, heading to the door of the trailer, waiting for you to catch up with him so he could hold it open.

“After you,” he said with a little bow.

You laughed, going inside and silently thanking the universe that Wade worked the night shift, giving you and Eddie some proper alone time. You immediately headed back to his room, kicking off your shoes and flopping back on his bed, grinning like mad as he followed suit, untying the laces to his boots and taking off his denim vest before crawling onto the bed beside you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said.

“Trust me, I know,” you replied.

He reached out to stroke your cheek, fingers delicately brushing your skin, and it made goosebumps spread over your body.

His hands were so perfect. His fingertips each had still-fresh marks from the strings of his guitar, but it wasn’t a new indentation. It was clearly much older, a now permanent sign of all the time he had spent practicing, plucking at those strings, teaching himself chords and humming potential songs for the band to play.

You weren’t sure what came over you at that moment, but before you could think rationally, you turned your head and took the tip of his thumb between your lips, meeting his eye as you did so.

Somehow, those wide eyes grew even wider as you did that, his breath catching. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Always thought you’d be a fuckin’ tease,” he said, voice low. “I was gonna be a gentleman, hold off ‘til the second date, but you started it, babe.”

With that, he pushed his thumb further into your mouth, cradling the side of your face. “So good for me,” he said, nearly a whisper. “I can put these things to better use, though.”

He dragged his nails down the side of your neck, making you shiver, a gasp pulled from your lips at the ticklish sensation. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, and you made sure to tease, giving the tip of his finger a little lick, smirking at the way his face had flushed.

“Tease,” he repeated his earlier accusation, before his right hand came to rest against your throat, gentle at first. “This okay? I’ll be gentle.”

You nodded, tilting your chin up to reveal more of your neck, a wordless invitation to do what he pleased.

The other hand had wandered lower, fiddling with the waist of your pants. You took the hint and quickly began to wriggle yourself out of them, and he did his best to help despite the awkward position. Once those were on the floor, he looked at you for approval once again.

“Please touch me,” you said.

“Gladly,” he replied, brushing his fingers along your pussy through your underwear, the garment doing little to dull the wave of pleasure that shot through you at the feeling. A small whimper left your lips. The hand on your throat remained gentle, but he pressed the tips of his fingers against the sides, not quite enough to restrict your breathing, just enough to make you squirm nervously.

He chuckled as he felt the damp fabric. “God, you’re already so fuckin’ wet. So hot for me.”

You moaned softly, bucking your hips to grind yourself against his touch.

“And so impatient, too,” he added. “You want me to put these inside you, huh?”

You nodded.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby.”

“Yes, please.”

“Please what?”

You let out a whine. “Please finger me. Wanna feel you inside…”

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, before tugging your underwear to the side and out of his way, brushing the tips of his fingers along your pussy, feeling the wetness, before he fingers clumsily searched for your clit for a moment before finding it, touching it almost feather-light.

A half-gasp, half-moan burst from your lips, and the hand that rested at your neck tightened the grip momentarily, before dragging down your body; in between your collarbones, between your breasts, down your belly. While one hand lazily rubbed circles on your clit, the other pushed a single finger into your hole, making you cry out.

“This good?” he asked.

“Fuck yes, don’t stop.”

“Alright, noted.”

You would have laughed if your brain wasn’t so frazzled. How was he so fucking good at this? It was like he already knew your body, as if he knew exactly what you wanted.

After a moment, he pushed a second finger in, making you groan, head tipping back against the mattress in ecstasy. He applied a bit more pressure to your clit, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to make your body spasm pleasantly.

He seemed amused by your reaction, plunging his fingers deeper inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped.

“Feel good, baby?”

“So good,” you replied, reaching out one hand to grab hold of his shoulder, desperate for something to hold onto, to steady yourself. Otherwise, it felt as though you would float away.

“Can I add another finger, you think?”

You didn’t need to think about your answer. “Yes.”

And so, that was exactly what he did, carefully inserting a third finger inside of you, working his way deeper, clearly searching for a particular spot. The stretch of his fingers filled you nicely, and it only took a moment for him to find that spot, making your body writhe.

“You gonna come for me, angel?” he asked.

You nodded, a sob of pleasure ringing through his room.

“So fuckin’ hot, baby. All desperate for me…”

The stimulation to your clit and g-spot at the same time, plus his words, quickly pushed you over the edge, and you came, crying out his name.

Slowly, Eddie slipped his fingers out of you, and you watched as he brought his fingers to his own mouth, licking up the mess you had made. “You taste so good,” he said. “Next time, I’ll have to use my mouth.”

Next time? Oh, you were glad he wanted there to be a next time. “That sounds like a plan,” you said, voice wobbling.

“Was that good?” he asked. “Have fun?”

“Are you kidding?” you replied, propping yourself up on your elbows. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

He grinned, clearly preening under the praise. “Good. I’d love to beat my own record sometime.”

“Sure, but maybe in the morning,” you said, smiling.

Then, the two of you went about normal, almost domestic nightly tasks. Brushing your teeth together, changing into pajamas. As you crawled under the covers beside him, Eddie started taking his rings off and placing them on his bedside table, but paused after removing the last one, like he was considering something.

Before you could ask what he was thinking about, he reached out and took your hand gently in his own, and slipped the ring onto your middle finger.

“Obviously it’s not a proposal or anything,” he said. “But since you seem to like ‘em so much, why not wear one to show that you’re mine?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied.

As the two of you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel lucky. Being friends with Eddie had been hard, but only because you were afraid to risk that friendship with your stupid crush. How lucky you were to find out that actually being with Eddie wasn’t hard at all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things s4 #eddie munson reader fic #eddie munson reader insert #willow's fics

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theredcapeofk · 2 months

Note

If you could make a connection between your favorite character and another work you care about (whether a crossover/fusion or a wonderfully “pretentious” literary reference) what would it be? How would it work?

Oooh, Thanks for asking! You knew this one would push me into my crossover feels lol. Buckle up I have thoughts!

I would make a crossover (or several 😁) with The Lengend of Korra, more specifically with Korrasami. Why? Because Korrasami is pretty much Supercorp from another universe

Here's how it would work: a portal opens in National City and chaos ensues. Supergirl and Lena are there to help with damage control where the portal opened (and is now closing). It's just the two of them because they were already together somewhere when they heard the news. Somehow they get separated and Kara's can't hear Lena because the portal messed up her powers. There's dust everywhere that makes it hard to see. Amongst people running she sees from the corner of her eyes a dark haired woman dressed in Lena's colors. She calls her name and follows her. But when she's face to face with the woman, it's not Lena. This woman is significantly taller, slightly younger and Asian, but she has wavy black hair, a pale skin and green eyes. She has a bloody scratch on her cheek. She looks terrified. Her name, she says, is Asami and she's looking for her girlfriend. They've been separated by the chaos of the portal. Kara promises to help find her.

A few streets away, Lena trips in a crack on the floor and falls down with a cry. She hears hurried footsteps behind her and a woman's voice calling a name. The first thing Lena sees is brown boots. Then, she's carefully being lifted up. Her feet can't hold her, she probably sprained her ankle. Strong arms hold her, and she's met with a set of blue eyes standing out against dark skin. The younger woman introduces herself as the Avatar and promises to heal her ankle as soon as she can find clear. water. Lena assumes she is an alien with powers she's never heard about. The Avatar seems terrified because she was separated from her girlfriend. Lena promises to help find her.

The two duos find each other after a while. Korra heals Asami and Lena. Korra and Asami know they're not home but they can't figure out an explanation or even guess where they are. As Kara and Lena talk with them, they find the answer. These two are from another universe and they need to find a way to send them back home.

____

I love this ask game. Here's the link to the questions if you guys feel like asking more fruit emoji ask game for fic writers

Questions I already answered here and here

#ask game #ask game for fanfic writers #supercorp #korrasami #crossover

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donnerpartyofone · 10 months

Text

Sometimes life takes on the thematic consistency of a movie, and this is always thrilling even if you know intellectually that all of your impulses and machinations have to come from the same subconscious place.

At the beginning of the week I saw an interesting horoscope prompt to write an obituary for your past self and bury it in the ground. I decided to do this, perhaps because I have been burning for change for several years now on a level that has been making me much more insane than I already am. I thought it would feel forced and pretentious to write the obit, but it was really easy, particularly easy to see what the "past self" consists of when I notice all the things I do now that I couldn't before. It was a good feeling, that it was so obvious to me what to write. I buried it where we spread our lizard's ashes, a place where there is a view of the Statue of Liberty. Sometimes I hang around there and analyze what "liberty" means to me in a culture where we often take it for granted as a foundational principle, even though this isn't very true in practice.

It happened to be the summer solstice. On midsummer's eve I had been strangely full of energy. Someone posted a section of coptic midnight praise music, so I got out of bed and listened to that on repeat for about an hour before getting two or three hours of sleep. I woke up around dawn feeling refreshed and experienced no fatigue for the rest of the day. Then I did the writing, and the burial. Oddly (or not), I would spend the next two days finally-finalizing my married name change on every outstanding account. Becoming a different person.

In the night I'd found myself looking at pictures of snakes, my favorite animal since childhood. In the morning I vaguely remembered something having to do with snakes and midsummer; in fact there is a Lithuanian grass snake entity that is supposed to protect the home and bring good fortune, and it is connected with a sun goddess who is naturally celebrated on the solstice. I even remembered that I had some Zaltys-themed perfume in my collection, so I dug that out and enjoyed it, a sunny and snakey smell. My seemingly random snake meditation was well-timed, not only calendrically but because my husband and I have been desperately searching for a new home. We got one the next day.

In less than 24 hours, we viewed an apartment in our (really MY let's be honest) favorite neighborhood, applied to lease it, and were accepted. Of course nothing with me is ever as cut and dried as that, and in reality it took several hours to get my application materials together and do banking bullshit and just stop fucking everything up. I started a post yesterday detailing all this, but now I'm too exhausted to fix it up and post it. Suffice it to say that almost every adult activity is almost Too Hard for me, I wish I understood the world better and I really do try but it's beyond my intellectual functioning, but every time I have to take care of some administrative nonsense I'm like a goldfish passing the same plastic castle like it's brand new. Sometimes it feels like everything I do is the hardest thing I've ever done, and my only source of pride is the willingness to keep doing it.

The apartment is only slightly too expensive, which we will trade for slightly more space in a much nicer neighborhood. We've been sitting on each other's heads in a hilariously small place surrounded by toxic waste (literally) for ten years, and in the last few years it began to feel like something that was holding us back, as people, in life. Like I needed so many things to change about my health, my job situation, my daily routines, my worldly possessions, and it just didn't feel possible for anything to shift in this little place that seemed to be shrinking every day. I became convinced that moving house would trigger all of the other changes, no matter how unrelated they might appear, and I still think this may prove true.

It may not be surprising that I started going to church during this time of constriction, when I could only expand my mind. I find it easy to love the intense fetishism of Catholicism, and its enormous pantheon of different guys with different attributes. It's got more guys than GI Joe, all with cool little backstories. Somewhere I read that you can bother St. Joseph for domestic needs. He is a guy who we know very little about, which is curious because the holy family is such a big deal; it seems that he died sometime before Jesus turned water into wine, but no one knows how. There is an incredible statue of him in Star of the Sea that is epically sad and exhausted-looking, I need to get a picture of him. I actually said a novena to Joseph for the new apartment...so now I guess I'm on the hook! Good thing I confused things by also asking my favor of the Lithuanian snake entity, so I don't have to just become a fanatical Catholic. I'll have to make a little joint altar in the new place for Joseph and the serpent.

While I was changing my name on the last bank account down in the financial district, my husband texted me to say we got the apartment. It was about an hour after we submitted our application. When I stepped outside, I realized I was around the corner from St. Paul's Chapel on Broadway, an ancient-feeling place surrounded by modern steel and concrete and glass. The cemetery that wraps around the building has a view of the Oculus, which presents an extremely strange view that I couldn't get a representative photo of, so all these exteriors are stolen and you'll have to try to imagine what I mean. I did go in, though. The atmosphere is very powerful, a center of oldness and spirit and allegorical thought in the center of this futuristic business orgy. I think that I'd like to be wealthy because of course that's what everyone wants, but also because it would increase my ability to be helpful and contribute to changes I want to see around me. I thought about this while I put some money in the offering slot and lit a candle.

In esoteric thought there is something called an egregore, which is sort of like a large-scale tulpa, an entity that arises from people's collective mental and emotional investment in it; Wall Street has an egregore, and the NFL, and Broadway, and Disney, and so on. St. Paul's Chapel does a great job of announcing itself as the seat of the egregore of New York City. I regret that I couldn't get a picture of this painting without the glare in the middle, although that does add a certain amount of drama. But anyway here we are, back to the concept of Liberty. Here's hoping the new apartment brings lots and lots of growth and change.

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animebw · 1 year

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Short Reflection: Winter 2023 Anime

Is it just me, or did this season of anime kind of blow? Yes, anything would be a step down after the absurdly stacked Fall 2022 roster- and in fact, two of my favorites this season were continuations of shows I already liked from fall (Blue Lock and MHA)- but man, there was just a stench of failure around so much of Winter 2023′s offerings. Not just in how many of them turned out to be disappointments, but in how many of them didn’t even get to finish in time! Barely a week went by without another show suffering long delays, production after production crumbling under the weight of mismanagement and corporate apathy that doesn’t care how many animators are worked to death for an inferior product as long as they can make some extra cash from rushing it out early. I mercifully managed to avoid all the victims of these delays (well, almost; RIP Kubo-san Won’t Let Me Be Invisible), but even existing in the same space as them felt like it took a toll on everything else. This was a rough one, folks. But there were still some gems worth highlighting, so after spilling my thoughts on Onimai, Trigun Stampede and MHA Season 6, here are my thoughts on the rest of the anime I managed to finish this season!

(Also no Vinland Saga review yet cause I’m waiting for the season to be over, but spoilers, it’s still really fucking good. You’re shocked, I can tell.)

Tokyo Revengers Season 2: 1.5/10

You know what? I give up. I gave Tokyo Revengers every opportunity to finally pull itself together and turn into a good show. But not only did it drop the ball so hard the shockwave registered on the Richter scale, it felt like it was actively going out of its way to suck as hard as it could. Every single plot thread in season 2 is bungled so horrendously, from Takemichi’s increasingly unforgivable stupidity to the insulting cul-de-sac fights that change nothing about the status quo to the truly infuriating mishandling of every female character (Hey, I know, let’s give Yuzuha a panty shot while she’s being beaten by her abusive brother! Great idea!), that there is no possible way this show can ever recover. Even if the next season is somehow a masterpiece that fixes all the series’ issues- which it won’t be, let’s be honest- it won’t change the fact that Tokyo Revengers has established a new low for lazy, intelligence-insulting storytelling in shonen. The only reason it managed to get so popular is that it keeps making you think it’s about to do something really cool and meaningful with its high concept. But at this point, it’s all but proven that it never will. Fuck this show, fuck the manga it’s based on, and fuck everyone who accepts this barely-animated hackjob slop as anything close to acceptable entertainment.

The Fire Hunter: 2/10

Between this and Mars Red, I’m really starting to hate studio Signal MD. They’ve got a habit of turning fascinating highbrow fantasy premises into some of the dullest, sloppiest, most poorly produced pieces of pretentious dogshit that think they’re high art imaginable. And this one’s directed by Mamoru Oshii! He’s supposed to be a veteran director who knows his shit! How did he turn out such a colossal flop? Almost nothing in The Fire Hunter works on an audiovisual level; the animation is embarrassing, the direction is incomprehensible, the editing is somehow even worse (I have never seen such poorly timed painterly insert stills), and the whole thing is smothered under a droning soundtrack that drowns every scene in the same overbearing, tuneless sonic dead air. Even the best script in the world couldn’t survive this cataclysmically bad production, and suffice to say, this is very far from the best script in the world. It’s equal parts mind-numbing exposition, dull narration, and pointlessly mean characters with no interesting internal struggles or worldbuilding to justify the air of arrogance about the whole affair. The Fire Hunter desperately wants to convince you it’s art, but it’s just crap. Skip it.

To Your Eternity Season 2 (2nd Half): 3/10

I’ll give it this: the second half of To Your Eternity’s second season is unquestionably better than its first. Not a very high bar to clear, I realize, but after the utter slog that was Bon’s introductory arc, it’s good to have actually interesting things happen for a change. Unfortunately, for all the fresh air the siege of Renril brings to the proceedings- new characters, new kinds of stakes, a bonkers re-imagining of what Fushi’s powers are even capable of- it’s nowhere near enough to save this show from running itself into the ground. Whatever magic To Your Eternity once had is well and truly gone, buried under a flood of terrible production compromises and questionable story choices that have lead it down a path it can never recover from. No matter how much future arcs might try to turn things around, they’ll never escape the lesson this show has somehow forgotten it used to preach: when something dies, it can never truly return. To Your Eternity is dead. It’s over. Let it rest in piece while it still has some faint shred of dignity left.

Giant Beasts of Ars: 3/10

Did someone open a time portal to 2006? Giant Beasts of Ars feels exactly like the kind of original fantasy anime that studios were pumping out two decades ago- and unfortunately, that’s not a compliment. It gets off to a good start with a strong introductory episode that sets the tone well for a fun magitech adventure with some giant monster fighting, but the second that adventure gets under way, pretty much everything goes to shit. The characters are bland. The world itself is dull and uninspired. The action is lifeless thanks to a weak production that can’t give these fights the oomph they need. And the plot escalates from understandable low-key stakes to some of the most asinine “suddenly we’re fighting god now” swerves I’ve ever seen. Seriously, the way this story loses all sense of scale in its final episodes as it barrels head first toward a climax left me stunned in disbelief. Never mind the fact it ends on an asspull cliffhanger that’s almost certain to never get resolved because nobody’s going to want a second season of something this limp and underbaked. What a waste of time.

Kaina of the Great Snow Sea: 3.5/10

I was really excited at all the fantasy anime coming out this season. After being swamped in the isekai sewers for so long, it was such a relief to see the industry remember they could tell stories about actual fantastical worlds and not just, you know, reskinned Dragon Quest knockoffs. So imagine my how immeasurable my disappointment was when one by one, all these promising series let me down. Kaina’s Naussicaa-inspired world of snow seas, giant spire trees and steampunk skiffs navigating an allegorical prayer for co-existence with nature and rejection of militarism should have been an easy slam dunk, a new Miyazaki for a modern landscape. Unfortunately, as beautifully realized as the world is- Polygon Pictures is no studio Orange, but their impressive background art and environmental storytelling continue to make a strong case for CG anime- the writers forgot to populate that world with anyone worth getting invested in. The characters are the stockiest of stock archetypes, photocopies of photocopies of tropes that have already been worn to the bone by decades of misuse and overuse alike. If you’ve seen even one generic fantasy anime, chances are you’re already sick of these characters, and there’s nothing fresh or particularly meaningful here to make up for the lack of originality. Don’t get me started on how poorly the princess is treated, yegh. Is it too late to unplug the concept of fantasy anime for a few years and hope it recovers some steam before we plug it back in?

High Card: 3.5/10

There is no excuse for High Card being as lame as it ended up. A Kingsmen-style goofy gentleman spy action comedy written by the author of Kakegurui in which secret agents in dapper suits fight with the power of magic transforming playing cards? And the entire world is themed around cards and card games (the country is Fourland, the spy organization is Pinochle with its office on Old Maid street)? This should have been a camp masterpiece every bit as delightfully unhinged as Kakegurui. This should have been the most gloriously Anime Bullshit (affectionate) experience of the year. But instead, it was mostly just Anime Bullshit (derogatory). It takes so little advantage of its concept, wasting episode upon episode on trite plotlines and cliche developments, jumping between so many tones and focuses without ever settling on a single one. I came here to see Twink Bruce Wayne summon bazookas out of thin air with the power of Instant Interdimensional Marketplace, not slog through the umpteenth iteration of “the stoic katana girl needs to open up to her male colleagues” or “tragic little sister with an incurable illness.” The bouncy ED, which sees the main cast all singing together in the car, was the one consistent bright spot, and even that started feeling more and more like an insult as time went on. If only the rest of the show were as loose and freewheeling as those painfully short 90 seconds per episode promised.

Don’t Toy With Me, Nagatoro-San Season 2: 3.5/10

Look, I’m no prude. I’m not above trash. Nagatoro’s first season was far from a masterpiece, but it had enough actual charm and character depth that I didn’t mind coming along for the ride. But the thing about trash is that just like every other show, you still have to do it well. Nagatoro wasn’t ever entertaining because it was a shallow wish-fulfillment rom-com for masochists, it was entertaining because it found something recognizably human in spite of being a shallow wish-fulfillment rom-com for masochists. And sadly, whatever spark made that first season work didn’t survive the transfer to OLM studios. There are fun moments here and there, but the overall package is just too half-hearted to care anymore. Not even the introduction of Nagatoro’s sister keeps the proceedings from feeling increasingly mindless. What’s the point of this show, really? What does it offer that I can’t get better elsewhere? Because if the only appeal is the teasing gimmick, well, Teasing Master Takagi-san is right there, people. You could be watching an actual good show about a girl mercilessly teasing her crush instead of this flavorless assembly-line mushburger of an anime. Just saying.

The Tale of Outcasts: 4.5/10

There’s something strangely endearing about The Tale of Outcasts, despite its many flaws. Does it read like every thirteen-year-old girl’s embarrassing stash of unpublished Ancient Magus Bride fanfiction? Yes, unquestionably. But you know what? There are far worse things to be. Maybe it’s the isekai exhaustion getting to me, but there’s something so refreshing about a cringey wish-fulfillment fantasy adventure populated by stock archetypes and hacky plotting that’s actually, like, wholesome? That feels like it was made out of genuine amateurish love for Victorian splendor mixed with demon furries instead of incel resentment that the world isn’t catering to their every whim? Yeah, it’s still cringe, but it’s charmingly cringe, not revoltingly cringe. I still can’t really recommend it unless you’ve got a real soft spot for deep-voiced daddy beast people who can be your angle or your dveil, but out of all the bad shows I kept up with this season, this was the one where I never minded clicking on that next episode button, and that’s gotta count for something.

Urusei Yatsura (2nd Half): 5.5/10

I think it takes a change in mindset to really appreciate Urusei Yatsura. True to its 70s roots, this is not an anime to watch for a constant sense of forward progression. This is a show to be enjoyed as a reliable weekly comfort, 25 minutes of mayhem every 7 days with a familiar cast of characters bouncing off each other endlessly. If you come in looking for a tightly woven narrative that’s always driving toward a forseeable endpoint like most modern anime confined to single cours runs, you’re likely to be disappointed. But if you let yourself just enjoy the chaos and don’t worry about what might come next, I think you’ll find a lot to like here. If nothing else, I appreciate Studio David sticking to that old-fashioned spirit. But I have to admit, I might’ve preferred a more streamlined adaptation that doesn’t waste a second of runtime. What can I say, I’m used to modern anime pacing. Or maybe I’m just annoyed by yet another instance of a tomboy character who wants to be more feminine. Which, you know, not Ryunosuke’s fault that particular trope has gotten so beaten to death these days, but still. Sometimes making changes for modern times isn’t such a bad thing, you know?

Revenger: 6/10

So y’all hear about this Gen Urobuchi guy? Apparently he was pretty famous back in the day or something, IDK. He’s been plugging away at his goofy Taiwanese puppets show for the past few years and slapped his name on the story concepts of a few high profile projects for extra buzz, but now at last, he’s returned to grace us with a full story and script from his own hands! ...and apparently from 17 years in the past as well, because from what I’ve heard, Urobuchi originally wrote Revenger back in 2006, well before the one-two-three punch of Madoka Magica, Fate/Zero and Psycho-Pass that would make him a household name. And boy does it definitely feel like a trial run of those shows. Not that it’s bad by any means; it’s slickly produced, the cast has good chemistry, and the Booch is clearly having fun coming up with creative ways for evil bastards to be mercilessly slaughtered. But that’s really all it is, with little of the staggering depth and emotional complexity that would later earn him a place among the greats. It’s a first draft of basically all the thematic ideas he’d later perfect: the corruption of systems of power, the failure of blind heroism, the necessity of finding hope even in the darkest corners of the earth. I still recommend it for any fans of creative edgy violence, but don’t come in expecting another Madoka. It’s a bite-sized snack of an Urobuchi show, not the main course. And I’m totally fine with that; it’s entertaining enough on its own modest merits to be worth a look.

Play It Cool, Guys (2nd Half): 6/10

Yeah, I knew this one was gonna grow on me. There’s nothing like a really good low-key deadpan comedy to put me in a good mood at the end of a long day. Really, I think Cool Doji Danshi’s secret weapon is how much it appreciates the mundane awkwardness of everyday life. I have been in many situations much like its titular characters, little moments of confusion where the pieces don’t quite line up how they’re supposed to and before I know it I’m putting my umbrella in the fridge because I momentarily mixed it up with the groceries. And also like its title characters, I’ve learned just how damn important these moments are to my life. None of us are perfect meat machines 100% of the time; in many ways, our clumsiness is what makes us human far more than our accomplishments. And there’s something so wonderfully comforting about watching these boys (and men) come to appreciate their own imperfections much as I’ve done of myself. We need more shows that celebrate that simple silliness as well as this one does. So if you’ve been looking for something to lift your spirits in this increasingly grim world, I cannot recommend this show enough.

Sugar Apple Fairy Tale: 6.5/10

Do my eyes deceive me? A non-isekai, shoujo oriented fantasy that’s all about slavery being a bad thing? Stop the presses, we’re defying all the norms over here! Between this and the new season of Vinland Saga, it feels like we’re finally starting to push back on the noxious floodgates that Shield Hero pried open, and I could not be more thankful for that. Now, is Sugar Apple Fairy Tale a perfect depiction of the dynamics of slavery? Fuck no, it’s a young adult wish-fulfillment romance about a hot sulky fairy boy falling for the woman that was once his owner, this thing’s as problematic as an Antebellum-era Uncle Tom’s Cabin ripoff. But at least it’s actually trying to say something about the effects of dehumanization on a societal scale and how it manifests, and I’d argue it succeeds more often than it trips over itself. Plus, how fucking great is it to have an actual shoujo romance again? Set in a charming fantasy world with some actual originality? Sugar Apple Fairy Tale’s not perfect, but its charms are evident of a trend I hope to see countless other shows follow. The more fantasy anime looks like this instead of The World’s Strongest Necromancer is Reincarnated With a Cheat Skill In Another World Harem (I just made that title up, but admit it, you weren’t sure at first), the better off we’ll all be.

Ippon Again: 6.5/10

We seriously need more good female-centric sports anime. The guys have been dominating the field with their shounens and seinens while the girls are forced to subside on moeblob table scraps more concerned with being cute than actually telling a compelling sports narrative, or else being handed the absolute bottom of the production barrel (cries in Farewell My Dear Cramer). Ippon Again isn’t gonna right the ship all on its own, but it’s a damn good first step. The characters feel like believable teenagers, their judo matches are given genuine weight and strong animation, and while it suffers from some tired sports anime cliches, it always executes them with heart firmly on its sleeve. At its best, it captures the same freewheeling adolescent spirit that defines the likes of A Place Further Than the Universe, and I don’t say that lightly. It’s no masterpiece, but it’s a damn good time with no caveats, and hopefully it’ll only be the first of many great lady-centric sports anime to come.

Tsurune Season 2: 7/10

If you’ve somehow forgotten about the first season of KyoAni’s pretty boys doing archery show Tsurune from back in 2018, well, I don’t blame you. As a testing ground for the studio’s rookie talent to take their first crack at putting their own show together, it was by far the studio’s most workmanlike production, an all-around solid experience but lacking the insane polish and panache that defines the KyoAni brand. But my god, what a difference five years makes. Tsurune’s second season isn’t just a massive upgrade on the production front, it’s a complete overhaul on the show’s entire look and feel. It’s sweeping and elegant, it’s vibrant and explosive, it’s as expertly poised and shimmering as a bowstring drawn at dawn right before it releases a brilliant arrow. This show has gone from KyoAni’s simplest looking show to one of its most richly cinematic, complete with earthier color tones and revamped score from Fruits Basket composer Masaru Yokoyama. Yes, it’s ultimately still just a show about pretty boys learning to shoot bows well as they overcome their issues together. But with such a massive step up in its look and feel, it’s officially become just as much appointment viewing as any KyoAni masterpiece.

Blue Lock (2nd Half): 7.5/10

Now that’s more fucking like it. Last season I bemoaned the lack of edgy death game nonsense I was promised in this edgy death game sports anime, but once we reached the second selection, Blue Lock kicked into high gear and made good on its premise at last. Betrayals! Allies turned enemies! Enemies turned allies! Overcharged homoerotic rivalries and break-ups alike! Overdramatic shonen boys trying to crush each other underfoot to grow stronger! Self-actualization through rejecting the power of friendship and embracing the power of “Fuck this guy!” This is everything I wanted when I first learned about Blue Lock’s premise, twisting the classic shonen sports formula into an equally blood-pumping tale of clashing egos and selfishness as everyone fights to become the best player by embracing their worst selves. It might have taken a hot second to get there, but now that it’s arrived, this show has become some of the most deliriously entertaining chaos you’re likely to find in the genre. Well done, you mad genius.

Buddy Daddies: 8/10

Man, whoever’s making the decisions on what shows PA Works produces is really on a roll lately, huh? It takes a real genius to look at premises like Ya Boi Kongming and Akiba Maid War and see an opportunity to create something truly special. But even that pales in comparison to the brilliance behind Buddy Daddies, a.k.a. “Hey, so this Spy x Family show is about to take over the world, right? What if we made our own version of that, but mix in the homoerotic buddy-cop energy of Tiger and Buddy to make it stand out?” That’s the kind of galaxy-brain thinking that’s rapidly making this studio a personal favorite of mind. And it’s that kind of confidence and pure solid storytelling chops that make Buddy Daddies just as entertaining and endearing as its most obvious inspiration. It’s not exactly the same- it’s set in modern day, it’s more focused on the child-raising than the assassin stuff- but it’s every bit as good at nailing that specific sweet spot of deliciously entertaining spy action, wholesome family hijinks, and the bittersweet space in between trying to reconcile those two worlds. Heck, Miri’s a way more realistic four-year-old than Anya ever was; you can tell the writers really did their research on what it’s like to care for a child that young. The year’s still young, but I think this show is already a strong contender for the feel-good masterpiece of 2023. Just don’t go in expecting the hot guys to kiss, because you will leave disappointed if you do.

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady: 8.5/10

We’ve done it, folks. We’ve finally cracked the code on how to make modern isekai great. Step One: Center it on a female protagonist with an actual personality instead of an empty self-insert male-patterned cooler full of stale oatmeal. Step Two: Make your story all about subverting the exhausting masturbatory self-centeredness of vanilla isekai in favor of a symbolic or literal revolution to give power back to all lovers of fantasy instead of pandering to maladjusted thirty-year-old manchildren. Step Three: As part of that progressive reinvention, make it GAY. AS. FUCK. The Executioner and her Way of Life was a strong step in the right direction, but as good as that show was, there was clearly still room to push things even further. But now, at last, that potential has been fully realized by the stunning tale of a reincarnated princess and a genius young lady coming together to revolutionize the world. Folks, MagiRevo fucking rules. The main leads are wonderful separately and even more wonderful together, the production is strong enough to carry the story’s soaring ambition, and it’s a genuinely powerful exploration of the harms caused by archaic systems of patriarchal power, and how difficult it is- but also how necessary- to change what’s been leading a society down the wrong path for so long. And while it drags a little in the midsection, it all culminates in a spectacular final act and a final episode that had me sobbing in my seat for 25 straight minutes. This isn’t just the best isekai since Re:Zero, this is a triumph of queer fantasy carving its own revolution through a genre that’s desperately needed it for far too long. So come join me and raise your banner with Anis and Euphie, because their journey deserves all the attention we can give. I promise, you won’t regret it.

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 1 year

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New Records, New Beginnings

A/N: Y’all I haven’t posted a story on here in four months. Four months. I’m genuinely sorry but also first semester of college high key kicked my ass. So here’s a little Christmas gift from me to you, and yes it’s a bit cliche but Hallmark-y type things are what we all love around the holidays (don’t lie, you love those stupid chick flicks too). Hope you guys enjoy! Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Word Count: 2,852 words Warnings: A lot of fluff, like a lot of fluff.

You had spent most of your Saturdays like this, and nothing much had changed.

You would go out around midday after lunch at home, spend time shopping around whether it be physically buying something or just window shopping. It was a way to destress and reward yourself after a week of work that you felt was much deserved.

The only difference now was the increase in people shopping. Around late November and early December your usual shops became more crowded with people trying to find the perfect Christmas presents for everyone they knew. You were at least smart enough to have already completed your shopping for everyone in the first week… except your dad.

The guy who may have been your favorite person in the world also happened to be the one who was hardest to shop for. You loved him dearly, and while yes he did have a wide array of hobby on the spectrum of being a dad, it didn’t make it much easier to shop for him.

So you had landed yourself in a few record stores today, trying to find any album he would like. Generally he wasn’t that picky on music, he loved lots of artists and bands, but combine that with your mentality of record buying being “you better listen to it” and the task was becoming increasingly harder by the second.

You didn’t necessarily notice anyone around you, it was relatively busy given it being a record shop, maybe six to seven other people in the shop, but you were on a mission to find one of the few records you knew was actually worth spending money on given your fathers listening habits. You were also trying to draw away from buying yourself anymore records, given the two you already had snug under your arm.

Gerard, on the other hand, was like any other holiday shopper. Except he managed to be even worse.

He never shopped for Christmas gifts ahead of time, it was always about a week before when he started. He scolded himself every year for doing it, but never found himself changing the habit. So here he was, rushing into a record store and desperately trying to find this one damn record his dad wanted for his birthday… that happened to be tomorrow.

He didn’t scan around, take in any of these new surroundings, instead he promptly led himself to the cashier’s desk, nearly pleading to see if they had it.

“One copy left,” The older man from behind the counter said. He reeked of being pretentious based off of this record hobby, something Gerard found ridiculous when everyone was doing it now. “Back left corner.”  “Great, thanks.” He quickly made his way to the far left aisle and all the way down to where he was instructed to go, eyes scanning over the different bookmarks in-between each album marking a new artist or new letter of artists. He looked up, thankfully seeing you only about three feet away to put the breaks on his legs, but was met with ultimate grief and defeat.

Of course you had to be looking at the same album he needed. And of course, you placed it under your arm with the rest of your records.

So, he had one of two options here: One was to go home defeated, show up tomorrow with some lame card he got at a pharmacy for his dad, and get scolded at by his mother for not being more on top of these things. Second was to approach you, talk to you, and just see if you were willing to let him have it.

But he was bad at talking to girls. Like, really bad.

It was something his friends had joked about before, how he would much rather be reading or drawing than ever talk to a girl. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to (although many times he really didn’t) it was that he felt like he couldn’t. Women were just… hard.

“Um, excuse me.” He spoke up, nerves bundling in his stomach. Hoping this would be an easy interaction for him, he saw you turn around and instantly he regretted everything. You weren’t just a girl… you were a pretty girl. A very, very pretty girl.

“Hm?” You hummed a bit with your eyes growing a bit wide in curiosity. Wow, those eyes, he thought to himself, never seen that color before.

“I’m, um, not trying to be rude or anything,” He began nervously, “But my dad’s birthday is tomorrow and I’ve literally been to four other record stores and no where has the record he wants. This one only has one and you have the last copy so I was wondering-“  

“Sure.” You replied before he could even finish, moving your arms a bit to reach for the one you had just grabbed, snugly fit close to your body. “It’s for Christmas anyways, for my dad too, but I have more time to find another one.”  

“Really?” He asked, somewhat amazed that you would give this to him, and somewhat amazed that he could speak to you. “I- I really appreciate this, like you have no idea, really.”  

“It’s totally fine.” You tightly smiled, “Besides, if not that one I’m sure I can find another one my dad might like.” He nodded.

“Um, thanks again.” He said with a kind smile and mini bow of appreciation which you chuckled at before he walked back to the register.

“Just this?” The same guy at the front asked him. Gerard nodded, placing the record on the counter and searching in his pocket with his other hand for his wallet. “I’m surprised you didn’t at least ask her out.” He mentioned as Gerard grabbed his card from his wallet, head shooting up.

“Excuse me?” He asked.

“I mean, not only were there clearly some sparks, but she gave up the record to a total stranger.” The older man explained, “That’s a new level of nice.”

Gerard looked back briefly at where you were, still browsing but approaching closer to the counter, before awkwardly clearing his throat and swiping his card. As soon as it was approved, he removed it, placing it back in his wallet and grabbing the bag.

“My advice, kid,” The man continued, “Don’t waste up an opportunity like this. The worst she can say is no.”

Gerard stood there for a brief moment stunned, and wondering what to do next. Yes, this stranger had a point about you, but the thought of asking you out despite the fact he really wanted to seemed beyond his ability. But then again, he did ask you for a record. That’s the same thing, right? You could’ve said no then and you could say no now, but that’s the worst that could happen.

With no actual foreseeable good outcome, Gerard retraced his steps to finding his way back to you. This time, you seemed more attentive as he approached you, looking up at him with those same stark eyes again. “I just wanted to say thank you, one last time.” He began, “You really saved me from having to deal with my mom scolding me tomorrow.” You lightly chuckled.

“It’s no problem, really.” You admitted, still with a smile on your face.

“Is there anyway I could pay it back maybe?” He asked, trying to put on some level of confidence, “Like coffee, maybe?”

You seemed a bit taken aback by his request, but after a brief moment of thought, responded, “Sure.”

Gerard could feel his muscles release their tense holding as he took a small breath of relief. “Great, uh, could I get your number, maybe?”

  “Yeah, of course.” He handed you his phone as you typed it in, handing it back to him. Y/N, it read, fits her.

“Okay, well, see you soon, Y/N.”

  “See you soon-“  

“Gerard,” He finished ahead of you.

“Gerard.”

“Are you ready, Gee?” You asked from the front door, throwing your keys in your bag and awaiting your boyfriend to appear from the living room.

“Yeah, just a sec.” You could hear the frustration of him fighting with his boot echo throughout the hallway, a rough sigh following afterwards in frustration. “Here.” He finally said after a few more seconds, walking down to you and grabbing his coat from the rack.

Just a year or so ago you would have found it a pretty large disruptions to your average Saturdays had another person been mixed into that equation. But now, Gerard comfortably stood by your side riding along your Saturday activities. He didn’t mind it much, more than happy to play the cart-pusher and attempt to control your irrational purchases, like buying every Christmas scented candle you could get your hands on, or anything that had some sort of a dog or cat on it.

But he found some peace in just walking by you and getting weekly errands done plus having some fun while doing it. He had learned to try many new things on these adventures: tofu for the first time, a face mask, and honey barbecue chips were just a few. But it seemed like most items you gravitated towards said something small about you, which helped him to learn all about you quicker.

It also happened to give him a lot of ideas for presents, which was helpful this time of year. He had already found you a couple hoodies you had fallen in love with, a new pair of slippers, and a few other smaller items, leaving the bigger ones to be more creative and thoughtful.

“I haven’t been here in forever.” You remarked, pulling into the space right in front of your local record store.

“I know, right?” He replied, “It’s just so easy to buy this online.”

  “True,” You agreed, shutting the engine off, “But at least local stores have cooler, older things that aren’t crazy upcharged.”

“Also, true.” He smiled, getting out of the car and waiting by the edge for you to get out too.

One nice things about record stores is that they never change all that much. Everything was basically the same here as it was last time, which led to a much more relaxed experience looking through each section. Aside from a few new titles and artists, almost everything sat as it was.

Gerard always kept a close eye on you in these situations. He had learned little hints you gave as to when you wanted something. Eyeing it for a bit longer than usual then gasping a bit, excitedly showing him something with a fun fact about it, maybe even blatantly just saying you wanted it. He kept a mental list of all the things you had wanted, trying to make an effort to check off every one (well, almost, bigger things like a dog were for a later discussion).

But here, in the record store where he met you and you him, where you had managed to save him from a hell of a scolding from his mom, his eyes stayed practically glued to your fingers as you scanned each title, lingering on some for longer than others. He stayed like this a good few minutes but keeping his distance and hoping you wouldn’t notice. He had eventually resorted to sneakily walking around and picking out records you wanted or ones he knew you liked. Again, the mental list of these artists stayed glued to his mind.

He had realized relatively quickly that his hands were getting full. He had picked out six or seven right now and hadn’t even made it a third of his way through the store. He took a sigh, looking back to make sure you were occupied and not looking anywhere near the register, before walking up and placing the records down on the front counter. “Would you mind just holding these behind the counter while I look around a bit more?” He requested, “My hands got kinda full.”  

“No problem.” A slightly familiar voice echoed, Gerard looking at the older man behind the counter who was smirking, looking between Gerard and you.

Not thinking much of it, Gerard went back to his shopping habits, picking out record after record. He had gone up for another drop-off trip before you finally approached him, “Hey hon.” Your voice spoke up behind him. He quickly turned around, looking down to see the gorgeous woman he got to call his. “I didn’t find much, I was planning on going to the Target here to grab a few things but it still looks like your shopping.”  

“Yeah, I am a bit.” He admitted with a small smile, “Go on without me, I’ll meet you there and pull the car closer to that lot.”

  “Ya sure?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing as they always did when you seemed to genuinely care. He smiled even more with a nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be good here.” You nodded back, giving him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the store.

Despite the distance making Gerard grow slightly more uncomfortable, and despite the fact he knew well that you were just a few store fronts away, he obliged to the opportunity before him and quickly collected every other record he knew you would want. The ridiculous figure holding at least half a dozen records under each arm was a man in love, every customer silently knew it. Because no one would buy that many records. That was a new level of head over heels.

“All set?” The cashier asked, the wrinkles on his forehead curling up as his smile grew, the question sounding more rhetorical and satire than anything.

“Uh, yeah.” Gerard awkwardly responded at the realization that he looked just a bit like a fool. The pile of albums in front of him stared right back as one by one they were scanned and placed into bags. He questioned how he would just sneak them by you, and with no avail to any answer.

As the total rang through his ears, he quickly slipped his card out of his wallet, handing it over firmly and not turning back. The cashier inched a smile, inserting the card into the machine. “So, things are going well?” He asked.  

“Yeah, ya know, life’s going alright-“

  “Especially with the girl.” He commented back before Gerard could finish.

“Yeah, uh, really well.” He awkwardly chuckled at him, his lovesick state clearly clouding his vision at times.

The card reader beeped, allowing the older man to remove the card with the receipt and hand it back to Gerard. “Hey kid, do me a favor.” He requested, Gerard quick to nod his head and grab the bags, “When you guys are considering a song for your first dance, come to me and I’ll buy it for you two on vinyl.” Gerard turned to flustered as his eyes went wide in a moment of shock.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure-“  

“You’ll be there.” He smiled from, clicking his ben against the desk, “Trust me.”  

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Gerard mumbled into your hair as you stood by your Christmas tree together. It was by no means Christmas, a couple days before, still, but you wanted to make sure to open all of your presents before you each went to your own families for the holiday.

“You too, hon.” You smiled back, tucking further into the arm draped over you his hand rubbing the small of your back. “Presents?” You asked cheerfully, he nodded back with a smile plastered across his face.

“Presents.” He declared back.

It had been a solid 15 minutes of ripping open the wrapping-covered boxes before hitting the last one, one which specifically Gerard requested you do last. You could tell by the shape alone that it was a record, a new one on top of the other stack of new ones next to you, but as you slowly ripped it open you realized what it was. You let out a small laugh as your fingers gripped the side of the two records.

“It’s supposed to make up for last year.” He briefly explained. You looked up at him and smiled.

“It’s perfect. Now I can actually give my dad this.” You replied, “But what about the second one?”  

“Oh, I figured you give one to your dad, and then we keep one on hand.” He continued, “It was what caused us to meet.”  

“That’s very poetic, Gee.” You softly said, standing up and walking over to his spot on the couch. You cupped his face lightly, leaning down to give him a soft kiss on the lips, which he gladly accepted and he moved his lips against yours. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetheart.” He smiled up at you, his hands now gripping your hips. “I figured we could put it up on the mantle somewhere, make sure it’s seen.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Your hands delicately ran through his messy hair as he let out a purr of sorts in response, “Even if we never spin it, it’s perfect.”

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