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nicklloydnow · 2 years

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“I wasn’t a fan of the music so much. I was just a fan of Axl and his vibe. I remember seeing him on MTV in that feather boa. Melissa always tells me it wasn’t a feather boa, though. But I saw him wearing one of those things Dave Navarro aways wears with his shirt off. Axl is wearing it with this spandex.

I saw this video where Axl was yelling at the audience, “Hey, can someone get that guy? Fix that!? No? Fuck it! I’ll fix it!” And he dives into the audience. I was like, “Holy shit, this guy is rad. What the hell?”

(…)

Like I said, I joined the band because of that attitude and because of the aura that was like Led Zeppelin. I loved it. Everyone else was sitting there, freaking out, like, “Oh my God. Axl is two hours late!” I was sitting there eating an ice cream like, “Who cares? Maybe we won’t even play! That’s even better! As long as the money comes, who gives a shit?” I totally felt like the chaos never died. I was so into the vibe of that. He might have been brilliant. He might have freaked out onstage. I was into it.

I totally remember the Philadelphia one. I was in the hotel. I kept calling the tour manager. I was like, “Hey dude. Do I need to come down yet? Do I need to play this show? What’s going on?” He was like, “Just stay there.” I was like, “Something’s weird.”

We had just played Madison Square Garden the night before and killed. I look over and there’s Beyonce and Jay-Z and Chris Rock, and they’ve loving it. We did a great show. Here we are now in Philly and we don’t know where Axl is or what’s happening.

I’m loving it. I’m literally eating pasta like, “This is cool.” I get a text from Mix Master Mike’s wife. She’s like, “Brain, are you guys showing up? They’re throwing things and yelling at Mix Master Mike. He’s been playing the same DJ set for about an hour and a half.” I’m like, “Dude, I don’t actually know.” We finally get the call that he’s not coming. They went, “Everyone go home. This is the last show.” I was like, “Oh, shit…”

If he didn’t feel like playing, for whatever reason, he just wouldn’t show up. He knew it would likely invite a consequence like a riot or a cancelled tour, but he didn’t seem to care back then.

That’s on the biggest level. And I’m not saying it’s right, but that’s kind of like the stories I’d hear about Bernie Worrell and George Clinton getting into their shit. He’s willing to throw it away. In the end, I don’t know. I saw Bernie towards the end when I heard he was sick. I went to one of his last shows. In the end, I don’t know if it’s worth it.

But now Guns N’ Roses show up on time, Melissa tells me. They play for four hours and it’s the most amazing show. So go figure. But I kind of dug it. I have the stories. I have the experiences. I can play the fuckin’ drums — that’s boring.

(…)

When I got in, it was just a lot of trial and error regarding what we were going to make, what style of music. It was a new band. Also, Axl takes his time anyway. And now because it’s this whole new thing, it will be twice as long. Then it became almost like a folklore. It was like, “Now it’s gone this far, it might as well just be $12 million, $13 million. Ten years. Let’s go for the record.” I don’t know. [Laughs.]

(…)

I just loved the fact that I was in Guns, but I was doing other things, like taking golf lessons every day and learning computers and programming and orchestration and music theory. And then you get a call like, “Hey, Axl needs you.” I was like, “This is the closest I’m going to get to the Zeppelin thing. Who gives a fuck? Make it go forever. This is the coolest thing, that it took 10 years.”

(…)

I had the joke in the studio one day when they were playing the playback. I said, “Dude, I think the zeroes and ones are getting worn out.” It was played so many times and there’s ten different hard drives and “that’s in the vault somewhere, we have to go get it.” There was just so much labor.

I agree with a little bit of that. When I listen to it, it has its thing. Is it how I feel when I hear Appetite? No. Is it how I feel when I listen to Use Your Illusion or The Spaghetti Incident? No. But it has its own thing. It’s very dense and very electronic-y and very metronomic. It’s got that.

(…)

Bucket just struggled with the politics behind it. Bucket was a true musician in that he just wanted to play. He’d be like, “Why does it have to be so hard? Why can’t the album just come out?” I was basking in it: “That’s part of the gig, dude.” He wasn’t feeling it. We had a little bit of a falling-out. He was like, “It seems like they’re just getting off on this.” I was like, “It’s not that I’m getting off on it. I’m just trying to let it be what it is. I’m not going to be able to change it, obviously. So I might as well get what I can get out of it.”

(…)

Each tour had their own little thing. They all had chaos. Every three days, you never know what was going to happen. We had some of the best shows, some of the worst shows. It was all kind of this rollercoaster. That kept it interesting to me.

(…)

But in the end, if we started at 1:00, the show would finish at 4:00. And Axl would give everything into that show. I’ve never seen that fuckin’ dude wimp out ever. If it starts at 1:00 am, that show is going to finish at 4:30. And even if you’re asleep, he’s still screaming.

(…)

It really was, for me … The fun of Axl and the attitude kind of went away. I found myself like, “Here I am playing ‘Nightrain,’ doing the cowbell part. There’s something else left for me in music, and it’s not this.” Everyone is always like, “What happened? Were they jerks?” No. Mainly for me, it was that I wanted to do something else with my life.

(…)

That’s the beauty of what I love about Axl. He let us go in there and reconstruct and fuck with the files, and even his voice, and play with them. We put some crazy techno beats and electro beats and Wu-Tang beats and all this kind of stuff, and allowing us to do those halftime shows with the remixes. It’s why I still work with them. It’s moving forward for me, musically, in that sense.

Will it ever come out? That’s when it hits the corporate side of stuff. Now Slash and Duff are back. Are they into it?”

“5. "Scraped" (from 2008's Chinese Democracy)

Even on an album that serves up industrial metal, trip-hop and glam rock in equal measure, "Scraped" is a doozy. Nothing can fully prepare your body for the blunt-force impact of a half-dozen Auto-Tuned Axls roaring out of your speakers in the song's acapella intro. From there, "Scraped" settles into a pummeling funk-metal groove, with Rose delivering self-empowerment mantras (a rarity for the frequently dour or introspective frontman) in a pinched, heavily processed mid-range voice. There's also some bizarre vocal clipping at the 1:19 mark — God only knows if it was an egregious editing mistake or a bold artistic statement on Rose's part.

4. "If the World" (from 2008's Chinese Democracy)

Guns N' Roses previously covered Wings' "Live and Let Die," the title song to the 1973 James Bond film. So, it makes perfect sense that Axl Rose would release his own fictional Bond theme 17 years later. What makes less sense is its wild amalgamation of trip-hop beats, flamenco guitar, synthetic strings, electro-funk pulses and bluesy piano tickles. "If the World" is one of the most out-of-character songs Guns N' Roses ever released, but Rose's 150-percent vocal conviction and lush, atmospheric production make it endlessly fascinating nonetheless.

3. "Oh My God" (from 1999's End of Days soundtrack)

Any lingering doubts about Axl Rose's evolving musical interests were promptly squashed when he emerged from his half-decade seclusion with "Oh My God," which evokes Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson, and appeared on the End of Days soundtrack alongside the likes of Korn, Limp Bizkit and Rob Zombie. Squalls of guitar feedback, cavernous drums and Rose's hyper-distorted wail dominate the blistering industrial-metal track, punctuated by a catchy dance-beat bridge and a few snatches of playful clean singing. Taken at face value, "Oh My God" is a fun, pulverizing oddity, but it was a disappointing and underperforming comeback. Slash even said in 2000 that the track "convinced me that my departure had been a wise decision, and that Axl and I were definitely no longer on the same wavelength musically."

(…)

1. "Absurd" (2021 single)

Say what you want about the first original Guns N' Roses song in 30 years to feature Rose, Slash and Duff McKagan, but it's certainly not a misnomer. Originally written during the Chinese Democracy sessions and performed in 2001 under the name "Silkworms," "Absurd" is a clobbering punk-metal maelstrom full of pulverizing drums, choppy riffs and some of the filthiest, most repellent lyrics of Rose's career. Oh, and then there's the mind-boggling ambient interlude breaking up the tumult, because why not? "Absurd" is brash, distasteful and a laughably illogical choice as a comeback single from the semi-reunited GNR lineup. In other words, it's classic Guns N' Roses.”

#guns n roses #axl rose #chinese democracy #brian mantia #brain #buckethead

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strider-rambles · 11 days

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holy shit the first motherfucking ramble is an emo one this shit crayz

anyway. uhm. man. as a kin(?) <- dubious but thats how ill be referring to myself for now ive always like. had such a tough time finding not only canonmates, but just.. sourcemates. in general. that i vibe with. i think perhaps my vibes are occasionally mad atrocious, but it's also like. OTHER PEOPLE are half of the issue too you know

takes two to motherfuckin tango, and bro, i'm stepping on these bitches' feet like it's dance dance revolution and like as a dave kin specifically. one who like. was quite young when i got into the fandom however many years ago and, even if i didn't know the term kin back then, i kinda.. knew. or, maybe the fuckin chicken (me) came before the egg (the kin) or whatever but

whatever. it resulted in me being.. kind of in a kinshift for like 4 years during the most formative years of my life

cray-z right

doesn;t matter its just like. because it's been such a present thing through my life ive met.. so many individuals who are like. you know. other kins which is great and all, but like

i haven't found people that i've vibed with for homestuck. the majority of the people i know and interact with now are comfortably in my little kin circle or whatever, are sort of the closest thing that i have to canonmates

nothing for homestuck. well nothing beyond a dirk. but i got lucky with him and i KNOW i got lucky with him because i. we're both kind of outcasts in the community, in the sense that we're. neurotic striders, i guess.

but he's like. helped a lot with the whole feeling alone and being all emotionally constipated about it thing.

but that doesn't help with the other shit

the missing my friends shit, the approaching so many fucking people bein' all like yooo whats GOOD bros and being hit with vibes that clash with mine or WORSE. vibes that WORK WITH ME. but they already have their dave

so whats the point you know?

i'm not going to be THEIR DAVE.

i have so many diverging fucking timelines and like

im dave. im davesprite. im every goddamn iteration of this stupid fucking asshole and MORE.

and

i hate the idea of being the secondary one, i guess. which is funny because. gestures. but like

it's gotten to the point where im so DESPERATE to find people. so DESPERATE to find my bros and my homies and my gals that i like i promised myself i wouldn't do this but i'm actively going "hey i can be your secondary dave, haha" you know. all fucking pathetic and shit

but i just.

i MISS my friends. so bad. and i think part of my struggle is like this is an OLDASS FANDOM. at least in terms of the internet, and so its harder to find people who have those roles unfilled, because like it's already.. you know.

and so like.

i'm stuck here. rambling into the fucking VOID on tumblr because i'm too. fucking. i dont know late??

funny to be late as a time player but womp womp motherfucker, pull yourself up by your bootstraps and start damage control

but like

in all seriousness. i'm losing mad hope

ive gone from being like hey, yall need a dave? to hey, yall need a davesprite? to. radio motherfuckin silence.

and as a result i kinda yap at dirk too much, which totally makes me tweak the fuck out, like, dude. he has a life (albeit a totally like. chill one, that aint all that busy) and he doesnt have the time to like tend to you like youre a child with scarlet fever, and every last word that your whiny little vocal cords can muster could be like... you know. your last. like his ass is NOT writing your obituary

and so like i pull away kinda. and like. because of that pulling away i suddenly have this like. yapping desire that needs to be fulfilled but like i like having peer review. like it keeps it from being a massive fucking echo chamber of just misery and bullshit and like.

yeah

and so i.

i don't know, man. i made this blog for a reason.

i don't know if i thought it would help, or if it would like. help me connect to people, or what

what am i even doin here dawg

like theres just this existential feeling of DREAD here. doomed timeline type shit lmfaoooo i don't know though i

it could bring something good

or this could be something terrible for me

or it could be like journaling. which i used to do in physical books, because i liked doodling back then, but, ive lost that hobby, so like

this exists

but i only journaled when i didn't have friends

i have friends

i think

i just understand that those friends don't want to listen to me. frankly i wouldn't either, i mean like. read this shit again. would you really wanna sit down with your bro and hear this type of shit i don't know. this kinda turned into. something horrible haha

i'm better mentally than i was 4 years ago but whats the point when i be bitchin and moanin and whinin like this still

point is:

i miss my friends. i miss yapping (at) with them. i miss having friends in the first place. i miss feeling like i'm home, kin wise. the irony of the matter is im LOCKED OUT OF THE HOUSE. instead of uhh (checks notes) HOMESTUCK.

haha. im so funny. haha. yeah. uh. ramble over for now. i might pick this shit back up.

#emo shit #homestuck kin #homestuck #this will probably be the only post i tag homestuck. just to really get myself out there. you know. see if someone. sees this shit #shinji chair image

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thextrashxpack · 1 month

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Chapter 1 : Meeting with an angel

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Dear reader, if you chose to read this story, great risks await you. You might laugh, be endeared or even entertained! We sincerely hope you'll love our men as much as we do. Have a nice reading session. - The authors

TRIGGER WARNING : MENTIONS OF DRUGS, KNIFE, INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA.

ATTENTION: Both authors are part of the LGBT+ community. We do not condone homophobia. Our characters' opinions on the matter are not ours.

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

In an apartment covered in trashy decorations, a 32 year old man was getting prepared to meet with a new client. What type of client, you may ask?* Pak Dave, the man in question, is, upon other things, a drug dealer. He deals drugs. Cocaine, ketamine, magic mushroom, heroin, everything you can think of. Today, he’s going on a university campus to sell opioids to a sketchy guy. Sketchy because he sends smileys in his messages. “Hello dear sir or madam. I found this number on a bathroom stall door. It said you sell drugs of all kinds. If you are not too busy at the moment, I would love to buy something from you. :)” That was his first message to him. He did indeed leave his number on a bathroom stall with a little message, but he didn’t expect to receive one with a freakin’ smiley at the end.

In any case, he’s now on his way. On the campus, he finds a nice bench to sit on while waiting for the ‘smiley guy’. Pak Dave is easy to recognize: he wears golden chains around his neck, (big ones, because he’s a big guy, ya know?) he always has douchey sunglasses on. His hair is bleached and he wears a cap on top of it. His outfit is always similar: shorts with a wife beater and a shirt imprinted with flames. He’s not wearing that last item today. It’s hot and he wants to show off his tattoos.

While waiting for the guy, Pak thinks about the fact that he could be considered as a health professional. He imagines himself at the next family gathering, telling his stupid cardiologist brothers how he also works in the field. “Hey guys, I’m a health pro too, hehehe.” He says outloud, because he’s a moron.

“Oh ? Are you a doctor then ?” A young man in his twenties appears behind the drug dealer. With his big curious blue eyes, he spoke those words in a genuine tone. This man has a big school backpack and is carrying a heavy book. He has semi long blond hair and wears a baggy wool shirt. He is clearly a student. Is he the client Pak was waiting for ?

The voice gets the 2000’s rapper looking dude back on Earth. He looks up. What does that stranger mean? Does he look like a doctor? Do doctors sit on benches with big suspicious looking bags? Pak is a bit irritated. He hates doctors. All of his siblings have chosen that profession and he hates them. “Hehe, sort of. And you are?” His stare goes to the younger man’s eyes. They’re stunning, he thinks. This, he would swear to you if he knew you were reading this, is a totally heterosexual thought. ‘No homo, bro.’

The blond man takes a step back, realizing he was pretty intrusive. “Oh ! Yes ! Sorry..I’m Rou Airi ! I think I’m your client for the day ?” He salutes in a friendly gesture while smiling cordially.

The smiley man… Of course it’s him! What does he mean by ‘your client for the day’? What is he? An escort girl? Obviously not, he’s too cool for that and also, he’s not a girl. He laughs. “No worries man, I was just thinking out loud. Ya texted me for the meds, ain’t that right?” The guy had messaged him about opioids. If he had asked for anything else, such as acid, he wouldn’t have believed it. This Rou dude seemed too studious to be a junkie.

The blondie perked up.”Yes ! I did !” He then put his bag on the bench and sat next to the bleached hair man. As he made himself comfortable he extended a hand to the man, seeming to want to shake his. “It’s very nice to meet you mr…” He trails off to encourage the man to finish his sentence.

Pak looked at his hand as if it was decomposing. Why was he doing this? Was this Airi dude used to just shake hands with criminals or was it just his first time? The Korean man simply fist bumps him. “Pak Dave.” He lowers his sunglasses and winks. “But ya can call me six pack Dave, hehehe.”

Rou responds with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Six Pack Dave. So should we complete the sale n-..” He stops in the middle of his sentence, as if remembering something suddenly. He then pauses and seems to rethink his words. “O-oh..Before that, I had a few questions. Would that be alright with you ?”

Questions? Sure. Pak knows about his merchandise. He’s a bit less aware of the opioid deal. The gangster’s mostly specialized in acid, mush and ecstasy. Stuff that you’d find at a party. Opioids aren’t very festive. “If ya got the cash, I’ll answer almost any question ya got, hehe.” Almost.

“Oh ! Of course ! The money ! I have it right here !” Eagerly, he searches through his bag but once again, stops in mid movement and just seems to freeze for a second. His expression changes slightly and he turns back to the dealer. “Actually…May I see the merchandise first ? I-If that’s alright with you of course !” He utters nervously.

His eyes narrow. Is he… Listening to someone? Things begin to spin inside his head. ‘Is he a cop? Have I been found? Oh fuck…’ he thinks. Pak is quite muscly and tall, but he really is soft. He’s the type of guy who drops the soap and gets his ass fucked. He doesn’t want that… No, for real. I know what you think. ‘N-No homo’ he thinks again. “Uh… Obviously. But uh… I don’t want to get caught by the pigs, ya know… So, how about we go elsewhere?” He points at the side of the school building.

The young man looks at where the other man was pointing and nods joyfully. “Yes ! Let’s do that ! I wouldn’t want to cause you trouble !” He stands up in a jump and picks up his heavy bag then makes his way to the side of the building.

YES. Pak makes the reflection to himself that this must be a rookie, because he’s willing to go with him to a secluded area. Alone. The 32 year old man really doesn’t want to hurt him. He’s… Kinda cute. ‘NO. HOMO.’ If he doesn’t want to end his life in prison, he has to use violence. This time, there’s no other way.

As soon as they’re out of sight, Pak takes the butterfly knife he keeps in his pocket out and passes his arm around Rou’s neck. “Don’t move. I know what you are…” He tries to stay composed but he’s more scared than ever. His voice trembles a bit.

Rou blinks a few times, confused but not that alarmed by the situation. “What I am ? What do you mean ?” He looks at his assailant with puzzlement with a tint of concern. He had noticed the slight quiver in his voice.

He’s… SO CLOSE. Pak blushes. Is it really the right time for this type of thought? He can’t do this. He can’t hurt the pretty man. He just can’t. The dealer’s legs get weak; he falls to the ground. Tears form at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck… Fuck it!! I can’t do this, brah… Just.. Take me to prison already, I don’t give a damn…” He does. This means he loses his freedom. They’re going to find out that he does a lot more than just sell drugs. They’ll trash his place and find all of the stuff he stole. They’ll get to the other guys and they’ll come to slash his throat for talking.

The now free drug buyer is startled, he doesn’t understand what the man is saying. He is only now nervous about the situation, becoming concerned for the drug dealer. He makes hand movements to try to calm down the man.”P-Please come down, sir ! W-What’s going on ? Are you alright ?”

Pak looks around. Is no one going to come help Rou? Could it be that he has been mistaken? He would have been sniped by now. His glasses have slipped on his nose, letting his turquoise eyes show. He tends to wear his sunglasses at all times. Eyes are the window of the soul, they say. It is true in his case. That’s why he hides them, keeps the curtains closed, so that no one can know all the things he thinks about. Right now, they’re watery from the horrible fright he just experienced and the sense of relief that flows over him. “I-I’m sorry.. I thought ya was a cop, he.. Hehe..”

Rou was baffled for a second, then burst out laughing. “Ahaha ! Me ? A cop ?? Really ? Why would you think that ? I’m not really built for that, no ?”

The older man makes a shy smile. “I guess, haha.. I mean, I’m sorry, brah.” He gets up, still trembling a bit. He searches through his bag nervously and gets a bottle of pills out. “Here.. Your meds.. I’m sorry for, uh, threatening ya with a knife, hehe… Take it.” He pushed his sunglasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “For free.” He specifies. This is highly embarrassing.

The younger man agitates his hands nervously. “Oh ! No ! No ! No ! I-I can pay !” He ruffles through his bag and pulls out a little frog wallet. “H-how much ?”

A FROG WALLET. He gasps. How old is he? What is that? He never wonders about his clients’ age. He sells drugs to 14 year olds all the time. This, though, is an incredibly weird situation. Rou is at university, so clearly, he’s an adult, but he’s so naive and so pure. ‘And so cute.’ Pak administers himself a slap in the face. “Eh-hem! NO. I mean, no. You really don’t have to… Just… Put that..” He points at the wallet. “Put that uh.. C-Cute thing away… S-So, opioids. This is Dilaudid. Ya take 4mg every four to six hours. It’s freakin’ important cause ya don’t wanna end up dead. This shit can make your heart stop if ya take too much. Am dead serious O.K.?”

Rou giggles a bit. “Thank you for your concern, but this isn’t my first time taking these. You don’t need to worry about me.” He offers him a smile of reassurement. Then he fiddles with his froggy wallet shyly. “But..mmh…Are you sure about the payment? It was only a misunderstanding..I could’ve tried being less suspicious...” That was not the only thing that made him uncomfortable. “And mmh…Please don’t slap yourself like that, you could hurt yourself.”

He screamed internally. Why was this guy this adorable? He felt like punching him. This wasn’t a comfortable situation. Did Rou do this on purpose or was he naturally like that? He couldn’t tell. He just wanted to wrap his arms around him so bad. That’s what heterosexual guys do… Right? “I… I’m sorry, uh… I mean… Urgh… I don’t want ya cash, dude. You could do something for me instead.” His cheeks became red. “B-But nothing sexual, I-I mean l-like hanging out or something, not like, I-I don’t want t-to kiss ya or EH-HEM.” At this exact moment, Pak Dave wanted to die.

“Hanging out ?” Rou tilted his head in bewilderment. Was this guy wanting to be friends ? That’s great ! Rou’s social circle has been pretty stagnant for a while and he could use some new additions. “You really want to hang out with me ? Hm..Alright ?” He laughed a bit. But what do people do when they hang out ? He wasn’t sure. Although, he was sure of a way to repay the man. “Hmm…I know a cool place we could go not too far from here, if that’s okay with you !”

How had he not noticed how awkward he was? He was grateful for it nonetheless. He nodded frantically. “Sure! Anything goes!” He closed his bag. Where could this man hang out during his free time? Surely at a wholesome place. The library? A Café? What did they serve at Cafés? Sex On The Beach? Rhum And Coke? Coffee? He was ready to follow the other guy anywhere.

“Great !” The young man exclaimed ! “Follow me then, please.” They begin walking. He takes him in a less than good part of town and stops at some decrepit building. The building itself is not the best looking but the young man was pointing at the dinghy stairs leading to the basement. “It’s there !” He said with an innocent smile.

He smiled. He wasn’t one to judge other people’s places. He wasn’t sure what this was. Was it… Rou’s place? That was unexpected. What did he want to do at his place? “Cool, uh. Where we at?”

“It’s my clinic of psychology !” He says so as if this was a normal place to bring a friend. “I thought I could offer you a free seance in exchange for the drugs !” He goes down the stairs, unlocks the door and opens it for his visitor. “After you !”

Pak stops walking for a second. Is that a normal thing to do? He wouldn’t know, but he looks at Rou, confused. “Huh? I mean. I don’t need that. I’m a normal guy. There aren’t voices in my head and I don’t jack off to weird things. Well… Not really…” He’s glad his sunglasses are on at the moment, because these last sentences are complete lies. He does think about weird things when he touches himself. Like… Men and stuff. But he’d never say that out loud.

Rou has a nervous spasm when he hears Pak’s definition of a normal guy, but tries to hide his uncomfort. “W-Well, talking to someone about your troubles can be good for anybody. Not just people with mental health issues !” He then starts realizing how weird of an activity this is and becomes unsure. “O-Of course..we don’t have to if you don’t..”

If this gives him an opportunity to spend time with this pretty stranger, he’s going to do it. “Nah man. No worries. Let’s do this.” He realizes he doesn’t know anything about this guy. He wonders. Does this situation make him the client?

He perks back up right away. “Alright ! Make yourself at home !” With eagerness, he trots inside while leaving the door open for his new acquired patient. The inside is not very spacious or decorated. It consists of white basement apartment garnished with a black couch, an equally black armchair, a coffee table and a kitchen at the back. There are also two doors, one of those was open and Rou quickly closes it with embarrassment. “It’s..also where I live currently..haha. I should also tell you, I don’t exactly have my diploma yet. So…please keep quiet about this clinic.” He put a finger to his lips timidly.

He certainly won’t tell his friends that he went to see a psychologist. They’ll mock him. One of them has been trying to get him to say stupid things. “You realize you’re saying that to a drug dealer. Like… The guy who sells drugs hehe. Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep your secret.” Is it their secret?

Rou seems relieved. “Thank you very much ! Hm, do you want something to drink, to eat ?” As he talks, he puts away his school things in the room that was presumably his. “I have hm..” He goes to check his fridge as if he doesn’t know himself what it contains. “..Milk, juice, and…uuh…something..green…”

Pak looks around. Is he supposed to sit? He isn’t sure. He drops his bag full of illegal stuff and heads to the couch in which he lets himself fall, his legs wide open. Because, that’s what masculine men do, right? He frowns when he hears about the green thing. Does Rou keep radioactive material in his fridge? “Uh, water’s fine. Water’s tastylicious, ma man.”

“Okay ! Water it is !” He pours a glass that he puts on the coffee table in front of the lying Pak as he settles in the armchair. He takes a more confident stand and pulls out a little notebook and pen. “I’m ready to begin when you are, Pak.” he declared with a professional smile.

He looked around, confused. “Uuuh, sure. I mean, I’ve never done anything like this, so I ain’t really sure what I’m supposed to do…” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about his issues. Why would he like to discuss things that made him uncomfortable? He wondered for a second why he had followed the young man. You like him, Pak Dave. You think he’s cute and you know it. You’re just in denial, you dumbass.

“Oh ! It’s not all that complicated.” Rou said to reassure him. “I’ll ask a few questions and you simply say what comes to mind. There’s not really a wrong way of doing this.” He crosses his legs and opens his notebook. He was now in a full psy mood. “So, let’s start with an easy one. How are you feeling today Pak Dave ?” He looks up to him with a warm expression.

That wasn’t too bad of a question. “Am alright, dude. I guess I’m just a bit stressed out, but I always am.” He takes off his cap and passes his hand in his hair. He always does when he is embarrassed. He can’t really tell why he’s been anxious. He’s just kind of a nervous guy, he supposes. Weird for such a rad man.

“Stressed out ?” The young student’s look turned to one of slight worry. “Why are you so stressed out ?” He did not look stressed to him, but those things aren’t always apparent. He thought this would be just a fun time, but this man might have needed this more than he expected..

He looks unsure. “I don’t know, man. I guess I just want… To be a cool guy and I ain’t necessarily that.” He makes a self-derogatory smile. He isn’t sure what he wants to say by that. He is cool and he feels like it. Maybe that isn’t the right term…

“Oh ? I don’t know much about coolness, but you look pretty cool to me.” This was said in total honesty. He then becomes more troubled. “But trying to appear a certain way should not be cause for stress, ideally. Why is it so important to you to appear ‘cool’ ?” He prepares his pen on his little notebook without detaching his eyes from Pak.

He blushes. Rou thinks he’s cool? Nice. The Korean man has a shy expression. “I-I mean.. I guess I don’t want to get beaten up or something, hehe. I don’t wanna be seen as a weak guy or anything. It eez what it eez right?” He says that as if not being ‘cool’ was a valid reason to get beaten up.

Rou’s expression of concern deepens. “Hm, you do work in a pretty rough field which is, I’m sure, very stress inducing. We all need to put up a front in our professional life to some extent, but there is also a healthy limit of course.” He pauses and wonders for a minute. He was still very inexperienced and the advice he gave so far was pretty generic. Maybe it was time to close this subject.”Well I hope in the future you can find a healthy work-life persona to exhibit.”

He looks at the ceiling. “Nah, I mean. I love my job. I get to help people have fun and also I do various crazy things. It’s very entertaining. I get creative and make little funky bags for my clients and give them advice. Anyway… It isn’t really about my job…” This is making him feel uncomfortable.

“Oh?” Rou was glad to hear he enjoyed his work, but he also picked up on his uncomfort. He knows there is something there and really wants to dig deeper, but this was their first seance. They should not go too far too quickly. So he decides to back away for now and asks him a new question. “I see. Ahem, so how is your love life at the moment ?”

His face becomes blank. “M-M-My love life?....” It’s a totally standard one: he has dates with girls and when they get to the point where they’re supposed to have sex, he just can’t do it and it’s extremely awkward. Now, I know what you think: this guy goes on dates? You wouldn’t believe how much girls love losers. Moving on.

Pak not only has issues with women, he also has an unsolved high school crush resulting in him being secretly melancholic. Being 32 now, he technically should have moved on, but the circumstances have left him unable to get past the whole thing. His eyes tear up. “It’s… It’s sh-shit, man.. Snif..” Why can’t he forget him? Hwan.

As he notices that his patient is crying, Rou loses all professional façade and becomes distressed. He drops his pen and notebook to make his way towards the man. “P-Pak ? W-What’s wrong.” He instinctively approaches his hand to comfort him.

What is he doing? Is he about to touch him? Now, Rou is a man, right? And Pak is a man too, right? So, if they touch each other, that’s gay, right? At least, that’s the equation that the man is making right now. Pak has never been a genius math-wise. He stands up brutally. Tears rolling down his cheeks. “What the hell are ya doin’? I ain’t fuckin’ gay, so don’t touch me.” Oh, my…

Rou backs away nervously, he wanted to calm down the man and clearly, he did not do so. “S-Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable !” When he was at a safe distance, he regains his composure. “But, just so you know. There is no shame in liking people of the same gender. Love is love, right?” He punctuates this phrase with his simplest smile.

Pak feels rage overrun him. “I’M NOT GAY!?” He approaches and pins Rou to the wall. “Sometimes, you like your homie a lot and you think about him all the time and when he leaves your life, it doesn’t feel right anymore.. But that doesn’t mean I’m a fucking #&??%*, alright!?”

The not-psychologist had completely failed. He thought he could give him a fun seance to relieve some latent stress as thanks for the opïodes and it was going horribly. He was upset, not because he was being pinned on a wall and screamed at, but because he realized how much he still had to learn. And how he could harm people by not knowing.

But the screaming man had asked him a question and he was going to answer it truthfully. Even though he had difficulty speaking in the current situation. “Y..you define what love is for you…B-But, I insist, there is nothing wrong with liking a man.” He smiled weakly as best he could.

The little smile got the best of him. He slowly lets him go. “I… I just wish I wasn’t like… That… I don’t want to be like that…” He looks Rou in the eyes. “Fuck it. I find men hot. Are you happy? That’s what you psychologists do, right? Ya read people’s minds and ya make them say the things they don’t wanna talk about!” He looks hurt and… Relieved. Is this also part of this seance? Feeling better?

The body of Rou slumps down on the wall as he looks at the crying man in bewilderment. He stumbles back up and is about to approach the man once more but refrains from doing it. His confidence has crumbled. “Pak, I-I’m sorry. I-It wasn’t supposed to be this painful I….” Not finding the right words, he decides to leave the crying man and makes his way to the kitchen part of this office-apartment. Some rustling can be heard and after a while, the young not-doctor comes back with a hot drink that he offers to Pak apologetically.

Pak experiences visible confusion. He didn’t expect to feel this way. All these years it’s been haunting him and suddenly, it feels as if he’s been freed. Now, obviously he isn’t going to run outside and kiss a dude, but he does feel less disgusted by himself all of a sudden. He looks at his hands. Why did he attack Rou? Was this secret worth it? He turns toward the hot cup and the shorter man. “I… I’m sorry bro, I ain’t like this usually..” He accepts the beverage and takes a sip. “Damn.. I mean. I suppose I should have said this earlier. I mean. It feels weird but I kinda don’t hate myself as much as when I walked in.” He takes off his cap and passes his hand through his hair with his free hand. “Are you hurt?...”

Rou got caught off guard by that question. He moves a bit to verify that nothing is broken. “No. I don’t think so.” Then he regains his smile. “And don’t worry about it. It was a very enriching experience. I’m just glad…You feel a bit better about yourself.” He looks up at him with sad smiling eyes.

He feels his cheeks burning. Why is he this adorable? He’d like to pass his arms around him, to take away the sadness he deciphers in the back of his gaze but he just can’t. That would be inappropriate. He audibly gulps. “Can I… Uh… See you again?” Shit. That’s too gay. “I mean, we can do this again, right? I can pay, ya know?”

The young non-doctor laughs. “Ahaha ! Yes, of course ! A-and..don’t worry about payment, I…feel like I owe you after how this seance went…” He embarrassedly twiddles his fingers. “If you see the open sign, that means I’m in ! So you can come in at any time of the day or night !” The implication of what he just said clearly passed over his head. Since he was offering his purest and truest smile.

Pak melts. Day OR night? Can he really come here whenever? He makes an uncertain smile. “Thanks, man. I’ll sure come back. Also, uh.. You did, great, like.. It ain’t on ya, man. I’m the one who got carried away.” He takes his bag and walks toward the front door. Now he needs to go. This meeting was a lot. “I’ll be back soon, then!” He smirks.

Rou responds with a warm expression. “You're welcome at any time. Take care of yourself until then.” He places himself at the door to wave him goodbye, as a good housewife would do. He was happy that the situation ended on a good note, but next time he will need to be much more delicate and sensitive.

Pak waves back and runs away. He’s glad. Today, he met an angel.

#shonen ai #original story #gay men #yes homo #grunge #drug dealer #psychology #meet cute #chapter 1 #it is what it is

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thextrashxpak · 1 month

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Chapter 1 : Meeting with angel

TRIGGER WARNING : MENTIONS OF DRUGS, KNIFE, INTERNALIZED HOMOPHIBIA.

**ATTENTION: Both authors are part of the LGBT+ community. We do not condone homophobia. Our characters' opinions on the matter are not ours.**

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

In an apartment covered in trashy decorations, a 32 year old man was getting prepared to meet with a new client for a deal. What type of deal, you may ask? Pak Dave, the man in question, is, upon other things, a drug dealer. He deals drugs. Cocaine, ketamine, magic mushroom, heroin, everything you can think of. Today, he’s going on a university campus to sell opioids to a sketchy guy. Sketchy because he sends smileys in his messages. “Hello dear sir or madam. I found this number on a bathroom stall door. It said you sell drugs of all kinds. If you are not too busy at the moment, I would love to buy something from you. :)” That was his first message to him. He did indeed leave his number on a bathroom stall with a little message, but he didn’t expect to receive one with a freakin’ smiley at the end.

Rou was baffled for a second, then burst out laughing. “Ahaha ! Me ? A cop ?? Really ? Why would you think that ? I’m not really built for that, no ?”

The younger man agitates his hands nervously. “Oh ! No ! No ! No ! I-I can pay !” He ruffles through his bag and pulls out a little frog wallet. “H-how much ?”

Pak waves back and runs away. He’s glad. Today, he met an angel.

#gay boys #shounen ai #fiction #meet cute #seriously dude #no homo #yes homo #chapter 1 #grunge #urban fiction #psychology #mental health #it is what it is #delicious #drug dealer

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pesterloglog · 2 months

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Vriska Serket, Vrissy Maryam-Lalonde

Candy, page 37

(VRISKA): I think that one is...

(VRISKA): A sort of snake?

(VRISKA): A snake with a strangely 8ig head.

VRISKA: Nah, it’s a pipe.

(VRISKA): A what?

VRISKA: It’s a Thing you Smoke with.

(VRISKA): Oh.

(VRISKA): You mean, like, the human marijuana I’ve heard Dave ram8le a8out sometimes?

VRISKA: God.

VRISKA: You Really Did grow up on an Alien Planet, didn’t you.

(VRISKA): Yes, as a matter of fact I did.

(VRISKA): I’m from the world which was home to the race you yourself are apparently a mem8er of.

VRISKA: Yeah 8ut I’m actually Normal?

VRISKA: No Offense.

(VRISKA): None taken. You’re a lot like me, really.

(VRISKA): I mean, unsurprisingly? This shouldn’t 8e shocking news.

VRISKA: You just kinda remind me of my mom.

VRISKA: Not in Many ways, I just mean you say shit that makes it O8vious this isn’t where you grew up.

(VRISKA): How is Kanaya, 8y the way?

VRISKA: Um. 8oring?

VRISKA: And Old.

VRISKA: Old and 8oring as Fuck.

(VRISKA): Hahahaha.

(VRISKA): Sounds a8out right.

VRISKA: I mean, Older Than Us, 8y a lot.

VRISKA: 8ut you knew her when you were the same age, so...

VRISKA: That’s why I said that? Fuck it. She’s like, Regular. A 8asic Ass Mom.

VRISKA: She’s fine, I like her. 8oth my moms are alright.

VRISKA: They’re a little o8sessed with all this War Shit though.

(VRISKA): Oh yeah?

VRISKA: Yeah.

VRISKA: Old people get hella 8ent out of shape a8out War And Politics.

VRISKA: Same shit as always.

(VRISKA): You’re right. I guess that’s how it was in my culture too.

(VRISKA): That one there.

(VRISKA): That’s... some sort of squat, can-like 8uilding, right?

VRISKA: What?

(VRISKA): Like the ridiculous structures my friends used to 8uild with the Mayor.

(VRISKA): Hey, is the Mayor still around?

VRISKA: The Mayor’s dead, dude.

(VRISKA): Shit!

(VRISKA): I loved the Mayor.

VRISKA: Everyone loved the Mayor.

VRISKA: He’s in our damn history 8ooks.

(VRISKA): Wow.

(VRISKA): 8ut you see what I mean, right? That one!

VRISKA: Lol, you don’t know Anything.

VRISKA: Kinda cute, actually.

(VRISKA): What?? Then what is it, smartass.

VRISKA: It’s a cake.

(VRISKA): ........

VRISKA: A 8irthday cake. See? Those are candles.

VRISKA: It’s so o8vious.

(VRISKA): Oh! Like those shitty things John’s dad was always making?

VRISKA: Guess so.

(VRISKA): What’s with all the clouds shaped like John stuff?

(VRISKA): Like that one there. That’s... a 8ig dollop of “shaving cream,” right?

VRISKA: Ummmmmmmm, nah.

VRISKA: That’s just a normal cloud I think.

(VRISKA): Fine, 8ad example.

(VRISKA): 8ut THAT one.

(VRISKA): That’s DEFINITELY a human hat.

VRISKA: Oh yeah, it totally is.

VRISKA: Just a fuckin’ Sky Hat. Right there.

(VRISKA): Is Earth C always like this?

VRISKA: I dunno, I never noticed.

(VRISKA): May8e this is just crazy nonsense, actually.

(VRISKA): Seeing shapes in clouds, I mean.

VRISKA: May8e. Idk.

(VRISKA): Or may8e the truth just makes me kind of nervous.

VRISKA: What “Truth”?

(VRISKA): Don’t tell him I said this, 8ut, I think John is just an extremely powerful 8eing. Even when he sucks.

(VRISKA): And he certainly does appear to suck in this reality.

(VRISKA): And yet, the uneasy feeling is there.

(VRISKA): It’s a vague feeling I’ve had in the 8ack of my mind for a long time, 8ut it really hit me when I was talking to him earlier.

(VRISKA): It’s distur8ing to think a8out that much power 8ottled up in one stupid nerd who’ll never understand it.

VRISKA: What Power are you even talking a8out?

VRISKA: Like, lame Wind Powers?

(VRISKA): No, I mean...

(VRISKA): The power to shape reality. Even without intending to.

(VRISKA): Like, just falling 8ackwards into the most insanely overpowered 8ullshit, when the rest of us have to work our asses off for a fraction of that kind of power and relevance.

(VRISKA): He could rewrite everything that ever happened if he wanted.

(VRISKA): And he could pro8a8ly even 8end reality to his will in certain ways even if he didn’t have the slightest idea what he was doing, which he usually doesn’t.

(VRISKA): He’d pro8a8ly manage to 8e more relevant than I could ever dream of 8eing even if he was dead.

(VRISKA): It’s a little depressing to think a8out, actually.

VRISKA: Eh, no it’s not.

VRISKA: Harry’s dad is a Joke! He’s a Washed Up Loser.

VRISKA: He’s not worth feeling shitty a8out At All.

(VRISKA): Wow. You know what?

(VRISKA): You’re RIGHT.

(VRISKA): Man, that is SUCH a good attitude?

(VRISKA): Why didn’t I say that??

(VRISKA): I used to say shit like that.

VRISKA: Hey, can I just ask...

VRISKA: Why were you making out with this Ridiculous Shithead?

(VRISKA): Wow, could we may8e not talk a8out that?

(VRISKA): I’m fucking em8arrassed.

VRISKA: I’m not even Judging. It’s not like I can 8lame you.

VRISKA: Sometimes a girl just needs to give up on her Dignity for a while and kiss a Dum8 Clown.

VRISKA: That does a lot to Explain my Relationship with Harry, actually.

(VRISKA): Haha.

(VRISKA): Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it.

(VRISKA): Let’s just call it a 8rief and inadvisa8le catharsis through fleeting clown lust, and agree to never speak of this again.

VRISKA: You got it.

(VRISKA): 8ut anyway, I was trying to make a point!

(VRISKA): I have to say... I’m almost a little jealous of you.

VRISKA: Jealous. Why? I’ve done fuck all.

VRISKA: I go to highschool and that’s a8out it?

VRISKA: Haven’t you like,

VRISKA: Literally Ascended To Godhood, cre8d Multiple Universes, and uh.

VRISKA: Killed Guys And Stuff?

(VRISKA): Yes, I did do all of that stuff.

VRISKA: Didn’t you Mind Control some idiot to jump off a Cliff, and he got Paralyzed...

VRISKA: 8ut then you started Dating him or something?

(VRISKA): Yeah.

(VRISKA): That was 8efore I killed him.

VRISKA: Lmao!!

(VRISKA): It’s cool though, we made up!

(VRISKA): As ghosts I mean. Well, a different copy of me did that, 8ut I think it still counts.

(VRISKA): Wh8ver, it’s just one thing I did. Who can even keep track of this stuff.

VRISKA: Didn’t you 8lind some O8noxious 8itch one time?

(VRISKA): HEY!

(VRISKA): Some of this stuff is kind of priv8??

(VRISKA): Anyway, the point wasn’t to go strolling down memory lane on some of the 8adass things I’ve done.

(VRISKA): Not that there isn’t a lot of gr8 material there.

(VRISKA): I’m just saying, with the life you’re living here, you seem...

(VRISKA): Free?

(VRISKA): Free to just 8e yourself, and 8e cool, and not really care too much a8out other people’s horse shit.

(VRISKA): I’ve spent so long caring so much a8out what other people thought of me. Mainly that they saw me as important, or making a “difference.”

(VRISKA): It’s such a futile struggle sometimes. And I thought I was doing SO well, and getting SO close to the 8ig prize... and then I end up... here???

(VRISKA): It’s like a 8ig joke. And sometimes it feels like real freedom is just understanding that.

(VRISKA): And when you do, it comes through in your personality, and it’s a lot easier to just seem...

(VRISKA): Cool. You know?

VRISKA: I guess.

(VRISKA): This is really funny. I feel like such a fuckup. 8ecause now that I’m saying this, I realize there WAS a person like that I met once.

(VRISKA): Like you, sorta. It was just another version of myself.

(VRISKA): She was genuinely happy, and living her 8est life, even though she was ironically a ghost.

(VRISKA): 8ut something a8out her attitude set me off.

(VRISKA): So I ripped her to pieces??

(VRISKA): Also I sort of stole her girlfriend.

VRISKA: Holy shit?

(VRISKA): I know! I’m terri8le.

VRISKA: No not really.

VRISKA: This all sounds kind of Legendary, t8h.

(VRISKA): No, I know! I know how it sounds.

(VRISKA): Just, please, don’t look at me as some sort of role model, ok?

(VRISKA): This isn’t good! The point is it’s 8AD!

(VRISKA): Take it from me, don’t do the shit where you start modeling yourself after some mental image you have of a cooler version of yourself! It just sucks.

VRISKA: Haha, alright, Whatever You Say. :::::::)

(VRISKA): Ugh. This isn’t going in the direction I was hoping.

(VRISKA): The POINT is, I was so mad at her.

(VRISKA): That happy ghost version of myself, who was free of everything.

(VRISKA): I was pro8a8ly mad 8ecause she got to 8e who she really was, without stressing a8out it, which is something I never felt like I was allowed to have.

VRISKA: Well.

VRISKA: You can now, right?

VRISKA: What the fuck is Stopping you.

(VRISKA): I guess so.

(VRISKA): I wonder what the point would 8e?

VRISKA: What do you mean.

(VRISKA): I could 8e a 8etter version of myself than I am, 8ut...

(VRISKA): Then...

(VRISKA): Who would even 8e around to notice?

VRISKA: I would.

(VRISKA): Oh, yeah. No, I mean, that’s gr8.

(VRISKA): And it’s nice talking to you, and getting stuff off my chest? It’s not what I meant, though.

(VRISKA): I left the people I care most a8out 8ehind.

(VRISKA): What’s the point of 8ecoming your 8est self, if the people most important to you aren’t around to witness it?

VRISKA: Um. Aren’t all your friends Here though?

VRISKA: I know they’re a 8unch of Old Fucks now, 8ut...

(VRISKA): No, they are. That’s...

(VRISKA): Not what I mean.

(VRISKA): Sigh. This is hard to explain.

(VRISKA): I guess I mean there’s someone specifically I fell out of touch with, who it feels like I’ll never see again.

VRISKA: Oh.

(VRISKA): May8e...

(VRISKA): May8e that’s why I h8’d my ghost self so much?

VRISKA: Why?

(VRISKA): 8ecause I just had a sense.

(VRISKA): On some level I knew she was right. She was happy and honest with herself. And that’s what made her...

(VRISKA): A version of myself who was actually worthy of someone I cared a8out.

(VRISKA): Don’t get me wrong, we had a nice time for a few years living on that meteor.

(VRISKA): It was a good, sta8le pale relationship. 8ut that’s all it was.

(VRISKA): We couldn’t really connect in a deeper way 8ecause I was still... the way I am, I guess?

(VRISKA): Layers and layers of armor and defenses.

(VRISKA): And I had some mysterious feeling that weak ghost version of myself was always meant to form the kind of connection with her that I never could, 8ecause she didn’t have any of that stuff getting in the way.

(VRISKA): Which is pro8a8ly why I flipped out at her.

VRISKA: The person you’re talking a8out here...

VRISKA: It kinda sounds like you Love her.

(VRISKA): What??

(VRISKA): No!

VRISKA: Okay, Whatever.

(VRISKA): I don’t 8elieve this.

(VRISKA): I mean... may8e?

(VRISKA): Sorta.

(VRISKA): It’s a complic8d feeling.

VRISKA: It actually doesn’t sound that complic8d, 8ut again, Whatever.

(VRISKA): I don’t know!!!!!!!!

(VRISKA): I still feel sort of messed up a8out this, and I don’t think I can pinpoint exactly how I feel!!!!!!!!

(VRISKA): May8e you can’t even 8oil it down to one quadrant at all!!!!!!!!

VRISKA: Who are we Talking a8out here?

(VRISKA): I DON’T THINK I CAN TALK A8OUT THIS ANYMORE!

VRISKA: Oh god, it’s not...

VRISKA: My MOM, is it?

VRISKA: Or one of them?

(VRISKA): Oh FUCK no. Not them.

(VRISKA): Anyway, they’re living on this planet. Remem8er I said I’d pro8a8ly never see her again?

VRISKA: Yeah.

VRISKA: You’re just talking a8out The Girl You 8linded that one time, aren’t you?

(VRISKA): Ummmmmmmm.

VRISKA: May8e I’m not Fucking Stupid?

VRISKA: I know some Lore.

VRISKA: I’m pretty sure Harry’s Dad used to talk to her a lot.

(VRISKA): What?

VRISKA: The 8lind Girl.

(VRISKA): He did? When?

VRISKA: I dunno. Years ago.

(VRISKA): How is that possi8le? I mean... from THIS place?

VRISKA: What. Earth C?

VRISKA: I don’t think I get the question.

(VRISKA): You still don’t seem to understand. We’re all inside...

(VRISKA): Never mind.

(VRISKA): What were they even talking a8out?

VRISKA: I have No Idea.

VRISKA: You wanna Look?

(VRISKA): Look at what?

VRISKA: Just a minute ago I swiped his Phone.

(VRISKA): You stole John’s phone??

VRISKA: Yeah.

VRISKA: I Steal Stuff sometimes.

VRISKA: The ha8it’s Pro8a8ly just in my DNA.

(VRISKA): Lol.

(VRISKA): Yeah, let’s take a look.

(VRISKA): How far 8ack does this go??

VRISKA: Not sure. 8efore I was hatched, at least.

(VRISKA): This is all...

(VRISKA): Weirdly flirtatious????????

VRISKA: Yeah.

(VRISKA): Terezi was like that with a lot of people though.

(VRISKA): Still, it’s a little jarring.

(VRISKA): It’s all kind of 8lowing my mind.

VRISKA: You know what this Means, don’t you?

(VRISKA): What?

VRISKA: You can Contact Her.

(VRISKA): Holy shit.

(VRISKA): What would I even say?

VRISKA: Tell her you Love Her.

(VRISKA): Oh, shut the fuck up.

VRISKA: Ha Ha Ha Ha.

(VRISKA): 8ut seriously...

(VRISKA): I have no idea where she is, or what she’s doing. Is she old now too, like everyone else?

(VRISKA): That would feel weird.

VRISKA: Only one way to Find Out.

(VRISKA): Hey Terezi.

(VRISKA): This isn’t John.

(VRISKA): It’s Vriska.

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #vriska serket #vrissy maryam lalonde #candy epilogue #page 37

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contrispos · 3 years

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Episode 11 - Devil’s Deal

[Star Wars: The Bad Batch]

I am angry right now, this was the least good episode of the show. I have to scream.

—

What planet is this?

There are colors

Conclusion: Aliens.

Twi’leks: Ryloth. HECK YEAH

Crosshair my dear boy

We meet again

RAMPASS

I WILL KICK YOUR ASS RAMPASS

THAT is general Syndulla

Who is that clone?

I need the name of that clone right now

He has no right to look that good

And THAT is Hera’s mom

WAIT ARE WE GONNA GET BB HERA????

OKAY THAT CLONE JUST GOT EVEN HOTTER SHUT THE FRONT DOOR

he has no right

FINALLY another reg who isn’t a mindless machine:)

Damn general that was a good speech

BUT THAT FUCKING CLONE DOESNT HAVE THE FUCKING RIGHT TO BE THAT HANDSOME

CROSSHAIR MAH MAN

okay but now they can’t not have Hera in this ep

OH MY GOD ITS CHOPPER!!!!!!!!!

oh and Hera

BUT ITS CHOPPER

MY BABY

chopper is ✨bwah bwah✨

is his name Chan, Chad, or Chav???

THERE IS THAT FUCKING CLONE AGAIN

Is it Cham?

Is this my new favourite clone? maybe, he might become it if he continues TO BE THAT FUCKING HOT

Houser?? Hozer?? Hold on lemme check the subtitles

Okay 1: His name is Cham.

2: The clone’s name is Howzer

HOWZER FUCK OFF STOP BEING HOT

It is… …unacceptable

WHERE IS THE BATCH HUH???? THEY WERE IN THE THUMBNAIL!!!!! THIS IS CLICKBAITING!!!!!

OKAY CROSSHAIR IS TAKING OFF HIS HELMET

ARE THERE SCARS????

WHERE IS HIS HAIR???????

is that a cybernetic eye?

DOES HE HAVE A CYBERNETIC EYE??????

okay no, he has his eyes

phew

BUT DAMN THE SIDE OF HIS HEAD THO

THAT LOOKS NASTY AF

OOOOOFFFFFF

ahhh i almost don’t wanna look at it, i feel bad for my toothpick son

also: i noticed something, crosshair’s imperial armor is really bulky compared to his tbb armor

okay don’t get me wrong i love Hera and her family but I just really want to see my sons and their daughter

What was it Rampass had to do? what was on the datapad???

okay it felt like imp!crosshair did his flip-and-aim thing very slowly, i’m just saying that tbb!crosshair woukd have done that in a heartbeat

okay but please can they meet the batch?? i miss them

IIIIIITS THE BAD BATCH

YES

MY SONS

AND MY DAUGHTER

I HAVE MISSED YOU SO

OMEGA YOU ARE STILL FUCKING ADORABLE

I LOVE YOU

TECH MY DARLING

I LOVE YOU

I love how Hunter just looks at Hera, he knows his little girl is badass

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Hunter, can she come aboard?” *nod*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Omega knows her shit, I bet Tech taught her

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Tech won’t let me train until I can recite the ship’s specifications from memory”

TECH IS TEACHING HER HOW A SHIP WORKS

I REPEAT

TECH IS TEACHING OMEGA ABOUT HOW THE MARAUDER WORKS

AND HE IS BEING A DAD ABOUT IT

I WOULD SCREAM A BIT MORE BUT SPAMMING THE BUTTON IS ANNOYING

IS HER FAVOURITE PART OF THE SHIP HER ROOM???

oh my god that is so wholesome

Dave, does Wrecker know that Omega’s favourite part is the room he fixed for her?

OH MY GOD OMEGA IS SO SMALL

“Make a new friend?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

YES OMEGA TELL EM YOU ARE READY TO FLY

“What… feeling?” Tech, yes you. YOU THERE!!! you are adorable, did you know that???

this can’t be the only thing we see of the batch in this episode

if it is I will kill myself

Aaaaand there is Crosshair again committing murder

maybe not but like almost

i mean yeah i’d love to move in if you just let me remove your chip first:))

yes Howzer tell em

Omg Howzer actually has a brain

is he fighting the chip or is it broken?

does he not have one???

I KNEW IT

CROSSHAIR WAS GOING TO COMMIT LE MURDER

okay i had my hopes that “rescue on ryloth” as next weeks ep meant they were rescuing cross, but know I realise that was fakse hope and they are rescuing the Syndulla family.

I am still angry about the lack of my sons…

#bad batch #star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #star wars tbb #bad batch spoilers #tbb #star wars #howzer is very hot #it is unfair #dave totally knew what he was doing with that dude #it was planned

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mrwavellswaps · 2 years

Text

Half a Pill (Part 1)

James and Cain had been together for just over 3 years now. They seemed to have a great relationship and usually got on super well. However, ever since Cain’s mom got together with and married Dave, James had noticed his boyfriend’s wandering eye towards his new Step-Dad. Despite this though James knew Cain and he also knew he’d never do anything to betray him…and yet he still felt a little uneasy. He couldn’t just ignore the fact that his boyfriend very clearly checked out his own Step-Dad on a regular basis. Though to be fair James couldn’t totally blame him, Dave was incredibly hot and James had even found himself stealing a couple glances at the man.

After about a year of this, James was still trying to come to terms with the situation when one day something seemingly impossible happened. One of James’ friends Kyle had called him into the office building Kyle worked at and told him about this pill he got from an old woman claiming to be a Witch. She said that if the pill is broken in half and one half is consumed by one person while the other half is consumed by another then they will trade bodies. Of course neither of them believed it was real but Kyle decided that, for the fun of it, he was gonna try it. He slipped a half of the pill into the coffee of one of his hot co-worker crushes Ryan before taking the other pill himself.

James was stunned when he then saw Kyles eyes roll back as his body jittered for a moment. It quickly subsiding however he could tell it was no longer Kyle but rather Ryan in his body. He began freaking out for a moment before seeing his own body burst into the small office now piloted by Kyle. It was clear Kyle was ecstatic with his new body as he ran his hands over Ryan’s dress shirt feeling his new body underneath.

“HEY!…W-WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!..Y-y-you look like…ME!?” Ryan exclaimed in shock.

“Fuuuck yeah I do. I can’t believe that actually worked.” Kyle groaned as he groped his crotch

The three then spent the next half an hour figuring things out. James tried to keep Ryan from having an emotional outburst over his body being stolen however it didn’t help when Kyle wouldn't stop feeling himself up.

James told Ryan that he would try his best to help him get back his original body (bit of a lie) but for now he’d have to pretend to be Kyle. Ryan agreed reluctantly, glaring at Kyle before telling him to not fuck up his body. With that James walked Ryan out of the tiny office and into the hallway. He gave Ryan directions to Kyles home along with a pair of keys before sending the apprehensive man on his way.

When James stepped back into Kyles office however he was shocked, although he probably shouldn’t have been. There stood Kyle in the middle of the room, zipper undone and holding Ryan’s hard pulsing cock in his hand.

“Jesus dude! Really?!” James said in a disappointed tone.

“Hey sorry I couldn’t help it. Ryan is sooo fuckin hot and being in his body is making me so horny.” Kyle started pumping his new uncut cock, a look glee plastered on his face.

James found himself just staring at the man jerking off for a good few seconds before he snapped outta it. “Can at least do this in the bathroom where nobody could just walk in and see you?” He asked, pretending as though his eyes weren’t glued to the other man’s stolen cock.

Kyle looked James up and down with a grin, still pumping away, before stating “Well if you got over here and sucked me off maybe I could cum a little quicker.”

James was a little taken of guard by the offer yet he couldn't help but eye up Ryan’s cock that Kyle had taken. I looked so thick…and juicy…and delicious. Just the thought of wrapping his lips around like heaven. He watched as Kyle squeezed along the shaft up to the tip, forcing out a drip of precum. James wanted to taste it so badly but he knew he shouldn't, he was with Cain after all…but, just like Kyle, James had daydreams about doing this for Ryan.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyes darting between Kyles smirking face and hard cock as Kyle stepped over to James. “Don’t worry. This can just be between you and me.” He sniggered before pressing down on James’ shoulder. James’ gave in and let this man push him down onto his knees, making him eye level with the thick, 8 inch cock. Kyle gently slapped James across the face with his rod a couple times before James simply couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He grasped the base of Kyles shaft firmly against his suit pants before going down on the pulsing cock aggressively, earning a very satisfied grunt from Kyle.

“Fuuuck you’ve wanted to do this for awhile as well.” Kyle laughed, loving how sensitive his new cock was. James’ didn’t respond as he focused on sucking, his eyes wide as he took as much down his throat as possible. He continued to work the cock well, giving Kyle one of the best blowjobs he’d ever received. James was sucking so passionately and intensely that within just 5 minutes Kyle was already getting ready to bust.

Kyle held James’ head down on his cock. “Oohh I’m gonna fuckin cum!” He almost yelled before remembering they didn’t wanna draw too much attention. He thrust his hips forwards as his whole body tensed for a moment before Kyle emptied Ryan’s balls down James’ throat. James sucked out and swallowed every last drop of cum eagerly until those balls had nothing left.

As Kyle let James pull off his cock, James fell back slightly onto his ass allowing Kyle to finally see the bulging outline of James’ dick pressing and bucking against his jeans. Smiling Kyle got down on his knees as well and began rubbing his hand across James’ bulge. He bent down, kissing the dick outline between rubbing and squeezing it and before long James let out a very sudden grunt as Kyle felt the cock spasm under his hand. Moments after a sticky, wet stain appeared on the crotch on James’ jeans. Quite an impressive load to get all the way through those.

The two laid on the office floor for a moment, unsure of what they should do now. It was just then hitting James that he’d essentially just cheated on Cain and the dread of that was starting to set in. As his mind pondered on the thought, Kyle got up and shoved his cock back in his pants before zipping up. “Hey man I’ve got a pair of shorts in my bag if you wanna borrow them.”

James barely paid notice to Kyle’s offer. “I just cheated on my boyfriend.” Those words felt as they they could’ve weighed 20 tons and just hearing James say that made Kyle begin to feel pretty bad. He just pushed James into that because he was horny. Feeling guilty, Kyle went back to his desk and pulled something out of his draw before taking it over to James.

“Here, have this. I had two pills and I don’t think I’m gonna leave Ryan’s body so I think you should take it. Maybe you or Cain could use it to..uhhh..spice things up…” He stated awkwardly as he held out the pill. James looked at Kyle, then at the pill. As horrible as he felt right now, he also remembered Cain’s wandering eye with his Step-Dad although he had no right to get annoyed about that now. Maybe this pill could actually help them with their relationship.

“Fine…but we do NOT mention to Cain what just happened.” James snatched the pill out of Kyles hand, clearly guilt ridden. They proceeded to clean themselves up a bit, James changing his jeans for a pair of Kyles shorts as he suggested. They awkwardly said goodbye to one another as James stuffed the pill in his jacket pocket.

James exited the office building, trying not to think to hard about what he just did. Instead he tried to focus on the pill in his pocket and how he was gonna use it. Or I guess who he was gonna use it on…

Part 2: https://mrwavellswaps.tumblr.com/post/670771035752235008/half-a-pill-part-2

#male body swap #magic #identify theft #co-workers

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returntobeaconhills · 3 years

Text

All Hale The King

“It was impressive to say the least,” Stiles said into the phone as Scott opened the door to their shared apartment.

Scott dropped his two bags of groceries onto the counter and started to unpack them.

“I mean, I’ve heard about them being that big, but I’d never actually had the joy of experiencing one.”

Scott dropped the carton of eggs onto the floor, creating a quick river of yellow yoke.

Stiles didn’t hang up the phone but did stick his head into the kitchen. “Hang on, Lyds.” He covered the phone. “You okay, buddy?”

Scott just gave a numb nod as he got to work cleaning up the mess. At least Stiles knew he was here now so maybe he would save any graphic details for the next time Scott was out. He prayed that he would.

Scott wanted to be a good friend. He really, really did. He knew Stiles had endured years of him talking about girls endlessly, and it would only be fair for him to listen to Stiles in return. And he totally was fine when Stiles wanted to talk about the hot barista named Dave that worked in the coffee shop around the corner where Stiles caffeinated up before pulling an all-nighter for a term paper. And he nodded along when Stiles explained how things got kind of weird with Malia when her were side got a little aggressive in the bedroom. Scott could handle Stiles talking about anything or anyone…except for Derek Hale.

Apparently, it was obvious to everyone in the world but Scott that there was some sort of crazy tension between Stiles and Derek for years. It took Stiles graduating college for Derek to finally agree to go out with him. Scott guessed that was the moment Derek had to finally admit Stiles was a full-fledged adult, but Scott was pretty sure Stiles had always been more mature than Derek and also that Derek was mostly using the age thing to avoid trying to explore anything that might make him happy because Derek hated being happy.

But they were dating now and Stiles had spent the night at Derek’s last night and now…now this conversation was happening.

“Derek told me Isaac and Erica liked how big it was. He also said Boyd acts like he thinks it’s awkward but then he always joins in.”

Scott slipped on a spot of yoke he missed and nearly faceplanted.

“Yeah, I was a little surprised but I guess it makes sense if you think about it. Werewolves like tactile reassurance. All about that closeness.” Stiles paced through the small apartment. “I mean, it could get weird sharing with them, but with it being that big…there’s more than enough for all of us.”

“For the love of God, please, please stop!” Scott cried out, rushing into the leaving room. “I can’t hear anything else!”

A slow smirk spread on Stiles’s face until he finally burst out laughing. “I’ll call you back, Lyds.”

“It’s not funny!” Scott said after Stiles hung up the phone. “Like, I’m totally happy for you, dude, but there’s just some things I can’t unhear.”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Stiles opened it, and there was Derek standing there with a chocolate shake for Stiles. Maybe if Derek had ever given Scott a chocolate shake, he would have been willing to join his pack.

Seeing Derek just made Stiles lose it with another fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Derek asked, thick eyebrows creasing in annoyance at not being in on the joke.

“Nothing,” Stiles gasped out as he recovered from his laughter. “I was just on the phone with Lydia telling her about the California King that you got so that the pack can have cuddle movie nights,” Stiles said, shooting Scott a crooked grin.

Scott slapped a hand over his face. Stiles was doing all of this on purpose. That bastard. “A bed? You were talking about a bed?”

“Of course.” Stiles slung an arm over Derek’s shoulder and took the chocolate shake to slurp on it loudly. “Derek and I had a Marvel movie marathon last night and it was soooooo roomy and comfortable.” He gave the straw an obscene flick of his tongue, and Scott decided he was so moving out. “Why, what did you think I was talking about, Scottie boy?”

#teen wolf #Sterek #stiles x derek #sterek fanfiction #sterek fandom #ficlet #teen wolf ficlet #stiles #stiles stilinski #derek hale #Scott McCall #lydia martin #betas never die #or move to france

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libraryofloveletters · 3 years

Text

Brothers

In which, Luke develops feelings for Matt’s little sister.

Luke Alvez x Reader, Brother!Matt Simmons x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, sibling banter, cm level of case details/violence, mentions of death, guns and gunshots, lots of pining, mentions of pregnancy and birth, kissing.

Category: fluff with a little bit of angst

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: combined this request and this request to come up with this :)

-----

The phone rang at what felt like quite literally the crack of dawn. “What?” you groaned when you picked up. “Where are you?” your brother’s voice filled your ear from the other side of the phone.

“In bed, where else would I be at..” you pulled the phone away from your ear to check the time “5:56 in the morning?”

Matt chuckled, “do you know a girl named Jenna Parker?” he asked.

“I do, why ? Oh god, you're not cheating on Kristy right ? I swear if you’re calling to lie for you Matthew, I'll-” he cut you off.

“Shut up y/n and what did I tell you about calling me Matthew? I’m not cheating on Kristy you idiot, Jenna was killed last night” you sat up in bed, “What ? I saw her at dinner last night”

“Stay where you are and get dressed. Agents will be at the hotel to collect your team for questioning” he told you.

“Matt I had nothing to do with this, you know that right ?”

“I know, standard procedure. I’ll see you later” he hung up.

You dragged yourself out of bed and got dressed. Jenna’s face kept reappearing in your thoughts, she had only joined your team recently and she was an absolute sweetheart. She was telling you how excited she was to join the team last night at dinner.

A knock on the door broke your thoughts, you unlocked it assuming that your brother had come to get you.

This was most definitely not your brother.

The man at your door had dark brown hair and tan skin.Something about his eyes made you want to stare into them forever, they were a soft brown mocha colour. He had a piece of paper in his hand, his finger ran across the page, “are you.. y/n?” he asked you

“I am and you are?”

“Agent Luke Alvez, I’m with the BAU. I’m here to pick you up for questioning”

“Oh yeah, get me one second” you turned around and headed back into your room, Luke followed you in. “Ever heard of privacy ?” you picked up your phone and a sweater. “Oh sorry, I can’t let you in here by yourself until we processed you” he explained to you. “Lovely” you pulled on your sweater, he motioned for you to head out of the room.

You stepped out first, he shut your door as the two of you walked down the hallway. “Your last name is Simmons ?” he looked over at you as you got on the elevator. “Mhm hm” you pulled your phone out to text your brother.

To Matt: On my way now. Your friend is weird.

From Matt: Who’s my friend ?

To Matt: Handsome guy with the pretty brown eyes, think his name is Luke

From Matt: stop objectifying my friends, I'll see you soon.

Luke didn't say anything else to you, the drive to the station was quiet except for you conducting your own little interrogation.

“How long have you worked for the BAU ?” you looked out the window,

“About 2 years now. How long have you been swimming ?” he rebutted.

“My whole life”

It did occur to Luke that you might be Matt’s little sister. He knew how proud Matt was of you and your swimming career, he also knew that Matt was supposed to see you this weekend while you were in D.C for training. After all, the sweater did say Simmons on the back, it couldn’t be a coincidence.

Luke walked you into the station, the rest of your team was already there. “Hi, you must be y/n” a tall woman came up to you, she had short brown hair and she looked remarkably good considering how early it was.

“That would be me” you smiled at her, “you are?” she stuck her hand out for you, “Dr. Tara Lewis with the BAU” you shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you Dr. Lewis” “You too”

Tara excuses herself from you, Luke walks you over to a waiting area. All the girls were separated for obvious reasons but with nothing else to do, you figured you’d irritate Luke.

“Why can’t I see the rest of my team?”

“Standard procedure”

“And what is this standard procedure ?”

“It’s-” “Stop harassing him y/n” your brother said as he walked into the room.

You stood up and gave him a hug. It had been so long since you last saw your brother.

“Hey you” he gave you a good squeeze, “hey” you smiled at him.

Matt led you to a room and you took a seat at the table. “I can’t do your questioning because I'm your brother but I'm leaving you in good hands” Luke and Tara walked in a few moments after. “You’re leaving me with pretty eyes over here ? I might just get distracted and forget what he asked” you chuckle, Luke looks away but you manage to catch the blush you comment caused.

“Behave y/n, I'll be back later” Matt kissed the top of your head before walking out.

Luke and Tara sit across from you. “How did you meet Jenna ?” Tara asked you, “she was on my swim team, she joined a few months ago”

“Were the two of you close ?”

“Not really, we didn't hang outside of practice but we got along”

“Is there anyone that would have a reason to hurt Jenna ?” Luke asked this time.

You paused, something Jenna had said to another one of the girls cause caught your attention a while back. “Not that I know of but apparently someone had broken into her apartment a while back. She was telling one of the other girls and I heard them. She moved from there though”

“Do you have the address ? I’ll have Garcia check if she filed a report”

“47 Park Street, not sure what unit was hers” you drummed your fingers against the table. Tara’s phone rang and she excused herself before stepping out of the interrogation room. Luke was also on the phone but he stayed in the room, you took a moment to really look at him. He wore a black button up that fit him far too well for your liking, his hair was messy but not like he had just rolled out of bed, more like his hands had been through it a few times. His tongue ran across his lips while he talked on his phone. Luke's hands rested on the table, he spun the pen on the table around a few times before getting off the call.

God were his hands pretty, the things you’d let him do to you with those hands

“Y/n ?” Luke’s voice broke your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Do you know if Jenna was seeing anyone ? A boyfriend maybe ?”

“Um no boyfriend but she was seeing a girl she met through our coach”

“Oh okay, do you know her name ?”

“Erica, uh her last name started with a G ? I’m not really sure”

“That’s fine, thank you. I’ll be back” was all he said before stepping out of the room. You watched as he walked out, he stood by the window talking to some skinny guy.

Your definition of the perfect man was Luke and everything he seemed to be, but you doubted that anything could happen between the two of you. He seems to be ignoring your glances and your flirty remarks all morning. Matt was the other issue, never would he ever let you date anyone on his team, let alone one of his close friends.

“Alvez!” Tara shouts as she meets him up by the suv “Hey, need a ride ? I'm headed to the crime scene” he asks her, she nods before getting in the car. The drive was quiet, Tara kept glancing over at Luke and snickering.

“Okay c’mon, what is it ?”

“Nothing”

“You keep looking at me funny, what happened ? something on my face?” Luke runs his hand over his face, Tara shakes her head.

“Tara, what is it ?”

“Luke, you’ve got a crush on Simmons” she laughs.

“Matt ? I don't have a crush on Matt”

“No you idiot, y/n. You have a crush on y/n”

“What? No I don't”

Okay maybe Luke did have a tiny crush on her but Matt would never approve of him dating his little sister and he wouldn't let a crush affect his work life.

“Alvez, don’t act stupid. I know I wasn't the only one noticing the glances between you two, I saw them since the two of you came in this morning. And that ‘pretty eyes’ comment ? she totally made you blush” Tara chuckled, “she’s into you dude, and you’re into her”

“She’s Matt’s sister Tara, I’m not gonna do that”

“So what if she’s Matt’s sister? She’s her own person. Matt doesn’t control her Luke.”

Luke just hummed, Tara did have a valid point. Y/n was a grown up, she can make her own decisions. So what if Matt was mad at them ?

God Alvez, what are you thinking ? That’s his sister, you couldn’t do that to him.

Luke pulled into the hotel parking lot. He followed Tara inside but he wasn’t paying attention. He was there but he wasn't really there, his mind kept wandering back to y/n.

Oh how he envied Spencer in that moment, he knew that he wouldn't remember how y/n looked exactly when he first met her but he’d keep that memory for as long as he could remember it. Her shuffling feet, her messy hair and her sleep laced voice, she seemed like an angel on earth to him.

---

“Kid?” an older man shook your shoulder gently. “Hm, what is it ?” you stretched, you must have fallen asleep after Luke left. “you can leave, maybe get some rest when you get back to the hotel” the man chuckled, and you smiled at him.

“Thank you,” you looked at his badge, “Agent Rossi” you finished your sentence.

“Please just Dave” he smiled and opened the door for you, you stepped out of the room. “You’re Matt’s sister aren’t you ?”

“That would be me”

“He’s outside. He should be able to give you a ride back to the hotel, if not, I'm in here” Dave told you.

“Thank you, it was nice meeting you”

“You too kid” he patted your back and headed in the opposite direction.

You walked out of the station to see your brother and Luke standing by the suv talking about something. “Hey ugly” you poked Matt’s side, “hey tiny” he hit your arm playfully making you pout. “I’m not tiny”

“oh but you are”

“shut it Matthew, I need a ride”

“Where to ?”

“My bed bro, Dave said I could leave”

“You’re on a first name basis with my colleagues?”

“Jealous that they’ll like me better?” you raised your eyebrows and held back a laugh.

“Oh yeah totally oh my god, y/n please don’t take my friends from me” Matt said sarcastically while giving your shoulder a little nudge.

Luke chuckled at the both of you and your banter, it was sweet how close the two of you were.

Your sweet moment was ruined by the sound of bullets hitting the suv. Matt’s first instinct was to wrap his arms around you, Luke stood there with his gun drawn and no one in sight except you and Matt.

“What the hell was that ?” Luke asked, he stepped back taking a look around once more and turned back to you and Matt. “Are you okay ?” Matt asked you with his arms still around you, you nodded. “Are you okay ?” you asked him but your eyes were on Luke. Luke noticed your look and gave you a little nod, “I'm fine, let’s get you back”

Luke left you and Matt in the parking lot with the keys to his suv before heading into the station to get Emily. Matt drove you back to the hotel, you sat in the parking lot with him for a while, Matt was showing you pictures of the kids and how big they’ve gotten. You had yet to meet the newest addition to the Simmons family, the little one that has yet to be born but it’s like the baby is already here. Matt was so excited even though this was the 4th time Kristy would be giving birth.

“You’re going to be okay ?” Matt asked you as he walked you to your room

“Yeah, I'll be okay Matt”

“You know what to do if you need anything right ?”

“Yes Matt, I'll call my super cool FBI agent for a brother to come rescue me” you laughed making Matt roll his eyes.

“That’s exactly what you’ll do, now you’re sure you don’t want to come back to my place ? Kristy and the kids are at home and I’m sure they’d love to see their aunt”

“Hm, maybe. Let me get my stuff ?”

“I’ll help”

Matt walked into your room and helped you gather your things before heading back to the suv and driving you to his place. “Babe!” Matt called as he walked into the house, “Shh the kids just went down for a nap, they were playing outside all day” Kristy told him, giving him a hug.

“Is the case over already ?” she asked him, he shook his head.

“No, just had to bring our guest over”

Right on cue, you walked in with your bags. “Hey pretty lady!” you pulled Kristy into a hug, “Hey you!” she hugged you back, well as best as she could considering she had a huge bump right now. “Ready to pop yet ?” you laughed with your hand on her belly. “Just about, I told him no more after this one” she gave Matt a look and he just shrugged.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so-” Matt started but you cut him off

“Gross, gross, gross, gross, gross, I don’t wanna hear that”

Matt and Kristy laughed at your comment, Matt headed back out to work while you helped Kristy make dinner for your little rug rats.

---

Luke sat in the conference room when Matt came back. “Hey man, where’s your sister?” he glanced at Matt, “she’s at my place with Kristy and the kids” he told him. Luke let out an ‘oh’ that sounded rather sad.

“You okay man ?”

“Oh yeah, I'm fine”

“Then what’s with the sad look on your face ?”

Matt sat across from Luke waiting for his answer. Luke contemplated if he could tell Matt what was really on his mind or if he should make up something. Would he be mad if I liked her ? The voice rang through his head over and over again. “She’s her own person. Matt doesn’t control her Luke.” Tara’s words came back to him. He should just tell him how he feels, he doesn't want to lie to him.

“Is your sister seeing anyone ?” Luke blurts out much more awkwardly than he’d expected, Matt gave him a weird look.

“I don't think so, why do you ask ?” Matt looked over at him

“Oh just cause the case, gotta cover all the bases” Luke lied

“Are you sure that’s the reason you’re asking me about her ?”

Did Matt know ? No, he couldn't know. He played it cool. Oh what was he thinking? Tara figured it out, Luke’s sure Matt did too.

“What do you mean ?” Luke avoids Matt’s stare, instead he busies himself with the papers scattered across the table.

“You know exactly what I mean Luke.” Luke’s eyes met Matt’s, Luke knew that Matt knew and he couldn't bullshit his way out of this one. “Come on” Matt stood up, Luke mirrored his actions. “Where are we going ?”

“Just come with me”

The two men walked out of the station and got into the car. They were now 15 minutes into their ride and Matt has yet to tell Luke where they're going. Luke looks over at him, “I know you like her” Matt says quietly. “I do” Luke replies.

The rest of the drive is silent, Matt pulls into his driveway.

“Tell her” was all Matt said to him

“Tell her what?”

“Tell her you like her, you both deserve happiness. I trust her judgement, she always did know what was good for her and you, I trust you with my life man, I can trust you with her” Matt told him before getting out of the car. Luke stayed in the car for a few minutes gathering his thoughts before headed into the house.

“Hey” he smiled at Kristy who was in the living room, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

“Hey Luke, how are you ?”

“I’m good, how are you ?”

“Very pregnant” she laughed, Luke chuckled making his way over to her and gave her a hug. Kristy knew why he was there, Matt wasn’t the only one with profiling skills in the house.

“She’s in the backyard” Kristy gave Luke’s hand a squeeze, Luke had an amused look on his face as if Kristy wasn't supposed to know about his crush on y/n. Luke whispered a thank you to her before heading to the backyard.

You sat on the swing hanging from the tree, you had been there when Matt put it up. Kristy had a vision of a swing from her tree and Matt being the husband he is, made her vision a reality. The sound of footsteps filled your ears, too heavy to be Kristy or the kids and too light to be Matt’s, you look up to see Luke standing in front of you.

“Hey there agent, here to arrest me ?” you stick your hands out in front of you, the blush you saw this morning was back. “Kidding Luke, what’s up ?” you asked him, he leaned against the tree watching you swing back and forth.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing after this afternoon”

“Oh the parking lot thing ? I'm fine, are you okay ?”

“I’m good too”

Silence filled the air, you swung back and forth on the swing while your feet dangled above the ground. Luke stood in front of you, his hands on the rope stopping you from swinging again. You looked up at the man who was looking down at you.

“I came here to tell you something” Luke says.

“I’m listening” you look at him.

“I like you” he admits.

“That’s cool, I like you too” you reply casually.

Luke gives you a look, only then did you realize that he meant he liked you, as in he was attracted to you and not he likes you as a friend. “Oh you like like me?” you said making Luke chuckle, “yes y/n, I like like you” he admitted to you.

This whole scene made you feel rather childish in some ways. Your older brother’s friend was towering over you while you sat on a swing like a child and he admitted he had feelings for you, especially after you asked if he “like likes’ you.

“Well for your information, I don’t like you” you said rather bluntly. Luke’s smile dropped from his face. “Oh okay” he turned on his heels and made his way to the fence, you sat on the swing and realized he wasn't coming back towards you.

“Luke!” you shouted as you ran after him, meeting on the front lawn, he stopped and looked at you. “I was only kidding” your hands cupped his face, “I do like you, a lot.” you admitted.

“Do you like like me though y/n?” he asked seriously.

“Yes Luke, I like like you” you rolled your eyes playfully.

Luke pulled you closer to him by your waist as he leaned down towards you. You were on your tiptoes, his hands on your hips to hold you before you toppled over. Luke’s lips met yours right as the sprinklers on the front lawn turned on.

The two of you stood on the lawn, the sprinklers soaking your clothes without a care in the world.

All you could think about was Luke.

----

taglist: @aaronhotchnerr @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @luke-alvez @iconicc @tclaerh @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads @ssa-holmes @katexrichardson @sluttytears @thelukealvez @scandinavian-punk @haleymalaffey @sunnymulti

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

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