#it's a long time since I've seen the film but given his placing in the cast list and relative face recognition compared to the other three

[mariocki]

Christopher Rhodes, Percy Herbert, Niall MacGinnis and Peter Jeffrey, as the four barons, opposite Peter O'Toole as the King, in Peter Glenville's 1964 film adaptation of Becket. Peter Jeffrey was the only member of the original RSC production to be cast in the film version of the play, albeit in a reduced role

#100plays #becket #jean anouilh #peter glenville #1964 #becket film #peter jeffrey #christopher rhodes #percy herbert #niall macginnis #peter o'toole #it's a long time since I've seen the film but given his placing in the cast list and relative face recognition compared to the other three #I'm fairly certain Jeffrey was the Fourth Baron #which is probably the most interesting of the barons but with comparatively few lines #certainly the part doesn't compare to Bishop Gilbert Folliot‚ the role he'd had on stage #among the many (and dramatically unimportant) historical inaccuracies in Becket is the fact that Folliot (actually Foliot) is Bishop of #London at the beginning of the play; in fact he only received that appointment after Becket had been made archbishop of Canterbury‚ almost #certainly as consolation (Foliot had been widely expected to succeed the previous Archbishop on his death) #the bishop is also an enemy of Becket's from the beginning of the play‚ where all evidence suggests that‚ until the schism between court #and church and Becket's period in exile‚ the two had been on amicable terms. the real Foliot was probably not as much of a political animal #as Anouilh made him‚ although he appears to have been as self serving‚ if in a different manner: he was known for his nepotistic #appointments and there remains something of a cloud over his financial affairs with the church

[heavenlyvision]

More than friends

Word Count: 21.9k

Pairing: Johnny Cage x F!Reader

Read part one ˗ˏˋhereˎˊ˗

A/N: Okie dokie ! It is finished,,, I hope you all enjoy it and that it lives up to your expectations. I apologise for it taking so long ! I've been struggling with motivation to write lately but I am pretty proud of this big one and thank you for being so patient !!! <33

Summary: Temporarily living with Johnny has it's challenges, especially since he still isn't being upfront about his feelings or your relationship.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of stalking (ex), alcohol consumption, minor harrassment (ex), mental instablity (ex), minor mentions of violence, arguments, mean!Johnny, possessive/jealous!Johnny, reader has a nightmare, masturbation, thigh riding, biting, cunnilingus, grinding, creampie (?), minor dacryphilia, vaginal fingering, minor overstimulation, no use of y/n

MDNI

The past few days with Johnny have been good, you have mostly been watching movies and playing board games. He offered you a deal – for every movie you watch, you have to watch one of his after. A fine deal by any means… if you hadn’t already seen them. Being friends with Johnny means watching all of his movies at least once but it seems like staying here has given him the opportunity to make you watch them all again.

If he hadn’t been so kind and you weren’t so worried about being ungrateful or overstaying your welcome, you would complain and kick up more of a fuss but all in all, you don’t really mind. It’s not like his movies are bad… okay, some of them are definitely not good but he’s still in them so you don’t really mind. He’s a good actor and a good-looking man so it makes sitting through the lesser of his films bearable, that and he’s always so happy when you watch them together, how could you turn him down.

You needed a break from his movies though, which has resulted in a game of trivial pursuit and while you can’t prove it… you think he’s cheating, “This isn’t fun when it’s only two people playing,” you complain.

He’s leaning back on his palms and smiling cockily at you, you’re both sat facing each other with his coffee table in between, the game sat atop and looking at it, you can see just how far behind you are.

“You’re only saying that because you’re losing,” he snickers back at you.

You scowl at him, “Who knows things like…” you pick up another card and read it out, “When the first movie trailer was shown?”

He lightly rolls his eyes, “1913 and plenty of people would know that!”

“No! People don’t just know that?” You’re exasperated with him; he has to know that’s not common knowledge and it’s odd that he knows that off the top of his head.

He shrugs at you, smug smile on his face, “I guess I’m just that good.”

You squint at him, annoyed that he is apparently a trivia god, “Or just that odd.”

“I may be odd but you’re the one dying to get fucked by me,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You groan at him and feel yourself grow hot in the face, “Whatever, just pick a new card.” You flick the card you’re holding at him and he laughs as it falls flat before hitting him.

He’s incredibly happy with himself, now using your desire for him as some kind of punchline. He’s not touched you again, not since the incident on the couch. It’s not like you’ve not made your move either, you’ve tried enticing him and every time he looks so close to folding before he gathers himself and moves forward. For a man who flirts relentlessly with you, he sure does have a lot of self-control.

Your phone buzzes on the table and you pick it up to look, face immediately twisting into an expression of displeasure.

“You good?” Johnny asks.

Placing your phone down, you look to him and answer, “Mhm, yeah… it’s just work.”

He raises a brow at you, “Again?”

You hum at him because yes, again.

Work has been messaging you fairly frequently to see if you’ve gotten ‘better’, you haven’t gone back yet, you used a few of your sick days so you could get some time off after the traumatic event of your ex breaking into and trashing your apartment but management seems to be getting pissy with you, so you will have to go back soon.

Something that had surprised you was Johnny also taking a few days off work to stay with you, you think he’s apprehensive about leaving you alone, which you can’t blame him… you don’t really want to be alone. You haven’t told him that though, you would never ask him to put you above his work.

Johnny sits up, no longer leaning on his hands, “What did they say?”

“They’re just asking how I feel… if I’m better,” you hesitate slightly, “I think I’ll go back tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you should.” He replies quickly.

This is not the first time he’s shown upset at the prospect of you going back to work, “I have to, I still have to pay for my apartment you know.”

He looks at you sincerely, “You know I would pay for anything you need me to.”

“And you know that I’m not comfortable with that,” you retort.

He’s offered to cover the cost of everything for you multiple times now and every time he brings it up, you shoot him down.

“I just don’t love the idea of you going back there, not with your ex still…” his face turns up in disgust, “Existing.”

You chuckle slightly, “It should be fine.”

You say that but you are worried about possibly running into him too, you don’t know if he’s still lingering around your neighbourhood or not. Which, speaking of your apartment, you’re waiting to hear back from your landlord on whether or not the door has been fixed.You’re also dreading having to go back though, you’ve been putting it off for days now. You were supposed to go back for pyjamas but instead Johnny has been letting you live in his shirts.

“Just take tomorrow off, one more day,” he gives you puppy dog eyes. When you don’t immediately reply, he adds, batting his eyelashes at you, “For me?”

Your lips downturn at his stupidity, “Ugh fine, just stop looking at me like that.”

He smiles brightly at you, “Cool! We can watch more of my movies tomorrow.”

You shoot back, “Don’t you have a job?”

“Making you watch all my movies is part of my job,” he jokes.

You whinge out at him, “But I’ve already seen them all~.”

“And now you’re watching them all again~,” he mocks you, smile big and with how proud of himself he is, the weight of his pride might crush you.

“You’re lucky I think you’re cute,” you grumble.

He chuckles at you, “Is that the only reason you’re watching all my movies? Because you want to sleep with me?”

“I’m not going to say you’re completely wrong,” you tease.

He places a hand over his heart, “Do you like any of my movies?”

“Your movies, or movies you’ve starred in?” You clarify.

He’s examining you carefully, “Both.”

You don’t have to think about it, “I like your movies,” you admit, “But you have starred in some questionable ones.”

He points a finger gun at you, “Touché.”

“Are we done playing yet?” You lament, referencing the almost forgotten game of trivial pursuit.

“Are you done pretending you still have a chance at winning?” He counters.

“Never.”

He rolls his eyes playfully at your stubbornness, “What if I said I’d fuck you right now if you’d admit you’ve lost.”

Your heart stutters in your chest and if you felt like he was being serious, you would fold and tell him he’s the all-time winner of trivial pursuit but you know him and you know he’s only teasing, “I’d tell you that you’re being mean and that I’d also sooner die before admitting premature defeat.”

“That’s a real shame,” he hums.

You’re getting annoyed with him; he keeps doing this to you. Relentlessly teasing you with no follow through, not even so much as a kiss. You get up on your knees and shuffle over to him, you end up right in his lap, his hands move to your hips instinctually.

He smirks at you, “And what are you trying to accomplish right now, doll?”

“You’ve been really mean, Johnny,” you pout at him.

“How can I fix it?” he asks.

You feel timid, shy, “You can stop pretending like the other night never happened.”

He’s serious as he answers, “I’m not pretending anything; I know it happened.”

“You’ve not even…” You trail off, now worried that you read into things too much and that you’re still just friends.

“Sugar, I’ve not stopped thinking about it,” he confesses.

You hesitate but probe, “So, you still want me?”

He almost has an air of confusion about him, baffled by your doubt, “Never stopped.”

“Then why haven’t you even kissed me again?” Your brows upturn at him.

His hand moves to hold your face, his thumb stroking high on your cheekbone, “Worried I’m not gonna be able to control myself.”

You lean into his hand slightly, “Don’t want you to.”

He groans, “See, you saying stuff like that doesn’t help,”

“Can I have one kiss?” you mimic the way he bat his eyelashes at you earlier, tacking on, “Please?”

He groans at you, pained, “How could I possibly say no?”

His hand on the the side of your face tilts your head and his lips brush over yours, the small contact electrifying to you. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s kissed you and being this close to him is making you dizzy. He teases you with his proximity, holding you close but never actually kissing you. Just as you’re about to huff out in annoyance at him, he pushes his lips to yours.

The kiss is hot, his mouth insistent and full, your shock gives him the chance to stick his tongue inside your mouth, licking at you. You moan into him, your body relaxing completely, incredibly content to be placated by his lips. His hand on your hip holds you tight, his fingers digging in, attempting to ground himself.

His own moans are muffled by the kiss, you’re affecting him just as much as he thought you would. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, knowing if he keeps kissing you, he’ll lose his mind and end up making you cum for him in anyway he can think of. You whinge as he pulls back and he can’t help the incredibly smug expression on his face at the sound, forever feeling self-pleased by how needy you are for him.

He purrs at you, “Happy?”

“You could make me happier,” you retort.

He only chuckles at you in response before asking, “You gonna admit to losing trivial pursuit?”

You frown at him, “Absolutely not!”

“Then sit your ass back over on your side of the coffee table and answer your question like a good girl,” his tone is a teasing kind of firmness.

You plant a single full kiss on his lips before crawling back over to your side, Johnny’s eyes stay glued to your ass as you shuffle across the carpet. His mind immediately filling with images of his cock pile driving into you while your back is arched for him. This was supposed to be a wholesome game and now he’s thinking of fucking you into the carpet while making you answer trivia questions.

You grumble at him, “You’re so mean to me.”

“I’d feel worse about it if you didn’t seem to enjoy it so much,” he’s incredibly glib right now, completely correct about his effect on you.

“You’re wrong,” you try denying.

“Really?” he raises a brow to you, “Because I seem to remember your pretty little pussy gripping my fingers awfully tight when I was ‘mean’ to you.”

Your face heats up again, “Just pick out a card,” you mumble.

His grin is Cheshire like, “Whatever you want, sugar.” He picks up a new card, “What is the literary term for a word that describes a sound?”

You know this one and you smile brightly, “Onomatopoeia!” you point at him excitedly.

He laughs at your excitement, “You got it.”

You have a small celebratory moment to yourself before you pull out a new card, “If you know this one I’m gonna scream.”

He’s confident in his trivia abilities, “Get ready to yell, doll.”

You read from the card, “What is the year of the first recorded flight?”

“1903,” he smiles cockily, completely sure that he’s right.

And he is, you glare at him and grumble out, “You’re correct.”

“I know,” his tone is self-satisfied.

You don’t win trivial pursuit but you do take pride in not giving up, you may not be good at trivia but you’re proud of yourself for seeing it through. Some may call it stubbornness but you think it shows strength to sit there and try like hell to win even when defeat is right in front of you. You gave it your best shot and you had fun. You will get better at trivia though… he won’t be winning next time. Not that you’re competitive or anything.

✰ ✰ ✰

In the morning you’re woken up by your phone buzzing by your head, sleepily you squint at your screen and see that it’s work trying to call you again. You grumble annoyed at how persistent they are but relent and answer.

“Are you feeling better yet?” Your managers voice is sharp and his question is straight to the point. You’re a bit taken aback by how direct and grumpy he is, you don’t even get to say anything before he continues, “Listen, we’ve been swamped here, unless you’re actively dying, it would be best if you came in. Best for you I mean.”

You don’t miss his threat, your job is now on the line if you don’t go in but with how he’s being such a dick you try to negotiate, “I can come in tomorrow.”

“Today would be best,” he sighs, you don’t answer him and he grunts at you, “Fine, come in tomorrow, if you’re not in tomorrow, you’re getting cut from the roster.”

“Alright, see you–” he didn’t even let you finish your goodbye; he’s already hung up on you. Bastard.

You stare up at the ceiling, your mood for the day already completely ruined, you feel badly because you know you’re lying to work and they do need help but you’re also having a hard time bringing yourself to leave Johnny’s apartment, let alone go back to your neighbourhood. The thought of him being there sends a cold spike of anxiety through you, he did all that to your home, what is he planning to do to you? It’s a frightening thought.

You lay motionless on your mattress for a while, too anxious to go back to sleep but also too tired to get up. Clattering can be heard in the kitchen though and you’re concerned as to what Johnny is attempting to do so you haul yourself up, out of the bed and into his kitchen.

When you make your way into the main area you can see Johnny making pancakes… you think? Mostly, it just looks like he’s making a mess, “What are you doing?”

“Shit–” He jumps at the sound of your voice, dropping the spatula he was holding onto the ground, “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake so early,” he mumbles out as he bends down to retrieve it.

Your tone is amused as you ask again, “What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast,” he sighs.

You walk over to him and see he’s made a complete mess of the kitchen; he’s used far too many bowls for what he’s made. He also seems to have made up some pancake mix two separate times before using the one he is holding now.

You come up beside him and look over what he’s doing, “Why did you make so much mix?”

“The other ones had a weird texture,” he’s focusing hard on tipping some of the mix into the pan.

You want to comment on how he could be doing things better but you’re so appreciative of his efforts and you don’t want to sound like a know it all. But you can’t help but cringe as the bowl slips a bit and gets all over his hand.

He groans out, “I dunno how you did this so effortlessly, I’m killing myself here, doll.” You’re distracted by how he lifts his hand to his mouth and licks some of the batter off, he notices and smiles at you knowingly, moving his hand in front of your face he asks, “Want a taste, sugar?”

Wordlessly, your wrap your lips around his index finger, sucking it clean. Johnny groans at the sight of it, not expecting you to be so willing, he was only joking around but now you’re gently suckling on his finger and he’s about to pass out over it.

You pull back slowly and kiss the tip of his finger when you’re done cleaning it. He’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars in the sky and you can only huff out an amused laugh at him.

“Move over,” you shoo him away, “I will make the pancakes, you can start cleaning up,” you reach out for the mixing bowl he was holding.

He hands it to you reluctantly, “I was trying to make breakfast for you.”

“And I appreciate it so much but you’re going to make a mess of yourself if you continue,” you place the bowl off to the side and flip the pancake that was still in the pan, it’s too thick and also a little extra crispy thanks to the both of you getting distracted.

He comes up behind you, his arms trapping you against the bench, he leans in over your shoulder, “Would you clean me up if I did?” His words are suggestive, far from innocent.

You turn it back on him, “Would you let me?”

His head drops to your shoulder, resting there, “I want to, doll. Bad.”

“You’re the only one stopping it,” you hum out, focusing on the task at hand, trying to ignore how close he is to you.

He stays close to you as you make the pancakes, his hands move from the bench to your hips, his hands hold onto you, lightly pawing at you, “Why are you up so early anyways? I thought I had more time.”

“Work called me again, woke me up,” you mutter, already knowing Johnny’s going to be pissed that they’ve rung you again.

“Was it that asshole again?” He asks, referencing your manager.

You flip a pancake over in the pan, “Yeah, they’re short staffed and need my help.”

Johnny’s arms wrap around you more, holding you to him as his head turns into your neck, “I hope you said no.”

“I did but I feel bad, I have to go in tomorrow,” you tell him.

“You do not, not if you aren’t ready to be back there,” his arms squeeze you just the tiniest bit tighter, comforting you. He knows how frightened you are to go back to that neighbourhood.

One of your hands reaches down and holds his hand for a moment, “I appreciate the sentiment but I do have to go back, he threatened my job.”

“He what?” Johnny bristles behind you, moving to stand tall, turning you around to face him, “What the hell did he say?”

“It’s nothing that bad, he just said it would be ‘best’ for me if I came in tomorrow,” you wince slightly as you repeat your managers message.

Johnny’s scowl deepens, severely pissed off with your manager, “He’s such a dick, I don’t like him.”

“Not many people do but I can also understand his frustrations at the moment, plus… I’m not even sick, so…” You feel sheepish and you turn away from him, pouring the last of the batter into the pan.

Johnny scoffs from behind you, “So what? As far as he’s concerned you are sick and it’s not like you’re taking the time off for kicks. After what you’ve been through, you deserve some time off.”

He’s making you feel emotional, you don’t like thinking about what happened too hard, it’s still too fresh. You purse your lips and focus on the pancake sizzling in the pan instead of the slight burn in your eyes from holding back tears.

He places his hand on your shoulder, “You deserve to go to work without fear.”

Now why did he go and say that? You can’t help but cry silently as you flip the pancake, you’re trying so hard to hide it, blinking away your tears as soon as they form. Johnny knows though, he knows he touched a sore spot for you but he was genuinely only trying to help.

“Oh doll,” he sighs out at you, pulling you into his arms. You turn into him and cling on, needing the comfort right now. He lets you cry into his shirt for a moment, your tears no doubt soaking into the fabric. His hands rub up and down your back, trying to soothe you.

You remember the pancake though and sniffle into his shirt, “The pancake is going to burn.”

He takes the spatula from you and flips it onto the plate, “All better,” he places the utensil back down and moves his other hand back to you, “You worry about the silliest of things.”

You laugh dryly into him, “So do you.” He holds you in his kitchen for a bit as you will yourself to stop crying, you’re worried about the pancakes getting cold, “Hot pancakes are better than cold ones.”

His hands stop moving on your back and his head tilts down to you, “Is that your way of telling me you want to eat the pancakes now?”

“I am worried about them getting cold,” your face is still pressed into his shirt, your words slightly mumbled.

He shrugs at you, “I’m not.”

You make a face that he can’t see, it’s one of displeasure, “You should be… cold pancakes are bad.”

He dismisses, “They aren’t that bad.”

You’re still teary eyed but you pull back and look at him with as serious an expression as you can muster, “Cage… don’t eat cold pancakes.”

He smiles at you, happy to see your face again. His hand cups the side of your face, “There she is, my pretty doll.”

His words make your skin grow hot and you look away, he’s smiling big though, always happy to embarrass you.

You look at the pancakes on the bench, “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

“Whatever you want, sugar,” he pulls his hand away but not before booping the tip of your nose gently.

You sigh at him but move around the kitchen getting ready to plate out breakfast, Johnny comes up to your side and stops you, “Go sit down, I’ll plate it up.”

“But–”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, you ended up making them all so go sit down,” he points over to the breakfast bar.

You want to argue with him, about how you didn’t put nearly as much effort into making them as he did. How he did the most annoying part but based on the look on his face, you wouldn’t be able to convince him to let you plate it up anyways. So, you sulk away and around the bench, perching yourself atop the stool and wait for him to give you your pancakes.

As you watch him move around the kitchen something occurs to you, “Did you tell me the wrong cabinet when I was first here just so you could see my ass?”

He stands to face you, his smile sly but his tone faux offended, “I would never do that, how dare you.”

You roll your eyes at him and his response, “You would do that.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve got one hell of an ass, sugar,” he places your plate down in front you, wiggling his eyebrows as he does.

You try to be offended but you end up feeling complimented, “Thank you,” he smiles deviously at you and you squint back at him, “for the pancakes, not your gross compliment.”

“Ah, but you took it as a compliment,” he throws a wink your way, his demeanour pleased.

You roll your eyes at him and eat your pancakes, they aren’t bad. He did an alright job with the batter… third times the charm, it was just the actual cooking part he seemed to have the most issues with. Well… that and the mess he made.

You realise he spent his time clinging to you instead of cleaning like he was supposed to, “You didn’t clean…”

“I got distracted,” he mumbles, mouth full.

Not looking at him, you reply, “You do that a lot.”

“Stop living here and it won’t be a problem anymore,” he nudges your arm with his elbow.

“Alright,” you agree easily, you’re only staying for as long as you’re welcome.

Johnny doesn’t flinch, “No.”

You turn to look at him, questioning look on your face, “No?”

He still doesn’t look to you, mindlessly eating his breakfast as he explains, “Yeah, no. Keep staying here, I don’t mind being distracted.” He turns to you and smiles, “I like it, actually.”

His smile and words fluster you; you’re still concerned about overstaying your welcome though. Turning back to your food you mutter, “If you get sick of me and need me to leave, tell me, I’ll go.”

“You are always welcome in my home, not gonna ask you to leave, doll,” he picks up his plate and walks into the kitchen, stopping behind you to press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Not now or in the future, stay as long as you like…” he puts his plate in the sink, “…hell, stay forever.”

“I’m not staying forever,” you giggle, taking it as a joke.

He smiles fondly at you, “Do whatever you like, you’re always welcome here.”

✰ ✰ ✰

Waking up is hard, especially since you know you have a shift later, one you are none too keen to do. Images of your ex grabbing at you, of you punching him, the feeling of the impact, it’s all still so fresh in your mind and the idea of maybe running into him, or worse, him waiting for you, is horrifying. You might have to look for a new job but you like where you are, you like your co-workers. It’s also convenient, within walking distance from your apartment but now think that may not be such a bonus anymore, especially if you decide to move.

You’ve been considering getting a new place but your apartment is rent controlled and a decent price and it’s close to everything, moving is such a hassle but the idea of going back there and living day to day life frightens you. You’ll be constantly on edge in that apartment, you know what needs to be done but that doesn’t make it easy.

Lying in bed and thinking about this isn’t going to make it better though, you’re just stressing yourself out. You groan dramatically to the empty room as you pull yourself out of bed, your limbs feel heavy. If you had your way, you’d stay in bed a little longer but you know Johnny will be leaving for work soon and you want to see him before he goes.

You find him looking like a mess in the hallway, trying to shuffle himself out the door, his phone is balanced between his ear and shoulder, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. He smiles when he sees you, mouthing a good morning. You smile back at him and shoo his hands away from his shirt, one drops to his side and the other hold his phone properly.

There’s some kind of issue with one of the actors in his films, you could probably gather more if you weren’t distracted by his skin peeking out from under his shirt. His voice is stern on the phone, a tone you’ve only heard a handful of times, one that’s rarely, if ever, directed at you. You want him to stay home and have his way with you right now but you’re starting to gather that the begging isn’t really working as well as you want it to, that and you do actually have to go back to work today.

When you’ve buttoned his shirt you pat his chest, he mutes his side of the call and holds his phone away from his ear, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you’re fighting to keep your eyes on his and not look at his lips.

His free hand holds the side of your face, “I’ll be back late today,” he looks away from you for a second, “I’d prefer if you didn’t go in today, I might not be available if you need me.”

You roll your eyes at him lightly, “I probably won’t need you, plus my shift is only short and I need money.”

“I can give you money,” his tone is slightly exasperated, his hand moves to hold your shoulder.

“I don’t want your money,” the idea of taking money from him, while also living in his home… is uncomfortable, you don’t care if he’s offering, you are not taking his money.

He looks you over carefully, ignoring the voice coming from his phone, “You really not going to take another day?”

“Nope, I can’t… not without risking my job,” you place your hands on your hips and raise a brow at him, you told him this yesterday.

His head rolls back and he groans a bit, the hand on your shoulder shakes you slightly, “Fine, but finish early and come straight back here,” his face pulls up in disgust, “I hate that, that little rat of a man is still out and about.”

Your lips twist from holding in a laugh, your hand salutes him as you say, “Yessir.”

He squints at you before putting his phone back to his ear, unmuting himself, the person on the other end had started to yell at him through the phone, “I am coming! Geez…”  He spins to leave but quickly turns around and presses a kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you later,” he rushes out the apartment after that.

You’re left shocked, staring at the door he just left out of. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed… obviously but the casualness of it has your stomach erupting in butterflies. He kissed you like it was the most natural thing, like it was a part of your routine, like you’re a couple. Your relationship with him has left you completely confused but how he doubled back just to kiss you goodbye has you smiling to yourself like an idiot all morning.

✰ ✰ ✰

The trip to work is nerve wracking, you’re worried about being back, you’re extra cautious of everyone around you, eyes scanning every face quickly, it’s not until you’re actually at work and can hide in the backroom do you feel the slightest bit better. Having people around you and being behind the counter puts you at ease, it’ll at least be harder for your ex to get at you, hopefully he doesn’t show up though.

You’re waiting the extra few minutes for your shift to start, as you sit and stare at your feet, you see another pair approach and stop in front of you. You’re scared it’s your manager but as you lift your head up to look, you realise it’s just one of your co-workers. Your shoulders drop, relaxing, knowing that you aren’t about to be scolded for you absence.

Your co-worker smiles down at you, “You’re back! Are you feeling better?”  

He is so chipper compared to your general unease about everything, “Ah, hey Michael, yeah… I’m all better,” you give him a polite smile.

“Are you sure? You don’t look so well…” he leans down slightly, as if to examine you closer before moving out of your personal space, “Sorry! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, you still look great! Beautiful, even… uhm, what I mean is… you just look a little run down,” his hand awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck.  

“I’m alright… thanks though?” You’re a little confused and aren’t sure what the appropriate response to him would be.

Michael is a nice guy and you’ve known him for a bit now, long enough to consider him a friend but he’s horribly awkward around you sometimes and you can’t figure out why, or what the suitable way to react to him would be.

He stands in front of you, rocking on his heels slightly, hands stuffed into his pockets, “I can take most of the orders and serve if you like? So, you don’t have to talk to as many people. You can hang back and wipe tables and stuff, the work people do when there is no work,” he laughs lightly.

You protest, if it’s been as busy as your manager says then you don’t want to put it all on Michael, “You don’t have to do that!”

He waves his hand dismissively at you, “It’s not been that busy, I’m happy to do it.”

The offer he makes sounds perfect to you, normally you would protest more but the risk of having to serve your ex is high and Michael has just unknowingly given you an out, “That… would actually be great, thank you. If things get busy though I will be on top of it!”

“Don’t worry about it, take it slow and let me know if you need me to cover for you or something… like if you need an extra break,” he’s still shuffling on his feet but he’s calmed a bit, “To be honest, if you aren’t feeling well, I don’t think you should be here.”

“Tell that to big boss man,” you snark out humourlessly.

His face pulls up in a sympathetic grimace, “He call you in, huh?”

“Yeah, he said you guys have been really busy and not so subtly threatened my job if I didn’t come in,” you wear a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes as you speak, sharing the bitten back annoyance you feel towards your manager.

Michael rolls his eyes, “That sure is one of his favourite moves, you know he wouldn’t have fired you though, too many of us would also leave if he fired you for being unwell.”

He’s right, most people would walk out, you know you would but you also don’t doubt your managers hubris, he probably would have fired you just to prove a point, even if it caused him to lose other employees too.

You half smile at him, “I dunno, I think he would fire me still, I also wouldn’t want people to leave here because of me, the pay is too good compared to other service jobs.” You glance to the clock behind his head and place your hands to your knees, pushing yourself up, “Oh well, time to start.”

Michael rolls his head and groans slightly, dreading the shift as much as you, “Great,” he looks to you again, “Seriously though, take it easy and let me know if you need anything.”

You smile and thank him again before the both of you clock on and walk out of the backroom.

The first half of your shift is uneventful, everything is quiet for the most part, busy your ass. Michael kept true to his offer and has been manning most of the orders while you hang back and make the odd drink or coffee, which you don’t mind, human interaction is not something you were looking forward to today and you somehow always end up with the weirdest customers.

The customers today, however, are mostly older people, you notice that there are only a few other people working, which is odd. The place is a small café/restaurant kind of gig, it’s nice but it can get busier and it can get busy quick, so you’re surprised by how slow it is today.

While you’re on your ten-minute break, your manager approaches you, “Glad to see you back.”

“It is good to be back,” you try to be as inoffensive as possible but you think your disdain for him is something that cannot be easily hidden.

He stares blankly at you for a moment, “Can you stay back today? Our closer called out.”

You remember Johnny’s words and how he had asked you to come back early, “I don’t think–”

“–It would be helpful, if you could, otherwise Michael will be alone.”

“Michael is staying back too?” You’re confused, normally you’d both be swapped out, actually, normally there would be at least another server on around this time.

Your manager looks exasperated with all this back and forth, “Yeah he’s already covering for someone else.”

Damn, Michael is such a pushover and you feel bad for him, you know you said to Johnny you would go straight back to his after your shift but you feel bad for your co-worker, that and the extra money is pretty enticing after not coming to work for a bit… plus… you still technically would be going straight back to Johnny’s, it would just be a little bit later.

You sigh out before answering, “I suppose I can stay back.”

“That’s great, thank you, take an extra ten,” he pats your shoulder and shuffles off.

You guess what he meant by “swamped” was actually “understaffed”, sounds like a lot of the servers have been calling out. Which kind of has you understanding his frustrations with you, you’re still pissed at him for handling it poorly though.

You use the extra ten-minutes to sit and zone out, staring at the bleak wall of the backroom. Distantly, you consider messaging Johnny to tell him you’ll be back later than you thought but he’s also meant to be late, so chances are, you’ll get back before him.

Before you have more time to think about it though, your break is up and you’re heading back out onto the floor. The hours tick by… so… slowly, the afternoon picks up a bit in business and you help with serving but then it dies down again not long after and you’re back to a coffee every now and again and cleaning.

The bell on the door dings as it swings open and closed, Michael greets them, their voice catches your attention and as you look at them, your blood runs cold. Your ex has just walked through the door and moved to sit at a table, Michael goes over to take his order and your heart feels like it’s about to pound out of your chest.

You aren’t sure what you should do, the cops weren’t helpful last time and you don’t want them coming to your place of work, you’re frightened and uncertain of what to do. He looks to you and you catch his gaze, he smiles at you and wiggles his fingers in greeting, you frown back at him and storm off to the backroom, giving yourself time to calm down.

Deep breaths in and out, in… and out… you focus on things around you, the feel of the wall under your palm, how your feet feel in your shoes, how your apron scrunches in your fist, your racing heart calms down, slowing to a more reasonable pace. You roll your head and crack your neck, trying to remove the stiffness in your bones, you think about Johnny, you think about how safe he makes you feel and you think about calling him. You won’t, you don’t feel like you should, he’s busy today and he said he would be unreachable… and you’re worried about what he may do, how it may upset him that you’ve agreed to stay back later.

Your energy is better spent calming down and pretending like your ex has not upset you, it’s a power move on his behalf, showing up here, he’s trying to scare you and while it is working, you are not going to let him know that, he will not be getting anything more out of you. He doesn’t deserve any sort of satisfaction, what he does deserve is another smack to the head but you will control that urge too, you really need your job.

Taking one last deep breath, you leave the room and go back to doing the odd jobs cleaning up, you continue your shift, ignoring him the whole time, you don’t even look at him, all of your focus is put into whatever you’re doing in that moment. You can feel him watching though, he stays the whole of your shift, watching you and hoping you’ll look his way, he makes your skin crawl.

Towards the end of your shift, when you’re closing up and everyone has left, Michael approaches you, “That guy from earlier, he comes in a lot lately and he’s usually fine… but today he was unsettling, he wouldn’t stop watching you,” he pauses and looks out the front window, “and I think he’s waiting outside.”

You groan, this is something you would rather not have to tell anyone about but since he’s picked up on it and you really don’t want to leave alone, you confide in Michael, “He’s my ex… and he’s been stalking me? Of sorts… it’s why I hadn’t come to work for a bit, I was worried he would come here.”

He makes a shocked face, “That’s horrific, have you told someone?”

“The cops know but they’re about as helpful as nipples on men,” you’re completely frustrated and you also don’t want to talk too in depth about this.

He chuckles at your statement, caught off guard by it, “Sorry, this is not funny but I’ve not heard someone say that before while also looking so serious.”

You also crack a smile, it was the first thing that came to your mind, it is a bit ridiculous, “It’s fine, it’s a stupid saying.”

“Definitely true though,” he adds before his expression turns more serious, sympathetic to you,  “I am so sorry this has been happening to you… you don’t deserve this, can I do anything to help? Do you want me to give you a lift home?”

You appreciate his offer deeply and while maybe you would accept it if you were staying at yours, you don’t feel comfortable giving him Johnny’s address, “No, that’s okay, I’ve been staying with a friend so I’m just gonna catch a cab to their place.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to at least wait with you?” He seems a little apprehensive at leaving you on your own.

“I would like that, please,” you don’t want to wait on the side of the road by yourself, not with him right outside.

The pair of you walk outside together after double checking everything is packed away properly, Michael makes sure he’s on the side your ex is when you leave the building, not wanting him to possibly get at you. Your ex only watches, he doesn’t approach you, he just stands there, you don’t know what he’s doing but you feel like he may be waiting for you to be left alone.

You don’t speak, you don’t have anything to say, you’re trying your best to not show how unsettled by him you are, all of your focus put into keeping yourself calm. The sound of a lighter flickering is oddly loud in the quiet street, cigarette smoke lingers in the air, your ex has lit up a cigarette and the smell is making you feel sickly, though that might just be his presence altogether.

Michael places an arm around you before leaning in, “Are you okay? You sure I can’t just give you a ride?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” you smile at him and then pull out your phone, getting ready to order a cab.

A loud car is speeding up the street, the sounds make you roll your eyes, asshole, you think. It’s getting closer though, and then it’s pulling over right in front of you. The expression on your face is annoyed, pissed off, you want to curse out the asshole driving like a dick, you even go so far as opening your mouth to say something but as they get out of the car, you realise it’s Johnny, and then you’re shocked silent, your mouth closing very suddenly.

Michael is just as shocked and confused, his arm coming off you as he asks, “Holy fuck, is that Johnny Cage?”

Johnny walks straight to you, ignoring Michael, “Are you okay? Why are you still out? I told you to come back early,” his brows are set in a deep frown, eyes scanning you quickly, hands holding your face tenderly.

“I’m fine and I got asked to stay back, I was about to catch a cab–”

“–Why didn’t you call me?” His hands come off your face but one of them reaches down to your hand and grips it in his.

“You said you were going to be busy and unreachable,” you shrug, you know you could’ve sent a text or something but you didn’t want to be a nuisance, not when it seemed like his start to the day was already rocky.

“Not that unreachable,” he sighs, he looks around your surroundings properly, you think he may finally take notice of Michael who has been very patiently waiting to be acknowledged.

You try prompting an introduction, “Uhm, this is my co-worker, Michael.”

“Why the fuck is he here,” Johnny ignores your words, gaze set off to the side where your ex is, his hand grips yours a little tighter, he moves closer to you, glaring at your ex.

You don’t want there to be a scene, you want what you wanted before, you want to leave and go back to Johnny’s, you just want to feel safe again, “Johnny–”

“–How long has he been here for?” He barely glances back at you, still staring your ex down.

“Most of her shift,” Michael answers for you, it makes you cringe because you know Johnny is going to have a lot of thoughts about you not telling him.

Johnny finally acknowledges his presence, “What?”

“He’s been here all day… and then he was hanging around after close…” Michael looks to you, “Did I say something wrong?” He asks you a bit quieter.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong,” you get Johnny may be a little on edge and severely pissed at your ex but he’s being overtly hostile towards Michael for no reason.

Johnny hums, “Get in the car, doll.”

You prompt him, “Johnny,” he looks to you and you keep talking, “Don’t do anything, I just want to leave.”

Johnny scowls, thinking on it for a moment, wanting so badly to walk those few steps over to your ex and beat the fuck out of him, he looks back to you and sees the way your eyes plead with him and he recognises you’ve probably had the worst day of work in your life, the psychological torture of having your ex watch your every move exhausting and frightening.

He concedes to you, “Fine, we’ll just leave.” He turns around to open the car door for you.

You turn to Michael and place a hand on his shoulder, “Sorry about everything and seriously, thank you for today, you made it easier being here.”

“Anytime, I hope the cops do something about your ex soon, I hate that you’re going through this,” he looks worried for you and you can’t blame him but you think Johnny does enough worrying about you for ten people.

“Have a good night,” you pat his shoulder before walking to the car.

“Hey!” He calls out to you before you sit down, “Uhm, if you need anything, text me.”

You smile at him as Johnny closes the car door, you give him a thumbs up from inside the car, you don’t think you’ll ask for his help but it’s kind of him to offer, he’s a very giving person.

Johnny takes a bit longer to get in the car, it doesn’t look like he says anything to Michael but he stares at him for a bit. When he does get inside the car, he wordlessly starts the engine and drives you both back to his. It’s tense and it feels like you’re in trouble, your leg is bouncing up and down with your nerves and he reaches over to you, placing his hand on your thigh, attempting to comfort you.

It works, slightly, you would feel better if he broke his silence and got his thoughts all out now but you know he’s going to wait until you’re both back at his apartment. His thumb rubs along your skin, soothing you, it calms you enough to sit still the rest of the drive.

Still, no words are spoken the whole way up to his apartment, nothing other than your small thank yous when he opens a door for you, mostly you trail behind him. When you reach the door he lets you in first, locking it and walking into the living room, you linger awkwardly but ultimately follow after him.

He must hear you follow because he doesn’t turn around as he asks, “What were you thinking? Your ex shows up while you’re working and not only do you not think to tell me, you also stay the whole shift and even work late?” He’s exasperated, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

You shuffle into the room more, “…We are understaffed and I didn’t want to make Michael handle that on his own, plus it’s good money… and I need the money, so I can pay for the apartment.”

He turns around to look at you, “But you didn’t tell me any of that? Just left me in the dark to come home to an empty apartment?”

Your brows knit together, starting to get frustrated with him, “You said you were going to be unreachable, of course I wanted to call you as soon as I was asked to stay back, as soon as he showed up, but I thought about your words this morning… and honestly, I thought of how you’re reacting right now!”

“So, you rely on some stranger?” His hands gesture angrily.

“Who?” you’re confused.

He grimaces, “The fucker with you tonight.”

“Michael?” He nods and you make a perplexed face back at him, “He’s not a stranger? He’s my co-worker and I have known him for a bit now,” you hesitate before adding quietly, “He’s a friend.”

Johnny crosses his arms and raises a brow at you, “A friend, like how I’m a friend?”

“What–”

He cuts you off, not even letting you ask your question, “­–Like how you’re begging me to fuck you any chance you get, kind of friend?”

You’re deeply frustrated with him, you don’t like his tone, or attitude, “What are you attempting to imply right now?”

“Nothing, I’m not implying anything,” he glowers at you, nothing secret about how he’s feeling right now, everything he feels is on his face.

He’s cutting you deep, your feelings run deeper for him than just physically and he has to know that by now, “I feel like you’re being incredibly unfair, I like you a lot and I want you in more than just one way.” You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling back from him.

He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there looking at you, still angry for no good reason. You turn around and leave him there, if you stay here looking at him while he does nothing but glare at you, you’ll cry.

You’ve just told him how you feel, you were honest and he doesn’t give you the same courtesy, not just now but ever, he’s not told you how he honestly feels and you can only put up with that for so long. You’re not a dog with a bone but he makes you feel like one, saying sweet nothings to you but not actually saying what he means or how he feels.

You head back to the guest room and flop onto the bed, allowing yourself a moment to sob, you’ve had such a shitty day and you wanted more than anything to come back here and tell Johnny about it, to be held by him while he told you everything is going to be okay. Now, you’re not only just upset about your workday, you’re also pissed at Johnny for how he just treated you.

From in your back pocket, your phone vibrates.

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t really know how you’ve ended up here… well, you do, some of the girls from your college course invited you to a party and you were pretty keen to jump at the idea of escaping all your thoughts for the evening, you have tomorrow off so what’s the harm? Is what you had thought. You ended up sneaking out of Johnny’s apartment and ubering to the address you were given, from there it’s all a bit more hazy, you’ve been drinking a lot. Not typically something you do but you think after the day you’ve had, you earned it.

You do remember you left a note for Johnny to find, telling him you were fine and would be back late, you initially weren’t going to leave him anything but you thought that would be unkind, plus, it would only serve to worry him. Which, you genuinely don’t want him to stress about you so much, you are perfectly capable of caring for yourself, you’ve done it this long.

The night started out fun, drinking and dancing with these girls, but now you’re past drunk and they are nowhere to be seen. The people around you are getting handsy too, now that you’re alone on the dancefloor you’re an easier target. All the people in your personal space is starting to get to you and you end up pushing through the crowd of people to try and find some familiar faces.

It feels like you search the whole house twice but you can’t seem to find any of them, which is odd, you don’t know where they went or why they haven’t so much as messaged you about where they are. If you weren’t so far gone, you might worry about them more but the world is starting to spin a bit and you find yourself walking out the front and sitting on the stairs, you’re alone out here, well, alone besides the few people passed out on the lawn but you don’t think you’re going to count them.

The fresh air will hopefully help you feel better, you pull out your phone to order an uber and see a bunch of missed calls and texts from Johnny. You go to swipe the notification away but accidentally press it and your phone starts calling him back. Your attempts to hang up before he answers fail, especially since he picks up so quickly, the line barely ringing twice.

Johnny sounds pleased and pissed off to hear from you, “Thank god! Where the hell are you?”

“It said in mm note, at friends party,” your words are coming out slurred even though you’re trying to sound sober.

You can almost feel his glare through the phone, “Your note was stupid, why did you leave without telling me?”

You counter, “Would you have let me leave?” He doesn’t say anything, the other end of the phone in complete silence, “Exactly, plus mm still mad at you,” you state.

His tone is scrutinising, “Are you drunk?”

You ask him stupidly, “Are you?”

“What? Obviously not?” He sighs into the phone, irritated by you, “Just tell me you’re safe at least.”

“Mmmm, I think so? I dunno… actually can you come get me? I dunno where mm friends are and I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you lean your head to your shoulder, closing your eyes for a second.

He sounds relieved, “Yes, I can come get you, send me the address.”

You like listening to him talk, “You have a nice voice, sometimes when you talk it gives me butterflies in my tummy…” your words are lazy and you trail off.

Johnny urges you, “Hey, focus, tell me where you are, doll.”

“At a friend’s house… hmm hold on,” you think he may still be talking but you’ve pulled your phone away from your ear to text him the address, you hold the phone to your ear again, “Did ya get that?”

“Yeah I did, I’ll be there soon okay, hang tight.”

“Mm not moving, too comfy,” your head rests back to your shoulder, your eyes slow blinking with how tired you’re getting.

Your eyes slip closed and you switch between hearing all the things around you and hearing nothing at all, your head is somehow swimming with every thought you’ve ever had and not a single thing. You rub at your eyes, trying to stay awake and present but you lose the fight and they slip closed again.

You aren’t sure how much time passes but it feels like no time at all has gone by when Johnny shakes you awake, him standing in front of you so soon feels like a hallucination, he leans down to you and your hand reaches up and pokes his chest.

He makes a confused face at you, “What was that for?”

“Jus checking you’re real,” you murmur out.

“Jesus, sugar,” he shakes his head at you, “Come on, let’s get you home,” he reaches down to you.

“Mmkay,” you take his hand and he pulls you up, you fall into him slightly.

He walks you back to his car carefully, worried about your balance the whole time, his hands stay on you, assisting your steps.

“I’m glad you called,” he says.

You mutter back at him, “Didn’t mean to, fingers are stupid.”

He huffs at you lightly, “Okay, well…I’m glad you asked me to come get you.”

You’re hesitant, “Thank you… for coming,” your lips are downturned, still pissed off at him but grateful all the same.

He opens his car door for you, the second time today and you get inside, “I’ve said it before… but I’ll always come… when you call.” He leans over to buckle you in, when he pulls back his fingers hold your chin, “You just have to call me.”

You’re still pouting and you look away from him, he makes you weak and you’re not ready to forgive him, especially when he’s not apologised, “Can we jus leave?”

He sighs softly to himself, “Yeah… let’s leave.”

He gets you both back to his in one piece, you felt a bit dizzy in the car but you’re feeling sturdier by the time you’re back in his apartment. He leads you into the kitchen and gets you a glass of water, he makes you drink it all in front of him.

You watch him as he takes the glass from you and puts it in the dishwasher, you feel tempted to tell him, “Mm still mad at you.”

He holds onto the edge of the bench, “I know.”

“You really hurt me,” you add.

“I know,” he repeats.

His unwillingness to look at you or give you a better answer has you tearing up, “Are you even sorry?”

He still won’t turn your way, the sink more interesting apparently, “We can talk more tomorrow, it’s late and you’re drunk.”

“I’ve never been more sober in my life,” you argue.

“I somehow doubt that,” is all he says.

You roll your eyes at him, you’ve had enough, “Whatever, thanks again… for picking me up,” you leave the kitchen after that, not willing to stay and let him ignore you more.

You just want to collapse into bed and pretend like everything is fine, you want to pretend you’re back to a couple days ago, when you and Johnny were playing trivial pursuit. You want to think of how kind he was to you yesterday, when you cried in his kitchen while making pancakes and you’re not going to think about how he implied you were interested in sleeping with all your friends and minimised your feelings for him.

Talking to him again is not something you’re looking forward to, not if tonight is anything to go by, he takes up such a large place in your heart and to be treated like this by him feels… shattering. He’s always been so kind to you and to be spoken to like this, it’s devastating, you want to understand but you also want him to leave you alone for a bit, you’re not certain you’re ready to listen to whatever he has to say.

In your very slowly sobering state, you manage to get yourself into the shower and fresh pyjamas, having to do this tomorrow while hungover is going to be hell so your sober-self better be grateful to drunk you because this is far too much effort when you’d rather be curled up in bed crying over a stupid boy.

✰ ✰ ✰

Banging sounds in the kitchen jolt you awake, your head pounding from the hangover you’re currently sporting. The clanging not helping your current state at all, your eyes squint against the minimal light seeping into the room. The furrow set in your brow not helping the pain in your head, you must look incredibly angry right now… and remembering yesterday… yeah, you are incredibly angry right now.

Groaning you flop onto your side and notice that Johnny must’ve come in earlier because there’s some ibuprofen and water sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. You hate how thoughtful he’s being after saying some pretty thoughtless things, he’s not being fair to you at all. Just to get your ducks in a row, he implied you wanted to sleep with your friends, devalued your feelings for him, gave you the silent treatment, got upset that you left the house, wouldn’t talk to you last night, and then again disregarded you all while knowing he had hurt your feelings… yeah, you’re pissed.

Talking right now, or today, might be a bad idea, you’re not in the best headspace, whatever reason he has may not be enough for you. Ignoring the ache in your bones and head, you get up and pack away your bags, stuffing everything in haphazardly, staying here… might not be best for either of you. Being in a home with someone who is upset at you but not willing to speak about it… makes you uncomfortable, you were already worried about overstaying your welcome when things were good… now it feels almost unbearable.

You are thankful to drunk you for getting clean last night, it’ll make leaving easier, you change out of your pyjamas and crack open the door to scope out the area, double checking he’s not in the way. He doesn’t seem to be in the main areas, you think you may be able to leave without him noticing. Grabbing your bag, you quietly shuffle to the front door, it feels ridiculous, like you’re attempting to pull off some great heist, it’s not lost on you how stupid you’re being but you’re hurt, mad, and hungover, you get to be a little stupid.

“What are you doing?” Johnny’s voice makes you jump in place, you hadn’t even heard him approach you.

Slowly, you spin to face him, “…Nothing?”

His eyes look you over before focusing on the bag you’re holding, “Really? Because it looks like you’re trying to leave without saying goodbye.”

“Well, I just thought… after yesterday… it may be better if I leave… quietly,” your head is too sore to be standing here talking about this right now.

He frowns at you, his hands on his hips, annoyed by your choice, “Better for who? I don’t want you to leave and I never said that I did.”

“You haven’t said anything actually,” you point out, you don’t even know why he cares if you stay, he’s the one who started the ‘argument’ or whatever this is.

He sidesteps your statement, instead asking, “Where are you gonna go?”

You roll your head and look away, “Back to mine… probably.”

“While your ex is out there… actively stalking you?” His tone is dubious.

He’s annoying you with his logic, “I don’t know, Johnny, all I know is that you’re not talking to me and I don’t feel welcome here.” You’re starting to tear up and you curse yourself for it, “I was already hesitant to stay here and now you don’t look at me and when you do, you look so… angry and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you so much.”

He’s quiet and it seems like he’s not going to say anything… again. You sigh and turn to the front door, choosing to leave anyways but Johnny grabs your wrist, stopping you, “Don’t leave… please.”

You close your eyes for a moment, the light hurting your head, You turn back to him, waiting for him to continue talking; he lets go of your wrist when he’s certain you’re not going to walk away.

He adds, “I’m not upset at you–”

“–It feels like you are.” You interrupt.

He’s beginning to get exasperated, “I’m angry with myself, I’m pissed off and I took it out on you, and I’m annoyed that I did, I want to talk to you about this, I want to explain.”

“Explain then! I’ve given you chances to explain and all you do is stand there silently, I want to be able to forgive you,” you sigh at him again, “You’ve fucked up, if you were anyone else… I would’ve walked away already but I want you to give me the chance to forgive you.”

“I got pissed when I saw you with that– with Michael, it wasn’t rational but it made me realise… people your age are interested in you, there are people out there that are better for you… I– I had already known that… I just didn’t expect…” He’s getting pissed again, you can tell by the way he crosses his arms and his mouth pulls down into a scowl, “I didn’t expect the anger I would feel at seeing you with someone else, I didn’t… the idea of you being with someone else, of someone else touching you how I have, it makes me physically sick.”

You take a deep breath, “So… because you got jealous… you implied I wanted to sleep with my friends and ignored me when I told you I liked you?”

He looks like he wants to touch you, his fingers thrumming against his bicep, fidgeting, “I wasn’t thinking properly, I’m so sorry, doll.”

Your shoulders drop, your bag slipping, “I don’t know… how to react to this–”

He cuts you off to add, “–I like you too, a lot.”

His words make your heart skip a beat but you hold steady, “You can’t say that and expect me to just forgive you.”

He moves closer to you, “I know, that’s not why I said it.”

“I’m not forgiving you.”

“That’s okay,” he hums, “Can I touch you?”

This man does not play fair, “I–”

He touches you anyways, his hand holds the side of your face before he pulls you to him, hugging you tightly, “I am really sorry… I don’t feel good enough for you, you deserve better, you deserve more but I can’t help but feel incredibly selfish because the idea of someone else having you… it literally drives me crazy, doll.”

Being held by him, regretfully, has you feeling so much better, your bag properly drops from your shoulder, and you hug him back, missing his warmth. “You were mean.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

“I’d had such a bad day and all I wanted was to tell you about it,” your eyes start welling with tears.

He repeats, “I’m sorry.”

“I missed you,” you sniffle out.

His head leans down to you, nosing at your cheek, “I missed you, too.” You move to pull back, but his hands hold you still, one of them grasping your face, his lips brush against yours before he pulls back himself to say, “You know, I was also seriously concerned for your safety, I came home and you still weren’t back and I had no messages from you, nothing letting me know you were okay.”

You suppose, you can apologise for that much, “And for that, I am sorry.”

“I forgive you… this time.” He jokes, taking it lightly.

You look at him carefully, considering everything, “Johnny, I need to know what we’re doing.”

He’s confused by your sudden question, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are we more than friends?” You need clarity, after having none for so long, you just need to know what the hell you’re doing.

His brows furrow and he pretends to think really hard, “Considering I’ve made you cum multiple times and stuck my tongue in your mouth… I’d consider you more than a friend.”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, pushing him back by his shoulder, it barely moves him, his hands instead grabbing your face and pulling you to him. He takes your lips in his own, his kiss full and passionate, it takes you by surprise and you make a small sound reminiscent of a whine.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Do you wanna be my girl?”

“Ugh, corny,” you complain but you hate how badly you want that.

He chuckles lightly, pressing kisses to your lips again, “I want you to be.”

You’re not fully paying attention, temporarily distracted by his kisses, “Mmm... Sorry, what?”

He simplifies, “Mine, I want you to be mine.”

You agree easily, “Okay.”

A smile spreads across his lips and then he moves to press kisses all over your face, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Somewhat,” you answer cryptically, mostly because you’re annoyed by how easily he fixed everything.

“I’ll take it,” he breathes out a laugh.

You wince involuntarily, your head still pounding, your body reminding you of your adventures last night and the consequences that come along with them, “I need to lay back down.”

Johnny’s tone is worried, his hands hold onto your shoulders, putting some distance between you both to look you over, “Are you okay?”

You deadpan back, “Yeah… you’re just exhausting.”

“Not nice,” he complains.

You smile cheekily at him, “I’m kidding… mostly,” he forces a smile back at you and you laugh lightly, “I’m hungover… I just wanna lay back down and die."

"Bit dramatic don’t you think?” He asks.

You glare at him, “Says you.”

He raises his hands in a placating manner, “Completely correct, let’s get you back in bed hmm?”

The rest of your day is spent recuperating in bed, you’re in and out of sleep, sometimes only ever up long enough to eat or drink something. Johnny brings you… way too many snacks but he insisted on you eating, it was nice and also so much for your pounding head, you ended up asking him to leave you alone to rot for the day, which he reluctantly did. You think he’s still concerned you’ve not forgiven him and if you’re telling yourself the truth, while you really want to forgive him, it’s not that easy and your heart sits heavy, the ache he caused not forgotten.

You’re going to try really hard to move forward though because you can understand, while he didn’t go about it well… at all, he’s struggling with his feelings for you and you can understand that much. It also wouldn’t have helped that tension would’ve been high for him, with you out later than expected, no messages, only to find you and see you with a stranger, while your ex lurks in the background… hmmm, maybe Johnny held it together better than you’re giving him credit for.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s late in the evening when you wake up properly, your heart racing as you sit up suddenly, you can’t quite remember what your dream was of but you remember it was not pleasant. Anxiety crawls up your spine and you think it may have had something to do with your ex, the unease that sits in the pit of your stomach reminds you of the way you felt while at work. You hug yourself, rocking back and forth for a moment, trying to calm down… it’s not helping.

Crawling out of bed, you head the few doors down to get to Johnny’s room, wanting to seek comfort from him. You knock lightly, trying to see if he’s awake, it’s late though so you doubt he’d still be up. You consider entering his room and waking him up anyways but you aren’t sure he’s been sleeping well lately so you turn around and head for the lounge room instead.  

You grab the remote off the coffee table before flopping onto the couch, laying on your side, completely stretched out, you aren’t going to be able to sleep anymore so you might as well find something to watch and get comfortable. There isn’t much on at this time of night though, nothing good anyways.

Somehow, you find yourself heavily invested in the channel that only sells things, all advertisements for stuff that nobody feasibly needs or would use more than once but for some reason, you are completely involved in what the man is waffling on about. Why yes, you definitely do need a little bear named ‘Tiddy Bear’ for your seatbelt so it’s less annoying… you don’t own a car.

You’ve somehow become so absorbed in the crap commercials that you jump slightly when Johnny leans over you from behind the couch, “Holy– Don’t do that,” you gasp.

His voice is deep with sleep, “Sorry sweetness… but what the fuck are you watching?”

You state simply, “Tiddy bear,” and then point at the television.

Johnny sleepily looks where you’re pointing, squinting against the bright light, “…Right,” you can practically see the thought enter his head as soon as he thinks it, “You know… I could always be you–”

You groan at him, “–Shuddup!”

He laughs as he looks down at you, “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“I’m fairly certain I did,” you raise a brow at him.

He wears a lazy smile as he rounds the couch, he taps your legs and you tuck them up so he can sit beside you. Once he’s seated, he pulls your legs into his lap so you’re stretched out again. His hands absentmindedly massage your calves, he watches the advertisement with you for a bit, a new one playing, something called the wearable towel, it looks like a dress… but towel material.

Johnny frowns at the infomercial, confused, “Seriously, doll, what the fuck are we watching?”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I was watching some tv and somehow got really into the infomercials,” you shrug.

He puts all his attention on you, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

You shrug again, “It was nothing, just a bad dream.”

You don’t look at him, still watching the lady talk about how annoying traditional towels are, Johnny squeezes your calf so you look at him, “Could’ve woken me up, if you wanted to talk about it.”

You hum at him, “I didn’t want to disturb you, I did knock… on your door, to see if you were awake.”

“Hell, sugar, next time just crawl into bed next to me, I really wouldn’t mind,” he smiles at you and then asks, “What was it about?” He keeps massaging your calves, fingers digging into the muscle, it’s nice.

“I don’t remember… but it was… scary,” you feel embarrassed to admit that, you’re a grown adult, it seems silly to be frightened by a dream.

He considers you for a moment, not really sure on what to say, “Yeah, sometimes it’s like that.”

“I just felt dumb, having a bad dream, it feels childish,” you sigh, frustrated with yourself.

“The feeling was real though, it’s not childish, I’ve had nightmares before.” He rests his head back on the couch, “You’ve had the most stressful time lately… I’m honestly surprised you’ve not had more nightmares.”

You watch him, he’s looking up at the ceiling, “I was scared,” you admit.

“That’s normal–”

“–No, not tonight, I mean at work, when he came in and stayed my whole shift,” Johnny looks to you, his attention focused solely on what you’re about to say, “I was scared but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of effecting me… so I ignored him and I thought about coming back to you, I thought of how,” you take a breath and look away from him, “I thought of how safe you make me feel.”

He sounds emotional, “I make you feel safe?”

You look back to him, feeling bashful, “Johnny, you feel more like home to me than any place ever has…” You’re nervous, feeling open and vulnerable, but you add, “Yes, you feel safe, you feel like home.”

It feels like he looks at you for too long, his eyes looking over you, full of so many emotions that you can’t read. When he does speak, all he says is, “Move over.”

“What?”

“Move over, I’m getting in beside you,” he starts shuffling to lay down next to you on the couch.

You laugh, “Johnny, there is not enough room.”

“Yeah there is, lemme in,” he continues to lay down.

You roll your eyes but shuffle back as much as you can on the couch, your body close to slipping off the furniture entirely. He lays down on his side next to you, his arm coming around you, tugging you close and supporting you so you don’t fall off.  

You look up at him, “Why are we doing this?”

He huffs at you, “I wanted to cuddle with you.”

He looks sleepy right now, it’s endearing, “Why so suddenly though?”

“You said something cute and it made me happy,” he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his breath against you makes your skin prick, “I’m glad I make you feel safe… and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, having him at your place of work… I should’ve been there.”

“I don’t blame you for that, I didn’t tell you,” you reach up and comb your fingers through his hair, “I– I wanted to call you but I worry so much… I worry about how much I burden you.”

He presses a soft kiss to your neck, it sends a shiver down your spine; he pulls back to look at you properly, his arm holding you as close as he can, “You aren’t a burden to me,” he holds intense eye contact with you, trying to show you how serious he is with one look.

“I just don’t want to worry you with silly things,” you tuck your head into his chest.

He vibrates with a hum, “Well, for starters, being scared of your freaky ex who is stalking you… is decidedly not silly, secondly, I’d much rather you tell me about the silly things, I want you to tell me everything that worries you, I want to help… can’t do that if you don’t confide in me, sweetness.”

“I’ll talk to you more… but you have to promise to do the same, you keep so many things to yourself and I want to support you, however I can,” you mumble into his shirt.

His tone is light as he agrees, “Deal, now can I make out with you, or is this an inappropriate time to ask?”

You scoff at him but pull back and press a gentle kiss to his lips, he groans as you move back too soon, “All you get,” you snicker.

“Not kind at all,” He complains.

You give him another quick kiss, “Funny though.”

“So funny,” he repeats humourlessly, scowl on his face.

You laugh at him and his hand moves up your body to the back of your head, his mouth crashing onto yours, the sudden contact takes you by surprise. You sigh against him and he licks into your mouth, his kiss deep. Your leg moves to hook around his waist, pulling your lower half closer to his, he groans into the kiss, his hand moves from the back of your head, down your front and under your shirt. He gropes at your chest, fingers pinching your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

He moves his head down to your chest, pulling your shirt up and enveloping your nipple in the warmth of his mouth. His tongue flicks at you and you push towards him, soft sighs slip past your lips, your mind hazy. He bites at you lightly, his forehead resting against your sternum, he presses his face between your tits and sucks a hickey into the skin between them, his hand back to pawing at you.

He sighs against you, and then your world is spinning, he’s sitting up and taking you with him, you end up straddling him. His hands trail your body, tugging your shirt up and off your head, you lift your arms to help him. He leans forward and begins to leave more hickeys on you, marking your chest completely, your fingers thread through his hair, pleasured sighs leaving you.

He mumbles into your skin, “Take your pants off.”

You pull him back by his hair, “Excuse me?”

“Please?” He smiles at you. You look at him sceptically but he only continues to smile at you, “I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”

You concede and hop off his lap, pulling your pants off, you go to sit back on him but he tuts at you, “What?” You ask.

“Panties. Off.” His eyes are looking directly at your underwear, waiting for them to be gone.

You sway side to side, feeling timid but you comply and slip the garment down your legs, Johnny smiles brightly as you do as he asked. He makes grabby hands at you and you move closer to him, he grabs you and positions you over one of his thighs.

You’re a little confused, “What are you doi–”

“–Want you to ride my thigh, doll,” his hands encourage you to straddle his thigh properly.

“Johnny… that’s embarrassing,” you pout at him slightly.

“What happened to my eager little thing hmmm?” He grips your hips and starts dragging you back and forth on the material of his pants, “Promise it’ll feel good.”

You twitch on him slightly, it feels depraved to rut into his thigh while he watches but you start grinding down onto him lightly, your movements still uncertain. Johnny’s hands help facilitate your movements, wanting to see you do it yourself but also wanting control of the situation. Your cunt begins leaking onto him, the material of his sleep pants darkening under you, shudders run down your back and muffled whimpers get caught in your throat.

Your hands reach up to his shoulders, holding onto him to ground yourself, your fingers digging into his skin. His eyes watch how your pussy grinds into his thigh, smile still present on his face, absorbed in how you’re getting his leg all slick, the grey of his sweats now a dark grey. The friction the material of his pants give you is driving you insane, your need clawing up your spine, Johnny can tell you’re getting needier, based on how your eyes get glassy and your hips rut down into him more freely.

“There ya fuckin go, thas a good girl,” he comments.

His hands push you into his thigh firmer, the sudden change has you moaning out to him. You fall forward and tuck into his neck, your whimpers are breathed against him and he grunts at how wet you’re making his pants, at the little noises you’re making against him. You’re doing a lot of the work yourself at the moment, in the back of your mind you’re embarrassed at how you hump down onto him, at how damp you’re getting everything but Johnny seems so fucking pleased about it all.

You twitch into him and moan at the friction on your clit, the sound spurs him on, his hands grip your hips tightly and he moves you back and forth on his thigh quickly, your slick making the slide obscenely easy. Johnny’s own eyes are glassy, dizzy from how much you’re leaking on him, he moves one hand to pull your head back to look at him, he’s in awe of the fucked out look on your face.

“Mmm you always make the prettiest faces for me,” he compliments before taking your lips in his.

The kiss is messy, his lips demanding and desperate, his tongue in your mouth searching, consuming. He swallows down all the sounds you make for him, his own sounds shared in the kiss, when you part for a moment, strings of your saliva connect your mouths together. The evidence of how depraved in manner he kisses you sets you on fire, a whimper pulled from your chest. He smiles lazily at you, his thumb rubs over your lips, spreading your shared spit over them.

He pushes his thumb into your mouth and you take it, sucking on it gently, his eyes look wild as he watches you, “Need you to cum on my thigh, sugar.”

Your eyebrows pull up at him, your cunt clenching on nothing, your fingers dig into him as you continue to rock back and forth on him. Your stomach tensing, he pulls his thumb from your mouth and runs it down your chin, sternum, torso, all the way down to your clit, his thumb rubs circles into you, it makes you twitch against him. Johnny closes his eyes and seemingly remembers his goal very suddenly because he grabs you tightly again and starts forcefully dragging you back and forth, his leg bouncing, adding to the stimulation.

You gasp out to him, “Hah– Johnny~”

“Jus take it like this, cum like this, want it all over my leg, doll, want it stained into my fuckin pants.” His eyes are honed in on your cunt again, involved in how you’re dripping on him, how easy you slide on him.

Your voice pitches higher, “Johnny– I– mmph–”

He encourages you, already knowing, “Go on, soak my thigh, sweetness.”

You gasp and shudder against him, your hips desperately grinding down into him, your high so close. Johnny’s intense, greedy gaze on you is what undoes you, you twitch on him as you cum, pathetic whimpers sound from you as you rut down into his leg, he supports you as you finish, helping you ride out your high, feeding you praises about how well you did and how cute you look.

Once you’ve come down though, he keeps moving you into him, enjoying the way your body jolts in sensitivity at the action. You slump forward into him, small whines leaving your lips as he overstimulates you. He turns his face into your neck and lightly bites you, your cunt clamps down onto nothing, the pain shoots straight to your drenched pussy, a sad little moan slipping from you.

Johnny’s hands rub up and down your back, soothing you, “How you think you’re ever gonna be able to take my dick when you get fucked out this easily is beyond me.”

“I could take it,” you argue.

You can feel his smile against your skin, “I’m not so sure.” He pulls your face back so he can see you properly, “Yeah… I’ve missed that.”

You’re kind of hazy, mind making static noise, “Missed what?”

His smile turns devilish, “That cute little fucked out look you get on your face when I make you cum, a sight for sore eyes, doll.” You don’t get to say anything back, he picks you up and carries you with him back to his room, “Bet you’ll sleep fuckin fantastic now.”

You giggle against him because yeah, this might’ve done the trick.

✰ ✰ ✰

When you wake in the morning, you’re alone in Johnny’s bed, you lay still for a few more moments, enjoying the warmth of his large bed. You assume he’s gone to work; he’s probably messaged you but your phone is in the guest room and you don’t really feel like moving right now. You feel warm and safe wrapped up in his sheets, sleeping next to him was the best you had slept in weeks and you think he’s going to have to put up with you being in his bed more often now.

Eventually, after a few more moments of tossing around in his bed, you get up and wander down the hall to grab your phone. You were right, he had texted you saying where he was, he had to head in early and didn’t want to wake you. He should be back at a normal time though so you’re happy for that, it gets lonely in his big apartment.

You also have a message from your manager, telling you that you’ve got a few more days off… which is, surprising to say the least. Michael might have had something to do with that, which is kind but you need to figure out a long-term plan, on if you want to stay or go. Ideally, your ex would leave you alone, or the cops would arrest him for trashing your apartment but seeing as how they’re not all that useful, you don’t really know what to do.

At least now you have a few more days to consider your options, you were not looking forward to your afternoon shift. You’ll have to thank Michael next time you’re on with him, you don’t know what he said but you’re trusting that he didn’t divulge anything too personal, you didn’t even want to tell him about your ex, it was just unavoidable.

The day is uneventful for the most part, you clean the kitchen and guest room, you also make Johnny’s bed, you’re still a guest, it’s only polite that you clean up after yourself. There isn’t much else for you to do though, so you’re back on the couch, scrolling your socials and watching something inane as background noise. It shouldn’t be too much longer until Johnny gets back, you’re hoping anyways, you’re bored and want to talk to him regarding what you should do about your ex.

Speaking of… a text from that awful little man comes through, you forgot you hadn’t blocked him, you click on the notification and read it. Obviously, it’s all senseless anger, mostly name calling, not at all pleasant to read but after having him trash your home, this is not as scary as it would’ve been a while ago. You consider blocking him but then you think, this may help you actually.

He continues blowing up your phone on and off all afternoon, you end up silencing his messages so you can use your phone without being yelled at through the screen. It shouldn’t be but some of the messages are hilariously laughable, the fact you were with him for a whole year and he was like this? It’s almost inconceivable to you, how could you miss so much of his problem behaviour and why has he gotten so stuck on you.

One of his messages in particular sticks with you, ‘I deserved better.’ It makes you scoff, what a jackass. The rest aren’t as funny, they’re threatening and abusive and if you spent all your time reading them it would probably induce a panic attack.

Brushing it off, you put your phone down and involve yourself in the show you had put on hours ago, whatever his problem is, is not your fault and you shouldn’t bend over backwards trying to understand the motivations of someone so clearly mentally unstable. It’s not your fault, it’s something you have to repeat to yourself, so you don’t forget… because it’s not your fault and you won’t let him make you think that it is.

The front door rattles as Johnny unlocks it and walks into the apartment, you call out to him, “Welcome back!”

His shoes clack against the floors as he walks to where you are, “Hey, doll,” he pats the top of your head from behind the couch.

You bend your neck to look back at him, “How was your day?”

“…Annoying but thankfully shorter than some others,” he smiles at you, “How was your day?”

“Good, uneventful for the most part… well except…” You trail off as you watch him.

He steps over the back of the couch, it’s quite the show how his footing wobbles a bit on the plush cushions, you give him a quizzical look as he sits beside you, “What? Couldn’t be bothered to walk round.”

Laughing and shaking your head, you say, “You would’ve expended more effort climbing the couch than walking around it.”

He brushes you off, “Yeah whatever, just tell me about your day, what were you gonna say?”

Were you going to say something, “Hmm?”

“Uneventful day, except…?” He prompts.

You begin, “Ah, yeah, my ex started blowing up my phone, harassing me today–”

Johnny’s face twists into a disgusted scowl, “–You’ve not blocked him?”

You squint at him, silently admonishing him for interrupting you before you could finish, “Well, I had honestly forgotten to, he hadn’t even reached out until now but I think it may be helpful, in getting a restraining order on him, that way I can go to work and if he shows up the cops will actually have to do something about it.”

He considers your words for a moment, “Hmm, not a bad idea, want my help with that?”

“Please,” you smile sweetly at him.

He pinches your cheek and tugs lightly, “Of course, though…” he lets go of your cheek and you rub at it, “…I would prefer he were dead.”

You can’t help but laugh at the abruptness of his statement, “Right, well… I guess you’ll just have to settle for this.”

“Whatever makes life easier for you, doll,” he opens his arms for you to hug into his side, which you do.

He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight, you sigh against him, “I really just want him to leave me alone, so I can forget about him and move on, I don’t want to confront him, I don’t want to fight him, I just want to be left alone.”

“I understand that, we’ll make it happen,” he kisses the top of your head and you believe him.

You cuddle on the couch for a bit, enjoying his comfort but then your phone rings, checking the screen you see it’s a friend from college, “I should take this,” you tell Johnny.

He nods at you easily and lets you get up.

Taking your phone, you walk off to the guest room to get some privacy, “Hey! It’s been a while, what’s up?”

Her voice is chirpy through the phone, “It has been and nothing much, I just wanted to see if you were free to come round mine tomorrow? I need help with an assignment for that one class… with that one professor…”

You can practically feel how her eyes glaze over, you’ve already taken the class and catch on immediately, “Yeah I’m more than happy to help, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be… I’m still surprised I passed.”

She laughs from the other end, “But you did and at this rate, I’m closer to running away and living by the seaside on an isolated island than I am to passing this course.”

“Well then, I can be around tomorrow? Like, maybe midday? Can’t have you moving away, you’re like the only college friend I have… that I like.”

“Sounds good and I feel exactly the same about you,” you both share another giggle but she trails off, “…Have you been okay?”

You’re a bit confused by her sudden question, “Yeah I’ve been all good, why?”

She seems hesitant, like she’s not sure how to word what she wants to say, “Well… I’ve been hearing some… things… about you and it’s got me a little confused.”

You frown, “What kind of things?”

She sighs, “People in our circle have been saying you were cheating on your ex and that you’re broken up?”

“I mean we are broken up… but I did not cheat on him, I ended things with him for different reasons but if anyone cheated in that relationship, it was definitely him,” your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, you have a feeling you already know who’s spreading the rumours.

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it but it’s really odd… that people are saying that, I always thought he was a little… freaky, so I got worried hearing about the rumours.”

You huff quietly, mostly to yourself, “Thanks for asking though… and not just assuming,”

“I like to think I know you well enough to discern what rumours are and aren’t true,” she lightly chuckles and it makes you smile.

Scratching the back of your neck, you ask, “A lot has happened but I can tell you about it all tomorrow?”

“I’d like that, you know I’m always here for you right?”

“I know,” you smile lopsidedly, you think you may need to get better at confiding in others.

You both share your goodbyes and hang up, you’re glad she reached out to you, honestly, if she wasn’t campus living and you didn’t have Johnny, you probably would have stayed with her, she’s one of the closest friends you have. It’ll be nice, telling a friend about everything.

Distantly you wonder how long the rumours have been running around and if this may be why you got ditched by those girls at the party and still haven’t heard from them, even after messaging them asking if they were okay.

This is such a frustrating position to be in but you think, if anyone believes the rumours without even asking you about them then they aren’t people you really want to be friends with anyways, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though.  The only thing you’re really worried about is if Johnny is included in the rumours, you don’t want to ruin his career, or hurt his image, at the moment the rumour doesn’t seem to mention him but you don’t know how long it will stay like that.

You waddle through the apartment and stand in front of Johnny, “There are rumours about me circling,” you pout.

“What?” He’s confused and you don’t blame him.

You slump onto the couch, your shoulder bumping into his, “Saying I cheated on my ex and that’s why we are broken up.”

He grunts, “What a load of bullshit,” his arm comes around you, pulling you close, “Are you okay?”

Sighing, you say, “Yeah, I mean, if people believe it that’s not my fault, I’m just so exhausted, it feels like it’s one awful thing after another at the moment.”

He turns to you and kisses the side of your head, “Would you feel better if I fucked you?”

Your voice feels small, “Yes.”

“That’s too bad,” he smiles against you.

You pout at him, “Don’t kick me when I’m down.”

He chuckles, “How about I cook you dinner instead?”

You smile at him, “That would be nice too, I guess.”

“Could you help?” He’s worried about it not being edible.

You let out an airy laugh, “Sure.”

✰ ✰ ✰

When you had told Johnny you were going out today to see a friend, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, he has today off and he was hoping to spend it with you. He wasn’t about to stop you though, you need to see your friends, he’s glad to see you’re willing to talk to someone else about this. Sometimes, he worries that if he hadn’t heard your ex over the phone that first time, you wouldn’t have told him anything and that’s a scary thought to him.

He's left in the apartment alone and he’s bored, you’ve not even been gone long and he feels like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. Maybe he should feel a little pathetic about it but he’s pretty happy about where is, he’s scared… about the future but he’s also looking forward to his relationship with you. All he has to do is keep himself busy until you get back and he’s golden.

Some of your clothes are piled in his room, ever since he took you to bed with him a couple nights ago, you’ve been sleeping in here with him instead. Not that he minds, in fact, he’s got the opposite of complaints, the fact that you’re staying close to him and confiding in him, it makes him ridiculously happy.

The bag filled with your clothes sits on the floor in the corner, you’ve been here for a while now and you still won’t unpack, that bothers him. He won’t unpack for you, that’s invasive and will also probably upset you but he will pick up the clothes you left on the floor this morning, he’s just going to take them down the hall so they can get cleaned with his but as he picks them up, your panties slip from the pile.

He feels so ridiculously ashamed of how incredibly quickly his dick chubs up at seeing just your underwear, they’re cute… and now he’s thinking of you in them and nothing but. He rolls his shoulders and looks up to the ceiling, trying to ignore the growing ache in his cock but now all he can think about is you and how wet and needy you get for him.

Shamefully, he drops everything onto the ground and picks up your panties, his mind running wild. He feels like a fucking creep how he shoves them into his face and inhales deeply, his mouth salivating, he wishes you were home, he wants to fuck you with his tongue, it feels heavy in his mouth as his need grows.

His other hand slides down his body and undoes his belt before unbuttoning his slacks, he shoves his hand into his pants and groans as he grabs himself over his underwear. Your scent overwhelms his senses and he can’t hold off, he tugs his boxers and pants down, only enough so his cock is free, he’s desperate now, his dick twitching in need.

If he weren’t so stupefied by his thoughts of you, he’d probably recognise this as the creepy behaviour it is but right now he doesn’t care, he didn’t get to cum the other night after making you finish on his thigh and he’s been hesitant to try anything since but he’s so wound up it’s insane. After you had fallen asleep next to him that night, he’d pitifully moaned when he squeezed the base of his cock, just to get some kind of relief.

He's honestly not sure how long he’ll be able to hold off on fucking you, he wants it to be special for you, he wants it to be memorable, he doesn’t want to be just some guy you give your virginity to and regret… but in saying that… the need that claws at his insides every time he makes your pretty, cunt cum for him, is getting harder to control.

His hand not holding your panties grips onto the dresser for balance, his other hand reaches down to his cock, his tip leaks precum into your underwear, they’re soft as he moves them with his fist up and down his shaft. He sighs pathetically at the feeling of jerking off into your panties, his mind reeling with what it would be like to taste you, he wants to cum inside you and then lick you clean. His head falls back and he groans at the thought, his muscles twitch as he thinks of how pathetically you’d whine for him, your complacency with all the filthy things he does to you always makes his head spin.

With the amount he’s leaking into your panties, the glide is easy and his hand speeds up, a gasped grunt escaping him. He’s already on the edge of cumming just from thinking about tongue fucking you, he talks big game about you not being able to take him but he’s concerned that as soon as he sinks balls deep in you, he’s going to cum.

His chin falls to his chest and he watches how he fucks into your panties, his eyes are glazed over and his hand moves faster, he needs to cum, he knows it won’t satisfy him, not how he wants but if he doesn’t see your underwear coated in his cum, he thinks he may die. He thinks of you watching him cum into your panties, how embarrassed and turned on you’d be, it drives him wild and his cock jerks as he shoots his load into the fabric of your underwear. He groans deeply, his hips spasming, thrusting forward to ride out the euphoria.

He sighs, temporarily satisfied but his thoughts are still plagued by complete filth, he wants to make your pussy a complete mess for him. He wipes up his cum with your panties and tugs his pants back up, he’s going to need to calm down, he can wait for you to get home.

✰ ✰ ✰

The uber back to Johnny’s is boring, you’d had a good time with your friend though, you both pulled your hair out over the assignment and over your ex… but it was good, talking to someone. She was supportive and kind and she’s offered to sneak you into campus living with her if you need, which made you giggle. You told her about your plans to hopefully get a restraining order though, so you think you should be fine to go home soon.

It turns out, those girls… the ones you were at the party with, they’re apparently helping feed the flames of the rumour going around about you. At least you weren’t all that close to them, they just gave you a reason to go out and get drunk for a night. Whatever, you don’t want to put any more energy into all this, you’re going to go back to Johnny’s, you’re going to hang out with him and you’re going to trust that the court will let you get a restraining order against your ex.

When you get back to Johnny’s, it’s eerily quiet, you were expecting him to be watching a movie or listening to music… anything but it’s silent in the apartment and it’s freaking you out a little bit. Walking further into the main living area, you place your bag down and continue to wander around, looking for him.

You call out for him, “Johnny?”

He stumbles out of his room pretty quickly at the sound of your voice, “You’re back! How was it? Did you have fun?”

You squint at him a bit, his mannerisms odd, “…Yeah, it was good, I’ve missed her so it was nice… catching up.”

He fidgets in front of you a bit, like he’s antsy, like this is all a formality and he doesn’t really care, “That’s good! I’m glad you met up with her, I’ve been worried about you a bit lately…” His eyes roam over you, his fingers tapping against his skin.

“…Johnny?” He hums at you in reply and you ask, “Are you okay? You seem… on edge.”

His eyes flick back to yours, “Yeah, doll, I’m groovy, easy going,” he gives you a big cartoonish smile, it’s a little strained.

Frowning, you walk closer to examine him and he intakes a small, sharp breath, “Are you sure? Because you’re really twitchy right now.”

“Did anything else happen? Do you want to talk?” He’s clearly changing the subject.

You decide to let him, “No? I’m fine, we talked, I helped her with her assignment, nothing special,” you shrug at him.

“Okay, good,” is all he says in response. Just as you’re about to ask him what he means by that, his hands are on you, pulling you close, his mouth hovering right over yours, “I missed you, sweetness… bad.”

Your voice shakes slightly, the proximity getting to you, making your skin all hot, “I’ve not been gone lo– mmph–”

He cuts you off, his lips on yours are demanding, his kiss searing, like he’s been waiting his whole life to kiss you like this. You reach up and grab a hold of his shirt, hands fisting the fabric, trying to ground yourself. His hands are on you… everywhere, they grope and pull at the skin of your hips, at the fabric of your shirt, even palming your breasts, his touch is heated and needy, it’s making you dizzy. A small, whimpered moan leaves you involuntarily and he takes the chance to lick into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

With how he’s kissing you and how he’s touching you, your faculties are eluding you, your mind foggy. You’re the one to pull back first, needing air. Resting your forehead against his chest, you catch your breath and attempt to think straight again. Which is, surprisingly difficult, your eyes feel wet, everything about you feels malleable right now, he could probably say the stupidest thing on Earth and you’d still be weak in the knees with hearts in your eyes.

You lightly giggle against him, “Feeling needy?”

He grunts at you, “Doll, you got no fuckin clue.”

You think you may have some clue, “Bold statement coming from the man who still won’t fuck me even after I have asked so nicely, so many times.”

He rolls his eyes at you, only a little bit amused, you’re waiting for his smartass reply when he suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, walking back to his room with you.

“Wow, talk about desperate,” you joke.

“Keep talking, sweetness, enjoy the upper hand while you can still talk coherently,” he drops you onto his mattress, his form standing over you from the foot of the bed.

You know he’s right, and yet, the need to challenge him like he doesn’t render you speechless from a kiss hits you anyways, “Cocky, much?”

“Could say the same thing to you, at least mine isn’t false confidence,” he winks at you and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

You lean on your elbows and watch him intently, his skin slowly being revealed to you, he’s being a tease on purpose. Summoning your courage, you tug your pants down your legs and toss them off the bed, not stopping, you tug your shirt off completely too, your bra following not long after. Johnny stops what he’s doing, his shirt fully undone but still on.

Smiling up at him, you ask, “Something wrong, sugar?”

He rolls his head back, a sigh coming from him, “Feeling mean today?” He asks, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders.

“Only a little bit,” you’re honestly a little bit shocked with yourself, you feel nervous and exposed.

He climbs onto the mattress and you shuffle back as he moves up, his form large over yours, he leans down and places a hot kiss on your lips, “Gonna stick my tongue in your pretty pussy, babe.”

Somehow, the crudeness of his words always shock you, “Okay.”

His smile at your reply is wolfish, giving you one last kiss before he’s moving back down the bed and pushing his face into your panties. You squeak and jump at the feeling, he only hums against you, seemingly pleased at your reaction.

“Wanted to put my mouth on you all day,” he mumbles against your core.

You can only gasp in reply, his mouth opening and latching onto your cunt over your underwear, his tongue wetting the fabric, his nose rubbing into your clit. His hands hold you open and you fall flat onto the bed, not able to hold yourself up. When he detaches it’s only to pull your panties down your legs and off, his eyes are wild and he stumbles over his movements in his rush.

He's right back in between your legs as soon as he can be, his mouth not wasting anytime in how he immediately licks at you, fucking his tongue into your hole. A hand reaches down and threads through his hair, you give it a light tug and he moans against you. Your back arches for him, hips moving against his face slightly, your body moving on its own accord.

Johnny’s own hips covertly rut into the bed below, his senses overtaken by you, how you smell and taste, it’s making him dizzy, he’s been looking forward to this all day. He’s practically drooling into your cunt, his skin on fire, how you writhe and twitch on the mattress isn’t helping. Knowing he’s making you a needy, whimpering mess is making his cock ache even worse than it did this morning.

You’re gasping and whining for him and he moans into your pussy, his hips humping into the mattress in a more obvious manner as his desperation grows. His hands push on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs up and giving himself more access to your gooey cunt. He’s eating you like he might die if he doesn’t, like you’re his only salvation and you’re already so close to cumming for him because of it.

The grip you have on his hair tightens and he borderline whimpers into you, his movements not ceasing, if anything they pick up, his tongue moving quicker. Your stomach twitches and pulls, your orgasm fast approaching, Johnny can tell, he knows by how slick you get, how pitched your whines get.

You want to tell him, “Johnny, mmm–”

He grunts into your cunt, already aware and actively trying to have you finishing on his tongue, he wants it all. He wants you to cum directly into his mouth, he wants to drink it all down and then he wants to shove his tongue in your mouth and make you suck on it, tasting yourself through him. His cock twitches in his pants, his mind moving a million miles a minute, shamefully, he’s close to cumming in his pants.

Suddenly, he shakes his head against you, his nose moving over your clit, the stimulation shocks your orgasm from you, stumbled syllables vaguely reminiscent of Johnny’s name tumble from your lips, sounds that he relishes in, his hips stutter against the mattress as your cum floods his senses. The way your pussy spasms and creams on his tongue undoing him completely, his cum no doubt staining the front of his slacks, shivers running down his spine.

The orgasm he gives you and how taken by surprise you were, renders you wordless and thoughtless, only the sounds of the blood pumping in your ears can be heard, everything else is like white noise. You huff and shake slightly, the buzz in your veins delicious, he was right, about rendering you completely speechless, you knew he would be.

He licks at your pussy a bit longer, until you’re jerking away from him, too sensitive, you close your legs, knees touching, giving yourself some reprieve. Johnny pulls up and off the bed, once he’s standing, he yanks his pants off. You don’t miss the way his slacks and boxers are damp with his cum, he’s made a complete mess of himself.

You feel shy, “You came from that?” You’re completely shocked that he’s managed to finish just from humping the mattress and tongue fucking you.

“Got such a pretty little pussy, I’d cum from watching you play with yourself,” he plays it off easily, not an ounce of shame in his bones at the moment, only a large grin plastered on his face.

The embarrassment his words cause you is immense; your face feels warm and you can’t tell if it’s from your orgasm or what he’s just said. He crawls back on the bed, his cock already hardening again, apparently… he’s not done. His cock is shiny and slick from his own cum, his tip red and already leaking again, it’s making your head spin.

Your voice feels small, you feel small, “Are you gonna fuck me?”

“No.” His answer is dead on, no room for argument, as per usual when it comes to this topic.

“Then what–”

“–Gonna play with you how I like,” he strokes his cock as he looks down at you, “Open your legs, sugar.” You pout slightly, and he rolls his eyes at you, “Come on, sweetness, I’ll make you feel oh so good. Promise.”

You scowl at him lightly but open your legs for him, one of his hands moves to hold you open further. “You said you would fuck me,” you complain.

“I said maybe,” he counters.

He doesn’t wait for you to continue arguing with him, already moving his tip through your folds, he skates against your wet pussy and it has him shivering. He leans down over you, the length of his fat cock resting against your cunt, he holds himself up over you by his forearms. His hips begin slowly grinding down into you, everything is so slick and wet, your skin slipping against each other. He plants a kiss on your lips, his tongue entering your mouth straight away, wanting you to taste yourself. You moan into him, soft sighs also leaving you.

When he pulls back, you try again, “I want you, please.”

He groans, his hips stuttering, “You have me right now.”

“Want you inside me,” you nearly sob.

“Fuck– Not today,” his voice is hoarse.

“Always– mmph– always feel so empty,” your eyes are wet and glassy as you look at him, not so silently pleading, “Ngh– Wan you to fill me, please, Johnny.”

“Fucking– no, hnng– why– god– why do you want your first time to be now? Of all times?” He huffs against your skin, his cock painfully erect, throbbing and leaky for you.

“Don’t care mmph– don’t care when or where, just who,” a tear slips down your cheek, your need practically tearing you apart at the seams.

Johnny nearly whimpers, his cock jerking against you, his tip sliding over your clit makes your skin itch, the desire to be fucked full of him overwhelming you. It’s cruel, it feels heinously cruel how deprived of him you are, is it so much to ask to be so full of him you’re sobbing? You don’t think so, your breath stutters as he continues rocking back and forth between your folds.

“I care when and how,” he bites back, nearly snarling at you.

You share your frustration with him, loose lipped in your pleasure and need, “I jus wan –­ngh– you to fuck me blind, I can’t, I need it– mmph– Johnny please!”

He actually does whimper this time, “Fuck– doll, you can’t– don’t do this to me,” he’s in such a weak state today, his desperation for you driving him insane.

The way you’re begging for him to stuff you full of his dick, is going to kill him, he already wants so badly to feel your tight, wet cunt wrapped around him but he wants to do it right. Your begging is chipping away at his resolve, his mind filling with images of how he’d stretch you out on his cock, how your eyes would roll back in your head as he fucks you just right.

His cock is making an absolute mess of you both, your lower halves completely coated in slick and cum, his head ducks down to look between the two of you. The underside of his cock glazed with your cum nearly sends him into a frenzy, he moans at the sight, forehead falling to rest on your sternum.

You hook your legs up on either side of his hips and he chokes at the change, his thrusts speeding up, one of his hands reaches down and digs into the fat of your thigh, nail biting into the skin. You gasp and whine, your mind slipping from you, you want to beg him more, you want to plead with him to have mercy but you’re not sure you can find the words anymore.

You sob over and over, begging him, “Please, please, please, please–”

He looks back at you, eyes sharp, “You’ll take what I fuckin give you or I’ll never touch you again,” he cautions, his tone harsh.

“Johnny~” you whimper, eyes large and dazed.

He tuts at you, his tone mocking, “Poor thing, not being satisfied sexually?”

You could almost cry, his words feel so mean.

He glares at you, “Know what I did while you were gone, sugar?”

You shake your head at him, a gasp leaving you as his cock head catches on your clit.

“Got me so fuckin– so needy,” he ridicules your usage of the word from earlier, “that I got hard at the sight of your panties on my bedroom floor.”

A strained and small noise leaves you, not at all expecting him to admit to something like that. His hand holds onto the side of your face and tilts you up to look at him, he’s looking down his nose at you and it really shouldn’t arouse you as much as it does. His hips don’t stop, never stopping, he couldn’t, not even to punish you, it’d be hell for him too. He needs this, it’s as close as he’s going to get to fucking you and he’d have to be put in the fucking ground before he’d remove himself from you, he needs you to cum on his cock like this.

“Wanna know what I did with them?” He asks suddenly.

You’re distant but not gone and you nod in response, curious.

He smiles evilly and leans down to whisper into your ear, “I fucked them, tugged on my cock until I came in them. Only thinking about your cunt and how fucking divine you taste, how badly I wanted to stick my tongue in you,” He licks the shell of your ear, “I think– ngh– that you’re getting off easy.”

“Johnny,” you whine at him, the only thing he’s succeeded in doing is making your hornier for him.

“One day. One day I will fuck you open on my cock but today and right now, you’re gonna fuckin behave and cum like this,” it’s a promise, one he intends to keep.

A shiver runs down your spine at how low and authoritative his tone is, a pathetic moan leaving you, one that Johnny doesn’t miss, not if his smile is anything to go by. He doubles his efforts into sliding his cock through your folds, his hips moving quicker, more weight put behind them, it makes you whine and wriggle under him. The hand he had on your face moves back to your hip and grips you tight, forcing you to stay still for him.

He's moving desperately, wanting so badly for you to cum like this, he wants to fuck his whole cock into you but is too damn stubborn to do it now, he doesn’t want your first time to be like this. His abs clench and twitch, his own end fast approaching him, his head leans down to your neck and remembers the other night, he pays extra attention to how close you’re getting, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he continues thrusting against you.

Your pussy is throbbing for him, you’re so unbelievable close and it has you seeing stars, Johnny can tell you’re right on the edge and just as you’re about to cum, he bites into the junction between your neck and shoulder, harder than the other night. Your cunt jumps at the shock of pain and you moan pitifully loud, tears that had been sitting in your water line slip down your cheeks as you spasm and cum for Johnny. He groans at the sounds you’re making for him, at the way your cunt gushes with your orgasm, making an absolute mess of yourself and his dick.

He holds off to let you ride out your high and then he’s pulling back onto his knees, jerking his cock while watching the way your pussy clenches on nothing, he whimpers and wishes he was fucking you full. In just this moment, he wishes he were a worse man but he settles for this, he fists his cock, and just as he’s about to cum he notches his tip at your entrance, not pushing in at all, just resting it there, his cum entering you as much as it can from this position.

You wriggle your hips at him, pushing down slightly, his hand immediately shoots out to push you down, knowing you’d absolutely attempt to take him all, even if it hurt. He can’t help how aroused that thought alone makes him, you’re willing to hurt yourself to take him all and it tugs at something ugly and primal inside him.

After he’s dumped his load on and partially in you, he pulls back, watching the way his cum has coated you. His finger moves to collect it and he begins pushing it inside you, his finger stretching you open as he stuffs you full of his cum.

The grip you have on him is making him lose his mind, “God, you’re so fucking tight.” He groans.

You can’t offer much else but blabbered words, nothing you say very coherent, not for lack of trying though.

Johnny only chuckles, amused by how stupid you are right now, he’s not able to control himself and he begins opening you up on both of his fingers, fucking you with them. His cum making it easy, his only aim was to fuck it into you but now he wants you cumming again, the sounds you make when you cum, they’re something he hopes he never forgets. He’s playing with you, his fingers leaving to spread his cum around some more before re-entering and pulling you apart by the very fibre of your being.

You’re whimpering at him, trying to tell him you’re sensitive, that it’s too much, that you’re going to cry but he either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care and based by how pleased he looks when you begin sobbing for him, you’d safely assume it’s the latter.

He smiles brilliantly at you, “You’re such a pretty doll.”

It’s too much, “I can’t– ngh–”

“–Hmmm? What was that?” He’s taunting you; he knows what you were going to say.

 Your eyes roll to the back of your head, another orgasm already fast approaching you, sadly you think it’s significantly spurned on by how cruel he’s being to you. Your body shakes, your legs try to close but he holds them open easily, his eyes intently watching how you take his fingers.

“Sucking me right back in, got such a needy pussy, I swear,” his fingers move quicker, stroking into one spot that has you gasping out a shocked moan, “Making such a fuckin mess, sweetness, can you hear how fuckin messy you are, hmm?”

You can, the obscene noises of your shamefully wet cunt fill the room and you still find it in yourself to be embarrassed, even when reduced to a sobbing, whimpering, state. Your arm moves to cover your face and Johnny tuts at you, disapproving of the action.

He directs you, “Wanna see your pretty face, doll, keep looking right. at. me.”

Forcing yourself, you look at him, your eyes barely able to stay open, everything you see is blurry anyways. Johnny moves his thumb to circle your clit, you’re sensitive and it makes you jump, your instinct to move away, not that you get very far. He is insistent, his hand never slowing and his thumb never moving, the added stimulation has your stomach doing somersaults.

Your cunt clenches down on his fingers and Johnny groans at you, “Atta girl, there you fuckin go,” his voice is soft, encouraging.

Your orgasm wracks over your body, mind hazy and nowhere within reach, everything you moan out isn’t even close to sounding like words, the only coherent thing being Johnny’s name. Your back arches and he pins you back down again, his fingers and thumb still moving, aiding in your orgasm. It’s becoming too much but you can’t even move away from him, only able to take the overstimulation until he’s satisfied. Everything is… dark and you can’t hear a damn thing.

He does eventually show you mercy, removing his fingers from your pussy, he taps your clit a few times just to watch how you jump and spasm at the contact though, and then he really does pull back. His eyes stay on your cunt though, watching you for a moment before his gaze wanders all over your body, taking in how blissed and fucked out you look.

Wistfully, he murmurs, “I’m gonna shove my cock so deep inside you, you’ll feel me in your stomach.”

“Johnny–”

“–Not now but one day,” he laughs airily, leaning down to kiss you tenderly on the lips.

He gets off the bed and pulls on some pants, leaving to grab a cloth and water, you lay on his mattress completely gone, not a single thought in your head. When he comes back, he cleans you up and makes you drink the water.

“You make me drink a lot of water,” you mumble around the rim of the glass.

He’s watching you, completely charmed by you even though you’re a naked mess drinking water in his bed, “Need you to stay hydrated, don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Keep making me cum like that and I just might,” you pass him the almost empty glass and he places it on the nightstand. He hands you one of his t-shirts and you put it on, appreciating the cover. 

“So… you’re into biting, huh?” He’s teasing you, his grin large.

You pout at him, “Don’t be mean… panty thief.”

“Oh, how you wound me, sugar,” his hands dramatically clasp at his chest over his heart. You roll your eyes at him and he instead asks, “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I am not moving,” you say, stretching your achy muscles out.

He offers, “What if I carry you?”

“…I could be amicable to that.”

“Yeah, I fuckin bet,” he chuckles but carries you to the lounge anyways.

The movie you end up watching is one of his, which should be a shock to no one, it’s not like you’re entirely conscious of the plot though, you’re still off in the clouds. Something Johnny admonishes you for, “Pay attention!”

You argue back, “I’m tired, plus I’ve seen this one before!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he jokes.

“I could say the same to you,” you sigh, snuggling into his side, he wraps his arm around you and holds you close.

This is the most peaceful you have felt in a while, you feel safe and cared for and you think, you could stay like this forever.

✰ ✰ ✰

Thank you for reading it all !!!!! I know it was quite a lot to get through >v< Let me know your thoughts/feelings and reach out if you have questions !!! ily and have a beautiful day/night <33

#johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x reader smut #johnny cage smut #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage x you #mk1 smut #mk smut

[pascallatte]

Payback

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: a behind the scene moment, filmed by Pedro himself. A closer look at the chaos that happens in between takes.

Date: Nov 2016

Warning/s: none just pure old fluff

A/N: Yeahhhhh, why does it feel so long since I've posted something?? Also, Twitter fics will be posted a day after the main fic is posted (will post more info soon). Anyways, here I am again with a new fic, hope you enjoy this like you did with my past ones!! Happy reading.

The set of narcos on and off screen can be described as…chaotic. It may be because of the cast themselves. The teasing, between Pedro and you, is something that isn’t new. And with Pedro posting on Instagram another one of those videos you and him, while preparing for the second season, fans can think that their game still hasn’t been set straight. This leads us to this, to which fans say the Normalcy of the relationship between you and Pedro.

Caption

@yourusername, always gives me a hard time while shooting, it’s payback time.❤️ #NarcosSeason2 #Netflix 

As soon as the video started, it blinded whoever was watching because of the intense light that was given by the sun that day. Pedro, who was recording, panned the phone around to catch a small behind-the-scenes look. Clearing his throat he flips the camera to show himself, fully clothed as the hardcore agent, Javier Pena.

“Hello, I was given the chance to go on break while they,” points to you and Boyd behind him, who was talking to one of the producers, “shoot some more things. While waiting, I’m just going to sit in this chair and eat what I can.” He gets comfortable on his designated make-up chair reaching for some snacks before popping them in his mouth. 

“Why eat what I can? Its because-, “ flips the phone to you and zooms in on your red sweat-covered face, which actually still looked good despite being under the sun for almost the whole day,”-‘cause, ducky over there would come here, soon, and take all these-these snacks, especially these small cheese filled biscuits. She likes them.” He whispers to himself or rather the camera, during the last part.

The phone almost slips from his hands as he tries to zoom in for a closer view, which he gets. You and Boyd were seen smiling to the crew as you walked in his direction, presumably already given the signal for you to be able to take a break. Still far, he follows your move as you walk towards him looking straight past the camera at him, smiling and waving. Unconsciously he whispers to himself, “Ah tan bonita, bebe.” So pretty, baby.

You were stopped just a few feet away from him by a staff member, allowing him to hide the phone while still being able to record the whole thing. Placing it down in front of him and flips to see Pedro leaning on the armrest. Turning to look at you, with a look that tells that he's waiting for you to look at him as he gives an adoring look towards your direction. 

“Hola Pedrito,” you said in a soft tired voice. Your voice was heard first receiving a smile from Pedro as you circle around his chair and hug him from behind, whispering to him as he looked at you nodding. The camera was then fixed to see the two of you, you hugging Pedro from behind, a small peck placed on his cheek. You were seen smiling at him before you take a sip from the drink that he has offered you. 

Just noticing the camera, you turn your head to him, gesturing to the phone that he’d set up. As you stood straight, taking his drink with you. Raising a brow, giving him a questioning look, “¿qué estás haciendo?” what are you doing?

Grinning up at you, he subtlely reached for your hand, making sure it wasn’t seen on tape, “Te estoy grabando.” I'm recording you. 

“¿Desde cuando?” a nervous chuckle escaped you, fighting the panicked look that was about to escape you, knowing what this was all about now. Since when?

He laughs at your expression, reaching up for his drink and responding with a “Desde antes de que llamaran a un descanso.” Making you raise the drink-filled cup away from him. Since before they called for a break.

Setting the cup somewhere out of the frame, you came back to look at him suddenly slapping his thighs and walking away mumbling, “Ayayay Pedro.”

An amused “Why?!” was heard from him before the video ended. And if that wasn't enough, it was followed by another one.

You were now sitting next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder, still enjoying the break given to you. In the entirety of the video, you were seen reaching into the same bags of chips or bowls of candies that he reaches for, getting the same thing he already has. And not only the food but also the drinks.

Besides you copying every bite or drink he does, you also copy his gestures. From the eyebrow-raising to adjusting himself in his seat, the hair flips, and the most iconic, as you call it, brushing-of-the-mustache.

It wasn’t that Pedro wasn’t aware of your antics, he just thought that it was a coincidence. So when he sees you do the gesture on your invisible moustache as well as drinking from a cup, he knows that you were on to something. And he’s going to stop it before it even happens.

Pedro calls your name out of the blue, unaware that he already knows, and calls out his name too.

“Y/n.”

“Pedro.”

He stares at you. Long enough to make you falter and tilt your head in confusion. Still making eye contact he takes a sip, in which you copy (obviously).

He grunts at what seems like a confirmation to him as he was seen nodding his head. Placing his cup down in front of the phone camera, he leans closer to you.

“Stop copying me.”

Letting out a soft laugh, “What? I’m not.” You feigned innocence backing up as he leans in closer. You look to your left at the camera, shaking your head.

You were only able to hear a short “Okay,” before you were pulled to the side as Pedro’s arm softly pulls you to him. Now laughing, you try to move away by hitting his torso and pulling his arm. But you just stayed in place, sadly for you.

“You can’t copy me now, can’t you?” He teases as he looks down at you, who was huffing out a breath hands on the forearm around your neck.

“Isn’t this abuse?” You lightly said, jabbing his chest. Causing him to loosen his hold a bit, allowing you to look at him. And to your surprise, you were closer than what you’d imagined, almost nose to nose.

“Nope,” he whispers before tightening his hold on now your shoulders, how it got there is something you don’t have a clue on. Squeezing you tightly, Pedro leans back on his chair making the two of you topple down, laughs and wheezes were heard before the phone was taken by Pedro to show you on the floor still laughing your hair covering your face.

The short video ended with a very…funny, or you'd like to say "a disgrace of a shot," close-up of your face all red from the laughing.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina @namgification @mmkkzz (bolded blog/s: I can't seem to find you guys' accounts but I'll still tag in case it works)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x actress!reader

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Have you heard? Disney is making another Lion king, but this time, it's a prequel, and it's going to be about Mufasa's backstory. Which i think it's very interesting. i'm open to seeing how they're going to show/represent the movie. Even though it's coming out of nowhere? A prequel after all these years?

I've also seen a lot of criticism about the movie, even though it's not even out yet. A lot of fans are disappointed that Mufasa and Scar/Taka (interesting how they're using "Taka" instead of "Scar") are no longer blood related brothers, but instead, both are orphans which doesn't make much sense since in the original Lion king Mufasa comes from a lineage of royalty and gives Simba a speech talking about “great kings” and “let me tell you what my father told me” I'm open to new ideas and stuff but i don't know how to feel about it. Maybe it’s the nostalgia? This honestly feels like a cheap cash grab, and seeing how Disney has had quality control issues lately, it's either going to be a flop or not.

I'm just HOPING that they're NOT going down the "misunderstood villain arc" because I've had enough of it. if they’re going for the "Mufasa was adopted and usurper who took Scar's rightful place at the throne! Showing that Scar was right all along."

What do you think?

Oh, I’ve heard of it! I’m not that interested in watching though. I’ll probably just wait for it to come out while praying that TWST gives us free stuff in a promotional campaign and listen to some commentary or review channels give their takes.

According to Wikipedia, Mufasa: The Lion King is supposed to be a sequel to the 2019 live action adaptation, not the original 1994 animated film. The prequel film was confirmed in September of 2020, which isn’t that long after The Lion King live action movie came out. They’ve been steadily releasing new information about Mufasa, such as voice cast reveals in 2021, 2022, and April 2024. It was officially announced and title dropped in 2022 during the D23 Expo. It’s possible that the film took longer to make due to the pandemic and worker’s strikes that occurred between 2020 and now.

On the Scar/Taka thing, I believe “Taka” (I’ve also seen “Askari” in some sources) is Scar’s given name and “Scar” is a nickname Mufasa gave him following an incident in which Taka was as tricked and attacked by other animals, which was the origin of his scar. This information comes from The Lion Guard (a series I haven’t watched myself; this is what I was told by a friend who has). If Scar is being called “Taka” in Mufasa (and assuming The Lion Guard is canon), then that means Mufasa must take place prior to the brothers’ relationship souring and him getting his signature scar.

I watched the trailer and… the phrasing is quite odd??? Now Mufasa is “a lion born without a drop of nobility in his blood”. That implies he and Scar aren’t blood-related. In real life, that makes sense since it’s usually the strongest lion that leads the pack rather than the eldest. Scar has a line where he says Mufasa got the brawn whereas he got the brains, so it sort of supports this idea. However, making it so that Mufasa and Scar are unrelated orphans within the Lion King universe doesn’t make sense if you hold that up next to the already established lore. They imply multiple times that Scar lost his claim to the throne when Simba, Mufasa’s blood-related son, was born to succeed him. So royal blood of the king is important??? The only way Scar could take over was to eliminate those in Mufasa’s lineage. It’s possible that Mufasa’s speech to Simba about the “great kings” and his own father could be in reverence or to show love for his adopted dad or pack…? But that makes those scenes a lot less impactful. Additionally, part of the reason why Scar’s actions are so evil is because he committed fratricide. He turned against his own blood brother, then manipulated his nephew, whom he also shares blood with, into taking the blame. There’s something very visceral and cold-blooded about that—plus it adds to the Hamlet parallels.

Seeing as Mufasa is the titular character, I don’t think they’ll go down the route of intentionally making him the bad guy to Scar. Disney’s so shy about making its main characters morally grey or just bad people… though like you said, they might do it unintentionally because by writing Mufasa as an orphan, that means he’s an illegitimate ruler… meaning Simba is an illegitimate heir… meaning Scar killed/deceived those with no claim to the throne, so actually Scar was not in the wrong at all 💀 But technically it wouldn’t be Scar’s right to rule anyway because he’s not of royal blood either (since you said he's apparently also an orphan? I did not see this mentioned in the trailer though)??? Unless Scar is the one from a royal lineage and everyone else is just dead???

I think it’s still possible that we get something tragic between the two; blood does not determine everything. Mufasa and Taka could form a genuine brotherly bond that later falls apart. It doesn’t really make up for the retconning of current lore, but who knows 😂 maybe they’ll pull some of their old magic out and actually write a story that makes sense to lead into The Lion King. I’m not going to hold my breath though, the live action movies have never been that good to me 💦 I’m going to let the movie come out and speak for itself before I make any real judgments on its quality, as I don’t believe in jumping the gun (even given previous track records).

I wonder what this new movie’s lore would mean for TWST… Since Tamashina Mina was very inspired by The Lion Guard, that means (depending on how the film goes) Mufasa’s events could be retroactively integrated into TWST history?? It’s not a guarantee, but just something to consider.

#notes from the writing raven #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #The Lion King #The Lion Guard #Mufasa: The Lion King #Simba #Scar #Mufasa #question #Hamlet

[dukeofriven]

So I haven't watched Spy Kids for probably 20 years? It came out in 2001, I never saw in theatres, but my stepbrother had it on VHS. I remember watching it several times when my step-mum and father first started dating but never after they moved into a house together, which I think cannot have been any later than 2003. The podcast How Did This Get Made just got me to watch 2004's Sleepover staring Spy Kids' Alex Vega, and it had me going 'man, I should rewatch Spy Kids, a film I used to love—hell I should watch all the Spy Kids movies because I've only ever seen the first and Robert Rodriguez is a director whose work I want to dive into' and since its 2023, with a little bit of effort I can easily do that. (Also, I always thought, based on a vague knowledge of their similar poster design, that Spy Kids 3D and The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl were the same movie, but apparently not! Also, Sharkboy et al. had a 2021 sequel? That was popular? And is getting its own sequel? Will have to investigate.) Thoughts on the opening ten minutes of my Spy Kids rewatch:

This production logo is so ugly it causes me physical pain. I hate this boy with his Kate Moss arms (Miraculous Ladybug arms, for you youngsters out there), his ugly beanie, and unbearable smirk.

Also, the telecine weave on the production logos is very noticeable, they're bouncing all over the place and it got me idly musing as to when more modern image stabilization techniques simply took that away. Not that we really noticed in 2001 because even with auto-tracking, gate-weave and other playback artifacts were just accepted as a given on your eight hundred pound convex CRT TV with 480 Ps of resolution that output enough radiation to kill grandma with a Jeopardy marathon. Do young people know about VHS tracking, auto or otherwise? Does the above paragraph make any sense to them at all? Do they know the pleasures of laying your hand on a still-warm television screen and having your whole body shiver as the static discharge runs through your unresistant flesh? Kids today with their big pants and their blue-tooth hula-hoops and their fancy PSPs just can't understand.

The opening shot of the movie is so under-exposed (or, more likely, over-exposed and then over-corrected in post) that Rodiguez's 'written and directed' credit is unreadable. You can see its blur to the right of the red 'FILM' there. It's so bad I thought there was something wrong with my copy so I... uh... found a new copy with a larger file size and it turns out that, nope, it actually just looks like that. Even in fancy 1080p this is just a terrible ærial shot. There's some fantastic shots and cuts in this film so to open with such a stinker is bizarre. Was it bad coverage that day, only one good shot in the can, did somebody fuck-up the film in the lab? I am curious.

Carla Gugino is so cute in this movie it's criminal. Not to be a lesbian but oh my god oh my fucking god. 12 year-old me was all about Carmen but adult me just wants 90 straight minutes of Carla Gugino in casualwear wandering around her lovely home smiling coyly. I would buy a BluRay player to own that movie on BluRay. I'd not picked-up that she played the mom on The Haunting of Hill House because she had long styled hair instead of this absolutely flawless textured pixie cut. 10/10, no notes.

I would like to spend an hour talking about the incredible tilework in that bathroom and nothing but the incredible tilework in that bathroom. I will update you if the film has any further shots of the incredible tilework in that bathroom but I fear it does not. As as an aside, kind of furious that this film was not more influential in the field of home decor. Two decades of effing shiplap and cold grey suburban blandness—what if we'd given up on bloated cookie cutter micro-mcmansion shitboxes and instead gone all-in on brightly coloured Andalusian rough plaster and stonework? What if we all had great tilework in our bathrooms, like the kitchen sink in Howl's Moving Castle?

You know what I mean, you depraved tile nerds.

I don't want you to think Antonio Banderas is not also a total smokeshow in this movie. Because boy howdy. He's a goddamn hunk.

There's a four-second long shot of Banderas flicking this ring box along the coping of the Eiffel Tower balustrade, and all I can think of how hard it was to get to get that box to stay in a straight line, how completely frictionless the box must be (did he shellac it?), and if his marriage prospects would have been ruined had it—in all rational likelihood—gone flying off the railing and smashed into the Champs de Mars.

You know you're in for a rollicking good time when the helicopter perfectly slices-off the stone heads of the two statues, but it's the padre giving the benediction while attack choppers go roaring over head that gives you chills.

A particular shout-out to this lovely unnamed bridesmaid on the left here who not only takes 'putting a parachute on the bride' in stride but looks gleeful and fabulous doing it. Where's her movie?

In 2001 we really thought computers were going to be cool and fun instead of machines that sold our personal lives to corporations and gave children crippling anxiety disorders.

Carla Gugino has a track built into the floor so that her vanity-computer chair can slide backwards across the room so she can have face-to-face chats with her husband. From this we learn two things: 1) she does this so often she's automated it for maximum efficiency, and 2) Banderos, in an ordinary desk chair, never attempts (or knows better than to attempt?) the reverse. To be continued?

#spy kids #spy kids rewatch #antonio banderas #carla gugino #robert rodriguez #alexa vega #shiplap #interior design #andalusia #tile work #howl's moving castle #miraculous ladybug #telecine #films #weddings #spies #kate moss

[howifeltabouthim]

Saltburn: Bonkers, Balls-to-the-Wall Brilliance

It would be no exaggeration to say that Saltburn is the craziest film of the year. I've never seen anything quite like it; it's distinctive in the best possible way, even while being rich with references to other iconic works. Emerald Fennell's sophomore feature is an exploration of class differences and a comedy of wickedly bad manners. It also morphs into a surprising, devilish thriller. It's the kind of film where you can’t look away, even when (perhaps especially when) you can’t believe what you’re seeing onscreen.

Saltburn begins with Oliver Quick newly arrived at Oxford. He's a fish out of water on campus as a scholarship student. He comes from the wrong background, he doesn't wear the right clothes, and he doesn't possess the right affect to fit in with the posh students that surround him. When he does a kind turn for Felix Catton, the popular student he's admired from afar, things start looking up and he's ushered into a world of partying and camaraderie. That summer, Felix invites Oliver back to his family estate, Saltburn, and things escalate amid decadence, debauchery, and class tensions.

Saltburn is a lush cinematic experience, composed of fresh, original, shocking images. So many shots feel like discrete works of art, the kind that wouldn't seem out of place in a gilt frame on some illustrious wall, reminiscent of the artistry of Kubrick's Barry Lyndon. At the same time, they all meld together to comprise a masterpiece. The startlingly potent sensuality practically drips from the screen, catching one up in a fever dream of desire and deviancy.

Barry Keoghan plays Oliver, and really proves himself as a leading man. I’ve been following Keoghan’s career with intense interest since his one-two punch of Dunkirk and The Killing of a Sacred Deer in 2017. And boy, is he realizing his potential. He blew me away with his heartrending performance in last year’s The Banshees of Inisherin. He excels at the humorous and the harrowing, sometimes in the same scene. He’s the kind of actor who can genuinely make you laugh and break your heart. He goes all in. You feel his pain, and I know I find myself rooting for his characters even when I probably shouldn’t.

My favorite kind of performance is an unhinged performance, and Keoghan delivers an all-timer in that category. His Oliver is comparable to Mia Goth’s turn in last year’s Pearl, for sheer emotional and eccentric abandon. The extreme emotion and behavior Keoghan exhibits as Oliver is thrilling to watch. Saltburn is such a great star vehicle star for this highly unique, unusual performer who has really been given his time to shine. He commands attention and the camera captures him perfectly here: his intensity and subtlety and those arresting blue eyes. Keoghan is a truly fearless performer. If there's any justice, he'll be nominated for an Oscar for this incredible performance.

This is a great ensemble cast, which includes Jacob Elordi as Felix and Alison Oliver as Venetia, Felix's sister. Carey Mulligan provides a disarmingly sweet and funny turn in a small role. Paul Rhys is chilling as Saltburn's imperious butler. Archie Madekwe is deliciously vicious as Felix's snobby cousin, Farleigh. Richard E. Grant is on point and hilarious as the Catton patriarch. Besides Keoghan, I felt Rosamund Pike was the standout and that this was her best role to date. The part of Elspeth Catton, lady of the manor, seemed tailor-made for her. Saltburn definitely deserves to be nominated for a SAG for Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture. The actors all play off each other beautifully.

I’m in awe of writer/director Emerald Fennell’s artistry and uncompromising vision. I love how she lets scenes go on uncomfortably long sometimes (like in the infamous climax of Promising Young Woman) to get her point across. She’s not hemmed in by conventions of how long a disquieting scene “should” go on. She doesn’t compromise for anyone or adhere to conventional tastes.

Saltburn is told through a great framing device of Oliver recounting the events of his pivotal year at Oxford and Saltburn to an unknown listener. It keeps you guessing as to who he's relaying this tale to. There are echoes of Wuthering Heights, Brideshead Revisited, The Go-Between, and Call Me by Your Name. In other words, timeless stories that will always resonate in the culture for good reason: they’re primal and get to the heart of the human experience. Yet Fennell's narrative veers in wholly unexpected directions. To watch her pull off the trick of this narrative is a privilege indeed.

Saltburn is a sterling example of bold, unapologetic filmmaking. Emerald Fennell is a cinematic visionary and a canny provocateur. And in case all this rhapsodizing wasn't enough, just know that this movie is HOT. It's fierce and feral and it demands to be seen. Viewers are in for a sick and sexy thrill ride. It's disturbing, deliciously demented, devious, nasty, and wonderfully messed up. Please go see it in theaters: let’s help wild, invigorating, conversation-starting cinema continue to get made and theatrically released.

#saltburn #barry keoghan #movie review #emerald fennell #jacob elordi #rosamund pike #alison oliver #archie madekwe #richard e. grant #recommendation #film #movie #oscars #oscar buzz #review #writing #my writing #recommended

[missellaneousworks]

Enough - A SDJ Shaun x OC Drabble

I missed that it was Shaun's birthday a couple of weeks ago. And it's a crime how little I've written about our favorite cat-man since he's one of my fav boys. Let's change that.

Context: Takes place shortly after Ian moves away, but before the break-up. Contains some one-sided pining.

Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack is a +18 ONLY series. MINORS DNI.

__

"How 'bout this one?" Shaun flipped yet another horror DVD in front of Ella's face. The title was one that she heard of before, but not one she had seen yet.

"Sure, if you want to," she attempted to smile cooly, attempting to mask the anxiety in her voice. Shaun took her a moment to study here before he placed it back down with an unconvinced sigh.

"C'mon, Els, that's the third time you've agreed to a movie without really meaning it," Shaun gave a long, exasperated sigh at his dear friend.

"It's your Birthday, ya goober," Ella playfully shoved his arm. "You should pick out the movie!"

"Pfft, my birthday was two weeks ago, Els. Though, I appreciate you trying to make it up to me." That earned her a flippant wave of his hand. "I've already watched all of these. Unlike you, my little scardey cat."

"Heeeeey," Ella protested. "I can handle scary movies--"

"Uh-huh."

"--I can handle scary movies a lot better now than at the beginning of college!!"

"Suuuuure you can, Els."

"Heeeey!" Ella gripped the small, panda-printed couch pillow and proceeded to thwack Shaun in the arm.

"What, I'm just agreeing with you~!" Shaun snickered, blocking Ella's blows from her plushy blunt trauma weapon. "The mighty Ella has conquered her fears and now thirsts for blood! Nooooo!"

Ella gave one final, soft smack with her weapon of choice before Shaun dramatically collapsed on the ground, defeated and unmoving. Ella gave a long sigh before she finally made her decision. "Okay, okay! Let's waaaaatch... this one!" Ella chose a movie that piqued her interest. She had heard good things about the film's special effects and main monster, and according to Shaun, it would be a good watch.

Like the proverbial Dracula rising from his coffin, Shaun sat up with a toothy triumphant grin. "See? Was that so hard?"

Ella gave a half-hearted shrug, turning to check the connection of the tiny digital camera and setting up the waiting room on their streaming platform. "It's our last movie stream together, so... I sort of got stuck on trying to pick a good one. Thought it'd be more meaningful if it were up to you."

That caused Shaun to pause for a moment after he inserted the DVD. He had wondered why Ella had been a little more quiet than usual. He thought it was because she was missing her boyfriend, Ian, but then it occurred to him...

With Ian leaving for school to become an actor just a few months ago and Shaun leaving in a few days to start shooting his new film, Ella would be all alone. It didn't take a mind reader to tell Shaun that she was sad over it. To be honest, despite the new opportunity he was about to receive, Shaun was going to miss Ella. A lot. Ever since college, she was a huge supporter of his work and often volunteered to give feedback on his scripts, including bits and pieces of his newest flick. She often half-joked that Shaun made her a little more brave by exposing her to horror films.

But Ella? Ella gave Shaun more than she could possibly ever know. She gave him advice when he needed it, support when he was stuck on writing a script, and unconditional kindness. It showed when she invited him to stay at her folks' place during Thanksgiving after he... separated from his only remaining family. Ella's folks had invited him in with open arms, showing the same warmth Ella had given him countless times. She gave Shaun boundless inspiration -- it was a crime how unaware Ella remained regarding her infectious creativity. Shaun would shout it to the rooftops if he could. But the most important thing Ella had given Shaun throughout the years... was her friendship.

And that... was enough for Shaun. More than enough, but he didn't want to say it out loud, worried that it would make it weird for some reason. Ella was very dear to him. In truth, he was attracted to her nearly from the get-go. And that affection grew over time. But this was enough, their friendship was enough. And as long as Ella was happy with Ian, Shaun was happy for her. She deserved it.

Shaun reached out in an attempt to offer Ella some small comfort, he wanted to touch her face and tell her it was going to be okay but... he hesitated. That wouldn't be appropriate, would it? Even if they were both physically affectionate with one another. Pausing, his hand landed on her shoulder, which caused Ella's chocolate-brown eyes to meet his.

'C'mon, Shaun... say something to make her feel better!'

"Els, you know we can still do our weekly movie streams even though we'll be apart, right?" Shaun kept a light smirk on his face but cringed cringed internally. That wasn't as emotionally impactful as he was going for. But before he could reiterate, Ella gave him a confused look.

"Yes, it is? I mean, we only have one camera and one mic. We can't exactly do this again until you come back."

"Sure we can!" Shaun's lips quirked into a knowing smile. "You can keep the camera and the mic, and I'll buy a new one when I'm moved into my apartment."

Ella guffawed at Shaun's suggestion. "Shaun, sweetie, I can't do that! That will be expensive!"

"I've got some money leftover from purchasing the new place," he stated nonchalantly. "I'm good for it, Els!"

"B-but you're going to be busy filming and script writing, and directing and--"

"We'll drop the movie streams to once every two weeks! Just because I'm working doesn't mean I shouldn't take breaks."

"That's a lie and you know it," Ella challenged him. "I remember you cramming during finals. You were awake for a solid twenty-four hours!"

"Twenty-six, but who's counting?" He joked as Ella rolled her eyes.

Ella was running out of ammo, causing her to stutter over her words. "I-I can't just accept this, Shaun. It's sweet, b-b-but--"

"Then think of it as an early birthday present!" Shaun kneeled next to where Ella sat on the worn couch. "C'mon, Ella...! Ella-ella-ella. Ella-Banana. Ella-Banano-Fo-Fana-Fe-Fi Bananza-Ellllllllaaaaaaaaa~!"

"You're not going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?" She resided.

"Nope! Except your faaaate~! MWA HA HA HA HA--!" Shaun sinisterly laughed before he began coughing in his over-exuberance. Luckily, Ella wholeheartedly laughed at his antics, causing her to lurch over, clutching her stomach in a joyous fit of giggles.

"All right, all right! You have bested me this time, Kitty-man. But I'll get you back one day!"

Shaun rose to his feet and bent over in a regal bow before his friend. "I look forward to the day, but until then," he unceremoniously flopped on the couch next to her. "MOVIE TIME!"

"HELL YEAH, MOVIE TIME!" Ella cheered as she set the laptop down and began to run the stream for their beloved audience, the mood lifted, and happy once more, just as Shaun wanted it.

As long as he could make Ella happy in some small way, to see her innocently sweet smile, to hear her laugh around him... it was enough.

#Sunny Day Jack #something is wrong with sunny day jack #sdj #sdj oc #sunny day jack oc #sdj shaun #MissElla's Works

[prodbyblush]

i rlly need a part 2 of we got married in japan like where nijiro and reader meet at his favorite place and he finds that reader is still wearing the ring omg-

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・requested

an: click this to read part 1

→ fem!reader

• nijiro is up for a surprise. • one year after the final episode of the couple, the producers of the variety show program contacted you, nijiro's virtual wife, for a reunion.

Y/N: "It's been a really, really long time since I last saw and spoke with Nijiro! I've spent a month in Manila to film a movie and three months in Prague for another movie. Apart from that, I've also been invited to various fashion shows so I've never really gotten the chance to personally contact him."

• all nijiro knows is that he's been given a portfolio about an upcoming drama that his manager gave him. • all the while he's reading the printed plot on the portfolio, his road manager is already taking him an all familiar place he used to know - the house you two shared during your three month marriage. • upon arrival, nijiro is all ????? because he sees no buildings, no parked luxury cars. all he sees is the little house with a small garden, the sight of it immediately had him chuckling.

Nijiro: Truthfully speaking, the movie my manager gave me really looked interesting. I already tried channeling being the brother of the main character but...to my surprise...the house is in front of me. Does Y/N know? No. Ah, she's definitely in for a surprise.

• oh boy, nijiro, it's actually the other way around- • opening the front door, nijiro proceeds to remove his shoes in the doorway, already thinking of making y/n's favorite dish when he hears a familiar voice spoke to him.

"Welcome home." It was Y/N, white apron already adorning in front of her, peeking through the kitchen with a soup ladle in one hand.

"Honey" Nijiro sweetly spoke, walking towards the kitchen from where she stood. "It's been a while." He comments, looking at the preparations Y/N is making.

"Can I help?" He asks, eyes blinking.

"Hm?" Y/N hums. "But I'm about to be done. Just sit over the dining table."

"Eh?" Nijiro makes a sound. "But I can't have you doing all the work."

• as food preparations are done, the former couple that everyone loved sat down and had dinner together, just like old times.

"I was so surprised that everyone really loved us on the program." Y/N says after swallowing the food in her mouth. "I'm sorry that I couldn't contact you often. I was already filming for a lot of movies."

"It's alright." Nijiro comments, "I hope you didn't forget bringing your umbrella with you now. You used to keep forgetting it."

"I always have my umbrella with me now!" Y/N chirps.

Nijiro: When I'm with Y/N, it suddenly feels like I'm filming We Got Married again. That's how much we grew close and comfortable in our relationship.

Y/N: It's nice how I finally got the chance to talk to Nijiro again.

"What has my honey been up to lately?" Nijiro asks in a sweet yet teasing tone.

"I've finished filming a move overseas and a commercial for a lipstick brand too!" Y/N beams.

"Ah, I've seen that lipstick commercial." Nijiro comments. "I'm jealous of the guy in the commercial. The producers should have hired me instead." He jokes, jokingly shaking his head as well.

• halfway through nijiro, it was only at that time did nijiro's eyes averted to her left ring finger, the ring still adorning on her finger. • a wave of warmth washed over his chest, taking out the ring he turned into a necklace; showing it to Y/N.

"I still have mine here too." He says, the little ring gleaming right in front of her.

TAGS: @retrospacealien @chishiya-of-diamonds @ang3liclov3ly @kenqki @shadowheads-shitshow @lunoxxy @supercoffeeblogs @laylasbunbunny

#nijiro murakami #murakami nijiro #nijiro murakami x y/n #nijiro murakami scenarios #nijiro murakami headcanons #nijiro murakami imagine #nijiro x reader

[faiiry-vomit]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲! 🌲☕️🦉☁️✨

trigger warning: abuse

this show will always hold a special place in my heart💜 i loved the film too, but i started watching the show when i was going through a really difficult time in my life. i had just given birth to my second son after being in a really abusive relationship with his biological father. he had abused me my entire pregnancy and he left us the very same week i had given birth. i was a single mom of 2 boys, taking care of a newborn baby all by myself while having post partum depression and trying to mentally recover from the traumatic abuse i had suffered until the very day i gave birth and even AFTER i gave birth while we were still in the hospital. this show helped me take my mind off of all the hell i had been experiencing. it was a comfort to me to sip my coffee & cuddle my little baby while getting lost in the realm of david lynch. shelly johnson is my favorite character in the show. i relate to her a lot because she too, was abused by someone who was supposed to love her but then someone who truly loved her came into her life and showed her was love was supposed to be. that's exactly what happened to me with my current boyfriend. i am so happy with my relationship now, and i still watch twin peaks all the time since it became a comfort show for me. my son used to fall asleep to the theme song i included in this post. i love the scenery in this show. washington is a place i have always longed to go to. foggy forests are so dreamy to me and they are apart of me. i've always felt my happiest when i'm exploring the depths of forests full of foggy pinetrees & spruce trees. having them be part of twin peaks just made me love it even more. i wish i could explore the strange but beautiful mind of david lynch. i've watched other films directed by him & i love how the vibe of his works are like nothing else i've seen. i love that he always keeps you guessing. every time i watch twin peaks i discover another hidden detail i hadn't noticed before & its really cool that he is able to create a mystery show filled with little clues that lead u deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. twin peaks forever✨

#twin peaks #david lynch #fire walk with me #who killed laura palmer #laura palmer #special agent dale cooper #dale cooper #the black lodge

[margridarnauds]

Idk if you still want asks, but do you have any thoughts on Stephen Sondheim's work? 👀

Oh, God, Sondheim and I have a long and complicated history, and some of my views have changed, some of them haven't.

For the most part: His work really isn't my favorite. I'll be the first to admit that I thrive on spectacle, I thrive on catchy tunes and big ballads and epic set pieces and belting. To some people back in the day, that'd have marked me out as a fake musical theatre fan. As someone who has now been in this for the last...well. 14 years, with a working knowledge of musicals across almost every single country that has staged them, I can say I don't care. I know what I like and what I don't like and I own it. I often think that Sondheim's work de-emphasizes the music in favor of the lyrics, which is fine if you like that (he's brilliant), but it isn't where MY focus is. It's the same way I feel about Great Comet.

That being said, I do like INDIVIDUAL Sondheim works -- A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is dated in many ways, it shows its age in often-uncomfortable ways, but it DOES have an absolutely iconic opening number and is probably one of the single most pitch-perfect adaptations of a Roman comedy.

West Side Story (though, since he was only responsible for the lyrics, YMMV as far as how much it belongs on here) -- Iconic, beautiful, truly deserves its place as one of the greats. Again, aspects of it age uncomfortably, but when you consider the time it was made in, it really does make sense. "Tonight", my absolute beloved, perfect depiction of young love that's hurtling at the speed of a shooting star. "I feel Pretty", yes, it's been parodied to death, but it's FUN. "A Boy Like That" chilling, touching, painful given what happens afterward. "Maria"...is there.

Sweeney Todd -- I've never been able to watch it because of the whistle sound, it's a little too sharp for me (and I refuse to watch the film). Imo, not musically as good as West Side Story, but it STILL has some great numbers, "Johanna" (esp. the quartet), "Green Finch and Linnet Bird", "Poor Thing" (which is nightmare inducing), "Epiphany" (THEY ALLLLLL DESERVEEEE TO DIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE), "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd" (SWING YOUR RAZZZOOORR HIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHH SWEENEY HOLLDDD IT TO THE SKYYYYYYYYY), which, very much to its credit, ABSOLUTELY inspired the various reprises of Facade in Jekyll and Hyde.

Into the Woods -- A little too mean spirited and cynical for my taste, even as it doesn't end on a totally miserable note and tries to reconstruct the world of fairy tales. I like individual strands of it, I like "Last Midnight", but it's hard to get over the cynical attitude towards fairy tales at the heart of it.

A Little Night Music - Probably my first Sondheim and honestly one of my favorites to this day, I love "Every day a little death" in particular and, of course, the iconic "Send in the Clowns." Désirée, the woman that you are.

Passion - One I've never actually listened to, but I appreciate the book, and I appreciate Sondheim's defense of Fosca, which I'll get to.

Company - ...well. "Being Alive" is nice.

Something I'll give Sondheim is that he was really comfortable shining a light on the human soul, the dark and the light parts, in a way that I think a lot of composers since have TRIED to imitate and that I don't think any have really succeeded in in the same way. And something I really give him, looking back as I was writing this, is that I don't think there's anything particularly SEXIST about the way that he writes female characters; I don't think that he has the Frank Wildhorn Madonna - Whore Complex or the ALW Every Woman Is My Ex Or My Wife Complex or the LMM Every Woman Is In Love With M-I Mean, My Protagonist Complex or the Michael Kunze Women Ruin Everything Complex. Like, "he writes women as people" should be a low bar for a male composer to clear, especially since I've never seen a female composer praised for writing male characters as people (we would consider it a cardinal writing sin if she didn't), but it's something of note. He has messy women, he has obsessive women, and they are distinctly WOMEN whose identities and roles in the story are intricately tied to them being women...but I don't think they're sexist because they're right there next to his men who are equally as messy and obsessive. And I do love the way that he defended Fosca in "Passion:" "[Audiences] refused to believe that anyone, much less the handsome Giorgio, could come to love someone so manipulative and relentless, not to mention physically repellent, as Fosca. As the perennial banality would have it, they couldn't 'identify' with the main characters. The violence of their reaction, however, strikes me as an example of 'The lady doth protest too much.' I think they may have identified with Giorgio and Fosca all too readily and uncomfortably. The idea of a love that's pure, that burns with D.H. Lawrence's gemlike flame, emanating from a source so gnarled and selfish, is hard to accept. Perhaps they were reacting to the realization that we are all Fosca, we are all Giorgio, we are all Clara."

Whatever I think about his work, whatever I think about his musicals, I can appreciate a man who is willing to appreciate a manipulative, relentless, and physically repellent woman and, not only appreciate her, but to accept that she's a part of him.

Overall, is he my favorite? No. A lot of his music and his overall style just is not to my personal taste. But he's a valuable, vital part of the canon, and with good reason. The man truly was a genius. I think that he did what he set out to do with musicals, even if he and I have different emphases, and I think that he did a lot better with women than MANY composers who like to pat themselves on the back for how progressive they are for including paper-thin female characters.

[demcnsinmymind]

character info sheet.

Name. Lance Preston

Name meaning. Land, territory, or the weapon with the same name.

Alias.( ses ). He's boring and doesn't really have any. Though post canon, he'll run with the fake name 'Sean' to keep his real identity hidden.

two pictures you like of your character.

this shot of him in the room is just so freaking iconic and I'm forever mad they cut it from the film. and the second one because it's such a general boy mood.

three headcanons you never told anyone.

uuffff, I feel like at this point, I've told everyone all about all my headcanons lmao.

I feel like he doesn't believe in any concept of fate/destiny or whatever the like. He believes outcomes are entirely up to ones own choices and decisions and that said outcomes can always change based on those choices and decisions and thus, that nothing's set in stone. That's one of the main reasons why he's such a driven and determined character. He still believes that if you try and work hard enough, things'll turn out the way you want them to.

That basement attack actually pretty much killed him, at least for a short amount of time. Cut content pretty much confirmed that it left him with maaaaassive brain trauma. But given how fucked up time in that place was and how obsessed it became with him, it wouldn't let him go quite literally. Deep down, he knows that he did, but that would mean admitting that in a way, he lost his fight and didn't quite make it out, and he just won't/can't do that. He's just stuck in a weird limbo where he's pretty much a paradoxical dead man walking, perfectly alive and breathing and talking when he really shouldn't be.

He knew that not everyone inside the building was evil/paranormal and that some were 'regular' innocent 1940s patients completely unaware of the time/space rift in that place. He still set fire to the building just so he could escape it/the cult/the loop. He kept trying to convince himself that in his timeline, all of them had already been long since dead anyway, that it was all a paradox so it and they couldn't be/weren't/aren't real people caught in the crossfire, but he still has nightmares about that night in particular, and how truly bonechilling and horrifying those screams had been compared to the paranormal ones he'd been taunted with during the inbetween time. What makes it messier is that he really can't tell if he killed any of them, since the fire itself created a paradox that corrected itself. When he got back to his timeline it was the one where he went inside the building in 2003 aka where it was still standing and not burned down, so how could anyone have died in a fire that was never set? But the problem will always be that he did set that fire to get out. And he did watch it burn to the ground. And after everything he's seen and been through, he isn't much of a sceptic anymore, can't rule out anything anymore, even the possibility of parallel timelines/worlds. And in one of those, he did burn people alive, and it's just another forever dilemma he's struggling with and that's putting more knots in his brain that he honestly can't quite deal with.

three things your character likes to do in their free time.

Write scripts and come up with new movie ideas 2. edit movies 3. read about filmmaking 4. movies

three people your character loves.

his mom. He just straight up adored this woman and I've written countless headcanons about that. It's the one woman/love he would never ever hide or play down or make fun of. It's just honestly very sweet.

sasha. he was bad for her and always knew it, could be a dick with her at times too, but he had such a soft spot for her

people who aren't het cis men / women in general. period. and not just for hedonistic reasons. Given his character, his job, and the things that happened, he just generally doesn't mash well with most het cis men. he always expects the worst of them because of the way he himself acts and thinks and the way he's seen others like him act and think. he just has a deep appreciation and respect for women in general, vibes with them much better and quite frankly, just loves the ever loving shit out of them.

two things your character regrets.

1. locking the door. deep down, he knows that it wouldn't really have mattered. He said it himself, they were doomed the minute they set foot in the building. But still, T.C. asking him why he locked that door and everyone telling him that they just want to go home haunts him even years later. He picked the building. He knew its violent history, knew that it was built like a prison. And he was the one who kept provoking it even when his team got uncomfortable. Despite everything he knows, he still blames himself for the fact that none of the people he locked inside that building made it out alive. Worse still, that even the man he asked to physically lock that door killed himself over it, too.

2. Killing Trevor/getting people killed in general. Even though he's a survivor who'll do literally anything to survive, it still doesn't mean that he likes that one bit . He doesn't want innocent people to get hurt or worse, killed.

three phobia's your character has.

hospitals 2. doctors/surgeons 3. being tied up/restrained/trapped

tagged by : @void-foxy tagging : the usuals : @badassxbirdy @kxllerblond @demonstigma @ebonyforged @greatwrath @bitchheroine @therebekahmikaelson @huntresscaraquinn @shellcrack @mslangermann @walriding @innerwar

I wanna read all your headcanons and I won't take no for an answer :>

#headcanons #hc : likes #hc : relationships #hc : psyche #long post tw

[golbrocklovely]

idk if you’ve seen but kong pham just uploaded a podcast with snc

it was filmed months ago though i’m pretty sure because it seems like it was before colby did chemo?

anyway around 37 minutes in colby talks about how he had a break down and just cried about everything last year and it shocked me i can’t lie… i hope it made him feel better though

yeah it was filmed back in april right before colby went thru chemo. i was a bit confused as to why sam never mentioned kat and him breaking up, and now it makes sense since they didn't announce they broke up until may (even tho they had broken up back in march) lol

and yes, it was really shocking to hear about colby breaking down, but also at the same time…. it makes total sense. a lot of us on here have been saying for a long time that last year was a really rough time for colby. the later half of the year was just a shit storm for so many reasons towards him, he himself even said he wasn't feeling his best at the time, and it makes so much sense that he would have had a break down finally after years of holding everything in.

i might be making a controversial opinion here, but everyone hear me out before you jump down my throat: while snc both get hate for extremely dumb things, colby is the one that takes it the hardest, and also gets it the worse. sam, at the very least, seems like he doesn't let it bother him. i think bc so many ppl give him love and support, he's able to push the negativity away. but colby, whether he'll ever admit to it or not, can't do that - even with all the love he gets. he doesn't let things go as much as sam does.

and it makes total sense to me. colby wants everyone to like him. and i get that. i was the same way for a very long time. it's hard when someone starts to hate you for whatever reason. you want to prove them wrong, and you'll do anything to be in their good graces again, only to realize… did you ever even care that much in the first place. opinions affect colby on a deeper level bc he wants to be seen as a good person. and he is. but when you have other ppl shitting on you, for example, for tweeting out about international women's day or that your facial hair is ugly or literally judging you for every girl you put yourself near, and it's CONSTANT…. you're eventually gonna snap. tbh, i'm surprised colby hasn't completely removed himself from twitter and insta altogether just bc of the hate those sites have given him for the past couple years.

2020-21 were the worst times to be a fan, so i can ONLY IMAGINE how terrible it was for colby, who was getting the brute force of it. i remember the disgusting death threat he got. he left twitter for like over a week, and then never returned to that site the same. that's why the balcony tweets stopped. and then when he lost his journal, one of the only ways he's ever been able to express himself deeply, ppl cheered about it in the replies. and some of those ppl were fans of ppl he was friends with.

sam gets hate, sure. i won't deny that ever. but colby… it is truly unlike anything i've ever seen in all my years of being online. and i swear the ppl that send him mean shit, it's like they know it hurts him and revel in it. he gets called out for every fuck up, even if sam has done the same, bc ppl know he'll actually feel guilty and apologize for it. they want to see him break, i truly believe that.

#ask #personal #colby brock

[henqtic]

Big, Scary, Forest⋆｡*✩

pairing: draco malfoy x black!reader . word count: 2.1k ( 2192 ) 

⊹  masterlist . taglist form . request works .

⊹ summary: how draco malfoy found beauty in the forest outside his window. 

⊹ authors note: y'all. i can not believe how long it’s been since i've been on here, read something or even had the time/energy to write something wether that was to post it or simply enjoy it for myself - but i finally did !! 

There was a room there, behind the dark and pristine wooden door on the left side of the third floor of Malfoy Manor. One where a boy had moved into when he reached the age of five, and the little crib designed beds his mother held onto so tight continuing to buy one bigger and bigger and even using a few enchantments, had eventually grown too small for his legs and too ‘babyish’ for his liking.

This one, didn’t have a door directly to his parent’s room, and it definitely didn’t provide the view of the eastern sun rising and shining bright on his blond head. But, it was the one he would eventually make his own; with memorabilia, photographs, an array of sweets hidden in nooks, and quidditch posters — overlooked the west side, allowing a clear view of the dense forest trees that held a threatening shield to three sides of the manor.

They were packed so creepily, he thought as his mum and dad showed him around his ‘big kid’ room, his eyes glued to the frosted window. One that covered the entirety of one of his walls. So tall and thick, they were able to provide shelter, conceal and hide just about any and every creature that would go bump in the night.

Werewolves, vampires, doxies, dragons, and whatever else ran around a magical world.

When Draco Malfoy was eight, he’d come to the conclusion that he absolutely loathed it; and that he would’ve preferred to sleep in a crib all his life instead of waking up to the sight every morning.

And when he was eleven, after his first night of detention in the forbidden forest, he’d written his parents a lengthy letter which had immediately pestered them to get up and put some heavy curtains up.

In his thirteenth year of life, a little family had come to visit from America. Just a mother, father, and daughter who his mum had let slip he may want to open his window and impress a little.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are not some creature who will only survive if he may never see a pinch of sunlight. I know you hate it honey, but just for today, will you?”

He didn’t see why it had to be some big deal. How their getting a feel of the atmosphere of England before deciding if they wanted to relocate or not had anything to do with his family; given he’d never heard of them. Or how it had anything to do with his room, given that he was a teenage boy who had things better to do than giving a tour of his living space.

But with a sigh, he finished making his bed, threw his bear the same age as him into his wardrobe, fluffed his pillows a bit, and finally placed the dark, heavy fabrics onto their holders, letting every piece of life flood into the previously lamp powered room.

He’d met the girl just a month younger than him that day, who told him with her brown skin, and brown eyes, and brown twists tied into two low buns on the side of her, how much she admired how he could be so close to the forest. How she was so envious of how he could simply open his window to a world that smelled like fresh bark and pure air, and how when it rained it had to look absolutely beautiful.

“I swear, it’s like a scene from a film I’ve seen. I had my dad capture it and get it put into a frame for me. If you look at it long enough you can see the birds moving around on some branches. Seeing it in person is much better in my opinion.”

He was shocked at how she talked about it, how she could look at something he thought as hideously frightening, and find some beauty in it.

He opened his blinds just more than a crack every day since then, something unfamiliar fluttering inside him with the thought that whenever he did, maybe she’d know and be as happy and flaunt that pretty smile she did when she was there sitting on his bed and looking around his walls.

Her scent of coconut, shea butter, and some tropical shampoo fusion he could smell from her hair lingered there. Along with the undeniable red brisk all over his pale face, after they’d talked for two hours straight about everything and anything that came to mind, starting when her eyes lingered on his jersey thrown on one of his chairs since he’d unpacked and fact that she preferred some random muggle sport, volleyball, over quidditch.

The irony in his remark, that he just couldn’t imagine tossing around a rubber ball for thirty minutes more exhilarating than quidditch, was just what set off that laugh. That upbeat, stomach-tingling laugh that he kept trying to make happen those two hours before dinner.

But she wasn’t a mind reader. Or some seer like Professor Trelawney claimed she had been for the past; well he didn't know how long she’d been teaching at Hogwarts. And neither was he, based upon the time it took him to work up the courage to follow up with her, not knowing if her feelings were just the same.

Two mornings later, he sat down at his desk with just a pinch of sunlight gleaming off of the sheer black bubbles in his ink, and wrote a letter to her.

Excusing both the wait and the fact that he was writing it in the first place, with some sarcasm. That he had to ‘really consider’ if they’d be good friends at Hogwarts if her parents would say yes to the move.

On his seventeenth birthday, he snuck the both of them away from their friends who had easily become hers too from the years spent at Hogwarts by his side, and their families who had felt like they’d gone through some kind of mergence.

Running through the corridors, twisting and turning until they arrived at the dark and pristine wooden door on the left side of the third floor of Malfoy Manor.

At that moment, he felt happy. Unbelievably so.

Not only because he was holding her hand, small and soft and warm in his, and her laugh was ringing through his reddened ears, but that she wasn’t a mind reader like he’d wished so, some years ago.

Draco would be terrified, honestly. If she knew just how much he stared at her face during lessons, her eyes when she spoke to him, and hands whenever they’d brush against his, or hold his like it was now.

And especially now since he could finally pinpoint what exactly that overwhelming uncomfortableness was that made him want to throw up his insides and. . . hand them to her?

No. No, he would absolutely not tell her that; that he had some desire to hand himself to her like he had no common sense – Well, he did actually. But not in whatever grotesque way his mind formulated it in. He just, he knew it was good.

A good feeling of nerves when he’d watch the quirk of her two tone lips from across a classroom, to figure out if she was passionate about whatever the instructor was going on about or if she’d have him relay the whole lesson later in the day. The expressions they’d exchange when their social batteries had run out in groups of people and organized excuses they’d come up with to get out of the situations.

Oh and the thing that tugged at his beating heart the most, how she’d held him. When his mum and dad were getting into endless arguments and making sure he knew even when he thought he had escaped to Hogwarts, she’d let him lay his head on her and cry until her shirt was heavy and sticking to her shirt with salty tears.

He’d fall asleep on her, curled up like that five year old in the crib as he breathed in the comfort of her. And she’d never let him apologize, she said that he shouldn’t feel like there was something about the situation to feel sorrow about. He was hurt. And crying was a great response compared to keeping it all in.

And she let him hold her. When she was homesick, wishing to see the friends she was so close with while they were running around, not once so bothering to chat when she’d be there a whole two months out of the bloody summer, owl a small letter, or even respond to her efforts more than once every month they decided to remember.

“Talking to you is one of the easiest things I’ve ever done [ your name ], they're just shitty people who don’t deserve someone like you.”

Or when she was cold and tired in those Slytherin dungeons, he was the first warm body she’d sneak to. He knew what it was when his nose was ticking her neck one of those nights, both of them wide awake.

“I think you’re my favorite person in the world Draco, I feel so comfortable around you. You know, it doesn’t even feel like comfort even more. Like, like maybe something else? Something more than comfort? I dunno how to put it into words.”

She followed up slow, twisting around after a few silent seconds, facing him uneasily, “. . .Does that sound too intense?”

The knots in their stomachs were rolling right off each other, as his arms stayed wrapped around her waist, and her hands, placed on his chest, tapping a slow and tender beat on the platform.

“It’s not too intense if I feel the same way, is it?”

“No. I don’t think it is.”

Was that too big for them? Was love too big of a word for seventeen year olds? Was she even in love with him? Or was she just telling her best friend how best friends were supposed to feel about each other? He didn’t know what to think, when they were sitting on his bed again, looking at that big scary forest.

“I love this view, you know?” she whispered, teeth shining as she looked through his window a few feet away from his bed.

“I do.” He hummed his response.

The old glass was riddled with tear-shaped droplets, getting heavier and heavier until they eventually fell and raced down to weave themselves through the old yellowing brick of the manor.

His window was open ever so slightly, to let in that scent of pure air and fresh bark she’d described when they were twelve. He’d done that a few times already, when it was those dull summer days where they were an ocean apart because she was visiting family. A resulting small puddle left on his window sill left. He hoped it would rain every day those sixty something days so that he could have an excuse to think about her a little more.

He learned to like it. To see those trees as something beautiful instead of so ugly since he was just a little boy. To remind him that there were things beyond them, places like Hogwarts he held as a second home, and people like [ your name ], who made him feel like he was floating around in a cloud.

“hmm?” She turned at him wondrously, eyebrows furrowing softly as her eyes doed at him, a warm shot to his heart. Just a few soft movements until their noses could be brushing against each other, and another three or four until their lips would too.

“When you were uh, first here, you said how much you liked the view and how nice you thought it would look when it rained, so uhm, here it is, just for you,” he explained bashfully, evidently starting to get embarrassed at the idea that she had completely disregarded the encounter.

“Do you really remember that Draco?”

Her voice was lighter than he thought it would be, heat radiating hotter off of her face than a wildfire.

He nodded softly.

“And just for me?”

As faint the tease was in her voice, upward inflection at the end of the question as she took those movements, the tip of his straight sloped nose brushing against the right side of her face, as she adjusted herself to avoid the discombobulation that threatened them.

“Of course, I’d – I’d do a lot more for you too [ your name ], you know that don’t you?”

She pressed her lips together, humming a laugh against him faintly, “Well then uhm, I know it’s your birthday party and all, but in that case asking one more thing right won’t hurt then?”

Tenderly, she twisted over his body, picking out a piece of frosting out of his hair Blaise had swiped there earlier. He took the chance, the other three or four movements as he laid that arm right on his shoulder, letting go of her other to hold her face. Their lips were touching now, and he could almost taste the vanilla on her tongue.

“Anything, [ your name ], anytime.”

“Kiss me, please.”

🔖— !! @pagesofhistory @eunoniaa @ambi-doo12 @daltonacademia @inglourious-imagines @willowmores @axgelre @beforeoursunsets @selenesheart @o-rion-sta-r @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @l0vely-lupin @ameliasbitvh @cupids-crystals @wlfstxr @luvvvjada @alanniys @magicchai @wrathspoet @uwiuwi @bunnyweasley23 @murdockcastleslut @turn-to-page-394-please @callmesasha @dracosathenaeum @maybanksslut @marrymetheonott @gwlvr @bella-lxhp @trashyvicks @galimalfoyweasley @tomandjaebae​ @silverdelirium @dlmmdl @hogwarts-boys @akaaaaashiiii @fleursbabe @desiredmalfoy​ @redheaded-hobbit​ @belladaises​ @lovelymalfoyy​ @hogwarts-102​ @darlingmalfoy​ @yoooespinosa​ @noellestrash​ @mollysolo​ @haroldpotterson​ @nicofiliac​ @yiamalfoy​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @jemimah-b99​ @clearbolts​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @pinkcloxds​ @impulse-anchor​ @whatahufflepuffwrites​ @instabull​ @silverose365​ @kitkatkaitin​ @if-only-i-was-fictional​ @missryerye​ @nyx2021​ @valluvsu​ @tishanas-darlings​ @pagesofhistory​ @redoceanx​  

… info to be tagged in future works 𓂅

༊ taglist form — fill out to be tagged/notified when works are posted )

༊ @henqticstudy — follow and turn on notifications for this blog to only get notified when a work it posted

#— draco malfoy. #draco malfoy x black!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy blurb

[importantshoewolfbat]

[SUPER LONG DISCUSSION]

Okay I've been reading a lot of Avatar discussion and it's good to keep an open-mind to various opinions to the movie. Nonetheless, flaws should be addressed to raise awareness since the movie isn't perfect AT ALL.

However, I would like to come forward to debunk the white savior trope that people are pointing at Avatar. Please allow me to enlighten this point.

[ 1st part: Summary/Context of Jake. 2nd: Why Jake Sully is under the white savior trope. 3rd. Why Jake Sully ISN'T and etc./ Jake being Pro-Navi.]

(+) So I'll begin with admitting that Jake is a human, a white man. In the context/summary of the first movie, he is an undercover for the colonizers, humans + and majority white people. He was tasked to gain the Na'vis trust by knowing more about them so that he could negotiate with the Na'vi to relocate.

Eventually, Jake earned his place with the Na'vi after three months of understanding and learning from Neytiri, a prominent woman of the Ometikaya clan. He was able to get this opportunity because of the sign from the atokirina (seed of the tree of Souls that was sent by Eywa as a sign). He was given a chance by Eytukan, Neytiri's father, because he was the FIRST Avatar that was a warrior and they wanted to know more about him (as a human warrior)

— then timeskip to the conflicts faced by the Na'vi and Jake comes to help them by warning them (which didn't work because he has violated their trust) and then had become Toruk Macto, a mighty warrior to the Na'vi, and then led them victory against the sky people.

*Basically a Toruk Macto is a big deal kind of thing to all Na'vi clans.*

(+) Okay time to acknowledge the part where Jake Sully is often seen as a White Savior:

What it takes to be a White Savior:

[] a White, American person who mostly leads helpless people to victory after coming to their lives.

[] A white person that the minority needs to strengthen their faith or chances.

[] A white person that serves as an eye-opener to them.

– Jake suddenly became an exception to Pandora with his sudden presence. After Grace has committed 10 years to the Ometikaya, she hasn't even been to the Tree of Souls. Only Jake was 'reborned' as a Na'vi, has rightfully gained an ikran, and has become a warrior.

– Jake became Toruk Macto. Being Toruk Macto is such a legendary occurance in Pandora whenever the Na'vi go through Great Sorrow. However, Jake was able to bond with Toruk out of all the warriors in Pandora (Tsu'tey). I feel like this is especially a highlight considering it's sort of unfair to the other authentic warriors, who have been connected longer than Jake.

– Praying to Eywa. It is confirmed by Neytiri that Eywa does not pick sides especially when it comes to the balance of life. It could've been that Jake's prayer was a turning point for the Na'vi or else they could've been doomed. (I've seen someone mentioned this.)

– By the end of the movie, Jake has become Olo'eyktan (clan leader) to the Omatikaya Clan.

These points show that Jake, a human white man, has become an exception and has led the Na'vi clans to victory against the sky people. It's understandable that in a one-dimensional way, Jake gets the credit for the entirety of the Avatar.

(+) After fully covering the 'Jake falls under the White Savior Trope' argument, I'll be proceeding to the counter-argument to this:

Neytiri and Eywa.

These two figures are completely sidelined when it comes to the question 'Who was truly the savior in the first Avatar film?'

Neytiri's points:

– Not once, not twice, but Neytiri LITERALLY SAVED Jake Sully FIVE TIMES in the first film.

• Their first interaction. She saved him from being eaten by the viperwolves that night. Without Neytiri, Jake's survival that night is a blur.

• Being demolished after mating.

• Disconnecting mid-battle against Tsu'tey. If Neytiri didn't intervene that fight, who knows how the war could've concluded.

• Killing Quaritch. Even though Jake did put up a fight against Quaritch but who really ended Quaritch was Neytiri.

• Giving him his mask. Jake was clearly doomed in this one. We shouldn't underestimate this because if Neytiri didn't do this, he wouldn't have seen the rest of his life in Pandora. His days as Toruk Macto and as an Avatar could've ended there.

Jake's survival and character development revolved around Neytiri. Without Neytiri, he couldn't have understood the connection deeper. Grace wasn't enough to center him since he was undercover for Quaritch the whole time, her explanation wasn't enough for him to understand the value of Pandora. Neytiri was the one who strengthened Jake's chances of survival, understanding, and acceptance to Na'vi, Eywa, and Pandora. She was an eye-opener for him.

Eywa.

Even though Eywa is a deity, the entirety of the Na'vi and Pandora connection lies on this spiritual deity.

• Eywa has given Jake the second chance in life. I'm not sure if it would've been the same with his brother Tommy, but I think Jake differs just from his conversation with Mo'at, the Tsahik.

Mo'at: It is hard to fill up a cup that is already full.

Jake: Trust me, my cup's empty. I'm no scientist.

I feel like Eywa can see that giving Jake a chance to see the never before seen qualities that isn't by the book, by the military, by the humans, or by the capitalist way, is really important.

Jake is somewhat a beacon or representation on what it's like between humans and Na'vi. Even Grace, Norm, and Trudy is.

• Eywa saving the Na'vi during the war. It was beautiful seeing Eywa fight back against its invaders. The war ratio was changed not by guns, not by technology, not by Jake alone, not by the Na'vi alone, but the creatures of Pandora who lives in Eywa AS ONE.

Jake's prayer was to let Eywa know what's about to invade Pandora, to let Eywa see what the humans have done to it's other mother, Jake was praying to let Eywa see for themself and was BEGGING FOR EYWA'S HELP.

[ Conclusion ]

In the end, Jake did not impose his humanly ways to the Na'vi. Throughout the first film up until the war, the only ones equipped with humanly utilities are him, Norm, and Trudy. He fights the humans with what he knows that will bring them down. Jake has become a fusion of both humanly and Na'vi features.

However, Jake did not come to the Na'vi with a human-made solution like a grenade or a gun. Plus, it is often to see that the woman adjusts for the lifestyle of her male lover.

Example: Ariel with Prince Eric. Or other love tropes that makes the woman give up or leave her home for her man.

Instead, we see none of that from Neytiri. Jake was the one who joined Neytiri, he LITERALLY transferred his consciousness to his Avatar so he could easily LIVE A LIFE with her.

Jake was the one learning his ways. Jake was the one who had to redeem hiself to earn a RIGHTFUL & ACCEPTED place with the people. I don't think Tsu'tey would let Jake near back to clan or Neytiri wouldn't have forgiven him if he didn't become Toruk Macto— which is a deadly process.

In being Toruk Macto, he was as ballsy and clumsy as a human to face on Toruk. Jake was on the verge of helplessness without Neytiri or Eywa.

I'd also like to add that, I think, the first film of Avatar shows how symbiotic Jake and the Na'vi was. Both faced helplessness and found strength in one another. Jake found belongingness and hope and so does the Na'vi. Jake and Grace was always so respectful to the Na'vi and offered however they can. We shouldn't unallow them to help, because I think it's a digestable representation either way.

I hope this argument of mine crosses your minds. Along the way, Jake becomes pro-navi or pro-pandora? Showing the shift of his importance when it comes to the environment, spirituality, and community.

#avatar the way of the water #avatar 2 #avatar #jake sully #james cameron #neytiri #eywa #atwow #avatar 2009

[fearsfalling]

Watakeichi - Keito's day off ch.3

I didn't like this chapter that much but it's fine...

Keito's day off - Chapter 3 - ShaktiKali - Ensemble Stars! (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

The cinema lobby buzzed with life and chatter as Keito, Eichi, and Wataru approached the ticket counter. Eichi stepped up and ordered tickets for the latest romantic comedy that had caught their eye.

The three of them entered the dimly lit theater, the scent of popcorn in the air. It was a cozy, quiet space with plush red seats that reclined slightly. They sat down, with Keito in the middle, Eichi on his right, and Wataru on his left, although Keito wasn't used to being in the center, always preferring to let others take the spotlight.

As the lights dimmed further, the trailers for upcoming movies began to play, and Wataru leaned in close to Keito. "You know, my dear Keito, I heard this film has the most divine love story. Maybe we should act on our own little story someday! With your writing, my acting, and Eichi's singing it'd be amazing~"

Eichi leaned too. "I'd love to do something small. Even if I don't have as much time as I had before."

Keito couldn't help but smile at their plans. maybe someday... He could make them the protagonists of the story.

The movie started, and soon the theater was filled with laughter at times. The trio shared whispered comments and reactions, the enjoyment of the film enchanted by the company of each other.

At one particular moment in the movie, Wataru faked wiping a tear. "Oh, how wonderful!" he murmured as dramatically as he could. "Love can truly conquer all."

Eichi nodded in agreement. "Indeed, it can."

As the film reached its heartwarming conclusion, Keito couldn't help but think about ideas for his private romance manga. He glanced at Eichi and Wataru, his heart full. They were always seen as an odd dynamic, given their quirks and peculiarities and despite all odds, they created an unbreakable bond.

The credits rolled, and the lights in the theater slowly came up. The trio stood up and made their way out, the film's message of love and togetherness through all reminded them of their relationship.

Outside of the cinema, the city's vibrant nightlife shone throughout. Shibuya's beauty was unparalleled, full of unique people with their meaning and hopes.

The bustling streets, illuminated by neon signs and ads, and the glow of countless shops and restaurants were a contrast to the quiet cinema.

Suddenly, Eichi interrupts his thoughts. "Keitooo~ Can we get burgers?"

Keito couldn't help but smile at Eichi's sudden enthusiasm for burgers. Ever since tasting street food, Eichi had gotten quite a liking to it. Wataru, always up for Eichi's plans, chimed in, "Burgers sounds like a splendid idea!"

With a chuckle, Keito agreed, "Alright, just this time though."

They navigated through the busy streets. It didn't take long before they stumbled upon a cozy burger joint with a line of customers.

As they waited in line, Wataru exclaimed. "I've heard rumors about this place! They say their burgers are a masterpiece of culinary artistry!"

Eichi was focused on the menu, his eyes sparkling. "I wonder which one should I order... there are so many options."

When it was their turn to order, Keito opted for a cheeseburger, Wataru ordered a double bacon burger, and Eichi decided on a burger with lettuce and tomatoes. They also got fries to share.

With their orders in hand, they found a corner where they wouldn't get any unwanted attention. The warm, inviting aroma of freshly cooked burgers filled the air, making their mouths water in anticipation.

They dug into their burgers, talking here and there about how they've been lately. It was unusual for them to be apart for that much time, as they always came home at night. But work always made their lives too busy to even share a calm moment. Sharing a meal like this just filled Keito with love and appreciation for his partner.

Wataru usually didn't eat around people, but with them around he seemed more comfortable. At first, it was only Eichi who shared meals with Wataru, and then fine, and finally Keito. He appreciated that they had gotten a relationship full of trust.

Eichi chimes in, "This was an amazing date, wasn't it?" He says while wiping his face with a napkin.

Wataru nodded, as he finished his burger. "It's perfect! A reminder of the good times in life, despite the tragedy of this comedy...!"

Keito finished eating, full. "I couldn't agree more," he said with a smile. "Love is a wonderful thing."

Their laughter filled the small burger joint as they finished their food. As the moon rose so did their love.

They leave the burger joint and go back to the streets. It was quieter than before, with fewer people walking around.

Keito felt a sense of serenity settling over them. The city, usually bustling with life, also had its calm moments.

Wataru, always the romantic, gazed at the moon. "Isn't the moon just lovely tonight?"

Keito frowns. "You did not just say that. You're incorrigible"

Eichi laughs softly, used to their antics. "The moon has witnessed countless love stories, ours is one of many tales."

Hand in hand, they continued their way home through the moonlit streets of Shibuya.

#enstars #ensemble stars #phantawrites #watakeichi #wataru hibiki #keito hasumi #eichi tenshouin #writing

[my-mt-heart]

Hi! First time writing you. First of all, I'm not English native so sorry if there are mistakes.

Secondly, thanks a lot for all your work in the Crayl fandom and specially with what happened with the spinoff. Your opinions as a fan but also as someone who works in the bussiness are really insightful and have helped me to understand what's happened.

I'm writing because I've just found out about the Richonne spinoff. I don't know if you have talked about it, but do you think it's happening because the Caryl spinoff isn't. I haven't looked into the news but it seems like AMC is trying to save the franchise. From what I've heard Andrew Lincoln was doing the films and then he was done with the TWD universe.

Don't get me wrong. I'm really happy about the Richonne fans. I hope the show is a success, but I don't know. I don't have a good feeling about it.

I also read in several of your replies that there's some anger towards Angela Kang because she sunk the Caryl ship?? I personally think AK did a great job developing Carol and Daryl's character as well as their common arc. Sometimes you have to "destroy" something to make it better. I think that if they (whoever they are) had let her, S11 would have been much much better than what we were given (and the spinoff would have been a reality).

But what I really want is that MMB gets something great about all this. I have the feeling that she's being "ignored" and everything is about the characters/actors who get to be in the spinoff. And she's so gracious, so polite by taking a step aside that it breaks my heart.

TWD is probably one of my favourite shows of all time but I have to admit that it's had its ups and downs. But Carol as a character... wow. Without any doubt, the BEST character development that I've ever seen. Simply flawless.

That's it. Well, as I said at the beginning thanks a lot for your work and for allowing us to have a voice here. Take care!

Hi there :) I think the Richonne spinoff helps AMC re-anchor the franchise since the Caryl spinoff turned into some cheap version of the Caryl spinoff and then turned into an even cheaper version when it became... (@pob61 please comment with a title, I'm too tired to be funny). I'm happy Andy and Danai get to continue their story. If I had to guess, I'd say the bad feeling you're having comes from your familiarity with Gimple’s style. This was also one of my reservations with (@pob61 please and thank you). Even with Zabel showrunning, Gimple would've been pulling the strings and we saw what he did to Daryl in S7 and S8. He doesn’t give him nearly as much consideration as he does Rick. 

I think some Carylers didn't care for the ship baiting or Leah's arc. Don't get me wrong, I didn't either. If you've been reading my blog for a long time, you probably know I had *a lot* to say about the Leah arc. But like you said, I think it would've paid off if Angela was able to carry out her vision the way she wanted to instead of being forced to hide her intentions in the finer details of an otherwise chaotic S11. My favorite thing about Angela is how well she crafts the emotional journeys for the characters, especially Daryl and Carol. S10 put their relationship under the microscope for the first time, and what I saw was beautiful. Angst can be good, but you need to feel relief by the end. 

Couldn't agree more about Melissa. Her fans have been starved all season and it is *rough* knowing everybody else was given a spinoff while hers was taken away. Ironic because like you said, Carol is so important to the story. She breaks my heart, but at the same time inspires me to be more than everybody expects me to be. She's always been my favorite character on television, and I truly can't imagine anybody else taking her place.

#caryl #carol peletier #darylneedscarol #melissa mcbride #angela kang