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ghostarii · 10 months

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GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr blade smut #hsr ren

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daybrightsims · 3 months

Text

Alright, they've lived in my brain too long; Time to air out my thoughts about the polyamory in BG3

To give a little context: I am currently ethically non-monogamous with my primary partner of almost 7 years. I am not a monolith of thought when it comes to polyamory/ENM/open relationships. These are my own personal thoughts and feelings. I've also completed the game with Astarion and Halsin romanced. Spoilers ahead, read at your own risk.

TL;DR - I don't share the current opinion of whether or not Astarion is okay with Tav pursuing Halsin and the discourse around his agency and choices in the relationship are bumming me out and frustrating me.

I am getting increasingly frustrated about the conversation about Astarion being polyamorous/okay with Tav being with Halsin in the game, primarily because I think a lot of the "think pieces" are coming from 1) monogamous people who have only ever been monogamous, 2) monogamous people who have been burned/cheated on/forced into polyamory by a partner (I feel for ya'll, that wasn't okay), 3) people who are very VERY protective of Astarion, and 4) people who are blatantly uncomfortable with polyamory. My goal is not to invalidate anyone's experiences, but to share an alternate perspective.

I do think that Astarion is not only okay, but happy with Tav dating Halsin. I glean this from how he responds to being poly with ANY OTHER companion. If you ask him to share with literally anyone else, he will say no and give his reason.

Gale: He doesn’t want to be in a love triangle (which with Gale, it would be).

Lae’zel: He’s uncomfortable and Lae’zel would kill him (also true).

Wyll: He knows Wyll is old fashioned and monogamous.

Karlach: He knows Karlach’s feelings for you are strong and he doesn’t want to stand in the way of that (he even says he’d be cool with an arrangement but knows Karlach will need all of your affection based on what she’s been through).

Shadowheart: He would be cool IF Shadowheart had more experience and ya’ll were together longer. But he knows Shadowheart is fragile in her current state.

Minthara: He REALLY doesn’t like this idea and will dump you immediately.

I did also see that ***SPOILER*** they updated or are updating some of the spawn Astarion language to have issues with your affair with Mizora should you pursue it, and it requires a persuasion/deception role to keep you two together.

Up to this point in your relationship with Astarion, he has become more comfortable voicing his opinions and concerns with you. He is learning to value his autonomy and his non-physical relationships. He will tell you when he doesn’t want to do something. In fact, he’ll break up with you over pushing his boundaries. He is fine with you pursuing the Drow twins and fine with you sleeping with Haarlep, even comforts you when Haarlep uses your form. So when he says he is okay with you pursuing Halsin, he means it. Yes, he voices his insecurity with you that you may be pursuing Halsin because you and he haven’t had sex in a while. But he acknowledges that Halsin has experience in this arrangement and doesn’t pose a threat to your relationship. Plus, if you kiss Halsin in front of him, he’ll say “don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the show.”

To me, the idea that this is the ONE thing that Astarion doesn't have agency over in an arc of showing he can speak up for himself is you sleeping with Halsin is an idea that takes more agency from Astarion. He is a grown man. A 240 YEAR OLD man. That trauma he's endured does not mean he needs to be babied or coddled because he can't make his own choices. I think that's an unfair assumption to put on him that Halsin and Tav being together is the ONLY thing he can't enforce his boundaries on.

If he didn't want you to be with Halsin, he would say no like every other monogamous character in the game.

If you want a good example of someone saying yes just because they want to keep you, look at Karlach. You can tell she is HEARTBROKEN when you ask her, but she says “I don’t want to lose you”. That is not an enthusiastic participant in a polyamorous relationship. Astarion says “yeah, go for it! Just give me some reassurance”. Polyamory is not immune to insecurity. I've asked for reassurance in my own relationships and so has my primary partner. That’s not unenthusiastic. That’s realistic as shit. If you ask him about the relationship after you finish his questline, he doesn’t need reassurance because you’re having sex again. That’s also super realistic.

Am I sensitive to this as someone who practices ENM? Almost certainly. It's hard to see a lifestyle I live be villainized and claimed to be "forced" onto characters. I was actually really excited that I could pursue both Astarion and Halsin, and that Halsin places so much importance on consent and not misleading your partner. And it sucks SOO much to see one of my favorite characters be reduced to "oh, he's only doing it because he's afraid to lose Tav." It makes me almost feel bad for liking the interactions between them and enjoying to option. Do I think people mean to make me or other poly people feel bad? No.

But it does.

Headcanons are headcanons. I get it. People are absolutely allowed to interpret the poly aspect of BG3 how they want to. People are allowed to feel uncomfy with how it's portrayed and not pursue it. But it still bums a queer ENM Astarion and Halsin lover out.

Now excuse me whilst I live out my Astarion x Halsin x Tav polycule fantasies in the form of fanfiction.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 companions #spawn astarion #astarion #polyamory #enm #ethical non monogamy #halsin x astarion #act iii #halsin #monogamy

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gretavangroupie · 3 months

Text

Edible

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (if you squint), Cum Play. Major Fluff.

A/N: The very last part of our four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Jake's story to wrap things up! Thank you so much for reading these one shots over the last few weeks, maybe we will do it again soon! ❤️

Usually, Valentine’s day wasn’t a holiday that bothered you. As a single person in your mid 20’s, it’s almost expected that you dread the 14th of February. The years before and between relationships never bothered you, but as you slip into your pajamas at 7:50pm on a Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s day, the realization that you’re alone hits a little harder.

You shuffle down the stairs in your slippers and matching PJ set, your destination being the bottle of red wine in the fridge. As you stand in front of the door and look at the dry erase calendar on your freezer, you avoid acknowledging the little heart you drew around the number 14 when you were clearly in better spirits. You also happen to see the little sticker that lives permanently above the column of Fridays. Trash day.

Letting your head fall back, you groan at the ceiling before turning on your heel towards the trash can. Lifting the half-full bag out and tying it off, you consider whether or not you really need to take the bin out to the curb… It’s so, so cold, and you’ve had a tough day already.

Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and decide to grow up. You get moving and elbow the door open, wincing as the cold air hits your skin. The short sleeve shirt and matching shorts combination are really not on your side at this moment as you jog down the four stairs towards the spot where your trash bins live.

It’s a minute of wrestling before you get the bag in and flip the top closed, grabbing the handle and beginning to wheel it towards the end of your driveway. The rattling of the plastic wheels is so damn loud you feel like you’re waking up half your neighborhood. Oh, wait. They’re probably all out for Valentine’s day. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you kick the bin upright and position it on the patch of grass near the curb.

As you’re about to turn and head inside, you hear rumbling coming from across the street. When you raise your head and try to focus despite the limited light from the streetlamps and the clouded moon, you see your neighbor from across the street. For a moment you feel a little vulnerable in your pajama set, legs bare and no bra, but then you see he’s shirtless, a thin bathrobe over his shoulders and down his back, but it’s hanging open, giving way to show you his tanned chest and stomach. His sweatpants are hanging sinfully low on his hips, and even though you’re all the way across the street, you can see there’s just a tiny bit of hair peeking out from above his waistband.

He has his head down as he does almost the same exact thing you did- he shimmies the bin into position on the curb and makes sure it’s closed tight, left with some defense against the wind. His hair is in a low, messy bun, some stray strands of hair framing his face.

As you stare at him from the shadows across the street, realizing you’re probably giving off way weirder vibes than intended, you think back on when you’ve seen him and try to remember his face. As you think, there’s a silhouette of a cat in his front window, a warm glow behind it. And then the memory comes to you.

There was one afternoon when you had first moved in, the summer, seven or eight months ago. He came and knocked on your door, a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt unbuttoned and paired with some breezy linen pants. You answered the door in confusion, but were friendly regardless.

“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Jake. I’m your neighbor. I live across the street?” He said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Right, right. Hey. I’m Y/N.” You answered with a slightly concerned smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, um,” he started, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger as he gathered his thoughts. You watched as he crossed his arms over his chest in almost a nervous habit.

“Do you wanna come in?” You offered, but he shook his head no, waving you off casually.

“No, no. I actually just have a weird and maybe cumbersome favor to ask of you.” He said, his confidence building as the conversation went on. You raised your eyebrows, a little confused, but wordlessly encouraging him to go on.

“There’s this cat that lives in my house and I usually leave him with my brother’s girl when I travel, but she’s actually tagging along, so I’m kind of in a pinch and need someone to feed the thing.” He said. You gave him a look of playful confusion.

“That’s a weird way to say you have a cat.” You quipped, laughing.

“I’m not keeping it! I just don’t want it to get hungry or get hit by a car or something.” He said, laughing through his words. Before you can poke any more fun at him, he keeps talking.

“He’s a grazer, so he really just needs his big ass bowl refilled once a day and he’ll be fine,” he said, flashing you a little smile. “And water.”

You considered it for a moment, but he had such a way about him that there was no way you would be able to say no.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. For how long?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. He fished out a key from his pocket, handing it over as he spoke. It was brass and there was a little soccer ball keychain attached.

“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.” He said with a little excitement in his voice. Holding his spare key in your hand, you nodded and gave him a polite smile.

“I can do that. For sure.” You reassured him as he leaned from foot to foot, almost like he had somewhere to be.

“I fed him just now and I’m about to head out, but when you go in, the kitchen is on the left and his bowl is there. The food is in the bin with… with the food. It’s clear so… you can see it.” He said, taking a few steps backwards. “He also bites, but he’ll probably hide from you anyway, so don’t sweat it!” He added, jogging down the two stairs to the sidewalk.

“O-okay!” You answered, perplexed but charmed. He shouted across the road to thank you before he hopped into his car and backed out of his driveway.

When you eventually went over to his house the next day, you opened the door cautiously, not wanting to sneak up on the cat who you were warned would bite you. After a moment of wondering why you agreed to this, you shrugged and pushed the door open gently. As if the cat was waiting for Jake himself but then realized it was you, he went flying by so quickly you only heard the thump of his paws and the jingle of his collar. Your eyes almost immediately found the big bowl in the kitchen, sitting in the middle of a little placemat. ‘DAVY’ was etched into the porcelain, so you figured it had to be his. Like Jake mentioned, there was the bin of food about a foot away.

You didn’t see the cat a single time that weekend. Sunday morning, after you fed him the last time, you left the key on the hook near Jake’s front door and locked it from the inside. You didn’t hear from him, but one day when you got home from work, there was a bottle of wine on your welcome mat with a card underneath, wax sealed with care. Inside, you found a card with a short note of thanks and his name signed in indigo ink.

You’re pulled back to the present as a car flies down your street, headlights flashing in your peripherals. The light pulls his attention too, and it’s seconds before he notices you across the street. He raises one open hand, giving you a casual wave. You smile and wave your hand back and forth, a polite, neighborly greeting.

“Look at you, all dressed up. Big plans tonight?” He says, projecting his voice all the way across the street. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing he’s absolutely calling you out for being outside in your pajamas.

“Oh! Ha. Yeah.” you say, the laugh incredibly forced, your nerves turning you into an awkward, stiff mess. Freezing cold, nervous, and a little embarrassed, you give him another quick wave and scurry inside your house, disappearing. You close the door and snatch the bottle of wine from your fridge, taking the bottle and glass with you into the living room.

You practically dive under the blanket on your sofa and wrap it around you in a hurry. As you reach for the bottle of wine and pour yourself a little glass, you hear your phone buzz from somewhere in the couch cushions. Fishing it out from under your thigh and some layers of blanket, you squint and turn the brightness down immediately.

You have a few notifications from instagram and other apps, and one text from an unsaved number.

???

8:08pm: Sorry for being weird, lol

It has to be Jake. You hop up from the couch and shuffle to the bulletin board and dry-erase calendar on your freezer to see the torn piece of paper pinned to it. Comparing the two numbers, you confirm it’s the same. That leaves you frozen as you try to figure out how to respond.

You

8:10pm: Oh no worries, you were right. I’m clearly staying in tonight 🍷

When you get back to the couch, nuzzling yourself back under your blankets, you look over your shoulder and out the window at his house. There are a few lights on and the cat’s silhouette has disappeared from the window.

You decide to save his number quickly before finally taking a few sips of your wine.

Jake - Neighbor

8:13pm: Likewise. I’m about to take an edible and spend the rest of my romantic evening falling down a youtube wormhole.

Laughing, you think of something clever to send back. It takes a while because everything you come up with seems to be toeing the line of flirty and friendly.

You

8:17pm: Sounds fun... If you open your curtains a little more I could probably watch along. 🙂

Jake - Neighbor

8:20pm: Or you could accompany me down said wormhole, meaning we both won’t have to lie about being alone on Valentine’s day tomorrow?

You’re immediately conflicted. This guy is your neighbor, and although he seems friendly, this feels like the beginning of a terrible Hallmark movie or even worse, one that went straight to Netflix. You think about the invitation as you stare at your glass of wine on the coffee table next to your kindle. It couldn’t hurt to just go hang out for a little while… right? It would be good to get to know him. Maybe you could convince him to mow your lawn over the summer or something.

Not to mention he’s cute. Your mind flashes back to the way he looked glowing under the streetlights, his messy bun and the tan line on his hips that you need to stop thinking about before your mouth begins to water.

You

8:21pm: Lol are you serious? I don’t want to intrude

You bite at your lip nervously, waiting for him to reply. The little bubbles that indicate he’s typing make your stomach churn as you look over your shoulder and out the window once more. There’s a little bit of a glow coming from the other side of his house now and you see his shadow move across the window.

Jake - Neighbor

8:22pm: It’s not intruding if I’m inviting you.

It doesn’t take much convincing on his end, if any. You down the last of your wine for courage and ditch the blanket on the couch. Heading up the stairs, you grab the cardigan you left hanging over the banister and pick out something to wear. The matching jammies clearly aren’t appropriate, but you don’t want to dress like you’re trying too hard.

You

8:25pm: Should I bring anything?

Standing in your closet for a few minutes, you ultimately land on a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt, a soft baby blue Rush tee with the band’s name spelled out in big, rainbow bubble letters. It was once your dad’s, but lives in your wardrobe as a slightly cropped version now.

Jake - Neighbor

8:26pm: Nope. Just yourself. Need the address? 😉

Pulling on the cardigan, you tug the back of it down a little to assure you’re not showing up with your ass on display from the get-go. You stand at the door with nothing but your phone and keys, bracing yourself for however this Valentine’s night is about to go.

You

8:28pm: I think I remember how to get there. I’m on my way 🙂

—

You pull your sleeves down over your hands as you climb the steps to his porch, the freezing cold wind whipping through your cardigan as if it wasn’t even there. You rap your knuckles against the wooden door, a small wave of nerves rushing through your body as you wait for him to answer. You hear his footfall against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the door, and as he opens it you feel a rush of warmth as the heat from inside blows past you.

His eyes subconsciously look you over and as he realizes he pulls his eyes away, letting them dart around for a few seconds before landing on your face. He offers a shy grin and swallows down his nerve. “Any trouble finding the place?” he jokes, giving you a small glimpse of his real smile.

“Oh yeah, traffic was awful...” you quip back, watching his full smile bloom across his face.

“Come in, come in. I know it’s cold out there.” he says, ushering you inside. The house is very different from the last time you’d seen it. More art on the walls, a new rug or two, and most importantly there were lights on. A fire is going in the fireplace, the logs crackling drawing you into his home further.

“Your home is beautiful. I’m suddenly insanely jealous that I don't have a fireplace.” you smile, gesturing towards the beautiful brick hearth.

“Thanks, I try to do what I can here and there. What’s a home if you can’t enjoy the time you spend in it…” he ponders, suddenly flicking his attention back to you. “I could…show you around if you want, it’s kind of a mess at the moment…” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips as his eyes scan the room. You can tell he is feeling put on the spot and your chest warms at his underlying hospitality.

“That’s okay, I know you were totally not planning on having a guest.” you laugh, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“Yeah, I’m not here too often, and when I am, things kind of get strewn around and forgotten. It’s actually a fluke that I’m here now. Which brings me back to the part about enjoying the house while I’m here.” he says, trying to unnecessarily justify his lived in space.

Your mind wanders as you recall his empty driveway the past few weeks, and you try to piece together if you ever remember him mentioning what he does for work, or why he’s gone so often. You hardly ever see him coming and going, just the glow from his windows on rare occasions.

He pulls you from your thoughts and you refocus on him, realizing that he too, has changed into different clothes. He’s added a slightly wrinkled black button down shirt to a pair of equally as wrinkled khaki pants, rolled at the ankle. To anyone else this would seem like a strange choice to hang out on the couch, but on him it seemed fitting, almost like these were his relaxing clothes.

“Can I get you anything to drink, or?” he asks, gesturing towards the kitchen, a tiny little sliver of his stomach peeking from beneath the frayed hem, showcasing an unseasonably dark tan.

“Sure, um I will take some water?” you squeak out, trying to pretend you weren’t just staring at his waist.

“Okay, you can just… sit wherever. I'll be right back.” he says nodding towards the couch. He walks off into the kitchen as you venture into his living room, the fireplace providing the perfect ambience for such a cold night. His couch isn’t huge, but it does seem comfortable. A few throw pillows are tossed to one side, giving you the hint that he was previously occupying the other side. You move a few of the pillows towards the center and position yourself at the opposite side on the chaise lounge, as you let your eyes glance around the room. The walls are dark and covered with art, and bookshelves line most of the walls. A large TV sits just to the left of the fireplace, the video he was previously watching paused and awaiting his return.

You relax into the couch cushions, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect crackling sound of the fireplace. The glass of wine from earlier is seeping into your bones and you’re suddenly feeling just a little bit more relaxed. Jake returns a few seconds later, offering you a glass filled to the brim with ice water.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, so I just made it how I like it.” he says, falling back into his place on the couch. He tosses a few of the throw pillows between you, down onto the ground so that there is less of a barrier, before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Where’s your little kitty cat?” you ask, turning to face him. “Or did you find him a home after all…”

“Who? Ol’ Davy Jones?” he asks, an air of underlying affection in his tone. “Ahh, that little vagrant is around here somewhere. Truthfully, I just haven’t even had time to think about finding him a home.”

You smile because you can tell he is lying. “That’s funny, because it’s been what? Almost a year now?”

“Has it… Hmmm.” he says, staring off into space. “I’m sure he’ll be around, he’s a curious little thing.”

“You know they say that you shouldn’t name pets that you don’t plan to keep…” you press, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Well…” he pauses. You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece together an excuse. “He wasn’t responding to ‘hey you feline’, so I was practically forced into giving him a name. You know how these things go. I really am going to find him a good home one of these days when I have the time.”

You nod your head with a smile, as he shakes his own head, stifling back a guilty grin.

“So that is why he has a food bowl with his name on it, right?”

“Aye, aye, what’s with the twenty questions, hm?” he barks, tossing a throw pillow towards you. You catch it and hug it to your chest, resettling into your place.

“Oh, no reason. Just trying to get to know my neighbor and his cat, that’s all.” you say with a cheeky smile.

“He’s not my cat. He just lives in my house.” he says finally, feigning arrogance. “Anyways, tell me about you…”

“Not a whole lot to know, I just moved here, well almost a year ago now, for work. I go to work, come home, watch trashy TV and cook, and sometimes on the weekends I catch some friends at the bar. I also occasionally feed my neighbor's cat. Oh, and spend most holidays alone, which is how I ended up here.” you laugh, not wanting to give too much away.

“Well, I’m glad that you did, I’m rather enjoying having company for once. Listen, I was serious about the edible if you…” he trails off, nervously licking over his lips.

“Oh, yeah of course. Let’s do it.”

He stands from the couch, walking across the room and rummaging around in a backpack on the floor. The first thing he pulls out is an eyeglass case, tucking it under his arm. Then he reaches back in, searching for a moment more, before he pulls out a small black bag and returns to the couch, opening it up as he sits. He places the black glasses case on the table, then picks it up again, making sure there are actually glasses inside before closing it and putting it aside for later.

“Oh Jesus, Josh…” he mutters under his breath. He licks his lips and turns to look at you. “Okay, so, apparently they are peach ring gummies. My brother gave them to me, but didn’t specify the variety.”

“That’s actually fine, I love peach rings.” you blush.

“Really? Okay, good. I thought–” he stops himself with a smile. “Okay, ladies first, how much do you want?

“Um, how much are you gonna have?” you ask, letting your eyes flick up to his.

“Dunno…” he says, inspecting the bag for the details. “Okay, probably half. You think you can do half, or do you want a quarter?”

“I think it should be an even playing field, I’ll do half if you do half.” you answer.

“Whatever you say…” he says with a smile, trying to pull apart the sticky yellow and orange gummy. It stretches beyond belief and he stops. “Okay, so. I think you’re going to have to bite it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you just take half and I’ll take the rest.” he says, leaning over to place it in your hand. You bring it to your lips, biting half of the gummy with your eyes locked on him. He doesn’t dare blink as he watches your mouth, the sugar crystals collecting on your lips. You see him swallow as you pull it from your lips and hand the remainder back to him. He quickly pops it into his mouth and starts to chew.

Both of you look at each other as you swallow it down, sour looks on both of your faces as the flavor of the strain shines through.

“That was… not my favorite gummy I’ve ever had.” he winces, clearing his mouth of the flavor.

“I think it was okay…I’ve definitely had worse.” you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water.

“I can’t believe I traded my good blunts for that.” he says, thinking back with a shake of his head. “So, what do you think we should watch? A movie? A TV show? Youtube?” he rattles off.

“What would you watch if I wasn’t sitting here right now?” you ask, leaning your body into the arm rest.

His demeanor quickly changes, his cheeks blushing and his tone growing a bit bashful. “If you weren’t here? Um, probably just youtube videos.” he answers, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“Okay, but what kind of youtube videos? What fascinates you��”

He fidgets with the buttons on the remote, trying to decide if he should lie or be honest. His eyes flick up to the TV, then over to you. “Mostly history stuff, like old shipwrecks and stuff. Or maybe sailing videos or guitar videos, I don’t know.”

You can tell he chose to be honest, his fingers still scratching at the buttons on the remote as he waits to see what you’re going to say.

“Okay so do it. Show me your favorite shipwreck. Enlighten me a little…”

“Really?” he asks, a look of shock painted across his face.

“Yeah, why not? I like that kind of stuff too. It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah it is really interesting. Okay, hold on.” he grins, clicking the remote to life and returning to youtube. He scrolls to his favorites and makes his way through what has to be a hundred videos, until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I know this is a little bit boring at the beginning, but I swear it gets better. I actually learned about this first hand at this little museum in the UK last year, and I really fixated on it, and had to immediately consume every piece of media I could find about it. If you hate it we can turn it off, it’s just… really cool if you can make it through it.” he explains, and you smile watching his eyes light up talking about it.

You smile and nod as he clicks on the video titled, ‘Ghosts of the Mary Rose’. He settles back into the couch, balancing the remote on his knee, and slinging his arm across the back of the couch. You can’t help but notice the proximity of his fingertips as they rest just inches away from your shoulder. The fireplace is still roaring, and the edible is starting to kick in, and you come to terms with the fact there is no place you’d rather be than sitting here learning about this old boat.

Oddly enough, Jake wasn’t wrong. This was one of the cooler shipwrecks you’d learned about, and the fact that he saw it in person made it even better. He proceeded to talk through most of the video, further extrapolating on the points they were making, but explaining them better, in a way that was so purely Jake.

It was clear history was a passion of his, his eyes simply glowing with pride as he spoke about what he knew about this wreck and others similar. You could tell that he was dying for someone, just anyone, to ask him a single question about it, and tonight, you gave him that and more.

You wondered if he had people in his life that indulged him on this regularly, or if he kept it bottled up inside. The way he spoke about it so quickly, stumbling over his words just to get them out, had you thinking that maybe it was the latter, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him ever feeling lonely.

After what had to be an hour or so, the gummy had met its full potential in your bloodstream. The two of you sat almost mute, staring at the TV screen as he selected videos for you to dive into, but little did he know that it wasn’t the TV you were fixated on. It was the glaring image of his hands as they reflected into the mirror hanging over his fireplace. You watched as they moved, the way his fingers wielded the remote, and the way his fingers would twitch every so often, quickly stifled back by the folding of his hands. You stopped yourself from turning your head to look at them, knowing that if you did you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away.

They seemed large. Slightly larger than the average man’s hands, but they also seemed well manicured. Perfectly manicured actually, as if they were his top priority in his grooming habits. His nails were perfectly trimmed, no nicks or cuts, just perfectly tanned hands that tapped away against his thighs. You pulled your eyes away from the mirror to reach for your water, the dry mouth starting to take effect.

You drank down half of the glass, and you could almost feel his eyes on you as you did so. You placed the glass back down, and allowed yourself one look at him, finding that you were correct in the feeling of his eyes fixed on you. His entire mood had shifted, you could tell he was feeling completely relaxed as he lounged on his couch. His eyes were a little red, slightly droopier than usual, and his cheeks flushed pink. His legs were crossed on the coffee table, and his bare foot bobbed along to the sound of the video playing in the background.

You’re not sure if it's the fireplace, the edible, or the man sitting next to you devouring you with his eyes, but you start to feel warm and need to remove your sweater before you burst into flames. You pull the knitted fabric over your arms, and toss it to the floor, leaving you in just your cut off tee, and you swear you see his eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of your torso.

In the silence, you hear a faint jingling. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, and your eyes shoot to the entryway. His cat trots into the room, probably only expecting Jake, but as soon as he lays eyes on you, he puffs up and hops straight up into the air, then bolts back the way he came, his paws skittering across the floor in a flurry.

The sound makes Jake’s head turn, pulling his eyes from your body and over towards the source of the noise.

“Oh my god, he’s real…” You say in amazement, a smile creeping onto your lips. Jake rolls his eyes at the cat’s dramatics, leaning back to see if he can catch where he went.

“Daaaavvvyyyy…” he calls out in a faux-cockney accent, his voice low and gravelly, rumbling through the house. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“He’s not a fan of me, I don’t think.” You comment, looking in the direction the tiny black cat ran.

“Don’t think he likes anyone but me, honestly. Bites and scratches the absolute hell out of my brother’s girlfriend whenever she watches him for me.” He says with a chuckle, craning his neck to try and see the cat. He makes a quiet pspspsps sound, but Davy is nowhere to be seen or heard.

“When I found ‘em, he was under a dumpster behind a… a bar.” He says, sitting back up to look at you. “He was practically shouting at me as I walked by, like he was calling for help. So I walked over thinking it was like, a fuckin’ baby or something. I don’t know.”

You grin as he tells the story, which you’re finding quite endearing.

“He called you over? Oh, he’s bold.”

“Sure is. So I wrapped him up in my shirt and put him in the passenger seat… he seemed too little to eat the crunchy little cat food, so I went to the store and got some milk… I didn’t fuckin’ know what to do.” He chuckles and itches his nose, his eyes flicking to yours as he realizes you’re invested in the story and listening with bated breath.

“We got home and he drank some… had a little milk mustache and everything. He seemed to feel better when I got him into the heat, so I made him a deal. He could sleep in the bathroom for the night if he hit the road and left town the next morning.”

“I see that worked out.” You quip, giving him a knowing smile.

“Yeah, the five-pound rapscallion didn’t hold up his end. Owes me a thousand souls now.”

You hum with raised brows as you nod, letting him go on.

“I actually…” he starts, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket he taps and scrolls as he talks. “I actually woke up the next morning and caught the poor thing asleep in a pair of me old dirty trousers.” He says, a little bit of that accent slipping in again. He turns his phone around and shows you a photo of Davy curled into a tiny ball inside a pair of patchwork denim pants, a few different shades of blue.

“Oh my god…” you mumble, popping out your bottom lip.

“Lookit his tail over his nose. How was I supposed to show ‘em the door?” He says, flashing you a grin.

“But you’re still gonna rehome him, huh?” You shoot in his direction, your tone accusatory.

“Should we watch something else? Got any requests?” he asks, gesturing toward the TV with the remote.

“Mmm, you said you liked guitar videos, right? What’s your favorite guitar video of all time?” you ask, crossing your ankles as you stretch out on the chaise.

“That is quite the loaded question, lass.” he quips, tapping the remote to his lips. His full, pink, totally kissable lips. Wait, he’s your neighbor. You have to stop.

“Can you narrow it down to a genre?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to you. He takes a deep breath and bites his lips together waiting for your answer.

“How about…I don’t know, rock? Rock n’ Roll, specifically.” you smirk.

“I know a thing or two.” he chuckles, scrolling through his favorites.

“Ahh, okay this one. This one right here. This man was instrumental in my–” he stops, clearing his throat. “He is one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever witnessed.” he finishes.

“Oh, who is it?” you ask, watching him select the video.

“Pete Townshend.” he answers, starting the video. “He is an incredible guitarist, but that isn’t what makes him great in my opinion. He has this special ability to write insanely powerful rock songs where the guitar isn’t the main focus, or even the main instrument. His work with The Who is just… He isn’t flashy just for the show of it, because he didn’t have to be. His skill speaks for itself and that in itself is an accomplishment.”

“Wow, you know a lot about him. Would you say he is your favorite, then?” you ask.

“Ahh, I don’t know. I have a lot of favorites. A lot of influences I suppose. Lots of people who shaped me.” he answers, and slowly but surely you start to realize he is letting you know him more and more with each passing second, and you’re hanging on his every word.

“Shaped you?” you ask, trying to squeeze yourself through the tiny crack in his armor.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You need anything while I’m up?” he says, standing up slowly and effectively shutting you out. His half smile is a little guilty, which tells you he’s well aware of what he just did.

“I’m okay.” You answer, giving him a knowing smile as he shuffles out of the room, the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood the only sound under the music playing quietly from the tv.

It’s a minute or two before he gets back and this time when he comes to sit on the couch, he lays across the cushions on his stomach, grabbing the pillow to your left and tucking it between his arm and his head. He’s so, so close to you now, the smell of his shampoo making its way over to you when he nuzzles his head against the pillow. Once he’s completely comfortable, he takes a deep breath and then speaks softly.

“I’m a musician. So. When I said ‘shaped me,’ I meant it almost literally.” His voice sounds a little different when his cheek is smushed into the throw pillow.

“So I’m guessing you play guitar?” you say, blinking up at the TV as the man on the screen’s fingers crawl across the frets.

“I do.” He says it simply, but not in a way that’s short. You look down at his right hand, bent at the elbow and holding on to the pillow. At this distance, you can see there’s a little indent around his middle finger, like he wears a ring of some sort.

“I don’t really have any… creative talents. So I think that’s really impressive.” Your words are quiet and you’re trying to coax him back out of his shell. He lifts his head from the pillow, and when he’s looking up at you from below, his glassy brown eyes are enough to make your heart melt. You have to blink a few times through the brain fog to really focus on them, and when you do, your pulse quickens.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What do you do?” He asks softly, and luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re staring at him.

“It’s very true. I’m an accountant.” You answer, laugh bubbling out of you at the absurdity of it all. “Literally the opposite of creative.”

He breaks into a grin, laughing with you for a second or two, and you think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

“...Alright. You got me there. We can watch something else…” He says, looking for the remote, and you mourn the loss of eye contact.

“No, no! I wanted you to pick something you’d watch even if I wasn’t here, and you did. Plus, I kinda like your commentary. This stuff is all new to me.” You say, and he chuckles softly. He rests his head on the pillow again, his arm grazing yours unintentionally. He pays it no mind.

“If you say so.”

After another two videos accompanied by Jake’s narration, you find yourself so hungry, you think you might be withering away. When there’s a lull in his commentary, you whisper into the dim room from behind him.

“Is it normal to feel like I need a snack so urgently I might pass away?”

He stretches a little, rolling over to look at you again. You give him a slow smile, your eyes squinting as your cheeks push them closed.

“I can go see what I have… It’s been a minute since I’ve been home but there’s probably–”

“No!” You interject, sitting up a little more. He jumps at the motion, a little startled. “I have this tray of chocolate covered strawberries in my fridge! My coworker called in today, and her boyfriend sent her like two dozen of them, so obviously I brought them home.”

“Oh hell yeah.” He answers, smiling back at you.

“I’ll be right back!” You say excitedly, hopping off the couch and swiping your keys off the table. You quickly slip on your shoes and head for the front door, darting out into the cold night.

It’s not long before you’re kicking the refrigerator door shut and sneaking back out into the windy February air. As you cross the street you see his door open, and once you’re close enough, you duck inside. He takes the box from you right away as he shuts the door.

After putting it down on the table near his front door, he reaches for your bare arms, rubbing them to warm you up. He laughs softly as you smile up at him.

“You didn’t bring your sweater, you absolute maniac…” he chides playfully, and you laugh in response, a chill running up your spine. His hands are so warm and his presence so comforting that you find yourself resisting the urge to wrap yourself up in him.

“I didn’t think it would be that cold.” you mumble, trying to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Oh, you thought the cold snap had just let up suddenly?” he asks with a sarcastic inflection, and you roll your eyes with a smile as he lets go of your arms. “Figured it was probably a cozy 27 degrees instead of 22?”

You pick the strawberries back up and walk past him, back toward the living room to take your seat again. Before you can offer him a snarky retort, he’s quickly heading up the stairs of his old house, taking them two at a time as they creak and crack. Footsteps sound from above you, moving in one direction and then the other, before he’s coming back down slower than he had ascended. When he appears in the entryway of the living room, he’s holding the biggest, plushest navy blue down comforter you’ve ever seen in both of his arms. He’s peeking over and around it as he navigates behind the coffee table, careful not to trip or bump into something.

“What’s all this?” You ask, laughing at the sight before you as you sit criss-crossed on the chaise, the container of strawberries still sitting in your lap, uneaten.

“The comforter from my bed, obviously.” He answers, snatching the berries from you once more and putting them on the coffee table. You groan, but it’s short lived, as he drops the entire giant comforter overtop of you. He arranges it to wrap you inside of it, letting your head peek out. He tucks it under your thighs and tugs it closed across your chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble through a tight-lipped smile, finding him a little ridiculous, but also thoughtful and sweet. He plops down next to you, sitting similarly to you with his legs crossed, the box of strawberries between you. He opens them and offers you one by the stem, which you graciously accept.

You take a bite, quickly moving your hand under your chin to catch any of the chocolate cracking and falling. You moan a little at the taste, smiling at him when his eyes cut to yours.

He takes a bite of his own, his approach for avoiding a mess a little different than yours. His bite is so big that it takes him a while to chew through it, eventually speaking with some still in his mouth.

“I don’t know who the fuck decided these are supposed to be a romantic food.” He has a little bit of chocolate in his mustache and you can’t help but giggle, his tongue quickly darting out to lick it. “I’ve never had a more difficult time eating anything in my goddamn life.” He says, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

You’re so far under the influence and feeling so content from finally getting your hands on the sweets you were craving, all you can do is giggle in response. It’s the kind of giggle that lingers, when the joke is probably forgotten. He’s watching you with one raised brow as you cover your mouth and try to stop it.

He eventually joins you, unable to resist the contagious, almost delusional snickering coming from you under the giant blanket across from him. It’s a sweet, silly moment, and it feels effortless. You spend the next few minutes chewing and laughing and stealing glances at him in secret. The edible has you at a point where you’re not sure if you’re speaking out loud or thinking the words in your head. So then, the question you’re considering asking him just slips out.

“Why are you so tan in February?” You laugh, realizing it was a little forward of you to just ask out of nowhere. Luckily, you’re met with a stoned giggle of his own before he swallows and answers.

“I… went to a music festival in South America last week.” He says, eyes flicking up to yours, almost like he’s trying to see if you believe him.

“See anyone good?” You pry, your cheeks a little flushed the more you stare at him and catalog his mannerisms.

“Nobody you’d know.” He says, and you take him at his word. He smiles reassuringly, even though you don’t believe him, and it makes you giggle some more.

Eventually, it settles down and it’s just occasional quiet laughs cutting through the quiet of the room. He reaches for another strawberry and you realize it’s a little too quiet. You turn your head towards the tv, the last video having ended, and the countdown to the next one descending from 15. You squint your eyes a little to see what’s about to play next.

Rig Rundown: Greta Van Fleet [2021] is the title. But what really throws you is the thumbnail. The image is an older guy with coiffed silver hair, smiling and pointing at… Jake? He’s got a smug smile on his face, an arm on this other guy’s shoulder, and his hair down, which you think you’ve seen only once. He’s in a navy blue blazer with a hand on his hip, a guitar hanging across the front of his body.

“...Is that you?”

10…9…8…

“Huh?” Jake says as he looks up at you from the box of strawberries, his mouth full, a stem pinched between his two fingers. He sees where you’re looking and follows your gaze towards the TV as it counts down.

7…6…5…

“Oh, fuck–”

You quickly grab the remote control from the end of the coffee table, trying to find the OK button so it will start playing sooner. Jake panics, tossing the carton of berries onto the table with reckless abandon. He lunges towards you, so you hide the remote inside the comforter along with as much of yourself as you can.

“No!” He shouts playfully, grabbing at the blanket and trying to unravel you. He kneels on the edge of the chaise, knocking you over and trying to get to your hands and arms under the layers and layers of soft, fluffy blankets.

“You have… to let… me watch it!” You argue with a laugh, avoiding his grasp. You finally decide to raise the remote all the way over your head, almost over the edge of the couch. He leans forward over top of you, his weight balanced on his palm next to your head.

“Hand it over.” He says, attempting to be stern, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. A little jingle begins to play, and you can’t see the screen, but you’re positive the video is starting. You adjust the remote in your hand and crank the volume as he stares down at you. His eyes linger on your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. His stare is only broken when he realizes it’s getting louder. A riff starts to fill the room, a song you can’t say you’ve ever heard before, and he huffs, reaching for the remote again.

You’re a little distracted watching him on the screen over his shoulder, his long hair and unbuttoned shirt and the way his hands look wrapped around the neck of the guitar. He snatches the remote from you with an extra stretch of his arm and you giggle softly. “Oh my god…”

“Hey, hey! I’m John from Premier Guitar, and I’m here with Jake Kiszka from–”

Jake pauses the video, falling back into his seat on the couch. His head lolls to the side and he looks at you with a playful, annoyed glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell are you doing guitar interviews?”

“I told you I’m a musician.” He says, a little short, lifting the remote to exit the video.

“No, no, wait!” You plead, reaching for his forearm to lower it. “Just let me watch, like, a minute.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “If you don't, I'll just go home and watch it anyway.”

He groans, mumbling a barely there “fine,” begrudgingly before pressing play and letting the guy continue.

“Greta Van Fleet! Jake, congratulations! Since I last saw you, you won a grammy! Or two grammys?”

“Yeah, one…”

“You have a fucking GRAMMY?” You exclaim as the video continues to play. You turn and look at him, but his eyes are on the screen, squinting with what you can tell is embarrassment.

“Are you gonna talk through your allotted one minute of watching or what?” He says, giving you a little warning look. You grin, turning your attention back to the screen. As the guy goes on and on, you realize this isn’t the part you want to watch.

“Can we skip past this guy? He talks a lot. This is not how I want to use my minute.” You bargain, and he just offers you the remote silently with a smirk.

You fast forward a little until you see he’s about to play. It’s a few seconds of him playing something else you’ve never heard, and then he speaks.

“It’s hotter, it’s a bit hotter…”

You smirk with wide eyes, looking at him in your peripherals.

“Shut up.” He says, closing his eyes like he simply can’t watch any more. You laugh at his dramatics, and when he hears it he can’t help but crack a smile. His cheeks are rosy and you look back at the screen, eyes trying to decide on what part of him to land on.

“This guy…” You start, shaking your head a little.

“He’s a bit much.” Jake says, looking over at you with a half smile.

“He’s so sweaty!” You add, laughing through your words.

He lets you watch for more than a minute. He makes a few comments, scoffing at himself, even running his hand over his face a few times. You can tell it’s a little painful for him, but you’re in your glory. You reach for another strawberry as you look over at his embarrassed face.

“So this is why you’re never here…” you say, turning the volume down a little. “And the music festival…”

“Yep. That would be the reason.” He says softly, sniffing a little as he watches. You turn to look at him and his eyes flick up to yours, his gaze traveling straight to your lips. There's a flicker in his eyes, and you hardly comprehend that his hand is moving towards your face. You feel his thumb swipe softly against your bottom lip, a tiny smear of chocolate on the tip of his digit. Your tongue immediately licks over the place his thumb was, tasting the sugary sweetness of the chocolate that was once there. He places his thumb between his lips, licking the chocolate from his own finger, while his eyes stay locked on yours.

“Somehow, it’s even sweeter.” he breathes letting his hand drop from his lips. He settles back into the couch cushions resting his head on his hand as he looks at you. You can hardly pull your eyes away from his as your heart races in your chest, the video in the background long forgotten.

“Tell me why you’re alone on Valentine’s day…” he murmurs, his pink lips barely parting to let the words escape.

“You tell me why you are…” you counter, blinking slowly as you stare at him.

He bites his lips together as he tosses around the words in his head. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he starts to speak. “Well, to be honest… I’ve had trouble finding someone that can live with the burden of my lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask of someone. ”

“Burden?” you ask.

“Yeah, that’s the word that always gets thrown around when things go south. And they’re not wrong I suppose. I know that I’m gone more than I’m home. Even you know that.” He says with a humorless chuckle. “Half the time I don’t know the next time that I’ll be home and get to sleep in my own bed. So naturally that sort of…uncertainty doesn’t lend well to relationships. Of any kind really…” he pauses, letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to find, let alone keep, any type of meaningful connection… Especially when I’m halfway around the world. But I swear it’s not for lack of trying on my end. It’s just one of those things that comes with the job whether you want it or not.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling your heart breaking for him. If you weren’t sure before, you are positive now that he is just a little more lonely than he is willing to let on.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. We’re supposed to be traveling to New York right now. Though, everything happens for a reason I guess.” he says, offering you a little smirk as he brushes his hand over top of yours. “Now, your turn. Tell me why such an intriguing woman is all alone on the most romantic day of the year…”

You pull the fluffy blanket up a little further onto your lap, toying with the hem as you look up at him. “I haven’t really dated anyone since I moved here. I thought I would but, I just…haven’t. I thought that once I was settled into a good routine at work I could spend a little more time meeting people, but every time I go out I’m suddenly surrounded by twenty other girls who are by modern standards perfect, and I just don’t even stand a chance against them, you know?” you pause, letting your fingers roll over the stitching on the edge of the duvet. “I don’t look like them, and I never will. So I just work a lot, hang out with my friends when I can, and have zero expectations of ever being the person that is going to stand out in a crowd like that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, suddenly feeling stupid for telling this stranger your secrets.

“You couldn't be more wrong.” he breathes, letting his arm fall against the back of the couch. There’s an air of demand in his voice as he speaks. His hand swipes the hair away from your face, letting his fingers brush your jawline. “You’re prettier than all of them. And smarter, and funnier. They have nothing on you. I’d pick you…In a crowd.”

“You don’t have to just say that to try and make me feel better. It’s okay, really.” you say dismissively.

“I’m not just saying that, Y/N. I mean it. You’re so pretty, and you’re so quick witted, and you listen to me talk about stuff no one else cares about...Shit, I can’t think of one person I know that would have sat through even the first video, let alone let me talk through the entire thing. I’m having one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, with you.” he urges, settling his hand loosely on the curve of your neck. His skin is warm against yours, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he likely sprayed on his wrist this morning as it wafts towards your nose.

You laugh softly, suddenly feeling shy as he compliments you. You lean into him without even noticing, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. The cushion dips as he leans towards you, meeting you where you were and pressing his lips to yours almost tentatively. His fingers grip into your neck as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. If the gummy didn’t already have you feeling floaty, you were sure you’d be feeling it now. He pulls away from you and a small whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of his warmth. His hand slides down your neck and over your shoulder, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. With his other hand, he picks up the remote and hits pause, not wanting the video to carry on in the background of what you think is about to be another kiss.

“C’mere…” he growls, holding a hand out to you. You tuck your feet underneath yourself in an attempt to push up onto your knees, feeling slightly off-kilter. You grip his hand a little tighter as you reach for his shoulder, moving slowly until you’re straddling his lap. He positions your legs on either side of him, making sure you’re comfortable, and taking the opportunity to run his hands over your thighs. You rest your hands on his chest for some stability, your head in the clouds. His hands immediately find their way back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in and kisses you again,though this time there is a little more urgency behind it. You slide your hands up and over his shoulders, letting your fingers weave into his hair, grabbing a handful of the chestnut locks and gripping it in your fists. He tilts his head back slightly in response.

“Oh, fuck.” he groans. He looks at you with his head tilted back, his lids heavy, a barely-there crooked smile on his face. He’s such a sight with his dark eyes and pink lips, you think you might burst on the spot. You know you need to kiss him again, but you also want to hear him moan and curse again, and his exposed throat is calling to you.

Leaning down, you place a kiss to his jaw, the skin soft and warm. You feel like you’re in the passenger seat as someone else, a bolder and less inhibited version of yourself, calls the shots. One minute, you’re thinking about how the textured skin of his throat feels against your cheek, then then the next, you’re kissing and licking at it without a second thought. You feel his skin buzz under your lips as he whines, the taste of his skin and cologne mixed together so good you’re certain you’ll never be able to forget it.

You feel yourself melting into him, your tongue pulling the delicate skin over his clavicle into your mouth as you suck and bite softly without any consideration for the fact that he probably shouldn’t be covered in love bites. When you lift your head, he’s got his own resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together as you shower him in searing kisses.

Sitting up, you lean over him again for another kiss, this time taking it upon yourself to deepen it, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip as you lace your hands in his hair again, taking a bit of control. You feel him shudder beneath you, his hips bucking up in response. His tongue slides into your mouth and you can taste the lingering flavor of the tequila he was no doubt drinking prior to your arrival mixed with a hint of chocolate. His hands travel down your body, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. He stops as his hands wrap around your waist, his thumbs swiping over your skin. You lean into his grip, feeling him pull you down onto his groin as his teeth nip at your lips now.

You know that both of you are still feeling the effects of the gummy and there isn’t a shred of inhibition between the two of you. You release your grip on his hair and let your hands trail down the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the chest you’ve stared at all night beneath your fingertips. You slide them further down, letting your fingers toy with the remaining buttons, waiting to see if he will stop you, but when he doesn’t, you finish the job and push his shirt open completely. A silver necklace rests between his pecs, and you smile recognizing the coin as one of the artifacts you saw in one of the videos from earlier in the night.

His mouth is like velvet on yours and you can’t help but to want more of him. You roll your hips against him, feeling him growing beneath you and spurring you on even more. Another groan leaves his mouth, his lips vibrating on yours. His hands move up a little further, his thumbs just dusting the underside of your bralette. You can tell he’s doing his best to be respectful, but you simply cannot wait another second to feel his hands on your body.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. He swallows thickly as his eyes roam over you, his lips parting as he looks you over. His mind is struggling to keep up with the pace things are moving. He hums in approval as he runs a calloused fingertip over your navel, which pulls a lazy smile from you. Jake chuckles in response, now moving his hands to rest at your shoulders before pulling you down closer to him so he can press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips trail down your skin until they reach the fullness of your chest, and with his eyes now locked on yours, he sucks a hot, audible kiss into the rounded skin.

Your eyes flutter closed as his tongue swipes against your skin, simultaneously feeling his fingers pull the bralette straps down over your shoulders. With the extra support gone the cups fall slightly, revealing a little more of your chest to him. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, giving him the green light to take things a little further.

“God, you’re stunning.” he mumbles breathlessly, gripping into your tits as you roll your hips against him. You lean forward to press your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as his hands move to circle around your back, resting just at the base of your back. He presses you closer as you roll into him again, this time feeling his fully hard cock pressed against your core. He hooks a finger into one side of your bralette, freeing your nipple. He leans forward and takes into his mouth, sucking softly. You groan at the feeling, a breath of air leaving his mouth as you drag across the length of him. He pulls you closer, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud as mewls fall from your lips. You usually aren’t as affected by something so routine in foreplay, but all of your senses are heightened and you think you could probably cum from the feeling of his mouth spoiling you with kisses and bites combined with how hard he is between your thighs.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still glassy and blown out. “I promise this isn’t what I intended when I invited you over...” he breathes, his thumbs swiping against your back as he licks his lips, his blinks slow and lazy.

“I know…” you answer with a bashful smile and lidded eyes, staring into his brown irises. “But it feels too good to stop.”

“Yeah,” he says, more of a breath than a word. “I want you so fucking bad right now.” he adds, a smirk pulling across his lips as he makes the move to roll you to your back on the chaise of the couch. You're giggling as he’s now hovering over you, similarly to how he was earlier, only this time you know he’s going to kiss you and you don’t have to wish for it. He makes quick work of his shirt, pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your head is positively spinning, the room around you seems like a blur and the only thing in focus is him.

He runs a finger over your chest, hooking into the fabric of your bralette. “Take this off for me, sweetheart. Show me.” he mumbles, his lazy eyes slowly raking over every inch of you, needing more.

You practically burst into flames, rushing to pull the fabric over your head. Now completely exposed to him, his eyes flick down to your chest as he bites his lips together. He pulls back again, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down for some relief. He swallows harshly, letting his eyes meet yours again. You reach your hand up and hook it around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You press your lips to his and he lowers himself down to his elbows, deepening the kiss as his body lays on top of yours.

You let your free hand circle around his back, your fingers following the contours of his waist, dipping down to his spine as you run the length of his back. He groans at the feeling of your nails against his skin, and you find yourself wondering if he’s usually this vocal or if the high he’s experiencing has lowered his guard.

He shoots up, turning his head around to look at the TV, muttering something under his breath as he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch. He exits the video and you giggle, realizing it was paused on a still of his brother, you assume, in the middle of talking with his hands, sitting behind a keyboard. He tosses the remote to the coffee table, leaning back down over you with a smirk. “Sorry. I just think three’s a crowd.” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away from your lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, and over your sternum, stopping just shy of the top of your yoga pants. His eyes flick up to yours, and you offer him a shy nod, silently thanking yourself for that “everything” shower this morning.

He kisses your stomach one more time before curling his fingers beneath the hem, sliding them slowly over your hips and down your legs before letting them fall softly to the floor. You lay there in just your panties, and you think he may notice that you’re feeling exposed as he quickly stands to kick off his pants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the heavy outline of his dick, visible and straining against the black fabric of his boxers.

His eyes flick to yours but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the tan line just above the elastic of his boxers, wanting more than anything to peel the black fabric from his hips. He kneels onto the chaise, settling himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. A few strands of his hair hang around his face, and his dark brown eyes are growing darker by the second. You bring your hand up to his stomach, letting your fingers sneak beneath the elastic of his boxers, sliding across the front of his waist causing him to clench up his stomach with a smile.

“You ticklish?” you murmur, continuing to slide your fingers across his waistband.

He drops his head to look at your hand in his boxers before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Not ticklish, just…sensitive…” he growls. You can tell that the gummy has made him a little more responsive to touch than he normally is.

His hips jolt forward on their own accord and you feel the brush of his dick against your fingers. He sucks in a harsh breath at the contact, his eyes connecting with yours. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you push your hand further inside, wrapping softly around his hardened length. A hiss leaves his mouth and he starts to breathe a little heavier as you squeeze around him. You slide your hand up and around the tip, rounding off at the end before sliding back down, watching his eyes flutter closed for the slightest second.

“Fuck, wait…” he breathes, pulling back and taking a second to compose himself. He sits up a little more, hooking his fingers into your thong and pulling it swiftly down your legs. His eyes flick up towards the couch then back down the length of the chaise, “Move down a little for me, baby. Rest your feet on the floor. ”

You quickly push yourself further down on the couch, letting your knees hang over the edge of the chaise until your feet meet the rug on the floor. He drops to his knees at the end of the chaise, running his warm hands up the length of your thighs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, humming in appreciation for the position he’d found himself in.

He rests both of his hands on your hips, and as you look down at him, you see a faint silver scar up the length of his left arm. You wrap your hand around his forearm, feeling his veins pulsing against your palm.

His eyes meet yours as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds, hot and slow as you throw your head back into the couch cushion. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin pulling you closer as his lips suction over your clit. His tongue swipes against you again, flatter and with more pressure as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck…” he curses, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. “Had I known what I was missing…” he pauses to lick at you again. “I would have pulled you across the street months ago. You taste like heaven.”

You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud as you melt into his comforter, the warmth from the fireplace radiating across the room. A soft gasp falls from your lips as he laps at you, no urgency or strategy behind his method. He seems to just be enjoying himself, his eyes lifting to look at you, a little lazy, a little glassy. You shift underneath him slightly, but he’s not deterred. His mouth doesn’t leave you for even a moment, like you’re his only source of vitality in this very moment.

You whine when you feel his tongue press to your entrance, and you feel the smile that pulls across his lips. Your hips buck up towards him, his nose brushing over your clit, sending you quickly towards a place you’re not quite ready to be yet. His tongue finds you again, pressing forward this time and entering just for a second before pulling back out. His lips suction over you again, and he shakes his head side to side, taking you to that place whether you’re ready or not.

“Jake…” you whine, sliding your hands into his hair.

“Mmm?” he hums into you, his eyes slowly opening to find yours, heavy with lust.

“More…” you beg, shuddering the slightest bit as you see how dark his eyes have become.

He gives you one more slow, long lap of his tongue, like he’s savoring it and committing the taste of you to memory. He stands from where he was kneeling and taps your thigh gently, wordlessly telling you to shift back up on the chaise. You scoot backwards and he follows, nestling himself between your legs, propped up on his palm. With the hand he isn’t using for balance, he frees himself from his briefs. He strokes himself once, but then lets himself go and you feel him against you, his cock heavy and hard, landing on the inside of your thigh with the softest sound. He pulls back slightly and when he pushes his hips forward again, he’s sliding through your folds, slick and lewd. It makes your cheeks hot.

“You’re so fucking wet…” he grunts, his voice strained like he’s in pain. “Just wanna feel you for a second…”

He lowers himself to bury his face in your hair, his breath hot as he pants, gently rutting his hips against you, his thrusts a little uncoordinated and desperate.

“Everything’s just so fucking sensitive.” he says, his now boyish voice cracking as it’s muffled by the pillow behind your head. He wraps his arms tightly around you and under you, like he’s worried you’re about to float away. “Feels so good.”

With a deep breath he releases you, sliding his hand down to fist his base. As he presses the tip to your entrance his eyes lock on yours, wordlessly asking if you’re ready, and when you nod he starts to press forward. His eyes flick down to your center, watching as he slides into you. The stretch is noticeable, but you welcome it. You want it. His eyes flutter closed for just a second and you feel him stop his movement, not pressing into you fully.

“Fuck, give me a second.” he pants, his chest heaving.

You feel him try to slide in a little more, but again he’s holding back.

“I think– I think you’re gonna have to take the reins here.” he admits.

“What do you mean…”

“If I move a single inch more I won’t–” he pauses, shaking his head as he blows out a breath. “I just need you to be on top.”

His eyes are pleading, searching yours, and you can’t possibly fathom the idea of ever denying him.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” he offers, and you can’t help but give him a little smirk, nodding. He withdraws and gives you a little space to get up, ditching his underwear before taking your place. You gingerly climb over him, taking a moment to brush one of the strands of hair that frames his face out of the way. He gives you a soft, lazy smile, his eyes barely open as he welcomes your gentle touch.

His hand reaches between the two of you as he lines himself up, and you waste no time lowering yourself onto him, savoring how full he makes you feel. Intending to fly right out of the gates you lift your hips again, but he slowly settles you down, a soft hum rumbling through him.

“That’s it. Yeah… Lean back for me?” he coaches, and you do as he asks without a second thought. His warm hand brushes down your abdomen until his thumb makes contact with your clit to rub gentle circles while his lidded eyes are open just a sliver to stare intently at where your bodies are meeting. His pink lips are parted slightly, his breathing shallow. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes your throat at the sight paired with his careful touch.

“Rest your hands on my knees. I won’t let you fall.” he instructs, letting his free hand slide up your thigh. You do as he says, leaning back onto his knees, allowing you to take him a little deeper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck…”

You roll your hips in figure eights, feeling him brush against that sensitive place inside you, eliciting a whine from your chest.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You stay just like that. Let me take over.”

He brings his foot up to rest on the cushion, giving himself a little more leverage. His hand firmly grips into your hip as he forcefully flicks his hips and fucks up into you. You gasp as he hits that spot, like he knew where it was the whole time. His thumb never relenting in its work on your clit.

“Yeah, damn. That’s it isn’t it, sweetheart? You feel so good like this... You just keep squeezin’ me, just like that.”

The force of his thrusts cause his silver chain to work its way up his body and into the crook of his neck. Your attention is quickly drawn to the metal coins rattling together with each thrust.

“M’gonna cum…” you warn him so he can decide whether or not to back off, but he just groans and keeps his motions steady. You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way you fall forward, gasping for breath. Steadying yourself with weak arms, you grasp at the plush comforter underneath him.

“Fuck me that’s tight,” he groans. “Fuck.” He grabs your wrists on either side of his head for leverage, thrusting up into you so hard you see stars. It’s like your vision goes white as your chest heaves and you meet your end, crying out a desperate wail of his name.

“Slow down for me now, baby.” he coos as you tremble and try to catch your breath. You nod, taking all of him slowly with each roll of your hips. Looking down at him, you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. Something about the way he’s dewy with sweat, his chest rising and falling, his hair sticking to his face… It makes your head spin. You watch his stoned eyes rolling back each time you take him so deeply the head of his cock brushes against the deepest part of you and it’s almost too much to bear.

He grips your hips suddenly, inhaling sharply. You freeze, knowing what he’s getting at, and you feel him twitch inside you. His brow is knitted up in concentration and a whine leaves his perfect, heart-shaped lips.

“Goddamn… you feel too good. I can’t– I can’t hold it, fuck…” he babbles, his voice pitched higher than you’ve heard it all night. Before you can say a word, he continues on.

“Can I do it inside? Please, baby, can I? Pl– oh, god, please? Wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad… Can I? Baby–”

“Do it.” you urge, desperate to give him anything he wants in this very moment.

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Yeah, do it. Please. I need it…” you whine, squeezing him with everything you have one last time.

“Oh fuck…” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you down and holds you in place as he pumps into you. “God damn, fuck me…” he cries out, grunting with each pulse inside you. His brows are furrowed and his eyes screwed shut before finally letting out a deep breath and slowing his hips.

His chest is heaving and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. His hand moves from your hips, swiping the sweaty hair from his forehead. You lift to your knees, knowing exactly why his eyes are still trained on the place the two of you meet. He wants to see his work.

As you lift up, you feel his release start to stream out of you and back down onto his cock. A huff of pride leaves his chest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth.

“Should we clean up?” he asks, watching the hot white streams drip down to his base.

“I’m working on it...” you say softly, lifting off of him completely and dropping to your knees. You plant your hands on either side of his hips, arching your back and pressing your ass into the air as you lower your mouth over his cum covered cock.

“Fuck…” he groans, watching your lips slide down his length.

Closing your lips over his base, you take him as far into your throat as you can, sucking his release from his skin as you work your way up, dragging your tongue over his every inch. You can feel him growing hard again as you reach the tip, lapping and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin. You drop down to his base again, but this time you feel his hand grip into your hair, holding you there as his hips jerk forward, propelling him further down your throat.

“Look at me.” he demands, and you flick your watery eyes up to meet his.

You gag around him and he releases your hair, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Mmm…Yeah, fuck. We’re gonna revisit this...” he says, eyes fixed on you as you pull off of him with a pop. “Just needed to see how pretty you look with my cock down your throat.”

You can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes you as you shoot him a playfully shocked grin. You blink once, raising your brows.

“We have a lot to revisit. Where did that come from?” You ask through a laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles, handing you your shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. The edible’s wearing off.” He says with a smirk, attempting to get himself off the couch. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Jake shows you to the bathroom, then disappears into his bedroom while you freshen up. When you emerge, re-dressed and significantly less sticky, he hears your footsteps and comes out to meet you in the hallway. The two of you smile at each other, feeling the THC and endorphins and feelings starting to settle like you’re standing in a snowglobe.

“I'm glad you came over. Sorry I Jake’d you for a few hours.” He says softly, and there’s some jingling coming from his bedroom, which is probably Davy annoyed that you’re still lingering in his house. Jake hears it, reaching behind him to close his bedroom door without looking away from you.

“Jake’d me? Please don’t tell me that’s what you call–”

“NO, no, no. Oh, no. Getting ‘Jake’d’ is what my family calls it when I corner one of them into talking to me for an extended period of time about something they don’t really care about in excruciating detail.” He explains like he’s reading the definition from a textbook, a charming smile on his face. He seems a little embarrassed but at the same time, he sees the humor in it.

“Well I had a really great time.” you answer genuinely, pushing your hair behind your ear. “You can Jake me whenever you want.” You joke, a laugh bubbling out of you. You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully and it coaxes a short, loud laugh out of him as well.

“I just might take you up on that.” He says, and there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“You know where to find me...”

As if he can tell you’re about to try and take your leave, he starts to walk past you and down the stairs.

“...Have you ever watched those videos where they clean out old barns?”

–

The two of you ended up curled together on the chaise, tucked under his big comfy blanket. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and about 10 minutes in, you slip into a deep sleep, your head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around you, his hand gently scratching your scalp.

Hours later, you wake up unsure where you are for a moment. As you shift a little, you feel there’s a heavy weight against you, which you soon realize is Jake’s leg. You’re no longer tucked underneath the giant duvet, a little sweaty, as Jake is asleep on his back. His hand is tucked into his sweatpants resting on his upper thigh, and you have to peel your eyes away once you spot the first sign of him half hard and half asleep. You can see his bold tan line and the slightest bit of hair through the gap he’s created. Sitting up, you try to search for a clock somewhere in the room or even your phone. Feeling around the chaise under you, you don’t find it. You look over on the other side of Jake hoping it’s there, but the only thing you find there is little Davy, curled into a ball and pressed against Jake’s back.

Jake seems to feel you moving around and it wakes him, eliciting a raspy hum from his chest. He pulls you back in towards him, your back to his chest, and you feel him shaking his head against your shoulder.

“Morning,” you say through a breathy laugh, but at the sound of your voice, you hear the jingle of Davy’s collar and the tippy-taps of his feet as he runs as far away from you as humanly possible.

“Too early.” He grumbles, reaching blindly over his head to feel around for the curtains. When he doesn’t find them, he groans and gets up, tugging them closed tight. “Fuck. Slept with my contacts in.” He says, standing over you and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretches his arms over his head, his tanline peeking out again, and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to keep your head on straight. He sighs deeply before sliding back onto the couch with you, pulling you tight to him. The two of you fall back asleep soon after, the only sound you hear is the clinking of Davy’s collar tag against his bowl and some quiet crunching.

–

When you wake again it’s from the feeling of Jake’s fingers moving against your hip. You stretch your legs out along the chaise, feeling the brush of his sweatpants against your legs. You roll your body towards him letting out a yawn. His eyes open, a little red from the dryness of sleeping with his contacts in, but as they fully open you’re once again pulled in by the dark brown irises.

“Still too early?” you whisper, your morning voice thick with sleep.

“Mmm, a bit, but I should probably get up. I’m sure my phone is just completely blown up by this point.” he groans, stretching his own legs out. “You sleep okay? We should’ve just moved to the bed earlier.”

“Actually this couch is pretty comfy, no complaints from me.” you smile, watching a grin spread across his own face.

“Speaking of complaints, your snoring…” he trails off.

“I don’t snore!” you admonish, playfully pushing off of his warm chest.

“No, you don’t. I’m just kidding. You are warm though, but that’s not a complaint.” he growls, tossing the comforter off of both of you. He pushes himself up off of the couch, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. “Coffee? You drink coffee?” he asks, searching for his phone on the coffee table. “Or I can order something to the house, though there’s really only one good place that deliv–”

You send him a knowing look and he stops himself.

“But you know that already because you live across the street.” he sighs. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee’s good.” you answer, looking for your own phone.

“How do you like it? Sugar? Milk? I don’t know what I have but–”

“Just sugar is fine…” you smirk.

He leans over the coffee table to grab his phone, stealing a kiss on his descent.

“Hey!” you laugh.

“You said just sugar…” he grins, swiping his phone and disappearing into his kitchen.

You stifle back the smile on your lips, and a morning you thought might be slightly awkward, feels like you’ve done it a million times. You pull on your cardigan, and run your fingers through your hair, straightening up the couch cushions, and repositioning the pillows. You’re finishing folding up his comforter as he walks into the room.

“Ahh, you didn’t have to do that.” he says, placing your mug on the coffee table.

“No trouble, just cleaning up our mess.” you smile, tossing the folded comforter down onto the couch.

“You seem to be rather good at that...” he smirks into his coffee mug.

Your cheeks grow hot as you recall what he is referring to. You grab your mug from the table and take a few sips, finding that somehow it’s made exactly how you like it.

You spot your keys under the coffee table, bending to grab them. “There they are. Always getting away from me.”

He chuckles as he takes his normal seat on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. You stare at him, just enjoying his coffee on his couch and you want to ask him if you can see him again, but you don’t. You think back to what he told you last night, and decide against it.

You place your empty mug on the table, and bite your lips together before looking at him. “Thank you– for the coffee, and everything. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was nice, wasn’t it? Same time next year?” he jokes, offering you a wink.

“Oh yeah, I thought that was a given…” you say through a laugh, “I mean, if you’re home of course.”

You grab your phone and keys from the coffee table and stand, ready to make your way towards the front door. He joins you in standing, the mug still clasped in his hand.

“Yeah, you just never know, ya know? I mean, maybe we don’t even have to wait that long…” he laughs, taking another sip of his coffee with a shrug.

“Yeah, I mean, you have my number…” You smile, twisting the front door knob.

“That I do. I definitely do.” he pauses, as you pull the door open. “Hey wait, let me walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s just right there…” you say nervously.

“No, really. I want to. Just give me a sec.” he says, setting his mug on the entry table and rushing to grab a hoodie from his coat rack. He slides on a pair of dirty white Vans that have definitely seen better days, and opens the door further. “Alright, you ready?”

The two of you make your way through his front yard, giggling back and forth all the way to your front door as he quizzes you about the videos you watched last night. As you step up to your front porch mat you pull your keys from your cardigan pocket and start to unlock the door.

“Thanks for walking me home. You’re such a gentleman…” you say, feigning romance. As you peek over his shoulder you see Davy sitting in the window, keeping a close eye on Jake.

“Well of course, I couldn’t miss out on my kiss…” he smiles, a little dimple forming in his cheek.

“What kiss…” you press, all the while secretly hoping for just one more.

He grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, pressing his cold lips to yours. You can taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue, and as he pulls away his lips linger just a second longer.

A hum leaves his lips as he steps back. “That kiss.” He says, stepping backwards off of your porch, taking a few steps before turning to head back to his house. As you step inside your front door you look over your shoulder at the same time as he does, throwing his hand up from inside his hoodie pocket to offer you a two finger wave.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you close the door behind you, and you feel like positively melting into the ground over the night you just shared with Jake. As you peek out the window you see Davy gone from his patrol post, and you smile knowing he’s definitely happy to have Jake all to himself again.

—

As you scrub away the remnants of the night before, you can’t help but to remember the way his hands felt as they moved across your body. So warm and so intentional, even in his intoxicated state. You wonder if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and if he’s thinking about it just as much as you are. You think back to every other Valentine’s day you’ve ever had, and not a single one holding a candle to the night you just spent across the street with your neighbor.

You hear your phone buzz on the bathroom counter as you turn the shower off, wrapping yourself in a towel as you pick it up from the countertop. Your heart leaps in your chest as you see his name flash across your screen.

Jake - Neighbor

12:04pm: Probably should have watched the first one before the sequel. 😉

12:04pm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDf_CEkpoU&t=1382s

You quickly hit the link, watching as it directs you to youtube, pulling up yet another Rig Rundown video. This one is much older than the one you saw last night, and as you lean against the bathroom counter the intro music starts to play. You’re met with a much younger looking version of Jake, in a sweater and a bucket hat, looking bright and eager to talk about his craft.

You quickly head towards your kitchen, pulling your own stash of gummies from your pantry. You pluck one of the small black bags from the basket and snap a photo as you pull up your texts and attach it to a message with a giggle.

You

12:10pm: Should I take one of these before I watch it?

12:10pm: By the way, love the bucket hat… 😉

You make your way back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in lounge clothes, knowing you’ll probably spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on your shows. Satisfied with your outfit you grab your phone to check for his response, only to be met with an empty screen. You sigh and make your way to the living room, flopping down onto your couch with your leftover take out from the night before, pressing play on the TV.

You try not to think about the man across the street and what he’s probably doing. You know he must be into something since he has yet to respond to your message. That or he has no intention of ever speaking to you again.

Feeling frustrated that it’s probably the latter, you toss your phone to the other side of the couch, catching a glance out your window. Your eyes snap to his driveway, seeing another car taking up the space next to his. Who the hell is at his house?

You stand up and make your way over to the window, taking a closer look at the white Jeep parked next to his car. You’ve never noticed it before…Or have you? You start to wrack your brain for the times you’ve even seen another car at his house, but you come up short. Never really caring before today.

You sit back down on the couch and start the next episode of your show, feeling the soreness from the prior night's activities starting to settle into your muscles. You grab a throw blanket and your favorite pillow and snuggle down into the couch cushions, ready to nap away your troubles, and hoping to wake up to a new message in your inbox.

A knock on the door startles you awake. You grab your phone and see that you’ve slept quite a few hours, and it’s now nearly 6:00pm.

You stand up and run your hands through your hair to combat the bedhead, clearing your throat as you reach for the door knob. Standing on the other side of your door is Jake, looking like he is fresh from the shower, as his damp hair lays long over his shoulders. You can smell his body wash wafting off of him and you practically melt into the door frame.

“Did I wake you up? Did you actually take that gummy?” he laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“Oh, no. I didn’t. I just… I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” you blush, trying to play it cool, and not like you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left this morning.

“Sorry I forgot to respond. My brother came over and I couldn’t get him to leave.” he laughs.

His brother.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I was in and out of sleep all day anyways.” you lie.

“So…” he pauses, taking a breath as he reaches into his pocket. “I may have acquired something a bit better than what we had last night.” he says holding a small black bag in his palm.

“I don’t know, I kind of liked what we had last night.” you quip, a little smirk on your lips.

“Mhmm, I know you did.” he smiles, sliding his hands back into his trouser pockets.

“I don’t know if you had plans tonight or anything…” he trails off, kicking his foot against your doormat. “But I was thinking about watching this video I saw about how to make a barbecue smoker out of a filing cabinet. Really riveting stuff…”

His big brown eyes flash up to yours in question and you feel that flame in your chest reignite. You’re already eager at the thought of spending another night like last night. You knew right then that it wouldn’t matter if it was a filing cabinet smoker or a centuries old shipwreck, there was suddenly nothing more important than watching whatever it may be, with him. So with a shy smile, and the tap of your fingers against your chin you meet his gaze.

“You know, I really have been meaning to look into that…”

Taglist: @ageofcj @britney-gvf @bladenotblaze @gretavanfan @peaceloveunitygvf @highway-tuna @anythingforjtk @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @myleftsock @gretavanmoon @aflame4goinghome @ascendingtothestarssasone @jjwasneverhere @sparrowofrhiannon @gvfstuddedmajesty @kiarraaldarondo @oliver-mf-reed @notjordie-gvf @starshine-wagner @starcatcherchords @sadiechar @spark-my-nature @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mackalah @stardustofman @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @abby-gvf @writingcold @fleet-of-fiction @stardustjake @sinarainbows @gvfsstardust @ageoflou @jarmonicasweat @jakekiszkasmommy @bubblyjake @jakeygvf21 @starrymoonslut @takenbythemadness @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @m0uthfl13s @floatinglikeaswan @bri-archer @Mama.likes72

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ningvory · 5 days

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love & basketball — yu jimin

𝜗𝜚ㅤ: gp!basketball player karina x cheerleader!reader

𝜗𝜚ㅤ: your girlfriend, yu jimin, the basketball captain on the school, wins the game for the team. now she wants to celebrate the win with her favorite cheerleader captain.

𝜗𝜚ㅤ: word count: 2.5k

CW: lots of fluff, smut, college au, unprotected sex (no no!) oral (r.receiving), kissing, soft sex (wow that’s a first), kissing, creampie, mating press, teasing, reader blacks out for a sec, squirting, cum eating, praise, pet names

a/n: this took wayy longer than expected so now it’s considered a 1.6k special… thank you all so much for 1.6k!! special thanks to my favorite basketball player @hearts-4-vicky cuz idk a thing about basketball <33

the cheers of the crowd echoed in the gymnasium as the home teams leader, your girlfriend slam dunked on the net before her teammates surrounded her with excitement. karina had just put the team way ahead of the opposing team.

you’re exhausted from all the cheering you’ve been doing for the entire game but, you couldn’t fight the adoring smile that appeared on your face. in complete awe while watching your girlfriend on the court before you called out the next cheer with your cheering voice.

she’s been the captain of the team ever since freshman year and now the two of you are seniors of your university. she’s very versatile and could play basically all the roles if needed. she always made sure her members had the right form, the right attitude when it’s time to practice, that they communicate, and etc. her motto was ‘you came here to practice, come to practice with a good attitude and leave that other shit at the door.’

whenever you had your offdays you would come by and watch their practices, and karina couldn’t help but show you off to her teammates. but she always let them know who you belonged to. sometimes even after practice she would still be practicing and vise versa.

it was a bit cliche that you happen to be the cheerleading captain and you’re dating the basketball captain of your university, sounds like you’re living straight out of a movie and that’s what people tell you.

it’s the last minute during the game and it’s a tie. the crowd is tense, anticipating for one of the teams to win the final match of the season. you don’t usually get nervous during games but now you are. maybe it’s because this is one of the biggest basketball match’s in a while.

the match was closing in, 7 seconds on the clock and karina has the ball in her hands before she’s shooting the ball in the air behind the three-point line. the crowd roars in cheers and excitement when the ball goes into the hoop, giving the home team 3 points, wining the game by 46-43 points.

you sprinted over to the court, excited screams and squeals leave your mouth while you embrace her with a hug. she quickly embraced you as well and spinning you around.

“jiminie baby—you did a-amazing!” you huff out between kisses and giggles, after every game she always does this and you know you’ve won in life.

karina pulls back, hands falling down to meet your waist, “i always do good with the best cheerleader cheering me on,” she smirks before she’s placing a kiss to your lips.

you can’t help but let out a giggle and lightly hitting her shoulder, “y’know i cheer for the whole team, not just you,” you say before you stand up on your toes and pressing a soft kiss to her plump lips.

she chuckles into the kiss before she’s bringing her hands to cup your face. “it only says that on papers baby, me and you both know that,” she winks before she’s eying your body up and down. still in the short green and white skirt and the matching green and white top.

you quickly notice before you stare right at her with a smirk, “my eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

your little moment is cut short, because her teammates and your fellow cheerleaders are soon surrounding you all and cheering.

the once filled stadium is now closed down for the day and the night has grown calm and quiet. the players and the cheerleaders were in the locker rooms getting all their stuff packed so they can make their way back to their dorm rooms or apartments, it was late and most of them were exhausted.

you two were the first to get ready and karina just couldn’t take her eyes off you. she’s carrying her bag on her shoulder and leading you outside, leaving you no room to protest.

“hey—baby—what’s goin—,” you protest when she pushes you to the wall but your silenced when she takes your hand and places it on her clothed dick, hardened under your hands.

but before anything got sensual, the locker door flys open and her teammates walk out, yours walking right behind.

“ohh~ someone’s getting fucked good tonight!” karina’s teammate giselle, teases the two of you. she shamelessly checks you out, her gaze real focused on your ass in your short skirt.

you two can’t help but laugh at her, it’s always been in her nature to joke like that and plus, she’s the school’s fuck girl. those who’ve been fucked by her says she can really please a girl with that dick of hers but she’s not someone whose looking for a long term relationship.

“shut up, gi,” karina lightly hits her shorter teammate with a laugh before she’s picking her bag back up. luckily she’s wearing loose pants so no one can really notice her boner unless they stare long enough.

the walk back to the car was always you favorite part of the night. you two walk next to eachother, warm hands holding her colder ones. you can't help but daydream and remember the first time you both met, a smile always paints your face thinking about the memories.

—

the first time you met, karina was actually a loser. hard to believe with the kindness and the beauty she has. she would always sit in the back of the class, one airpod in her ear. but you, you were the it girl of the university. no one couldn’t tell you that you weren’t that girl anyways, you were great in academics, being a fashion designer and as well as the cheerleading captain, and of course you’re pretty.

you were actually thrilled that you were sharing a dorm with another girl, hopefully being able to help her if she had a struggle adjusting, after all this was the first year of uni for you both.

but on the other hand, many thoughts filled karina’s mind. she really hated the fact that she had to be forced to spend years with another person she’s never even met before. she just hoped her roommate was a nice person.

she was starting to overthink, something that she hated as well. she decided to entertain herself to distract herself from all the nervous thoughts that flooded her mind. she went over to the bathroom, already claming her sink. turning on the water before she cups her hands to get the water and splashing her face with cold water, calming herself down which worked. she began walking back to her room until she heard a voice.

“hi! you must be my roomie, nice to meet you.” your voice echoed, making karina turn around to the source of the sound. there was a girl standing with a few of her luggage, her beauty was breath taking.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. i’m y/n!” you softly said, a cute smile on your face.

karina slightly looked down to see your extended arm and an opened hand with freshly painted nails, “hi…i’m karina! nice to meet you, y/n,” her face lifted up into a smile, reaching to meet your hand. her slightly cold hands felt warm from your soft warm hands.

—

that was the first interaction you ever made. she was a sweetheart from the very beginning, you asked her was her hobbies were and it actually surprised you that she said she really loved basketball. so you told her after school that you wanted to see her hoop.

per usual at the public basketball courts, there were people already playing when you two got there. the two of you watched as one of the teams were struggling to communicate with eachother. really just yelling and arguing more than working together, this caused karina to let out an angry sigh. the main thing about basketball was that it was a team sport, communication is key to the whole game.

just when things were about to get violent, karina stepped in. breaking up the argument with the two girls that were about to throw hands.

just after that, karina joined their team after acting like the captain of the group and getting the team back together. you watched how she passed the ball to her teammates. she set up every opportunity for the team to score much more easily, and communicating with her team. she wasn’t much of a talker so it surprised you how she acted like a different person on the court.

the game ended with karina’s team winning, you were amazed at her talent and passion for the sport you just had to get her to tryout for the official team. from that point on, you two had grew closer and closer, eventually she told you to refer to her by jimin. karina was a name she preferred for people who didn’t know her like that.

—

“what’s got’cha thinkin’ baby?” you girlfriend teased, noticing that you were daydreaming for a awfully long time. you hadn’t realized that you made it to the car.

“remembering the first moments we had together, we’ve grown so far,” you giggled. hugging the taller girl and staring into her eyes with adoration.

she didn’t say anything but smile back at you, cupping your face and kissing your forehead before opening the car door for you to get in.

the car ride was mostly quiet, the radio playing whatever was trendy while jimin drove back to your shared apartment with her hand resting comfortably on your plush thigh.

when the two of you arrived, she opened the door for you to get out the car before closing it and locking it. you both walked up the apartment stairs, hand in hand. when you both made it to the shared apartment, she opened the door for you once again.

once the door was locked, all the bags she was carrying dropped to the floor with a thud, she pulled you to her room and laid you down on her soft bed. you two continued what was started earlier with her ontop of you. your hands were all over her and vise vera, the two of you sloppily made out. soft moans filling the room from the both of you. the air felt thicker, and soon the two of you parted with a gasp and the string of spit that connected your lips together broke.

“so pretty baby, so pretty cheering me on the whole night, fuck..look what you do to me baby.” she grunted. she started grinding slowly into you, making you feel her hardened cock.

when you both were intimate, usually you were the dominant. it’s like she becomes puddy in your hands and she just wants to watch your fucked-out body on top of hers riding her pretty cock.

“let me do all the work, ‘kay?” she softly says, looking down into your pretty eyes waiting for the confirmation from you.

once she got that confirmation, she immediately went to work by undressing you. she took off your uniform top, throwing it somewhere in the room. she began kissing down your pretty body while undressing you.

she slowly takes off your uniform skirt, along with your protective shorts. she sat right infront of you, spreading your legs and pulling your panties drenched in your slick off, making you whimper at the cool air hitting your pretty cunt.

jimin let out a low ‘fuck’ her mouth began to water at the sight of your drooling cunny squeezing around nothing. she needed to taste you so bad, so she dives in. kitten licking and softly sucking on your lil clit, her mind is already hazy and she’s humping her bed while moaning into your cunt.

her hands lifted your thighs and resting them on her shoulders. she sloppily makes out with your cunt, slurps and moans come from her going down on you. moans and cries rip from your chest, hands frantically moving to grip her head. the tight grip you have on her hair has her moaning into your cunt, you let out the loudest moan you ever made when she starts shaking her head and tongue fucking into your cunt.

“ah, ngh! shit!” your voice is airy and high pitched, back arching and pulling her even more closer to your cunt and grinding yourself on her face as your climax approaches: “ji—ah!—r-right there! c-cumming!”

you came all over her pretty face, she rides you through your intense orgasm. kitten licking your cum-covered cunt and planting kisses to your cunt.

"you did so well for me, sweetheart. think you're ready f'me," jimin praises you. she began to undress herself. she took off her shirt first, unclasping her bra, making her pretty tits bounce. you had the urge to just have her sit on your lap and suck on her perfect tits, that’ll be something for another day.

she stepped out of her sweats and pulled down her boxers, reaching her angry red cock that was oozing with precum.

you never got used to her size, you were gripping onto her hand for dear life as her large cock bullies your tight hole, splitting your quivering cunt in half.

jimin started littering your face in kisses before slipping her tongue inside your mouth. the way her cock slid back in forth inside your twitching walls while her cock head bullies your cervix had you moaning into her mouth and gripping on her sheets.

she pulled away from your mouth and put your legs on her shoulders before leaning in closer to you to where your foreheads are almost touching, folding your body in half and in a mating press. she angles her cock with your hole before slamming down into you.

a loud whimper rips from your chest and a airy moan comes from jimin. you were so far gone, drool began seeping out your mouth and your eyes were rolled back while she kept pounding into your tight cunt.

“shit—doin s-so well for me baby, look so pretty like this,” jimin praised you, rolling her pelvis into your cunny and pinching your nipples.

tears began blinding your vision and your moans turned into squeals when jimin’s cock hits your sweet spot. you began to shake violently before you squirted all over jimin and her bed, blacking out in the process.

the view of you below her cumming undone has her pounding quicker into your cunt, desperate for release. it didn’t help that your unconscious self began squeezing her cock, making her moan loudly before she’s filling you up with her warm seed and some spilling out from how much she came.

you don’t know long you were out for but your eyes fluttered open to being laid on top of jimin in freshly new clothes and freshly new bed sheets.

“welcome back, pretty. might’ve went a little overboard.” jimin speaks, apologizing for her behavior earlier.

“noo, s’okay i loved it,” your voice was groggy from earlier, making the two of you giggle, “i’ll get you some tea.” jimin says before slipping out of bed and going to the kitchen.

you know you’ve got the best girlfriend in the world.

#♡.karina #♡.aespa #kpop smut #wlw smut #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa karina #karina fluff #karina x fem reader #aespa karina smut #karina smut #aespa fluff #g!p #ningvory

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akajustmerry · 1 month

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Can someone please explain this richonne van lore to me? I can't listen to the podcast you mentioned

oh, I will GLADLY. so season 7 episode 12 of The Walking Dead is called 'Say Yes' and is widely known as the rick and michonne honeymoon episode by cast and fans alike. It aired in 2017.

For context, it's not a literal honeymoon but those are the vibes. it's the first episode dealing with their relationship properly after they first get together in season 6. Rick and Michonne hornily volunteer for a sneaky cheeky supply run to go retrieve supplies surrounded by a herd of Walkers.

Rick and Michonne are horny as fuck so the episode has lots of them kissing and so forth. now, the VAN SCENE™ is them in the back of the van they've been driving around making out very aggressively. it's as close as TWD can ever get to a sex scene where people are not having sex because TWD was a cable TV show. It's a very brief scene, less than 30 seconds but it's uhh VERY hot.

after the episode aired, Danai Gurira and Andrew Lincoln were asked about shooting these scenes on a panel (I can't find a link but if I do I'll put it here/if anyone has one lmk). both of them mention that, while shooting the van scene, there was a take where they got so "carried away" the footage would never be released. the director of the episode also joked he keeps the footage locked up. None of them ever really said what was in the footage but....well, we're all adults and we can all have a guess. and that's all we could do.... UNTIL NOW.

So, there's a podcast called Richonne Revelry, hosted by some huge fans of TWD. In an episode they released earlier this year about the trailer for The Ones Who Live, one of the hosts mentioned that they met, TWD director Greg Nicotero. Nicotero directed 'Say Yes' and so the podcast host says that she asked Nicotero to tell her about the van scene shoot.

ACCORDING TO HER, Nicotero spilled the beans. Apparently, they just set up the gear in the van with no crew as a closed set and told Danai Gurira and Andrew Lincoln they could just do their thing, which is pretty standard for scenes like that. BUT, according to the host of this podcast, Nicotero said that when his crew got the footage, it was wayyyyyy too raunchy (she says he told her danai was topless for most of it) and danai and andrew were making out so uh.....intensely that the footage couldn't even be spliced to make it appropriate for the show. Danai and Andrew, apparently, were very shocked they had to reshoot because they were actually really happy with it, but Nicotero insisted they do it again and rein it in so they could have some usable footage. The version of the scene we see in the show is the "tame" reshot version, allegedly.

All of this is alleged, of course. A lot of people joke like it's a sex tape, but honestly nudity guidelines for commercial TV are so strict and specific it doesn't take much for any intimate footage to become unusable. Plus, unsimulated sex is a hugeeee no no in mainstream entertainment. Productions get crucified over it. so if that had happened we absolutely would not have heard about it, let alone hear actors joking about it for years. But anyways, that's the lore! One thing we can all agree on is that Danai Gurira and Andrew Lincoln are DEDICATED to their craft, by all reports lmao. personally, I'm just glad to hear a behind the scenes story about actors getting carried away in the moment which DOESN'T involve anyone getting hurt or mistreated 🥰

#richonne #andrew lincoln #danai gurira #the walking dead #and imo they're so valid for all of that <333 #also ppl thinking they having some type of affair when they're actually just theatre trained so they're insane theatre kids #twd van lore

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angelstate · 4 months

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Husband!Soap x Wife!Reader.

Husband!Soap is one hell of a lover, he is everything you could ever ask for in a man. He is attentive and caring, he truly appreciates you and loves you in a way that shouldn’t be possible for humans to feel.

He does everything he can to show you just how deeply he feels about you, and it manifests as much in little things as in the big things. For example, your favorite tea is always restocked in the pantry, the washer and dryer are always empty and the clean clothes are neatly folded in your bedroom closet. The bills of the water and electricity services never meet your eye because he pays before you can see the cost of it, he knows you get anxious and worried about that sort of thing.

He is honest about his feelings and you’re always what he has in mind, he likes you and loves you so much to the point he feels like kneeling at your feet and just worships you in every way he can, more than sexually, his love goes beyond that.

you could come up to him one day and tell him that he could never touch again and his feelings wouldn’t falter for one second, he would make do with only being able to admire you like he did for years before he even dared to ask you to be his girlfriend.

Husband!Soap would take the fault for every one of your mistakes, if you break a plate in his parent's house he would say it had been him, if you’re arguing about something he would apologize first, knowing that it wasn’t worth time to yell at each other for something that was a mistake.

He knows you’ll apologize too after you calm down, not wanting to be trapped between high emotions when saying something meaningful to him. you value the control you have over your words and he is a patient man, he would wait a lifetime if it meant to hear you speak so time isn’t wasted with him, every second he experiences your existence is heaven to him.

Husband!Soap hopes for the day the two of you have children, he wants a family with you, wants to build something of himself that is fully constructed in a foundation of love and safety, the one he didn’t necessarily have as a kid.

He wants a big family in the countryside, a view of hills of greenery, tall trees, flowers, and fresh air every morning, to be woken up by the sight of you lying beside him in bed, your pretty face relaxed and messy hair all over your pillow while the sun creeps in from between the curtains, your children sleeping in their bedroom the quietness of the home being something short-lived when they began to wake up, he wants to grow old by your side, raising a beautiful family.

He allows himself to dream about it more than he cares to admit, he knows it won’t happen in a very long time, his job, your career, and other problems stopping the two of you from taking that step but he is a patient man, and he rather takes his time than rush things and risk losing you in the process.

Husband!Soap is a good man, he knows he did everything he could to make your time together merry and happy, to fill it with more good memories than bad ones. and he allows himself to think he did a good job at loving you while he could.

so when he gets shot on the side of his head and the last 7 minutes of brain activity the body is programmed to experience before ultimately dying begin, his mind is plagued with you, meeting you, becoming your friend, asking you to be his girlfriend but most of all, your wedding day.

and it is as if he’s experiencing that day all over again, your voice as you read to him your vows, how sweet of you to write personal ones, full of inside jokes and promises you had made him years ago when you first started dating. He remembers feeling his heart flutter on his chest.

but right now, lying on the cold floor his heart cannot flutter, but the tears falling from his eyes do the job just fine because the memory as beautiful as it is makes him feel extremely sad, he doesn’t want to leave you behind, he wants to live longer, to experience more things by your side.

He wants to have children with you, he wants to see the passing of time affect the two of you, to see the smile lines on your face and know that was his doing, that a lifetime with him granted you marks of happiness in your skin.

He wants more time, God, he wants an eternity with you, he wants as much time as he can get.

He remembers your face when he came home early a few months ago, the excitement filling in the void in your eyes when you first opened the door, he remembers the weight of your body on his arms as you had jumped on him, wrapping your limbs around him and not letting go.

what he would do to see that face again, to hear your squeals of happiness next to his ear and feel the softness of your hair in between his fingers. if he knew that would be the last time he came home to you he would’ve done so much more.

he would’ve fixed the creek of the door, he would’ve washed the dirty clothes on the laundry basket, he would’ve cooked your favorite meal and hugged you just a bit more tightly.

He knows he did his fair share of bad things in the world, but you were nothing short of an angel, you didn’t deserve his death as much as he deserved to die. He knows the fragility of your heart, he knows that you’re a sensitive being that can only be treated gently, and he is afraid death isn’t kind, that grief will swallow you whole before you get a chance to realize that your life shouldn’t end because he did.

Husband!Soap loves you more than you could ever imagine, so when the 7 minutes of brain activity ends, he goes out with the image of your face in his mind, your voice muttering that everything is alright, that you love him as much as he loves you.

you were everything, the sole reason he wished for a brighter future and the reason he died a happy man.

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huhniebowl · 2 months

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French Toast?

dominic fike x reader

warning(s); none!

Listen to 7 hours when reading!:)

a/n: yeah, im whipping these mf's OUT! thank you for this yummy request!

this is short but fun. also calling myself out heavy here...i 100% went through both the justin bieber and bts phase...

*still editing this a bit, so bear with me!*

You don’t obsess.

You’ve never had a One Direction phase. You never had the primal urge to deck your walls with Justin Bieber posters, and you never succumbed to the fanfictions of BTS.

You’re firm on the narrative that obsessing over someone who has no idea who you are, a complete waste of time. So you never indulged.

So why is it that you’re leaning against a barricade, a sign below your feet with, “Dominic, play your unreleased shit!” written in big sparkly bubble letters.

Pierced tits showing nice and pretty under a fitted white t-shirt you made just for the show.

“Fuck me Dominic Fuck!” ironed on the front. His actual last name printed small and in parentheses under the second fuck.

Your wordplay landed perfectly. Other fans coming up to you with laughs and praise.

"You know," Ian, your best friend's boyfriend, begins, giving a playful glance as you slip your phone into your mini purse, "I still can't believe you've succumbed to this."

"Ian's got a point," Aria chimes in, leaning into him.

"You beat the One Direction phase, but this? This is the one you can’t beat?” She raises an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes.

"Fuck off," You start, uncrossing your arms and sliding your manicured nails into the pockets of your low-rise jeans, "This is perfectly normal, thank you very much. Mind your business."

You jut your hip out, and lean your weight to your right leg.

"Besides, I’d rather this than the Larry allegations.” You stick your tongue out.

Aria gasps, "You didn't!"

"Oh, she most certainly did," Ian confirms with a nod, stepping out of the way.

Before you can revel in your victory, Aria launches herself at you, locking you in a loose headlock. Laughter fills the air as she swings you around, and soon, the three of you are engrossed in conversation.

Occasionally pestering Ian to snap some photos of you and Aria as the field begins to fill up.

Amidst the chatter, you lose track of time.

Engaging with a girl behind you who complimented your shirt. You share a laugh with her as you recall having to fight with a 10-year-old for the last pack of sparkly iron-on letters at Michaels.

You’re handing her phone back with your number saved when the lights start to dim, and whip around to your bestfriend, smiling big.

"Oh my fuck, it's time, it's time!" You squeal, grabbing onto her arm.

Your heart races, pounding against your ribs, as adrenaline courses through your veins.

With the rest of the crowd, you scream at the top of your lungs, cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify the sound.

A single bulb illuminates the stage and outsteps Dominic. Bathed in golden light.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes widen at the sight of him so close.

He looks unreal.

Dominic extends his hands in his signature heart as the opening instrumental of "How Much Is Weed" begins to play.

You steal a glance at Aria, both of you screaming the first few lyrics together before dancing. Shaking your heads, and moving your hands as you rap the lyrics bar for bar.

Completely losing yourselves in the moment.

About 30 minutes into his set, Dominic launches into "7 Hours," your favorite off the album.

Aria shouts, and it rings with your own, as you both grasp each other's shoulders in anticipation. She knows you’ve been waiting for this one.

"I just wish that you would move round me, move round me," Dominic's voice fills the air, wisping goosebumps over your body.

You find yourself captivated.

Unable to put into words how hearing the song live feels. There's a rawness to his voice that transcends the studio version and you wish you could forever hear it like this.

Closing your eyes, you give in to the pulsating rhythm, slowly spinning in a circle and moving your hips in a way that's usually reserved for after a few tequila shots.

The new friend you made earlier joins in, hyping you up alongside Aria, while the golden stage lighting envelops you in its warm glow.

It's a sensation you haven't felt in ages, an intoxicating blend of music and friends. You feel comfortable in your skin, like you're hottest here, and you poke your ass out just a bit during your last twirl.

As the chorus returns, you throw your hands up in the air and lean against both girls, belting out the lyrics with all your heart while swaying to the beat.

As you open your eyes, momentarily blinded by the lights, a chill runs through you.

You find yourself locking eyes with Dominic, his gaze piercing and intense as he sings. His eyes linger on your face before trailing down to your body, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his lips as if he's reading the words on your shirt.

Just as quickly as the moment began, Dominic diverts his attention back to the crowd.

You try to shake off the idea that he was actually looking at you. There’s no way, you tell yourself; surely, he was just scanning the audience, his eyes drifting past you to someone else in the sea of fans.

But then, he glances over at you again, and again, and another time after that.

It became clear that he’s singling you out amidst the sea of faces. His eyes, pools of depth and intensity, captivating you with each lingering look.

Entire verses pass with your eyes locked in a silent exchange, a language of longing? Desire? You're not sure, but you know you don't want him to look at anyone else around you like this.

You're in awe by the intensity of his attention.

Sooner than you'd like, his second segment ends. And the world that was created just for you two, shatters.

You let out a breath and try to calm how jittery you feel. Nerves running wild as you get ready to hold up your little sign, and brace yourself for what's to come as Dominic prepares to address the audience.

"There's a girl up here," he laughs, "Who, I swear I locked eyes with for the majority of that set." The crowd erupts into screams.

Glancing over at your best friend, your eyes widen. When you turn back toward the stage, Dominic is indeed looking right at you.

"What's your name?" He asks, bending down on the edge of the stage and holding his mic out to you.

With your stomach in knots, you manage to speak your name into the mic without stuttering, thanks to the grace of whatever god is out there.

Dominic attempts to repeat it but ends up completely butchering it. Seeing your laugh as you shake you head, he places the mic back to your lips, clearly hears your name, and pronounces it correctly.

"That's a beautiful name," He grins, "Not as beautiful as you though." The screams ring louder and your eyebrows raise.

You're not sure if you're still breathing at this point. Dominic backs up towards his mic stand and leans on it.

"Her shirt says 'Fuck me Dominic Fuck,'" He announces with a shake of his head, "My last name in the tinest font possible under the fuck that should be Fike." The crowd roars, and Dom lets out a breathless chuckle.

"I don't know," He drawls out your name, his voice carrying a playful tone as he sways with his mic stand, commanding the stage with effortless charm.

"I'd be down, but at least take me out to dinner first?" He tilts his head with a simper, sending the fans into a frenzy.

Aria curses excitedly, her phone camera poised to capture the entire moment.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you find your voice again and begin shouting something back, prompting Dominic to step forward, thrusting the mic in your direction.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Let's go get french toast after this," You offer. "The thick kind, not the thin shit."

His laughter rings out boyishly and he throws his head back.

It's a sound that makes your stomach flutter, the only sound you ever want to hear.

"I'm not usually like this, I swear," Dominic points, his movements fluid as he untangles himself from his orange mic cord.

"ButImdownmeetmebackstage. Okaynextsongletsgo!" He talks so fast that you almost didn't hear, and your mouth drops before you laugh.

It's loud, and unfiltered, and you just can't believe your life right now.

Especially when one of the stage crew members hands you a backstage lanyard over the barricade. Your ears ring at the amount of screams that comes from the fans around you.

For the umpteenth time tonight, Dominic catches your eye, and with a wink he launches into AntPile.

You blow him kiss, and goofily wink back.

You know he saw it.

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flwrstqr · 20 days

Text

friends to lovers riki au

you and riki has been friends for like the past 10 years. ever since 1st grade in elementary, you guys had been best friends.

countless of sleepovers, messages, and teasing

riki would tease you 24/7. every time you would get out of class to come walk you to your next class, he would tease you and joke around you like A LOT.

but that was his way to show is love towards you.

as riki grows older, he starts to realize he would get butterflies over the smallest things you did to him.

every time you would point the small things or if your face is slightly near his, he would blush or get all flustered. his heart would race and his stomach would do flips in the air.

it was when one day you were with a boy, and he runs over, teasing you. he notices when he teases you that you become all embarrassed, and you try to cover it up from the boy before turning away, leaving riki.he realizes you liked the boy.

his heart would break into pieces for two reasons. first of all, you would ignore him for the rest of the day, and secondly, you didn't like him back. you only saw him as a best friend, nothing more.

as months pass, you end up getting rejected by the boy. (riki cheered)

thats when he decides to step up his game. he starts flirting with you and even does things that slowly makes you fall for him.

he would tuck your hair, whisper things into your ear, tie your shoe laces, wipe the crumb off your face. the list could go on for hours.

by the time you were soon about to graduate you realize you were deeply in love with riki.

when its the final graduation, you decide to confess to him about your feelings.

you meet up at the rooftop right before the graduation ceremony.

you say these 7 words, "i think i fell for you, riki"

riki is like 😮, he's trying to process what you said. cause for the past 3 years, he was trying to tell you how much he liked you and now you are confessing to him!!!

he rubs his eyes and your like tryna read his face. like buddy js left you on heard.

until he says "i love you too, yn."

jFKLDJFKLSJF;JSK35Y982356%^&Q$3Q423-

you really thought he was gonna reject you and your friendship with him would end right there BUT NO!??!?!

then he steps up to you and leans in just to kiss you for then to be interrupted by the janitor coming the rooftop. (oh.)

the two of you would like awkwardly laugh and just leave the rooftop.

then its the after the graduation ceremony when you guys were able to finally kiss. you run to his arms after getting your diploma and kiss him.

the perfect kiss ever, a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

he was the love of your life now, the boy you loved

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wasawattpadkid · 1 year

Text

Housewife

Part - 7

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

It was the sleepover you never had. Although there was no pillow fights and a little too much Tom Cruise, you had the best time you've had in a while. "God you sound like Billy." Sydney laid back in her bed toying with her hair nervously. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be hateful. It's not just scary movies either, you haven't seen any classics?" Tatum snickered throwing her stuffed animal in the air, catching it as it fell back down. "Well you haven't seen any new movies. It's like for the past 6 years you've been locked in grandmas basement."

"Maybe you're right." You sat on the floor organizing your bag. "Do you have any songs or movies you like that your dad or someone else in your family doesn't like?" Sydney asked genuinely curious. You thought about it for a second but your silence answered the question for them. "You've been totally brainwashed babe." Tatum quipped in a way that made you feel a little ashamed. "Y/n there's nothing wrong with liking the things you do, but you should be doing it because you like it and not because someone else does."

"Yeah you need to take notes from Syd here. She is thee feminist. Billy and her have been dating for over a year and she still hasn't slept with him." The brown haired girl looked upset at her friend's honesty. "What'd I say wrong? I wish I could do what you do. I know If I left Stu to his own devices he would just find someone else to help him out." You looked to the floor ready to throw up at a moments notice. That's what this was. You weren't special. Billy took an interest in you because he thought you would put out unlike his girlfriend. "Y/n?"

"I should break up with my boyfriend." You said flatly, all the moisture from your mouth disappeared at the realization. "Huh?" Sydney asked confused by the switch up but Tatum however was your number one cheerleader. "Hell yeah kick that bastard to the curb! What did he do?" Dylan wasn't even that good of a boyfriend back home you weren't sure why he wanted to keep things long distance. This whole discussion though made you want to change some things. "He still lives back home and I just really want to start over now."

You rang up your boyfriend and called it quits. The yelling on the phone was a surprise but Tatum quickly took the phone from you saying something you weren't really sure you were allowed to repeat. Sleeping in a house that wasn't your's was hard especially when you kept thinking about the two men you knew a little too well. Sunday morning was a blur, it consisted of cereal, the news going on about the murders, and school gossip. Eventually you and the girls made it back to Tatum bedroom.

"Hello you must be Y/n." The cop held out his hand for you to shake, which you did. "I'm Dewy." He said. His awkward presence was somehow comforting. "Ew dipshit don't flirt with my friends." Tatum complained making Sydney crack a smile. Red sprinkled his cheeks as he tried to defend himself. "You're fine. It's nice to meet you, Dewy. So you're a cop?" You point to the badge just trying to make conversation. "Here we go." Tatum whispered and Dewy smiled. "I'm actually a deputy." He tapped his badge with pride.

"He's just like Arnold Schwarzenegger... In kindergarten cop." Tatum made fun of him again almost making you crack a smile. "I think it's cool." He looked over at Sydney noticing her quietness. "How are you Syd?" She nodded with a fake smile. "Yesterday was hard so today has to be better." Dewy nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandparents." Tatum's brother looked at you as he spoke. The word "grandparents" made you look up. "Oh um... Thanks." You weren't quite sure what the appropriate response to that was. "I'm going to use the bathroom." You excused yourself leaving the three of them together.

"Why would you bring that up?" Tatum scolded. "What happened to her grandparents?" Sydney asked. Dewy leaned on the door frame looking down the hallway making sure you were out of ear shot. "They committed suicide together. Both of them took a handful of sleeping pills, and she found them." The two girls felt bad hearing the information. Tatum remembered a commotion happening at the house down the street but she never knew what exactly had happened. Just that you moved in shortly after.

You walked back to the bedroom once you dried your face off from the water you threw onto your skin. "Well I've got to get going. Do you girls need anything?" He asked and everyone said no. Dewy left with a wave shutting the door behind him. "Sorry he's not very socially aware." Tatum apologized but you just nodded. "It's fine. Really." They didn't believe you but they dropped the discussion anyhow.

The day went on with Tatum doing your nails and trying on half the clothes you brought over. You offered Sydney to join in but she declined. Later on you and Sydney talked about what books you had read which Tatum was not interested in at all. It was much harder keeping them two entertained than it was with Billy and Stu. There didn't seem to be much common ground between the girls. You slept much easier than the night previous. Maybe you were finally settling in.

"Wake up girls." Tatum's mom beat on the door making everyone but Tatum jump up. You groaned as Sydney went to wake up her friend. You pulled a pair of bell-bottoms from your bag along with an old band shirt. It wasn't what you'd normally wear to school but you didn't have the time nor energy to doll yourself up. "I like the grunge look on you." You felt partially offended by Tatum's compliment because there was nothing "grunge" about your look. The outfit consisted of jeans, a shirt, no makeup, paired with hair you hadn't had the chance to fix.

"You look comfortable." Sydney chirped meaning well. Their back handed compliments made you want to crawl in a hole. You sat down with the girls in the kitchen, quickly eating breakfast before Dewy came to take you to school. You offered to just get your car but Dewy refused saying he was fine to drive. The thought about skipping the day completely had crossed your mind multiple times.

The moment the car stopped at school you said goodbye to your friends. "I've got to go grab some things from my locker I'll catch you at lunch." You didn't give them time to protest. Unfortunately for you Stu was at your locker waiting patiently for your appearance. "Yo Betty Crock- Pants?" You weren't in the mood for either one of their antics. "You look lovely today." He said like a kid with a crush. Stu swayed back and forth on his heels waiting for you to acknowledge his existence. "Did I do something wrong?" You slammed your locker shut making him jump.

"I'll take that as a yes." You turned to walk away but it never did any good with Stu. "I can't fix this if you don't tell me what's wrong." You stopped, looking at him with tears stinging your eyes. "We can't do this Stu." You pulled him to the side out of everyone's way. "You and Billy are my friends." The emphasis on friends made his heart shrink a little. "I would hope so after everything-" He tried to crack a joke to make you laugh but he didn't realize you felt like the joke was on you. "Would you just listen!" You cut him off grabbing the attention of some bystanders. You waited a moment for people to pass by before speaking.

"This cannot happen. Me, you, and Billy, can no longer happen. No more hanging out at my place, no more ambushing me in public bathrooms," He smiled at that not being able to take a single thing seriously. "No more hanging around at my locker. Tatum and Sydney are sweet girls who don't deserve what we did to them. As long as they are in the picture I'm not going to be, understand?" The bottom line was you weren't a plaything and you weren't a homewrecker. Stu however took it the way he wanted to.

"I understand. I'm sorry if we overstepped." You were ready for him to get on one knee and embarrass you into forgiving him. This was a nice change. "Thank you Stu." He smiled. "Will you still hang with us at lunch?" Damnit. "No Stu, I won't. I've got to make new friends. Since day one all I've known is you and Billy. And now that I've gotten to know Sydney and Tatum, I realized I need my own thing." The bell rung ending the conversation prematurely. "See ya Stu."

"Shit, Shit, Shit," Stu repeated the word over and over like a small prayer. He walked the halls quickly finding Billy's first period class. Stu waved like a mad man trying to get his friend's attention through the window. "May I go to the bathroom?" Billy asked already getting up from his seat. "You may Mr. Loomis." The boy wasn't too happy with the sudden distraction. "This better be good." Billy started walking towards the bathroom with Stu in tow.

"Y/n is dropping us." Billy stopped in his tracks at the confession. Calmly he took a breath saving his anger for a secluded spot. He picked of his feet once again heading towards the restroom. Stu was terrified not only of losing you but also of his friends short fuse. The moment the bathroom door was locked he exploded. "What the fuck do you mean?" Billy cursed as he pushed open each stall checking for anyone. "She said it was wrong what we were doing to Tatum and Syd and as long as they were in the picture she wasn't going to be." Billy grabbed Stu's shirt by the collar. "This shit wouldn't have happened if you didn't call Sydney the other night."

He pushed his friend backwards letting Stu's back hit the wall. "How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do it man?" Billy didn't believe him. Stu was always doing something he shouldn't be. "We'll go back to our plan. Do everything exactly the same way just a little later than we hoped." Billy breathed out thinking of how to pull this off. "Syd's mom's anniversary was Saturday."

"You think I don't know that dipshit?" He pointed in Stu's face. Running his hands through his hair he tried to calm down. "Neil killed Casey and Steve on Wednesday night. That's when he told Syd he was leaving town." Stu just nodded along listening to Billy. "With all the publicity of the murders he wasn't able to kill anyone's else so he calls his daughter Friday night."

"How does he know she's with Tatum?" Billy paced back and forth. "Neil's been stalking her because she's his next victim. He sees Syd leave his house with Tatum. Anyway he scares the shit out of his daughter Friday night laying low till Monday. Ghostface will make a guest appearance today to meet Syd. Himbry will have to close shop because of the killer. You'll tell everyone you're throwing a party to celebrate the break. Invite Syd and Tatum since Y/n is such good friends with them now she'll have to go with them."

It was like watching a genius at work. Stu really believed Billy could pull it off. "Neil kills Himbry. They went to school together back in the day it could be old revenge. At the party I'll take care of Tatum first but you'll have to send her to the garage and make sure no one goes with her." Billy looked at Stu waiting for him to promise to do his job. "Yes Sir." Billy looked at his boots piecing together the rest of the puzzle. "Neil kills Tatum after that I show up to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend. I'll take Syd up to your room that's where you'll have to "kill" me. You'll grab Sydney and bring her to the kitchen. We'll reveal everything blow her daddy's brains out and then Syd is the cherry on top of a really fucked up cake."

It was a good plan in Stu's eyes. "Where does that leave Y/n?" Billy smiled "She's going to rescue us. Neil's dead and so is his daughter. We've been stabbed left for dead but poor Y/n comes along and calls the cops helping us live to see another day. All we have to do is hit her hard enough to keep her out for awhile. Which means before I show up late I'll need you to get her alone in a room. I'll show up dressed in black and knock her unconscious. You'll go back to the party and I'll show up fashionably late."

"I could kiss you." Stu said happily throwing out his arms. "Don't make me stab you early." Billy threatened. Stu's smile dropped. "Now I'm going back to class I'll see Syd later today just keep being your bubbly self. You got that?" Stu nodded happy everything was going to work out after all.

"It was just some sick fuck having a laugh." Tatum tried to convince Sydney. "She's right Syd I mean those assholes were running up and down the hallways with masks." Sydney shook her head at you sure of what she saw. "It was him. I know it." You walked down the steps right next to your friends. "From now on you are not to be alone. You pee, I pee." Tatum added. Stu ran up spouting some gibberish giving you and the girls a flower. "Darling, I don't know what you did Sydney but on behalf of the entire student body we say thank you!"

Tatum tapped her boyfriend with the flower. "Stop it Stu." She gritted trying to tone down his behavior. "You know I say," He picked Tatum up throwing her over his shoulder. The very cute display made you advert your eyes. You didn't know why you were upset this is exactly what you asked him to do. But it still somehow felt he was going out of his way to upset you.

"Impromptu party tonight, my house. To celebrate this little scare storm, what do ya say?" You and Sydney kept walking while Stu trailed behind. "Are you serious?" Sydney questioned the insane kid. "Parents are out of town." He smacked Tatum's ass causing her to sqeek with a laugh. "If this little vixen doesn't invite the whole world we'll be fine. Mix in with the gathering, mix in with friends." He sat Tatum down letting her talk to Sydney.

You watched Stu trying hard to convince Sydney to go. "What do you say Syd? I mean Pathos could have it's perks. Y/n's never been to one of Stu's parties." Tatum said dragging you into it. "I don't really have party clothes plus what if the killer is there?" You questioned. "I'll totally protect you. Yo I am so buff, I got you covered girl." Tatum laughed at her boyfriend. Sydney whined not liking the idea at all. "I mean come on Syd. For me? It could be fun." Stu proceeded to kiss Tatum's neck bringing back all too fresh memories. "Okay, whatever." Tatum squealed.

"Nice!" Stu said "Make sure you girls bring some food when you come over." Stu left you and your friends to go run off somewhere. "I think I'm just going to head home for tonight." Sydney piped up. "No way. If I'm going you have to go." You threw your head back with a groan. "I don't even have clothes for a party." Tatum spun around. "Now that I can help with."

You raised your hand in protest. "You're not dressing me up like a prostitute." Sydney smiled knowing exactly how Tatum would've dressed you. "You're no fun." Tatum teased as you walked back to Dewy's car. Sydney looked at the ground while you and Tatum discussed what you'd wear. Something wasn't sitting right with her but she wasn't sure what it was.

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 8

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant

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chaoticace2005 · 3 months

Text

Why Alastor has a cane:

1. It doubles as a microphone and looks cool.

2. It’s a power tool that he has to carry around to maintain his strength.

3. Gives him an air of authority.

4. He heard Lucifer had a cane. He needed a better one. Alastor’s has multiple functions!!

5. It’s just the style!

6. Lilith gave it to him and said he’s never to let it out of his sight.

7. It’s his emotional support cane.

8. The cane owns his soul. He has to carry it around where ever he goes as part of their deal.

9. Lucifer broke his ankle once when he kicked him. He has to use the cane for support.

10. That cane is actually sinners whose soul he owns. This is the final form of the first soul he owned. He took their energy until they became one with him and an inanimate object. Now this is where he keeps all the souls he contracts, taking more energy from them until they too become one with the cane. Husk is next :)

11. He was shipwrecked on an island. Completely alone (after eating everyone) he found the cane and named it “Wilson”, developing a parasocial relationship with it. Wilson died but when Alastor went to hell they were waiting for him.

12. When he fell to Hell he landed the wrong way and now his knee is perpetually messed up.

13. Husk told him he should “talk to somebody” so Alastor just grabbed the cane and said “fine.” The cane is now his therapist and he talks to it when he’s alone. His voice keeps everyone up at night.

14. Twisted his ankle from his heeled boots.

15. That bitch Susan seemed to think she was all that because of her cane.

16. It’s his pet.

17. It’s his one true love and the only thing that actually understands him.

18. He thinks his mother got cursed “Beauty and the Beast” style and turned into that cane. Whether this is actually the case remains to be seen.

19. ITS A BOMB

20. It acts a device to scramble signals, which is why he can’t be captured on camera.

21. So if he comes across something gross he can simply push it away with his cane.

22. Automatic weapon when you’re in a jam.

23. So he can say “STICKS and stones may break your bones!” as he torture and kills someone.

24. So he’s always show ready!

25. He just has chronic pain okay?! YOU try living over a hundred years, being a serial killer, and then getting shot!

26. The microphone actually gives off some feedback that is unbearable to some demons (like Husk) as another way to torture them.

27. The cane is actually Alastor. The body we thought was Alastor is being puppeteered by the cane.

28. It’s a palisman he stole from Emperor Belos and has been trying to keep hidden since someone ate all the others.

29. Vox once said canes were outdated and tacky, so of course Alastor had to prove him wrong.

30. It was a gift from Rosie!

31. So he has even more reach to wack the wings of flying ex-Angels.

32. It’s his soulmate.

33. You know those little blankets little kids carry around with them? The ones they’ll freak out if they’re missing. Yeah it’s like that.

34. He has crippling depression.

35. His therapist told him he needed to get some supports in his life.

36. It’s been the only one there to SUPPORT him this whole time. At this point he has to keep caney around. He’s moved so much in life with them, so to leave them behind would be immobilizing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #radio demon hazbin hotel #the radio demon #stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel crack #Alastor’s cane #vox hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel

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the-orange-tabby-cat · 2 months

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Wednesday

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 3,7k

A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾

I. LILAC

Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm.

His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.

Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.

As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.

7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.

8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.

At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?

“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text.

You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?

The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony. The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.

As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.

“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.

He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.

“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”

“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way.

You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.

Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.

“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”

“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.

“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”

Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.

“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”

“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.

“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”

The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.

Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.

Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.

This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.

“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.

“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.

“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.

“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.

The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.

Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back.

Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.

Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.

People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.

His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.

It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.

The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.

“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.

Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.

“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.

“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”

“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.

“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.

“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.

“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.

“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.

“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”

“Sam,” Henry says firmly.

“Abigail,” you speak loudly.

Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you.

“Teresa,” Tess points at her.

“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place.

You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.

You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.

Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.

“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.

“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”

“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.

“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.

The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.

“Who is Sarah?”

“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”

“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.

“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”

Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.

“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”

He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.

“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.

“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”

“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”

That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.

“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.

“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”

“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.

“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.

He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy.

The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.

Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.

“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.

“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.

“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”

“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.

“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.

“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.”

And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.

“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.

“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. next chapter

#joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #wednesday series

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 1 year

Note

You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but how has your opinion changed on Steven Universe now than when it first aired? Like I have fond memories of watching the show while it was airing but now I realize that it had a lot of problems that I feel like a lot of fans either flat out ignore or bend over backwards to make sure their rose tinted glasses stay on.

... okay, fair question. Let's talk about this.

I'll try not to wax poetic too long, but there are a lot of things to be said here.

First and foremost - how has my opinion changed since the show has ended?

Simply put - it hasn't.

When I started watching Steven Universe over 7 years ago, I didn't have much knowledge of it. I sat down, saw a few of episodes and went 'well, this is a silly show for kids with a goofy but loveable protagonist... but it seems like it's also incredibly charming with its delivery and has some nice, more complex themes about loss and healing and grief throughout.'

And if you ask me what Steven Universe is now... I would probably say that exact same thing.

Am I wearing rose tinted lenses? Interesting question.

What ARE 'rose tinted lenses' in this context anyway?

What do these lenses represent? What do they obscure?

Since you didn't go into specifics, I can only assume what you're referring to when you say that many fans ignore the show's problems.

There have been many discussions surrounding various aspects of the show and how it might be read as 'problematic' (ahhh how I've come to despise that word.... without context, it has all the descriptive power of the word 'icky' - none of the critical details and all of the emotional punch of scrunching up your face like a cat that just sniffed a lemon...)

Is this about something as simple as the 'SU doesn't have a consistent size for its characters' debate?

Because that has been gone back to, over and over again, and proven to be a point of opinion. SU favored allowing storyboarders to show off their personal flourish, and even though Peridot was 30% hair in that one episode, it did not overall take away from the plotline being told, which was their goal. If you wanted to watch a show with consistent styling throughout, you can always watch a 3D modeled show, but keeping that up was simply never one of SU's main pillars. And I feel like it didn't have to be.

Is this about something more complex such as the way Rose was presented?

...and how her arc was shown backwards instead of forwards - showing first the person she became in the end, and afterwards revealing all the growth she had to have to get there?

That was on purpose! And I don't think this is a problem. It's a feature, not a bug. Rose was never meant to be an ideal character - she was meant to be complicated and messy, and I think the fact that the fandom is so split in their opinions of her shows that the Crewniverse pulled that off really well!

She fucked over Bismuth! She forced Pearl to be silent! Those are both parts of her character arc that were never resolved because she died before she could resolve it - that's BY DESIGN. Sometimes, you just do something absolutely stupid and cruel, and you cannot go back to fix it.

Is this about the Diamonds? The fact that they were not put in space jail, after being put on trial for space crimes, and then publicly executed for space eco-genocide?

Here's the thing - most people I know who watched and loved SU are fully aware of that. But simply put - Steven Universe was not a story about Revenge.

Steven Universe was a story about love. A story about family. A story about truth, and lies, and hurt, and healing. About how sometimes healing doesn't happen. And how sometimes it will, but you won't be around to see it.

But it's not a story that can be all things for all people.

That is the thesis of my reply: It is a story.

It is not a manifesto. It is not a bible. It is not a Complete Truth.

It is a single story. Made by a group of very talented people, who cared about these characters, who did their best. They made a funny, emotional, well-drawn and complex cartoon show about the things THEY personally wanted to tell stories about.

Does it answer all questions the way everyone wants them answered? No. That's impossible.

Everyone wants a different story. Everyone wants a different solution, a different resolution. A different ending.

Steven Universe is one story. It cannot satisfy all people.

So when you ask me 'has your opinion of Steven Universe changed'? The answer is 'no'.

I went in, expecting to see a story. I saw a lot of what I liked! I saw some parts which I thought were interesting. I saw some parts which, yes, I disagreed with a little.

But overall, it's a good story. And that's what I expected, and that's what I got, which means I'm pretty satisfied. I love that story.

I feel like recently, there's this expectation of media, to be Everything For All People. And it's a bit unrealistic. No one call tell the perfect story. We are all simply telling the stories we want to tell. And people will vibe with that, more or less.

A single story, made by a small group of people, will never be that for you. There will never be an Unproblematic Cartoon that you watch that will be devoid of things you disagree with.

Being critical of media doesn't mean 'Criticize the FUCK outta that media, and the one with the least criticisms is the best one'.

Critical thinking is about evaluating things critically - that means being critical of YOURSELF. Being critical of your OWN reactions. Asking 'why did I like this?' and 'why did I dislike this?'. Asking 'this doesn't mesh with me, but who WOULD it mesh with? It isn't for me, but who is it for? Who would it hurt, but also who would it help?'

Some people HATED how SU: Future ended. They beat their fists on the wall and cried about how Steven was leaving his family behind, and how THEY could never imagine doing something like that, and how he was running away from his problems just like Rose had.

Me? I loved it. I think it was the right choice, and I COULD imagine it and thought it was in character. I thought he needed to be his own person, instead of shouldering everyone else's responsibilities for once. Was one of us more right than the other? Maybe not? Maybe that was the whole point?

Loving things is not about putting on rose colored glasses. Sometimes, choosing to love something with flaws is an act of rebellion. It's about knowing you have differences, but understanding that there is value in the things you DO agree on, and knowing you can consume that.

Healthy consumption of media does not mean throwing the whole cartoon away as soon as you notice something is wrong with it, like a bruise on an apple.

Healthy consumption of media involves critical thinking AND feeding yourself. Acknowledging you may disagree with parts of it, but not starving yourself just because your apples all have small imperfections.

Eat, for fuck's sake. Feed yourself. You'll feel better.

Thassit.

#chekhov answers #steven universe

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rubyreduji · 10 months

Text

my boyfriend's in a band — kmg

summary: there are many things you hate about your boyfriend

tags: established relationship, fluff, minor angst, gn!reader, idol!mingyu, stylist!reader, non-linear timeline, they’re so annoying w.c.: 4.2k a/n: based off 7 things by miley cyrus (they’re out of order from the song fyi) but the title references brooklyn baby by lana del ray 🤩🤩

You hate Kim Mingyu. Which is probably a strange sentence to claim when he’s been your boyfriend for two and a half years. The thing is that in those two years you’ve compiled a long list of things you deeply despise about your boyfriend. Some of those include the way he leaves his socks in the living room instead of taking them to the hamper, always forgetting to put the toilet seat down, and his awful time management. Those are just the top of the barrel though and they don’t even go into what really grinds your gears.

Albeit some of it isn’t just Mingyu but rather the air of his job. Some of it truly is Mingyu though. The hatred for the man started even before you were dating, back when you two were just coworkers.

01|

At the shout of your name you look up to see Kim Mingyu approaching. Kim Mingyu is…well he’s a famous idol, and you’re his stylist.

“Good morning Mingyu-ssi.” You nod at him politely. You and Mingyu are complicated. To put it simply, Mingyu is a flirt and even though he promises he “likes you very much” he doesn’t want to do very much about it.

“You know, you don’t have to be so formal with me Y/N.” Mingyu cracks a smile at you as he gets up on the platform for his fitting.

“You’re late,” you say to him, instead of addressing what he said.

“And you’re mad at me, okay,” Mingyu sighs as he starts to pull off his street clothes.

“I’m not going to discuss this with you right now. I have a job that needs to be done.” You move around the room to grab the few outfits you need to fit Mingyu in. When you turn back to Mingyu he’s dressed down to his underwear. If you weren’t used to seeing the man practically naked for your job, you would probably be flustered.

You and Mingyu make little to no conversation as you go through his fitting. You make notes about each outfit before you release Mingyu. As Mingyu is getting dressed he turns to you.

“Y/N. Can we please just talk?”

“About what Mingyu?” You swing around to glare at him. “About how you asked me on a date and then didn’t show up? About how I was waiting for you for two hours before I decided to just give up? It’s been like this for months, Mingyu. I’m so sick and tired of believing in you and thinking that maybe this could be something more than you just messing with me.”

“Y/N, please just let me explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it anymore, Mingyu. Please just leave me be. I get it, I’m nothing more than your stylist who you like to play with,” you sigh.

“I promise I do like you.”

“You can’t use that excuse forever. This isn’t the first time this has happened and you can be cute and flirt all you want, but I’m over it,” you say as you start to put everything away.

For the past few months Mingyu has been playing with you. Flirting and asking you on dates but then not showing up or not even acting like he knows you outside of the fitting room. You’re done with him. You decide in that moment you hate Kim Mingyu, and you’ll never fall for his tricks again.

02 |

The first time you met Mingyu you decided you didn’t like him.

You were young and just started off as a stylist. Getting to work with an idol group like Seventeen was a literal dream come true. That is, until you had your first appointment with Kim Mingyu.

When he first walked in everything seemed…fine. You noted he didn’t bother to introduce himself or catch your name either, but that’s not something you can dwell on too much. The problems didn’t really start until after you started to fit him for his clothes.

“Hmm,” Mingyu hums, looking at himself in the mirror.

“Is there a problem?” You ask, ready with your clipboard to write down any changes needing to be made.

“Can this be sleeveless?” He asks.

You frown. “Uhm, no. The concept requires all the members in matching outfits and it was decided everyone would be wearing long sleeves. Is there an issue with the long sleeves?”

“I just really wanted to show off my arms. I’ve been going to the gym a lot and I think the Carats deserve to see all my hard work.” Mingyu flexes, still looking at himself in the mirror. You roll your eyes, of course that’s the reason.

You did some research on the idol group before starting the job and everything seemed to come up positive for the tallest member. You know he’s one of the main visuals of the group but you didn’t realize it would come with such a cocky attitude.

“Yes well, there will be plenty of other opportunities to show your arms off, but for this particular vision, the sleeves have to stay on,” you inform the idol.

“Shame,” Mingyu mutters. Then he turns to you, finally looking at you for probably the first time since he walked through the door. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do about it? Do it for me?” He shoots you which you assume is his award winning smile, but your face doesn’t change from the neutral position it’s in.

“I’m sure, Mingyu-ssi.” You’re trying to maintain a professional tone of voice. You know you have a short-temper and it really wouldn’t be the best if you accidentally got too annoyed at the idol.

Everything you saw online talked about Mingyu’s goofy, sweet personality and nothing about him using his good looks to try and get what he wants. Apparently you can’t trust content that’s so heavily curated to build a good image. Who would have guessed?

“But I’m the visuals. The Carats need something nice to look at, and that something nice is me. Do you know how much better this concept would do if I got to show off?”

“I’m sure it would, but our designs have already curated everything and the only changes we can make now are taking it in or out to fight right. So if you could just confirm it fits correctly, you can be on your way and I can move on to my next appointment.”

Mingyu sighs, almost whines, as he stares at himself again. He flexes a couple more times and you finally allow yourself to roll your eyes, as Mingyu’s back is turned to you. This is going to be a long contract period.

03 |

You stare at yourself in the mirror. You frown at your hair, not happy with it for some reason though you just spent an hour trying to style it. You then huff at your reaction, mad that you care so much about putting in so much effort for Kim Mingyu when he’s probably just going to stand you up, again.

You don’t know you even agreed to this date. That’s a lie, yes you do. His stupid adorable pleading face with the big brown puppy eyes that you couldn’t resist because you knew if you did he would whine and you’d feel guilty.

You head out the door and when you exit your apartment building, you’re shocked to see Mingyu standing next to a car. He’s got a mask on, but it’s unmistakably Mingyu. Your heart flutters at the sight of him and you have to remind yourself not to trust him just yet.

Cautiously, approach the man. “I thought we were going to be meeting up at the restaurant.”

“We were, but I wanted to prove to you that I would actually show up. I want you to know I’m serious about this. About us.” Mingyu reaches over to grab your hand in his, squeezing it tightly. His large hands envelope yours easily and you stare down at them. His hands are warm and soft but his grip is firm and leaves tingles against your skin.

You know Mingyu can be charming (it’s why you keep falling for him despite all of the issues that come with it) but this is a whole new level of weaseling his way into your heart. You force yourself to pull your hands out of his, crossing your arms over your chest instead.

“How do you even know where I love?”

Mingyu at least has the decency to look sheepish at the question. “I may have asked Soonyoung-hyung.”

You sigh. Soonyoung once drove you home after a long day at the company building. You felt bad making the idol take you home but he claimed he didn’t mind. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing he told Mingyu.

You eventually let Mingyu open the door of the car for you and you slide into the passenger seat. While Mingyu drives you do your best not to stare at him. He’s dressed nicely in a pair of dress pants, a dress shirt, and a blazer. You’ve seen him wear plenty of outfits in a similar fashion, but you’re usually the one putting him in them.

Mingyu made dinner reservations at some place only celebrities can get into. He hands the keys off to a valet when you two pull up and he wraps his arm around your waist to help lead you into the building. You’re glad for your job and the ability to know how to dress or else you would be wildly underdressed right now. Even the hostess is in a basic evening gown, elevating the opulent atmosphere of the room.

After Mingyu pulls your chair out for you, you have to admit that he is being the perfect gentleman and you start to let your guard down.

The doing goes…surprisingly well. You and Mingyu spend the whole night talking and you remember why you keep giving Mingyu so many chances. You can’t help but be drawn to his adorable demeanor. After the first few bumps in your relationship, you’ve realized over time that Mingyu is a sweet guy and you can see more of that side of him tonight.

After dinner Mingyu decides to take you on a walk along the river. It’s late enough that not many people are out. The reflection against the water pairs nicely with the cool breeze in the air and Mingyu’s hand in yours.

“And then my grandma would always-”

“Mingyu!”

Mingyu’s story is cut off with the shout of his name and Mingyu quickly drops your hand. When he turns there is a group of girls running up to you and the idol and Mingyu quickly slips a charming smile onto his face.

Your heart starts to sink as you watch Mingyu interact with the fans, entertaining their questions and taking photos with them. You’re not sure why it’s bothering you so much. It’s his job, of course he has to have a good public presence. It still makes your stomach churn and your throat close up.

When it’s clear that Mingyu isn’t even trying to get away from the group you roll your eyes and start to walk off yourself. It doesn’t matter how much Mingyu claims he likes you or how perfect he acts, he will always be Kim Mingyu from Seventeen, and that will always come first.

You call an Uber home and when you get a text from Mingyu later in the night, you swipe the notification away before going to bed.

04 |

“I think we should break up.”

You look up from your phone to stare at your boyfriend incredulously. You’re sitting on the couch in your apartment, your legs thrown over his lap as you two try to find a restaurant to get takeout from.

You scoff. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“No, I’m being serious!” Mingyu whines. You’re not sure how he can even be whiny in a situation like this, but leave it to the overgrown puppy of a man to figure out how.

You laugh right in Mingyu’s face, a mix of disbelief and cruelness. “You’re really trying to break up with me? Right now?”

Mingyu straightens his posture in an attempt to get you to take him more seriously. You still don’t. “Yes I am, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped laughing.”

“I’ll stop laughing when you stop being an idiot. Give me one good reason why you’re trying to break up with me, after pursuing me for how long?” You and Mingyu have only been dating a few months and he chased you for nearly a year before getting together. He has to be absolutely out of his mind.

“I just don’t think this is working anymore,” Mingyu tells you, gently pushing your legs off his lap. He stands up, pacing the living room. “I’m always busy and it’s like I never see you unless we’re at work.”

“We’re seeing each other right now. Not at work.”

Mingyu ignores you, talking right over you. “And like we have nothing in common.”

“Opposites attract.”

“And we’re always fighting.”

“We’d fight less if you weren't so stupid.”

“Can you just let me break up with you!” Mingyu shouts. “Stop countering all my points.”

“I will when you give me an actual reason to break up.” You’re starting to get fed up with Mingyu. And he wonders why you two are fighting all the time.

“Fine, you want a reason? You’re neurotic and bossy and mean and always have to be right about everything to the point you never let me win. You’re jealous all the time and I swear I can’t do anything without you breathing down my back and -” Mingyu’s voice finally breaks when he sees the look on your face.

A lump has grown in your throat and you’re on the brink of tears. At some point your arms have snaked around your body, hugging yourself as your fists clutch onto the fabric of your shirt. “Well then. I guess those are some real reasons. I-” You can’t choke out the rest of your sentence, tears starting to stream down your face.

“Wait, wait, no!” Mingyu quickly runs back to the couch. He tries to grab you but you shove him off.

“God, just leave Mingyu. Isn’t that what you want?”

“No, wait, baby, I’m sorry.” Mingyu is still clinging onto your hand even though you keep kicking at him. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t- what the fuck is wrong with you Kim Mingyu?” You’re still crying a bit and your voice is strained as you yell at your boyfriend.

“I don’t know! I just wanted to push your buttons a bit, I didn’t mean to say all those things! Like I mean, they’re all true, BUT that’s what I love about you.”

You stare at Mingyu incredulously, not sure how to respond. “What?”

“I love everything about you, and I love that you’re bossy and possessive and mean. I just wanted to see if you would actually let me go, make sure you didn't secretly want to break up with me, but I took it too far. I’m sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

You’re still a bit shook by the whole conversation and you glare at the man still trying to cling to you. “Fine, you can break up with me.”

“What? No! I don’t actually want to break up!”

“So? I do. You can ask me out again next week, but this week you’re getting dumped for that stunt. Get out of my apartment.” You stand up and pull Mingyu over to the door. He whines the whole time but you’ve already set your mind to it. “Maybe next week I’ll be done hating you for that.” With that you push him out the door and shut it in his face.

05 |

In the almost year and half of knowing Mingyu, you’ve never seen him this nervous before. He’s basically trembling as he stands in front of you, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his grip. You’re sure he’s bent a couple of stems with how tightly he’s holding them.

His face is red, most likely from exertion of running or walking up the stairs to your apartment, and his hair is a mess. You stare at him with a slightly annoyed face.

“What do you want?” You know your tone most likely isn’t going to help the worried look on his face, but he is bothering you at one in the morning, so you’re not that sympathetic.

“I- can I come in?” Mingyu’s voice is a bit strained and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s out of breath or because he’s about to cry.

You glare at him slightly but still step aside to let him into your apartment. You tell yourself it’s just so he doesn’t bother your neighbors standing in the hallway. Once you close to the door and turn around you come face to face with Mingyu staring at you intently.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your jaw drops. You and Mingyu aren’t even officially dating, let alone on L-word levels. “Excuse me?”

Mingyu also looks a bit stunned. “I- that wasn’t supposed to come out. I, uhm, well so-”

“Spit it out already. If you don’t remember you have work tomorrow, meaning that I have work tomorrow. It’s one am and you woke me up pounding on my door, I’m sure my neighbors heard and now you’re rambling about nonsense so-”

“Can I be your boyfriend?” Mingyu cuts your own rambling off.

You snap your mouth shut. You and Mingyu have only been on a couple dates, and most of them have ended on a sour note. You can list maybe two or three dates where things sailed 100% smooth. It doesn’t mean that you don’t like Mingyu, but you don’t think you two are at a place to be making it official.

“No,” you finally tell him.

Mingyu visibility deflates. “Really? No?”

“Yes really.” You sigh before continuing, “Mingyu, I like you, I really do, but we just aren’t at that place yet. I want to keep dating you but I don’t want to rush into things and put us in a situation that could go sour too quickly.”

“Is this because of Kook?”

You blanch a bit at the question. “Jungkook? What does he have to do with this?”

“I just, I saw you two talking the other day and you two seem pretty comfortable, and I know that he thinks you’re pretty.”

You snort at that. “Jeon Jungkook thinks I’m pretty?”

“Yeah! A lot of people do. I do.” Curse Mingyu’s adorable puppy eyes and soft voice.

“No, this isn’t because of Jungkook. I was actually talking to him about you, you idiot.”

“About me? Then why are you rejecting me? Did I do something wrong? I promise whatever it is I can fix it. I know I’m clumsy and loud and sometimes I forget my manners and I’m a giant idiot but-”

You walk up to Mingyu and grab his face. The feeling of your palms against his jaw makes him shut up. His eyes widen a bit as he looks at you. “You are an idiot, but I unfortunately like it. You need to learn how to listen though. I like you Mingyu, I just don’t want to rush this. I want you to be my boyfriend, we just need a little more time, okay?”

Mingyu takes a moment but he nods, his face still in your hands.”I just thought that maybe I did something wrong, or there was someone else. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, okay? And stop being insecure, it’s not a good look on you. I like it when you’re a bit cocky,” you admit.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

You let go of his face and roll your eyes. “Not too cocky though. Now c’mon on.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Bed? It’s one am.”

“You’re letting me stay the night?”

“Do you not want to?” You cock your hip, sending him a pointed look. “Aren’t you the one always begging to cuddle.” That gets Mingyu moving, quickly scooping you up and carrying you to your bedroom.

06 |

“Gross,” Chan mutters as he watches Mingyu place a wet kiss on your temple. You also cringe a bit at the feeling, wiping the saliva off your forehead.

“Aw, leave them be Channie, they’re in love,” Jeonghan coos.

You roll your eyes. Working with Seventeen and dating Mingyu means you’re around the boys all the time which means you’ve also become susceptible to all of their teasing. Instead of addressing the other two, you move over to where Mingyu is now trying to put charms in his hair.

“Stop that,” you tell him before dropping the charms back onto the table.

“Isn’t your job to make Mingyu look cute?” Joshua asks as he messes with his own hair in a mirror.

“My job is to make Mingyu look nice. He doesn’t need to be too cute, the Gyuldaengies are already too obsessed with him.” You reach up to brush Mingyu’s hair out of his eyes.

“Awww, you’re jealous,” Soonyoung teases and everyone else starts to join in.

“You’re all jerks,” you grumble.

“Yeah, leave my partner alone!” Mingyu steps up and you scoff.

“You’re the worst of them all!” You give him a playful shove. “You entertain the fangirls too much.”

“I do not!”

“Yes you do!” Jeonghan pipes up again, always the instigator.

“It’s because he likes seeing you jealous,” Joshua snickers. You glare at your boyfriend who doesn’t look guilty at all.

“Oh don’t act like you don’t also make Mingyu jealous,” Jeonghan says.

“I do not!” You shout. All of the boys give you a look and you glare at them. “I hate all of you.”

07 |

It’s been months, months, since you’ve seen your boyfriend in person and you’re practically bouncing off the walls waiting for him to get back. Seventeen has just wrapped up their latest tour which means you can finally have your boyfriend back to yourself and you can’t stop seeing thirst posts about him on your social media feed.

Normally you would have just gone on tour with them, but then a family emergency came up and you had to sit out. It’s been driving you crazy not seeing your boyfriend everyday and you've been irritable in the past few days and you know it’s all because of Mingyu’s absence.

You pace around the room anxiously. You know they’ve landed in Korea already (nearly an hour ago) which means he should already be here but he isn’t and it’s starting to piss you off. You know there’s probably traffic or paparazzi or something annoyed because he’s an idol and he has to be good for the cameras but really he should be dropping everything and rushing back to you.

You don’t have to wait too long because soon the door is opening and Mingyu walks in. Your heart pounds in your chest at the sight of him but it doesn’t stop a glare from spreading over your face.

You’re mad at him. You’re seething with rage and you want to just wring his neck. You stare at him as he stands there and it fills you with even more anger. He reeks of that cheap ass cologne he always buys despite being a rich K-Pop idol and his outfit is comprised of all black but none of his blacks match and it grinds your gears to no end. You’d think after how many years of being dressed by professional stylists and having a best friend like Minghao he would know how to dress but he still apparently doesn’t.

Your blood is boiling as you approach the man and you don’t even let him speak before you grab him by the collar and pull him into a searing kiss. His lips taste like orange Fanta Lip Smackers and that too makes you angry, just because it does. You don’t pull away from the kiss though, pulling him further into you. He doesn’t complain as he holds you tight against him, kissing you back just as passionately.

When you finally do pull away you’re panting and a frown finds its way onto your face. “You need a haircut.” Your fingers tug at the grown out hair at the back of his neck.

Mingyu snorts. “You know the Carats like my hair like this.”

“Yeah sure,” you mutter.

“You’re so jealous,” Mingyu teases. “You know you’re the most important person in my life.”

“And you’re the biggest pain in mine,” you retort.

“Aw jagiya, I love you too,” Mingyu coos. “Now drop that grumpy act, it won’t work on me anymore. You think after being apart for so long you’d be nicer to me.”

“That’s why I’m so grumpy,” you grumble. “I hate you, you know. If you didn’t make me love you so much I wouldn’t miss you as much.”

Mingyu giggles. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be more considerate of you and your feelings in the future.”

“You should be! Call me more.”

“I won’t have to call you, because I’m here now. You have me all month.”

“A whole month?” Your face finally lights up and Mingyu smiles back and nods. “Just to myself?”

“Just to yourself. Though…I thought you hated me,” Mingyu teases.

“I do. But now you have a whole month to remind me why I love you too.”

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