#night the buzz 2010 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shy-taylorsversion · 2 months

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Want You Back | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Inspired by Want You Back by Maisie Peters

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago, Y/n started hunting with the boys. Her and Dean's friendship became more than anything she ever had before. Then he hurt her like never before. The worst part was she didn't really care.

Takes place somewhere in season 6 after Sam got his soul back. Flashbacks are during season five.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing (minimal), canon-level violence, few innuendos, and mentions of things. Reader is kinda sad and desperate. Angst. no happy ending :(

A/N: Hi!! After a year of trying to write a complete fic to post, I finally did it. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I relied on Grammarly lol Also I had no idea how to write the action scenes but tried my best. I really don't know if this is worth much but I had so much fun writing sooo I hope you enjoy it!! (gif not mine)

March 2010

Y/n’s phone buzzed, drawing her attention from the hunter drunkenly blabbering in her ear. They’d just wrapped up a quick hunt, a werewolf somewhere in northern Montana. She didn’t even really know the guy but Bobby had given him her number to ask for help. She agreed, not really having anything more to do. He was fine for a hunter, other than he never shut up and was getting too handsy for her liking, and him being on his fifth drink wasn’t helping.

She opened the message, not recognizing the number. Bobby had to stop handing it out to whoever.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Whatcha up to?”

The phone fell into her lap. There was only one person she ever let get away with calling her that, or anything really, and he didn’t come around often.

“Depends, who is this?”

The response was almost immediate.

“Don’t do me like that, Y/n”

She could almost see his stupid grin on the screen and had to look away to control the heat rising in her face. Within five seconds and two texts, Dean Winchester had turned her into a giggling schoolgirl with a crush.

“I’m at a bar, what do you want?”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart. Which one? I wanna see you.”

In any other universe, she would have assumed he had ulterior motives. She had the first few times she’d received that text but ended up spending the night hiding her disappointment. He only wanted to see her. He’d meet with her wherever she was. A bar, a motel, a diner.

They’d spend hours talking about everything. She’d tell him stories of her recent hunts and the hunters she was stuck helping. He’d tell her of whatever they’d been facing. On rare occasions, when it was super late and they were sprawled on her bed, in a half-drunken stupor, he’d tell her about Sam or their dad. He’d mention their childhood and what he was put through. One night, he even mentioned a girl named Cassie, he skirted around details but Y/n understood.

They’d fall asleep like that, on top of the covers of a dirty motel bed. The next morning, he’d take her to breakfast, hug her goodbye, and then he was gone.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again.

“I miss you.”

Her blood ran cold as she stared at the screen. He’d definitely never said that before. They just never went there and maybe this wasn’t him going there but it was different. Without another thought, she sent him the address.

Present, April 2011

“What Dean did wasn’t ok, you know that right?” Sam said through the phone. “He never should’ve left like that. We just really could use your and Bobby’s help on this case.”

Y/n sighed in response. What could she even say? That she knew, that she understood. That it still didn’t matter because even through all of the anger and hurt, she’d take him back tomorrow.

Not that he’d ever actually been hers. It was only half a spring, barely two months.

It didn’t matter either way. There was a job to be done and she had to do it. She could put her feelings aside for a few days.

“He always left like that, not like I’m surprised.”

“Look, I’ve gotta go but please, Y/n, call us if you need anything. We’ll be there soon.“

“Bye, Sam.”

The call ended, leaving Y/n leaning against the railing of Bobby’s porch. The early spring wind whipped around her and she hugged her flannel closer, looking out onto the empty road.

It had been over a year since she’d seen either of them. She knew of everything that happened to them. Sam going to hell and coming back without a soul. Dean, living a normal life for over a year with a woman and her kid.

Y/n didn’t know her, only hearing about the situation from Sam and Bobby in passing. She knew her name was Lisa and that Dean cared for her. Maybe more. She knew that Dean had promised Sam to live a normal life after he jumped into the cage. And she was happy that he got a year of peace. She was.

She could picture him helping in the kitchen, wearing an apron with flour smeared across his face. He’d probably set up family movie nights and weekend outings and birthday dinners. He’d been happy and okay. Against all odds, he had gotten out.

That didn’t stop the wave of hurt that washed over at the thought of him, all domestic and soft.

The click of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. Bobby stood there, a knowing look on his face.

“C’mon kid, let’s see if we can figure out something before those boys get here.”

A few hours later, Y/n stared at the book in her lap. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for thirty minutes. Every time she’d get drawn into the book, the house would creak or the wind would blow and she’d be snapped out of it.

She kept waiting for the door to open, for footsteps to trail down the foyer and into the living room. She couldn’t even begin to prepare for what the next few days were going to be like. Her only plan was to act as normal as possible, which was already proving to be difficult.

A pit formed in her stomach, there was a lump in her throat and her head was clouded. The whole room was hazy and it felt like she was watching herself exist.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until something wet hit her hands and slid onto her jeans. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to focus on the book again. The lines blurred together as more tears filled her eyes.

God, she was sitting here crying over some guy. She was a grown woman, she had to get over this. It was pathetic at this point.

“You know, what Dean did was wrong. Leaving like that, not telling you what happening.” Bobby said, walking into the room, a stack of books in his hands. “I love the kid but he’s a real dick sometimes.”

He meant well but she swore if one more person said that Dean had done bad, she was going to go crazy.

She knew that. More than anyone, she knew. She was the one who spent months hunting with him, helping him and Sam figure out how to save the damn world. They’d spent nights wrapped up in each other, more than ever before. Farther than before.

She was the one who woke up to an empty bed with no trace of him anywhere. He never responded to a call or a text. Never even let her know he was alive.

He’d left like an assassin.

Part of her couldn’t even blame him. It probably had been for the best because if he’d told her what the plan had been, she’d have begged.

In the end, he’d got to be a coward and she salvaged some amount of self-respect.

“I know, Bobby.” She said, giving him a small smile, “I know.”

The door creaked causing Y/n to jump, earning her a concerned look from Bobby.

She smiled at him again, trying to reassure him. She could tell he’d been worried about her lately. He was justified in it. She’d been on edge and closed off for the last year and a half.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She’d known these boys for the better part of her life, it wasn’t a big deal.

Sam rounded the corner first, entering with a slight grin. His eyes immediately found hers and without warning he pulled her off the couch and into his arms.

Y/n let out a surprised laugh as her feet dangled off the ground and the life was squeezed out of her.

“I missed you too, Sam.” She said, unable to hold back more laughter, “Put me down now.”

Her feet hit the floor and Sam stepped back. She looked him over, still smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

A set of footsteps grew louder causing Y/n to look up, only for her to meet two green eyes.

The breath was knocked out of her and she was all too aware of the pit in her stomach again.

Ignoring the pairs of eyes on her, She spun on her heel to face Bobby.

“Let’s get started?”

March 2010

“I call shotgun!” Y/n yelled as they walked out of the diner and took off towards the Impala.

She was probably being unfair. She’d barely shared the passenger side in the few weeks she’d been with the boys. Sam was getting huffy about it, she could tell but she enjoyed the view more from the front. Sitting in the back she’d miss the way Dean’s hands looked gripping the steering wheel, the way his lips moved as he mouthed the lyrics to whatever was on the radio, or the way his eyes would flicker to hers for just a split second.

Dean had also finally let her DJ and she didn’t plan on giving that rare privilege away anytime soon.

“C'mon, dude. It's my turn.” Sam whined, “My legs are starting to cramp.”

Sam beat her to the car which wasn’t surprising since he was literally the size of one. She was close to giving in when an arm landed on her shoulder. Dean nudged Sam out of the way, ignoring his protests, and opened the door.

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean’s eyes never left hers as she slid into the seat, “Need my Darlin’ by my side.”

Present, April 2011

Cracked wooden planks creaked under Y/n’s feet as she followed the boys and Bobby into the abandoned house. It was pitch black. She blinked her eyes, trying to adapt to the lack of lighting.

According to Sam, a nest of vamps had been holed up there for weeks. They’d started leaving a trail of bodies, teens who’d come through as a dare or curiosity. She didn’t know the exact numbers racked up in that time but it was enough for Sam and Dean to ask for help.

Dean motioned for them to split up, two taking the downstairs and two going up. She went to follow behind Sam who had taken off into the next room but Bobby beat her to it. She would’ve fought back but it wasn’t exactly like she could cause a scene right then.

She followed Dean up the stairs, cringing every time the stairs groaned underneath their feet.

Dean slowed as he hit the final step before a long, dark hallway. Y/n was a step behind him. His body nearly covered her. She shifted to the side to peer around him.

Both raised their machetes, trying to keep their breathing quiet as they waited for any sign of movement.

A crash came from down the hall. Dean started towards the sound, Y/n following close behind. The complete darkness put them on edge. Being minus one sense in a house of at least ten fanged bastards, not fun.

The floorboard creaked behind her causing her to flip around, just in time to dodge the first vampire of the night.

She swung her machete, hitting its arm. Distracted, she brought down the weapon. Its head hit the floor.

Dean yelled out from behind her. She flung herself around to hear him fighting off, what she guessed was three on his own. Her presence seemed to catch the attention of one of them because it charged at her.

She dodged, the vamp lunged again grabbing her by the arm. She twisted out of its grasp. Using the angle to her advantage, she swiped her leg around, knocking it off balance. Its head rolled away as its body hit the ground.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to try to find Dean. She still couldn’t see him but she could hear him panting a few feet away.

She was yanked forward. Hands gripped her forearms tight enough to leave bruises and slammed into the wall. Her head buzzed on impact and she forced herself to stay upright. Its fangs grazed her neck and then its head dropped to the floor.

Dean stood in front of her, so close she could feel him breathing, rather than hearing it. Without thinking, she reached out to him and landed on his arm. She went to pull away but his other hand grasped her wrist, holding her in place.

“Thanks.” She breathed, “You good?”

“Yeah, You?”

She wished she could see him, make sure he was being truthful. He didn’t exactly have the best track record with honesty. But in the dark, she had no choice but to trust him.

“I’m fine.” There were definitely bruises forming in her arms and her head was still spinning but she’d had worse.

Dean’s hand dropped her wrist. She ignored the deflated feeling in her chest and dropped her arm back to her side.

Without warning, he ran his hands over her arms and up her shoulders. She tried to pull away but he didn’t stop.

“What are you doing?” She whisper-yelled.

“I literally heard you hit the wall, Y/n,” He said, running his hands over her head, checking for any bumps.

“I am fine.” She tried to swat him away but he grabbed her wrists mid-air and pulled them to his chest.

The air was humid around them. She heard him panting. Leather and sweat invaded her senses. Any focus she had before vanished.

He was here, touching her, after so long.

Silence enveloped them. The only noise was their panting.

This was wrong. Sam and Bobby were probably fighting for their life downstairs and here they were, doing whatever this was.

She was about to pull away when a loud yell came from downstairs.

The moment was broken. They took off down the hallway and stairs. Staying close to not get lost in the dark.

They hit the last few steps as a vampire, charged at them.

Dean swung his machete and it fell to the floor.

They moved further into the first floor of the home, finding Sam and Bobby fighting off at least four vamps each.

They split up, him going to Bobby and her going to Sam.

None of the vampires were aware of her yet. She grabbed the syringe of deadman’s blood out of her pocket and plunged the needle into the closet to her.

Now they knew she was there.

Two turned towards her giving Sam time to take down his remaining one.

Both charged at her, hissing. She ran in between them.She flipped around, slicing the blade in an arc. The one on her left doubled over at the impact.

She swung.

The right one lunged at her. She pivoted and cut the blade up.

Its head hit the floor.

She looked around the room, a slight beam of moonlight flooded the house now. She made out Sam helping Bobby up from the floor, right as Dean took down the last vampire.

The room was silent other than everyone trying to catch their breath.

Dean’s eyes found hers. She forced herself to look away. Sam interrupted the non-moment.

“Time for drinks?”

Y/n and the boys decided to go out. They were leaving soon but everyone needed time to wash off and get ready.

She dragged the black liner across her eyelid, double-checking to see if it smeared the shimmery brown eyeshadow she’d already put on. The cracks in the old mirror made it kind of hard to perfect the make-up but it would have to do. She already changed from her bloodied hunting clothes into a clean pair of jeans with a simple tank top. She didn’t own much and traveled with less.

“Broke mirrors are bad luck, ya know?”

Dean leaned against the doorframe, flannel pulled taut around his crossed arms.

She ignored the pit that had reappeared in her stomach and continued applying her lipstick. She flipped through ideas for a response. She could yell at him to get out or cry about how much he hurt her. Instead, she opted to act like nothing was wrong.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who broke it.” She said, shoveling her makeup back into the bag, still never meeting his eye. She stood and gathered the rest of her stuff into a neat pile on her bed. Her back was completely towards him.

She heard him walk into the room and the door clicked shut.

“Y/n, look at me.”

She turned around and looked up at him. Her eyebrows raised like he was boring her. In reality, she was struggling to breathe. Her hands shook and a lump was stuck in her throat.

Her eyes glanced over his face. His jaw was set but eyes were soft. She knew where this was going.

Dean took a deep breath before starting.

“Look, what I did-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Dean Winchester.” She spat.

“I just-”

“No. You don’t get to say anything. You don’t get to say that what you did was wrong or how sorry you are. You don’t think I don’t know that what you did was wrong? Everyone keeps telling me that. Bobby, Sam and now you. They kept telling me how horrible of you that was like it wasn’t me. Like I wasn’t the one who spent months with you, like I didn't help you figure out how to stop the fucking apocalypse. Like I didn’t stitch you up after every hunt or spend every car ride next to you. Like I wasn’t the one who would hold you after you woke up screaming or it wasn’t me who spent every single night in your fucking sheets.”

Every ounce of refrain she’d worked to keep was gone. Hot tears were streaming down her face as her eyes bored into his. He didn’t try to interrupt her but his jaw twitched and body tensed.

“Like it wasn’t me who woke up two months later to an empty bed. You were gone, Dean. You left without a word. No text, no note. Nothing. You fucking left me. And then I found out you were with some other girl for a year? So yeah, I know that what you did was bad.”

Somewhere in her speech, she’d moved close enough for their chest to touch. Her finger was stabbing into his chest. He didn’t move, was barely breathing but she wasn’t finished.

“Maybe it was cheap to you, or maybe it was some fling to pass the time but it was real to me. It was all I had. You were all I had.” Her voice broke at the last word and she dropped her hand. Her head fell as she cried. Over a year of built-up heartbreak exploding in one moment was too much.

His hand found hers and placed it back on his chest. She looked back up at him, his other hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes as his thumb wiped away the remaining tears.

“Do you want to know what the worst part is?” She whispered, eyes still shut. “I’d be yours again if you wanted. If you asked. How pathetic is that?”

“Y/n.”

She opened her eyes to look at him despite her embarrassment.

“You are anything but cheap or pathetic.” His voice was thick and his eyes were glassy. She’d seen him in so many different states but she’d never seen so much emotion written across his face.

“Ask me then. Ask me to come with you.”

His expression darkened and he dropped his hand from her face. He took a step back and looked away.

“It’s not that easy.” He said, shaking his head. “It's never that easy.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

She wasn’t even surprised. She should’ve been disappointed or furious but she was just over it. She was tired and desperate. And if she couldn’t have him, he needed to go.

She wiped a hand down her face and glanced back into the mirror assessing the damage her outburst caused. She started wiping off the messed-up liner before starting to reapply. Dean stood behind her, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Get out.” She said without hesitation, her voice as steady as possible.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shut it. He walked towards the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

“For what it's worth, I am sorry.”

The buzz of conversation filled the packed-out bar. Sam found them a small booth in the corner and was now talking about a new piece of lore he’d found about some Egyptian god. Most of the time, she loved hearing what he had to say but right now all she could focus on was Dean's hand trailing up and down the woman’s hip. He never even sat down with them, finding himself a spot at the bar, next to a pretty blonde. She’d watched for half an hour now as he grinned at the girl, whispered in her ear, and bought her a drink.

She wanted to puke or cry or both. She decided to get drunk instead.

She went to take a sip of her beer only to realize it was empty. Motioning to Sam she was going to get another, she slid out of the booth and made her way to the opposite side of the bar from Dean.

She planned to order a shot of some vodka and another beer but she couldn’t catch the attention of either bartender.

A body bumped up against hers causing her to stumble. A hand wrapped around her waist to catch her. She almost jerked away but she looked up to find a familiarly unfamiliar pair of dark green eyes and dark blonde hair.

The man was by far the prettiest she’d seen all night.

“I am so sorry, It's packed in here. Isn’t it? Nowhere to stand.” He had a slight southern drawl and a boyish charm about him.

“It is. Can’t seem to even order a drink.” She smiled at him.

“You see, now that had to be fate or something because I was just wantin’ to buy you one.” He grinned and waited, almost seeing if she’d allow it. His hand was still on her but she found she didn’t really mind.

The room was fuzzy and she could only make out the man in front of her. Even then, he was a little hazy and she had no idea what he was saying, only that his mouth looked pretty as he said it.

Y/n didn’t know how long it’d been since the handsome stranger volunteered to feed into her night of drunkenness or even how many she’d had so far. She vaguely remembered him buying her the first shot and then the second and maybe a third. They made small talk, she gave some bullshit story about what she did for work and where she was from. Somewhere in between she had a fourth, fifth, and sixth one.

And somewhere between the seventh and now, she’d lost track of Dean. She didn’t even know if he was still there. She did know that the new guy made her feel ok, at least for now. His hands never left her and the drinks never seemed to end.

She could barely remember the events of the day. Maybe by tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember any of it, or at least a girl could hope.

But right now, she didn’t feel like crying or throwing up as long as she didn’t think of it.

She decided in her drunken haze that maybe this was what she needed. So when the stranger asked her if she wanted to leave, she agreed. And when he leaned down to kiss her, she let him.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester songfic #dean winchester

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bless-my-demons · 7 months

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Redamancy: Chapter Seventeen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Angst and cuss words

Notes: The impatient part of me just wants Jasper back, but I have to power through for the plot. I also have that scene written and it taunts me every time I open my Docs🥲

Word Count: 2010

Series Masterlist

Reader

They say grief is just left over love.

Well I have plenty of grief then, because I never got to pour it into the person it was meant for. It's rotting away inside my chest and leaking from the cracks. It spills from my eyes and scratches my throat, flooding everything and it doesn't seem to end.

Is there an end?

I don't think there is, because I don't just miss him - I miss something that'll never happen. A life I'll never live, one where it's just me and him and eternity stretches out before us endlessly.

• January 16th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

My phone buzzes in my pocket letting me know I'm getting an incoming call. Fishing it out, Bella Swan flashes across the screen and I'm stunned.

"Hello?" I answer hesitantly.

"Hey Y/n, I um - well I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie? With Jessica and I, tonight?"

"Oh uh-"

"You don't have to-" She interrupts me, clearly sensing my hesitation, but I stop her before she could back out.

"No! I'd love to, let me call my mom and tell her I'll be gone when she gets home from work."

"Okay, cool. I'll be there in like, twenty minutes." Ending the call, I stare at my phone in wonder.

Bella has been catatonic the last 3 months and now she's down for movies like nothing has happened? Shaking my head, I call my mom while slipping my shoes on in the hallway, she picks up on the second ring.

"Hey sweetie, I was just about to call you and see what you wanted for dinner!" Her cheerie voice tugs on my heart strings, I think she's trying to over-compensate in the hopes that'll it'll bring my own mood up.

"About that, Bella Swan just called and asked if I could go with her to the movies-"

"Absolutely! Do you need money? There's some in-" The excitement in her voice is almost comical.

"Mom, I have money. I just didn't want you to worry if I wasn't home when you got off." The line is silent for a few beats before she answers.

"Honey, go have fun with your friends and don't worry about me! I love you, sweat pea."

"Love you too." Tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes suddenly.

"Call me if you need me?" Her question is soft, not wanting to spook me into canceling.

"Always." I smile sadly to no one in the empty house before hanging up.

Bella's tires on her old truck crackle on our gravel driveway and I snag a jacket before bolting out of the front door.

I can do this, I can be normal and enjoy my friends for a few hours.

• January 16th, 2006 • Port Angeles, WA •

Reader

Not only did Bella manage to get me out of the house for a few hours, but she also talked me into watching a scary movie about zombies - one of my least favorite monster movie types. I don't do the jump scares, the suspense, the chasing - nope, none of that is for me.

The worst part was wishing I had him to just hold my hand, because with him I'm invincible. Well, was invincible. With every one of my lurches and under-my-breath curses, I know he'd be chuckling at my expense. Somehow that made the hole in my chest wider, darker.

At some point, going out and doing everyday things has to get back to normal. This piece of me that's rotting away inside can't keep continuing to fester and grow, its so fucking tiring.

Relief floods my chest and limbs as the credits begin scrolling. Looking to my right I can tell Bella is unamused and Jessica on her other side didn't enjoy it.

"Okay, next girl's movie night, I'm picking the movie." I tell them, exasperation leaking into my tone.

Both girls glance at me and raise eyebrows as we stand and exit the theater.

"Don't give me that look, zombies freak me out!"

"They're not real-" Bella teases me with a smile, but realization stops her comment and I try to hide my falling face from Jessica as she walks ahead of us in the lobby.

Vampires weren't real, until we met them. Fuck, everything brings us right back to them-

"-If it's supposed to draw a parallel about leprosy, my cousin had leprosy, it's not funny 'ya know." Jessica Stanley takes the cake when it comes to filling silence with conversation, even if it's one-sided.

Walking back to Bella's truck, I'm only half-paying attention to Jess as she rattles on. If I've learned anything from her since my first day at Forks, it's that I need to take everything she says with a grain of salt.

"I was surprised you even called at all." I lift my head in surprise at Jessica's statement, not quite rude but... "Like, your guys' depression thing - I get it-" Glancing between Bella and I, the train wreck falling from her mouth continues, "I'm totally, totally worried. But after a while... you're still not over them, but I'm going through stuff too 'ya know."

I almost want to laugh, not at her, but... it's almost funny how one person has basically derailed my life and Jessica Stanley thinks it's just seasonal depression.

Turning to Bella, I notice she's watching a group of bikers at the next street corner over.

"How 'bout a ride, girls?" One of them calls, watching the three of us.

As Bella gets a far-off look in her eye, Jessica moves to stand in front of her to get her attention.

"Dude, c'mon." Inclining her shoulder to continue moving down the street, she gives Bella a weird look, waiting.

"I think I know those guys." I reach out to put a hand on Bella's arm, but she's already stepping towards the group of men.

"Well they seem great, can we go?" Jessica pleads.

"I just need to see something." Bella sounds like she's in a daze and I start to worry as she begins walking to their street corner.

I have an instinct to follow my friend at the same time a tingle spreads across the back of my scalp, danger. The sensation almost draws a gasp from my lips, finally something other than just emptiness holed up in my chest.

I start after Bella, half to make sure my friend is alright and half to... chase this different feeling.

"Alright, alright! We've got takers." One of them says smugly.

These aren't safe men, turn around.

I stutter and almost trip on the uneven pavement. It's almost like he whispered the words in my ear, if the January air didn't have such a chill to it - I'd swear it was his breath on my neck.

A piece of me that had been dormant since Bella's birthday springs to life, I need to chase this. Just the instant craving to hear more of his imaginary voice drives me to stand beside my friend in front of a group of sketchy-looking bikers on a dark street late at night.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else." I whip my head towards her, trying to figure out what she's got planned.

"That's cool, I'll be whoever you want me to be." Swinging a leg over his motorcycle, he gives her an expectant look. "So, what do ya say?"

After a few tense beats, she decided to hop on the back of the closest bike and they immediately take off into the night. I hesitate a few more beats, looking at the other bikers, waiting-

Don't get on another man's bike darlin', you’re mine.

Tears spring to the corner of my eyes and I turn around, not wanting to start crying out of the blue in front of a bunch of random strangers. I'm not his anymore, but I also can't bring myself to cling to the back of anyone else.

Jessica meets me halfway up the street, throwing up her hands in a 'what the fuck' motion.

"Um, care to explain?" She asks impatiently.

"I think she just wanted to see what it's like-" but I'm cut off as Jessica stomps past me, Bella rounding the corner of the building.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you? Just curious."

"I thought I saw something." Bella tried to explain, I try to meet eyes to see what's actually going on, but her eyes are glued to the ground.

"You-oh, You're insane actually. Or suicidal. That homeboy? Could've been a psycho. I was about to end up in an FBI interview room like some lame TV show." Jessica rants as we walk away.

"Ugh, that was such a rush."

"Awesome, so you're an adrenaline junkie now? That's cool, you can go bungee jumping. You don't get on the back of some loser's motorcycle! Crazy." Stomping off towards her own car, I hang back with Bella. She's not wrong, but she also doesn't get it.

"Let's go home?" I ask my friend, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the beat up old red truck.

Is danger how I see-or rather hear him again? My heart picks up speed at the thought - I'm not one for dangerous situations, but I also can't get the idea out of my head. It's like my heart is at war with my brain, one with a crushing addiction and the other with the instinct for self-preservation.

A new war has kicked off inside of me and I have no idea which side will win.

• January 16th, 2006 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

Reading a book I found in Carlisle's study to pass the time, an unfamiliar uneasy feeling settles in my gut. Closing the book, I check everyone that's home to make sure it isn't one of them and I come up normal. Alice, sitting across the room raises an eyebrow while reading her own magazine at my sudden shift in demeanor.

"Alice-"

"I won't check her every time you get a feeling, Jasper. You're the one who wanted to cut her out." The sting of her words find their target, but I can't ignore this.

"Please, I need to know if she's... alright." I plead, not ready to drop it.

"She hasn't been fucking alright this entire time-" but her snap-back halts immediately as her eyes adopt the familiar far-out gaze of her power.

Immediately I'm kneeling in front of her, worry begins to slither across my skin. Alice cranks down on her feelings, refusing to give any hints away to what she's seeing.

"Alice, please." I'm not usually one to beg, but for Y/n? I've noticed over time things like that have changed.

"She's fine." Drifting back to reality, she stands and shoves me off with a look, voice monotone in anger directed at me.

"What did you see?" I hound her, following her down the hall to her room.

"Nothing - it doesn't matter, she chose differently." She answers cryptically and it almost sends me into a spiral of the worst ideas.

I want to question her more, but she slams her door in my face effectively ending the conversation. Anger and frustration with a tinge of despair floats through the air mingled with my sister's scent. I know it's directed at me, I know it's my fault and I can't find the strength anywhere to wipe her feelings away. Almost as if my gift has resorted to the cruel and unusual punishment of feeling without the capacity to manipulate anymore.

My forehead thumps against the white wood in defeat.

At what point does this sore heal? Does this ache ever go away? How much time has to pass before she isn't occupying every single thought of every single second of the day? I've read that grief is supposed to ebb and flow, but this - this is more of a steady current, a nonstop hotwire through my chest that's painfully constricting the long-dead heart within.

Taglist:

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[nano_owl] and [gregg_thecat] for some reason Tumblr won’t look you up with the underscores and searching before the underscore doesn’t pull up your blogs as available for tag🥺

The rest of you, tumblr says there’s no blogs that are available for tag! Please please please don’t hesitate to message me so I can fix!

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #jasper hale #female reader insert

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gender0bender · 1 year

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I have finally scanned and uploaded all of the 2010 Spring issue of Original Plumbing to internet archive for people to read for free. This issues focuses on health and safe sex in a transmasculine context, and features interviews, articles, and artist spotlights. You can buy this issue as well as others by the magazine on their bigcartel page here, and I really encourage you to support them!

Image descriptions:

1. A cover of a magazine depicting a shirtless white trans man with short dark hair and facial hair smiling at the camera. He is standing against a brick wall. In the top left corner is the logo of the magazine reading OP trans male quarterly , with more text in the bottom right reading “the health and safer sex issue N0.03 / spring / 2010 /US $8″

2. A cropped piece of interview text reading: What is the hottest safer sex encounter you've had lately? Well, a funny Eros story. I was fucking this hot transguy with my gloved hand. At some point I needed more gloves and we had run out of them in the bin on the bunk we were playing on. At this point we had quite an audience so I leaned over and asked some guy to go get me more gloves. He did and I went right back to fucking that boy senseless. You just needed a helping hand! True, and I figured they were getting a show so they could at least help out. Wow, did any of them comment on the hot action they were witnessing? Or did they just watch and enjoy?

3. A cropped piece of interview text reading: You also are a go-go dancer with TransLicious Entertainment. What's the craziest thing you've had happen to you in a go-go setting? I just started go-go dancing, so unfortunately I don't have any crazy stories. But I do have something to share with OP, because it happened after I finished dancing at the OP issue #2 release party, which was amazing by the way. It was about 7am, I was finally laying down to go to bed, still buzzing with the excitement of the night. Suddenly I thought, "I'm a transsexual and I'm beautiful!" and I realized I had never said that out loud before, so I did... and I started balling my eyes out. The journey of self-love has been such a long and sometimes painful process. But, I have to say, ever since that night, I feel unstoppable.

4. A photograph of a shirtless East Asian trans man with short hair crossing his hands over his chest and looking into the camera with a squint. He is wearing a white baseball cap, a necklace, and a wristwatch.

5. A photograph of white trans man in a speedo with brown short hait, snake bit piercings and glasses smiling at the camera as he pulls on a white latex glove.

6. A cropped part of a poster decpiting two trans men looking into the camera. The one on the left is a black man with a bit of facial hair and long black locs. The one on the right is a brown man, with short black hair. The text above them reads “paps matter for trans men.” ED.

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lizardsfromspace · 7 months

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So the NFL's been doing special broadcasts for kids, since a lot of kids aren't playing or liking football these days for some unstated reason. In the past these involved a Nick broadcast with slime, and a broadcast with live color commentary from Patrick Star

Their new one is a special Toy Story broadcast that takes all the player tracking data from the game, and uses it to create animated doppelgangers of all the players as toys in Andy's Room. It looks like this

This looks like a lost PS2 game called Disney(TM)-Pixar(TM) Monday Night Football (TM) Cartoon Slam. What is this

This is the weirdest way anyone's ever broadcast a Jags London game, and Yahoo! once livestreamed one on Tumblr

Also Andy is incredibly into football now I guess. Since Toy Story 3 came out in 2010 and Andy was off to college then Andy Toystory would be, like, thirty now. Did he drop out and move home and get back his old toys from that little girl and also buy a lot of little football players and he stays in his room all day making them play and telling them "it's all okay you're back now, it's time to play, like when I was a kid" and Woody's just kind of sad about the whole thing, and then Andy stalks off to the corner to cry and all the toys have to lay there and watch his breakdown bc they daren't move while he's looking at them, not just to keep the masquerade but because revealing the truth may break his already fragile psyche, which is warped by his mom pointing out to him that Sid, the garbage man, is happy and has a nice house with his husband and kids, isn't it funny, and Andy laughed but in private he was so enraged he tore apart his toys and now he's angrier that he can't put them back together, and he just has Woody and Buzz and he's telling them he fucked up, he always fucks up, WHY CAN'T ANYTHING GO RIGHT ANYMORE? and then he runs off to the attic and none of the toys know if he's more of a danger to himself or others, and the torn up ones are still alive and conscious of their splintered being and can, for the first time in their plastic existence, suffer?

Anyway, the first down chains are Slinky Dog and players phase into him sometimes. Whoa!

This is a 1:1 replication of a real-life game happening in London and it has people running into Slinky Dog and merging with him. Past broadcasts just had AR elements, this one is full-on CGI models stiffly miming real-world movements. If any kid gets into football from this they have to be told that it actually isn't CGI toys playing most weeks. Though it will be for the Jags bc they have a second London game this year

#nfl #sports #long post

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themultifandomgal · 2 months

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From 2010- Back On Tour

2012

Part 17

3rd January 2012 Bournemouth

“How are you all doing tonight?” I ask grabbing my water bottle and taking a sip. The crowd all scream “good. Did you all have a good Christmas?” I ask putting my bottle down and one again everyone screams “ok. Now we thought it would be fun to play a game with you. I’m going to ask one of you to hum a tune, the boys are going to each have a buzzer and guess what song your humming. Sound good? Ok. To make this fair I have a bowl full of rows and seat numbers. Ok let’s start” I dip by hand into the bowl and pull out a piece of paper “row L seat 5” a member of our team make their way over to a girl who then hums a tune. Harry quickly presses the buzzer

“Easy, that’s Teenage Dream. YN loves that song”

“One point for Harry. Ok next… row A seat 9” again the member of our team takes a microphone to another girl who hums. This time Louis presses the buzzer

“She makes me wanna?” the girl shake her head and hums again Liam buzzes

“Yeahx3?” again the girl shakes her head

“We give up” Harry says

“It was Give Me Everything”

4th January 2012 Birmingham

“Hello Birmingham!” Harry says smiling “YN how does it feel to perform here?”

“Crazy. I saw my first ever concert here so it feels very surreal”

“YNs family are all here and once again cookie is sleeping in her dressing room” Louis says when the whole arena start saying ‘aww’ I turn around and see a photo of cookie asleep on the sofa “isn’t she sweet?”

“She’s an angel”

“We’ve got some tweets we want to go through with you. Ok first one is ‘what did you get for Christmas? YN did you get another dog?”

“No” I pout, “but I did get a painting of cookie. Zayn what did you get”

“Hulk boxers”

“And he’s wearing them tight now aren’t you!” Louis laughs

“Ok next question ‘did you get each other presents?’” Harry asks

“I am their present” Liam jokes and I roll my eyes

“Will cookie come with you for the whole of tour?” Zayn asks

“No she’s going to go stay with my best friend Emma so that my dad can fly out to us more”

“Who is messiest?”

“Harry” we all say and point at him. He holds both his hands up in the air in defence

“YNs no better. Have you seen her makeup area on the bus?” I again roll my eyes.

5th January 2012 Plymouth

During What Makes You Beautiful I have to run across the stage. Every night so far has go ok expect tonight. Earlier on in the night I spilt my water on stage and unfortunately I go flying landing on my butt making the boys all look at me. Harry and Louis look at one another then nod running towards me then ‘falling’ on the floor while Zayn and Liam laugh

“I’ve lost where we even are in the song” I say as Zayn helps me up. The fans then help us get back on track.

7th January 2012 Nottingham

During the Twitter segment someone asks if we can show everyone how to do the Macarena. I stand in between Zayn and Louis and we all do the Macarena while the fans sing for us. I turn to face Zayn and we both burst out laughing at one another

“Ok next question. Do an impression of each other” Louis says. Niall does his impression of Louis

“Alright lads and lass ayup I’m from Yorkshire Doncaster ya might know it I just like chillin” Zayn does an impression of Louis

“Err it’s me Zayn. Listen I don’t like dancing, but I do like singing” Liam does an impression of Niall. I do one of Liam and Harry does an impression of me

“Hi I’m YN” he says high pitched making me laugh “I sing really high and I can’t sleep unless I’ve hand a cup of tea and 2 biscuits. I also love my dog more than my bandmates”

“Not wrong” I joke making them all look offended “but Harry we can’t forget about you” I clear my throat “ m’Harry Styles and I annoy my housemates when I bring girls home” the truth is he doesn’t, or at least not like that. For some reason the label want him to basically be a womaniser, but that’s really not him. He’s the shy boy who actually gets nervous talking to girls. It’s actually really cute.

8th January 2012 Brighton

For the whole show so far I haven’t been able to hear myself once which means I’ve been off pitch the whole time

“I wanna dance with somebody feel the heat with somebody. Yeah dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me” I sing and sigh looking over at Niall who gives me a little smile. I walk back and look to the people who are stood in the side wings while the boys carry on singing. I point to my ears and shout at them that I can’t hear anything. Before we sing moments I decide to take my in ears out

“YN’s gonna be deaf by the end of the night” Liam sings

“I can’t bloody hear anything. I’ve been off pitch all night. I think my in ears are broke”

“How have you broken them?” Louis asks

“She throws them on the floor as soon as she gets in her dressing room” Alex shouts from side stage

“Alex just said that you throw them on the floor is that right?” Zayn points his mic to me as if this is an interview

“No… maybe ok moving on this next song is Moments”

11th January 2012 London

Back in London and for some weird reason the fans have took to throwing things on stage. Mainly bras and pants.

I’m stood next to Harry as we sing I Wish when a bottle comes flying at us. Harry places his hand in front of my face and bats the bottle away

“Guys let’s not throw full bottles at us” he says during the song

“Thanks” I reply and Harry smiles down at me. At the end of the song Harry takes his in ear out

“You ok?” he asks. I take mine out and reply

“Yeah I’m fine” while we’re stood talking Louis goes on to talk about how that could have really hurt one of us if it had hit us and that it’s a hazard to throw things on the stage incase we fall.

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #6th one direction member #one direction x reader #one direction #sixth one direction member

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futfemfantasies · 1 year

Text

Reunited At Last - Vicky Losada x Reader

Request: “For vicky losada say reader and vicky were together when they started in Spanish national team and then split up then reader just joins city and has a reuinion with vicky and then they say the missed each other and got back together then kissed”

I hope you enjoy it!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Vicky were inseparable. You both met when you joined Barcelona in 2010. You two instantly being joined at the hip and always following the other around like a lost puppy. You were the unofficial couple before you both recognised your feelings after an important game in which you got hurt badly. When you were recovering from surgery Vicky was by your side. She denied playing for the national team (much to your protest) in a few small competitions just so she could be home with you while you recovered from your broken back. Vicky told you that she isn’t starting her national team journey without you. Through the years, you eventually moved in together and got a dog together. You two were the it couple at Barca, the fans decided to call you to the power couple of the team.

After a comfortable win against Real Madrid at home, you and Vicky grabbed your bags and went to your car, ready for a night of movies and cuddles in bed. You opened the trunk and put your bag in before grabbing Vicky’s.

“Thank you mi amor” She says as she kisses your cheek as you hold open the car door.

You get in and buckle your seatbelt when Vicky quickly unbuckles hers.

“I left something in my locker, I’ll be right back okay?” You nod and Vicky pecks your lips quickly.

While you wait, Vicky’s phone buzzes from the centre console and you check it to see it’s from someone named ‘Rose’. You read the text and you cannot believe your eyes.

Rose: You have to tell her Vick. The longer you wait, the longer it’ll hurt her

You look up and see Vicky running towards the car so you put the phone back where you found it. In less than 5 minutes, Vicky got back into the car with red cheeks and breathing heavy.

“Did you win the race babe?” You tease and she sends you a glare.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting”

When you arrive home, Vicky takes both of your bags inside and you announce you are having a shower, even though you had one at the stadium. You get into the shower and begin to cry. Surely Vicky wouldn’t cheat on you, she wouldn’t have the heart to. You stand under the hot water thinking about what the text could mean when you feel a hand touch your arm.

“Babe, you’ve been in the shower for a while. Are you okay? Is it your back?”

“I’m okay Vick”

“Let’s get you all dry and warm so we can go cuddle”

You get dry and changed into your favourite winter pyjamas and cuddle up to Vicky in bed. You contemplate asking Vicky about the text but you want her to tell you when she’s ready. A few days later, Vicky still hadn’t mentioned anything and it was eating up at you inside so you decided to ask Vicky about it.

¨Hey mi amor, can I ask you something?” You ask as you lean on the bench behind where Vicky is cooking breakfast.

“Sure babe, what’s up?”

“Who’s Rose?” Vicky tenses up and drops the spatula she was holding.

“I can explain, if you’ll let me”

“Go on”

“She’s my agent. I recently got an offer for Manchester City and it’s too good to turn down. I didn’t have a manager before so I had to find one as I don’t know how to do transfers myself”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You whisper as your eyes brim with tears.

“It’ll only be for a year or two, at the max. You can join me over there if someone leaves” You hug her tightly and silently cry on her shoulder.

“Don’t cry princesa. We’ll call everyday and Skype too okay?” You nod and lift your head to look at her. Vicky wipes your tears and kisses your forehead.

“When do you leave?”

“At the end of the season” You nod as there was only 4 more games in the season left.

The day finally came when Vicky was moving to Manchester. You dreaded this day as anyone would if their partner of 5 years was moving to a different country. You put the last bag in the trunk and close it up, just as Vicky was coming out of the house.

“All set babe?”

“Yeah” Vicky answers as she looks back at the house where you two created so many memories.

Around 40 minutes later, you park the car the entrance of the airport and it all suddenly becomes real. You both get out and get Vicky’s two massive suitcases from the trunk. You both look at each other before kissing each other goodbye and having the longest hug you two have ever shared.

“I love you”

“I love you more princesa”

Eventually after another kiss and long hug, you two part ways and you watch Vicky walk into the airport until you can’t see her in the mix of people. A few hours later, you get a phone call from Vicky saying she’s in the apartment the team helped her find and that it’s freezing cold.

The first few months being away were the hardest. You’d call everyday and Skype every other day but nothing helped. Soon, those daily phone calls turned into every few days and Skype calls were a rare occasion. With you and Alexia being the new faces of Barca, you’ve been super busy with interviews and filming promo videos for different products. You finish filming a Camp Nou kitchen episode with Alexia when you see you have a text from Vicky.

Mi amor ❤️: I’m sorry to do this over text but i think i would cry too much if i told you. I’m breaking up with you y/n. I’m so sorry it has to be this way. I didn’t cheat on you or find someone better, no one will be better than you. It’s just with everything going on here and you and Lex promoting Barca, we just need to focus on our careers right now. I’m sorry Y/N, I’ll always love you. ~ V

You just stare at your phone reading the same six words over again, I’m breaking up with you y/n. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to look up at Alexia with tears threatening to spill. She looked down at your phone and instantly knew what was happening. Alexia guided you to her car and that’s where the dam broke. Alexia comforted you the best she could but she knew she needed reinforcements. You ended up selling Vicky and your house and sending her the rest of her stuff. Alexia asked you to move in with her and you two had the time of your lives. For the next 3 years, you two were the it girls at Barca, both focusing on your club and career and not any relationships or one night stands. That was until you got called into a meeting after training one day. Alexia reassured you that everything was going to be fine but you didn’t know if you believed her.

You walk in and are met by Jonatan who takes you into the meeting room. You also see your agent sitting down so this is never a good sign. They explain to you that Manchester City and them have come to an arrangement that you will be transferred for Lucy Bronze for good. You have no say in this so you listen to them and read the contract before signing. You get told that you need to tell the girls now as the club is to announce it in the coming days. You nod and walk back to the training field, trying to pull yourself together so nothing looks suspicious. You look up and lock eyes with Alexia and motion for her to move to the side so you can tell her privately. After some tears and hugs were shared, you two walk over to the rest of the girls that are curious on what happened.

“I have some news to tell you and just so you know, I had nothing to do with this. I don’t really want to do it but I have to. I’ve been transferred to Manchester City”

You can hear the multiple gasps and looks amongst everyone that it was shocking for them as well. Some of your teammates cry and tell you they’ll support you wherever you go and you say the same.

“When do you leave?” Pina asks the dreaded question on everyone’s mind.

“On Monday”

“Right ladies, group dinner at Y/N’s and mine tonight, 7pm” The girls all accepted and everyone went back to the locker rooms to get their bags before going home.

You and Alexia quickly go to the grocery store to get things for a barbecue before going home and cooking and cleaning. After making the living room and kitchen clean, you two start marinating and cooking some of the meat. You race upstairs to get changed and you hear the doorbell ring. You run downstairs since Alexis is cooking and open it to see all your teammates. You welcome them inside and the immediately go outside where Alexia is. You stay behind in the kitchen to get all the glasses you can find and look out of the window at your teammates being silly nd enjoying themselves. You feel a tear roll down your cheek and you try to blink away the rest. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around to see Mapi.

“You don’t want to go?”

“You guys are my family. Without you, I have no one” You say as you tear up again.

“That’s not true and you know it. There’s a few Spanish girls on your new team and Vicky is too” Your eyes widen at your exes name. You completely forgot about the team she was now playing on.

“Shit Maps, I can’t see her again”

“Well you’re going to have to suck it up because you’re on her team now”

You spent the night talking, laughing and sharing fun and stupid memories with your best friends until Mariona remembered most of them have photoshoots to do tomorrow. When the girls left, you and Alexia sat on the floor in the lounge room and figured out a plan to face Vicky. Your dog Milo comes and puts himself in your lap, facing Alexia. Nala comes trotting in and does the same thing with Alexia.

The next few days consists of you and Alexia sorting out what things can be shipped and what things can go with you when you leave tomorrow. Your phone buzzes at a notification that you were tagged in from Manchester City and some women’s sport account about some transfer. You see in your dm’s that you have a lot of girls from Manchester City saying that are excited to be playing with you and can’t wait to meet you. You knew from the messages that you are not going to have a problem fitting in. You text Leila and ask her if it’s okay that she still picks you up from the airport and she assures you it’s okay.

You hear a knock on the door and Alexia pokes her head in asking if you’re ready to go. You look at your room and slowly nod your head. You pick up your backpack and duffel bag before walking out to Alexia’s car that your suitcases are already in. The drive to the airport was silent, but a comfortable silence. You get out of the car and get your bags from the back seat while Alexia gets your two massive suitcases from the trunk. You just know you’ll have to pay extra when checking them in because of their weight. You give your best friend a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug that lasts a few minutes. A car honking behind you makes you both jump and pull away laughing.

“Go and show them what you can do, then come back” Alexia jokes.

“You’ll be fine Al, you have Jenni and the girls here” Alexia nods with a frown on her face.

“I’ll see you in champions league okay?”

“Text me when you land” Alexia pleads.

“Always, see you later Al”

“See you later y/n/n” Alexia says through her tears.

2 hours after leaving your best friend, you finally get on the plane for the nearly 3 hours plane ride to Manchester. After collecting your bags at the terminal you walk through the doors to see Leila and Laia waiting for you. You run as best as you can over to your national teammates and hug them the best you can, with your bags falling everywhere. Laia takes your duffel bag while Leila takes one of your suitcases and you three start walking to the car. The girls were dressed in their Man City kit so you assumed they just finished training.

“Did you just finish training?”

“Nope, just starting. The girls wanted to meet you and see you again for some” Laia whispered at the end but you still heard it anyways.

Around 30 minutes later you arrived at the training ground and it was nicer than you expected. You met all the girls then you see one you’ve been avoiding for 3 years.

“Hey, can we talk?” Vicky asks.

“When everything finishes here we can okay?” She nods and you get your boots out for your first training session.

After the training session, the girls are amazed with your skills and can definitely see you being an important asset to the team, especially at Champions League time. You get most of the girls’ numbers and promise to meet up for coffee tomorrow. You walk out of the locker room when someone grabs your arm. You turn around to see those eyes you’ve been missing for 3 years.

“Can we talk please?” Vicky asks.

You both sit down on the locker room seats and you put you hoodie on since it is cold.

“I don’t know how to start these things but I want to say I’m really sorry mi amor. It was stupid of me and I should’ve talked it through with you instead of breaking up with you. I’m so sorry Y/N” You move closer to Vicky and hold her hands.

“I’m not mad at you because I was partially to blame too. I miss you Vick”

“I miss you too Y/N”

Before you know it, Vicky’s lips are on yours and you melt into the kiss, just like you did 3 years ago. The kiss gets intense quickly and Vicky is pulling you onto her lap. Her hands trail up your back and softly rub your skin. After a while, you both pull away with both your foreheads leaning against each other’s. You look into her eyes and all the love from your relationship floods back and you want nothing more than to be back in her arms for good.

“Be mine again?” Vicky whispers.

“I want nothing more mi amor” You say before kiss her again.

#womens soccer #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #vicky losada x reader

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partypoisonzz · 2 years

Text

i'll be your detonator (frank iero x reader smut)

Kinktober Day 6: Sex Toys/Public Sex

Era: Danger Days (2010)

Reader Pronouns: She/her

Content:

- Antics with a remote controlled vibrator

- Overstimulation

- Praise kink

- More domestic bliss because I can't stop myself

Word Count: 3,799

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult, for adults. If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact.

It starts long before the show even begins.

"Hey, babe." You step into the hotel room after your morning shower, clad only in your bra and panties.

Frank looks up from his phone, only for his eyes to go wide at the sight of you. "Well. Good morning to me."

You laugh. "Don't get excited," you tell him. "I have all intentions of getting dressed. But first..." You turn a slow circle at the foot of the bed. "These are new. You like them?"

You feel his eyes raking over your body, taking in the lacy bra and panties. He's practically salivating. "Fuck yeah, I do."

You can't help but laugh. That's the exact response that you expected from your husband. "I thought you would."

Frank lets out a surprised yelp as you climb into his lap. "H-hey," he stammers. "I thought you said you were getting dressed?"

"I'm going to," you reply easily as you straddle his hips. "But first..."

You push him down against the bed, inspiring a quiet groan to climb up his throat. You grin down at him. Christ, he's easy.

He stares up at you, hazel eyes clouded with lust. Still, he attempts to argue. "Babe," he starts. "The guys are expecting us to be at breakfast in fifteen minutes. I don't think..."

You reach down, swiping his cell phone from where it fell out of his hand.

He looks up at you quizzically as your fingers tap against the screen. "What are you..."

"You'll see."

As soon as the app finishes downloading, you open it and shove the phone back into Frank's hand. "Here."

He squints at the screen. "Vibration intensity?" he reads aloud. "What is..."

Suddenly, the realization seems to dawn. His eyes go wide. "Oh," he says. "Holy shit. Is this..."

"Mmm-hmm." You lean in to kiss him before pulling away to whisper in his ear. "I bought it before the tour started. Figured now would be just as good a time as any to test it out."

"Fuck," he mutters. "So you mean, you've got it, like... on you, right now?"

You chuckle. "Turns out those little fabric pouches in my underwear are actually good for something."

He nearly drops his phone as he scrolls through the app's menu, hands trembling slightly with excitement. "It's Bluetooth, right? So, if I pair it with my phone..."

"You can control it," you finish.

"Like this?"

Before you even fully register what's happening, you feel the unmistakable sensation of harsh vibrations against your pussy.

"Fuck," you curse. "Yeah, yeah. Like that."

Frank grins like the cat who caught the canary as he presses the button again, causing the vibrations to cease.

You huff out a shaky breath. "Don't turn it on high immediately, Frank, Jesus Christ," you chastise him. "Are you trying to kill me?"

He giggles. "Hey, you gave me the controls." He presses another kiss to your lips before nudging you. "Now, come on and get dressed. We can continue this at breakfast."

He makes good on that promise.

As soon as you sit down at the table in the hotel dining room, plate filled with various items from the continental breakfast bar, you feel a telltale buzzing sensation. Mercifully, it's a lot gentler that the setting that Frank put it on earlier, but you know that it won't stay that way for long.

You look up across the table, catching Frank's eye. He smiles sweetly at you before returning his attention to his food.

And, by the feel of it, his phone, which he must be holding under the table.

You struggle not to react as the pleasure builds up within you. You attempt to focus on anything else, — your food, the sun shining through the window, the back-and-forth conversation that the men around the table are currently engaged in.

"That shit that you did to me the other night was not cool, man," Ray says, casting a disdainful look in Frank's direction.

"What?" Frank asks, feigning innocence in more ways than one as he eats his fruit salad.

"The Criss Angel thing!" Ray replies.

Frank shrugs, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "That guy looked just like him."

"I mean, yeah, he did," Ray agrees. "But it wasn't actually him. And, even if it was, that gave you no right to steal my beer while I was distracted."

"It was fuckin' hilarious, though," Gerard chimes in.

Ray frowns, arms crossed over his chest. "It was the second time he did that to me in one night."

Frank shrugs. "At that point, it's on you for falling for it again."

Ray rolls his eyes. "Nice." He looks over at Mikey. "You gonna back me up on this?"

Mikey appears to think for a moment before sipping his coffee nonchalantly. "It was kind of funny."

"Great." Ray throws up his hands. "It's me. I'm the scapegoat of the band. This is wonderful��news..."

The vibration intensity goes up again as you reach for your own mug. You gasp, unwittingly grabbing onto the edge of the table.

Ray gives you a look of concern. "You okay?" he asks.

The vibrations ease off, going back to the low setting that you had started with. You can feel Frank's eyes on you, urging you to explain it all away.

"Fine," you manage, face burning. "I've just got... a cramp. In my leg." You chuckle awkwardly, attempting to act as though you can't feel your fucking pulse between your thighs. "Riding around in the bus made me stiff, I guess."

"I've got some Advil," Gerard says. "I can go back to my room and get it, if you need..."

"No, no." You attempt to relax, releasing your hold on the edge of the table. "I'll be fine. Just gotta... walk it off."

"Alright, then. Suit yourself." Gerard returns his attention to sawing his pancakes into bite-sized pieces.

Once everyone else at the table seems to be focused on something other than you, you look up at Frank. You cast him a warning glare as you reach for your mug once again, lifting it up to your lips with trembling hands.

The bus ride to the venue is absolutely hellish. Frank sits next to you, chatting with the other guys and casting occasional glances down at his phone.

Your eyes follow his, watching helplessly as he ups the setting. You can't exactly argue with him, nor can you react the way that you want to as the vibrator hums against you. You just bite your tongue and tense your thighs, trying with every bit of you to be quiet and act natural.

Maybe this was a bad idea, you think for a moment, just before another wave of pleasure courses through you, causing you to stifle a moan.

Frank giggles next to you before threading his fingers through yours. He squeezes your hand lightly, so gentle as he threatens to make you fall apart.

Nevermind, you decide. This was a great idea. Maybe one of the best ideas I've ever had.

By the time you arrive at the venue for soundcheck, you're starting to question your judgement again.

You sit off to the side as the band rehearses their set, stopping occasionally to go back and forth about tuning and mic volume.

You try your damnedest to keep your cool, but that's not exactly easy when you have to listen to Gerard bitching while you daydream about sneaking off to the bathroom and getting yourself off.

"No," he says. "A little louder... Shit, that still doesn't sound right..."

You wonder if you can be a little louder as you watch Frank pick his phone up off the amp and tap the screen.

The vibrations kick up again on high intensity. Frank smirks at you before running through the riff he had been playing again, and fuck. Fuck.

You clap a hand over your mouth, letting out a high-pitched sound as your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably. You bite down on your hand as you ride out your orgasm.

A panicked feeling runs through you as the sensation begins to die down. You drop your hand back into your lap, looking around to see if anyone noticed.

Luckily, you find that everyone is still thoroughly involved in the microphone debacle.

Everyone except for Frank, that is.

He looks up at you and smiles before picking his phone back up and turning the vibrator off.

Gerard stomps across the room. His foul mood from the rocky soundcheck is quite apparent. "I'm going to get lunch," he declares. Even those benign words have a definite edge to them. "Chinese food. What does everybody want?"

You mutter your usual order to him, struggling to keep your own cool as much as you desperately wished he would keep his.

"I'll do that thing with the beef and broccoli," Ray calls from across the room, returning his guitar to its case.

"Oh, yeah. Real specific," Gerard says. "It's not like you just described half the menu or anything..."

"I don't know!" Ray snaps. "It really doesn't matter much to me, man. I'm hungry, and my head hurts, and I've had to piss since we started playing..."

"Go then," Gerard shoots back. "I'll bring you back... something."

"Preferably beef and broccoli!" Ray shouts just before the bathroom door slams behind him.

Gerard rolls his eyes before looking over at Mikey. "What do you want, Mikes?"

Mikey seems to think for a moment. "I dunno," he admits sheepishly. "Could I go with you? Look at the menu?"

Gerard sighs. "Yeah. I guess." Finally, he turns his attention to Frank, who just settled next to you on the sofa.

"What about you, Frank?" he asks. "You want vegetable chow mein, or do you want to make things more complicated than they already are?"

"Veggie chow mein is good with me." Frank loops his arm around you, pulling you close to him. You eye the phone in his lap like a loaded gun.

"Good," Gerard replies. "Come on, Mikey."

With that, the two of them walk out of the room, leaving you and Frank alone for the time being.

As soon as he knows the coast is clear, Frank leans in to murmur in your ear. "You came earlier, didn't you?" he asks, his hand brushing lazily over your thigh.

You stiffen, sucking in a shaking breath.

He chuckles. "I know that you did. I saw you, when we were rehearsing "House of Wolves." You had your hand over your mouth and everything. Would've loved to hear you scream." His hand climbs higher again. You moan softly.

"So desperate," he remarks. "You're lucky nobody else saw you, hmm? Lucky everybody was distracted." His hand falls away from your thigh, only to dip into the waistband of your pants.

You gasp at the feeling of his fingers moving against you, hips shifting against his hand. More than anything, you want him to finger you, get you off again quickly before anyone else gets back. Take a bit of the edge off.

"Shh," Frank hisses. "Hold still for me. Lemme see what a mess you made."

You turn your face to rest against his shoulder, shuddering out another low moan as his fingers slip between your folds.

You lift your head when he pulls his hand back, releasing a low groan. "Christ, honey," he says. "Look at this."

Your eyes widen as they fall on his fingers. They're... Fuck, they're so wet that they fucking shine.

You simply whine in response.

"So fucking wet for me," he continues. "Came for me before I could even touch you, and you're already desperate for more."

Without warning, he opens his mouth and plunges the two fingers that were just in your panties inside. You watch him, feeling your heart racing and your face burning. And yourself getting wetter, if that's even possible.

You startle at the sound of footsteps. "What are you doing?" Ray demands, eyeing Frank with a look of confusion that you hope never turns into understanding.

Frank pulls his fingers back, cool as a cucumber. "They were bleeding," he says easily. "Fucked 'em up while I was playing."

Ray hums before taking a seat next to his guitar case and pulling out his phone.

With a shaky sigh of relief, you bury your burning face in Frank's shoulder again. "I hate you," you grumble.

You feel the rumble of his laugh against your cheek. "No, you don't," he argues before planting a kiss against your forehead.

The show is at once an enormous relief and a small taste of hell.

Of course, Frank can't fuck around with the vibrator, as he continued to do after lunch and throughout the rest of the afternoon, while he's on stage, playing for a couple thousand people. Still, you have to sit in your damp panties, feeling the idle toy press against you.

And you have to watch him perform.

Despite the manner in which soundcheck crashed and burned, it's shaping up to be an excellent show, — the perfect way to finish up the current leg of the tour, you think. Everyone is so perfectly in their element, but Frank...

God. Frank.

He is so fucking pretty, leaning into the microphone, harmonizing with Gerard and Ray as his fingers dance along the fretboard of his guitar.

You focus intently on those fingers. The same ones that he touched you with earlier. The same ones that he sucked your juices off of while looking you in the eye.

The fingers that you hope will be shoved deep inside of you later.

You close your eyes, leaning back in your seat.

Just a few more songs, you tell yourself. And then I'll have him all to myself until the next leg starts.

Except that technically isn't true. You had no idea that the band had an afterparty planned to celebrate the end of the leg. It shouldn't surprise you, but it does.

As it would turn out, management rented out the club for a few hours after the show ended. As soon as the crowd dwindles out, the doors are locked, and the rest of the night begins.

You sit stiffly off to the side as everyone celebrates, ordering drinks and making small talk.

"Great show, everybody." Ray envelopes Gerard, Mikey, and Frank each in a hug before stopping in front of you. You don't exactly know why he's hugging you when you had nothing to do with the show's success, — maybe just because you're sitting next to Frank, — but you hug him back anyway.

As soon as he walks away, you look over at Frank, who is squished next to you in the booth. He types something into his phone, stopping intermittently to sip his beer.

Once he catches you looking, he turns his screen away from you.

You frown. "What're you doing?" you shout over the music playing in the background.

"Texting Shaun," he replies.

And maybe, at one point, he was texting Shaun. But the intense vibrations that begin a few seconds later tell you that he had a reason to hide his screen.

You gasp, gripping the tabletop.

The waves build up quickly inside of you. You don't know how many times you've already come today. You feel weak, feverish. You tremble, knuckles going white around the edge of the table. "Frank..."

"Shh." Frank reaches for your hands, pulling you away from the table before reaching out to wrap you in his arms. You bury your face in his shirt, allowing your shaking moan to be muffled by the fabric.

To anyone else, the two of you would just look like any standard couple, sharing an embrace after a show. As it would happen, though, you feel like you are completely crumbling in his grip.

"Try and keep your composure, baby," he mutters to you. "We are in public, after all. Wouldn't want anyone to see you like this, would we?"

"Frank," you sob again into his shirt.

"You gonna come again?" he asks. "Do it. Come in front of all these people. In front of Gerard, Mikey, Ray. In front of the tour manager and all the roadies. They'll have no fucking clue."

You hold onto him tighter as you come, your entire body shaking in his arms.

"That's it," he coaxes you. "Oh, fuck, baby. So fucking good for me."

You go limp against him.

"There we go." Frank releases you, pulling back to turn off the vibrator. He stops just before leaning in for a kiss, frowning as he notes your mascara-streaked cheeks.

"Shit, sweetheart." He holds your face in his hands, swiping your tears away with his thumbs. "Are you alright? Why're you crying?"

You swallow, overwhelmed with the maddening desperation that's been building inside of you all day. "Need you to fuck me," you manage. "Please, Frank. Need you..."

"Okay." He presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing your hand, pulling you out of the booth. "I'll take care of you. C'mon."

As soon as the bathroom door locks behind you, Frank sinks to his knees.

"Alright," he breathes as he begins to undo the buttons on your jeans. Once you've kicked your pants and panties aside, he looks up at you.

"Legs over my shoulders," he beckons you. "C'mon."

Shakily, you allow him to help you position yourself. Your back is pressed against the stall door, and your legs are already shaking. You feel unsteady, but Frank's arm wrapped around your waist gives you the illusion of just a little more security.

"There we go," he says.

His fingers ghost between your legs again. You tense in anticipation.

"Gonna lick this sweet little pussy," he mumbles. "Gonna leave you completely fucked out."

"Please," you murmur. "Please, Frank. I need—" Your pleas are cut short by a broken moan as his tongue dips between your folds, licking all the way up to your clit.

After ten years together, Frank has eating you out down to a science. He does everything that drives you insane without even having to think about it.

You gasp as his tongue dips inside of you, reaching down to yank at his long black hair. He moans against you, sending a completely different type of vibration through your core.

After a few minutes, you feel yourself approaching the edge again.

"Frank." Your voice is rough as you throw your head back, narrowly avoiding making contact with the bathroom door. "Frank, I'm gonna... gonna come again."

He doesn't pull away to give you any verbal encouragement. Instead, he digs his fingers hard into your hips and speeds up the movements of his tongue.

Your legs tighten around him as you shudder, coming hard against his mouth. He keeps licking until you go completely motionless, still whimpering his name. "Frank..."

"Shh. I've got you." He keeps his arms wrapped your waist, lowering you to the ground momentarily as he stands up. As soon as he's upright, he helps you wrap your legs around his waist, still holding you in place. "There." He leans in, kissing you deeply before leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Want me to fuck you, baby?" he asks. "Finally fill you up after you've waited for it all day?"

"Please," you beg. "Please fuck me."

"Okay, sweetheart. Okay." He keeps you pinned against the door as he undoes his belt, yanking down his pants. He positions your legs around him again, lining himself up with your entrance.

"So fucking pretty," he mutters before pushing into you.

He muffles your cries with his mouth, setting a quick, punishing rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he drives into you.

"Feels so good, baby, Jesus Christ." He pulls back, nuzzling your shoulder as he keeps up his pace.

As he hits that familiar spot deep inside of you, you feel yourself beginning to unravel completely. This is different than the other orgasms that you've had today. The sensation magnifies and magnifies, slowly washing over you until it almost feels like too much.

"Frank... Frankie..." you whine. "It's so much... I don't..."

With a groan, he halts completely. He meets your eyes, his hand lovingly brushing against your back. "Do you wanna stop?" he asks.

You shake your head.

"Okay," he says. "Remember your colors, baby. If anything changes, let me know."

Then he's kissing your neck as he begins to move again.

"So good for me," he says in between teasing nips against your skin. "My good girl, taking me so well. Oh, fuck."

His hips stutter, causing him to drive into you extra hard as your walls begin to spasm. He comes deep inside of you as you squeeze around him, the sound of his deep groan mixing in with your breathy cry.

As soon as the pleasure begins to die down, you melt into his arms, finally sated. Despite the feeling of relief washing over you, you're still shaking.

Frank holds you tighter, pressing kisses all over your face. "That's my girl. So good for me." He pulls out slowly before helping you ease yourself back down to the ground.

He reaches for a paper towel, wiping at the inside of your thighs. "Best I can do, for now."

He reaches for your underwear and jeans first, helping you redress. Once both of you have your clothes back on, he gives you a sly smile.

"So, if you had to guess, how many times did you come today?"

You laugh shakily. "I think that was number ten."

He chuckles incredulously. "Ten? Holy shit!"

He pulls you to your feet and throws his arms around your shoulders, leading you out of the stall. "C'mon," he says. "I'm taking you back to rest. God knows, you need it."

On the way out of the club, Frank mumbles something to Ray about your leg acting up again before explaining that he's taking you back to the bus.

As soon as you reach the bus, the two of you change into your pajamas and climb into his bunk.

He crawls in first, wrapping himself around you as soon as you settle in. "Love you," he murmurs into your neck.

You smile as your eyes flutter shut. "Love you, too." You relish his familiar warmth, knowing that, as long as you're wherever he is, you're home.

Still, you find it imperative to mention: "Come tomorrow, we'll be back in Jersey."

He chuckles. "Yeah," he says. "Then I can try that vibrator on you again within the comfort of our own home, and you can make all kinds of noise."

You laugh, halfheartedly swatting at him. "Give me a fucking break."

Deep down, you know that a break is the last thing that you want from him.

Taglist (Ask to be included!):

@mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper @clichedlovers @yachiiko @house-of-wh0res

#frank iero x reader #frank iero smut #frank iero x reader smut #frank iero fanfiction #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance smut #mcr fanfiction #mcr x reader #mcr imagines #mcr smut #my writing #kinktober 2022

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timextoxhajima · 2 years

Text

member: tbz hyunjae x oc! reader [read as kim seo han]

synopsis: maybe being the idol’s fuck-buddy wasn’t the best idea after all

genres: non-explicit smut, angst

warnings: cursing. smut. a LOT of dialogue because i wanted it to be as delulu-ly realistic as possible.

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: inspired by: 1, how i interpreted the song AND the choreo 2. one of my delulu nights thinking about which idols are old enough to have their own fuckbuddy and the thought of COUGH having one absolutely destroyed me.

kim seohan didn’t need this. at all. but like a bear trap, she walked right into it without a hint of caution, and now she’s stuck in this mess of a situation.

seohan first met hyunjae in a convenience store one of those nights she spent in myeongdong. it’s a district that isn’t very well-visited now after the pandemic hit.

she had been in the city for a work event and she had chosen the ungodly hour of visiting a CU convenience store for one of those disposable, ice-filled plastic cups and peach tea packets and microwavable hot dogs.

she thanks the cashier as she turns on her heels and peels apart the plastic for the hotdog, carefully laying it inside the kitchenware and pressing on the buttons. she watches lazily as it rotates inside, the ice on the packaging melting off and the bubbles slowly forming on the surface of the skin.

it beeps, and cues her to pull open the door of the microwave.

“you gotta hold it back to get it open. put a little force into it,” the cashier calls from the counter. “it’s an old thing, we’re getting it changed next week.”

“ah,” seohan holds the corner down, and quite nearly pries the door open. it feels like it’s locked - then it busts open so suddenly, it makes her stumble a few steps backwards.

she was alone and enjoying the rain outside, the whir of the refrigerators and light buzzing being the only things she could hear atop the radio playing in the background. so, of course the doorbell going off when someone enters catches her attention.

she had been seasoned enough to recognise an idol when they walked into the same shop she’s in - she works as a hotel communications agent - so when she spots the mask and the hoodie and the slightly-done hair under the cloth and the hesitating reaction of the cashier when he greets the customer, she knew instantly.

it’s not like she really cared. there are hundreds of idols. maybe if it were 2010 and kim taeyeon walked through the front door, seohan wouldn’t hesitate to scramble to her feet and ask the celebrity for an autograph.

but it was 2022. the industry is saturated. seohan probably doesn’t even know the guy.

as he walks around the eating area and towards the rows of displayed hotdogs and udon bowls, seohan can’t bear the urge to look up from her drink, spotting the high arch of his nose.

he turns, naturally looking at her as she does him.

it’s a ‘the boyz’ member.

lee hyunjae sniffles and returns to the shelf, a small, pursed smile on his lips as he awkwardly half-asses the eye-contact.

seohan remains seated, but provides a belated bow that she hopes he can predict she did it.

she watches in the corner of her eye as he picks out the twin pack of hot dogs and a couple of triangular kimbaps. it’s none of her business, but she finds joy in wondering if he’s buying them back for his members or if he’s going to finish them on his own.

those crazy diets they go on.

he walks back to the counter and pays for the items. she can hear the cashier scanning them. she waits for the doorbell to ring, but there isn’t one. plastic crinkling sounds from behind her, and then there’s the door of the microwave closing, followed by the buttons beeping.

she waits quietly, waiting to see if he encounters the same problem, and to her amusement, he struggles to get the door open.

seohan turns, wondering why he hasn’t called for the cashier, then notices he isn’t at the counter. she looks towards the celebrity, and he catches her gaze in the midst of the confusion with the microwave.

“um... you don’t happen to know if this thing is like... locked?”

“oh, it’s not. the door’s just kinda stuck, the cashier told me to put some effort into it just now. i had the same problem,” she holds up her hotdog-on-a-stick.

“ah,” lee hyunjae turns back to the microwave and sets down the plastic bag of kimbaps. he presses corner of the microwave with his right hand and pulls with his left and it takes him barely a second for it to bust open.

he didn’t even budge. seohan returns to her drink and snack, listening to the little hisses under his breath as he tries to pick up the hot packaging, then he turns and walks around the table she’s at, pulling out the chair and taking a seat.

“thanks for the tip,” he quietly says.

seohan’s eyes widen, instantly sitting up and looking around. “are you crazy? dispatch is probably on your tail right now! the cashier could take a picture and publish it!”

“relax,” lee hyunjae smiles heartily, biting into his hotdog. “dispatch doesn’t like myeongdong. besides, i have a concert tomorrow near coex, they wouldn’t think i’m here.”

“you’re not exactly un-popular. anybody walking by could recognise you.”

“and yet, we’re the only two here,” he swallows and leans the back of his forearms on the edge of the table. “what are you doing in the middle of myeongdong at 3am?”

“i work nearby.”

“what do you work as? i’d assume it’s something that keeps you busy since you’re out and about in the middle of the night.”

“hotel communications agent. keeps me moving too much to ever settle,” she tilts her head and takes the last bite of her snack. “are you staying in a hotel? strange that you came out all the way here just for a snack.”

“i have a friend who lives nearby. let me bunk in because i was missing convenience store food and the ones around the coex area would be buzzing with fans and reporters.”

“sounds tough,” seohan pulls the drink towards herself.

“yeah, well... you get used to it.”

he chews, his squarish, polished jaw flexing and moving with every clench. the eyebags below his pupils make her sad, and the thought of him having to hide away from the public for privacy makes her sympathetic. but she knows better than to share her thoughts, so she snaps herself out of it and lets herself relish in the moment that she’s having supper with one of korea’s pretty faces.

“hey, i’m gonna go first,” he doesn’t even finish his hotdog before standing. “before the cashier comes out and turns into one of those reporters you were talking about.”

seohan nods.

“what’s your name?” he leans down, tilting his head so his ear is towards her. she can smell the cologne and all the things he’s using in his hair.

“kim seohan.”

he stands, processing the name. “i’d shake your hand and introduce myself but my hands are full.”

the cashier pulls the door of the storeroom open.

“it was nice chatting with you. goodnight.”

he doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heels and leaving.

the interaction leaves a strange taste in seohan’s mouth. it was... calmingly exhilarating.

she had expected more, but what more can she expect?

certainly not lee hyunjae waiting for her opposite the road when she exits the convenience store.

she pauses right outside the door, squinting at the grey hoodie standing by the lamp post opposite the small road. the bag of triangular kimbaps was still dangling from his fingers and his phone’s screen lighting up his face.

he makes a few taps, then looks up at her.

there’s a soft ding when she feels her phone ring, and she looks at the air-drop notification that provided a picture of an address.

seohan scoffs lightly, locking her phone. “are you asking me to sleep with you?” she says, just loud enough for him to hear. the road is desolate, so she can’t really care less.

he laughs from the other side of the road and visibly shrugs. “just thought to invite you in for a chat. and also... thanking you for not exposing my whereabouts. you don’t know how many people use that to their advantage.”

the sadness in his voice is difficult to ignore, and it crushes her heart to remember all over again how being a celebrity means sacrificing their privacy.

“you’re lucky i’m not a crazy fan,” seohan unlocks her phone screen and inputs the address. she turns in the direction it tells her to. hyunjae mirrors her.

“i guess i’ll find out eventually.”

lee hyunjae only gets within a 5-metre radius of seohan when she reaches the building’s entrance. it was an apartment complex, and the guard seemed way too occupied with the football game going on on his phone to even notice them. the lift arrives, and hyunjae doesn’t say a word as he holds the door open for her.

the apartment was simple - couch, rug, television, two bedrooms, kitchen.

“look, i don’t want you getting the wrong idea about this,” he quickly provides a disclaimer as he sets the food on the dining table. “i just... it was a nice chat and i was worried i’d regret it if i just let it go.”

seohan chuckles, laying her bag on the floor by the door. “hey, if you end up being a jerk, i can just report you to dispatch. not my life i’m ruining if you fuck up.”

hyunjae laughs, and he finally pushes the hood off his head. “um, what time’s your schedule tomorrow? can you afford to stay over? there’s an extra bed if you need it.”

“it’s an afternoon conference. i can handle eight hours of sleep.”

“that’s a luxury,” hyunjae walks into the kitchen and pulls out a bottle of soju.

“so i’ve heard.”

“come, come. sit,” he gestures to the couch and points to the bottle. “want any? no obligation, though.”

“what’s a little soju?” seohan shrugs and lays her head on the back of the couch.

hyunjae places the bottle on the coffee table and walks back into the kitchen. “need any mixers? do you prefer something else to drink?”

“i still have that packet of peach tea in my stomach from just now, so i think soju is fine.”

there’s a silence as she hears a fridge opening and closing. some glasses clinking. he returns to the living room with two shot glasses and nothing else.

he sucks in a deep breath, sitting next to her with a safe distance between them. laying the shot glasses on the table, he turns to her, tired eyes wide and cautious.

“i’ve got absolutely no clue why i trust you so much but there’s just something about the way your first reaction at the store was worrying about people finding out where i am that... made me comfortable around you.”

seohan reels back a little, a small smile creeping on her lips. then, she leans over to the table and takes the bottle, cracking the cap off and filling up the shot glasses.

“well, cheers to you finding basic human decency then,” she hands a glass to him and clinks hers against his.

seohan’s mother would definitely not approve of her walking into a stranger’s house and engaging in alcohol with him, much less a celebrity. in fact, it is a pretty stupid thing to do.

he could do anything he wanted, simply because he can physically overpower her. and then he’d have the money to put her on a gag order, and even if that didn’t work, his fans would take it upon themselves to walk all over her if she ever brought this to the general public.

seohan thanks the soju for making these problems a fleeting thought.

but it was late, and half the bottle of soju was gone by the time hyunjae had finished talking about how much he missed home and his family and his dog.

“i’m surprised you don’t have a secret girlfriend hidden somewhere.”

“a girlfriend?” hyunjae lets out a harsh ‘HA!’ and refills his glass. “i don’t have the time for family, much less a girlfriend.”

a pause. “i could say the same for you. not a celebrity but a schedule packed enough to keep you busy, it seems.”

seohan shrugs. “i can’t commit to anything more than my work,” she takes a second to piece together her curiosity. “this is so uncalled for and i hope you don’t mind me asking but surely you would’ve slept with like... fans or friends or people you meet along the way? how are you so stressed and packed and have no time to be a normal human being? especially staying with 10 other men.”

he takes the shot, frown as a sign the soju was stinging. “contrary to popular belief, no, i have not. even if i did want to sleep with someone, i’d have to think about the backlash my group and i are gonna get if i ever got found out, and not to mention that it’s pretty shitty for someone as uncommitted as me to do something with someone that’s generally seen as commitment.”

“i feel like that’s the most emotionally intelligent thing i’ve heard an idol say.”

“there’s too much on the line to be emotionally stupid.”

it’s 5am. 80% of the bottle is gone. seohan can feel her chest heating, and she’s slouched on the couch in an uncouth manner. lee hyunjae was sitting by her feet, hair messed from how much he had been running his fingers over his head and the eyebags definitely weighing on his lids.

“you should get some sleep. you have that performance tomorrow,” seohan yawns and sits up.

“no, no, please, feel free to stay. you don’t have to finish the soju but i don’t want you going home alone at this hour.”

“it’s 5am,” she laughs and tries to stand. “if anything, it’s safer now than it was when i first came.”

the alcohol rushes to her head, and she stumbles backwards, earning a harsh grab on her arm and waist as she gets yanked into sobriety. the logic rushes into her head amidst the alcohol in her bloodstream.

it’s frustrating how pretty he is - that’s why he’s an idol, right? but the years of training has quite literally taught him how to get someone to fall in love with him on first sight, keep himself alluring and tempting and above all that, remain discreet while being a complete flirt.

“this doesn’t feel very emotionally intelligent,” she whispers, eyes flitting to his lips as the thought flits through her mind.

“it’s not, but since it seems like you fear commitment as much as i can’t offer it, then i promise you...” he leans forward and and tilts his head. “i can do this with zero strings attached.”

the offer is a carrot on a stick infront of a horse. bait on a hook at the end of the fishing line. what will she lose even if she says ‘yes’? she gets the fun night with a man physically advantageous to the average one and she doesn’t need to care about his feelings and his time nor hers for him.

fuck it, she thinks.

her arms slide over his shoulders and she fully takes him in, the scent of his worn-out cologne and his hairspray wafting up her nose and into her head like poison gas. his arms are tight around her waist as he lifts her, fingers digging into her sides and her legs automatically wrapping over the curve of his hips.

seohan can’t deny the anxiety and nervousness that’s started to pit in her stomach. the mere thought of lee hyunjae being a celebrity and not simply ‘lee jaehyun’ was beginning to gut her.

i’m about to fuck a celebrity.

the photoframe by the bedside table reminds her that this isn’t even hyunjae’s place - it’s a friend’s. but the realisation is abruptly cut short when his hand reaches out to it, and gently places it face down on the mahogany surface.

“he wouldn’t mind,” he breathes into her hair, nose hovering over the skin on her neck. his fingers comes round to cup her cheek, and his free hand interlocking his hands with hers.

his lips taste like the convenience store and soju. “why, you’ve brought someone here before?”

“no,” he shakes his head and kisses down to her collarbone, right hand travelling from her cheek, to her shoulder and her waist. his thumb slides under the material of her top and pushes it upwards. “he told me i could if i found someone.”

palm hot and heavy, he manages to get it over the curve of her chest as he resumes the messy make-out on her lips, lipstick smearing onto his and moans starting to tumble through his throat and hers.

the push of his hips start to pressure onto hers, her knees on either side of his thighs as he remains careful of his weight above her.

“first time?” he pulls back and yanks his top over his hair, messing it up and exposing all of his torso. seohan can’t stop her eyes from scanning her view upon sight, so she gulps and shakes her head like a timid little mouse.

he smiles - that gorgeous smile that’s worth a few million won - and leans back down to her. “good.”

as hyunjae does that sickening body roll on stage to seohan’s favourite song, she kind of berates herself for understanding why she likes this track so much, but also kind of tries to enjoy herself in the moment. she had received an invitation to their concert via mail just a few weeks ago, and now she was in a corner of the stadium watching the group of 10-plus-one dance for a bunch of screaming fangirls.

she doesn’t really understand why hyunjae even invited her - the day after they slept together, he had taken off almost immediately and she never saw him again.

that is, except on television and until now. how he got her details, she will never find out. but she does want to find out one thing: why is she here?

after the encore had finished, a security guard came by to greet her, telling her that ‘she’s being asked backstage by one of the members’ and this little note made her stomach drop. seohan can’t deny the fantasy playing out in her head, but she chooses to ignore it, consistently reminding herself why he had even chosen to slept with her in the first place.

zero strings attached.

she’s surprised to see the members look at her and greet her like they knew her, and she’s obliged to return the formal greeting as she makes her way into the room where the security guard was walking into.

he stops by the door and knocks on it. followed by an audible ‘come in’, he pushes the door open and gestures seohan into the room.

she bows as an acknowledgement and walks in, watching as the lone member pulls his rings off except that last one on his pinky. there’s a napkin stuck to his forehead, drying the sweat that’s beginning to erode his makeup.

he huffs, turning his body to face her. “you made it.”

seohan parts her lips and stutters. “um... free ticket to a concert. why wouldn’t i?”

a small smile curls in the corner of his lips. “thought you wouldn’t dare.”

“you were the one who had the balls to send me the invite,” she clears her throat, eyes dribbling over the damp shirt sticking to his body. arm veins sticking out over his knuckles and his forearms and his pants hugging his thighs snug and tight. “how did you get my address anyway?”

“you told me where you worked, so i got someone to check the staff records,” he peels the napkin off his forehead and folds it neatly, tossing it into the bin by the dressing table. “you’d be surprised how easily celebrities can get their information.”

“that... doesn’t sound very comforting.”

hyunjae remains staring at her, eyes darting between hers like he were trying to read her mind.

“lock the door and come here.”

the command seemed heavy. his voice is low, and his shoulders are sunken by his neck. she obeys, resting her purse by the door. her fingers meet the cool, metallic surface of the door knob and presses the lock in.

the air is still and humid as she walks over to him, where he naturally places his palms on her waist and pulls her before him. in the mirror’s reflection, she watches his nose trace the frame of her jaw and her hair and his hands holding her hips still.

then, out comes an abrupt instruction from him - one that she never expected and she will never ever think he was the type of person to say it.

“take off your pants,” he whispers into her ear.

seohan frowns, feeling the warmth from his palms seep through the material. she meets his eyes in the mirror, and there isn’t a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

“what? we’re literally at-”

“so...” he undoes the belt for her. “be quiet and we won’t be caught.”

“you’re crazy.”

“and you’re letting me undo your pants for you,” he pulls the leather out from the loops and brings it over your head. “need help with staying quiet?”

seohan swallows, watching herself in the mirror.

as the leather sinks under the pressure of her teeth, the dressing table shifts closer and closer to the wall. her knuckles are turning white from gripping it so tight and her knees are starting to shake.

there’s that desperate grip on her hips that she knows will leave a mark, and the careful control of his thrusts to keep the slapping to the minimum. her eyes are beginning to tear - just from the sheer force of him pushing into her.

god, it feels so fucking good, she thinks to herself, eyes rolling back into her head.

he hisses under his breath as his movements turn erratic, then there’s that shiver and a harsh pull out before the hot release lands on her lower back and bottom.

she’s throbbing - both below and in her head. her vision is fuzzy and her eyes are blurred out before she rests her head on the table, arms finally relaxing.

hyunjae groans, sighing and reaching over to the napkins on the dressing table to clean her off. he kneels on the floor, and out from the corner of her half-opened eyes, she watches as he carefully cleans her up.

he kisses where she will be sore tomorrow, then stands and hugs her waist to help her stand.

“the things we could do if i wasn’t a celebrity.”

#hyunjae smut #tbz smut #tbz hyunjae smut #the boyz smut #hyunjae scenarios #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae angst #lee hyunjae smut #lee hyunjae scenarios #hyunjae one shot

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misshoneyimhome · 6 months

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The Second Time - Summer Nights

Better in Time

[Prologue;] [Chapter 1]

Summary: After graduating from high school, you host a celebration with your family and friends, and during this gathering, you find the perfect moment to ask Freddie for something important;

Tags; young-adult!Freddie; Second time; Freddie x reader; Better in Time

Warnings; Smut (18+); protected sex (p in v); oral sex (m receiving);

Fun Fact: In Denmark, when you graduate from high-school, you receive a hat (let’s leave out the explanation of colours and banners, cause that’s too long), and inside the hat there’s a sweat band in which you cut different symbols into; for a quick explanation of the graduation hat traditions got to the bottom;

Author's Note: We're diving into the next phase of our friend/lover scenario with a bit of a time jump; I hope you continue to enjoy the journey!;

Word count: 2.2K

Summer loving had me a blast Summer loving happened so fast I met a girl crazy for me Met a boy cute as can be

June 2011

Over three years had passed since that memorable night when you and Freddie took your friendship to a deeper level, and life had carved its unique paths for each of you during that time. Freddie's passion for hockey had taken him on a remarkable journey, when he in 2010, had come tantalisingly close to being drafted into the NHL, a dream that had seemed within his grasp. However, destiny had different plans, and he remained in Denmark. Following this summer, he'd instead made plans on a momentous move to Göteborg in Sweden, which was also a significant step in his burgeoning career.

In the same time span, you had navigated through the tumultuous years of high school, studying subjects close to your heart – history, languages, and the arts. And now, it was time to celebrate your graduation, as you and your family had gathered close friends and loved ones for a joyous celebration.

The garden was adorned with decorations, a pavilion providing shelter from the warm June sun, and a long table adorned with delicious food and drinks. Your father had proudly assumed the role of the day's BBQ master, with your brother eagerly assisting. After all, it was Tom’s graduation too, and though you had attended the same high school, you had followed different paths. He was the athletic, football enthusiast, while you had immersed yourself in the world of academia and creativity.

The party buzzed with life, a vibrant mix of laughter, music, and animated conversations, and amidst the festivities, you and Freddie found yourselves drawn to each other, your connection as strong as ever. Despite the physical distance that had separated you for several years, it felt like no time had passed at all. You rekindled your friendship, sharing tales of your respective journeys, laughing, and weaving memories into the warm summer air.

As the night wore on, and most of the guests had departed, only a select few remained – your brother Tom and his friends, your father, Freddie's parents and siblings, and a couple more close friends. You and Freddie settled into a garden lounge furniture, sipping beers, and continuing your conversation.

However, there was something you needed to share, something that had been lingering in your mind throughout the evening, and with gentle deliberation, you leaned closer, your voice soft and tender as you whispered into Freddie's ear, "Can I show you something... in my bedroom?"

A smile danced upon Freddie's lips, his eyes filled with a mix of intrigues and anticipation. He nodded, and together, you ventured to your bedroom, driven by a curiosity that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

After gently closing the door behind you, Freddie took a seat on your bed, facing you, and your lips pressed together lightly, hesitation lingering as you struggled to find the right words. But a growing desire urged you to speak your mind.

"So," Freddie began, breaking the silence, his honey-glazed eyes locking onto yours, an almost innocent smile gracing his sweet ginger face. ”What did you want to show me?”

"Actually," you started softly, your voice quivering as you uttered the words, "it's not something I want to show you... it's more something I'd like to do."

Freddie's expression shifted, a spark of understanding flickering in his gaze as he caught on to your intention.

"You mean..." he inquired; his curiosity evident.

You responded with a gentle nod, your lower lip lightly caught between your teeth, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I want to cut a lightning bolt in my cap," you playfully revealed, taking a small step closer to the large figure seated on your bed.

His breathing began to deepen, your name escaping his lips, as he sought clarification. "You're sure?"

Once again, you nodded, your head moving with an air of confidence. "Let's just simply call it one friend assisting another?"

Freddie’s smile grew wider, as you gently came to straddle him on the bed, your hands snaking around his neck, and slowly closed the gap between you, connecting your lips.

The kiss started off soft and gentle, your lips moving together, breaths stolen in the sweet exchange.

Freddie's lips felt so familiar, you'd almost forgotten how darn good they felt, and how much you'd missed the easy comfort that came with being around him.

Sure, you’d spend time with other boys since you lost your virginity to Freddie. You’d even date two guys during your time in high school. But they’d been nothing compared to him. They were funny and sweet, but it mostly just felt like good company. The sex had been just fine, and you’d explored areas to gain more experience and find out your likes and dislikes.

But this was still something else. You didn’t need to pretend to be someone else, or act in different way. With Freddie you could simply relax, and ease into his touch. And so, you did.

His hands came around your body, to gently cup and squeeze your ass, as you’re your tongue smoothly entered his mouth, and he greeted you with eagerness. Your hands travelled to his fiery red hair, tucking it lightly, which earned soft moans from Freddie.

“Lay down,” a seductive whisper escaped your lips, your eyes locking intensely with Freddie’s. And he did as you told. Slowly he moved up your bed, resting his body on your duvet and placed his head on the pillow.

“You’re sure you want to do this with our families just outside?” he asked with a cheeky grin across his face.

You returned his playful smile and simply nodded. “I’m sure,” you offered a wink. “Besides, Tom will probably make sure no one will disturb us.” Your voice was soft and almost husky, as you moved your hands slowly up Freddie’s legs and came to the hem of his trousers.

“I’m supposed to rely on your brother to stand watch as I have sex with his sister?” he raised an eyebrow, looking down at you, as you started kissing his skin just above the fabric.

You simply hummed in response before lifting your gaze to meet Freddie's stern look. "Don't worry," you assured, "he already knows, and the fact that he hasn't killed you yet suggests he's okay with it."

Freddie accepted your response and leaned back, relaxing his head.

Skilfully, you unbuttoned his trousers, zipped them open, and lightly pulled them down with a little help from Freddie, so you could tuck them all the way off. You then returned to kiss him, though this time you’ve moved to his inner thighs, causing a few soft moans from the man beneath your touch.

His look intensified, as you moved to kiss his length through the fabric of his boxers, and you could see and feel how it gradually became harder with every touch of your lips. And with a confident smirk, you then tucked your fingers under the hem of the boxers, and dragged them down as well, releasing Freddie’s cock.

Tender moans came from the ginger as his sensitive member was met with cold air, but they only grew louder, when you then came to embrace it with your warm mouth.

“Oh fuck.” Freddie’s voice was husky and almost trembling, as you took him down further and hollowed your cheeks around him. And you knew you had to hush him, as there was still a risk of someone overhearing.

As you bopped your head, covering his cock with saliva, and stroking the part your mouth couldn’t reach with a gentle hand, Freddie’s breathing became heavier and more incoherent. You could the muscles in his thighs flexing, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer, if you kept going. And having the need of also feeling him inside of you, you released your mouth of him with a soft ‘pop’.

As the cold air once again met his sensitive skin, he let out a big sigh, calming down as he had been so close to a release. Not that he really minded all that much. He wanted to feel himself inside of you as well. And a smile adorned his face, as you made your way off the bed, and took off your summer dress, without losing the cap on your head. You then discarded your fine lacy underwear, before you went the nightstand and took out a condom.

Freddie’s hand gently reached out to take the small package from you, and as he ribbed the foil package open and wrapped up his member, you gently came back onto the bed, and once again straddled him. After letting out a few breaths, while stroking his cock gently, you moved to rub your folds along the length, earning a few soft moans from you both. You then sat comfortable on your knees, lined up the tip with your entrance, and slowly lowered yourself onto him, your tight walls embracing his cock.

The room was filled with your harmonising moans, as you both were unable to contain the sounds completely. And with satisfied smiles, you then smoothly started to roll your hips, supporting yourself onto Freddie’s pale chest.

Your movements were gentle and slow at first, but as Freddie came to meet his hips with yours in a synchronised movement, you increased your speed.

Breaths were heavy, as you dug your nails into his skin, and his hands came to support your hips, gently supporting you. You cursed under your breaths, as you felt his cock keep hitting a very sensitive spot inside of you, and you almost had to shut your eyes close, as the feeling of your release came closer.

Freddie then came to sit up, only causing you to moan out louder as his cock twitched inside you, and he grabbed a hold of your body to support you.

Your lips clashed onto each other for a quick sloppy kiss, as you kept rolling your hips. His hands remained on your hips, your head falling into the crook of his neck, as your nails duck into his shoulders.

“Freddie…” you breathed into his skin.

“Me too,” he coaxed gently into your hair, “Come with me.”

Muttering your name in a hot, heavy breath, Freddie pressed his fingers deep into your body as he rocked his hips in what would be the final blow that would draw you to your orgasm. He held you tight as you quivered and came around his cock, the pressure brought by your pleasure brought him his own.

Without exchanging any words, you both slowed your breathing, holding each other tightly, and allowing yourselves to come out of the euphoria. With warm smiles, you turned to look at Freddie, and your foreheads met, a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection you had just shared. His presence was a balm for your soul, a comforting familiarity that you had missed dearly.

"So," he softly spoke, his voice filled with a warm affection, "let's cut that lightning bolt into your hat."

You shared a few chuckles, as you gently moved off his cock, and went to your desk to collect a pair of scissors, meanwhile Freddie took the time to discard the condom into a nearby bin. Seated closely together on your bed, you delicately snipped a tiny lightning bolt into the fabric just beside the square on the inside of the cap.

A smile of contentment adorned your face as you completed the cut, a symbol of the perfect moment you had shared with Freddie once again. To you, this wasn't just a foolish gesture; it was a cherished memory created with your oldest and dearest friend. Someone you had missed profoundly, and whose presence in your life felt more fleeting with each passing day.

You exchanged meaningful glances, and then you carefully returned the scissors to their place before donning the hat. It was a subtle reminder of the unique bond you and Freddie shared.

"Perhaps we should head back to the party?" you suggested, your voice tinged with a hint of shyness. And with a nod from Freddie, you both began to dress, ensuring you looked presentable to re-join the festivities.

2012

The following year brought about a noticeable shift in the dynamics of your friendship with Freddie. Despite him not being too far away in Sweden, the physical distance began to weigh heavily on your connection. This was compounded by the fact that you were both entering the real world, focusing on your respective studies and the uncertainties of life ahead.

Then came the pivotal moment in Freddie's life when he received the call, he had long awaited. He had been drafted to the Anaheim Ducks, a monumental milestone in his hockey career, which was nothing, but a dream realised, the culmination of years of relentless hard work and unwavering dedication. The prospect of playing in the NHL was exhilarating yet came with its own set of challenges. But Freddie was undaunted and ready to embrace this new chapter, knowing that his journey was only just beginning.

Amidst the excitement of Freddie's achievement, a small part of you couldn't help but acknowledge the impending void that would be left by your best friend's absence. And this time, the distance felt even more daunting. However, as a true friend, you masked your own emotions and showered him with nothing but love, affection, and unwavering support for his remarkable accomplishment in his career.

A quick explanation of the graduation hat traditions

Largest and smallest hat measures give beers to the class

The last exam grade is written in the gold logo in the front of the hat

The significant other writes their name in the gold logo in the front

A triangle is cut into the hat's sweatband if you watch the sunrise after a party

Naughty agreements are written on the inside of the sweatband

If you score 12 (top grade) in the last exam subject, you must run after the student bus/truck to the first stop

One's best friend must bite the shadow as a sign of eternal friendship

A square is cut into the sweatband if you drink 30 beers (or other alcoholic beverages of 0,33 cl) within 24 hours

A wave sign must be cut in the hat's sweatband if you bathe wearing only the hat (skinny dipping)

A lightning bolt must be cut in the hat’s sweatband if you spend intimate time with someone wearing the hat

The student cap must be turned upside down so that the shade sits on the neck when you have been awake for 24 hours in a row

#freddie andersen imagine #frederik andersen imagine #freddie andersen #frederik andersen #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey imagine #carolina hurricanes imagine

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nanowrimo · 2 years

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Lessons from a Twenty-Year NaNoWriMo Run

What lessons have you learned during your experiences doing NaNoWriMo? Long-time participant Kathy Kitts shares some of the takeaways from her impressive twenty-year streak of writing novels:

NaNoWriMo has always been an important part of my November, but this year it’s more so. It will mark my twentieth win in a row. (If I make it. No pressure.)

When HQ found out about this big milestone, they asked me to describe the lessons learned over the years as a participant, Municipal Liaison (a.k.a. ML, a volunteer regional leader), ML mentor, site debugger, ML handbook contributor, fundraiser, translator, and occasional MOD. (If you stick around long enough, nonprofit organizations will always find something for you to do.) I agreed. Why? Because NaNoWriMo has had such a profound influence on me, it actually altered the direction of my life.

2003 – The First Year. At the time, I was a planetary science postdoc and should have been concentrating on my research, but I was tired of writing about what is. I wanted to write about what if. Except, what if I failed? Taking no chances, I told no one. Under the name Apollo16, NaNoWriMo became my late-night secret. And I won! I donated out of gratitude and got a tiny little pin that read: I WRITE BOOKS. Nah! It was a fluke, a one-off. That “s” was a problem.

2004 – October Is For Preparation. This is when I learned about crockpots. You could make a bunch of soups and stews and freeze the leftovers. I won and treated myself to a chest freezer. You know, in case I tried for a third year. (And yes, that sucker is still running.)

2005 – The Magic of Write-ins. Being brave, I told a few friends about this November writing thingy, and we had our own unofficial write-in. I fetched my “I WRITE BOOKS” pin and wore it to our celebration party. Three was a big enough plural.

2006 – Cheap Halloween Candy and Perth, Australia. As a newly minted ML, I passed out pixy stix at every write-in. (Or as it is known in Wrimo circles, Writer’s Crack.) As for Perth, our two regions fought word wars, exchanged care packages, and egged each other on. I can still taste the Tim Tams, and they are probably still buzzing from the pixy stix.

2007 – Some People Lack Imagination. While running a word war, a Wrimo yelled out, “How much time do we have? I have to kill someone.” I shouted back, “Seven minutes. I could kill billions in seven minutes.” All twenty plus writers whooped in agreement. A woman who had just purchased her coffee stared at us in horror. She backed out of the coffee shop not daring to stop and collect her change.

2008 – The Muse and Flexibility. Many Wrimos have significant others who are not writers. Shocking but true. To make them feel loved before we utterly abandoned them for a month, we hosted a Halloween party from 9 to 12. At 12:01 AM November 1, we pulled out the power strips, sent the non-writers packing, and started typing. Up to this point, I’d always considered myself a “plotter.” Such a hardcore plotter, I once calculated the amount of CO2 in the atmosphere of an alien world to get the weather I wanted. With my stack of notes at the ready, prepared to bang out my 1667, a little boy appeared, saying, “You have to tell my story.” I argued, “But I have all these orbital calculations!” Didn’t matter. I learned not to argue with the muse and that flexibility makes winning easier.

2009 – How to Suck It Up. That was a terrible slog of a year. I really wasn’t feeling it. I was farting around on the forums when I met a Wrimo who had to finish early. Why? She was deployed in Iraq. She had put her novel on a CD, handed it to her CO, who returned to the base, and uploaded it for her so she could win. Yeah, no inspiration there. I faked a cough to get out of a faculty meeting to make my word count.

2010 – The Reach of NaNoWriMo. To make new friends after my move, I volunteered at the local community library. I was shelving books, when someone shouted, “Apollo16! Is that you? Mom! It’s Apollo16!” I recognized one of my Young Writers from Chicago. Her family had moved a couple of months before I had. She dragged over her mother and explained how excited she was to still have her Wrimo friends. Her mother gave me the eyeball and said, “You know, she’s going to be a writer now. It’s all your fault.” I grinned. “No, ma’am. It’s Chris Baty’s fault.”

2011 – Debugging and Love. With the growth of NaNoWriMo worldwide, the old website just couldn’t hack it. After some fundraising, we moved on from Druenemy (okay, Drupal but that’s not what we called it) to Ruby on Rails. We had a massive “debugger” team that spanned the globe. We slew bugs like they were dragons and we were Knights of the Round Table. Few organizations could ask and get so many volunteers to donate so much time and resources. It was awe-inspiring.

2012 – No Plot No Problem v. 2. Chris Baty asked a bunch of the MLs to provide quotes for his second edition of No Plot No Problem. All the lessons I’ve learned can be found in that book. While you wait for it to be delivered, here are three I shared with him. (1) Buy lots of underwear for the entire family so you won’t have to do as much laundry. (2) Rack up a bunch of childcare credits early in the fall. That way they are beholden to you and can’t weasel when November rolls around. (3) As for the transition to normal life, sometimes it doesn’t happen. Sometimes you get the strength to retire early or change careers so you can continue to write. This quote will haunt me later.

2013 – The Year I Tried To Cheat. I decided to turn one of my scripts into a novel. Should be simple, right? Nope. At day 18, I hit the wall. The script was a script and not a novel. Panicked, after this long of a run, I had to win! I was an ML, a mentor! So, I did what I’ve told countless other Wrimos to never do. I deleted the whole dang thing, all 30,00 words. On day 19, I came clean and started over with a blank page. I made 50,284 at 11:52 PM on Nov. 30.

2014 –The Night Of Writing Dangerously. The year I finally got to attend. To go to San Francisco. To have dinner in that fantastic ballroom. To sew a costume for the grand event. Unfortunately, I had just developed a food allergy. How could I go and not be able to eat? Grant Faulkner and Sarah Mackey invited me to come up to the buffet table and serve myself first to avoid cross-contamination. The staff of the Office of Letters and Light didn’t just care about writing, but about the writers too. Did I win that night and get to ring the bell? No. I wrote a total of six words. Yet, I was so inspired, I finished early. I didn’t have to hide in the bathroom with my laptop during Thanksgiving like all the other years.

2015 – The Grad Student Figures It Out. When you are the prof, you get to make up the syllabus and control the timeline. For years, mysteriously, there were few tests, problem sets, or projects due in November. Occasionally, one of my grad students would join me for NaNo. In the middle of a write-in, one such grad student jumped to their feet and shouted, “Oh my god! It was never about us! About being nice to us during crunch month! It was always about NaNoWriMo!” Duh.

2016 – Lack of Imagination Part II. That year at our write-in, a guy walked into our section with his food, shot us a judgy glare as we typed, and plunked down opposite my table. A new Wrimo began to cry. I asked her, “Are you okay?” “Yes,” she sniffled, “I just killed someone. I’m embarrassed.” “Oh don’t worry, we all cry when we kill someone. It means you’re doing a great job.” The guy’s eyebrows met his hairline and he hustled right back from whence he came. For the record, this time, we did have signs up everywhere.

2017 – Catch-22. This is the year I started to teach creative writing on the side. Being new and unknown, I feared nobody would sign up. My Wrimo buddies filled the class. I told them how grateful I was. They said the joke was on me. “Now, you have to read all of our novels.” D’oh!

2018 – The Prof Figures It Out. That was the year I taught NaNoWriMo. Got paid to do what I was going to do anyway.

2019 – Website and Young Writer Redux. Technology marches on and we fundraised for yet another website that folded NaNo, Camp, and Young Writer’s into one place. Speaking of young writers, remember the girl from 2010? She got a novel published, and dedicated it to her Wrimo support group.

2020 – 2021 The COVID Years and Family. I was never worried about the survival of the Office of Letters and Light. The support runs too deep, but what of the local groups without in-person events? Silly me, the pivot went without a hitch. We ended up having Zoom write-ins for thirty days straight during both Novembers. Even on Thanksgiving. Why? Because we’d become family. But mostly, because we didn’t force anyone to eat lime Jell-O with an expired can of fruit cocktail suspended inside it like a scene from The Blob.

2022 – Twenty Years and A Million Words. According to my lifetime word counter, I have written 1,380,023 words. However, that number includes all my revisions from Camp. In my heart of hearts, I know I won’t break 1,000,000 until this November. Malcolm Gladwell suggests that we become experts at the 10,000-hour mark of working our craft. Several writers have translated that as 1,000,000 words. I’ve been selling my work since 2010, but with 1,000,000 words so close, I have faith that some of those words might be good words.

Remember, up at the top of this stroll down memory lane, I mentioned how NaNoWriMo altered the course of my life? After twenty plus years as a planetary geologist, I have retired. This fall I will be starting over as a graduate student in an MFA program in Creative Writing. But this time, it isn’t entirely Chris Baty’s fault. It’s Grant Faulkner’s too. He wrote one of my letters of rec.

See ya in November!

Dr. Kathy Kitts, AKA Apollo16, is a planetary geologist who has served as a science team member on the NASA Discovery Mission Genesis among others. Her latest speculative short fiction has appeared in Compelling SF, James Gunn’s Ad Astra, and Amazing. She has a collection of stories titled Getting What You Need available worldwide on Amazon. Born and raised in the desert southwest, she is moving from New Mexico to Alaska mostly because she isn’t dead yet.

Top photo by Nils Stahl on Unsplash.

#nanowrimo #writing #amwriting #national novel writing month #by nano guest #kathy kitts #nanowrimo experience

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babywitchofthesouth-responds · 1 year

Text

The Ultimate Psych Fic Rec List

Ft. 49 of the best Psych fics (imo) >>>

Four Floors Down, Use the Stairs in Case of Emergency by centipede

Shawn does something really stupid. Really stupid, really dangerous, and something that means he's really, really screwed. Which shouldn't surprise anyone.

Especially since no one knows where he is.

High Tide by LittleFairy78

It all started with a fight. Shawn leaves town for a few days, only to find his life cruelly changed upon his return. He tries to get to the bottom of what happened, but everybody else thinks he's just in denial. Shawn angst...

Fun in the Woods with Buzz McNabb by centipede

While searching for stolen bonds in the woods, Buzz McNabb wins babysitting duty for a certain psychic consultant for the SBPD. And Lassiter proves something he never meant to. As non-angsty as it gets because, seriously, this is Buzz we're talking about.

Judas In My Mind by PineappleHead

MacGyver/Psych crossover

Murdoc is looking for a new recruit for HIT. Shawn has all the necessary skills. Neither of them could foresee where their crossed paths would lead them.

"What have I become? Now that I've betrayed everyone I've ever loved, and pushed them all away? And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind. Is there something left of me to save in the wreckage of my life? I'm becoming Judas in my mind..." -------Fozzy

What's The Story, Morning Glory? by Liviapenn

The first time Shawn ever kisses Gus it's goodbye.

Wednesday, March 3rd Of 2010 by lapsus_calami

March third of two thousand ten dawned much in the same way every day before it had. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Gus and Shawn were an unbeatable detective duo. The day after, however, would dawn much differently.

Shawn And The Real(er) Psychics Of Santa Barbra by Beaconbaconbison

Shawn isn't a psychic. He's just some guy who got struck by lighting and woke up having visions about things he couldn't possibly know. That seems on par with the rest of his life. Right? He really. Really. Really isn't psychic. Even if these visions are helping solve a murder. He's just very observant. That's all.

like a comet pulled from orbit by torigates

Shawn is good at half-truths.

Born This Way by redwolffclaw

Henry Spencer has started to realize that something is different about his three year old son Shawn and will soon need to use all his detective skills to figure out how to raise his rambunctious prodigy.

Familiarity by sebviathan

AKA the four times Shawn and Lassiter met before they actually met, and when it finally came together.

How many hats? by Abby_Gal

After Shawn kills a man to protect his best friend, he can’t stop his overstimulated brain from making him watch the man falling to the ground again and again. Luckily the man who has helped train his brain as a kid is there to help him calm down.

Baby Steps by Vanya_Instance

Shawn and Gus were celebrating the opening of a new nightclub near Shawn’s apartment. The night was turning enjoyable, drinks were reasonably priced, the music was deafening but danceable and with a magnificent feat of wingwomanship, Shawn had found Gus a girl. A true miracle indeed.

Not to sound smug, but this had been a brilliant idea on Shawn’s part.

But then Shawn wakes up in an alley early the next morning, covered in cuts and bruises, miles away from the club and her apartment, with no memory as to how she got there.

For the first time Shawn finds herself on the other side of the thin blue line, not as a suspect, but as a victim.

And Shawn is scared.

And Shawn thinks she preferred being the suspect.

Little Murder in the Big Woods by Anonymous

A totally harmless lie gets Shawn involved with Gus' work retreat... and MURDER.

To be fair, he'd probably be getting a front row seat to a murder somewhere whether or not he decided to pose as Gus' live-in partner in order to spend a weekend camping trip distracting him from team-building exercises.

Shawn Spencer: The Ultimate Reference by sottovoce81

Shawn Spencer was the ultimate reference. He was the go-to guy for a quick reference when the Winchesters were in need of something.

Burton Guster Gets Salty by Emachinescat

“Run! Don’t look back!” That’s what Shawn says to Gus as they run for their lives from a killer with a gun. But Gus does look back – just in time to see his best friend go down with the crack of the pistol.

Shawn Spencer is Nobody's Agatha by huckleberryzenon

After the disaster that is Lindsay Leiken, the FBI decides it's time to begin psychological evaluations of all the psychics who consult with law enforcement, starting with one Shawn Spencer. Shawn's confident he'll pass with flying colors, but what if the danger isn't in getting found out, but the person administering the test?

Another thing they'll never talk about by rosey_angel

He’s decided it. This is going to happen. Everyone at school is talking about weddings because Casey McClintock's mom is getting married and ever since then he’s been over the moon. Because he decided. He’s going to marry Shawn Spencer.

Thinking over the secret moments in their past, Gus can't hide his feelings about or for Shawn any longer.

Psy vs. Psy in the Sky (And Right Back Down Again) by Emachinescat

After being taken hostage by fake psychic Lindsay Leikin, Shawn finds himself tied up and on an unplanned skydiving adventure.

Thanks For the Memories (Or Lack of Them) by EclipseWing

They tell you that your name is Shawn Spencer. They tell you that you are thirty-three and that you live in Santa Barbara, California.

They don't tell you that you're meant to be psychic.

Fro-Yo? More Like Fro-No! by Emachinescat

No matter how angry he was, Gus would never hurt his best friend - not intentionally, at least.

But the hard truth was that intentions wouldn’t matter if Shawn ended up frozen to death in some ditch in Canada. Either way, it would be Gus’s fault.

Either way, he would have killed his best friend.

how you try by disastermovie

Gus always knew Shawn would come back to Santa Barbara. He didn't know when or in what state, but he always knew that one day, he'd find his best friend back on his doorstep, grinning like nothing had changed. That's just how Shawn is. And Gus would welcome him back because that's just what their friendship is. No matter how many years pass, no matter what shenanigans Shawn drags him into, they'll always be best friends.

That doesn't mean he has any idea what to do with a baby.

The Joker and the King by Castlewood_Bard

Shawn and Gus in a royal AU. That's all you really need to know.

Two Dead Guys, a Girl, and a Psychic by moondragon23

Life is great for Shawn Spencer. He has a cool job, a smart, beautiful girlfriend, and gets to hang with his best friend all day. What more could a guy want? When he gets his next two cases, a dead chemistry professor and a girl looking for her father, it looks like business as usual. Too bad things never go that simply when Shawn is involved.

I've Heard It One Way by NephilimEQ

Shawn Spencer just got his appendix removed...and, at the same time, he's just found out that he has another problem. But he's not going to tell anyone. Until, one day, head detective Carlton Lassiter finds out his secret. Will this bring them closer together or ruin their friendship forever?

A Tale as Old as Vegas, Baby by burglebezzlement

Gus would like to believe there's no way Shawn's been hiding their secret Vegas marriage for five years. Unfortunately, the marriage license with their signatures on it and the photograph of the two of them smooching in front of Elvis say otherwise.

Shawn Spencer and the Fate of the Furious by huckleberryzenon

an AU to Season 4, Episode 9: "Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark." Rollins has a few tricks up his sleeve after his arrest, post Shawn's dramatic car-hopping rescue.

Shafted by MusicalLuna1

Only Shawn could injure himself whilst searching a cordoned off building with a faction of S.B.P.D. officers. Shameless Shawn whumpage.

GHOST TOWN by Vindicata

What are the chances of a guy on a Norton motorcycle running into a guy in a ‘67 Impala as they each crisscross the country? Pretty damn high.

"You're awfully perky for a guy who was just freaking out a couple of minutes ago."

"And you're awfully bitchy for a guy who just had his life save by a courageous bystander with fantastic hair"

“Time to roast a ghost?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Handlebars by Vindicata

Everyone thinks Shawn needs Gus and the SBPD to investigate.

They were wrong.

When Shawn works around the system to hide a case he’s working on, the secret might just blow up in his face... or show truly capable he is to the people who always underestimated him.

Guilt is a Funny Thing. Not in a “Haha” Way Though. by JenCM

“He called me, you know.” Henry choked out, distress obvious in his voice. “Kid…kid said he needed a ride. I told him to catch the bus.”

Carlton looked over, wondering if his exhausted eyes and ears were deceiving him. No, it wasn’t the fact that Henry Spencer was opening up to him, if he could call a random statement ‘opening up’ It wasn’t even the fact that the man looked him straight in the eye when he said it.

He scoffed with bitter amusement, “If it’s any consolation…” Carlton said with a sigh, “I told him he could walk home.”

Henry didn’t seem surprised at the revelation. He broke eye contact, his gaze falling back on Shawn, motionless in the hospital bed.

“Guess it goes to show that the kid still doesn’t listen to me.”

The only sound that followed was the hissing of the ventilation machine, and the beeping of the monitors. Nothing else needed to be said.

When Shawn ends up in a completely preventable situation that leaves him worse for wear, his father and Lassiter take a one-way trip to Guiltina while Gus tries to sell a ‘slightly used’ Lazy Boy and Juliet is just caught in the middle of the mess.

Phone Tag by windscryer

A demon hunter and a fake psychic walk into a bar . . . oh wait, that was the LAST story. This is what happens after.

A series of episode tags for both Psych and Supernatural continuing the adventures of Shawn and Dean and Sam (and eventually Gus and the others too, maybe).

How Much is that Body in the Window? by ZedPM, DinerGuy

It started as a vacation in New York City for our favorite psychic and his best friend, but when the duo stumbles upon a body (literally) they’ll need to lend a hand to Castle and the rest of the gang to solve the case before they head back to California.

A Bitter Pill by Psychrulz

Everyone knows Shawn has a tendency to get distracted. When he misses a clue and a murderer almost gets away, Chief Vick has had enough. She orders Shawn to get help and fix the problem- or else. Naturally, nothing with Shawn is ever that simple. When the fix turns out to be worse than the problem, the lives of his entire team are put in danger.

The Tangled Web by Collegekid06

Who tried to kill Shawn?

Someone cut the brakes on Shawn's bike. Now he's in a coma, and Henry, Jules, Lassiter and Gus are trying to find out who did it.

We All Go A Little Crazy Sometimes.... by Collegekid06

Shawn voluntarily commits himself to a mental institution.

How will Henry react?

How will Gus react?

And will the doctors ever let him go?

My Dinner In Hell: Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love A Good Steak by Collegekid06

Shawn.

Lassie.

Henry.

Dinner...

Need I say more?

The Longest Day by LittleFairy

Shawn knows it's technically not really his fault. Lassiter thinks differently. Emphatically so.

But they have to make the best of the situation together, no matter who is to blame. Because the bad guys are on their way to Mexico, the other bad guys are after them, they're in the middle of nowhere, and somehow they have ended up...cuffed together.

It's just one of those days.

Shawn and the Friendly Neighborhood Stalker by laytoncolt

It's another case that no one else believes a case, and Shawn would be figuring it all out a lot quicker if didn't have to deal with a break-in and a stalker, that may or may not be related.

The Dah Ling Store It Yourself by Nixa Jane

The bad news is that one of Lassiter's highest profile arrests has just escaped from prison. The worse news is that his best hope of tracking him down is a sleep-deprived Shawn Spencer.

The Pharmaceutical Psychic by Tardisgater

Being captured by a mad scientist is almost expected by this point. The mad scientist's experiments actually working is a whole 'nother thing. It's time to shake up the status quo.

You Have the Right to Remain...Dead by MusicalLuna

When an officer is murdered late one night while on duty, Karen forbids Shawn from getting involved, afraid he won't take the case as seriously as he should.

But since when has a little thing like being banned from a case stopped Shawn Spencer?

I'm Okay by light at last

The day that Shawn is supposed to graduate is the first time he manages to actually fool his dad. It will remain one of few.

Identification by veggiewoppa

Hitchhiking in the rain = bad idea

Getting a ride from a homical maniac = worse idea

Stopping for the night in a motel full of potential victims = Worst idea in the history of bad ideas

The Boy in Blue by Collegekid06

Shawn's nightmares all come true when he finally ends up at the police academy...and it's not by choice.

The Evidence Lock-Up by InsaneTrollLogic

All contents part of case 10329QXT—The Disappearance of Shawn H. Spencer. Property of the Santa Barbra Police Department.

Bouncing Around by PurpleMoon3

Cas finds God.

Note: I tossed around for a while deciding whether to include this because I had no idea what was happening in it 99% of the time, but it made such a strong impression that it would be criminal not to

Aquatic Equestrianism by trascendenza

The one where they're mermen, because clearly my brain is a weird place. "You are outta your damn mind if you think that dolphin wants to be ridden."

The Pilot of My Roflcopter by trascendenza

The one where Shawn talks like a lolcat to seduce Gus.

Molasses in January by trascendenza

The one where they're, um, snails.

#psych #psych tv #psych tv show #shawn spencer #psych fic rec #psych fic recs #burton guster #fanfiction #fic recs #fic rec #literally some of these are sourced from the strangest websites

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doomedandstoned · 11 months

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MR. BUNGLE MELVINS ☆ SPOTLIGHTS ★ The Showbox, Seattle

Photo Review by Chris Schanz

One might ask what would bring me out of retirement? Was I retired? What the hell have I been doing for the past three years? All things Doomed and Stoned have been in flux for me. I’ve been focusing on my day job. I’ve been focusing on my family. I’ve been focusing on my garden. All this focusing has left me nearsighted. Blurry. The COVID era left me with a shitty hangover (not long COVID – I’m just trying to forget that shit and move on!). Sure – I’ve shot shows, band portraits, weddings, funerals yadda yadda fucking yadda. I wanted a sign that the universe is ready for my gifts, once again.

Enter Mr. Bungle and The Melvins. The Geek Show Tour, sponsored by Ipecac Records celebrates both the vast accomplishments of Mike Patton (Faith No More, Fantomas, Mr. Bungle) and The Melvins – on their 40th anniversary! The perfect lure to get me off my ass and feel like I actually can contribute something to music, art and photography in general without licking the taint of Instagram and an AI-generated algorithmic overlord soon set to devour us, Titans, Gods and all.

The Showbox at the Market is the perfect set. I feel at home there, usually right by the soundboard. So many shows seen there – Sonic Youth, Nudedragons (Soundgarden), Brothers Of the Sonic Cloth, Sleep, Uncle Acid, Bell Witch, Graveyard, Chelsea Wolfe, The Black Angels – on and on, and on and on. It’s by far Seattle’s best concert hall, IMHO.

SPOTLIGHTS

I admit. I wasn’t prepared for Spotlights. A buddy of mine in Denver by way of San Francisco said they’re sweetly DOOMY. I was in. I got three songs to fall in love. Head over heels! Words escape my brain, only memories of sweet, subsonic joy flowing through my chest and brain. I followed up with Sarah Quintenero after the show at the merch booth, loading up on their vinyl. I’m blasting “Tidals” on vinyl while writing this in my cave, but “Alchemy for the Dead” is a MASTERPIECE! I’ve been binging on their Bandcamp all week now. Bold, deep bass fuzz, ethereal vocals and serrated guitar riffs. My new summer soundtrack.

They’re still on tour – and I highly advise you to see them now!

Alchemy For The Dead by Spotlights

Spotlights Setlist

"The Alchemist" (2023’s Alchemy For The Dead)

"Sunset Burial" (2023’s Alchemy For The Dead)

"Algorithmic" (2023’s Alchemy For The Dead)

"False Gods" (2023’s Alchemy For The Dead)

"Part 4" (2020’s We Are All Atomic)

MELVINS

This brings me back to the Melvins. The force that shaped my twenties in Seattle. My band Fuzzbud had a six-degrees-of-Kevin Bacon thing with a Morton, WA / Monteseno, WA, somebody’s cousin played in a band that opened for…whatevs. We tuned to DUH flat and had a good time. BUT…The Melvins were always a mainstay in any of my playlists.

King Buzzo did NOT disappoint! I was singing along from the photo pit. I was kidding beforehand that there should be some sort of SNL skit – a play by play commentary of the photo pit action. Think Howard Cosell announcing each of the photogs falling over each other for the shots. I thought it was funny, anyways. I’m a dork.

ANYWHOO. Buzzo provides! Dale’s a GOD. I got my HEALTHY fix of Houdini, culminating in a THREE BASS OVERLOAD on Night Goat with Sara Qintenero from Spotlights and Trevor Dunn from Mr. Bungle joining Steve McDonald to rumble your bunghole. What did I miss by NOT seeing the tour finale in San Francisco? A reunion of Fantomas (Mike, Buzz and Dave Lombardo)! When these guys get together, (black) magic always happens!

The Bride Screamed Murder by Melvins

Melvins Setlist

"I Can’t Shake It" (1998 split with Cosmic Psychos, Some Girls/I Can’t Shake It)

"Zodiac" (1990’s Bullhead)

"Copache" (1993’s Houdini)

"I Want to Hold Your Hand" (2018’s Pinkus Abortion Technician - Beatles Cover)

"Hammering" (2022’s Bad Mood Rising)

"Never Say You’re Sorry" (2022’s Bad Mood Rising)

"Evil New War God" (2010’s The Bride Screamed Murder)

"Let It All Be" (1999’s The Bootlicker)

"Honey Bucket" (1993’s Houdini)

"Revolve" (1994’s Stoner Witch)

"Night Goat" (1993’s Houdini - with Steve McDonald, Spotlights Sarah Quintero and Mr. Bungle bass Trevor Dunn on basses)

MR. BUNGLE

The main event. I knew they led with the Mr. Rogers theme on most nights. ADORABLE! But to my surprise, and delight! They performed the John Sebastian theme to “Welcome Back Kotter”! FUCK YES. I’m a Sweathog and everyone knows it! We would also be treated to the Pepto Bismol jingle not too far into the set.

I was wanting, wishing for a few more songs from 1991’s Mr. Bungle release, primarily some “Squeeze Me Macaroni” and “Stubb-A-Dub” action. Stubb was my go-to track in our house in college. After many a trip, I believed I was the proverbial “family dog” to our tribe…just elated to be along for the ride scrambling from party to party. Luckily for me, I got some “My Ass Is On Fire” and I was satiated. “Speak Spanish Or Die” brought me right back to my thrash and skating days (Days. Rolled my ankle on the half-pipe and drove the crew to all the spots after that). Van Halen’s Loss of Control? A TOTAL surprise and I was elated! Ear to ear grins and giggles!

I came for the Melvins, Mike Patton and Dave Lombardo, but I left with a deep adoration for Spotlights and a 365-day calendar of “The Many O-Faces of Scott Ian” and that’s more than OK. I’m in love. Thank you, Scott, for fulfilling this schoolboy’s adolescent dreams, 30 years later!

The Night They Came Home by Mr. Bungle

Mr. Bungle Setlist

"Welcome Back" (John Sebastian cover)

"Bungle Grind"

"Eracist"

"Spreading the Thighs of Death"

"Loss for Words" (Corrosion of Conformity cover)

"Hypocrites"

"Speak English or Die" (Stormtroopers of Death cover) (changed to "Speak Spanish or Die")

"Glutton for Punishment"

"Anarchy Up Your Anus"

"Methematics"

"Hell Awaits" (Slayer cover) (intro)

"True/Cold War/True"

"Raping Your Mind"

"World Up My Ass" (Circle Jerks cover) (with Michael Crain)

"Sudden Death"

Encore: "Loss of Control" (Van Halen cover)

Encore: "My Ass Is on Fire" (with PEP tag)

#D&S Concert Review #Mr. Bungle #Melvins #Spotlights #grunge #punk #heavy rock #photography #Chris Schanz #Doomed and Stoned

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yesyoubelonghere · 6 months

Text

"Betting On A Long Shot"

You're telling me that I have lost it all?

I'm looking though the bug

splattered windshield,

Trying to cross state after state

Because I am betting on a long shot.

The humming of the tires and the

buzz of the radio,

They are telling me that I have lost it all.

Because I was betting on a long shot.

Listening to late night radio,

As I squint at the rising sun.

I glance to the right and on the seat is the gun,

And I flash that I just killed a man.

All because I bet on a long shot.

All because I bet on a shot with you.

October 2010, When I was crazy

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white-light-on-my-prism · 11 months

Text

Tagged by my fav moots who I'm not even sure are real cause they're too good to be true @mebiselfandi @thesupermegahell

rules: share the first lines of your ten most recent fanfics and tag ten people. if you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyways.

Okay so... while I have written more than 10 fanfics in my lifetime, very few of them are Neymessi, because I've only recently started writing about them. So I'll share lines from those, along with the link and name and pairing, but if I find any other excerpts from fanfics I've written for different fandoms, and they make sense without context, I'll just dump them here without any additional information. Fair warning though, a few of my fanfics are poems, a format people usually don't use for fanfics, so bear with me.

1. you put me on and said I was your favourite — Neymessi.

2010. A friendly against Brazil's biggest football rival, Argentina. Yet, that was the farthest thing from Neymar's mind, as it was currently occupied in its full capacity by the player, or as he'd describe, the magician of his dreams, Lionel Messi.

The man was a miracle, and, as always, Neymar was mesmerised. Messi's pale cheeks flushed red from the sun, his long hair swinging with every swift turn of his, his legs changing directions at lightning speed, the ball glued to his feet as if in reverence. Neymar couldn't believe a mortal had it in them to be so beautiful. Football was already art to him, but Messi's existence, perhaps, was his final bit of proof.

2. Wait for me, will you? — Neymessi.

Rolling river, running stream

I'm a helpless rock on top of a hill

Your current draws me swirling in

Yet I push against its way.

What will other people say?

3. Exile — Neymessi.

Neymar had never put much stock in the inner workings of the colour white. He could vaguely recall from sixth standard, learning something about white light falling on a prism and exploding in rainbow hues. Neither was he the one for academics, nor was his family the one for rainbows, so all he had known, all he had ever seen with those iridescent eyes of his, was life in black and white. The patterns on his childhood football, the one true love of his life, were drawn in the same twin colours. Then why was he, in that one wretched evening, finding the same opposing tints holding his throat so brutally to a knife?

The 30th of June, 2017.

4. 3 times Anto sees the flower blossom (+1 time she waters the plant :)) — Neymessi.

Antonela is standing, unsuspecting, on the sidelines of the Barcelona training ground, calmly enjoying the spring breeze, when a football hits her smack on the face.

Her vision turns black and her legs give away in a wobbly fashion for the slightest moment, before she locks eyes with her offender while still face down on the ground.

"Leo, you bobo, watch where you're hitting!"

Leo jogs up to her and gives her a hand, but Anto slaps hard on his palm, and gets up on her own.

"Not my fault if you're standing in the way, I'm just trying to play football."

5. It was dark.

The inherent calm of the misty night air was turned restless by the buzzing sound of crickets.

Festive lights had been switched off, so had the lamps in every room of the household. Hardly anyone, however, had been able to fall asleep. Only one tiny bulb shone downstairs, in the guest room, where two police officers clad in uniform sat upright in a chair and on the bed, cautiously sipping water from soiled steel glasses. <name redacted> presently stood with a tray in her hand, waiting for the men to return her their tumblers.

"Thank you", they said unanimously while placing their glasses on the tray.

"Thank you my foot", she mumbled under her breath on her way out of the room.

6. Fuck. I was hearing voices in my head again. The lines between truth and fallacies never felt more blurred. And here I was, caught between them both, trying to pick up the last pieces of my crumbling self esteem behind the closed doors of an empty washroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Face full of badly done make-up, smeared with tears; one eyeliner wing looking way different than the other.

7. Long before I knew you

I had gotten used to life in an armour.

Living in a tower, all bricks and concrete

No paint, no lawns, no light, no wind.

All alone.

"Alone's good," I had convinced myself,

Betrayal not likely in a one man army...

But then, I met you.

8. Breaths were coming in short gasps as our faces were inches apart. His black eyes were gleaming blue under some tinted light.

What were words? My head wondered.

All I could see were his soft lips, all I could feel was the prick of his light stubble under my fingertips.

"<name redacted>... I think I love you."

A teardrop or two brimmed on his waterline. A few more creases formed on his forehead.

Just as my right hand dropped from his face, I felt a loss of grip on my waist.

Sooner than I could process, his hold on my left hand tightened and his other hand grabbed me by my shirt.

He stood on his tip toes and planted his lips on mine.

I THINK THAT'S ALL I'LL DUMP HERE! Not tagging anyone because I'm late to this challenge as it is, so all my dearies must have already made this post if they wanted to. But if you didn't yet and you're seeing this, you're tagged! Thanks for reading, hope you had fun. I know I certainly did🧚‍♀️

#tag games #neymessi fanfic #neymessi #lionel messi #neymar jr #football rpf #ao3

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