#(ugh that sounds so fucking weird but it’s also true)
Note
favorite part of talos principle??????
I procrastinated forever on this ask, sorry. The answer’s kinda sad. But it’s also, like, deeply true and important to me as a person, so.
My mom died at the end of 2013, concluding a truly impressive any% cancer speedrun. Less than 90 days from first symptoms to last. I loved her a lot. It was a bad time.
2014 was the worst year of my life. I became convinced that human consciousness (or at least, my own human consciousness) was not an inherent good. Not an inherent bad, either, just… the nature of the human brain is to want to continue existing, and to be incapable of continuing to exist. It’s not a system that’s designed to function without pain. It’s not a system that’s designed. Consciousness hurts. Being a conscious, physical creature in an unpredictable physical world that has no obligation to make coherent narrative sense hurts.
(I miss my mom. It’s a problem with no solution.)
And then there was this video game. And it had this guy (gender neutral) in it. And this guy was like: you’re so right, bestie. Making sense of existence? That’s a loser’s game. Can’t even get to I think, therefore I am without coming up against some truly gnarly logical conundrums—almost enough to make you wanna invent a big invisible sky-friend who gives you all the answers and reassures you that you’re important and good, right? But that’s stupid. You don’t want to be stupid, do you? You want to be smart. Like me. Smart means you’re better than the people who need happy little answers to all their silly little questions. You don’t need them. You don’t need anybody. That’s the great thing about nothing—it’s so beautifully consistent! When nothing means anything, there are no contradictions. Trying to understand your place in the cosmos—asking the question “I exist; what should I do with that fact?” and expecting to arrive at an actual, functional answer—is a sucker’s game. The only winning move is not to play.
I can’t really explain what it felt like to see my own feelings repeated back to me so clearly, so accurately, and at such length—and for my reaction to my own worldview to be seething fucking hatred. When I started playing The Talos Principle, I was a pessimistic nihilist. I did not perceive myself changing into something different until I was screaming at my keyboard FUCK YOU, my existence has meaning because I CHOOSE to imbue it with meaning and I do not FUCKING CARE if it doesn’t make sense, some things are more important than being flawlessly logically correct and ME HAVING A REASON TO LIVE is ONE OF THEM
(when your internal logic answer to Why should I stay alive? starts out as My life is a precious gift given to me by God and it is not mine to throw away, and then your understanding of the world changes in a way that no longer incorporates an ontologically-existent God, sometimes you wind up with: Why should I stay alive? Answer: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And that answer really only works as long as nothing terrible happens. It does not hold up well under stress. When you take god away you do have to put something else in its place, and it’s not easy to find something else that can hold up under the weight.)
Like… it would be an oversimplification to say that The Talos Principle made me want to live again. But it wouldn’t be too much of an oversimplification to say TTP forced me to acknowledge that I didn’t currently have a good reason to want to live, and that felt bad, and I owed it to myself to fix it. And that if I could hate this fucking asshole librarian so so much (because he was me), and still feel so much compassion for him by the end of the game, then maybe I could figure out how to feel compassion for myself, too.
Also I really like the puzzles where the solution is to zwoop around all over the place with fans, those are my favorite
#the talos principle#milton library assistant#this is part of the reason I took an extended break from TTP2#it was bringing up complicated feelings#that are probably worth exploring! but are difficult nonetheless#it’s not the fault of the game that it’s inextricably tied up with how I learned to survive my mother’s death#but that’s what the game means for me and when TTP2 started talking more explicitly about death#it got a little heavier than I was ready to deal with#I will return to it for sure#but not right now#I’m not emotionally ready#(ugh that sounds so fucking weird but it’s also true)
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I cant believe I witnessed real lgbt infighting discourse coming out of the mouth of my 54 year old boss at work. I literally got a job so I could be less chronically online and somehow it got worse and more confusing?? Like. Sir. You have adult children and a degree, you were classically trained in culinary arts. why do you give a fuck what the difference between bisexuality and pansexuality is?
#context. he does have blue hair but doesnt quite understand pronouns#which is also a funny concept on its own#will not shut up about this ever probably#also I think when talking about him in the past I accidentally used my other account#but yes he is the *i dont care if you're straight or liberal* guy#also he did ask me what my pronouns were today which was funny. our coworker bullied him into asking which is even funnier#and when I shrugged and said I didnt care he later said something and said *maam... sir... * and then a third thing#but I was walking away so I didnt hear it :((#sounded like he said stranger though which is really funny if true#literally obsessed with the way other people see my gender. im so glad im not annoyed by it anymore#wait I made this about me uh#yeah he died his hair blue recently and was telling me how he told his SO#because his (SO) favorite color is blue and he was excited to show him ;o;#literally so fucking cute ugh im so mad I dont have that#I want to dye my hair my SO's favorite color and surprise them with it >:(#but nooo I dont get to have one of those. fucking rude @ the world#this is a weird rant okay im done
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This is going to sound really stupid but can u write kurapika, leorio, chrollo and feitan with an s/o who's getting a piercing but is truly and honest to God afraid of needles/getting piercings. I'm getting my septum done in 2 weeks and I'm actually shitting myself, send help💀
HXH with a S/o Scared of Needles/Piercings
Characters: Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladaknight, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Porter
Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader
haha I was the same way after getting my septum! I was cussing really bad and told my friend I hate her (which obvi isnt true) but honestly the initial poke doesn't hurt too bad
a tip is just to close your eyes and the adrenaline actually makes it hurt less :D
Warnings: mentions of needles
Kurapika Kurta
"If you're scared of needles then just don't get the piercing"
ugh Kurapika you don't understand fear/pain is temporary swag is forever
he is so genuinely confused at why you're still adamant to get a piercing even though you're scared
he'd go with you as moral support though
he holds your hand and gently caresses it
after seeing the needle go through you his face scrunches up and he cringes a little
he's not afraid of needles but jeez that looked like it hurt
he listens to the piercer's aftercare instructions very carefully and makes sure you follow them
he probably keeps special wipes on him just in case you ever need to clean your piercing
10/10 probably the best person you could've asked to come with you
Leorio Paladaknight
he's more afraid than you are
which is weird considering he wants to be a doctor
but there's just something about piercing needles specifically that make him squeamish
if you ask him to go with you he will but he's going to be freaking out
the piercer probably looks at him like "...seriously?"
its a miracle he wasn't kicked out
HE'S the one gripping your hand like his life depends on it
and honestly? him freaking out so hard probably puts you at some sort of ease
like damn someone has to be the levelheaded one
he's holding your hand but he has to face away from you because if he doesn't he might actually pass out
he's such a big baby... but he will always be there for you when you need it <33
Chrollo Lucilfer
like Kurapika he doesn't understand why you're going to get a piercing if you're so scared but he wont say anything
would he go with you to get it done? yeah but I feel like he'd also offer to do it himself
he has no clue what he's doing so uh if you trust him to do it and he fucks up thats on you
two youtube videos and a wikihow article later and he's prepping to pierce you
and he actually does a pretty good job
he talks you through the whole thing and with how distracted you were by him you barely felt it
he's another one who makes sure you keep up with the aftercare
you saved money and it didn't even hurt all that bad so that was an absolute win
Feitan Porter
he's going to laugh at you
he thinks your fear of needles is silly compared to all the shit the troupe does
he's also probably the one piercing you, why waste money at a shop if he can do it for you?
he can't really offer you much considering his hands are occupied
but if you really need to he'll let you grip onto his thigh or something
"Wait! Can you at least give me a countdown!?" "One" and he's already pierced you
see, it wasn't that bad look how quick it was
if you complain after about how his countdown wasn't long enough or how much it hurt Feitan is going to kiss you to shut you up <3
"It wasn't even bad, get over it"
#hxh 2011#hxh x reader#hunter x hunter#hxh#chrollo hunter x hunter#chrollo lucilfer#chrollo x reader#feitan x reader#feitan#phantom troupe#hxh chrollo#feitan hxh#hunter x hunter feitan#hxh feitan#chrollo#kurapika hxh#kurapika#leorio#hxh kurapika#kurapika hunter x hunter#leorio x reader#leorio paladiknight#leorio hxh
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Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 1 of 2)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great.
Was.
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your life—your home.
Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.
At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); unprotected sex (p in v); vivid recollection of forgotten childhood trauma; feelings of betrayal; jealousy; anxiety; panic attacks; mentions of therapy; mentions of an absent parent; sam is an idiot; abandonment issues; light mention of being under the influence of weed (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter Word Count: 16.6k+
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: much to my disdain, this chapter has to be chopped in half. :((( ugh. the last part of this chapter has been a mf monster to write, and since i already finished up this entire first half today (a little more than half, actually), i figured i might as well post it. so, without further ado, here is the first part of chapter 8. . .
thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w my ass. you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤
-🌼🌼🌼-
Two Weeks Later
Friday, August 26, 2022
The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose.
His thrusts were getting desperate, his heavy breaths were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your drug-induced haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him.
Fuck.
As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine.
Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully.
You wanted it. Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It was worth it to feel him in that way.
Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of your life.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Present Day
Saturday, August 13, 2022
“Yeah. Not too bad,” you shook your head, as if it were nothing. But you knew your expression was still sunken and weird.
He studied your face for a bit after you’d spoken, his expression said he wanted you to say more.
But you weren’t going to, and he knew it.
“What if I make you dinner, then we watch a movie or something?” He requested, his brow raising at the prospect.
He’d do what now? Your tummy did somersaults at the idea of him taking care of you. . .and especially like that. Cooking for you?
Surely he had an ulterior motive.
“What do you want in return?” You asked suspiciously, your tears evaporating as you squinted at him.
“What do you mean?”
“You want sex after you cook me dinner or something? An even trade?”
He blanched at that, drawing his head back a bit to observe you. “Even trade?” He scoffed, scratching his chin. “What the fuck even happens inside that brain of yours, y/n?”
Going into defense mode, you placed your hands on your hips to square up. “I’m still learning you, Jake. I don’t know what to expect from you.”
“The worst, per usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and flicking at the tip of his nose with his index. “Your favorite thing to assume about me is the worst. Always.”
“Not true,” you scoffed, flushing. He wasn’t wrong. . .you were regularly unfair towards him. But. . . “You haven’t exactly been trustworthy the entire time I’ve known you. Think back.”
“I don’t have to. I know I was an asshole and I wish like hell that I could take it back,” he revealed, sending earnest eyes your way, swiping a sweet thumb across your cheek, taking time to appreciate your left cheekbone. Then, he moved to bashfully tuck his hair behind his ears, taking a moment to untie the hair tie from his finger to pull his hair into a bun. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”
You got momentarily sidetracked by watching the action of him pulling his hair up, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it, just as you liked to do.
Then you noticed him, waiting for a response as you drew your eyes from him.
Clearing your throat, you refocused your thoughts. “Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, not wanting to harp on it for too long, for fear of putting your foot in your mouth. “It’s whatever. Really.”
“No, it’s not. I wasn’t kind to you at the beginning, and I’m sorry,” he continued, looking you directly in the eye, showing sincerity in his deep brown irises. “I was going through a lot and took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”
Nodding, you took the bait. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. But,” you walked a couple steps forward, closer to him. Then, reaching a hand out, you held the side of his face. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what an ass he’d been before. He’d proven that he wasn’t truly like that. And you understood hurt feelings making a person act irrationally. “I get it. I’ve been through some shit, too, and I reacted in ways I shouldn’t have.” Smirking, you looked past him and thought back to your therapy sessions from years ago, reciting a few of your counselor’s words that’d stuck with you. “‘All that matters is that you see it, own it, and then grow from it.’ That’s what my therapist always told me when I was a kid, anyway.”
Swiveling your eyes back up to see his expression, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes had softened significantly at your vulnerability, seeming to take your words in. His eyebrows dipped and lips tilted in concentration.
It always took you by surprise just how much his eyes showed his emotions. And how interested he always seemed in the things you would say.
“Very wise words,” was his response before he reached out to grip your bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he was moving towards the kitchen, calling back to you. “I’m gonna go make some stir fry. Chicken?”
You watched him leave, wanting to follow him wherever he went.
But you didn’t.
After responding in agreement to his suggestion, you made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wind down before dinner.
-🌼🌼🌼-
The next morning, you woke up, curled in a fluffy pallet of blankets on the floor.
Both of you, still in sweats. You, in a t-shirt, him, wearing no shirt (fuck yeah).
No sex had happened the night before. Jake’d thought it would be a good idea to do dinner and a movie, but you’d had the bright idea to make a pile of blankets to lay on to watch the movies. And, of course, you’d let yourself fall asleep next to him.
And. . . As much as you knew you shouldn’t admit it, it was fucking wonderful just falling asleep next to him. The act was so domestic that it should scare you. . . But all it did was make you want more.
More you couldn’t have.
But for now, you’d pretend you could.
Your head was resting on the same pillow as Jake’s, abandoning yours in your sleep for the sake of being closer to him.
Though, rather than pulling yourself away, you did the complete opposite. You rolled onto your belly and wrapped yourself around him, one arm over his abdomen, a hand splayed on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his.
You knew it wasn’t a good idea to let yourself feel so tied to him in the midst of your sadness. It completely abandoned the idea of not being emotionally dependent on him. . .
But you also weren’t so oblivious to not see that you’d broken a few rules already.
And, after your anxiety attack (because that’s exactly what it had been) last night, you decided it was better to just let yourself have this time with him now and not worry too much about the rules.
Rather than stressing about making sure you were following every fucking rule, you figured it would be worth it to appreciate the time you still did have with him. Because this wasn’t going to last forever, you felt it was a good idea to make the most of it while you could.
It was going to be gone soon (too soon), and you weren’t going to take for granted the time you had left.
So, when you woke up, instead of immediately initiating sex, you took time to admire him.
You propped your chin on the hand you’d put on his chest. Trying to memorize every freckle on his handsome face, tilted to the side, perfect for your line of sight. You studied him . . .his features, sharp, yet delicate. His tanned skin was perfectly sunkissed from spending the day in the sun at Sam’s AirBnb. His pretty lips, partially open like always. . .
You’d learned that he didn’t snore a bunch. But, every now and then, like this morning, he’d let out the occasional, slight snore in his sleep.
Usually, snoring of any kind annoyed you. Elsie was the worst snorer in the history of all mankind, and it always aggravated you. And any man you’d ever slept with who did it was always immediately woken up and kicked out of your bed.
But when Jake did it, it was nothing but endearing to you. It was something that he did that just made him him.
You pressed your body closer to his- he was so warm. It felt so overwhelmingly natural to be so close to him.
You watched the way his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids as he slept, wondering what he dreamt about. Did he dream? And were they vivid like yours?
Then, you absentmindedly ran a thumb lightly against his cheek, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt beneath your fingertips.
Just as your pointer finger went to trace the cupid’s bow on his upper lip, he started stirring, showing telling signs of waking up. You stopped yourself before he could possibly wake up with your damn finger on his lip.
Don’t want him to think I’m a fucking weirdo, you thought, resting your hand, again, on his chest. And I definitely don’t want him to know I was watching him sleep either. That would be embarrassing as hell.
This time, you laid your cheek on top of it, deciding to feign sleep for the duration of time it would take for him to wake up.
Not too long after, you felt a big breath lift your hand, then you heard his voice.
“I know when you’re watching me,” he commented, his voice deep from just having woken up.
You didn’t say anything, just lifted your head, an apologetic look on your face as you opened one eye at him in defeat.
He had a soft smile resting on his lips.
“It’s cute,” he said, reassuring you, sitting up a bit underneath you to lean his head against the couch, balancing on an elbow. He reached a hand up to come gently through your hair with his fingers.
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
He shook his head, his face thoughtful as he continued to look at you. “Not at all,” he replied. Then, a smirk grew on his lips. “The morning after we fell asleep in your bed—.”
“What?”
He raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ “When you fell asleep on the couch, I got you to lay down and try to sleep. Then, you yelled at me from your room—effectively freaking me out, by the way—and then asked me to sleep with you?”
You blushed, feeling stupid that you momentarily forgot. “Oh. Yeah.”
He raised his brows with a hum, the same grin appearing on his lips again. “I watched you the morning after. You slept later than me that morning, and I was so glad you did,” he watched his movements as he tucked a lock of bed-head hair behind your ear.
“Why?”
“Because you look so fucking ethereal when you sleep,” he said. “Not that you don’t all the time. . .but when you sleep? Dammit, you just look so peaceful. And I love that you feel that peace in those moments. Not all of the stress.”
It was your turn to hum in response, completely caught off guard by his kind words. You didn’t know why it still did surprise you to hear him say such things. It wasn’t out of character to hear sweet things leave his mouth, but it still felt like a gentle surprise anytime he did say something like that.
Then, something in your heart told you to open up. Let him in.
And so, without considering anything else, you did.
“You know, I don’t always sleep peacefully,” you commented, your hand now tracing circles on his chest. “That’s a sort of new thing. Good dreams. Peaceful sleep.”
His brow raised, questioning your words.
“I haven’t always been able to sleep so well,” you started, apprehensively. But when his hand kept combing through your hair, and his eyes opened up to learn more, you decided it was safe. He was safe. You could share this. “There are things that happened in my past that caused a hell of a lot of pain, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried those painful things into my sleep with me. They’ve haunted me. Another thing my childhood therapist confirmed. The trauma caused me to have restless, terrible sleep.” You paused, remembering some of the nights you were too scared to be alone, sobbing and screaming in your bed, crying for help. Your eyes naturally watered at the memories, your voice wet with your next words. “Some fucking terrifying nightmares.”
You sniffled, trying to alleviate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him two days in a row. But, here you were. Jake brushed more hair behind your ear, then put that arm behind his head to lean up. The other strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He massaged shapes with his thumb, into the hip he held.
Your eyes closed on their own, relishing the feeling of him reacting so gently to you.
They reopened when you heard him clear his throat. His deep chocolate irises were shadowed with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he pointed out, continuing to rub your waist. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that may hurt you.”
You considered his words for a few seconds, but ultimately decided what you wanted to do.
“I want to tell you.”
“Okay. I want to listen.”
You’d only ever opened up about all of this to Elsie (because she was there), and then Josh when you became his friend. But the urge to tell Jake about all of it was far too overwhelming to ignore. It felt as though you had to tell him.
“Where do I even begin?” You pondered aloud. “What do you want to know?”
He hummed, smooshing his lips together in thought for a few seconds, squinting his eyes in thought as he peered up to the ceiling. You tapped your fingers against his chest, waiting for his input.
“When did the bad dreams start? Can you pinpoint an age or anything?”
“After my mom left,” you replied, curling further into his body.
He accepted your motion, encompassing you, keeping you close.
“How old were you?”
“I was ten. Left me sitting on the front porch as she left in a string of curse words. . . Blaming Els and me for all of it,” you stared into the space just past his head, thinking back on it. You felt brave revisiting it at this moment, for whatever reason. “I can’t recall everything she said that day or before, but what I do remember both from that day and before that day. . .,” you stopped, your face flinching a bit at the dark thoughts. “. . . It’s not good.”
Your skin crawled, and you weren’t liking the feeling. Needing to center yourself, you decided to look at him again to gauge his reaction.
His face was rather relaxed, keeping a consistent air of calm to support you through your responses. “You doing okay?” He questioned, checking in. His brows dipped in concern for a moment, waiting for you.
Your lips lifted, back in the moment with him.
This is the present time. He is what’s happening. The past is the past and I’m bigger than it, you recited.
Some of the words were those advised by your childhood therapist. Truthfully, the lady had had some wise words. Jake’d been right when he’d come to that conclusion the night before.
A quiet, content smile was on your face when you responded. “Yeah. I promise. I want to tell you this.”
“Okay,” he replied, his voice quiet like your smile. “Who did you live with after?”
“My grandparents,” you said. “And Elsie.”
“Stayed with them until. . .?”
“Until I moved out to go to school at Pratt. When I moved here.”
“And you’re going to school for. . .?”
You grinned, appreciating his variation of questions. “Majoring in writing,” you groaned as the last word fell from your mouth. “And minoring in music.”
“Don’t like writing anymore?”
You sat on that for a second, then answered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. . . It’s that it’s not my passion,” you paused your motion on his chest and reached down to grab his hand that held your body. You lifted it up from under the fluffy blanket that covered you both. Holding his hand, you traced his calloused fingertips. “I admire how you went after your passion when you had the chance. I wish I’d gone after my own.”
He watched you, seeming to measure your words. “And yours is music, too.”
“Mhm. . . But not playing it,” you added. “Just listening to it– studying it. Learning more about it. I love writing, but I breathe those melodies.”
He smiled in response to that. “Me too. And I like that you feel that way, too,” he commented, letting your fingers play with his. “But who’s to say you couldn’t combine the two? Become a music journalist? A lyricist?”
For some reason, you’d never considered the latter. But it felt as though a fresh breath of air had been breathed into you. “I’ve never thought of being a lyricist, but that sounds. . .”
“Incredible?” He smiled.
“Yeah,” you sighed. “I wonder how you get a job like that, though.”
You let go of his hand to fold both of yours on his chest, your chin on top of them. He moved his hand to encircle your waist again. “I’ll help you find something,” he assured. Your belly buzzed. The idea of him helping you with something so personal to you . . . it made you feel everything all at once. “Somewhere. You live in New York City. . .I’m sure the possibilities are endless.”
“I’m sure you’re correct,” you agreed, admiring the way his breaths would lift your chin, the way his bicep flexed as he moved the bent arm behind his head.
A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, him so obviously watching you– admiring you. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.
His next words confirmed it.
“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”
Not sure what to even begin to say to that, all you could utter was, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, was a surprise, though.
“Has no one ever told you?”
“Well, Josh says sweet things like that. And Elsie is great at encouraging me, too. . . But hearing you say something like that. . . those words. It just feels good. I don’t know,” you shook your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”
“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he cleared his throat. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”
“Stop,” you sniffed, for the second time that morning. More tears fell onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they left your mouth.
“I want to tell you those things,” he said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”
“Thank you,” again, was all you could say.
“But the sex is pretty good,” he smirked as he said the words, his eyes glinting mischievously as he skirted a hand up the back of your shirt, skating fingers along your bare back. His eyes found yours when he got closer to your shoulders. “No bra?”
“You know I don’t wear one when I sleep.”
“So I’m assuming you knew we were gonna fall asleep out here?”
“Mhm.”
“And you still let it happen?”
I did. . . And even though I shouldn’t, I keep breaking all of my own stupid rules, you thought in defeat.
“Wanted it to,” you remarked.
He hummed, watching you with a curious look in his beautiful eyes. You knew he was most probably thinking the same thing as you.
But, all he said next was, “Can I ask you more questions?”
“Yeah,” you whispered in the quietness of the morning. The rumbling of thunder outside, followed by the pitter-patter of rain droplets against the living room window made goosebumps grow on your skin. “Nothing better than a quiet, rainy morning.”
“You are correct,” he replied in an approving tone. “So. . .your mother. . . Is it okay if I ask about her?”
“Yes,” your lips quirked. “I’ve already told you as much, silly.”
“I know, I know. . . It’s just a lot, I’m sure.”
You nodded to confirm. “It is. But I want to share this with you.”
“Thank you.”
“For trauma dumping?” You giggled.
“For trusting me,” he said, serious in his reply. His eyes flicked to every inch of your face, taking you in. His hand, now massaging the tension from your neck.
Miraculous that he just seemed to know the place where your tension settled.
Not that it wasn’t a common place for tension to reside. But you wondered if he’d noticed you favoring the bottom of your neck during tense situations, over time.
Your heart hammered at the intimacy of the moment. You were so close to just leaning up and kissing him, but you didn’t want to cut conversation short. It was too enjoyable for you.
It felt so freeing.
Trying to bring you both back to the topic at hand, you inquired. “What was your question about my mom?”
“Oh, yes,” he refocused, his hand now moving up to massage the roots at the base of your head. More goosebumps grew at the sensation. “Do you still talk to her?”
“Uh, no. Haven’t even seen the woman since she left. She hurt me so bad back then. . .I’ve kind of closed off the fact that she even exists,” you said. “She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It’s true. I’m just glad for the family I do still have,” you paused, deciding if you wanted to tack on the other words you were thinking. There was no reason not to, you’d already bared so much to him in a span of minutes. “Glad I have those people who want me.”
“I want you,” he wrapped a hand at the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head as one thumb rubbed over your pulse point. His eyes bore into yours, begging you to understand the words.
The next few moments were quiet and filled with everything left unsaid. What it was that remained unsaid, you didn’t know. Or maybe you did know.
He eventually let go, clearing his throat to show he was moving on. “Does Elsie feel the same? Closed off and all that?”
You blinked a couple times before responding.
“Y-yeah. Pretty much. She and I are on the same wavelength about 98 percent of the time.”
“Imagine 100 percent of the time,” he blew out a breath, his eyes getting big as he stared off.
“Twin life?”
He looked back at you, a grin on his pretty lips. “Twin life,” he confirmed. Pensiveness painted his features, then he spoke again. “Speaking of . . . Did you meet Josh at the record store?”
“Yes,” you responded. “Almost 4 years ago.”
“I’m jealous.”
“That I had that time with Josh while you missed him so bad?”
“Psh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No. I’ve spent enough time with that fucker through the years,” he snickered, winking at you. “I’m jealous that he got all that time with you. Getting to know you while I was in Illinois, wasting away.”
Your tummy lit up with butterflies again. But you treaded carefully with this topic. You didn’t need him making any assumptions about Josh again.
There was no reason for him to be jealous. And honestly, you wanted to show him as much.
“Well, you shouldn’t get too jealous,” you said, moving from laying down. You positioned your legs on either side of his hips, then sat your ass on the tops of his thighs, opening yourself up to him.
He took in a sharp breath, and smoothed his hands over the tops of your thighs, then slipped his hands past the waistband of your sweats, giving your ass a generous squeeze.
“Why’s that?” He asked, his brow lifting in question. He brought himself up a little more, leaning against the couch. As he moved to sit up, he used his hands on your ass to push your crotch against his hardening cock.
The wet arousal in your panties pressed against you. You gasped at the feeling.
His lip curled to show his top row of perfectly straight, white teeth.
So fucking handsome.
“Well,” you ground your hips against him, his head lolling back momentarily. He got back by bucking up into you, just the slightest bit. It caused a breathy moan to leave your lips. “He will never have me like this, for one,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to your chest. “I only want you like this, Jake.”
Fuck. That felt so genuine slipping from your lips. And you wouldn’t tell him this (you could barely admit it to yourself), but you really did only want him. Like, in general. Out of all other men, he was the only one you craved.
When did that even happen?! Your incredulous thoughts could have taken over had he not effectively distracted you.
He moved his hands up under your shirt, abandoning your ass. His eyes were glued to your hardening nipples as his thumbs pressed into your tummy, massaging your hot skin.
It was getting harder and harder to believe there’d been a time that you would have stopped this—out of fear and a bunch of shit. Leaving him on his own, and you sulking, feeling conflicted as hell.
Though, these days, you couldn’t leave him.
There was nothing that could pull you away from him in moments like these.
(And that was a scary thought you could consider later.)
Your body was drawn to him, putty under his touch. Bending down the slightest bit, you curled your hands comfortably in his ever-growing locks. Your nose nestled into the part of his hair right behind his ear. One of your favorite parts of his body was that little crook behind his ear. You didn’t know why. . .
But dammit— he always smelled so delicious. His cologne held hints of sandalwood and amber. . . And something so delectably Jake.
And God, you loved his hair. The citrusy smell of his shampoo. The softness of the locks. The length.
Fuck, the length.
Silly as it may’ve been, you were so glad he was growing it out. The longer it got, the more his heat scale increased. And at this point, he was getting dangerously hot.
His cock nudged against you, leaving nothing to the imagination underneath the layers of clothing. Anytime you’d move your hips to entice him, his cock throbbed beneath you, making your panties more and more uncomfortable with how wet they were.
You felt his hands flatten, traveling up your tummy slowly. But just as he was about to touch your breasts, he switched directions, running his calloused fingertips down your back instead.
“Asshole,” you whispered in his ear. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking.
The little raspy laugh beneath you gave him away.
Your skin grew goosebumps at the sensation of his rough fingertips making soft shapes on your back.
But you wanted his hands headed back in the direction they were before.
Your nipples were blatantly expanding the fabric of your t-shirt, begging for him.
And, when you pulled away to observe his face, he was already waiting for you, his eyes burning into yours, all the way down to your heart.
Though. . .he didn’t stay there for long. He let his gaze travel back down to your breasts, his pupils dilated, filling his iris almost completely black.
He looked hungry and your hips were moving of their own accord at that point. Every bit of him you got was making you need more, more, more.
“I love your fucking tits,” he growled, wrapping one strong arm behind your back and effectively placing you beneath him.
Your breath momentarily left your lungs, making you release a huge sigh as he arranged you so your back laid nicely against the soft blankets and pillows.
“What do you like about them?”
He groaned, smoothing his hand up your stomach again. His hand cupped the underside of one breast. You sighed at finally feeling his hands where you wanted them.
“I love that they’re yours,” he started, reaching his thumb to rub and pinch at your left nipple. “I love that the color of your nipples is the same color as your pretty lips,” he lifted your shirt the slightest bit, sucking one bud into his mouth, kissing it like he would your mouth. Then, he replaced his mouth with his hand, squeezing your breast as you arched into his touch.
Finally, he connected his mouth with yours, his bottom lip slipping between your lips to deepen it just a bit. You moaned into his mouth as he did yours. Then, he pulled away, leaning on his forearm. Switching between tits with one hand, he cupped the bottom of each, moving his hand under them enough to watch them jiggle. “And I love watching them bounce as I’m fucking you.”
“Shit, Jake,” you moaned, pushing yourself further into his hand. You were aching for him to be inside of you. “Fuck me so you can see what you like, baby.”
He sat up, slipped his sweats (there having been no underwear underneath, apparently) down his thighs, thick cock springing free. The sight made your belly swirl and your center wet with need.
Once he was completely naked, he repositioned above you.
But your skin was itching with the feeling of still being clothed. You needed to feel his warm skin against your own.
“Move,” you motioned for him to back up. You sat up as he took the hint, sitting back on his knees beside you.
His eyebrows wrinkled and his eyes grew worried. “Where are you go—?”
But he went silent as the t-shirt left your body and your bare chest flashed at him. And as you stripped yourself of the shirt, your boobs bounced a little, just as he liked.
“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching for himself. You watched, your throat tightening, as he looked down at his shaft, his mouth falling open, just slightly, as he gave himself a couple of short, quick pumps.
Dear God.
But he seemed dissatisfied.
And when you’d normally stop him and tell him to let you do it instead, you didn’t this time.
But it seemed he still wanted your help.
You just sat in awe as he stretched his hand out to you. You were still as a statue as he gripped your chin, pulling it down the slightest bit. You followed his lead and opened your mouth more with his gesture. Then, you watched as he moved the hand, palm open, in front of your mouth.
“Spit for me, baby,” he nodded at the hand in front of you.
You didn’t argue, doing as you were told, heart racing as you spit in his hand.
After you’d done what he wanted, he wrapped the hand around the base of his thick cock, giving himself a few long strokes from his skilled hand.
Though, as soon as he threw his head back with one particularly generous, tight-fisted move, you decided that it was officially past time to get naked.
You made quick work of your sweats, his eyes flicking up to watch you pull them off in a flurry. Then you hooked your fingers into your soaked underwear, getting them off as fast as possible.
You wanted to be the one to please, rather than his hand.
You were growing jealous of the fist, as it held his pretty dick the way your pussy was aching to.
When you were finally just as bare as he was, you laid on your back again. You spread one leg wide to open up for him, keeping the other flat, against your heap of blankets. In this position, he’d be able to see the bottom curve of your ass, your full breasts, and your slick pussy.
He didn’t see you, though, as he’d gone to focus on pleasuring himself, eyebrows drawn and whimpering a bit as he continued to watch his hand work at a steady pace.
“Jake,” you called quietly, urging him to look at you and come to you.
As soon as his name left your mouth, he looked up from where he was watching himself work his cock. After one hungry once-over from his dark eyes, he bit his lip.
“You ready?” You asked, slowly spreading both legs a little more for him, reaching two fingers to slide through your wet folds, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched.
“Want me to eat your sweet pussy, baby?” He questioned, his voice a velvety rasp.
Ready to please, his hand left his thick cock in order to move the short distance it took to be closer to you.
“I want that pretty dick inside of me,” you responded, your voice exuding all of the need you felt running through your veins. “Now.”
And in a flash, he was on top of you again. His tip, damp from your saliva, nudged its way to the place it knew so well.
Before any more words could be spoken, he pushed inside of you in one swift take. The two of you sighed in unison, relief flashing over his face, as you were sure it did yours, too.
He leaned both forearms on either side of your head, keeping his handsome face close to yours as he fucked you, thick cock stretching you well with each deliberate, hard thrust.
His eyes were trained on your heaving tits, doing just what he wanted them to.
“I was starting to get jealous—,” you paused, whining with one particular snap of his hips, his dick hitting your secret spot. “Of-of that hand,” you said, your voice shaking on the words.
His forehead was beaded with sweat already, ever-energetic in his pursuits—whether it be playing music or in the bedroom.
“Don’t be,” he responded, pinning you with a stern look from his eyes, tone firm. “Your pussy feels better than anything else.”
The telling sounds of your bodies connecting only added to the ecstasy of the moment.
“Took-took y-you too long to get the hint,” you panted.
“It was a few seconds,” he said, rocking his hips extra hard with the last word.
Your toes curled with a moan.
“Still too long.”
“Impatient.”
“No, I just know what I want,” you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting to lick further into the other’s open mouth.
With one final swipe of his tongue against your teeth, he pulled away. “You’re high maintenance.”
You were suddenly self-conscious, overcome with a feeling that you weren’t good enough for him. That you annoyed him.
You covered it up with a defensive, haughty tone. “So?”
“I fucking love it.”
Oh.
Your body opened up at that, seemingly on its own. You bent your knees, spreading your thighs even more, letting him sink deeper.
You grabbed at his biceps, gripping them to give yourself some sort of grounding as he started giving all he had, each thrust of his harder than the one before it.
It was painful and delicious all at once.
Fuck he felt so good.
The way he filled you was unlike any man before him. He fit so fucking well, and your center never failed to grip him just right.
“I also love the way your pussy feels,” he said, breathing heavily. “You like how I feel?”
You grinned, feeling drunk on him. Your belly clenched, simultaneous to your center with each rock of his hips. Sighing, you let your hands move to hold onto his strong shoulders.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” you sighed, looking down to where your bodies met. It was almost too much. When you went to look up, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You squeezed his shoulder. “Jake.”
A concerned look painting his features, he stopped, checking you. “What? What’s wrong?”
You smiled softly, cupping his cheek, rolling your hips once, needing the pressure of him moving inside of you. “Nothing at all,” you went to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, reassuring. “Just got an idea.”
He picked up his movements: languid strokes, this time, making you forget about everything besides him momentarily. “And what is that?”
You kept on when you could find the words. “I—uhhh,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as he moved to lay his belly against yours, knowing the friction would be perfect for your swollen, throbbing clit. “I want to pl—oh!,” you sucked in a breath, seeing stars for a moment. Once you were able, you continued. “Wanna play a record.”
“Right now?” He grunted, making one hard rock of his hips into yours.
Your toes curled, still feeling the softness of his tummy on your tender bundle of nerves as his tip repeatedly hit your secret spot. “Yeah.”
He came to a slow stop, eyes trained on yours. He stayed there, watching you with an unspoken question in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought deeply.
“Is that okay?” You asked, trying to break him from his reverie, nervous you’d freaked him out with the odd request.
“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, hair effectively falling from where you’d tucked it. “That sounds incredible, actually.”
Butterflies let loose in the pit of your stomach. Of course he’d like the idea. He loved music just the same as you did.
He pulled out, and you instantly missed him. But you watched him lazily, dreamily as he stood up smoothly, and walked to the shelf of records (now a mixture of his and yours, of course). “Which one?” He wondered aloud.
You sat up on your elbows and watched him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”
As he searched through the albums, you let your mind wander with your eyes.
His body was a work of art.
His thighs, muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage.
The perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods.
And those broad shoulders that were strong to match his equally strong personality.
When he turned a bit towards you, his eyes quickly scanning the back of a vinyl, your eyes instantly found his straining dick. His tip, still swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched, seeing how it now glistened from your dripping pussy. Dammit you needed him to hurry.
But most of all, damn this idea for taking him away from you.
Once he turned to you fully, an Aretha Franklin vinyl in hand, you found his eyes. They were questioning, but you looked away from them to admire your most favorite parts of his body.
His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck.
There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle.
And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature.
His aura was compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks, and sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in.
He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. . . And in moments like these, you wished more than anything that he was yours.
But he wasn’t.
And that bitter thought helped to snap you out of your trance, finally looking at him to answer.
He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”
You flushed, rolling your eyes to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Glancing briefly at the record, squinting to truly recognize it, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”
“Agreed.”
He turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew you’d made the right choice.
The sound added to the bliss you were already feeling on this quiet, rainy morning.
The combination of watching him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit.
“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you.
You smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.”
“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.
When he went to lean over you to pick up where you left off, you scooted over, motioning for him to lay down instead.
Without question, he did as you wanted, and as Aretha sang of a man making her feel like a natural woman, you sank onto him, letting him stretch you so well.
The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . .
But, in moments like this one, when one hand would be holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .
Your world tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like this made a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation.
And, as you listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .
When my soul was in the lost and found,
You came along to claim it.
I didn't know just what was wrong with me,
Till your kiss helped me name it.
This song perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had been the bane of your existence so recently was now a light on your darkest days.
And, as you watched him, his hips beginning to move on their own, making you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him.
And not just because of the sex. It was him. Having him around made you feel . . . whole.
Without evening knowing or trying, he’d been helping you find missing pieces to your puzzle.
Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good. Some bad. But all you.
Pieces you’d forgotten even existed.
And by just being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man.
As you rode him, leaning down on your forearms to get close to his face, you gave him a long kiss. A kiss that you hoped said thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him.
But as you separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you looked into the deep pools of his eyes that held so much. And you knew you had to say the words out loud.
“Thank you,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand as you felt new tears cloud your vision. Your hips were moving on their own, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You were holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the song as you had this moment.
He held your gaze, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”
You studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match your own. Both of you stayed there for a minute, taking the other in.
You kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you focused on finding a release for you both.
Just as another favorite of yours came on.
The opening chorus resonated with you just like every time you’d heard it before, but this time it was different—better—as he laid underneath you, holding you. . . Staring at you with eyes that held the motherfucking world.
Like the sweet morning dew,
I took one look at you,
And it was plain to see you were my destiny.
With my arms open wide, I threw away my pride.
Feeling everything all at once, you spread your legs wide, thighs stretching out on top of his to get as close as you could to him. Then you bent your legs at the knees, and leaned toward him, laying on top of him and nuzzling into that sweet spot behind his ear. You made yourself comfortable as you knew this would be your undoing.
It always was from this position.
And this song was just feeding into the emotions coursing through your heart, intensifying all of it at once.
Your favorite way to finish was in this exact position, and you knew at that moment, that it would take you no time.
Fucking him at that moment felt extremely dissimilar to all of your times before. The damned music was untying every string you’d used to close up your fragile heart.
While lost in your sudden wave of thought, he took over, knowing all the moves. He’d grown familiar with this position, just as you had. He knew your body. What you liked.
He grabbed a hip and a handful of your ass, and moved your body down forcefully to meet him while also thrusting his hips up.
The contrast of motion and the tugging at your heart helped every piece of you to get the much needed stimulation. And fuck if it didn’t make your thighs shake.
You whined, your toes curling as, simultaneously, his tip hit your g-spot and your clit nudged against the lower part of his tummy.
“Jakey,” you moaned.
“I know,” he breathed hotly, not letting up on his motions in the slightest. “I can fucking feel you pulse around me, baby.”
“You like it?” You sighed, still next to his ear, needing to hear the affirmation from him.
“Best fucking feeling in the whole world.”
Your tummy lurched at that, butterflies fluttered their wings.
That’s how you feel for me, too, you thought.
And with one more strategic move of his hips, you saw stars. You felt every nerve ending light up. Your skin felt like static.
“Oooohhh,” you moaned, your body shaking.
He groaned, whining a bit. “Y/n—I’m—.”
You felt far away as he tapped your hip, sinking into all things Jake, Jake, Jake.
You jostled back to reality right as he lifted you off of him, depositing you as carefully and quickly as he could on the covers next to you both in no time.
Just as you laid down, he was instantly on his knees, warm seed spilling onto your tummy, right where he’d placed you.
You blinked and shook your head, registering what’d almost happened. Your thoughts were flying— going crazy.
“Fuck,” he said, flopping down next to you as he slid a hand down his face. “That was a close one.”
“Yeah,” was all you could mutter, your heart beating hard against your chest.
Before much more could be said, he sealed the interaction with a slow, sure kiss and got up to fix you both breakfast.
Now that you’d had his cooking the night prior, you were really looking forward to the breakfast. You’d learned the man was extremely gifted in culinary— just as he was in music.
But, even as the bacon crackled and the vanilla-laced smell of fresh waffles wafted in through the open layout of the apartment, you weren’t really thinking about his cooking.
No; inside your mind, you were swirling back and forth with how close you’d felt to him. How sex was starting to feel so effortless and all-encompassing with him. . . And that coupled with how much you’d been feeling in the moment?
It was obvious he’d carved a place in your heart.
A big one.
But you’d worry about that later.
Because. . .what was clawing at you more was one particular thought.
You now had a nagging curiosity of what it might feel like to have him actually finish inside of you.
How in the hell had you let it come to this?
-🌼🌼🌼-
Every year, it was tradition to have a family dinner at your grandparents’ house to celebrate a new year of school.
But this year, on a whim, you decided to make it a little different. . . You acted on impulse and invited Jake to it.
To your surprise (and excitement), he’d agreed with no hesitation.
And before the annoying voice in your head could say anything, you reassured it that him coming with you wasn’t a couple-y thing.
Not at all.
You’d had time to think back on the way you’d started cracking during sex the other morning.
And you had already started the process of tying your heart back up, protecting yourself from a whirlwind of unnecessary, surely unreciprocated emotion.
He liked having sex with you, that was it. And it could be that way for you, too. It had to be.
The flash of feelings you’d felt during sex a few mornings back honestly meant nothing— you chalked it up to just being caught up in the moment. You had simply gotten far too ahead of yourself.
As you got ready that night, you thought back on the few times your grandma and grandpa had asked about your roommate. You were sure you’d only thought to invite him, because you’d been subconsciously thinking it would appease your wondering grandparents.
You also just really enjoyed spending time with him. That much you could come to terms with. And, admittedly, you really wanted him to meet your grandparents.
Of course, you were a little nervous at the prospect of him meeting your them (more your judgmental grandfather than your grandma). But, nonetheless, you were really looking forward to having him there with you.
And, the cherry on top: Elsie would be there to alleviate any weird tension your grandparents may add. . . So, truly, it was the ideal time to have him come meet them.
At 5:00, thirty minutes before it was time to leave, he still wasn’t home. You knew he had a few lessons today, but he’d assured you that he would be home on time.
Though, you couldn’t help feeling nervous that maybe he’d regretted saying yes, and he was going to run late on purpose just to get out of going to dinner.
Before your thoughts could get too crazy, you got a text from him.
Jake, 5:10 p.m.: so I’m still working with this fuckin client :(
But at the sight of the text, your stomach sank.
I knew it, you thought, downhearted. He’s gonna try to get out of it.
Then, another text came through.
Jake, 5:11 p.m.: and I think it’s the time of day
Jake, 5:11 p.m.: but I’ve had like 3 Ubers in a row cancel on me for my scheduled time
He’s really pulling out all the stops, you thought, feeling your chest tighten, anger coming into play. Just say you don’t want to go.
While you were sulking, you noticed one more text pop up in its gray bubble.
Jake, 5:12 p.m.: I hate to ask you to do this
Here it comes.
Jake, 5:12 p.m.: but can you pick me up on your way to your grandparents house? I really don’t wanna miss it
You could’ve sighed with relief. In fact, you did. Watching the screen for a few more seconds, you contemplated waiting a bit to respond. Play the classic ‘hard-to-get’ and ‘make-sure-he-knows-I-don’t-take-this-too-seriously-game’ and keep him on the line. . .
But you couldn’t wait. And probably too quickly, you texted back.
You, 5:13 p.m.: I’d be happy to. I’ll be there soon. Just send me the address.
And within five minutes, the address was sent as you were scooping Stevie some fresh food in her dish. And as soon as you saw it, you were making your way out the door, hurriedly making your way to the car.
Why am I so anxious to see him when I literally just saw him this morning? You thought, as you started the car, hearing your soul music playlist take over the car’s stereo. Calm the fuck down, y/n.
But you couldn’t help it as you pulled quickly out of the parking lot, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.
-🌼🌼🌼-
When you pulled up to his client’s house, you suddenly saw the appeal of the private lessons. You were sure he got paid good fucking bucks to give lessons to whoever it was that lived in this mansion of a place.
You were busy admiring the giant home, when you felt your stomach flutter at the sight of him, carrying his acoustic guitar case.
Though, your gaze didn’t stay on him for long as you caught sight of the beautiful woman with flowing, jet-black locks, walking out of the door behind him, her pristine black dress. Her full ass, big tits, and small waist accentuated perfectly in the outfit. You saw her blatantly checking him out and saying something as she followed behind him.
Whatever it was she was saying, it made him laugh. Truly laugh. His dimples were showing and his mouth was open wide, then he said something back.
But he was seemingly oblivious to her glances at his ass as he continued walking ahead of her. The perfectly straight, gleaming white smile on her glowing caramel skin was wide with whatever he said and whatever it was that she was saying in return.
Your blood was boiling. And it just got worse as you watched her come up behind him and lightly grab his bicep, turning him gently to face her.
For a few brief seconds, you watched in terror, afraid that you were about to witness a kiss between him and this woman.
Thankfully, you didn’t.
But what you did see still made tears climb up your throat.
You watched him sit his case down, and then saw an extremely genuine, heartfelt hug take place between the two. It wasn’t a quick, friendly side hug, it was a full-on hug. She was grasping him tightly, holding the back of his head as she clung to him. Her eyes closed as she continued speaking over his shoulder.
At one moment, her mouth closed and you saw just how beautifully shaped and plush her soft lips were. She was strikingly gorgeous. Everything about her.
Was this her house? Was he giving her lessons? Or did she have a kid that he was giving lessons to?
Whatever the case may have been, you had to swallow back every tear that was threatening to escape as he started walking toward you, case in hand again.
She stayed on the sidewalk, watching him walk down the steps to the curb where you’d pulled up.
Right as he got to your car, he turned around to wave at her once more.
And then, what you heard him say through the closed door made your heart fall to the very pit of your stomach.
“It’s my favorite part of the day!” He laughed heartily, before finally opening the door to the backseat.
His favorite part of the day? Was it being with her? Fuck.
You turned to face the front of the car, gathering yourself as you stared out the windshield. You were so embarrassed. For a variety of reasons.
Your hands shook as you held tightly to the steering wheel.
The back door shut, and you prepared yourself for him being close to you by clearing your throat and reminding yourself of a few important things.
We are not together. I don’t love him. God no I don’t, you shook your head at the idea of that. And he can be with whomever he pleases. It’s none of my business.
But when he opened the door to the car, all thoughts from before vanished. The musings from your self-mantra and your worries of the girl had dissipated as soon as he spoke in his ever-raspy, sweet tone.
“Hi, beautiful.”
You glanced over at him, a tight smile on your lips working to mask any worry that there may have been. Working to convince him and yourself that things were okay.
You couldn’t help but ask. “Is she a client or does she have a child taking lessons?”
He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his nose. “Oh, she’s the client,” he said, his smile matching his tone as he spoke of her. “She’s doing really well. I’m proud of her progress.”
The next question slipped from your lips out of pure curiosity, nothing more. “Does she live in that giant house all by herself?”
“Yep. Single. No kids,” he affirmed. “Crazy, huh? Oh! I almost forgot,” he reached over the armrest and into the backseat to click open his case and get something from it.
His proximity to you was overwhelming, the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and amber infiltrating your senses.
Please want me more than you might want her, you pleaded silently.
When he was sitting in his seat again, he lifted to reach into his back pocket, getting his wallet out.
“What did you almost forget?” You inquired, trying to mask your ridiculous thoughts with a plain tone.
“This,” he held up a guitar pick, before opening his wallet to put it inside. “My lucky pick. I always use it at my lessons. Forgot to put it back in my wallet today. Got carried away talking to her.”
Fuck.
Then, without meaning to, you caught his gaze. The a/c blowing against your hair and face, cooling you off from your distressing thoughts.
But your bearings were almost lost again with the sincerity you found in his eyes, and with the hand that fell to squeeze your thigh as he leaned over the console to kiss your cheek.
Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned your attention back to the road right before you put the car in drive.
We are not together. Everything is fine. Whatever we are— it’s fine. Stop worrying, you chanted all of this internally as you increased the volume on Victoria Monet, gearing up for your playlist to serenade you for the duration of the drive. Drown out your ridiculous train of thought.
“I actually like this,” Jake commented, his hand still on your thigh. His thumb sweeped wide circles on your inner thigh, burning through your jeans. “What’s it called?”
Coming to the stop sign at the end of the street, you waited for the car on your right to go as you responded.
“We Might Even Be Falling In Love,” was your simple response, right before you took your turn at the four way stop.
-🌼🌼🌼-
The car ride to your grandparents’ was slightly tense at first, but eventually you got over it as Jake started making his regular small talk. He was the same as always. Anytime you talked with him, he reminded you of his brother with how intent and caring he was about every word that left your mouth.
But, for you, it meant more coming from him than it did Josh.
Jake was just. . .special to you. And you wanted to be special to him.
It was a relief. And by the time you pulled up to the quaint, familiar house, everything felt the same as it always did. You were feeling better. . he was him and things felt normal. Felt okay.
As you walked up to the front door, him following you closely behind, you felt comfortable. And when you entered the house, it felt so good to have Jake in tow, the never-changing atmosphere of the home combining perfectly with having him near.
You were giddy with the fact that he was there.
And it just continued to get better as the night wore on.
Both of your grandparents greeted Jake with open arms, real welcoming smiles adorned their wrinkling faces. Your chest, warm with contentment as you watched the three of them interact. Jake, continuing the theme of coming out of his shell, as he made smooth conversation with your people.
As you’d been standing in the entryway chatting, Elsie’d rounded the corner from the kitchen. And to your delighted surprise, Josh had been in tow behind her.
You knew they’d decided to take it to the next level after the night at the bowling alley. They were becoming the power couple. So it made sense that he’d be here tonight, too.
Everything was absolutely perfect. Elsie and Josh being there made the ideal mix of people for Jake’s first time meeting your family.
Then dinner came.
“Joshua, I will never get over how sweet it was for you to make the drive to us with Elsie a few weeks ago,” your grandmother commented as she poked some salad with her fork. “Didn’t leave her alone on that late night drive.”
“She is in good hands with you,” your grandfather agreed, making sure to catch Josh’s eyes to emphasize his words.
“I’m lucky to have her,” Josh smiled in response, kissing Elsie’s cheek.
Everything was going great, conversation flowing until your grandmother spoke next.
“Y/n, honey, how long have you been seeing Jake?”
Your eyes stayed trained on your plate, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. You heard Jake clear his throat from where he sat next to you. Fuck. Of course she’d ask this. Assume that you two were dating.
To your relief, Elsie started speaking for you.
“Grandma, they aren’t together,” she said, covering smoothly with a giggle to top it off, trying to alleviate any tension.
You took that as your cue to look up, monitoring the situation.
“Oh,” your Grandma responded, a little smile on her face as she put an aged, perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. “Silly old me. I guess I just assumed because you were here together tonight, sis,” she looked at you, her eyes apologetic.
“You sure act like it,” your Grandpa chimed in, motioning with his fork at you two sitting next to each other.
“Howard, quit,” your Grandmother defended.
At your Grandpa’s comment, you finally found your voice.
“Elsie’s right. We are not together,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “He’s just my roommate.”
“Harsh, kid,” your Grandfather interjected. “Not even a friend?”
“I guess,” you shrugged, looking over at Jake who seemed to be trying his best to stay focused on his plate, dodging any involvement in the conversation. “But mostly just my roommate.”
For some reason, the awkward air persisted, hanging in the air around you.
Your words felt wrong. You knew you were friends (and more than that), but you didn’t want to get too mushy, for fear of being questioned further. You were trying your best to diffuse the tension, fixing it so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.
You were so fearful of somehow exposing your current predicament—especially to those in the room. You hadn’t even told Elsie of your whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation. Shockingly.
She’d known about you two having sex that first time. . . But you had never told her anything further than that.
Honestly, you’d been too focused on Jake the past few weeks to even think to inform her. It was something that only you and Jake shared and you mostly liked it that way.
You also didn’t want to tell her because you were positive she’d question the situation. Make you admit things you didn’t want to. Things you couldn’t admit. Push you to say too much. You didn’t need her to make it anything more than what it was.
It was your little secret. And you intended on keeping it that way.
Josh swooped in seamlessly, taking over the conversation with talks of all things music and film.
Eventually, Jake tuned in to the music talk. He’d stayed quiet for longer than you’d anticipated . . . surely feeling the awkwardness of the initial question with you. But he’d played it off well.
And as you watched him interact with your grandparents, the version of him that you witnessed made your heart flutter. Your senses were filled with all kinds of happiness.
Eventually, you, the twins, and your Grandpa had migrated to the living room as Elsie and your Grandma went to prepare dessert.
You sat there, across the room from him. You, on the couch, him on the ottoman next to your Grandpa’s chair. Why he’d sat so far away from you, you didn’t know – but you didn’t care. You just enjoyed watching him talk.
The way he got along with your Grandpa made you light up with joy considerably.
Your Grandfather was a hard nut to crack. Not to compare the two, but you wouldn’t ever put it past Josh to get through to your Grandpa (because Josh was, quite possibly, the easiest person in the world to talk to). So seeing his easy talk with your Grandpa was expected.
But Jake? Jake was just a quieter person by nature. Not in a bad way, by any means. . . He just was. You liked him that way. He was thoughtful and kept parts of himself hidden. . . revealed more of himself the more he trusted someone. You really liked him for all of his ways.
But the way he was bonding with your Grandpa? It was just astonishing.
By just being himself, Jake was making your Grandpa open up more than ever.
You’d never seen your Grandpa this way.
As you watched the three of them, Jake’s efforts to connect with your Grandfather honestly seemed to flow more smoothly than the other twin’s.
Josh had even ended up leaving the conversation, going to join your Grandma and Elsie in the kitchen, as the other two seemed to be venturing into their own conversation. Neither Jake nor your Grandpa needed a buffer. But you’d stayed anyhow, too intrigued by them to want to leave.
And, you just really liked being where Jake was. He made you feel so calm and happy.
You also just couldn’t miss out on the moment in front of you. . .you’d never seen your Grandpa talk so animatedly.
The way he talked about music with Jake was shocking to you, as you didn’t know he loved music to the depths that you did.
But apparently, Jake knew how to bring out that side of him. The smiles exchanged with the topic of conversation were exhilarating— so joy-filled.
Then, to your complete shock, your Grandpa brought up how he’d played guitar for years before your mother had been born.
“You played guitar, Grandpa?!” You couldn’t help but ask, as you quite literally sat on the edge of the crisp, floral sofa. “How come you never told us?!”
“Well, I never really felt the need to revisit that part of my life,” he said, sighing. “You two girls didn’t need to be privy to that. It’s all in the past.”
You shook your head. “I love that about you, Grandpa. . . I wish you would’ve told me.”
He just looked at you with his eyes, so much behind them, left unsaid and filled to the brim with an unnamed emotion. A sad smile came to sit on his face.
“Did you have a favorite to play?” Jake asked, looking at him.
“I did. I feel like all of us do.”
“Yeah. That’s the truth,” Jake grinned, nodding. “Do you still have your favorite one?”
“I sure do,” he looked at your roommate, a big grin spanning his usually-sunken cheeks. “I’ll show ya.”
Jake offered to go get it for him as he watched the old man try to stand. But when he was finally on his feet, he waved him off.
“Nah, son. It’ll be good for me to get up and around to get her.”
As he left to grab it, you waited for Jake to turn to you. But, he didn’t.
Instead, he just looked at all of the photos on the walls rather than anywhere in your direction. The living room was so quiet, you literally heard every breath he took as he looked at the pictures of you and Elsie as children.
You cleared your throat, trying to get a reaction from him.
He kept looking around the living room, not paying you any mind.
It was awkward.
Why was he avoiding looking at you? You weren’t used to him acting in such a way anymore.
Unable to take it any longer, you cleared your throat again, harsher this time.
But he still ignored it.
“Jake,” you sharply stated his name, irritation seeping through your tone at his behavior.
When he finally looked at you and you met his eyes, he looked distant. But after watching you for a long minute, his eyes started lightening a bit, seeming to come back to himself just a little.
You tentatively grinned at him and shook your head.
“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, your eyes searching his face.
“Nothing,” he stated, his voice sounding far away, jaw clenching.
“Jake.”
He just ran a quick, stiff hand through his hair, looking ahead of him for a few seconds and then back at you.
You didn’t tear your focus from him, trailing your eyes past his face and watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat.
When you looked back into his eyes, your heart beat rapidly as his eyes seemed to sink into your own. He was observing you so intently, your nerves sparking to life under his attention. You shivered a little under his stare. His gaze was dark, something hiding behind his amber-brown irises.
You felt vulnerable and stark naked.
Instead of shying away, you kept your eyes on him. And the more you studied him—challenged him—an urge started creeping from below the surface. You watched him swivel further to face you.
You let your eyes drift again. Down his body, where his legs were spread.
And just as you were about to take him somewhere private to talk, maybe even offer him a tour of your childhood bedroom. . .
Your Grandpa reappeared. Jake’s eyes quickly averted from yours, growing huge at the gorgeous white guitar your Grandfather had in tow.
“A White Falcon?!” Jake asked in astonishment, his eyes growing bigger the closer it came. “Holy sh— wow.”
Your grandpa gave a belly laugh, handing this hidden, prized possession over to the long haired man. “You can say it, son. Holy shit is right. She’s a beauty.”
“A 1960. . .?”
“She’s a ‘67,” your Grandpa replied, admiring the nearly spotless guitar. The gold accents practically sparkled under the yellow glow of your Grandmother’s lamps. “A rare one.”
“You’ve got that right,” Jake said, inspecting the relic. “These are worth thousands these days. Especially in a condition like this,” he commented. “But I’m glad you kept it. I would have, too.”
Your Grandpa made his go-to clicking sound with his cheek. He seemed to be agreeing and disagreeing. (Normal behavior for the aging man.) “I debated getting rid of her a few times here and there. . .but ultimately, I decided she was far too precious to me for me to ever give her up.”
You couldn’t help but feel every single emotion you’d been (uselessly) working to bury, rise to the surface. He had you completely enraptured. . . he was driving you crazy.
Back to observing him and your Grandfather, you lost yourself in thought at the man in front of you. He’d done the impossible. Not only had he started cracking your hard shell, he’d brought out something you’d never seen in your Grandpa. He had helped you to discover this bright side of your Grandpa that you’d doubted for years even existed.
An easygoing, free-minded person that had apparently been lurking below the surface your entire life.
But it made sense that Jake had been able to do it.
He really had done it for you, too. You’d trusted him with countless things. Your emotions. Your body. Your home. Your TV shows. Your cat.
Jake held the guitar so delicately. But his hands were simultaneously strong and purposeful, making sure to protect the guitar. It was so similar to how he handled you.
The thought made your blood feel hot in your veins and your legs weak. You crossed your legs, watching his hands hold the keepsake just right.
The rest of the words exchanged were technical terms about the original price, what it’s currently worth, how it played. . .
But you weren’t really focused on all of the technicalities as you observed Jake’s fingers on the body of the guitar. How intensely he stared at the instrument as he kept steady conversation, his voice, deep and raspy. . .
You didn’t want to expose yourself with how entranced you were by him at that moment.
So, you decided you needed to escape as soon as possible.
“I’m going to search my room for something,” you said, glancing at Jake— who, yet again, wasn’t acknowledging you speaking. What the fuck? “I’ll be back shortly.”
Your Grandpa acknowledged you, giving a little wink before going back to his discussion with Jake.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Once you’d walked the couple of short hallways to get to your childhood bedroom, you sort of regretted using your bedroom as the excuse to get away.
You hesitated to open the door for a few long moments.
You hadn’t been back to this room since that day in the car where Elsie had brought up the parts of your childhood that you’d forgotten.
If you were being honest with yourself, it was intimidating to stand before the door as memories flooded back.
There was the unnecessary screaming at your sister, coming back to you first. And as you thought back on that, you outwardly cringed at the words you now remembered saying to her. Terrible, hateful, completely untrue things.
Then, you saw yourself throwing objects. Only ever at Elsie. With her being the person you felt safest with, naturally she was also the person punished most. In particular, a dent in the wall, adjacent to the door, reminded you of this. It was something that your grandparents and Elsie had always dismissed, saying it had ‘always been there.’
How in the hell had you blocked these things so intensely? Looking back on it now, it seemed as if those things had happened almost as soon as you’d moved in with your grandparents.
To be fair, you had been very young and very recently grieved by the things which had occurred at your mother’s house.
Had it been a bad case of disassociation which had made you lose these fragments of time?
Trauma-induced memory loss?
Your childhood counselor had used the terms. You remembered that.
Based on what you could vaguely rehash from those sessions, you probably had disassociated to protect yourself from the dark things.
Disregarding what happened after moving to your grandparents’, there were several other things you literally couldn’t remember from your time with your mom. Distant flickers of barely-there echoes from a much darker, secret life.
You were apparently an extreme pro at blocking out anything that may hurt you, and times with your mom and the things you’d done as a child were just that.
Your eyes tracked the old wooden door, contemplating opening it when you saw the hole at the bottom of it.
Another thing that had ‘always been there.’ But, right then and there, you could recollect the moment it happened. Clear as day.
You’d been home alone with Elsie. Something had happened that had you screaming at her. Throwing things at her. Chasing her. If you were seeing the memory correctly, you had even managed to hit her with something. She’d gotten scared and the place she’d thought to run and hide had been your room. She’d been so stricken by the incident, sobbing for you to ‘stop, please!’ But you hadn’t listened. When she’d escaped behind the door, she shut it and locked you out. It had angered you more, making you release every last bit of bottled emotion with several hard kicks to the bottom of the door, resulting in the obscurity that now faced you, taunting you.
Then your grandparents had returned home, observed the incident, and decided that you both needed to immediately start counseling.
Without even realizing it, you were beginning to choke on dry sobs. Your breaths were becoming short and hard to catch. You couldn’t breathe.
Your vision was fuzzy as you held to the door frame to balance yourself. But seeing it as pointless, your body going limp, your arms shaking, you slid down the wall to the floor. Putting a hand to your chest, you focused on taking deeper breaths, working to count each one you released.
You pinched your eyes shut and tried to think of something to calm you down.
Long hair that smelled like citrus. Smooth, tanned skin, glowing in the sun. A kiss underwater. A hand smoothing over your cheek, catching your tears. Soul-filled eyes, like dark whiskey, watching you closely and carefully. A body around yours, protecting you in the most quiet and intimate moments. The smell of sandalwood and amber.
But, right now, that smell was more present than it just being a figment of your imaginings.
You slowly opened your eyes, still focusing on breathing, to find him right there, next to you.
He was crouched down, a hand on the wall next to you, using his body as a shield around you.
Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. It was like he knew you needed him.
“You were gone for a bit longer than what seemed normal,” he said, worry evident in his words. “What’s going on?”
Tears were escaping down your cheeks steadily. He took his flannel off, clad in a black t-shirt underneath, collar torn (on purpose?). Then, started dabbing at your cheeks for a few moments with his flannel. Once finished, he handed it to you, for you to wipe at your face with it.
“Nothing's going on,” you gasped on a breath, almost bringing the flannel to your face when you stopped. “I don’t want to get it dirty with my makeup, Jake,” you gasped, still trying to calm yourself. But the relentless crying was making it near impossible.
“I don’t care,” he went from crouching, to sitting against the wall, right beside you. His shoulder was a couple inches from touching your own. You caught yourself naturally leaning into it. “I want to help you. Let me.”
You didn’t say anything in response to that, letting the heartfelt words hang in the air around you two, laying your head on his shoulder. Bringing his flannel up to your face, you closed your eyes at the wonderful smell of him that lingered on the shirt and wiped your face with the plaid material.
Keeping your eyes closed, you used his steady breathing as an aid, trying to breathe in time with him. Anytime his shoulder would lift your cheek with a breath, you took one, too. It worked well, your chest feeling less tight, the tears subsiding.
After a bit, you heard him speak again. His voice, causing a comforting rumble against your cheek. “What happened, honey?”
Honey. Your heart lurched in your chest at the name.
You slowly pried your eyes open again, focusing on the light beige of the walls and the way the textured paint on the wall made a sort of pattern.
“Nothing,” you mumbled. You feared bringing up the details of the way you used to behave. The idea of saying anything was embarrassing. It was daunting to think of exposing yourself like that. “Stuff from the past that’s embarrassing and awful.”
“Nothing you do is embarrassing.”
“Wrong.”
He snickered, placing a hand on your thigh. His trusty black hair-tie, wrapped around his middle finger. You traced the long digit, his knuckle, and then picked at the hair tie, pulling at it to see the skin beneath the band.
Before you could do any more to his hand, he removed it from your leg. You watched, your head still leaning on his shoulder as he took the black rubber band off. Suddenly, you were moving from his shoulder as his body shifted. Peering up curiously, he motioned for you to turn your head. You did so, and within seconds, your hair was pulled up and away from your hot face.
You looked over your shoulder at him, growing goosebumps as his fingers lingered on the skin of your neck. “Thank you.”
Situating yourself in your position from before, you decided on a whim to wrap your hand underneath his arm. You continued until you were lacing your fingers through his, his calloused fingertips wrapping around to rest on the top of your hand.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he started, voice low, as if keeping a secret. “But I’m here. I need you to know that. Whatever the case may be, I am here for you.”
“Thanks,” you hummed, squeezing his hand. “Jake?”
“Hm?”
“How did things change between us?”
He chuckled. “Well, it started when you walked into my bedroom the night of—.”
You shushed him, not able to hide your light giggle as you used your other palm to hit his hard chest. How was he able to turn things around so quickly for you? Your body felt so light and airy now, calm and at peace. The foggy memories weren’t so scary when he was with you.
“I mean. . .how are we like this now? Cordial?”
“We started trusting each other, I guess,” he said, all joking gone from his tone.
“Yeah. . .,” you agreed. “And as silly as it is, I think you were onto something with mentioning the first night we. . .”
“I don’t think it’s silly, honestly. . . If we are being honest with ourselves, sex changes everything,” he stated, his thumb tapping a light beat against your hand. He was right. It truly did change things. For good or for bad, you didn’t know.
“And those Aretha Franklin songs the other morning. . .,” he pushed a breath from his lips to follow his words.
You gasped. “You felt it too?” Finally looking up from his shoulder, you ignored the voice that was telling you to not give into the moment as you turned to him. Because when you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes were familiar, honest, and real. You couldn’t help but let them be your safe place. That was what they’d become.
It can’t be this way forever. Stop while you’re ahead, the voice warned. Stop giving in.
But you kindly told it to fuck off as you swam in his irises.
“It was impossible not to. The music and the moment. . . ,” he grinned, a dimple presenting itself in his cheek. Then he raised a brow, turning his head a bit, keeping his eye on you. “But, don't forget. We’re just roommates.”
You flushed. “I had to say that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” you sighed, hearing them from his mouth, you realized that your Grandpa had been right about your words being harsh. “Didn’t want anyone catching onto anything? I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes, but still there. His eyes traveled the walls around you. You could tell his mind was still looming on how he’d found you in the hallway, only minutes ago.
The column of his neck hypnotized you, the muscles that flexed beneath the flesh so strong and sure. You were aching to put your lips on the skin, then his eyes found yours, caught you watching him, yet again. He lifted a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, staring at your mouth as you licked to wet them.
When he bit his lip, it was over.
You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart was racing. . .
Without even worrying about getting caught, you angled yourself towards him until your lips met his in a kiss. You had to be near him. Needed to be closer, closer, closer.
He gave it back, matching the force behind your kisses.
It continued like that for a few short moments, but right before you could slip your tongue between his lips, he placed a hand to your cheek, gentle as he held your face steady, pulling back to study your features.
He waited for you to speak. You both knew why he’d put a stop to it.
And as if to drive the point home, Josh’s laugh echoed through the entire house— a blatant reminder of why you couldn’t do this here.
You looked down to see where he was situating himself in his black skinny jeans, your skin heating all the more.
As much as you wanted to leave at that instant, you didn’t want to seem abrupt or strange by doing that. You knew it would be best to eat dessert and then leave.
You tucked a couple of loose strands, having fallen from your makeshift ponytail, behind your ears. Then, you asked. “Wanna eat some pie and then get out of here?”
“Sounds perfect.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
Laying in his bed later that night, sweaty limbs pressed together and chests heaving, your head resting on his chest as he twirled fingers in your hair, now loose around your shoulders. . . You decided to tell him.
“Earlier tonight, when you found me,” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words. “I was trying to recover from a panic attack.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you said, pausing. As much as you wanted to look at him when you told him the next part, you decided it would be easier to keep your eyes on his SG, sitting on its stand across his bedroom. “I get them sometimes.”
“Why?” He asked, voice light and calm.
“Different things. . . tonight, it was because I started having these extremely vivid flashbacks from my childhood.”
“About your mom?”
“Not necessarily— not this time,” you cleared your throat as tears pricked at your eyes. It hurt to think about the nasty, younger version of yourself. “This time, it was more about what I used to do when I was younger.” Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”
“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him.
“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beating of his heart.
“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”
This time, you were crying from his words and the way his skin felt against your own. He was your safety. He was here. He was real.
He was here to help. Let him.
“Okay,” you breathed, trying to settle your breaths, focusing on the way his heart beat rhythmically under your hand.
So, you opened up. You told him about everything that Elsie had reminded you of that day in the car; told him what seeing the door had done to you – and everything that had reared its ugly head all at once tonight.
“Wow,” he let out a deep breath in response. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. I was such a fucking demon,” you muttered sadly, your heart breaking as the images and sounds were once again coming back. “And I can’t escape it.”
“Why can’t you?”
You wrinkled your brows, resituating to lean on your arm beside him. His eyes followed you, open and honest and Jake. “I caused severe trauma for others– just like my mom did. I made mistakes that I can never take back.”
“You said you were ten?” He asked. You nodded. “You were a child.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“It’s not,” he agreed. “But you need to give yourself some grace.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re human.”
“But so were the people I hurt.”
“Who would you say you hurt most?”
“Els.”
“And has she forgiven you?”
“I think so,” you muttered, remembering Elsie that day in the car.
“I’ve moved on. Anytime you did any of that stuff, I moved on as soon as you’d done it.”
“You were in pain and somehow, I just knew it. . . I knew then it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold something against you that you probably didn’t mean. I knew the only reason you were acting that way was because someone else had hurt you. It wasn’t all your fault. It was mostly mom’s. You just didn’t know how to react to it.”
“Then you need to forgive yourself,” he said, moving some tresses of hair behind your shoulders to be able to put an open palm to your chest, right where your heart laid beneath the flesh. “Your heart is beautiful. That’s what matters. Always has been, always will be,” he gave you one kiss, deep enough to emphasize the words. It left you dizzy as he went back to his spot, never letting his hand leave your chest. “I just want you to understand that people make mistakes,” he smiled, reassuring. “I’ve made a shit ton.”
You chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, both of you sharing a knowing laugh.
“But," you started, feeling the need to encourage him as well. "That wasn’t you. You were hurting.”
“So were you, back then,” he reasoned, his voice soft.
“I guess,” you relented slightly. “Elsie told me a lot of this, too, but I just couldn’t believe her. It’s hard to see the good in myself from back then, though, knowing all of the horrific things I did,” you stated simply. You held his hand to your chest as you laid on your back, not wanting him to move it. “I just can’t shake how I let myself forget it so easily. I’ve gone all these years not truly knowing who I was– who I am.”
“Have you ever considered going to therapy again?”
“No,” your heart beat faster at the prospect.
He could feel it, and reacted as such. He came closer to you, his chest and stomach pressing into you, more skin-to-skin to help calm you. “Would you consider it?”
“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hand and his, still over your heart. “Depends, I guess.”
He hummed. “Okay,” he answered, relenting from the hard questions. “How about you work on forgiving yourself and I’ll look into different types of therapy? Let you know what I come across?”
Your heart slowed down, the tiniest smile lifting your lips. Your hand gripped his. Your anchor. Your safety. “Alright.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
A couple days later, you sat on your couch, mesmerized by Jake, who was sitting next to you.
Well, kind of. He was on the cushion at the opposite end of the sofa as you.
All you wanted was to be closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself.
These days, if he was close enough for you to touch him, you were going to be touching him. Whether it be rubbing his shoulders, playing with his continuously growing hair, or laying on top of him (sometimes naked, sometimes not).
But you were appreciating your vantage point tonight. Watching closely as he played through some new songs with Josh. Josh would sing, and Jake would play the same thing. Jake would play, then Josh would sing it verbatim.
It was interesting to watch them, bouncing off of each other creatively like that.
Twin telepathy at its finest.
You were stuck in a trance, trying your damnedest to give equal attention to Josh, so as not to raise any suspicion. But it was getting harder and harder to resist watching Jake– being near him, day by day.
Trying to find other things to focus on, your eyes floated across the room, observing all of the men around you. They’d all been growing their hair out as well. And, normally, a guy growing his hair out was not a huge deal.
But with these guys? It seemed to you, it was a visual for their changing life. The longer their hair got, the more it was obvious that they were moving onto a new stage of life.
They were becoming rockstars. Truly.
Not only were they making music day in and day out, playing it live every week, preparing for a humongous music festival that would feature many huge bands. . . they were looking more and more like it, too.
But they were still your boys.
Never changing.
Sam’s ever-nasally voice interrupted your rambling thoughts, as if on cue. You smiled in his direction, pointing your attention to him.
“Jake,” he started, excited as he looked intently at his phone screen.
“What, Sam?” He responded with a slight growl to say his younger brother’s name. “Can’t you tell I’m creatively processing?”
Danny let out one loud laugh, his eyes sparkling with a laugh. Josh joined in momentarily, then went back to humming
“Oh, fuck off, Jake,” he rolled his eyes, a smile still adorning his baby face. He trotted his lanky legs over to the couch, sitting between you and your roommate. “Look at this picture of Maya,” he angled the phone so it was right in front of Jake, but turned just right so you couldn’t see it.
You giggled at Jake having to pull away from the bright screen to get a better look. “God, Sam,” he said, annoyed, grabbing the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Turn your fucking brightness down.”
“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Jacob,” he responded, flipping his hair and rolling his eyes. He turned in your direction for support, throwing a thumb behind him at Jake. “He’s annoying.”
You were still laughing as you asked your question. “Who’s Maya?”
“Jake hasn’t told you about Maya?!” He wondered aloud, his voice raising a decibel or two.
“No, I haven’t, Sam,” Jake said, his tone clipped, holding the phone tighter in his firm grip, long fingers flexing around the device. “Shut the fuck up.”
Your brows drew in at his behavior. Now you were dying to know who Maya was and why he was suddenly acting so weird about her.
“I ask again, who is Maya?”
“She’s asking Jake,” Sam stated, as if he’d won. “I’m telling her.”
“Sam–.”
“Maya is Jake’s super hot client that he used to fuck. When he first moved here,” Sam clarified. “Still does, I think. I mean, who wouldn’t?!” Then he laughed, hitting Jake’s stiff arm with the back of his hand.
He was doing what, now?
Chancing a look at the man in question, you noticed he was angry.
Seething was a better term.
You could tell as he gripped the neck of his guitar, his chest rising with constricted breaths, nose flaring, staring at Josh, who was simply shaking his head in return.
Sam took his phone from Jake’s hand, gaining it with some effort. But getting it in his grasp anyway. Right as he’d done so, the hand Jake’d been holding it in clenched to a fist, his jaw tightening. The hand on the neck became dangerously tight.
“Sammy. . .,” Josh tried intervening. His eyes jumped back and forth between each brother, desperate for there to be peace.
Social cues apparently off, Sam was still smiling wide.
“This is Maya,” he said, flashing the phone in front of your face, holding it there for you to get a good, long look.
No. Couldn’t be.
The air left your chest, your vision zeroing in on the bright screen of the phone, everything else blurry around you as your head suddenly felt extremely light, body heavy.
Surely not. . .
You squinted, taking a closer look at the phone before you jumped to any sort of conclusion.
But the house behind her, as well as her long, dark black hair. . .
You knew you were correct in your assumption of who it was.
The joy that the youngest brother exuded was the exact opposite of how you were feeling. The giant stone that had fallen to sit at the bottom of your stomach was suddenly weighing you to the couch.
You nodded at the screen, pushing the device away from you, hands shaking slightly. “You really do need to turn your brightness down, Sam,” you said, clearing your throat as it got painfully tight.
Play it cool, play it cool.
You were working so hard to hide your emotions. A small smile twitched at your lips. The tears in your throat made them wobble a tiny bit.
Stop it, y/n.
Jake’s voice cut through, directly to your ears. “It meant nothing—.”
You didn’t look at him, only focusing back on Sam as he spoke. You tried hard to keep your eyes wide and clear of anything concerning.
“He still sees her for lessons,” he said, wiggling his brows. “What happens at guitar lessons, stays at guitar lessons,” he elbowed Jake’s arm, tense as the muscle in his bicep flexed, fist still bunched. “Am I right, brother?!”
Sam was the only one smiling in the room.
The room was tense, Sam tucking his phone back into the pocket of his silky, vibrant button down. He pushed his sunglasses further into his hair.
You were frozen, not even daring to look up at Jake’s face. You studied your hands, then grabbed your phone off of the coffee table to pretend you were checking it. The frenzied emotions in your gut were not trustworthy. If you looked at him, you were sure you’d fall apart.
It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they’re still fucking, you tried to reassure yourself. Right?!
But then, you thought about him taking a while at her house. All of his excuses were adding up.
Had three Ubers really canceled? Or had he just been too busy fucking her and lost track of time?
It made sense, considering the way she’d watched him leave. The hug.
And what he’d said to her right before he got in the car. Talking about his ‘favorite part of his day’ . . . Fuck. Your chest hurt, the words making so much more sense now. . .
His favorite part of the day. . .
Your vision got cloudy. What were you? Sad? Angry? Both? You couldn’t fucking tell.
You just needed to get out of the room.
As you stood up from your spot, your legs wobbled a bit, your mind scrambling for the first excuse that could come to it. “I’ve gotta pee.”
Still not looking at Jake, you walked as fast as you could to the bathroom.
The last thing you heard before shutting the door to the bathroom was Danny’s voice, trying to break the air-right atmosphere.
“How about dinner?”
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: uh oh. . .
alsoooo, you'll notice that we haven't even gotten to the scene from the sneak peek yet. . . all of that will come to you in part 2. . . see you again soon, loves ;)
send in your thoughts!! i love hearing from you <3
thank you for being the best readers in the world!!! love you all so much!
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
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#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka smut#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet fanfic#jake fic#jake kiszka#covet#my fics
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The Key To Your Heart - Track 2
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader
Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.
Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).
Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!
Word Count: 2.8K
Series List: Here!
Miss last chapter? Here!
I had a real rough time figuring out the proper voice for Pedro's dialogue and I hope I did him justice. Either way, the support I received for part 1 is astounding and completely unexpected! Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think :) I plan to continue until the story wraps up, but I don't know how many parts that will be. I hope to post every couple days, but with my work schedule it may be less speedy. Here we go!
You walk in the door, unclipping Skip's leash, slipping off your shoes, and dropping your keys on the countertop before flopping onto the couch and unlocking your phone. No. Fucking. Way.
Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk) replied to your message.
You dissected each letter of the username, assuming it couldn't possibly be THE Pedro Pascal… but it was. It really, really was. You clicked the message, holding your breath.
Pedro Pascal replied to you: "Hey, you don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. That guy was out of line. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry for the harsh words you've been hearing. I appreciate you sharing your vulnerability with the world and hope that you will continue to be your genuine self and ignore the comments trying to make you be someone else. Don't listen to those people."
You stared in disbelief at his words, once again wondering why he would ever be so kind to someone he doesn't even know. Someone so childish and stupid to write a song about a man she doesn't know. I can't imagine he'd think these things if he knew it was about him…
You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I'm a big fan of yours and hearing that you're in my corner has me completely at a loss. I can't imagine why you would risk damaging your image by defending a girl…" No… don't say girl, it makes you sound like a child. You want this guy to like you! You backspace with a slight feeling of ridiculousness over the whole scenario. Ugh it's all wrong… calm down... calm down… it's just a conversation. He doesn't know you. He doesn't like you. Don't make it weird like you always do.
You try again.
You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I really admire your work and for you to say such kind things to me… to think that you're in my corner, has me completely at a loss for words. I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment when you don't even know me, especially when coming to my defense could potentially harm your image… but thank you."
He read it almost immediately. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like you could throw up from the anxiety and adrenaline. After a few seconds, those stress-inducing dot-dot-dots appeared to show you he was typing.
He's actually replying to me?? Again? Doesn't he have better things to do?
Your mind wandered to what he might be doing while he's messaging you. Sitting at his home, relaxing, taking the time to reply to you? Why? Maybe he's on a plane or waiting for something and killing time. Maybe he's- *ping*
Pedro Pascal replied to your message:
"Please, you can call me Pedro.. and as far as defending you, it doesn't matter to me that we don't know each other personally. You seem like a woman with a good heart, and all you did was share your true self. Nobody deserves to be talked poorly about for something harmless that they feel. If something like that hurts my image… then my true self wasn't being represented. I think we all just want to be seen, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to be yourself and show yourself more."
You don't know when you started crying, but you hiccupped with the overwhelming wave of emotions. He sees me.. you had just scrolled to the bottom of the long reply, when you noticed the "..." of typing again. He has more to say?!
Pedro Pascal: "As far as the subject of your song.. whether you choose to reveal that to him, or the world, you deserve love and respect. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is a terrifying thing to do, and I myself tend to close myself off from relationships to avoid that potential for getting hurt. But if that's what you want, you've already taken a big step and you should go for it. I hope that whoever he is gives you the respect and love you deserve."
Holy crap…
He doesn't… he doesn't know it's him right?? No. There's no way. He's just being nice… he's too nice. He's too genuine..??
Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance in the air, pondering what to say. How much can I share with this man? Between this crush and his kind words, it's feeling tricky to hold back from spilling too much information.
You: "Thank you Pedro. You're too kind and I can't properly explain how much I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with all the sudden attention, and finding it hard to ground myself. But your words are helping me a lot. I - "
You hesitated over your next words, wondering if you should open up or just leave it. Don't be weird… don't scare him away like you always have with everyone else. As much as you think of disclosing your hesitation and lack of experience with relationships, as well as your reasons for trepidation, you decide to spare him of your self-hatred. Instead, you delete that last letter and hit send.
Then you send another message, like he did. "And as far as the guy… I know I don't know him personally, we've never met, but I can already tell he would treat me right. I just hope maybe someday he will love me back."
Immediately after sending it you regretted it. That felt way too open and vulnerable. What are you thinking!?! Shit… what if he sees through you!?
You hold your finger down on the message, ready to hit unsend before he sees it. But it's too late. He's already replying.
Pedro: "He would be stupid not to love you back."
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck
You: "Thank you, Pedro. 🥺" Play it cool… Play it cool…
Pedro: "Of course, sweetheart. Feel free to message me if anyone else gives you trouble or you just want to chat. I enjoyed talking with you."
???!!!!!?????!!!!! SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart
You grabbed your nearest pillow and screamed into it. "SKIPPPPPEERRRRRRR!!!!!! I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH PEDRO AND IT WAS MAGICAL AND AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" You squealed.
Skipper lifted his head at you and sighed before setting his head back down. He was no stranger to your shenanigans. Napping after a good walk was a better use of his energy than to deal with your drama. He closed his little brown eyes again.
You lay back on the couch, kicking your feet and squeezing your pillow to your body.
Fuck, this is going to hit me like a truck if it goes sour. If he even realizes it's about him, probably. Crap… what am I going to do?
The next day, you woke up and checked your emails before work. Thankfully nobody at your workplace has seemed to place your singing voice to your speaking voice, or pieced together the fact that several people know you have a crush on a certain celebrity and are a musician. Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need.
You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to calm your breathing, your nerves, and your heart rate, before relaxing and shaking out your body. Finally, you decided to get ready for bed and see what tomorrow brings.
Your emails come in, one by one, with one intriguing email at the top, from a well known pop-culture show called The Jazz & Ally-Kat Show. They want to do an interview with you, live, as soon as possible.
Great. They probably just want to see what I look like or have me spill my guts about my crush. You roll your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like the Mandalorian with his lack of face reveals. If only you had a cute little space baby to accompany you. I guess Skip is my own precious cargo in a way, you think, while looking at your still sleeping pup. You're being silly… Not everything needs to relate back to Pedro, you think with a sigh to yourself.
Yet despite your anxiety, you agreed to their interview, with the exception that it was done as a podcast style interview, where simply your voices are featured. Surprisingly, they agreed. I guess everyone likes some drama, and what better way to get views than by having a little mystery.
The interview was scheduled for three days from then, and in the meantime you focused on work and your album, which was mostly finished after years of writing songs. All it needed was some editing.
As the days went by, you wanted desperately to message Pedro again. You wanted to tell him your feelings. Have him confess that he loves you too. Ask him about his family, his friends, his favorite things. Meet him, kiss him, fall in love, and finally be happy. But ultimately you knew that was silly. You had one little conversation, and although it was nice, you still didn't know each other. There was no way he loved you back. Yet…? you asked yourself, hopeful, almost asking for permission to let yourself try and earn his love.
Despite Instagram drawing you in like a magnet, you held back from messaging him. You didn't want to come on too strong. You messaged him first last time. He doesn't know you. Literally… he doesn't even know your real name, or what you look like. But maybe that's a good thing…
_____The day of the interview:_____
You woke up around 9:30 in the morning; nervous, slightly nauseated, restless, and jittery. Why did I agree to this??!
You decided to pass on the coffee this morning, figuring it would make things worse, and instead decided to take Skipper for a walk. After some fresh air followed by a refreshing shower, you looked at the clock. 11:30 AM. With the interview at 1PM, you still had some time to kill and sat down at the piano, letting your mind wander to Pedro while you plunked chords out with nimble fingers. I wonder if Pedro has ever wanted to learn any instruments… I could teach him, you daydream.
Your hands dance across the piano while he reads through a script in the other room, eyebrows furrowed as he highlights another line. You look up over the grand piano and see his soft brown curls blowing under the fan haphazardly. The sun is shining in through the window, which Skip bathes under, and reflects a golden brown undertone with gray streaks in Pedro's hair. He really is beautiful, you think. His tongue swipes across his lips as he makes notes and erases, before finally feeling your eyes on him. He glances up from the script, giving you a soft smile and a wink; with those chocolate brown eyes that frequently cause you to lose your train of thought. Your eyes drift down to the keys again, feeling a soft blush creep over your cheeks.
"That music sounds beautiful, baby.." he says softly while padding up to you behind the piano. He places his large hands on your shoulders, sweeping them down over both your arms before settling on your hands, still resting over the black and white keys. You look over your shoulder and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Just like that scene in Narcos… you think. Yikes, I really am obsessed… anyway… you think back to your daydream…
He sits down at the chair next to your piano bench, kissing your lips again gently, then the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw. Your stomach gives a wave of butterflies and you lean in more to kiss him deeper, tugging on his hair while his hands find the small of your back, gently running his palms up your spine. A chill overcomes you and he-
~Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.~
Fuck. You snap out of your fantasy and turn off the alarm you set to go off ten minutes before the interview. At least I gave myself time to use the restroom and wash my face, you think, hoping to clear your head a bit now that you're slightly frazzled.
Unfortunately the feeling that replaced it was nerves as you sat down at your desk, typing into your keyboard, turning on your mic, and hoping that Skipper doesn't throw a fit over the wind or something while you're on this call.
Jazz: "Hi there listeners! We're joined by the artist of the moment, our favorite lovesick lady, the singer responsible for "Imaginary Love!"
Both women on the other end of the call applaud.
Well… not sure I like being called a lovesick lady but what else did I expect, really?
You: "Thank you guys for having me, I appreciate you wanting to get to know me better."
Despite the rough start, the ladies turned out to be really respectful and fun. You think that if the circumstances were different, you could actually be friends with them. You discuss casual things like your dog, your favorite activities and favorite pop culture topics (careful to avoid mentioning Pedro or any other actor that could be perceived as your lyrical subject), and they even mention celebrity crushes they've had growing up.
At the mention of their celebrity crushes, you can feel the interview funnel into a dangerous alley with little to no escape. Jazz was the first to broach the subject. "So… we've just discussed our celebrity crushes, and I think I speak for all of us here when I say we're all very curious to know who-"
-an air horn blares-
What the hell is that? You wonder, both thankful for the interruption, yet startled by the disruption.
They both chime in: "Viewers!!! Do you all know what that sound is!?! We have reached 1 million listeners!!!!"
To say you were astounded is an understatement.
You: "You're kidding!? 1 million people are listening to us right now?"
Ally: "You bet they are! And listeners… I don't know about you guys… but I can't help but wonder if our celebrity heartthrob is one of those million?"
They turn their attention to you again. "What do you think? Think he's listening?"
You're thankful for the lack of a camera, because you can't help but blush at the thought. You'd be lying if you hadn't already considered (hoped) that he was listening too.
Jazz: "So as we were saying… I think we all are in agreement that we want to know who he is. You sound like a nice enough girl, so what's holding you back? You've made it. You can contact him now and he'll probably reply."
I already have… you thought with a smirk.
Jazz continues: "Which brings me to the next point... I know you've had a lot of attention lately. You were signed to a record company, you were contacted by us, you've been mentioned by a few talk shows and celebrities. Pedro Pascal even publicly defended you. The radio has been playing your song nonstop and people can't get enough. What do you think of all this attention?"
You: "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit surprised and maybe a little scared," you answered with a nervous laugh. "But I am so thankful for the kind words that I receive and I love hearing from people who can relate to my music."
Ally: "You've certainly received your fair share of criticism too. It sounds like you received that before your song was ever published as well."
You: "I have, and it's been challenging to try and not let it get me down. But I'm trying my best, and the positives seem to be greatly outweighing the negatives," you state, your mind thinking of Pedro and how his messages were really the only positive you needed to get you through the dark storm of criticism.
Ally: "I guess what I'm wondering is.. among all these people contacting you.. has he?"
You try to play dumb: "Has who?"
Both interviewers laugh before Ally continues. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"
Your stomach flipped. You were not expecting this question. Should you tell the truth??? It's not like they could know who has contacted you, short of hacking your account. You have had a lot of people contact you, after all.
You take a deep breath before answering. "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."
They reply, and you can practically feel them leaning in. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"
You consider your next move, your heart really working overtime since this whole thing started. Finally you decide your answer.
"Yes. We've talked."
Looking for Track 1? Read it here!
Next chapter: Here!
~Thanks for reading! Stay ~tuned~ for more!
Taglist: Let me know if you want in :)
@pedrotonin @starcrossed02
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x afab!reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x musician!reader#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal x plus sized! reader#pedro pascal fic#A! wrote a fic#rpf#pedro pascal rpf#key to your heart
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Heyy :) Can you please write headcanons of dating quackity, but in his earlier eras? (like 2019-21 maybe) ❤
ooooo yes of course!!! ; fun fact I've been watching him since 2018 or so (I don't mean this in a "Oh I'm cooler than you way) ; thank you for the request!! this was fun as hell ; I tried to kinda do it in a chronological order but yeah, I did like stuff and then more details of relationship if that makes sense yk???
QUACKITY ; 2019-2021 era
warnings ; language, talk of drugs, jokes about sex
genre ; fluff
word count ; 858
masterlist
Raiding Club Penguin with him and Axel was a core memory for you. It was the first true time, however cringe it sounds, that you saw Alex as your best friend.
he'd always try to make you laugh, especially on stream
such a little tease
back in the olden days, we had those Discord server 'wtf is that food' videos
you guys rank some of them and how likely you'd eat them
also ranking Discord memes
so many of them were dumb shit or weird shipart from like 2015 deviantart LMFAO
"guys I know me and y/n are dating but that doesn't mean compare us to Shrek couples!"
"I thought Thanos was your true love?"
"He-He is! Oh my God, stop being so desperate, y/n. ugh"
once he got invited to the Dream SMP, you were all ears and proudly taught him how to play Minecraft
you made his alt skin with the tuxedo, which he didn't wear often, but used in lore some time later
youd often help him with lore ideas
he also got you invited into the SMP where he introduced you to some of his new friends
you knew schlatt and some others, but most of these people were new and it was nice meeting all of them
the fiances are established and then you and quackity are already a think and you also like karl, which creates a weird love rectangle with an open end because you and sapnap are sharing the other two 💀
lore goes fuckin crazy with that
while Karl's off making Kinoko Kingdom and Quackity's running Las Nevadas, you're building El Tropicana, off in the far away jungle biome
Alex would usually stream and translate Mexican soap operas, which you joined in for sometimes
you'd give the characters different voices and twist their words up a bit to make it more entertaining for chat
the amount of drug talk that went into that was wild
also the amount of queer kids bullied in those schools?? yikes on bikes
also the one with that girl who got in trouble for kissing a boy on the playground or whatever that was?? Jesus christ man
youd both act put the scenes on occasion and use Tiger as whatever kid was being yelled at if she was in the room with you
taking a break halfway through stream for him to play guitar and for you to karaoke to fuckin Bo Burnham
also making fake joints out of paper he had laying around and "lighting them up" aka setting paper on fire next to a PC and your faces
Jackbox streams with the Feral Boys until 3am>>>
Paranormal Activity in the middle of the night went so fucking crazy
teaching Bad how to play GTA is your favorite memory with those two
playing horror games and watching him play horror games with Karl while he visited him
how dare he leave you all alone (you couldn't go because you had a busy schedule)
your chats shipping the hell out of you and your dsmp characters
hella fanart and fanfictions man
try not to laugh streams where you always ended up laughing before the ten minute mark because of him
he purposefully does shit to make you laugh
reading fanfiction on stream was a regular activity especially for y/s/n
youd rank the book on a scale from one to ten and how accurate to real life they were
"nahhhh that one doesn't have enough Thanos, two out of ten"
"yknow what... were gonna have our own tier lists... okay?"
"damnit... does this mean I'm not getting laid later?"
"what"
promoting the quackityhq merch religiously
also stealing whichever beanie he wasn't wearing, either the LAFD one or the plain black and blue one
him tying you to a chair and forcing you to laugh was a common stream plot
tweets that were either very inconspicuous about drugs, very sexual, or very old married couple vibes
youd both be frequently trending on twitter
hot wings or dare streams with Bad >>>>
playing girls go games and hoping you wouldn't give his PC a virus
sitting in the inflatable pool fully clothed, playing with children's bath toys
he'd for sure be the type to fall for his best friend
whether it be all the way back then or just now, he could go forever without feeling any feelings but one day they'll show up and the nervousness begins
he'd lend you a hoodie if you were cold in his room and he just straight up begs you to keep it
lots of just staring at you while chat ships you, like genuinley just zones out on your pretty face
would probably doubt his feelings at first and talk to his mom about it and she's like "boy you have a crush. Go ask them the hell out, you're a handsome young man, I'm pretty sure they like you too"
"mOooOooOoOoM"
genuinley spoils you with no good reason and after a while you just accept it
he starts sending good morning and good night texts
he'll repost (or reblog) (he has a secret tumblr) fanart of you two, especially if it's shipart
will constantly send you clips of movie characters making out or kissing and say "this should be us"
#lowkeyrobin#mcyt x reader#mcyt preferences#mcyt oneshot#quackity x reader#alex quackity x reader#quackity oneshot#quackity headcannons#quackityhq x reader#quackity#qsmp x reader#gender neutral reader#gn reader#they/them reader
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Liar, liar, pants on fire
Pairing: Steve harrington x fem!reader
Sumarry: Steve lies to you to protect you. But you don't know that, so you get angry at him and ignore him
Warnings: language, mentions of blood/wounds, season 4 spoilers! , angst, lying, pet names, use of y/n, mentions of food, hurt Eddie Munson
Words: 3.6k Masterlist
A/N: English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes.
You agreed to drive the boys home from the school. You were in your senior year, so you didn't mind to take them with you as you had to drive that way anyway .
Usually it meant, that you had to endure their obnoxiously loud talking, but today they talked in hushed voices.
You weren't really paying much attention to what they were saying, until you heard Steve's name.
You started to intently listen now and you realised, that they were talking about what they did last night.
Something about monsters and some other world, you thought it was DnD. But then they mention Steve and why would Steve be with them ? And also Nancy and Robin were there? You were so confused.
Steve told you, he had to have a dinner with his parents, that he couldn't come over to yours last night.
He basically told you he couldn't hang out with you the whole week, because his parents made him go to some business parties with them.
And now you were being told, that he was out with the kids and also the girls? Why would he lie to you about his plans?
"You played DnD last night?" you asked, wanting to get more information.
"No... -" Mike started to say, but Dustin elbowed him in the ribs, "i mean, yeah. Yes, we did. It was awesome" he said with slightly higher pitched voice. You knew he wasn't telling you the truth.
"Right" i squinted my eyes at them through the rear view mirror.
"And what was Steve doing there?" you asked the boys.
"Oh he drove me to Mike's house, so he stayed over to watch" Dustin said, but it sounded more like a question. He was obviously trying to cover for Steve.
"Really? I thought, he was supposed to have a dinner with his parents" you said, trying not to let the emotions, that you were feeling, known .
"Dinner...-oh yes, he did. He managed to do that before the game" he stated and winced, when he saw your frown. He realised, it wasn't exactly what you wanted to hear.
"Huh, interesting" you laughed dryly. You were visibly upset by now. The boys looked at each other with big eyes, they knew, that they'd fucked up.
Steve told them multiple times, that you had no clue about the Upside down and he didn't want to tell you about it to keep you safe.
"Y/N, is everything okay?" Dustin broke the suffocating silence.
"Yeah fine, i'm fine" you got out, your hands tightening on the steering wheel.
"Um, are you sure?"
"Okay, bye Mike. See you" you ignored his question as you stopped close to Mike's house.
They all quickly scrambled out of your car, yelling 'bye and thanks for the ride'.
"Ugh guys, aren't you going home?" the question was directed at Lucas and Dustin, you thought you were driving them all home.
"No.. , uhh, they are helping me with uh, mowing the grass, bye y/n" they ran away from your car, leaving you without words. They acted so weird, weirder than usual. But you rolled with it and went home.
A million thoughts were running through your head. Like why had Steve lied? Has he lied to you before? And why would he lie in the first place? Was he hiding something? You had no answers for any of them.
You were supposed to go out with Steve tonight, but after you had found out that he'd lied to you, you weren't feeling up for it anymore.
You called him with the excuse of not feeling the best, that the stress from the school got to you. It was partly true, the school was a killer and it made you look forward to just laying in your bed and staying there the whole weekend.
Steve the great boyfriend that he is, he couldn't let you be sick alone and came to take care of you.
You went to open the door, thinking it was the pizza you'd ordered and were left stunned at the sight of Steve at your door.
"Steve! What are you doing here?" you asked surprised.
"Hi pretty girl, it's good to see you, too" he teased and pushed his way into your house, "you said, you weren't feeling okay, so I wanted to come and try to make you feel better."
"Steve, you shouldn't have. It's not even that bad and besides aren't you supposed to be with you parents" you said bitterly, supressing the wanting to use air quotes at the parents part.
"No, i'd rather be with you" he said, completely missing your agitation.
"Really? It didn't seem like it yesterday or the days before" you said, you were still trying to remain calm and not let the hurt get the best of you.
" I told you, i was with my par-"
"Parents, right! How could i forget?! " you scoffed.
"Sweetheart, is everything okay?" Steve caught on, that something was wrong. He noticed now, that you were mad at him and concern immediately filled his body.
"No Steve, everything is not okay. You lied to me, " Steve wanted to speak, but you weren't finished yet, " you lied to me and don't even try to deny it. Were you parents home at all?"
His silence after your question told you enough to know, that they weren't .
"Thought that much" you announced with glossy eyes. Steve wanted to say something, anything at this point, but he didn't know what.
"Are you cheating on me?" you accused him. You knew Steve would never cheat on you, but if he'd lied about this, what else could he have lied about to you?
"No!" he quickly assured you, " i would never do that, you know that sweetheart " he wanted to take a step closer to you, to hold you, so you wouldn't start crying.
"Do i? Do i, Steve? Because i don't think i do. I thought you wouldn't lie to me either and look where we are now" you crossed your arms over your chest.
"C'mon babe, you know me, i would never do anything like that" he desperately argued.
"Then why would you lie? What were you doing the whole week and last night? And don't tell me you played DnD, i doubt that Nancy and Robin would play that game, you wouldn't either" you taunted.
You thought, maybe they just wanted to hang out without you, so they didn't tell you and lied instead. But that didn't seem right.
"We really did played that stupid game. "
He lied.
Again.
You noticed the lie straight away, the tears spilling from your eyes soon after
"Stop lying, i want the truth" you demanded and his heart was breaking at the sight of your hurt face, full of tears. That he caused.
"I-I can't, i want to tell you, i really do. But i can't, i can't" he shook his head.
"Well, if-if you can't tell me the truth, you should just leave" you sniffled.
"I'm doing it to protect you. I don't want to see you get hurt. Please believe me, y/n. Please..." he pleaded.
Protect you? In what universe did he think, that lying would protect you from getting hurt. Especially when he'd already hurt you by doing that.
"Please just leave Steve" you couldn't even see him through all the tears.
"Sweetheart-"he started, but you moved to open the door .
He knew, that you clearly wanted him gone. So he didn't protest anymore. He slowly walked out of the door with defeated expression.
He turned to say i'm sorry, but you slammed the door shut. Your name was stuck at the back of his throat and with a trembling sigh, he got in his car and left. The regret already seeping deep down in his bones.
As soon as you closed the door, you broke down. You slid down against the door, curling into yourself. You couldn't believe what just happened.
Steve admitted, that he'd lied and he still wouldn't tell you the truth. That hurt, like a lot. You cried by the door until the bell rang again.
You didn't bother to open the door, you got up from the ground, walked to your room, slammed down on your bed, slipped under the covers and cried until you fell asleep from all the crying.
That's basically all you did the whole weekend, you refused to get out of your room or accept Steve's calls.You didn't want to see anyone, especially not Steve.
Steve called you many many times, but you didn't answer. You were too hurt to hear his voice, too hurt to even think about him.
You were just watching the movies and eating unhealthy snacks all the time.
You did the same thing today, you prepared movies for the day and made yourself comfortable on the sofa in the living room. After maybe the 4th movie you fell asleep. You woke up god knows how many hours later to the intense pounding on the door.
You shot up to your legs and carefully walked up to the door.
"Y/N, are you here?! We need your help" you heard very familiar voice. Dustin's pleading voice made you fret, so you opened the door without even thinking twice about it.
And the sight after you opened the door made you worry even more. Robin and Steve were both supporting Eddie Munson's unconsciousness body, while looking pretty bad themselves. The breath hitched in your throat, when your eyes caught Steve's.
"You have the first aid training, right? A-and y-you've been volunteering in the hospital too, right?" Dustin panted, his eyes were filled with what you thought was fear. You wanted to study medicine at the university, so of course, you did all of that.
"Yes, but what the hell is going on, Dustin?" you asked perplexed.
"No time to explain now. You need to help Eddie here. He's gotten hurt pretty badly" he gestured to the bloodied boy.
"I can see that, but i don't understand... Did you get mugged or-or..." you had so many questions, they looked like they'd survived an apocalypse.
"Y/N! I will answer your every question, but you need to help him" Dustin insisted.
"But I'm not a doctor, he clearly needs to go to the hospital" i said.
"The people in the town want him dead, we can't take him to the hospital. Please y/n, you're the only one who can help" Dustin eyes were full of tears begging you to help his friend.
"Oh, right. Okay, okay, get in" you opened the door wider and sprinted to your room for the huge first aid kit, you had.
When you came back, Eddie layed on your table. You kneeled next to him and looked at the wounds. Not gonna lie it looked bad.
You took the scissors and cut off his shirt. The wounds looked even worse without the shirt on and they definitely needed stitches.
"G-guys, i don't know if i can do this, it needs stitches and i... -" you started rambling and your hands shook a little.
"You can do it y/n, i know you can" Steve's hand closed around yours and even angry at him, you felt yourself relax under his touch.
"Yeah y/n, you took care of my knee, remember? We know, he is in good hands" Robin chimed in to reasure you, as well.
"Robin that was a scratched knee and not something as big as this" you pointed out.
"So what? You knew, what you were doing then, you'll know what to do now."
"Okay, I w-will try" you sighed. Your hand was still in Steve's, so you pulled it away with slight tremble and got to work.
After you cleared off all of the blood and dirt, you were relieved to find out, that the injuries weren't as awful as you thought them to be.
Still they were pretty bad, so you stitched them up. You felt Steve's eyes on you the whole time, but ignored it along with the feelings in your chest.
An hour later, you were done.
"Will he be okay?"
"I-I think so. He probably lost some blood, but i think he should be o-okay" you uncertainly answered. To be honest, you weren't exactly sure, he would be okay, but you hoped so.
"You did great, you're amazing" Dustin praised you and hugged you real tight.
"I-I tried" you just smiled weakly at the young boy, meanwhile Robin and Steve were on the phone with someone.
"He should hopefully wake up in a few hours and you can tell me everything while we wait" you said.
"You should probably sit down..." he started.
He talked about some demodogs, some other world that is apparently upside down and so much more. By the end of his talking you were even more confused, than you had been before.
But a few things started to add up. Dustin told you, that they discovered the knew supernatural thing occurring in Hawkings last week.
"Wait, Steve-was he with you last week, too?" you asked.
"Yeah, he was" he responded, "look i know, that Steve lied to you, but believe me when i say, that he didn't mean to hurt you" Dustin defended Steve and you realised, that he really was just trying to protect you.
The new knowledge you had about all of this was enough to know it was dangerous. But still, he lied to you and him trying to protect you didn't excuse it.
"I know..." i replied.
"He was really miserable without you, y'know" Dustin said.
"We just talked to Nancy. Max is stabilised, but they don't know when she'll wake up" Steve came in the room with Robin. They both had sour expressions.
"Max? What happened to her?" you puzzled.
"Vecna almost killed her, but we didn't get to see her yet" Dustin explained.
" Oh my god, will she be okay?" you liked the red haired girl. She had a tough year already and this was just too much.
"We don't know" Robin answered.
"She's a fighter, i'm sure she'll be annoying the shit out of me in no time" Steve offered you a hesitant smile, "and what about Eddie, will he be okay?"
"Hopefully, we just have to wait and see, i guess" you were biting your lip from the stress of all of this and Steve noticed it straight away, wishing he could help calm you down.
"Do you have anything to eat, y/n ? I'm literally starving" Robin sat down on your sofa, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yeah, is frozen pizza okay?"
"Are you kidding me? I would eat even a bread with mold at this point. Pizza is amazing" she exasperated and you chuckled at her.
Steve's heart skipped a beat at the sound of your laughter. He sat down next to Robin with a hiss. His sides still bled a little and they hurt a lot.
You noticed Steve's pained look and concern laced your face. He looked, that he was in discomfort. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but stopped yourself and instead went to put the pizza in the oven.
You slowly washed the blood from your hands in the kitchen sink. Honestly, you needed a breather, all of this was just too much.
You stood with your hands under the running water, your mind was completely elsewhere so you didn't even register Steve coming to stand next to you.
"Hey" he touched your shoulder and you flinched as you didn't expect him to follow you in the kitchen.
He took a quick step back, in the fear that he did something he shouldn't have. He winced again, because of his sudden movement.
"Sorry, didn't see you come in. I was lost in my thoughts" you reassured him.
"What's up with the wincing? Are you hurt, too?" you questioned, trying to find out what was wrong.
"It's nothing" he said, "could we talk?"
"It's not nothing, if you are in pain. Let me have a look at it" you completely ignored his question.
"Seriously, it's alright, i've had worse" he stubbornly said.
"Atleast just let me see it" you wouldn't give up, just as stubborn. He sighed and lifted his shirt up, revealing a soaked with blood bandage, that went across his torso.
"Jesus, Steve! Why haven't you said anything?" you looked at him in disbelieve.
"It's honestly fin-"
"No way, c'mon sit down" you pushed him on the chair, that was next to the dining table and went to get the first aid kit again.
"Uhh can i take the bandage away?"
"S-sure" he stuttured, you were so close to him and yet so far.
You carefully untied it. His bites looked much better than Eddie's.
Steve was looking at you, trying to figure out what to say.
"I have to clean them, so it's gonna hurt" you said as you sprayed an antiseptic spray at the wounds.
"Son of a bit..-"he bit his knuckles, supressing the pain.
"Sorry."
You worked with focus, letting out quiet apologies at Steve's hisses. Steve didn't even care about the pain, he just wanted to talk to you.
You felt Steve's stare at you. I don't even want to talk about the way he was absent-mindlessly rubbing circles on your hip, he kept his hand there to steady you, or so you told yourself.
"I'm done, all okay?" you stood up.
"It's great, thank you, love" he didn't mean for the pet name to slip up, especially not now when you were still angry at him.
"Good" you ignored it and walked to check on the pizza, but Steve's gently wrapped his hand around your wrist.
"I'm sorry y/n, i shouldn't have lied to you" he was trying to catch your gaze.
"Yes, you shouldn't have" you ripped your hand out of his, turned around and walked to the oven. He would have to work for it, if he wanted your forgiveness.
"I deserve this. It wasn't fair of me to lie to you, even if i did it to protect you. I should have been honest with you" you still didn't look at him, " i-i was just so scared, because i don't know what would i do if something had happenned to you. I just couldn't bring myself to tell you, incase you'd get involved and get hurt. I'm so sorry" your anger was slowly going away while he spoke.
"Please, sweetheart. Forgive me" you felt the anger melt away as you heard him sniffle silently.
You softly looked at him and sighed. You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was giving you the puppy eyes, asking you to love him again.
" I understand if you don't want to see me again. Or if-if you need time" he spoke, not giving you the chance to speak, "I'm sorry" he was about to leave, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Steve" you murmured. Steve immediately stopped in his steps and turned toward you.
"What?" he lifted his head up.
"Come here" you said. He cautiously walked up to you, he really did look like some lost puppy.
"I forgive you, but..-"
"You do?!"
"Yes, but if you ever lie to me again, i swear i'm never ever speaking to you. I'll ignore your stupid ass" you warned him.
"Never. Never again, baby. It was stupid enough to do it for the first time, not gonna do it again, i promise" he vowed.
"Good, because it really was silly" you confirmed, suppressing the smile, that was trying to show .
"Yeah" he scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening.
"You still have to make it up to me, handsome. "
"Really? I do?" he teased you and you scowled at him, "just kidding. Anything you want, you got it."
"Anything i want?" he nodded.
"How about a kiss?" you coaxed, sheepishly.
"Thought you would never ask" he smirked and was already leaning down to connect his lips with yours in a sweet sweet kiss.
He cupped your face in his hands, tenderly brushing your cheeks as his lepis moved against yours and you ran your hands through his hair, just the way he loved it.
Neither of you wanted to break the kiss, but eventually the loss of oxygen decided for you.
"Missed you" you mumbled against his lips.
"Missed you more, pretty girl" he started plastering your face in kisses.
"So i've heard. Dustin told me you were miserable without me" so were you.
"It's true"he agreed and didn't stop the kisses. You giggled madly at him.
"Steve..."you said breathlessly and he hummed in question, his lips still not leaving your face.
"I gotta go check on the pizza" you tried to push him away, but he only held you tighter.
"No."
"It's gonna be burned" you laughed.
"Don't care, i missed you too much" he gave you another chaste kiss and you didn't resist. You completely melted at his touch.
"Ahem" Robin fake coughed to get your attention.
"Sorry to interrupt, but Eddie is awake" she chuckled, when she saw your embarrassed expression," and just so you know, there's a smoke coming from the oven."
You looked at the oven in alarm, running to open it and put the fire away. You managed to do that, but the pizza was done for.
"Ughh, we obviously can't eat this. I do have another one, but i think we should just order."
"Yup, don't want the house to burn down, because you two are too busy kissing" Robin rolled her eyes and left to order the pizza.
"I enjoyed burning the pizza very much, we should do it again" Steve winked at you with a big smirk on his face and was already pulling you close to him for another kiss.
"Steve!"
...
...
...
Hey guys, thank you for reading. I hope you liked this. If anybody is interested in being my beta reader for Stranger things fics, dm me please. Also im opened to requests, feel free to request anything.
Have a great day and stay safe everybody. Peace out ☀️
#steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfiction
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TBB S3 Episodes 4+5 thoughts
ngl I had a good bit spoiled for me bc I forgot to block the spoilers tag 🤦🏻♀️
A Different Approach
genuinely so happy that my man is back
his voice is a little weird tho ngl
yk when the ship is sparking like that on the inside, I don't think you should be flying it
I love batcher so much
they are 100% going to be going back for the other prisoners by the end of the season, I'm calling it
not sure if I feel bad for Nala se or not
fuck hemlock fr
yeah what's up with Omega's blood sample
creepy ass city
crosshair is seriously wondering what he's gotten himself into lmaoooo
his voice is back to normal thank god lol
so fucking funny watching this 10yo try and barter with the spaceport person
FIFTEEN THOUSAND?!?!?!
PER TICKET?!?!
omg crosshair is hilarious, he's missed all of Omega's normal hijinks and he's so fucking confused
is that Bossk???
def not bossk
not the troopers
oh fuck
crosshair is freaking out back there
crosshair called Meg's dad count: 1
this captain has me stressing
fuck you
love that crosshair was about to fight a man for her
fuck not batcher
oh just punch the kid already
dad crosshair is so hot oml
babes freeing all the animals will get you caught so fast
just shoot the captain already
that "finally" did things to me 😶🌫️
oh omega you badass
IS THAT A FUCKING SARLACC????
I mean that's one way to deal with the captain but damn
where are they???
WRECKER!!!!!
and hunter.
I really don't like hunter tbh
"never stopped searching" but you were so willing to leave crosshair
ugh the camera angles 😫
The Return
she has Lula!!!
omg pabu is so pretty
genuinely why does crosshair, a clone of a man played by a Māori actor, whiter than I am
OH SHUT THE FUCK UP HUNTER HE HAS TRAUMA, HES HEALING, LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE
ECHO!!!
omg AZI you don't tell him his accuracy was 53% 🤣🤣🤣
does crosshair know tech is gone??
nvm he's gotta know with that reaction after echo mentions him
all of them look so pretty in the sunset
wrecker gave him his armour back 😭😭😭
HE BROUGHT THEM TO THE OUTPOST?!?!
the sound I made at crosshair in his old armour is ungodly
lay off him hunter
did batcher just find maydays body???
batchers efficient I'll give her that
not the helmets 😭😭😭😭
watch as those sensors actually did something other than warn about the raiders
I actually hate hunter
call him out babe
WHAT THE JESUS CHRIST WAS THAT
echo is eldest daughter-ing rn
BATCHER NO STAY INSIDE
can't believe the sensors actually worked
"and I don't even see any blood this time!" true sibling behavior
also the look on Omega's face as he says that 🤣🤣
I love the ice vulture symbolism with crosshair so much
#tbb spoilers#sw tbb spoilers#tbb s3 spoilers#star wars#the bad batch#tbb#sw tbb#the bad batch spoilers
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Hello. I love Conner Kent and have compiled pretty much every time Conner and Tim have had any kind of intimacy since he was brought back to canon.
Let’s go in order!
Young Justice 2019 (not to be confused with the OG)
For the record, this is pre-bisexual-realization Tim. tbh I’ve been thinking about just how bitter Tim sounds here despite still being oblivious to how freaking gay he is. Like, seriously “Whatever dumb thing or person makes him happy makes me happy.” Like, why they gotta be dumb, Timbo? While not anywhere near as weird, it also feels very strong for Tim to say with his whole-ass chest “he’s my best friend and I love him” solely given how recently he recovered those memories. But if they had resolidified into him by that point, it’s not too strange. Stronger things have been said about them and by them.
Conner goes right for Tim. (In fairness, Cassie’s already got him and Bart isn’t in the room yet, but still)
(Also please join me in desperately trying to ignore the Drake outfit for the next few images because Yikes)
Conner was being such a Mom to Bart before this that this just reminds me of when they started Young Justice and he made a comment about how Bart would be a handful for other heroes or parents and Tim just gave him a Look and he was like “Oh, no! I am NOT the mom!” Sure, Jan.
More cute Bart, but it’s just...the thought. Bart knew Tim would want to see pics of Kon punching Luthor in the face and I love that for them.
I couldn’t not include the subsequent hug. THEY’RE SO FRICKIN CUTE.
That’s about it for Young Justice (and thankfully Drake). Next is the Tim Drake Pride Special, most of which is also in Batman: Urban Legends. Though Conner is only in Urban Legends for this one hot sec.
Kon doesn’t end up helping with Bernard because Tim is a stubborn dumbass with a habit for self-sabotage. But he saves the day and gets the boy anyway.
(For the record, I am endgame TimKon 100%, but Tim and Bernard are also very cute together and I’m so excited to see more of them! Honestly, read the new Tim Drake: Robin comics they are so flippin cute and we get to see Bernard being a ridiculous conspiracy theorist like he was on New Earth and it’s actually pretty funny and so cute UGH)
Then this is I think exclusive to the Pride Special, and we are post Bisexual Awakening.
So many people loved this page. Including me. But this part of the special was more about getting Tim to talk to Stephanie again. Because he’s an awkward loser who is trying to find himself and will occasionally just distance himself from people to do so. Despite generally being self aware and knowing better.
Anywho, the following is from Dark Crisis: Young Justice. Which isn’t too bad, but sometimes feels a bit wonky, especially with the girls. But it’s not totally out of character, especially given the Fresh Trauma, and it gets in the boys’ heads. And there’s...A Lot.
This is...well, these are Cassie’s thoughts. The plot hole made here, “Conner never find[ing] out” which shouldn’t be true because both Cassie AND Tim told him about this, is hand waved later because the whole thing with Rebirth is everyone’s memories are Fucked. I mean, Kon and Bart should have not been included in that because they were “off-world” when the N52 reboot happened which is the explanation for the 90s/2000s versions to come back basically as they had been, but y’know. Comics.
But anyway, this is bringing up, in case you live under a rock and were unaware, the time when Kon died and Cassie and Tim started dating for a hot second almost entirely because of their shared grief over Kon. Cassie had literally been in a Superboy cult and Tim was in the desperate process of trying to clone him.
You know. Fun times.
Dark Crisis actually has a lot of Kon@Tim stuff. I mean, plenty of the mutual affection still, but Kon is very focused on Tim, whereas Tim is trying to be more logical and, funny enough, listening to Bart.
Everyone forgets Bart is Super Smart, in part because he’s actually naturally clever but has a goober personality, but also because part of his trauma response to getting his kneecap blow off and having to have surgery done with little to no anesthetic because his metabolism burned that shit right out, he literally consumed an entire library. Like, read every single book there at super speed. Boy Knows Things. Plus he’s experienced to much more trauma since then, he’s become a quick thinker (pun always intended).
But you’re not here for my Bartholomew Is Great lecture, you’re here for TimKon!
Coffee Boy Confirmed
Oh, Tim...
All three of them go flying out of a car and Kon grabs Tim, but fuck Bart I guess? Bart brings this up later but it’s still frustrating. Sure, Tim and Kon are besties, but they love Bart. He’s not a third wheel in their friendship. He’s part of it. Just...sigh.
I love “You know I can run, right?” This is just a little glimpse into while Kon’s brain seems almost exclusively reserved for self pity and Tim, and Tim is still very much more focused on Conner, Tim is still paying attention to Bart (even if he doesn’t feel like it). Tim didn’t need to grab Bart at all, but why not?
Again, Kon brushing Bart off entirely, and Tim acknowledging Bart’s point but still showing preference to Kon.
Tim is So Done with these two and it’s so funny.
Also want to note, “process this with Babs later”. Is Babs acting as his therapist? I think she has the training, or at least a degree in psychology? That would actually be kinda sweet.
This seems so much more “ow my heart” out of context...the context is, Kon is being a dick to Bart. Tim ultimately disagrees with Conner, but not enough for Bart to not storm off, as seen below.
For the record, that’s not Cassie. Which is pretty obvious from the jump. But even here...yikes.
This stunned look (which is oddly glassy-eyed and unnerving tbh...) is in direct contrast to his calm understanding when Cassie actually told him, and then when Tim tried to talk to him about it. He was initially like “that’s kinda fucked up, but I get it and I forgive you”. Which...honestly sounds super big and sweet, but he also had pretty much the same reaction to “I was in a Superboy revival cult” and “I tried to clone you 90+ times and considered tossing you in a Lazarus Pit” so...
What I’m saying is Kon, in true Kent fashion, is a himbo.
But this could set off so many trains of thought here. Cassie told him it was out of grief that she did it--Tim never gets to explain his side. But what if it was a grief reaction for Tim? (It was.) Does that mean he was projecting his feelings for Conner onto Cassie? (Probably.) Tim knows he likes boys now, does that mean he liked Conner? (Likely.) Either way, what does Kon do with this?
Okay, this isn’t TimKon, but these boys are so fucking funny. Have I mentioned that I love Tim Drake? Because I love him. (Also reminds me of the time when Bart’s head was fucked up and he thought he was Batman...look, the 90s were weird, okay?)
They just had a fight and Tim’s first move is to stabilize and comfort Conner. Just....aaaaaaaaaaaa
And then we get to the fourth issue...which is probably my favorite because we’re finally in Conner’s head! We’ve been bopping between Bart and Tim until now (and also Cassie and Cissie elsewhere), but nearly this whole comic is Kon’s POV and it’s both hilarious and a little heartbreaking. I...I love him. He is my Favorite.
So, they’re being attacked by a whole fake Justice League and Titans (I see Roy and Kory and Kyle and Donna and--) and Big Bad is fucking with the sound waves. Until Conner is like, “Okay, but what if we didn’t?”
He’s the one who’s been trying to convince the other two that this fake world is okay, that it’s better and they should stay, despite things being noticeably Off, and despite the distinct lack of Jon, Damian, and Wallace. (As far as I know, Bart doesn’t know Wallace too well, but Kon and Jon at least met and got on okay, and Tim and Damian are...well, they’re at a point in their relationship of begrudging respect and affectionate verbal violence rather than, y’know, actual violence). Bart wants to GTFO, and Tim was wishy-washy at first, but at this point is firmly with Bart and wants out. I mean, he started getting Bad Vibes when Fake Batman said him wanting to date Bernard over Stephanie was “just a phase”. I didn’t include that image despite loving it, but Tim’s internal thoughts are, verbatim, “@#$&#&* what?” which can, I would guess, be translated to, “Fucking what?” Tim is very curse-y in this series.
But I’m getting sidetracked. Kon wants to stay, the others want out, and Kon throws a bitch fit.
“The man was too stunned to speak”
Poor Bart, figuratively and literally carrying this fucking team.
Here we go.
Hey. Hey, Conner. Buddy. What the fuck does that mean, man?
I cannot begin to tell you the number of ways this page hurts me. Just...all three of them are so fed up with everything and aaaaaaaaa
And then Bart rightfully goes off.
Like, that’s not quite true, but it sure do be feeling that way right now. And while even in this post I’ve shown just how much both of them can care and pay attention to Bart, they have always been more focused on each other. At first it was because Tim was secretive and Kon thought he had a stick up his ass meanwhile Conner was new to the world and being actively manipulated by people. And then it’s because they’re best friends. Like, heterosexual life partners levels of best friends. Platonic (or not-so-platonic) soulmates levels of best friends. They both consider Bart their best friend too, but they hold each other above pretty much everyone else. Which, after they’ve all lost some footholds in reality with their seniors missing, those small slights feel more pointed and are getting to Bart a lot more. He’s hurting and Tim’s the only one listening, but Tim is favoring Kon and it’s driving him up the wall. All that frustration and resentment come to a head. Hopefully to be resolved.
I’ve made this a Young Justice Boys post instead of just a TimKon post, but I regret nothing!
For the sake of my image limit I haven’t given everything I love about this issue, but even if you don’t read the rest (which is fair, it gives some people Bad Vibes at the start) please read this issue. Conner’s inner monologue is so stupid and so funny and I love him so much.
But anywhozits, proceeding!
I want it noted that Bart was attacked right before this and is held on the ground but Conner immediately goes for Tim. Unbelievable.
(I refuse to crop out Bart when he’s funny)
I’m, uh, not a fan of Superboy’s face here, but y’know, more him focused on Tim. While Bart is in a similar predicament.
He finally mentions Bart...after he seems to have nearly been able to save himself.
(Yes, the bad guy’s name is Mickey. Yes it’s awful, but that’s the point. I think.)
Now, here’s a big point for me, so I’m breaking down the page.
Mickey-boy conjures up images of new and revised characters (ex. Jon Kent and Harley Quinn) and Tim sees
And the next panel?
He sees Tim looking at the image of his boyfriend...and he changes his tune.
And they they all go off on a speech that’s touching in context but incredibly cheesey out of it. Also a bit obnoxiously meta, but so is this whole storyline.
“What are you gonna do about it, Conner Kent?” I don’t know why that gets me so much but it does.
That’s all for now. Last DCYJ comes out November 15 and I’ll probably edit this post at that point to add what’s in there but I’m impatient and made this whole thing and I need people to love and appreciate these boys.
#DC Comics#Tim Drake#Conner Kent#Kon-El#Bart Allen#Robin#Red Robin#Superboy#Impulse#Cassie Sandsmark#Wonder Girl#Young Justice#Dark Crisis: Young Justice#Tim Drake Pride Special#Batman: Urban Legends#TimKon#Bernard Dowd#I have done many words about my beloved boys#it's About Damn Time I made a Tim longpost#I'm sorry Tim you're still my favorite Robin but Jason has shittier comics
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long rambling rant about AHS delicate below the cut (contains spoilers!!)
listen, I had my qualms with this show from the get-go because it was filmed during the strike, and the circumstances surrounding said filming (after speaking with someone who shall remain nameless) were beyond shitty. but, not wanting to be a groundless naysayer, I gave it a good college try anyway. I went in with as little bias as I possibly could, truly.
Overall, the season felt very disjointed and haphazard for me. while it didn't lack the classic AHS stylization, the plotline didn't feel like a season of AHS at all. I'm not sure what it felt like, but it wasn't the show I know and love. albeit, i'm not a fan of pregnancy storylines and this was entirely that, at its core and even during its reveal, but i gave it a shot anyway, for the sake of it being AHS. I'm not sure why or what motivated RM to go with a story based off Delicate Condition, like what was the driving force where he read it and went NEEDS TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH AMERICAN HORROR STORY STAT???? don't understand that all. i guess it stays true to his recent obsession with focusing on real issues as opposed to ghosts and ghouls and fun shit, but I digress.
the lesser, supporting roles were all played wonderfully. everyone who was a 'background' character for lack of a better term did a great job. which usually isn't how it goes for AHS.... everyone does a great job and it's this amazing cohesive success, regardless of if you have a starring or a supporting role. didn't feel that way with Delicate. also having absolute monster talented actors like Billie Lourd and Leslie Grossman but making them some superficial PR specialists? weird. weird choices all around.
Emma Roberts didn't exactly shine in this role, but she wasn't playing the stereotypical bitchy girl that she usually plays so I can at least give her that?? i guess?? kudos for uhhh brancing out or something? it was a very lacklustre performance, in my opinion. as are most of her performances, but that's a conversation for a different day. i'll say that it was the most.... *grits teeth* invested I've been in her. all her other characters are just preppy bitches. anna at least had some emotional substance.
Kim K was.... well, not great, but she was better than I thought she'd be. I'll say that. I'm not convinced that she wasn't just being herself.... but yknow. she knows how to "play" a mean, scary upper elite type bitch in charge kind of role, I guess. sounds like I'm just describing her... well, anyway.
the finale felt extremely rushed. I felt like none of anna's hallucinations were explained, what was real, what wasn't real. what were they?? the sisterhood of what? why were they still alive after decades and centuries?? what was the baby? what was the fucking spider thing about??? why were spiders so prevalent in the promo stuff? and the - ugh lord have mercy, the "battle", if you can call it that?? a simple chant being what defeated Siobhan?? c'mon, be so for real with that. that was like they had NO idea what they were doing and they just decided last minute to be like "a magical whispered spell hooray!! the evil is defeated!!!" afjhdeskjsd. what.
is it worth a watch...??? uhhhhhhh I guess so?? if you're a completionist and wanna try? I truly don't know how to answer that man. like if this was my first introduction to AHS I probably wouldn't watch another episode of any season.
anyway, tldr AHS: Delicate was very weird and I rate it like a 3/10. Maybe 4 because of the supporting roles being acted well. I don’t know man.
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Thunder review time I guess??
I'm gonna be real I don't have much to say about Sunbeam or Nightheart this is gonna be 90% rambling about Frostpaw
SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT
Sunbeam
- I like her trials, especially the one about training the kittens hehehe.
- I like her bonding with Nightheart's family and learning to find a place in ThunderClan even when he isn't there!! I think it's a really important aspect of switching clans actually. The cats should be able to be comfortable and happy with their clan even without their mate by their side.
- She really gets some good girlboss moments in!!!!!!! You GO Sunbeam yell at Cherryfall!! Publicly shame Berryheart several times in a row!!!!!!!!
- God is it just me or does she have SO much chemistry with Myrtlebloom
Nightheart
- Him and Frostpaw bonding is quite sweet :)
- Love him nearly drowning in a covered pool and it sounding all scary and dramatic and then we switch to Frostpaw's perspective and she's just like 'that idiot nearly drowned in a tiny little pond the other day ugh 🙄🙄'
- Literally WHY did he just run away without telling anyone at all that's so funny and why does NO ONE even bat an eye LMAO?? Poor Sunbeam
-Idk man he's just kinda there
FROSTPAW
- GIRLIE!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! POOR BABY!!!
- Shoutout to Frostpaw the first warrior cat to be canonically spayed!!!! That's so funny I love how Smokey is just like 'yeah that happens lmao' and her and Whistlepaw are just like 'huh. okay then'. Anyway from now on I'm drawing her with a nicked ear like they do to cats in TNR programs
- Speaking of Whistlepaw. THEY'RE SO SWEET! AND GAY!!!
- Girlie is a mess she's so traumatized literally just nearly got murdered and she fucking SNAPS at StarClan when they refuse to tell her shit. AS SHE SHOULD!! SHE DESERVES TO!!!! RIVERSTAR IS FUCKED UP FOR DOING THIS TO HER, ACTUALLY.
- OTTERS!!!!!!!! About time they got mentioned again, the last time was like literally TNP I think. It was implied otters lived at the lake but now Frostpaw confirms they don't anymore (but the elders definitely know about them). When are we getting the Minnowtail's Genocide novella where she plans the mission to drive the otters out of the lake and then marries Mousewhisker huh warrior cats??????
- Why was Frostpaw more traumatized by climbing a tree than she was by literally being chased by a dog. DGMW it's a good scene, I'm INCREDIBLY glad her PTSD was mentioned in the first place, but I feel like it's kinda weird for her to struggle with the tree when one day earlier she encountered a dog and just sort of... hissed at it a bit and then moved on.
- The park cats have canonically survived for longer than the clans and I am so sorry but that's BS. You're telling me no one in the past like 100 years killed these cats or TNRed them??? How many parks have they been through at this point??
- Frostpaw learning to meditate is so good though actually. Especially when she realises how fucked up the clan system is. If she doesn't fuck up Splashtail and then fuck up StarClan and fix the entire clan system in the next two books I'm gonna riot.
- I adore that she's FAR more distraught about Curlfeather being evil than she is about Splashtail. Like yeah! That's her mother!! That would fuck her up, Actually!! It's refreshing for a character to have familial relationships that are more important than their romantic ones.
- Frostpaw also feels like such a genuinely realistic victim. When she admits that she feels like it was her fault Splashtail was able to manipulate her because she was so naive? And then the park cats all cuddle her and tell her that it wasn't her fault and that HE'S the fucked up one? That scene actually made me cry a bit ngl.
- Hehe Frostpaw meditates now she's a true hippy stoner.
General
- WHY DID THEY PULL A RISING STORM ON US. FROSTPAW JUST STAND UP AND SHOUT AT EVERYONE. ITS NOT TOO LATE. ARGHGDHDHDJDHSJDJHS (I understand she's going through a lot and is very panicked but come ON)
- I like the more personal vibe of this book- the conflict is largely internal, with her realising in her own time that Splashtail was evil. It's not the big dramatic scene I was hoping for- but at the same time it's kind of... Nice? I think it's cool. And I'm sure there will be more drama left to come!
- My prediction for the next two books is that she gets rid of Splashtail and then spends the remainder of the arc yelling at StarClan and fixing the clans. Ideally then I think we should have a soft reboot and jump forward in time, the clans are all operating under new rules, none of the cats are the same, etc. But that's not terribly likely to happen.
- YEAH DOVEWING YOU YELL AT IVYPOOL!! Ivypool deserves it honestly. Dovewing took none of her shit and that's beautiful.
- SQUIRRELSTAR!!!! I wasn't initially too jazzed about this, and I still have my grievances, but I think this is the right time for her to become leader. Go girl give us conflict!! Give us drama!!!!!!!!
- Riverstar is a dick lol??????
#asc#warrior cats#a starless clan#frostpaw#nightheart#sunbeam#asc thunder#i meant to post this like a week ago oops
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MESSY. Leon X reader fanfiction.
TW - Noncon, kidnapping, knife play, murder.
About -
You go to the bar alone, Leon's your overprotective boyfriend. Unfortunately you end up with a mouth full of cock from four strangers so Leon has to step in.
You were always a girl who turned heads, whenever you stepped into a room. But that was just along with the perk of having an agent boyfriend, lucky lucky girl. Stunning body, cute face, great personality. And the perfect partner to go with it, man you had it ALL, money, some sort of fame, and love. Only down side was that Leon never and I mean NEVER let you go places alone, geez dude I'm a grown woman and I can't even drive myself to the club? But his protective behavior was kind of cute so I always just let it slide, didn't matter just meant I could show off to all those creeps I'm taken. Which seemed to happen a lot, Leon sits in the back of the bar, I'm up at the front just trying to make talk with my girls until a fat bald man starts trying to flirt with me, they all looked the same. Middle aged unfit unkempt gross probably married men hitting on a girl half his age, honestly it was more pathetic then anything. Plus nothing interesting ever happened, Leon would come up behind me give me a kiss on my neck and give the creep a look and they would leave. Ugh same old story each time, honestly it was getting BORING I love drama and this shit just happens, feels like they don't even want me if they're gonna give up THAT easily..
But that's all besides the point, men in bars are gross creepy pedos, not that I was underage but it just feels creepy when a 50 year old is trying to fuck a 21 year old? Y'know? Just gives me the ick, but this all kinda seemed to fucken change one day. " Leon pleasee- just let me go- no com'on I'll be good- no seriously I can handle myself." I begged Leon to just let me get wasted at my favorite bar alone, I don't know what I'm even thinking honestly I'm just bored and don't want him to be around, don't get me wrong I love love LOVE Leon just sometimes a girls GOTTA be alone? "Hun- no. Ah don't look at me like that- okay- yeah, mhm. Sure. Fine, just- be back soon? Mhm?" He finally says those heavenly words "Sure" it was like a choir of angels started fucking singing, god touched you, the most wonderful word ever fuckin created. A dream that finally came true "AHH THANK YOU !!" I scream out in excitement hugging him tightly, Leon's like 5'11. I'm 5'2, so it's a bit awkward trying to hug him but we make it work? Kinda? Either way it doesn't matter I get to go out alone today!! I put on just a basic outfit, didn't really feel like I was in the mood to get harassed, just a simple black oversized hoodie, obviously from Leon, duh. And a white skirt you could barely see from underneath, giving myself a pat on the back got that one, it was cute, and comfy.
I get into my Tesla, Leon FINALLY bought it, well for himself more but the details don't matter, all that does is I'm driving ALONE. Feeling like a kid on Christmas morning when they see those dinky presents left by "Santa", god the adrenaline.
Carefully pulling out of the driveway and to my favorite place 'jédem lè démen' sounds dumb as fuck but they served cheap shots and played decent music, all that really matters in a drinking place. But damn it was a far drive, almost 40 minutes just to get to one shitty place. But normally it was always worth the time it took, I mean at least I don't have to listen to Leon or anyone else talk, just put on the radio and listen to Brittany Speers what else could a girl want?
"FINALLY" after what felt like YEARS I finally made it, the dim lights , flashing open sign. And random homeless man OD'ing in the corner, a girls dream place. Walking up to open the stained door, the yellowish light now beaming over you feels just like home walking up to sit at the BEST place, also known as the place no one sits cause it's weird. Dead in the center at the bar, there was normally at least a 3 chair gap between you, as it should be honestly. I don't want a greasy old geezer to be rubbing up against me, makes me wanna vomit. "Can I get a bloody Marry?" I ask the bar tender, the place seemed pretty empty only a few people in booths jeez it was like someone told everyone 'AGENT LEON KENNEDYS FUTURE WIFE WILL BE COMING TO THIS SHITHOLE, UNLESS YOU WANT YOUR TEETH KICKED IN DONT COME' I mean not that Leon would actually ever hurt someone, he was a dick but not evil? "Here, $3.23." the bartender handed me, ah yes the holy grail of drinks, cheap ass medicore alcohol. "Hey there cutely" EW, what? I feel a hot breath on my neck, turning my head slightly and looking at the werido, yeah pretty much what I expect, oily gross middle aged men. Hitting on ME. Really thought this wouldn't happen this time but here we are, "I'm not interested sorry" I say passive aggressively, ugh all I want is ONE night in peace. The ugly pig doesn't leave after that though, "awe com'on sweet heart? I could make you feel real good hunny " he says getting a little close to comfort, I grit my teeth. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? "I have a boyfriend, go get your dick wet somewhere else" Yeesh that could've gotten me killed but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do-? After all that I feel like it's over, I mean no one in the bar noticed what was going on so-? "Whatever" he says walking away, just as I thought, man it's a miracle at this point. I get back to drinking away that scenario for another 40 or so minutes, damn it's late I gotta get goin before Leon starts spam callin me..
I pay my tab and walk out, the cold air hitting my face, it was winter but I wasn't exactly dressed for that. The flickering light from the post, cool breeze running down my legs, cold as fuck, just my luck it seems. Out the corner of my eye I see the pig, not really suspicious I mean a lot of people were calling it a night who was I to judge Mr pedo for going to bed at midnight? "Awe bunny you're already going?" The man says, I can see him walking towards me, it looked like he had a few of his other ugly friends with him. They made a fucken club it seems, loser incel annonams.
"I already said I'm not interested" I say trying to plator on a fake ass smile looking over at the virgin corner. "Well you see short stuff, I don't fucken care? Y'know, so how about we make this nice and easy, me and my guys take you back to my place. No pain, just get in our car and we'll give you the night of your life and tomorrow morning you can go run to your little boyfriends, hm?" He says grinning, walking closer towards me, ew. "In your fucking dream." I say walking away, they didn't have to balls to actually grab me, right? I start walking towards MY car, honestly as fast as I can without running. Till I feel a hand grab my wrist, "mmmm, now what did I say? You're either leaving here was us willingly or we'll have to use some extra measures" one the guys says, a shiver goes up my arm, as I try to pull away. "I don't care just let me go- please - no I don't want to go with you, fuck LET ME GO-" I blabber out as the put my arms behind my back, before putting a ball gag in my mouth and dragging me to their car, shoving me in the trunk. They duck tape my arms and legs together, damn strong fucking adhesive for some spur of the moment kidnaping, I'm kicking and screaming trying to get out, it's crammed, there's a pipe and some pliars behind me, the fuck are they gonna do with a metal pipe? That's so random.
They drove for awhile, I'm not the strongest but I managed to get to tape off my wrists, tears rolling down my face, I didn't have my phone with me I left it in the car. Fucking idiot you are, after a while the car finally stopped. You heard the doors open, as they busted open the truck, you saw the entrance to a beaten down house. Overgrown plants and moldy looking wood, just your luck, poor creeps had to kidnap and rape you. Lucky fucking girl, they grab me out, putting a knife to my throat genstering for me to get walkin inside, I don't have much of a choice given at any second my throat could be slit so I just do what they say. Leon's otta find me, right? He always told me if god forbid I ever got in scenario where I was taken without him to just do what they said and pay attention to every detail, he always talked to me like a dog. they shove me Into the house, locking the door and one of the men grabbed me and held me from my back. Preventing my arms from moving, "such a cute fucking girl, what's your name love?" The virgin leader says to me, grabbing my chin "none of your fucking business." I say trying to pull my face away, there were 4 people, well less people more dogs. Animals. disgusting little things, he slaps my face, hard. I flinch a little, tears falling from my eyes, one of the other men taking a knife cutting my shirt off, my tits popping out. They start roughing me up, the man from behind starts moving his hand towards my cunt, goin real slow, "please - no - STOP" I shout squirming away, trying to push my arms out of the position they were in, they throw me onto my stomage, hitting the floor, my legs are still tied as I can't move, I hear them unzip their pants, Jesus this is actually happening, this is happening and I can't do anything. "Fuck man, we got so lucky. A nice little Whore all to ourselves." One man says, ripping off my pretty little white skirt, leaving me in my panties and lacy white bra, I feel a pressure be put on my back so I can't move, then a little poke, like a needle "what- ah- what the fuck is that -??" I frantically spit out before feeling my body get heavy, "a little relaxer, can't have you runnin on us?" Leader guy says, flipping me to my back, showing my laced white panties with a bow, cute little lacy white matching bra, almost as if you were dressed an angel, cute isn't it. You couldn't move, felt like dead weight but you were conscience the man from before cuts off your Bra, dragging the knife over your stomage, pushing just hard enough to draw a little bit of blood, you wanna scream but you can't. They untie your legs, the leader man pulls out his hard on, blood running down your stomage the man with a knife cuts off your pretty panties, each man spits on your pussy. Before leader virgin rams into you, hard, rough. I can't scream, just watch and cry, my voice feels to weak, just a silent cry, as the knife man continues cutting me with shallow strikes, the others sit on the couch and jack off to me, the first man finishes inside me, before spreading my legs farther and hitting my swollen pussy, like a fucking pig. Blood dripping from my chest and arms, cum falling out my cunt, I don't remember anything else, just pain. I started to fade out of reality once they brought the pipe out.
I woke up the next day dumped infront of the bar from last night, I remembered everything but at the same time fuck all?
I see the still fresh cuts over my body, they put a white t shirt over me, didn't bother giving me new panties it seems. I shakily walk towards my car, surprisingly it's still there. The bar Is closed, and the sun is rising. A part of me felt like I should go to the police but something was telling me to just drive to Leon. He was safer.
After a horrible 45 minute drive, of me crying my eyes out and whining. I get to our home, parking the car and shakily walking inside where I see Leon sitting on the couch drinking.. tea? What the fuck is going on, "you're finally home." He says in a stern voice before glancing over at me, it takes him a few seconds to process what he's seeing, face going from slightly irratied to shock. Blood stained shirt, and bruises EVERWHERE, "l-leon.." I say in my still shaky voice before stumbling towards him falling into his chest tears staining his black shirt, "what the fuck happened? Who did this? What??" He says holding me, "these ... Guys grabbed me, mm." I quitely say into his chest, grabbing at his shoulders. A complete personality shift when your scared with Leon, you could feel him let go of you. "Did they take you somewhere?" He asks pulling me away from his tits, "yeah" I mumble quitely, "where?" He asks still looking down at me. "630 Connie street W. Moldy house with overgrown plants- I paid attention to the setting like you told me" you say slightly smiling, face still tear stained but hey you were kinda proud of yourself.
"Go a shower, I'll be back later. I know it's scary, but trust me." He says placing me on the cushion next to him, before standing up, giving me a kiss on the head and walking out. Getting into the car and driving off, the fuck was he gonna do? Surely couldn't be that bad but really what was he thinking? You watch him drive off and he wasnt back for another 4 hours.
In that time I already showered, got new clothes, and by that I mean putting another one of Leon's shirts on and a pair of shorts. I was sitting on the couch watching true crime, when the door opens and I see Leon, holding four guys who looked bloody "these the guys?" He says looking towards me. My face drops, "yeah-?" I say after a few seconds, looking at Leon manhandling these massive guys. Jesus Christ, it was a sight to see, he shoots them in the head, one at a time. Then grabs their lifeless corpse and throwing them in his trunk. Driving for another hour and coming back.
When he came back he had a little heart cake a my melody plushie.
"I love you" he says handing you the items hugging you. "Love you too"
#leon kennedy#leon resident evil#re4 remake#leon kennedy smut#dom leon kennedy#resident evil 4 2005#resident evil#rapetoy#rapekink#fanfic#leon kenendy and reader#leon kennedy drabble#leon kennedy re4#leon kennedy resident evil#gangrape#knifeplay#knife k!nk#blood#girlblogging
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Say What?
LukeJamie confession fic (Luke Ver.)
[Also posted on AO3 and my Twitter as a thread fic]
This fic has two different outcomes. This is if Luke wins the fight.
Thank you to my friend @miss-evening for being my beta-reader. You're a lifesaver.
Okay, let's get to the fic.
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It's after hours at the Buckler training center. Two men are fighting, each throwing punches and kicks as if their lives depend on it.
All over a simple wager.
"The loser has to do whatever the winner wants."
It's childish, really, but too tempting to pass up.
It's a chance.
Luke gets a sturdy hold on Jamie's shirt, and rushes forward, pushing and pinning him to the floor. The drunken boxer struggles against him, but the combined weight of Luke's grip and fatigue from a long fight drains the energy out of him. Eventually, he stops. He can't win this now. Only the sound of them panting remains. Jamie is ruined under him, face red and hair loose from its braid. He didn't drink at all throughout the match, which was strange. Usually when they brawl, there would be at least one or two sips from his gourd.
"Ugh, you're too fuckin' big, man. Are your arms packed with bricks or something? Shit...," the yellow clad fighter grumbles. Luke releases him and stands up. He offers him a hand, and unsurprisingly, Jamie refuses it, getting up on his own. He sweeps back his long, black hair and looks for where his hair band has gone off to, then goes over to pick it up.
"Don't be a sore loser. Are you gonna back out of the deal too?" Luke crosses his arms, waiting for his rival to collect himself. Jamie rolls his eyes.
"The great Jamie Siu doesn't go back on his words. I'm the one who suggested it anyway," he says as he ties his hair back in a loose ponytail. He's too tired for a braid right now. "So what do you want? Food?"
Jamie turns to face him, but Luke doesn't meet his gaze. He seems to be deep in thought, though he's staring at his opponent.
Does he have a giant bruise on his face or something? Why is he staring?
"Hello? Did I hit ya on the head too hard? Pick something already." He's getting impatient. First his plan got ruined, and now he's being tortured by his opponent's indecisiveness. It's pretty odd, since Luke is always so straightforward. He must be thinking real hard on how he could humiliate him.
"I want you...to repeat what I say," Luke finally answers after another minute of contemplation. Jamie raises an eyebrow at him.
"That's it?" He puts a hand on his hip. Honestly, he's a little disappointed. A chance to make him do whatever he wants and the guy chooses to play Simon Says. But that's fine. He'll let it pass, just this once.
"Whenever you're ready, big guy."
Luke takes a deep breath to bolster himself. He keeps eye contact with Jamie as he begins.
"I."
"I," Jamie says after him. Weird start. Maybe he's making him say a humiliating line or something.
"...love." Luke steps closer. There's a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.
"L-love?" Jamie stutters, face turning red as well. He's taken aback by Luke approaching him. No way. No fucking way.
Luke stops. They're standing chest-to-chest now. Jamie is looking up at him with wide eyes.
"..."
The training center is silent. Luke can feel the heat radiating from Jamie's tan skin. Jamie's top is open, showing off the expanse of his smooth chest. Luke sometimes wonders how he doesn't have any scars, even though he seems to get into as many fights as he does.
"You," he finishes, nearly whispering. Both of them are flushed all the way down to their necks. Blue eyes look pleadingly to his object of affection. He's done it. He has confessed.
Now he can only hope that Jamie will accept it.
Fuck, why the hell did he think this was a good idea? Maybe he can laugh it off and say it's a prank. Jamie would understand, right?
"You."
Luke's eyes fall shut. Hearing Jamie say those three words makes him so happy, but knowing that they're probably not true just turns the happiness into a heavy weight that gnaws at him from inside.
He senses Jamie grabbing him by the collar and yanking him down.
Luke braces for impact.
And feels Jamie's lips press against his own.
His eyes fly open in surprise, but closes again as he melts into it. Luke pulls Jamie in, one hand finding his lower back and the other coming up to cradle his face. It began sweet, but a swipe of Jamie's tongue on his lips startles him into breaking the kiss.
"You better not be messing with me, Sullivan, or it's gonna be my fist meeting your face," Jamie growls, sharp eyes burning with passion. Luke feels like his heart can blast off straight into space. He couldn't stop the smile from blooming even if he tried.
"Nah. You of all people should know I don't lie." He gives Jamie a peck on the cheek. He's full on hugging him now, and Jamie is hugging him back! He kisses him again, and again, and again-
"Ookay, that's enough. Leave some for later too, dumbass." Jamie's palm blocks his advances. He looks away from Luke, but his cheeks are flaming red.
"Aww, is the great Jamie Siu defeated by a couple kisses?" Luke coos. Guess he got a little too eager there.
"No, 'cus if you don't stop, I might just fuck you right here." Jamie grins, glancing back at him. Luke sputters in indignation.
"Jamie!" His hold loosens just enough for his rival (or lover? Are they lovers now?) to wriggle out.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he laughs, "I rather do it on a bed." He starts walking towards the door. Where does this guy think he's going?!
"Why you-" Luke catches up to Jamie and scoops him up from behind, holding him in a princess carry, earning a squawk of surprise and a hit on the chest.
"Just for that, I'm taking you back to my place. Better be prepared to get stuck in bed all day tomorrow," he huffs. Call him brash or whatever, but if Jamie wants to tease him like this, he'll do it right back. He's not afraid!
"Cocky much? Don't disappoint me." Jamie drags the tip of his index finger under Luke's chin, like he's caressing an animal. Luke shivers and his smile widens.
"You can bet on it."
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thank you so much for your reply <3 i think grief is a good word to describe what i'm feeling. it might sound silly to some but the book has been one of my favourites since 2019 and the 'what could have been?' aspect of the movie's promotion devastates me bc the crew and the fans deserved more. i think im also a bit terrified of ppl moving on from rwrb to nick's other projects meanwhile i can't (and don't want to) do it, ugh it's just a mess of weird feelings and sadness and longing for something we've never had. not to mention how some people already talk about his new projects being upgrades from rwrb. that hurts me on so many levels bc henry is a complex and beautiful character, rwrb is a wonderful story and i genuinely think that even with all the changes they created something amazing.
Glad I could help <3
It's not silly at all. I'm in a similar position: if you've followed my blog you might have seen this but long story short my irl life is a bit fucked up and I was really, really depressed. (still kinda am) July and August, waiting and watching RWRB release became the happiest I've been since January 2022, and in the following months RWRB and the fandom (well, and my sister) nearly became my sole reason for hanging on. So trust me when I say I get the feeling.
I understand your fear, and I'd be lying if I say I wasn't afraid that the rwrb tag will be full of George instead of Alex and Henry, but please remember that liking something new doesn't necessarily always lead to leaving the previous fandom: I know for a fact that me and a couple of my mutuals are going do both. We're gonna be happy to watch M&G (personally not interested in the idea of you but the same applies) but we're still going to make RWRB content. M&G will be a great show but it won't have nearly the same emotional weight to me as RWRB. It's been five months, so those of us who hang around and are active are active for a good reason.
As for the comments about "upgrade", that's ridiculous and a very surface-level assessment. One of my best friends is studying to become an actress and we talk about acting often. Here's the thing: there isn't a thing called "easy" acting. Every genre of acting has its own challenges: for comedy many times you need to sacrifice your personal dignity; Sci-fi blockbusters you need to interact with nothing and make it look believable; even for things like kid shows you need to be hyperactive so the kids can focus and find it entertaining, which can be so draining. M&G is a historical thriller, TIOY is a romance, and RWRB is a rom-com. These are three different film genres, and each set out to achieve different things. For example in terms of relationships: TIOY needs to make the romance believable, RWRB needs to make the romance believe, funny, and be a fair representation of a queer relationship, and for M&G if history serves there's no "true love" relationship at all. You're right: Henry's a complex and beautiful character, and Nick clearly put all his heart into him. But you cannot take Henry's layers of grief, love, fear, and self-esteem, and say it is lesser than Geroge's cold ambition. Funnily enough, while Henry is so careful with his power as the prince, George rose to the same if not a higher level of power and abused it so badly, that it caused his assassination and downfall. A well-written character is ultimately, a human being, and there isn't truly a human being who's "easy to be". So don't listen to those haters.
I'm all ears if you still want to talk <3
#anon ask#answered#red white and royal blue#rwrb#rwrb movie#nicholas galitzine#mary and george#george villiers
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Running a bit late on the last chapters for this week, but that was expected. Let's finish up Volume 2!
Archive
Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10
Trigun Volume 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 1 Supplemental Research, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8
TriMax Volume 1: Covers + 1-2, 2 DT, 3-4, 3 DT, 5-6
TriMax Volume 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5
Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 2, Chapters 6-7 below.
Chapter 6: Home Sweet Home
Is this Wolfwood or Midvalley? Someone else? I'm thinking Wolfwood 'cause the hair and the build look more WW, but the white suit makes me think Midvalley. Whoever he is, he looks so smol in the closeup of his crying face.
Scruffy hair plus cut to WW reinforces WW belief.
I like how a chunk of Nightow's aesthetic for civilization is, "What if small, mundane thing, but the size of a house?" Also, tiny Vash!
Drowning in sand sounds... unpleasant.
Hahahahaha, Wolfwood's love language is punching.
It's very trusting of Vash to take "I Know Too Much About Knives And Won't Tell You Why" Wolfwood to a place he'd dare call home.
Here's Wolfwood tactfully pointing out the differences between the two of them instead of throwing it in Vash's face that Vash isn't human.
Ugh, Vash is so worried about this place....
But it's ok. There's not so much to worry about, after all.
Gosh, the contrast between these two panels, one before he knows what's happened, and one when he realizes that, for now, everything's ok.
WELL NEVERMIND THEN. A THOUSAND YEARS TRAUMA FOR EVERYONE.
Fuck this guy.
Chapter 7: Darkness
I'm just gonna make a small note here that, on the title page, the shot of Vash from a lower angle behind him makes it so his hair looks almost completely black.
Wolfwood <3
I know enough to understand why Puppetmaster's saying Wolfwood's method's twisted, but... I also know enough about Wolfwood to know it's not nearly that simple.
Oh, no.... Not Unica.... /s :|
Welp. Definitely reading a seinen. They wouldn't get away with that kind of anatomy in a shonen.
Nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope
This Vash is pretty much bristling right now. He's got both guns out, and the only parts of his body that aren't drowning in the bristles are his hands (which need to be steady for holding his guns) and his hips (suggesting his feet are firmly planted where they need to be).
Wolfwood looks concerned.
Actually, Puppetmaster looks a bit concerned, which is kinda dumb of him because he's the one who caused all this. Or... maybe he's just sweating because he's wearing so much black in a freaking desert.
Oh, Vash....
Shoot, there's another Gung-Ho Gun here.
That's a REALLY big hand.
I wish I knew what the heck was happening in that explosion panel.
You know... I'm actually kinda glad I was so late on getting to these two chapters. Now I can start on the next volume without getting too far ahead of the game.
Author Bonus Chapter: Anime Talk
All evolution eventually leads to crabs. Apparently, Nightow is not immune to this.
I mean... you're not missing much by skipping Titanic. I'd sooner rewatch Starship Troopers myself. At least that was hilarious.
(Also, I just realized he kinda called it "Starshit Troopers." Honestly... fair.
The other day I was at an anime con and a mangaka whose story is now an anime basically said the same thing. It's very much a dream come true for them.
This is the cutest thing Nightow has drawn. Except for sleepy Vash.
I mean, might as well shoot for the stars. I've long had a bit of a soft spot for Madhouse myself.
Yeah, my brain would pop out of my head at that kind of news, too.
Aaaaand I would promptly explode upon hearing they were gonna move forward with it.
Ohhh, this is sooooo indicative of the shows that were popular at that time. It was absolutely a ton of mecha, magical girls (this was pre-Madoka), harem, and guy-oriented romances where a crazy amazing weird girl just dropped in the life of some loser-boy.
Lucky for us all, Madhouse hasn't exactly built a reputation for themsevls as being "normal."
No wonder Nightow is thrilled about Stampede. He's getting to see his story adapted to an anime not once, but twice. And it's making people fall in love with the older versions of it all over again.
LOL, "Yoshimura Something-san"
That meeting was too long. No meetings should go for 13 hours.
LOL, Nightow being so excited about action figures. POSABLE action figures.
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twistedEcclesiastic [TE] began trolling tawdryCaricaturist [TC]
TE: I aM herE ouT oF purE fuckinG desperatioN. I aM minD-fuckinG fuckinglY fuckinG BOREd
TE: mY matespriT iS DEAd oR likE probablY sleepinG anD I donT reallY talK tO anythinG elsE?? TE: anD yourE A faT stupiD fuckinG punchinG baG anD thatS FUn. NYEHEHEHEH
TC: aww im really that entertaining to you? : P
TC: i thought you had lots of other troll friends karmis! what happened??
TE: dO yoU havE dementiA?? wheN diD I eveR saY I havE trolL friendS I fuckinG HATe EVERYONe
TC: well they all seem to know about you! i just figured you were all friends : )
TC: so if your lying your not really doing a good job of it right now : P
TE: thatS jusT becausE I makE enemieS whereveR I gO NYEHEHEHEH
TE: fucK thA haterS
TC: haha true : )
TC: arent you a hater though?
TC: just like in general
TE: yeaH duH. fucK mE fucK yoU I donT givE A shiT! NYEH
TE: whateveR. I donT carE foR labelS
TC: thats cool me neither : )
TC: your friends are cool though i think you should hate on them a little less
TE: ugH fucK WHo arE yoU EVEn TALKINg ABOUt???!!!!
TC: ummm
TC: well i met rozzie the robot and the guy that built him
TC: he made it sound like your friends with him : )
TC: unless he was lying?
TC: i dunno he sounded kind of tricky
TE: STOp TYPINg!!!
TC: WHAT?
TE: STOp
TE: rozziE iS NOt mY "frienD". fuckinG perioD! enD oF storY!!
TE: itS A triggeR happY psychopathiC littlE freaK anD thaT nerD lukE needS tO keeP iT oN A leasH
TC: his name is luke?
TC: you guys are aliens and one of you is named luke?
TE: welL youR namE iS ryaN. NYEHEHEH
TE: hiS namE iS lukeiS anywayS
TC: luke is what?
TE: lukeiS
TC: oh thats his name?
TC: how do you even pronouns that
TE: whaT iS fuckinG wronG witH yoU arE yoU actuallY braiN damageD?
TC: no im actually normal!! sheesh
TC: anyways LUKEIS (still weird) says that hes your best friend : )
TC: trust me!
TE: whaT fuckinG eveR? I donT reallY carE
TC: are you sure?
TE: arE yoU stupid?
TC: i dunno!
TC: you came to me for entertainment so you dont get to complain
TC: dummy
TC: hey so whats a matesprit? is that another weird word your going to make fun of me for not knowing about
TE: yeS iT iS! NYEH. lonelY loseR dickwaD
TE: alsO I donT knoW whaT itS likE oN youR stupiD planeT buT oN ourS wE havE A littlE thinG calleD freedoM oF insultS sO I caN complaiN alL I wanT
TC: yeah i guess we have something like that! its called bullying
TE: "meeeH meeH meeH mY namE iS wayaN yourE bullyinG mE becausE iM sO stupiD anD I donT eveN knoW whaT A matespriT iS oR probablY eveN hoW tO spelL halF thE alphabeT meeH meeH"
TC: i didnt say that!
TE: yeS yoU diD looK yoU jusT diD, weirdO
TC: how come your allowed to complain but im not? thats kind of stupid
TC: if your going to try to be mean you might as well be fair about it! >: P
TE: therE yoU fuckinG gO agaiN beinG thE mosT stupiD persoN iN thE fuckinG universE. itS likE yourE ADDICTED
TE: I neveR eveR saiD yoU couldnT complaiN itS jusT youR complaintS arE 1.stupiD 2.dumB 3.bullshiT 4.pathetiC(verY) 5.donT matteR. NYEH
TE: NYEHEHEH
TC: i guess but you complain about EVERYTHING
TC: literally every single little thing
TC: i think that makes your complaints even more pointless
TC: i dont really take you seriously anymore : P
TE: diD I asK yoU thougH?
TE: XP
TC: hehehe
TE: yoU caN takE mE seriouslY oR noT, aS lonG aS yourE stilL A stupiD nobodY I wiN X)
TE: yoU arE fuckinG dirT undeR mY cooL shoeS, PATHETIc
TE: NYEHEHEHEH
TC: suuuuure karmis : P
TE: lalalalalalalA I canT heaR yoU
TC: yeah you can : )
TE: whaT?
TC: okay if you cant here me then i guess you wont react to me calling you a STUPID JERK
TC: karmis smells like AAAAAAAAAAASS!!! >: D
TE: nyeH
TE: NYEHEHEHEHEHEH
TE: NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH X)
TC: nyehehe! >: P
TE: heY thatS My THINg TWERp
TC: SEE you heard me : D
twistedEcclesiastic [TE] ceased trolling tawdryCaricaturist [TC]
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