#anyways of course he fucking comes to my lane
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stoppp a costumer snitched on me wtf
#it was 1:14 i ended 1.15 ok. customer comes in with the mother of all fucking carts#like it was HUGE#except he was looking for a lane and we made eye contact and i was like no please#and he laughed and i was like noo dont do this to me but like in a light tone#anyways of course he fucking comes to my lane#anyways it is a long transaction so of course i dont fucking ifnish and its 1.24 when i finish and the guy didnt fucking help me like atall#and i was like fucking pissed not only bc i should have been going HOME. but he didnt help me whatsoever#and he had a real messy cart too#btw this is all heavy stuff for businesses so its not like usual groceries so i gotta punch in a buncha codes and stuff and lift if necessa#ry? anyways. i finish and he's paying and of course im mad and then he makes a joke and i remember that i am a comic personality so#i play along and im like omg haha yeah at whatever he said right#and he's just finding this so fucking funny and i want to hit him#anywyas i was like ''i was supposed to end like 4 minutes ago''#and i followed with ''but its alright dont worry about it'' and the usual ''have a great day'' or sth#anyways i leave im free i go home#apparently some fucking customer snitched on me. don't know if its the fucking guy or some other nosy bitch#and its the manager that obviously fucking hates me and im so fucking mad guys like who tf was it.#im so mad guys what the actual fuck#or. or i beet it was that girl after me (she came in at 1.15. she is a 60 yr old woman)#GOD I BET IT WAS. she's such a snitch she's done it before#but she also didnt help me#im so mad rn#lol i told my mom abt the customer (not the snitching part bc i found that out rn) and shes ike girl just quit and find a job closer#like god i am tempted. but i like my job i just hate my fucking manager#aparently she played it off as ''oh she's just being silly'' but ik she's mad mad#anyways i dont work till friday so idc
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Homewrecker! Jake and Husband! Jay universe…
Something about how arousing it would be with Jake begging and pleading Jay to share his (new) wife and Jay finally gives in one time, only for you to sneak around with Jake behind his back multiple times after that😃😃
a very short drabble bc im an absolute feral fucking mess over these two at all times.
"Jay, listen-" Jake pleads without context, downing the rest of his beer as he grips his friend's shirt for dear life.
"I'm listening." Jay says off handedly, eyes everywhere but Jake, only because his face is so close to him. Then again, his best friend always tends to get too touchy and close when he's been drinking.
"Your wife." Jake whispers against his friend's face, beer-breath all but tolerable. "Just hear me out man, please. It'll be just like the college days- Just hear me out. bro- what if-"
Jay shifts his head to face him, a mere inch or so away from the other man's glazed over, very drunk eyes.
"Jake, what the fuck are you going on about? My wife? What about her?" He warns, knowing the realm of absolutely not's Jake is trying to tread.
"Just hear me out man, we're best friends, i'd never do anything to-"
"Anything to what?" Jay finishes for him, tensing his muscles and fixing his posture to that of someone who is....somewhat intimidating, despite his own drunk state.
Still, this is his wife Jake is bringing up.
"Bro I haven't gotten my dick wet since the last time we took that girl home."
Jay is...arguably shocked into disbelief by that. He and his best friend never had trouble in the bedroom, in regards to finding someone anyway.
"So? What? You want to fuck my wife?"
"Well..." Jake offers him a crooked smile, the answer plastered on his face.
"No." Jay wavers, his state allowing him to imagine the old times just for a moment.
And, well, that no didn't last very long considering his friend's promises of staying in his lane, and his persistence of course.
Just a week later, he's watching his best friend bury his length into his very own wife, watching you moan for a man that isn't him all while keeping eye contact. At least he had that, and your mouth, of course, to bury into with little to no fight against your gagging throat.
~
Unfortunately, a one time thing with Jay, your husband, became a thirteen or fourteen time with Jake.
Always coming back. Always pleading, persistent, and approaching you with a pre-dripping cock.
Jay should know, actually, that you always loved the neediness in a man. Though Jay himself, usually got what he wanted, he played along with your little kink of whining, crying, and begging from time to time.
Jake though? He's not playing along. He's genuinely just a needy motherfucker, crying and whining any chance he can get you alone.
Unfortunately, Jay trusts the man a bit too much in terms of leaving the two of you alone together. Thirteen or fourteen times too much.
Straying hands, pleading fingers, eyes always on the verge of near tears just to get yet another taste of his best friend's wife. That's how Jake is, and you're all to willing to be wanted and needed by more than just your husband.
Who are you to say no? Outside of like, you know, mostly being in a monogamous relationship and all.
You think hard about it one night, dripping in wet due to Jake's consistent texts asking when you'll be home alone again. Jay wouldn't be so hard to ask. Really. For a third.
~
note: man, yall gonna fucking love the jayke threesome ill soon upload lmaooooooooooooooooooo
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Author’s Note: Coming to ya’ll once again with yet another Jake fic that’s just self-indulgent smut. Inspired by the lovely (read: horny) conversations that I had with my Jake lane besties yesterday. Blame them, not me. This fic is also inspired by the Gibson TV interview that Jake did a while ago because of this post from @indigofallingsky
If you haven't seen the interview, you can watch it here.
Content Warnings: Fem!reader, swearing, jake being a huge flirt, oral (f receiving), fingering, spanking, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (ik it's bad I just have a problem), squirting, softdom jakey, semi public sex, sir kink, lil bit of spit play maybe? and a shit ton of dirty talk. 18+ MINORS DNI
Word Count: 5293
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You’re nervous, to say the least. And more than that, you’re frustrated because you’re so nervous. Being a photographer, it’s literally your job to be around famous people – and you pride yourself on never getting starstruck or anxious. You’d discovered quickly that most of the celebrities you interacted with were assholes anyway, and the few that weren’t assholes had either been boring or just plain weird. You’d stopped giving a damn years ago.
But now, as you stood there waiting to introduce yourself to the man you would be photographing, you couldn’t stop the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as you watched him. You’d heard of him and his band before. You loved their music and you’d even been thinking of buying tickets to one of their upcoming shows if you could manage to get the time off from work. You knew what he looked like, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him in person. He was gorgeous – sinfully so. You couldn’t help but stare as he walked around the room, introducing himself to everyone that he would be working with for his interview.
The first thing you noticed was his hair; it was messy but beautiful, like someone had run their fingers through it haphazardly before he showed up. It was a gorgeous brown – almost copper when the light reflected on it. It looked especially gorgeous in contrast against his navy blue suit. And Jesus, did that suit fit him so well. He wasn’t a very tall man, but his entire body looked strong – solid. His thighs filled out those suit pants in a way that should be illegal. And his face… you could stare at it for hours. Plush lips, a perfect set of white teeth, and brown eyes that reminded you of bourbon. And of course he would be a fucking guitarist.
When he finally made it to you, you had to fight to keep your voice steady and your eyes on his.
“I’m Jake.” He said, giving you a dazzling smile as he extended his hand towards yours to shake. You took it, praying that he didn’t feel the slight tremor in them.
“I’m Y/n. I’m going to be your photographer today.”
“Hi, Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The sound of your name from his mouth made your knees weak and you mentally rolled your eyes at yourself. “ Do you work for Gibson?”
You nodded.
“Yep! Have for a few years now. All I’m going to be doing today is taking a few candid shots of you while you play and then we’ll do some actual posed shots afterwards” You gave him your best attempt at a professional smile.
“Well, I’m lucky to have such a gorgeous woman taking my picture.”
Your jaw dropped as he walked away from you, calm and collected after saying such a thing to you. Your eyes followed his retreating form as he went to take a seat on the little stool in front of the camera. He turned over his shoulder and locked eyes with you. He winked and you could feel the blush as it overtook your face. You dropped his gaze quickly.
You took a seat on another stool by the wall. You wanted to listen to him before you took him over to take pictures.
“Whenever you're ready, Mr. Kiszka. I’ll be asking you questions, but we’ll cut me from the final so it will be just you speaking.” The director, David, explained to him. “Let’s start with your full name.”
“Full name?” Jake asked him, a half smile painting his pretty lips. “How long do you want me to-” he chuckled. “Jacob Thomas Kiszka, sir.”
His eyes locked on yours as he said the word, and your lips parted yet again as he pinned you with his gaze.
“I don’t know.” He laughed, eyes snapping back to the camera. You glanced around to see that no one else seemed to have noticed him looking at you. You let out a shaky breath, your nerves completely unraveling the longer you were in his presence. Get a grip, y/n.
“And tell us what you play.” David asked, and you watched on the little monitor as the second camera angle zoomed out for a wider shot.
“I play guitar for the band Greta Van Fleet.” He answered, and you marveled at the smooth sound of his voice. David continued to ask him questions and you couldn’t help but be impressed – Jake was clearly a master of his craft, and yet he didn’t come across as egotistical or too self-assured. His talent spoke for itself and your heart raced at the quiet confidence that the man exuded. He was a gorgeous balance of confidence and professionalism.
Every so often though, Jake’s eyes would sweep to find you. They’d linger on you for only a moment, before finding the camera again. Each glance was so fleeting you almost felt like you were imagining it – wishful thinking, and all that. But it kept happening; enough for you to believe that it had to be on purpose. You bit your lip, trying your best to remain focused on the job at hand and to stop the blush that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on your face.
Once David had asked all of his questions, he asked Jake to actually play his beautiful red Les Paul. Jake rose from his seat and strode quickly towards where his amps had been set up. He breezed by you, giving you another pointed stare from the corner of his eye. This time, you stared back – meeting the challenge in his eyes. He smirked.
You watched him as he plugged in his guitar and strummed the strings once, checking their sound. He turned a few knobs on his instrument before strumming the strings again, this time seemingly satisfied.
“Anything in particular you want me to play?” He asked, directing his gaze towards David.
“Nope. Just whatever you would like to, really.”
Jake nodded once before beginning to play. The sound he coaxed from the instrument was beautiful, each note crisp and clean and oozing with sex appeal. His quiet demeanor melted away to reveal a man who was a master at what he was doing. You stared as his fingers danced across the strings and frets, effortlessly quick as he played. His face was focused, lost in his own world.
Your cheeks blazed as you felt wetness seep into your panties as you watched him. Your breathing picked up and you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest as you watched toss his head back and close his eyes. You could only stare as he rocked his hips into his guitar in time to the beat of the song he was playing. You’d never been this affected by anyone in your entire life.
Your core ached and you clenched your thighs together. Jake’s gaze shifted to meet yours at the movement, and his eyes practically sparkled as his eyes drank in your form. There was no hiding your arousal from him. You trained your eyes on your shoes, unwilling to meet his eyes. He tore his stare away from you and retreated back into guitar world. All you could do was sit there in agony as your lust for him grew by the second.
Finally, he finished and David walked over to him and clapped him on the back.
“That was great, Mr. Kiskza. Excellent.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jake smiled, unplugging his guitar from the amp.
“I’ll be turning you over to our photographer now, Mr. Kiszka. She’ll take good care of you.”
You wanted to shrivel up and die as David said the words but you just plastered your work smile onto your face and rose from your seat.
“Right this way, Mr. Kiszka.”
You led him into the little photo room off to the side of the main studio. It was a small space – adorned only with a backdrop on one side of the room and your equipment on the other side. One singular wooden stool had been placed in front of the backdrop. You walked over to the lights and switched them on.
“Just have a seat right there.” You told him and he complied without a word. You positioned yourself across from him, camera in hand. You peered through the lens, adjusting the viewfinder and fiddling with the settings until you found what you liked.
“Alright, Mr. Kiszka. Let’s just start with you playing for a bit.”
“Yes ma’am.” You prided yourself for only letting your eyes widen for a brief moment before you schooled your expression.
He began to play a soft tune and you walked around towards the left side of him, snapping shots as he played. The lights behind him from that angle created almost a halo around his head and brought out the red in his hair.
“Good. That looks good. You can stop playing now.” You walked back in front of him. This was easy – slipping into work mode in order to distract yourself from the sinful thoughts that had been plaguing your mind since he walked in. “Now look up to your left for me.”
“Like this?” He asked, turning his head.
“Chin out a little bit for me.” He followed your direction.
“Good. Now turn your body towards the door.” He swiveled on the stool. “Cross your left leg over your right and hold the body of your guitar in your lap.” He situated himself just as you explained. “Perfect. Now turn your head slightly to look at me."
The look he gave you was domination incarnate, his eyebrow raised just slightly, his eyes holding a challenge in them, and his plush lips just barely parted. You swallowed thickly as you took the picture.
“O-okay, now legs apart for me. Right hand in your lap. Hold the guitar in your left.”
“How do you want me to hold it?” He asked, giving you a smirk. You bit your lip.
“Prop it against your thigh.”
He furrowed his brows at you. You sighed and walked over to him. You nudged one of his feet out further with your own and you did your best to ignore the way the muscles of his thighs strained against the fabric of his pants. You ignored his stare as you walked around him, assessing the position. Slowly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, turning his torso to face the opposite wall. You could feel the warmth of him through his suit.
“May I?” You asked him, gesturing towards where he was holding his guitar.
“You may.” His voice was pitched lower, husky and smooth as whiskey.
You reached out and carefully took hold of his guitar, situating it so that it rested against his thigh at an angle.
“Take your left hand and hold right at the base” Your cheeks flamed as you realized the way your words sounded – the double meaning not lost on him either. He gave you a shit eating grin.
“You're good at this.” He said, voice nearly a whisper and dripping with… something, you just weren’t sure what.
You huffed a breath as he rested his hand against the body of the guitar, right where you’d told him to. Mustering all the confidence you had, you met his stare. “Thank you. Sir.” The grin that overtook his face was downright sinful but you ignored it as you walked back over to the center of the room to take the shot. “Look at me.”
“Last one. Would you mind setting the stool off to the side for me?”
“Of course.” He said, voice saccharine and eyes glittering. He placed the stool by the wall.
“I want you to face that way.” You jerked your head towards the right. “Hold it in your right hand, down by your side.”
He complied.
“This good?”
You cocked your head to the side, eyeing his position.
“Step your left leg forward just a bit.” That looked better. “Now look to your right, over my shoulder. Chin up. Perfect."
You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you snapped the final picture.
“Alright, I think I’m finished here. Thank you, Mr. Kiszka. You’re free to go.” You hated the feeling of disappointment that took place in your gut.
“Shame. I was enjoying myself.”
“You like posing all pretty for pictures?”
“You think I’m pretty?”
Neither of you moved for a long moment. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop and your breathing was embarrassingly heavy. Every line in his body was drawn tight, like he was ready to spring into action at any given moment. The look in his eye was dangerous – threatening even.
Finally daring to break the spell, you turned around and switched the camera off.
“It was a pleasure working with you, sir.”
He simply hummed and exited the room quickly, not even glancing back once.
You released the tension that you’d been holding in your shoulders and let out a shaky breath. You could hear him in the other room saying thank yous and goodbyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back out there. As much as you wanted him, you couldn’t put your job at risk like that… and anyways, the longer you thought about it, the more you became convinced that he had just been messing with you – harmless flirting since he’d obviously caught on to your attraction to him. You shook your head at yourself and cringed – you couldn’t believe you’d been as forward as you had with him. Sure, he’d most definitely started it, but you’d allowed your self control to fly out the window. Damn you, Jake Kiszka, you thought as you began to pack up the equipment.
Once you were finished, you grabbed your purse and headed for the door. There were still several people there, milling about as you passed through. David was off in the corner, speaking to one of the sound guys.
“Am I done for the day, David?” You called to him, stopping just by the door.
“I release you from your duties.” He said, giving you a kind smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” You waved and exited the filming room.
You’d made it almost to the end of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat. You spun around quickly, startled at the noise.
“Woah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” You knew that damn voice. Jake emerged from one of the doorways, a grin on his face – the same one he’d been giving you all afternoon.
“What are you still doing here?” You asked him, clutching your purse tighter to your chest. He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving him in nothing but a black button down. He’d untucked it and unbuttoned all of the buttons except for a few at the bottom. His necklace glittered where it rested against the tan skin of his chest. His guitar case was nowhere to be seen.
“Waiting for you.” He said simply, shrugging his shoulders.
“Me?” You couldn’t help but ask, suddenly afraid – despite the fact that he’d been openly flirting with you for the better part of two hours.
“Forgive me for assuming,” he said as he stepped towards you, caging you into the wall with his body, “but I could see it all over you in there. You want me. I want you. Figured we could do something about it.”
You swallowed, brain working a mile a minute as you processed his words. There was no lie. You wanted him – and apparently he wanted you too. And doing something about it was sounding better and better by the second.
“What did you have in mind?” You finally asked, voice coming out far more confident than you felt.
“Oh, lots of things.” He said, voice low. “Been thinking about all the possibilities since the moment I saw you.”
“There’s a dressing room down the hall.” You said quietly, nodding your head in that direction. “Locks from the inside.”
“Oh?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “Can’t wait long enough to go somewhere else, huh?”
You flushed.
“No, sir.”
His eyes blazed at your words. Fast as lightning, his hand shot out to grip your bicep tightly and he all but dragged you down the hall. You pointed to the door to the dressing room and he ripped it open. You stumbled through the doorway, dropping your purse to the floor. He kicked the door shut and locked it and then he was on you – forearm pressed to your chest to back you into the wall. His face was inches from yours and you could feel his breath on you as he spoke.
“I’d like to kiss you now.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
He crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, immediately plunging his tongue into your mouth. You submitted to him willingly, allowing him to lick into your mouth with no resistance. He tasted like cigarette smoke and somehow that turned you on even more, and you whimpered quietly into his mouth. His palms settled on your waist in a way that you could only describe as possessive, and he dug his fingers into your flesh as he kissed you. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, earning a groan from him.
He pulled away, a string of spit connected your mouths as he drew back to look at you. You thought he looked gorgeous earlier, but that was nothing compared to how he looked now; his hair was messier and his cheeks were flushed, and his plush lips were swollen and slick with spit. He looked so fucking pretty.
“You taste just as good as I imagined.” He said darkly. “Wanna taste the rest of you.”
Without warning, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. He slotted his thigh between your legs and you moaned at the pressure. You rocked your hips forward on him, desperate for any type of friction on your throbbing pussy.
“Please, Jake.” You whined as he nipped at your ear.
He pulled away from you sharply.
“You call me Jacob or you call me sir, understood?”
You nodded.
“Words.” He urged, eyes ablaze with lust.
“Yes sir.”
“Good girl.”
He attached his lips to yours again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to jump up. You did, wrapping your legs around his waist as he gripped your ass with both hands, walking the two of you over to the vanity in the corner. He placed you gently onto the counter.
“Can I taste you, sweet girl?” He asked, lowering himself down to kneel on the floor so that he was eye level with your dripping cunt.
“Yes, Jacob.” You whined.
You toed your heels off, allowing him to slide your skirt off of you, tossing it impatiently somewhere in the room. He nudged your knees apart, splaying his palms on your thighs to keep you steady. He eyed the wetness leaking through the cotton of your panties and chuckled.
“You’re fucking soaked. Look at you.” He said, nuzzling his nose against you and inhaling deeply.
“Please.” You begged, pussy throbbing with your need for him.
“Please what?”
“Please. Need you. Need your tongue.”
“Yeah?” He asked, giving you a grin. “Where do you need it?”
You whined and rocked your hips towards him.
“Jake-Jacob.” You corrected yourself. “Need your tongue on my clit. Please, sir.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” He looped two fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled – effectively ripping the thin fabric. He wadded your ruined panties up and slipped them into his pocket.
“For safekeeping.” He said, before licking a stripe up your weeping center.
“Oh, fuck!” You yelled, threading your fingers through his hair. Your other hand gripped the edge of the counter as you threw your head back. He swirled his tongue around your swollen clit, suckling on it in a way that was almost too much. You cried out with each movement, his tongue playing you like that damn harmonica you'd seen him play on stage.
Without warning, he plunged his tongue into you, and he pressed his thumb to your clit. His other hand gripped your thigh, squeezing so tightly you were sure you would have bruises tomorrow.
“Gonna make you cum on my tongue, sweet girl. I want to taste it so bad.” He said into your heat, and you moaned loudly. He increased the speed of his thumb on your clit, and his tongue plunged in and out of you mercilessly, and it didn’t take long before you felt that familiar coil beginning to tighten in your belly.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You mumbled out, legs beginning to tremble.
“Give it to me.”
It was like your body was waiting for his permission. No sooner had he spoken the words, your orgasm was tearing through you. Your entire body shook as you came, and you called out his name as he kept working you through it, prolonging your pleasure.
Jake rose from between your legs and you moaned at the sight of his face covered in your juices. He swiped a finger through your folds to collect your release and then wrapped his fingers around it, groaning at the taste of you.
“You taste sweeter than fucking candy.”
“Kiss me.” You demanded, and you were embarrassed at the blatant neediness in your voice, but it melted away quickly as he met your demand. You could feel him, hard as a rock in his pants. You reached up with shaky fingers and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. When they were all unbuttoned, you slid the shirt off his shoulders and your eyes wandered over the expanse of skin, tan and glistening with sweat.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You whispered, sliding your palms across his chest and up to squeeze his broad shoulders.
“So are you, sweet girl. Slide back for me.”
You did as he asked, scooching back on the counter until your back pressed into the cold mirror of the vanity.
“Take off your top.” He said, voice suddenly hard and demanding.
You gripped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off, revealing the lacey bra you had on underneath.
“Shit.” He said, eying your breasts through the fabric. He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out for him to admire. Wordlessly, he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, biting at the hard nub. You moaned at the sensation.
“You like that? Like when I bite these pretty nipples.”
“Yes.” You cried, and he bit down harder – the sharp pain serving as a warning. “Yes sir.” You corrected, tossing your head back.
Suddenly, you felt one of his talented fingers slipping into you and you whined loudly.
“Jacob!”
“Yes, sweet girl?” He asked, but you had nothing to say in return. You opened your mouth to ask for more, but all that escaped you was a loud moan. He caressed your walls with his fingers, eyes affixed to your face as he watched you surrender to the pleasure.
“You look so pretty like this, y/n. All needy. Your cunt is dripping.”
“All for you.” You told him, toes curling in pleasure. He added another finger, curling them inside of you in the most delicious way.
“God, look at you.” He said, leaning on his free arm as the other fucked into you mercilessly. “Never seen a prettier sight.”
You whined, and the sound came out as almost a squeak. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself hurdling quickly into a second orgasm.
“Already?” He asked you, cockiness dripping from his words. You clenched around his fingers, his tone spurring you on even more. “My needy little girl gonna come again for me? So soon?”
“Yes, please sir, let me cum. Please!”
“That’s it, baby. You sound better than my guitar. Cum on my fingers. Come on.”
Your mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’ as you came again, this one even more powerful than the first.
“Shit! Fuck!”
“Careful, y/n. Don’t wanna be too loud. Someone might come in here, just to see your pretty cunt squeezing my fingers.”
You’d never been one for dirty talk, but Jake was making it work. Something about his smooth voice saying such filthy things was driving you wild.
“Jacob, I need you to fuck me. Right now.”
“Oh you do, huh? Little kitten desperate for my cock?”
All you could do was whine in answer, brain cloudy after two orgasms.
“Mmm. Wanna feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me.” He said, pulling his fingers from you with an obscene squelch. He took your hand in his and pressed it to the noticeable bulge in his pants. “See what you do to me? Jesus, I’ve never been so hard.”
“Fuck me. Need it so bad.”
“Patience baby.” He laughed. “Lemme get a condom. I’ve got one in my wallet.”
You grabbed his wrist in your hand tightly, stopping him from reaching into his pocket.
“I’m on birth control. And I’m clean. I want to feel you, sir. Please.”
“Fuck.” He said through gritted teeth, eyes so dark they looked black. “Dirty girl, aren’t you?”
You watched, mouth watering as he unbuttoned his pants. He slid them down so that they pooled around his ankles, and you moaned seeing that he didn’t have any underwear on.
His cock was big – bigger than you’d been expecting. The head was pink and weeping with precum where it curved upward to rest against his soft stomach. He was a sight to behold.
He brought his hand up to rest underneath your chin, fingers just barely grazing your skin.
"Spit."
You did as he commanded, allowing your saliva to drop from your mouth into his waiting palm. He groaned and wrapped his hand around his base, your spit mixing with his precum to make the perfect lubrication
“Can I taste you, sir?” You asked him, giving him your best doe eyes.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” he said, one hand pumping himself slowly as the other caressed your jaw. “As much as I’d love that, I wouldn’t last if you did. And I wanna cum in your sweet cunt.”
“Next time?” The question slipped out without thought and your eyes widened at the implication.
Jake smiled, wide and dazzling.
“Next time, baby.”
He pumped himself a few more times, using his thumb to smear his precum over his head. Finally, he nudged the blunt head of his cock through your folds, gathering your wetness.
“You ready for my cock, baby girl? Ready for me to split you open?”
“God, yes. Please.”
He gripped your hips in his strong hands and pulled you to the edge of the counter, allowing for your feet to touch the floor.
“Turn around and bend over, y/n. I want you to watch in the mirror while I fuck you.”
You moaned and did as he asked, pressing your ass back into him as you bent over the counter. You rested your forearms on the counter, and watched in the mirror as Jake slipped into you. Your pussy throbbed as you watched his mouth fall open – his brows clenched together and a breathy moan fell from his lips. The stretch of him was overwhelming as he pressed into you, slowly sinking into the hilt. He groaned in your ear as he finally bottomed out and you dropped your head back towards him. He pressed wet kisses to your neck as he stilled, allowing you time to adjust to his size.
“Jesus, you’re so tight wrapped around me. Smooth as fucking velvet.” He said, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“Move, Jakey. Please move.”
“‘Jakey,’ huh?” He chuckled, beginning to slowly rock his hips into you. “I like that.”
He quickened his pace, pistoning in and out of you. You watched in the mirror as his face fell slack with pleasure and sweat dripped down his temples and neck. You pushed back into him with each thrust, desperate and needy for him.
“You want me to go harder? You sure you can take it, pretty girl? You’ve given me two already… think you can give me another one?”
You moaned loudly, high pitched and pornographic, at his words.
“I asked you a question.” He ground out through clenched teeth, wrapping his left arm around your waist to pull you into him. His other hand delivered a hard slap to the side of your ass.
“Fuck! Yes! Harder, sir!” You cried, the sting of the slap only adding to your pleasure.
“God, you feel like a fucking dream.” He groaned, slamming into you at an impressive speed. The sound of his hips slapping against you was loud, and the wet sounds coming from in between the two of you were lewd and unmistakable. If anyone walked by the door, there would be no doubt about what was going on in here. He slapped your ass again, this time much harder, and you wailed at the extra pleasure the sting gave you.
“Fuck, y/n, I’m close.”
You have no idea what comes over you as he says that in your ear, but you’re opening your mouth to say the words before your brain has time to process it.
“Choke me, Jacob. Fuck, I want you to choke me.”
“Oh, fuck.” He practically whined, wrapping his right hand around your throat. He squeezed lightly as he pounded into you.
“Harder, Jakey. Harder. Please.” You wailed, and his fingers tighten around your throat. Your head began to swim and your vision wavered as your climax finally starts to build up again. It’s overwhelming, a feeling like something is trying to claw its way out of you.
“I’m gonna cum.” You wheezed out, and Jake moaned nto your ear.
“Give it to me. Cum on my cock.”
Jake released his hold on your throat and finally, your orgasm overtook you. Your vision whited out and your whole body began to shake madly. You screamed Jake’s name as you cum and distantly you hear him as he reaches his own climax. He’s moaning curses into your damp skin but it’s like you’re in another plane of existence. Your orgasm seems to go on forever as you clench around Jake – drawing every drop of cum he has in him. You've never had an orgasm last the way that one just did.
He stilled in you, and the both of you sit there, breathing heavily.
“Y/n…” Jake says, voice wrecked and shaky. “You just- have you ever done that before?”
“Done what?” You slurred, brain covered in a fog.
“You fucking squirted. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
You shook your head.
“No. Not done that before.”
Jake slipped out of you carefully, the both of you hissing at the feeling. You swayed where you were bent over the counter and Jake placed a steadying hand on your back.
“You okay?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.
“Yeah, fuck. I’m great. Just need to sit down.”
Jake grabbed his shirt and placed it on the floor before helping you ease down onto it.
“I’ve never cum that hard in my life.” You told him, a sleepy smile gracing your lips. He gave you a matching one in return. He looked so pretty looking at you like that – hair a mess, skin slick with sweat. He looked completely fucked out.
“Me neither. Holy shit.”
You giggled.
“Come back to my apartment with me.” He said, pulling his pants back up and buttoning them.
“Jake I don’t think I’m gonna be able to go again for at least a week.” You told him, letting your head fall back to rest on the wall.
“No, I’m going to make you dinner and draw you a bath. And then I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you. Come on.” He helped you to your feet.
He grabbed his shirt off the floor and gathered your clothes up as well, handing them to you.
“Sounds pretty nice to me.” You giggled. “God, I’m probably going to get fired. There’s no way none of them heard that.”
“Good.” Jake said, slipping his shirt on over his shoulders. “Now they know who you belong to.”
“Oh I belong to you now?” You jokingly challenged, carefully stepping back into your skirt and wincing.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake said with a smirk. He looked like sin incarnate. “I’m never letting you go.”
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I'm watching The Birdcage (with Robin Williams and Nathan Lane) and it made me think of Steddie of course. But in my head their version goes a bit different.
( this is so silly and goofy y'all. But i tried to capture both eddie and steve but also the dramatics and antics from the movie!! Haha! I hope you guys like it!!!! I miss writing comedy stuff, its so fun. Anyway, enjoy!!! )
So Dustin comes to them and tells them he and Susie are getting married and how her parents are like "gay is a no no" but Susie already loves Eddie and Steve just from what she's heard from Dustin and how much they love and care for him. Which is a given, Dustin would never be with someone who couldn't accept his dads.
Anyway, he brings the situation to them first and is like ... how do you guys wanna handle this? And Dustin cheekily says
"I was thinking maybe a disguise."
And Eddie and Steve, the dramatic bitches they are fucking POUNCE on the idea and they both say,
"I get to be the mom!" At the same time and then frown at each other in sync. Dustin fucking cackles. Steve slams his hands onto his hips and is like,
"I am clearly, the mom." His frown turning almost petulant. Eddie snorts and crosses his arms, looks Steve up and down and says,
"Yeah you've got the stance down, that's for sure." Shaking his head when Steve drops his arms hurriedly. Dustin pipes up.
"You could flip a coin." He's sitting on the couch now, watching them with bright eyes, smiling at their antics.
"Yes! I'll get the coin!" Eddie yells, bounding down the hall like a cat.
"Not the trick coin!" Steve yells after him, pointing his finger as Eddie stops in the hall, turns to look at him slowly.
"I wasn't gonna." He says slowly, unconvincing.
"Oh yeah? So you're gonna bring that coin in here. And it'll be fair when I pick heads?" Steve's hands land on his hips for a second before he rethinks it, pushes his glasses up his nose, and crosses his arms, raising his eyebrows at Eddie.
"You always pick tails." Eddie says, his eyes narrowed. Steve cocks his hip to the side.
"Not today honey." Steve's smile is sickeningly sweet. Eddie looks at him for a long moment. Really stares him down. Takes a deep breath. Holds it. Then lets it out.
"I will get a different coin." He points at Steve, who nods, eyebrows rising. But he smiles when Eddie turns and bops out of sight, shooting Dustin a wink. Dustin laughs, slapping his hands on his knees in a little enthusiastic drum roll.
Eddie comes bounding back down the hall, hand raised above his head, coin shining between his upheld fingers,
"Got it! Got it got it got i- oh god." He stumbles over something on the floor and then straightens upright quickly, his hair flipping to rest behind his shoulders.
"I'm okay!" He holds the coin up again. Steve reaches out, grabs his arms to steady him, his head shaking, a huge smile on his face.
"You good?" He chuckles. Eddie smiles brightly, nodding enthusiastically.
"Shall we?" He wiggles his eyebrows and the coin.
"Go for it." Steve says, all serious now. Eddie nods, flips the coin up into the air, catches it in his hand and slaps his hand down onto his other hand. Then levels a look at Steve. Steve smirks,
"Tails." He says, false sweetness lacing his voice. Eddie gasp, glares at him.
"You sick, son of a bitch." He hisses, his voice low. Both Dustin and Steve laugh, their heads falling back.
"Well go on sweetheart, let's see it." Eddie's eyes narrow again, he bites his lip.
"Your pet names sound so bitchy when you get competitive." He smirks.
"I love it." Steve smirks back. Dustin groans.
"Sorry sorry sorry." Steve says, waves at Eddie to move his hand so they can see the result. Eddie closes his eyes, leans his head back, takes a deep breath and mutters,
"C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon." He peaks one eye open, looks down at their hands.
"Eddie!"
"Okay!"
Eddie moves his hand away fast and then shrieks in devastation as Steve literally jumps into the air, his fists raised as he yells in elation. Eddie falls to his knees and Steve yells again.
"In your face Munson!" He pionts at him, smiling ear to ear.
"You're the devil!" Eddie screams up at him, scrambles to his feet and runs down the hall yelling, slams the bedroom door behind him and sobs dramatically against it, making sure they can hear him.
Dustin is red in the face from laughing. Steve falls onto the couch next to him, pats Dustin's knee.
"This'll be fun kiddo. So happy for you." He pulls him into a hug, squeezes him against his side.
"Yes and so proud Dusty!" Eddie yells through the door, still not coming back out. Steve snorts, his face scrunching as he smiles.
"And ya know what kid? And you're not gonna wanna hear this." Steve says, arms around Dustin's shoulders.
"Oh god. What?" Dustin asks, his voice hesitant. Steve looks off into nothing, his eyes glazing over a bit,
"I'm gonna be the hottest mom anyone's ever seen." He says, voice dreamy. The bedroom door slams open, Eddie stumbles back into the room, his eyes wide.
"Shit Steve. You're gonna be SO hot!" There's a fire in his eyes and Steve cackles, lets Eddie grab his hand and pull him to his feet as he stars spinning them around the living room, humming some random tune.
"I'm gonna have the hottest wife at the wedding! Get fucked Susie's homophobic parents!" He yells, dipping a laughing Steve.
"Hey!" Dustin calls from the couch but he's grinning. Eddie waves off his offense, twitching his hand at him.
"Dusty it's fine. My wife is hot. Nothing else matters." Steve bites his lip and buries his face in Eddie's neck as he continues to dance them around the living room.
"So that'll be a yes for the RSVP then?" Dustin asks, his cheeks tinted pink from laughing.
"Oh absolutely." Eddie says, his arms wrapping around Steve and lifting him up off the floor. Steve rests his head on Eddie's shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck, smiling at Dustin as he adjusts his glasses.
"We'll be there."
#silly shit#Fates Endless Inkwell#fei#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie blurb#eddie munson x steve harrington#eddie x steve#dustin henderson#steddie and dustin#my writing#mine#my fic#steve harrington x eddie munson
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If I’m Not Mistaken
Pairing - College!Conrad x Fem!Reader
Summary - When you mistake a boy for the local drug dealer, he ends up offering you some help anyway.
Warnings - Drug and alcohol use
Words 1.7K
Masterlist
You didn't know his name. You didn't know what course he was doing. You didn't even know if he was a student or not. But, considering he was always on campus, you came to the conclusion he was either a student or looking for customers. He sat on the brick wall right outside your lecture building, a joint between his lips. Sometimes he read. Sometimes he was on his phone. Sometimes he was doing nothing at all.
For a long time, you thought about asking him for some of his substances. But it wasn't until you were hosting a party, you finally pushed yourself to ask. That Friday, you came to the lecture 10 minutes early just so you could catch the mystery boy beforehand. As per usual, he was sat at the wall, lighting the joint in his fingertips. Before the flame could catch alight, you took a grip over his lighter.
That sparked his attention as he looked up at you. His eyes were blue and they seemed to be piercing into your soul. "What do you sell?" You questioned before he had the chance to ask what the fuck you were doing in front of him; he certainly didn't seem like the talkative type. "I've got a party and I could use quite a bit."
His brows furrowed and you almost doubted that he hadn't heard you correctly. "I'm sorry?"
You pointed to what he was about to smoke. To which, he was still acting oblivious too. "Look, if you don't want to sell to me, fine, I'll find someone else that does." Like that, your eyes rolled and you went to leave, cursing yourself for the man's rude behaviour.
"Hey, hey, wait." He stood from the wall, reaching his free hand out to grab yours. With no other choice, you faced him. "What? Did- Did you think I was a dealer?"
Now you were the one with narrowed brows, "You're not?"
He almost laughed but settled on just shaking his head at your assumption, "No." He took a breath and let his grip on your skin fall. "I'm Conrad," He put out a hand for you to shake.
You thought about it. Looked him up and down before accepting, "Y/n." He took a grip on your hand, shaking it and then letting you go. "Sorry, I thought you were a dealer." You spoke after an awkward moment of silence had passed. "You're just like, always here, always smoking so I just, I don't know, I assumed."
"No, I get it, it's alright." He offered a smile which you returned. "You said a party?"
You weren't sure where he was going with this, you weren't sure why either of you were still here, but you didn't plan on moving any time soon. For some reason, this boy already had you stuck. "Erm, yeah, just something before we all go away for Christmas break."
"On White Lane, right?"
How he knew where you lived was concerning, "Yeah, there." You confirmed.
"I've got some friends going is all. They go to every party pretty much. Most of them are on the college Football team so it's sort of their duty. Or they think it's their duty anyway." Oh, you knew them. Everyone knew that group. They played beer pong, preyed on girls and screamed the lyrics to songs.
But as you thought about it, you became curious, because the boy in front of you certainly didn't seem like that type. Now you thought on it, you had never seen Conrad at any party before. "You don't go with them?" You asked.
His head shook, "Oh, no. I like it when the dorms are quiet." Suppose that was a pro of being introverted.
"Well, you should definitely come to this one." A smile grew on your lips. "There will be drinks and hopefully, I'll find some weed from someone."
"I can give you the number of my dealer if you want." He offered.
You were already nodding, "That'd be great, thank you." You shuffled through your pockets before pulling out your phone, handing it over.
Conrad started typing then he paused and said, "I'll erm put mine in, just in case you need anything from me." He added, not daring to look up from the screen. "I know someone with a sound system and all that."
When he finally did look up, there was a flush of pink across his nose. You couldn't be sure whether that was his nerves or just the cold hitting his skin. "I've got that covered but, erm, I'll let you know if I need anything else." Your smile didn't fade.
Conrad shoved his hands into his pockets, "I'll see you around then."
"Definitely." Like that, you were walking to your lecture with a pretty boy's number saved in your phone - as well as a drug dealer's.
It hadn't taken long for your house to fill up. Fellow students swarmed your floor with kegs and bottles and a demand to not remember the night. And you had been right there with them; cup in hand, swaying to the music that blared in the background, mingling between the different people. But the whole time you had been waiting to run into a certain not-drug-dealer.
It had been a few hours, the party was in full swing and Conrad had yet to show up. By that point, you were beginning to think he wasn't going to at all. His 'friends' had been the first people here, swarming the kitchen counters with beer. With the drink swirling around in your system, you caved. You took your phone and messaged the boy before you had any time to regret it.
You
Are you coming?
It wasn't long before your phone pinged in response.
Conrad
Here.
A part of you was nervous, the other was reminded of the fact you had had one conversation with the guy. Sure, he was pretty and yes, you had seen him almost every single day before going in for your lecture. But you didn't know him. Up until today, you were under the belief he was a dealer.
When Conrad arrived, he paid no attention to what else was going on. He headed through the crowd, ready to find the very reason he had shown up tonight. "Conrad!" You yelled over the music. His eyes caught yours in the crowd, prompting a grin before you gestured for him to follow you into the kitchen where things were a little quieter.
"I can't believe you're cool with all these people in your house." He started.
You shrugged, gathering a bottle of beer for him. "It's not too bad when you're just as drunk." You offered the boy the drink.
To your surprise, he rejected it. "I'm driving." He excused.
"You're at a party!" You pointed out as a giggle fell from your lips. "Why are you even here if you're not gonna drink?"
Conrad shrugged, "You wanted me here." And like that, your giggles stopped and it felt as if your heart had too.
Maybe it was the drink or the spark of confidence but your hand reached out, holding onto his bare elbow where his shirt was rolled up. "Thanks for coming." His eyes traced your lips as you spoke. "And thanks for that number."
"More than happy to help. I'm guessing you were a very happy customer?"
"I don't know, you're better asking the pot-heads in the dining room."
He leaned in closer and suddenly goosebumps were growing on your skin - when did it get so cold? His hand sat firm on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, "I've got a joint with me if you wanna go somewhere more private." When he leaned back, you nodded.
The party was nice, sure, but the idea of escaping it was even nicer. You laced your hand within the hand of someone who was a stranger not even 24 hours ago, weaving through the drunken college students as you headed for the stairs. The music became nothing but a lull background noise as you entered your own room, shutting the door.
Conrad headed straight to the bed, retrieving the joint that was in his pocket. Without asking, you sat next to him. "Are you sure you're okay mixing?" He had one brow raised at you as your shoulders brushed against one another.
You shrugged, "As long as I don't have too much."
From there, the shaggy-haired boy raised the joint, placing it between his lips and lighting it. You watched as the flame flickered and the smoke hit his throat. He inhaled in before pulling away and letting the smoke fill the air. By the time he turned to look at you, you were already fully staring his way. You almost doubted yourself; did you look like you were staring too much? What else were you meant to do?
All your worries evaporated when his hand offered the joint. You took it without a word, doing the same as he, letting the smoke fill your lungs like it was air. When you pulled it away from you, Conrad was already speaking, "Where did you come from?"
You didn't know what else to do so you smiled. "I could say the same thing about you."
His hand soon reached the side of your face, trapping you in his stare, "Well I'm glad I found you." Maybe it was the smoke, but your throat suddenly felt choked, unable to let any words come out. Before it could concern you, you found Conrad much closer. So close, in fact, he was able to press his lips into your own.
You tasted the smoke on his lips, making the kiss even more intoxicating. The need for air was desperate when you finally pulled away. For a moment, you could only stare. You weren't sure if it was the drink, or the drugs, or the kiss, but you had never felt this high. All you could think was that you didn't want to ever lose this feeling.
#conrad fisher#tsitp season 2#conrad fisher x reader#conrad fisher x you#conrad fisher x y/n#conrad fisher imagine#conrad fisher oneshot#conrad fisher fanfic#conrad fisher fic#tsitp x reader#tsitp imagine#tsitp#the summer i turned pretty#jeremiah fisher#belly conklin#fanfiction#fanfic#oneshot#x reader#imagine
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No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Four
Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader
Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader
Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader
Summary: Old habits (of fleeing) die hard unless, of course, you're forced to face things rather than running from them.
Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, toxic relationships, grief, angst, strained relationships, minor injuries, arguments/yelling matches, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues, running away, Al-Anon, addiction, interventions.
Word Count: 3.5k
A/N: Hi besties ! ! ! ! As promised, here’s the next chapter for you all, earlier than planned as a sorry for taking so long ! Life is getting hectic and I'm currently preparing to move into my dorm for this coming school year, hence why I couldn't update with the last chapter earlier . I transferred to a different university than the one I was originally going to so a lot of things are new to me again, but I'm still excited ! ! ! Anyways, get your happy puppy and kitty pictures to look at after this chapter and i hope you all have a wonderful day and wonderful read <3
EDIT: Changed the name used for an added side character to avoid confusion with the name of a character from the show, sorry to those who are named Amanda as that's the name i used as a replacement (:
Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 @jadeittic
Chapter Three / Masterlist / Chapter Five
Your fingers shook around the steering wheel as you pressed on the accelerator harder, making the engine of your old car rumble louder in your ears. It wasn’t loud enough to drown the loud and rapid heartbeat in your ears though.
Luckily for you, it was green light after green light.
You raced home, expecting to come home to a silent house with nobody there to try and talk you out of your decision. After all, it was a weekday and it was past noon, almost everyone in Chicago was either working or in school.
“Pack then leave, pack then leave, pack then leave…” you mumbled to yourself, eyes darting back and forth as you switched lanes to weave in and out of traffic. You were met with angry yells and annoyed honks as you did so, but it didn’t matter to you. You needed to get home.
Your stuff was shoved in the back seat, half spilled from both you throwing it inside and your reckless driving. After you had the argument with everyone at The Beef, you stormed inside to silently grab your things from your locker and go. Neither Richie, Carmy, nor Sugar said a word to you as you did so, but Tina was the first to call out your name and try to calm you down. She had definitely heard everything that went down outside, those walls were absolutely not sound proof.
“What the fuck does Carmy know anyways. He’s the one who refused to come back or even reach out at all when Mikey… fucking hypocrite,” You mumbled to yourself, eyes narrowing and your hand gripping the steering wheel until your fingers hurt.
Tina, however, anxiously worked at her station, half glancing over to you and half working on her task in the kitchen. You knew that she was split between wanting to reach out to you and wanting to keep going with her work, but you would never make her or anyone else choose, so you chose for her by ignoring her and leaving.
She and everyone else are better off without you anyways.
The tires of your car screeched as you swerved into the empty driveway.
“Fuck yes…” you whispered to yourself, skin sweaty as you shoved yourself out of your car. No cars in the driveway means an empty house. You were in the clear.
As you approached the front door, house keys already in hand, you mumbled out plans to yourself, “Maybe Florida? It’s probably rainy and humid this time of year but if it means getting away from here, I can deal with it…”
The front door swung open before you could finish unlocking it, making you jump and gasp out as you came face to face with your mom.
“Sweetie? Are you okay? What’s going on? Why do you look ill?” You mom rushed out, eyes wide and confused.
“I'm fine Mom but I have to go.” You rushed out, pushing past her to run to the stairs. Your mom let out an unintelligible string of words as you started running to your room, heart pounding as it seemed like your once “foolproof” plan was starting to unravel.
“Fucking fuck fuck fuck shit!” You mumbled to yourself, spitting out the words harshly as you barged into your room and began pushing things into the boxes and bags you hadn’t yet unpacked.
In your rush to pack, you didn’t hear your mom’s footsteps getting closer nor did you hear what she was saying.
"Honey, how about you slow down for a second and take a deep breath?" She said, sounding exasperated as she pushed herself over the threshold and into your room.
"Not now mom," You replied, hissing for a brief second as you cut your finger on a sharp edge of a box before continuing to pack.
"Seriously, I think you should stop for a second and then we can do whatever it is that you want to do, okay?"
This made you pause.
"...what?" You blinked, slowly turning to your Mom.
She smiled at you, but the corners of her eyes didn't crinkle as she did so. You scanned her body, noticing the way her body language indicated that she was fully open and not at all anxious.
You opened your mouth briefly, before shutting it and complying with her ask. You breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7 seconds, and let it go for 8 seconds. In front of you, your Mom beamed at you, but again you noticed how her eyes never once left yours and how they didn't crinkle at the corners like they usually did.
"Let me help you pack, okay?" She said, voice calm.
You watched as she moved forward and grabbed a box already full of your stuff before grabbing a smaller box. You continued to watch and followed her as she went down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door to your car.
As she placed the box in the car, you turned and bolted. Your feet thumped loudly as you went back up the stairs and you felt your shirt cling onto your sweaty skin. Something was up, you just knew it, and you needed to find out what it was before it was too late.
But in this moment, the memory of your conversation at The Beef earlier replayed in your head for the 6th time that hour, and your panic settled in once again.
With two boxes in hand, you started to leave your room to go to the front door, passing your mom who didn't so much as glance at you. Your eyes followed her frame, noting no change in her calm demeanor.
It frightened you immensely.
The pit in your stomach gnawed at you as you placed the boxes in the trunk, making you feel like you were going to throw up and pass out at the same time. When you left Mikey's funeral in a rush, your parents followed you. You had insisted on going in separate cars, convincing them that being alone in your car would help you prepare yourself before you went into the funeral home. But they still followed you in their own car, practically tailgating you as you ran through red lights to get home.
You let out a shaky breath, remembering the way your mother sobbed and tried convincing you not to leave as you packed your car with the few things you were willing to take. Your father tried reasoning with you, eyes filled with tears and voice shaky but stern as he pleaded you to think your decision through. They tried everything, from promising you a vacation to get your mind off everything to threatening you with involuntary inpatient services. But nothing worked, so all they could do was run down the block, following your car as you took off, determined to seek refuge out West.
Your mom walked around you, placing more boxes in the car with a loud clunk, taking you out of your thoughts. Your head whipped around to see her organizing your boxes.
"There's a couple more things up in your room but I wasn't sure if you wanted to take them." She said, a small smile appearing on her face as she looked over her shoulder at you.
Your eyebrows creased and your chest heaved, feeling disturbed by her overall calm attitude to this situation. She was not at all acting like the way she did the first time, which felt odd considering that you were planning on doing the same exact thing as you did before. You would even dare say that you felt like she was happy you were leaving.
"Uhm… okay," and with that you took a couple careful steps back to watch her before turning to go back inside.
'What the fuck is going on?!' You thought to yourself, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to chew on it as you went up the stairs.
Sure enough, there were some things left in your room aside from the boxes labeled 'The Beef' that you were certainly not going to take. But before you could decide, the sinking feeling hit you.
Why was your mom home? She should've been at work at this time. While she did take time off to spend with you when you first came home, she had already returned to work a couple days ago. Why did she not continue to question why you were home? You did leave a message explaining where you were before you left so she knew that and she also knew that you planned to stay at The Beef the whole day, so she would probably be confused as to why you came home early and in a rush. Additionally, she seemed okay with your decision to leave which was nothing like her previous attitude. And why the hell was she so calm?!
Then, it clicked.
Your throat dried up.
Someone must have told her and now she is planning something.
You raced down the stairs, hands clammy as you gripped onto the stair railing to launch yourself forward. The only person you knew that would have her number and would be willing to reach out to her about something like this was Sugar. Your legs buckled as you rushed out front, only to see your Mom calmly waiting for you.
"Oh honey, don't forget your wallet and charger-" She said, perking up when she saw you.
"What are you planning?" You blurted out, interrupting her.
Your mom furrowed her brows and tilted her head, "What do you mean?"
"Why are you letting me go? You're not screaming or yelling and just letting me do this?"
You mom blinked at you, unmoving. It was eerie to see her not react to what you were saying.
After some silence, your mom spoke up, "You're an adult and I respect every decision you will make, regardless if I agree with it or not."
Your eyes narrowed. Although this didn't seem very far off when it came to the parenting philosophy they raised you with, something about this still made you feel alarmed.
"How about we stop for ice cream at that creamery we love before you go?"
There's the catch.
You visibly tensed your body, "Okay…"
Something was going to happen to you once you got there, you just knew it, but you were going to make a plan and get the hell out of there.
With a smile, your mom walked to the passenger's seat of the car, "Go lock up for me, okay? I have my purse in the car already."
You nodded slowly, jaw locked as you took small steps to the front door. When you finally sat down in the driver's seat, your mom was humming to herself and messing with her hair in the mirror.
"You're planning something," you announced again, half mumbling.
Your mom briefly stopped humming to chuckle and shake her head before continuing, seemingly unphased by the way you accused her. But this nagging feeling would not go away, so you did all you could do in that moment: drive.
You sat on the bench outside of the small old creamery, leg bouncing rapidly. You've been going there with your parents since you were a kid, something that you also included Mikey, Carmy, Richie, and Natalie in when they could join you. You would sometimes sneak away after school together or go after football games, right before it would close at midnight. And here you were, one last time, before you would go to… Florida.
The sweet cream of the ice cream cone you had in your hand made you hum as you licked it, the flavor exploding over your tongue. It was delectable, after all you got your favorite flavor.
You were going to miss it.
You mom walked over to the table you sat on, holding her own cup of butterscotch ice cream, before sitting down to join you. The sun was warm and the sky was a bright blue. The overall happy atmosphere of the day didn't seem to quell whatsoever.
You eyed her carefully for a second but only saw her indulging in her own ice cream. So you looked away and started to plan your trip to… Florida.
You decided that first, you would drop your mom off at home and tell her what you wanted to say to dad. Then, you would drive to the nearest gas station and fuel up on both gasoline and snacks, maybe get a slurpee from 7/11, and start driving towards St. Louis. You could sleep in your car for the night at a Walmart and then drive to Atlanta the next day. After that, just head straight to Florida, home free!
Your mom cleared your throat to get your attention, making you whip your head around to face her.
"Oh sweetie, do you mind if I go next door? We got a new tax guy and his office is just next door. I need to drop off some papers so that he can finish prepping our file." As if like magic, your mom pulled out some stapled papers from her purse.
"When did we get a new tax guy?"
"Last month, your father wanted to change from using H&R Block because of all the problems we had with them last year so we found this new guy."
You glanced at her, finding her eating her ice cream and looking at you; not a concern or worry was written on her face. Her story did seem to add up, your parents did complain about their tax people so this didn’t seem suspicious. So you, cautiously, nodded.
She got up and began to walk down the sidewalk, "You can join me if you would like."
You pursed your lips and took the risk, "Uh… sure."
The request seemed simple and innocent enough, making your anxiety ease for a second. She might have not gone to work because she had errands to do and the paperwork she held under her arm seemed legit. And as you walked into the building and headed towards the office at the end of the hall, everything actually seemed okay. Maybe she did respect your decision and just wanted to spend some time with you before you left.
"Give me a second," Your mom said, pausing.
You crashed into her back, heart racing again as she stopped. But all she did was hand you the papers and turn to walk over to the trash can.
"Give me your trash," she said, reaching out for you to give her your dirty napkins.
Complying, you watched her throw the trash away before walking back to you, nodding for you to walk through the door in front of you.
Inside was a large, empty office. It was bright with the grayish white walls and unfinished concrete floors projecting the light from the large windows everywhere. It made you squint as you moved blindly forward.
The door behind you clicked at the same time that you blinked, eyes adjusting. There was a small circle of chairs in front of you, some occupied by a few people while others were empty. A couple people were hanging out by what looked to be a snack table and another person was standing by someone, chatting. But when you came in, they all paused to turn to you.
This was what she was planning.
Someone in a cardigan and with a gentle smile began approaching you and beside you your mom began to speak, "Sweetie, this is for the best…"
But her voice faded from your mind as your heavy breaths and fast heartbeat overwhelmed you. You whipped around, stumbling from the speed in which you did so, and crashed into the chest of a tall person who was blocking the door.
You heaved a breath.
Behind you, the person in the cardigan spoke, "Hi, I understand this might be confusing and overwhelming but your mom brought you here because she cares about you and your well being. My name is Amanda and I'm more than happy to answer all your questions."
"What the fuck is this? Is this an intervention? What am I doing here? Why am I here? Mom, why did you take me here?" You rushed out, feeling the room spin and your body get cold as you quickly glanced around the room.
In an instant, the calm neutral face your mom had fell into one of concern, with her eyes glossy and eyebrows pressed together, "This is an Al-Anon meeting sweetheart and it's for the best, okay? Just one meeting and then we can go home, alright?"
Your legs gave out on you. As you collapsed onto the floor, your vision blurred but you could make out the way your mom screamed and rushed forward to grab you. Amanda looked concerned but concentrated, as if she knew exactly what to do, when she got down onto her knees to help you. You could also feel some heavy hands grab onto your shoulders behind you as your vision faded to black.
When you regained consciousness, you felt the wind gently caress your cheeks as it blew by. It felt nice, not feeling sweaty and flushed. But as you blinked your eyes open, you found yourself leaning on your mom, half laid on a bench, outside a building you had no idea about.
“Hey honey, are you feeling ok?” Your mom said, instantly hugging you against her body as she noticed you beginning to stir.
“Yea… yea… I'm fine,” you said, your words coming out slurred as you brought yourself up to sit.
“How are you feeling?” A voice said, behind you and your mom.
Everything came rushing back as you recognized this voice as Amanda’s voice.
You stumbled up, making your mom gasp and jump up from her seat. Amanda placed a hand on your mom’s forearm, gently smiling at her.
“What do you want from me?!” you yelled, feeling anger seep into your skin as soon as you got up and faced her.
Amanda looked at you, “We are not here to hurt you, take you away, or anything. Your mom brought you here to give you a safe space to talk about Mikey.”
“I don’t need to talk about SHIT!” You heaved, making your mom look away from her, desperately trying to conceal her own anger.
“We care about you and we believe that you should try this out, just once. You are free to leave if you don’t want to, okay?” Amanda continued, voice soft.
It made your blood boil.
With fists clenched, you glared at your mom, “You did all of this, just to trick me into coming here?”
Your mom continued to look away, refusing to look at you. You seethed.
“You can’t even look at me or respond to me?”
Amanda shook her head, “I understand your feeling upset and confused right now, considering how your mom brought you here, but your mom only has the best intentions for you in mind. Please, come inside. You don’t have to share anything with the group or even sit with the group. You can stand in the back with your mom and share whenever you would like.”
With a roll of your eyes, you crossed your arms.
Softly, your mom said your name, “I never expected myself to be a perfect mom, but was willing to die trying just for you. Both your father and I made a pact to do everything we could in order to make sure you had the best life you could live. As you got older and became your own person, it was hard to watch you make mistakes but we knew when to step in and guide you, and when to step back,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before continuing, “And watching you be with Mikey, to be happy, was a joy in the beginning… until we saw the cracks forming in your relationship. We did everything we could to help you but nothing worked. I understand you loved him… but sweetie… his addiction hurt you too.”
“Mikey never hurt me!!” you yelled, not even feeling the tears rushing out, “He never once laid a hand on me! He never brought me around that stuff! He never wanted me to suffer!”
“He was unstable!” your mom sobbed, doubling over as the dam of emotions broke for her.
Amanda gently gripped her arms, holding her up. She stared at you with a pained but apologetic expression.
“I know what it’s like to lose someone to addiction. I lost my father when I was 16. I was such a daddy’s girl growing up, so losing him was bad but discovering why I lost him only hours after I did made it worse,” Amanda said, filling the air with something other than cries and sobs.
You stifled your cries, making them come out as jagged breaths and rough sniffs that made your throat tighten. But you stood your ground, standing tall as your mom tried so hard not to collapse to the ground.
“You’re not… you're not coping well. I don’t want to lose you too.” your mom managed to get out between sobs, voice small and watery.
A sob escaped, shaking your body and making you stumble.
“You’re not going to lose me, I swear. I’m okay. I just… I just need some time.”
#the bear#reader#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy the bear#michael berzatto x reader#mikey berzatto#mikey berzatto imagine#mikey the bear#richie jerimovich#carmen berzatto x reader#reader insert#richie berzatto imagine#richie jerimovich x reader#richie the bear#natalie berzatto#sugar berzatto
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Billy still smoking while he was possessed was such a badass move. Like the mindflayer likes it cold, and it certainly didn't like the heat of a cigarette or the hot smoke billy inhaled. It was this little something that billy fought off for himself, his small piece of free choice, his choice.
Idk i love making this parallel in my head, like billy standing up to the mf is like billy standing up to his father. Also with a dad like Neil? Billy always fought for freedom anyways. His car, I'm sure Neil didn't like it for his son, but Billy still had it. His hair, the pierced ear? His clothes? Even the mess in his room. The way he actually talks to his dad, it's not like he's all obedient and humbled, no, he talks back, rolls his eyes, he snaps at Neil. He gets pushed up the wall for that, but still. Billy has had fire in him all along, and Neil couldn't put it off, never. No-one could, even the mindflayer. Billy was fighting the monster while possessed, and sometimes he even won. The little bits of his own will. Like with the smoking. Or not killing karen. Of course he lost in the majority of cases. But in the end? He fucking fought the huge monstrosity with his bare hands.
When billy comes back from the dead (which he does) he never lets Neil treat him the way he used to. He pushes back "no more, dad. Get your hands off of me." And Neil does. Has no choice because his son is stronger. So strong neil could never even fathom.
Billy doesn't live at cherry lane anymore cause steve anyways.
#billy hargrove#billy and neil#father and son#billy and the mindflayer#harringrove#billy x steve#my baby❤️❤️#the strongest and the bravest boy there is
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Okay WIP Wednesday! I’ve had a real fucking busy weekend painting the house and building new furniture and making some fucking HELLACIOUS overalls (pics later maybe???)
But I basically haven’t been on except my occasional cursed thought, and hopefully I’ll be around more and actually get to some messages this week 👀 maybe
In the meantime! Here is the Danny segment I considered giving you last week!
————————
A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence iii
Honestly, driving in Gotham wasn’t even all that exciting from Danny’s perspective. After being tossed around the GAV despite the seatbelts, a couple of cranky fellow drivers just didn’t register.
If they hadn’t been going through the city, maybe going highway speeds it might have been different, but he’d kind of worked out how loud he had to be to be heard.
By Jason snickering when he screamed at pedestrians.
If they didn’t want to be screamed at they shouldn’t be trying to loom menacingly.
Of course, that just meant now was the perfect time for him to use his new power for evil. Danny flipped his visor up, straining as high as he could to yell to Jason.
“SO, THAT CONSTANTINE GUY?”
There was a sudden click in his ear and he jumped as Jason’s voice came through, quiet and definitely amused.
“There’s a radio in your helmet, Danny.”
Oh.
News to fucking him, he was pretty sure that wasn’t standard in motorcycle helmets, but not from any lived experience. Johnny 13’s dead experiences were a little out of date.
Poking around the sides of his helmet, Danny soon found a button.
“Sweet. Looks like you finally forgot to mention something,” he teased, and heard Jason snort loud and clear.
Didn’t have to hold the button to talk then. Good times. He’d get Tucker to take a look on the way home after he ecto infused it. For now he flipped the visor back down.
“Looks like,” Jason agreed dryly, swerving them around a cluster of traffic.
He wasn’t exactly sticking to the letter of the law, they were definitely half again over the speed limit, but they hadn’t gone on a sidewalk so it was nothing to a Fenton. There was even an empty slot in the lane he merged into.
“So what about Constantine,” he prompted, and while it broke Danny out of his musings, it also reminded him of the exact thing he’d planned to do to make the trip more interesting.
“Oh, I own his soul. Like, a dozen times over,” Danny chirped perkily, grip tightening just before Jason had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the car beside them.
They sped off again before the sudden swerve caused comment, and passed a block or two in silence. Then Jason sighed.
“Of fucking course you do that for everything and not just Mariokart.” He mostly sounded resigned, so Danny allowed himself a snicker.
“What, it’s not like we’re gonna die. You’re even still on the road,” he dismissed easily, waving a hand to show just how unconcerned he was.
Did not expect Jason to huff, reach back and grab his hand, and pull it back around himself.
“I’m reconsidering teaching you to drive,” he told Danny flatly, and Danny pouted but took the hint and held on.
“Oh come on, you can’t say that, you haven’t even seen me try!” Danny protested.
Jason made an unimpressed noise.
“Your town’s weather includes reports of if your parents will be on the road.”
Which, by the way, was totally unfair of him, since he’d never have known that if Danny hadn’t told him. Or Tucker hadn’t told Tim.
Same difference.
“My parents, not me,” Danny argued anyway, shrugging, “and it wasn’t their driving that killed me.”
This time he was close enough, snugged tight to Jason’s back, that he felt the guy’s whole body shiver with a loud and rumbling growl. The same growl he’d heard and soothed earlier.
Something had really riled up Jason’s pit ghost.
Danny hummed another quick soothing trill, stroking his aura gently across Jason and his extra passenger.
Sort of trying to do it unobtrusively; he would actually really prefer that they didn’t fully crash. It kinda worked, in that Jason managed to unlock suddenly solid muscles enough for them to make the next turn.
“Sorry,” Danny said quickly, kind of to both of them, “guess Pitty doesn’t like the death jokes today.”
They passed another few buildings in silence, anf Danny had definitely noticed by now that they weren’t heading for the manor. Didn’t matter so long as Jason knew where they were going.
Danny waited him out, long enough that he almost wanted to make another joke and lighten the mood. Again though, Jason broke it first.
“Pitty.” He did not sound impressed. But he didn’t feel mad. More what the fuck just came outta your mouth.
Danny gave him a quick squeeze, and almost felt the pit purr.
It was kinda getting stronger the longer they hung out. Technically that probably meant that both cores were making progress.
“Well, technically you probably get to name it, but until you come up with something I’m calling it Pitty,” Danny explained, and rather felt that Jason should be grateful.
Unlike the rest of his family, Jason had seen the full list of how Jack Fenton named things. Danny preferred to think he took after his aunt.
He coulda called it the Fenton Pit Friend or something. Really, it wasn’t hard to think of anything worse.
From his aura, Jason now seemed to be intentionally ignoring him.
Stewing in indignation-disbelief-confused-confused-confused. Well, that was his call.
Anyway.
“Back to Constantine though, I wasn’t kidding. I do actually own his soul,” Danny said casually, since they’d gotten distracted from his previous attempt to make the drive more interesting.
For a moment he wasn’t sure if Jason would rise to the bait this time either, and then another sigh came over the radio.
“Y’know, somehow, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve said. Man sells his soul so much everyone seems to have a chunk,” Jason grumbled, and Danny snickered.
“Oh, pretty much. He’s the Caterpie of human souls. He never made a deal with me directly though,” he added quickly, without being fully sure why.
He was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t jump straight to “Danny is a soul trader”, but honestly he’d gotten used to getting ahead of wilder trains of thought.
“Oh? How’d you get twelve then?” Jason shot back, clearly warming back up to things.
Mission accomplished. Danny grinned.
“Well, previous Ghost King was in nappy time for a couple thousand years, but he had this whole thing about collecting souls to add to his army of thralls, so basically anyone could sign their soul over for a chunk of power. Real charmer,” Danny snorted, rolling his eyes.
It was so far from the worst thing Pariah Dark had ever done, but so far it was definitely the longest lingering annoyance.
“I got the impression,” Jason agreed in pretty much the same tone, prompting Danny to continue.
Which. Yeah. Was more fun than thinking about the mountain of thrall contracts still awaiting their owner’s deaths, which the Observants were still fussing over.
Nobody wanted more thralls, souls wiped clean of everything that made them, well, souls. Just unliving batteries. Even ghosts found them creepy.
On the other hand, there was nothing the Observants loved more than rules. And the rules said a signed contract had to be honoured.
Really they shoulda expected Danny to ask who the fuck signed for Pariah, since he was (again) in nappy time prison. He hoped nobody else died while they sorted that out.
“Danny?”
Ah. Yup, he did it again. Danny shook his head and sighed, kinda missing the wind in his hair. It kept him more present than the enclosed space of the helmet.
“Sorry. So, John Constantine, clever bitch, wrote himself a contract that signed his soul over to the Ghost King, not Pariah Dark. Got through whatever screening was in place no problem, and now he’s my problem.”
A problem that Clockwork had presented Danny with on his fucking birthday no less.
That had been part one of the soul screening process; who was stuck with Pariah by name, and ho boy that was a depressingly long list… and still growing, though it had slowed recently.
News of Pariah losing his crown was slow to spread, and frankly Danny himself could be doing more to help that, except. Well.
Not taking the damn crown himself until he had to. Not wanting to give the creeps of the world anything to call him.
There were a lot of good reasons, okay? And Clockwork had specially singled out Constantine’s contract and delivered it to Danny himself as a birthday present.
“Well, that explains one,” Jason agreed with a snicker, pulling to a stop in front of the police station, “but what about the other eleven times?”
Danny snorted a laugh, sliding off the bike and stretching. As much fun as hugging Jason at high speeds was, he didn’t like being still for too long.
“Tax season,” he explained cheerfully, pulling off the helmet and looking around, “I guess we’re meeting Harley here?”
Snickering to himself, Jason pulled off his own helmet and tucked it into the storage on the back of his bike. Danny passed it over, noting that Jason had also had to get a second little pod for the other helmet.
He wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe they were in storage?
“Yeah, we’re meeting Harley here. Better not to swing by the manor for a while,” Jason added, his expression souring.
Which did make Danny feel a little bad actually. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jason with his family…
But before he could say anything Jason ruffled his hair roughly, shaking his head.
“It’s not your fault, Danny. This kinda shit happens every other week, Bruce gets on his bullshit and I steer clear. He’ll calm the fuck down eventually and remember to mind his own business,” he explained dryly, nodding towards the doors.
Danny hesitated before moving to follow. It felt true, he could feel Jason’s sincere-exhausted-familiar-still over it clear as day, it just.
“I’m still sorry I wound him up though,” Danny finally decided, heading after Jason up and in. Jason who rolled his eyes and held the door open.
“Danny. He winds himself up. You could be a literal angel and he would not fucking care. You couldn’t unwind him even if you miraculously found the key. We’ve all tried,” Jason said with a sigh, though at least the anger seemed to have burned off into just…
Tired.
Jason just felt tired.
Probably cuz he was off fucking around with Cass last night, but Danny wasn’t about to call him out on it.
Not when they’d just walked into the police station (ew) and the wild sight of Harley Quinn, hair in pigtails and dressed in her signature red and black, sat on the duty officer’s desk with a bat. Filing her nails.
Total silence filled the room, broken only by the swing of the doors opening as Danny and Jason stepped through.
The whole room was watching her in a kind of terrified awe, like she was a particularly dangerous bomb waiting to go off. Danny’d swear they weren’t even breathing.
She looked up as the door opened, grinning broadly at the sight of them and waving in a large, exuberant gesture.
“Oh, there’s my boys! Hey boys!” She called in obvious delight, and half the room flinched.
Didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t even been in Gotham for ages, let alone being her former roguish self. She had the kind of presence that left a lasting impression.
No wonder Danny liked her. She coulda fit right in with his ghost friends.
Maybe she’d come join them for fight club.
——————
Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai
#danny fenton dead and loving it#dp x dc#dpxdc#danny x jason#dead on main ship#a good excuse to be a bad influence#chapter 14 maybe???#it’s been a week i forgot i’m not checking#BUT IT’S ANOTHER ONE WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR#yes danny owns constantine#12 times over#danny does not own a sense of self preservation on the road
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Last Minute
The right turn was apparently the wrong one, and they had to drive another ten miles before they found a place to stop. Harry still wasn’t very confident behind the wheel, a fact he strictly refused to admit; it was unto Draco then to tell him, a little shrilly, that he was nearly scraping that fence and to watch that bloody lamppost! Which didn’t put either of them in a great mood.
Then the rain came on, of course. Then the tyre air pressure light, again. Then a sheep sauntered onto the one-lane excuse for a road, and a lorry nearly crushed them flat, and the wheels flicked mud all over the passenger-side window.
They’d run out of snacks two hours ago and were about to run out of fuel. The radio, which had been playing screeching static for the last thirty miles, was now adamant on sticking to some Tory-bullshit chat about bus fare. Draco wished he’d taken the bus; wished he’d left the country; wished he told Harry to forget it, forget the whole thing, just, enough. Go back home with their tail between their legs and admit defeat, because none of it actually mattered.
Wait. There was—wait, that was true. None of it actually mattered. Draco tapped the frown between his eyebrows, then clicked his tongue.
“Hey,” he put his hand on Harry’s arm. When all he got was an annoyed hum: “Can you just—stop for a second?”
Miraculously, the road provided a place to pull over, which Harry then did, and added a deep, painful sigh to the whole tragic affair.
“What?” with this weariness he only got on long drives.
“Why are we doing this?” Draco asked, and wished his voice had come out gentle instead of accusatory. “I mean—who are we trying to prove wrong? I know how far I can go on spite alone, and apparently it’s exactly three-hundred and seven miles.”
Harry swallowed a small sound of surprise. “What? You mean—you want to turn back? Now?”
“Would that be so bad?”
“It’s a fucking three-hundred miles journey and it’s getting late.”
Draco rubbed his eyes, nodded. “All right. Then we don’t go home. We planned to spend the night anyway—”
“At your fucking parents’ estate.”
“Yes. And instead of torturing ourselves, why not try the next lovely bed and breakfast we see. Why not—take a ferry and go to Arran. Why not do anything that doesn’t involve Lucius Malfoy, and possibly as little driving as can be, and just have a nice night? Why not forget about all this,” hand gesturing vaguely at the rain, at the mud, at the mileage, “and remember the only thing that’s actually important?”
Harry’s pout should not have been so endearing. “Which is?” he asked, suspicious.
“This,” couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Took Harry’s hand and squeezed. “My darling, my idiot, this, this is what matters.”
Harry sucked in a breath. Closed his eyes. Shook his head, nodded, then shook his head again. “Your father—”
“Can eat an entire, gigantic, garlic flavoured, extra-hot bag of dicks.” With a devilish smile that made even Harry crack a grin. “Who bloody cares. Let him rot. In fact, I think I know a place just down the road—if we are where I think we are—it’s nice and has a great view to the loch when, you know, it isn’t chucking it down, and… what do you say?”
Harry shook his head again, but he was still smiling. “You fucker. Of course. I fucking love it.” Leaned down to give the corner of Draco’s mouth a peck. “Fucking love you.”
“Me too,” Draco said, and, “idiot,” and kissed him again, properly this time.
It turned out they weren’t at the junction Draco thought he knew. It took about thirty minutes and three wrong turns to find it. Didn’t matter: fuck, what a relief that it just didn’t matter, because Harry’s hand was rubbing gentle lines over his (and not angrily drumming on the gearstick), because he was still smiling, because they had this all to themselves. The rain and the traffic and the terrible road. The whole night just for them.
My darling @getawayfox, happy, happy birthday. I love you and also I love you and also, I love you.
#drarry fic#700 words#soft#bickering and being crabby and also soft#roadtrip#rockingrobin69#Harry is not a good driver. but he's enthusiastic
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Listen, I get being excited when people come out, I get speculating people’s genders and sexualities. I get that there are often seemingly so few of us that we are desperate for more community. I get that some people wish someone had nudged them sooner into realizing they were queer/trans. I get it.
AND people also have reasons for not coming out, or sometimes your clocking skills are shit!
The Wachowski sisters, icons of trans egg cracking metaphor, were OUTED against their wills! The kid from Heartstopper was outed against his will. Rebel Wilson came out before someone had the chance to out her. Nathan Lane was nearly outed in an interview he did alongside Robin Williams, and Williams diverted so he could stay closeted. Dozens of celebs and athletes and authors and politicians were outed and sometimes it destroyed their careers, put them in danger, or made a private matter a spectacle.
Of course, outing doesn’t just happen to celebs. My shitty ex-roommate was so sure my GNC friend was an egg and kept badgering him trying to get him to use they/them, constantly invalidating his identity. I know people who were outed among friends, whose parents found out, and got them kicked from home. I know well-meaning Uni advisors who didn’t think of the consequences and sent mail home to a name not recognized by that kid’s family. I’ve had people out me to strangers and immediately put me in difficult positions even though I am relatively open about my identity. The thing is, it is MY fucking choice.
It is their choice.
Sure, nudge someone in private. But if they tell you to fuck off, do. If they get super uncomfortable, lay off. Yeah, they might be in denial, maybe for good fucking reason. Or maybe you are wrong as shit about what their identity is.
Yeah, being forced into the closet sucks, that doesn’t make being forced out of the closet good either, even when you’re right that they’re queer/trans.
Create space for them to come out, let people come to you. Answer questions, drop hints, live your life so fully that people see they have options. I owe so much to queers I saw out and about in public but if each one of them said “hey you look like one of us” publicly I’d have crawled so far back into the closet.
Queers used to use code to ask if we shared kinship for a reason, and while visibility has dramatically increased that doesn’t mean safety always has. And it certainly doesn’t mean the messy grey between straight and gay disappeared, it doesn’t mean the messy grey between cis and trans disappeared. Sometimes you think you are opening someone up to a whole world but they already fucking know it.
Anyway,
#LJsm#people will look at bi people as a ‘gay in denial’#or nb folks as ‘trans in denial’#or gnc people as ‘trans in denial’
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rory and dean, part three: we’re really just fucking kidding ourselves at this point, or why rory does not deserve 99% of the blame for this disaster
So, OG Gilmore Girls fans may recall that Dean Forester’s ill-advised marriage to his rebound girlfriend was actually an attempt to write him off the show. Jared had filmed a pilot for a Young Macgyver show (you can watch most of it online here), but the WB ultimately passed so we (and Rory) were stuck with Dean for another year and a half. One wonders what would have happened if they hadn’t passed. Would we never have heard from Dean again? Would ASP have roped him into a few guest appearances anyway and attempted to do the same storyline? Would they just have gotten Milo to guest star for season four? Would Rory have run away with Jess in that scenario? Who knows.
Anyway, let’s revisit the issue of Dean vs Jess at the end of season four, after Rory rejects Jess’s plea to run away with him
RORY: Anyway, I left the pub, got back to my dorm, and Jess was there.
LANE: What did he want?
RORY: He wanted me to come away with him.
LANE: Oh, my God! What did you say?
RORY: I said -- I don't know. It was so weird. He was just... Jess. I mean, he shows up out of no where with this crazy proposal. It was awful.
LANE: It doesn't sound awful.
RORY: What are you talking about? Jess bailed on me twice.
LANE: I know, but how incredibly romantic to have this guy show up out of the blue and want to take you away with him.
RORY: When I first met Jess, I thought, "What could be better than this? He's smart, good taste in books and music, so cute." But Jess is great one minute and then the next - you know, as far as I know, I could have said yes, packed my bag, and by the time I got to the car, he would have changed his mind.
LANE: It's part of why he's cute. He's unpredictable.
RORY: I guess. You know, when I was with Dean, I always knew that no matter what happened, he would be there.
LANE: Dean was very dependable.
RORY: It was more than that. He's -- well, he was so... um, I was safe, and he was so nice to me.
LANE: He really loved you.
RORY: I think I really blew it there, you know? I didn't appreciate it.
LANE: Every girl has to fall for a bad boy. It's the rule. It's the reason so many accountants eventually get married.
While this fits nicely with my headcanon that Dave eventually became an accountant, that is neither here nor there. I think this is the only time Rory really is shown processing the breakup with Jess until he shows up again in season 6 and how it led her to the Dean disaster, because as schmoopy as she gets about Dean in the twelve hours or so after she sleeps with him, it’s clear that she’s mostly looking for affirmation and stability, and not to get dragged down by feelings she can’t trust or control.
And of course, she had pretty much zero boundaries with Dean prior to this: crying on his shoulder, haranguing him about not going to college, knowing that Lindsay wouldn’t approve of him hanging out with her at night and doing it anyway. Who was going to tell her she shouldn’t do that, after the example her parents set for her over and over? Anyway. Moving on.
So, let’s go over Dean’s seduction technique, which mostly involves him lying his ass off.
DEAN: It's not working with Lindsay. I can't make it work. I've tried.
RORY: Are you sure? Because I've heard that the first two years of marriage are the hardest.
DEAN: We're not happy. She's not happy, and I can't make her happy.
RORY: I can't imagine that.
DEAN: It was a mistake, and I know that now. From the very beginning, it wasn't -
RORY: Wasn't what?
DEAN: It wasn't...
RORY: Maybe you could, um, go see a counselor or go away together.
DEAN: No, it's just -- it's over. We both feel it. I know we both feel it.
RORY: You and Lindsay?
DEAN: Yeah, me and Lindsay.
RORY: You both feel it's over?
DEAN: I tried. We tried.
RORY: Well, if it's over, I'm sorry.
DEAN: You are?
RORY: I'm sorry you're not happy.
DEAN: I'll be happy again. Things happen for a reason, right?
Not to completely absolve Rory for all of this as she definitely should have gone on more than Dean’s word, but he absolutely lied to her face after she gave him three chances in a row to come clean. He made sure to follow her to her house, where she would be alone, and manipulated her into having sex with him. Yet somehow Rory is shamed for being the seductress who tempted him into breaking his vows.
Let’s move on to Lorelai, who is actually speaking sense on matters of morality, for once.
LORELAI: But he's married.
RORY: You don't understand the situation.
LORELAI: Is he still married?
RORY: Yes, but -
LORELAI: Then I understand the situation.
RORY: It's not working out between them. They're not happy.
LORELAI: Oh, Rory.
RORY: He tried the best he could, but it didn't work. It's over.
LORELAI: [ Sighs ] He told you that?
RORY: Yes.
LORELAI: He told you he's leaving her?
RORY: Well -
LORELAI: He told you he's moving out, they're getting divorced, he's got a lawyer, they've divided up the monster-truck season tickets?
RORY: We didn't get around to discussing everything.
Yeah, Rory, because he lied and told you exactly what he needed to so that you would fuck him. He never actually made any steps towards leaving his wife, and he won’t until he’s forced to,
RORY: He's not a married guy. He's Dean -- my Dean.
LORELAI: He's not your Dean. He's Lindsay's Dean. You're the other woman.
RORY: I told you, it's over.
LORELAI: It's not over until he's out of the house with the ring off.
RORY: He took the ring off.
LORELAI: Oh, my God, I don't believe this.
RORY: He's in love with me, not Lindsay.
LORELAI: Does Lindsay know that?
RORY: She's not good for him, okay? She lets him quit school and work himself to death and -
LORELAI: No, Rory, uh-uh, you can't be one of those girls who blames the wife for forcing the husband to cheat.
Funny how Lorelai was exactly like that when Christopher was having problems with Sherry and not only slept with him before he had moved out or officially broken up with her, but bragged about it to Sookie, paraded him all around Stars Hollow, and let everyone she knew about their burgeoning relationship, including her parents. It would be strange if that happened to come up again, right?
LORELAI: This is your first time. It's just not the way your first time was supposed to be.
RORY: Oh, and how was my first time supposed to be?
LORELAI: Well, first of all, it was supposed to be in a retirement home. And secondly, ideally, it was supposed to be with someone single.
RORY: My first time was with someone sweet and kind who loves me.
LORELAI: I didn't raise you to be like this. I didn't raise you to be the kind of girl who sleeps with someone else's husband.
RORY: You slept with dad when he was with Sherry.
LORELAI: He wasn't married to Sherry.
RORY: He was engaged, and she was pregnant.
LORELAI: So, this is all my fault? I set one crappy example for you, and you have no choice but to follow in my footsteps?
They’re basically one of those old anti-drug PSAs. I learned it from watching you!
I mean, it’s not like Lorelai badgered and pressured Rory into staying with Dean when her attention drifted to Jess and constantly argued for his innate superiority over and over and over.....oh wait, she totally did that. It’s not like Lorelai failed to sit Rory down at some point and explain that the reason their hearts got broken over Christopher not breaking up with his girlfriend is because sometimes when you sleep with other people’s boyfriends, they opt not to choose you in the end. Oh, wait, she didn’t do that, either, because he was her Christopher and they’ve always been connected. So she’s completely entitled to not take any responsibility for that situation and try to vandalize the other woman’s bathroom at her baby shower because she was jealous.
So, let’s just say I kind of understand why Rory gives Lorelai the cold shoulder here. Who is she to lecture, given her track record? And we know it’s only going to get worse.
Before we move on from this, though...
RORY: He was my boyfriend first!
LORELAI: But you dumped him! You rejected him! You picked someone else!
Okay, technically it was Dean that dumped her (apparently I am the only one who remembers this) but as much as Rory pretends that Dean was the perfect boyfriend, both of them are significantly overidealizing the halcyon days of their early relationship. They were together for three months, and only reconcile when Rory is badgered into saying that she loves him: then it’s a few more months until Jess shows up and Rory loses almost all interest in Dean whatsoever. So the perfect love that they claim to want to relive never really existed.
Okay, let’s move on to how Dean actually treats his wife he claims to Rory he was completely in the process of breaking up with prior to him boinking his ex.
Upon learning that Lindsay had committed the unpardonable sin of answering her husband’s phone:
DEAN: I mean, you know it's my phone, Lindsay. This isn't your phone. I mean, who was it?
LINDSAY: I don't know. They hung up.
DEAN: So you didn't take a message?
LINDSAY: I told you -- they hung up.
DEAN: So, great, uh, you're just answering my phone and not taking messages? That's great, Lindsay.
LINDSAY: Dean, wh--
DEAN: Taylor calls on this phone, and Tom. I mean, this phone is for business, okay? That's why I have it!
LINDSAY: Fine.
DEAN: What if Tom called, and he had an extra shift for me tomorrow, huh? I mean he calls to tell me, and you answer, and he thinks maybe he doesn't have the right number, and he hangs up, and then I just lose out, which means we lose out. God, Lindsay, you know, you don't -- you don't get it, do you? I mean, you have absolutely no respect for me at all. That's just obvious.
LINDSAY: I don't want to fight. We always fight. I won't answer your phone anymore. I was asleep. I didn't think. I'm sorry, okay?
Jeebus, she completely sounds like a battered wife here. What a prince Dean is, huh? And yeah, Dean completely doesn’t sound like someone who’s trying really hard to cover his tracks.
Let’s move on. Rory overhears Lindsay trying to prepare dinner in the hopes of smoothing things over with Dean, and she finally accepts that Dean has not left his wife and at this point likely has no intentions to. She writes a break-up letter for Lorelai to deliver to him.
LORELAI: It's a letter for you from Rory.
DEAN: What happened? Where is she?
LORELAI: Just take the letter.
DEAN: She went to Europe, right? Miss Patty said she went to Europe. What happened? What's she doing there? Who is she with?
LORELAI: Dean.
DEAN: When's she getting back?
LORELAI: Soon. Just take it.
DEAN: Where is she?
LORELAI: Europe.
DEAN: With who?
LORELAI: Her grandmother. Look, take it.
DEAN: No. Why did she go? Whose idea was it?
LORELAI: That doesn't matter.
DEAN: It does.
Dean, are you still married? Then it’s none of your business who Rory is with. Fuck off, sir. You have no right to ask anything of her.
Lindsay finds the letter and finally gives Dean a small taste of what he deserves.
LINDSAY: I hate you, Dean! I hate everything!
DEAN: Let's just talk.
LINDSAY: I don't want to talk! I don't want you here!
DEAN: I'm sorry, okay?
LINDSAY: Sorry?
DEAN: Yes, because it'll never happen again.
Sure sounds like a guy who really, really wants to leave his marriage and totally didn’t feed Rory a bunch of bullshit to get her to do what he wants.
Lindsay kicks Dean out and her mom and Lorelai have a blowout in the middle of the street while their kids stand by silently like the teenage girls that they still are.
MRS. LISTER: You! You should be ashamed of yourself -- what you did!
LORELAI: Just wait.
MRS. LISTER: What did she ever do to you, huh? How did she hurt you? Why are you doing this?
LORELAI: Theresa, please. Calm down.
MRS. LISTER: Calm down? My little girl has to come home and find your heinous letter in Dean's jacket.
LORELAI: Listen, we're in the street --
MRS. LISTER: You little monster!
LORELAI: Hey! Pull back, lady!
MRS. LISTER: There aren't hundreds of other boys in the world? You have to go after her husband?
LORELAI: Okay, stop attacking my daughter right now. You're upset, I get it, but you do not do this.
MRS. LISTER: She slept with my son-in-law. She broke up a marriage. Are you proud?
LORELAI: She did not break up a marriage.
MRS. LISTER: What do you know of this?
LORELAI: Enough. I know Rory.
MRS. LISTER: All I know is that now my Lindsay is devastated, Dean is back with his parents, lives are destroyed, and you and your daughter can go to hell!
Okay, first of all, this was a predictable end result when two teenagers who don’t know each other that well decide to get married at the age of eighteen. Why did their parents, especially Lindsay’s mother encourage this? And what the fuck is up with blaming Rory for the situation completely? No, she shouldn’t have done it, but Dean is the one who decided to marry Lindsay. He’s the one that decided to cheat. He’s the one that decided to lie to both of them. He is not an innocent bystander.
Later on, Rory tries to comfort Dean over what has happened.
DEAN: No. It's not a stupid question. Um...let's see. How do I feel? Actually...I feel like an idiot.
RORY: Why?
DEAN: Why? Because I was married, …Rory. Married. And I threw it all away for someone who dumped me once and then just bailed on me.
RORY: I didn't just bail. I --
DEAN: I hurt everybody. I hurt Lindsay, I hurt her parents, I hurt my parents, and now I'm back at home, and you're in Europe with your grandmother. And what the hell was I thinking? I mean, what am I doing? What's wrong with me?
I mean, the correct answer here is that everything is wrong with you, Dean, but....in the first place, Rory didn’t dump you, second of all, and she “bailed” because you lied and had no intention of leaving your wife in the first place. Take responsibility for your own actions, my man.
Rory and Dean eventually date for a month or so. Dean dumps her again because he realizes they have nothing in common. Does he take any steps towards moving on with his life and taking responsibility for his own mistakes?
DEAN: Your situation is no different from mine. Buddy.
LUKE: I've got work to do.
DEAN: Then go. They want more than this. Don't you see that? And all you are is this.
LUKE: Rory was a kid, Dean. She grew up. She moved on. Accept it.
DEAN: You accept it. This town, it's all you are, and it's not enough. She's going to get bored, and you can't take her anywhere. You're here forever.
LUKE: It's different.
DEAN: It's not different. You and me. Same thing.
Bear in mind this episode takes place in April and Dean dumped Rory the previous November, and yet he’s still bitter, still projecting onto Luke, and still completely blaming Rory for all of his own decisions. He was the one who dumped her the first two times. He was the one that got into a fight with Jess on her behalf. He was the one who proposed to Lindsay to get her to forget about it. He was the one who got married despite his reservations. He was the one who lied to Rory so that she would have sex with him. He was the one who refused to leave his wife. And oh yeah....he was the one who dumped Rory a third time.
That’s the last we see of Dean for eleven years until he shows up in the revival and actually seems emotionally stable for a change.
Somehow Rory gets the brunt of the blame for all of this, but she wasn’t in this alone. I do think she was scared into this by Jess showing up, and if he had any sort of explanation or apology for her either of the times he showed up, she probably wouldn’t have been so vulnerable to the affirmation that Dean offered her. Then she could have had a disappointing first experience with Marty as an alternative.
Which still would have been an improvement over the horror of that Candyman song.
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Tara Carpenter x Gn! Reader
Suspicious Minds Part 1
Warnings: Cursing and swearing... like a lot
You were rushing to an early grave and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It all started when Your alarm clock failed to wake you up on time. This, of course, made him late to work which brought him to where you are now. Tearing down the bike lane of your neighborhood while getting your ass chewed by your boss.
“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!! YOU’RE LATE!! YOU HEAR ME?? LAAAAATE!!”
“Sir, I am quite literally five minutes away. I was only supposed to clock in only a minute ago–”
“One minute is a minute too much! Now you're telling me you're gonna be FIVE MORE MINUTES LATE?? UNACCEPTABLE!!”
He then resorted to even more yelling and at this point you were already over it.You couldn’t help but think about where you're headed at the moment. You were rushing into a dead end job just to get yelled at by your douchebag boss and for what? The pay wasn’t even that good. He was just bullshitting you to believe that nobody else would hire you, when in reality, nobody would really want to work for a jackass like him. Except you did.
Key word here being did. You promptly slammed on the brakes of your bike and focused on the phone call.
"Now you listen here you old ass piece of shit," you started causing him to splutter but you didn't give him the time to recover "I have had it up to here with your crap! You treat me like shit. You underpay me. You're smelly, ugly, fat, and old as shit but you still got the nerve to push me away from the register every time a woman comes by like they're actually here to see your fugly ass! You're fifty years old in a beginner's level karate class! Get on a damn treadmill first! Then after you've had your fill, choke on a bag of dicks and fall down the stairs. Then if you find it in your ugly soul to get back up, then just go all the way to hell !!"
You hung up the phone before he could recovered and started laughing as you did. How's that for a two weeks notice? You started dancing in celebration. You couldn't help yourself. You were finally free from a crappy ass job and a crappy ass boss. Now you could finally turn your crappy life back around. Free at last, free at last! As you were dancing, you hit a quick spin around while transitioning to doing the Dougie you made eye contact with Tara Carpenter of all people. Your jaw dropped and you felt heat creeping up your cheeks from the embarrassment. Still you tried to make a pass at being casual.
"Uh.. hey.. H-how's it going?"
You were not casual.
Tara let out a giggle and grinned at you while returning the greeting with a 'hey' of her own. You had to fight the urge to not grin like an idiot. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were into her. You and her shared only one class but you ended up sitting next to each other and working on an assignment. You had no intention of falling in love with anybody but it just kinda... happened. You cracked one half hearted joke and she tried and failed to hold back a snort. From then on you were always seen together in Biology. Laughing, cracking jokes, and teasing. Sometimes you would even get threaten to be split up or thrown out of class but you always managed to keep this calm before that happened.
As much fun as you two had with each other it would always stay within the classroom. It wasn't your fault or hers, it just how it seem to end up. There were days where she'd ask for you to come hang with her but you were stuck working at a shitty job to help pay the bills as an emancipated adult. There were the rare times that you were free after class but she would be linking up with her own friends. You didn't take it to heart but it kinda sucks that you only saw each other few hours out of the week. Before your thought could wonder off too far, Tara grabbed your attention once more.
"So who was the poor person you went full psycho on just now?"
You rolled your eyes but responded anyways.
"Just my dickhead boss... or should I say former boss? Cause I just quit. I've had enough."
"Oh! Well I'm glad you've stuck up for yourself." Tara congratulated you. You just smiled at her while nodding your head in thanks. Tara smiled shyly while turning her head away from you. While the silence stretch on and you were inwardly trying to think of something to say to get the ball rolling. You didn't know if this silence was supposed comfortable or not but you we're kinda afraid to let it go on longer than this.
"So whatchu doing out out here?"
Tara huffed and then went on to explain how she had plans with one of her friends only for them to bail last minute. You just hummed and nodded along as she vented a little bit to you.
"Well sucks to suck doesn't it?"
Tara snorted while giving your arm a shove. You chuckled back before you started thinking again. Tara's plans were cancelled so she was free. You were free from a shitty poopy job with an equally shitty poopy boss. You were already out and together. Hmm.
Chance!
"Hey, Tara wanna go do something?"
"Like what?" she asked looking up towards you.
"Like... I don't know, hang out? Grab a bite to eat? It's like the first time both of us are free and together right?"
"Yeah... yeah!" She nodded getting excited about finally getting to chance to hang out with you outside of class.
"Alright then, let's go."
A/N: The end for now. Thanks for tuning in and let me know what you guys think of my very first post here. I'll see you when I see you.
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader#wednesday#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x reader#y/n#you#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#wednesday addams x you#wednesday x you#wednesday x reader#wednesday x y/n
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DERRY, MAINE | r.t.
richie finds out who the girl he’s been seeing is
word count: 1.1k
warnings/included: angst-ish
a/n: based off tyler the creator’s WILSHIRE. don’t know if i’m back. trying a new writing style. feedback is always nice.
-
the sharp sound of FUCK erupts from richie’s mouth when his figure collides with another one. you’re annoyed at first, but once you see his face you’re able to keep your temper. something saccharine leaves his lips--an apology--he’s saying, Jesus dollface, if i’d known something as pretty as you were in the area, maybe i’d come here more often. now you’re blushing; wondering if you should tell him you’re not from around here.
“god, of course not. they don’t make ‘em like you near... so where’re you from? surely a pretty face like that has a strict dad to get home to.” a lanky finger pokes the underside of your nose. if you knew richie tozier any better, you’d figure he’d be calling you a rose. but you don’t know richie. you don’t even know his name. you have to muster up the courage to ask him that, but he’s the first to cut to the chase. “what do they call a face like yours anyway? s’pose i could just call you gorgeous...sweetheart...mine” he takes extra care in saying that last one clear as day. but it’s cloudy outside--forecast calls for rain. he notices this and offers his jacket before opening the door to a record shop.
he’s a local there; you’ve never stepped foot. he makes a bee -line for the vintage rock section and waits for you with nirvana in his hand, hendrix in the other.
“is there something you go by?” you realize this is the first thing you’ve said other than telling him your city of residence--bangor (’shit! mom, pops, and i go down there during the winter’). you didn’t even apologize after the run -in.
“i got the ‘rents calling me richard, but i’m richie on my off days.”
“are you working today?” he laughs because you catch on quick.
“awh, not with you here next to me. i’d call off any day if that’s the case... hey, how ‘bout a number to go with your name?”
so you’re talking now--you and him. he asks you what things you like and if he’s on that list. he says it again, and again, and you’re at his parents’ place when he’s wondering when you guys will Just Date.
this is the fifth time you’ve been over. the first, you watched a movie, and it would continue like that until the third. your criterion watchlist slowly deteriorates. movies are replaces for newly cultivated feelings for the person sitting next to you. he’s flipping through films like they’re playboys at the check -out lane. “i’m so tired of this french shit.” it bores him how the way intricately laced bodies don’t do it for a porn addict. “you pick.” you say okay and thirty minutes in, still no one has said anything. richie turns to you and watches your eyebrows furrow. he has that face that suggests he’ll make a move, say something. but he doesn’t. you’re the one to break the silence.
“we don’t have to watch this.” your eyes are on his.
“nah, baby, i want to.” but he’s still looking at you. he hasn’t checked the screen since he caught sight of the stray freckle on your cheek. you tense at this. baby was never on the list; nicknames typically vary from sweetheart or gorgeous. it’s never this intimate. there’s tension in the air that’s broken with a kiss. richie’s lips are on yours but he doesn’t go any further than this.
“i’m seeing someone,” you say, quick. richie’s face falls for eternity. his heart was just pushed off a cliff.
“shit, i had no idea.”
“it’s fine. it’s not serious.” but it’s serious to him. his heart just got seriously broken in the matter of minutes. seconds. milliseconds. “i’m into you, though.” these words got him smirking. his curls bounce in a bliss. “i’m into you, too.”
you still keep up, showing up at his place on the regular. it’s down -low and you were skeptical at first, but now it feels normal. you’re wearing his shirt and his hand holds yours.
eddie gets on him for missing two game nights in a row. but richie doesn’t care because he’d rather be here, next to you, than here having conversations about the color of bill’s new girl’s underwear.
denbrough’s got a new girl. it’s all he’s been talking about for the past few months. she’s great. everything about her’s got him hooked. she’s his bait. her lips are the most perfect shade of red and she kisses like she knows how to. she’s got these big eyes that look great especially when--
“yeah that’s enough. thank you.”
stan mumbles something under his breath about how she’s probably just average and this is just the first time bill got a girl in his pants.
none of the losers have ever met her until the next game night. ben made a comment about how he hasn’t seen richie in forever, It seems. and eddie goes on about how he’s been ditching the gang; You’re a traitor.
“in my defense, i had a hot date.” not actual date. but they would get dinner, he would pay, and his eyes would linger on lips. his fingers itching to feel that warm graze.
“yeah right.” / “what does she look like?” / “did you get to third base?”
richie’s friends become a crowd; asking what she looks like; is she a good kisser; do you think you’ll bring her?
but she’s already been brought. you and bill enter together. richie’s jaw drops.
a whistle; eddie’s mouth a circle. your dress is tight; it hugs your hips just right, and falls just above the knees leaving little for bill and his friends’ imagination.
fuck, bill, how’d you score one like that? is what richie would’ve said if he weren’t stunned with silence and it hadn’t come out of stan’s mouth instead. and bill doesn’t know whether to be flattered or to punch the boy he calls a friend. ‘nice one’ is the line he opts for instead.
“how ‘bout another round?” richie’s already dealing out the deck conscientiously--his strategy so he doesn’t have to make eye contacr with the girl he had his arm around last week.
“you got a sadistic streak, tozier,” says eddie confidently, who wins that round later.
it’s later when richie calls and you answer as you’ve been doing regularly: “hello?” you answer in the nonchalant voice that he loves to hear and it takes him all the restraint he can muster to stop himself from walking out that door.
“hey.” his heart pangs and around his throat snakes an invisible chain cutting off any ability he once had to breathe.
“richie!” you say, as if it never occurred to you why the phone was ringing in the first place, that you were bill’s date. your finger coils around the landline wire. your lips fold and bite into a smirk. richie hears your breath smiling from the other line. richie, with his sharp intuition, knows.
the phone clicks goodbye.
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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls- Season 2, Episode 22 (Last Episode of the Season). "I Can't Get Started" Part 1
This episode may just be the ultimate game of memory roulette, because I remember nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. except these two things:
I am told this episode involves a Lorelai-Crusty hookup and I have no recollection of that whatsoever. The mind has a way of bleaching itself sometimes. Can't wait to be retraumatized!
The episode begins with Sookie playing wedding music choices for her coworkers and everyone falls asleep listening to the depressing songs she picked. Leave my girl Sookie and her emo music alone.
She lives in Stars Hollow, of course she can relate to songs about pain, depression and misery.
Emily the Strange, seen on Rory's cast.
My conflicting emotions as I think about how Season 3 brings Jess to the forefront (that's good) but he rarely knows a moment's peace (that's bad) and in the blink of an eye we lose him to the California Wormhole (that's bad) but it also temporarily sidelines Dean (that's good) but it brings Crusty back (that's bad) but there's the debut of Dave Rygalski (that's good) but in the blink of an eye we also lose Dave Rygalski to the California Wormhole (that's bad) then we meet Alex who is cool and also hot (that's good) but then he disappears forever (wormhole?) and Max briefly returns from the California Wormhole (meh?)
When Michel complains about the drudgery of wedding preparations, Lorelai reminds him she's in Sookie's wedding party so he has to oversee the entire wedding by himself, which is something he's never done before.
Excuse me? Why don't you hire some more staff Lorelai, you fucking cheapskate. (We also learn later on that Sookie's catering her own wedding. WHAT? I know Sookie is a perfectionist when it comes to food but that's fucking bonkers).
Rory offers to brainstorm with Lane to come up with wedding songs for Sookie and she agrees to let them do it because letting teenagers pick the music for the most important day of your life is a smart idea. This is where I realized I have no idea what kind of music Rory is actually into except that she has expressed she doesn't like the pop music/boybands of the day, which is fine. I just hope Rory wasn't one of those super annoying kids in school who were always coming up to me saying things like "You know, the Backstreet Boys don't play their own instruments." I was well aware. Anyway, Lane was definitely one of those types, as we see it happen on the show frequently, but as for Rory, that one is maybe up for debate.
Sookie asks Lorelai if she wants to invite Emily and Richard to the wedding. Uhh, may I ask why? Just 5 episodes ago, Emily was meddling in the wedding planning and blew up Sookie's budget and Lorelai had to intervene so she wouldn't go bankrupt. That's about the extent of any significant interaction between the Gilmore Grands and Sookie. After that mess, why would Sookie want her there?
Sookie's all "Ah, that ol "almost bankrupted me" thing. She was so thoughtful to help me with the planning! Even though it was nothing more than a passive aggressive scheme to stick it to you for never getting married. She made me realize I love the color pink!" And then she giggles away the deep seated pain that anyone so relentlessly cheerful and forgiving has to be holding deep inside.
Something historic just happened: I watched the Intro, instead of skipping it, which is something I haven't done in years. Let it be known I have nothing against the intro nor the song, and they're very nice and heartwarming, but I'm just not an intro girl. But I've been pretty down in the dumps and the theme song is like a warm cup of cocoa.
It might behoove me to watch the opening credits once in a while so I know when to expect Dean, Crusty and other creatures from the deep.
More fine work from the Gilmore Girls fake food designer. Looks delish. She's still wearing that fucking quarter on a string, god damn.
Rory is pestering Butthead to trade his pancakes for her fruit and egg platter.
You know, sometimes I start writing a joke, then realize it was funny, but it didn't make any sense and I have to scrap it, which makes me sad. Sometimes I don't even notice it after I've already posted and have to do a quick deletion (it just happened with LGD, in fact). Today, you're in for a treat because I'm going to give you one of my bloopers.
Rory is incessantly asking Dean for his opinion on the pancakes. I decided she had poisoned them and she was monitoring his reactions, like when his breathing would start to become labored, or if he started to foam at the mouth, or if he would say something like that "huh, these pancakes taste kinda metallic." and then he would keel over.
But then I remember they are at Luke's and she didn't cook the pancakes. But she could have sprinkled some rat poison on top of it when he had his back turned. I'm 100% convinced Lindsay had tried unsuccessfully to poison his meatloaf.
Oh no, they traded breakfasts. Eat AROUND the poison sprinkles, Rory.
Rory and Buttzilla are observing someone who is repeatedly walking back and forth in front of the diner without coming in. *Sniffs the air* I smell unhealthy boundaries. It must be Lorelai.
I actually forgot that Luke and Lorelai were still "fighting". In fact, I just realized there was no Luke whatsoever in the previous episode. Okay, okay! I plum forgot about Luke completely! Anyway, can we please resolve this nonsense before season 3? How is Lorelai hooking up with Crusty going to end this stalemate?
Ya'll, she really blurted out "Dean don't leave me", not "Don't leave me, guys" or "Rory don't leave me." I CAN’T! I'm dying!
Poor Rory, shows where she really ranks on the list of her mother's priorities.
Anyways, sucks to suck Lorelai, good luck with solving this fucking mess completely of your own making.
lolbye
That's a wild under-exaggeration for how you acted after that car crash. Just wild.
There is no quicker way to get Lorelai’s goat than to act Pleasant Neutral towards her and not entertain her quirkiness! it is aggravating her to no end that Luke isn’t entertaining her stupid doughnut jokes! Hahahahaha! He isn’t groveling at her feet over her half baked fake bullshit apologies either. Sucks to suck Lore! Luke being so indifferent to Lorelai's bullshit is glorious, no one has ever deserved it more.
Meanwhile, Paris is running for student council president. Her campaign promises include mandatory recycling, clearly gendered bathrooms and gluten free options in the cafeteria (hey, as long as Rory can still order her favorite Chilton lunch, The Prison Special, two slices of white bread with nothing in the middle).
After Madeline and Louise poll 150 students in the span of about 1 minute, the results are in: While the People think she would make a competent politican, nobody actually likes her.
So she strong arms a very reluctant Rory into becoming her running mate. Paris feels Rory's nice girl image will soften her own. She puts the fear of God into Rory that she will end up going to Connecticut State instead of Harvard if she doesn't take this opportunity to pad her college resume with school politics. I mean, she's not wrong. Rory is still pitifully lacking in extra cirricular activities. Until they showed Rory writing in the audience, I had completely forgotten she was already on the school newspaper because it hasn't been mentioned in ages. And now I just remembered that horrid school newspaper storyline in s3 is approaching. The one with the redheaded mean girl, Francie. Ugh! S3 is going to be such a rollercoaster.
Wait, isn't Connecticut State where Dean was considering going to school? Heheh.
Out of context Gilmore Girls.
Hmmm.
You know who else AmyShermanPalladino said this about?
AmyShermanPalladino wrote Paris to adore Rory as much she adores Milo, I'm just saying.
Rory is getting her cast off.
Emily Strange again...
SECURITY!!!!
No, but what kind of medical office is this where anyone can just barge in to a child’s appointment and be like "it's okay I'm the Dad" and the Dr is like “sure I believe you have a seat”. Not like Crusty is ever around that the doctor would recognize him.
He drove down all the way from Boston to watch Rory have her cast cut off but can't be present for anything important? Alright. Anything to get into Lore’s pants I guess.
Yeah.
Love is in the air at their child’s medical appointment.
Their nauseating attraction clouded their minds enough that they both resisted the urge to get in one last jab about Jess being the cause of Rory's injury. Miraculous.
Hur hur hur! You're so funny! Drink drain cleaner.
Honestly? They deserve each other.
R: “If I become vice president, I'll have to spend my summer at some junior leadership program in Washington."
Oh, you would HATE That.
#gilmore girls#gilmore girls season 2#season 2 finish line#thank fuck#rory gilmore#crusty#buttzilla#paris geller#geller + gilmore#PariMore#luke danes#I Cant Get Started#Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls
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Hi! Do you take requests for headcanons?
If so - what would each of the gang (Zeni included, cause he's part of the gang in same way, duh!) consider the most romantic Perfect Date ever (and I mean the kind of date they would be very much smitten by, even though they'd absolutely utterly deny it to the end of times)?
oh my god yeah i'd love to do some requests! it's fun to come up with opinions on things i haven’t even thought about before two bee honest SO LET’S GO
lupin:
lupin’s perfect date is any excuse to spend time with his arm candy honestly. especially one on one but that’s. that’s a different thing we ain’t gettin into that bit just yet THE POINT IS he's not picky in the slightest. the highlight is his company, not the location or task or whatever else
if it was up to him, he’d probably do the standard wine and dine at some unbelievably nice restaurant, y’know. keep it classy but also flex the fact that he can afford to do this (he can afford to do this because the only money leaving his pockets during the whole ordeal was a tip for the waiter. lupin’s a canonical tipper which is hilarious and very real of him)
but he has some hyperspecific romantic fantasy attached to any and EVERY venue.
jigen:
you know how this bitch is. he isn’t really the type to like, go on a DATE date. it’s more like “hey i’m going to the bar. you comin” even if he’s been with this person for years. date dates aren’t his thing
the closest i can imagine would be like. lovers lane type shit. you know? take the car off to some outta the way, vaguely woodsy clearing, park it, lay on the hood and just talk, still very casuaHAVE YOU EVER SEEN WAYNE’S WORLD? THE SCENE WHERE THEY’RE LYING ON THE CAR NEAR THE AIRPORT IS JIGEN’S ROMANTIC IDEAL. STUPID CONVERSATION INCLUDED
fujiko:
ok there’s two flavors here because is this her ideal date for romance or for money. that changes the answer slightly. if it’s money she loves the idea of just hanging on the arm of somebody at some nice, ritzy dinner party, she gets an excuse to dress up, eat some good food, and maybe walk away with a few careless guests’ wallets. but i’m going to assume you wanted romance
because of how (almost uncomfortably) familiar she is with fake, performative dates and the like, she (and never tell either of them this) is a bit like jigen in the sense that real love is very casual and understated to her, almost simple. like of course she isn’t complaining when someone’s she’s actually into is offering to take her to some fucking BALL or whatever but at the same time, the idea of simply just laying side by side with their head on her shoulder or vice versa is. comfortable. and she NEEDS comfortable let’s be real
goemon:
starting to realize how absolutely mundane and boring these answers are becoming ANYWAY goemon SAYS the same as the prior two. he SAYS the same. but really, deep down, the idea of setting aside a special time, date, and place just to be with someone he loves is charming to no end to him. not too picky about it himself as long as it's not too flashy
the simplest, easiest answer, but maybe the most true i feel is stargazing. it’s nice, it’s private without being claustrophobic, and think about the picnic possibilities my guy!!! plus, it’s quieter and more peaceful at night, so there’s less of a chance he and his date would be disturbed. i know i already said “its nice” BUT REALLY IT IS NICE
zenigata:
hm. i’m thinking.
we’re removing lupin as a factor in the context. unless lupin IS the date but EITHER WAY this is a “you have a whole day to yourself for this date wwyd” ordeal. and the answer is probably STAY AT HOME
HE NEVER GETS TO DO IT SO IT'S SPECIAL TO HIM. AND IT'S COZY TOO admittedly he thinks it's expected of him to do a DATE date but really. not to get too graphically sappy here. i think he’d be content just snugglin dude. he needs a break. maybe a good middle ground between what he wants and what he thinks he should do would be going to the theater?
#PLEASE send me reqs i LOVE excuses to go off on tangents. ask me abt the group abt individuals abt one off characters i will DELIGHT in it#i suppooose this could be read as x reader-y ? but take it however you like. just pretend the opposite party is whoever you want. love wins#lupin iii#lupin the third#lupin#jigen#fujiko#goemon#zenigata#asks
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Molly, I'll tempt you with this AU: Formula 1 driver Anthony and Engineer Kate
I'm buzzing with this idea, would you pleaseee consider it????
I don’t really know very much about Formula 1 honestly, Australia is a V8 Supercar kind of country and Funfact: My hometown actually hosts a race.
But imagine Kate furious because Anthony was supposed to pit three laps ago, hissing in his ear.
“Bridgerton, if you do not come into the pit lane in the next fifteen seconds so help me god I’ll go out on the track myself and pop your-“
“Ahhh Katie Kat.” Anthony sighs as his car screeches to a halt in the pit lane. “As enjoyable as that would be, my cherry was popped years ago.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” Kate scoffs watching him wave irritatingly while the tires thudded to the ground and be shot off again.
“Of course if you let me take you to dinner I’d be more than happy to give yours a little nudge.”
“You do realise your father can hear you Don’t you?” Kate smiled awkwardly at Anthony’s father beside her who was shaking his head at his son.
“I do, Hi Dad, tell me what her facial expression is.” Anthony hummed as the car sped round the track almost effortlessly, “Am I winning her over?”
“Gonna go with No, Buddy.” Edmund sighed. “She looks like she wants to strangle you.”
“Eh, that’s just her Anthony face.” Anthony tutted, “She’ll be happy when I do this.”
Kate watched as he cut the corner tightly inching passed the leader and shooting into first, and she couldn’t help the smile that twitched into her lips.
“I can see you smiling on the screen you know.” Anthony sighed in her ear. “Apparently they think there’s something going on between us.”
Kate ignored the flutter in her stomach and shook her head, “In your dreams, Anthony.”
“You are there a lot, I’ll admit.”
“Focus on the race please.”
“I will, if you agree to go out with me when I win.”
“Go fuck yourself, Anthony.”
“Kate, the dirty talk in the work environment really has to stop.”
And honestly, she could have killed him. But she did go home with him anyway.
#f1 au#kathony#anthony x kate#kate sharma#kate sheffield#anthony bridgerton#molly’s asks and answers
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