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#so many movies turn 20 this year
rogerdeakinsdp · 9 months
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UPTOWN GIRLS (2003) dir. Boaz Yakin — was released 20 years ago on August 15, 2003
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miodiodavinci · 8 months
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well 😔 after literally 3+ years of masking and double masking with N95s and KN95s and social distancing and not going anywhere where i can't be assured i won't be in close proximity to someone with COVID ya boy got COVID , , , ,
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incarnateirony · 2 months
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SIGH. LIKE. ALMOST.
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Dw guy her friend's old house haunted by the demon named after the car from Supernatural and Like Crowley only burned down the place after they left. But you know, does it have to be Appalachian Entities that she listens to the warning from or about or like, what. Like we're so close.
Impala gave them a year to fix their mistakes. And even though they'd only lived with Impala a year, somehow their previous home had burned down a year prior.
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come on elsa, keep the water moving.
She's still so ensnared by ideas like distance, too, how odd. "I'm 700 miles away, I don't know how to help" has the same energy as "the reaper wants me to stay in the state."
Wonder why everything got "Extra Spicy" lately. I swear I heard that lately, wonder why it's in such standout quotes, oh well.
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The new family is extremely disrespectful to the property, and ruined two decades of spiritual work between the three of us*. They even interrupted the space given as his private place. They ripped up every protective hedge, and even threw away a gravestone.
They're messy. They trash the house itself, doing EVERYTHING she had asked Impala to keep from happening.
Man she is REALLY fucking up the weather in here.
Happy burn my dread interrupting my playlist last night folks. The fire itself was a bit ago but. That is not what I was angling for last night, but ok. Lady the moral is right there
Stop trashing my house. you pretend you want a new house. Go be in that house, you have your own game lobby, you fucked up and now yours is mine, and I'm winning.
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Hey, Shea, since you're starting to connect with Old You. What's some other things that were happening around 2011-12?
Do you remember a day you tried to help a boy following Set take my eye? Where Ash and Ero as we called them then seemed to be fighting over me, and you misunderstood, and I paid the price? Something something light a cig with my fingertip while Sephiroth is in the house. I ended up gone for a week, a few things kept me turning. Who and what? Hermes and... it didn't know how to spell it's name, it wasn't ready yet.
Do you remember a day you almost died in the woods to Ash screaming, or Junpeiper telling you to run and throwing you, and the circle of unmoving water and the tree?
Keep the water moving, Elsa.
What? I like Supernatural and his fucking car, okay? Ur welcome SPN fans.
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Oh Baby Baby Baby
Ever wake up from a dream with real weird narrative consistency?
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lady blease, did you never find it weird that Impala* was supposedly sealed in a ring for a bajillion years, but knew about a fucking car and had a preference?
BLEASE. MAAM?
He never did tell you his actual name. But he's Like Your Crowley. But I told you, both in song and text, no more truce, you're wrecking my place. And you're fucking up generational weather now.
Guess we gotta keep working it harder doing it faster to land a message.
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lady, THAT is your dress, you look better in it. And it was never in the cat I hired to stare at you. Or Luna aphrodovey three told you to name after the moon. Just get over it and give me back my fucking air jordans already. Just hop all the way off it. Delete the shadows in your galleries, truly fix what is broken on your altar you already realized the gods disapproved of, be honest to your friends to make sure they do the same, and so on. And you know. Face yourself.
That's all this has ever been about, you driving backwards pain in the ass. You really trying to drag us to a zero point. You're on the wrong path, you spoke and acknowledged it. It's not too late to turn around and look at it. You can go through the water, it needs to move, lady.
Boys just love throwing their big rocks in bodies of water, and sometimes, you just gotta smash Atohallan with a fucking dickhammer. Cuz lady it's FUCKING FROZEN. MOVE. Yeah, you never Really Knew Any Man(gods). But that's fine. You have your own boots for walking.
YOU have to move the box. You can't wait for me to do it, or to climb into you to move it. YOU have to MOVE THE BOX. I know one of my three promises was you never had to Work while you were with me unless you want to Do The Work. And by god, you've forced me to stay with you whether you realize it or not. But I'm doing anything I can to make you want to. Do the Work that is, not stay with me oh my god. And to get you Out. And to get done whatever you need in my capacity.
It's a Craft of Mine.
please please please the water started running and ice started breaking in your head last night, memedaddy is calling honey, it's time to let it go.
this has been your daily cat distribution from dailyspooky
If it helps at all, after being this far up your literal ass since you're all up mine, I think your ancestral memory layers Athena and Freyja genetically, there's some Aphrodite bullshit going on, and I don't know which of the three moons big girl is still but she STILL scares me. Or maybe it's more, she's all three, but only once Shealyn, you know, doesn't just look at it but walks the path. Trismegistus isn't the only triplicate. There's a girl version. We been yelling that at you lots. Cuz you also had Verartemis. YO BEAR LADY, LISTEN. I know you got a reputation to keep, but how many times you gonna slip on that bear skin onto me and blame me?
Stop throwing it at cats and birds and exes or anubis and the kibble bowl for precious on fursuit friday. Turn around, go back, and look at it. Your dress and boots are better than mine anyway.
I figured out why seeing through her eyes has blacked out strips I couldn't see through right. It's like Marie. She's Marie. Kusano covering her face sobbing because she can't look at it. It's okay Mary, whatever's on the other side of that door, man. I already came this far. I ain't stopping now. We told you out of the gate before you insisted on doubling down and speeding up. We know you can do this. That's why it's so frustrating.
And why we collectively loathe your new family even if we want a different and happier path for you. Them. That's why everyone said they killed his goddess by enabling this. Lady. Lady please. This IS the intervention. Call it suicide prevention, call it divine intervention, whatever. But please listen. You're thinking of who you were in 2011-2012. That's good. You turned back, kind of. Now it's time to figure out where you messed up and drive forward again, but you gotta look at it. Please don't back up the purolator truck again, southpaw hermes is TIRED.
Keep the water moving, Elsa. Around when you posted this, I had already gone and met you at the door, whether or not you remember it. Lady, you're so close. I'll even go cheese the reaper for you again today lady, but that shit gonna respawn now until you let the lies you've told yourself go and set yourself free.
The rain tore up the circle. Tear it up again. Let the fog break. Let the cycle break. Let the water move. It's okay to go through it, if you can face yourself. I already told you, if you give away these leaden grudges, we'll drive forward one last time with you. You can be your own Asherah tree without me.
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vaspider · 2 years
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Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.
It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.
On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.
I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"
That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.
Never.
These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.
And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.
Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.
You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.
But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.
That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.
It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.
Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.
Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.
Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.
They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.
But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.
I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."
(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.
Fucker.)
But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.
I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.
But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.
The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.
That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.
The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.
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vanessagillings · 27 days
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I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  
I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?
If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 
So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 
It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.
But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.
If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:
What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz
We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia
Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess
Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD
Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom
Neurotribes by Steve Silberman
(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).
Thanks for reading 💛
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neil-gaiman · 3 months
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Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.
See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.
The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.
Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!
The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.
The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.
I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.
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gracieheartspedro · 3 months
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Your Needs, My Needs
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THE PRELUDE
a masterlist of how you can help gaza
pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)
description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.
word count: 3.7k words
warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao
author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!
“Sign here and she’s all yours.”
When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 
While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 
She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 
The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 
Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 
You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 
You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.
It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 
You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 
You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 
The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 
Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 
In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 
You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 
You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 
Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”
The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 
Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.
You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 
-
When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 
You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 
A hot cowboy saved your life. 
It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 
You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 
“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”
She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”
You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 
“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”
“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”
The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 
You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”
“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”
You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 
You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 
When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 
You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 
“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”
You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 
You needed your furniture, after all. 
It will be okay, you tell yourself. 
“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”
“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”
You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”
You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 
The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 
Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 
It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.
You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 
He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 
He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 
“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”
You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.
You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 
“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 
“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”
The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 
“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”
You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.
“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.
You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 
He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”
“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 
You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 
“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”
You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”
“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”
You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”
“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”
You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”
“Well, what have you tried doin’?”
You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.
“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”
He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 
“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.
“What Texas or this bathroom?”
He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 
“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 
You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 
“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 
You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 
“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”
“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”
You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 
He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”
“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”
He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”
-
His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 
“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”
You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 
You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.
While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 
You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.
“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 
“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 
“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”
He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”
Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 
He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 
“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”
You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 
You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 
“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”
“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”
You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 
“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 
“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 
You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”
They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 
He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.
“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”
Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”
Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”
You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 
You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 
He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 
“Somethin’ wrong?”
You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.
“N-no, everything is okay.”
“Don’t look it.”
“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”
Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 
“O-oh okay.”
“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”
You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.
  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”
PART 1 COMING SOON!
taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon
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destructive-path · 4 months
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hi lovely!! idk if you're taking requests, but can you write gentle abby having reader (who's SUPER DUPER nervous because it's readers first time having sex) in her lap and she's just talking her through fingering? i love gentle skin on skin and i feel like it would be so hot ☹️☹️💕
anything 4 u (sorry this took me a min to finish and i got a little lazy at the end )
from stone to clay (A.A)
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tags- 18+ MDNI , gf!abby , virgin!reader (reader is legal! i imagine shes at least 20 in this), afab reader she/her referred, anyone can read this the insert just has a vagina!, kissing, romantic!abby, swearing, fingering(duh), thigh riding,squirting………..whew
a/n- tbh me writing for abby was easier than i thought itd be purely bc i picture her irl to be soo much like the way i describe her in this fic. but this in a once in a blue moon occurrence bc i have way too many ellie fics i need to finish (help)
also yk the mf drill i didnt proofread or edit this just be a good reader and enjoy it for what it is mama is lazy
abby was chivalry personified
most people knew her to be quiet with a certain nobleness shining off her demeanor. her confidence was undeniable yet humble, she was reserved but also gallant. her personality mimicked something of a prince.
keeping mostly to herself, she remained occupied by things that made her all the more interesting to those around you. history, photography, not to mention her keen athletic skills. if her stature didnt give her away the whispers of praise from her peers at the gym did.
she was terribly intimidating. deemed something of a god by those around her. the possibility of becoming her friend was a trophy won by very few. so when she approached you one day, flowers in hand you thought it was an elaborate prank.
no one knows how it happened. how one day you were sure the infamous woman didnt even know your name, to becoming the object of her affection. it was like night and day. the moment abby had laid her eyes on you she become the face of chivalry.
she wrote you notes, texted you good morning everyday as well as pictures of things that reminded her of you. abby would ask you out on dates solely in person. (you secretly damned this trait because each time she asked it made you a blushing mess) she insisted on picking you up and paying each time, presenting you with a gift or an arrangement of flora upon arrival.
abby didn’t make a move on you for a while.
shortly after agreeing to start seeing her you confessed no one had asked you on a date before. this shocked her immensely due to the fact that she was so smitten with you. so she decided she would be the perfect gentlewoman, making sure each first memory you shared would be astoundingly romantic and particularly respectful. the last thing abby wanted to do was rush you or make you uncomfortable.
the first time you and abby shared a kiss was when she asked you to be her girlfriend. she had given you a night straight out of a movie. your heart never beat so fast for so long. at the end of the night she remained her respectful self, walked you to your doorstep, faced you and pulled you into her arms. god shes so strong. abby brought her hand to your cheek and her face close to yours and gently stated
“i want you to be mine.”
she had robbed you of speech whilst boring her eyes into yours, if she wasn’t holding you so tight you would’ve gone completely limp at the sound of her voice. at a complete loss, you gave her a gentle nod then abby placed her lips on yours giving you a perfect first kiss.
it wasnt long until you had become curious of more intimate moments you two could share. you weren’t a child, just accidentally sexually stunted, you had let yourself become consumed with more important things, it wasn’t until you turned 18 that you realized you had missed out on lifes more…sensual pleasures. so here you were years later and the opportunity to learn could not be more accessible.
it was hard to not be aware of how abby made you feel. you had become official just before the summer kicked in and as the temperature rose outside so did the temperature in the bedroom. once abby had made you her partner she came over alot. the hotter it got the less she would wear, as did most, but most people werent abby. MOST people didnt spend everyday lifting weights at the gym. and god did it show.
on one particular sweltering hot day abby found that her air conditioning had bust. luckily for her yours was operating fine. she shows up at your door dressed in low hanging loose fitting shorts that stopped mid thigh and a black muscle tee with the side holes leaving her entire abdomen on display. she was wearing a red sports bra that day. red. you would never forget it.
fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes of abby on your couch in a thin layer of sweat and flushed cheeks. fifteen minutes of abby subconsciously moaning about how good the air conditioning feels….
“baby?….you okay?”
she questions. your heaving now, and abby, being the sweet girlfriend she is, is incredibly concerned. what she doesn’t know is that you’ve been staring at the muscles on her thighs for fifteen minutes and your starting to sweat. and it’s not because of the weather.
“abby…”
you whine. and she gets it now. and shes giving you those eyes. god damn that look in her eyes because its making you breathe harder and now your sure its because you have never needed someone to touch you more than now.
desperation oozes out of you causing abby to hum. a faint smile forms on her lips as she pats her lap and beckons you in a sweet tone that rings through your whole body.
“cmere..”
she didnt even need to ask. before the words had even left her lips you had made your way over to her. you find yourself climbing on top of her and settling directly on her lap. its slightly embarrassing considering abbys position under you. shes got her arms spread out on either side of her, legs spread apart. she hasnt even touched you yet. for a second, she takes in the sight of you, abby has yet to see you this vulnerable up close. this intimate.
“hi.”
shes smiling at you in a way that makes your skin burn. you cant help but giggle at how precious shes being considering how sensual this moment feels. your arms hug your body awkwardly feeling overwhelmed by her glare. abby leans her head down to meet your lowered gaze sending your head up right. slowly she unfolds your arms and places her hands on the soft of your underarm. her fingers sprawl into claws and she carefully scratches her way up to your hands placing them on her bulging arms.
“hold on.”
abby whispers while tightening your grip around her biceps before her hands settle on your hips. a slight confusion overcomes you at her words but then she’s lifting you off her lap effortlessly and placing your heat over one of her thighs instead of your initial place on her lap. as she lowers you over her incredibly toned thigh her nose trails up your body taking in your scent. abby inhales deep tickling the surface of your skin making your hairs stand up. eventually your thinly clothed cunt comes in contact with abbys thigh muscle, the fact that a single thigh is enough to seat you comfortably has you staining your boxers. you grasp her arms a little tighter.
“you okay?”
shes whispering in your ear and her touch is driving you crazy.
“just tell me to stop if it gets to be too much…”
your lack of know how in this current situation has you completely pliant to her advances. there was something in you that was reluctant to have abby see you so exposed like this. maybe its the way her composure was kept under wraps. she was so stoic underneath you, demeanor oozing unwavering confidence, each touch she graced you with filled with intention. she was extremely calculated, focused on making you feel comfortable, making you feel good. roaming hands explore every inch of you. its a mix of delicacy and desperation, slight pressure applied to your skin attempting to coax out any nervousness you may have in this moment but its really no use. abby is too perfect like this. she had always been attentive to what made you feel good that each touch of her finger tips on your bare skin overwhelms you.
Its subtle, but the only thing giving away abbys true excitement in this moment is her heartbeat. you can feel it thump fast against your chest as she holds you close. her hands had finally settled on your hips, she had become obsessed with the feeling of your pelvis, the way your skin bunched together at the bend atop your leg for abby to grasp onto. she began to stroke you there softly, dragging her hands back and forth unconsciously compelling your hips to move on her thigh.
“abby.”
she hums at sound of your voice still deeply consumed in your increasingly sultry scent. you cant remember when but she had began placing soft kisses on your neck. your head had cocked slightly to the left leaving room for sweet pecks from your girlfriend that fed into the need for more of her.
“abby..”
shes kissing your jaw, your pulse that has picked up to an almost alarming pace, the base of your neck, god does she even know shes making you rock your hips on her thigh? her grip on your pelvis has become so strong you have no choice but to give in to abbys manipulation of your body. unbeknownst to her the heat of this moment making everything in abbys body flex. your seat on her thigh had become so tense you swear you can feel a vein prodding at your wet spot.
“abby!”
it all feels too good, and she hasnt even kissed you directly yet and your clothes are still on and if you spend another second riding her like this you might just come from it.
“hmm…what? you okay love? you need me to stop?”
her face finally leaves its home in your neck and shes looking at you with those eyes again. abby had become so consumed in the moment she didn’t realize her actions were having such an effect on you. concern floods her eyes but theres something else there too. a look you have yet to see from your girlfriend. it almost looks like shes in pain. she looks at you like if you told her stop her advances she might actually start crying. abby is trying to make sure she hadn’t moved too fast or made you too uncomfortable, but at the same time shes just so eager to have her hands on you.
“im so sorry baby, i got carried away…your just-do you want me to stop? please dont make me stop? ill be good i promise…”
her sweaty forehead meets yours and she is massaging you again, this time more desperate than before.
“no! please dont stop…..its just- hurts. the clot-boxers…need them off…”
your practically panting while your heads remain connected as she looks up at you and sports a soft smile. then finally shes connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. her hands find their safe spot on your hips as she sends you slightly backwards upon initial contact. your grip on her biceps has yet to falter so you dont fall off your place on her lap. abby uses the leverage of your position to maneuver your boxers off your legs. somehow she had kissed you deeply all while finding a way to remove the sticky fabric down your legs and tossing it somewhere in the living room.
once your boxers had been discarded she sits you back upright on her thigh. the skin to skin contact on your cunt makes you whimper and disconnect from her kiss, screwing your eyes shut due to the foreign and intense pleasure you felt there.
“shh shh shhhh…its okay baby-”
abby whispers against your lips, she doesn’t touch your leaking center just yet, instead she strokes the plush on your thigh and this time its making you shiver. You shake to the point where your girlfriend cant even deny how cute it is. how cute you are under her touch, the smallest action making you weak. but she cant tease you too hard just yet, abby wants to be a good girlfriend and teach you what its like to feel desired. to be touched by someone who truly cares about your pleasure. her hand smooths right underneath your belly button, eyes trained on yours.
“gonna touch you here now okay?”
abby is almost too respectful about everything that’s going on. part of you wishes she would just have her way with you, to quit the patronizing and fuck you however she wanted. you knew your girlfriend better than that though. you knew this was going to be an an torturously slow experience, abby was going to take her time.
you give her a nod of approval, anxious for whats to come next. she stares at you for a little longer admiring your state. her heart beats faster at the look of you. your puffy lips and red cheeks. every inch of you glossy due to sweat. she observes until she physically cant resist the need to touch you anymore. her head drops to look at your cunt on her thigh and you see her swallow, hard.
“fuck.”
abby swears in a dirty tone, its harsh and punctuates the consonant at the end. the sounds makes you slap her arm slightly out of embarrassment.
“abby.”
“sorry! sorry….”
she trails off entranced by your pussy. its weeping and the sight makes abbys ears burn red. she licks her lips as she trails her thumb down your vagina until it reaches the hood over your puffy clit due to you riding her thigh just minutes before, then she stops. you inhale the lower she advances on you to a sharp end, she finally reaches your most sensitive button you breathe out harshly when she slowly circles her thumb there. a slight squeal follows your breathing that illicits a hum of approval from your girlfriend.
“m’gonna play with it for a little okay? its going to tickle but you have to relax, then it will start to feel really good okay?”
shes rubbing you sort of rhythmically, her thumb circles with a fluidity so visually stimulating that more moans start to leave your lips.
“that’s good. its okay to make noise, means your feeling good baby.”
all you can do is nod and squeeze abbys arms tight. the subtle coaching tone in her voice makes your head feel light. she had a habit of spending countless hours in the gym, so it made sense that she could play the role of a good trainer/teacher.
after a while of abby intently massaging your clit you had become more pliant to her touch. she had your loose fitting tank top pulled taught behind you so she had better access to look at your now soaking pussy. the faster she moved the more the room filled with sounds of your slick. once it had started to ring so loud in your ear you fell forward into your girlfriend hiding your face in her neck. although you were embarrassed that didn’t stop the subtle roll of your hips into her thumb.
“s-so embarrassing..”
you whispered in her ear, concerned that abby would become disgusted by just how wet you had become so easily.
“mmhmm i don’t mind, its normal. plus it lets me know that im making you feel good.”
it didnt take much for you to believe her, abby was a good girlfriend. she wouldn’t lie.
so if she wanted go know how good you felt you made sure to show her just how much of a perfect girlfriend she was being.
“feels so good abby...”
your words tickles her ear drum and practically doubles the movement of her thumb on your cunt.
“yeah?”
“mhhmm”
you nod fast, face still buried her neck soaking in the smell of her.
“you want more?”
when she presents you with this proposal something in you snaps. any shyness you previously had was gone, the mere idea of abby being able to make you feel more, to make you feel better than you already did had become so enticing that everything else faded away. you craved more.
“please…”
before you can finish the word she’s adjusting you so that your leaky hole is more accessible to her fingers. she flips her hand over so her middle digit flick’s quickly through your folds. you clench around nothing at the feeling. its fast and somehow more intense then before, the action mimicking something of an intrusion without even entering you fully yet. the sensation makes you bite your lip straining your voice afraid that if you let yourself, you would scream.
“gotta make sure you are ready for me hmm? it might hurt a little at first but remember what i said about relaxing-“
“abby i know how it works okay? please just hurry-uh!”
she takes your impatience as a cue to finally enter your warmth with her middle finger. it stings at first involuntarily causing your thighs to close but she stops you. abbys mouth falls open as she feels how tight you squeeze around her.
“you relaxing baby? or are you just- fuck- just this tight?”
you sit up straight to observe the scene beneath you and it almost makes you faint. abby is fucking her finger into you slowly, twisting her wrist as she exits as an attempt to get you to open up for her. its not working too well, you watch as she enters you and see how your body practically pushes her digit out. you needed to relax.
“you have to loosen up love, or i won’t be able to fuck you because it will hurt too much. i don’t want to hurt you okay? so…cmere.”
she beckons you with her lips and you lean forward to meet her in a kiss. as she kisses you she begins the flicking motion on your slick again. you sink deeper into the kiss while she toys with you’re pussy, finding comfort in her lips.
“m’trying to relax…”
“i know i know just focus on my lips…”
and you do because they are heaven on earth. her soft kiss blurs the world around you. abby is normally marble, beautiful but hard and somewhat cold not susceptible to much damage. but right now she’s clay. messy, wet, and easily manipulated. you could tear her apart into tiny little pieces and she would let you, she would do anything for you. the thought of her changing the fabric of who she is in your presence finally makes you give in to her completely.
shes prodding at your entrance with her digit when she finally feels you open up slightly. one hand moves to continue her circles on your clit whilst the other begins to pump into you slowly.
“oh my god..”
this is the feeling you had been curious about for so long. the way her finger glides in and out of you with ease is a feeling you weren’t sure how you went so long without. but you were glad you did because something about abby being your first made it all worth the wait.
“feels much better doesn’t it baby? i knew that kiss would make you relax…”
her tone is mocking you slightly and you thank god for it because she’s had been so goddamn intense throughout this whole thing.
“…might need to add another finger…”
her ring finger slides into you and you can’t help but moan. you had never felt so full. abby wastes zero time and curls her fingers into you. you watch the way her bicep flexes as she pounds into you. the veins of her neck strain as she concentrates solely on your pussy. your hand snakes around her neck and you begin to let your hips meet her fingers chasing a feeling building up inside you.
“yesss good girl..ride my fingers baby just like that…you feel it? gonna come soon?”
the hand that was ones playing with your folds now finds a place on one of your tits. shes fucking you while playing with your perky nipples through your tank top and they sensitivity sends you off the edge. once again you are rendered speechless with only a frantic nod to use at your disposal.
abbys thigh lifts whilst your hips begin to stutter, insuring your movement progresses on her flexing muscle. shes pounding into you now at a pace so fast but so sweet. it doesn’t hurt anymore, in-fact its the opposite. it feels so perfect that you begin to feel a familiar sensation that scares you.
“abby, im gonna-“
“it’s okay baby give it to me.”
“n-no im-“
“i know your so close baby you can do it.”
“it feels like im gonna-“
without warning you squirt all over abbys fingers.
the initial gush from your cunt startles her. she assumed you were just going to orgasm, not soak her fingers completely. you expect her to push you off but she doesnt. her fingers leave your sopping pussy and guide your hips to ride out your high on her thigh muscles. abby cant believe how amazing you look right now. she cant believe she just made you squirt the first time you had been fingered. it was definitely going to go to her head. she reveled in how your hips stuttered awkwardly whilst you screamed in pleasure.
the both of you are a panting soaked mess. both of your hands explore each others bodies soothing out the overwhelming feelings coursing through you due to the events of what just happened. you shake slightly as abby holds you close planting soft kisses on your neck that make you sigh.
“I-Im sorry abby I didn-“
“shhhh you did so good pretty girl. you are perfect.”
she whispers in your ear before wrapping her arms around you, picking up your half naked body with ease and carrying you to the bathroom where you two would shower together, scrubbing your bodies of what would be the first of many more sexual occurrences you shared together.
***
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taviokapudding · 2 years
Text
Everyone! My dad obtained 2 brand new, lightly used, XBox 360s. I need to buy the weird 6 prong outlet cable but I managed to find 2 replica controllers and the hdmi cables. Other than GTA V, what can we play together? He’s very excited and XBox Live no longer exists for the console.
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javarium · 5 months
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quiet kisses | r. sukuna
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prompt 2 — “I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe.”
requested by @yuujispinkhair :: Heyyy babe, your Christmas prompt post is so cute 💗💗 If you feel inspired, can you please write a little something for Sukuna + prompt 2 or prompt 7 (whichever you prefer)? 💗💗
a/n: AHHHH thank you so much for sending this in Winter! 🤩 I can’t tell you how much I nearly exploded seeing your request in my inbox! I went with prompt 2 because that’s the one my brain started working for the fastest. I hope you like it and I did your request justice :3
w — alcohol mention, fluff, everyone is 20+ in this fic, modern AU, mentions of prompt 7 heehee, softie! sukuna, sukuna cooks at the end lmao but it’s not related to the chef! sukuna fic
[ Christmas Prompt List ]
[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]
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Nobara putting on this Christmas party was anything but unexpected. She was a party girl at heart, but nothing like what you’d see at a frat house or a club. No, she was the party master (or so she likes to call herself). And you kinda had to agree. Her parties weren’t over the top, but they definitely were anything but boring.
This time was no different: catering, along pizza and wine delivery, along with some of the more higher-rated Christmas movies playing on the TV with English Christmas music playing on the background, just loud enough that it wasn’t obnoxious.
You knew your boyfriend had to agree, even if he hated attending social events and parties.
What an introvert, you muse to yourself. You wonder how many people realize that as much as Sukuna seems like it, he doesn’t actually like parties. Nor anyone but himself and you at said parties.
You and Sukuna are off to the side against the bar that separates the kitchen and living area, deep in your own little world of each other. You’re leaning on him, his big arm wrapped around your shoulders comfortably.
You nudge him. “This isn’t so bad. See!”
Sukuna scoffs. “That’s what you said when you forced me into that Santa costume last year.”
“But you had some fun, didn’t you?”
“In the suit? No. Terrorizing children in it? Absolutely.”
You slap his chest. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You grumble. “You idiot.”
“Your idiot,” he remarks with a grin.
Suddenly, like magic, the party suddenly gets loud. Jingle Bells comes on the playlist set up, and everyone has begun to sing as loud as they possibly can. Sukuna grumbles and plugs one ear with a finger, rolling his eyes. He keeps on ear open, and you know it’s just to listen to you as you attempt to sing your way through the giggles.
When the song ends, everyone cheers. Sukuna unplugs his one ear and sighs, taking another sip of the hot chocolate you’ve made for him. They all quiet down, giggling and giddy from the sudden excitement of the old but catchy tune.
But why is everyone now looking at his and your direction?
And then everyone starts chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
You and Sukuna look up at the same time, seeing a mistletoe being hung over your heads by a fishing rod, but none other than the Party Master herself. Nobara grins sadistically with an evil glint in her eye.
Sukuna cusses and downs the rest of his drink before saying, “I think that’s our cue to leave. Nice party, Kugisaki.”
You attempt to down the rest of yours before he grabs your hand with his bigger one and leads you out the front door, almost stumbling over your own two feet.
Behind you, everyone complains about Sukuna being a “party pooper” and leaving. Before you two leave, he turns back to them and gives them the finger.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t the only couple here. Maybe Geto and Gojo should finally shack up,” Sukuna says with an evil grin. The two men next to each other go redder than tomatoes in record time. Sukuna isn’t done though, looking at his little brother. “And maybe you and Fushiguro should finally get a room, too, baby brother.”
The chaos from your boyfriend’s words gives you the chance to leave without trouble, the two unspoken couples now being the main attention of Kugisaki’s evil fishing rod-mistletoe.
Maybe they’ll be together come New Years, you think happily.
Sukuna drives you both home. One hand on the wheel, the other intertwined sweetly with yours. But by the time you get home, you’re halfway asleep in the car, hot cocoa being the perpetrator of your tiredness. You attempt to blink and wake up, but Sukuna’s gruff, “Stay put.” halts you as he turns the car off, keeping his keys in one hand.
You have no idea what he’s doing until he opens your door and slides his arms under your back and legs. You squeal and giggle as he effortlessly picks you up from your seat.
“Goddamn, you got the giggles tonight,” he mutters.
Like he’s done it a thousand times (he’s at least done it a couple dozen), Sukuna unlocks the front door with you in his arms with pure ease. He carries you over the threshold like a husband would his bride and doesn’t set you down. He hoists you up, readjusting your position closer to his chest. And then you see the cunning look in his eyes.
“Sukuna, what are you— mmph!”
He dips his head and captures your lips with his. He’s warm, so warm and comforting. You feel so safe and loved in his hold and damn do you love him. Your arms naturally tighten their hold around his neck as you two kiss in your home.
When Sukuna pulls away, he chuckles. You’re slightly breathless from the sudden kiss, but grinning nonetheless.
“You couldn’t do that at the party?” you inquire curiously.
“I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe,” he replies honestly. “Especially at a party in front of people. Not my thing to make such an intimate spectacle of ourselves.”
Your heart flutters and overflows with love at his desire to keep his affection solely for your eyes to see. Sukuna has never been one to kiss or do intimate things in public beyond hand holding or wrapping his arm around your shoulders. For him, he considers that to be sacred; any acts of love he prefers to be behind closed doors, kept between the two of you and not in front of people to be fawned over or talked about.
“You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” you say. “I’m so lucky. I really got the best man ever, didn’t I? Thanks, Universe.”
Your boyfriend’s cheeks tint red. A rare sight.
“Fuck. No, I’m the lucky one.” Sukuna gives you a fat smooch on the lips, the adds, “But I don’t have the universe to thank. I got you all by myself.”
You toss your head back and laugh at his indirect proclamation of arrogance. Or maybe it was just unshakable confidence, who knows?
Sukuna sets you down on the couch and asks, “What do you want for dinner?”
You think for a moment before replying, “Didn’t you say wanted to make some penne vodka the other day? That sounds good.”
“Penne alla vodka,” he corrects you with a stern eye.
You toss your hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.”
But as Sukuna gets to work on the dish, you can’t help but stare at him as he works. He could be a master chef like Gordon Ramsey, if not better. But you’re kinda glad he’s not, not if you get to see him in your kitchen every night.
Yeah, you’d trade any party and PDA for his quiet kisses and love at home any day.
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taglist:
@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss | @missmuffinr
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hyunniesgirl · 3 months
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Bad intentions | Part 1
Pairing: nerd!Han Jisung x popular!reader(afab)
Summary: you thought you could turn Han Jisung into the perfect boyfriend material so you can get revenge on your cheating ex. Little did you know that you would end up getting much more than just a guy to show off.
Genre: fluff, angst, smut(for the story in general, this part has no smut)
Words count: 8,056
Slightly inspired in the movie She's All That
*This is the second fic to my series Love is a mess. The stories can be read as standalones but they are all connected so some details mentioned may sound off.
Disclaimer: Jisung is proud asf, OC has kind of a sad backstory and has anxiety(not explored very deeply but there are descriptions of her symptoms), this part is just suggestive so no smut
Part 2
This story is NSFW and is going to have +18 themes so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
A/N: okay for the sake of the plot let's pretend for a moment that Han Jisung can be considered anything other than smocking hot, alright?
A/N²: My idea was for all the stories from this series to be oneshots but I just kept writing and writing and this one was almost 13k already and I haven't even gotten to the good part so I thought "I almost never read anything over 10k" so I split the oneshot for the sake of my readers attention span.
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Jisung likes to think that he's better than all the guys fawning over you, he likes to think that even if he had a chance, he'd never lust over you. But well, sometimes a strong denial turns out to be an implicit affirmation.
It all started in social studies, he was trying to go over his notes for the test but the conversations happening at the same time didn't let him pay any attention to what was written in the sheets. There were five different conversations happening at the same time, but they all had the same subject: you.
Apparently, you had a boyfriend who cheated on you with a girl from a rival university? Or some trivial shit like that. Jisung doesn't understand why that matters to anyone but you and the said boyfriend. He doesn't understand why everyone feels like such a painful experience is any of their business. But he guesses it comes with the job.
Everyone knows you, you're the classic cheer captain, who dates — or dated — the infamous quarterback in the football team. People envy you, cherish you, they want to be you and he always thought they loved you, but after hearing so many snarky comments about you in the last 20 minutes, he's actually starting to pity you.
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You wanted to kill him, Seunghoon, that bastard. He destroyed a relationship of a year just to get in someone's pants? Fucking idiot. You hate him so much for cheating on you, but you hate him the most for not showing up kneeling at your door and asking for forgiveness. Who does he think he is? He would never have gotten his position on the football team if it wasn't for you, everyone knows that.
It's an understatement to say you are always the best in everything you put your mind into and if you're not the best by nature, you work hard until you become the best. You are smart, pretty, popularity is your thing, you're used to getting everyone's attention wherever you go. Everyone loves you, or at least they pretend well enough.
So when you started dating this guy, who was a nobody it was pretty shocking for everyone else. You turned him into the most popular guy so he could stay by your side, so you expected a little bit of loyalty from him. Guess that was expecting too much from a horny dog like him.
You did love Seunghoon, you wouldn't have dated him for a year if you didn't. But his character was always questionable, that, you won't deny. There's that saying that love makes you blind but you knew that he's no good and yet stayed with him, that's on you.
You can't stand the pity looks people give you when you walk down the hallway, they could at least pretend they are not talking shit about you behind your back.
To think the semester has only just started, you wish you could take a year off to make sure things die down nicely. But if you do, you'll definitely lose your position as cheer captain, there are too many people willing to get rid of you so they can get your title.
It's best for you to try and get rid of these thoughts, so you hold your head high turning on a corner, decided to pretend everything is okay. That's when you bump into someone, dropping the books you have in your hands and your phone screen down on the floor, gasping immediately, the last thing you need right now is a broken phone.
When you lean over to collect your things, the person who bumped into you does the same, going for the phone at the same time and touching hands with you. A strange wave of electricity makes your whole body shiver by that touch, making you snap your head in the direction of the person.
You know him. He's one of the members of 3racha, a music group everyone loves. Curiously, this is the first time you have seen him outside of a presentation. He's clearly different from the other members, wearing baggy clothes and displaying a hair that's undeniable too long with some questionable choice of colors on it. You can't even really see his eyes, however, he has something about him that makes you refuse to take your eyes off him.
He grabs your book and phone, ignoring your shameless stare. Standing up and handing your things to you.
“Sorry, I can pay for your phone's repair”, he says and for the first time in a minute you can divert your eyes from him, looking at the screen, absolutely shattered and sighing.
“No, it's okay. I was the one who was distracted”, you smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. Why do you feel the sudden urge to flirt with him? He's not even your type. Or at least, that's what you think.
He hums, not really interested, taking a paper out of his bag and writing something on it.
“Here, this is my number if you change your mind”, he gives you the paper, saying goodbye and disappearing somewhere in the hallway.
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When you finally meet Seunghoon, he doesn't even apologize, actually, he doesn't look regretful at all. He has a smug smile, as if what he did is not serious, as if he's better than you now.
You always had a thought in the corner of your mind that maybe he had some kind of inferiority complex when it came to you, but you didn't think he would go as far as to cheat on you just to prove he is better in some way.
“You don't harbor hard feelings, right?” He smirks, chin up. “I know you're much better than me, I'm sure you won't mind what happened and we can still be friends”, he's mocking you, you recognize that tone.
You're grasping the fabric of your skirt under the table, did he really pull you away from your practice to say this? The audacity of this man.
“Of course I don't mind”, you smile kindly, acting as unbothered as you possibly can. This is something you learned in so many years of having eyes on you all the time: pretend. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry or even get mad. If you are able to pretend you don't care at all about him, that's what you're gonna do.
“I'm glad-”, his smile falters a bit, you are sure he expected you to break. That shows how little he knows about you, you would never make a scene in public.
“Actually, I'm even seeing someone else already”, you blurt out, trying to make him more baffled and it works, he frowns and the look of confusion in his face is priceless.
“Well, that's great for you”, Seunghoon clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “We should definitely go on a double date sometime”
“Of course, I'd love that”, you nod, standing up. “I'll be going now, but it was great seeing you”, you lie, turning around and walking back to the gymnasium.
When it sinks in what you just did, you want to hit your head against the wall. What the hell was that? Why would you even tell him you're seeing someone when you're not? For fucksake, you're sure he's too proud to let this go, he'll try to find out who it is that you're seeing and when he finds out you lied, you'll be done for, faced with utter humiliation again.
“Why would you tell him you're seeing someone?” Mina asks, looking at you like you are the dumbest person alive, and honestly, you do feel like that at the moment.
“I don't know”, you cry out, “I guess I wanted him to feel miserable”
“And look where that got you”, Miyeon says, worriedly.
“I know, I'm an idiot”, you tell them and your friends nod, making you glare at them. “Well, I guess I'll just have to find a new boyfriend”, you say, dreadfully.
“You know it's not that easy”, Mina says, “you built Seunghoon from the scratch to the guy he is today, it won't have the same effect if you get just anybody that people already see everyday, it has to be shocking”
“Well, I don't know”, you sigh, “is there even someone like that here?”
“I don't know”, Miyeon says, “you need someone charming, someone who people can't take their eyes off”
“It won't be good if he's already known, it should be someone who's usually invisible”, Mina completes.
You sigh, there's only one person you can think of who instantly fits that description.
“What about him?” Miyeon takes you out of your thoughts, pointing to someone behind you. “Isn't he part of 3racha?”
“I mean, he fits what we are looking for”, Mina says.
You turn around, finding the guy you bumped on a few days ago sitting at the table behind you, you're sure you can remember his name if you just try a little harder. He's sitting with Changbin, the other guy from 3racha who is kind of your friend.
“But is there something for you to do there?” Mina looks at him with squinted eyes, trying to see how you could improve him.
“He's cute”, you check him out shamelessly, nodding to yourself.
“I'm not sure if you could make Seunghoon jealous with cuteness”, she shrugs.
“He's not just cute”, you bit your bottom lip, thinking hard. “He could use a different haircut and maybe a new wardrobe but I see a lot of potential in there”
“Well”, Mina sighs in defeat, “let's make a bet them”
“Are you in middle school?” You ask her, rolling your eyes.
“If you can make Seunghoon regret cheating on you, I'll give up on trying for cheer captain next semester”, she ignores your question, stretching her hand for you to shake it.
“As if you were going to win anyway”, you joke.
Of course she could win, Mina is your best friend and also the best dancer you know, she could easily steal your position if you didn't try so hard to keep it, so you do what you have to do, shaking her hand even though you don't have a good feeling about it.
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It's been a few days since you decided to make Jisung your new boyfriend, you just haven't figured out how to approach him. For starters, you can't even find him in this damn university, how the hell can a member from a trio as popular as 3racha just walk around without being noticed? That's a mystery you'll have to solve later.
“Jisung? Why would you want me to set you up with him?” Changbin asks, confused.
“Well, I find him cute”, you shrug, that's not a lie.
“He's not your type, he's totally different from Seunghoon”, he stares at you with a brow raised, sipping from his drink.
“Why would I want someone like Seunghoon? My reputation is almost ruined because of that guy”, you say.
“You got a point”, Changbin sighs, “let me talk to him first”, he can feel something is up but with all the mess happening in his life already, he doesn't have the energy to dig any deeper.
Jisung stares at his friend for about five minutes, no words being said. Why would someone like you want to go out with someone like him?
He's pretty popular because of 3racha, but not near as popular as you or your friend group. Everyone knows he's an awkward guy, when he's on stage his personality changes, he's confident, it feels great, like he could conquer the world, but when he goes back to real life, he just doesn't feel the need to be perceived. Jisung doesn't have a reason to be popular outside of the stage, he's fine with being invisible.
“So, what do you think?” Changbin asks.
“I don't know”, Jisung shrugs.
“Think carefully, it's not everyday that someone like y/n wants to go on a date with an ordinary guy”, the older one insists.
Well, maybe he likes being ordinary. He always thought he wouldn't be like those guys who would do anything for a pretty girl, now it's his chance to prove it.
“You can tell her that I appreciate the thought, but I don't think it's a good idea”, Jisung says, confidently. Even though he wants to punch himself after saying it.
Changbin sighs.
“If you're sure about it”, he shrugs, standing up and walking to the kitchen.
What if he's just letting his prejudice get in the way of meeting someone nice? He sighs to himself, there's nothing he can do about it now.
Well, that's unexpected. Did you go so low as to be rejected by just anybody? How could Jisung not even accept a single date with you? Are you ugly? No, you're sure it's not that. Are you boring? It's not that either, of course. You don't think there's a single thing that would make him turn you down. Maybe you're not his type? No, you're everyone's type.
You won't give up, though. Han Jisung has too much potential for you to just leave him be, you're sure you can make him be even better than Seunghoon ever was. So you march to social studies, you asked Changbin who reluctantly told you that Jisung takes that class.
You enter the classroom earning a few glances, smiling kindly at the people you know and introducing yourself to the ones you don't.
Jisung is seated in the corner, writing something on his notebook, earbuds on. You walk up to him, sitting by his side and waiting for him to notice you, which doesn't take long. He feels a presence too close to him, making him turn to look at you.
He frowns, taking his earbuds slowly, trying to process your present so close to him.
“How can I help you?” He asks and you tilt your head, he's even cuter up close.
“I heard you turned me down”, you say, leaning over the desk to watch him.
“Yeah, sorry”, he shrugs nonchalantly, hurting your pride even more. He should feel at least a bit apologetic, shouldn’t he?
“What do I have to do for you to go out with me?” You push more. You even came here looking for him, you're not going to be discouraged just by a bit of indifference.
“Why do you want to go out with me anyway?” He frowns, it’s not that he doesn’t want to say yes, it’s just that every time that he feels tempted to actually lust over you his pride gets a little more hurt, did you think there was no chance of you being rejected by him?
“Well, I like you. You're cute”, you tell him as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
“You don't even know me”, he scoffs, ignoring the fact that you called him cute.
“That's exactly why I want to go out with you, dummy. So I can get to know you better”, you smile, knowing he won't be able to get out of this situation without telling you why he won't go out with you.
“Well, you’re not my type”, he clears his throat, adjusting himself on his seat and trying to sound convincing, you’re clearly everyone’s type. “And I don’t think we would have much to talk about”
You’re going to fight him on this, argue that you’re a very interesting person that can talk about a lot of things, but the professor enters the classroom, eyeing you and tilting his head in confusion, since you passed this class last semester.
“I’m going to let it go for now”, you stand, “but don’t think you’re getting rid of me”, you huff, walking out of the class. He sure is stubborn, but you’re more.
Jisung feels like he's in those movies with a stalker following him around. You know, when the protagonist is sure that someone is watching them but every time they look around there's no one there? Except that in his case, you're always there. Every place he goes has you in it, glaring at him.
You're not actually glaring at him, even though he thinks you're. You're just shocked that he still hasn't come around to accepting going out with you, so you have to stare at him because you have to understand him. Why is he so different from the other guys? Of course you don't think you're better than anyone, but since news of your break up with Seunghoon broke out, your phone has been blowing up with texts from guys you didn't even know had your number, saying weird things and asking you out. So why is the only person you want to hear from, not giving a shit about you?
You ask Changbin's help but he refuses to meddle anymore than he already has, saying that he knows your intentions are not entirely good so he won't help anymore.
“Did you know we have a class with your new crush?” Mina says while looking at herself in the mirror of the clothes store you're visiting.
“What?” You take your eyes out of your phone to look at her, you have been staring at your screen for thirty minutes, trying to fight the urge to just call Jisung. He gave you his number so you could charge him with the repair of your broken phone but you already had it fixed, maybe you could use that little incident to your advantage.
“We have French with him, you chose Spanish, right?” Miyeon asks, looking around to see if she likes anything.
“Are you for real?” You ask and she looks at you, nodding. “Do you think there are still open spots in your class?” You ask, lost in thoughts.
“You're not going to switch classes just so you can get close to him, right?” Mina turns around to look at you, a brow raised in questioning. “Right?” She presses after you don't answer.
“I kinda prefer French though”, you smirk, standing up. “The school's office is still open now, isn't it?” You ask and both of your friends exchange looks, sighing and shaking their heads, sure that you're a lost cause.
It was not difficult to switch classes, you used up all your charm with the office’s secretary so she wouldn't argue too much about it. You just need a warm smile, some tiramisu and to compliment her nails.
You enter the class smiling victoriously, seeing your friends seated side by side and finding Jisung sitting alone in the back. You waltz over there, putting your things on the desk and sitting by his side.
Jisung takes a deep breath, side eyeing you for a moment.
“Are you serious right now?” He sighs, “you know you can't just keep coming to my classes, right? That's lowkey stalking”, he argues, making you chuckle.
“I don't know what you're talking about”, you shrug, “I'm enrolled in this class”, you tell him, pulling a paper with your schedule printed on it and showing it to him. “This is the only spot available”
He looks around to check, biting his bottom lip, embarrassed. He should have checked before assuming things but that doesn't change the fact that you have been around him too much lately.
“Okay”, he sighs, fidgeting on his seat.
“If I'm really making you uncomfortable I can find somewhere else to sit”, you say, even though you want to make him give in and accept to go out with you, you don't want him to feel genuinely bothered by you.
Jisung on the other hand feel likes he can give in at any moment, the second time he saw you looking at him he wanted to stand up and just go to you, telling you he would accept to go out with you, fuck his pride.
“It's okay”, he clears his throat, “You can sit whatever you want”, he says, making you smirk.
“I mean, are you sure?” You lean in his direction, glancing at his lap.
Jisung chokes immediately, coughing so much he thinks he's going to die, you didn't mean what he thinks you do, right?
Class starts before you can mess with him a little bit more, you didn't think you would have so much fun teasing someone.
Jisung stands up and leaves as soon as the professor says the class ended, he doesn't want to stay close to you for a minute more. He couldn't pay attention to class because your scent kept coming his way. He would glance at you and you wouldn't even be acknowledging him, paying 100% of attention in class. It did make him upset that he didn't seem to cause the same reaction in you as you do to him.
Except that, as stated before, you're very good at pretending. You really wanted to tease him every time you caught him staring at you, you could see everything he was doing with your peripheral vision and you wanted to giggle with every time he pouted while looking at you.
That's proof enough for you that not being his type it's not the reason why he's reluctant to go out with you but you didn't even think about the possibility of him not liking girls at all.
“As far as I know, he does like girls”, Changbin tells you. “I'm not sure about guys though, maybe he does too?”
“Well, that's good then”, you sigh, crossing your arms and nodding to yourself, lost in thoughts.
Changbin stares at you for a moment, with a brow raised. “Binnie, can't you help me out? Just this once” You plead again, giving him puppy eyes.
“Nope, I'm not sure what your intentions are but what I know is that you don't do things without a reason”, he shakes his head.
You sigh, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you know how to convince Changbin but it's the first time in your life that you have to resort to such dirty methods.
“You know, I met someone really nice one of these days”, you tell him, smiling friendly. “She's really cute and she has been helping me in a class we have together”, Changbin glares at you. “I think you know her, but she doesn't seem to like you at all…” You pout, making a show.
“What are you trying to say?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I'm trying to say that if you help me out, I can do the same”, you shrug, “you have so many virtues, Binnie, I'm confident I can make her see you in a different light”
You can at least try to convince her that Changbin is a good guy even though she's absolutely sure that he's bad news.
“Are you saying I should sell out my best friend so you can help me?” You see Changbin hesitate and that's when you push a little more.
“Come on, it's not like I'll do something awful to him”, you say, “I just want one date”
He sighs, nodding.
“Okay, alright”, he grunts. “I'll help you out just this one time and that's it”
“You're the best!” You say, clapping your hands excitedly.
This is definitely not how you thought the help would happen. The sun is burning your skin and the giggles of people around you are making you stressed. A pool party, why did he think this was going to be a good idea?
Just because you're at the same party as Jisung it doesn't mean you'll get a chance to talk to him or even accomplish your goal but even though the odds are against you, you are still going to try.
The day is too hot, the pool is bustling with people and you're uncomfortable in your bikini. In most days you love your body, you think you're pretty just the way you are but sometimes you have bad days, where you feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw you have.
You came to the party because you couldn't lose the opportunity but you can't see Jisung anywhere and your anxiety is only growing bigger. So as soon as you get the chance to escape, you do it. You wander around the frat house, looking for a place with no one, maybe Changbin's room is empty since he pretty much doesn't live in the house.
You walk up the stairs, swerving in the middle of the crowd who are talking and laughing with drinks in their hands, it's very overwhelming.
The corridor where the rooms are have less people, so you walk until the end to find Changbin's nameplate on the door. You knock twice to make sure there's no one there, the music in the pool is pretty loud so you can't hear if there are voices in the room but you wait a few seconds so people can get dressed if there is someone fucking there. You open the door slowly, finding the room empty. Hurrying inside and closing the door so no one sees you going in.
It's a pretty huge room with things that suit Changbin's personality to a T. There's gym equipment all over the place, a big bed in the middle, a door you can only guess leads to a private bathroom and a TV that you're not sure was ever used. But again, your friend only comes by the house once in a while since he lives in an apartment downtown with Chan and Jisung.
Changbin managed to convince Jisung that it would be a good way to promote 3racha if they threw a party and it didn't take much convincing to the frat president since that guy loves partying.
You sit by the bed, trying to take deep breaths. The burning sensation in your chest is easing a bit with the calm and silence of the room. Silence that is immediately interrupted by the door of the bathroom being opened, just to show a half naked Han Jisung coming out of there with just a towel wrapped around his waist.
You two stare at each other for a minute, both not sure what to do next, both frozen. You manage to stand up, turning your back to him, face burning with embarrassment.
“I'm sorry, I didn't know there was someone already here”, you clarify. “I- I knocked on the door”, you inform him as if that could change anything.
Jisung finds your reaction funny, he didn't take you for the shy type, who gets flustered by seeing a man like this.
“I was showering, I didn't hear the knock”, he says, walking to Changbin's wardrobe to get some clothes he leaves there for eventual emergencies since the frat house is closer than his house to the university.
“Yeah, I guessed that”, you gulp, trying to calm your beating heart. You didn't get to take a good look at him, but the little you did made you quite surprised. Jisung is pretty athletic and hot.
“You can turn around now”, he says. You do it slowly, still embarrassed.
“I'm sorry again”, you sigh.
“It's okay, it can happen”, he shrugs, sitting on the bed. He can't help but look at you too for a moment, you're wearing a deep green bikini that goes perfectly with the tone of your skin. You have a thin transparent shirt that doesn't leave much to the imagination making him bite his bottom lip. If you try to make a move on him again right now, he won't be able to say no.
However, his not very pure thoughts are interrupted by your uneasiness, shifting your weight from a leg to another, hands trying to cover your thighs. Did he look at you for too long? Did he make you uncomfortable? Jisung diverts his gaze from you immediately, he's always proud to say that he's not the same as the other guys who are just horny and nothing more, but look at him now.
“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable”, he stands up, ready to leave the room, “I'm sorry”
“No, you didn't make me uncomfortable”, you say, taking a step closer to him to stop him from leaving. “I was already feeling not great”, you clarify.
“Did something happen?” He asks, worried.
“No- I-”, you stop yourself from talking more, why do you actually want to talk to him about your problems? You don't even know him. “I'm having a bad day, my self esteem is kinda low so I feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw I have”
Jisung stops for a moment, malfunctioning. His head tilting to the side as he stares at you with furrowed brows.
“Exactly which “flaws” are we talking about?” He asks, making quotes with his fingers.
“I don't know”, you glance down to your feet, feeling embarrassed. “There are so many girls here who are much prettier than me”, you sigh, “oh, I'm not jealous of them, they are great. I'm a huge activist of women hyping up other women”, you add quickly. “Usually I won't let myself compare to other people, but when I'm having one of these days I just can't help to think things like: is my hair pretty enough? Should I go on a diet? Maybe I should hit the gym more often so I can look like that”, you sigh, you sound ridiculous. You are supposed to make him want to go out with you, not scare him with all your insecurities.
Jisung stares at you for a few seconds, realization hitting him. So you're human too, he already knew that, but seeing the pretty and popular y/n come out of the pedestal people built for her, makes him believe that maybe you're very different from what he thought about you.
“I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this”, Jisung clears his throat, trying to not sound like an idiot, “but I think you're pretty and even though you may have some flaws, everyone has. I can assure you yours are not in your looks”
You feel your cheeks growing hotter, that's surprising, a guy never managed to make you blush.
“But you said I'm not your type”, you pout, seizing the opportunity to tease him.
“Well, I had to say something so you would stop coming after me”, he sighs, “clearly it didn't work”
“So, will you go out with me?” You ask, hopeful and he sighs.
“Why do you want to go out with me so badly?”
“I already told you, you're cute. Also, you make me feel at ease”, it's not a lie. Jisung is the first person other than your friends that effortlessly makes you comfortable.
“Fine”, he huffs, “I already gave you my number so just text me”, he tells you and you smile, is this finally happening? Did he finally say yes?
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You planned a whole date in an amusement park, it's cliche for a first date, although you never really went on a date there. You have never done this before for any guy you dated, but there's something about Han Jisung, you just want him to like you.
He's waiting for you in front of the park, looking nervous while scrolling through his phone. You bend down a bit, tilting your head to make him notice you.
“Hey”, you smile waiting for his greeting that doesn't come. Jisung is not easily impressionable but you just leave him speechless every time, he always takes a few seconds to take in your beauty before his brain starts functioning again.
That's the reaction you wanted from him and you are glad you managed to get it. You spent almost four hours getting ready, changed outfits at least ten times and did and redid your makeup over and over. In the end, you chose a natural look. You put on a tight high waisted skirt, a tank top and sneakers since you would be walking a lot. Your hair is down and your make-up is light, so it won't get smudged by hot weather.
“H-hi”, Jisung says, trying to recompose himself, he's not sure if he should comment on how pretty you look or if that would make you uncomfortable.
He can't help but think that it's wrong of him to be there with someone like you, someone totally out of his reach.
“What should we do first?” You ask excitedly, it's been years since the last time you went to an amusement park with your family.
“I think we can walk for a bit and see what catches our attention”, he says and you nod, walking into the park.
There are so many people, Jisung can't help but notice how you're looking around like a child getting to know a new place.
“Do you come often to these kinds of places?” He asks.
“Hm, not really”, you answer, turning around to look at him. “The last time was when I was a child probably”
“Oh?” He frowns. “You seemed excited, I thought your ex boyfriend must have brought you here at least a few times”
“Yeah, well, he was not really the romantic type”, you shrug, a sad smile on your lips.
Jisung doesn't like that, you always look confident and happy, he doesn't want to see you sad again.
“He is an idiot then”, he avoids your gaze, looking around while speaking, “If I had a girlfriend like you, I would move heavens and earth to make her happy”
You feel your heart skip a bit, your cheeks growing warmer and in a few seconds your whole face is burning. You can't believe Han Jisung is making you blush again, saying these words that are messing with your heartbeat.
“Should we go to the haunted house?” You ask awkwardly, trying to change the subject, pointing to the building at the end of the park. You try not looking at him, not sure if your cheeks are still red.
He hums, not really understanding why you look so flustered, he's sure you must hear this kind of thing all the time.
You two enter the house, looking around while walking into the dark. You were very confident in the beginning, you love horror movies, but jump scares are really not your cup of tea and that's the problem. The moment a doll(you assume) holding a knife with a ghost face mask pops out of nowhere you jump… into Jisung's arms. The way his arms immediately wrap around you in a protective position does something to your heart and honestly you feel hot all over.
You didn't even notice the little scares he got, or how he squeezed you every time some scary character showed up. The only thing you noticed was his unexpected strong arms embracing you the whole time until you left the haunted house.
Jisung didn't want to let you go. The moment he felt the cold breeze touching his skin, he knew he had to step back, you are not scared anymore. But he just doesn't want to. You look fragile, shy, endearing. Jisung shakes his head, he shouldn't be thinking this, he thought he would be immune to your charms, but it turns out that he understands now why all those guys fawned over you.
He tries taking a step back, threatening to get away from you but you snuggle closer to him, a hand swinging fast to your shoulder so you could grip his hand in place.
“Can- can you keep holding me for a bit?” You ask awkwardly, not really wanting to look him in the eye.
You had no idea you missed being touched this much, you never noticed how cold Seunghoon’s touch was until you felt Jisung's warm hands on you. You're embarrassed for looking so fragile in front of him but not enough for you to let go, not at that moment.
“Yeah, sure”, he tells you, coming closer again and squeezing you against his chest. “Should we walk around for a bit?”
You nod, too lost in his scent to say anything.
Jisung felt strange for a moment. He's not used to letting his instincts take control, he's a very restrained guy. But he can't help but peek at your thighs when the skirt you're wearing rides up a bit, you're tiptoeing while trying to shoot the target with the water gun you have in your hands, like that would help you win.
“Do you really want that plushie?” He asks when you lose once more. “You could probably buy a better one with the money you're spending”, he points out and you pout.
“Where's the fun in that?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It's so much more exciting to win the prize”
Jisung finds you cute, you are just so different from all the rumors and how he thought you would be. Other than being someone who's high and mighty or arrogant, you're cute and funny.
Defeated, he sighs, paying for another round. This time he's the one trying.
It's difficult the first time. He never played this game so he has to get used to and understand how to win.
Jisung doesn't notice but you're not looking at the booth or to the target, you're looking at his face. He looks more handsome when he's focused, he has his lips pressed in a thin line and his grip on the water gun makes you shudder just thinking about how that grip would feel on you.
After a few tries, Jisung wins, asking you to choose what plushie you want.
“That one”, you point to the big quokka hanging in the wall. “It looks a bit like you”, you say when you get the plushie, lifting enough so you can compare it with Jisung.
“I'm cuter”, he pouts.
“Definitely”, you assure him, hugging your new plushie while Jisung’s ears grow hotter.
“Should we go to the ferris wheel?” He asks, looking at the time. It'll probably be your last ride since it's already late.
“Yes!” You jump excitedly, “I never had the chance before”, you say while you two walk in the direction of the big attraction.
“Not even when you were a child?” He asks, remembering you said that was the last time you went to an amusement park.
“My parents are not very fun to be around and my little brother was too young”, you say, shaking your head, “I was never very proficient in doing things by myself so I just didn't go”, you shrug.
Jisung feels that there's more to unpack into that topic, but he's not sure if you want to talk about it with him or right now. So he just slides his arm over your shoulder, surprising you by his bold move. You can feel your cheeks growing hot, are you blushing again?
When you hear the gears turning, excitement spreads all over your body but as soon as the cabin stops in the air, you're not so confident anymore.
“It's quite high, isn't it?” you say, looking down, feeling a little dizzy.
“Are you afraid of heights?” Jisung asks, panicked, seeing your face turning pale.
“No, of course not”, you shake your head frantically while shrinking in your seat, “I can't, I'm always at the top of the pyramid in our cheer stunts”, you tell him.
A sudden wave of air brushes over the cabin, making it shake slightly and you turn even more pale if that's even possible.
“You know it's different right?” He grabs you by the arm, pulling you closer to him. Jisung slides one of his hands on your waist, squeezing you close to him and with the other hand he cups your face, making you look at him. “Keep looking at me, you don't have to look down”
Jisung doesn't know why he feels this urge to protect you, of all the people he knows, you're probably the one he thinks needs the least protection. You keep staring at him, he is pretty, his lips are plump and inviting.
“Are you going to kiss me?” You ask when he licks his lips, huge doe eyes staring at him and waiting.
“Do you want me to?” He asks back, not really sure of what to do. Jisung is not certain, his heart is beating fast and his hands are sweating, you look so beautiful, so close to him.
So when you nod, he just loses control of every part of himself that was holding him back. He's sure after this, there's no going back, he's lost forever, but maybe he doesn't mind if it means it's you he's lost in.
His lips are soft, clumsily pressing against yours. You can tell he's unsure of how to proceed then why does his grip on you make you burn? He's squeezing your waist against his body like you're going to disappear if he doesn't hold you strongly and the hand he has cupping your cheeks, slowly slides to your hair, pulling it lightly, making you whimper.
In an instant his lips are not on yours anymore, he's trailing kisses down to your neck. You shiver, feeling his warm lips against your cold skin.
“Ah, Ji-Jisung”, you gasp when he bites your neck, sucking the area so deliciously it makes you bite your lips so you won't moan.
He hears your plea, kissing you once again and you notice you are the one that didn't know how to proceed. You've been squirming in his hands this whole time without touching him at all. You take a hand to his face, caressing his cheek and the other goes to his hip, pulling you even closer to him but before you can go further, the shake of the cabin going back down takes you out of your haze. You're in public, you had absolutely forgotten about that.
You stop the kiss, giving a peck on his lips before moving away. He looks disheveled, lips swollen and eyes searching for yours in an attempt to know exactly what you are thinking. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Now that he got a taste of something he should have remained oblivious to, he's not sure he'll be able to let go.
The ride home was awkward, to say the least. You are silent the whole time and Jisung is freaking out. He can't help but think he screwed up really badly. How the hell could he make you lose all interest with just a couple of kisses? Did he go too far by giving you a hickey? Maybe you don't like this kind of thing, you're a cheerleader after all, your image is important.
You on the other hand, have too many thoughts running through your mind, never did a man make you feel so desired with just a kiss. The way he embraced you so possessively was too much for you, Seunghoon never did anything like that. You were always the one searching for his touch, for some affection but it was never quite enough. His touches never really gave you what you wanted, you always thought it was weird, you thought maybe there was something wrong with you.
But how could Jisung make you feel so many things with a simple touch? A simple kiss? You're so lost in thoughts that you don't even notice when the car stops.
“We’re here”, Jisung says, not really looking at you.
You look at him, seeing him biting his bottom lip while squeezing the wheel.
“I had fun”, you tell him, shyly. His head snaps at you, a deep scowl on his face.
“You did?” He asks confused and you giggle, tilting your head.
“Yeah”, you bite your bottom lip, leaning over him without breaking eye contact. “I thought I made it clear by almost melting in your arms while you kissed me”, you tease, seeing his ears growing red.
“I thought maybe I did something wrong, you were quiet”, he looks at you waiting for some more reassurance.
“I'm sorry”, you cup his face, caressing his cheek, “it's been a long time since I felt the way you made me feel, I needed time to recover”, you tell him, pulling him in for a brief kiss.
“Wait, but what about-”
“That's what I'm telling you”, you chuckle, bitterly, “can you imagine feeling more in a night than you ever felt in a year with someone else? It really makes a girl think”
“Ah”, he nods, understanding what you're saying now. “Then, can I call you when I get home?” He asks eagerly, now that he knows that you did enjoy your time with him.
“I'd be mad if you didn't”, you give a peck on his lips, getting out of the car and walking to your front door, waving goodbye to him.
Walking into your empty house you come back to reality. For a moment, just a moment, while having fun with Jisung, you forgot how lonely you really are. It's always been like this, you're already used to it.
Your parents always wanted a boy, so it was disappointing for them when they had a girl. They tried for years to have a boy, getting more and more frustrated as time went by. You were five when they finally made it, their desired son was born and you were left aside.
It's not like they gave you any attention before, but after your brother was born, you were completely forgotten. The first time you went to an amusement park was when you were eight. It was your birthday and you begged them to take you there but in the end you couldn't really enjoy anything. Your brother was too little to play in anything and your parents didn't really want to play with you.
You feel a single tear run down your cheek but you shake your head, you shouldn't be doing that right now. You had fun with Jisung but that's that, you don't want another heartbreak the same as with Seunghoon.
You feel your phone buzzing, taking it out of your pocket to see Jisung's name lightening the screen and an involuntary smile grows on your lips, completely ignoring what you just thought.
“Hey, did you arrive safely?” You ask, walking up the stairs.
“Yeah”, he says, not sure why exactly he wanted to call you. He already said goodnight to you, did he want to hear your voice again? Why is he being so weird tonight?
“Okay, that's good”, you chuckle, putting the phone on speaker to start undressing.
Jisung sits in his bed, he knows you're probably tired but he doesn't want to hang up.
“What are you doing?” He asks, hearing the shuffle on the other side of the line.
“I'm changing”, you answer nonchalantly, not knowing how red his whole face turns the moment you finish saying that.
He doesn't say anything, making you look to the phone to check if he's still there.
“Want some pictures?” You ask playfully, making him choke on his own breath, coughing violently.
“No, I mean we- we just had our first date- I- I don't want you to think- it's too soon”, he rambles saying all that in half a second, making you laugh genuinely while you wander around your room.
You snap a picture of yourself, sending it to him and he freezes when he sees the notification. When he opens the text though, you're wearing a cute pajama with bees stamped on it, making him laugh too.
“You're cute”, he says and you stop in your tracks.
“It's been years since someone last called me cute”, you pout, sliding under your covers.
Jisung guessed that much, your type of beauty is not on the cute side. You have sharp features, most people could say you're on the sexy side and he would too, before tonight. Now, under the cover of a popular hot girl, he found a girl who's hot and popular but can be cute and funny too.
“Goodnight, y/n”, he says, throwing himself back in the bed.
“Goodnight”, you say, feeling your eyes heavy after hearing his goodbye.
Part 2
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A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.
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pinkrelish · 1 year
Text
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.
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singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶
NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut
chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12
AO3
Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date
“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.
Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.
Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.
“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”
You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.
“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”
“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”
She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”
“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.
Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”
“Aw, poor guy.”
There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.
“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.
Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”
You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.
“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.
Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”
“The one you have a crush on?”
“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”
Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”
“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.
You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.
“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.
You turned to them. Your date.
“..Late,” they trailed off.
Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.
He stared at you.
His stomach sank.
You stared at him.
Your heart raced.
Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.
Oh, God.
You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”
He wasn’t so poised.
Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”
“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.
“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”
“Guess it stuck with me..”
Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.
“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.
Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”
“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”
She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”
Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”
“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”
Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.
“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”
Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.
Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.
Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.
Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.
A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.
“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.
“Oh, no, I’m good.�� You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”
Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.
Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.
You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.
Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.
“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.
“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”
The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.
He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”
“Then what are you?”
“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.
“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.
Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”
Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.
Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”
“What changed?”
“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”
“I think you’re just a pushover.”
“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”
There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.
Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.
Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)
“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.
Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.
“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”
“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.
“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”
You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”
“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.
Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.
Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.
She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.
You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”
“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.
“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.
Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”
“Nope!”
————
The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.
You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.
When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.
He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.
“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”
Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”
“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.
Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.
“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”
“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”
“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.
And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.
“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”
“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.
~~~
Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.
His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.
You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.
The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”
“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.
After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”
“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.
“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”
“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”
“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”
His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.
Did you say something wrong?
————
“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.
“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”
It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.
Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.
Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.
Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.
The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.
Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.
Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.
Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.
“Sorry!” he blurted.
“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.
Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.
You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.
Boobs it was.
He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.
“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”
“Shut up.”
————
Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.
What that question was, you couldn’t remember.
As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.
“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”
“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”
“Ah.”
Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.
Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.
Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.
————
As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.
“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.
Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.
Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.
Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”
Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had  hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.
Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”
“Thanks.”
That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.
You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”
“Yeah, see you Monday.”
The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.
Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”
Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”
She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.
Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.
————
Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.
“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”
Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”
“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.
Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”
Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.
“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”
Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”
He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.
“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”
The night got darker as he left.
Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.
————
Silence.
It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.
Utter emptiness welcomed him.
Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.
Just.. nothing.
It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.
He got his wish.
Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.
Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.
Quiet, empty, nothing.
Dark silence.
The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.
The date was too good to be true.
In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.
The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.
The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.
Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.
Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.
It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.
He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.
No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.
“Goddamnit,” he groaned.
Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.
Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.
And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.
5K notes · View notes
wonysugar · 4 months
Note
hiii!! could i request fwb switch!ryujin x reader? it's completely fine if you're not comfy to dw!!
hickeys | shin ryujin
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synopsis : it was a secret nobody could know, and you would’ve liked to keep it that way, however, ryujin leaving marks everywhere on your body truly did not make that easy.
pairing : gp!ryujin x fem!reader
genre : friends with benefits, smut!
tags : like one page of texting, g!p wbk, quickie, forbidden ig??, she’s your older brother’s best friend we all know she is not supposed to be fucking you, bathroom sex, nipple play, making out ofc, fingering, clit play, ryujin is strong so manhandling kind of, daddy kink, lots of dirty talk, jock ryujin, mirror sex(?), almost caught, that funky stuff, switchy activities
warning : none!
word count : 2.5k
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your older brother occasionally having ryujin over wasn’t at all a bad thing, quite the opposite, actually, considering you both were incredibly close to her growing up.
she was incredibly chill, always dressed well, was super close with your brother, was fairly muscular, attracted everyone just by being in close proximity to them and was also like, 5 years older than you. so naturally, you took a huge liking to her. you admired her a lot when you were younger, she seemed so perfect. you didn’t quite know if you wanted her or if you wanted to be her.
things took a turn, though, and that quickly clarified things for you.
13 year old y/n definitely wouldn’t believe that 20 year old y/n was having sex on the lay-low with ryujin basically every week if you told her. who would’ve thought!
it always happened randomly, too. one would get inexplicably horny, the other would have to help them out, and it was a repeated cycle every time she came over. an unwritten agreement, if you will. sometimes, you’d even sneak into her house late at night because she’d randomly call you on the phone, telling you all about how she was jacking off thinking about you. in summary, you guys would fuck frequently.
very frequently.
today wasn’t any different!
the three of you were sitting on the sofa, watching a god-awful horror movie that made you wanna poke your eyes out each time a character did something insanely stupid, which was quite often, by the way. you clearly weren’t interested in the film whatsoever, so it’s not like ryujin standing up to go to the bathroom went unnoticed. she threw you a sly glance before casually walking to the restroom.
you already knew what she was doing, she’s done it many times before, and she’ll definitely keep doing it. you decided to wait it out though, immediately giving her what she wants takes away all the fun.
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upon reading the message, you rolled your eyes, wearing a smirk, then quickly peeked over your shoulder, trying to see if your brother was awake. 
oh he was knocked out.
you internally celebrated as you saw him laying there with his eyes closed, peacefully resting as he quietly snored. you waited it out for a couple of minutes, making ryujin lose her patience has always been amusing to you, so, it was a natural reaction. getting up slowly, trying your hardest not to make any sort of noise, you then make your way to the washroom. 
upon opening the door and entering, you were immediately greeted by a pair of hungry lips being pressed onto yours, which happened for quite a bit. you could tell how worked up she was getting over a simple kiss. she smirked against you, and you quickly felt one of her hands cupping your ass while hearing the other seemingly locking the bathroom door, just in case your brother did wake up. 
once she was assured that the door was locked, she quickly gravitated her mouth lower on your body, from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck and, later on, your chest. her own body rubbing itself on yours, you felt how desperate she was for you, how badly she wanted you.
you even felt it from the not-so-subtly boner gently poking at your upper thigh.
“fuck baby i’ve missed you so much–” she told you in between kisses, embracing your body as if she hadn’t fucked the ever living shit out of you like- not even 4 days ago. you pulled away, scoffing,
“mmh- you just cannot live without getting your dick sucked, can you?”
instead of replying, she simply took your hand and lightly placed it on her crotch, breathing out of relief from the slight contact before pulling you back in, her lips getting hungrier by the second for you. you could finally properly feel how hard she was, and it was… ego flattering, really. i mean, who would’ve thought that shin ryujin, a jock who played basically every girl who breathed in her direction, would be this needy? for you, might i add.
i mean, really, she had girls sobbing over her, begging her to take them back. she ruined their lives, basically. she had the tendency to love-bomb the fuck out of her talking stages, sometimes even lasting months on end. then once they got attached, she’d ghost them out of nowhere and move onto the next.
ryujin wasn’t a marriage kind of girl, hell, she wasn’t a dating kind of girl either.
it was incredibly fortunate that you weren’t, either.
you gently rubbed your hand on her boner through the fabric of her jeans, hearing the noises coming out of her was like fuel to you, by this point, you wanted to hear more.
and despite yourself, you were getting impatient.
you unzipped the bracket of her jeans and pulled them down in a swift motion, her clothed cock bouncing up, hitting your lower stomach. you kept palming it as you kissed her, taking in every sound she let out whilst you rubbed the tip of her dick through the fabric of her underwear. feeling her twitch against your hand, you finally got down on your knees, your eye level exactly where it needed to be.
“so desperate for me, hm? i barely even did anything, and you’re already squirming.” you teased, looking up at her wearing the same smirk she had when she was headed for the bathroom in the first place.
“come on y/n, don’t play around like this—”
“you’re gonna have to talk to me in a nicer tone if you want something to be done about your situation, ryujin. just to remind you, you brought me here, at least ask nicely.” you told her sternly, earning a small, pathetic whine from her.
“pleasee..” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“please what?”
she whined more, before muttering, “pleaseee suck me off..”
you grinned, the sounds of her begs amusing you greatly as you watched her shudder due to the hot breath she felt on her dick. not wanting to tease her any longer, you simply took all of it in your mouth in one go. ryujin had to cover her mouth immediately after, afraid of being too loud. however, you were making it impossible to stay quiet. 
she whimpered against her own hand, trying her hardest not to be moaning out your name like she usually would. she watched you bob your head up and down her girthy shaft as you glanced up at her occasionally with the most lustful eyes she’d ever seen. the fact that she had to be quiet, the feeling of having her cock deep inside of your warm and wet mouth, the way you pushed your hair back when it got in the way; all of it made her twitch uncontrollably.
while you blew her, she couldn’t help but ponder about what she wanted to do to you, you made it so complicated for her. she would usually just fuck girls normally then move on, but with you? she wanted to use you in the most dehumanizing ways possible, then once she was done, she’d wanna get used by you and be treated like a little bitch in heat. 
you just made her feel and think things she didn’t even know she could. no seriously, who would’ve thought that ms. shin ryujin would enjoy being dominated every once in a while? 
you did, apparently. hence why you’re in the situation you’re in right now.
and she truly didn’t want to admit it, but you were the best fuck she’s ever had. 
she’d been breathing heavier up until now, you knew she wanted to cum, she was getting closer to the edge and it showed.
you pulled your mouth away from her dick, panting heavily from the lack of air in your lungs as you tried to catch your breath. you still gave her throbbing cock attention by rubbing the tip with your thumb, you rightfully assumed that she probably would’ve died without it, “how badly do you want to fuck me right now?” you asked before spitting in your hand and using it to keep stroking her rock hard boner.
she looked down at you, running her hand through her soft short hair as she leaned against the bathroom counter, attempting to keep her loud whines contained, “sosososo bad–” was all she managed to get out before she had to cover her mouth.
cute, you thought.
watching her lose herself under your touch, whether it be minimal or not, you couldn’t help but giggle. she always went crazy for you, and you would be stupid not to notice her efforts at pleasing you.
she’d been so good for you up until now, and you felt like she could have her oh-so-deserved reward of finally being able to cum. 
you look up at her and quickly shove her dick back into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down in swift movements as she tried her hardest not to scream out your name, she could feel your tongue tracing down the length of her shaft.
“f-fuck y/n baby i’m cumming fuckfuck—“
it didn’t take long before you felt her cock throbbing, feeling it shoot out a huge load of its thick and warm juices fill up your throat as she grunted. you immediately swallowed every last drop.
what can you say? muscle memory always does its job.
still coming down from her high, she quickly pulled you back up to face her and hungrily put her lips in contact with yours, licking at them, asking for entrance. her hands roaming everywhere around your body and 
soon enough, the tables turned and it was now her turn to let her tongue work wonders on yours as you felt like every nerve of your body reacted to the sensation. before you knew it, she was already pinning you to the counter, your back to her as her hands reached around your waist eagerly to pull down your piece of clothing. she kissed on the back of your neck and left her marks, and you knew she was smirking about it, too,
‘cause you felt it against your skin.
“you’ve had your fun, you’re gonna let daddy use that pretty cunt of yours now, right? that’s what i originally called you in here for, after all.” she whispered into your ear as she slowly slid her hand into your panties, middle finger gently caressing your swollen clit. she could tell you were ready for her, and it turned her on even more.
her dick, once again, gave it away.
and it hasn’t even been that long since she came.
sliding your panties halfway down to your knees, she didn’t waste any more time and carefully settled the tip of her cock under your dripping pussy, rubbing it against your wet folds. you slightly whined at the feeling whilst she breathed hot air against your skin. you needed to feel her inside you, your walls were literally clenching around nothing, and you couldn’t wait any longer.
“just put it in ryujin—“ you quietly pleaded,
“what was that? sorry, i don’t think i heard you properly.” she mocked, stopping her grinding movements altogether, 
which earned a small whine from you, “fuck daddy pleasee just—“ you exhaled upon feeling her hand grope your breast, then quickly added, “i need you inside me, please..”
she chuckled, satisfied with your answer, “good girl.”
immediately, she pushed you back onto the counter and slid her dick inside of you as she breathlessly groaned. you, on the other hand, were already arching your back and holding back moans. she started by slowly thrusting into you, before getting impatient and simply just pounding into you with full force. 
her cock was hitting places you genuinely didn’t even know she could hit, all you did know was that it felt heavenly. every hit of the tip pressed against the end of your cervix made you feel like you were gonna pass out. 
basically, the dick was good, it was so good that you had to be physically silenced to prevent your brother from potentially waking up and hearing the both of you go at it in the bathroom.
ryujin was the one that had to cover your mouth. not only did she cover your mouth, but she also pulled on your hair when you were being too loud (which kinda made you even more loud, but that’s beside the point). in a normal situation, she’d thrive on hearing you scream out her name and be this noisy for her, but with your brother in the other room? she couldn’t exactly afford to hear that, unfortunately.
pulling your hair back and making you face yourself in the mirror, she asked, “look at you, so slutty for my dick, so pretty, too.. don’t you think?”
and she was not wrong, your hair was a mess from her constantly grabbing it, your makeup was running all over your cheeks from the tears you’ve been shedding at the pleasure, your hooded eyes all red and swollen, your marked up neck, it was all so… filthy? you looked so filthy.
god you looked so hot like this.
you could only nod in agreement as you kept moaning into her palm, feeling her dick slide in and out of your wet pussy repeatedly, you were so close to climax that you could pass out—
the sounds of knocking on the door made the both of you flinch.
“y/n, i gotta use the restroom, are you almost done? i just woke up and i think ryujin left..? she isn’t here anymore and she hasn’t been answering my texts so i don't even think she’s home yet.” is what was heard from the other side of the door. 
what now??
you obviously wanted to respond to your brother but it’s not like ryujin even gave you the chance to, she just kept mercilessly pounding into you as he rambled and rambled. that is, until she pulled her hand away from your mouth.
was she actually expecting you to respond like this?? you looked at her through the mirror and saw her smirking at you with lust-filled eyes.
well shit!
you’d scold her later, now you just desperately had to think of a way to not sound like you’re getting fucked senseless. closing your eyes and mustering up all of the willpower to answer without your voice shaking uncontrollably, “y-yeah i’m almost done just give me a second i’m coming—“ was what you said.
and then your orgasm hit you like a truck when ryujin grabbed your waist and came into you.
quickly covering your mouth to muffle any sort of sound that escaped it, your eyes rolling back as you heard your brother mutter a quick “alrightt” before seemingly walking away from the door, not suspecting a thing.
thank god.
she slid out of you, the rhythm of her breath matching yours as you both tried to catch it.
god how lovely, you were leaking, you had hickeys every-fucking-where and now you had to think of a way to make ryujin flee the house without making it seem like she was in the bathroom with you.
this was gonna be tough to go about, especially with a fucked-out mind such as yours at that moment.
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totaly-obsessed · 3 months
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Cupid
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Lia Wälti x reader
-> Valentine's Day with Lia and your Daughter
-> thank you @babsisbakery for the poem, and thank you @alotofpockets for the dutch translation help and conversation
➳ Masterlist
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Small hands tugged at your ear, ripping you from your very much-needed sleep. Once you saw your daughter’s adorable little eyes and the excited smile on her lips you just couldn’t be mad anymore.
“Mama, we need to start!” In a whisper shout, she bounced up and down, ready to get the day going.
She was right – you did need to start. Together with Amelie, you had planned to treat your fiancée to a wonderful Wednesday. It was Valentine's Day after all.
Still groggy with sleep you let the small blonde pull you out of bed before she gave you a moment to gather yourself, as she handed you slippers that matched hers.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Amelie had already laid out her little apron and quickly pulled it over her pajamas before turning around, gesturing to you to bind it behind her.
“All done my love. Let’s start with the waffles huh?”
Just 20 minutes later a hearty and big breakfast was cooked up, and Amelie nervously grabbed the card you had crafted with her beforehand.
“What if she doesn’t like it, Mama?”
Crouching down in front of the five-year-old got harder the older you got – but never in a million years would you stop doing it.
“That’s impossible my love! Lia loves everything that you make for her. She keeps it in her cubby – you’ve seen it before!”
Technically Ames was only your daughter – but with a no-show father and Lia falling in love with both you and your little companion at first sight, she was her ‘Momie’ in every way the small blonde could wish for.
While Lia had no genetic input whatsoever – Amelia could be and look a lot like her. They had the same kind of smile and funny laugh, but their stare could be terrifying.
“You come with me?”
How could you say no to that face? So together you walked up the stairs, and the once excited five-year-old had turned into a nervous wreck, hiding behind your legs and making herself as heavy as she could.
With a quiet squeak, the door opened as you pushed it, giving your daughter a slight nudge towards the bed, where you could already see Lia trying to spy through her lashes giving it her best to hide a smile.
“Momie?” the pudgy hand that wasn’t holding the card nudged your fiancée – who continued to play dead to the world.
“Momie – wake up please!”
Like in a bad movie Lia suddenly sat up with a big smile, stretching her arms wide with an obviously fake yawn.
“Good Morning Mon petit amour!”
Amelie panicked, or rather froze on the spot – immediately turning to you with wide eyes and Lia just knew that she would flee if nothing happened.
“What do you have there my love?”
A hesitant step towards the bed and the small blonde was close enough for her Momie to grab her. The loud squeal of surprise that filled the room was miles better than the nervous shuffle of feet.
“Wrote it just for you Momie!”
With an exaggerated gasp, the brunette footballer opened the pink envelope to discover a handcrafted card. It was white and on it a big heart, that you had to draw because a certain someone wasn’t happy with her tries and had about five meltdowns because of it. It was filled with little folded-up papers in pink and purple – above the heart she had made you write “I love you to pieces” after you had tried to help with her writing.
On those little papers were reasons why you and Ames loved the Swiss, but if it came to your opinion, there weren’t enough notes in the world that could do the love you held for the woman justice.
“Oh, will you read it to me?” Lia had tears in her eyes once she saw the small poem in wriggly handwriting. She pulled your daughter to her chest, looking at the card together while you snapped some secret pictures. “I’ll help you read them, okay?”
“To Momie,
From many tantrums to always making me laugh,
You are my favorite hero, kicking ass on the pitch
And being my personal chef at home,
And finding time to play with me and my Dinos.
I couldn’t have wished for a better mom.
-         Your Ames!”
Lia’s eyes were filled with tears as she pressed kiss after kiss on Amelia's messy hair. Of course, the Swiss knew that you had massively helped her with writing, but Amelia had such a way of speaking that she could definitely recognize it in there.
The five-year-old was proud of herself and whipped her head back from Lia behind you.
“Breakfast now! Come Momie – I made you waffles!”
Due to the rain last week, the fixture against the London City Lioness has been pushed to today. So after spending the day in blissful peace, it was time to go to the game. Wrangling a little excited 5-year-old girl dressed as Cupid into the car was much harder than anticipated, and at some point, Lia had to leave early.
Viv greeted you at the car as you helped Amelie out of the car. She was still a little unsure about her knee, so she opted to sit in the stands, keeping you company.  “Wow – Look at you!”
“Vivi! I’m Cupid!”
Dressed in a pink and gold dress, white gloves, and a golden hairband. On her back was a pair of small, white, feathery wings – in her hands a tiny bow with fake arrows that had heart-shaped tips.
“I can see that lieve schat. Let’s get you two inside huh?”
Watching the game with a young child is always a bit different than it would be without – but you wouldn’t change it for the world. Amelia was excited for the first half, screaming her little lungs out when Lia scored from a corner kick off of Katie.
As a celebration, the Swiss imitated pulling back the string of an arrow and letting it go in your direction – effectively sending you a heart accompanied with a wink.
Your relationship was no secret by far, the brunette loved to brag about you and her daughter. And no matter how much she boasted about you, you would always blush – so seeing your already red face on the big screen gave you a fright. Viv and Ames just laughed at you.
During the second half, Amelia was busy reading a book she had brought for her. While she had gotten Lia’s athleticism she had gotten your intense love for books, and once she started, she wouldn’t stop until it was finished. Or at least she wouldn’t stop that easily.
Once the final whistle blew, the Arsenal girls winning 3-0, Viv escorted you down to the pitch – you not knowing the way was her excuse but in reality, she just wanted to see Beth. As soon as Amelia’s feet hit the grass, she was gone running around with Kyra, Alessia, and Victoria.
“Did you see my goal? Scored it just for you!” Lia’s smile was enticing and she didn’t wait long to pull you into a breathtaking kiss, only stopping once Katie fake gagged next to you.
Before she could say what she wanted to a small body slammed into her. Amelia, of course. In her hand, a beautiful white rose that you definitely didn’t bring from home.
“For me? Oh, thank you my personal Cupid, doing such a good job!”
Now down on her knees, the brunette engulfed your daughter in a bear hug – careful not to crush the cupid wings on her back.
“It’s from Rue Rue!”
The five-year-old skipped back to Ruesha Littlejohn who gave her a high five and a piece of candy while Katie could only stare at the rose in her hands. Not even noticing you and Lia nearly collapsing because of laughter.
Cupid had delivered her a rose from Rue Rue, her ex-girlfriend…
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wilwheaton · 1 year
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favorite goncharov character
Goncharov! Holy shit I haven't thought about Goncharov in YEARS!
I remember seeing it at the Vista theatre downtown in ... I want to say 1983? It was either 82 and I was 10, or 83 and I was 11. Now that I think about it, it must have been Spring of 83. I remember that Kimmy Mendini was my babysitter, and she drove my friend Ahmed and me all the way downtown to see Goncharov. She would have been at least 16, but I feel like she was a little older. I remember that she LOVED movies and just never stopped talking about European cinema.
Ha! I can still her her sort of roll "Cinema" out of her mouth. Movies were for the masses to watch, while sophisticated adults experienced Cinema. I'm just realizing now that she absolutely pronounced it with a capital C. She was like "you are so lucky to see a clean print of Goncharov!"
I had no idea what a clean print was, but I understood it was important and impressive.
She had read about this screening in the LA Weekly, which I didn't know at the time was TREMENDOUSLY subversive in our suburban part of Los Angeles County, and we were going to an old theatre in maybe not the greatest part of town, but Kimmy had been watching me since I was in second grade and was like my big sister. I knew we'd be safe with her.
That old theatre (which is now a fucking swap meet) was just so beautiful inside. 100 foot ceilings, box seats, gold paint and murals. It felt like a place you went to experience Cinema, but, like ... it had absolutely seen better days. I remember that I felt kind of bad for the place, a little embarrassed, like when I got a good grade and accidentally made eye contact with a friend who got a D.
Okay. This clearly hit a memory artery, and I appreciate you staying with me this far, when we finally get to the fireworks factory. We're walking up to the box office, and she tells Ahmed and me that we have to wait on the sidewalk, because *technically* it's rated R, and she's not our legal guardian, but what does this guy making two bucks an hour know about art anyway?
So we wait. She buys the tickets, and then we all walk in as casually as we can.
I remember how scared I was that we were going to get caught and they'd call the cops (that's how it worked in my anxiety-ridden brain), but literally nobody cared. The theatre wasn't even half full, and everyone there was a dude at least as old as my parents.
You know the story, so I don't have to recount all of it, but I can at this very moment remember how shocked I was when Bruno was shot. This was the first time, ever, I had felt an emotional connection to a character. I didn't cry when Bambi's mother was shot, I didn't cry when ET died, I didn't cry E V E R.
But when Bruno died? I didn't make a sound. I just silently wept. Tears just poured down my face and I wanted to roll back time, rewrite the movie, and get him out of that room.
I obviously understand now, all these years later why I connected to him and why his story meant and means so much to me, but at the time I had no idea. I just thought the actors were that good.
I can't believe that guy who played him died so young. I think he was like 40? I remember thinking that was old. Now I know different.
When the movie was over, Kimmy asked us how we liked it. Ahmed was obsessed with the photography (he grew up to be an illustrator), and I obviously had my Bruno Moment.
We got Thrifty ice cream on the way home and listened to Donna Summer in her Datsun.
I haven't thought about Goncharov or Cinema or Kimmy in FOREVER. Leave it to Tumblr to boost my nostalgia check to a natural 20.
tl;dr: Bruno. I know he's supposed to be that character we all hate, and there are so many valid reasons for that. But when I was 12 ... well, I was a different person.
Oh! And now that I know what a "clean print" is, having seen so many "dirty prints" in revival houses before they all turned into swap meets or churches (hey, two places where people sell you stuff and take your money!), I retroactively appreciate it in a way that would make Kimmy happy.
Thanks for the trip into the crumbling mall that is my childhood memories. I haven't been here in awhile and it was nice to visit.
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neine · 4 months
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References in 1670 (Updated)
General info
Names
Jan Paweł - is a reference to a pope, Jan Paweł II. He's considered "the greatest polish person", up to a comical point. So he turned into a meme.
Jakub - A reference to a saying "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you". In polish "Jak Kuba bogu tak bóg Kubie". Literally "As Kuba to god, god to Kuba".
Jędrula - A reference to a show about Foster family, to a character that liked to drink whiskey.
Andrzej - A stereotypical neighbour, where he has everything better than you.
Żmija - A reference to Ojciec Mateusz, a show about a priest solving crime, played by Artur Żmijewski (hence the name). Żmija is from Sandomierz, that's where Ojciec Mateusz was set. (From multiple people, @rabarbarzcukrem mainly.)
Historical background
Poland was going into a sort of a recession. It used to be one of the most powerful countries in Europe. As well as Lithuania, of course. Time of the Commonwealth. The plague didn't hit the Commonwealth as much because it wasn't densily populated. The biggest issue (one of many) were the tatars, who just kind of lived there. Usually were bribed into gaining some power in the country so they won't couse trouble. Lithuania was getting Polonised, but it wasn't going as good as you could imagine. It's the time after the swedish flood, where the whole country was basically looted. It was considered a very open country, many Jews lived here.
Liberum Veto - it's just that one person can say no and whatever they voted on, won't pass. Also huge reason why partations later happened.
Culture
Drowning of Marzanna is a ritual that happens every year, on the first day of spring, to say goodbye to winter. Marzanna is a slavic goddess associeted with death, winter and nature. Marzanna is sometimes set on fire and then thrown into a river. + Interesting tags from @ukulelegodparent (From multiple people)
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Hunting by nobles was also kinda a cultural thing. It was often described in the books from that time.
References
"Ała kurwa rzeczywiście" - reference to this
youtube
"Quo Vadis" - meaning, "Where are you going?", is a reference to novel by Henry SIenkiewicz. More known overseas from a movie adaptation from 1951. (From multiple people)
"My wife, Zofia" is a reference to a movie "Miś". (From @gdzie-rosna-poziomki)
youtube
"Do dupy z takim spiskowcem. Mnie kury szczać prowadzić, a nie spiski" is a reference to Piłsudski's "Wam kury szczać prowadzić, a nie politykę robić. (From @gdzie-rosna-poziomki)
"Ta zniewaga... oczekuje, abym ją wymazał stosując przemoc." - "This insult... expects me to earase it with violance." Reference to "Zemsta", by Aleksander Fredro, "Ta zniewaga krwi wymaga." - "This insult requires blood spill". (From @rabarbarzcukrem)
Measuring tassels - likely a reference to "Pan Tadeusz". In modern speach, tassels means dicks. (Also from @rabarbarzcukrem)
Jan Paweł walking on Zofia and Rozalia in bed, the deer antlers look like they're growing from his head. It's a reference to a saying "przyprawić komuś rogi" (also in use in multiple other languages). Which means to cheat on someone. (Multiple people, mainly @rabarbarzcukrem)
Equality march - It's how Pride Prades are called in Poland. (From @rabarbarzcukrem)
Henry kicking a fern flower is a reference to Slavic mythology. It symbolizes ferility and love. (Also from @rabarbarzcukrem) @misticfog adds to it here. (And some other things)
Stasia the mouner saying "Wszystkie kary na mnie idą" ("All punishments come to me") is a reference to this: (from @00midnightrider00)
youtube
(Quote happens in 1:20)
Thank you for all the additions!
Lorem Ipsum - is a placeholder text often used in web page design.
"Koń jaki jest, każdy widzi" - What a horse is everyone sees, is a reference to the first polish dictionary.
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