#Casual Jam Records

[kamikazeonwings]

wbg coffee shop au. the time travel still exists tho

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[bippityboppitybabe]

The Sleepover

Summary: Sometimes, good things do come to those who wait.

Pairing: Andrew Byrne-Hozier x reader

Warnings: fluff, friend-to-lovers, cursing, CONSENTING ADULTS DOING THE DEED - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 3266

Author’s Note: I've always felt a little weird writing/reading about a real person. However, I've been in a writing slump for literal years and Hozier's music has always been inspiring. So morals be damned, right?

Disclaimer: Ya'll, I don't know this man. This is just the musings of a perpetually single lady and this should not be taken seriously whatsoever. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone (#noproofreading), and to be totally honest I just found this gif on the internet.

(Also, Mr. Hozier, I do apologize if you somehow find this on some dark corner of the internet. Please keep on scrolling.)

You hadn’t meant to stay the night— no really, you hadn’t. But there you were, tucked underneath a blanket as the day’s morning sun rays streaked across the hardwood floors. You could hear Andrew still snoring just behind you, he was probably asleep in the reclining chair you teased him senselessly about (“What are you, a seventy year old man?” / “Hey, once you fall asleep in one of these you’ll never say a bad word about them again”). 

And maybe he was on to something. An achiness had already begun to settle in your lower back, and your right arm seemed to have permanently lost feeling from where you’d slept on it apparently all night.

Blearily, you groped around with your left (and thankfully still operational) hand for a phone. Nearly jumping out of your skin when you saw the time.

“Andy. Andy!” You hissed, (regrettably) throwing the warm quilt off your body as you scrambled to an upright position. “Andrew, wake up! We overslept!”

The plan had been for a casual movie night. You showed up at a respectable six o’clock with both your favorite candies, and he’d prepared the popcorn and drinks. There wasn’t much of a chance to do this sort of thing anymore— you had your boring 9-5 big girl job, and Andrew was more often out of the city than in it. However, whenever your paths crossed you both made the effort to spend at least a little time together.

But when Andrew had texted you last week, revealing he had an actual free Saturday night, you’d practically burst from excitement. Andrew Byrne-Hozier was your favorite person in the world— he was funny, and kind, and considerate. And while, sure, you were a little in love with him and every moment in his present made your heart feel more like molten honey than an actual organ, his friendship was too important to risk.

So, for the last four years, you’d watched as he shuffled through a couple of relationships (it was worse when you actually liked his partner) and went on tour and recorded songs. You were always there with a funny meme or thoughtful advice or listening ear, and sometimes you were just there for him when it became a little too much.

And sure, you’d also dated a few people (nothing ever serious) and you’d adopted a cat (whom Andy had nicknamed ‘Jammy’ because one time he got his head stuck in a jam jar) and you’d switched jobs and moved into a new flat— so you wouldn’t say you were pining for your best friend. It was just a crush. (A crush that made your head spin and your heart stop but who cared?)

But back to last night. You were supposed to leave right after the movie ended because Andrew had some important interview via Zoom in the morning— and while you had been in the background of plenty of interviews, you’d both decided the risk of you being spotted or heard was too high with all the relationship rumors swirling. Andy had wanted the focus to be on his music and the charity a portion of the proceeds of his latest single went to— not add fodder to the fire of him dating someone (and that someone was, well, you. You get caught one time by the paparazzi leaving his house and all of a sudden the internet was desperate to know who you were).

But that interview was scheduled for fifteen minutes from now, and the man of the hour was still sleeping off the sugar crash you’d both apparently succumbed to last night.

Pulling on your socks that you’d somehow kicked off during the night, you spared a moment to throw one of the decorative pillows littering the floor at Andrew. “Andy, wake up!”

He just groaned and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. “Leave me alone, it’s too early for that.”

“No it’s not! You whisper-yelled, finally launching yourself up to properly shake him awake. “It’s 8:45 in the morning, you’ve got that meeting in fifteen!”

At that, his eyes shot open, and he looked at the leather watch he’d left on overnight. “Shit.”

You nodded, giving his pant leg another tug. “Shit is right. What do you need?”

“I need to brush my teeth and get dressed.” He started, taking your hands as you helped him up. “I need a glass of water and my notes.”

You nodded, already mentally searching his apartment for the things you could gather for him. “I’ve got the water and notes, you get dressed. Whoever’s finished first can set up your laptop.”

So quickly you barely felt it, your best friend kissed you in the corner of your mouth (definitely by accident, he’d obviously missed your cheek). “Thanks babe— thank god you ended up staying the night. I’d’ve slept right through till the afternoon.”

Ignoring the butterflies that suddenly erupted in your stomach (he’d called you babe a few other times and it always got the chrysalis’ hatching), you nodded and gave him a little shove towards his bedroom. “Of course, now get going!”

You remembered seeing his interview notebook on the kitchen table, probably from where Andrew had been working on it the afternoon before. Moving with efficiency, you gathered it up, tucking in any loose papers into the pages tightly as you could, before flipping to the last page so it would be open for him.

But there, in the corner, he’d written your name. Not super unusual, he’d probably been thinking about your plans for the evening as he wrote down any points he wanted to discuss, but right next to it was a tiny heart. 

And sure, Andy doodled all the time— on napkins and music sheets and even sometimes your hand, but nonetheless the sight of that little heart warmed your own. 

Shaking your head, you picked up an empty glass from the table and filled it from the tap. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and Andrew was lucky he was getting anything hydrating right now. You glanced at the oven clock.

“Seven minutes!” You yelled, rushing into the living room and setting down the notebook and water glass. Without overthinking it, you grabbed as much as you could off his de facto interview table (usually it served as his entryway table, but it was in front of the only blank wall in his home and was the best backdrop for any business conducted over his computer).

You dumped the junk that had been littering the surface onto the couch you’d just been sleeping on (giving the quilt you’d just been shrouded in a few minutes ago a longing glance), before scooting out the table just enough to fit a chair behind it. Andrew, finally exiting his bedroom and only looking a modicum more put together than when he entered it, snagged one of his kitchen table chairs before beelining for you.

“Andrew, your hair looks awful.” You stated as you looked for a pen in the pile on the couch. You tossed it to him, and he caught it with a well practiced ease.

He laughed, plugging in his laptop before scooching into the chair he’d just placed and powering on the computer. “There’s not much I can do about it now, but you always know just what to say to make me feel good about myself.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your own hair tie and motioned for him to scoot. “I’ll braid it while you pull up the link.”

Andy complied, turning himself sideways in the chair and starting to log in. As gently as you could, you brushed your fingers through the wild curls to get out any major knots— then deftly sectioned it off into three parts and started braiding.

You would never admit this, but you loved braiding Andrew’s hair. Men always had the best hair (you were pretty sure it was scientifically proven) and he was certainly no exception. His hair was thick with so much body to it— some of your favorite pictures of him on tour were the ones where his hair grew wild from humidity. It never got quite so unruly in your hometown, but there was still something untamed about his hair you couldn’t get over.

But it was over before you knew it. Deftly tying off the end, you pulled the braid a little looser— picking out a few strands to artfully fall in Andrew’s face. You tugged the finished hairstyle before glancing at the clock. Finished with two minutes to spare.

Andrew adjusted himself in the chair, pulling up the Zoom chatroom and taking a sip of the lukewarm water you’d set out.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, before turning his attention to the screen.

As quietly as you could, you backed into his bedroom and closed the door behind you. Unsure of what to do with yourself or how long you’d be trapped, you crawled into Andrew’s bed and snuggled down into the sheets (surely it wasn’t crossing a line to take a deep sniff of his pillow, right?) Pulling out your phone, you plugged it into his charger and started scrolling on social media to pass the time…

… “Hey, wake up sleepy head.” A voice softly whispered, a warm hand brushing some hair out of your face. “My interview’s over and I got us some breakfast.”

You blinked your eyes open, struggling to focus on Andrew’s face in the dim lighting of his well-darkened bedroom. Your phone, which you must’ve fallen asleep on, was lost in the abyss of the crack between bed and nightstand so you had no way of knowing what time it was.

“How’d it go?” You slurred, burrowing a little deeper into the warm bed.

He smiled, “The interview went well thanks to you and your internal alarm clock.”

“Can I have just a little bit longer in bed?”

Andy sighed dramatically, “Only if I can join. I’m still half asleep.”

You laughed, but raised the sheets as he crossed over to the other side and got in. You two had shared a bed before, you reasoned as you turned to face him, once, a couple of years ago when he’d gotten too drunk for you to leave alone after a night out. And while intoxication was markedly missing in the scenario, you and Andrew were adults and could nap together.

“Thanks again for waking me up,” He whispered into the darked, turning to face you. “My agent would have been really pissed if I’d missed that. And I would have felt awful for wasting everyone’s time, of course.”

Gently, you pressed a finger to his mouth, “Shhhh, I’m sleeping.”

Andrew chuckled, but then took your hand in his and kissed your finger across his lips gently. Surprised by the tenderness, you opened your eyes to look at your best friend.

“I’m serious, thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you most days.” Andy said, his voice, while still quiet, had a gruffness to it you didn’t quite recognize. 

“Well, good thing you’ll never have to find out what life is like without me,” you whispered back, softly smiling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I think, sometimes, the thing I’m scared of most is losing you.”

The confession took your breath away for a moment. Of course, Andy was the most important person in your life, but neither of you had ever said anything so… vulnerable to the other before. It had always struck you as funny— while it was no secret Hozier regularly barred his soul in his songs, the Andy you knew was fairly reserved and quiet. You knew where he stood not by his words, but by his actions.

You bit your lip, wanting to word your response carefully. Slowly, you moved your hand to his cheek, cupping his face. “I’m not sure there’s anything you could do to lose me.”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you could tell he was looking for something in your face. You stayed still, like he was a deer you were scared of frightening away, and then the smallest smile on his face broke the trance.

“What about this?” He breathed, turning his face so he could kiss the inside of your wrist. Your face broke out in a hot flush, the feel of his lips against your skin causing the butterflies you’d been fighting with to begin anew.

You shook your head the tiniest bit, “We’re still friends.”

He leaned forward, and it was only then you realized how close the two of you were in this bed. The warmth of his body and the feel of his hand moving to rest on your hip nearly sent you overboard. Slowly, as if he was now the one afraid of frightening you, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss right on the crook of your neck. “And this?”

Your toes curled and you almost gasped involuntarily, but you just managed to catch yourself. “We’re— we’re still okay.”

Andrew moved again, this time pulling you towards him so suddenly, his body was all you could feel. You looked up, his warm eyes searching your face again before gently, oh so gently, he brushed his lips against yours. “What about this? Are you okay with that?”

Words were lost to you as your eyes fluttered closed. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing yourself against him and somehow, even closer.

When your lips met again, there was no longer a question between the two of you. Suddenly, you were nothing more than the feeling of his fingers digging into your soft flesh, the scratch of your nails against his back, the heat that seemed to blossom in the space between your bodies. He groaned as your hips (involuntarily, of course) rocked into his, and you moaned at the feeling of his hard member against you.

“Andy,” You gasped, breathing hard but unable to even open your eyes— lost in the feeling of his lips trailing down your neck. “Andy please.”

Finally, you were able to crack your eyes just the tiniest bit, and almost gasped again at the sight of your best friend. He looked up at you, his beautiful hair already escaping your neat braid and his pupils blown wide as he seemed to drink you in. “Please what, darling?”

“Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Gentle fingers eased your shirt over your head, and you didn’t even have time to feel an iota of self-consciousness before your sports bra gave way next. Bare to him, Andrew gently turned you on to your back so he hovered over you, one of his legs cutting between your own.

Slowly, almost tortuously slow, he lowered himself and placed his mouth over one of your nipples— teasing the sensitive skin before moving onto the other side. Your hands, desperate to do something, wove into his hair as you held him against your body.

His hand skated across your stomach, moving lower and lower until it slipped past the loose elastic of your sweats and underwear— those long fingers you loved watching play music parting you and dipping inside for a brief moment.

You arched against him, gasping at the sudden feeling of him. Part of you still didn’t believe this was real, that surely you still had to be sleeping, even as he deftly pulled your remaining clothes down your legs.

Kicking them off and into the room, your own hands pulled at his shirt while raking your fingernails across the pale skin of his back. Now chest to chest, you couldn’t help but grind down onto the sweatpant clad thigh between your legs, desperate for any friction to try and relieve the growing pressure. 

Hot kisses trailed down the side of your neck as you felt him laugh against your skin, “Someone’s a little impatient.”

You groaned again, your chest heaving against his as a hand reached to slowly knead a breast. “You have no idea how long I’ve been patient for,” your voice was breathier than you’d ever heard it. “How much I’ve been wanting you.”

A cry filled the dimly lit room as those long, tortuous fingers found you again— Andrew expertly rubbing your clit with a thumb as he shifted his weight to start taking off his remaining clothes. Your hands reached behind you, searching for something (anything) to steady yourself against as the sweet, familiar pressure started to grow.

He bent your right knee down with his free hand and spread you even wider. “Say that again,” he whispered as he laid down at your side, his voice barely audible over the rushing in your ears. 

You gasped as the crescendo started, two fingers now inside you— their movements exquisite and maddening. “I want you—” you paused for a moment, your eyes squeezing closed against the incoming tide. “Only you.”

Shuddering, you barely had a moment to catch your breath in the seconds after your first orgasm before Andrew was reaching around you, fumbling for a moment before finding a familiar foil and ripping it open. Planting a kiss on your temple, the two of you locked eyes for a moment. You smiled, tenderly stroking a finger down the side of his face.

Andy shifted his weight so he was hovering over you again, his eyes searching your face with a question. Barely coherent (and dazed from how quickly you’d just orgasmed), you leaned over to answer with a lingering kiss— resting your forehead against his to pause for a moment.

“Please, Andy.”

In response, those tortuous fingers curled around your hips, your best friend kissing your neck as he positioned himself right at your entrance. “Tell me,” he whispered against your sweaty skin. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Your hips jutted upwards, and you groaned at the feeling of him brushing against you for just the briefest of moments. “I’ll never want you to stop,” You breathed, reaching up to stroke his face with your thumb. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

The feeling of him, all of him, was more than you had ever created in your daydreams; you couldn’t have imagined how his hair would tickle your face as he leaned down to kiss you, you didn’t take into account the visual of his long, lean body as he thrust into you again and again and again, and never in a million years could you have conceived how beautiful of a sound he would make as he climaxed inside you.

Afterwards, glowing in the aftermath of your orgasm and the feeling of Andrew lingering on your skin, you turned over to face him. His hair, now completely fallen out of the braid you’d hastily pulled in it, spread out over the pillow like a halo. His cheeks were flushed (as were yours, you felt sure), the high spots a delicate pink as he breathed heavily and stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, almost afraid to break the spell of the moment.

He turned to you, and his liquid brown eyes caught yours as a huge smile spread across his beautiful face. “Hey yourself.”

“You still have me, you know. If you want, I mean. I’m still not going anywhere.”

Andrew reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. The actions, so sweet and tender, made your heart squeeze with affection and hope. “Good, because I still don’t know what I would do without you.”

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 13 — Cold Hands/Feet

↳ A/N: A little twist on this prompt hehe

↳ Summary: Pregnancy has affected every part of your body; including your temperature regulation. Thank God you have George around.

↳ Word Count: 557

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

You learned pretty early on that you ran hot while pregnant. It wasn’t just a casual and graceful feeling flushed on a day-to-day basis; it was to the level where you were waking up drenched in sweat come the third trimester. Thank God it was winter because you weren’t sure how you would have survived if you had to deal with these ‘hot flashes’ in the prime of summer. 

It was some early hour of the morning, in one of those days between Christmas and New Years when the days seem to blend together, when you were woken to the feeling like you were suffocating from heat. Immediately after snapping open your eyes, you tossed the heavy duvet off and splayed yourself out as much as you could over the king size bed without rousing George. 

George who slept so annoyingly soundly beside you with his damn silk eye mask, perfectly regulated body temperature, not a care in the world. Meanwhile, you were sure you looked like a disaster in your oversized t-shirt that just barely fit over the swell of your stomach, hair in all directions and slick with sweat, and flushed cheeks that only gave away the excess heat in your system. Oh, curse him. 

You tossed more of the duvet onto him, kicking it off your feet and everything, until the entire pile of sheets was crumpled on top of him. In all your passive-aggressive pregnant squirming—not to mention the entire weight of the entire duvet set now on top of him—George woke up. 

Still half-asleep, he swatted some of the blankets back over your way. You shoved them right back. 

George let out a confused hum and lifted his sleep mask from his eyes to look over at you in your darkened bedroom, stating sleepily, “You’re piling all the blankets on me.”

“I know.” you grumbled breathlessly from the heat, “I’m dying.”

George pouted understandingly, “Heat flash again?”

You draped an arm over your damp forehead and nodded. 

He reached out an arm towards you and gently caressed your palm with the back of his finger, “Want me to get you an ice pack?”

Your fingers curled around his one, your clammy palm clinging onto his perfectly regulated body temperature like a lifeline and you let out a weary sigh, “No, just…”

You rolled over towards him and jammed your feet between his calves. 

“Ow! Hey!” he grumbled.

Your feet wiggled down and pressed against his colder ones, desperate for relief, while your hands fished for his. He let your clammy palms press against his soft ones, lazily intertwining your fingers to pull any ounce of coldness from his skin thanks to the lower temperature of your bedroom. 

Relenting softly, George whispered, “C’mere.”

You shifted as close to him as you could manage with your growing belly between you and he pried a hand from yours to slide under your sweaty hair and rest his icy hand on the back of your neck. You withered, letting out a moan that was almost orgasmic, eyes fluttering shut as your cheek slumped against his shoulder. 

“This is good.” you slurred dreamily. 

“You’re so odd, darling.” he chuckled sleepily as your feet rubbed against his, his voice thick with exhaustion. His fingers gently scratched along your hairline at the nape of your neck. “Get some sleep.”

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[ginxyy]

Bloody Valentine

I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight i can't stay forever, let's play pretend And treat this night like it'll happen again You'll be my bloody valentine tonight

The air was thick with the scent of summer; it lingered on your skin like a favorite perfume, sweet and intoxicating. Your recent tour had taken you far and wide, but with each stop, your heart had been tugged in an unexpected direction, one that led straight to him—Wonwoo. It wasn’t official, not yet, but what had begun as casual meetings in quaint cafes and whispered secrets under starlit skies had bloomed into something more profound and exhilarating.

You had fallen head over heels for him, that quiet boy who wore his heart on the sleeve of his vintage band T-shirts. His dark, thoughtful eyes often danced with mischief as he laughed, and those rare moments where he let his guard down made your own heart flutter like the pages of a well-loved novel. Those evenings spent curled up in dimly lit rooms, sharing dreams and tastes in music, ignited a flame within you that felt both frightening and freeing.

As the golden hues of summer began to fade into the crispness of autumn, you found yourself grappling with the reality of your departure. Soon, life would pull you back into its chaotic rhythm, and you’d be miles away from the boy who had managed to break down the walls you had built around your heart. Each day drew closer to the moment you would board that plane, yet thoughts of him lingered like unpicked petals scattered on a sidewalk.

In a fit of inspiration and an ache in your heart, you decided to channel your feelings into something tangible. You reached for your electric guitar, the one that had been your companion through countless late-night jam sessions. As you strummed a few chords, the haunting melody of “Bloody Valentine” by MGK wrapped around you like a haunting embrace. It was a perfect way to encapsulate the bittersweet nature of your emotions.

After recording the video, you uploaded it to Instagram with a single, simple caption: "Even if the time we shared was limited, my love was true." There was something bold about putting your feelings out into the world, a testament to everything you’d experienced together, even if it felt impossibly fleeting. The last notes of the song resonated in your ears as you hit ‘post,’ a mix of anxiety and hope flooding through your veins.

As the hours passed, you tried to shake off the whispers of worry that fluttered at the back of your mind. What if he didn’t see it? What if he brushed it off like so many others had done? But in that quiet space of your heart, you knew—he would understand. He had to.

Moments later, your phone buzzed in a flurry. A comment from Wonwoo. Your heart raced as you opened the notification. “I saw your post. I’ll meet you at the airport.” Just five words, but wrapped in them was everything you wanted to hear and yet feared. Would this be it? The final goodbye wrapped in the hope of ‘I will see you again’?

Your heart thudded in your chest as you packed the last of your things, anxiety mingling with excitement. The airport loomed ahead, sprawling and bustling with life, yet all you could focus on was him. The thought that it might be the last time you saw him sent ripples of sadness curling in your stomach under the surface of uncertainty.

As you stepped through the automatic doors, the world outside blurred into a backdrop. You scanned the crowded terminal, heart racing as you fought against the tide of travelers. There he was, standing by the barrier, looking as striking as the first day you laid eyes on him. His hair slightly tousled in the summer breeze, he looked like art made tangible, and just like that, a sense of calm washed over you amidst the storm of emotions swirling in your heart.

“Wonwoo,” you breathed, and the space between you vanished as he wrapped his arms around you in a rush of warmth. Your body instinctively molded against his, heart hammering against your ribs. It felt as though all the music swirling in the air paused for just a moment, as if time had graced you with a second chance.

“I saw your video,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes were intense, darkened by the weight of things left unsaid. “I rushed over when I did. I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye properly.”

The words sent a shiver through you. There was urgency in his tone, an undertone of desperation that mirrored your own. “I didn’t want to make it harder,” you replied, your voice softer than a whisper, “but there’s so much I wish I could say.”

“Then say it,” he urged, taking a step closer. “We don’t need to part like this, love. I want you to know that you’ve made this summer unforgettable for me. Even if it feels short, I’ll always carry this with me.”

The sincerity in his words hung between you like the music of your favorite song, reverberating through your very core. You both knew time wasn’t on your side, yet the connection you had forged felt significant an echo that would carry you through the distance.

“I fell in love with you,” you admitted, feeling the weight of truth lifted from your heart. “I wish I could stay, just one more night one more chance to create memories wrapped in the rhythm of our laughter.”

“Then let’s make a promise,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “This isn’t goodbye forever. We will find a way. You’ll see I’ll never forget you. Not now, not ever.”

“And I’ll always carry you with me,” you promised, the reality of your fleeting time intertwining with a glimmer of hope. As you held him tightly, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, a part of you knew that, even amidst the distance, you would find a way to let your love shine through the darkness.

“Take care of yourself, won’t you?” he murmured, as if afraid that the moment would slip away like sand through clasped fingers.

With a bittersweet smile, you nodded. “And you, too. Until we meet again, Wonwoo.”

As you stepped back, the world buzzed back into existence, but in that fleeting encapsulation of love and longing, you both remained suspended for just a moment longer, hearts echoing the promise you both silently made. Love, after all, was a melody that transcended distance. And you were both determined to let it play on, no matter how long the wait.

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

Modern College Student/BF Eren Yeager Headcanons

Armin version: HERE

Changed his major so. many. times.

Tried premed bc of his dad but then realized he had to take a lot of math and was like “lol no”

Was a business major for a bit but he didn’t have enough tact or strategy so dropped that pretty quick

Philosophy was next but he has such black and white way of thinking, he always got into arguments with the professors

Ethics was ruled out after like a week bc of…well, obvious reasons

Joined Armin’s major for like a month but it took so much studying and memory that he quit

Tried psych with Mikasa but yeah every teacher kept telling him to go to therapy??? And he was like “no thank you.”

Eventually i think he will land in something like sport communication or management, bc the competition really gets him fired up and he’s only good at something if he’s passionate about it

also feel like he’d be a college athlete with some scholarships so yeah, it makes sense

Not a great student tbh

Type of bitch to say “c’s get degrees.”

Really its only his public speaking skills that are keeping his grade afloat bc his presentations are sooo hype and get the class all inspired n shit

His essays and quizzes tho? Yeah, not so good

Bad at attending classes too, for sure will be like “srry my grandma died.”

And the teacher is just like “you’ve used that excuse already?twice??"

And hes just like “ugh fine you got me, I was tired and hungover”

Def tried to join a frat but Armin and Mikasa threatened to not be friends with him 

Still hangs with the frat boys a lot and is always partying with them

Pregames wayyy too hard tho, wasted before the party even starts

Unironically dances to lmfao and pitbull at college parties like “party rockers” is his fucking jam

Casual pothead, has a bong he def like nicknamed the “titan” cuz it’s so fucking huge

Will share his stash with you but like next time you got alc or bud just know he’s hitting that shit

High Eren is just really philosophical about freedom but with the munchies

Diet consists of instant ramen, mcdonalds and box mac n cheese, probably alot of redulls too

Thank god he’s athletic w a high metabolism 

Is fucking rocking the man bun and will fight you if you say otherwise

Games often with Jean, Conny and Sasha

Rage quits all the time and yes, Jean has recorded most of them for blackmail

Still uses snapchat streaks and will be so salty if one of his friends broke it

“You know nothing of loyalty. It’s one snap a day! How fucking hard was that?”  

Smells like irish spring body wash, old spice deodorant and weed

Also mint? I feel like he’s always chewing gum

One of those smokers who think he can just splash cold water on his face and chew on some gum and it wouldn’t be obvious that he’s high af

Carmex lip balm is the only slightly self care item he owns

Really into anime, loves the boss fights

I feel like he’d really like Naruto, Demon Slayer, Bnha or jojo’s bizarre adventure

You know anything with a lot of fights or training 

Ppl say he’d like Deathnote bc light but honestly I think he would get lost with all the twists and be like “why tf aren’t ppl just punching each other???”

Loves rap if he’s feeling good or screamo if he’s angry, like there's no in between lmao 

For sure listens to his music way too loud even with air pods

“Max volume isn’t enough, I wanna fuck the song” type of dude

I feel like him and Conny at one point prob tried to make a youtube channel where they like react to stuff 

Jean is the top commenter…..too bad it’s hate comments lol

Is one of those guys who has such a high body temp that even if it’s like december and snowing out, he’s still in basketball shorts and a short sleeve shirt 

Progressive bc Armin taught him how sex doesn’t equal gender, and pronouns are to be respected

Still a dick tho

“He’s such a fucking- wait hold up what are your pronouns?�� They? K cool was just gonna talk shit about you but wanted to be respectful about it, thanks.”  goes back to his other conversation like, “They are such a fucking worthless cunt.”

As your bf

Probably met off tinder or something bc he is just a fuckboy looking to get his dick wet

But after fucking he just keeps hanging out with you? Or like if u get ur period or don't feel like sex he’s like, “it’s okay we can just watch a movie or something😀”

So ur not quite sure if you guys are fuckbuddies or not?

It becomes kinda obvious tho if he like ever sees you with another guy and gets all up in his face like “wtf are u doing with my girl/boy?”

U guys don’t have a clear anniversary bc he never asked u to be his, it was just kinda silently agreed upon?

Clingy lil bitch after sex like will follow u to the bathroom if u let him

Needs to shower with you, otherwise you both aint showering cuz he will turn off the water 

“Now we both stinky, bitch.”

Gives me the vibe of a guy who learned sex stuff thru porn

He goes really hard, fast and will put you in crazy positions

If u have a vagina you prob will have to like teach him about clit stimulation and literally take his hand and lead it there, he’s a fast learner though 

Will pull your hair but if you dare pull his?

He'll flip you over and spank you 

Wants sooo bad to be called daddy, up to you though if u wanna call him that but you can tell he tries to lead you to say it sometimes

Not really controlling or anything, actually loves an independent partner who has their own goals 

Is insanely jealous though, the only time he’s all up on you is if he thinks another guy is trying to get on you

If you fight tbh I think Eren can be a lil brat but I think he always has a time limit 

Like..he’s the type of guy that has about three days in him of being an asshole or being in silent treatment mode before he just breaks and knocks on your door begging for forgiveness

A little toxic but again, more so about others than actually controlling you

The type to start a fight in your insta comments if anyone other than him or your besties call you hot

Will try to be cool and say “wear whatever you want, I can fight”

And he will but like will he also cry later? Yes. 

Dates with him aren’t really dates? I think his love language is quality time so he’s the type to just try to hang out and make everything a lil “date”

Lots of late night car rides where you guys just talk and share songs (also car sex if ur up to it), lazy days where you two watch movies and cuddle in bed, also I think he’s the type of bf to try to tag along with you everywhere you go and offer to get you food afterwards

Only for like birthdays or anniversaires will he try to take you out for a fancy dinner, even then you might have to drop hints that you want a nice date bc honestly he’s totally okay getting mdconalds with you and pigging out

Overall he’s kinda a scary dog privellage as a boyfriend

Whose mainly all bark and no bite

(mostly)

Fav nicknames: Babe, babygir/babyboy, sexy, shortie 

Songs that fit the vibe: 505 by Arctic Monkeys, Cherry Waves by Deftones, Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood

“I’d probably still adore you wth your hands around my neck”

“I’ll swim down with you, is that what you want?” 

“I tell you that I’m thinking about, whatever you’re thinking about”

[helloitstsyu]

TikTok Tease | Tom Cruise 18+

My masterlist

Summary : You did a tiktok video in front of Tom and teased him with it.

a/n : saw something on tiktok and just can't stop to think about this. here's the link . Also i tried smtg different, this is on reader's POV.

Pairing : Tom Cruise x Fem¡reader

Wc: 2k ish

Warning : smut. do not enter if you're minor

I saw this video and I'm itching to do it to Tom. He's upstairs right now in his office having his last phone call meeting for the day. Meanwhile I'm just down here in the kitchen preparing for our dinner while i jammed to A Gangester's Wife by Ms Krazie.

"Darling?" his voice shoots in between the upbeat tune.

Looking up, Tom's walking down the stairs. Donning a casual navy polo shirt and a pair of jeans, he looks just as ravishing as he always is.

"Hi babe, dinner's almost ready.." i smile to him as he walks closer and joins me in the kitchen. "Everything okay with the call?" I ask.

"Yeah..." he nods with a smile. "It went well. We still have to call the studio and ask for the greenlight, but yeah, everything sorted out one by one— is that my favorite pesto?" He leans to the stove and takes a look at the food that I'm cooking. Tom takes an inhale deeply at the smoking food on the stove. "Ahh.. smells amazing," he grins.

I chuckle, "Two more minutes, and I'll be done,"

"Okay.." Tom sits down on one of the stool right in front of me. He he stares at me with glimmering eyes, kid-like kind of stares. He props his chin with both hands. His big smile never leaves as his eyes glued on me.

"What are you a five year old?" I laugh and shake my head.

Tom chuckles. His eyes dart down to see what I'm wearing. Suddenly, those cheeky grins turn into a dirty smirk as he furrows his brows. His glimmering eyes turn darker.

"Is that a new apron?" Tom cocks an eyebrow.

Looking down at the blue stripy apron on my body, i remember i just ordered this a couple of weeks ago since i get bored with the other basic black apron. Blue is Tom's favorite color, i thought it would be appropriate to buy it in this color. Seems like he likes it.

"Uh-huh." i nod.

"Hmm," Tom squints his eyes and smirks. "Looks good on you, darling," his voice suddenly changes, drops an octave deeper.

"Is that so?" I tease him with a slight head titl as i turn off the stove. I lick the spilled pesto on my finger while i look up to his eyes with that sireny-spelled gaze.

Tom chuckles, he shakes his head, "Baby.. no! I'm hungry. We're gonna just eat this delicious dinner you made." His smile is wide despite the stern in his voice.

"Okay!" You laugh, "What else are we gonna do– it's done. Stop gawking at me and help me plate,"

Tom laughs, "Gawking at you?" He repeats as he stands up and turns around the island. Tom captures me, his hands around my waist, and he pulls me closer to him. "How am i gawking at you, huh?" he tickles me.

I giggle and try to stop his attacking tickles. "Tom! Tom, stop!" I laugh and try to hold down his tickling fingers. Tom grabs me and pulls me to his chest. He places a deep kiss on my temple.

"Go on, help me plate, please," you ask nicely. He finally lets go of me and takes some plates from the cabinet.

Remembering i have a bright idea of how to tease him (again). I set my phone against the oil bottle. He doesn't even see me setting up my phone. Tom just focuses on scooping the pesto pasta to our serving plate. I take off the apron i wore and undo my messy bun.

Then i just pressed the record button.

The song plays, and he noticed I'm recording. He stops, and he looks up at my phone screen.

Daddy let me know that I'm the only girl. The only man that i need in this gangster world.

I mouth along the lyrics as it plays. Tease him a little by leaning down a little bit too seductively cause i was feeling the song. His mouth drops open. His eyes widen in a surprise to find my little tease. I can't help to get out of character and laugh at his shocked, stalled-breath expression. Tom's blushing, and he's absolutely stunned. Tom laughs and quickly hoists me off the screen.

"Darling!!" He laughs, Tom picks me up like my bodyweight is nothing, setting me to sit on top of the granite top island.

Hooked in. Nailed it. Just the right thing to do to turn him on.

I just can't stop laughing. Tom keeps giggling, and his face turns even a brighter shade of red. His eyes flickers lightly. "Did you call me daddy, love?" Tom asks.

"Hmm... Maybe.." i shrug my shoulders.

He shakes his head, he's smile never seems this wide. The earlier tiredness on his face seems to be gone. "You little minx," he whispers as he pulls my chin and kisses my lips.

"Say it again," he demands.

Chuckling, I shake my head.

"Darling... say it again," his voice is low, and sexily hoarse. The way his demeanor shifted as he commanded me, it struck a tingling heat inside of me straight to my toes.

"Daddy." I whisper.

"Mmmhmm.." Tom grins, showing his satisfaction from hearing me say the new nickname. "How did the song go again?" He asks. His nails are clawing on my thighs. He knows i like it when he does this. I muffled a whimper, my head rolling, and falling back. "Tommy..." i murmur.

Tom uses the advantage to place a kiss on my neck. He grips my hips and pulls me closer to him. He gradually picks up his pace, erotically sucks and nibs my sweet spot, earning me to moan lightly into his ears. "Tom..." i whimper, my fingers gripping the collar of his shirt.

I feel warmth tingling inside of me. Excitement rushing in my veins. I feel myself pooling under there.

His heated kiss moves down to my collar bone as his hands never stop to explore my body. He cups my tits. Kneading them and his finger circling my erected nipples.

"I thought you said you were hungry?"

He lifts his face off my breast and looks back to me. He gives me a wild smirk. "I am. Starving right now."

His hand slips underneath my tanktop, shifting it up to reveal my naked breast underneath. He passionately kneading one in his hand while he's busy sucking roughly the other. I moan, fingers running through his soft brunette strands, the feeling of his warmth slick tongue on my nipple starts to bring tingling pleasure throughout my body.

Opening my eyes, i look back straight to his eyes. His eyes darken with lust. He looks amazingly intoxicating. Sometimes, it still hasn't kicks in that i have him for real. That I have the sexiest bachelor of Hollywood all for myself.

I pull him by his shirt and kiss him again. Tongue hungrily meeting his. I desperately pull him even closer to me. His fingers tucks on the waistband of my shorts. He takes my shorts off and toss it onto the floor. Spreading my legs apart widely, Tom chuckles at my submissive display.

Tom shakes his head and takes a step back. "I ask you something, darling. I won't continue if you're not going to answer me." He cocks an eyebrow.

"Wha... Tom!" I exclaim in disbelief. "Kiss me," i mewl. I try to pull him closer to me again, but Tom laughs. He grips my hand and holds it down. "Try me, darling," he challenged me to disobey him. He meant what he said he wouldn't continue till he heard what he wanted to hear. Such a dominant of him.

"What? What do you want?" I chuckle.

"Remind me how the song goes again?"

"Daddy, let me know—" i start to sing the lyrics. A wild smile appears on his face.

"Good girl," he cooes, then he squats down, face to my needing core.

"Ohh--" i moan as i feel his tongue flicking on my clit. "Tom," i purr. He sucks me passionately. His eyes look up to mine. He notices i stopped singing and enjoying the sensation of his oral expertise.

"Finish the song," he commands and eats me roughly again.

"Oh.. fuck—" i moan.

My breath starts to ragging. Feels like my voice is stuck in my throat. I feel the ecstasy starts to forming inside of me, needing for it to be released. My mind buzzing from the pleasure. I buck my head back, fingers tucking on his hair. "Ngh.. Ah! Tommhh," I helplessly moan.

"Sing." Tom tells, and sucks me again.

"D-daddy... let me know that—  oOH!" I lost it again when i feel his fingers entering me. He pumps his fingers in and out of my cunt, coaxing me closer to the edge of spilling all over for him.

Climbing, climbing, pleasure keeps adding: He curls his fingers and make that deadly beckoning movement. He knows my body front and back. He knows exactly how to get me easily falling apart.

"F-fuckk! Yes! Right there!!" I moan, and moan, and moan.

All of a sudden, once I'm nearly gonna cum, Tom stops.

The feeling of unfinished pleasure makes my mind buzz. I whimper and squirm uncomfortably. How cruel is he. "Wha— why'd you stop?" I look down to him.

Tom shoots me an innocent look, he slightly shrugs his shoulders as he brings his coated fingers to his mouth. "You stop singing." He licks his finger clean.

I can't believe this man sometimes. "Oh my God— Tommy!"

Tom can only laugh at me. "That's not my name!" He titls his head to the side.

"Right—" I climb off the island and push him back till his back crashes the other counter. I roughly kiss him, hands circling to the back of his neck, i desperately kiss him.

"Daddy." I say in between the sloppy kisses. Tom smirks against my lips, hearing that nickname. Guess i manage to pull a new kink outta him.

"Daddy, let me know that I'm the only girl."  I whisper to his ear as i place a wet kisses on his neck. "The only man–" i nibs on his neck. "The only fucking man," my hand explores his toned abs, i pull the polo shirt over his head, toss it down to meet my shorts on the floor.

I look up to his eyes. "You're the one that i need in this gangster world, daddy,"

Tom chuckles darkly. He cups my face and pulls me closer to him again. "That's right, I'm the only one," he cooes. He then continues to hungrily kiss me again. His kisses move to my neck, quickly finding my sweet spot, and erotically he nibs it, leaving his mark of ownership on me. I can feel his buldge pressing against me.

"Ouhh, daddy please..." i murmur, practically begging him

"Please? Please what, darling?" He cocks his eyebrows. The excitement is way too apparent in his tone and gaze.

"Let me have you,"

Tom chuckles darkly. "Have me?" He shakes his head, "Oh, I'm having my way with you tonight, darling," He throws me over his shoulder like my bodyweight is a feather. A playful slap lands to my cheek as he brings me to the couch and both of us falling onto the fluffy couch. Tom unbutton his jeans. He doesn't bother to take the whole thing off but just enough to free his cock. He aligns himself to my entrance. His tips rubbing against my opening. Tom instantly bottoms up, his cock fully enters me, stretching me to the brim. I yelp and squeal to his chest.

"You're gonna beg for me to let you cum," he darkly whisper into my ear. Tom starts to fuck me in a relentless pace.

I moan.... hard. My brain rattling with the immense amount of pleasure he's giving me. Tom looks down at me with intense, lustful eyes. His cock went deep inside of me as he have me folded in half with my knees to my chest.

My head falls back, eyeing the ceiling, my vision of the light blurs. "Ohh... god–" my eyes rolls to the back of my head.

"Nonono, eyes on me!" Tom pulls my neck back straight for me to face him again. "Oh you feel so fucking good," he moans. His eyebrows knitting together but his eyes still darkly looks down at me.

My nails dig on his shoulder. Tom leans closer, rest his forehead against mine, eyes still locked on mine. He fucks me so hard that I'm sure I'd be sore tomorrow. But it feels too good that it'll be so wrong to tell him to slow down. And I'm too overtaken by the pleasure. Too drunk with the taste of him.

"F-fuck— Tom!" I moan and panting hard.

"Yeah? Yeah, you wanted this? You think you deserve to cum after you tease daddy like a little slut, huh, darling?"

I can only helplessly nod.

"Tom... don't stop... p-please!" i beg feeling myself getting closer to cum.

"Not stopping, darling... You feel so good, all nice and tight for daddy,"

"O-oh! Tom let me cum please... please!" I cry out begging to him. He just smirks at me, dark lustful eyes looking down at me and still he's fucking me hard.

"Daddy please.. daddy let me cum!" I beg. My walls throbbing around him. I feel fire burning inside of me. My fingers gripping onto the couch hard.

"No! Wait!" He pants.

"S-sshhiit, Tom!" I squirm all over the place, trying my best to hold it.

"Wait baby! Cum with me," Tom leans closer holding me tightly. His forehead resting against mine. His panting breath meeting mine. I cry, couldn't bear the overflowing pleasure needing for the snap to occur.

I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me. He's close. He's holding onto me hard. His thrust starting to get sloppy. And just like that i lose it. The moment i feel him throbbing inside of me i can't help to hold it anymore.

I breathlessly scream daddy over and over again, moaning hard as i make a mess and squirm all over him. The sight of me falling apart got Tom spilling too. "Akhhh! FuUCk! Darling!" Tom groans. He remain freezes as he stills himself empty inside of me.

For a moment, he takes a breather and just rest of top of me. What's better than sex with him is what happened after the sex with him. It's like our soul intertwined, and i just feel a deep connection with him. Tom rolls me over so I'm on top of him, his arms instinctively hugs around me. He kiss me deeply. Still with a messy breath, he look deeply into my eyes with that shimmering after sex glow.

"You okay?" He softly asks.

Still panting i just can smile and nod. Tom kiss me deeply again. "I love you," he whispers softly.

I smile and kiss his cheek. "I love you too, daddy,"

Tom laughs and kisses me deeply again.

[clarkeyhill]

High Stakes | George Clarke fluff(slightly long)

[You and George have been official for around 11 months now but are yet to make an appearance on his social media or to his YouTube friends. So what better way than for George to throw you in the deep end than by taking you to a YouTube PR party for the new sidemen vodka release]

It's the day of the event and all you can feel is nerves, you opted to stay the night a George's so you could save time, you wake up before your alarm and just stare at the ceiling for a while. George's alarm then starts beeping as he rolls over to turn it off, he rolls back to notice you're already propped slightly up. "Morning, you're up already?" He says furrowing his brows "yeah, I woke up a little earlier before my alarm, the nerves I think" you scuffle down to meet his gaze as you face eachother "nerves? What for?" He says "what if they don't like me George?" You such as you look down "honey I don't know what you're nervous for, they're going to love you, you match anyone's energy, don't worry about it too much" he says tucking a strand of hair behind your ear; "I know I'm probably overthinking it, it's just a big thing for me, I am excited though" you let out a small smile; "good, we can let our hair down and enjoy the free bar for a change" he chuckles as he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"I'm going to shower" you say sliding out of the covers, George looks at you with a bottom lip, you roll your eyes "don't look at me like that, get your booty up we've got a long day ahead" you laugh, you jump in the shower to wash your hair and prepare your skin for the day ahead, you're not used to wearing makeup for a long period of time so prepping your face was essential. Whilst you're in the shower you hear George making the intro to his vlog, you forgot he was recording the event. You jump out the shower and wrap yourself in a towel, you set yourself down in your bedroom and dry your hair with the air wrap George bought you for your birthday, the time is around 10am, the event starts at 3pm. You put on your "get ready" playlist full of old school throwbacks you jam out to. Whilst you're drying your hair George walks in on you singing your heart out to unwritten by Natasha bedingfield, not knowing he was there you turn your airwrap off. "I hate to see how confident your gonna be when you have a few drinks down your neck" he laughs as you jump at the sound of his voice "god I didn't know you was there, you weren't recording were you?" You laugh hoping if he was the camera didn't pick up your presence "no, but there is something I want to ask you" he says sitting down next to you on his filming chair "I was wondering if you would like to be in the video, it's up to you, there's no pressure, you don't have to introduce yourself but incase I catch you in a clip" he looks at you with reassurance, you study the outcome of your introduction to his fans, thinking of the reactions. "Im not sure, I'm worries about the comments" you say "what if they're mean" your eyebrows furrow and George's face turns white, he forgot about how mean the internet could be sometimes "there's no pressure baby, but people are going to find out soon" he says, taking your hand into his, "if not this video, maybe a soft launch onto Instagram?" He says, you look at him, a light glimmers in your eyes, after all there is truth in his words people will find out.

Your mind wanders "okay, I like the sound of that, then if I am caught in clips there will already be an inkling for people?" You offer "perfect, don't worry we will do a soft picture, nothing crazy, one from a trip" he smiles "okay" you smile back at him. George finds a photo from a trip to portugal you both had

@georgeclarkeey: Portu-managedtospeaktoa-gal 🏄🏼‍♂️

He posts the photo and the comments go crazy. George shuts his phone off and lets them linger as you both continue to get ready. You both opt for matching dress & tie combo, red. You decide on a casual mid satin corset laced dress with your hair slighting pinned to the side and curled. You put on light makeup as you both snack on the granola pots you both pre-made the night before. You both finish getting ready and the time is around 1pm, you're meeting up with Chris and Arthur beforehand as you're sharing the car to the event. You slip on your heels as you help George with his tie making sure your got all the things you need in your clutch bag. You both head out and make it to their flat for around 2:15, you all have a little drink before you catch your Uber to the event. Chris makes a comment about the Instagram post George made "I see you finally let the cat out of the bag mate" he said "yeah, well it's way overdue, I've nothing to hide and we thought about it for a while haven't we?" He turns to look at you "yeah we have, I'm a little nervous for the comments though, I mean so fan girls won't be happy" you chuckle nervously, Arthur looks at you and furrows his brows "never mind they, as long as you're both happy that's all that matters" he shoots a smile at you, which reassures your for the people you're about to meet, they all seem lovely. You all get into the Uber and make your way to the event itself about 2:50 at this point and the nerves hit you like a truck.

George notices your expression change and puts his hand on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze to reassure you that he's there and you're going to be okay. You pull up to the venue and it seems some fans have found out where it is, there's a handful outside the venue and you eyes grow wide "shit" you mutter under your breath, you step out of the car and straighten your dress as George's follows you, you hesitate to draw attention to him, but he makes no hesitation to take your hand and walk you inside "omg I think it's the girl George posted about this morning, she's so pretty!" Someone shouts, George looks at you with a smile "see, nothing to worry about baby" you look back up at him and smile, the boys take photos with the fans as you make your way to the door, the boys follow behind you like your own personal chauffeurs as you're greeted at the door by the door staff. You're shown to your table as you get sat down, George heads over to the bar to grab you a drink. You open your phone up to look at the comments from George's post, you smile as most of them are genuinely nice and heartwarming where as a handful we're a little mean. You decide to ignore them as you place your phone back in your bag and wait for George to return.

It's about half way into the night and you're both a little bit tipsy, george is talking to a few of his friends when a girl approaches you "hi I'm Becky!" She says "hi I'm y/n" you respond "I don't think I've ever seen you before, who are you with?" She smiles "oh I'm with-" you're interrupted by George coming back stumbling "babe, we're gonna get an Uber when you're ready" he says "oh hey Becky" he says "oh so you're with him aye?" She smirks sending you a wink "well you're very suited and George you're punching above your weight buddy" she nudges him as she walks off "see you around!" You say to her as she waves. "Yeah I'm ready when you are, I'm ready to get these heels and makeup off" you say "Arthur! Chris! We're ready!" George shouts over to them as you all make your way out, you stand outside as you wait for your Uber. You feel your legs turn into jelly as the alcohol hits you, you couldn't wait to get home. Your Uber arrives and you all cram in, your eyes feel heavy as you rest your head on George's shoulder. You arrive at your flat, you say bye to Arthur and Chris as you make your way to your door.

"I've enjoyed tonight" you say to him with a smile "it wasn't as bad as I expected" he looks at you as you both walk into your flat, he tosses the keys on the side and grabs you by the waist "see, I told you there would be nothing to worry about, we don't have to hide anything anymore, our friends know and now the fans do, so no more escaping the platform roulette videos when Arthur asks okay?" He chuckles planting a kiss on your head "I won't, I'm definitely up for it" you kick your heels off as you walk to the bathroom to remove your makeup. You slip out of your dress and into one of George's shirts and tie your hair in a messy bun. You both climb into bed as you settle on his chest.

"Goodnight baby" he says as he holds you tight

"Goodnight my love" you say back snuggling in further

-

🫶🏻

[got-ticket-to-ride]

hi sorry but do you have any soft mclennon moments to share too :') the post you made about 22 seconds of longing hurt oh my god

Sorry for the delay in reply anon. I'm actually just a corporate collar acting my way as a temporary secretary every hard day's night, jobbing like a dog, 8 days a week in an English garden to afford a tan in the rain.

Hope this finds you well! Here are 22 McLennon moments as compensation for Johnny's 22 agonizing seconds in the pining video.

1.) "I'm Happy Just to Dance with You" scene when they both looked at each other at the same time. And the director had to pan out the scene because it would've been too straight. I know dilated pupils when I see it.

2.) Inviting your favorite boy to a solo trip to Spain but you stayed in Paris because it was so romantic, sharing a bed, picking out clothes for each other, slurping all the banana shakes, you know normal roommate things according to historians.

3.) Getting a solo invitation from a hot photographer and bringing along your best boy because you are attached to the hip and can't be separated.

4.) Their need to constantly touch each other

5.) Scene in Help (1965), where John is using all his strength to carry George and Ringo's weight and not crush Paul (because boyfriend things)

6.) Holding hands for mental support during a recording. (John is needy, please forgive him)

7.) Walking Martha like a couple in 1967 - outfits coordinated and all

8.) Impressions by people who met them:

"[John and Paul] sort of had their own way of communicating. Hardly anything was spoken, they just knew what the other wanted or was getting at and they had the most amazing talent."

"He was like a different animal with Lennon. When they were together they became something else, more than just the two of them together. That communication was incredible. It was like two high-speed computers just fizzing between each other."

9.) John is hiding his cigarette behind him, because he doesn't want to bother Paul with the smoke. (You know, boyfriend things).

10.) A portrait, king and princess up front. John's thigh just casually resting on Paul's (yet again).

11.) The spider fingers during a press conference, because they are actually both 12

12.) That very flirty jam session in Austria in 1965 that was cut short, but they probably continued after anyway

13.) The way they talk about the day they met sounds like "how I met the love of my life" Happy Honeymoon <3

14.) Quote from Emerick

The lights in the studio were turned off to set the mood; the sole source of illumination was a table lamp next to the wall. The two beatles, lifelong friends and collaborators, sat on high stools, facing each other, studying each other’s lips intently for phrasing.

15.) When they answer each other's songs

Paul in Can't Buy Me Love: "If it makes you feel alright?"

John: "I Feel Fine"

17.) “I could even hear what they were saying off-mike; ‘Oh Paul, you’re so cute tonight’ was met with the reply, ‘Sod off, Lennon.’” — Joan Baez on accompanying the Beatles to their concert in Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Denver. 26 August 1964

18.) Paul looking at John like he wants to eat him later after finishing with "I'm a Loser"

19.) Giving instructions on how John's hair needs to "look"

20.) Paul acting as John's walking stick

21.) Paul's heart eyes during this 1966 conference (also that lip bite... eat you later?):

22.) John the worried boyfriend who checks on Paul in the middle of an interview and doesn't believe him when he just says : "oh, yeah..."

John internally: "come on now, why aren't you laughing at my joke babe? You're unwell!!!"

The Bottles over and out.

Thank you for this ask. This was quite fun! Would love to hear your thoughts too <3

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

interesting…listening to Brian on The Leona Graham Podcast (Spotify) and he said that the Sony Deal doesn’t apply to future projects. He was asked about new music and said that he and Roger casually jam together from time to time and that if they ever decide to really record some stuff and put it out then they would own it, not Sony. The Sony deal only applies to work from the past

anyway just wanted to share the insight. I love how both of them have been like “ooooo it could happen…. 👀”

[steddieonmywaywardson]

Music Au - Snippet

Steve is balancing carefully on some old metal railings when Eddie steps outside into the frigid morning air. He closes the studio door to make sure none of the others overhear.

Steve’s already got a cigarette lit between two fingers, his black nail polish chipped slightly.

“Hey there Munson,” he greets casually with a nod. Now that he can see Steve face to face and not from the length of a recording studio, he can see that Steve’s got a ring through his left nostril and a small black gauge in his right ear.

Which is great. Eddie thinks. Piling more hotness on is surely going to make it easier for him to talk to the guy

“Hey,” Eddie replies, trying to sound just as casual. He fumbles in his leather jacket for his own pack of smokes and taps one out of the pack. “Steve, right?” He adds because he doesn’t want to sound too eager. “I heard you guys jamming, you sounded good,”

“Good enough to open Corroded Coffin huh?” Steve asks after taking a drag.

Eddie’s eyes flare wide and instantly he feels like a total fucking jerk.

“Aw shit that sounded condescending didn’t it?” He replies witheringly. “Man I swear, I have this issue where I put my foot in my mouth constantly. Chrissy says it’s like my second career after music. I didn’t mean it to sound like that because you really did sound good, and-“

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve grins. “I was just joking,” he smiles properly, and it’s like good whiskey, the best pizza and great sex all rolled into one.

“Well then…” Eddie shakes his head at himself. “Now I just sound like an idiot,” he ducks his head, hoping Steve won’t notice he’s blushing.

He has no fucking clue why he’s suddenly so useless at just being. It’s like Steve has cast some weird siren spell on him. Or whatever the male equivalent of a siren is. Either way, this is the first guy Eddie’s been interested in for a long time and he’s acting like a total fool.

[owmylasagna-blog]

Method to my Ed-ness

Clearing his throat, Eddy jabbed the sharp corner of the plastic dollar store case into the breast bone of Double Dee’s sunken sternum.

“What is -”

“What’s it look like?”

Edd examined the familiar receptacle, flipping the flimsy item in his hands. Through the clear cover he could see the Sharpie scrawl of his friend’s handwriting directly on the mirrored surface of the compact disc: “Eddy’s Summer Jams” in all capital letters at the top, the songs numbered and written in concentric circles filled the remaining space.

Meanwhile, try as he might to maintain a cool, casual demeanor, Eddy disguised his nerves by shoving his hands deep into his oversized pockets. His gaze locked onto the Peach Creek High ceiling with the same apathy as reruns of Gilligan’s Island but his heart was thumping at a frenetic pace. That concentration was broken, however, by a snivel.

“Oh Eddy…”

Double Dee’s lower lip quivered. The CD case creaked as his grip tightened.

“Jeez. Don’t -”

The shorter teen winced, second-hand embarrassment creeping up his spine. Not that Edd’s sudden emotional outbursts were a new thing, just that Eddy never quite figured out the right way to respond.

“Why I- Should I have known we we were exchanging gifts I’d have -”

Eddy threw an arm over Edd’s shoulders. His amused chuckle reverberated through the physical contact in a way that only Eddy could ground Edd.

“Gifts? Cool your jets. It’s just a playlist.”

True, the item itself was quite simple. But Double Dee could discern the generous and meticulous care put into it. Coming from Eddy, it meant a whole lot. Composing himself, the more outwardly sentimental of the two clutched the case tight over his heart with a smile.

“Regardless, I’ll cherish the thoughtful curation you’ve no doubtably given it.”

The teens’ eyes met. Eddy smiled too because, yeah, maybe he had spent a few extra hours scouring various studio recordings, remasters, and live album renditions for several of the songs. And maybe, just maybe, this was the second CD he’d burned because he’d rushed the first one, leaving sloppy smudges in the Sharpie before it had completely dried. This was worth getting right.

“Don’t sweat it, Jonny. That rash will clear up in no time. Over and out!” A distinctly recognizable voice echoed down the hall.

The gangly teen waved, turned, and sluggishly made his way down the hallway in their direction. Wide pant legs swished and vestigial suspenders jingled with each step.

“Boy am I glad to see you guys. Jonny was just showing me -” Ed paused, his heavy-lidded eyes landing on Double Dee’s occupied hands. He blinked, then frowned, the muscles in his face firing in slow motion. It was clear from both his countenance and stench that he’d just come from toking up the janitor's closet.

“Secret Santa already?”

Eddy detached from the half embrace. “It’s June,” he huffed before slamming his back into the lockers.

“Likely story,” Ed chuckled. “Then whatcha got there?”

It was an odd, new feeling - getting bashful with Ed - nascent much like the more emotional and intimate turn two-thirds of their trio had taken in the past year. Never-the-less the two slightly-more-than-friends felt their cheeks blaze at the question. Eddy glanced up at Edd who stared down at the burned CD, watching bony fingers moving timidly over his work. His heart skipped as the reality hit that Double Dee was actually going to listen to the thing.

Edd swallowed and offered a sheepish grin. “A melodic memento from Eddy, is all.”

“It’s nothin’,” Eddy downplayed with a shrug.

“Do I get one too?” asked Ed. If Eddy didn’t know better it sure sounded like Ed was teasing him.

He scoffed. “What are ya- No. I’m stuck with ya all summer, remember?”

A wave of solemnity washed over Ed’s entire demeanor at the reminder of Double Dee’s upcoming departure and now his utter lack of Eddy-crafted playlist to fill the void.

“One is a number divided by two.”

“Sure is, Nilsson,” sighed Eddy, crossing his arms. He lifted a knee, planting a foot against the painted metal. A steely clang followed as the chunky hardware store wallet chain slid off the thigh of his jean shorts.

In the minor lul, a pang of guilt hit Edd. Had he really had an option in the matter? Vision unfocused, he raked his raw thumb nail over the ribbed side of the CD case. Meanwhile, Ed had fully engaged his favorite weapons: a pair of big brown bovine puppy-dog eyes.

“No CD for Ed?”

“Go screw!” Eddy’s voice cracked from pitching it up.

A pathetic pout contorted the sallow face of Eddy’s eldest friend. Beside him, Double Dee rolled his eyes - holding back a knowing chuckle behind a wavering grin. The teen in the beany tisked, a brow seemingly raising beneath the knit fabric that obscured them.

“A suspicious amount of protest for what you’ve insisted is merely a frivolous, inconsequential collection of songs. Surely it would be no trouble at all to orchestrate such a banal arrangement again. Isn’t that so, Eddy?”

Between the guilt tripping and the chiding, Eddy was just about fed up. He locked stubborn stares with Double Dee, not broken even by Ed practically perching himself on Edd’s shoulders and knodding with enthusiastic agreement.

“You little…” with a snarl, the fleshy back of Eddy’s head thunked against the metal lockers with a solid thud. “Whatever. Someone’s gotta make sure you two have good taste.”

Through his reflection, Edd watched as a blur of verdant roadside overgrowth passed. It had been a quiet ride so far with the exception of a riveting public radio segment about elderly drivers playing at a polite volume. It would be another hour before they reached the destination of the month-long pre-college STEM program for high schoolers he would be starting tomorrow.

An unfortunate ramification of stubborn motion sickness was the inability to busy himself reading. When Edd was younger, mother and father would engage him in word games and educational songs to distract him from the nausea. It seemed everyone in the car had aged out of this sort of activity. Silence wasn’t anything new.

For this reason, Edd had amassed a fairly robust CD collection of audiobooks and a spattering of instrumental albums. Leafing through the case, rapidly passing through the compendium of discs for several works of classical fiction and nonfiction alike, Edd sought out his most recent addition.

Eddy’s Summer Jams.

A cursory scan of the song titles only made apparent Edd’s pop culture illiteracy. Could artists with such names as Beenie Man prove promising? There was only one way to find out. Slipping the foam earpieces into place, the head strap clicked in succession until the fit was just right.

Click. The inner workings lifted the CD player lid open. Snap. In went Eddy’s playlist. As it spun, the handwritten script blurred through the viewport on top.

For all the time Edd knew his friend, and all the times spent listening to vintage records in his bachelor’s den of a bedroom, he could anticipate what the opening song might sound like. Bombastic brass? Thrumming bass? Uptempo disco rhythms?

However, what Double Dee heard instead was something more gentle. Unrushed steady drums accompanied by staccato, dare-say timid, bass strumming in time. Then, an enchanting voice joined. If this was all an unexpected choice, it was the lyrics that soon had Eddward frozen in disbelief in the back seat of father’s compact sedan. Edd had always known music was an outlet of self expression for Eddy, but he was still left giddily unprepared for this. In an instant, the flustered teen yanked his shirt collar up to obscure the violent blush and massive smile that had taken over his face.

[hustlerose]

Sorry for the spam likes today. Favorite jazz album?? I saw a post on your blog that mentioned Mingus ah um. That’s either my fave or Birth of Cool (Miles Davis does do my favorite version of On Green Dolphin Street). Though both are kinda basic choices I want to expand my listening.

so i'm gonna give you a few albums (and album-adjacent things) with the caveat that i haven't heard most of what's out there ^_^ i'm just a casual fan

ornette coleman - the shape of jazz to come

this album is on another level. the multiple layers of brass crisscross each other, playing dissonant chaos, then they rip into solos that could melt charlie parker's fingers. the bass shreds and stumbles up and down some wild assortment of scales. the drums patter out a frantic rhythm that somehow ties everything together.

it shouldn't make sense, but it feels so alive. you'll catch quotes from flight of the bumblebee over rainy oceans of rhythm. herds of wild animals shuffle back and forth in a forest painted by jackson pollock. and then whoever's not soloing yells "woo! alright!"

it's not even my favorite ornette coleman recording. that honor goes to this youtube upload of a live show in germany, 1978. the bass intro, instantly picked up by the drummer, is so electric. the haunting melodies, borrowed from the rite of spring, are traded from sax to guitar. the whole band feels like they're operating on instinct. this is what a basquiat painting SOUNDS like. like a genius artist drawing with their non-dominant hand. LITERALLY coleman plays a violin left-handed at one point. it's incredible.

john coltrane - my favorite things

trane puts so much panache into this simple little pop song. the opening chords are heavy with drama. the groove is insanely tight. every time he plays the melody, it's got a new rhythm, to the point where he seems to be playing a game with the listener. "how many ways can i get you to feel this groove?" the song is melted, bent, and stretched like molten glass, in a 13 minute display of total virtuosity

and that's just track 1!!!! this album is timeless. every second is as fresh and vibrant as it was in 1961

herbie hancock - headhunters

herbie has always been at the cutting edge of jazz fusion. this is his definitive statement on funk

this album is intensely rhythmic, laying out catchy melodies over funk foundations. the whole band seems to just be having a blast. the grooves are often busy and hypermelodic, with no room to breathe as everyone jams at once. it's like an all-night house party in a bouncy castle full of confetti

if you're a fan of japanese jazz like caseopia, or jazz-influenced video game music, this album will feel shockingly familiar to you. its wildly creative synth work, uplifting and colorful chords, and eclectic sound palette are all DECADES ahead of their time.

where would we be without herbie? i'd wager the entire global music landscape would be different. from hip hop to big beat to drum n bass, we all stand on the shoulders of giants. hancock is a titan. the giants that raise us up are standing on his shoulders

[bullet-prooflove]

Three things for Ed Green:

Pajamas, beer, and a movie

Tagging: @kmc1989@baconeggndcheez@mel-eficent@to-grow-in-and-to-love @marlena-marlena

Companion piece to:

Spend the Night - Ed asks you to spend the night when the two of you cross the line.

A Casual Thing - You return to Ed's apartment despite what you agreed.

Quits - Ed calls time on the relationship.

Ed’s in his pyjama bottoms, a bottle of beer in his hand and an old movie on the TV when he hears that familiar rap on his apartment door.

It’s you, he knows it is and for a moment he debates just ignoring it because right now the last thing he wants is a booty call, especially since he has three bruised ribs from a nasty takedown. He groans as he raises to his feet, shuffling towards the door with as much speed as he can muster before he opens it.

“I’m not going to fuck you.” He says frankly when he sees you standing there.

“I don’t expect you to, given the shape you’re in.” You respond as you let yourself into his apartment and start busying yourself in his kitchen. “I didn’t think you’d want to cook so I brought dinner…”

“Ronnie.” He says, slamming the door shut behind you. “What are you doing? You said you didn’t want anything serious and now you’re turning up here, acting like you give a shit about me.”

“I do give a shit about you.” You say with a sigh as you turn to face him. “That’s part of the problem, because you’re not going to care about me when I say what I need to say.”

“I don’t understand.” He says, his dark eyebrows etching into a frown and you lean back against the counter biting your lower lip  before you begin to speak.

“Back when we were partners in the Gang Unit, I was approached by IAB. They knew someone in the unit was feeding information to the Nine Sevens and they thought it was you because of the history you had with gambling.” You tell him and Ed feels an apprehension in this chest because he knows where this is going.

“You investigated me.” He says, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “When I was telling you all the shit I was going through, you were feeding it back to IAB…”

This shit being that he’d just lost a baby with the woman that he was in love with, that he was struggling to take care of her because she thought it was her fault when really, it was just nature. A cruel twist of fate that neither of them could have seen coming.

“No, I didn’t.” You say softly, your eyes on his as he moves towards you. “Anything you said to me about that stayed with me but I recorded your movements, made sure they knew there was no way you could be involved.”

“Did you think it was me?” He asks you, his palms coming to rest on either side of you caging you in. “Did you take the job because you thought I was selling information?”

“Never.” You said fiercely. “But they would have jammed you and I couldn’t have that, not when you were already going through so much so I thought better the devil you know.”

“Is that how you see yourself Ronnie?” He asks you, leaning in close as he looks into your eyes. “You think you’re the devil?”

“You tell me.” You murmur as the heat from his body rolls over your skin. “You don’t lie to the ones you love, you don’t a keep  secret like this from someone you care about.”

“Is that why you’ve been holding back from me?” He whispers, his hand cupping your jaw, ensuring he has your full attention. “Keeping your distance?”

“I thought…” You trail off then because you can’t vocalise how twisted up you’ve been about this whole thing, how hard it’s been to walk away when all you’ve ever wanted to do is stay.

“You thought wrong Ronnie.” He murmurs against your lips. “You saved my job back then, my sanity and I can ever express how grateful I am for that. Now if you want something with me, something real, you can have it, you just need to say the word.”

“Alright.” You say, your fingers lacing at the base of his neck, your mouth pressing against his. “Word.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 19 — Holiday Magic

↳ A/N: Inspired by a childhood memory of my own <3 

↳ Summary: Your son is determined to stay up to see Santa no matter how much you and George try to persuade him...but the power of Christmas magic outshines your parenting.

↳ Word Count: 506

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

“You have to go to bed soon, mate.” George pleaded gently with your son for the nth time that evening. 

In his red and white plaid pyjamas, the four-year-old was sitting on the couch with his little hands folded on his lap like he was in a formal meeting. His legs could barely reach over the edge of the seat to bend at his knees, making him look like the sweetest little sight. 

“I can’t.” the little boy insisted like his father was pitching the most ridiculous idea known to man. “I want to stay up and see Santa.”

“Santa won’t come if you’re awake.” you reminded him gently from the doorway, leaning against the frame with your arms crossed casually over your chest. 

Your son pursed his lips and looked between you and George, debating. But the fireplace across the modest room kept stealing his attention, the four stockings aligned empty on the mantle above the empty fireplace below. Any moment that night, Santa would drop down that very chimney and into that fireplace and he wanted to be the first person to greet him. Obviously.

“Come on, buddy.” George held his hand out to him, “Let’s go brush your teeth and get you into bed.”

“Noo, Daddy.” he pouted up at him, jamming his folded hands between his legs to emphasise his insistence of not taking his father’s hand. 

George sighed and set his hands on his hips, glancing over to you in slight exasperation. You just pulled your lips in a line and offered a small shake of your head. 

Wanting to support your husband in his efforts, you spoke to your son, “Your sister is already fast asleep and ready for Santa to come. The faster you go to bed too, the faster he can come and leave your presents.”

“He knows when you’re sleeping and he knows when you’re awake, remember?” George added. 

Despite your best efforts, your son was not moving. Well, that was until there was the faintest sound from the rear of the house. It sounded like the faint tinkle of jingle bells, just far enough away to sound like they were flying above the house. To you and George, as adults, you knew it was just the heater turning on and blowing its first gust on the string of jingle bells on the back doors. To your little boy, however, that was most definitely Santa’s sleigh. 

His big blue eyes were as wide as saucers, looking up at George to see if he had heard it too. But before he could even open his mouth, your son was clamouring off the bed and rushing past you out of the room, “Night night!”

You and George exchanged amused glances and you stepped aside to let him follow after your son who was hightailing it up the stairs. 

“Bathroom for teeth brushing!” George called up after him as he reached the stairs himself. 

“There’s no time!” your son protested from upstairs. “Santa’s here I need to be in bed!”

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[thunderwetter]

Warden's Pet - Overlord x Prowl - Chapter 2

Check this post for Chapter 1, this is going to be a three-chapter-story!

WORD COUNT: ~4900

WARNINGS: 18+ NON-CON, Violence

TAGS: Sticky/Valveplug, Torture, Punishment, Revenge, Restricted Movement, Toy Usage, Electrostimulation/Shockplay, Overstimulation, Spark Play, Non-consensual Voyeurism

Final Warning! Prowl is NOT enjoying this!!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Prowl came back online, his first reaction was a pained groan. It took him a moment to register his position, servos behind his back, leaning against a cold metal wall. Very creative, really, to use his own handcuffs against him. It took a while for his sensory system to work, but with satisfaction he recognized himself to be fully repaired. He could see, he could hear, his frame seemed to be a mess no more. Even his face was fixed, although an uncomfortable sensation was still haunting him, some pain in the joints from the stiffness of being immobilized. Leftovers from a previous surgery, he remembered the feeling, albeit it usually had different reasons.

The current reason for his predicament was sitting at the desk across the room, pedes on top, tapping away at a communication pad. Prowl could still feel him on his tongue and suppressed a gag at the thought of it. Overlord's lips curled upwards with every ping of the comm-pad. He noticed Prowl returning to his senses in his periphery, so he spun the chair around, landing his pedes with a heavy thump, taking a quick snapshot of the view and apparently shipping it through the console. Curious, Prowl thought to himself, whoever was on the other line trusted Overlord with their contact data, they were close enough to be updated on Prowl’s condition, but not close enough to communicate over the personal communication system that would be the standard.

Then again, Prowl’s own personal contacts were limited to those that he worked with regularly, the only current exception being Jazz, who rarely ever utilized the old code. Prowl would not be surprised if he, like Chromedome, had changed his contact data by now.

Prowl did not remember laying on the floor, panting and moaning around a spike that had long left. Neither did he remember Overlord recording this moment of no dignity to send it to Fortress Maximus. He was left to believe that he passed out from being used, from being abused in a beaten state. He was left to believe that his processor had never blanked out.

“Good Morning, Prowler!”, Overlord hummed, an uncannily cheerful melody to his words. A nickname as rarely used as his personal code, usually by the very same person. He checked the line. No, nothing. Still jammed, he had no means to communicate, not even his emergency signal could get out. Perhaps that was why Overlord used the console. Perhaps getting his fingers on it would be Prowl’s way out? All he had to know was who the contact on the other side was, perhaps they would be convinced to help him. But could he really rely on-

“Maxie’s happy with my work, you know.”

No. No, he couldn’t. Fortress Maximus had brought him into this situation and as a convinced realist, Prowl knew he was not gonna go anywhere if his closest contact was the warden. He defaulted his gaze to an annoyed glare, pressing his intake shut to form a straight line. Overlord chuckled. “I fixed you so carefully and all I get is a glare. That supposed to be intimidating?”, he said, the mockery clear as day. He typed a last message into the comm-pad and got up, casually picking up the little pill from the day before and strolling over to Prowl. “Cute.”, Overlord spat out, grabbing Prowl by the chin. He had to reach down to do so, the smaller mech barely reaching his knee in his current posture. “Yesterday, as much fun as I had…”, Overlord licked his lips, caressing Prowl’s face as he did, as if it were an extension of his glossa, “I have so much more in stock for you.”

With that Overlord knelt down, bringing himself closer to Prowl and yanking him up, using the hands that previously caressed his face to choke him against the wall. Of course, the ventilation system was not impacted by such a movement, however Overlord dug his blunt digits into the fuel lines that ran down Prowl’s neck, resulting in a choked noise that allowed Overlord to force his glossa into Prowl’s intake, pulling him into a violently deep kiss. Once they parted he went for the neck, biting at cables, drawing Energon just for the bliss of tasting it. Prowl underneath him tried to pull away with no avail, he vented heavily from the willpower that was needed to suppress any kind of noise that would make his captor happy. He wouldn’t give in so easily. He could use him until his face warped into a state of no recognition and still, his mind would not break.

“Second chance Prowl, you’re only getting three”, Overlord said, lips stained in pink. He held the pill up, offering it to his prisoner in an unnervingly urgent, yet gentle matter. What was it anyways, what kind of drug was Overlord so intent of putting him under? Prowl’s reply was a well-aimed spit, for once his instincts had overruled his reason. He wasn’t getting out of here anyways, he was going to be abused whether he behaved or not, what did it matter? He still had pride, he still had his will and his intellect and those were things that Overlord couldn’t frag out of him. Overlord let out a dry chuckle as he wiped the oral lubricant from his face and rewarded Prowl with a flick to his optic, strong enough to break the sensitive glass. It wasn’t enough to provoke a reaction. He returned to his desk once more, placing the pill on top and rummaging inside the drawers.

With half of his vision gone, Prowl had to tilt his head to get a glimpse of the box that Overlord dug out before casually walking back to him, sitting down cross-legged with an almost serene smile. Overlord was silent. Prowl did not like that. Silence was just another way to torture him, surely. Among the most suspicious behaviors were either chatty bots being silent or silent bots drowning your audials in a flood of information all of a sudden. Prowl had two options, no, three. He could ask Overlord about his plans, however this would most likely either result in his calm smile turning into an arrogant, knowing one, feeding his otherworldly ego even further – or he would receive a reply that would give him everything except for a clear answer. He could also attempt to get into Overlord’s head, figuring out by himself what he had to offer, what he could be planning, what he was toying with inside the container of which the lid had been conveniently angled to just barely obscure the secret item. Besides the obvious wonder of what was in there, what he was planning was another question. Tightly intertwined with the third option was one more: Did Prowl want to know what was going to happen? As much as he hated being out of the loop, only being able to watch, listen and let happen rather than to calculate and take control, what benefit was there to go through the effort of knowing how this would play out? He could demote his mind to be a spectator and just wait. Patience was no weakness of his, he had plenty when needed, but evaluating his current situation was exhausting in many ways.

To only wait, to not act, was that not a surrender in itself?

Silence, he swore to that thought and went back to the second option. Overlord knew a lot about him, information that was without a doubt passed on by Fortress Maximus, perhaps even by a network of bots he had ticked off in the long years of war. Prowl’s jaw tensed up by the mere mention of his name, by the memory of bots not rarely turning violent against him due to some infantile grievances. A heated feeling ran through his pulse. What pathetic behavior it was to not only be bitter about a minor mishap some years ago, but also to not execute this grudge himself. He didn’t expect this cowardice from someone like the unwavering warden of Garrus-9. Prowl discarded the topic and refocused on the box, trying to get a proper view of Overlord’s servos, of his face that was now deep in thought. He looked up. Their optics met. Overlord smiled. “Eager, aren’t you?”, he said, cocking his head. Prowl took a moment to recognize the statement and snapped his neck into a different direction. Maybe in the reflection of Overlord’s optics he would have been able to see what he had in his servos. He considered the thought but couldn’t resume his analysis. He could feel the stare digging into him and didn’t want to risk encouraging the banter any further. Being forced into a position of cluelessness gave him a headache, he had no need for something as ridiculous as this mockery to worsen that condition. Prowl tried to focus on the noises of fidgeting, hoping for hints among the general clutter. He heard metal clicking together in assembly, he heard plugs being connected and if he concentrated very deeply, he heard a slight electrical whirr.

It was an unfamiliar collection of noises, at least up until the point where the whirring grew louder and eventually turned into distinct vibration. He recalled the feeling of a spike in his mouth and shuddered involuntarily, turning his head back to Overlord who, as if in celebration turned the box around with exactly the knowing smile that Prowl had expected to see. As he had predicted. That was good, he thought, he was managing to get a better read on his opponent. He looked down into the container and his short-lived victory immediately died off. The vibration had in fact not misled him, a fake spike was neatly placed in the center. Prowl did not have much experience with them, being too prideful to indulge in this kind of pleasure, however he still recognized by the assembly lines that this was a customizable experience. Considering the parts that weren’t installed and the amount of time spent on building it, Overlord must’ve had chosen a very specific collection of mods. There were barely any hints visible from the outside though and that was what made Prowl feel a sense of dread creeping into his system. He suppressed the urge to throw up and forced his mind to silence itself before the possibilities of what this creation was capable of made him lose his cool. It was a proper size, but smaller than Overlord’s. He hated his ability to even make that comparison.

His face unfazed, he looked at Overlord who was now fully grinning. Prowl’s servo twitched in the sudden desire to punch the grin off his face. He wasn’t in charge of his annoyance today, certainly an inconvenience. Inconvenience was an understatement, he corrected himself, this hateful thinking was a sign of Overlord getting to him. It was an actual problem. “You know what this is?”, Overlord said, feigning innocence as he picked up the toy and turned it around in his servo, allowing Prowl to inspect it. “A false spike.”, he replied dryly. No emotion, no expression, just a voice with a hint of static. Surely left there from the day before. Overlord’s grin widened as he pointed to the box. “What else is there?”, he asked, his voice melodic and amused. He let his thumb caress the underside of the fake spike, an internal clicking could be heard. It was reactive, almost impressive. Prowl’s gaze wandered to the case. He saw cords, discarded parts, cables strewn around in a messy way. It was a sight that would put any orderly mech into stasislock but there was nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. A trick perhaps, to fool him into overthinking. A trick that didn’t work. Being afraid of things that didn’t exist was something he left to the more superstitious mechs, to those that feared things like gods or sparkeaters. He looked back up to Overlord and gave him his reply: “A mess.”

The hollering laughter that followed inflicted only a small injury to Prowl's confidence; his fuel tank however seemed willing to crawl out of his throat in aversion to the sound of being ridiculed. “Maxie was right! Oh, he was so right about you!”, Overlord almost cheered, openly sharing his amusement as he put the spike to the side, spinning the little chest around and plucking some specific electronics out of it. Prowl didn’t recognize them; he was not an engineer, a scientist, a doctor or anyone that would bother himself with such things. “Come on, you’ve never seen these?”, Overlord said, leaning forward and giving Prowl a closer look at one of the roughly thumb-sized circuit boards. He stared at them blankly before replying with a disinterested negative. “Impressive, Prowl, you’re either the most boring bot I’ve ever met- “, Overlord was repeating himself, that was a positive, “- or you really have as little game as they say you have.”

Prowl scoffed, internally rolling his optics. There were many, far more important things than interfacing. Sure, he could not deny the significance in knowing how crucial intimacy was to a social species like theirs, however aside from using it to gain vantage he saw no value in it. Any bot he ever held close had eventually ended up turning their back and surely enough Prowl did not miss the voices around him. Not Jazz’ never-ending cheer, not the Constructicons’ endless support, not the intellectual challenge that had accompanied him through Chromedome. All of these relationships had been temporary alliances for his benefit, a moment of pawns moving alongside each other, alongside their strategist, before ultimately separating again to relocate and adapt a more advantageous position. There was neither time nor need for sentimentality, all it did was interfere with his work. With his mind. With anything. Overlord reclaimed Prowl’s concentration by attaching a circuit board to his neck. A technology similar to Simultronic, perhaps? He remembered the machines; he remembered the addicts that more often than not ended up so lost in their hallucinations that they perished from not consuming any energon. He never pitied them from overindulging. A sudden shock rippled through his body, springing from the neck and rushing through the fuel lines straight to his array. The unexpected sensation drew a surprised hiss from him before he snapped his mouth shut in horror of his own noise. Overlord released a jeering snicker in response and attached a second board on the other side of Prowl’s neck, a second rush to flood his body. This time he was prepared, he remained silent and motionless despite the invasive sensation. Another set of circuit boards was attached to the wrists behind his back, to the insides of his thigh, one right between his doors and a final one on his torso, right above his modesty plating. Prowl mentally prepared himself, expecting a wave of pleasure-inducing signals to flood his body, but nothing happened. Overlord put away the chest and as he was standing near his desk anyways, he resumed to chatting with presumably Fortress Maximus.

Prowl was left to wonder just how exactly their relationship dynamic worked, analyzing the relaxed way that Overlord sat in his chair, legs occasionally jittering in excitement, the expression in high spirits, as every other message had his face twitch just for a moment. One could count the amount of times Overlord drew his glossa over his lips, sometimes biting it, holding it while typing and slipping it back into his intake. Lewd messages as encouragement or motivation, most likely. Disgust was the sole judgement. Without even doing as much as looking at Prowl, Overlord’s expression evolved into an increasingly lustful grin before touching the false spike that he had placed on his desk, caressing it with utmost care. The message that followed let him release an appreciative whistle as he pressed the button in his hand. The button that had previously activated the-

Overlord typed a last message into the communication pad and resumed to Prowl, bringing both the remote and the false spike with him. He knelt down, grabbed Prowl’s face by the sides and wiped away the tears with his thumb, licking the wiper fluid from it as he purred deeply. For once, he didn’t comment on anything, he merely tapped the modesty panel that held back Prowl’s aching interface equipment. “No.”, Prowl said firmly, knowing exactly what the silent order meant. Overlord seemed satisfied by the statement, wrapping his hand around the panel instead and locking their optics in search for fear. All he found was a provocative boldness, unflinching and prideful. He slowly tore the cover from its place, watching Prowl’s expression tense up as he clenched his jaw tightly, keeping his vents steady and controlled. An agonizingly rough creaking sound filled the room along with the growing noise of systems running in overdrive, covering up the barely audible grunt of pain as the plating finally came off, only to lovelessly be thrown to the side. Prowl’s pressurized spike twitched helplessly as the cool air caressed it, the valve vulnerable and wet, aching to be loved, but quickly hidden by Prowl pulling his legs together. Overlord could not ignore such a sweet plea for mercy, forcing his knee between them, travelling his servo up Prowl’s thighs and gently drawing it along the edges of his valve as he pressed the remote in his other hand. Prowl noticed the motion early enough to stiffen up, but his frame was not nearly as resilient as his mind. He grit his dentae as hard as possible, trying to use the pain as a way to remind himself that he was a captive, that this was a forced situation, that this was not pleasurable, but merely the foreplay of worse things to come. Overlord pressed the button for what felt like an eternity, watching Prowl attentively as the initial impact wore off and the previous petulance returned. At least to his face it did, his interfacing equipment was speaking in a completely different tone. Prefluid dripped down Prowl’s spike, lustfully decorating the tip and gliding along the underside in a display of pure want. The valve was just as needy, perhaps even more, making a mess of Prowl’s thighs, vibrant lubricant painting him and the floor beneath. Overlord dipped his fingers into the liquid, contemplating about whether he should have a taste or not. He decided against it, instead holding Prowl’s head steady and smearing the fluids across his face. Overlord licked his lips with delight, putting his servos on Prowl’s knees to spread them apart further. Keeping him exposed with one servo, he grabbed the false spike with his other, kissing it gently, causing it to vibrate ever-so-slightly under his tender touch. Prowl realized where this was going, not that he hadn’t considered the possibility before, it was just the lack of certainty that had been missing from his calculations.

Prowl’s processor had to reset from the amount of electricity exploding in his frame. Too many sources, too much stimulation all in one shock, the moan that left him being no more than a pained cry as his sensory system was violated with pleasure impulses beyond anything comfortable. The temporary disconnect between higher and lower functions led to the vocalization being aired shamelessly as he bent forward, cowering as his frame tensed and trembled, as he tried to calm his voice and ventilations. Insults were muttered, so laden with static that it was barely recognizable which words he attempted to use, oral fluid bubbling from his intake along with the wiper fluid that dripped from his optics. Just with the press of one single button, Prowl had become a mess. Somewhere in his mind he envied the powerful tool. How useful it would have been in the earlier days. How much time he could have saved by using it on his victims.

He inhaled sharply, drawing a slight whistle from his ventilation system before swallowing the pooling oral fluid and shutting his mouth. He straightened his posture as best as he could and gave Overlord a disdainful glare. Even with only one functioning optic, the other still broken after being flicked and cracked, even with tears still shimmering on his cheeks, Prowl’s arrogant defiance seeped through as he held his head high enough to give the illusion of looking down to Overlord. He merely had been caught off-guard, he still had himself under control. He was prepared now; he knew what to expect from the little applications that were so carefully placed in sensitive spots. His doors still twitched slightly, the charge being persistent in them, but as long as that charge was kept far away from his interfacing equipment, he saw no reason to worry. He sorted his processor, attempting to coax his functions into thinking about escapes and plans and mind games instead of giving any attention to the growing pain in his body. The shock that had filled him with heat before had left him to feel suspiciously cold now in its absence. Temperatures were a way to simulate intimacy and comfort. A cheap trick that he was immune to. He knew warmth, but even better he knew the lack of it; the true freezing cold of solitude. He reveled in it. Overlord was doing him a favor. Prowl still had the upper hand.

The last variable was in place; instinctively he unraveled one of his legs, kicking the servo that tried to hold him in place. The cuffs that kept his wrists tied recognized his attempt to fight back as an attempt to flee, activating the programming to send an electrical shock through him to immobilize and prevent his escape. The electricity was amplified by the circuit boards, sending a raging current through his frame, an unfiltered and honest scream fried his vocalizer as the movement had trapped him in a circle of pain. How had he miscalculated this badly? Had this been a scheme? Never, no, Overlord wasn’t that smart. Prowl had expected the cuffs to react, considering he was the one who specifically requested them to be made that way, but he hadn’t thought about the boards. Writhing in pain, there was no way to fight back when Overlord caught his leg and used the leverage to spread him wide and lay him down. “I don’t remember allowing you to enjoy yourself.”, Overlord said smugly before shifting his weight, breaking the hinges of Prowl’s doors, their clattering coming to a halt upon being disconnected from their body. After securing his prey, Overlord realigned the false spike and forcefully rammed it into Prowl’s valve. Prowl swallowed a groan, the pain from being filled so suddenly was nothing compared to the torturous experience he had made just mere moments beforehand, leaving him sore from a mistake caused only by himself. He felt the spike inside him twitch, it was curious just how realistic it felt, how responsive it was. Even more so, how long Overlord waited to make his next move.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Overlord slowly rotated the spike as he pulled it out before ramming it back into him, fully sheathing it. His heavy servo on Prowl’s chest prevented the deep ventilations required to cool his systems, a pressure right above his spark, it would be easy to just crush it. Prowl almost hoped for this mistake to happen, but this was not the death he wanted. Violated by a tool, by a mech he had attempted to use before. He cursed Chromedome for failing his mission and freeing Overlord. He cursed him for opening his mind to Bombshell. Absentmindedly he began cursing other mechs, with every thrust that Overlord hammered into him he cursed someone else that was somehow at fault for his current situation. It was his last straw, an effort to cling to his own sanity as he felt the false spike slide in and out, the noise of it unbearable enough to make him miss the way his senses had been dampened the day before. Prowl could feel his calipers stretching more and more, having a hard time to let go once they got caught by the surface of a spike that he could swear was growing every time that it pounded into him. His optic was online, his dentae gritted, his ventilation almost calming from the steady rhythm. He fled himself into a safe space of noting other people’s mistakes, of reevaluating situations and knowing that he was the smartest mech in most rooms, that he would end up as the superior victor of every game he played. He reminded himself that this was only happening because of Fortress Maximus’ inability to let go of the past. To see the bigger picture that was so blatantly obvious. He reminded himself that this happened because he was Prowl, he was a, no, the strategist with plans beyond a simple warden’s understanding, beyond the understanding of a psychopath that turns prisons into gladiator pits.

Who else would be able to endure this and keep their integrity intact

The door was still open.

No matter how forceful Overlord was, Prowl seemed to almost doze off while daydreaming, his face was tense, his body under constant stress, but his mind seemed to be distracted, at ease even. Overlord couldn’t allow this relaxation and pulled out the spike entirely, watching as the empty valve twitched, lonely and abandoned. Poor thing, he thought, resisting the urge to invite himself into the warm and welcoming port. He balled the servo that kept Prowl down to a fist, lifting it off of him before smashing it to his chest. Only the slightest grunt was heard, a disappointment. Overlord repeated the motion, with more force. He hit him a third time, and a fourth, until with the fifth a cracking noise announced the injury that he aimed for. Prowl immediately returned to the present, his optic flashing back to full brightness. He felt a stabbing ache in his spark chamber and the warm feeling of energon spreading in his internals. Overlord released the drills from his fingertips, Prowl swallowed down the anxiety that the noise of mnemosurgery equipment caused in him. Overlord was not Chromedome. Overlord was not Bombshell. Overlord was better. Tempering with his mind the direct way was the easiest method of manipulating anyone, but Overlord didn’t do easy, it was not his style. He had to do things in the most complex and extravagant ways, it was in his nature and he knew he could allow himself this arrogance. This indulgence. Prowl turned his head, looking up to see his captor hovering above his chest, the drills not yet activated. He had been waiting patiently for Prowl’s full attention before turning on the drills, slowly resting them on his captive’s chest, a vibration that not only reached his spark immediately but also had his whole chassis feel the sensation. A nudge to his valve was all the warning he got, Prowl tried to disconnect himself from his body, shutting down his optic willingly.

This was not a surrender. This was acceptance. This was preparation. He felt the drills enter his spark chamber at the same time the spike entered his valve. The drills vanished quickly, only being used to make it easier for Overlord to tear open Prowl’s frame to expose his very soul. Prowl shuddered as the cold air hit his internals, the shuddering being answered by the spike inside him activating its vibrations. Overlord grinned, touching Prowl’s spark ever so slightly with surprising reverence. He didn’t seem to have the intention of injuring it, which was about as unexpected as suspicious. Even worse, it was the most pleasant feeling so far, dizzying Prowl’s processor into a delirium that he had a hard time keeping himself out of. He couldn’t hold back a shaky moan, soft and pathetic, only ever so slightly audible but filled with despair. Overlord immediately drew back his servos, leaving Prowl’s spark craving and his valve neatly plugged by the false spike that was still happily vibrating. Overlord stepped back, typed into the console, snapped another picture of his work and returned to the messy scene. Prowl laid sprawled on the floor, leaking, exposed, expressionless. Overlord gave the false spike a kick before bending down and securing it with tape, making sure that it wasn’t going anywhere. Along with it, he taped the remote for the circuit boards to its base, a steady current now running through Prowl that was blurring together with every other sensation into a mess of pleasure, pain and misery. He couldn’t distinguish a punch from a caress anymore, it was all just the same in this void of consistent stimulation. Even his thoughts were no more than electrical signals passing through his processor. Overlord got up, and sighed with contempt. “See you tomorrow, Prowl.”, he said, his voice almost nearing sympathy. He turned off the consoles and lights, Prowl’s body being the only source of illumination as his biolights flickered weakly. Overlord halted for a moment. “Take the pill. I mean it.” He muttered as he left the room.

Prowl couldn’t afford to care.

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And with that, Chapter 2/3 is done!

My ask box is as open as always, currently running an offer for free horny headshot sketches if you wanna see more of my illustrations 👀

Until then, keep your eyes peeled for Chapter 3 and the release of this 'fic on my AO3 where it will have the proper formatting~