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stellamarielu · 3 days ago

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handsy

joel miller x female reader

summary: joel is hopelessly touch starved and you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself.

content: nsfw, 18+, age gap, cursing, mutual pining, mentions of male masturbation, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, good girl, breeding kink [if you squint]

author's note: hey guys, long story short i’m rewatching tlou and i needed to write some joel miller smut. i mean, aren't we all horny for that old man?

—

To put it quite plainly, Joel was touch starved.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the hands of a woman on his body. Of course, given the current state of the world, he didn’t have much time to think about it.

But then he was all settled down in Jackson and his days were filled with mundane jobs, casual conversations, cozy living conditions, and you.

You lived in the little house across the street from him and although your relationship began with awkward smiles and shy waves, Joel found himself getting closer to you over time.

Now he was lingering on your front porch after you offered him coffee in the mornings and walking you into town when he had absolutely no business there, all to spend a little extra time with you.

From the beginning Joel somehow found himself not entirely annoyed by your persistence in breaking down his walls, and instead indulged in your constant questions and continuous attempts at bad jokes. Maybe it was because he felt bad ignoring your endless efforts to strike up friendly conversation; or perhaps he enjoyed your company because he was lonely, and you were an undeniably gorgeous young woman seeking out his attention. Even he was confused as to why someone like you would be putting so much energy into getting to know him. You were probably lonely too, Joel convinced himself that your friendly advances must’ve come from a place of hunger for basic human interaction.

He would’ve had no issue fulfilling your need for friendship and community if it weren’t for how handsy you were. Of course, Joel knew your touch was never sexual. It always came from a place of innocence, just a welcoming nudge on the shoulder or a casual hand grazing his bicep. You were just someone who showed your appreciation through simple acts of physical touch, but to Joel those little gestures might as well have been you dropping to your knees in front of him.

In fact, those thoughtless touches frequently made their way into Joel’s mind late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

He would think about the way your hands felt on his body; how soft and gentle they were. He would think about the way they brushed against his arms or his back, imagining what they’d feel like on his bare skin. He would fight against his own morality as his hand slipped into his pants touching himself at the thought of you. His fingers wrapping around his dick, holding back moans as he pictured it was your tender grip on him instead.

He was disgusting

That’s what he told himself now, standing in your kitchen with your delicate little hand caressing his forearm as you laughed about something he said that most certainly wasn’t that funny.

You had convinced him to come over for dinner, and who was he to deny a warm meal? But now you were inches away from him at the kitchen sink after you had argued over who would do the dishes. Both of you working together to wash up, and Joel couldn’t keep himself from thinking about the warmth of your body and how soft it felt against his.

It was all so domestic. You washing the plates then handing them over to him so he could dry and put them away. You were talking and laughing with full bellies and smiles on your faces. It was impossible not to soak in the simplicities of moments like this. And it was definitely impossible to ignore the way his skin was burning under your touch.

You knew you had a way of getting in other people’s personal space; touching others as you spoke to them. It was something you had always done, extending a hand in an effort to show you were listening or engaged. It was just a way of showing your appreciation and attention. Only, it was more than that when it came to Joel. Your relationship with him was strictly platonic, which was a real shame because you desperately wanted to touch him in more inappropriate ways.

You knew it was bad to think about him like that. He was a friend, yet you were constantly picturing what it would feel like to kiss him– to have your hands on him.

In an effort to fulfill these little fantasies, you were always finding ways to touch Joel. Obviously, it was only ever friendly, just softly grabbing his arm when you needed his attention or leaning your body into his when you walked side by side; such small moments of feeling the weight of his body beneath your hands, but it only ever made your secret obsession with him more intense.

Like right now, your fingers were curling into his forearm as you laughed and you knew you needed to pull your hand away before you trailed it all the way up his arm tracing every inch of muscle as you went. Joel was just so big, and strong, and rough– it drove you fucking insane. You had never felt like this before, so pent up with sexual frustration for someone. It was almost embarrassing how badly you wanted Joel to bend you over the kitchen counter and have his way with you.

You were ready to loosen your grip on his arm and pull away when you felt something coarse underneath your fingertips.

A scar. One of the many that littered his body.

You had noticed them before, but you had never felt them. Joel was wearing a short-sleeve shirt tonight, something he rarely did. He was always clad in long sleeves or jackets, which made you realize this was the first time you had ever touched the bare skin of his arm.

Your hand lingered on his forearm and your eyes were fixed on the scar underneath your fingers, and Joel just watched. He watched the way you stared as you felt his skin. And then you were moving your fingertips against him, tracing the mark there, and he had to keep himself from shuddering under your touch.

“There are so many.” Your voice was hushed as you studied him, looking at the scars painted all over his skin.

“Yeah well…” He was trailing off with each stroke of your finger against him, losing his train of thought.

“I’m sorry.”

The simple apology was all you said, but when your eyes met his, he could see the sympathy swimming in your gaze. You understood. That was one thing Joel appreciated about you more than anything– you understood each other. You respected his boundaries, never pushing him on the things he wasn’t willing to talk about.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

His smile was back, so gentle and kind as he looked down at you.

“Can I have my arm back now?” His voice was playful, and you realized you were still holding onto his forearm.

“Oh god, sorry.”

You let go abruptly.

“Sorry, I’m not the best at keeping my hands to myself.” You were joking about your bad habit of touching others too much.

“I’ve noticed.”

Joel was going back to work, drying a dish and putting it away in an overhead cabinet, avoiding your stare.

“Oh shit Joel. Sorry does it bother you? I’ll be more mindful from now on.”

Oh, you were humiliated. All this time Joel was annoyed by your friendly affection and you were just constantly touching him.

“No. no, doesn’t bother me. Just-“ He was speaking as he continued doing dishes, still avoiding eye contact with you.

“Just what?” You were prying, but you didn’t care. That’s how things often went with you and Joel– you asking too many questions and him putting up with it.

“Nothin’. Just doesn’t bother me that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”

He was sidestepping the conversation entirely now. But if it didn’t bother him, then what?

“Joel c’mon what were you gonna say?”

You were reaching for him again, this time grabbing his bicep. The feeling of his thick, muscular arm in your grasp nearly had your breath hitching in your throat.

He stopped what he was doing, giving in to your touch and turning to face you completely. His eyes were peering down on you, his expression unreadable.

“Just distracting. That’s what I was gonna say. Distracting.” He was just staring as he spoke, his voice stoic.

Distracting? Joel was distracted by your touch?

“But not… in a bad way?” You had to clarify before your mind started going down a rabbit trail.

“No. Not in a bad way.”

You felt a fluttering sensation fill your chest at his confession.

Was Joel saying he liked when you touched him? That he liked it so much it made him lose focus? There was sudden surge of confidence bursting through you as you ran your hand further up his arm. You found the hem of his sleeve, toying with it between your fingertips.

“How do I distract you?”

Doing your best to make your voice sound innocent you stared at the material of his shirt in your hands, too nervous to actually look him in the eyes.

“Just don’t know how you’re always so kind and sweet. Your hands are so gentle.” He was speaking quietly.

You allowed your eyes to find his after he complimented you, but you wished you hadn’t.

His gaze was fixed on you, searching your face in a desperate attempt to read the situation. You were inches away from each other, your bodies nearly pressed against one another with your hand still on his arm.

“Do you think about me in a way friends shouldn’t think about each other?”

The question was trickling from your lips and into the silent room. You were testing the waters, dipping a toe in the potential pool of shared desire.

“Because I do. I think about you all of the time.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at Joel.

“What it’d be like to kiss you, to feel your hands all over my body.”

You let your touch travel up to his shoulder and over to explore the broad expanse of his clothed chest underneath your fingertips.

“We shouldn’t.” His words were hesitant but his body didn’t move in the slightest.

“Why not?”

Joel could think of a million reasons why not. Starting with you being half his age and ending with the fact that sex could ruin the perfectly good relationship that had taken months to form between you.

But as he looked down at you, your lips all pouted and your eyes full of hope, he threw all caution to the wind.

Fuck it.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your face, bringing his head down and crashing his lips into yours.

His kiss was hungry and rushed but still somehow tender. Your mind was reeling at the taste of his mouth against yours. Your hands found solace at the nape of his neck, arms slinging up to rest on his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

Your kitchen suddenly felt so hot as the sweltering tension between you and Joel had finally reached it’s peak.

“Fuck sweetheart if you only knew half the things I thought about you.” His voice was breathless as he broke your kiss.

Joel’s mouth trailed down your jaw placing impatient kisses on your skin.

“Tell me.” You were practically begging as you moaned at the feeling of his warm lips on your neck.

“Think about those sweet little hands of yours on me.”

He was nipping and sucking behind your ear. You weren’t sure if it was the way his mouth was caressing your skin or the words he was speaking between kisses, but it had a whine slipping from your lips.

“Where Joel?” The words were a whimper coming deep within your throat as he continued his assault on your neck.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart you’re gonna kill me.” He was muttering into the curve of your shoulder and the hum of his words against you had you losing your mind.

“Do you think about them here?” Gaining just an ounce of composure, your voice was calm and collected as you slid your hands down his torso.

You were careful to feel every little detail of his body as you let your touch wander lower. The tense muscles of his abdomen were hard to ignore as your hands found the button of his jeans.

“All the time sweetheart.” He was admitting to his dirty thoughts. Bringing his hands to thread through your hair and pulling your gaze to meet his so you could see the seriousness in his eyes as he spoke.

“Think about how soft they’d feel wrapped around me.”

Oh. It was prevalent now more than ever that Joel had entered an entirely new headspace. The way he was talking to you, the way he was looking at you; It was all fueled by complete and utter sexual desire, and you couldn’t get enough. You wanted to hear more filthy words come out of his mouth, you needed it.

“Joel..” You were all but moaning out as you unzipped his pants, eager to get your hands on him.

He was pulling you in for another hungry kiss as you shoved his jeans down just enough to get your hands into the waistband of his underwear. Here you were in the middle of your kitchen with your hands down Joel’s pants– something you didn’t foresee happening when you invited him over earlier that day. But the two of you were so fucking pathetic and needy, having finally given into your feelings for one another. There was no time to waste, you needed to feel every single inch of him right here next to your kitchen sink.

The groan that left his lips when you finally had his cock enveloped in your gentle touch was enough to send a rush through your entire body. You pumped him up and down making sure to maintain a slow pace to purposefully draw another sinful noise from his mouth.

Just as you thought, your mild movements had the man in front of you sighing out in pleasure. It was a sigh of true relief; you wondered about the last time Joel had been with someone like this. The thought spurred you on, making your hand move faster from the excitement of being the first person in a long time to make him feel this way.

Joel’s jaw tensed and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head when your eyes flickered down to his dick. You were watching your own hand as it worked to bring him closer to completion. He wasn’t accustomed to this– having a pretty young thing handling him like this. There was no way he was gonna last long, not with your delicate hands sliding on his cock and your innocent gaze peering down between your bodies.

In seconds his hand was on your wrist halting your movements.

“Joel-“

You were ready to protest but your words were caught in your throat as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter. His lips were back on yours in a messy kiss while his hands fumbled with your jeans, practically ripping them from your body.

“Need to feel ya darlin’.” He was panting out against you when his hand came in contact with your core, the thin material of your panties stopping him from touching your bare center.

You didn’t have to feel them to know how wet your panties were. They were drenched the second your hand was on Joel’s arm earlier. All you had to do was think about the man and a pool of arousal would appear between your legs.

“Fuck you’re soaked.”

The words were laced with pride as he felt the ruined cloth with his fingertips. You wanted to moan at the feeling of his hand putting even the tiniest bit of pressure against that needy spot between your legs. You wanted some sort of relief– needed to feel him touch you.

As if he could read your mind, Joel was pushing your panties to the side and gliding a finger over the wetness pooling at your opening.

“If I knew you were this needy for me, would have done this a long time ago.”

As the words left his lips he was slipping a single finger into you at an agonizing pace. Slowly moving it in and out while you gripped at his arms for some sort of stability.

Fuck– even just the one finger moving in and out of you insanely slow was enough to have you seeing stars. So when he added a second you nearly dug your nails into Joel’s arm hard enough to leave marks.

His fingers were working into you, each stroke more mind numbing than the last. He was pushing and curling them and the little noises leaving your mouth were absolutely pathetic.

“Your little whimpers are so pretty baby.”

Baby. All these endearing pet names he was calling you had you falling apart. You were preening underneath Joel’s touch and every time he called you sweetheart, or darlin, or baby, you were further subdued into a state of surrender for him.

“So pretty’n sweet just for me.” He was mumbling with his fingers knuckles deep inside you.

You could feel the pressure building in your core with each deliberate movement of his fingers. Your gaze found his and the look of need consuming him pushed you closer to the edge. Your eyes were locked on one another, your forehead pressed against his as you gripped his arms tighter.

“C’mon sweet girl, let me hear it.” Joel’s words were a low growl as he coaxed your orgasm from you.

“Wanna hear the pretty little sounds you make when you come undone.”

His whisper was the final blow that had you spiraling toward release. You were chanting his name as you clenched around his fingers.

Your chest was heaving, and you could hardly think straight but you didn’t hesitate to pull Joel closer to you.

He was standing between your legs as you sat on your kitchen counter, your chests almost touching and his hard cock inches away from meeting your entrance.

“Joel please.” You were out of breath and nearly speechless, still shaking from your climax, but you needed the satisfaction of Joel filling you. You wanted more than his fingers.

In an instant, he was lining himself up with you and pushing his tip in just enough to make you groan in pleasure. Hearing you beg for him like that– his name dripping from your sweet lips, Jesus he’d do anything you asked.

You were moaning out satisfied little hums with each inch of him that filled you. He was pushing into you slowly savoring every pulse of your walls around his cock.

“So tight sweetheart.” His voice was low as he watched between your bodies. His eyes were staring at your sweet little cunt as you sucked him in deeper and deeper, so needy to be filled– so greedy for him.

You could only moan in response. The feeling of him stretching you out had the coil in your abdomen already tightening again.

He was pushing into you to the hilt and you instinctively grabbed at his shoulders, gripping and pulling at him in pleasure. You just needed to feel more of him– all of him. Your hands ached to feel every square inch of his body.

With your fingers splayed out on his back, Joel pulled out only to thrust back into you fully. Doing this over and over again until you were nearly screaming out underneath him. He could feel your fingertips digging into his shoulder blades which only made him drive into you deeper.

He was thrusting and you were a moaning, writhing mess against him, your bodies meshing together on the tile of your kitchen counter. The lewd sounds of whimpers and skin slapping filled the room and all you could think about is how close you were to coming apart again. Your legs clenched around Joel’s waist as your core strained.

Without warning, he brought his hand between you, letting his thumb fall to your clit. He was rubbing lazy circles into your bundle of nerves while his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot inside you and your body nearly went limp.

“Got another one for me?” His words were broken by grunts.

“Wanna feel you squeeze around me while you cum sweet girl.”

His dirty words were going to shove you right over the edge. With each word he spoke, you pushed yourself closer to the finish line wanting nothing more than to please him.

You felt your body begin to shudder and your second orgasm of the night set in.

“Atta girl. There she is. Good girl.”

That was it. The words of encouragement you needed to completely let go. You were whimpering and gripping onto Joel as your release rushed over you.

The way you were clenching and squeezing around his cock made Joel’s head spin. You were nearly pushing him out, it was so tight and warm and Fuck- he was losing it.

You were barely tethered to earth as he continued sliding in and out of you. His pace was ruthless as he chased his own high. He was fucking you straight through your orgasm, the feeling of it too much for the both of you.

His hands were pawing at your waist, holding onto you as he thrusted relentlessly. The breathy moans and inaudible profanities coming from his mouth signaled his impending release.

You were pulling him in closer with your hands on his back, pushing him into you deeper.

“I want you to cum inside.” You were whining out.

You weren’t sure how you were even forming coherent sentences at this point but the only thing more important than regaining your sanity was the idea of Joel spilling into you when he finished.

“Please Joel, wanna feel it.”

There you were begging for him again. He had absolutely no self control when you spoke to him like that. And when he pulled back to get a good look at you, he almost lost himself entirely. Your gaze was glossed over and your eyelids heavy, you were completely fucked-out on his cock. It was enough to finish him off.

The look in your eyes and the feeling of your walls so tight and inviting around him, had Joel coming undone. He was leaning forward and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a long drawn out moan.

His load was shooting into you all wet and warm. It was coating your insides and making you hold on tighter to the man doubled over on top of you.

You sat there, your bodies molding together, breath catching and hearts beating. Both of you in shock over how you ended up in this position after a harmless meal shared at your kitchen table.

“So…” You were still breathless as you spoke, trying to gage how Joel was feeling about your current situation.

“Should probably finish those dishes huh?”

He was picking his head up from the comfort of your shoulder and tilting his neck to motion over to the sink next to you.

He was wearing the goofiest smile all sex drunk and proud.

If Joel’s expression told you anything; that wouldn’t be the last time the two of you end up fucking on your kitchen counter.

my masterlist

#she did it! she wrote for joel miller!#sorry but i need peepaw BAD #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character smut

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hairmetal666 · 2 days ago

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There's a boy, Eddie meets a boy, and it's mundane because they're boys and it's summer and they find each other like lonely boys in summer do. It shouldn't be the defining experience of Eddie's life, that summer, that boy. His memories are all sun drenched, tanned skin, minnow catching, swimming, camping under the stars, a fumbling, toasted-marshmallow-sticky first kiss. He grows up and still Eddie thinks there will never be anyone else like that boy.

---

There's this new teen soap schlock on the CW. It fills his social media algorithms with gossip and BTS footage and spoilers. He ignores every bit of it, so far from the target audience it's laughable.

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak get into it. At first, he takes this as a betrayal of the highest order, threatens to kill all their characters in their next dnd session, but they convince him to give it a shot.

It's airs Thursday nights and thank god Wayne is at work, he'd never live it down. He turns the TV on just in time for the cold open, and within ten seconds there's a beautiful man on screen. Chestnut hair, coiffed carefully back; down-turned, hazel puppy dog eyes; freckles and moles dotting his face and neck--Eddie would recognize them anywhere, spent hours mapping the constellations of them during their one magical summer.

He sinks to his knees in front of the TV--nose inches from the screen--watches the whole episode that way. For the entire hour, the only thing he sees is Steve Harrington.

Eddie doesn't move until after the credits have rolled. He can't believe that the boy he knew all those years ago is an actor on a popular show, that he'd just missed finding him, all this time.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he Googles, which is a mistake immediately, because the most popular pictures are from a GQ photoshoot where Steve is very wet and very shirtless, the amount of chest hair on display enough to kill a man. He forgets how to breathe for several seconds, before quickly scrolling away, which is also a mistake because it's how he learns that Steve 1) dated his castmate, Nancy Wheeler for several years before 2) she got caught cheating on him with another castmate, and 3) he's often seen out and about with his current on-screen girlfriend, Robin Buckley.

For his own sanity, he has to put his phone away. It isn't like he's going to see Steve ever again, obviously, so he needs to forget all this. Keep the memory of that summer safe.

---

It's late spring and Gareth invites them all to their favorite bar in Indianapolis. One of their friends from their Corroded Coffin days got a gig playing bass for some up and coming indie guy, tickets and drinks are comped. It's not their usual vibe, musically, but who is Eddie to say no to a free night out?

And, look, night of, the music isn't his vibe, but the place is packed and he's with his best friends, and the drinks are flowing, so even he finds himself swaying along to the whiney hipster shit coming from the stage.

Eventually, the lights go down for the headliner, and the crowd crushes forward in a way Eddie isn't used to in this bar. He lets himself be pushed forward, somehow ending up right in front of the stage.

When the lights go up, he stops breathing.

It's Steve.

Steve right there in front of him, guitar strapped across his midsection. He's wearing dorky little Ray-Ban sunglasses, but Eddie would know that hair, those moles, anywhere.

There's no way Steve will notice him, remember him, but it's enough to see him now, to hear his music. Eddie dances and smiles at the boy who got away. Maybe he'll mourn later for the distant hope he harbored deep within his heart. But, he thinks, this is enough.

Steve comes out for the encore, takes off the sunglasses, tosses them straight to Eddie, smiles big and genuine and familiar. His heart stops. It can't be real, it can't mean anything, but he's so elated that his soul might rise from his body.

The show ends, the buzz of it, of Steve, reverberating through Eddie as he makes his way back to the bar. It's crowded with people, but he slides through the bodies until he's at the front. Someone taps him on the back, and he thinks they're trying to get through, but when he turns it's Steve.

His smile is so beautiful, Eddie thinks that maybe he's dying.

"Eddie!" Steve says.

"Stevie!" He doesn't mean for the old nickname to come out, couldn't keep it in.

"You remember me!" Steve is beaming.

"I'd never forget you." He's smiling just as hard. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Steve's nose wrinkles. "I've got, like, fifty coming. We could go somewhere quiet to talk?"

He's never said yes to something so fast in his life.

They go back to the postage stamp sized green room, and he's surprised to see Robin Buckley there. His stomach shrivels for a second, but she stands and he sees the lesbian flag painted on the side of her Converse, the oversized vest she's wearing.

"You want me to skedaddle?" She asks. He loves her immediately.

"Do you mind?" Steve asks. Robin shakes her head.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie," she calls as she sails out the door.

"You told her about me?" He knows his smile is downright goofy.

Steve blushes. "Um, yeah. Maybe a little? Just that I met a boy from near here one summer. And, uh, maybe something about him being my first kiss?"

"Oh." Eddie thinks he might burst into flame. "I wasn't sure if--I didn't know if you'd remember."

"I'd never forget," Steve says.

"You got famous." Eddie says, which is dumb, but he doesn't know how to deal with Steve cherishing those childhood memories the same way he does.

"I guess I did." Steve looks down, hair tumbling around his face. "It's probably not what you were expecting."

"Did I expect to turn on the tv and see my first crush staring at me in HD? Not quite. But It was amazing. You're amazing."

"I'm on a CW show," Steve laughs.

"So?"

"I think maybe you're a little biased about your first crush."

"Are you saying that's a bad thing?" They're flirting, he thinks. Can't believe it's happening, that Steve might--

"Well, maybe, but only if you tell me you don't have a crush on me anymore."

"Are you kidding? I saw that GQ photoshoot."

Steve's laugh is loud and bright, like fireworks in Eddie's chest. They're closer now, sharing warmth, breath.

"I have some candids if you want to see."

"Don't tempt me with a good time, Stevie."

They're quiet for a second, Eddie a little breathless from how hard they're flirting, how right it feels.

"You were great out there," he says.

"Thanks." Steve smiles, bashful. "I know it's not your kind of music."

Eddie shrugs. "I like what you do."

"And to think, you've barely gotten a taste yet." Steve pauses for a beat, horror dawning on his face. "Oh, shit. That was--I'm sorry--I--Robin says I always come on too strong, and I promised I would play it cool, but--"

"You never have to play it cool with me," Eddie says, sincere through his laughter.

"This is fast, though, right? I mean. The second I saw you in the crowd, it--it confirmed everything I thought when we first met. That's--is that crazy?"

Eddie's smile is softer now. "Not at all." Gently, he cups Steve's cheek with his hand. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please," Steve breathes. "God, Eddie, please."

Their mouths meet and it starts out sweet and slow, but it's not childhood crushes anymore. Eddie's tongue teases at the seam of Steve's lips, which part for him like he's the only one in the world with the magic words.

It's sweeter than any marshmallow.

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muniimyg · 2 days ago

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𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post fight vibes

meet cute

note: possibly a mini series but idk

after his home and the ring; jungkook's third home is the hospital.

yet, one thing he will never get used to are the bright lights.

fuck.

they’re always so fucking bright.

it doesn’t matter if he’s in for nearly busting his brain or if he’s just here for a casual IV drip—each time, the lights are insanely bright.

the hospital room is too white too.

too sterile for someone like him.

his eyes flicker down to his knuckles. they’re split and bruised, resting against his stomach, rising and falling with each slow breath. his lip is cut, swollen at the corner, and when he rolls his shoulders back, he winces—just slightly—like he's trying not to show it.

suddenly, the doors burst open and his head turns towards it.

you walk in.

navy blue scrubs, white doctors coat, and your hair is tied high and back.

it’s… love at first sight.

your cheeks are so perfect. that’s the first thing he notices about you. they have this puff that makes him wonder if anyone has ever complimented you on them. next, are your lips. they’re perfectly shaped—so kissable. maybe he’s just that fucked in the head but everything about you looks so perfect. like your eyes are the exact size they need to be. you button nose where your glasses sit so cutely…

god help him.

maybe he got beat up a little too much this match.

jungkook swallows drly as you approach him. you pull out the scans and show him on the monitor. you glance at them and then at him. for a moment, you’re silent and he doesn’t know if he should be saying anything.

should he introduce himself?

better yet, can you introduce yourself?

"you're concussed," you say simply.

jungkook blinks at you, like he was expecting more.

"that bad?"

"you've had worse." you say it simply as you click on the monitor and pull out old scans from months ago. your eyes widen as you look through the ones from the past 3 years. pausing at one scan from 2019, you use your pen to gesture around the areas where he’s been concussed before. “this old one? probably your worst one.”

he huffs out a laugh, shifting in his seat.

"my brain is still here, though. couldn’t have been that bad, huh?"

you don’t humor the joke.

"debatable."

his grin widens, even through the soreness. "harsh, doctor…”

“doctor ___.”

“___,” he breathes. “that’s pretty.”

“doctor ___.” you correct.

“right,” jungkook folds. then, the moment shifts. he can’t help but blurt; “... you sure you're not just mad you had to sub in for my usual guy?"

"not mad," you say, flipping through his chart. "just not impressed."

he laughs again, low and raspy, like this whole thing is funny. like the fractures and bruising on his scans are nothing more than a bad grade on a test.

"aren't you too young to be a doctor?"

you glance at him, raising a brow.

"aren't you too young to have this many head injuries?"

his smile lingers, but he doesn’t say anything for a beat like he's trying to come up with a clever response. like he's trying to read you.

"did you win?" you ask instead.

"huh?"

"your fight."

his grin flickers—surprise, maybe. or amusement.

"yeah. of course."

you nod, flipping the chart closed.

"is it worth it?"

he tilts his head, the movement slow. calculated. like he's trying to see if you're serious. truth be told, he can’t read you. not your tone or your facial expression. it intrigues him… how could someone be so warm and so cold at the same time? you’re lukewarm… but it’s refreshing. it’s scratches his fucked up brain somehow.

"i'll tell you," jungkook muses, "if you go out with me."

you scoff.

"that's okay."

he waits.

"some things are worth asking about," you say, pushing your chair back. you stand up and lean over to check over his vitals. as you fix his IV, you squint as you notice his knuckles. for some reason, jungkook suddenly fights to urge to reach for you. his fingers twitch. you see it. you brush it off and say; "some things aren't worth the answer."

you don’t miss the way his lips part slightly, his brows lifting in surprise.

you don’t stick around to see if he has a follow-up. you grab your clipboard and head towards the door. as you push the door open to leave, you bid him goodbye.

"rest up, mr. jeon."

the next time jungkook is back, it's not you.

"dr. ___ isn’t in today?" jungkook asks, trying to sound… anything but how it came out.

namjoon doesn’t look up from his notes.

“you met her?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “can’t get her out of my head ever since.”

namjoon chuckles as he takes out his slit lamp and examines jungkook’s eye movement. as jungkook’s eyes follow the light, nam joon continues;

"why’s that?”

“dunno,” jungkook confesses.

namjoon can’t take jungkook seriously. he’s never been the type to care about girls since they’ve always come to him one way or another… but knowing you, he should’ve known jungkook would take interest.

“miss her or something?" nam joon teases. “love at first concussion?”

“not my first concussion… and i was just wondering. shit, man.” jungkook shrugs, trying to move past it. suddenly, he’s embarrassed.

namjoon hums, like he doesn’t believe him (because he doesn’t).

"she doesn't date patients," namjoon says, flipping a page and writing down notes from jungkook’s checkup. "definitely not ones with a brain like yours."

jungkook blinks. "is it that bad?"

namjoon grins. "she spends her days saving patients who get injured unwillingly. you? boxing? that's a choice. you're her least favorite kind of patient."

"but am i her type?"

namjoon laughs and shakes his head.

"your brain is fucked up."

when jungkook’s checkup finishes, he says goodbye to namjoon and exits the room.

then, like fate, he sees you in the hall when he's leaving. you're walking in the opposite direction, clipboard tucked against your hip, eyes scanning over charts.

jungkook doesn’t think.

he moves.

jungkook catches up to you and taps your shoulder. as you turn your head to respond, he steps forward and in front of you instead. suddenly, you face him.

"you."

you blink up at him, unimpressed. "me."

"i'm not concussed anymore."

"i'm glad,” you smile at him softly before you lower your gaze back to your charts. “have a good day mr. jeon—"

"i won that match," he says, like it's important. like it means something.

you pause.

"i'm a good boxer," he continues, standing taller. "i don’t get injured that much. when you saw me last… i let the guy get in a few hits. whatever… it was for show, i swear to god… but if you go out with me, i promise to always win and never get a head injury ever again."

you stare at him.

he waits.

you exhale, shifting your clipboard to the other hand. then, before he can say anything else, your fingers push into his hair, ruffling it gently.

his breath hitches.

you drop your hand and step past him.

"i think you're still a little concussed," you murmur.

“i’m not,” jungkook says, voice soft. “one chance.”

you tilt your head at him and for a moment, you really contemplate. his lip looks almost healed. his knuckles are only bruised now… for a moment, you want to give in.

“do you ever lose?”

he scoffs. “no.”

you nod and begin to slip away. jungkook stands there confused at the growing distance. as you walk away, you tell him;

“maybe you should learn how to.”

“why? so you can feel better about rejecting me?"

jungkook tilts his head, lips twitching. he lifts his foot to move to you but you shake your head at him. he stops his tracks. cutely, you mimic him and tilt your head too, feigning sympathy.

"no, so you stop getting concussed."

he grins, sharp and easy. "i told you, i don't get injured that much."

"right… just enough to keep me employed."

his laughter comes quick, like he wasn't expecting that.

"damn," he mutters, shaking his head. "you got a sharp tongue, doc."

you exhale through your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve given him, and start toward the door. with one hand, you wave him off, like he’s not worth the breath it takes to keep talking.

but just before you step out, jungkook hears you murmur over your shoulder—low, teasing, like you’re indulging him for just a second longer.

"good thing you’re used to taking hits, jeon."

jungkook’s smile lingers long after you’ve disappeared down the hall. for a moment, he contemplates on running after you and continuing to annoy you… and then, for the nth time today… he thinks.

he’ll be back.

injured or not—he’s coming back just for you.

#bts fanfic #bts one shot #jungkook one shot #jungkook blurb #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #jungkook meet cute #jungkook fluff #jungkook boxer au #jk boxer #bts boxer au #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic

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kashverse · 2 days ago

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Do you think you could write about Sukuna x reader before baby kuna and there live before reader even gettin pregnant I really love your work 💗💗💗✨✨✨✨

some corporate boss mamakuna x employee sukuna lore! this is how they first met :)

back before babykuna, before the house full of labubus, cats, and stolen hoodies, there was corporate sukuna. and corporate sukuna? he was supposed to be a goddamn nightmare. you had heard horror stories.

"he’s impossible to work with."

"he made the last manager cry."

"he once told HR to 'suck his entire d—'"

okay, so maybe that last one was a little concerning. but you were young, fresh into a leadership role, and ready to face whatever demon of a man this company had somehow not yet fired. so naturally, when you finally met him, arms crossed, scowl carved into his face like a roman statue, you prepared for the worst.

"ryomen sukuna, right?" you greeted, professional, poised, the picture of authority. his eyes flicked up to you, and you swear, for half a second, there was a spark of mischief, a flicker of something dangerous. but then, to your absolute shock, sukuna—the devil himself, the menace of the office, the man who had apparently made three secretaries quit in a single week—was nice. or, well, nice enough.

he nodded, grumbled out a respectful “yeah,” and got to work. no backtalk, no glaring, no slamming of desks or throwing office supplies at interns. just grumpy efficiency. you smiled. bright. cheerful. unshaken.

“great! looking forward to working with you.”

then, the moment you turned your back? he was a goddamn menace. “oi, dipshit,” sukuna barked across the office, and some poor intern visibly flinched. “why the fuck is my report missing page five?”

“um—”

“no, don’t ‘um’ me. are you illiterate? do you need me to read the assignment out loud for you like you’re in fuckin' kindergarten?”

“no, sir, i just—”

“fix it.”

when you turned back around, brows raised? sukuna was already back to his task, perfectly behaved, like an honor student trying not to get caught. you frowned, a little suspicious. he blinked at you. innocent. wide-eyed. docile.

…okay, maybe the HR rumors were exaggerated. maybe he was just misunderstood. but then you turned away again, and—

“hey, you, yeah, you—who the fuck made this spreadsheet? a blind goat?!”

this cycle repeated daily. whenever you were around, sukuna was just a grumpy but functional employee. he answered your questions, finished his work on time, and—god forbid—was even kind of charming when he wasn’t glaring at people. but the moment you left the room? utter carnage.

by week two, everyone in the office knew.

one particularly brave soul even tried to test it. “hey, sukuna,” some junior exec chirped while you were grabbing coffee, “think you could help me review this client file?” sukuna barely spared them a glance. “sure.”

but then you left to take a phone call.

“are you incapable of using your own goddamn brain, or is it just decorative?”

you walked back in. “everything okay?”

sukuna, completely blank-faced: “yeah.”

everyone was traumatized. you? completely clueless. until one day, you walked into the office a little earlier than usual and caught him—midway through roasting some poor IT guy’s entire existence. you cleared your throat. sukuna froze.

then, he straightened his tie, rolled his shoulders back, and—without missing a beat—“ah, boss. g'morning.” like nothing happened.

you blinked. he blinked back.

…this motherfucker.

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goldfades · 3 days ago

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sweet on you Joe thanking his wife during his MVP speech when he wins pretty pretty pleaseeeee

omg yes! this idea has been floating around as soon as you sent this ask. hope you enjoy!!! sweet on you will be back i promise, just need the motivation to finish :) and yes in this universe he DID win mvp

MVP SPEECH FT. SWEET ON YOU

The stadium was deafening. Fans roared, confetti rained down in gold and white, and the cameras were all on him—Joe Burrow, the newly crowned MVP, standing under the bright lights, trying to keep himself together.

He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, exhaling a slow breath as he adjusted the microphone in front of him. The trophy was heavy in his other hand, but it wasn’t the weight of the metal that had his chest tight—it was everything leading up to this moment. The years of hard work, the sacrifices, the unwavering support from those who had been there since the beginning. And more than anyone else, it was her.

Joe cleared his throat, the noise dying down just a fraction as he leaned in. “Man,” he started, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “This is—this is crazy. I don’t even know where to start.”

The crowd cheered again, cameras flashing, but his eyes weren’t searching for them. They were searching for her.

And then he found her.

Sitting in the front row, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes glassy and bright, looking at him like he had just hung the damn moon.

His wife.

His whole world.

Joe swallowed hard, gripping the mic a little tighter. “Obviously, there’s a long list of people I need to thank—my teammates, my coaches, my family. None of this happens without you guys. But, uh—” he huffed out a soft, nervous laugh, shaking his head before glancing at her again. “There’s one person in particular who—God, I don’t even know if I have the words.”

The crowd fell a little quieter, as if they could sense this was something important.

Joe smiled, softer now, and only for her.

“My wife,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been with me through everything. Before all of this—before the trophies, before the headlines, before anyone knew my name. You believed in me when I was just some kid with a dream. You stood by me through every high, every low, every doubt I ever had about myself. And somehow, through it all, you loved me.”

She was already crying, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe him, even though she should have known by now just how much he meant every word.

Joe chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he glanced down at the trophy for a second, then back up at her. “I know I work a lot, and I know there have been nights where football took me away more than it should have. But not once—not once—have you ever made me feel like I was in this alone. And I need you to know—I need everyone to know—that I wouldn’t be standing up here if it weren’t for you.”

A collective aww rippled through the audience, but Joe didn’t even hear it. He was locked in, focused only on her, watching as she wiped at her cheeks, smiling like she wanted to scold him for making her cry in public.

“And Hayes,” he added, his voice hitching just slightly at the mention of their son. “Our boy. I hope one day, when he’s old enough to understand all of this, he knows just how lucky he is to have a mom like you.”

She let out a teary laugh, covering her mouth again, and Joe grinned.

“I love you,” he said simply, his heart in his throat. “More than football. More than anything.”

The crowd erupted in cheers again, but none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the way she looked at him in that moment, like he was the greatest thing she had ever seen. Like she had always known he was capable of this, long before he ever did.

And when he stepped down from the stage a few moments later, trophy in one hand, the other reaching for her, she was already there—waiting, arms open, eyes shining, love pouring out of her like a flood.

She kissed him, right there in front of everyone, not caring about the cameras or the eyes on them.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured against his lips, laughing softly as she pulled back just enough to look at him.

Joe grinned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I meant every word.”

And when he kissed her again, the whole world could have disappeared, and he wouldn’t have cared. Because this—she—was his greatest victory of all.

#sweet on you ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊#joe burrow #joe burrow bengals #joey b #joe shiesty #jb9 #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc

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yanderedrabbles · 3 days ago

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Nice Guy Yanderes

Beware the nice guys. The sweet boys with sweet smiles who always say exactly what you want to hear.

A beast will always be a beast, no matter how well it hides it's nature. It will always be filled with lust and all too capable of violence.

It doesn't matter if he stands in front of a packed lecture hall and gives a moving speech about feminism. At the end of the day, he wants the exact same thing as the sexist and the misogynist. He wants you on your knees.

It's almost kinder when a man is a bastard. When he's mean and lustful. At least he's showing you his true colours. At least you know to keep your hackles up and never turn your back on him.

It's so much worse when a man pretends to be nice. When he sees your friendship, your trust, as just another way to get you into bed.

And that "niceness" extends to all the depraved things he does to you. All fake concern and even faker sincerity.

Asking "Does it hurt real bad, sweetheart?" when he's balls deep in your virgin ass and you're clawing at the sheets trying to get away from him. Kissing you after he fucks you raw like that will make it all better. He's the kind to spout all manner of high minded ideals - he's protecting you, he loves you, he's doing this for your own good. Maybe it's worse because he really believes all that bullshit. Really believes he's keeping you safe, as though he isn't the monster you need protecting from.

It's easier when your tormentor is honest about his reasons for taking you. It somehow hurts less when all he wants is a warm body to fuck. At least you aren't burdened by his faux guilt, his teary eyed false promise to let you go as soon as he's done with you.

If you were to get stuck with a yandere, you'd better hope and pray that he's a bastard. That he won't wipe away your tears as though that makes up for causing them.

#bringing up the age of debate of nice guys vs assholes #spoiler: they're both actually awful #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #reader insert #x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #yandere writing #yandere x darling #yanderecore #yandere tendencies

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 3 days ago

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Okay, I greatly appreciate the discussion here about the need for interdisciplinary work in academia, and the need to reach outside of academia and talk to specialists when looking at the uses of tools, but somehow people always have to turn this into a "gotcha!" where the stuffy academics get shown up (even though this very thread shows some archeologists reaching out to craftspeople to ask about how tools are used because they recognize the need for that knowledge and expertise).

"A hairdresser comes a long, looks at a few and is like, “Yeah, they’re sewn.”

“Don’t be silly!” the archaeologists cry. “How foolish, sewn hair indeed! LOL!”

So she went away and recreated them on real people using a needle and thread and the mystery of Roman hairstyles was solved."

Did they? Did they really? The archeologists all laughed at the plucky hairdresser and then she proved her theory by simply recreating the styles?

See, what actually happened is that Janet Stephens (the hairdresser/hair archeologist in this post), who published an article about her theory in The Journal of Roman Archeology in 2008, spent about 6 years of research pursuing her idea that perhaps Roman hairstyles were sewn hair and not wigs. She did both hands-on experimentation sewing the actual hair, and more traditional research reading through a ton of sources. This is coming from an interview done with Stephens herself:

"Lots and lots of reading, poring over exhibition catalogs, back searching the footnotes to the reading and reading some more! It helped that I am fluent in Italian and, in 2006, I took a German for reading class. Working in my spare time, the research took 6 years."

"I am an independent researcher, but my husband is a professor of Italian at the Johns Hopkins University, so I have library privileges there. We are friendly with colleagues in the Classics/Archaeology department and at the Walters Art Museum. They were kind enough to send me articles and clippings, read drafts and help with some picky Latin, though I try not to impose."

(Source: http://www.thehistoryblog.com/archives/14729)

Wow, so people in the Classics/Archeology department and at the art museum sent her articles and clippings and HELPED her with her research as opposed to laughing at her in their gentleman's club! It's almost like people working the archeology/art history these days aren't all stuffy old white guys from the 1950's!

Stephens also presented her work at the Archeological Institute of America Conference, and according to the interview I cited above, it was apparently well received: "It seemed to create a a lot of buzz and people said they enjoyed it. It’s not every conference where you go to the poster session and see “heads on pikestaffs”!"

Like, there's plenty to be said about the ivory tower and the need for interdisciplinary work, and the racism/sexism etc. that newer researchers are working against, but framing this story as "hairdresser totally shows up the archeologists with her common sense!" is needlessly shitting on the academics involved here (and the humanities in general have been struggling to maintain funding at many universities in the US, they don't need to be further attacked), as well as greatly over-simplifying and downplaying Janet Stephens' achievement. I think it's more respectful to acknowledge the six years of work that she put into the project than to tell the story like she just sewed some hair and then all the archeologists' monocles popped out.

Something I find incredibly cool is that they’ve found neandertal bone tools made from polished rib bones, and they couldn’t figure out what they were for for the life of them.

Until, of course, they showed it to a traditional leatherworker and she took one look at it and said “Oh yeah sure that’s a leather burnisher, you use it to close the pores of leather and work oil into the hide to make it waterproof. Mine looks just the same.”

“Wait you’re still using the exact same fucking thing 50,000 years later???”

“Well, yeah. We’ve tried other things. Metal scratches up and damages the hide. Wood splinters and wears out. Bone lasts forever and gives the best polish. There are new, cheaper plastic ones, but they crack and break after a couple years. A bone polisher is nearly indestructible, and only gets better with age. The more you use a bone polisher the better it works.”

It’s just.

50,000 years. 50,000. And over that huge arc of time, we’ve been quietly using the exact same thing, unchanged, because we simply haven’t found anything better to do the job.

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kedreeva · 2 days ago

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I don't know what it is about fresh sugar snap peas but i see them and go into a fugue state where i must have them i must i will hunter-gather them from the side of the road and start wolfing them down like a starving feral dog happening upon a carstruck moose and then it's ten minutes later and I've eaten half a pound of them (or loaded 2lbs of them and two packages of growing seeds into my cart somehow???). last summer we went strawberry picking so I could make jam and stuff, and on the way back in to pay, I saw sugarsnap plants and had to restrain myself from swerving to a stop, but I still parked and just started grabbing handfuls of them as soon as I was out of the car and my partner didn't have to drag me off of the plants but only because i only have so much space in my hands, and we then had to admit to my crimes at the pay window because we didn't get a container at the start to harvest them but the guys just waved us off and I ate them like candy on the way home and I would do it again in a heartbeat with zero forethought what is in them that my body is lacking because it's gotta be something

#personal #sugar snap peas #i just got finished consuming ???? number of them until I zoned back in #and there's still so many in the bag #because I 100% zoned out at the store putting them into the bag #and came to when it started getting heavy #it's like this every time I see them #this is what going feral feels like

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

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wonderjanga, I Summon thee and ask that you bless apon thee with Black Adam and Captain Marvel misunderstanding content. (Please. Thank you and good day.)

Ps. Hope you are having a wonderful day or night.

Misunderstandings on Black Adam’s side:

Black Adam: “It is I! Black Adam!”

Marvel: *stares for a solid second* “…Who?”

*silence*

Black Adam: “What do you mean ‘who?’ I am Black Adam.

Marvel: *looks around* “Sir, I don’t know who you are.”

See, Teth thought there was no way in the world that the current Champion wouldn’t know who he was. So, he immediately assumed the guy was lying to be rude. After all, there was no way the Wizard would appoint a Champion and then not tell them about the previous Champion that was sealed away because of his… strong opinions on certain matters.

Black Adam: “Yes, you do.”

Marvel: “No, I don’t.”

Black Adam: “Yes. You do.”

They went back back-and-forth for a bit before Adam gave up and just attacked him. If the Champion was gonna be so disrespectful that he’d claim that he somehow didn’t know him, he’d show him some disrespect in return.

Then there’s the second misunderstanding.

It came about when Adam had some Kahndaqi investigators dig up some stuff on anything that could point to the Champion’s true identity. They still found out about Billy, but he wasn’t who they thought he was.

Black Adam: “So you have a child.”

Marvel: “What?”

Black Adam: “You have a child. William Joseph Batson?”

Marvel: *looks like he’s about to shit bricks*

Black Adam: lOur similarities never cease to make me ill.”

Marvel: *just decides to go with it* “My bad…?”

Adam was so salty about this because this made him realize that as a fellow father, he couldn’t kill him. The information he dug up showed that while he was somehow alive, his wife certainly wasn’t. Teth wasn’t about to make an innocent little boy to be an orphan, regardless of whether the fact his father was the Champion. That wasn’t gonna stop him from hating the circumstances though.

Misunderstandings on Billy’s side:

As mentioned before, Billy had no clue who Adam was at first. So he immediately assumed this guy was magical if he had powers.

Marvel: “So how were you created?”

Black Adam: “Why does that matter?”

Marvel: “Because I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Black Adam: *gives him a strange look*

Billy originally thought Adam was a stray piece of the living lightning that flew off somewhere and became evil somehow.

Then he assumed this guy was in fact, not magical and instead super rich because he had a bunch of guys following him around as Billy.

Billy: *standing at a crosswalk, sweating*

Khandaqi Info Collector: *shamelessly taking five million photos*

Yeah… The Khandaqi guys Adam sent were not slick in the slightest.

Not that Billy knew they were from Kahndaq anyways.

The Public’s misunderstandings:

There are none but they’re convinced that the cheese and Adam have beef that spans generations upon generations(which it does, but that’s mostly for Adam, not Billy). They don’t know much about their situation, but they’re suspicious and want to know.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #black adam #teth adam

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mwahsol · 15 hours ago

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I see you

Description: You are obvious about your feelings towards her. Recently her most recent “fling” dumps her claiming that all she can talk about is you, every topic you are somehow in some way mentioned. Paige being confused doesn't understand what she's talking about, you are just her friend right? The more she thinks about it, the more she starts questioning your “friendship.” One night while hanging out with your guys teammates everything comes crashing down.

Since tomorrow is my birthday I've decided to be nice and come back from the dead :) also, WHY IS IT SO HARD TO HAVE MOTIVATION TO WRITE EVEN THOUGH I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS. Anyways enjoy babe.....

Since the first time you had laid your eyes upon her, you knew you would fall in love with her. How could you not love her, when you first got recruited you were nervous that you wouldn't get along with the team seeing as how you were naturally more reserved but as soon as you entered that gym Paige instantly welcomed you with open arms. She broke down all of your walls and you slowly but surely became closer with everyone, she brought you out of your shell. Whenever you needed a partner during practice she was instantly at your side touching you in some way showing her eagerness to play with you, right by your side. When she couldn't sleep she would beeline to your room, she would crawl right in next to you on your bed seeing if you wanted to go somewhere with her or wanted to keep sleeping. To you it didn't matter what you did, you just wanted to be with her, so if she wanted to go shoot around at 2 am or sleep next to you and listen to your podcasts with you, without a doubt, you would do it. At first, you genuinely believed that this was how best friends were, you just loved her. After your first year, you slowly started to realize that you fell in love with Paige Bueckers. Maybe she could love you too, right?

After three years on the team and two years being in love with her, you started dropping hints throughout of your feelings but she never noticed. You watched her hold others the way you would dream of being held by her, you saw how she would wrap her hands around their waists, how she would lean down to whisper into their ears about how beautiful they looked that night. How could she not notice that you spent hours getting ready to feel pretty for yourself but a part of you wanted Paige to tell you that she thought you looked beautiful. All of the girls she would hold always seemed completely different to you, you would compare yourself to them. You couldn't be mad though they weren't at fault, how could they have known that you would give anything for Paige to look at you how she looked at them? Selfishly you would always wonder why them. Why not you?

You watched her kiss them. Paige has never been shy about affection, so to her kissing girls while her teammates were near has never been a problem. Unfortunately, you always seemed to look at her when she was kissing them like her life depended on them. The way she would bring their hips near hers, her hands holding their jaws gently, how she would smile into their kiss knowing they enjoyed it. You saw it all. You could only watch with envy in your eyes, you prayed countless times that she would kiss you like you were oxygen. As soon as you saw their kiss you would turn away and go to one of your teammates and cry to them. They all knew about your love for the blue-eyed blonde, they could all see how you looked at her like she hung the constellations in the sky, they saw all the tears you would shed for her, they saw everything Paige didn't. How could they see if but she just didn't.

All you could do was watch as Paige would run around the door asking everyone if her outfit was good enough for a date, she always comes to you first. Why does she have to torture you more. Why does she have to taunt you. In all fairness, she didn't know that every time she would come and excitedly tell you about how she asked a girl out on a date, it would eat you alive. You felt like you couldn't breathe every time you imagined what their date was like. Would it be how you always envisioned your dates with her? If you told her you loved her would it change anything? Would she drop everything and tell you she has been in love with you too?

As the clock shows 2:16 am, you get up giving up on trying to go to bed. Sliping into your bunny slippers you walk to Azzi’s room, you know she's most likely asleep but maybe she's up watching a Netflix show or something. To your luck you're right.

“Hey bun, couldn't sleep?” She asks knowing why but she'll let you rant.

“Nope my brain won't shut off,” you say as you take off your slippers to climb into bed with her. Slipping yourself into her side, making her arm drape over your shoulders while you hug her midsection you can hear her hum.

“Why? Wanna talk about it?” If Azzi was honest with herself she was shocked Paige hadn't noticed that you have worshiped the ground she walks on.

“Just thinking about all the stuff with P.” Since she left for her date at 9 it's been all you could think about, you will end up driving yourself crazy by how much you think about her on dates that aren't with you.

“You know all that thinking will make your head even bigger than it already is,” she giggles as you look at her with fake offense and shove her gently but when you both stop laughing she softly says, “Bun you both are some of my closest friends but maybe you should try out dating too, see what's out there.”

Her words echo through your head, since you started playing at Uconn you never really dated. Your main focus has always been playing and your academics, then the realization of your feelings for your blond teammate happened and that shut the door of dating for you. You never even thought about dating anyone that wasn't Paige, you knew no matter who it was they wouldn't compare. Their laugh wouldn't be hers, the way their hands would touch you wouldn't be the warm hands of the blue-eyed player, their lips wouldn’t be the ones you dreamt about, they wouldn't be Paige. It wouldn't be fair to give someone else hope of a future with you when your future slept right next to you most nights. Your heart would never be theirs, your heart will be on the court with her.

“I don't know if I could even act like I could see something with them,” when Azzi hears the sadness in your voice she can't help but want to call Paige and yell at her about how blind she is. “You don't have to see it anymore than as a casual date, find someone you think is cute then go for it, or next time someone asks you say yes.”

When you go to say that wouldn't know where to start she cuts you off. “And don't you dare say you don't know who because I've seen multiple boys and girls ask you out but you always say no. Just go on one then see how you feel about it bun.” She says teasing but also encouraging you to get outside of your bubble a bit, maybe you'll find a way to be ok with Paige not reciprocating your feelings. Maybe.

“You guys won't ever let the bun name go huh?” You ask hoping to change the subject.

“As long as you wear those slippers I don't think so, they're cute though,” she hopes you give it some thought though, she and everyone hate seeing you heartbroken. Maybe just maybe this way Paige could see what everyone else sees.

While you fall asleep you can't help but think that maybe it's a good idea.

By the time Paige gets home it's almost 4 am. Her heads was killing her from all the arguing she and her most recent “fling” were having. She wanted to come home earlier but as soon as she heard your name be brought up negatively she instantly started arguing till her throat was sore. As she unlocked the front door she knew she wanted to see you, when she opened your door and saw your empty bed her heart stopped. Where did you go? As she pulls out her phone to check Life360 she sees that your location is here at the dorm.

“She's sleeping in my bed.” Paige flinches not expecting anyone else to be awake much less Azzi.

“Why?” She doesn't know why but knowing that you're not in your bed makes her uneasy, but you being in someone else's bed that isn't hers makes her skin crawl. Why? She's never had a problem with it before? It could be that even when you would sleep in someone else's bed besides hers she would still be laying next to you bothering whoever's bed you both lay on. No that couldn't be it, right? She wasn't jealous.

“Couldn't sleep.” Azzi knows the blonde like the back of her hand. Why couldn't Paige figure out that she was in love with you too.

Whenever Paige held someone she almost had to force herself to. The feeling of them close to her made her feel wrong but she took it as maybe she lost feeling for them so she would cut them off, find someone else, and the cycle repeated. Anytime she would compliment the girls she would be seeing she would only compliment things that reminded her of you. When she would kiss them she would allow herself to pretend they were you, desperately pulling them into her grasping at the image of you being the one she was kissing instead, feeling herself smile at the daydream of you. When she would feel eyes on her she would pull away from the kiss seeing you walking towards the team, why did her heart hurt, why did she feel guilty that you saw her kissing someone? She's never had a problem kissing anyone in front of her team but when you would look all she wanted to do was wipe her lips and try to explain things to you, but explain what, you both were friends. When she would dress up for dates she would come to you first wanting to hear your opinion on how she looked, she would always seek approval from you first. But you were both just friends, right? Right. She's just overthinking.

“Oh ok, I'll just go to bed then.” With a small nod, Paige turns to go to her room until Azzi opens her mouth.

“Why were you looking for her?” Come on P, say something Azzi can't help but want to get a reaction out of her so maybe she could also see how in love she is with you. Hoping to push her best friend to see her true feelings maybe.

“Just wanted to check up on her you know,” Paige can't see it, yet.

“Ok see you in the morning P,” Azzi says a bit disappointed but knowing Paige will think about it. “Mhm, nigh Az.”

Since that encounter with Azzi, Paige has noticed that you slowly started distancing yourself from her. Maybe she was overthinking but what other explanation could there be? At practice, things seemed tense. You would partner up with Aubrey or anyone else before she could even make her way to you. When she would try to come into bed with you she started noticing that you weren't home when you usually would be in bed. Sometimes she would notice that you would come home far later than you ever have, where were you spending your time? At times she would see you right as you were leaving but you were always dressed up. In heals? Makeup and hair done almost always. You’ve always been beautiful to her no matter if you were dripping in sweat or in a fancy dress but she knows you, you don't get dressed up unless you are going out with the team, and you don't go out much enjoying being home and relaxing after practice, she couldn't find any reasons as to why you were almost every night out.

Why didn't you talk to her? Why wouldn't you even glance at her? Why does her heat physically feel like it's breaking when she thinks of you? And why did she hear you talking to a girl over the phone one day as you were getting ready? Why did she ask you if you were almost done because she was outside? Why?

Paige was going crazy without answers. She was going crazy without you.

One night the team decided to have a movie night and order a bunch of junk food to relax and spend time together. Feeling a bit guilty that you already had plans with a girl you were casually seeing you told all the girls you wouldn't be there but you would make it up to them, you told all except one. Paige, you physically couldn't bring yourself to tell her about your date. You know even after all of your dates and trying to expand outside of your friendships you were right, no one amounted to Paige. No one held a candle to her. You felt stupid that you kept distancing yourself when all you wanted was to be next to her again. You couldn't keep watching her anymore, you didn't have it in you to watch her give everything you've ever wanted from her to others. So when practice ended you rushed home to get ready to go out.

As all of the girls were setting up and bringing in the food Paige couldn't help but notice that you were missing. Looking around from her spot on the couch, next to her was your spot she had been saving it hoping that maybe tonight she could get you to sit next to her, all of the girls started to get on the couch and/or their place on the floor. She had almost argued with Jana as she had sat in “your” spot. Seeing as you hadn't told Paige about your plans, KK opens her mouth ready to tell her that you weren't joining but as you come out of your room all dressed up in a dark purple mini dress, a black pair of heals, silver jewelry stacked on your arms and neck, your skin glowing with body glitter, your hair curled, and makeup that complimented your features she feels the world stop. You looked enchanting. If she were standing up she's sure that she would fall to her knees right then and there. She couldn't help but wonder why you were dressed up though, you were all staying in no?

All of your teammates freak out jumping on you and telling you how pretty you look. “Girl oh my give me a spin,” Nike hypes you up holding your arm up and letting you give them all a 360. “Y/n you know I'm single currently,” Kayla jokingly flirts back. “Oh my, bun you look gorgeous,” Azzi adds knowing this might wake Paige up. As the rest of the girls gush over you Paige can't seem to get up, she was in a trance as soon as she saw you. You in her favorite color might be one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen in her entire life.

“Ok ok guys I need to head out, they're waiting for me downstairs,” you let out laughing at their antics.

You're leaving?

“Bye guys I'll try to be home soon,” as the door shuts Paige can feel herself go numb.

“Where is she going?” She asks scared that she might know the answer. They can all see her shut down, they can't help but feel guilty for her but also happy for you that you're trying new things. No one has the heart to tell her the truth until Azzi looks at her and tells her the hard truth, “She's going on a date.”

When those words leave Aizz’s mouth she feels like she's about to throw up. Is it true? All those times she saw you dressed up you were going to see someone? She feels like she can't breathe but she has to look, she has to look at their faces to see if it's true. As her head rises to look at them they can all see the tears in her eyes, almost like instant deja vu they see your eyes looking back at them. They have been here before but with a different teammate crying over the other. It's almost poetic how similar your eyes seem when you cry over each other in front of them.

“P why are you crying?” KK is the one to ask to test out if her friend finally understands her feelings for you. They knew that they couldn't tell her, she's too stubborn to listen to them, she had to be the one to realize her feelings.

Paige finally understood.

“She won't even look at me. When I walk into her room and she's not there I lay in her bed hoping to catch her when she comes back. She won't even play with me. I can hear her talking to someone but I don't want it to be someone she is seeing. I don't understand what I did to make her mad at me,” as she rambled on Azzi couldn't help but feel a bit responsible but also not. She gave you unbiased advice, she wouldn't take it back.

“Paige that night I caught you looking for her, why did you come home late? Why was she the first person you looked for,” come on Paige see what's right in front of you they all think.

Paige can't stop the tears from coming. She knows her voice will come out shaky but it's now or never, “I went out with that girl from the soccer team and I thought the date was going great till we went back to watch a movie at hers and she blew up. She stalked yelling at me that the whole night I kept talking about Y/n and how at first she thought it was sweet that I had a close friendship with her but after talking about her only, that I act like I'm in love with her. At first I honestly just planned to walk out but then she started insulting her and I just couldn't keep my mouth shut, how could she talk badly about her? She didn't even do anything wrong,” while the team listened to Paige they gave each other a look knowing that she does talk about you any chance she gets. How did she still not see it?

“And when I got home I just wanted to sleep with her but she wasn't there, I started to panic but I saw that her location was still here then Az said that she was with her and all I could do was go to my bed.” She explains not knowing what's going on.

“Paige can you really not see it?” Ice asks trying to see if it finally clicks for the blonde.

“What?” Why are they all looking at her like she should know something. Could it be? No right? If she says the words. If she asks, she can't take it back. Maybe just maybe.

All of your memories together float through her brain. Your eyes that shine like stars when you look at her, your hair that smells like coconut from your shampoo, you're eyelashes that lay over your cheeks as you sleep, your nose that gets red when you get cold, your lips that she catches herself staring at thinking about what it would be like to feel them on hers, your laugh that is like music to her ears, your voice that is like a siren song to her, your hands that fit in hers perfectly, your chest that she lays her head on to hear your heartbeat, your legs that wrap around her when she picks you up, every single thing about you she worships. Her waking you up at 2 am to go hoop with her and you not even thinking twice before getting dressed, late night ice cream when you both just want to be together, you both saving each other seats never wanting to be too far apart, the dumb bunny slippers that she got you that you now rarely take off, the way you both climb into each other's beds and just lay together. You're everything, you are what she looks forward to every day, you waking her up to pancakes with coffee, her watching your angelic face while you sleep. Paige Madison Bueckers is in love with you, a girl who is on a date with someone else in her favorite color.

“I love her, I’m in love with her,” she mumbles out in awe.

“Yeah, you are,” Kayla states what everyone is thinking, but what will she do now.

“Does she love me?” Paige asks afraid of the answer.

“You're kidding right?” KK asks shocked that she's even asking.

“What?”

“Paige that girl has loved you for years,” she can feel herself lose her breath. What? There's no way that's true right? Please tell her that she heard wrong.

“Everyone could see it but you.” No no why didn't she see it sooner. “Why didn't she say anything?” She asks not knowing if she hopes it's a cruel prank or if she wants the confirmation that you love her.

“Did she have to? She made it pretty clear to you.” What.

“I mean do you see her waking anyone else with pancakes?” But you're always nice.

“Much less bring it to us in our beds.” You had sleepovers together that's why. Right?

“She sleeps with you almost all the time, the only times she hasn't was when you were with another girl.” Shit.

“You don't see her matching outfits with anyone else do you?” She always did love it when you would match colors, it made her feel like she had a claim over you even if it was just for the night.

“P whenever you would kiss someone or held their hand she would come to us crying. I don't think she would cry just because.” She made you cry, all those times she saw you walking away you had tears in your eyes.

“What do I do?” There has to be a chance right. She can't let you go now that she knows you've been there all along.

“I don't know.” What.

“What do you mean?” Please she needs something.

“Well P she kinda keeps going to these dates to get over you.” No. She's so close she can't just not try.

“I have to give it a shot, please.” Give me something, anything. Is all she can keep thinking hoping for any shot no matter how small.

“Well I know she's at that restaurant that opened up by the pizza place, Lavie or something like that,” Jana says remembering you telling her before practice when you asked her for her opinion on your outfit.

When she hears the name her movements are almost like she's in a trance, her only thought is to get to you as soon as she can. She stands up not caring if she's in her pajama pants, glasses that she rarely wears outside, her wavy hair in her natural state, grey nike tech sweater, and gets her keys from the dining table. They all watch her leave with encouraging smiles on their faces knowing that you two will end up together. They've all watched you fall in love and everyone even on the staff knows that you both need each other just to exist.

While you and your date are at the restaurant you can help but feel sick to your stomach. You know she knows you're pretending she's someone else. You allow yourself to envision her as Paige perhaps this is the closest you'll get to her. Why can't you just let her go. She haunts you. The way she looked at you when you came into the living room is embedded into your brain.

“I'm sorry to take you away from her tonight,” Hayley says knowing the team had plans tonight.

Your head lifts quickly looking at her for answers. “I know you all had plans,” she explains a bit while eating her salmon.

“No it's ok I enjoy getting out,” you reassure her since it was your choice that you went out not liking the idea of being near Paige for a long time. You try your best to keep the distance you've created.

“Do you miss her?” What? There is no way she knew right?

“Y/n I've seen the way you look at her. If I'm honest I'm also trying to get over someone, I see the way you look through me basically and I’m not mad really. I'm pretending you're someone else too.” Hayley confesses. You let out a breath of relief seeing as you both are just two people in love with another trying to find comfort in each other.

“No luck for you ether?” You ask her hoping at least one of you has some luck in getting over your situations. “Nah but I'm not too mad at it, I enjoy spending time with you.” She grins at you showing that she's being sincere. “I enjoy my time with you too.” As you continue your dinner the weight of this being a “date” wearing off you both start genuinely talking like friends would.

Paige gets to the restaurant as quickly as she can, she's pretty sure she might've broken some laws but for you, she’d break all of them to get to you. As she sits in her car for a second she collects her thoughts, was she really about to go in there and steal you away? Yes. The thought of you in there with someone who isn't her is burning her skin. When she sees you laughing through the window in the front she feels herself get hot. Screw it. She gets out of her car almost too quickly that she almost stumbles out. Walking up to the establishment intimidated her a bit, it's a nice place and here she comes in her pajamas to get you. It's all worth it for you. When she opens the door she can see the hostess opening her mouth to ask her if she's lost but she marches to your table nearby determined to get you.

Since your back is turned to her Hayle sees her before you do but you sense Paige before she even entered the restaurant, not wanting to believe your sensation you ignore it.

“Hey, I think one of us might just have some luck.”

“What?”

Paige stops right next to your table panting. You stare at her wide-eyed in shock. What is she doing here?

“I need to talk to you.” She states, her eyes pleading with you to come with her.

“I'm kind of in the middle of some-”

“Go, I'll be ok. Text me how it goes.” Haley blurts out wanting one of you to get your happy ending.

As soon as Paige hears the words she grabs you almost pulling you up and rushing you both out of there. She's too fast, you're heal-covered feet can hardly keep up.

“Paige wait I'm in heals. I'm going to trips wait up.” When the words leave your mouth she instantly stops and turns to you as you regain your balance. As you straighten up you let out a yelp not expecting her to pick you up bride-style and walk you both to her car. You hear the car unlock and she opens the passenger door while still holding you and puts you inside gently making sure you ok before she shuts the door and goes to the driver side.

You turn to look at her with shock and are about to ask her what does she think she's doing but she beats you to it. Turning to face you she looks into your eyes directly and says the five words you've been dying to hear.

“I’m in love with you Y/n” You feel the world stop when she says that. Are you awake right now? Was this a cruel dream?

“Don't say that,” you let out feeling your eyes start to tear up and your throat tightening.

“I love you Y/n.”She says determined to fight for you. She's not letting you go unless you truly want her to.

“Paige you're being mean, stop it please I can't take it.” How could she? How could she mock you? You turn to look away from her not being able to look at her while she lied to you. While trying to win your gaze, you feel her hands. The hands you've craved are turning your face to her slowly wiping your tears. While you let yourself have this one moment with her she starts speaking knowing that you need to hear from her again that she loves you.

“Y/n/n I'm so unbelievably in love with you and I didn't even realize it till I saw you walk out of the dorm. I know you may not want to hear this but whenever I would kiss other girls I would imagine that they were you, when I would hold them I thought about you, all of the things I've done with others I would envision you. I know it's wrong but I was such a fool, it has always been you. You're it for me bun. If I can't have you in this lifetime I pray I get to have you in the next and every after that. We were made for each other. Anytime I listen to Jeff Buckley I instantly think of you. If I could I really would give all my blood for your sweet laughter. I could write novels of you, every single thing about you I could write thousands of pages for. Anytime I hold you I never want to hurt you, I want to take care of you. I want to show you that I can love you gently and purely. When it comes to you I'm all in, everything is yours. Whatever you want I'll do, I'll give it all to you only please baby. Let me worship you in every way possible. I'm all yours, my mind, my body, my heart, my soul, everything was made for you. Give me a chance, let me show you. I can't handle the thought of you with someone else. I don't want to be without you.” During her confession, she rested her forehead against yours. Her finger still wiping the new tears that appeared as her speech went on. Your sweet girl.

“I've loved you for two years maybe even longer. I would watch you with them, my skin felt like it was being peeled off, my heart would stop when I would see you.” You let out not being able to hold it in. Pulling away to look at her you see she started crying too.

“I know I'm sorry baby. Please let me love you, I may not deserve it but I need it. Please.” Her eyes filled with more tears how could you say no. How could you say no to everything you've been hoping for.

“I love you, Paige. I’d give up anything to be with you, you are everything I've wanted for so long. I physically crave you. Even though I didn't say it out loud I tried to show you. I can't blame you completely, I should've said something but I was too scared of losing you.” You say laughing a bit at how much you're both crying. It's your turn to wipe her tears away. Her skin under your fingers feels like you were meant to hold her.

“I love you too. I should've realized sooner. We're both so stupid.” She replies while laughing a bit. You both couldn't stay mad at the other. As she admires you while you're trying to make sure her face is dry all she can do is think about kissing you.

“Kiss me,” did she hear you right? By the look on your face, she can tell you need her as much as she does. The kiss felt even better than you both had imagined, you could taste her tears and vanilla chapstick, she could taste your tears and strawberry lipgloss. She grabs your jaw while her other hand grasps at your waist pulling you a bit over the console. One of your hands is on her shoulder while the other is in her hair. As the kiss goes on it gets hungrier, pulling away to catch your breath you stare at each other.

‘How beautiful,’ runs through both of your heads.

“I love you.” Paige can't help but say it as she pecks you all over your face, repeating it between kisses.

Giggling you can't help but grab her face and peck her on the lips, “I love you too.”

As you both look at each other you can't help but crave something.

“Can we go get ice cream?” You ask not being able to hold it in anymore.

“Are you serious?” She asks laughing in amusement. While you get back into your seat properly buckling your seatbelt you turn to her and smile, “Always.”

“Does this could as my first girlfriend duty?” She asks grinning at the title she's given herself as your girlfriend. Yours.

“Yes so please love let's go, I need a sweet treat.” You flutter your eyelashes at her knowing that'll get her. Even though she would've done it without she smiles seeing as how you agreed that she was yours.

“Can't let my baby go with her ice cream,” she states as she puts the car into drive then moves to grab your hand in your lap, wanting to hold you in some way.

“Aw such a sweet girlfriend I have,” you say as you bring up her hand to your lips giving it a kiss while looking at her grinning so hard your face hurts.

“Yes ma'am, although I think you're sweeter,” you can see her blush from your kiss on her hand. Any little touch you give her makes you giddy.

“I love you, Paige.”

“I love you more Y/n.”

“Not possible.”

“Possible only for you.”

As you both get ice cream and watch the stars you both just feel at peace knowing you were with the person that was handmade for you. Made for each other in every way possible, tied together, sown together, invisible string. Right in front of each other all along.

D1 yearner... BUT anyways I need to lock in and write because the way my drafts and prompts look...... I hope you enjoyed this <33333

Kiss the sun🌞

#fluff #angst #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #wlw #uconn wbb x reader #uconn x reader #wcbb x reader #Spotify

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beatlblog · 1 day ago

Text

i hope john bullied him (via @themagicalmysticalboy)

“Oi Paulie... wha’s on yer fookin face then?”#I hope John made fun of him#god#wtf (via @starseeker95)

#HELP#paul god what was that phase (via @mrlennonmccartney)

#if john still wanted him while paul looked like that it was true love#john's taste was so varied and dubious that i don't put it past him at all#but what a downgrade bc john looked great (via @stewy)

#hot take: this is the reason john decided not to work with paul after all#'if your music sounds anything like how your mustache looks i want no part of it' (via @paulnnccartney)

Knowing john he was like never mind my love you look so cute😍🙈😂 (via @mclennongirl15)

#i cannot imagine what was going through johns head when he saw him looking like that (via @harrisonism)

#imagine this outfit being the reason the beatles never got back together#john was like i'm gonna need about 6 years to forgive you for this 😂 (via @whoscruffylooking)

It’s okay because that look is 💯 on my wife.#I love that horrible facial hair#that first time drag king look (via @winston-legthigh)

#I feel like this is how John expected fashion disaster Paul to shown up#imagine just looking hot and hanging out by a pool#that’s them! (via @asphalt-cocktail)

#I respect it tho (via @lennons)

#john was just like ‘finally the inverse of all those years where I was pining and you looked amazing’#it’s just such a bad look#what WAS he thinking#definitely not what he needed to be which was ‘I look a complete twat’ (via @drivenalphabitchpaulmccartney)

2022

#the cunt paul is serving is like#fancy health food store cunt#but it's been expired for 3 years#it smells like fridge and patchouli and b vitamins and weed#john however is immaculate#god literally invented high waisted flares just for him#john and paul#my boygirlfriend john lennon#i would literally commit atrocities to know what john thought of how he looked here (via @wereonourwayhome)

#this actually changes everything i thought i understood about the 70s J&P vibe#also new questions arise about Paul's chest hair and the lack of it prior#only the important things#new podcast episodes#Paul's worst look and chest grooming#paul mccartney#john and paul#OH NEW HOT TAKE#this was 100% done intentionally to make sure they didn't bang#it was such a danger Paul took one for the team#and by took onei mean he prevented any taking from being done#dammit I'll probably write that fic#5 times John and Paul didn't bang (via @mydaroga)

#this is why he didn’t go to new orleans#:/ (via @goldslick)

SAD!

John Lennon, upon seeing Paul again in 1974 looking like that:

#john lennon#the beatles#shitposts#im sorry I thought of it then had to get it out (via @queerlennon)

#absolutely cursed#paul ruined his chances by choosing this moment to try a new form or drag that did NOT work for him (via @ahumoroussuggestion)

#absolutely dying#literally too much#the ultimate moment of seeing an ex who broke your heart after a few years and being like……oh#THAT’S who all the fuss was about???#(except from May’s account of that time it seems like the chemistry was still popping off somehow???)#which like talk about true love#being able to get past THAT#I kind of think that Paul was finding it fun to make himself look as gross as possible#relishing in it#after so many years of his looks being held up and scrutinized#to just be like oh yeah? watch this#kind of typical paulish rebellion (via @hands-across-the-skysky)

#divorce babe (via @pennielane)

#watching this post go through its villain arc has been such an experience great work guys#and by great work i mean im deleting tumblr (via @mystical-one)

He really has some balls, turning up like that.#mullet moustache and horrible thing on his chin#his fashion sense seemed to leave at the same time as Jane did#was he her Ken doll (via @beatlepaul4ever)

#honestly he still looks kinda hot#that wouldnt cure me (via @zutalorsihavemissedone)

Actually, it could maybe have been worse - he could have turned up with this look.

I can’t decide if it’s a real moustache or that horse face planted him in some muck. (via @beatlepaul4ever)

Why does he look like Paul Prenter? (via @bewareofdarkness)

#HBFJRBFHIRBFEKLFR#i think i would have just left#maybe that's why john thought he needed to be taken down a peg#'all you do is write love songs' like it was gonna hurt him#make him rethink his look#last time john hurt paul -- the man grew a beard (via @writertyper)

People ask why he didn’t go to San Francisco with him and the answer is this (via @yellowroombarine)

#this will forever make me mad at him#like this was the last photo documentation of them together#and that’s what he looked like#why (via @/bridgeoverstrawberryfields)

#REAL#FELT#some tiger king bullshit💀#I’m kinda with it tho💀💀 (via @iamsigningmylifeaway)

2024

#fr WHO lied to paul and told him this is a good idea (via @comradeharrison)

#as someone who thinks that 70s paul is the most ethereal indescribably beautiful person in the world#he looked soooo like shit during their reunion im ctfu#the dash of beard. horrifying (via @bugpoasting)

#if you genuinely think that John wasn’t absolutely attracted to Paul’s hillbilly porn star look than idk what we’re doing here#that sun tan and rat stache 100% did it for him (via @lennonsfag)

#I understand where everyone’s coming from but you’re LYING to yourself if you think John wouldn’t be into that#It’s Paul fucking McCartney he could show up bald with a beard down to his shoulders and John would get all hot and bothered over it#Paul has nothing to worry abt so why not pull up to the function looking like a porn star with the white Karen capri pants and all (via @iwannabeyourman)

#I’m sorry but he literally looks insane#mostly thag hair sticking straight up (via @sleeper9)

#I still think that's such a power move on Paul's part to be honest#Is he sliding his index finger into the fold his wraparound vest there?#“I know you want me. Even like this”#Paul's arm hair#Paul's...chest hair?#paul mccartney#Meanwhile John's showing off his hips bulge & thighs in May's jeans#they deserved each other (via @crepesuzette2023)

#i imagine he immediately got cured of homosexuality#if not... john please. put your glasses on (via @estrangedfiances)

#nooo he was so into it#his prissy princess suddenly looks like he’s into complete filth#john’s wildest fantasies suddenly seem possible (via @goldslick)

#and john was cured of his life long crush as soon as he opened the door#i actually hate that the bottom one is the last known picture of them together (via @the-electric-monk)

#ok i think this moon is hot i’m SORRY#like he looks so slutty he knew exsctly what he was doing#open shirt? gay little mustache? shoulder length shag?#the chest hair?????#paul was trying to ensnare him fr (via @gayyytripper)

#scream#once again mccartney was ahead of his time (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#when your ex shows up looking like a cartoon evil man (via @bambi-kinos)

#this is Kurtis Conner lmaooo goodbye (via @maelwife)

#I mean you know… I’ve grown partial to his pornstache and yes even the mullet#so idk probably I would still dig it (via @tenitchyfingers)

#tbh it’s not a bad look but it’s ugly when he does it (via @strangebrew)

only accurate take

#normally i run screaming seeing 70s paul#but this look?#*chefs kiss#what a power move (via @consulting--defective)

#john y paul#jp en los 70s#pues si (via @akamy08wt)

#did he dress like that on purpose with the goal of attracting or scaring him? we will never know#im soft for paul 70s mullet not so much for the moustche (on any period) but the clothess#mclennon#you cant have 67 without 74 last meeting (via @alienoriana)

#I've always kinda liked the mullet (yes yes something's wrong with me)#but I just can't get behind the mustache on him. I'm sorry#I kinda unironically want that shirt too#at least it has colour unlike most of the stuff people try selling you these days (via @chut-je-dors)

#i can tell u now i am infact a bisexual who is infact attracted to this look#hes committed to the bit (via @mcstarr)

#I don’t think I can get over that little bit on the chin#and the mustache too but yeah that’s where I just I don’t think I can but… put me and him in the same room and I might feel differently#cause of his energy#his physical presence (via @johnisonlysleeping)

#predicted bisexual twink fashion (via @therealestwizard)

#I think the Only downfall is the Kind of mullet here that type of mullet is out#it has to be just a little shaggier#but otherwise yeah this is just some dude at a club now (via @menlove)

#KURTIS LMAAOO#its actually kind of horrendous but i couldnt do any better (via @xtreme-cringe)

#and anyway we all know john would be totally into it dont kid yourselves (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#I could never transition because this is what I would slowly animorph into (via @asurrogateblog)

#it is still not a look and ladies pls know i will never eve date a man with this moustache and that shirt#but op. you aint wrong (via @phonybeatlemania)

#it’s called ✨️fashion✨️#what was 70s fashion even#“fashion” according to mccartney (via @lilywolfgray)

Can you imagine being John Lennon in 1974, and you’re about to see your ex-best friend/pseudo husband/songwriting partner for the first time in years, plus its a really big moment cause you’re tentatively thinking about working with him again, then the motherfucker shows up looking like this unironically:

#this is literally the genre of man i go for these days #john may well have been drooling over this guy #i still instinctively think he looks awful but i don't know if its just the last 5 years of bias again this look working on me #maybe this is sexy actually. I'll say it. I'll tie myself to this cross #<- prev #lm photo #mcharmley photo #scourge photo #oh you betcha john WISHED he'd grown a mullet

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revelboo · 2 days ago

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Idk if you know this but wasps fucking. LOVE sugar and honey. Its what the adults usually eat iirc. Thats why Wasps usually go after bee hives (for multiple reasons, the bees become food for the larval wasps, its basically an all you can eat buffet, its also getting rid of competition, ect)

Anyways. All this to say: Waspinator finding the sugar/honey and being like "What. What is??? Smells weird, like antifreeze a bit. is it antifreeze?? (bc fun fact waaaay back in the day Antifreeze actually had a sweet taste that was super dangerous bc ppl would poison others with it so a bittering agent had to be added but like, i dont think that would be a thing for cybertronians so theyre used to mildly sweet antifreeze anyways-) Then he tastes it and is like OH FUCK YEAH LETS GOOOOOOO. But sadly sugar is SUPER BAD for vehicles like cars and stuff. So i imagine poor Waspinator goes on a sugar bender and then comes to like "Wha happun...." and hes aching and feels AWFUL, sprawled out in the barn, covered in christmas lights from someone else's house and SO much dirt and sand from like 6 different states and the human is just like "So. youre awake. Get up, i got the powerwasher. You're COVERED in dead bugs, youre not coming in my house."

Oh, I love this!

Worker Bee Pt 19

Waspinator x Reader

• Inhaling because you don’t have the energy to deal with his misguided ‘dating’ right now or even to try and figure out why he thinks that could ever work, you yank your hand out of his grip and he makes a noise of whining protest. But you can flex your fingers now even though they’re sore. Magic, alien bug spit. “Waspinator, sweetie. I have to report in to my boss and get some loan applications processed or I’m going to get fired.” And he’s just staring at you, head tilting. You’re pretty sure all he heard was ‘Waspinator blah blah blah.’ Right. “If I get fired I can’t afford food or my house.” That he’s pretty much trashed. “I’ll be homeless.” There’s a reaction, antenna back and wings buzzing. “You don’t want that, right?”

• “No,” he growls, wings humming and flaring out slightly. Because no one is taking little friend’s hive away. And you reach up and pat him on the cheek. ‘Great. So you just go watch cartoons, okay? And be quiet,’ you say, nudging him into the other room and he allows it, because you’re touching him voluntarily. Settling himself on the couch, he fidgets with the skinny control stick that makes the screen work like you’d shown him. Can hear you talking to someone else on the little screen he’s forbidden from touching. Why do you sound different talking to them? Venting in annoyance, he fidgets before slipping out of the hive to patrol. Too agitated at the idea of someone daring to try and take your home, his home.

• Somehow you manage to convince your boss that you’ve not been checking in because you’ve been deathly ill. Too ill to go to the doctor. At least, you pray he brought that lie. Catching up on loan applications, it’s a couple of hours before the quiet really registers. Maybe Waspinator is just being good. Watching cartoons. Teeth gritting, you can’t make yourself believe that. He’s got to be quietly destroying something. Or rooting up someone else’s azaleas to drag in your house to go with the other one. Dating. How are you going to explain to him that’s not happening?

• Roaming the property, his wings tuck close to his back against the cold. Heading through the trees surrounding your home, he moves in a widening spiral and vents softly when he leaves the trees and comes across a series of black boxes. That smell sweet. Circling one and toying with it, that scent is somewhat familiar. Sweet and cloying. Transforming he leans his upper body on the box and uses his mandibles to begin chewing through it to get to that delicious smell.

• Startling when you hear a boom, you inhale. Then there are several more in quick succession, you save your work and get up. Know the guy closest to you is a bit trigger happy, but if he’s shooting at skunks again and you have to smell a dead skunk for two weeks straight again, you’re going to- the house is quiet. Swearing, you run to get your boots and coat after realizing Waspinator isn’t in the house. Why would he go over there, though? The old man is coming out of the woods, face ruddy and wearing coveralls and slippers, a shotgun in his hands when you get outside into the snow. “Are you out of your mind?!” You scream at him, going with righteous indignation. And the old man hesitates but doesn’t lower the shotgun. ‘There’s a monster wasp. I saw it. Tore up my bee hives,’ he says, turning in a circle. “You’ve seen some whiskey. You even hear yourself? A monster wasp?” Feel bad as you say, trying to convince him he’s crazy to get him to leave. “Get the hell off my property before I call the cops!” And he’s scowling at you, insisting he saw it as you dig out your phone in threat and he starts moving. How much are bee hives? Because you’re going to owe him. Waiting until you’re sure he’s long gone, you head into the barn.

• Groaning and shivering uncontrollably, his head lifts when the hay he’d burrowed into is dug away from him. And his little friend has come to see him, eyes narrowed. “Waspinator’s frieeeend,” he drawls, feeling absolutely awful and jittery as he snares you with two limbs and drags you into the hay with him, curling his altmode around you, limbs grabbing on as you wriggle, screeching that’s he’s sticky. Very, very sticky. And feeling not quite overenergized, but close. Processor miserably buzzing as he rests his head on top of yours and curls tighter around your warmth.

• “Let go!” He’s back in his awful giant wasp form and he’s curling up like wasps do when they die. Is he dying? And he’s forcing you into a ball, legs drawn up to your chest as his thorax curls up. He’s humming now. Is he singing? Wait. Is he drunk? Arms now pinned to your chest, you can feel whatever he’s absolutely covered in sticking to you, too. Beehives. It’s honey. He’s covered in honey and dead bugs. And you are, too now. Why? Why is he like this? Legs shifting against you as he slurs ‘Waspinator’s little warm friiiiend.’ Wondering how long it’ll take him to sober up right as he makes a funny hitching noise and you’re thrashing to get away when he shudders and does it again. “Don’t you dare throw up honey on me-Waspinator! Don’t you dare!”

#transformers x reader #waspinator x reader #Waspinator

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heartsriki · 2 days ago

Text

SYMPHONY OF US ⌇음악

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Park Jongseong | Next

pairing ᝰ jay x fem!reader — word count: 4.6k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ college au!, friends to lovers, mutual pining, bantering, song composer x guitarist, fluff, kissing.

synopsis — As music majors in college, You and Jay have always been seatmates in class—passing notes, sharing playlists, and teasing each other between lectures. But when you get paired for the annual Valentine’s Open Mic Night, your usual banter turns into long practice sessions, late-night coffee runs, and a song that sounds a little too much like a love confession.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Hey Ermmuhh I couldn’t sleep so I cooked this one up and I actually like it. Guys I would do anything for guitar Jay, whos with me.. raise your hand..

The first time you ever sat next to Jay, it wasn’t by choice.

The lecture hall had been packed, students filing into seats with that first-week energy—half of them eager, the other half exhausted. You had arrived late, the only open seat left beside a guy in a coat, his foot tapping lightly against the floor in a steady rhythm.

“Bad day?” he had asked as you slumped into the seat.

You had barely looked at him before muttering, “Bad parking.”

That had made him chuckle. “Yeah, parking’s a nightmare.” Then, as if he could sense your irritation, he slid a packet of sheet music onto your desk. “Here. Since you missed the first part.”

That was the beginning of it.

For the rest of the year, Jay remained your unofficial seatmate. You didn’t plan it—it just happened. Every class, every semester, no matter the time or the professor, there was an unspoken agreement that you would end up beside each other. He passed you scribbled jokes in the margins of his notes, you stole his guitar picks, and somehow, you two had developed a routine that made even the dullest lectures bearable.

So when the Professor announced that the Valentine’s Open Mic Night would be a graded project this year, it wasn’t a surprise when he paired you and Jay together. What was surprising was the flicker of hesitation on Jay’s face when your names were called.

“You good?” you asked as you packed your things after class.

Jay blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had been on his mind. “Yeah. Just… never done a duet before.”

You raised a brow. “You literally performed at the Winter Recital last semester.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

He adjusted the strap of his bag, glancing down at his shoes before flashing you a lopsided grin. “I didn’t have to sing with you.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Relax, I’ll try not to make you sound bad.”

And that was it. That was how your simple routine with Jay turned into something a little bit more.

You would think that after almost a year of sitting next to each other, sharing notes, and teasing back and forth, you two would have naturally grown closer. But there had always been a boundary—an invisible line neither of you dared to cross. You weren’t sure if it was because of the way Jay always seemed so effortlessly cool, or because you had convinced yourself that your dynamic worked best when there were no expectations beyond the classroom.

But something about today felt different.

As he turned to leave, you blurted out, “Would you like to get some coffee?!”

Jay froze mid-step at your sudden outburst, then turned slowly to meet your gaze. The smirk that curled at his lips sent a flicker of heat to your face.

“You asking me out?”

Your entire body stiffened. “No! No,” you rushed to say, waving your hands frantically. “I mean—for our music piece. Y’know? So we can brainstorm or whatever.”

Jay tilted his head, pretending to consider it, even though you could tell he was enjoying your flustered reaction way too much. After a beat, he shrugged. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting across from him in a small café just off campus, a half-empty coffee cup between your hands. The place was cozy, the hum of conversation mixing with the soft jazz playing overhead.

Jay had abandoned his coat, rolling up the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt as he leaned back in his chair, watching you with mild amusement. “You’re overthinking it.”

You frowned. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You totally are,” he said, tapping a finger against your notebook. “Look at this. You’ve got three different song structures written down, but you haven’t committed to any of them.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Because I don’t know what works best. I mean, do we go for something upbeat? Or do we lean into the whole Valentine’s theme and make it, like… disgustingly romantic?”

Jay huffed a laugh, picking up his coffee. “You sound like love songs personally offend you.”

“They do when they’re forced,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table. “I just don’t want it to sound fake, y’know?”

Jay was quiet for a moment, watching you carefully. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “So let’s not make it fake.”

You blinked. “What?”

He nudged your notebook toward you. “Let’s write something real. Doesn’t have to be some cheesy love song. Just something that actually means something to us.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. For all the teasing and banter, Jay had a way of slipping in these unexpectedly earnest moments that made you pause.

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright. Something real.”

“Good.” He grinned. “And if it just so happens to be a love song, well…” He shot you a teasing look. “Guess that says something about us, huh?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. “Don’t make stupid jokes.”

Jay just laughed, but even as you refocused on your notes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, things were changing between you two.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the low hum of the cafe filling in the gaps as you both stared at your notebooks. Every so often, Jay would absentmindedly tap his fingers against the table, a steady rhythm that somehow made it easier for you to think.

You glanced up at him. “So, what’s something real to you?”

Jay’s fingers paused mid-tap. He looked at you, eyebrows raising slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually ask. Then, after a moment, he shrugged. “Music, obviously. Late-night drives. My guitars. Oh, and good coffee.” He lifted his cup in emphasis before taking a sip.

You hummed, jotting down a few words in your notebook. “Alright, so we’re writing a love song about caffeine addiction.”

Jay chuckled. “That’s what you got from that?”

“You said ‘good coffee.’ That’s passion.”

He rolled his eyes but leaned forward, glancing at your notebook. “Okay, your turn. What’s something real to you?”

You hesitated, tapping your pen against the page. It was a simple question, but answering it felt more intimate than you had expected.

“Uh… sunrises,” you said finally. “When you’ve been up all night, and everything’s quiet for a few minutes before the world wakes up. That first breath of cold air in the morning. And…” You trailed off, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Jay tilted his head, waiting. “And?”

You exhaled, deciding to just go for it. “That feeling when you’re playing music, writing it, and for a second, it’s like… everything just clicks.”

Jay was quiet. When you looked up, he wasn’t smirking or teasing. He was just watching you, something unreadable in his expression.

“Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “I get that.”

Something shifted then—an unspoken understanding settling between you.

Jay reached for his guitar case beside his chair, flipping open the latches. “Alright,” he said, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. “Let’s see what we’ve got so far.”

You bit your lip, flipping through your notes. “I mean, we don’t have much yet, but…”

Jay started strumming, a simple, easy melody filling the space between you. You listened, letting the rhythm settle in before you hesitantly hummed a melody over it.

Jay’s lips curled into a smile. “That works. Keep going.”

And just like that, the song started to take shape.

Hours later, you were still at the café, empty cups pushed to the side as you sat next to Jay in the booth, your notebooks a mess of scribbled lyrics and crossed-out ideas.

“Alright, what about this?” Jay said, adjusting his guitar. He played a soft progression, nodding toward you. “Try it with the lyrics we just fixed.”

You took a breath and sang the first few lines, the words tentative but starting to feel more natural the more you repeated them. Jay watched you as you sang, his eyes focused—not in the way he usually looked at you when he was about to tease you, but in a way that made something in your chest tighten.

When you finished, he nodded slowly. “That was good.”

You laughed lightly, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Jay’s grin returned, but there was something gentler about it this time. “Yeah. We still have a lot to work on but.. its good.”

You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. “We should probably head back before they kick us out.”

Jay sighed dramatically, strumming one last chord before setting his guitar aside. “Fine. But only because I don’t want them banning me from my favorite cafe.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you started packing up your things. As the two of you stepped outside, the cold night air bit at your skin, and you shivered. Before you could react, Jay wordlessly shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

You blinked at him. “Jay—”

“Don’t start,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You looked cold.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip, but you quickly masked it with a playful smirk. “This is just an excuse to save your seat tomorrow isn’t it?”

Jay shot you a playful hurt look. “Wow, you think so little of me.”

You laughed, hugging his coat closer around you as the two of you walked back toward campus, the melody of your half-written song still lingering in the air.

The next few days fell into an easy rhythm—class, study sessions, and sneaking into the music room whenever it was free. You and Jay spent more time together than ever, working through melodies, tweaking lyrics, and getting lost in conversations that had nothing to do with the song at all.

And somehow, somewhere between all of that, the line between “just seatmates” and something more started to blur.

“Okay, one more run-through,” Jay said, adjusting the tuning pegs on his guitar.

You groaned, leaning your head back against the piano bench. “Jay, we’ve done like… twelve run-throughs.”

He shot you a look. “And yet you still mess up the second verse.”

“Hey!” You sat up, pointing at him accusingly. “I wouldn’t mess it up if you didn’t look at me like that.”

Jay smirked. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to laugh every time I hit the high note.”

“I am trying not to laugh,” he admitted, eyes twinkling. “Not because of your singing—your singing’s great. It’s just…” He paused, grinning. “You scrunch up your nose when you go for high notes. It’s cute.”

Your breath hitched for a second.

Jay must’ve realized what he said, because his fingers fumbled over the guitar strings. He cleared his throat, suddenly focused on his instrument.

You stared at him, the warmth creeping up your neck completely unrelated to the heated room. Instead of responding, you exhaled and picked up your lyrics sheet. “One more run-through,” you mumbled.

Jay glanced at you, lips twitching. “One more.”

By now, late-night practice had become routine. But this was the first time you’d ended up at Jay’s apartment.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, tossing his keys onto the counter.

You glanced around, taking in the space. It was exactly what you expected—minimalist, with music posters and a guitar stand in the corner. A few records were stacked near a player, and his desk was cluttered with sheet music and unfinished compositions.

“You live like an actual musician,” you mused, running a finger over a worn-out lyric book on his desk.

Jay snorted. “I thought I gave off business major energy.”

You rolled your eyes, but your gaze landed on the couch, where a soft-looking blanket was draped over the armrest. You raised an eyebrow. “You keep a blanket on your couch?”

Jay glanced over and shrugged. “Yeah?”

You smirked. “Didn’t take you for a cozy guy.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I have layers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled onto the couch. Jay sat beside you, guitar in hand. The song was almost finished now, just a few refinements left before the performance.

“You wanna run through it again?” you asked, pulling your knees up.

Jay nodded, but he hesitated, fingers hovering over the strings. When you looked at him, he wasn’t smirking or teasing like usual. There was something thoughtful in his gaze, something… uncertain.

Jay’s fingers moved over the guitar strings effortlessly, the melody filling the space between you. Your voice wove through it, soft but steady, carrying the lyrics you’d both spent hours perfecting.

But tonight—tonight, the song felt different.

It wasn’t just words on a page anymore. It wasn’t just an assignment. It was something heavier, something unspoken. Something neither of you dared to name.

When the last note faded, silence settled between you.

Jay exhaled, setting his guitar aside. “That was…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words.

You nodded slowly, barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Neither of you moved.

You were still sitting cross-legged on the couch, his blanket draped loosely over your shoulders. Jay was beside you, leaning against the cushions, his arm resting on the back of the couch. Close. Closer than before.

The tension hung thick in the air, pressing against your skin.

Jay’s gaze flickered to your lips for half a second—so quick you might’ve imagined it. But then his fingers twitched against his knee, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew that if you leaned in, if you closed the space between you, something would happen.

Your pulse pounded.

Jay shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing—just watching you, waiting, like he was caught in the same pull that had tightened around your chest.

Your breath hitched.

Jay tilted his head just a little, like he was debating something. Like he was giving you the chance to stop this before it went somewhere neither of you could take back.

Your heart was a drumline in your chest.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.

You should move. Say something. Anything.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze dropped—just briefly—to his lips. And that was all it took.

Jay leaned in.

Your breath tangled with his, warmth ghosting over your skin. Your lashes fluttered. He was close enough now that you could see the night shine in his dark eyes, close enough that you could feel the slight hitch in his breathing.

A fraction of an inch. That’s all that was left.

Then—

BZZZT.

Jay jerked back, exhaling sharply as his phone vibrated against the coffee table.

The hypnotic spell shattered.

You blinked, heart still hammering, trying to process what almost just happened.

Jay cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh. I should… probably check that.” His voice was slightly hoarse.

You nodded stiffly, gripping the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.”

Jay reached for his phone, glancing at the screen. “It’s my friend Jungwon,” he muttered, like that somehow explained the whiplash of the moment you’d just shared.

You took the opportunity to stand, needing space, needing to breathe. “I should—um, I should go. It’s late.”

Jay’s head snapped up. “Wait—”

But you were already grabbing your things, shoving your notebook into your bag. Your fingers still trembled slightly.

Jay stood too, stepping toward you, but he hesitated. Like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you. Like he wasn’t sure what to say after what just happened.

And honestly? Neither were you.

So instead, you forced a small, strained smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Jay held your gaze for a beat longer, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, finally, he nodded. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

You turned quickly, stepping out of his apartment before you could second-guess yourself.

The night air was cold against your burning skin.

And as you walked away, heart still racing, one thought repeated in your head over and over again.

What the hell just happened?

The Valentine’s Open Mic Night had arrived.

The auditorium buzzed with energy—students chattering excitedly, couples whispering to each other, friends hyping up performers. The warm glow of stage lights bathed the room in a golden hue, casting long shadows against the red-and-white Valentine’s decorations.

Backstage, you paced.

“Stop doing that,” Jay said from his spot on a folding chair, tuning his guitar for what had to be the hundredth time.

You shot him a look. “Doing what?”

“Walking back and forth like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

“I feel like I’m about to confess to a crime,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Why does this suddenly feel so intense?”

Jay smirked, resting his guitar on his lap. “Maybe because we wrote a song that sounds suspiciously like a love confession?”

Your heart jumped in your chest. “It’s not a love confession,” you shot back, a little too quickly.

Jay arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

You opened your mouth—ready to argue, ready to insist that the song was just a song, nothing more—but the words didn’t come out.

Because the truth was, ever since you’d started rehearsing for this performance, something had felt… off. Not about the music itself—the melody was strong, the lyrics flowed effortlessly—but about the way it made you feel.

Every time you sang it, every time Jay harmonized with you, there was this undeniable weight behind it. Something unspoken, something too close to the surface.

And the more you listened to it, the more familiar it felt.

Like you’d heard it before.

Like you’d felt it before.

You swallowed, voice quieter now. “…Jay.”

His smirk faded slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, but then the realization hit you so hard, you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“This song,” you murmured, gripping the hem of your sleeve. “It sounds like us.”

Jay stilled. His fingers froze on the guitar strings.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then, he let out a slow breath, tilting his head at you. “You just figured that out?”

Your heart stuttered. “You knew?”

Jay’s lips twitched—not in amusement, but in something softer, something almost… shy. “I had a feeling.”

Your pulse roared in your ears. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Jay shrugged, glancing down at his guitar. “I figured you’d realize it eventually.”

Your mind spun. You thought back to every late-night practice session, every lyric you had painstakingly written with him, every melody that had come so naturally between you. You thought about how easily the words had formed, how every note had fit perfectly.

And then it hit you.

This wasn’t just a song.

This was your song. Yours and Jay’s. A reflection of everything between you—the teasing, the late-night conversations, the moments you’d never dared to name.

It wasn’t a forced Valentine’s song. It was real.

And it was about him.

The announcer’s voice crackled through the mic. “Next up, we have a duet from two of our very own music majors. Give it up for—”

You barely heard the introduction. Your heart was hammering too loudly, your thoughts running too fast.

Jay stood, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. But before he could step forward, he turned to you, eyes searching yours.

There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that said, We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.

But the thing was—you were ready.

Because now, standing here on the brink of something terrifying and real, you knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t just about to sing a song.

You were about to tell Jay—in front of an entire audience—exactly how you felt.

Even if you hadn’t meant to.

Even if he already knew.

You took a deep breath, steadied your racing heart, and stepped onto the stage with him.

The last note hung in the air, trembling like a secret waiting to be spoken.

Then, silence.

For a split second, everything stood still—your hands gripping the mic, Jay’s fingers frozen on the last chord, your breaths coming fast and uneven. You could still feel the weight of the song between you, still hear the echoes of every word that had slipped past your lips.

Then the auditorium erupted.

Applause, whistles, cheers—loud and overwhelming. The sound crashed over you, breaking through the haze that had settled during the performance.

Your chest rose and fell, heartbeat still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. Slowly, you turned to Jay.

He was already looking at you.

The stage lights painted him in gold, catching the softness in his gaze, the hint of something unspoken lingering in the way his fingers were still curled around his guitar.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, Jay exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He tilted his head slightly, eyes searching yours.

We did it.

You nodded.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Jay turned back toward the mic, running a hand through his hair before giving the audience a lopsided grin. “Well,” he said, voice slightly breathless. “That was fun.”

A few laughs rippled through the crowd.

You could still feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins, your mind spinning from everything—the song, the way Jay had looked at you, the way the lyrics felt too real.

The host walked back onstage, grinning as he clapped his hands. “Wow. That was… incredible.” He turned to you and Jay, eyes twinkling. “Now, I gotta ask—was that just a performance, or was that something real?”

Laughter and teasing whistles rang through the crowd. Your breath hitched.

Jay glanced at you.

The stage lights made it impossible to see the audience clearly, but you could feel every pair of eyes watching, waiting.

Jay hesitated for only a second. Then, with a smirk, he leaned toward the mic.

“I guess that’s up to interpretation.”

The crowd groaned in playful frustration, but Jay just chuckled, sending you a quick, unreadable glance before standing up and adjusting his guitar strap.

You huffed out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as the host ushered you both toward the wings.

The second you stepped offstage, the noise of the crowd muffled behind the curtain, a strange weight settled in your chest.

Jay stood beside you, shifting his guitar on his back. He didn’t say anything right away, just let out a quiet exhale before turning to you.

For a moment, it was just the two of you again. No audience. No stage. No expectations.

Just you, Jay, and the song that had said everything you hadn’t.

He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something.

But before he could, someone called his name from the other side of the curtain, and the moment slipped away.

Jay hesitated for half a second, gaze lingering on yours—like he was waiting. Like there was something unfinished between you.

Then, with a small, knowing smile, he gave you a nod.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you standing there—heart still pounding, lyrics still echoing in your head, and a quiet, unshakable feeling that whatever this was between you and Jay…

It was just beginning.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It started slow.

Not because either of you were unsure—because, really, after that song, after that performance, there was no denying what had been brewing for a while between you two—.

The playful banter, the late-night coffee runs, the way you always saved him a seat in class, the way he always texted you first whenever he found a song he knew you’d love.

So for a while, nothing changed.

At least, not obviously.

But then there were the small things. The little shifts that made it clear that something was different.

Like the way Jay’s arm would rest along the back of your chair a little longer than necessary. The way his fingers would brush against yours when he handed you a sheet of music, lingering just a second too long. The way his texts became softer—not that they weren’t teasing, because Jay would always be Jay—but now they came with an undertone of something more:

Jay:

Late-night practice? I’ll bring coffee.

Song idea. I need your genius input. Also, your voice.

Are we calling this “studying” even if we just end up talking the whole time?

(Not that I’m complaining.)

And then there were the moments between the music.

Like the first time he reached for your hand without a joke to hide behind. You had been sitting in the empty auditorium after a long practice session, your head leaning against the back of your chair, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs.

Jay had stretched, rolling out his shoulders, and then—without looking at you—he just took your hand.

No teasing smirk. No offhand comment. Just his fingers curling around yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was.

Or the time he had walked you home after another late-night coffee run, and instead of his usual casual “See you tomorrow”, he had hesitated at your doorstep, looking at you like he was thinking about something.

You had raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Jay had tilted his head, lips twitching in amusement. “Nothing,” he had murmured. “Just… realizing I might be in trouble.”

Your heart had flipped. “Trouble?”

“For liking you too much,” he had said easily. “Feels dangerous.”

And you had laughed—because of course Jay would confess something like that with a smirk and a joke—but you had still felt your face heat up.

(And okay, maybe you had reached for his hoodie, tugging him forward just enough to kiss him on the cheek before quickly ducking inside and shutting the door behind you.)

And then there was now.

Sitting in the music room, your back against the grand piano, Jay’s guitar resting across his lap as he absently strummed through a melody you hadn’t heard before.

You tilted your head. “New song?”

Jay hummed. “Maybe.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Another love song?”

He smirked but didn’t deny it. “What can I say? Got a lot of inspiration lately.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered anyway.

Jay’s fingers slowed over the strings as he glanced at you, expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said, “I don’t think I ever actually asked you.”

You frowned slightly. “Asked me what?”

Jay set his guitar aside, turning to face you fully. “If I can be your boyfriend.”

Your stomach flipped. “Jay—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted with a grin. “It’s kinda obvious at this point. But still.” His voice softened, eyes meeting yours. “I wanna hear you say it.”

You exhaled, shaking your head at him. Hopeless.

But still, you smiled, nudging his foot with yours. “Jay, you’ve been my boyfriend since the moment we wrote that song.”

His expression shifted—just slightly. Just enough for you to catch the flicker of something real in his eyes.

Then, in typical Jay fashion, he smirked. “Oh, so you’re admitting it was a love song?”

You groaned, laughing as you reached over to shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Jay caught your wrist before you could pull away, tugging you toward him. And before you could react, before you could even tease him for it—

He kissed you.

Soft. Unhurried. Just enough pressure to steal your breath, just enough warmth to send a slow, steady hum through your veins.

When he pulled back, he grinned, voice barely above a whisper.

“So, you wanna write another one?”

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loneworldgazer · 2 days ago

Text

"his mutt."

pairing: Harley Sawyer X toy!reader

cont: You, his assistant gave up your parts oh so willingly to him. Why are you surprised that you've been turned into a toy, did you think you were special?

a/n: this was crazy, I'll dissappear again for a year trust!!! Seriously tho, writing is fun but my lifestyle is so busy now brahhhh. Edit: closing my eyes as I post this cause I'm not sure if I went on a tangent writing all of this or it's actually good AHHHHH

tags: reader IS AN ADULT, nsfw, groping, degradation, sadism, delusion, fingering, no sex (unfortunately), no specific gentilia mentioned guys, first time writing slight smut??? Idk man Harley is not a good man obviiii, I also want to make it clear that THIS IS NOT BEASTILITY

๑ ~⁠♪

"L/N, would you give yourself up in the name of science?"

That snapped you out your daze from the whirring of the water faucet sanitizing the bloody scalpels. The blood turn to clouds and made your eye twitch back to Harley who had his hand on a VHS tape ready to record another log. That prompted you to reply quickly.

You straightened up, wanting to give a lengthy answer that would somehow impress the Doctor or at best, make him bat an eyelash at you. Experimenting was the reason why you decided to be a scientist, Playtime Co. was where it was home for a job like yours. Going into the unknown required some unethicality and pushing past morals, too much of it is too far that you don't even notice. In the long run, you had smeared blood that wasn't yours all over yourself without realising. Research was the hook, the line were your meticulous gloved hands on a body and the sinker was the Doctor acknowledging the labour that you do.

This place was a house that echoes off with tormented residents and you're simply one of the owners that bang at the walls so they can keep quiet, the smudged handprints had been painted over with a new coat. In this place where you sit at your appointed seat in the family couch, your eyes look around for him.

Would it be plain dreadful to admit that the praise one man could give had you licking and cleaning up the dirt of his sins until he told you it was enough? It was not said but his precense was a mantra that you obedientally chant.

He was a needy man, quite funny to describe someone assertive as him but he depended on you. Or should you be careful with a mind as dangerous as his; an intelligence that leaves you choked up for air. It's bad to dream that he treats you differently but his eyes would linger more on you before he tells you to pass the data.

The voices of everybody you talked to had been a blurry memory ever since you were holed up in this cold, pristine hell of machines and sanitizers. The exhaustion of pushing out the next new toy was the thrill you enjoyed from work, pain and anguish from failure that was simply a query to overtake. It was exhilaration to you. But that wasn't it either.

In conclusion, you had no answer. You couldn't outwit a man who shifted the system of a factory that was close to beggary not because this joyous, welcoming environment of a toy company kept people away but because of the risks that he so challenged. This sole place was pitiful, money was a topic that never left anybody's tongue; the people were reflected like the experiments, scurrying around like rats before the only light that reaches them is the glow of a scalpel.

Perking up, you blinked back the sleep that threatened to overcome you; fingers automatically popping open a bottle of melatonin.

"Yes, Dr. Sawyer. I'd do it in a heartbeat if you were to ask of me."

You didn't notice such a desperate, deprived answer came out of you before the pill dropped from your fingers. The clatter made you drop your head sharply at the ground before shakily putting down the bottle. You swallowed the bile in your throat, wanting to correct yourself, extinguish a bit of that idiocy that you just spouted but what comes next make you gingerly look at him.

It was a short chuckle at your statement, he never did turn his head while talking to you. It was unclear if it was a humourless chuckle or he found you amusing or slow-witted. From many words you could've picked out, why did it have to be those words? Your heart rate starts picking up that you gripped your chest. Maybe, there was an implication to what was uttered, a deeper meaning on how you truly felt for the Doctor.

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

Harley Sawyer removed his gloves before he inspected what he had worked on alone. No scientist remained in the room with him, only you. He takes out a tape before he sits down next to the motionless experiment. He starts, his fingers tapping against the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. Responds to sound and light at best. Standard for experiments who are freshly experimented on"

He continues, his eyes flicking at the experiment.

"This experiment will be different, the style choice separate from actual toys in production. This one, will have a humanoid body. Though, it is far different from Miss Delight."

His fingers brush against the experiment's arm. He articulates his next words slowly.

"The idea is nothing short of obscene, a human with dog features. One that will sweep up this company's mess as it intends to do, it's a form of hybrid."

He nearly loses himself, this company was a pain in the ass; his humourless laugh turning almost insane. He could order the scared scientists under him to bow wow for him with a flick of his wrist since he had the ability to but he holds back, remembering what he planned to say. The bark of laughter he let out made the toy squirm, squirming to breathe, to move or even live. Its chest heaves so heavily and Harley stares down at it.

This log was becoming more and more unprofessional, it tickles him. This is why science was more suited for him since creative thinking led him to dig deep into his desires instead.

"It'll be a part of security alongside the other toys. If other results please me then I may move 1352 up a rank."

He writes on the report, his hand writing faster than the pen as this adrenaline he had in him, it was anticipation for this experiment to succeed. You haven't uttered a word ever since the start of the experiment but it was quite alright, he'll wait. Oh, he will definitely wait.

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

He heard the certain germ quietly pattering to and fro in this sanctuary he deems his, his vessels moving in place for the finale.

Guess Yarnaby couldn't keep them away for that long, it was quite predictable. He must've met his end already, considering the fact that this employee was anything but normal. He almost run out of toys to set upon the intruder, letting his vessel rest beside the machinery where his brain was.

But there was one, one he kept away from the company for so long, clenched hands to let this keepsake stay hidden.

This toy, the one kneeling on the ground where wires were sprawled all over the floor. It kept their head down resting against the knee of his vessel. Their fluffy tail thumping against the ground, still with energy even if there wasn't much meat to chew on anymore. His eye creased in satisfaction at how this one was still alive only because they were under his rule.

His call on making a hybrid sated his hunger but only by the tip of the iceberg. They were hopelessly mopey at times, it was delightfully pathetic. He traced the tape, the final log he managed to do before he was made into this lamentable piece of metal and sparks. He puts it into a nearby television, watching the pup's ear perk up to his voice and crawl towards the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. In relation, this one's cognitive function had worked terrifically but it can't speak. It's quite ironic, seeing that it reflects the person whom I experimented on."

The clinking of the surgical instruments could be heard with the scribbling of paper. He rasps on lightly, he should call this mutt by a name; a special one. One he never said before followed by a dark chuckle.

"Isn't that right, Y/N? Best get farmiliar with that name, I've made an effort to remember your name and it'd be a shame if you forgot."

You yipped, scratching against the table with your ears flattened against your head as he scoffs. You were moved to Playcare like he intended to. He only thought of moving you to work alongside before he got turned into organs, it was a terrible fate considering he was close to the fun part.

He wasn't surprised when you survived the Hour of Joy, you were supposed to. Being his assistant and working aside such dilligence steered you to the right path, that big brain of yours still working in this different body. Even if you looked human, the plastic on your limbs didn't make you struggle; you scoped out this graveyard like a trained dog. It was surely a struggle to make you a human who just had dog features or one who had actual hind legs because either way,

You just look much better kneeling before him.

The other scientists would always be talking behind his back or give him weary looks to what he wanted next, not that he cared much. It was an observation that became a repetitive cycle that it bored him more than experiments that turn out to be failures but you, you stoked a dangerous flame of interest in his soul.

You come close, passing notes and scalpels and touching skin to skin. It was delectable having an assistant that was so predictable and an oddball that only stuck close to him like a pet.

When Yarnaby had found you, hiding up high in the vents; you accidentally peeked out at the wrong time. This mass of yarn was dragging you by the nape kicking and screaming. The lion growls, knowing it shouldn't harm you but your kicks were deathly. He throws you down infront of the Doctor's feet and you growled, ears flattened from aggression.

He kneels, extending a hand and your demeanour changes so quickly.

"Here, pup. Remember me? I'm sure you'd recognise me even if it's just my voice?"

You struggled up to your knees, your chest heaves like crazy to the realisation then bowed completely on the ground.

Incredible, such quick response like you've realised who you were supposed to worship. He stepped close before he pulls you up by the hair and you whined so prettily.

"You do remember what to do, respect me and I'll reward you. Isn't that exciting?"

Utterly demeaning were the words spoken to this pup who stared up at him like he hung the stars, it was like there was only one thing on its mind. That word, reward. Harley never gave away any strong praise or anything, it could be anything and you were bursting at the seams. It was like you never changed.

The vessel's head snapped at the television as the tape ends and the dog bow wowed for more. He was aware that his form now was nothing compared to when he was a human. He thought of something that made him come close to you. Did you ever fantasies about him?

He hardly thinks about these type of things but everything that comes to unnervingly stroke at somebody's weak spots were accounted for and he was quite intrigued at the thought that you were a little perv if you ever were.

Those quick glances, soft sighs to continue focusing on the projects and the furrow at your brows when you think about how you've started at him so much were all noticed by him. Do they go more than that? He didn't go beyond experiments so he doesn't know if somebody like you were to imagine him in such a scandalous manners.

He touches your thigh, rubbing it and you nearly short circuited. He ran his hand up and down teasingly, nearing your private regions that you flinch away from.

"Come now, mutt. Don't you want to feel me?"

He does it again but now holding you close to him. Metal was what you felt but that heartbeat of yours was audible against him. Harley didn't know that you were disappointed. You wanted to feel the real deal, the intimacy you both would have if you two were still... Human.

His hot breath would be aimed down your neck while his warm hands would make you grip the bedsheets, the eye contact with this man would leave you breathless. But you weren't opposed to the pleasure because he was still him, the Doctor you'll follow till the end of the road; till the ends of hell.

He rubs his palm down your chest then his thumbs press against your stomach down to your hips. You salivated, it was detestable and flattering. These desire of yours should've been a reward from the very start but he only thought to commend your actions, wrapping your head around his words. Nevertheless, this was rewarding for him anyways since this was a discovery he will enjoy from his sweet assistant that was so on edge.

His cold steel hands was felt, proding at the inner most deeper parts of you. His hands go even lower which makes you slightly jump but he tutted, smacking at your thigh though he wasn't completely turnt off by it. He let your sensations go haywire as his hand rubbed between your legs, cupping your nether regions and making you yip pathetically.

Harley held you in his lap, holding both your thighs apart while he stroked at his creation. Those late nights which he remembered where he drawn out the details of your genitals, envisioning how it look when he creates every bit of your new form. Those pencil strokes of pure perversion lingers in him when you drip on his hands, it was wonderful of how he planned out everything even the synthetic juices you'll spurt when you feel ecstacy.

He wished he could taste it, his vessel tapping at the glass where his mouth would be; it would fill him with such bliss to lick it all up. Just seeing you tremble from his fingers make him feel powerful, you were just so easy. He had you from the start.

He touched the juices, slipping it in your hole and feeling you react to his fingers and clench tightly. He tried fixing your vocal cords when your body was still in testing. Moments where he dared to cut open your throat and inspect again and again but to no avail. He marvels at the thought of you actually speaking in this form, pleading and calling out his name but he settled with putting his hand around your neck and feeding off the vibrations your throat does.

He hits deep, his fingers thrusting against your inner walls that he watched in awe and how you squirted all over his fingers, he chuckled and turned his head before you clumsily get it all over his TV face. He didn't stop there, caressing the tip of your senses and making you scuffle your feet at the floor like you're asking him to stop.

Overstimulation was a part of every experiment to push past boundaries, it was his way of knowing whether the experiment was made for pain and ready to handle forces against it and you did so well not to fall apart.

"Doctor!"

He nearly falls onto you in exhilaration, your voice so garbled and loud with pleasure and pumped deep into your G-spot. That's it, come again for him and he'll feel something else other than joy. All you needed was a push before these expectations of his were met. He felt you grab at his robe, clenching it in your hand. You swore you saw stars other than the headiness of the Doctor being so intimate with you, this body of yours might shatter at the all consuming ache if being bent to his will.

"Come for me once again, mutt."

A scream ripped apart from you that you do what he says, exhaling every bit of your desperation before falling faint. Limp body lay against his lap, head lolling out for air and consciousness as he steadies you and moved you to the floor. Your fluffy tail thumped tirelessly against the ground. With an inhale, the Nightmare Critters pop up to his whistle and they moved you to a more comfortable position and he moves for the final showdown.

He can't help but scoff, even if it came out empty. There was a dark smirk on his face and he smoothed down his robes, he mayhaps pushed your reward for too long.

He walks away from you and didn't look back, now he continues his long term mission. He'll be expecting bigger things from you now, much more.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime scenario #poppy playtime x reader #harley sawyer headcanons #harley sawyer hcs #harley sawyer x player #harley sawyer x reader #harley sawyer #the doctor x reader #the doctor scenario

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