#cw: rpf talk

[junecast-moonfast]

"RPF dni"

[kiwisandpearls]

I will say one major criticism I have about proshippers is when they say stuff like “if you do this your not proship.”

like idk how to explain it in a way that won’t get people mad at me but idk, it just feels like such black and white thinking and kind of polarizing, with the fact that like…you don’t get to decide whether someone is proship or not.

like idk, if a proshipper were to harass someone I’d still call them a proshipper, a hypocritical one but still.

[mostly-mcr]

help me find this fic??

all the keywords I can remember aren't helping, I don't think it was a particularly famous one. it had something to do with the theme of "I cast a spell over the west"??

all I remember is (may not be fully accurate) Pete and Mikey were togetherish during warped then split up after making a pact that if the tshirt they'd both signed made its way back to one of them they would get back in touch or something??

[xeeljii]

SHE'S MY COLLAR

I clear my system, I don't need no other  This is my persona, secret lover, she’s my collar 

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

EDIT! Prequel available, you can read that first if you want.

Summary: You don’t want a relationship and he does, he should know better to keep falling in your trap but the feel of your soft legs wrapping around his hips is too tempting to quit so like a fool he keeps coming back to you.

Word count:  5.4k

CW: 18+, f! reader, friends with benefits, mentions of past sex, mutual pining, set in Berlin but reader is not specified to be German or anything, no specific body descriptions. 

You had met Joost some months ago, before the incident and before he blew up too. There was an instant connection. Not just psychical but he was easy to talk to, so funny and kind, really unlike anyone you had ever met. He was incredibly charismatic and the people around him seemed to adore him, you honestly had a crush as soon as you started talking but you had an amazing poker face too so you did well to hide it. The night you first had run into each other you were at a private event at some club in Berlin that a well connected friend had invited you to. He caught your eye and apparently so did you. The rest of the night was a whirlwind, you drank heavily, danced wildly and laughed together until your jaw started hurting, all to end up back at the place where he was staying.

You hadn’t even slept together that first time, well you had in the sense that he had let you sleep on his bed, wearing his clothes. However, in the morning when you woke up  he had fucked you within an inch of your life, still heavy with sleep but so deliciously slow savoring every thrust. He was a generous lover, always preoccupied with your pleasure first and he was a fast learner, sweet and eager to please. You liked fixating on the many beauty marks and tattoos that littered his body, enjoyed sharing a shower together and falling asleep on the couch after a make out session. It was never awkward, it just felt so good from the get go. The lines were not entirely clear, you would have casual sex together but also go out for lunch, and hang out like normal friends. You had bought him his own toothbrush for your place at some point, he didn’t say anything as not to fluster you but he appreciated it. He didn’t leave right after he finished, always made sure you came first too, he liked cuddling and he would help you clean up softly between your legs when your limbs were still too heavy for a bath. He was usually in town only for a day or the weekend at most but he made an effort to see you every time. He would bring food to have dinner before trying to get you in bed, he also brought you other trinkets form his travels and always texted and called you when he was away so you wouldn’t forget him in the meantime, as if that was even possible. It was nice but it made your heart hurt a bit, scared and expectant for when the fantasy would stop and your idilic “friendship” would end.  

You felt a little out of place in his life, he would always invite you to his shows and there you would see how you were not the only one enamored by him. It was fine really, you weren’t together, there was no expectations and furthermore you had no right to even feel jealous when it was you who coyly stopped his advances every time he tried moving the goalpost from casual to serious. He couldn’t complain, he felt so at ease when he was with you, you were smart, funny and beautiful, he really felt you came straight out of one of his dreams. But you seemed so far away at the same time, perhaps exactly like an illusion you wouldn’t let him get any closer. He knew you had a life of your own, friends and a job you loved but he also wished you would actually take him up on the multiple offers to fly you out with him, yet you never did.  Through the months you had known each other he had found himself in your bed countless times, he liked it more than taking you back to whatever place he was staying at. It felt like home in a way that made him greedy. Your place was nice and tidy, a little on the old side but it just made it more charming in his eyes. He wanted to bring you back to his home, to show you around the places he liked and where he grew up, to have you on his bed waking up every morning, yet for whatever reason you wouldn’t let him. Still, like an idiot knowing he was playing for the losing team he kept coming back to you every time.

One of the many nights you had gone out drinking together you ended up, as usual, getting separated from the group and wandering the streets alone, just the two of you, hand in hand. There was never an uncomfortable silence with you, his thumbs traced shapes on the side of your hand while you pulled him seemingly aimlessly under the street lamps. “Look!” You said happily pulling at his hand to follow, there was what seemed like a little run down playground and some old looking photo booths, you pulled him inside one. You both squeezed into the small bench, you were almost sitting on his lap. “You have to put the bill here” You pointed at a metallic slip. “I don’t have cash on me” He replied. “Oh! you owe me big time then” You said smiling poking out your tongue at him, you pulled some bills from your pockets and the machine started making strange noises before a bright light blinded both of you. You immediately erupted into shared laughter “Okay, quick pose!” The machine kept snatching pictures one after the other and you kept feeding it money amused. At some point he became too distracted by the faces you were making and didn’t even bother looking towards the camera, he thinks that is probably when he truly fell for you. You had noticed his stare and looked down at him. “You are wasting my photo money if you don’t pose!” You whined, he couldn’t bring himself to speak a single syllable, he just pulled you further into his lap and kissed you deeply. It felt like the world had started and stopped right there inside that photo booth. After an eternity in your lips he softly spoke up again.

“Can I walk you home?” He said a breath away from your lips.

You nodded, face red and pupils dilated “Yeah” Your voice was so pretty when you were breathless, he couldn’t wait to have you moaning under him or over him, however you wanted, he was just a fool at your mercy.

Before you left he had picked up the photos you almost forgot and shoved them in his back pocket, back home in the Netherlands he had carefully placed them on the drawer of his nightstand and kept coming back to them on days when he was feeling particularly homesick for your arms. 

Now he was in Berlin again, for a show, you knew because he had texted you days before asking you to come. You had told him you couldn’t, that there was some important work meeting you had to prepare for. Truth was, it wasn’t that important, but you were trying to put some distance between the two of you. Every time you had sex it became more tender more gentle, addicting in a way you knew you couldn’t allow yourself, it felt like making love. You felt bad about not getting to see him, guilty about the disappointed little face he made in a selfie he sent you as a reply, but you felt it was for the better. Like this, soon he would get tired and move on so he could become a fun memory that hopefully wouldn’t hurt you too much when you thought about him years down the line.

But you weigh heavy on his mind and on his heart and when the show is over and the alcohol is all gone he feels an impulse that gets him to his feet. He wants to see you. He knows you are busy but also distantly feels like you are avoiding him, like you caught on the fact that he is falling, or more like already fell, for you. But so what if he likes you? What if he is in love for real? What you don’t know cant hurt you and if he gets hurt in the process then that is fine, it doesn’t bother him, maybe only bothers a little bit. He knows the way to your apartment by heart, could probably get there blindfolded, has been there so many times he feels it is a second home, wants it to be a second home. He is drunk and deeply melancholic, he is feeling down on his luck but maybe a beautiful woman can save him, but only if it is you. The venue he is at is luckily close enough to your pace, he makes his way on foot, somewhere along the night it had started raining, fitting for his mood. He is only wearing a light hoodie, that quickly gets soaked, he honestly can’t even feel cold he is just moving on instinct trying to reach you. Soon enough he gets to the entrance of your building and pulls his phone out, texts you before his brain can stop him. 

You are rolling around in bed not able to fall asleep at all, not worried about the stupid meeting but knowing that Joost is in town and your idiot past self denied him makes you feel terrible. You should just enjoy the moment as much you can, take everything he is willing to give you and when you get thrown away there will be more fun memories. You don’t really know why you are tying to be the responsible one in this situation, you should just bet everything on your losing horse and let future you worry about how to deal with the unpleasant consequences. Right as you unsuccessfully try to close your eyes again and let the soft rain outside lull you to sleep, you hear the little ping of your phone on the nightstand. You already know who it is without having to check in the way your stomach does a summersault. But still, you pick up the phone and read “I’m outside, can I come in?”. Idiot, it is raining, he probably doesn’t even have an umbrella. You have to let him in or he will catch a cold, it is a kindness really, you have no hidden motives, you are just being nice, your hands are tied. You try to convince yourself as you immediately stand from the bed and walk quickly towards the door. 

You ring him in and wait right by the door with your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. He all but races pathetically upstairs, two steps at the time, like he can’t be fast enough to reach you. You wait on held breath and you hear his heavy footsteps right outside but wait until he knocks, then you make a show of waiting a few seconds, pretending like you are just getting up and open the door slowly rubbing your eyes as if you had really been asleep.  You move aside to make way for him.

“Come in” you mumble after a small yawn leaves your mouth, he walks in and takes his shoes off, then you notice that he is dripping wet. “Joost did you walk here?” You drop the sleepy act immediately.

“It wasn’t that far” he mumbles looking away, there is a small blush blooming on the high of his cheeks.

You stand in front of him taking his hoodie off “Go get in the shower, you are gonna catch a cold”.

He does as he is told there is a strange cozy feeling in this interaction that goes straight to his heart.

In the shower he keeps trying to come up with what to say to convince you to date him seriously. For a songwriter he feels he is not very good at this words things right now or maybe he is too drunk or maybe he cares too much about what you will think of him. He gets under the warm water, reaches for your soap, not the expensive one because you will get mad that he used it, but the one you use for everyday, his favorite one. He likes this, smelling like you, it makes him feel like he is a little bit a part of you, makes him wish you would become a little bit a part of him too. After a few minutes you open the door of the bathroom to drop a warm towel for him and take his clothes to dry. You say nothing, it feels too domestic, like it is a built up habit the two of you have. He wants to keep you all to himself. He never asks if you are seeing someone else and you do the same, it is common curtesy but he feels the question itching at the back of his throat every time he sees you start dressing right after you are done. He could take care of you, he makes good money, make it so you could be at every one of his shows. The rational part of his brain thinks he is being cruel. You love your job and your career, it would be like keeping a bird on a cage he can’t bear the though while at the same time he just keeps having this vivid fantasy of coming home to you every day, of waking up by your side, seeing your tooth brush next to his, have your hair clog the drain of his shower, actually buy groceries to have at home and not just the pre-made meals and beer he is used to. He wants to treat you right and be good for you and yet you are standing firmly on your side denying him even the chance. It hurts him, he feels a little inadequate for as much as he is sure of himself he still wants to ask what is stopping you from taking a chance on him. 

Outside you try to fix the bed a little bit after putting his clothes on the dryer. You feel electricity right under your skin, to have him naked in your bathroom, the man that just few hours ago had so many people screaming his name. It feels like a beautiful secret in your tongue, only for you. The reality is you like him as much as he does you, you really do, you are eager to see him every chance you can and your chest start beating so hard when you get a text from him. Since you met there has been rarely a week you go without talking and it feels nice, you want to keep it going. But he is a budding star, when you met him you could see it, that he was made of something otherworldly it was just waiting below the surface for the whole world to see and now they finally did. You are so incredibly proud of him, but it is exactly because of it that you can’t have him. He is young, can have so much fun with as many people as he wants, you don’t understand why he would want to tie himself down to you, knowing you can’t even follow him around like he wishes. He should be free, you would feel like you are cutting his wings too early and you can’t bear the thought of him deciding half way through that you are boring, that having a girlfriend is boring and the world is his oyster and he should just enjoy himself as much as he wants without you stopping him. He is not that type, not at all and you know it, but it still won’t let you take the step even when he has his hand out expectantly waiting on you. 

You hear the water from the shower stop, you are probably not getting lucky tonight and that is okay, you just like having him near you, with the weather now he works as a personal heather. You haven’t really just slept together without sex as an excuse, not since the first time at least, and it makes you a little nervous. You think briefly about changing into nicer pajamas but he already saw the ones you are wearing so no point, you feel a rush of nervousness raise on your body. Before you get more anxious, he comes out of the bathroom, hair leaving little droplets of water on your floor as he walks. White towel hanging low from his hips, you appreciate the softness of his belly, the happy trail that disappears under the towel, the way the hair there is darker than anywhere else in his body and even more noticeable when wet. You can’t help but scan all over his body, ogle at his chest, his soft pecs and the thin hair on them that looks white usually and now a dark golden yellow, his wide shoulders littered with freckles because he can’t be bothered to ever use sunscreen, he is so beautiful it hurts. Without the excuse of sex you feel shy looking and maybe like a little bit of a creep, you try to avert your gaze. If he notices the staring he says nothing about it and slowly walks towards you. You are holding a towel in your hands “Let me help you” You say raising your hands above his head, he stands right in front of you making you look up, you start gently moving your hands to dry his hair a little, he places his big hands on your hips and pulls you closer, wants to kiss you so bad but stops himself, he doesn’t want to get kicked out in the middle of the night when your unmade bed looks so delicious and inviting. You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze, his thumbs drawing circles in the exposed skin under your sleeping camisole, you want to make this last forever. “Done” You say almost in a whisper, you throw the towel on chair nearby. Almost on instinct you raise to your tip toes and kiss softly at his cheek, too late you realize what you just did, infinitely more intimate than what you should, you just look away quickly and clear your throat.

“Lets get some sleep yeah?” You say turning around to hide your blushing face, you climb on the bed and raise the comforter, patting at the empty space beside you motioning for him to move.

You make it so incredibly hard not to like you and he is such a weak man. He takes a few steps before reaching the edge of the bed, takes the towel off and throws it to the chair before climbing up behind you. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat, of course he would sleep naked he has no other clothes here but it also makes you fight a great urge to stare at his pretty dick hanging heavy between his legs. You turn over on bed and have your back face him, you cannot deal with any more of this tonight so you will just have to avoid it and try to figure out the best diplomatic solution on the morning. As you start to settle down you feel him move behind you, for a moment he stops and then you feel his strong arms wrap around your torso and pull you to his chest. Your heart is beating wildly, he has to be able to feel it trough the thin fabric of your pajamas that is doing very little to separate you from the heat of his body, you can’t be expected to sleep like this. He thinks even if you were surgically sewn together it would not be close enough, you feel so soft under his touch so tender he wants to, no, needs to fall asleep just like this for the rest of his life. 

You close your eyes really hard trying to ignore everything around, you still actually need to sleep. There is a long moment of silence that feels like an eternity, then you feel him take a deep breath. You fear you know what is coming and you fear you are not strong enough right now to stop it.

“Why don’t you wanna date me?” He asks, the words come down on you heavy like rocks, you can feel a strain in his voice, you hate to be the reason why his usual cheerful tone is fully gone.

“Do we really have to have this conversation again?” You say your eyebrows knitting in worry.

“Yeah actually I want an answer.” He swiftly turns you around like you are weightless, he looks directly at you, deep blue eyes expectantly, you feel yourself shiver under his gaze, the tension is rapidly building up, you want to put distance between you but he has your legs trapped, tangled between his.

“Joost you know-” He cuts you off before you can give him the usual excuses.

“I’m serious about you, about us, would it be so terrible to date me?” He has a kicked puppy kind of face, you accidentally laugh at his dramatics, he adores that sound so much never tires of it. You snake your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer into a short kiss trying to distract him, he deepens the kiss eager explore you mouth, all but melts under your touch and you far too soon pull away before he can do more.

“You are hard” You mumble against his lips in between giggles.

He rolls his eyes at you, he is trying to be serious here “Ignore it, I am in the room of the woman I like where everything smells like her, give me a break.”

If there was any light in the room you would be able to see how deeply red his face is now.

“What are you a dog?” You say shaking your head entertained by his reactions.

You try to pull away but he grabs your hand again and rests it square against his heart like this way he will make you understand. “I really like you” He is not letting it go this time, you shake your head lightly again and pull your hand away, you cannot face this proximity, you untangle yourself from his embrace and raise into a sitting position, he does the same. 

“Joost you are great, really I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you and I don’t think I ever will again.” There is a horrible pause, he knows what is coming next, the awful fear of rejection becoming reality far too quick. You continue “But you are traveling all over the world and that is so cool, I just can't be part of that.” He doesn’t understand why you look so sad when he is the one being let down here.

“We could make it work you know, phones exists and I come here all the time, it is only like an hour by plane” He is pleading at this point, feels so pathetic doing so but can’t stop himself. You make an effort to meet his gaze, he is being so sincere it feels bad not to.

“You could have someone new every night, at every city. You are young, you can enjoy yourself, you don’t have to tie yourself down to me, it would be such a waste-”

“Not to me, not when it is you” He is indignant at your proposal, he hates the idea that you could be so easily replaced, he feels like an idiot, like none of his efforts to make you understand how precious you are to him have reached you.

“I don’t want that” He is so exasperated now, it is like you are not listening to any of the words he is saying or not believing them which is even worse. “I don’t want any of that I don’t like it, I know I could but I don’t want it. I like you, I want you”. He pauses for a second to give himself strength to get it all out "It is my business and you can reject me if you want but you don’t get to tell me what I should do” He feels offended that you seem to not understand at all.

You had never seen him this angry. He goes speechless wracking his brain trying to come up with something else to say to convince you, maybe drinking before coming here was bad, he should do this sober, maybe bring some flowers and wear the blazer you like, maybe then you would not throw him out like an old toy. He is looking at you waiting for anything, his eyes are glossy, his lips almost tremble into a pout, his hands are clenched into nervous fists at his sides, he is pleading and you can’t help but reach out for him too. Fuck it, if you are gonna ever get hurt you want it to be him, if you get heart broken you want it to be him, whatever happens good or bad, you want it to be him, he is worth everything.

You close the distance between the two of you again, move to sit on his lap just to have him as close as possible, he has become a rock in your bed, feels like if he breathes he will break the spell and you will disappear right in front of his eyes. You grab at his hand, unclenching his fist with you fringes, softly stretching his palm and placing it right above your fast beating heart before speaking again.

“I really like you too Joost” His eyes shine impossibly bright, he looks at you stupefied, he can’t quiet belive what he is finally hearing, he feels your heart beating fast right under his palm, hard proof that you are just as gone for him as he is for you, his brain is trying to catch up to what is happening, but you help him.

You caress his cheek with your other hand and bring him into a sweet kiss. Your lips move together slowly like you are kissing again for the first time, his tongue pushes softly into your mouth, he wants to taste you, he traces the back of your teeth, you suck softly on his plump bottom lip, you smile into the kiss and pull away gently but continue to pepper soft kisses on his lips, on his  jaw, on his cheeks. You wonder if he was always this handsome or has your love made him even more beautiful now. He pulls you closer hugs you thigh, happy just to be in your embrace again and feel like he truly belongs there. He chases after your lips kisses you like he is drowning and you are the only source of air, he feels the softness of your mouth it takes him back to the first night he met you, he wants to stay here forever, live on this moment until the end of time, only you and him in a soft unmade bed kissing for eternity. 

Finally with lips kissed raw you pull away leaving one last small peck on the little beauty mark underneath his bottom lip. He holds you close, traces soft circles with his palms on your back under the camisole savoring every inch of exposed skin he can touch. You let him relax under you for a bit before you speak again, with a new world of prospects opening in front of you you want to share some more ideas with him now that all the cards are on the table.

“You know…my company is thinking of opening a new branch in Nethera-”

“Yes” he cuts you off immediately, you laugh at his eagerness.

“I didn’t finish talking” You push the hair away from his pretty face so you can see him better.

“You can stay with me yeah? I have a guest room you can stay there if you feel more comfortable, I am not trying to imply we have to sleep together but I mean we could if you wanted to” He is running his mouth all nervous and impatient like he is just a few steps away from winning the race of his life, you don’t reply, all too amused at his monologue, but it makes him fear he might have overstepped and scared you too fast with commitments. “I mean, until you get settled and you find an apartment, I could help you with that…” He trails off and looks away shyly, then looks up again holding your gaze. “But you could stay there too if you wanted, it could be your home too.”

He looks up at you from under white eyelashes, eyes full of hope. The possibilities seem endless, at this moment you feel like you can touch the sky with your hands and that if you couldn’t reach he would pull it down for you. You nod speechless, bite your lip and kiss him again, because you can, because he is yours. 

You keep playing with his hair as rest his head on your chest, feels your heart beat under his ear, he wants to memorize it, now knows he has all the time in the world to do so. You move slightly on his lap.

“But we really do have to sleep now” You say, your voice sounds suddenly so groggy, every worry you have had the past months, that would keep you up at night, seems to have melted away in an instant and your body is feeling so tired and heavy.

He nods against you and moves you softly into laying down position again. He wants to start getting used to taking care of you, he thinks it will come easy, already feels so satisfied with so little, he lets you settle on the bed then moves behind you again snaking his arms around your torso pushing his palms under your shirt to feel the soft expanses of your belly as you breath in and out, you let him, between his strong arms it feels like home. 

You feel your eyes close heavy, the sound of his calm breathing behind you lulling you to sleep, the steady beat of his heart perfectly in synch with yours, but you can’t fully let slumber take you since somewhere in the kissing his dick woke up again and is now pressing against your back.

You laugh to yourself before speaking. “Joost you know I can feel your dick, right?”.

He hums in acknowledgment but makes no further move, he just keeps holding you on his embrace, his chest against your back soft and deliciously warm. “Ignore it” He says in a sleepy mumble that transforms into a yawn right above your head. “My girlfriend has work in the morning, you have to let her sleep.” He loves how that sounds coming from his mouth, gets excited thinking about using that word again.

If you turned around at that moment you would see the beautiful smile that paints his features, he looks like he just won the lottery. He can’t wait for tomorrow, to wake up and have breakfast in your table, gets excited over the prospect of all the mundane with you. He falls asleep quickly with the warmth of your body nestled between his arms, in his  dreams he sees even further ahead, dreams of taking you with him everywhere you will let, of changing your contact name to “Liefde” and of continuing to call you his girlfriend forever and ever until one day if he is lucky, he can upgrade it to wife. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

PREQUEL: STEP ON ME ₊˚⊹♡ MASTERLIST *ੈ���‧₊˚

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

@demonsanddemogorgons, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson

@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns

@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munsonssweets, @nadixq

@niallersfreckles, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid

@readergf, @royale1803, @skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac

@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

add yourself

[her0ine1983]

Under his command

explicit rpf below, please don't interact if you are not comfortable with this

description: Joost showed up at the award gala, didn't win a thing, but he couldn't care less, not even when rude reporters tried to tear him down. Because he already knew the real award was waiting for him at home. And he was ready to claim it. time setting: October 2024 cw: dom Joost (but still sweet and caring), smoking, spitting, dirty talking, praise and degradation, bondage, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, dildo playing, orgasm denial, rough fingering, light choking, cum swallowing, unprotected piv word count: 3957

"Bye, schatje! Ik mis je nu al", Joost said, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he disappeared behind the front door. You missed him already too.

You knew he'd rather stay home with you tonight. Events like this were never really his thing – too posh, too draining. He usually got overwhelmed so easily and he'd promised to come back home as soon as it was over.

Joost was his usual sweet, loving self when he left, but there was something different about the way he looked this evening that had your mind spiraling. Was it because the outfit? Or the way his blond mullet was styled so damn perfectly? The white button-up shirt with the matching fingerless gloves was already enough to undo you, but that long black leather coat was the final straw. He looked majestic. Mysterious. Almost ethereal. And way too hot for your sanity.

Suddenly, you felt it was the perfect moment to try on that short black dress you bought about a week ago, the one Joost hadn't seen yet. Standing in front of the wall mirror, you slipped it on slowly. It hugged your every curve, barely covered your ass and exposed your boobs just right. You paired it with black nylon stockings and high heels to match… and skipped the underwear, just to see his reaction.

"You better fucking love it", you muttered to yourself with a smirk.

Your mind was already a mess, invaded by the thought of him fucking you senseless in that new outfit. He'd topped you countless times before, but tonight he was way too much, turning you on so bad, his presence alone revealing his dominant side. And you? You were more than ready to submit. Well, actually you always were, but sometimes you were just a little teaser, just like he was. Still tonight, there was no doubt, you wanted to entirely belong to him.

You wandered into the bedroom, opened the drawer of the nightstand and peeked inside. There were leather cuffs, lube, your favourite dildo, just in case, waiting for the right moment to be used.

Back in the living room, you turned on the tv and there he was, your gorgeous man appeared on the screen. You started brushing your hair and fixing your makeup, stealing glances at him all the while, practically squirming on the couch, knowing he'd be home soon. Then the gala hosts started announcing the winner of the category Joost was nominated for, and...

"Oh, fuck you, damn idiots", you hissed under your breath the second you heard he didn't win, tossing the remote control across the couch with a sharp thud. All you wanted now was to comfort him, to give him the real award he truly deserved. After a while, thinking nothing more was going to happen, you got up to turn the tv off, still a bit upset about the whole situation. But as your hand reached for the remote control, Joost showed up on the screen once more, surrounded by reporters. Your stomach dropped, those jerks always tried to tear him down.

But not tonight.

"Waar? Ik weet niet", you heard his voice, so low and lazy, like he had the whole world wrapped around his finger.

Your legs buckled under you. That cockiness, that confident stance... He wasn't just handling the press, he was totally owning them. And just like that, the pride you felt melted into something desperate and throbbing between your legs – you were already so soaked, aching for him.

You shifted on the couch, pressing your thighs together, trying to push all the filthy thoughts away, but you were pathetically helpless. You spent nearly an hour pacing until the doorbell rang. You rushed to open the door and there he was. Still looking like he owned the night and even with his sunglasses on, you could feel his gaze devouring you.

"Good evening, baby. I'm so sorry for–", your words barely left your mouth before he pressed his finger against your lips, silencing you with one slow, deliberate motion.

"Shhh, don't say anything", he murmured, his voice low and slightly husky, "I was thinking about you the whole way home and now you look so...", Joost faltered for a second, but quickly regained his composure, his tone dropping deeper.

"You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?", he swallowed hard after a short pause, then let a faint smirk curl the corner of his lips.

You nodded before your mind could catch up with your body. You still couldn't see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but you could feel his piercing gaze as his gloved hand slid slowly from your lips to gently caress your cheek, then moved around to the back of your head.

"You know the answer... of course I would...", you replied, a chill running down your spine.

"So... will you follow my orders? Now?", he asked, his voice slow, but full of certainty.

"Sure, I'm ready", you said, your heart racing.

"Fantastisch, lieverd... but listen...", he paused for a moment, "If you want me to stop, just let me know, okay?", his bare fingers slowly traced through your hair, tenderly teasing every strand.

"As you wish", you murmured with a nod, meeting his eyes before leaning in to kiss his lips, wanting to reassure him that tonight you were completely at his mercy. But just then, Joost moved his hand from your hair straight to your neck, grabbing it as he pulled away from you.

"Get down on your knees. Right here", he said roughly.

You sank beneath him immediately, surrendering completely to his command. Your fingers instinctively moved to unbuckle his belt, but his big hand grabbed yours firmly yet gently, sliding them away without breaking eye contact.

"Did I say you could?", he asked, looking down at you as he repeated the question much slower this time, "Did. I. Say. You could? Answer me", his voice got more demanding.

"No... no, you didn't", you answered from your knees, eyes already shining with excitement and eagerness.

Joost was fucking irresistible in every move he made, every word he spoke. You were dying to see those blue ocean eyes of his, but the little game he was playing left you unable to even ask him to take off those damn sunglasses. Instead, you waited, curious and trembling, your palms resting uncertainly on his thighs, not sure if you were about to be scolded again. He unbuckled his belt himself, brushing the leather strap gently against your cheek before unzipping his black pants, revealing tight boxers with a visible bulge. You wanted to do something about his hardness, but you knew who was in charge tonight. His hand slid to the side of your cheek, tracing down a little to your jaw, then lifted your face with two fingers under your chin.

"Open your mouth", he ordered and you obeyed without hesitation, just before he spat right into it. You felt his saliva sliding down your throat as you swallowed every drop and licked your lips in anticipation.

"Yeah, that's it... you fucking love that schat, don't you?", he asked, already knowing the answer, "Open it. Again", Joost leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he spat once more.

"Now it's time to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours", he whispered into your ear and slid two fingers past your lips, letting you explore them with your tongue. You sucked on them hungrily, swirling your tongue, desperate for more. Then he pushed fingers deeper, right until your throat clenched and your eyes watered, his knuckle tattoos disappearing inside as you gagged slightly. After a few seconds, he pulled his fingers out and reached for his waistband, tugging his boxers and pants down a bit. Joost wrapped his hand around his thick, veiny cock, giving it a few strokes before guiding it to your lips. He started penetrating your mouth slowly while reaching into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He lit it, took a deep drag and tilted his head back with a low moan. You looked up at him for just a second, mouth full, as he took off his sunglasses. Joost placed his gloved hand on the back of your head, gently pressing it against his pubes as he pushed himself further and deeper, sinking almost his entire length inside your mouth.

"Look into my eyes", he growled and your gaze snapped up to meet his. The second your eyes locked, he slammed his hips forward, burying himself deeper down your throat and you instinctively squinted.

"No, no, don't close them again", Joost scolded you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tightening his grip, tilting your head exactly the way he wanted.

"Do you hear me? Look at me now", you instantly opened your eyes wide and only then did he loosen his hold.

"Oh, mijn goed meisje", he praised you and the sound of his words made you want to please him even more. You didn't dare let him out of your mouth for even a second. You wrapped your lips tightly around his cock, your nose buried in his pubic hair as you took him as deep as you could. Your breath hitched in your throat, but you enjoyed it far too much to stop. You already looked like a mess. Joost began to thrust faster, rougher, his hips snapping forward as your saliva dripped down your chin. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over and smudging your makeup. Noticing it, he pulled out with a deep grunt, leaned in close and tenderly wiped your ruined face with the back of his gloved hand, smearing away the tears and spit.

"Are you okay, schat? Do you need some water, a break... anything?", he asked with genuine concern in his voice, lifting you off your knees.

"No. I just need you", you replied, looking deeply into his eyes.

Without another word, Joost took your hand and led you to the bedroom, stubbing out the rest of his cigarette in the ashtray on the way. As soon as you both stepped inside, he tossed you onto the bed and shut the door behind him with a loud thud. He took off his coat, shoes and gloves, slid his pants and boxers down completely, and started unbuttoning his white shirt. You watched him, chest rising and falling faster with each layer he peeled away.

"Wait…", you breathed, sitting up slowly, your voice soft, almost pleading, "Let me do that for you", you murmured timidly.

"What was that? Say it again. Properly", he insisted, turning his head toward you.

"Sorry... could I unbutton your shirt for you?", you asked, a flush creeping up your cheeks.

He stepped closer, standing over you and with a silent nod, gave you permission. Joost was clearly trying to stay in character, but you caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, a little smile threatening to break through. He stood at the edge of the bed as you got up on your knees on the mattress, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Underneath, he wore a white tank top and you couldn't help yourself. You slipped your hand beneath the fabric, craving the feel of the hair on his chest and stomach. But before you could explore him further, his hand closed firmly around your wrist and pushed you back.

"You've done your part. Now lie down for me", Joost said as he walked over to the nightstand, rummaged through the drawer, and after a moment pulled out two pairs of leather handcuffs, ones you two had never used before.

"Would you mind if I...?", he asked softly, revealing what he held in his hand.

"You don't need to ask. I'm all yours", you replied, though deep down you loved that he was still so careful with you. Joost took your left wrist gently and buckled the cuff around it, fastening it to the bed frame above your head.

"Not too tight?", he checked, his eyes scanning your face as he secured the leather strap around your wrist.

"It's perfect", you answered, testing the movement slightly, wanting to kiss his lips, but he walked to the other side of the bed and repeated the process with the second pair of handcuffs. Then he leaned over you to adjust the pillows beneath your head, such a small gesture, but one that made your heart flutter. So thoughtful... If only he'd let you kiss him.

Once everything was in place, Joost slid his hands down your legs, spreading them apart before settling between them. He pulled off his tank top in one swift motion and tossed it to the floor. His eyes roamed over your body and when he lifted the hem of your short dress, his brows arched in surprise to discover you weren't wearing any panties.

"Je bent al zo nat... what am I supposed to do with such a desperate little thing, huh?", Joost murmured, more to himself, trailing his index finger slowly up and down your folds, his eyes filled with unspoken curiosity.

He didn't want to wait any longer. Reaching back into the drawer, he pulled out the lube and the dildo you'd played with your pussy during your shared video calls throughout the long separations. His fingers coated the tip of the dildo with lube, spreading it all over before moving it up and down your folds, pausing occasionally to rub your clit slowly or press the toy against your entrance. Eventually, he slipped it in effortlessly, and you felt the stretch that made you gasp quietly.

"Is that how you have fun with yourself when I'm away?", Joost asked, pushing the dildo deeper, rocking it in and out.

"Yes… but now you're here... and I want to… oh, could I feel you now, please?”, you whispered back, burying your face into the pillow, regretting your hands were cuffed and you couldn't hide your blush.

"The night had only just begun, liefje", he pushed the dildo faster, a smirk playing on his lips as he kept up the relentless pace.

"How bad do you want to feel me?", his voice was dripping with dominance.

"Oh, so bad...", you whimpered, your lips barely holding back all the filthy sounds.

"I can't hear you. Say it louder", he leaned in closer to your face, his pupils wide with arousal.

"I want to feel you so bad. I need it... I crave you inside me", you finally forced yourself to speak, your voice trembling.

"Who do you want to feel? Say it. Say it with my name", he chuckled darkly, pushing the dildo deeper, teasing your every sensitive spot.

"I want you, Joost... I'm... I'm begging you. Please, Joost, I want to feel you. All of you", your moans grew desperate as your back arched involuntarily.

"Joost? Did you forget my full name, huh?", he kept going, his relentless rhythm sent shivers through your body.

"I... I want you... I want you, Joost Klein. Please", you felt yourself nearing the edge, the intensity of his words and his roughness driving you wild. Suddenly, he pulled the dildo out of your wet hole and leaned down over you, his breath hot against your skin.

"Jij bent zo mooi, zo goed voor mij. You convinced me, baby", his hand found your cheeks, holding them possessively, grounding you as your body still trembled from the electric waves of pleasure that had just passed.

"I see what you want. Don't worry, I'll give it to you in time, my dirty little girl", he caressed your cheek as he spoke, his thumb brushing against your soft skin. His gaze locked with yours, deep and intense, like he was trying to reach your soul. While looking at you, he gently traced his fingertips around your lips and slid his middle finger slowly into your mouth, moving it roughly inside.

"Lick it, yes... suck on it. Just like that", he whispered, encouraging you.

After a moment, Joost pulled his finger out and began touching your clit with the finger wet from your saliva, your little bundle of nerves was so sensitive and swollen from the previous teasing. He leaned in closer to your ear, whispering dirty words in Dutch that you didn't fully understand, but the sound of this language escaping his lips turned you on even more and he knew it, hearing how your soft moans grew louder and more unconscious. His middle finger slid down from your clit straight to your spent cunt, slipping inside you, before another finger joined in, stretching and filling you just right. With his free hand, he lowered the neckline of your dress a bit, exposing your bare breasts. Joost's lips found your chest, softly biting and sucking your nipples, leaving bright red marks that burned deliciously against your exposed flesh. All the while, his fingers inside you moved with a steady, rapid pace, teasing and claiming every spot.

"I'm... I'm so close, Joost...", you began breathing and whimpering louder as he curled his fingers deep inside you, your eyes glossy and half-lidded.

"I know you are. But you're not coming yet. Be patient", he pulled his fingers out and you clenched around nothing.

"No, fuck, please... not again", you nearly cried from desperation. The sudden loss of his touch made your hips buck uselessly, chasing the pleasure he'd just taken away.

"You know... I love when you're such a pathetic little mess...", his voice was low and raspy, full of lust and control. Joost leaned back just enough to put space between you, straightening his spine, one hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself slowly.

"Look at me", he demanded, "Don't look away. You're gonna keep your eyes on mine while I ruin you, while I make you cum all over my fingers. You got it?", before you could answer, he shoved his middle finger back inside you, rougher this time.

"Please, fuck me now," you let out a desperate howl.

He only gave you a wild smirk in response, shook his head and leaned over your pussy. Spreading your sweet lips with his fingers, he spat inside you and used his other hand to line himself up with you, teasing your entrance with the hot tip of his dick. Joost didn't give you much time to adjust to his size, he started thrusting into you right away, shifting from slow to fast movements, gripping your hips tightly with his big hands.

"You like that? You like when I take you like this? When I fuck you like you're mine?", he hissed, his face hovering just above yours, eyes dark, breath hot against your mouth.

"Yes... fuck, yes", you whimpered, eyes rolling back as your body trembled beneath him, overstimulated, fucked dumb by the way he owned every inch of you.

"Eyes on me", he reminded you, grabbing your chin more firmly and guiding your gaze to his face.

"You know how slutty you look in this dress? I got hard the second I saw you", Joost whispered it with a low moan right into your ear, his breath brushing against your neck, making your skin shiver.

"Because I'm your slut. I live to please you", you murmured between your shared moans.

Joost pulled his head back from your ear quickly, his eyes burning with desire. For a moment, he looked almost surprised to hear those words fall from your lips – not because he didn't believe you, but because they lit something new inside him.

"Yeah... you're right. You are my slut. Only mine", he said and you could tell he hesitated at first, like the word "slut" felt foreign in his mouth. He'd never called you that before. But it only made him fuck you harder.

His hand slid from your hip up over your trembling stomach, across your chest, brushing your nipples on the way, then curled around your throat. Not choking, not yet, just holding you like this, reminding you who was in control. His grip tightened, then loosened again with each thrust, perfectly synced to the pace he set as he fucked you deeper.

"Can I cum... Joost? Please, let me... I'm begging you... I can't take it anymore...", you sobbed, feeling like his property, dependent on his touch, on his permission. You were nothing but a desperate, whiny mess, clenching around his dick and arching your back beneath him, pinned to the mattress by his weight as he fucked you hard, relentless, just perfect.

"You've been such a good girl tonight," he murmured, dragging his hand from your throat down your body, until his fingers found your clit and started to rub it with firm, practiced circles.

"My dirty little slut... go on, cum for me now", his thrusts grew sloppier, rougher, as he chased his own high too, hips snapping hard against yours.

"Look at me", Joost growled, noticing your half-lidded, hazy eyes.

Your fast, broken breaths tangled with his, the room filled with the filthy, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin, of your soaked folds sucking him in greedily. Suddenly, your body snapped and you screamed his name like a prayer, like it was the only word you remembered, muscles locking around him, your pussy squeezing as you came hard. Completely breathless, you screamed his name again, back arching off the bed as your whole body shuddered beneath him. He kept fucking you through it, didn't stop, not even for a second.

"Oh, goed meisje... zo perfect", Joost took his hand off your clit, but kept thrusting harder and harder. He was panting over your face now, no longer serious, just desperate and focused on his own pleasure.

"I want you to taste me", he said, suddenly pulling himself out of you and moving toward your face, gripping his throbbing cock tightly, "I need your mouth now, don't make me wait", Joost started jerking himself off above your face, slapping his cock against your cheek and the tip of your tongue.

You could see he was so fucking close – sweat dripping from his forehead, slicking his chest as his hand moved faster, desperate for release. You wanted to help him, so you lowered your lips to his balls, licking and sucking them, soaking in the way his moans grew louder.

"Open... open your mouth wide", he said and you obeyed, parting your lips.

You didn't have to wait long, his cock twitched in his hand and suddenly you felt it, his hot release spilling onto your tongue. You swallowed everything so eagerly, making sure not to waste a single drop of his cum. Joost looked completely spent, breathing heavily, but his eyes were filled with bliss.

"Fuck... you're amazing, schatje, thank you...", he panted, one hand gripping the wall for balance while the other brushed through your hair.

"No, you're the amazing one", you said, just before he leaned down and kissed you deeply. Your tongues tangled in a sweet, breathless kiss, but you had to break it.

"Joost... sorry, but... my wrists are hurting. Can you unfasten me?"

"Shit, sure. Why didn't you tell me earlier?", he quickly undid the straps, guilt flickering in his eyes even though you were smiling.

"Because being dependent on you like that just drove me insane… I wanted you like this for so long", you chuckled.

"You little freak", he murmured with a grin, wrapped you in his arms and pulled you against his chest.

"We should do this more often", you whispered into the crook of his neck, then hesitated for a second before adding, "I'm sorry about that award, you deserved it..."

"What award? You are my most precious one..."

[catholicfacade]

joost sucking the strap is A++. whenever he comes up for air he needs to be a blubbering mess, asking if he's doing good. his pale face flushed with redness and his lips puffy and pink from the effort. drooling like an actual dog, spit dripping to the floor when he gasps for air and down the sides of his mouth as the strap is pushed in and out of his mouth.

you get it !!!!! 🙂‍↕️

CW: RPF, 18+, NSFW, afab reader, gn pronouns, blowjobs [obviously], mention of pegging, mention of light puppy play bc i can’t help myself.

—

joosty learning that your strap in his mouth is so much better than a stupid cigarette, so much more satisfying.

he was apprehensive at first-he's not gay after all—the most he'd done in that regard was joke about sucking dick, little quips at shows or at friends that he'll "suck their dick" because he loves them so much. but now? now, he's sitting on his knees in front of you, blushing when confronted with a "real" cock between his favorite pair of thighs. joost feels shy and flustered, after getting his dick sucked a million times by you, he surprisingly doesn't even know where to start when it's your turn.

his mind is only eased by the idea that if his teeth accidentally scrape, you won't get hurt. and the way you look down at him, pupils wide and dark, almost breathless with anticipation, you want this sooooo bad—he can see it.

stuffing his mouth with your cock feels so awkward at first, joost flicks his eyes up to yours, seeking validation that he's doing it right. your jaw slacks open, watching the gentle and slow bob of joosts head up and down your strap. his plush lips and blonde mustache stretch around your girth, this strap is average size, nothing crazy for joosts first blowjob [and inevitably his first pegging afterwards;P]. the movements of his mouth are clearly exploratory, cheeks hollowing, tongue laving over the silicone veins and ridges, the head poking the inside of his cheek every once in a while.

you cup joost under his chin, thumb petting his jaw, gentle praises fall out of your mouth, his confidence builds—your moans sound like you actually fucking feel it—and that turns him on so baaaad :((. this thing is you, his favorite person in the whole wide world suddenly grew a dick and he’s just doing what any good boyfriend would do in this situation…suck you dry!!!!!

it turns joost on even more to think he’s trying to replicate your movements when you give him a blowjob onto you. copying what he knows he loves and feels good when you do it to him. he takes more of your length into his mouth, hands gripping your thighs for stability, baby blue eyes locked onto yours. you can’t help but to grab his hair now, pressing down ever so slightly so he takes even more and more. when joost feels so full with your strap, he gags and pulls away, there’s a sparkle in his eye, like holy shit…this is FUNNNN.

and from that day on, joost honestly becomes OBSESSED with giving you blowies!!! even if you’re not going to peg him later, sometimes his oral fixation kicks in and baby boy wants to feel your [now bigger] strap fucking his whole mouth open, sliding against his tongue, making him gag and drool :(( its so cute because no one knows that he’s actually soooo cock-hungry for you and his friends would call him gay for sucking dick, but it’s YOUR dickkkk he doesn’t care !! :((

joosty wants to hear you praise him, telling him that he’s such a good little puppy for licking your cock, loving the teasing sneer in your voice when you realize he usually has so much to say until his mouth is too full to talk. he wants to feel your fingers scratch his scalp, tug his hair to make him go faster or slower, push his head down so he has to keep your length stuffed in his little throat. the weight of your strap on his tongue is so fucking delicious, especially when you make him stick his tongue out and smack your cock on it :(( orrr smacking your strap on his fucking face!!

i could literally think about this alllll day ughh i’m going crazyyyy i need it i need it i need it i need it 😵‍💫

[authors note: DO NOT be surprised if you see some of this used again in my joost fic ;)]

[just-some-random-blogger]

im sorry babes but im begging you. Can we have a pedro pascal x reader fic where she's like a vlogger/lawyer and its like a fanmade video of them on yt of them being crackheads and being all lovey-dovey. like libra x aries vibes they balance each other out sm. you don't have to really but i genuinely feel like you're the only person who can pull this off.

Talk To My Lawyer

Every time Pedro gets asked something he can't answer, he always says the same thing.

Pedro Pascal x Lawyer!Reader | 600< | cw: gender neutral!reader, fluff, crack, rpf, typos, etc.

A/N: i didnt use and pronouns for yn besides you so anyone can read! ALSO this took forever, but im glad I finally did it. I hope you enjoy this nonnie! it's not exactly like the request but its pretty funny lmao

Tagging: @sloanexx @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak @sunfairyy @djarinsstuff @mooniesyubi @pedropascalgirly @mmmmandoz @multifandom-fangirl4

X - (Formerly Twitter) - verse

@hotnewsoutlet: Pedro Pascal announces marriage to Civil Rights Lawyer with heartfelt Instagram post. @gigigogold1: PEDRO IS MARRIED? @linmanuzel: PEDRO IS MARRIED? (2) @HOTdigitidawg: PEDRO IS MARRIED? (3) @103840582duh: ??????????????????????????????????? QUE @pedropascaldad: TO A MOTHER FUCKING LAWYER 💀💀💀✋✋✋ @pedropascaldad: OF COURSE THE LAWYER LOOKS LIKE A SUPERMODEL TOO HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA *jumps off a plane*

@papipascalyuh: ok but if pedro was gonna get married ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ hell yeah itd be someone who looks like THAT holy fuck

@80pascal: ?????????????????????????????????????? UR TELLING ME THIS LAYWER IS NOT ONLY HOT BUT SMART AND FUNNY TOO????? [article link attached] @biwohla: 💀💀💀💀💀 NO CUZ THE LEVEL OF UNHINGED??? FROM A LAWYER???? INFUCKINGSANE @marvelwhorebb: "... I made sure to wear the Pedro Pascal T-shirt I made when we first announced our relationship. Gotta let the people know I'm one of them and simply got lucky." @atrediessucker: T-SHIRT *I MADE* SCREAMING WHATTTTTT

@djinssdjarrinn: OK IT HURTS BUT FUCK HES SO WHIPPED [video attached]

"How are you today?" asks the interviewer.

Pedro smiles and nods, "good, how are you?"

"I'm great, now that I got to see you," she says, making the man curl his head into his shoulder and grin.

Pedro waves a hand, "oh stapit"

She grins back, "I was excited when I saw you arrive with the internet's favorite lawyer."

His expression shifts, he brightens up. He places a hand on his chest, "me too! I'm so happy to have a date today. I always end up beggin' for some time, and now I got it-" fist pump "-y'know, not that I'm complainin'."

"Yeah, I was gonna sa-"

"I like begging." *Pedro smile.*

The interviewer doesn't quite catch it, "-y, the both of you are always booked and busy. How do you find time for each other?"

Pedro thinks, but is distracted when you walk up from behind him. He looks back when you place a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he's forgotten all about the question and dotes on you. He brushes a hand on your cheek, asking you if you're okay. You whisper something but then catch the camera. You give a bashful smile, "oh, sorry to interrupt."

The interviewer immediately waves a hand, "oh, don't worry about it."

Pedro mutters something and kisses your hand. He holds it as he looks back to the interviewer. He opens his mouth then shakes his head, "sorry, what was the question?" Pedro laughs.

The woman chuckles then moves closer to you, "you know what, I'm sure people are dying to know, what's something you newlyweds like to do together?"

Pedro instantly turns to you.

You purse your lips in thought.

"I-"

"Watching movies," you say.

"I-" Pedro starts again, looking back to the interviewer, "I don't think we can say what we like to do."

*crickets*

Pedro looks at you, expression mischievous.

You stare back at him, eyes like daggers.

He holds back a laugh and leans into the mic, turning to the camera, "I can't say it. Talk to my lawyer."

The interviewer laughs and so do you, begrudingly.

"Talk to my lawyer," Pedro repeats proudly, breaking into a wide mouthed smile.

"Ok," you mutter, "pack it up, Pascal."

@alexielover: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP BASHING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL WHAT THE FUCK @600MILK: MF SAID TALK TO MY LAWYER 🙄✋ SOBBING @oscarisaaacsz: watch him use that for everythingggggg 😭 @pedrogrill: LORD I HAVE SEEN WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS @starwazfr: *sips clorox cutely* @emeryslala: and im supposed to sha la la baby after this? FOUL @pascpedro: respectfully, id pay to be their third @probelmaskt: PACK IT UP PASCAL???????????????????

[angel-fruitcake]

so i saw your post about never wanting to NOT talk about spn and i strongly relate so i figured i’d drop in and ask for some Fandom Knowledge. my friend (who has not watched spn but knows im obsessed) sent me this tweet (which i literally just saw you post earlier today here when YOUR friends texted you about it LOL):

and i went, this can’t be real! so i did some digging, and lo and behold… it IS real omfg. i love jensen and daneel and don’t really ship jensen and misha, but now im hella curious about the (dare i say it?) lore. i was seeing posts about matching bracelets, rings, supposed breakups and i just want to know all the tea and all the fan theories lol. i started watching spn 2 years ago and finished just last year so please bestow upon me your fandom knowledge (i would be so grateful)

(and even better if you perhaps have fic recs about straddlegate as you so aptly called it lol ty ty ty)

oh myyyy well! yes there's definitely A Lot of Lore™ in this fandom lol.

i don't personally legitimately ship jensen and misha— i make cockles posts and jokes all the time bc it's silly and fun, but i don't know that i truly believe that they've ever actually been in a romantic or physical relationship with each other (although if we ever did find out that something happened between them, let's just say that i highly doubt anyone would be surprised lmao). people have been speculating about their relationship probably ever since misha started going to spn cons and people saw that his chemistry with jensen extended well past just sharing a screen together. they really do have a strong bond with one another, and it's plain to see in all of their interactions!

here's an example of the matching rings they have (or had at one point). idk about matching bracelets, although i know that at at least one con, jensen wore a bracelet with blue and green beads on it (and he knows the destiel significance of those colors). there could be something i'm missing with that (like more bracelets that i haven't seen), as i too am still trying to fully catch up after my 10+ year fandom hiatus!

i believe there were break up rumors circulating during one of the cons that took place around the time that all the s7 chaos was happening (if you're not aware, misha was essentially fired from supernatural after the first 2 episodes of s7, before being brought back by the president of the cw following a drastic drop in ratings). i don't know too much about the cockles lore around that time; all i know is that they seemed to be stronger than ever once misha returned to the show.

i don't personally read cockles rpf fics (although i have nothing against those who do), so unfortunately i don't have any fic recs for you. but i'm sure you can find some that intrigue you on ao3! they probably have a v plentiful misha/jensen tag on there for you to peruse :3

i hope this was helpful, and pls feel free to dm me or send me more asks if you have more questions! 💕

[aplaceinthedark]

Chapter Two: The Monsters Are My Only Friends

Word Count: 3.1k+

CW: enemies to lovers trope, racism, wine consumption

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave.

Some chapters have flashbacks and will be marked as such.

Chapter Title from Unbecoming by STARSET

Dividers by me

2016

“WHERE’S NOAH?” I ASKED as the man closed the door behind him.

The man ignored my question, choosing to sit down and place a single folder onto the table between us. He drank from a cup of something, which I would have gladly swiped from him, whether it was water or bleach. But the restraints pinning my hands to the table prevented me.

“Did you hear me? Where's Noah?” I asked louder.

“How do you know Noah?” the man asked, ignoring my question further.

I knew this game; I read about investigations in so many books. “Where. Is. He?"

"Because up until three days ago, there was no record of you. No birth certificate, no DNA analysis matches, nothing. And here you are now, after the Truth raised a lot of hell to reclaim you, and Noah broke a lot of protocols just to bring you back.” He kept speaking over me, as if I wasn't speaking already.

Fine. If he was going to pretend that I wasn't speaking, then I just wouldn't speak at all.

"How'd you even manage to break into Level Three? Was it with his help?” he accused.

I tried to school my face to portray the silent boredom I had read about. After a few minutes, he looked at me like it wasn't working.

The interviewer looked down his nose at me in disdain. “You Type Violets are all the same, you know that right? Think you’re better than everyone else.”

I met his gaze with the same amount of hate. It had taken two security guards to drag me in here, nut it was more for their peace of mind. They were so scared that I would turn them into dust, when I could barely shift to shadows.

“But did you know that back in the eighties, the UPA ran a campaign to rid the world of all Reality Benders? Did your little book club ever tell you that?” he asked. I didn’t want to confirm, but he must’ve seen my answer in my eyes. “Of course they did, because we did a damn good job of it. If it weren’t for that event that happened several years ago, we would’ve been rid of your kind altogether. Wiped the codeword ‘Violet’ from the handbook.

“But yet, here you are, costing the UPA a fortune to have you in this room.”

I sank into my chair, unable to go far with the restraints. All of my previous bravado was gone. “I want Noah,” I said weakly.

“He doesn't want you,” the interviewer said, his words like nails stabbing my heart. “I'll only ask this one time: Containment, or Employment?”

Did I even have a choice?

2022

Noah strode across the room, arms wide open. I straightened my spine as he loomed closer. Right before he could hug me, I shoved my hand out in front of me. He came to a sudden stop, obvious confusion written over his face, but he still took my hand and shook it.

I was working for Noah. What kind of cruel twist was this?

Joakim and Nick didn't notice the tension, going back to their desks as they talked about mundane things such as whatever meeting the two were in China for. Nicholas, however, must've sensed it, because when I pulled my hand away I saw one of his eyebrows arch up.

Noah was still standing close to me. Stars, I forgot how tall he was. I couldn’t even peer over his shoulder unless I stood on my toes. “Well, uh, welcome to the team, Mab,” he said. “I hope it wasn’t too difficult getting set up in your place–”

“It was fine,” I said curtly. My shock was starting to wear off, turning to nihilism instead. Working for the man who abandoned me to the wolves of the UPA? Was my luck nonexistent just to spite me? Couldn’t I have a reprieve for once? At least at Site-2B, I could visit Dustin a week out of every month.

Thankfully, Joakim and Matt saved me. They helped me access my new terminal to create a new account; basic IT stuff. Thankfully, the transfer of my less personal data was quick, and with the tutorial came another familiar face, though this one I was more happy to see.

“This is Site-6's designated artificial intelligent conscript–”

Matt was interrupted by the appearance of a small hooded figure. Its one large eye blinked twice at me. “HELLO, RESEARCHER MAB GREY, DEPARTMENT OF ONTOKINETICS.”

“Hello, ECHO.” I smiled.

“WOULD YOU LIKE A TUTORIAL ON HOW TO OPERATE THIS SITE’S VERSION OF ME?”

“That won't be necessary. Please access data file stream two-zero-two-one-zero-nine-one-three, and upload processing system two-zero-two-one-zero-three-one-nine,” I commanded.

“CERTAINLY. DO YOU SEEK THE STARS ABOVE THE WORLDS TO BE YOUR GUIDES?”

“Yes, but they are pale against the light in my eyes.”

“What the hell?” Matt swore. “Did you just hack into the Site's AI?”

“It's not breaking in if you have your own key,” I said, dragging my finger across the digital screen..

“How do you have a key to access ECHO, then?"

“Easy. I helped create it."

There was a moment of stunned silence as my words sank into their heads, and I used that moment to let ECHO download my preferences and stashed files into my new access terminal.

When I looked up from the screen, I realized that only one pair of eyes were trained on me. I met them with the same steel that I had to have for the past five years. Noah’s black orbs slid away to refocus on Nicholas.

As I went back to watching ECHO float around on my screen, my stomach rolled. Who knows how long I would be stuck on his team

I sent a prayer up to the stars above that we wouldn’t be seeing too much of each other.

Once back in the safety of my quarters, I fell onto my bed and screamed into my pillow. “What did I do to deserve this?!”

“UNABLE TO RETRIEVE RESULTS FOR YOUR QUERY. TRY AGAIN?”

I pulled my face out from my pillow. “Not now, ECHO! I’m trying to have a one-woman pity party here!” I shouted at my Tab, where the little hooded figure was projecting out of.

“ERROR, THERE ARE CURRENTLY TWO PRESENCES IN THIS ROOM: YOURS, AND MINE.”

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny,” I muttered. “I should’ve left your personality driver at the other site’s databases.”

There were two versions of ECHO currently being employed on the Universal Paranatural Alliance’s databases. One was the bare-minimum aic that served Site-6 by trawling through its databases for easier access to its digital library.. The other, more extensive version was the personal… aid of its creator, Doctor Dustin Bates. His version lived in his personal database, which he created a backdoor that I could access for my own emergencies. And, seeming as I was the one who helped him the most - not to mention we were the only friends we had - he let me access its personality matrix as well.

Unfortunately it sometimes felt like I was talking to a mirror.

I grew somber thinking about Dustin. Was he at 2B right now, or was he waist deep in the servers at Site-4 on the other side of the country? Who was going to make sure he actually ate something? Or make sure he got more than a consecutive four hours of sleep? Could I remotely program ECHO to send him notifications?

What would he think about Noah and I reuniting after all this time?

I groaned as my thoughts went back to Noah. That’s all I had been thinking about since this afternoon. I had also finally read my team’s dossier, and it was hard not to be impressed with his file.

Noah Sebastian (Soibaiste), AKA Agent SAMHAIN. Age 27. Team Commander of ATF Theta-777 “Bad Omens”, stationed at Site-6 in Nexus-06, West Virginia. Rose to his current rank after stellar recommendations, has never missed a shot, excellent at close-combat, yadda yadda yadda.

And worst of all, he grew up to be stupidly handsome.

I turned over and groaned into my pillow again, the sound muffled in the fabric. I needed to be taken out to pasture and put down.

A dainty four-note tone rang from my Tab. Before ECHO could announce who the message was from, I grabbed my Tab. It had to be Dustin, replying to the several voice and text messages I had sent him.

But no, it wasn’t my scraggly scientist friend. It was Joakim, who had earlier asked to be called Jolly from now on.

Care to join us for dinner? We have a reservation at 8.

I looked at the current time. That would give me a four hour window to take a nap and have a refresher. And after the day I just had, I think I deserved it.

But Noah would probably be with him.

In the end, I decided to reply my confirmation, as I was never one to turn down free food. I then set ECHO to wake me up after two hours, or if the Site was under attack.

Like old times.

Transportation around here was different. Electricity was provided through an internal gridline, but regular vehicles didn't work. The city’s tram operated by the nexus's ley lines (in other words, operated by magic), but Cooper's Rock was mainly a pedestrian city, by the looks of it. If the population did use wheels, it was bicycles. So when Nick said we were taking his bike, I only questioned how it would fit two people.

I was not expecting a motorcycle.

“Absolutely not,” I stammered.

“Why not? It’s a lot faster than walking,” he said.

My mind raced through all the how's and legality issues that machine had to have. Despite it looking sturdy and having space for two people, it must have some mod to make it run within the Nexus limits.

I was too busy running all the possibilities through my mind to notice that Nick was holding a helmet out for me. My first thought was to say that it would ruin my hair, but even that sounded lame in my head.

In the end, I took the helmet and slid it on. Nick helped me onto the bike, and laughed when I tried to find something besides him to hold on to. “You can hold on to me. It takes a lot to break me,” he said, which I could hear through the helmet's ear piece.

Nick kicked the bike to lie, and the roar of the engine had me wanting to call the whole thing off. But before I could pull away, we were off.

My eyes squeezed shut so i wouldn’t have to watch everything whizz by at high speeds. Thankfully Nick was pretty solid as I clung onto his midsection.

I was so tense that I didn’t realize we were idling. “Mab? We’re here.”

I opened one eye to see we were parked on a curb in a small alleyway. I heard his chuckle over the radio as he turned the engine off. He hopped off and took his helmet off, replacing it with a baseball hat.

I was thankful for his help getting off the bike, because I could still feel the vibration of the engine in my thighs. “You never ride a motorcycle before?” he asked.

“No,” I said, and he winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You should’ve said something.”

I waved him off. “I’m fine,” I lied.

Luckily we still had to walk some so I could get my feet back under me. I wrapped my BLACK coat tighter around me, though it was still too light to combat the late February cold. Sadly it was the heaviest coat I owned, but being in a nexus meant I could wear it freely.

The restaurant was a nice place, located next to the river that cut through the city. I felt overdressed when Nick directed me towards the table near the back of the restaurant, sadly on the opposite side of the glass windows that overlooked the water.

I had been correct in assuming Noah would be there, but thankfully there were no open chairs next to him. And there were three new faces to the group.

“Davis and Steven are our Quartermasters, and Bryan is our other PSYCHE rep,” Jolly introduced them.

“I mainly take photos for evidence,” Bryan said.

Drinks and appetizers were ordered, and the conversation flowed like a well-oiled machine. Obviously, anything related to our work wasn’t mentioned due to secrecy, but as they all talked about various movies and sports, I realized that I had nothing to contribute. I sat, watching them make fun of each other as I nursed my white wine, feeling like I was on the outside looking in.

I felt… lonely.

It was Davis who finally talked to me. “I know it’s only your first day, but how does Site-6 compare to where you were?”

“Well, a lot drier for starters,” I said, earning a laugh from Jolly as he lifted his drink to his lips. The overhead lights reflected off the rings on his fingers.

“Isn’t Site-2 in the middle of the ocean?” Bryan asked.

“The English Channel, yeah,” Steven said.

“It’s a repurposed oil rig. No one would want to attack such a remote location,” I said.

“Do they have a branch of Ontokinetics out there?” Davis asked.

“No, I worked in NExUS,” I said.

My answer seemed to bring everyone up short. “But that’s… mostly recordkeeping, isn’t it? If you’re a reality bender, why’d they not have you in Ontokinetics?” Davis asked.

“I have a pretty good idea why…” I said quietly.

“That's Alliance politics for you,” Jolly said. “But you're in your own field now… or did you not study Onto?”

“No, I did,” I said, running a piece of a bread roll through cheese sauce. “My mundane minor was Astronomy.”

“Not literature?” Noah's voice cut through the background noise.

I looked up at him. Why would I go into Literature?" I asked.

He propped an elbow onto the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember you used to love books,” he said.

I didn’t think he would’ve remembered that. “There’s no place for Literature in Ontokinetics,” I said.

“I don’t know about that,” Nicholas said from behind Noah. “There’s a lot of books out there that can bend reality.” It was the first thing he’s said to me.

I shrugged. “I wanted Astronomy,” I said nonchalantly. And I was glad I did, because I wouldn’t have met one of my few friends. Astronomy was the only thing I loved more than reading.

If anyone had felt the tension between me and Noah, they didn’t show it. Jolly and Davis, now knowing about my only hobby, asked what books I liked to read. I liked fantasy, which got Nick to chime in.

“So do you like that smutty faerie stuff?” he asked.

I caught Jolly’s eye roll as I opened my mouth. “Not really. The faeries in those books are not at all accurate, and I tend to skip the sex scenes.”

“‘Inaccurate’?” Davis piped in. “Well, I guess when you deal with faeries a lot, the inaccuracy can get pretty insulting.”

I heard someone from down the table mutter “Tell me about it”, and there were a few laughs at that. “Maybe they’ll write about you next, Noah,” Nick joked.

Noah made a face. “No one is gonna wanna read about a half-faerie man covered in tattoos.”

“Mab might,” Bryan joked.

“No.”

The word kind of slipped out, but it was true. To avoid any stares, I focused on finishing my plate.

The meal quickly came to an end not too long after that. The three newest faces were the first to call it a night, and after they left, Nick craned back in his seat to say that he was heading out. “I don’t know if Mab wants another spin on the bike,” he said, grinning widely.

Seeing as my only other options were to walk and get lost, or wait until the tram took me to the Site, I groaned. “Don’t go so fast this time.”

“I was going the speed limit!”

“Like hell you were,” I muttered.

I waited in the lobby while Nick went to the bathroom quickly. I was trying to find Jolly so I wouldn’t have to wait in awkward silence when–

“Hey, Mab.”

I turned at the voice and jumped at how close Noah was. “What?’ I snapped in annoyance.

His brow furrowed. “Can we talk?” he asked.

Oh, stars, no. “...Sure.” I relented.

Noah led me out to the front of the restaurant, where the sidewalk was mostly empty but still in the public eye. He looked down the street before turning to face me. He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. His tattooed fingers. In fact, I’m sure the tattoo on his neck was new as well.

“This was not how I imagined our reunion,” he said.

I cocked my head. “How did you think it would go?”

“That you’d be happy to see me? How about that for starters,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Come on, Mab,” he sighed again. “You’ve been acting like I’m a stranger.”

He doesn’t want you. The interviewer’s words from six years ago rang in my head as I said, “Because you are a stranger.”

Noah looked bewildered. “What are you–”

“You know nothing about me, Noah,” I said. “We’re not friends; we’re teammates.” My voice fought to remain neutral.

“Hold on–”

“Hey, are you ready to–” Nick came outside, coming to a screeching halt when he saw us.

Before Noah could say anything else, I turned my back to him. “Goodnight, Noah. See you at work.”

The walk to Nick’s motorcycle was quiet. I’m sure my attitude towards Noah tonight was weighing on Nick’s mind, but he thankfully didn’t bring it up. This time I was better prepared for the ride, though I still kept my eyes shut.

At the front of the Site, Nick helped me dismount again. “Hey, Mab?’ he asked.

“Hm?” I took the helmet off and put it in one of the saddle bags.

Nick didn’t take his helmet off, but I could still hear him clearly when he said, “Did something happen between you and Noah back there? Are you okay?”

He doesn’t want you.

“I’m fine,” I said. “See you tomorrow, Nick.”

He sketched a dramatic bow before hopping back onto the bike. He sped off with the engines screaming.

Back in my quarters, I was greeted by ECHO. “WELCOME BACK, MAB GREY.”

“Do I have any messages?’ I asked with no preamble. “Anything from Dr. Bates?”

“YOU HAVE NO NEW MESSAGES.”

He doesn’t want you.

I leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down to the floor as a sob escaped me. I was in a new place, no friends except the semi-sentient aic…

I was truly alone.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog. Next chapter coming soon.

Featured Creatures

Due to this being a brand new series, I'm refreshing my taglist. If you want to be tagged in following chapters, please reply or message me.

@ladyveronikawrites @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @darksigns-exe @baddestomens

@roley-poley-foley @lilhobgobbler

[blacktofade]

Gemtho Fortnight Day 4

prompt: etho hand reveals in a pic showing off a mug or something innocuous. gem gets horny about it.

cw: rpf, nsfw

Gem feels guilty the second she slides her hand down the front of her sweats, fingers edging into her underwear. Not that it stops her.

She knows it’s wrong, knows it’ll bite her in the ass one day soon.

But there’s a new photo in the Hermit Discord server, something Etho sent that morning, and she’s done nothing but think about it since.

It’s an innocuous photo of a mug — one that looks straight out of the eighties, a chip in the rim, the pattern and shape of it hinting that it might be handmade. But that’s not what has her grazing her index finger across her clit, her breath rushing out of her all at once.

Etho’s hand is in the photo.

The first thing that proves he exists, that he’s real flesh and blood.

It’s made Gem feel insane all day, her thoughts scattered, chaotic. She hasn’t felt like herself.

In the photo, Etho’s hand is broad, enough that the mug he’s holding looks small. Or maybe it is — maybe whoever made the mug wanted something more their size.

But Gem likes imagining an Etho who’s so much bigger than her.

She knows he’s six foot two, knows he’s talked about keeping his body fit. She has no idea if that’s changed over the years since she started watching his content, but it’s what she’s pictures in her mind when she thinks about him. When she tips her head back, breathing hard as she touches herself.

She thinks about him being tall, his shoulders being broad. She thinks about him being strong — enough to lift her and set her on the edge of his desk, adding her to his ridiculous setup.

In the photo, his fingers seem long, his knuckles thick, so she thinks about those too.

She dips two of her own fingers into herself, not surprised that she’s already dripping wet. She’s been thinking about touching herself for hours. Battling with her indecision, until she’d finally broken down.

She thinks about those hands on her — guiding her knees apart, one slipping up under her skirt to rub his thumb across the gusset of her panties.

He’d immediately be able to feel the dampness, the heat of her.

Gem lets out a quiet moan, hips shifting in her chair.

He’d probably only give her one finger to begin with, something to warm her up. Not that she’d need it. She’d take anything he wanted.

She lets herself think about an Etho who’s more decisive, who would shove two fingers into her and check her expression to see how she reacts.

She thinks about his gaze dropping down to watch himself touch her. Maybe he’d be rougher, to try to force noises from her. Maybe he’d curl his fingers and fuck them into her so hard, she’d have to hold onto his forearm, or his shoulders, or the desk beneath her.

She clenches down around her own fingers, grinding the meat of her hand against her clit, and she can imagine it’s him so clearly in her mind.

She spreads her legs, imagining him easing his way between her knees, kissing gently at her throat, along the edge of her jaw, still shoving his fingers deep.

She’s only ever known him to be PG, but she wonders if he’d make an exception with her in person. If he’d press his mouth near her ear and talk about how wet she is, how tight she is around his knuckles, how he wants to feel her come, how he’s going to make her come.

Gem wants to shut her eyes, pleasure ramping up, her thighs starting to tremble, but she wants to keep looking at the photo. She wants it in the forefront of her mind as she falls apart.

She’s so close, her hand moving faster, and she almost startles when her computer dings with a new Discord notification.

In the corner of her open window, she sees she’s got a new DM from Etho himself, and she drags in a breath, groaning at how illicit it feels. There’s so much guilt filling her chest, but she can’t stop.

It’s worse knowing that he’s right there at his computer. That he’s just a message away.

She shifts her gaze back to the photo and thinks about him exhaling quietly

Come for me, Gem, she imagines him murmuring, and Gem slips over the edge with a desperate moan.

It’s a sharp orgasm, quick and punchy, and she keeps her fingers inside herself as she rides the high.

It takes a long moment for her to catch her breath, to blink away the fuzziness of pleasure in her brain, but it’s pure masochism that has her lifting her clean hand and clicking on Etho’s DM.

She’s just too curious for her own good.

Did you see my pic? his message asks and a laugh escapes Gem before she can stop it.

I saw it, she confirms, slowly pecking at the keys with one finger. Nice pattern.

Horrifyingly, Etho must still be at his computer, because it shows him typing in return.

It goes all the way around, he replies, and after a moment, a new image appears.

The angle is different in this one, but it’s the same mug — just showing off more of it.

And also more of his hand.

Gem pauses, gaze locked onto his fingers, and it feels like ice water drips down her back.

There’s a silver band around his finger — a wedding ring.

“Fuck,” she exhales, swallowing thickly as she finally pulls her fingers out of herself.

[esanalysis]

HiMERU ESY2 Center - Ephemeral Festival Story Summary & Analysis

We've all see the live posts in regards to the new HiMERU center event. Everyone's been talking about it and I want to as well because boy do I have a LOT to talk about in regards to what we know about HiMERU, what we learnt about HiMERU, and all the misinformation that managed to spread around in some places. This one will be pretty long, however I hope this will clear misinformation up and make the story easier to consume.

Posted - September 6th, 2024

Edited - October 25th, 2024

Analysis Word Count - 3,508

Disclaimers and CW for this post are as follows;

- This is both a summary and an analysis of the story. I will somewhat briefly summarize what is happening and will add in my larger breakdowns of specifically HiMERU's actions and feelings here (as well as others if applicable/needed). - Later parts of this analysis will vaguely reference Obbligato and be talked about under the assumption there is at least a vague understanding of what happened during the event's story. If you have not read Obbligato, I highly recommend doing so. You can read the story here. - This will contain discussions and mentions of RPF and adult/minor relationships however in no regards will I be defending this. On top of this, I do not like Himekoha/Kohahime for reasons I do not think I need to get into. - Take some information with a grain of salt. At the time of writing this I am currently going off of live translations & other sources of information as no translations exist at the moment for this story. This may be edited in the future due to this. - Screenshots have been sourced from various live translations and put through Google Translate for clarity reasons and to show what I am talking about being in game. Take the direct translations with some salt because of this. - Usual disclaimers apply - see my pinned post for those. - If you would like to discuss or debate things I have come to the conclusion of, you can submit an ask!

With that in mind. Let's get started.

The opening starts out, put simply with us learning exactly what the "Pastel Bee Brothers" - shortened to "PBB" - is. PBB, in short, is a nickname for Kohaku and HiMERU due to growing popularity in the idol world separate from Rinne and Niki as well as Crazy:B as a whole. Despite this growth, the growth does not stem from anything good. It unfortunately stems from a piece of Real Person Fiction - "RPF" for short - that involves the romantic and sexual pairing of HiMERU and Kohaku that goes by the same name.

Despite this fact, we need to acknowledge two big things when it comes to the existence of RPF here. The first being, this is a real thing to happen. Ensemble Stars is not new to the concept of criticizing things that happen in both idol culture and the industry itself, albeit to varying levels of success. We can very clearly tell that this is what is happening here when we see HiMERU try to shield Kohaku from what it truly is. Kohaku does not understand what exactly the PBB fad stems from, aside from the fact it exists after HiMERU told him about it as seen by the fact that he's shocked by being prompted to prove he's over the age of 18 when looking it up for himself.

Afterwards, HiMERU does not seem to refer to what the PBB truly is despite seemingly knowing and continues to dance around this fact when Kohaku shows his confusion to the explanation HiMERU is reading off of the internet. This implies him trying to attempt to protect Kohaku from what he can in an attempt to be a more responsible adult for him.

We can see this in the few screenshots below.

*Sakuragawa is referring to Kohaku here, its a machine error

The story is not in favor of this existing, as RPF is a real thing that exists and while it is uncomfortable, especially in regards to the fact that this involves a coupling of an adult with a minor, I think it was the best play here. Kohaku and HiMERU have a very complicated relationship with one another although not a bad one. So fans seeing it, not knowing HiMERU's real age that we do as the reader, and everything else *would* realistically result in something like this.

Its something you should be uncomfortable with, and something that is good to be uncomfortable with. But despite this, we need to keep in mind that showing support for this thing is NOT what the goal is here.

From here, we can figure out that the popularity from the PBB has boosted the rest of the Bees' popularity, despite most of the work they're currently getting being related to HiMERU and Kohaku. Rinne only pushes the work the that the Bees get onto HiMERU and Kohaku, continuing to mess around with the other two's source of popularity (in this case, buying a Doujinshi to poke fun at them and also to learn exactly what the PBB is too due to having his socials frozen and being unable to see for himself). This results in the two taking a job where they work with a smaller company to create a show where the two live a simple and domestic life together to keep in line with why PBB is popular and continue to ride the monkey's paw of a trend.

HiMERU does note before production though, that Kohaku reminds him of Kaname. If you ask me, I think this is partially why HiMERU, the one that chose the job the two do, went with this. It doesn't seem very "HiMERU like" to do, but it could be how he himself feels not how the idol persona feels. We know how much HiMERU cares for Kaname, and how highly of a pedestal he places his little brother on so wanting something calm and to be able to properly care for his brother in the hospital doesn't seem like much of a surprise when you think about it and has the decision make sense.

This is only emphasized by his thought after about how he asks himself if this was what he wanted with Kaname, the ability to raise him better and be a better older brother after the Reimei incident during Obbligato.

After a while of the small show airing and gaining popularity, Kohaku doesn't understand the popularity still. Possibly even less due to how simple the show is when its something he simply doesn't like. On top of this fact, HiMERU has been acting slightly weird in Kohaku's eyes, possibly due to HiMERU's reasoning for doing the show. Niki does sympathize with Kohaku's criticisms with the show but despite this, he can't really find himself arguing with success.

Niki ends up criticizing things a bit more though despite this, making comparisons to what he knows better. He compares the show and fans to chefs and their customers, talking about how doing the same thing can be boring and stifling even if its what the people want. HiMERU seems to be ignoring this or not quite taking it to heart like he should. Possibly due to him not realizing he's projecting his own wants onto Kohaku? Though, that's just a guess and nothing else.

At the same time, Rinne turns out to have uploaded a video himself of his plans to sabotage the show that end up failing due to Rinne getting stuck in a box in a storage room under heavy furniture. The other three end up having to get him out of the box in the storage room after they find the video. However, I want to focus on Rinne's plans to sabotage the show.

Of course this could be chalked up the Rinne wanting to sabotage the popularity not focused on him, after all it's what he claims to be doing. Yet, I can't help but feel like his intentions are different. We know that Rinne cares a lot about the people in his life, even if he refuses to properly show it when not through his persona (though, this is an analysis for another day). Rinne bought the Doujinshi at the start of the story as a means to figure out what exactly the PBB was and why it was so popular. Combining the two facts, he was probably able to piece two and two together and want to sabotage what the PBB are doing and, in turn, their popularity. Likely for the safety of Kohaku much like HiMERU trying to shield him from what exactly PBB is. A lot of who Rinne is, is something you have to read between the lines for or else you also become someone fooled by Rinne's persona much like the other people of ES - however that isn't the focus right now.

After getting Rinne out of the box in storage, we timeskip a few weeks to one of Rinne's plans to sabotage the show. Its a roughly put together show created after annoying Ibara enough. The short of this being a search for something called the "Nagigon" which is a large creature of some sort that just so happens to be played by Nagisa himself.

It's important to note that Kohaku does have more fun with this compared to the more formal show he's working on with HiMERU. Filming for the show doesn't go very far however, due to the location of the shooting being leaked and getting swarmed with fans protesting that this place isn't safe for them to record at. This whole thing only manages to back up Rinne's worries for Kohaku and HiMERU, with them giving into the demands of the fans above everything else including their safety. This only backs up my thoughts on why Rinne is trying to sabotage the show, but I digress.

After this, HiMERU and Kohaku go back to filming the domestic show they were before. Kohaku's complaints only get worse from here, not only about the show's production but also being and idol as a whole. Despite this fact, HiMERU also does not like where the PBB has led them and the rest of Crazy:B telling Kohaku to accept it like he has.

Kohaku, once again, points out that this behavior is weird. HiMERU does try to listen to the fans more compared to the rest of the Bees, especially Rinne. Likely due to the fact that he doesn't 100% know what Kaname himself would do and also due to how HiMERU created the idol persona in the past. But at the same time, this is also likely due to nothing but popularity. HiMERU's goal as we know it is to keep the name "HiMERU" in the spotlight for when Kaname is healthy again and able to take the name back for himself. The sheer popularity that the PBB has is only helping his end goal, which is likely why HiMERU is acting weird. Normally, the popularity of himself follows the rest of Crazy:B but now its surged outside of the fact in a way he himself can control. It falls back on the concept of how this popularity is nothing but a monkey's paw. It's something neither of them truly like, more than likely due to the cause of it all on top of where it ended up getting them.

HiMERU is handling the pressure and stress of the popularity better than Kohaku though, as it ends up with him passing out and going to the hospital. Consequently the same one that Kaname is staying at.

At the hospital, Rinne and Niki end up staying with Kohaku as he wakes up while HiMERU is off with Kaname.

From this point on, things are going to get more wordy as the later half of the story contains more of what I want to talk about.

HiMERU notes that there's more merch around Kaname since the last time he was here, as well as the reveal that Kaname is more awake than before. He hasn't perfectly healed, and will likely be bedridden for a long time to come but he has been having a lot of improvement. The biggest of which being, that he is awake at times and seems to be requesting merch of his brother.

The full card cg shows pieces of merch in his room, the ones we can clearly make out being the Feature Scout 1 outfit poster, a poster of the Trip Album cover, and a plush of HiMERU in his Crazy:B uniform.

Kaname is far from healed, with this merch not of "HiMERU" but of his brother, being comfort for him and his bouts of incoherency. Kaname and HiMERU have both relied on each other in a way. Their relationship being nothing but complicated due to how they met, discovering each other's existence and everything that happened during the events of Obbligato.

Due to all of this, Kaname seemingly being fine with HiMERU doing what he's doing while also being unable to vocalize it properly due to his current state makes sense. We don't know the specifics of Kaname's condition, leaving us to unfortunately have to fill in the gaps so most of this is a mix between speculation and an understanding of both Tojou's character.

The name HiMERU was something that felt stifling to Kaname, it was a fact he mentioned to Tatsumi. This was something HiMERU didn't know himself until the events of ESY1. HiMERU was operating under the assumptions he himself had made and still cannot back down from. If anything, this fact proves that the brothers truly don't know each other that well. They never grew up together, for one reason or another (I'll get into that later), and as such have put each other up higher than they should be. They have never seen each other's faults properly.

This is being reflected in the merch that now surrounds Kaname. Despite the name never being his, and probably understanding that it will never be his. He's okay with this. A lot of people have been under the assumption that he wouldn't like what HiMERU is doing, but that's just wrong. If anything it could be freeing for Kaname, especially after the incident. We don't know much about him now after everything, because people can change and be affected by trauma like this in different ways. But it's probably safe to assume not much has changed by his actions.

He wants the comfort of his brother, and seeing him surrounded by not only HiMERU merchandise, but also PBB items likely brings him some of that comfort when he's awake and his brother isn't there.

And at the same time, when HiMERU is visiting Kaname, he seeks out the comfort of his younger brother. We truly see how conflicted he feels during this part, asking Kaname if this is what he truly would've wanted for the idol name he now has. He asks both Kaname, and mostly himself, if this is what Kaname wants and if he is truly crafting a place for him to be when he recovers. Only backing up the idea that the two don't truly know each other but only want the best for each other.

Although, this scene can't stay for too long. HiMERU unfortunately cannot entirely vanish to stay with Kaname as much as he'd like to do so. Rinne ends up catching him in the lounge leading the two to have an interesting talk. Rinne quizzes HiMERU on where he was and why his face looks sad, eventually revealing he knows about HiMERU's secret. It's something that could've been inferred from various other stories if you ask me, but seeing it properly spelt out is interesting. On top of this, Rinne also points out HiMERU is currently a year older than his persona, comparing his age to Niki which would currently make him 19. HiMERU doesn't shoot this down or acknowledge it being correct, giving nothing but a vague response about how faking your age by a year or so is more common than one would expect. While true - it is important to note that Rinne may be right due to HiMERU's avoidance of the topic.

*translation is a little broken - however it still shows Rinne saying "one year older" in reference to HiMERU

I'd argue this makes perfect sense. During the events of Obbligato, he would be about 17 or so, meaning he's still essentially a kid during this. In a way, it can make his actions make more sense when looking at it from this angle. However, I plan to dedicate an analysis to HiMERU's age sometime soon as I would like to talk about it separately and go more in depth about Obbligato and how this doesn't retcon what we know already but that isn't the focus currently.

Regardless, HiMERU ends up getting defensive and speaking in first person. Another something I deem important of note. After Rinne coming forward with the fact he knows his secret, even calling Kaname "Kannamecchi" as a nickname, HiMERU has nothing to hide. He speaks in third person to preserve his secret and be what HiMERU is supposed to be, not who HiMERU truly is. Without that secret, he's allowed to be himself. He's speaking for himself here, how he claims to not trust Rinne himself and threatens to harm him should he hurt Kaname or drag him into any sort of mess. Rinne however, takes this moment to try to drill into HiMERU that the PBB isn't good and how him being "HiMERU" isn't good either and making him act strange.

Another moment that shows how much Rinne cares so much about those around him despite his persona. Another thing I plan on talking about at some point.

HiMERU ends up calming down and asking about how Kohaku is doing, Rinne ends up turning this around on him and continues to push the idea that "HiMERU" is causing problems here and brings up how Kohaku was wrapped up in "HiMERU's" mess. This manages to be enough to get HiMERU to reflect a bit more, realizing that this all started from Kaname. The popularity was not only good for the idol name, but also seemed to be making Kaname happy with the growing merch in his hospital room. HiMERU was always skeptical about the trend, knowing about it in full and how odd it was in multiply ways. During this reflection, Kohaku walks up to the two of them. Both Kohaku and Niki were called to the lounge by Rinne, allowing them to hear at least part of the conversation the two were having including parts of HiMERU's self reflection and bits about Kaname.

This prompts the two of them to properly talk out everything going on. Neither of them are happy and only one was willing to admit it previously - HiMERU even taking a moment to remind himself and truly realize that Kohaku wasn't happy. Its a moment of selfishness we rarely see from HiMERU and one he doesn't seem to realize exists because he kept pushing the show "for the fans" when really he was also being a tad selfish with his own wants by imagining Kohaku as Kaname. Kohaku continues to talk about how he wants to show himself off more, be his own idol, instead of just listening to what the fans want like HiMERU seemingly wants to do. Niki only backs up Kohaku, expressing himself freely in the process to emphasize that people need to mix up what they're doing while also taking others into consideration. This also manages to click something in place for HiMERU, with him realizing that Kaname probably cared less about seeing the PBB and more about seeing his brother in any capacity.

This realization allows him to act more like himself again, or at least how people see him. Kohaku even feeling better after talking for a few. The two end up agreeing to put an end to the show going on and resume activity as Crazy:B as they always have, turning down Rinne's plans to go out with a bang as he normally would.

Despite this though, when Kohaku and HiMERU plan to do a live together at a festival and announce the end of doing things as a duo and go back to doing things with the rest of their unit, Rinne still manages to crash the party. Rinne, dragging Niki into his mess as usual, ends up turning it into a Crazy:B live since he didn't want just HiMERU and Kohaku enjoying the festival. Many fans end up speculating from this that Rinne forced Kohaku and HiMERU to halt PBB activity but they try to ignore that. Kohaku admits he enjoys Crazy:B for what it is, despite how hectic it can be with Rinne as a leader. HiMERU himself even recognizing that deep down this is what he was expecting, and in turn enjoying it.

After everything, Kohaku and HiMERU end up going back to finish shooting the little show with Nagisa and Rinne, enjoying that more than they did recording things as the PBB. Nagisa was even enjoying it himself. HiMERU truly came out from behind the persona he built up for Kaname more by the end of this story, as he continues to do so bit by bit with each story we see him in. The others even recognize this, Kohaku especially with calling out how HiMERU did see him as a little brother.

To summarize my thoughts and add a few notes that I couldn't add in elsewhere, I think the story is very good and a solid enough commentary on how popularity as an idol can come from varying places both good and bad (comparative to other ES stories at least) and how popularity itself is a powerful thing for better or for worse. Its not perfect by any means, much like any other Ensemble Stars story, but its a lot better than I think people give it credit for. We learnt more about HiMERU than we knew previously and a handful of assumptions I've seen some people have were confirmed - myself included. It's also interesting to see HiMERU be more selfish with his wants, even if he doesn't entirely realize it.

I hope we one day see HiMERU shine through more past his few moments of speaking in first person. I would like to see his real personality outshine the idol he portrays himself as. The bits we do see in the story feel powerful to me since his emotions get too strong in regards to Kaname that he lets his guard down, especially when people know his secret. Things likely won't be changing anytime soon, but improvement is still improvement and I want to see more of that.

Regardless, thank you for making to the end of this lengthy analysis. I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope this story can now be understood better.

a/n

- I plan on making edits to this in the future when I have written the analysis on both HiMERU's age and how Rinne shows how much he cares about people, attaching the analysis to the points needed so people can further see me prove the points I would like to as the focus is on this story specifically and I would like some place separate to talk about these specific things rather than the story as a whole. - If anything needs clarification, I messed up information or you would like me to talk about something in more detail, do not hesitate to send an ask so I can talk about it or make fixes to the post as needed. I would like for this to be accurate as possible.

Edit Log

October 25th, 2024 - Edited a mistake where "Pastel Bee Brothers" was put as "Pastel Bee Boys"

[eleventeenthealbum]

seejanerot -> eleventeenthealbum

Eleventeen is an album by Daisy Chainsaw. I like it. This is a blog and diary to me.

Nerd blog is @halfjewharlequinn

Anthro Blog is @religiousfurryism

I have a SECRET nsft blog that can be requested by mutuals.

READ THIS 👇

MAPS and "pro-para" types unwelcome. Incest lovers owe survivors everything they have. Fiction cannot cause abuse, but it can facilitate, normalize, romanticize, and eroticize it.

It happened to me. Please dni if you post sa based kinks I am very hyper vigilant and paranoid.

TERFS unwelcome. "Girl's girls" choice feminism and obviously "pro-para" unwelcome. We do real feminism here. Sorry for being crazy.

Block if you think the r slur is funny I'm over it. 🥰

♥️MORE DNI AND ABOUT BELOW♥️

DNI Radqueers/Terfs/swerfs/zionists we will not like each other. die.

Terfs are not real feminists, neither are radqueers or the most recent "pro para" (proship reloaded) movements.

"Purity culture" is very real and it's not the critique or discussion of sex or kink or fandom. It's the concept that the amount sex you have or who you do/don't have it with has an inherent implication on your personhood, particularly towards women.

LESS SERIOUS:

I'm a big big hater. I hate people who pay social media sites and I hate AO3. "Bi lesbian" is an oxymoron. Weebs are on thin ice. Rpf sucks, you're weird.

I like nonfiction, bad horror stories, FMV video games, Furryism, Animal Crossing, comedy, comics (mostly transformers and DC but I also love vintage comics, Love and Rockets, things by Lynda Barry, and Archie Comics), dolls, and Twin Peaks. Formerly ran the blog @Jewishharleyquinn before they got me.

I'm interested in court cases and nature + natural history

I want to be a fairy. I want to be a mermaid. I want to be very small.

You can ask me to tag things🩷 I use (trigger) cw except for "flashing"

Tw: csa + grooming

You might see me speak a lot on abuse fetishism online + in fandom. I was groomed online by a woman through toxic fandom, "loli" and other CSEM anime/manga, and a very twisted version of feminism and sex positivity.

It went on from ages 13-17, meeting online when I was just 12. She involved me and her foster sister. I have had a few other sexually traumatic experiences (some happening in early childhood that she connected with me on), but that was by far the longest and most twisted.

I started talking about this more when I realized others had been hurt in very similar ways.

I'm a grooming, incestous abuse, and sa survivor, these things also upset me greatly. If I interact first I apologize, please just block me. I say this because of my own negative reactions.

[xeeljii]

SUCK IT AND SEE

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

Summary: No head no backstage passes! 

Word count: 4.7k

CW: 18+, f! reader, kinda dom!Joost, oral (m!receiving), thank god for skirts, spit only a little bit, slight jealousy, established relationship but no context needed, no specific body descriptions. 

It had been a hard month to say the least, it didn’t start that way, Joost was supposed to be away on tour and you had made arrangements to go with him to most of it but that plan fell through as your work pilled up and at every turn more problems kept popping up. You could barely catch a break from work to home then to work again and a million little tasks that demanded your immediate attention at all times, nights included. You were running on fumes, too busy sometimes to even talk to him on the phone or reply to his texts. He was understanding and didn’t blame you which made you feel all the more guilty. Worst part though, you were pent up. Usually you two managed the long distance relationship thing, did something, either sent pics or videos, chatted, anything really to help relieve some tension and talk each other through it, but this time no such luck. Finally though, you were free and just your luck he was performing back home. You would be able to meet him but didn’t tell him yet, you wanted it to be a surprise.

You arrived at the venue when the show had already been starting, you sneaked to the backstage area without problems since his people knew you and you watched from the side of the stage the whole way through eyes glued on him. He was great at this, it never got boring you could watch every show and still want more, he was confident and engaging in a way you had seen few others, and even more charming because it was him. During the night you kept seeing all the beautiful people completely enamored by him, the pretty manicured hands reaching up to touch him even for a second and the bolder ones lingering at his arms for longer. It made something ugly and possessive bubble up in you that didn't fully let you enjoy the show. You who had been so lonely, sleeping at his bed far too big for a single person, yearning for his touch and yet everyone else seemed to have a piece of him and within touching distance right now. It was stupid and a far too immature way of thinking, you knew it, but it didn’t stop the way your heart felt heavy in your chest. You knew he couldn’t be yours fully even if you wanted it, knew that to some degree he would always belong to the fans too and to the world sometimes in unhealthy ways but nonetheless it made you feel lonely. Even if you poured everything you were on him he would still not be fully yours. You tried to push the ugly monster on jealousy back where it came from and just focus on enjoying the night, ignoring everyone but him. 

You didn’t want him to see you just yet, so before he left the stage you quickly scurried to the small changing room at the back of the venue, knowing that everyone would probably linger at the larger backstage area. You enter the dimly lit room, there is only one vanity and a small couch, you wait impatiently to see him, you feel so giddy as if you truly didn’t know him and you were doing something so bold and reckless as sneaking in his changing room. You hear the sound of the door right behind you open and turn around on your feet, you rest your arms on the counter of the vanity and look at him with a playful smile on your face. He has missed you so badly, wonders why you didn’t tell him you were coming, he enjoys his shows more when he knows you are watching. He had been wanting to change quickly and go home to you and now you were here like he inadvertently called you with his mind. He has a towel hanging from his neck to soak the sweat, he quickly throws it into the couch before walking up to you. He has been aching for you so badly if he makes no effort to hold back he might pounce you right here, but they way you are looking up at him through heavy eyelashes it might be exactly what you want. 

“What are you doing here?” He is still a few steps away, he looks taller or maybe it is because you haven’t seen him in what feels like forever.

“Well I came to see the main act, heard he was eye candy.” You smile seductively before licking your lips, the small glimpse of pink into your mouth already has him quickly hardening in his boxers, he didn’t even notice he was that pent up.

“Yeah?” His voice is a little hoarse from the show it makes you blush quickly under his gaze. 

He takes another step towards you, he uses his height to stare you down, to seem like he is the one in control when he is already so worked up.

“Well you have no backstage pass, you can’t be here” He says smiling triumphantly at you, he sees a cute pout form on your lips. You are undeterred by this and take a step to close the gap. 

“Really?” You ask faking nervousness that he will really kick you out. You see he doesn’t reply just looks down at you trying to keep the harsh stare. You lift your hand up and rest a tentative palm on his stomach feeling the soft flesh underneath only separated by the light fabric of the white button up. He makes no effort to swat your hand away, truthfully he is a little touch starved and this past month has been hard on him too, he is needy under the faced and has missed you so terribly. “Not even if I give you head?” You ask bluntly.

He swallows thickly, you start moving your hands down, he lets you play with the hem of his skirt. He can only hum in acknowledgment of what you just said fearing if he opens his mouth all that will come out is a pathetic eager sound.

“Is that what you do with your groupies?” You ask when you see he seems speechless, there is a smile on your face, you are only playing and he knows it too but at the same time there is a hint of real possessiveness on your tone, you don’t think he would ever do that to you but dating the star doesn't get easy really when everyone wants him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know” He smirks down at you. And you would like to know, right now actually.

You push him towards the couch until it touches the back of his legs, he drops on it heavily, spreading his legs leaving room for you in the middle. You drop to your knees in front of him quickly with a soft thud, maybe it will leave a bruise, it is okay he can kiss at the tender skin later when you get back home. Your hands are holding at his hips and inching slowly down, he feels his heart skip a beat just watching you. You start undoing some hooks of his skirt, feel the thick fabric under your fingertips, and do everything you can to stop your hands from trembling with how eager you are. The skirt stays in place hanging from his hips but now the fabric creates a nice opening to what you want the most. You reach towards his dick inside his boxers, it feels so heavy in your hand, already semi-hard. You start stroking him slowly over the thin fabric of his boxers, he feels so warm you can see the outline of his length through the material, and a small bead of precum where his tip is, your mouth is already watering with desire. He fully hardens under your touch but before you go further he grabs hold of your jaw on the palm of his hand, caresses at the soft skin there then hooks his thumb on your lower lip pulling it open. Your mouth falls open for him, the inviting pink of it has him almost panting, he pushes his thumb inside and watches as it disappear when you wrap your soft lips around it, immediately sucking down greedily. He lets you suck at it for a minute, you look so pretty eyes closed and cheeks starting to blush but he stops you before he has the opportunity of finishing on his underwear too soon just at your sight. He pulls his hand away. 

“Get to work.” His voice sounds low it goes right to your cunt and makes you start to dampen. 

You nod up to him diligently without another word and go to reach the hem of his Joost Klein boxers, in a different situation you would give him shit for it, but now so pumped full of desire it just serves as reminder of who has you on your knees and it makes you even more impatient to have him in your mouth. 

You pull his boxers down in a swift motion, his dick springs up and hits softy against his lower belly, you lick your lips in awe, the size and sheer girth are nothing to scoff at when he is fucking you but now on your knees looking up he looks even bigger, almost intimidating. You stroke his soft skin in one hand. You have to raise a little more and you start placing little kisses on the lower part of his soft stomach, all over his happy trail that tickles your nose, the hair there is rougher and darker, you love it so much, are so thankful in moments like this that he doesn’t have the patience to shave and just trims. You lick a long stripe up his length from down between his ballsack up to the tip, he hisses at that, you keep your hand moving while you lick and suck all over the tender skin of his dick, you feel the heat of him on your lips, you press open mouthed kisses at the veins, your thumb rubs at the slit of his tip, delicious drops of pre cum keep coming out making your strokes glide easier. He smells stronger than usual, the sweat on his skin makes him salty, it is so delicious and intoxicating you flatten your tongue on the underside of his cock eager to feel the large vein pulsing against it. You go lower take one of his balls in your mouth and suck softly, it leaves him speechless, he grabs tightly at one side of the couch, until his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck schat!” He almost screams, one of his hands goes to cover his mouth always so loud, but you want that; you distantly wish someone would walk in on you now, you wish everyone would know how much he wants you, how you are the only one that can have him dripping and needy like this, how he is yours and only yours. 

You continue placing small kisses over his shaft, kitten licks on his tip and stroking the velvety skin, with one hand you play softly with his balls, feel so heavy on your palms you can already imagine how pent up he is, how thick and generous his release will be. You pull softly at the thin skin of his shaft with your lips making sure not to hurt him, he is twitching at that, growing even more impatient by the second.

“Enough with the teasing, open your mouth” He sounds so different from usual so consumed by lust and commanding, you pull away slightly looking up with big wet eyes, you let your jaw hang open pushing your tongue out slightly. He grabs himself in one big hand strokes a couple times before he lightly taps his hot member against your tongue.

“Suck”. You don’t need to be told twice.

Your lips wrap hungrily against his tip and you suck tightly, you let spit fall down his shaft, you take more of him slowly making sure not to graze your teeth on the sensitive skin. He is moaning above you, his taste is so intoxicating in your mouth you keep sucking him deeper you can’t get enough. You work your hand on what your mouth can’t take, your other holding tightly at his thigh, the delicious muscle warm underneath your touch. You look up at him but his eyes are closed, eyebrows scrunched up, it could make you feel a little lonely if you didn’t know that he was doing it so he didn’t end this fun all too quick. But it only serves to spur you on, to have him so worked up that he can’t do anything to stop from coming deep into your heat. His hands go to your head , he sinks his fingers softly between the strands of hair, letting you move at your pace but wanting to feel you close. 

You feel breathless even when doing your best effort to breath through your nose, you moan against his length, there are loud squelching sounds filling the room, he feels like he is going insane doing everything to stay still when he feels himself melting on your mouth. The heat of it feels so inviting that without meaning to he pushes your head deeper lost in the desire, you feel him at the back of your throat in surprise and gag around his length sending a delicious spasm over his sensitive cock, he quickly lets go and mutters a sorry. But this is exactly what you want, what has your cunt dripping wet on your underwear. You look up at him pulling off his dick slightly from your mouth enough so you can speak.

“You can fuck my mouth, you know?” Your voice sounds rough from the strain, he stays in place mouth agape while his brain tries to catch up to what you are saying. “I mean, I want you to fuck my mouth Joost” You grab at his hands that are clenched in fists by his hips, untangle his fingers and bring them to the back of your head to hold you in place. “Please” you almost whimper looking up at him through glossy eyes holding his dick in your hand and kissing softly at the tip.

He nods, grabs at the back of your head firmly, you open your mouth as much as you can waiting for him to fill you, he start pushing his dick inside you slowly, looking intently at your face for signs of discomfort but you look almost blissful despite the few tears that escape your water line, he feels the warm breath coming from your nose as he closes the gap, he feels the tip of his dick bump at the back of your throat thinks about pulling out but you moan deliciously around his length it feels like a plead “more” so he pushes even further feels your throat tighten on his tip gives you some seconds to calm down and relax around him, again you hum around him signaling for him to push further and he does when he finally bottoms out into your throat a long deep moan escapes from his plump lips.

“Shit, liefde you feel so good” You hum contently, proud that he is enjoying you so much, your hands are holding on his thighs but now he is the one setting the pace. 

He pulls in and out slowly letting you get used to his girth and length, after a few thrusts he gets bolder starts going faster and harder, knows that you can take it because you keep moaning around him like when is fucking your pussy. After a while when he feels you have become accustomed he starts pushing in deep fast thrusts you can barely register his moves you just feel the divine push and pull on your throat, you were meant for him, that is why it feels so good, like he was fucking your cunt, it makes no sense other way. The sounds are downright sinful, your mouth creating a vacuum like effect that amplifies the squelch, it feels too pornographic but your mind is so far off you don’t even pause. When he hits at the back of your throat too hard it makes you gag around him but from his position it is just too delicious, he is already too lost and can’t stop, just chases after the feeling, you do your best to relax under him breathing rapidly through your nose feeling his musk take over your senses. You feel the way your pussy is throbbing so wet and you can feel the dampness in your panties. You feel the combined bite of your underwear and the seam line of your jeans dig into your cunt applying just the smallest pleasure to your clit, you start moving your hips involuntarily chasing after nothing, you don’t even want to imagine the damage when you take your pants off, but you have been so pent up too. The pictures and voice notes he would send only taking you so far. You are a little whimpering mess under him, he tries not to look too hard or this will end all too quick but when he does and he sees you humping softly against the air he feels a bit of pain, he wants to help you but your mouth feel so heavenly right now he can’t pull away even if his life depended on it. He slows down his thrust but keeps his cock buried deep on your throat, you take the opportunity to take deep breaths though your nose.

“Get yourself off for me princess.” He says with tenderness dripping from his tone despite the position you are in. 

You are so far gone what should sound outrageous is just a welcomed blessing to quench your thirst. You nod. He starts thrusting wildly again so close to his peak. You push your jeans open with one hand an immediately reach inside to find your clit hard and throbbing painfully you are so wet you don’t know if the squelching sounds are coming from him or from you, you start rubbing wild circles on it chasing your high, you feel like a dog in heat at his feet, it is so humiliating and yet it only adds fuel to the fire of your fast coming orgasm. You feel weightless rubbing furiously at your bundle of nerves, hand scratching at his thigh while he uses your mouth to get off, you don’t have to do anything but breath and concentrate on how much he fills you, how deeply he reaches, the delicious scent of his sweaty skin. Distantly your throat starts to hurt, the sides of your mouth pulled taut, you wonder if you will be even able to speak after this but the feeling of being filled by him in a way that feels like he is fucking your brain is too good to stop.

He feels you moaning wildly on his length, sees how fast your hand is moving inside your jeans and how hard your hold is on his thigh, he smiles to himself before opening his mouth.

“You like this?” With him so deep down your throat it is impossible to reply, you open your eyes to meet his through falling tears and just hum affirmatively against his dick hoping he gets it. “Yeah?” He pushes impossibly deeper into you, your nose is pressed thight right on his lower stomach you feel the soft flesh and the happy trail tickle at your nose. “Maybe I should keep you like this?” His sentences punctured with the push and pull hold on your head “Use you just to cockwarm me.”

The idea doesn’t seem so bad, to exist only to warm him, to turn off your brain fully, only live off his pleasure. Your brains might have melted off somewhere along the way because it is starting to sound like a dream. You try to lick at the underside so desperate to feel him finally cum down your throat, prove to you that you make him feel so good, that you are the only one that can do this for him.

At his feet you feel your orgasm quickly crash into you, you look up at him desperate tears freely falling from your eyes. The climax is so hard pulled from your deepest parts if he wasn’t fully filling you up you would scream. His thighs shake under your grip, his fist webbed and closed painfully on your hair, he feels himself coming undone and pushes himself one last thrust into your sweet mouth, your nose crashes against his pelvis as he cums deep into the heat of your throat, his release painting white stripes down your pink insides, your body responds on instinct swallowing down as much as you can.

You feel his dick twitch softly on your tongue before he pulls out of you, his cock is so pretty and pink glistening with his release and your spit, before you can swallow the last of it down he speaks.

“Let me see” you open your mouth with your tongue out holding the last of his cum like a pearl int he middle of your tongue. He holds your jaw in his hand looks hypnotized at the sight, could probably get hard again in a minute just at the view, wishes he could take a picture, is sure it would get him off in seconds no matter how far away you were.

An obscene idea crosses his mind, you must be connected in some deep spiritual level, soulmates lost from another time or neighbors from the same cosmic powder that makes you or just depraved enough in the exact same way, because you just look up at him like you can really read his mind and nod slightly, giving him green light. He knows you want this too, knows you would let him do anything he wanted but it feels so wrong you are his princess, his heart, he wants to treat you gently, spoil you rotten, kiss every hair on your head and before he can stop himself the animal inside of him spits a fat glob into your pretty mouth that lands perfectly on the center of your tongue right there with the rest of his cum. You close your eyes and swallow back like it is delicious. If heaven exists he is not making it there, for this alone but he can’t find it in himself to feel guilty when you look up at him from the floor with so much adoration like he is god.

You rest your head on his thigh looking up to him with half lidded eyes, all the stress from work melting away slowly. You place little kisses at the soft skin on the inside of his legs, then bolder more insistent ones, he realizes you are trying to mark him. His skin is so pale there, never touched by the sun, he bruises so easily and now he will have your love bites all over his thighs to prove that he is yours and only yours, as if the look of adoration he gives you all the time isn’t enough. You suck generously on the sensitive skin, scrape your teeth over it before licking with your tongue and soothing the marks with kisses once you are satisfied. Red spots bloom on the softness of his thighs and he lets you, he would let you do anything you wanted to him. You look up at him and find him already staring at you, pure love dripping from his eyes and a soft smile on his lips, it overwhelms you so much you have to bite at the tender muscle on his leg, he complains in a high pitched “Ouch!” and you snort at it before placing a kiss over the mark of your teeth. When you are satisfied with your work you place one more open mouthed kiss over the sweet skin that is already turning a deeper red and tomorrow will be purple. 

“You know I'm yours right?” 

“I know.” You say placing one last peck on the high part of his inner thigh. 

“I fucking love you.”

“I love you too.” 

He pulls his boxers up, lifts you up easily from the floor and rests you against his chest sitting you on his lap. He grabs at your hand that goes straight to his lips, he puts your fingers in his mouth and sucks deeply, the ones you just used to get off and are still wet with your release, he is so greedy even in this situation it makes you blush more than anything of what you just did. He rest his forehead against yours, more so you have something to lean on that anything, he holds you there with one of his hands at your back rubbing soothing circles while you come down to earth, to him. After long languid minutes when he sees your breathing is steady he lifts up your chin to clean you up. He grabs tissues from somewhere near and gently wipes aways at you lips, whatever of his release you couldn’t swallow quick enough. Your lips look so tender, almost raw, he worries he hurt you, looks conflicted, this was all so hot but he would never want to hurt you but you stop his train of thought kissing gently at the corner of his lips, like you are telling him you are fine.

Up close like this he can smell faintly the scent of his body wash on you, he likes this kind of thing, knowing you are his in the small details, even when he is gone. When he looks even closer he can see faint dark circles under your eyes decorating your pretty face, he holds your cheeks on his hands and caresses softy.

“They are overworking you at that place.” He says worry very present in his tone.

You shrug slightly “Yeah probably, I could say the same about you” You reach a hand up and caress under his eyes the same dark circles as yours. Your voice sounds rough.

“You should come with me, become my new assistant stylist or makeup artists, whatever you want or do nothing at all,”

You play with the hair at his nape amused and scrunch your nose before answering “I don’t know, what benefits do you offer? Is the salary even competitive?” You crook your neck playfully to the side like you are really considering it.

He  lifts you up from the couch with him and his hands move to button your jeans while he answers. “Yeah very competitive.” You help him fix his skirt in place too, you hope he wears it often and this is not a one off thing.

“No, I don’t think I will.” You shake your head and look up at him. "You will just use me as a bed warmer, and you don’t even have HR!” You say faking a horrified face, he burst out laughing while he starts to caress at your sides.

“You are so weird.” He smiles fondly at you and places a sweet kiss on your lips. He is never scared of kissing your after you have him in your mouth it is weirdly enough like he chases it, like he likes proof that you really had him there, that you are really his.

“I like the skirt by the way.” You say playing with the thick fabric, he passes you another tissue, you wipe at the tears still on your skin and blow out your nose, he finds you adorable even after all the filth you just did. “It is sexy, gives easy access.” You wink at him he could almost blush if his face wasn’t already so red from your antics.

“Lets go get you something to eat” He grabs at your hand softly pulling you to the door.

“Oh yes please, I’m starving!”

“Yeah I could tell.” He smiles down at you, pride dripping form his tone.

At home he will fuck you to sleep make you cum until you are exhausted to even argue and force you to take the day off and stay in bed all day in his embrace recharging and you won’t even complain because there is secretly no better place than between his arms and for him there is no better place than wherever you are.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, cheating

Author’s note: so, i got a request from the lovely @lfdybadgirlsdiw that i wasnt able to let go and now, here we are, the beginning of a new five-parter! enjoy! lmk what you think, thanks! <3

Wordcount: 5.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The first little crack.

“No, that is your side. And this should be mine.” Joe argued, arms flailing, gesturing at both sides of the bed as he stood at the foot of it.

The first little crack of many.

“Joe. I have always slept on this side,” you said, already in bed, tucked up and all cosy, barely able to keep your eyes open still.

If you hadn’t been aware of how much Joe had been pushing to get his way lately, this could have come across as playful banter.

“Listen. If we’re going to establish actual sides, you should be furthest away from the door.”

But given how Joe had been making you feel after compromising, after giving in and meeting you halfway, no one would think this was funny.

“Why?” you closed your eyes and nuzzled into your pillow, not even slightly bothered by Joe’s pleading who desperately wished you’d roll over to what, up until now, had been his side of the bed.

“For… just, because.”

“Hmmno.”

“For danger. What if a burglar gets in?”

You sighed. Deeply. Sank into your pillow more. It was the kind of breath released just before you were about to doze off, and it was meant to signal that you weren’t going to engage in this discussion any longer.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Joe could go and lay on his side of your bed, or he could go and sleep on the sofa, and that was that.

“Babe.” Joe tried to give you a little push, but the way you’d wrapped yourself up proved you needed more than just a slight shove to end up where he wanted you.

“Hmm.”

You were bone-tired, already all sunken into the mattress, ready to go visit another planet for a good few hours.

“Babe.”

You opened a bleary eye to see Joe still look just as awake and ready to win this argument as he was when you’d closed your eyes.

“This flat won’t get burgled.”

“You don’t know that. Might have someone kick in the door tonight, and, then what? Hmm?”

Something cute about this need to protect you, and you knew that’s what he could dress this up as, but the timing of it was so God-awful, you couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to fall asleep on your own side of the bed already.

“Think of it this way,” you started, holding a stretched hand out that Joe easily took, knees pressing into the mattress as he towered over you for a minute. “In case of a fire, I’ll be the first one out.”

And just like that, Joe let himself fall into the empty spot next to you, seemingly giving up and giving in.

Good.

“A fire is much more likely than a burglar.” You concluded, word slurred and eyes closing again as Joe got his legs underneath the covers.

“That’s not as good but…” Joe thought for a second, then said, “If a fire breaks out here, it’ll be from that old hair thing of yours. That thing you use that smells like it’s melting.”

“See?” you mumbled, disagreeing, but happy to let sleep take you.

“Or because you leave an empty pot on a burner again.”

“Mhm.” Little less happy. You only did that once and it wasn’t even your fault.

“Or because–” 

“Joe.”

A short moment of silence followed.

“Fine,” he whispered, adding, “for now.” on the back-end of a deep breath. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were on Joe’s side of the bed.

“Morning.” Joe smiled, just beyond pleased that he’d gotten his way by moving your unconscious body across the bed in the night.

You gave him the blankest stare you’d ever given someone, which was easy because you’d only just opened your eyes, sleep still causing enough confusion to fully comprehend why Joe seemed to be awaiting a response.

You tutted and rolled your eyes when his expectant smile only grew.

He had rolled your defenseless body over in the night. What the fuck, actually. And this idiot thought he was being all cute. Was reaching over to take your hand into both of his, to pull it to his mouth where he gave it a small kiss.

“You’re such a child.” You pulled your hand from his grasp and turned away from him as you sat up.

“What?” Joe feigned indignancy, his smile too big to sell it to you properly.

“An actual child. This isn’t funny.”

“Oh come on. It’s a little funny.”

You got up and out.

“Babe.”

You ignored him. Walked right past him.

“Baby.”

The first little crack.

“Oh, come on!”

The first little crack of many.

Friday. End of a long day a long week of whirlwind work days and awful nights of sleep. It’s the wrong time of day for this.

“A flat white for…”

Autumn. Rainy, cold weather that your wardrobe’s not caught up to yet. It’s the wrong time of the year for this.

“Joe?”

You can give yourself a stern talking-to later about how most of the day had completely passed you by in a blur, but you hear the words flat white and Joe and are immediately more in tune with the world.

You look up from your phone in the queue to see Joe step forward and take his drink.

“Thanks.”

It takes a slow second for you to realise it’s really him. A slow blinking moment of just looking at him, a tired mind slowly speeding up to real world tempo, before your brain goes, it’s him.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re too tired for this.

Wrong place, wrong time, entirely wrong headspace.

The second he turns, you make eye contact for the briefest second which prompts him to do a comically exaggerated double take that immediately makes running into each other less awkward. You smile despite your mood.

God, you’d almost forgotten what he’s like.

It’s been a couple of months now, just over half a year, and the hurt has dulled enough that trying to be normal, and civil, and courteous, and polite, and kind shouldn’t be the most difficult thing ever.

That’s your ex-boyfriend.

You hope your face didn’t show how that first millisecond of seeing him struck you, but you saw him before he saw you, so you are probably fine.

That’s your too-kind-to-pretend-to-not-have-seen-you ex-boyfriend. Your somehow-still-really-happy-to-run-into-you ex-boyfriend.

And now you’ve gone and smiled at him, even though pulling up the corners of your mouth feels like exercising at the minute, you need a nap so bad.

You shouldn’t have left work early.

Shouldn’t have decided to go for a large coffee on your way home.

Shouldn’t have looked up.

Shouldn’t have even wanted to check if the flat white was for your Joe.

Correction.

No longer your Joe.

Just Joe.

It’s fine, it’s fine. There’s a whole new person in your life. It’s fine. But it would’ve been lovely if the universe could’ve waited until after you’d drank this large black coffee you are about to order, but of course that’s never how things work.

Stars are against you when it comes to Joe, apparently.

Joe could’ve left it at that. You’d had a moment of oh my god it’s you, what are the odds across a coffee shop and he could have easily waved and left. Have that be the whole interaction. That would have been fine.

But instead, Joe decides to stay, and he communicates with looks for a moment. With facial expressions and gesturing arms.

It’s a wild look around from Joe that tells you, what a weird time and place to see you! and a funny tired shrug from you in reply that tells him, life’s weird, what can I say?

You feel a little proud that you’ve not ignored him. That you’ve not pretended you just didn’t see him only to later contemplate sending him an incredibly lame “was that you getting a flat white this afternoon?” text that you’d regret the very second those ticks would’ve changed colour.

You’re working at 40% brain activity right now, and it’s a little difficult to use your social filter to pretend to feel any other way than you’re actually feeling.

Up until now that meant that your bad mood was everyone else’s problem.

Seeing Joe now, it suddenly means that you can’t pretend that you don’t immediately notice shit like how he isn’t wearing any of his rings. And how he probably wore something that covered his hair earlier today.

Wrong things to focus on, but a tired mind is difficult to keep in its lane.

You see how Joe checks his phone with a thoughtful look before he then nods as he puts it away. He gives you a questioning look as he points down.

You got a minute?

And you do the same; check the time on the phone that’s already in your hand and think of a million excuses to turn him down, but you only have the gym later, and that’s it. When you look back up, you give him a funny nod and a half shrug and you try your best to make your eyes look like you’re properly awake.

Yea why not, go on then.

You’re an adult running into an ex and you said you’d stay friends and you had really truly meant it then, so this is fine.

He looks a little too handsome for his own good, but it’s fine.

Joe waits for you. Hangs around near the bar at the windows and half-sits on one of the stools there, one foot still on the floor, more leaning than actual sitting, with his back towards the windows.

You try not to watch him, but you can’t help but notice the way he lets his eyes scan the room for a minute. The way he looks over his shoulder as his eyes dart across the street.

It occurs to you how quickly the checking you used to do for him stopped after you broke up. After you left his world. It’s a little weird how, here, in the same coffee shop, in the exact same location, you’re in entirely different worlds from each other, and the closer to you get to the end of the counter, the more they overlap.

It’s one of the things you haven’t missed.

When you step into earshot properly, after ordering, you make eye-contact and smile at each other.  

“Hello,” Joe makes his voice go up and down, like he’s just as pleasantly surprised to see you as you do him, but you’re trying to not make it so obvious. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You smile and grab his arm for a second as a hello, rather than going in for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Joe smiles right back, and takes the touch of his arm as enough of an invite to hug you anyway.

You ignore the flicker of worry you see across his face, the slight twitch in his eyebrows, just before his face disappears from your view and all you can really focus on is how Joe smells.

All right.

Jesus.

Joe smells like that little hidden bottle of his old cologne that you still have, and it’s like being transported back into your old life a little. The life that you tried to hold onto with all ten fingernails until they all chipped and broke and bled.

When you step back, Joe smiles all warm, eyes fully fucking focused on you, like he’s glad he can just look at one thing instead of having his attention with all of his surroundings.

Not a hint of worry there now.

God.

You’ve missed him.

Miss him still.

You know that he can see how tired you are. That the slight concern that flashed across his face was only there because of how you weren’t fully opening your eyes after each blink.

“Nice shirt.” You comment, doing your best to keep the ice broken and not let it freeze back over.

Joe looks down at himself and grins wider. He’s wearing a shirt he only got because you said you liked it. Which, you still do.

“Thanks. You look good too.”

Liar.

What follows after warm smiles is warm small talk by the end of the counter until your coffee’s ready. He asks how you’re doing. What you’re up to. Remembers something specific that you had coming up at work ages ago, something that’s now long passed, and Joe wants to know how it went.

“My God. All right, Mister Memory.”

Charmer. He’s basically interviewing you.

“Oh, sorry. Is that weird? I’m being weird. Sorry.”

“A little. But… um…” you have to really think about that for a second. “Yea, all of that went fine.” you guess before your brain finds the right memory and you give him a slightly more certain, “Great, actually. Yea. It was good.”

Joe smiles. Nods. Looks like he’s really fucking pleased for you which is almost funny because you remember a time where your work hours were mostly an inconvenience to him.

“I should be asking what’s going on with you!” you chirp, and Joe just shrugs. Jokes, “Nothing much. Quiet life. Sort of boring, you remember what it’s like.”

You laugh. It’s out of you before you can stop it.

Fuck.

Joe has no business making you feel the way he is right now. You’re tired and in actual need of comfort. It’s dangerous to be around someone who knows how to give you what you want. What you need.

Your coffee gets placed onto the counter, and there’s this awkward moment where you now have your drink and maybe this is the moment where you go, Okay, was good seeing ya, bye! and dart out the door.

But instead, Joe grabs you by the arm and nods towards a table where someone’s packing up. “Come on, let’s sit.”

And just like that, you’re being lead over to go and sit down with him.

You take the biggest gulp of hot coffee before you sit down, definitely burn your tongue, and are already thinking of ways you can explain this to others. What if someone sees you? If someone gets a sneaky pic in?

You’re not doing anything illegal, obviously.

And it’s not like you went to this coffee shop on purpose.

You hadn’t meant to run into Joe.

But now you’re taking your coat off and so is he and you both have hot drinks to warm your hands and Joe pulls in his chair real close and asks you a bunch more questions about work, and your family, and he says he heard you traveled, which you did, and he’s making you laugh, and yea, you’re tired, and you keep suppressing yawns, but the coffee is helping a little, and it’s nice to sit, your limbs are thanking you for it, and Joe is acting like you meet up for coffee all the time, like this is normal, and you almost start believing it, he’s being so friendly and casual, until he suddenly leans over the table, both elbows on the faux marble surface, ducks his head down a little before he says, “Is this the time we... where we talk? About what happened?”

It catches you off guard, a little.

You don’t want to talk about what happened.

You kind of don’t even want to be talking to him at all if you really think about it. Not because you don’t like it. Despite that, actually. It’s lovely talking to Joe. That’s precisely the problem. You didn’t break up with him because you stopped liking him.

The longer you look at him, the more nice things you’re remembering about him. The more you start thinking about what could have been.

So you don’t respond for a moment, and then you give a half-hearted shrug.

“We don’t have to.” you say quietly, almost absently.

There’s not enough brain space available to you right now. This is the type of conversation to have five years down the line, after a long holiday where you’ve managed to catch up on sleep and… you know… when you look well rested. Tanned. Satisfied with life.

Not now.

You could carry all your essentials in your eyebags right now if you really tried, you think.

Joe just smiles at you. Watches you for a moment, head tilted back a little, chin jutted out.

“I mean, is there anything left to say?” You’ve pretty much said all that needs saying. Everything else is implied and doesn’t need to exist in the world, you think.

The two of you didn’t work out because it simply didn’t work out.

Joe seems to disagree.

He twirls his paper cup, his flat white, and raises his eyebrows a little. Makes you hold your breath at what he’s about to say next.

“Weird if I tell you I miss you?” his voice is all soft as he asks you, almost breathy, like he knows the effect it will likely have on you.

You let your head drop to your shoulder and grimace, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh my God,” you blurt out, and you sound like you’re in actual pain.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Joe immediately back tracks, but this motherfucker is smiling. Blushing. He makes eye-contact with you as he goes for another sip of his coffee and then looks at his hand placing the cup back down as he adds, “You’re right. No need for me to tell you. So I won’t.”

He’s already said it.

You try your best at hiding a smile as you mirror Joe, going for a sip of your own. When you place yours back on the table, Joe can hear from the hollow sound of it that it’s empty.

“I, em…” you start, hand reaching for the back of your neck where you rub at your skin, a little awkward now that Joe’s said that he misses you. “I should probably go. I’m meeting…ugh, it’s– someone.” You cringe inwardly, try to do it so Joe doesn’t see it. You could’ve lied and said you’d be meeting Emily, but it’s a thought that comes to you after you’ve already been weird about it.

And Joe knows you. He sees you cringe inwardly just fine. Sees you rub at your neck the way you always do when you’re tired. Remembers all the times he used to take over and you’d fall asleep within seconds.

Joe knows that if you’re as tired as you look, there’s no thinking before you speak.

Someone.

Joe nods.

So there’s someone.

He bets this someone doesn’t know shit about how you like the back of your neck massaged, fingers in very specific spots, pressing and rubbing into very specific pressure points.

You resist the urge to rub your eyes. Rub your neck instead.

He sees that too and, in turn, tries to hide the sudden, protective wave that washes over him so you don’t see it.

He’s lucky you’re too worn out to catch his twitching hand that wants to reach out and replace yours.

“Sorry for making it weird.” Joe is still smiling, and you don’t want him to think that what he said is the reason why you’re suddenly done talking to him. You really are meeting someone. That’s not something you made up to round up this interaction.

“No, no. I’ve got–” you check the time, and you have so much of it before you have to be somewhere, but Joe doesn’t need to know that. “I’m meeting someone to go work out with.”

Joe raises both eyebrows and widens his eyes, the playful shock there clearly visible.

“At the gym.” You finish, and you scrunch up your whole face in a full grimace, because you know what he’s going to say.

“At the gym?”

“At the gym.” You confirm, finding your coat whilst your eyes remain in contact with Joe’s.

He sits back, a little baffled. A little… proud.

“She goes to the gym. Wow.”

You hate the gym.

You hate working out in general, but doing it in a gym, indoors, on machines? You really fucking despise it. Still. You’re going. Trying to put your best foot forward in this new relationship you’re trying out with this new person in your life.

Joe knows you hate the gym. He remembers the countless times he’d told you to just come with him. Come work out with him at his gym. He also remembers the countless times you’d told him to fuck off and that you’d rather die.

Something something personal development. Whatever. You’re fucking exhausted but, you’re trying, all right? Progress.

“That reminds me, actually,” you say, struggling to make your arms find the sleeves of your coat. “I still have your pumas.”

You say pumas like it’s meant to be a dig at him.

It is a dig, in your opinion. His old faded Speed Cats, these two feminine looking things. Fucking purple too.

The very second Joe learnt that you didn’t like them, still don’t, he started wearing them extra often.

Little shit.

“Oh my God,” Joe says softly as he huffs a laugh through his nose and closes his eyes for a joyous second. “My pumas.”

“I found them on one of the top shelves of the wardrobe.”

“I…” Joe narrows his eyes at you in suspicion, smile unwavering. “What were they doing there? If I remember correctly, that’s not where I left them.”

You know that’s not where Joe left them. That’s where you left them. Hid them. So he’d be forced to buy new shoes. Different shoes. Which he then did, so, it all worked out fine.

You give an innocent shrug as you get up, slow and sluggish, arms still not in the sleeves of your coat properly.

“No,” you sigh, feeling how bad your legs want you to go and sit back down. “But that’s where I found them.”

Joe laughs heartily and then, like you’re not two people who went through a painful break-up, also gets up and helps you into your coat. Holds it and guides your arms where they’re meant to go. Folds the collar so it sits how its meant to. Lets his hands linger there for a fraction of a second too long, but it’s nice.

It’s nice having Joe close.

“If you’re not doing anything right now,” you start, but stop because you’re already regretting where your mind is taking you.

You want to have Joe close so he can rub the back of your neck when you sleep.

No.

There’s someone else.

You can’t.

Shouldn’t.

“Oh, do you mind?” Joe is quick. Easily takes the step you hesitated to take.

“Well, they’re your pumas.”

You’re not sure how he does it. How he keeps this air of normalcy. Like inviting himself over to your flat to come and pick up a pair of shoes is all casual and fine.

It’s not.

And yet somehow, it is.

The familiarity that’s still there added to the amount of time that’s passed somehow makes this not feel like the wildest thing, even though you know that if you tell Emily that Joe came round to pick up his stinky old trainers, that she’d worriedly ask you if you were okay.  

The worry would be misplaced, because you’re actually totally fine.

You’re fine as Joe leads you from the coffee shop, opening his umbrella and offering an arm for you to link yours through, just so you can share the protection from the rain, no other reason.

You’re fine as Joe doesn’t need to be told where to go, obviously knows where you live and the quickest way to get to it.

You’re fine as Joe says something about the bakery near your flat that he used to go to all the time, and when he looks inside he squeezes his arms to his body in a silent moment of celebration, involuntarily squeezing you closer to him.

You’re fine as he makes you laugh when he pretends to be normal about baked goods, shrugging and clearing his throat and softly murmuring that you didn’t just witness him get excited over coffee cake that he’ll definitely get on his way home.

You’re fine as he keeps you from tripping up because you’re not really lifting your feet enough for your shoes to not get caught on the uneven pavers of the wet London streets you’re braving together.

You’re fine as you make your way into your building, where you share the small space of the lift together, and you lean against one of the side panels and can see in the reflective surface of the doors how Joe’s giving you a soft smile.

You’re fine as you let Joe into your flat, where you leave him momentarily to go get his shoes from your bedroom, and when you come back, he’s discarded his coat over one of your dining room table chairs, has already gone and turned down the thermostat, and is looking at one of your bookshelves near the TV.

“Found ‘em.” you say, holding them up before placing them on the table near his coat.

Joe throws you a look over his shoulder, smiles, but then goes straight back to scanning book spines. Like he doesn’t care about his pumas at all.

“You read this?” he picks up a book, turns around so you can see which one he means as he reads the blurb on the back.

You’re too busy staring at the visual of Joe in your messy living room, wearing the shirt you chose for him, to answer the question.

Too busy letting your eyes focus on his hands that you want in a very specific spot on the back of your neck right now, because your body remembers exactly what that feels like and you’re tired.

“Did you like it?”

Joe is in your living room and… it’s actually not fine.

Joe is wearing a shirt he only got because you liked it, and it’s not fine.

Joe is holding a book and you can see how large his hands are and it's not fine.

Joe confessed that he misses you, and you’re not fine.

Fuck trying to mold yourself into someone that goes to the gym for this new person who pales in comparison to your ex-boyfriend who kept you close and walked you home and who just took off his coat like he’s going to stay for at least a minute and who you can just be yourself around. You don’t have to pretend to care about working out, or about an untidy living room, or about your hair that’s frizzed up from the rain and... isn’t that just lovely?

Your lack of answers eventually makes Joe look up at you, and oh… you look like you’ve fallen asleep standing up, eyes slightly distant and unfocused.

“Hey, you okay?” the book Joe’s holding finds a new home on your coffee table as you blink a couple of times to bring yourself back into reality.

It doesn’t really work.

“Yea… yea, fine.” you say softly, your expression unchanged, eyes still just as glassy.

Joe doesn’t buy it.

Knows you.

Sees how you’re watching his hands. His fingers. Knows exactly what you want.

“You sure?” he steps closer, a little hesitant, because what even really is he doing here? He doesn’t want those ratty old shoes back. He thought those had been thrown out ages ago, well before the two of you got even close to considering not being together as an option.

Joe watches you stare into space for a moment, and sees you blink so slowly, you might as well just keep your eyes closed at this point.

There’s not a chance you’re going to be meeting someone at a gym.

Joe walks across the room until he’s right in front of you, and he stays there until your eyes slowly rake up his body and you’re looking each other in the eye.

He knows what he’s doing here.

You know what he’s doing here.

Joe watches you raise a slow arm up to let your own hand touch the back of your neck as you inhale deeply through your nose.

Joe smells nice.

“Can you, um…” you pause and frown, and let your deep breath escape you in a sigh, not finishing your question as you rub your fingers where you want Joe to rub his.

You don’t need to finish your question.

Joe knows you.

Knows he probably shouldn’t do what he’s about to do, but finds he wants to and so, why the fuck not, you know?

He grins, but only slightly, and uses both his hands. One to remove your own hand from your neck, the other to grab hold of it there, where he pushes his thumb right into the dip at the base of your skull and starts to rub in small circles.

It almost works like an off-button.

Joe knows it does, because it always has.

He has to grab hold of one of your arms to make sure you don’t topple over. He ignores how he feels your whole body shiver.

“You’re not going to the gym.” Joe says gently.

“Mhm,” you hum, not even sure if you’re answering a question or not.

Joe smells so nice. Familiar and comforting and just, lovely.

“I think you’re going straight to bed.”

Joe barely has to guide you. The smallest of pushes just makes you turn and walk straight back over to your bedroom where your wardrobe doors are still open from fetching Joe’s old trainers, and you vaguely think how Joe shouldn’t be in your bedroom with you, but… he is, and so what?

You try undressing with heavy limbs, jeans a little clammy and difficult to take off. You do most of it with your eyes closed and wait for Joe’s hands to come help you out. But they don’t come, and it’s a little confronting how that disappoints you.

It’s something to think about later though.

Joe came over for his shoes and is now just making sure you don’t trip and bash your head on something. That makes sense.  

But then, Joe hands you one of your own folded pyjama tops from one of the drawers and you can’t help but let a tired laugh escape you. You sit down on the edge of your bed and take it from him with dropped shoulders, head hanging to the side as you look up at him.

This is so stupid.

“Sorry,” Joe says a little sheepishly. “I just… remember where you keep things.”

“No, no,” you yawn before you add, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine.

“I’ve missed you too.”

So stupid.

But again, it’s all something for later. Your leading with your wants right now. Not rational thought.

It’s want that reaches for Joe’s hand after you’ve put your pyjama top on.

It’s want that whispers, “Take your shoes off.”

It’s want that sits and stares at Joe with half-lidded eyes as he undresses until he’s in his underwear.

It’s want that asks if Joe can put his hand back on your neck where he had it before.

It’s want that lets you be scooped up and placed into your own bed, on the wrong side, furthest away from the door.

It’s want that doesn’t give a shit about where you are in your bed, because all you care about is that Joe’s there, and he is there when he climbs into bed right next to you and lays behind you on his side, not entirely big-spooning you, but if he just got a little closer...

Then he softly asks, “Is this okay?” and holds you by the back of the neck again which makes you whine into the pillows.

Joe is allowed any spot in the bed he fucking wants.

“There you go,” Joe says softly, and he suppresses a smile as he feels how you relax.

It’s the wrong place, the wrong time and absolutely the wrong person.

You logically know this.

You’re going to have some explaining to do tomorrow.

You know there’ll be missed calls.

There’ll be hurt feelings.

There’ll be guilt.

You know it’s all wrong, but it’s hard to let your rational mind make smarter decisions when it all feels so stupidly right.

You’re not doing anything illegal.

Joe said he misses you, and it took a little time, but you said it back. You miss him too.

Joe decides to stay awake until you fall asleep, and maybe he’ll take a short little nap himself too before he goes to get himself some coffee cake, he’s not sure yet.

He has to stop himself from shaking his head at the fact that he can tell just by the way you’re breathing if you’ve fully dozed off yet or not.

It shouldn’t take long. You’ve barely been able to focus your eyes on anything from the moment Joe saw you in the queue of that coffee shop.

Just before you drift off, Joe feels how you slowly turn around to face him. How you scoot a little closer. Then two smaller hands find his forearm, and Joe lets you wrap both arms around his bicep. Lets you hug it to yourself, which involuntarily makes his hand rest on one of your bare thighs.

Joe’s hand is warm, and his touch his gentle, and it fucking makes your eyes sting.

There’s something about being in bed with a man that makes you feel safe and protected and like you can actually sleep.

It’s not like that yet with who you’re seeing now. These are the things that take time. Hence how fucking tired you currently are.

Have been all day.

All week.

“Yea,” you suddenly whisper, and it’s so soft, Joe wouldn’t have heard it had he not been so close to you. “Miss you.”

You tighten your arms around Joe’s which makes his chest ache, and finally let sleep take you.

Joe smiles.

You said you miss him.

He knows you do.

Thinks that maybe you don’t have to.

What if there’s a way back?

He’ll find a way back. He knows he can.

“Yea,” Joe repeats, and decides taking a nap in your bed on your side is actually the best fucking idea he’s ever had.

“Miss you too.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

@demonsanddemogorgons, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson

@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns

@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq

@niallersfreckles, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid

@readergf, @royale1803, @skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac

@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[burning-sol]

Because I'm a loser I'm going over this piece of controversy because if it catches on here I will lose my mind. This controversy surrounds @ jinxontherocks and Charlie Slimecicle. All the following screenshots were taken the same day as typing, and I made this post with what may be incomplete information. DO NOT HARASS ANYONE INVOLVED!! Regardless of who you're contacting, regardless of your intentions, DON'T contact anyone shown here.. ANYONE!!

Jinx's Instagram lists their pronouns as she/they/he, please don't misgender her: https://www.instagram.com/jinxultraviolet

CW this shit is about RPF and MCYT NSFW (pornographic content of Minecraft Youtubers' characters and they themselves), there are screenshots showing censored posts of it and there is a brief mention of rape amongst them.

The tweet that started off my little investigation and is causing outrage..

https://twitter.com/shubluvr/status/1799909241404129604

Something I noticed as I was adding alt txt.. I don't know anything about Jinx or how she assigns "Close Friends" on his Instagram, but basically users can assign someone as a "Close Friend" and you can then post stories only ppl within that group can see. If Jinx is the kind of person who hands out this status to anyone they know, this isn't a big deal, but if this person was close to Jinx I want you to keep in mind the possibility that this is potentially a violation of Jinx's boundaries. If this person knew Jinx closely, they could have talked to her in private, but instead they chose to make this a public affair. At best this could have been something the anonymous person genuinely thought was the moral thing to do, or this person could at worst be straight up an emotionally abusive person who shared these photos as a way to egg on Jinx's "downfall" or something similar. Again, this is only POTENTIALLY, but you need to be critical of who is sourcing your information and what their intentions are.

So the screenshots do prove Jinx knows Charlie and has been interacting with him and maybe (MAYBE) even dating him.. Which!! I just wanna clarify before you ask, I searched this up, Charlie and Grace broke up. Jinx and Charlie are both in their early to mid twenties. Aside from this controversy, there is really nothing to say abt them that isn't just, "mind your own business".

https://twitter.com/insidetheslime/status/1770617006364262832

So why is this an issue? What's with the controversy? Let's check out that first quote tweet.

https://twitter.com/shubluvr/status/1793371199449547014

The claim is that Jinx, possibly, willingly engaged with someone who posted MCYT porn. Which the user states, "it wasn't my intention to present the examples of what that person posted as if u liked them" but then proceeds to reiterate again that "u have to go out of ur way to find an acc like that." so which is it? That's a rhetorical question, we know which it is because if it was the former people wouldn't be so mad. But at least we know where these initial claims came from so let me scroll back and see what this user had initially posted as proof.

Here's the thread.

https://twitter.com/shubluvr/status/1790861709218828459

The archive page linked: https://archive.md/g8xOX

So yes, this does prove Jinx followed an account that posted NSFW of Charlie (RPF) and Charlie's characters (MCYT). However, just following someone isn't necessarily proof you've seen the full extent of their content. So let's finally circle back around to Jinx's tweet in response to this (something that was quote tweeted earlier) and discuss why I have such an issue with this entire controversy. Time to crack open the point of this entire post.

https://twitter.com/jinxontherocks/status/1793353847437701538

Hi everyone, apologises for taking a few days to address this as I've been logged off of twitter for my own mental health and due to the constant harassment and death threats that I have been receiving. Recently, there was a thread posted on me showing how I was following someone who created NSFW art of some content creators, specifically Charlie who I'm friends with. I absolutely condemn this kind of boundary-breaking NSFW art of content creators, and would never willingly follow or interact with an account that I knew created art like this. I am only semi-active on Twitter, especially on my 18+ account, and I was shocked and upset to discover I was following an account like this at the same time everyone else did. Because this account is now deactivated, I'm not sure what I originally followed them for, but it was likely COD or puppy girl art. I've privated my NSFW account as well because I'm not comfortable with a bunch of people who are likely minors in the community scrolling through it. Because people are making some gross assumptions as well I want to clarify that I met Charlie IRL, and had no idea who he or his friends were at all or as content creators before meeting them. We met naturally, became friends, and still are. Throughout this past week I've received an insane amount of harassment and threats, and have seen tons of misinformation spread about me and the whole situation so I definitely felt a need to clarify everything. I knew essentially nothing at all abt this acc or any of their callouts or whatnot, that just wasn't the sphere of cc I was in at any point, and while I post semi frequently on here, I'm not very interactive with content beyond my mutuals. Likely gonna retcon that going forward and look more into who I'm following before I do. Also pointing out that a lot of the sc's included in this thread or others are being presented as or shown as if they were from my likes? They were not, straight up not. Just gonna clear that up now. Lastly, please do not harass the creator of the thread or anyone else involved in this situation please. Please be kind y'all, and good day!

Quick note, if behind the scenes Jinx had immediately gotten harassment and death threats after the conception of that thread, THAT'S why Jinx was suddenly "stalking" leaktwt. Like of course Jinx is going to find the source of a bunch of people who are telling her he sucks and (possibly) telling him to kill themselves. Someone becoming conscious of their own controversy very quickly after it's conception isn't an abnormal thing.

So basically, I felt like I was going bananas because I'm going through replies trying to see if there's more evidence but there's nothing really condemning Jinx that strongly. You have evidence they followed someone who posts RPF NSFW, SHE confirmed she'd followed the acc that posted RPF NSFW.. But do they condone it? Did he see it? WHERE is your evidence?? WHY are you all so convinced she condones RPF NSFW? Well I stumbled across this brilliant series of screenshots someone added that's making me lose my marbles.

https://twitter.com/4ngelcicle/status/1793729694577332396

artist: im genuinely baffled if anyone believes rhis like i cannot emphasize how much i only posted on that acc to post porn 😭 other user: she only followed you this april right? like after she meet charlie? artist: yess like only a few days to a week before the thread was made? im so confused how she couldve found me in the first place let alone follow me because ,, i only post abt charie my bio is nsfwrpf and my pfp was bsd and banner was fnaf? nothing to warrant her following me?

artist: uhmmm she followed me few days to a week before the first thread was made? i dont remember but i got the notification when she followed me on her very public acc? i didnt realize it was jinx tho so i just let her follow me? when i stalked her acc she just seemed like a normal nsfw acc without any nsfwrpf even in her likes. thats it in regards to interacting with me but its also strange how she even found me in the first place? my account is sightly inactive so it wasnt like i was tweeting something funny or even spamming the tl to regard being followed? anytime i posted on the public acc it was about porn because thats what the account is for 😭 so idek how she found my acc in the firstplace cuz i also censor everything?? but thats all i know xP artist: u already know most of it but yk

artist: omg ugh artist: literally the only things i posted on that acc ever was cc nsfw artist: if it was unrelated i would post it on my priv

My jaw DROPPED when I saw this. I wanna hone in on this one tidbit that you may have glossed over, "when i stalked her acc she just seemed like a normal nsfw acc without any nsfwrpf even in her likes. thats it in regards to interacting with me".. So that's it. THAT'S IT. Even the artist in question only has proof he followed them, not that there was any tangible interactions to prove she saw the RPF content. And also, "my bio is nsfwrpf and my pfp was bsd and banner was fnaf? nothing to warrant her following me?" So it is 100% possible that he had only seen the artist's pfp, banner, the words "RPF" but not the problematic content in question.. And here's a relevant reply from Jinx on the fact the artist had RPF in their bio-

https://twitter.com/jinxontherocks/status/1793370260885918108

So we actually need to talk about how exactly social media works, because for some reason nobody is bringing this up despite USING Twitter and KNOWING what Twitter feeds look like.

If you have ever been on a Twitter For You page (I'm checking mine now) you will know that the feed isn't strictly curated based on your following, Twitter has an algorithm that'll put posts on your feed based on different factors. When I go to mine, my feed isn't strictly people I follow (in fact it's barely people I follow), it's not chronological, and I don't know if this is still a feature but I distinctly remember times where I got shown posts that were LIKED by someone or RETWEETED by someone- So again, your feed can show you a lot of varying things that you're either only somewhat adjacent to or something that's not anything you're remotely interested in. So basically, you cannot know exactly what someone's feed looks like unless a person hand you their phone and you scroll through it. You can make ESTIMATES of what you thing someone's feed will look like, but, again, you can only know exactly what someone's feed looks like if you're able to scroll through it.

This is to say that it's 100% possible at some point Jinx came across a post from the account on their feed, didn't see it anything RPF related in the post or on their immediate page (assuming they clicked on the profile because you can follow people without going to their profile), and followed them. And even if they posted RPF the rest of the time, there is no way to know what % of Jinx's feed it would have been present on.. Which! Btw, is also influenced by if Jinx even frequents the For You page at ALL.. Which, Jinx claims he's not super active on Twitter, so that lines up perfectly with her explanation.

(And before you say something about it, we don't have access to the NSFW account because it got deactivated, but I personally doubt that the user literally only posted NSFW of RPF and MCYT. Most NSFW accs I've seen in my time always have even the slightest amount of variety.. So it's not to say it's not possible, but I think the artists' words are likely an exaggeration. That's the assumption this point is functioning under.)

Plus, remember what I mentioned about people liking or retweeting posts? It's kind of a whole point of social media that posts spread in chains, and it's 100% possible for posts from obscure or problematic people to reach normal people in the right circumstances. Again, this is just.. This is just how Twitter works?? How social media works?? And I feel like I'm insane sitting here typing out how posts actually end up on your feeds and reminding people what an algorithm is and that some people just AREN'T as online as you.

And I'm not saying all this to say that I am 100% sure that Jinx is innocent because I don't KNOW, and that's the POINT. You can't KNOW what Jinx has seen and what she hasn't unless you have proof of him interacting DIRECTLY with something.. And follows don't count because I know PLENTY of people (including myself at times) who don't vet the people they follow, and follow people from a post they've seen on their feed instead of their profile. The artist THEMSELF said, as I will highlight again, "when i stalked her acc she just seemed like a normal nsfw acc without any nsfwrpf even in her likes. thats it in regards to interacting with me"..

All the evidence I've seen as of typing this is heresay, and unless all these people can present some substantial evidence that actually SAYS what they WANT it to say, I'm going to believe that Jinx made an honest mistake.

There's probably some other arguments I could make to prove my point, but I've been so thorough with everything I've been typing for literal hours just covering this. So I just wanna get at something that REALLY pisses me off about Twitter and I don't want to fucking see.

STOP calling people complicit in someone else's behaviour just because they're close to them. You are very potentially blaming VICTIMS THEMSELVES and I'm so fucking done with this.

Some people are saying Charlie is condoning this behaviour and it is DISGUSTING because can you actually take a step back and think about what you're saying?? Maybe Charlie does know, maybe he's into some freak shit, IDK, but I think it's WAY more likely Charlie didn't. The chances are far more likely that, if the allegations here are true, Charlie's boundaries were VIOLATED and HE'S the victim here. Though we can't really know because (I can't stress it enough) we don't KNOW what's happened behind the scenes. Charlie liked the tweet jinx made..

Which could mean several things. Maybe! The allegations aren't true, and Charlie is showing support for her. Maybe! The allegations were true, but they've quietly resolved the situation behind the scenes. Maybe! The allegations were true, and Jinx LIED to Charlie so he believes her.

(And yeah, I am implying these allegations could be true and I STILL think Jinx should be given some leniency based on if they've changed their mind on the morality of that content and have apologised in private to Charlie.. Because life is weird and people are weird and people change. Like IDK, again, maybe Charlie into that freak shit. What are you gonna do if a guy likes NSFW being drawn of himself? Complain to HIM about what his boundaries should be?)

You don't KNOW, you CAN'T know. I will state this over and OVER, YOU DON'T KNOW. Don't harass Jinx over things you don't know are true. If you don't like him after hearing these allegations? You're allowed to! It's fine! Block them and move on. But DON'T pretend that's the same as having evidence, because from what I've seen, you don't.

And I got very heated in that last bit so I just wanna say, I've spent all my time (again, these past few hours) writing this post. I don't know if Tumblr knows about this or is already talking about this, but this is my thorough take on the situation. I just hope it clears up some things because I would really fucking hate if it caught on and everyone starts spread (potential) misinformation and ruining someone's life for literally no reason.