#high quality backing tracks

[carryatunestudio12]

In India, there are several online mixing and mastering services available that offer professional solutions for musicians, producers, and artists. Here are some reasons why you should consider investing in these services:

[wildsaltair]

No thoughts head empty just Alex Ross being adorably impressed by a card trick <3

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.

Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.

His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.

The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.

"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.

As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.

He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.

"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.

There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.

So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.

But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.

The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.

She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.

She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.

Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.

She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.

With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.

“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.

[rainrot4me]

Smoke And A Light

Summary: When you're forced to remain a resident of the Slendermansion, hearing tales of the outside world is riveting. So, when Clockwork brings back some souvenirs, you couldn't possibly pass them up.

Characters: Clockwork x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Jealousy, weed, smoking, sex while high, vaginal, oral, vaginal fingering, sex with toys, dildos, strap-on sex, teasing, new experiences

Words: 8.2k

“Was it really that fun?” You chirped.

Clockwork leaned against the counter of the kitchen island, boots kicking the side of the stool she perched on as she took another drink from her coffee mug. She wasn’t a resident of the mansion; she wasn’t a resident of any mansion as far as you knew. The dirty blonde called herself a ‘drifter’, always bouncing between towns and interstates with her Jeep, but never rooted in one place for too long. However, most of her closest acquaintances resided at the Slendermansion, so it just so happened to be where she spent most of her downtime.

“It was odd… but good?” She smiled awkwardly, tapping her knuckles against the ceramic mug nicely decorated with doodles Sally had made. She tugged at the sleeve of her white tank top, the fabric dirty and frail, but notably bringing out the brightness of her pupil. You were getting better about keeping contact with her right eye, subconsciously finding it rude to stare at the clockface nestled into her left socket.

Somehow, your conversation had dipped on Clockwork’s latest excursion to the south, farther into the Appalachian than you were familiar with. She talked about the nightlife music festivals in Tennessee and Alabama, the older folk songs they paired with raving strobe lights, and how it just worked. You could barely imagine it, but then again, you hadn’t really been in with society in quite some time.

As long as you had been living in the mansion, which had been quite some time now, Clockwork was always on the move. Much like Sally, you had been brought here very young and grown up around this atmosphere and losing track of how the rest of the world was going. You were in charge of minuscule tasks, wasting away behind these walls with random assignments Slender could throw at you. While you were forced to stay and help with missions assigned to the proxies, she got to roam wherever she wanted. To say you were jealous was an understatement. If there was a chance you were going to get to hear firsthand about the rest of the world, you were going to take it… no matter how much it tired her out.

“So, you just smoked some weird plant and everything started spinning? Was it scary?” You leaned forward, crowding Clockwork’s space and tilting your head, curious as ever. She just laughed, somehow never becoming annoyed with just how excitable you could get, always keeping that cool demeanor you admired so much. She leaned in, nudging her knuckles against your arm and rubbing the skin softly.

“Well, it was a little more than that, but, sure. I brought some back with me. Stuff’s pretty expensive though…” She huffed, gulping the rest of her coffee down and sliding the mug away. You followed as she stood from the counter, her one good eye trailing to look outside. You followed her gaze, groaning when you caught Toby and Jeff sitting on the front porch steps and chatting away. You knew of Clockwork’s history with the brunette, their on-again off-again relationship becoming a constant wall in your quality time with the girl before she inevitably left for the road once more.

You went to interject, to try and come up with another topic or question to stop her from going to talk to him, but you already heard your name being called. 

“[Y/N]! Come help with this, will ya?” Ben mosied from the hallway, looping into the mansion’s kitchen and catching you mid-interjection. He was holding some box of files and reports, surely incident records from the proxies you would need to take care of. You groaned as she shuffled to your side.

Clockwork was reaching for her Carhartt jacket, her hands reaching to brush her long hair out onto her shoulders while she turned back to you. The look of disappointment was evident, but she smiled sweetly anyway, inviting as ever. You didn’t want her to leave.

“Listen, I’m gonna chat with the guys for a little bit. Come find me later tonight. I’ll show you what we were talking about.” With that, she turned to the screen door and tugged it open, disappearing onto the porch and out of your eyesight as Ben nudged your attention back.

“What’s that about?” He smirked, static ringing with his words as you huffed, snagging the box from his arms and trailing down the hallway. “Nothing. Just help me with this.”

Ben floated down the hallway behind you, humming absentmindedly as you took one final glance back towards the window. Toby was already shoulder-to-shoulder with Clockwork, her laughs ringing into the house as you felt your time chipping away.

-

After a headachingly long splay of all the missing person’s reports and incident retellings, you finally sorted everything out and filed completely. Of course, Ben didn’t help a bit, more focused on his ability to play his Gameboy floating upside down than anything.

But you were finished. It was well into the evening now, the sun setting along the ridge of trees and rippling on the lake water nearby. You pressed through the screen door, no one was left on the front porch, but a very ominous thumping sound from somewhere in the distance. Your breath fogged in front of you, the chill of late Autumn slowly creeping on the mansion. You followed, trailing away from the porch and along to the side where the carport sat.

“Guys?” You called out, the thumping growing louder the further you trailed into the opening beside the mansion, searching for the source. EJ’s truck and Hoodie’s car parked in the ankle-tall grass, your steps cautious as you spotted Clockwork’s Jeep several feet away, the thumping becoming mostly clear. The vehicle was nestled between a lot of trees, brown and orange leaves blowing gently overhead. You noticed the headlights were on, and figures moving around behind the tinted glass. They were in there.

Jogging over to the vehicle, you recognized the thumping as the bass of songs cranked way too loud, the music blasting from the speakers inside. You rounded to the door behind the driver’s, knocking on the glass and waiting expectantly.

The door popped open, the music ringing clear as some Foo Fighters song. You also noted the way smoke faintly poured from the opening, blowing into your face as Clockwork popped her head out. “[Y/N]!” She smiled, her tone just a little more chipper than you were used to. She reached a hand out, clasping with yours and tugging you into the back seat of her Jeep along with the rest of the unseeming group. 

You crammed your way in, ducking into the back seat as you realized she had converted the interior of the vehicle for her travels. The backseats were laid down, a blowup mattress inflated into the truck as her bed, blankets and pillows littered around. Fairy lights and tealight candles strung from the ceiling, offering a nice ambiance as smoke clouded inside. It was cozy for one person, but with Toby and Jeff also laid out, it was a little cramped.

“Where’ve you been, angel?” You halted at the new nickname, smiling as you fully climbed inside. Clockwork shut the back door, leaning back into the pillows she had propped behind her and patting the space across from herself. You obliged, nestling into the opposite corner and nodding to the boys who were mid-conversation themselves. You noted their odd expressions, the laziness in their eyes, and the calmness that neither one of them usually sported. It was odd to see Jeff without a scowl on his face. 

“Sorry. Slender had me working on some cover-story stuff… boring.” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable sitting position in the closeness of everyone. It was then you noted the odd smell too, the sour stoutness of the smoke wafting in the Jeep, a scent you couldn't quite recognize. Clockwork smiled, “Sure sounds boring. It’ll be good for you to chill with us.” You nodded eagerly, the headache you had slowly dissipated with every inhale of the mysterious smoke. You noticed the way her good eye tinted red, bloodshot veins popping around the rim of her eye and making you cringe. Both Toby's and Jeff’s eyes were bloodshot too…

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen [Y/N] chill a day in her life…” Jeff smiled lazily, elbowing Toby who answered with a scratchy giggle. Clockwork kicked at them, rolling her eyes playfully as she tugged you closer to her side. “Well, she’s going to today. Ain’t that right?” You nodded as she laughed, leaning to grab something from the passenger seat.

Her backpack was full of clutter, her hand rummaging around until she grasped what she was looking for. She tugged out a glass mason jar, little rolled-up objects sliding around as she held it up, the boys hollering their excitement. You were confused, trying to see what they were as Clockwork unscrewed the top and shuffled one out, presenting it before you.

“Uhm… what is it…” You laughed shyly, Jeff leaning forward to snag it from your palms. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never smoked a blunt before…” He teased, Toby leaning forward to tug a lighter from his jacket pocket and offer it to the killer, the brunette practically sitting in his lap as he watched the flame smolder against the bud. You realized where the stout smell was coming from as smoke wafted from the blunt, the story Clockwork was telling you earlier in the day coming together. So this is what she smoked… That also meant this was very well their second or third blunt, no telling how high they all were or wanted to be.

Toby slipped the smoldering bud from Jeff’s fingers the minute to flipped the lighter closed, popping the end between his lips and taking a deep inhale. Jeff leaned close, pressing his cheek against the boy’s and tugging it into his own when Toby let go, inhaling the same. You studied them, taking note of how they went about smoking the plant to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself. 

You glanced to Clockwork, her own lighter sparking up as she popped a cigarette into her mouth, lighting the end. You nudged her, a questioning look on your face.

“Are you not going to?” You hesitated as she inhaled, puffing the smoke past her lips and in the boy’s direction with a smile. She shook her head, holding the cigarette between her fingers as smoke surrounded the two of you, encasing everyone in the vehicle as the music thumped from the speakers.

“Nah, I already got my fill. Gonna let these idiots enjoy it. It’s not often they get to smoke without Slender on their asses.” You glanced back to the boys carelessly lounging against each other as they passed the blunt back and forth, minds swirled with the sourness of the weed. You smiled, glancing back to Clockwork dishing out another and handing it to you, lighter flipped in the other hand. “Go ahead, try it.”

You nervously took the bud, fidgeting it between your fingers as she guided the end to your lips. You held the blunt there, Clockwork flipping her lighter on and pressing the flame to the end, the roll smoldering before you. It was hard not to note the way she stared at you as she helped you, two fingers slipped under your chin as you let yourself stare back. When she was satisfied, she flipped the lighter closed, tugging back into her comfortable position as smoke began to swirl around you.

“Now, inhale. Let it sit in your lungs for a second, then blow it back out.” Her voice was scratchy but soothing, the roughness of her usual demeanor nowhere to be found as you followed her instructions the best you could. You tried to remember how you watched the boys do it, breathing deep as the tip of the blunt lit up, soaking down into your lungs. You held it there, stalling your breath as it burned, throat tightening as you quickly exhaled back again. 

Smoke blew from your lips, and a fit of coughs soon followed as Clockwork patted your back. You sucked fresh air in, lungs burning from the weed as Jeff and Toby laughed obnoxiously across from you.

“Hey, that wasn’t bad! Not such a big inhale next time, okay?” Clockwork rubbed your shoulders, offering you a water bottle from the front seat of her Jeep as you finally caught your breath, sinking back into the pillows behind you. You let yourself take one more small hit, passing the blunt to an eager Toby who had no problem with finishing the rest. There was no telling what was enjoyable about that, or why the three of them were so excited, but you ruled that was enough for you.

Conversation bubbled, Clockwork quickly occupied Jeff and Toby’s muddled brains with her latest retellings of the concerts and festivals she had attended. You listened closely, wrapping a blanket around your crossed legs and smiling when the boys nudged their way beside you to get underneath as well, legs wrapping together as sour smoke and loud music filled your senses.

But eventually, it became muddled. Like the music was becoming distant or muffled, farther away than you remembered it being. 

Before you could dwell on it, sensations rose, odd feelings and reactions you found intriguing. Where the boy’s legs tangled with yours, they felt tingly, like you could feel every part of their skin that touched yours. The sensation was overwhelming, but not nearly as much as trying to focus on every word that poured from Clockwork’s mouth. Suddenly, she was speaking too fast, words slurring as you tried to blink the dizziness away. What in the world was happening..?

But it just felt so warm, so comfortable lying against Toby and Jeff, your arms wrapping around their shoulders as Clockwork began to laugh and say something about it finally hitting you. You just laughed too, you weren’t sure why, but just seeing her smile was enough to make you as well. The boys laughed too, a swirl of dizziness and warmth pooling across your face as you drank in the atmosphere. Was this what being high was like?

Clockwork began talking again, flicking the last of her cigarette into her ashtray and reaching for a water bottle, starting a new story again. You didn’t know what she was saying, but suddenly you really wanted to lay with her, to be beside her. You didn’t even realize your body was moving until she was wrapping her arms around you.

“Hi, angel.” She smiled, your head lying in her lap as she brushed the hair from your face. The sensation felt so tingly, your eyes fluttering closed as you listened to the slur of her words and the brush of her fingers against your skin. Everything just seemed so heightened, felt so good… You never wanted to leave this moment. Especially not with the girl you idolized so much right here with you.

She was just so cool. You found yourself in awe of just how strong and steady she seemed to always be, always knowing exactly what she wanted out of life. You couldn’t get enough. You craved to be like that.

“Y’all guh- gonna kiss, or wh- what…” Toby chuckled, elbowing Jeff who laughed just a little too loud. Clockwork visibly tensed above you, halting her fingers across your skin and eyeing the boy. “Toby.” Her voice was still playful, but the hint of seriousness didn’t go unnoticed. You watched her face, mind now racing with the idea and playing clear pictures in your mind. Do I want to kiss her..?

The thought had never passed you before, but then again, you had never been offered it before. To you, Clockwork was an idol, an ideal version of who you wished to be. You had never contemplated anything more… until now.

“Are we?” You slurred the words out before you could really stop them, leaning up onto your elbows as you watched her expression twist to confusion. Jeff and Toby’s laughter fell silent, watching intently as you held eye contact, trying to read whatever she was thinking. Music thumped, the tension of the silence making your eyes nervously flicker back and forth.

“Do you want to...?” Clockwork shrugged, shifting her sitting position to face you, her cheeks notability growing a shade darker than before. You paused, contemplating. There was no tinge of nervousness behind you, the false courage brought in by your high suprinsing even yourself as you nodded. Even when nervous, she still just looked so cool. 

The moments in between were quick, silent tension slowly fading as you both leaned forward. Was Clockwork even high? Were you even still high? You couldn’t think further as you felt her hands slide to rest against the sides of your face, your arms wrapping around her back as she pressed her lips against yours. You both gasped into the kiss, slowly tightening your grip against each other as the rest of the atmosphere faded. Your consciousness only registered this kiss, your eager but curious lips melting into hers as your mind flooded, dizziness and drowsy exhaustion tugging at your movements. This was really happening…

Clockwork tugged back before you wanted to be done, your head leaning to chase her kiss as you blinked your eyes open. You were both panting, her hands still cupped around your cheeks as she stared down at you, mentally registering what had just happened.

“That was hot.” Toby hummed, Jeff nodding along as they gripped the blanket tighter.

Clockwork groaned, letting off of you as she tugged the blanket and pillows from their arms, reaching to pop the back door of the Jeep open.

“Alright boys, shows over. Go to bed.” The night air flooded the vehicle, smoke swooping out into the wind as the two exasperatingly climbed out, mumbling their annoyance of wanting to see more. You sat back, combing over what had just happened and reaching for the water bottle you were handed earlier, nervously taking sips.

Clockwork shut the door, sighing as she leaned back into the pillows and swiped her hands over her face, groaning. You wanted to apologize, the haziness of the weed finally seeping its last wave over you as the tension bubbled, silence the only thing between you.

“I’m sorry…” You grit, picking at your fingers as Clockwork looks up at you, smiling. 

“For?” She was beginning to lean forward again, the nervousness you should've been feeling earlier finally rousing in your gut. At least, that’s what you thought it was. You weren’t expecting the tears to pool in your eyes and drip down your cheeks. And you definitely weren’t expecting the words to bubble out so suddenly.

“I’m sorry for kissing you in front of Toby…” You hiccuped, swiping the tears from your eyes as more pooled, Clockwork immediately pressing towards you. “I know you two are… are a thing… I’m sorry…” Evidently, your high had not worn off.

“Angel…” Clockwork shushed you, reaching to wipe the tears from your eyes and brush the stray hairs from your face. She cupped your cheeks to look at her, concern lacing her expression as you tried to stop your whining. “What are you talking about..?” She laughed awkwardly.

You leaned into her touch, trying to gauge her tone as you took deep breaths. “Like, aren’t you and Toby dating… I’m sorry…” The tears welled again, but rough fingers were quick to swipe them away. “[Y/N], Toby and I haven’t been together in a long time.” 

You watched her face for any sign of a joke, shaky breaths steadying out when you couldn’t find any. She just smiled that same sympathetic smile she always gave you, your cheeks heating up again. You reached to cup her hands on your cheeks, making sure she wouldn’t pull away. “Really?”

“Really.”

You both sat in the silence, your head spinning from the exhaustion of your crying, but Clockwork was sure to let you lean on her. She tugged you close, leaning back into the pillows and scooping your head to lay next to hers. She reached back to grip the dial of the radio and turn the music down, a soft thump ringing as the fairy lights twinkled overhead. You just now noticed how mesmerizing they were, only breaking your trance when you felt the same rough fingers tracing your cheekbones.

You glanced beside you, Clockwork’s face suddenly a lot closer than you remembered it being. “Why’re you so worried about me and Toby?” She teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You had always known Clockwork was a strong girl. Not just mentally, but physically. Being this close, you could see every indent of muscle on her shoulders and arms, her bicep tensing as she leaned closer to you. It was mesmerizing the way you suddenly realized her stature swallowed you whole. Not to mention the way her abs teased from the way her tank top rode up her abdomen.

“[Y/N]…” Clockwork cooed. Shit, you were staring. You shook your head, forcing your eyes to meet with hers again.

“I wasn’t worried… I’m not- Just-” 

“Worried enough to cry… but kiss me anyway?”

She was throwing you for a loop now, probing your hazy brain for an answer you didn’t know she wanted. You groaned, clasping your hands over your face and trying to shrivel away. “I don’t know…”

“Well, maybe we need to find out, then.” You peeked from behind your fingers, Clockwork’s smug expression filling your vision as she tugged your hands down, wrapping her fingers with your own. You were tense, unsure how to move or what to say, but trying your best not to make a further fool of yourself.

Jealousy, idolization, a crush…? You wanted to contemplate it, you wanted to talk it over so there wasn’t any room for awkwardness. You waited desperately for the days she would come and visit, buying your time with every second she stayed until inevitably left you behind again. It wasn’t her fault, she was living her life.

But what if you wanted that life too…?

What if…

Soon your vision was invaded by her, rough hands cupping the sides of your cheeks to draw you closer as your lips pressed firm. You gasped into the kiss, tilting your head to sink further into her grasp as you wrapped your arms behind her back. Nails dug into the fabric of her tank top, stretching the cloth and pushing her closer to you, lips swiping across the other.

Clockwork was groaning, the remaining dizziness of the weed swirling overhead and seeping into every touch she gave you. It was intoxicating. You felt like you couldn’t get close enough, like no matter how close you pulled her she was still too far away. You let your tongue slip past her lips, false courage giving you a boost.

The dirty blonde obliged, letting her tongue swirl with yours as she trailed her hands down to your sides. She hooked her fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you up off of your knees.

“C’mere…” She grumbled against your kisses, pulling you to swing your leg over her thighs and straddle her hips. You sunk back into her, wrapping your arms around her neck and gliding your tongue along the warmth of her mouth. You couldn’t get enough, drinking in her smell and her taste, suffocating in it. It was almost better than getting high. Wait-

You pushed back off of her shoulders, disconnecting your mouths and leaving you both itching for more. 

“Wait. This is wrong. We’re both high, and you’re definitely going to regret this and I-” The words jumbled out quickly, Clockwork knotting her brow as she clamped a palm over your puffy lips to silence your panic.

“[Y/N], I’m not high. Maybe a little sleepy, but definitely not high.”

You still kept her back, elbows braced as you forced yourself not to stare at her lips. “So… you want to kiss me? You’re not just doing it 'cause you’re high?” Clockwork was laughing again, letting her fingers rub against your hips as you waited patiently for her answer, unsure why she was finding it so funny.

“I told you, I’m not high. Besides, why do you think I keep coming to see you if I don’t like you enough to kiss you?” Your thoughts were mush, pieces not connecting the way they should’ve been. Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought… but at least she was there to take care of you.

You did catch the way she smiled though, brushing the hair off of your face and rubbing at your sides. And the way she said she liked you.

“Do you… like-like me? Or just friend-like me…?” 

“Just kiss me, [Y/N].”

Your back was being pushed into the blow-up mattress as Clockwork’s lips pressed against yours again. You melted again, brain entering that fuzzy state where the only thing you could register was how good you felt. She towered over you, your eyes peeking open to catch glances of the way her shoulder muscles strained above you, or the way her biceps flexed when she scooped your leg to wrap around her waist. You clung on, surprised at the sensation when she pressed her hips down, friction rutting against the crotch of your jeans.

“Ah- Jeez-” You whined when her lips dipped further along your jaw, wet kisses planted along your neck and collarbones. She was a lot more eager than before, hunger sweeping over you both as you let your hands tangle into her shaggy hair. Every press of her lips or grip of her hands was doubled in sensation, tingles and chills sweeping through your body and writhing for more. “Feels good…”

Clockwork nibbled at your shoulders, tugging the collar of your shirt aside to suck on the bare skin. She smiled at your whines, grinding her hips lower to bump the stretch of your jeans against your clit. The sensation made your back shoot off the mattress, fingers digging into her shoulders to stabilize yourself.

“Again- Do that again-” You whined out, wrapping your legs around her waist to roll your hips, searching for that same sensation. Clockwork obliged, her hands planted on either side of your head as she raised up to carefully angle her hips against yours.

She rolled them down, the crotch of her jeans roughly gliding on yours and bumping your clothed clits together. You moaned, hands wrapping around her shoulders as you watched, trying your best to meet her every movement and catch that feeling. You whined when she stopped, pouting your lip before you felt warm hands slinking up into your shirt.

“Been waiting on you to fess up for a long time now, angel. It was pretty hard trying to act like I couldn’t tell you were obsessed with me.” She spoke between kisses on your cheek, tugging your back off the mattress to slide your shirt over your head and to the side. “Hard to not miss you, too.” You leaned into her touches, chasing the warmth as her words muddled your thoughts. You couldn’t get enough of looking at her, the fairy lights overhead blinding you slightly, but Clockwork’s frame covering you soothingly.

“Keep doin’ that thing-” You smiled, pushing your hips up in a desperate attempt to create that wonderful sensation again, your clit already throbbing. The dirty blonde grinned above you, leaning back onto her knees to slide her tank top off, her sports bra contorting against her strong build in the most mouth-watering way. “Anything for you, angel.”

Your jeans were being unbuttoned as you reached for her again, tugging her close to steal quick kisses as she worked on tugging your pants down your thighs. Your heart was beating so fast, excitement pumping through to your fingertips when she finally tugged the fabric off of your ankles. Despite the cramped backseat of the Jeep, you felt so free, so comfortable to hold and touch the girl you idolized so dearly. And she was touching you, and you couldn’t get enough.

Clockwork tugged her own jeans off of her legs, sliding the stray clothes to the side as she readjusted her boxer briefs. Jesus, even the underwear she wore was cool. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of her belly button piercing, the small silver ball complimenting her toned stomach wonderfully. She tugged your hips over hers, kneeling between your spread legs as she slid her hands across your excited body. Every touch was electrifying, goosebumps rising wherever her fingernails scraped your skin.

You waited expectantly, trying your best not to seem restless as Clockwork leaned back to grab the glass mason jar from the front seat. You watched cautiously as she fished another blunt out, eyeing you carefully while she popped the roll between her lips and reached for her lighter in the back pocket of her jeans. Once again the sour smell of weed filled your senses, mind already swaying as Clockwork inhaled deeply before leaning back down over you.

Grabbing your jaw, she pressed your lips open with her thumb and steadied herself back into a kiss. You sighed as she pressed firm against you, taking a long exhale into your kiss and passing the smoke into your lungs. You tried your best to inhale, breathing deeply as the sour taste wafted through your windpipe. There was no helping when you began to cough, though.

“Easy… deep breathes…” She cooed, leaning back to take another hit off of the blunt before flicking ashes into the nearby ashtray. Clockwork handled you so carefully, making sure you didn’t get choked as you exhaled, blowing the smoke up into the air. “Atta’ girl…” She smiled, passing the bud between your fingertips as she began to slink down your abdomen.

“I thought you weren’t getting high-” You awkwardly shifted with her, spreading your legs to fit around her shoulders. 

“Changed my mind. You’re gonna wanna feel this too…” She pushed your hand back to your mouth, beckoning you to take another hit of the smoldering plant. You did, not ignoring the way Clockwork’s cheeks darkened as you blew the smoke in her direction, smiling coyly. “Feel what?”

The familiar haziness fogging your brain was coming back, senses heightening slowly as Clockwork slipped your panties down your thighs and with the rest of the discarded clothes. You stalled, body burning up as she kissed along your hips and thighs, pecking at the skin just close enough to make you squirm. “Cumming when you’re high is heavenly. I think you ‘oughta try it out…” 

She kissed right on the puffy lips of your cunt, drawing her hands between your thighs to spread them further. You shuddered, heavy eyes watching as Clockwork stared up at you, her one good eye already becoming bloodshot. Her tongue takes a long, achingly good stripe between your folds, soaking up your dripping arousal as you gasp, stomach clenching. “Mmn- So wet already…”

Your knees jerked as she flicked her tongue across your clit, letting your head fall back into the mattress with a groan. “F- Fuck…” It all felt so tingly, so electrifying as she dove her tongue between your puffy lips again. Your high was setting in again, the feeling of her tongue slowly pushing past the tight muscle of your entrance enhanced to feel so nauseatingly good. She was drinking every inch of you up.

“Feel good, angel? You taste amazing…” She mumbled against you, running her tongue to lap up your juices before centering on your clit again. You whined when she sucked the nub, static shooting through your abdomen and arching your back off of the makeshift bed. “Y- Yeah-” You give such a harsh pull on her soft strands, it has her leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. “Need more- Ah!”

Clockwork answers with a stout suck on your clit, delving deeper to press her tongue inside your gummy cunt once again. Your fingers of your free hand grip her hair tightly, stuttering your hips to get her deeper- closer- You almost scream out when you feel a thumb press onto your aching nub.

You’re writhing, barely able to hold the blunt in your opposite hand from how much your body is aching for release. Every movement of her tongue and fingers is sending you reeling, gasping for air as pulses of arousal reach every nerve ending. “You’re so close, pretty girl. Come on, come on-”

A rough pass of her thumb back and forth across your clit has you straining, cunt clenching down so intensely you dig your head into the plushness of the mattress. It feels like you’ve exploded, cunt twitching and aching so good you can barely see the fairy lights overhead. Clockwork rides you through, leaving her arousal-soaked tongue inside to lap up every inch of your crumbling ecstasy. She’s pushing back, practically moaning at how tight you’re tugging her hair.

The pounding in your head subsided when she finally let off, pressing her fingers to spread your soaked lips and view just how aroused you were. You were practically dripping. It was so violent - so dragged out, like no orgasm you’ve ever had before. She snatched the blunt from your wobbly fingers, popping the end between her lips and taking a hearty drag before handing it back to you.

Clockwork’s above you again, panting desperately as she clasps down on your neck, breathing deep as she leaves chaste kisses and bites along the stretch of skin. “Look so pretty when you cum, y’know?” You’re dizzy, legs spread around her hips and hands wrapping around her shoulder blades to claw for more. “Wanna help- Need- need you to-”

“No. Gotta show you all the best feelings, alright?” She sounded so much more intense, so in charge, as she pushed off of you. Being high made you hazy and aloof, but it made Clockwork rough and dominant. There was no fighting her intentions as you tried to calm your still-dizzy aftershock. She moved so hungrily, so eager to please.

Her hands were in her bag again, pushing junk around until she hauled out a smaller baggie, the drawstrings cinched. “Got this a bit ago- You’re gonna love it.”

You nearly cried when she tugged out a thick, realistic-shaped dildo. You sat up, nervousness ticking through your body as you watched her fish for something else in the bag too.

“Wanna try?”

You were nodding before you even realized it, Clockwork fishing a small bottle of lube from the bag and discarding the rest, something else clearly inside. You let her hands push you back against the mattress, prying her hands between your tired thighs and massaging your sensitive skin. You took another hit of the blunt, the sourness soaking in and calming your chattering nerves before you tossed the smoldering roll onto the ashtray.

But they started right back up again when Clockwork reached to unclasp your bra, pulling the fabric off of your tits and instantly latching onto your nipples. You whined, tangling fingers into her hair and tugging her up, pulling her to your stuttering lips. “Wanna feel it-”

Clockwork smiled her eagerness as she leaned off of you, tugging her own bra over her head and reaching for the dildo again. You gaped at her, the pure eagerness she held as you heard the lube bottle cap pop open, Clockwork careful not to drip any as she let the liquid trail down the erotic toy. You tried to keep your breathing steady, watching carefully as she moved the bottle from the toy over to your whiny cunt, letting the liquid droop down between your folds. You gasped, the cold feeling making chills spread as she leaned close again. “Can’t wait to taste you on this thing…” She sneered, kissing the tip of the toy so teasingly you shuddered. 

“Please-” Clockwork’s sharp canines tugged at your bottom lip, you moaning into the messy clash of the kiss as you felt the cold silicone slap gently against your folds. “Please- fuck m’burning up-” You choke, angling your hips to try and press the head inside. There was nothing you wanted more, cunt clinging and crying for stimuli again until Clockwork was laughing against you. “So whiny…” She nicked a kiss against your shoulder.

You glanced down through heavy eyelids, the dildo sitting so heavily sandwiched between your swollen folds and just teasing to be slid inside. The silicone glistened with the lube, your lips pouting when you angled your hips further to slide inside, only for Clockwork to tug it back. You whined, her kisses along your neck halting as she breathed against your ear. “Easy, pretty girl, let me handle it.”

She was pushing your back up, sliding behind you, and tugging you into her lap, her strong arms wrapping around your torso. “Lay back, angel… Spread your legs for me…” She was coaxing your every move, pulling your knees back to angle the toy at your willing cunt. You were practically vibrating, arms reaching back to grasp onto her shoulders as she began to push.

“Yes-” Before Clockwork could tease you anymore, she was giving a slow, nauseating slide into your cunt. And then you couldn’t breathe- you couldn’t manage anything but a desperate moan. Pressing your shoulders back into her chest, she let the slick toy stretch you open. The push against your entrance had you mewling, senses heightened to a dangerous degree as your head pounded between your ears. The girth slid in, pressing against your velvety walls and finding your arousal clamping down. “Oh-” Clockwork’s gasping when she finally got the hilt of the toy to slap against your folds, bottoming out inside of you and leaving your head spinning. You felt so full, so incredibly stretched. It wasn’t like normal, your high was making it feel like every twitch of your cunt could wrack your body.

You tried to glance back at her, your heavy eyelids making your vision blurry as she began to move, her arm straining to tug the toy from the tight ring of your entrance and push it back in. “There we go… Feel it out…” She nibbled against your earlobe, wet kisses soaking into your skin as sweat beaded on your forehead, your body aching. The push was numbing, every jostle of the toy in and out leaving you strained for more, body pleading to go faster.

“Wanna- Wanna feel you-” Your nails were digging into her shoulders, hips stuttering to plow deeper, Clockwork driving her arm as fast as she could. “Fuck- Alright, alright-”

She gave one last drive of the toy, gripping your hand to reach down and hold it there as she slid out from behind you, laying you down. You whined, confused and desperate to have her back on you again, beginning to lean up until you saw her reach for the baggie again.

“Hold on, angel. Keep stretchin’ yourself, alright?” She looked so hazy, her cheeks dark and eye bloodshot as you obliged, leaning back on your elbow to slowly tug the toy in and out. You felt so light now, dizzily fucking yourself as Clockwork tugged what looked like a belt out of the baggie, your confusion evident.

She unclipped the straps, tugging her boxer briefs down and strapping it around her muscled thighs. You halted your movements, leaning up to watch as she snugged the fabric around, positioning it how she needed it as she reached for the toy between your thighs.

“Lay back…” She coaxed as she slotted the toy into the holster in the fabric, snugging it down to look like she was sporting her own cock. You smiled, suddenly finding the sight very funny as you leaned forward, resting your hands on her shoulders.

Clockwork sat back into the pillows, confusion striking her features and she stroked the toy, her intentions set on fucking you. You couldn’t help but want more though, turning around to lean back, the toy sliding between your thighs as you sat back on her lap. “Fuck…” Clockwork groaned, hands gripping your hips to tug you back.

You gripped the toy, your cunt throbbing as you pushed the head against your entrance, sitting back to let it slide in the same aching way as before. “Ah-” Your knees dug into the mattress, hands resting atop Clockwork’s as the silicone spread your entrance, the familiar stretch making you smile. Your jaw went slack, puffy lips holding open as your ass pressed back against strong hips. You tried not to stutter as you felt the hilt again, Clockwork huffing her arousal behind you.

“Looks so good, angel. Fuck my cock, just like that…” She smiled, leaning forward to nip your shoulder again, chills filling you. You were bouncing back, hips bumping with electric slaps as you rode back on the dildo. It was reaching deeper now, every inch schlicking further than before as you fucked your fack onto the length. You felt so dizzy, so cockdrunk as Clockwork groaned into your shoulder, moaning every time you did.

A snap of your hips told you she was feeling it too, the toy hilt grinding down onto her clit with every slap back, practically fucking you both. You let your jaw go slack, reaching back to wrap your fingers around the straps on her thighs, tugging them closer. Clockwork followed, snapping her hips to push into you every time you sat back, meeting your thrusts. 

“Sh-Shit-” You felt your gummy walls clamping, straining to keep the toy as deep inside as she could fuck into you, arching your back sinfully to get it deeper.

Clockwork’s moan made you flinch, her forehead falling against your shoulder as she reached around, pushing your ass off abruptly as she fiddled with the base of the dildo. You were confused, impatient tinges of your hips making her giggle. You were about to push her hand out of the way, upset by the lack of movement until you heard the small click of a dial.

Your chest tightened, the clamp in your abdomen knotting as you felt the loud vibration knocking against your g-spot. Clockwork moaned out, a cut-off gasp making your eyes roll as she began to fuck into you again, the rumbling toy lodging itself inside.

You suddenly couldn’t keep your composure, your knees sliding out as you fell chest-first into the plush mattress, Clockwork gripping your hips to follow you down.

“Push back- There you go…” She was huffing as you arched your back, her hands pressing down on your shoulders to keep your face smashed into the fabric, sweat beading and dripping off of your skin. You’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body as she snaps her hips into yours. Muffled moans and desperate claws against bare skin are the only things you can register, the absolute abusing stretch of the toy inside of your plush walls making you reel.

“Thought you could take it, huh? Wanted it so bad.” She was teasing you now, venom and arousal dripping from her every word, her quick pants loud behind you. “Hah-” Your back arches up sluttily into her as her rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, her thrusts picking up pace. She was feeling it, you could tell by the way every time you felt the hilt on your puffy lips she was cracking out a moan too. The vibration was wrecking you both.

“Feels so good…” You’re mewling, reaching back to grip onto those straps again as she claws into your shoulders. You hold her legs there, not letting her thrust anymore as you begin to grind back, spine arching as far as you can get it.

The vibration of the toy is puffy on her clit, the hilt rumbling against the nub and making Clockwork choke out curses. You let the head press deep, stretching against taught muscles inside and ruling you over. 

Convulsing over and over under her firm press, you can feel your orgasm clamping down on your abdomen again. “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-” You’re choking out, hips stuttering back to grind against the girth. Clockwork’s snarling, taking deep breaths as she ruts her hips too, chasing the same feeling.

You’re dizzy, the pure wave after wave of arousal crashing into your body like a weight, your eyes rolling so far into your head you can barely see. Your cunt clenches, pulsing around the toy that's still rumbling inside of you to milk out every last round of your orgasm. Clockwork is shaking above you, hips jerking and thighs shaking as you hold her close by the straps, her body weight cascading on top of yours. “Christ-”

Your hips let out, falling flat against the mattress as she lays on top, breathing through her wilting shock until she's able to pull out, snapping the clasps undone and tossing the toy to the side. 

You’re both panting, cunts swelled and aching from exhaustion as you cling together, sweaty bodies sticking close. It’s all you can do not to fall asleep right then, the overexertion of your still-high mind making everything seem so fuzzy. The sour smell still surrounded you, the thumping of the music inside the Jeep slowly coming back as you settle your nerves. 

“Can’t- Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that-” Clockwork pants out, her nose finding its way to the crook of your neck and taking deep inhales. You were ecstatic, body too tired to show it but mind running a mile a minute. “I’m just upset it took me getting high to do it…” You sighed back, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and drawing her close, the fairy lights overhead looking all too close to stars and making you so, so sleepy.

Clockwork drags a blanket over to you two, throwing the warm fabric over top and nudging her way back against your side. You’re blinking slowly, trying to stay awake and contemplate, but your brain refusing to compute.

“I don’t want you to leave…” You’re whining quietly, tangling your fingers into her hair as her strong arms clasp around your sides.

“Come with me, then…” She whispered back, kissing your shoulder gently.

You wanted to answer, to reason that you couldn't just leave, that you couldn't just disappear…

You were both breathing steadily, minds quietly fizzling out as you made up your mind.

-

“No fuckin’ way.” Jeff is snickering, bumping your shoulder as you tug a drink from the fridge. Your eyes are heavy, exhaustion still steady as Clockwork slides behind you, grabbing milk for her coffee.

“Watch it.” She’s warning, placing a hand on your hip to slide past you as Jeff continues his tease.

The killer can’t stop staring at the wilts on your neck, the dark hickies and lovebites that gave off the events of last night. You hadn’t realized they were there until you had awoken in the backseat of the Jeep this morning, head pounding and body impossibly sore. Clockwork couldn’t get enough of them though, admiring how nice they looked.

However, she was leaving soon, bags already packed and buying her time with one last breakfast. It didn’t take much convincing for your bags to be shoved in the back too, scooping everything you cared to bring and hauling it down to the Jeep quietly.

“Oh, shit-” Toby was next, tugging the neck of your shirt back but quickly getting a slap on the hand from Clockwork. They were both laughing, Toby gave her a silent nod as she let her arm fall over your shoulder, a quiet answer to his unspoken question. He smiled, turning back to Jeff and shoving his shoulder.

“Say bye to [Y/N]. It’ll be a w- while till we see them both again.”

-

You said your quiet goodbyes as Clockwork pulled her Jeep around the front, popping open the passenger door as you jumped inside. She peeled from the clearing, vehicle bouncing and climbing through the unsteady terrain around the mansion. You watched in the windows as it disappeared, the deep breath you didn’t know you were holding finally letting itself out.

Clockwork reached to tangle your hand with hers, clenching tightly as if she never wanted to let go again.

All the times she visited, and all the stories you wished you would get to experience were slowly becoming a reality with every mile between you and that mansion. Never again would you tie yourself to that place. Glancing over, you smiled.

Freedom never looked so pretty.

This was a request from @bubbleduckie!

Comments and kudos are appreciated!

Thank you to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[canmom]

"don't post links to pirate sites" as a security through obscurity strategy seems... weak. if a pirate site is so obscure that almost nobody can find it, it's also essentially pointless.

but yes, if a pirate site is common knowledge, the feds will be working on destroying it. so the idea is i assume to achieve an intermediate level of obscurity, where you have to have a certain amount of talent for asking the right people or searching the right things to find it. but... whatever capacity for research you are asking people to have on that front, the feds are equally capable of it, and they have a whole lot more time on their hands for tracking down pirate sites! security through obscurity is a losing game for piracy. the perfect sweet spot where people can find your pirate resource but the feds cannot is something of a mirage.

if not that, than what?

the current piracy system involves a few different tiers of accessibility, and various components that are more or less decentralised.

torrents are the most resilient tech because to stamp out a torrent (with DHT enabled) you have to suppress every seed. so, you have big public torrent trackers like TPB; these are well known and rely on hopping domains and redundancy for security. the ratio of seeds to leeches tends to be low, but the number of users is large enough that there will be at least a few seeds out there for most stuff. torrent clients have gotten a lot better at seeding strategies that take into account your seed ratio and what's currently available in the swarm, so if you just leave everything on seed and open your torrent client fairly often (use a VPN though lol), you don't really need to think about it.

then you have private trackers; these operate on an invite basis. the problem with this is that when the pool of users is so small, the odds of a given seed being online are also small. to prevent torrents dying, they gamify it: you get points for seeding and if you don't have enough points you can't download anything until you seed more. to help people get back in the game there will be 'freeleech' events. being active on a private tracker takes a bit of work.

and of course you have to get in in the first place, which tends to require a proven track record of seeding on other private trackers, and some kind of interview with the operators. getting involved in private trackers is a much bigger ask, you have to figure out where to get your foot in the door, and work your way up to the more insular trackers. it's like a mini subculture. it's valuable, but not scalable.

at the top level of inaccessibility is the warez scene. this is a whole subject that i'm not even gonna get into, go read wikipedia. historically this is where the files actually come from, before getting distributed on public trackers, usenet etc. but good luck getting in there lmao, they are understandably quite paranoid.

of course, for stuff to get on pirate sites you need somebody to go the effort of ripping and encoding it. this is where a major point of failure exists. when RarBG went down recently, the biggest loss was not the existing archive of torrent links, which can be backed up - it was that they were very active at converting scene releases into torrents with a decent balance of file size and quality, which then filter out into the various public trackers. that is much harder to replace! but what killed RarBG wasn't even suppression by authorities - according to their statement, it was a bunch of the admins getting covid or dying or fighting in the Russia-Ukraine war, which made the whole operation impossible to continue. so despite the thousands of people who download RarBG torrents, this single point of failure was overstressed and broke.

as far as the ethics of spreading links to pirate sites go... if it's something like a mega drive, yeah, the chances of a takedown are pretty high if it gets noticed! no question. but those things are by nature short-lived; if you want to use that for archival you're building on sand. there's also databases like emuparadise, but there was no saving that through obscurity, it just took Nintendo a minute to bring the case.

in this kind of centralised case, the clock is ticking from day 1. what we want is to maximise the number of people who are able to save copies while it's up, and then some of those people can put it up again somewhere else and keep the authorities playing whack-a-mole. (for a small collection of files, a sensible measure would be to make a torrent and a mega drive side by side, so that people can download the mega drive and then add the torrent to their client to seed if it gets nuked.)

as for torrent sites, the thing is that torrents rely for effectiveness on a swarm that is either very large or very responsible about seeding. if it's a public tracker, it has to be well known or it's pointless. instead of security through obscurity, the form of security for these sites is try to make the resource itself hard to take down - operating the tracker/archive in countries that don't have copyright treaties, maintaining mirrors, and of course distributing as many seeds as possible so the torrent can stay alive even if the site goes down.

the major problem with a dead torrent site is discoverability. if it's harder to find the torrent, fewer people will download it, the existing seeds will gradually go offline, and of course you can't download a torrent that you don't know exists. and while you could imagine a system of broadcasting metadata about a torrent (title, encoding etc.) in a DHT-like way but that would be so vulnerable to fakes and spam. maybe some kind of cryptographically signed 'this torrent is good' declaration is possible? I know certain torrent clients tout discovery features, but honestly I don't know how well they work. I'm sure there are projects that are way ahead of the game than me on this question.

but yeah anyway trying to browbeat people into not sharing links to pirate media is 1. futile, by the time you see it the cat is out of the bag 2. not a sustainable strategy for security. if you wanna lecture people, 'use a VPN and seed your torrents' is evergreen ;p

[jromanoff]

Study Break II R. George

Pairing: student!Regina George (2024) x law student!Reader

Warning(s): Reader not eating enough

Authors note: I’m in the middle of uni exams this week so I wrote a little something to indulge myself :)

Summary: College!AU - Regina is worried about your study habits and decides to intervene.

Word count: 1.6k

Regina leaned against the door frame, watching you hunched over your textbooks, completely engrossed in your studies. The thick civil code books were laying open on the side, several coloured tabs sticking out to keep track of the laws you needed to use for your upcoming exams. Regina thought it almost looked like a rainbow at this point. That was the only pretty thing about the stuff on your desk though, it looked like a bomb exploded with the mess you’ve made.

"Babe, can you take a break? I miss spending time with you," Regina pouted, hoping to draw your attention away from the books in front of you. Her pout usually did the trick. She wanted to have some quality time with you since you haven’t been spending time with her these past few days, too engrossed with your studies. You even stopped having dinner with her.

You glanced up briefly, your brow furrowed in concentration. "Sorry Gina, I really need to focus. These exams are important."

Regina sighed dramatically, crossing her arms as she walked closer to you. Did you just really resist her pout? "You've been studying nonstop for days. Don't you think you're overdoing it a bit?"

You paused, looking at Regina with concern. "I know, but I need to do well in this. It's important for my future. I don’t want to be a failure."

Regina softened, her concern for you overriding her desire for attention. Regina almost laughed at this realisation, her High School-self could never. "I understand, but I'm worried about you. You need to take care of yourself too."

You reached out to take Regina's hand, caressing it. "I appreciate your concern, babe. But I really need to study now, I’m fine.” you said with a reassuring smile, concentrating back on your books.

Regina frowned and decided she needed to change her approach, this was clearly not working. So instead of complaining or outing her concerns, Regina tried to engage in a conversation with you.

“What are you studying, anyways?” Regina curiously inquired as she saw her girlfriend so intensely focused.

She never asked you about the content of your studies before, because she probably wouldn’t understand it. She, on the other hand, always excitedly rambled to you about whatever she learned that day. From fashion designers to fashion history, Regina shared it all. You didn’t mind it, though. Seeing your girlfriend so excited about her studies made you happy too and extra knowledge never hurt anyone. It was a nice contrast to your law studies.

“Legal philosophy” you replied curtly.

“Sounds boring” Regina remarked. Her efforts were met with a dismissive attitude from you, causing Regina to frown in disappointment. But Regina wouldn’t let this deter her from trying again.

“What are you reading about now, then?” Regina asked once again, looking over your shoulder at the book you were currently reading.

“The Case of the Speluncean Explorers” you responded, perplexed by Regina’s sudden interest in your ‘boring’ law studies. Especially after she just complained about not getting any attention from you.

“The what explorers?”

“The Speluncean Explorers,” you explained, slightly exasperated. “It’s a fictional judgement where five judges with different opinions shed their light on a fictional case. Five explorers got stuck in a cave and eventually ran out of food so… they agreed to eat one person so the other four could survive. They decided who it should be by throwing a dice and when the remaining four explorers were rescued they got a murder charge. I really need to study now if you don’t mind.” You hoped this elaborate answer would satisfy Regina’s curiosity so you could refocus on your studies.

When Regina kept silent after your explanation you thought you managed to fend off your girlfriend for the time being. Wrong.

Regina felt increasingly ignored by your continued focus on studying and your dismissive attitude towards her. So she decided to retort to an old tactic – a kiss to divert your attention. Despite being in college now and attempting to leave her manipulative ways behind, Regina deemed this situation an emergency. You would definitely cave in after a kiss.

Regina put her fingers under your chin, turning your face towards her. Then, she leaned in and pressed her lips softly to yours.

That sudden display of affection caught you off guard, but as Regina deepened the kiss your resistance immediately faded away. The tension in your shoulders eased as you gave into your girlfriend. Regina gently took the book you were holding from you.

“Regina, no. I need to study” you pulled away and protested, but Regina just kissed you again.

“What was that for, anyway?” you questioned her as you finally broke apart.

“So you’d be focused on something else than your studies. I deserve some attention too, you know? Not only your stupid books” Regina smirked.

You narrowed your eyes at her “I know what you’re trying to do” you told her and turned back to your desk. As you attempted to pick up your books once more, Regina shot you an ice cold glare. "If you don't put that book down right now... I swear to god you'll regret it," she warned, her tone leaving no room for argument. Regina rarely used that glare on you, but when she did? She was serious about it. Her glare and tone of voice caused you to immediately put your book back down, holding your hands up in surrender.

"That's what I thought," Regina asserted, a smirk playing on her lips. "Now, you’re cleaning up this mess of books and notebooks on this desk first," she declared, taking charge of the situation and asserting her authority over the chaotic study environment you created over the last week. How you could even study in this mess was a mystery to Regina.

Reluctantly, you set aside your textbooks and notes as Regina took charge of making dinner in the meantime, bustling about the kitchen.

The aroma of home-cooked food soon filled the air, causing a low rumble to come from your stomach. You quickly finished cleaning up your stuff and walked to the kitchen where Regina stood behind the stove.

“That smells delicious” you told your girlfriend as you embraced her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“It does, huh? Can you set the table for me, please?” Regina requested.

“Of course” you replied, giving Regina a kiss on the cheek before removing yourself from her. You set the table for dinner and sat down, waiting for Regina and the food.

As Regina set the steaming hot plates of food on the table, you immediately started eating before Regina herself had even the chance to get seated.

Regina observed you quickly shoving down the food she made with concern. It's a confirmation of her suspicions – you hadn’t been eating well all week, too consumed by your studies to the point you forgot to eat. With a pointed look, Regina breaks the silence. “I'm definitely keeping a closer eye on you when the next exam period comes up. You're not taking care of yourself properly. You’re never skipping dinner with me again in an exam period," Regina said, her gaze unwavering.

You frowned at her and attempted to deflect her concern. “You really don't need to, that's asking too much of you." you insisted

But Regina's resolve remains unyielding. "I don't care what you think. I'm keeping an eye on you. And that's final," she declares, her words leaving no room for argument. With a sigh you accept defeat, knowing that Regina can’t be swayed once she has her mind set on something.

That’s one thing that hasn’t changed since high school: Regina always gets what she wants.

After dinner, you cleared the table and did the dishes together. Then, Regina insisted on cuddling with you.

Entering your room, you see Regina is already situated on the bed. She already removed her makeup and changed into something more comfortable.

"Come here, you," Regina said, opening her arms wide with a playful smile. "I need some cuddles."

You hesitated for a moment before relenting, changing into comfier clothes and joining your girlfriend in bed. As your head hit the silk pillow (that Regina bought for you, because according to her it’s better for your hair) you sighed in content. "I guess I could use some cuddles too," you admitted softly, smiling back at your girlfriend.

Regina pulled you close, wrapping you in a warm embrace. “Now, I know you’re tired so I’ll let you go to sleep in a bit, but you do need to promise me to give me attention tomorrow.” she said, softly stroking your hair.

“I promise, my love” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to Regina’s forehead.

Eventually exhaustion takes hold of you both, and you drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace.

The next day you would spend no time on your studies, but only on Regina. You were determined to make it up to her. You even took her out on a spontaneous date to one of the high end restaurants she loved to make up for the lack of attention you gave her the past week. Afterwards the two of you went shopping and then cuddled for the remainder of the evening.

And your exams? Passed with flying colours.

[krypticcafe]

When you call them "babygirl" (COD:MWII)

rating: mature

characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Captain John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, König, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, a smidge of suggestivness

a/n: calling them bbygirls>>>>>calling them fictional crushes. also, my personal Roach hc is that he's a selective mute that took up ASL to communicate.

EDIT: there's now a reversal! What if you were called babygirl 👀

Gaz

His eyebrows raise almost impossibly high

"Did I hear that right or did you just..."

He's not upset, just... surprised.

Pleasantly surprised.

He doesn't mind it but man... it might've sparked something inside him. Might've.

You've given him nicknames before, both teasing and affectionate, but he never expected to be called that before. It's a new feeling.

You don't use it too much with him, but when you do, it gets the cutest laugh out of him. Gets him acting like he doesn't like it, but you know he absolutely does.

If you catch him off guard, he'll tilt his cap down and try to stifle a laugh to distract himself from how warm his face feels.

"Fuckin' hell, the things you do to me..."

You cheekily grin in response and give him those adoring eyes because you know that he knows you do it because you love him just that much to torment him :]

Now you only use it to amuse and tease him just to hear that golden laughter. You don't think you'll ever get tired of it.

Price

First time you said it, he nearly choked on his cigar.

"Sorry, what did you just say?"

He doesn't mean to be rude, it's just that you caught him so off guard. Give the poor man a break.

You repeat it to him and he chuckles, a little awkwardly because him? Babygirl? He can't see it, at least he doesn't see if he even has the qualities for such a title.

But oh, do you disagree. In fact, you start using it more, regardless of what he thinks.

If it's in front of the other task force members, it usually gets him to stop in his tracks and let out a knowing groan, shaking his head and trying to get the team to focus back on whatever they were doing before.

Which is extremely hard with how Gaz and Soap are trying to fight back their giggles.

When you're alone, he sighs but leans into your touch a little more.

He's actually amused by it and has even tried to give you something equally cheesy or teasing just to bite back at you.

It works.

He knows he's egging you on to use it more but truthfully?

He can't bring himself to get actually upset over it.

Soap

You decided to test his reaction on a whim one night at a visit to the pub after a successful mission, walking up behind him and greeting him.

You've never seen his head whip around so fast, and you wonder how he didn't snap his neck.

Oh and there it is.

The classic McTavish SmirkTM.

He's grinning so wide, leaning into your side and wrapping your arm around his waist.

"Would'ya mind repeatin' that, love?"

You're starting to regret this, seeing as he's enjoying it a little too much.

Then again... it could make this night a little more rewarding.

After that, he practically pushes you to use it more, says something about getting butterflies or how it "rolls off your tongue so well"

Either way, you don't mind it, seeing how it makes him happy and how he seems more obliged to listen to you.

And every time you do, he's always got that adoring glint in his eyes and an excited grin on his lips because fuck yeah,

He is your babygirl.

Ghost

He freezes so badly, the only movement being his shallow breathing.

To be honest, you were a b i t nervous to try, but you figured there was no harm in it with how far your relationship was.

But now you're starting to regret even trying, wondering if you've crossed a line or-

"Say it again."

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck-

You do as he says, and it gets a dry laugh out of him. He shakes his head and brings a hand to his forehead, mumbling about how stupid it is.

Except you don't miss that softened look in his eyes, the one weakness of his mask.

So you start rolling it out slowly and steadily, mostly in private because god knows he would strangle you for using it in public.

Much to his dismay, the 141 still overhears it thanks to you "teasing" him with it as a "joke".

Regardless, you don't mind limiting it to being used in private because you're the only one that knows and uses the fact that the Simon "Ghost" Riley secretly loves being called your babygirl.

Specifically in a soft or smooth way that gets him to just fucking melt on the spot. Even a simple, "How's my babygirl doing today?" in passing gets him all worked up at the idea of him being yours and yours only. It's even worse when you use it in bed.

So use it wisely!

König

He's looking around as if you're talking to someone else. Poor thing's all confused.

When he finally figures it out that it's him you're talking about, ohhh the way you wish you could take a peek under that hood.

The man's got his face buried in his hands, gripping and pulling the hood down on his face as if any inch of skin would further reveal how flustered he got.

Though you can already imagine it for yourself, his face burning brightly with his lips pressed tightly, causing all his stammering and sputtering.

Even worse, because of that, you add it to the list of various nicknames you have for him.

What you didn't expect is for him to adjust so well to it. At some point, he just sheepishly laughs and smiles whenever you use it, and of course, he's still a little shy about it,

But he starts leaning into it more, responding to it like he would any other name. Loves it like any other nickname when he just buries his face in your shoulder and cuddles you while you whisper reassurances to him.

Just be careful using it around the others, he'll implode if they find out.

Roach

What surprises you is how quickly he accepts it.

You had called out for him, and he just turned and responded with a signed "Yes?"

It kinda caught the both of you off guard.

He snickers and signs again, "Would you want me to call you something similar?"

You know where this is going, and before you can do anything, he starts calling you "hot stuff".

So now the two of you keep coming up with a bunch of corny, cheesy nicknames to sign to each other, some of which don't even make sense.

It's until that you call him it again he's like Soap in that he goes, "You know what? Yeah, I am your babygirl!"

Now he wears the name loud and proud. Almost too proudly. Pretty much the whole base knows it by now.

He got a goddamn name patch of it.

Occasionally, you'll get other 141 members commenting, "Looking for your babygirl?" or "Surprising that you don't have your babygirl with you today." with emphasis on the nickname.

So basically, what was supposed to be you teasing him was now him teasing you.

Hound

They first overheard you using it when you were conversing with some other force members, mostly talking about Hound and you. To many, it was a strangely unlikely relationship come true. He didn't think too much about it. You probably fumbled with your words.

Then he overheard it a second time. Then, a third. Then it came to a point where they just figured that it was now another term of endearment for them.

In all honesty, he's confused why you specifically like using that of all names, he simply can't see how such a cute, loving name could fit someone like him

You explain to them how it's kind of your way of showing them as yours, that they're your baby, and to you, they're one of the sweetest things to exist.

He melts at that.

So now when he hears it from you close or from afar, his head perks up, and he'll give a quick glance in your direction.

Sometimes, you use that fact just to get his attention, and he knows that, but he never minds when he gets to see you grinning so brightly.

[carryatunestudio12]

Whether you're recording in a studio or performing live, pitch correction software can help ensure that every note is on point. In recent years, online pitch correction services have become increasingly popular due to their convenience and affordability. Here are some reasons why you should consider using these services:

[ameliora-j]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO ROUGH DOM NIALL. i’m actually begging. maybe the reader acts up on purpose for attention because niall is busy with his new album and he has to put her in her place 🫢 btw i love ur work, your like my fav author on this app xx

pls ur gonna make me cry :’) thank u angel ♡

content: mean dom!niall, fem!reader, brat!reader, edging, cumplay, impact play (flogging, slapping), spitting, humiliation, degradation, tummy bulge, creampie, breeding kink, lots of pet names, dominant/submissive themes, no aftercare written but it happens!, THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG I’M SO SORRY BAE DODOWNEN, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI !

you’re grumpy—and you have been for the last week and a half. had niall been paying any attention to you at all, he’d have realized as such earlier. however, he is deep into the finalization stage of his new album. you’re proud of him—more than proud of him. niall turns your world that much is obvious. you praise any and everything he does. so of course you’re overjoyed he has a new album coming, and so proud of all his hard work.

you just can’t help but feel a little… jealous? neglected? you’re not a hundred percent sure exactly what you would call it in truth. it feels like a big dark cloud of grump is sitting above your head and you can’t do anything about it. niall is your boyfriend, the love of your life… but first and foremost he is your dominant. he keeps you in check, makes sure you’re always on track, and fucks you into oblivion every night.

the problem is that with his new album, he hadn’t fucked you in almost two weeks. to go from having sex every day—multiple times a day—to none at all for a whole two weeks was really taking a toll on you. it’s niall’s own fault, anyway—your sex drive wasn’t nearly this high before you’d met him. you don’t realize that your sexual frustration is building up until you’re already on the brink of an explosion. waking up in the morning with only one thing on your to-do list: be the biggest brat known to mankind.

unbeknownst to you, niall had taken the day off. he realized that he was neglecting you a bit—it’d been too long since he saw your pretty face when you were awake. you’re surprised to see niall still laying in bed beside you, sleeping peacefully when your eyes flutter open. you look to the bedside table and read the numbers on the alarm clock before pushing his shoulder.

niall wakes with a grunt, gasping a bit as he turns to look at you. “wha’s a’matter?” he mumbles tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“you’re late” you mumble grumpily as you move to get out of bed. “wouldn’t wanna keep the love of your life waiting” you slightly grumble as you walk to the bathroom.

“love of my life? what’re you on about, pet? you’re right here” he chuckles softly, shaking his head as he sits up. “come back to bed, i took the day off. wanna cuddle.”

your heart flutters at the statement, nearly blowing the grump-cloud away, but it’s already hard-set on remaining there for the rest of the day. “i can’t i have things to do.” you say simply as you move to walk downstairs.

niall frowns a bit, clambering out of bed to follow you. “hey wait a second, where are you going?” he asks. you’re never out of bed this quick—even if you do have plans for the day. furthermore, no matter if you’re late, you’re always keen to lay down and have a cuddle with niall.

“since when does my life interest you?” you snark. niall’s jaw clenches. it’s barely been fifteen minutes and he’s already fed up with your attitude. he takes a breath to calm himself, wanting to get to the root of the issue before taking things too far.

“your life always interests me. you’re my girl, don’t be ridiculous” he shakes his head. you simply scoff, rolling your eyes and shoving past him and going to take a shower.

niall is quick to grab your wrist, dragging you back to his chest and squeezing your jaw. “listen here you little brat. i took the day off to spend quality time with you but i can just as easily spend it beating the brat out of you. so what will it be?” he growls lowly. you seal your fate when you suck in your cheeks, pursing your lips and spitting on him.

his eyes go dark and he chuckles lowly, slapping his palm against your cheek roughly. “i’m gonna make you regret that” he murmurs.

niall all but drags you back to the bedroom, shoving you roughly onto the bed. you whimper a bit, squirming in anticipation as he walks over to the closet, grabbing his duffel bag full of toys, ropes, and all of his ‘dom essentials.’ “what are you doing?” niall asks when he turns around—noting you hadn’t moved from where he put you.

“sitting” you hum, snark still lacing your tone. niall chuckles, shaking his head a bit as he walks over to you. he grabs you by your neck, forcing you to stand before tearing your nightgown from your body—practically tearing the flimsy fabric in two.

you squeak as niall spins you, forcing you down onto the bed before pulling your hips up so you were on your hands and knees. you hear rummaging before one of niall’s hands rubs over your ass. “pick a number between one and five.”

he’s angry—really angry—he usually always adds a pet name even if you’re in trouble. you bite your lip, thinking hard about what number to pick. you knew how niall’s spankings worked. you would pick a number, and if you got it right then that’s how many spanks you got. if you got it wrong, then he’d double whatever number he was thinking of. you squeeze your eyes shut tight, going with the safest option smack dab in the middle. “three?” you say hesitantly.

niall smirks, rubbing his hands over your ass. “oh, princess” he hums in a sickly sweet tone—and you nearly smile before realizing that you’re being mocked as his hand strikes your ass cheek. “it was five” he says lowly.

the number is the only warning that you get before niall winds up his flogger and slams it down on your ass. you practically scream into the comforter, tears already pricking the corners of your eyes. he doesn’t start off gentle or work his way up, and he gives you no respite as he continuously whips his flogger on different areas of your backside.

you make sure to call out numbers clear and concise—not wanting to start over with niall in this mood. by the time he’s finished with you, you’re a wet mess—in more ways than one. tears spilling down your cheeks, drool falling from your lips, and cunt sticky with arousal.

“okay okay okay” niall hums as he turns you around. “i know baby, i know. you’re okay… you’re fine” he coos tauntingly as he pulls you to his chest. “‘s okay, i’ll give y’what y’want… quit y’tears” he mumbles as he tugs his sweats down. he lays you back on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable on top of the pillows before kissing your head.

“oh there’s my girl” he smirks as he runs his cock through your sticky folds. you whine softly, arching towards him before he pushes your hips down. “stay still, y’brat” he grunts, slapping your cunt a few times. you shriek with each hit, your legs wiggling in an attempt to get away as you look at him tearily. “jus’ lay there and take my cock.” he mumbles as he slowly pushes into you.

the both of you moan as he bottoms out, you gripping niall’s shoulders as he holds your hips tightly. “fuckin shit babydoll” he groans, pressing down on the bulge of his cock your tummy. “forgot how goddamn tight you were” he gasps a bit, slowly pulling his cock out before thrusting back in.

niall is in heaven… he’s practically pussy drunk off one stroke alone. his head falls back and his eyes roll as he feels your gummy walls gripping him. you’re like a vice, almost as if you wouldn’t let go even if he begged you to. your pussy is sucking him in, leaking around him like a fountain of eternal youth and he’s so close to busting that he has to take a deep breath and distract himself. “this what you needed baby?” he mocks. “just a big cock to fill up your tight little cunt?” he hums.

“ni…” you whine softly and he simply chuckles before setting a pace. once he’s adjusted to your tightness and calmed himself down, he’s able to fuck you how he wants. he holds your hips down against the mattress setting a brutal and punishing pace in your cunt.

“that why you had an attitude? haven’t fucked you properly lately?” he laughs at you. actually laughs at you, and you can’t even bring yourself to care. “you’re so pathetic” he mumbles, spanking your clit. “all it takes is some dick n you’re all smiles again.”

“yeah daddy” you moan in agreement, nodding dumbly as your eyes fluttered closed. you barely even register the words niall is saying to you—all you know is that they’re mocking and unkind. but, this is all you wanted—what you’d been dreaming of for so long so you had not a care in the world. not a thought bouncing around your skull other than more more more.

more love. more affection. more close. more cock. more niall. he engulfed you, not just due to his much larger stature. he had you pinned between the bed, your bodies so close that you could feel the beads of sweat dripping off of his forehead and onto you. he was everywhere—on top of you, inside of you, touching you, his scent engulfing your nostrils as you lay on his pillow.

your head was swimming in a pool of niall and you were content to drown in it until niall forces your leg up over his shoulder. he reangles his hips and slams his cock back directly into your gspot. “daddy!” you shriek out loudly, your back arching high off the bed.

“yeah baby, daddy’s here” he mumbles, reaching to rub your clit. “daddy’s right here baby. jus’ lay pretty and take my cock, yeah?” he flashes a bright smile your way, winking at you—his hips never breaking rhythm as he punishes your cunt with his cock.

you can barely choke out a response your cunt pulsing around him as your orgasm dangles so close, yet so far away. “are you gonna cum baby? i can feel you squeezing me” he hums, fucking you faster. “do you want to cum princess?” he mocks.

“yeah! yeah, yeah, yeah!” you chant, nodding rapidly as your hips begin stuttering against his. “oh fuck yeah!” you whine.

“awh… ‘s too bad i didn’t say you could then, isn’t it?” he hums, slapping your clit once more and laughing meanly. you whine in frustration, tears wetting your lashes as you force your orgasm back. “jus hold it baby, you can do it” he teases, but begins rubbing your clit in small, deliberate circles. “right? for daddy?” he smirks.

you gasp, nodding dumbly as your eyes roll. “f-f’daddy” you nod, your legs beginning to shake. you feel niall’s cock give a twitch at that, his hips stuttering a few times before he finds his pace once more.

“daddy’s gonna cum baby” niall moans in your ear, beginning to nip and suck the skin of your neck. “gonna fill this tight cunt… give you m’babies you want that?” he smirks.

“yeah daddy… yeah gimme your babies please” you whine, beginning to rock your hips in time with his.

“then cum with me, princess” he whispers, squeezing your throat just as your orgasm starts. you moan loudly, unable to stop the spasming of your body as you cream around niall’s cock. you distantly register his slew of swears through loud moans as you feel his seed painting your walls. you moan softly as he pulls you into a hot and heavy kiss—filled with love and passion.

niall pulls away breathlessly, smiling down at you in adoration as he gently pushes your hair from your face. “is my good girl back yet?” he hums softly, gently peppering kisses over your face.

the airy giggle you let out is enough to let niall know he’d fucked you nine ways from sunday and you were now deeply submerged in a submissive headspace. if that wasn’t enough for him, then your soft: “yeah daddy” as you nose against his neck seals the deal for him.

he hums a bit in relief—pride maybe?—before kissing your neck again. “good… you keen for a cuddle now?” he smirks softly at you.

[aubaee]

hidden love — s.jy

enhypen jake head cannon

warnings: college!au, age gap by two years with Jake, reader attends a different uni from him.

brother's best friend!Jake who first encountered you from a young age in middle school.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you haven't seen in a while ever since your older brother chose to attend a university with Jake three hours away from home.

brother's best friend!Jake greeted you with a bright smile, approaching you with a hug whilst messing up your hair.

"You're still the same height the last time I saw you," he playfully teases.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you have a small crush on since your first year of high school.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you have a bantering relationship with since you're both competitive.

"Nuh-uh, it's out of bounds!"

brother’s best friend!Jake who has a golden retriever vibe, in which you have a tendency to pat his head when he does something cute.

brother’s best friend!Jake who has a great sense of fashion taste, sometimes helping you pick out which clothes to buy when you ask.

brother's best friend!Jake who used to hang out at your house after school back then.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you have daily walks with Layla.

brother's best friend!Jake who’s love language is quality time.

“Want to build Lego’s with me downstairs?”

brother's best friend!Jake is great at playing sports such as soccer, baseball, badminton, and rugby.

"Let's take a break! I'm sweating too much, look-"

brother's best friend!Jake who is academically smart with honors.

brother's best friend!Jake who plays the violin for his school band.

brother's best friend!Jake who used to tutor you on your studies.

brother's best friend!Jake who easily gets scared from the loudest noise, especially when you drag him along to the horror night events, which he doesn’t really mind as long as he’s with you (in this case, he’s either hiding behind you or leaving you behind)

brother's best friend!Jake whom you tried to move on from your one-sided love by going on dates and hanging out more with friends.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you can't avoid at the house when he comes over during university breaks.

"Did I do something wrong?" He grasped onto your wrist, stopping you from your track, "You're acting different than usual."

brother's best friend!Jake who just realized he has feelings for you when he picked you up from your college dinner outing.

brother's best friend!Jake who looks out for you when you're attending parties with him and your brother.

brother’s best friend!Jake who wraps his arms around you from behind, glaring at the guy in front of you who’s been pestering you nonstop at the party.

“Who’s this, love? Is he bothering you?”

brother’s best friend!Jake who lends you his hoodies, loving the way you look in them, which are still in your closet. he'll switch out the hoodies once in a while so his cologne lingers a bit longer when you do wear them.

brother’s best friend!Jake who makes you blush by complimenting you every chance he gets.

"Your smile is so pretty."

"You look beautiful today."

brother’s best friend!Jake who you encountered at the movies with your close friends.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here. What movie did you watch?"

"Let me drive you back home."

"Do you want to eat dinner together?"

brother's best friend!Jake who secretly enjoys having you play with his long hair, of course he won't admit it.

brother's best friend!Jake who pouts when you don't focus your attention on him.

brother's best friend!Jake who loves cooking ramen for you when you come over to his house.

brother's best friend!Jake who becomes awkward seeing you cry, in which he tries to comfort you with hugs.

"I hate seeing you cry.."

"Let's go to that spot you've been wanting to go, my treat."

brother's best friend!Jake who charms you with his smile.

"I know I'm handsome but you might want to close your mouth before a fly goes in."

“I’m starting to think you have a crush on me.”

a/n: hii, i'm back with another short cannon~ as you can tell, this is inspired by the c-drama "hidden love". i totally recommend watching it! im in love with the trope. I hope you enjoyed reading this~ Jake really has that older brothers best friend vibe. do you also get that from him or is it just me? lol btw have you watched ENHYPENs performance at KCON LA '24?? im so happy they added paranormal and fatal trouble into the setlist. ENHA really is the main event there, it felt like their concert. im so glad they had fun performing.

ENGENES if you have the time, pls: -> VOTE for XO on ALLCHART app under 'PRE-VOTE' -> VOTE ENHYPEN on the UPICK app under 'KWDA Boy Group Popularity Award' -> STREAM XO on YT, Stationhead, or Spotify We need more man power in regards to streaming and voting so we can help our boys earn more awards. If you have any questions, just lmk and i'll try my best to guide you. ^^

☆ pls like & reblog ☆

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though. 

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples. 

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white. 

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist. 

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other. 

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back. 

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours. 

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him. 

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop." 

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you. 

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically. 

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier. 

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds. 

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two. 

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder. 

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin. 

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

[astrcmoni]

✮⋆˙⭒NIGHTS LIKE THIS✮⋆˙⭒

CHAPTER I: ALL HAIL NIGHTRIDER

pairing: street racer!reader x billie eilish

MASTERLIST

warnings- cussing, drug use (weed), scorches (something fell on you and lightly and briefly burned you, that’s really it.)

wc: 3.7k…damn

authors note: this is my first actual fic on here and i’m nervous as hell to publish it. let me know what y’all think. also anyone can read this (reader is fem tho i forgot to put that) like reader is not heavily described only physical descriptions would be through family descriptions.

“Dude, where the hell am I supposed to go?” Billie’s voice was almost swallowed by the bustling crowd as she called out to her friend on the phone.

“I said—” Her friend’s voice was distorted, breaking up as the connection faltered. Between the weak signal, the endless chatter of people crowding around her, and the constant bumping of bodies as she waded through the sea of strangers, Billie was overstimulated and ready to turn around and go home.

She raised her phone high in the air, stretching her arm up in a desperate attempt to catch a stronger signal. She stood like that for a good minute, nudging into people who glared or muttered curses under their breath. Her frustration melted into relief when she felt a hand grasp her forearm, spinning her around.

“God, there you are man.” she exhaled in relief when she realized it was her friend. “I’ve been literally shouting at my phone like i’m insane. People keep fucking staring at me,” she added, casting side-eyes at the annoyed faces around her as she moved closer to her best friend.

“Well, I’ve got you now, so let’s just go,” her friend laughed, wrapping an arm around Billie’s shoulders and steering her through the throng of people to where the rest of the group was gathered.

They came to a halt in front of a crooked, black wire fence embedded into the patchy grass and dirt. The track lay just beyond, close enough that she could see the dust and rubble scattered on the pavement.

Billie’s breath hitched as she stared out at the cars lined up on the track. She leaned against the fence, eyes wide and mouth agape, taking in every gleaming detail—some vehicles boasted flashy modifications, while others were classic models still in their original forms. Her excitement and awe were almost childlike, as if she were experiencing the best Christmas of her life.

“How much are you betting?” one of her friends asked, snapping her out of her trance.

“Huh?” Billie replied, still entranced by the sight before her, eyes glistening under the bright floodlights.

“I said, who are you betting on and how much? I might match it,” the friend whispered as if it were a closely guarded secret.

“Uh—shit, man, I don’t know. Lemme see.”

Her gaze swept over the cars lined up from back to front, her eyes scanning each driver hanging around their vehicles—likely waiting for the race to start. And then, she spotted it. You.

Or rather, your car.

A smooth, lustrous, sable-black custom GT500 sat front and center. The tires glowed faintly in a soft lilac hue, casting a mesmerizing light over the soot-covered terrain. A raven, intricately engraved on the back right side of the car, shimmered with deep violet accents, giving the vehicle an almost ethereal quality.

You sat at the very front of the starting line, so close to the crowd that if you focused, you could catch snippets of their conversations. Your windows, tinted so dark no one could see inside, were rolled down halfway, allowing the warm glow of lights from the track and your car’s interior to cast delicate shadows across your face. Soft music drifted from the vehicle, mingling with the cacophony of the streets.

‘To take my love away, when I come back around, will I know what to say?’

Billie’s eyes widened and her heart jumped a little when she realized what song was playing softly from your car. She knew that song. The melody, the lyrics—it was Chihiro.

Her song.

“Oh my God, Zoe, she’s playing my song!” she blurted out excitedly.

“Who? Billie, who?”

“Her, right there in the black car.”

“The one with the bird?”

“Yes, the one with the fucking bird.”

“Can you tell who it is?”

“Uh…no.” Billie squinted, trying to make out your face, but all she could see was your hair cascading down your back in a cascade of purple and grey highlights. You seemed engrossed in something in your lap, brows furrowed in concentration.

Your car chimed as the door opened and rocked slightly as someone climbed into the passenger seat. The radio’s bass thrummed louder into the night as the beat dropped along with the chorus.

“Oh my God, you’re still rolling up? This is why I get pre-rolls,” the passenger teased, irritation lacing their tone as they glanced at you. The irritation in her voice made you smirk, but you kept your eyes on the blunt you were carefully twisting between your fingers.

You lifted your head, resting your elbow on the armrest. “But they don’t look as pretty as this one, now do they?” you teased back, handing over the blunt you’d been working on. The passenger rolled her eyes but took it from you, holding it delicately in the air inspecting it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she grumbled. Her long acrylic nails clicked against the blunt as she placed it in her mouth with practiced ease and sparked it up with a flick of her lighter. The cherry of the blunt glowed a vibrant ember in the dim light as she inhaled.

Her red and black racing suit, with the name Blaze stitched onto the left sleeve, fit snugly against her frame. Silky, pressed black hair, highlighted with streaks of red and pink, fell to her upper back in waves and curls, framing her sun-kissed face. Her slender brown eyes gleamed with a look of concern as she exhaled, the scent of weed wafting through the car.

A ping sounded from your phone, drawing you back in. You picked it up, eyes narrowing at the notification:

11 new messages from Mom

“You good?” she asked, leaning over to glance at your screen.

“No. It’s my mom again. She’s been blowing up my phone ever since I left this morning.” You sighed and took the blunt from her hand, not caring about the remnants of her sticky lip gloss left on the wrap. You knew your lips would leave the same trace. She took your phone, unlocking it without hesitation. You knew she’d handle it while you leaned back, taking a long drag, your gaze drifted to the night sky, watching how the stars shimmered against the inky backdrop.

“I keep thinking that this is a bad dream, and that if I try hard enough, I just might wake up,” you murmured.

“Yeah, well, this sad-ass music isn’t helping,” she joked. As if on cue, the next track started—an upbeat tempo that vibrated through the car’s interior. your heart beat matched as the bass trembled throughout your body. ej bounced in her seat, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uht-uh,” you protested, disconnecting your phone from the Bluetooth. “Don’t go changing my shit. My car, my music. You know the rules. Besides, it’s not sad.”

“Yes, it is. That’s like Billie Eilish’s whole schtick, isn’t it?” she scoffed. “Oh, by the way, she’s here.”

“Who?” You turned to look at her, confused.

“Billie. Eilish. The singer. She’s right over there,” she said, pointing.

You leaned over her, eyes darting around the crowd. “Where? I don’t see her.” All you saw were the flag bearers collecting extra bets on the side, cash being shuffled and tossed in baskets.

“Wait, what? Where?”

“Over there—” She pointed, and you leaned over her, eyes darting around.

“Oh my god, girl, she’s *right over there*!” your friend shouted, exasperated.

Hearing this, Billie looked over. Blue eyes met yours. EJ’s shout of frustration caught Billie’s attention, and her gaze drifted back to your car. She lifted her hand in a tentative wave, offering a soft smile.

Your eyes widened in panic. Instead of waving back, both you and EJ ducked, bumping into your friend in the process, shouting curses at each other. The forgotten blunt fell into your lap, searing through your suit and burning you in the process.

“Ah—damn it,” you muttered, picking it up and handing it to her. Her soft hands brushed against yours as she took it, putting it out and storing the remnants in a container before stuffing it in the glove compartment.

“You looked so rude. You should’ve waved back.” EJ chided, side-eyeing you.

“Shut up,” you muttered, reconnecting your phone to the car. The opening notes of “Goosebumps” by Travis Scott filled the space, the beat thrumming through your body.

“Listen, I get that you’re going through a lot right now, but I need you to lock the fuck in. You need that money, and I’d hate to see you lose.”

“I know. I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

“Good, ‘cause it’d be a shame for me to wipe the floor with your ass. You’ll be begging for mercy when we’re done.” Her sudden switch to competitiveness made you laugh.

The sight of the flag girl approaching your car caught your attention. You watched as your friend climbed out and into her own car. The flag bearer checked to make sure you were set before returning to her position at the starting line.

“Ready, Rider?”

Even though you were wearing your riding gear, the hairs on your body stood up as the crisp breeze snuck through the open window and washed over you. Your arm dangled out of the car, fingers loosely tapping against the exterior, while your other hand gripped the steering wheel firmly. The hum of your car vibrated through your entire being, a calming rhythm that matched the beat of your heart. Around you, the other drivers started revving up their engines, plumes of smoke and gas curling up into the air, mixing with the noise of the restless crowd.

"As ready as I can be." you called out, turning your gaze to your best friend and rival. Her car was parked right beside yours—an M4 F82 that was as sleek and black as the night sky. Its red headlights burned like fiery eyes glaring through the darkness like a beast ready to pounce, and the rims, designed into the shape of hearts, shone brightly against the pavement.

You remembered how she’d insisted on having them when you guys went to pick out your first racing cars. “Because I’m ‘just a girl’ ” she’d declared, sticking up her middle finger at the guys who laughed at her. She’d never cared what anyone thought, not when she’d made them eat their words in nearly every race, leaving them in the dust while looking good doing it.

The hum of motors built into a crescendo as everyone continued to rev their engines, the anticipation and excitement electrifying the brisk night air.

“Is everyone ready?” The flag bearer stepped in front of the starting line, checkered flags poised high in the air. Shouts of agreement and cheers erupted from the crowd, adding to the energy of the moment.

You hovered your foot over the gas pedal, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Ready.”

You glanced at the starting line, taking a deep breath as your fingers tightened around the wheel. Eyes closed, you drew in a deep breath, focusing. All the energy, anger, and frustration from earlier started bubbling up to the surface.

“Set.”

With your eyes shut, the words from this morning's argument with your parents flashed through your mind:

“You’ll never be like him.”

“Racing isn’t something you can do forever.”

“You need to fix your shit. This hobby will get you nowhere.”

“You’ve become such a disappointment. What happened to you? Where did I go wrong?”

All that pain, all that bitterness—you channeled it, letting it fuel you.

“Go!”

The words barely left her mouth before your eyes flew open. For a brief moment, the world went still and everything seemed to fall away. It was just you, your car, and the road. Your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, and you took off, the lilac lights on your car morphing into an intense, inky purple as your tires gripped the pavement.

You felt weightless, like a feather caught in the wind, as you accelerated, the track lights casting an ethereal glow over the cars. The world blurred around you, every twist and turn coming effortlessly, your hands moving as if on instinct.

A constant ringing broke through your focus. Your phone vibrated repeatedly, the lit screen showing multiple notifications. You took a quick glance, irritation flaring up as you scrolled through them.

- 5 new missed calls from Mom

- 20 new texts from Fam GC

- 2 new voicemails from Mama J

- 3 new texts from Dad

Your fingers hovered over the voicemail from Mama J, your heart tightening as you reluctantly hit play.

“Hey sweetheart. Now I don’t know what’s happening between you and your parents, but they’re blowing up my phone, asking about you…” You rolled your eyes in annoyance. Typical of them to involve someone else when you refused to entertain their bullshit. “I’m not trying to get in between this, but what I will say is that you need to call them people. Or at least call your mother and stop running away fr—”

You turned off your phone and tossed it back into the passenger seat, jaw clenched in frustration. You loved your Mama J, but you weren’t in the mood to hear any more of that nonsense. Not now, not during this. You got enough of it from your parents, you don’t need to hear it from your godmother either.

Your grip on the wheel tightened as your chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths. The fight with your parents played on a loop in your head, every word an echo that grew louder and more taunting.

‘Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t understand why you continue to choose racing when you know how I feel about it—how we feel about it.’

‘Ma, I get where you’re coming from,but—‘

‘I’m telling you right now, you will get nothing from this. You already have a good job—why must you go and ruin it by doing this foolish nonsense?’

“Fuck this. Like, actually fuck them.” You muttered the words aloud, forgetting for a moment that the line was still open, and your best friend, EJ, was listening on the other end.

“Yo, are you good? Like actually?” Her voice was laced with concern, crackling through the car’s speakers and snapping you back to reality.

“Y-yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Because you’re falling so behind that Nick is beating you. Mind you he literally can’t race for shit. Girl, c’mon!”

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. Sure enough, you were lagging behind. The other drivers had taken advantage of your distraction, speeding past and leaving you in the dust.

“And stop worrying about what my mama said. She’s just playing messenger. We’ll handle it when we get home, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, your foot pressing down harder on the gas pedal.

“It will be okay, just hurry your ass up.”

The car lurched forward as you pushed it to its limits, the rush of adrenaline pumping through your blood like fire. Everything else melted away—the arguing voices in your head, the messiness of the family drama—all of it evaporated, leaving just you and the open road. You swerved expertly between cars, dodging obstacles and maneuvering through sharp turns, the wind roaring in your ears.

This—right here, right now—this was freedom. This was why you kept coming back, no matter how bad things got. The thrill, the speed, the way your heart seemed to beat in time with the roar of your engine. It made all the god forsaken bullshit in your life disappear, if only for a little while.

The white of the finish line came into view, a grin breaking across your face as you accelerated one last time, crossing it just seconds before anyone else.

You’d placed first.

You pressed on the brakes, heart pounding wildly as you let out a shaky breath, leaning back in your seat.

“Congrats! See what happens when you block out the bullshit and focus?” EJ’s voice rang out as she parked beside you, hopping out and pulling you into a hug.

The two of you leaned against the hood of your car, laughing and catching your breath, your excitement palpable. You could hear someone shouting your name, prompting you to look around until your eyes landed on the culprit.

“What the fuck, dude,” she whispered to her best friend as she stared in awe.

“What?” Zoe asked, glancing back and forth between you and Billie. “Billie, you’ve been staring at her all night. Let’s just go say hey.” she wrangled with the gate until she got it open.

“I did though. I waved, and she hid from me,” Billie grumbled, but Zoe ignored her, practically dragging her over to where you were standing.

You turned and your eyes locked with Billie’s for the second time that night. This time, she took you in fully, studying every detail—the way your eyes gleamed under the lights, how your glossed lips shone, and the soft cascade of purple and grey streaks of hair framing your face.

“Oh my god, Zoe, is that you?” You greeted Zoe first, pulling her into a tight hug as the two of you exchanged a few words. Then, you turned your gaze back to Billie, offering a small smile.

“Who’s your friend here?” you asked, nodding towards Billie.

“Sorry, this is my best friend, Billie.”

“Well, hi Billie,” you said, your tone gentle and welcoming. The way her name rolled off your lips made Billie’s stomach do a little flip. You kept your gaze steady, not once breaking eye contact. “How’d you enjoy the race?”

“I really liked it.” Billie smiled softly, but before she could say more, Zoe chimed in.

“This is her first race. I practically had to drag her here.”

“Really?” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Well, I’m glad you came. Who’d you bet on?”

“I didn’t get a chance. The race started too soon. But if I could’ve, it would’ve been you. Your car looked sweet as hell.” She rocked on her heels, trying to keep her cool, but you could tell she was nervous. It was cute.

“Thanks, I appreciate the support.”

She shrugged casually, but her eyes lingered on your face. “It’s whatever.”

“Is there something on my face?” You laughed, wiping at your cheeks just in case.

“No, no,” she stammered, shaking her head. “It’s just… you’re so gorgeous.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face, even though you tried to play it off. “Oh my god, girl, stop playing.”

“I’m serious,” she insisted, stepping closer.

“Could say the same about you, pretty.”

“Really?” Billie’s eyebrow quirked. “Because it didn’t seem like it when you hid from me earlier.”

“Shit, you saw that?” You asked, rubbing the back of your neck. “I normally would’ve waved back, but I got—I don’t know—scared, I guess. Well, not scared—” You trailed off, looking up at the night sky, searching for the right word as her laughter rang out. Hearing her laugh threw you off, causing a small grin to creep up on your face. “Okay, whatever the fuck the word is,” you muttered, giving up with a light chuckle of your own. “But... I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it. it was kinda cute.” Billie’s eyes did another slow sweep over your frame, lingering on every detail like she was trying to commit it to memory.

“Stop looking at me like that, bro.”

“Like what?”

“Like that.” You shook your head, glancing away as if that’d hide the heat creeping up your cheeks and the way your smile stretched wider every second. You turned your gaze back, realizing something. “Where’s Zoe?” She was supposed to be around somewhere, helping you avoid embarrassing yourself too much with your obvious—and very clumsy—flirting. But she was nowhere in sight.

Your eyes swept over the parking lot until you finally spotted her lounging on the hood of EJ’s car, chatting it up with your best friend.

“Hey, uh—do you maybe wanna take my car for a ride?” you blurted out, shifting your weight between your feet.

Billie’s eyes widened, surprise flashing across her face. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why not? It’ll just be a few minutes.”

She wandered over, running her fingers along the sleek lines of your car, eyes alight with curiosity. “Damn, this is really something,” she murmured almost to herself, voice low. A small whistle escaped her as she took in the intricate details and custom work. You were just about to toss her the keys when—

*Woop Woop*

The sound of sirens pierced through the air. Blue and red lights started flooding the lot, casting sharp, flickering shadows everywhere.

“Fuck. Okay, y’all need to get out of here. Now.” Your voice was rushed as you bolted back to the driver’s side.

“EJ, I’ll meet you at your house,” you shouted, throwing yourself into your seat and jamming the key into the ignition. The roar of your engine masked the rising panic around you. “Zoe’s got my number,” you called out to Billie over the commotion. “She’ll give it to you, and we can talk about that ride later!” That was the last thing you managed to say before you and everyone else peeled out of the lot, tires screeching against the pavement as a sea of cop cars closed in fast.

Billie stood there, frozen, eyes locked on your car as you sped away. The flashing red and blue lights reflected off her pale face, her expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. Zoe had to physically drag her back, yanking her arm until she stumbled out of her daze.

“C’mon, we have to go now!”

You glanced into your rearview mirror, catching one last glimpse of Billie as she stood rooted to the spot, staring after you. Zoe tugged her along, but she kept looking back, even as the sirens blared louder and the chaos around them spiraled.

There was no way EJ wouldn’t hear every single detail about tonight. If she thought you weren’t about to gush for the next few hours, she was just plain wrong.

authors note: part 2? if so comment something to let me know if you want to be on the taglist! love and light, be safe <3 -vay

[kcwriter-blog]

I've been thinking about how we the players know so little about Solas compared to what the writers and developers know about him and how that affects the way he is written.

I mean we know he is an ancient elf. We know he was powerful enough and skilled enough to create the Veil. We know he and Mythal were friends. He doesn't seem to have liked Andruil and Falon'Din much. Skyhold belonged to him. He removed vallislin. He tried to free slaves. He had kind of an underground railroad thing going. He seems to have had a lot of money secreted away. He painted even back in Arlathan. A lot of statues seem to have been made of him. People in the Vir Dirthara knew he created the Veil but were surprised that he would do something like that. He seems to have always had an affinity for the Fade and spirits. He enjoyed whatever version of the Game nobles in Arlathan played. He was cocky and hot blooded, always spoiling for a fight. He is capable of love and friendship.

I think that's all and it really isn't much. Everything else anyone says about him is pure speculation. It makes meta fun but its easy to get too caught up in our own ideas.

We speculate about him based on things we learn from his personal quests and what we see in Trespasser but we don't know anything for sure. Was he a slave? Was he a spirit called out of the Fade by Mythal and given a body? Did he manifest a body like Cole? Was he just a normal elf born in a small village to the north? Was he a noble and privileged or did he work his way up? Did he join the fight against the Titans? Was he a genius who theorized that the waking world and Fade could be separated? Did he use untried magic because his back was against the wall and he couldn't think of any other way to save the world? Was he a friend of the Evanuris so they trusted him enough to fall into his trap? Was he one of them?

So many questions. The writers have tried to portray him sympathetically. They want us to empathize with him. And I have to ask myself why? He is one of the antagonists. Wouldn't it be easier to portray him as not having any redeeming qualities? And yet, he is basically described as the hero who lived long enough to become the villain.

I know his detractors believe he is a genocidal, racist maniac but that doesn’t track with everything we learn about him as high approval or romanced Inquisitors. It certainly isn’t born out by his statement that he is doing his best to minimize the damage.

He truly believes what he is doing is best for the world and is willing to break it and remake it. What does he know? But more importantly, what do the writers know? Fen' Harel has existed since Origins. Devs have always planned for him to make an appearance. That means the valleslin has always been a mark of slavery even if the Dalish didn't know. The Creators have always been horrible, slave owners even if the Dalish don't remember. Which means Solas has always been the rebel fighting for what he believes is right.

Why do the writers see him not so much as the villain (although Epler uses that word constantly - he is usually the only one though) as they do a somewhat noble person who keeps making mistakes? Why is he portrayed as just a sad man who can't see past his regret and guilt. What was he like? What changed him? What did he know about the Veil before he put it up?

I get that a lot of people don't like the idea of being tied to him in Veilguard but maybe the writers did that so we have no choice but to get to know him - the good and the bad. Maybe we finally get to know Solas the way the writers and developers know him. I'm looking forward to that.