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sailorrhansol · 7 months ago

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Blood & Popcorn | l.c (m)

❀ Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader

❀ Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn.

❀ Word Count: 11,315

❀ Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff

❀ Type: Smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice. Alternating POVs and some time skips.

❀ A/N: This is another work coming from a conversation with @daechwitatamic who at this point, I think had been the driving force behind all three random one shots I’ve written. I apparently can’t say no when she asks for something :) so anyway, here is simp Lee Chan and simp reader because ???? And yes I'm posting this at 11:30 pm at night who cares there are no rules!!!!!!!!

❀ A/N 2: Also thank you to Jo for reading this before hand because it would be otherwise largely illegible. King Julian is on the way, bestie.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.”

“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?”

“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.”

“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?”

The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match.

If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.

Mostly.

The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him.

Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.

“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”

You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”

“Order your own fries,” Chan says.

“Ugh. I already ate mine.”

“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.”

Our thing.

The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there.

There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories.

You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn.

Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away.

Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place.

The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm.

When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.

“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.”

Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But she-”

“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.”

Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?”

“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin.

“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”

“He asked you to dinner!”

“As friends!”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.”

For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.

Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”

You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”

“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.”

Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care.

The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone.

“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.”

“I mean if you’ve got a date.”

That’s not the point, you want to scream at him.

Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe.

Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual.

It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so.

So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else.

“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.”

“Shua is a good guy.”

“Yeah. Yeah he is.”

Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying.

Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s.

Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years.

You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience.

He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home.

Wanna start coming here after class?

You did. And you had.

A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim.

“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words.

He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.”

You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”

He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?”

You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-

Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.”

“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.”

Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out.

“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.”

Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath.

“Why are you in here again?”

“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?”

“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.”

“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”

“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.”

“Isn’t that like… a movie?”

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it.

“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?”

Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then.

Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you.

For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets.

Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back.

“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.”

“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?”

“I don’t know that it’s canceled.”

“That really clarifies the issue.”

Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He asked her on a date.”

“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.”

Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.”

“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.”

Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend.

“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.”

Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it.

The window of opportunity is gone.

Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different.

If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must.

The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.

Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place.

No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long.

Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress.

Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach.

The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him.

He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground.

Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod.

Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-

“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”

Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor.

The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner.

Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”

“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.

Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink.

“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?”

“Nope.”

“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”

Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.”

“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.”

“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”

“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.”

“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.”

Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room.

“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.”

And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to.

“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.”

Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs?

Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.

Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?”

Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back.

The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.”

Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”

“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.”

You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl.

“Do you want me to-”

“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!”

Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room.

You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet.

“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”

“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”

“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”

“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.” For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.”

Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall.

There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”

Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute.

The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade.

Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence.

Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-

“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”

“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.”

“Do you think he would… react poorly?”

“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”

“You sound so… saintly.”

“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”

You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”

“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”

“Bleh.”

Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know.

Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then.

Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”

Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual.

The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky.

Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-

Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer.

“Hi!”

“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”

“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”

Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh.”

You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?”

“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.”

It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable.

A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for.

You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed.

“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.”

“I’m here.”

“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”

There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie.

“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!”

“For sure.”

When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame.

Chan can’t do this.

Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all.

But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast.

Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment.

From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-

“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”

“I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.”

“What?”

“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.”

Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”

“No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.”

“That easy to read, huh?”

“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.”

“Understandable.”

Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people.

“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”

“Sure.”

“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”

Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”

And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone.

Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call.

Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours.

The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart.

Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now.

Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has.

Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.”

A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person.

Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing.

Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except-

“Chan?”

It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow.

Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you crying?”

Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch.

He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?”

You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again.

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.”

“I-”

A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe.

“Oh, Bambi.”

“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”

“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will.

“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”

Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.

For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning.

Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time.

The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip.

Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes.

“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”

You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth.

“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid too.”

“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him.

Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years.

“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”

“What a stupid man I am.”

You smirk a little. “Yes.”

“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.

“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.”

His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”

Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you.

“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”

“I wear them all the time.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”

“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”

“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.”

“I really didn’t know.”

He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.”

With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take.

You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.

The light from your hall glows behind Chan, haloing him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence.

Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him.

“Kiss me,” you beg.

He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze.

“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again.

It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.”

“Chan.”

“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.”

“I want you.”

“I might pass out due to sheer joy.”

“I have some ideas on how to revive you.”

He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe.”

Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple.

You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm.

Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast.

The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.”

“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.”

You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath.

Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan.

Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut.

You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking.

“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.”

And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him.

Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving.

Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break.

He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently.

“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.”

“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.”

“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.”

He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.”

“Like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.”

Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you.

You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly.

A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.

“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you.

One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy.

“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.”

“Oh?”

“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”

“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.”

“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.”

He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?”

“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.”

“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?”

You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again.

“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?”

“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.”

He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.”

Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance.

“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”

“Okay?”

“Very. Just- slow.”

“You got it, baby.”

The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess.

Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier.

“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.”

You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?”

“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Why? It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?”

“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.”

Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible.

Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch.

Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”

You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.

A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?”

He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”

You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm.

Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles.

“Hmm?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we shower?”

“We?”

You grin. “You speak French?”

“I speak pussy.”

“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.”

“Oui.”

“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”

“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”

“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.”

“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”

You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”

“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.”

You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower.

“You are good looking.”

“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”

“Well your jokes aren’t very good.”

He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you.

“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”

“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.”

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@jespecially @asyre @eoieopda @todorokiskitten @pyeonghongrie-main @sebbyswifu @softiesoga

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#lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino svt #svt smut #chan x reader #dino reader #dino fanfic #svt fanfic #sventeen smut #minors dni #minors do not interact

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tinycoffeeroom · 9 months ago

Text

end of beginning | carlos sainz

face claim: none ᡣ𐭩

requests: here !

tags: angst, break up (rebeccarlos ily pls this is just for the story)

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september 2023

👤 carlossainz, charles_leclerc liked by carlossainz, chares_leclerc and 70,385 others

y/nstagram boyfie won another race but looking at the second pic, i may be the real winner ❤️

carlossainz princesa, contigo a mi lado, siempre soy el ganador (princess, with you by my side, i'll always be a winner) ↳ y/nstagram stop you'll make me blush 🤭

charles_leclerc stop being gross and in love on my feed ↳ y/nstagram carlossainz should we kiss in front of him again xx ↳ carlossainz sin duda ❤️ (definitely) ↳ charles_leclerc i hate it here

user1 i want to be y/n when i grow up (i am 2 years older than her) ↳ y/nstagram then it should be i wanna be user1 when i grow up 😘 also where is your top from in your pfp, i love it!! ↳ user1 ??? im in love with you ??? it's from this little boutique near my house! i can send you one!!! ↳ y/nstagram omg i will send you the money!! 🫶

user2 this is why we stan y/n, a true girls girl ❤️ ♥️ y/nstagram

francisca.cgomes even the back of you is gorgeous ↳ y/nstagram kiss me. ↳ francisca.cgomes come here 😘 ↳ pierregasly i miss when my girlfriend was only My girlfriend ↳ y/nstagram not my fault she upgraded x ↳ pierregasly i will take carlos out on the first corner don't try me ↳ carlossainz you'll have to catch me first hombre

january 2024

liked by kellypiquet, francisca.cgomes and 39,495 others

y/nstagram bed rotting but make it 🎀 aesthetic 🎀

user1 she still watches f1 y/nsainzers there's hope ↳ user2 she hasn't been to a race in months :((( hope is dwindling

user3 the bear i'm gonna scream, cry AND throw up ↳ user4 what's the significance of the bear?? i'm new to f1 :) ↳ user3 carlos got y/n the bear when he joined f1 so she would have something to remember him by when he went away on race weekends ↳ user4 and she still has it?? it must have been like 10 years ago?? ↳ user3 roughly around that!! 2015 if i'm correct...

kellypiquet i see the red bull on your screen 😉 would love to have you back with me in the paddock, P misses her bestie ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram P saw me last week when i spoilt her rotten in the mall but i may take you up on that offer ❤️

user2 y/n in the red bull garages??? y/nsainzers i fear we've lost her... ↳ user1 carlos may be moving to red bull don't give up hope best friend!

march 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 924,495 others

carlossainz P1 in Australia :) thank you for the well wishes guys, maybe my appendix was what was holding me back 😉🎉

landonorris booking the surgery rn ↳ carlossainz you still wouldn't win muppet ↳ landonorris wow carlos... low blow

user1 the last pic... pls say it's y/n PLEASEEEEEEEEEE acc on my knees rn ↳ user2 i'm down there with you best friend

iamrebeccad congrats mister!! next up: the world championship ♥️ carlossainz

user3 ^^ um guys ↳ user2 don't ↳ user1 don't.

charles_leclerc i'll get you next time... ↳ carlossainz ok charlie, i believe you

scuderiaferrari forza carlos! congrats on P1, not even surgery could keep you down 💪 ↳ user5 you bitches don't deserve to celebrate

maxverstappen1 strong fight there mr sainz! looking forward to japan where i'll be back on top! ↳ carlossainz fuck you This comment has been deleted

user3 UM GUYS??????? ↳ user2 do not look at f1wagupdates i'm being so serious ↳ user1 well now i have to FUCK

liked by user8, user9 and 93,283 others

f1wagupdates Carlos Sainz seen kissing Scottish model Rebecca Donaldson following his Australia GP win. He was previously linked to long time girlfriend Y/N L/N but the pair haven't been seen together since December last year. We guess this marks the end of their decade long relationship.

user2 carlos sainz i'm in your walls.

user1 man, fuck carlos sainz

user3 3 months ?? if that ?? glad his appendix burst ↳ user2 reports (twitter) are saying R + C were first seen together in January... ↳ user3 the c*rlos s*inz voodoo doll is being made as we speak.

user4 all men do is lie. what happened to "until the end of time"... i don't believe in love anymore

user5 i feel so bad for rebecca, y/n's so loved by the paddock and the fans ↳ user3 obvs no hate to rebecca, she's gorgeous and i'm sure she's lovely, this is solely carlos hate ♥️ user1, user2 and 19,349 others

user6 bro fumbled the bag with y/n man

👤 kellypiquet, maxverstappen1, landonorris, redbullracing liked by landonorris, kellypiquet and 58,395 others

y/nstagram different point of view 💙

redbullracing pleasure to have you back in the paddock y/n! see you in japan? 👀 ↳ y/nstagram i'll be there best friends (pls stock up on coconut red bulls) 🫶 ↳ redbullracing 🫡

kellypiquet the last pic?? i love you so much?? ↳ y/nstagram y'all are so cute i couldn't stop myself 🤭

maxverstappen1 thanks for coming y/n! i've missed seeing you around ↳ y/nstagram missed you too maxie! P says she wants me to come to every race so you may be stuck with me this year! ↳ maxverstappen1 just please don't steal my girlfriend ↳ y/nstagram she may be your girlfriend but she's My wife ♥️ kellypiquet

francisca.cgomes why didn't you tell me you were coming!! i would have ditched pierre :(( ↳ pierregasly everyday i wake up ↳ y/nstagram unfortunately ↳ pierregasly bro...

landonorris you got the champagne shot in action! missed seeing you around bug! ↳ y/nstagram had to see it with my own two eyes! congrats on the podium lan, you so deserve it ❤️ ↳ landonorris let's get dinner tomorrow, it's been too long ↳ user1 mr norizz shooting his shot on main damn ↳ landonorris 🤷‍♂️

carmenmmundt all the girls are getting together for dinner and drinks, you coming babe? ↳ y/nstagram i'm having dinner with kelly, max and P but i'll join for drinks after ❤️

user2 goodbye goodbye y/nsainzer's you were brighter than the whole sky ↳ user3 y/n deserves the world, if That Man couldn't give it to her that's on him.

june 2024

👤 kellypiquet, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe liked by kellypiquet, carmenmmundt and 58,029 others

y/nstagram healing ❤️

Comments on this post have been turned off.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz x you

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leviathanlazarus · 5 months ago

Text

In Your Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~5300

Warnings: semi-public sex (like...very low-key), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PIV sex. 18+ only ~

This took me forever to finish because I started it before my stupid tonsillectomy and I was totally useless throughout most of the recovery. Also, it's been absolutely ages since I wrote a Jake x Reader fic so I'm not sure how I feel about it...I really enjoyed writing this regardless of my trepidation though. I loved the idea of falling in love with him at work and him being so cheeky...hope you enjoy it too <3

P.S. also ages ago, I wrote a Josh x Reader fic that also took place in a library which you can read here. Links on my desktop masterlist aren't active for some reason...but I found it using a certain tag lmao. If you know, you know.

---

You were finishing up fixing the order of some art books in the back of the library when you felt Jake come up behind you. “Wanna hear something kind of crazy?” he whispered in your ear, his chin nearly on your shoulder, his hair brushing against yours. Without even seeing him, the closeness and warmth of his body and the low, husky whisper sent a tingle up your spine–he certainly added a level of intrigue to working in a library.

“Always,” you said, slipping the last book into the correct spot. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon–you’d thought it’d actually be busier given the rain that kept bucketing down outside, creating an even cozier atmosphere, but maybe people just wanted to stay home with their books instead. That was fine by you. You liked it when it was nearly dead silent throughout the building and Jake was there to occasionally break through, his voice a river through your thoughts and his subtle touches all shockwaves to your heart.

When you turned around to face him, Jake looked like he was holding back a hilarious joke or something, eyes all eager and a grin tight on his lips like he was bursting at the seams. “So I just went to the bathroom and guess what I heard?” he went on, raising his eyebrows.

You scrunched up your nose, already worried. This wasn’t what you were expecting when he’d said ‘something crazy.’ What sort of craziness happened in libraries anyway? “There are a lot of things I can think of. Is this a gross story?”

Jake chuckled. “It depends on your definition of ‘gross.’ Okay,” he said, looking around to make sure you two were still alone in the section. Then he looked into your eyes again and lowered his voice even more to tell you, “There were people fucking in there.”

You scoffed, offended on behalf of the library–the sacred, beautiful space where people went to relax and read, not deal with lewd conduct. That wasn’t crazy, that was just offensive! “What, like two guys?” you questioned, tilting your head, a little irked at Jake finding this all so funny.

“No, a guy and a girl.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse. Women shouldn’t have to deal with getting laid in a men’s bathroom,” you said, then were momentarily distracting yourself with yet another out of place book on the shelf. “I’d never do that. I can’t believe someone else is. I mean, kids go here.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said slowly. He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at you pointedly, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “Then again–”

Before he could finish, you had another thought. “Wait, Jake–did you say anything to them?”

“No. What could I say? I just high-tailed it out of there as soon as I heard.”

You sighed. The whole thing would be far more redeemable if your boyfriend had at least tried to throw out some warning words to the perpetrators. “You should have told them to stop. I would have.”

“I’m sure they finished soon after I left.” He smirked. “It sounded like they were pretty close.”

You groaned quietly and turned away, preferring to find another thing to busy yourself with now. “Gross. They should be banned.”

Jake followed along right at your side as you whisked through the rest of the art section and back to the cart you needed to empty. “I didn’t see who they were, so no chance of that.” At the cart, he put his hands on it, keeping it in place. “I actually thought you’d find it sort of amusing, Y/N.”

You leaned over, almost close enough to touch your noses together. “You’re such a guy. Only a guy would think it’s amusing and not disgusting.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a little stuffy,” Jake replied, tilting his head up as if he were challenging you. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering we’ve never done anything like that.”

You scoffed again and leaned back, surprised and still a little irritated, but also genuinely curious. “Oh, so you want to fuck around in a public place? That’s something I didn’t know about you.”

Jake’s challenging stance turned crestfallen, and he lifted one of your hands to press a kiss to. “Forget I said anything about it. I mean, I suppose you’re right–it is kind of gross.” He kept your hand clasped in his for a few seconds as he said, “But I’d never make love to you in a public bathroom. I’d hope you know me better than that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of a man clearing his throat, settling down into a chair with a newspaper. He wasn’t paying any attention to you or Jake, but you gave the cart a push anyway, cajoling Jake off it so you could navigate to where you needed to go next.

“It’s really the fact that it’s the bathroom that makes it so gross,” you whispered as Jake kept following you. You couldn’t deny you’d had some secret fantasies about getting it on in the library–after all, it was where you and Jake had met and where you continued to spend the most time together. But none of your fantasies included the restrooms in the hall, or the utility closet or that little corridor tucked away across from the restrooms where the vending machines were. Too grody, too cramped, too obvious.

“At least our bathrooms are clean.” Jake parked himself right next to you once you were in the biography section, and when you stepped away from the cart, he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place. “But if I’m being really honest, I have thought about us, well, fooling around here. I think it’s quite surprising we never have.”

“Jake,” you said in an attempt to protest, but his sweet, pretty face and ticklish touch on your waist made you giggle, and his confession that echoed your own secret thoughts lit a little spark. “We work here!”

“So? All the more reason. It’s always been our special place.” Jake smiled as he got even closer to kiss you; you kissed him back, looping your arms over his shoulders. He was smiling even bigger when you both broke away and he said, “You know, it’s just me closing tonight. You should stay after with me.”

“God, and do what?” you replied, but, despite yourself, you were growing more intrigued.

“Well, don’t you think the study rooms here are nice and cozy?” Jake questioned, still latching himself to your side as you started to put more books away. “There aren’t any cameras in any of them either. No one would know.”

You looked up at him from your crouched position, sliding a book into place. “Someone would know. Someone would find out somehow.” You were quickly finding even more perfectly good reasons in your mind not to do this, to not even really toy with the idea, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought, why not? Could the risk make it more fun? Even just the new, ill-fitting, sort of scandalous environment?

Besides, Jake really did look hot today. He looked hot every day, but the second you’d seen him after he’d come into work earlier, he’d lit a fire in your belly that was more intense than usual. His hair had the perfect level of slight messiness and the relaxed black button-down shirt was perhaps one or two buttons shy of being overtly inappropriate for work; the smooth tan skin of his chest exposed and acting as a lovely backdrop to the long silver chain dangling, the pendant hitting his sternum. You could imagine tugging on that chain, grasping the pendant in your palm, to pull him closer while he pressed you against one of those thick wooden tables. You’d run your fingers through his hair and kiss him in the frozen silence, and maybe no one would ever know after all.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning,” Jake remarked, tapping your forehead once you were standing again. “You know you want to.”

You let out an inadvertent nervous giggle and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m thinking about it.”

Jake stepped closer, pressing you back against the cart of books. “I’d love to hear some of those thoughts,” he said, putting his hands on your waist.

“You’re lucky it’s dead here today,” you said, keeping your voice a whisper despite the, indeed, dead library around you. You rested your arms over his shoulders, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers; Jake just kept looking at you with that sweet, silently begging gaze until you giggled, relenting. “Okay. I was, um…thinking about you pushing me down on one of those big tables.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “What else?”

“Well…” you began, looking down at his dark jeans rubbing against your skirt. “You’re giving me some more ideas now.” You lifted one foot off the floor to rub your calf over his, the delicate material of your tights creating subtle but scintillating friction against his denim.

Jake ran the tip of his nose up your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Same here.”

Just as you were closing your eyes and allowing yourself to let your environment fall away around you, to forget about all the risk of being caught right there, and just as Jake’s hand was sliding down between your legs, a person’s incredibly soft–thanks to the clever carpeting job–footsteps headed your way yanked you right out of the moment.

Jake, too. He shot back and cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and looked in the direction of the footsteps; you did too, and soon enough an older woman with her nose already in an open book trotted past the shelves.

“See?” you whispered, gesturing at the passer-by who was already out of view. “It’s so easy to get caught.”

“Please, that lady didn’t notice a thing. Alright,” Jake said before he stole one last hurried kiss. “I should let you keep doing your job and I should carry on with mine. But will you stay after with me tonight?”

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, considering, but it wasn’t long before you said, “Alright, Jake. I’ll stay after and we can play out your little fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy too, baby doll,” Jake said with a wink before he half-turned, beginning to step away. “I think we’ve established that.”

There wasn’t a whole lot to keep your mind occupied as the afternoon carried on. The rain kept coming down, hammering hard against the roof and windows, and the sky outside was pure gray, all flat and blank. It reminded you of your first day working here, as a matter of fact–that morning in the previous late October, when autumn’s chill was officially in the air. A fine layer of frost had even been on the ground that morning; your shoes had crunched over it on the short walk to your car and you’d had to use your defroster once you turned the key, your anxiety peaking as you had to wait even longer to start the new job.

How could such a quiet, peaceful place encite so much anxiety anyway? You remembered wondering that very question as you walked over the sidewalk to the library entrance for the first time since being hired, the concrete slick with that morning frost and the beginnings of a gentle rainfall. And just when you’d been settling in and getting comfortable, Jake had showed up and introduced himself, all casual and easy like he didn’t know he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

Thankfully, Jake was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. It didn’t take long before his beauty and charm stopped intimidating you and instead just made you feel all light and full of joy–you were simply happy to chat with him whenever you both could spare a few minutes. Those few minutes steadily turned into shared breaks; then, shared lunches where you’d sit out back on the one picnic table when the weather permitted. Then he started bringing you special treats sometimes, things he knew you liked because he actually listened about what you liked, and then after that he started bringing you whole lunches packed with love and care that you’d never experienced before.

So, after all that, was it really such a big deal to make love inside the place in which you fell in love?

None of your other coworkers even seemed to notice that you were staying later than planned this evening. But, just to be safe, you also made a point to hide out in the kid’s section when closing time crept up, busying yourself with cleaning up stray crayons and markers and then browsing through some of the newer picture book additions when you were done with that.

When you were sliding one picture book back onto the shelf and reaching for another, you noticed the part of the library beyond the kid’s section dim; you stood up and walked out into the main area, and there Jake was behind the checkout counters flipping switches.

“Despite almost always being the one to close,” he said, flipping another switch. “I still sometimes forget which lights actually get turned off and which ones stay on.”

A path of yellow light led the way past the checkout and reception, past the few rows of public use desktop computers. Jake held your hand as you both stepped through the library, your heartbeat speeding up a bit with nervous yet delightful anticipation; a few more steps and you were further into the very back of the library, just about there. Four study rooms were staggered just beyond the teen reading section, two on the left and two on the right with a wall of windows in between.

Jake opened the door to the last study room on the right. A large window was in there too, soaking in the deep sunset that was resting beyond the grass outside and the trees, and the mostly-bare branches of all the trees were throwing shadows across the library grounds. Then Jake flipped the light on, making it all disappear.

“Oh no,” you said, reaching behind him to flip it off again. “It’s sort of magical with the light off. Look at that sunset.”

Jake followed your gaze out the window to the wash of deep blue painted across the sky, nighttime so early in autumn that only a slight sliver of golden-orange remained just on the horizon. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago and had left a lingering mist on the ground, its faint haze trailing along just outside the windows–the whole scene was so much more peaceful than what was going on inside your head. You couldn’t shake the possibility of getting caught even though Jake was right about there being no cameras back here, and there was no one else around, not even any of the custodial staff, and not a soul out there in the fog. Just you and Jake in the little dark study room, his hand still warm around your own.

Your thoughts started to drift away, making space for your mind to comprehend the shadowed image of Jake before you as he gently turned you to face him. He smiled with the slightest bit of white teeth gleaming between his full lips, and you instinctively smiled back, pulled under his charm again. So, now effortlessly charmed and put at ease, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close, caressing his shoulder blade with one hand and the slight curve of his waist with the other as both of your smiles disappeared into a kiss.

“You were making me crazy all day,” he remarked between the kisses that accelerated with both of your lips parted and the wet meeting of tongues.

“Really? You kept it well-hidden.” Of course Jake did–you never doubted his affection and passion for you, but he kept everything so private. It was one of the many things you liked about him. You cupped the back of his head, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails just the way he liked it, and kissed him again.

“God, your ass in this skirt,” Jake said, voice a little rough, and he reached down to grab you there. “The way your hips move.” He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face. “So unbelievably pretty.”

You held the side of his face. “You are too, Jakey.” He really was, and even in the dark–perhaps especially in the dark, actually. The shadows enveloped him in even more mystery than normal, but you could still so plainly see the angles of his face and the smoothness of his skin in the faint, distant glow of the lingering sunset. Jake smiled at the sound of that little nickname coming from you, then disappeared as he pressed his lips to yours again and pushed you back against the table just like in your little fantasy.

You felt the warmth of his hand travel around your hip then slide down over your skirt; you kissed him harder and spread your legs a little wider when his fingers skated effortlessly up your thigh over your tights. Jake purred against your mouth as he traced the seam of those tights, and subsequently the crotch of your panties beneath, with one fingertip, and your own hands hurried down his body with much less grace to squeeze his ass and feel the hardness between his legs as reciprocity.

Before you could do much more than that, he was pushing your skirt up all the way with one hand and continuing to use the other to tease you. Your breath caught in your throat as you were finding yourself trying to stay silent despite the library being completely empty; Jake carried on with longer, deeper touches over the crotch of your panties and tights. The steady back and forth of his fingers over the two thin layers of fabric sent a delightful tingle of pleasure up your spine but you couldn’t forget his either–you kept that one hand of your own on his crotch too, gently squeezing his erection through his pants.

Jake huffed softly and kissed you again; you clutched his arm with your other hand, squeezing his bicep. Maybe other people didn’t mind getting caught–maybe there really was some sort of thrill to it. Maybe other people actually sometimes wanted others to witness their most intimate moments but you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine doing this with the lights on in the middle of the day, with the soft noises of people beyond the walls and the risk of someone catching a glimpse from opening the door or from outside the windows. You were perfectly happy with having Jake all to yourself in the shadowed little square study room, his skin so perfectly warm, his kiss so perfectly molded to yours.

“Was this part of your fantasy?” Jake questioned as he slowly sank to his knees, keeping your skirt bunched up over your hips with both hands now. But it was obvious what he was doing, so you took their place to keep it out of the way while his hands squeezed your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs.

The scant sharpness of his teeth over your crotch made you gasp. “Maybe,” you answered, thighs quivering against the table behind you.

“Oh, come on,” Jake beckoned, looking up at you with a sweet but slightly mischievous gaze, his eyebrows raised just enough to display teasing curiosity.

“Seems like you already know,” you replied, stifling a giggle at him struggling to get your tights down from beneath your skirt.

“I don’t know how you wear these things,” he remarked, which made you actually let out a laugh.

“Just rip them for fuck’s sake,” you instructed, eager now, already wet for him. “They’re not expensive.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “If you insist,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of black nylon in each hand and ripped the tights right open, then quickly pulled your panties to the side next, giving you no time to think at all anymore. Whatever words your mind may have found merely turned to shaky breaths as you watched Jake’s face disappear between your legs again.

He gave a little hum just as he went straight in, the bridge of his nose rubbing up against your clit while he dove his tongue into your center like he really did want to eat up all the arousal that had been conjured up just for him. Your fingers found his hair again, knuckles curling to tug the long strands while your nails scratched his scalp again and he let out a little pleased sound, almost like a gratified laugh, and dug his own blunt nails into your inner thigh as he kept you spread open.

One word finally emerged from your lips–Jake’s name, simply spoken in a soft tone as the ministration of his tongue and lips had you squirming and quivering even harder, your heels digging into the carpet below as you slightly struggled to stay upright. The repeated flicks of tongue over your clit disappeared for a brief moment, then slowed to one long drag of his tongue over your center just to start that quick pace again. Sighs and whimpers were dragged out of you with each lick; when Jake slipped two fingers in, the slow but easy stretch made you tremble and clench your fingers into his hair even harder.

“You’re so tight,” he commented when he pulled back just enough for you to look down again and see your own wetness glistening on his lips and chin. You could feel it too, how much tighter you were clenching around his fingers as he gently thrust them and teased, curling them and now rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so good,” you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes again when the sensations had you arching your back. You hissed and bit your lip when Jake’s mouth found you again, his tongue teasing your clit more while he slid his fingers in deeper.

You had thought it would take more of a conscious effort to relax in this space and just let go, but it was easy, so easy–you just let your body respond to Jake with each tremble and moan and gasp and tug at his hair until your legs were outright shaking. Panting, the peak rising deep inside, you pulled him closer and he obliged, sucking on your clit as his fingers curled and gently tugged deep inside you too as if he was literally trying to pull you right to the edge you were already rapidly careening to.

His name from your lips once more wasn’t a soft little sigh; it was a sharp, long whine that seemed to boom in the little study room. Your ferocity surprised you even more when the overstimulation came on so soon and you yanked his head back with one hand and shoved him away with the other, your hand gripping his shoulder. Panting, eyes still shut, you could feel how much wetter you were with his saliva and the rush of your orgasm, the fluid soaking your panties that were pulled to the side and even the very inside of your thighs.

Jake pressing a kiss to your thigh made you look down but he was getting up on his feet now; your gaze followed the steady movement of his rise and then you were whisked away into blissful darkness again when he closed in and kissed you–close-lipped because he was so polite. But you parted yours and slid your tongue over his and gripped his waist tight for a moment before hastily getting those buttons on his shirt undone, fingers trailing all the way down to get his pants undone next.

He tentatively pushed you back onto the table a bit more so your feet were off the floor, legs still spread wide around him and dangling when he pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal that heated hardness. His cock leaked just a bit as he stroked it once, looking at you, and a blip of that old insecurity born from adoration and fascination stroked your brain, because Jake was just so beautiful and his beauty was so much more stark in contrast to the plain white walls behind him.

“That was intense,” Jake said with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips as he slid the head of his cock all through your wet center, making a point to rub longer and harder over your clit. As he slid in, taking your breath away entirely, he sighed too and you watched his shoulders drop and his chest flush and he asked, so casually, “Is your fantasy being fulfilled?”

Even with the impact of Jake’s cock filling you so perfectly, you had to laugh. “You're a fantasy, Jake,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, to make the head of his cock hit so deep inside you that you gasped again as if you weren’t expecting the feeling. “What about–” You had to pause when Jake gave his first thrust. “What about your fantasy? This was all your idea.”

“It was a shared idea,” he reminded you with the cutest little smile. How could anyone be so sexy and adorable at the same time, especially during the actual act of sex, especially when that sex was taking place inside a public library? But he was, and you kept your eyes on him as he steadily sped up with his hips and his hands explored your body over your clothes, one squeezing your breast through your shirt and the other smoothing down your waist, your hip, traveling around your thigh.

“Oh god,” you chirped when Jake’s fingers made contact with your still-sensitive clit; but he was gentle, clearly deliberately being slow with the little circles he was making. With your arms still a loop around his shoulders, you sank your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there for a minute before the soft pink of his chest became too tempting not to touch.

“Fuck yeah, that feels amazing,” Jake said in that deliciously hazy, husky voice after you slipped your hands past his open shirt to toy with his nipples. Bringing more attention to him put your lingering overstimulation in the background–you continued to tease with one hand while the other skated over the other side of his chest, feeling his warm, soft skin, up to his neck. You caressed him there, your fingers lightly touching the tender skin along his throat and then up to his ear, and Jake moaned softly and tilted his head to try and get more contact.

That was fine by you. You lightly scratched behind his ear like he was a cat and he sort of purred like one anyway, making you giggle; Jake giggled too and surged forward, picking up his pace as he whisked you away with another series of kisses that were deep but just sloppy enough for your mutual moans to be voiced.

But, also to your surprise, Jake began to voice more thoughts between increasingly ragged breaths: “Remember when we first met?” he asked, his fingers over your clit sliding down to get slick again from your own arousal. “That was–fuck, that was such a good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, playing with one of his earrings as your other hand squeezed his pec. “I’m lucky I even got the job here. For a lot of reasons.” You stole another lingering kiss before adding, “You’re the biggest reason.”

Jake smiled. The sunset that had been just barely clinging to life when you’d both began was gone now–the only illumination was coming from a parking lot light that was too far away from the windows to see, but the pale yellow glow was scant enough to see that alluring, mystical beauty that your boyfriend possessed. Just looking at his face was enough to make you come again.

But Jake’s skilled fingers and the heat, weight and stretch of his cock still thrusting into you certainly helped. You buried your face against his neck now that you had access to all of him; a thick sob was muffled as you tightened and spasmed around him, and you heard him let out a quiet “wow” as the second orgasm rolled through you.

His fingers on your clit, thankfully, moved away. He gripped your thigh again instead; his pace was now messy and fierce, and you had to fight to stay in place not only from the harsh movements and how the table you were sitting on was skidding a bit across the floor, but also from that second round of intense bodily excitement.

“God,” you huffed, stifling another laugh. Apparently it didn't matter where you were–if you were with Jake, he just gave you the giggles. “You’re really going for it.”

Jake cradled the back of your head, messing with your hair a bit. “And I’m–hmm–almost there.”

You kissed him softly and sweetly, from his collarbone and up his neck to his ear. “Good boy,” you whispered there, giving his ear a nibble. Jake moaned wordlessly in response and gave one last deep, solid thrust that jostled you backwards and made the table creak, then he went slack over you, his whole upper body all loose and so hot that warmth was radiating through his shirt.

When Jake lifted his head, you leaned back and waved the back of your hand over your forehead with a silly “whew” motion; Jake laughed and nodded, then slowly pulled out. He collapsed forward again, resting his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him once more.

“Well, we’ve done it once. Do we ever need to do it again?” you asked, petting his back.

“Like, um, sex?” Jake asked, mumbling against your chest. “Or sex in the library?”

“In the library, duh,” you said with a chuckle, and kissed him when he lifted himself up and looked at you.

“Where else should we do it?” Jake replied, his tone and little smile making it obvious he was kidding–finally. You were glad to have played out this little fantasy and do something new and a little risky, but you’d be even more glad to just go back to the way things were. Nothing wrong with a classic.

“Our bed, definitely,” you said, and Jake smiled and nodded again; you began working on buttoning up his shirt. “Our couch. The floor. Maybe the shower.”

“Maybe?”

“Last time we tried the shower, you nearly cracked your head open,” you reminded him, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “And nearly broke your perfect teeth.”

Jake’s smile grew wider. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d never forgive that stupid shower.”

Jake patted his hands from your shoulders down the length of your body, stopping at your ankles. “Well, babe, we’re both in one piece now, aren’t we? Time to close up?”

“Definitely. The custodians are probably going to be here any minute.”

“Oh my.” Jake held your hand to bring you off the table. “That would have been quite the show for them.”

“No more shows,” you said as you both put the finishing touches on getting yourselves decent before Jake opened the door. “I should be the only one looking at you when we fuck.”

---

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can let me know here or DM me :)

Tagging: @kissingsun @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @milojames16 @mindastreamofcolours @wetkleenex-gvf @itsafullmoon @heckingfrick @peaceloveunitygvf @musicspeaks @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta

#cumsluts only #in honor of my old gvf mutuals RIP #Jake kiszka #Jake gvf #Jake kiszka x reader #gvf #greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #Jake fic #gvf smut

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twptwp · 5 months ago

Text

Please share

Hello, I contemplated it a lot, I decided it would be best. I will be sharing this beware on a rather big artist here who hurt me personally.

I will write more at the end. Please take care. Warning: the post is very big

Pestkitty is also known as Nopperabou if I remember the name correctly on other platforms such as Artfight and Youtube

*It should be noted this is very blatant lying on that guys part, I was keeping to myself for this entire time and harassed nobody, on the contrary his friends had been harassing me. I regret not writing that more clearly

I don't think I mentioned it in the original post images but I would also like to note at the time I was not an adult yet and it was my first time going on a plane... 11 hour flight completely alone is scary, no family, nobody in my family has ever travelled so far. It was a very big deal

END OF IMAGES

Description from original post on Instagram (it's a lot so I'll make it small):

HI HI PAWB! Lots and lots of people wanted me to put this together, please do share, even if you do not know the people it would be great help. The more people who know the more people who can stay safe. This post is a little overdue but I was gaslit by them into thinking these were not big issues and that I was the one being strange so it took a while for me to gain the stability to put this together, I ended up downplaying my feelings a lot and it wasn't untill somewhat recent when I realised I may be developing a new disorder from their abuse that oh... I was not wrong for my concerns and feelings; these people really are harmful. I do not condone harassment so please do not go messaging these people. Block, share, and move on. Stay safe. That is my internet mission for you🚀

I make this post because they are rather gross and dangerous and have considerably big audiences, people have told me their opinions that they should not have the platforms that they have because their behaviours are dangerous. There is more things they've done that I have not included because I would like some of my own privacy even after my private information was leaked in a comic haha... I've displayed enough behaviour from them to show who they are and what they do though, so this is enough!

This is quite intimidating for me, so, I will be going offline off of this account for a few days and just let this post simmer... Not for too long because I have some awesome art cooking HEHE but YA! If there are questions in the comments my friends will answer for me! Though, I think I've been rather transparent so I don't think there would be any.

I will also be providing more proof in my story, specifically proof that slide 10 IS that guy because quite frankly anybody could be "Instagram user" and they have fabricated stuff against me in the past so I think it would be good to prove it is that account.

Okay bla bla that is all, apologies this is such a scary and serious post especially as I like to keep my account a friendly nice place but ahhh it really has been burning at me. So, thank you for reading so very much. Bye bye pawb!

End of description^

That was a lot! So here is why I'm sharing it to Tumblr:

☆Awareness! NOBODY should have to risk getting close to these people. NOBODY.

☆Better circulation! My Instagram post got over 3000 likes, lots of shares, 100s of comment and many saves so it did very well however after a while things leave the light and become something "of the past". I notice this does not happen so much on Tumblr and things continue to be shared

☆This still effects me. The original Beware is from 3 months ago however I am currently doing this because I was restless from lastnight nightmare (I had a nightmare about these people) and now I'm all nauseous and shaky again! It's 3am and I was panicking a lot so I put this together, I'm yet to rest

And finally....

☆TAGS

I notice that if an image in a tag becomes popular enough it shows up on things like Google! Isn't that cwl! So, if a fan of these people searches for them on the internet the beware could show up which may deter them from the artist. This is great, which is why I also need your help in making this popular!

Thank you sincerely for your time, it is greatly appreciated. I feel calmer now that I have made this post, I regret not making it earlier but it is better now than never. Nos da ac breuddwydion melys pawb♡

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honeytama · 6 months ago

Text

Make Your Move - Chapter 6

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes

A/N: She’s back! A little thing; a minimal scene in this chapter may seem similar to a sound deck scene in Unveiled Hearts by @thefallennightmare. I noticed it after I read her story (which I love), but I chose not to rewrite my scene. No copying here, just great minds thinking alike <3

Fic Summary: Find in Fic Masterlist

Content and Warnings for Ch. 6: Lots of fluff and more dating! AHH, some suggestive content, some smut 18+, hands stuff (hand job/fingering etc), almost caught, semi-public

Word Count: 8k

Tag List:

@xxkittenkissesxx @exitwoundsx @jilliemiw86 @abiomens @lma1986

@flowery-mess @doomhands-jr @rain-down-on-me @justdamnpeachy @thatchickwiththecamera @narcissisticbehavior81

@xcllnt @somebodyels3

After Noah and you had your late-night tryst in the showers of the venue, the walk back to the bus felt desolate. You walked alone through the hallways and into the dark, humid night as you exited the venue into its back alleyway.

The grin on your face wanted to stay there; you wanted to be elated that both of the men that you were attracted to wanted you. However, your face falls when you realize that Matt was right: you’re not being fully truthful to him, or Noah.

You feel it’s hard to swallow when you think back to just ten minutes ago. Noah asked what you wanted to speak to him about and you dodged the question. Wanting to believe that your brain was foggy from the sight of Noah’s body, and that kiss, was half of your reasoning for lying, but the other half is that you really couldn’t bear telling Noah the truth.

Outside of the bus, you pace the side of it while listing the options available to you: don’t tell the two men that you kissed both of them the same night and risk their friendship and your relationship with them once they find out, or do tell them and risk it all anyway.

Everything about the situation made you feel gross and at a loss. If only you told Noah about Matt’s confession, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like you’re on track to manipulating them both in the process.

“Why?” You yell out into the night, holding your head in your hands.

You calm your senses and walk to hop onto the bus to head to Nashville, Tennessee. While in bed, you finally decide you should come clean to both of them as soon as possible to save you the heartache. In contrast to your decision, you thought, why not indulge yourself in the fantasy you had never thought possible?

—

A constant buzzing tone from your phone wakes you in the morning; you turn over in your bunk to grab it while noticing the bus isn’t moving. You must be outside of the Nashville venue already.

Without checking the caller ID, you hold the phone close to your ear and mumble, “Hello?”

“Good morning, loser, get out of bed,” Matt's voice is loud in your ear. You pull your phone away from your head and wipe the sleep from your eyes before responding.

“You’re such a bully, let me sleep,” you whine and check the time. Ten AM. It’s a bit later than when you would usually wake up. “Where are you?”

“I’m finishing a run with Noah. I’m on my way back to the venue, but he decided to go the extra mile,” he answers.

“Oh,” you’re lucky the fact that you just woke up can hide the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. You hope with everything in you that they didn't share the things they did with you the night before. They could have been laughing at you. They could’ve been plotting to “dump” you. They could be planning to fire you from the tour. Clenching your eyes closed to push back these intrusive thoughts you finally respond, “Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says, unfazed by your tone. “Anyway, I called because I was wondering if you had plans at, let’s say, noon?”

“Yes, I plan to rot in bed with my phone six inches from my face until they need us to work later,” you explain, matter-of-factly.

“So you’re saying you wouldn't want to go out on a date with me?”

This shocks you awake and you sit up on your bunk. The crown of your head bumps the top of the enclosed space, “Ouch, fuck!”

Matt laughs over the phone, but questions, “You good?”

“Yeah, I just banged my head on the top of my bunk.” You rub the throbbing spot on your head as you return to reality, “You’re asking me out?”

“Yup,” he pops the “P” in the word. Even though he isn’t there with you, you can just see the smug look on his face. “There’s a hot chicken place I’ve been wanting to try since we’re in Nashville and I thought I should finally take you out. You know, just you and me, like we said.”

You never thought that this day would come, but you remember your decision to be open and honest with the two boys. This would be the first time you addressed the elephant in the room, “Does it still bother you that I went out with Noah a few days ago?”

He hums softly. “I’m getting over it. I did give you two permission,” he says. “But, I figured, since I told you how I felt last night… and our kiss,” he pauses again, “you would want to start hanging out with me, too. Just not as friends.”

You bite your lip and sway in your bunk. “You want to date me,” you sing in his ear, teasingly.

“Don’t make me take it back, Y/N,” he grumbles.

“Okay, okay! Yes, I’ll go out with you,” you say quickly. “I’ll be ready at 11:45! Is it close by?”

“Sure is, we can walk there together. Wear something cute,” you can hear the smirk in his voice again.

“I will,” you sing. “Matt?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to let me hold your hand?” You ask, hopefully.

“Maybe, if you’re good,” he laughs before hanging up the phone.

—

You’re dressed up in your favorite casual date outfit. It’s only a few minutes until you need to meet Matt outside the bus.

Adjusting your hair and accessories, you look into the bus bathroom mirror. The jitters that have shaken your body since the moment he asked out over the phone have not stopped, and really, it’s getting worse. You have to keep your jaw clenched to keep your teeth from chattering. The only thing that can help you is seeing him.

You huff and head down the hallway to the front room. Jolly and Folio sit on the couch on their phones, relaxing.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jolly says. “Where are you going?”

Folio looks up from his phone too, “Yeah? Damn, you look good, I like that outfit.”

Your cheeks flush at their compliments, but you realize you don’t feel comfortable with them knowing that you have been on a date with Noah and are now going on one with his best friend. “I’m going for lunch with Matt,” you tell them a half-truth. Lying seems to be in your repertoire these days.

“Oh, cool. Where are y’all going?” They say in unison.

“It’s a hot chicken restaurant he knows about,” you tell the truth.

“Shit, that sounds good. Could we come with y’all?” Folio asks, excitedly.

Folio, please. “I would love that, but we're going to do some catching up as friends,” you give him a sorry smile and offer to take him there another day while you’re still in town.

“It’s all good,” he shrugs. ‘Y’all have fun.”

You wave them goodbye, “See you later for the show boys.”

“Bye, Y/N!” They sing as you exit the bus onto the concrete of the venue alley.

Matt leans on the brick wall of the venue looking at his sneakers.

“Hey, handsome,” you compliment him. His outfit is different than usual. It’s not that different, however, you could tell he had his idea of a casual date outfit, too. Your chest flutters at the thought of him getting ready for you.

Matt looks up at you at the sound of your voice. A smile slowly creeps on his lips and builds to a toothy, shit-eating grin.

“I see you wore a clean, oversized tee today,” you tease him while looking him up and down. “And, camo cargo pants? That’s so hot.”

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes. “I think that I look best without clothes, but I dont think Hattie B’s would allow that,” he jokes.

You tend to agree with that statement. He looks like a God when he is down to a pair of fitted boxer briefs. Besides the other features of his physique, below the belt, you’ve only ever taken a good look at his ass. You know that your life would be over if Matt were ever to catch you ogling his bulge, so even after countless sleepovers and pool days, you have no clue what he might be packing.

“Is that the restaurant we’re going to?” You ask as he comes to your side to start your walk.

“Mhm,” he hums. “By the way, you look,” you catch him sneaking a glance over to you, “amazing.”

“Thanks, babe,” you nudge his shoulder.

A ghost of a smile makes his lip curl upwards. He doesn't want you to notice, but you do. “I’m already regretting sharing my feelings with you,” he grunts before taking his hand in yours. His thumb rubs over the top of it softly and you smile to yourself as you walk down the city sidewalk, side by side.

—

“Can you order for me, Matt? I need to use the restroom,” you ask him.

“Yeah, I know what you like,” Matt agrees while staring up at the menu overhead at the ordering counter.

That was something that you loved about him and something you wouldn't get from Noah, not at this point. Matt remembers everything. The second you tell him you love something, your goals, even something you're just remotely interested in it’s like he has a notes app page open about it. Matt tends to order your food for you when you go out back at home, but if you order he’ll speak up for you if you’re too shy to ask for something specific.

“Could I have three chorizo breakfast tacos, please?” You would ask at your two’s favorite taco shop on Sunday mornings. Matt would give you a stare and a subtle head tilt to mention your customization, but when you don't.

“With salsa on the side. Not on top, please. She doesn't like it,” he would say for you before handing over his card.

You haven't realized it until now, looking into the bathroom mirror, but you have been comparing the two men you've been involved with and you don't like it. It’s not like you should have the privilege of comparing either of them anyway. Your choice to have one, for peace, is completely null. You could only hope to enjoy your time with the two of them until everything goes to hell.

Enough, you say to yourself roughly. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy your date. You wash your hands with warm water; the temperature change and the sweet scent from the soap soothes your senses.

You walk back out into the restaurant lobby and spot Matt sitting alone at a booth. His leg bounces up and down as he looks out the building window.

Walking up to sit across from him, he jokes, “You didn’t fall in did you?”

You giggle and get settled in your seat, “No, I was just nervous, I guess. I was taking a second to myself.”

“How do you feel now?” Matt reaches across the table from you and holds his hand in yours.

“Better,” you smile. He continues tracing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hand just like he did on your way here. Just on the soft skin of your palm, this time. “So, what did you order me?”

“I got you the mild spicy sandwich with fries. I think I got us a side of mac and cheese to share,” Matt purses his lips. “I got myself the hot sandwich with fries. You can try mine, but I know you’re not too into spicy stuff,” he shrugs.

You both speak at the same time.

“Thank you–” “Unless, it’s books–

“Matt,” you squeeze his hand in yours while making “What the fuck?” eyes to him. Ducking your head, you look around the restaurant to make sure no one overheard him. “Don't talk about my book.”

“You read it in public,” he says matter of factly. “I can talk about something that you do in public.”

“Reading on the bus isn't in public,” you defend. Heat travels up your neck to your cheeks like it usually did when Matt and you got on to the topic of sex. It happens often, and you hate that you don't mind it.

He shrugs and starts to laugh at himself. “I’ve Googled the title, by the way, I know what you've been reading about, Y/N.”

You decide to play his game. After over a year of dealing with him, you have found that the best way to combat his taunting is to do it right back. “Oh, really,” you tilt your head at him. “What is it about then? Describe it to me.”

Matt lets go of your hand and adjusts his hat. This is his common tell that he would rather change the subject, but in proper Matt fashion, he wants to play with you. “If I remember correctly,” he pauses while looking up at the ceiling, “It’s about a woman who moves into the house next door to this hot guy. Hot guy is a boudoir photographer? She does his marketing in exchange for him to teach her how to fuck. I stole your copy to check for myself and I remember the guy laying her out on top of a counter—”

“Uhm, I have the mild and hot sandwiches with a side of mac and cheese?” The woman delivering your food squeaks out.

“That’s us, thank you,” Matt coughs out.

“Thank you,” you say as they start to dart away from your table.

You and him stare into each other’s eyes with blank faces waiting for the employee to walk far enough away before you can react.

Once they have walked through the swinging door to the kitchen Matt is in hysterics laughing across from you. His keeling over the side of the table just so you can see the pleasure on his face a bit closer.

“Why did you just explain my sex book in front of the employee?” You cover your face with your hands.

“You asked me to! You did this to yourself,” he continues to chuckle while shoving a fry into his mouth.

“Also, I haven't got to the part you’re talking about, so thanks for the spoiler,” you huff before also taking a fry and shoving it in your mouth. “Shit, this is good,” you moan and relax your shoulders.

“Is that how you moan when—”

“Matt, I’m on my knees—,” you glare at him before he can interrupt you. “I’m begging you, could we please talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he calms and starts eating. “I wanted to thank you for saying “yes” to coming out with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was nervous that you might just want to see how things go with Noah,” he admits.

“Matt, I have had the biggest crush on you since, like, a month into knowing you? There’s no way I would pass up the opportunity for a date. I just—”

“What’s wrong?”

Here we go. “I just don't want everyone to know that I’ve been on a date with Noah and you. I feel sleazy.”

“It’s going out. It’s innocent,” he shrugs and bites into his sandwich. Talking with his mouth full, “You let me know if anyone tries giving you shit for it. I’ll beat their ass.” He swallows his bite. “If it will make you feel better, I don’t mind you saying that we’re doing stuff as friends. I’ll do the same. It’s pretty normal for us to be alone since people know we've known each other for a long time.”

Thank God. “I’m glad you feel that way,” you start. “Something happened with Noah. I need to—,”

“Tell me later?” He interrupts and then shakes his head, “Sorry, I don’t want to talk about him on our date. I just want to hear about you.”

“Okay,” you nod. Fuck, don’t take the out. You need to tell him, you think. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he smiles. “Here, try this sauce. Shit’s good.”

You and Matt spend the next hour at the restaurant eating and chatting away. He feeds you fries and lets you try his sandwich. Which ultimately, as he predicted, would make you chug your drink down to get another refill.

He asks you to tell him about your aspirations again as your legs are intertwined with his underneath the table. He always listens to you so intently with a furrowed brow. It’s intimidating as all you want to do is impress him. However, Matt has never made you apologize for being yourself: for liking what you like, or for dreaming big dreams.

He reminds you of his goals in life and your chest has that familiar tingle by the way his face glows when he talks about them. He shows you his favorite pictures of his dogs that you have seen time and again. He gives you countless, soft-spoken affirmations and praise about how you look, the jokes you tell him, and your work ethic. He tells you how great you’ve been doing at your job. He’s proud of you and date Matt, romantic Matt… isn’t afraid to show it.

You feel loved. He’s in love with you.

—

Matt invited you to watch the show from the sound deck again tonight.

You agreed, excitedly, the butterflies in your stomach have yet to die down after your first date with him this afternoon. The smile on his face wouldn’t dissipate either.

The crew teased about how sweet he treated them when you two came in to check up on them after returning from getting lunch.

“What’s got you so excited, Dierkes?” Kooter, Bad Omen’s drum tech, teased from behind Matt while massaging his shoulders.

“Fuck off, go help Folio,” Matt said, brushing Kooter off. His tone showed itself to be negative, however, you love the way his lips turned up at the ends as he turned back to face you. His eyes smile too as they meet yours as if to say, “You’re what I’m excited about, Y/N.”

The crew set everything up as organized and as detailed as it would be if you two were there to manage the process, and the gig began as usual.

Later in the night, you stand at Matt’s side in the sound deck to prepare for Bad Omens to begin their set of the night. It would be two whole days since you would return to work after spending some time in Nashville before moving on to the next tour stop. Looking around the room, you take it all in, to save the excitement and fulfillment that your job brings to you every night. Fans line and lean over the railings of the balcony seats at both sides of the room; chatting and patiently waiting for the band’s introduction to the stage.

A group of women, around your age, stand in front of the sound deck barrier. They're laughing and taking pictures and you hear one of them dare another to ask Matt for a photo, too. He doesn't seem to notice, but the women catch your curious stare, they nod and motion for you to tap on his shoulder. You take a step closer to him, “Matt, do you want to take a picture?” You ask while lightly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

He turns to you, immediately. “Yeah,” He smiles and begins to pull his phone from his jogger’s pocket.

“Oh, sorry, not with me,” you giggle, patting his arm. “Them,” you nod your head the ladies waiting hopefully and excitedly across from you two.

“Oh, sure,” he smile falls a tad, but returns to assure you. “I’ll be right back, okay? Then there’s something I want to show you.” He steps off to the side closer to the metal barrier that separates the crowd and yourselves and you watch as the group’s faces light up at him. They cover their mouths in excitement and mouth to each to “be chill or be calm”. It’s hard to read their lips.

The way they feel right now is how you would be reacting to meeting him or Noah in an alternative universe where Matt and you had never met on that walk that one day. Every time you're invited back to the sound deck, you feel like a fan again.

Matt says, “Have fun!” to the group and returns to your side. “So, I was thinking about something cool you could do if you’re interested?”

“Sure,” you raise an eyebrow at him as he walks a couple of feet over to the lighting board on the table.

“Do you want to control the lights during the Concrete Jungle call and response thing?” He pats the console.

“What? Me?” You say, shocked, yet excited. “Hell yes, but what if I mess it up?”

“It’s super easy, not even you could mess it up,” he teases and you give him an eye roll. “I swear. All you have to do is control these two faders; up for brightening down for dimming, and you just lead the crowd to chant “Jun-gle” using the lights. You’ve seen it almost every night for the past week, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll do it,” you nod slowly.

“Here, practice,” he grabs your hands to rest them on the correct sliders on the board. He’s soft when he guides your fingers to push the sliders upward, slowly, which gradually brightens the lights overhead the stage. Various groups of fans cheer in the crowd for the lighting, hopeful it’s a sign for their show to begin. Matt guides your fingers back down the board and the lights dim to black again. “Now, do it yourself, just faster,” he leans back on his foot and crosses his arms over his chest watching you experiment with the sliders.

“Ok,” you let out a quick breath. Your heart beats fast in your chest, but you would have time to settle your nerves as you wouldn’t have to do this until Dethrone, their final song of the night. “I think I have the hang of it.”

“Good, because that’s all you,” he says. “Sometimes I forget that you're a fan of all of this. I want you to have more of these experiences,” Matt leans in close to your ear, in hopes only you would hear him. “I know I can be an ass, but you deserve to have the time of your life on this tour. I want this to work out.”

“Yeah, I know,” you squish his cheeks with your fingers. He reels back and swats your hand away, but laughs with you before returning to his soundboard and set up. Once he’s out of earshot, you mumble, “I want all of this to work out too, believe me.”

—

You sang to yourself and danced at a volume that wouldn’t take Matt's or fans' attention from the stage as you stand with him tonight.

While you were still reeling from your day with Matt, you still missed Noah. Your heart yearned for them equally, although it is hard to forget the six words that came out of Matt’s mouth last night. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” It has been on repeat all day.

The nights you weren’t invited into the sound deck you would stand sidestage and would get hyped up with Folio as he passed you funny looks from his drum throne. Noah would partake in the antics, too, when it wouldn’t take away from his performance. Like: Having dance-offs with you when the audience thinks he’s dancing alone, or giving you eyebrows and a smirk at certain parts of his lyrics, and when he undresses down to a tank top mid-set.

Tonight, you don’t have to hide your gaze on his hands as he lifts his overshirt above his head. The way the muscles in his back and biceps flex involuntarily by the motion makes you shutter.

It was the same feeling you felt the first time watching him live. The bass of his growls coming through the stage monitors vibrate in your chest and makes your thighs clench. Sometimes, you wonder how long he can hold his breath as he holds on to notes and screams. You imagine his tattooed hands spreading and gripping your thighs apart uneager to come up for air as he feasts on your aching cunt.

Matt can’t hear your thoughts even standing a few feet from you, but you feel like he can so you sneak cautious glances over at him when these delicious thoughts pass through your mind to he if he reacts in any way.

The show was coming up to ‘Dethrone’. Noah has nearly finished his first encore of the night and you take your place in front of the lighting board with your fingers touching lightly on the sliders Matt showed you earlier.

While waiting patiently for Noah’s cue to you, he finds your eyes in the sound deck. His dark eyes match yours directly. Surely, he can’t be looking at you? You wonder. You feel like a fan in the crowd who’s just made eye contact with their favorite band member for the first time. He nods at you, and then he begins.

“Concrete,” he growls into the mic before ticking his fore and middle fingers at you twice.

“Jungle!” You slide the light faders in tandem and they glow above the stage with each syllable the crowd screams.

Noah and you go back and forth. His eyes never leave yours, even as he paces back and forth on the stage, and he successfully directs you through his chant. The room is packed as it’s a sold-out show, but you feel as though it’s only you two present.

He tosses you a proud smile as he begins ‘Dethrone’ and it makes your legs melt.

Fuck, he’s so hot. Distracted by him, you hadn’t realized the number of times he had unintentionally made you blush and make the hairs on your neck rise. Let alone let you realize the growing need for him building up fast in your abdomen. You want any part of him, and preferably more than a kiss tonight.

You watch him perform their final song in awe; you can imagine your tongue rolling out of your mouth and drooling onto the pit floor.

—

After fans have fully exited the venue, you’re left with Matt in the sound deck with a couple of other guys from the crew.

You catch Matt yawning and he asks, “Are you sleepy yet?”

“I’ve found I have a lot of energy after each show. I’m gonna stay up for a bit,” you explain. Your lying streak made this fib too easy to tell. While you had a lot of energy, it wasn’t because of the music or the atmosphere, it was because of Noah. Impulsive thoughts appear like demonic ghouls floating around in your head whenever your sexual needs aren’t met. You wanted so badly to throw yourself at Noah the second you saw him next; to re-do your first kiss? To go even further? However, you can’t, if Matt is to be too close tonight. He was learning to be okay with you having gone on a date with Noah, but you’re unsure of his reaction if he were to find out about you doing anything more.

“I want to try to get to the showers first, but I should get all of this down so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning,” he stretches.

“Go and shower, get to bed,” you rub Matt’s shoulder with care. “I’m gonna stay here and help out.”

“M’Kay,” he yawns again. “Goodnight, Y/N. Make sure my stuff gets packed up real nicely. You’re the only one I trust.”

“Yes sir,” you give him a faux salute as he walks off toward the back of the venue. You smile at him, but your stomach lurches. He trusts you. He’s in love with you! I am being manipulative, you think guiltily.

You spend around forty-five minutes tearing down the sound deck making sure to pack Matt’s equipment, cords, wires, and laptops carefully away. You handled his things with care, even though you were half-distracted by the throbbing between your legs.

“Y/N,” a male voice calls from behind you.

It’s a crew member’s voice. Their usual lighting and production tech who helps Matt in the sound deck. “Hm?” You turn around to meet his face.

“Go ahead and wind down for the night. We’ll take care of the rest,” he nods toward the back of house. “Thanks for helping.”

“Of course, anytime. Goodnight everyone,” you set what you’re working on down and start walking toward Bad Omen’s green room with a sense of urgency.

Once inside, you grab your bag, your nighttime relaxation clothes, and the clean towel you pack in case you want to take a late-night shower. Tonight you do, but you doubt you’re going to be doing your wash routine.

Please be in here and alone. Please.

“Noah, are you in here?” You call out his name as you push open the door to the showers. The layout of the room is more like a locker room than the past showers you have used at other venues. One side of the room is lined with sizable shower stalls with floor-length curtains for privacy, while the other side of the room has a wall of lockers and benches. On them, you notice Noah’s backpack and nicely folded clothing. His boots sit together underneath the glossy, wooden bench.

“I’m in the second stall,” he talks over the sound of the steaming water raining down over him. A light mist rises over the top of his curtain and dissipates as it hits the ceiling. You can’t see him the way you could the night before.

You bite your lip anxiously. What are you doing? You ask yourself. Your body feels hot by how turned on you are and it keeps you warm as you strip yourself naked. Pulling your panties down your legs, you notice a prominent wet spot accumulated by the pool of your arousal. You stuff all of your belongings into an empty locker and softly click it closed.

His name falls from your lips before you can catch it, “Noah?”

It wasn’t in your plan for him to poke his head through the curtain, but he does. “Yeah?” His voice is innocent, but his eyes widen once he sees the sight of you. Your arms bravely stick to your sides to allow him to gain you in full. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath while making haste with the outline of your body. You watch his eyes roam you as you stand there in heavy silence before he opens the curtain a little more to invite you inside. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says as you stand in front of him. Once you’re in the stall, you feel like his eyes will never leave yours. So, if you tried to sneak a peek anywhere but his face, he would most definitely know.

“Thank you,” your cheeks feel hot. “Is it okay if I shower with you?”

“Mhm,” he nods and hums. His low tone reverberates against the walls of the shower stall. “I was hoping you would. You have no idea the thoughts that have been running through my head since last night.”

His admission makes you feel tingly. “I hope I’m not moving too fast. This feels so out of character for me,” you shake your hands out.

“I want to move as slow or as fast as you do,” he confides to you in a low tone. His fingers reach to the crook of your neck and trace down your shoulder, to your bicep, to your forearm, and rest to intertwine with your fingers.

“You looked so good on stage tonight,” you admit as you look up at him with shining eyes. “Every night, I watch you perform, and it—,”

“And what?” Noah steps into your bubble. The tips of your breasts just barely graze his skin.

“I get so turned on,” you’re nearly talking into his clavicle. He slightly shutters as your breath hits his skin. “Noah, I’m so pent up, it hurts.”

“I can help,” he nods and his wet bangs sway. You watch the water from his hair drip onto your chest. The varying temperature makes you shiver. He notices this. “Get yourself wet first,” he instructs while switching places with you for you to stand under the running shower head.

You run your hands through your hair and close your eyes to enjoy the heat. You feel the same tickly feeling on your breasts that you always feel around him, so you open your eyes to catch his gaze from your tits when you admit, “Noah, I swear I’m already wet.”

His laugh and toothy smile make you warm inside, as much as the hot water warms your skin on the outside. He leans in close to press a kiss into your cheek, “I want to feel how wet you are, Y/N. But first, I want you to look at me. I give you permission,” his shoulders shake as he laughs at you trying your best to look at every shiny tile that lines the stall rather than his nude form.

When he backs away, your eyes trail his body. The freckles on his shoulders are the first of what you see. You reach out to touch them, but his hands come to your bare hips to push you slowly until you’re both underneath the warm, running water. The water moves in slow motion and you follow it with your eyes as it hits his chest and drips lower to his stomach. His waistline is spotted with water droplets. You take one last big breath before letting your gaze fall to his groin. He’s half hard and the tattoos around his lower stomper and thighs surround his member like he’s a work of art. Your shoulders shake a tiny bit when you chuckle at the sight of his wet leg hair and impatient toes that are dancing, waiting for you to look back up at his face.

You look up to meet Noah’s eyes, but you can’t help but sneak glances at his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper to him as you wrap your hands behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss.

He hums against your lips as if to thank you. Noah’s arms wrap around your body as you detach and reattach to his mouth in fervor. He scratches your back with his nails and grips the skin of your back. He tastes so good, so fresh. Your tongues fight each other for dominance and you win.

Noah groans when he feels your hand caress down his stomach and slowly makes its way to wrap around his half-hard cock. He feels so warm in your hand like he’s blushing down there. You open your eyes while making out with him and his cheeks are glowing pink. The sight of his dick on your small hand gives you raging confidence and makes your heart burst.

You begin to stroke him while kissing him. He grows harder in your hands and grows longer, and thicker. You move your lips and teeth and attach them to the side of his neck as he allows heavy breaths to fall from his lips. “I like the way your cock hardens in my hand,” you moan in his ear.

Noah grips your ass and it makes you pull away from his neck to whine. “I like that,” he moans. “So fucking much, you don’t even know. But, I want to help you. You can make me cum another time.”

You bite your lip and nod.

“Spread your legs, just a little bit,” he commands in a low tone. You spread your legs apart and he praises, “Yeah, just like that.”

He dips his head to your left breast and latches on, tongue first, to the nipple while kneading your other breast with his hand fingers. Water splashes off to the sides of the shower as he presses himself into you.

“Ah,” you whine when his dominant hand leaves your chest to snake between your bodies to your core. The pads of his fingers find your clit and give you a firm press before sliding through your folds, curiously.

Your dazed eyes meet Noah’s as he pulls his hand from your cunt to show you the clear, slimy juices that drool down his fingers. “I really do turn you on, huh?” He boasts before sticking his fore and middle fingers between his lips and lapping your arousal away.

“Mhm,” you moan at the sight of him licking his fingers clean.

Noah plays with your nipples with his empty hand while the right one is brought back to your pussy. “Do you remember when I heard you say my name?”

“Hm?” You’re dizzy and can’t fully think of what he’s referring to.

“The second night of the tour. The morning after, I asked you if you needed to ask me a question because I heard you say my name,” he explains while rubbing your clit in expert figure-eights. “Noah.”

Your eyes shoot open and meet his eyes, but they’re attached to your lips. “I was touching myself. Thinking about you,” you admit while whining on his fingers.

Suddenly, his fingers pinch your clit gently, but with enough force to make you cry out, “Noah.” The pain makes you shutter and collapse against his form.

“I’ve been waiting to hear my name come from your perfect lips again,” he chuckles while pinching your nipples at the same time. “Good girl. Now, tell me what you were thinking about.”

“I was thinking about, fuck,” you grind against his hand as he releases your clit to palm your cunt. “I brought my favorite sex toys with me. I was imagining you using them on me.”

“We can do whatever you want,” he speaks low into your ear before kissing your neck. His longest fingers prod your entrance and tease your pussy with quick, shallow pumps. The palm of his hand presses firmly into your clit and you grab his forearm for balance. You feel it flex under your fingers. “Do you want to cum on my fingers?”

“Yes, please, I need you—,” you squeak out.

The sound of the locker room door swinging open causes Noah to turn you around and press your back against his chest. His hard cock rests against your ass and you want to grind on him so badly, to make him feel good too.

“Noah, could I borrow your phone charger? I’ve lost mine already,” you hear Nick call out to Noah from the entrance of the room.

Noah covers your mouth with his hand and you breathe softly through your nose. His other hand cautiously rubs circles on your throbbing, aching clit as he responds, “Yeah, Nick, that’s fine. You can find it in the second pocket of my backpack.”

You start to grind up against Noah feeling his dick harden against your skin, again, and his hand pressing hard into your private region. You need relief.

Nick’s footsteps echo through the room, and you can feel your heartbeat matching the pace of his steps; so quick and to the point.

Noah continues his movements but goes a bit further to test the waters. He uses his weight to hike you up a bit further and you get the sign to stand on your tiptoes and bend your knees just a bit. Noah reaches his fingers between your thighs again and dips them in your slick cunt, slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head, and you do your best to stay silent. You hope the running shower can hide how your breath hitches as Noah curls his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.

“Nick, when you find it,” Noah’s voice vibrates against you, “you can keep it. I have two others in my bunk.”

“Thanks, man. I got it now. Good night!” Nick says before you hear his steps towards the door and the door closing behind him.

With Nick gone, you moan against Noah’s palm on your mouth freely. His fingers are slim, but they’re so long and reach the best spots inside of you. His thumb rubs your clit as he fucks you with his fingers.

“Such a good girl for staying quiet,” he praises and removes his hand from fully covering your mouth only to prod your lips with his fingers to stuff them between your teeth. “Now, be loud for me.”

His name is broken as you try to say it, “No-ahhhhh, ple—please!” Your eagerness for full relief drives you to grind harder on his fingers, so much, you're bouncing on them and doing the work for him.

Noah supports your hips so you don’t slip on the wet tile. “I know, I know,” he says daringly while kissing the crown of your head. “Go ahead and cum, you deserve it.”

“Fuck, thank you—,” you hiss as you reach up and tangle your fingers up into the back of his hair. You release on his fingers and he hooks them to repeatedly hit your G-spot as you ride through your high.

“That was so hot,” he praises into your ear. “But, let’s try not to get caught again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you laugh as you stand while holding the wall for support.

“Let me clean you up. We still need to actually take our showers,” he holds your waist and pulls you back into the water.

—

“Are the showers going to start being our new meeting place?” He chuckles as wraps your fresh towel around your shoulders. The one you stuffed into the locker when you came in. You patted yourself on the back for remembering to do it or else Nick would have definitely known you two were hearing together.

“Maybe,” you shrug at him with a smile. While you enjoyed your private meetings, you also wished you could say and do everything you wanted to you with him in front of everyone else. You could feel that keeping things secret was starting to get harder on your mental health. Sex is the main thing you don't mind keeping behind closed doors.

Noah’s head pops up as if he has had an epiphany. “Do you want to go on another date before we go to sleep?”

“Of course!” you match his excitement with your arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Good, because I already have an idea of where can go,” Noah reaches into the front pocket of his backpack to retrieve his phone. You peak at his screen as he opens his Yelp account and searches for the best milkshakes nearby.

—

Noah sits across from you in a black hoodie covering his hair. His lips are wrapped around one of the white and red striped bendy straws in your shared cookies and cream milkshake. He giggles as you pull out your phone to take a picture of him and his hand comes to cover your phone camera.

You playfully fight his hand away while snapping a couple of shaky pictures. “I need more pictures of you!” You whine. “You took so many of me when we were in Boston.”

“We can take one together,” he pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket and angles it towards your faces. You both take a sip from the shake and he takes a picture. He looks at it before showing you, “You’re so cute.”

“Mhm,” you hum, sipping through your straw. This milkshake was definitely in the top three of all you have ever had. Noah knows how to pick good places.

“So, tell me,” he sits up a little higher in his seat before leaning forward. “Everything. Everything about you that you didn't day on our first date.”

“Noah, it’s past midnight,” you chuckle, but he still looks at you with eager eyes. He wants to know you. Everything about you. You mentally note that one day you could reach the level of comfort that Matt and you have, and you want to try to get there with Noah. “We have the next two days to talk, too,” you kick your legs in excitement and he smiles when they brush him. It’s pretty easy to touch him; his long legs take up the majority of the space under the tiny table you’re sitting at. “What should we do with all of our free time?”

“I have one idea of how we can spend a lot of our time together,” he shrugs and gives you a knowing smile.

“What?” You giggle with your tongue on the straw.

“You could share a bed with me at the hotel we get to stay in for the next two nights,” he suggests.

Your eyebrows raise in intrigue, “Mmm.”

“We would have to have one other person to share our room with us for the room costs to be worth it, but I would get to sleep next to you for real, instead of across from you,” he plays with his hands over the table.

“We’ve slept next to each other every night on the bus,” you think out loud. “I would feel comfortable with that, I think.”

Noah moves his fidgeting to the strings of his hoodie. You love to watch how nervous he gets talking to you. It’s charming. “I really like the way we talk to each other across the short space between us when everyone else is asleep,” he admits and you pout your lip at him in awe. “I’ve never told you this, but sometimes I’ll stay up and watch you sleep when you forget to close your curtain.”

You lean forward and rest your hand on your cheek.

“Also, because I stay up,” he sips on his straw. “That’s how I knew about— you know?”

You gulp down the shake in your mouth so as not to choke on it. He’s referencing what he reminded you of earlier in the shower. Noah. “Oh, yeah, that.” Your face heats up.

One of his hands shoots towards your open hand resting on the table. “That didn’t bother me by the way,” he reassures. “I’m flattered, honestly. Feel free to think about me all the time.”

You giggle before watching his fingers interlace with yours.

“You make me really excited, Y/N. I haven’t thought about being in a relationship with anyone for a long time. I feel so preoccupied with so many other things, but when I think about that with you… it feels possible.”

“Noah, that feels so good to know,” you say softly, it’s almost a whisper. You feel vulnerable now. “You have no idea how much of a dream it is to get to know you that way I had when I was just a fan three months ago.”

“I love that you’re a fan, but you’re also my equal. I was pulled into you the second I saw you. I still think back to us sitting on the patio bench at the L.A. studio together,” he squeezes your hand.

“Me too,” you agree. You two sit in comfortable silence for a beat.

“You don’t have to tell me everything I need to know about you, yet,” he chuckles. But, before we go back, can I ask you two questions?”

You push the empty shake glass to the side and hold both of his hands in the center of the table. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I want,” he says. “First, do you say yes to at least rooming with me at the hotel the next two nights?”

“Yes,” you nod with an excited smile. Whether you’ll have to live with the consequences of your answer or not, you’ll see.

“Lucky me,” he smiles. “Second—,” he takes his time to continue, “what are you looking for with your time with me? Is it just fun, a relationship… I want to know.”

#my favorite chapter yet!!#next time is WHEW #love you ty!#matt dierkes #noah sebastian #matt dierkes x reader #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction

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opbackgrounds · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! I like the way you write analyses so I thought I'll ask you a few things.

If you could change one piece in a way that makes the story better for specifically you, what would you change?

What is a cover story/light novel/any other not strictly manga content would you like to see animated?

I found an ancient post where you talk about how you like koala. Can you give me all of your thought on her please? Cause I never see anyone talk about her in a way different than sabo's nami and that's kinda sad even though it is pretty true in terms of how the story's written.

And finally: why do you not tag your posts with the names of characters? It would be way easier to find them, not only for people to discover your blog in general but also for trying to find something on you blog (you know how it is with tumbles search function lol) and it also just seems very intuitive to me i guess, is there any reason?

I'd tone down Sanji's gross pervy behavior quite a bit and edit down most of the post time skip arcs

I think all the cover stories should be animated since they involve people who come back into the story, but the anime would have benefited from Ace's in particular, since it established a few of his important character traits

I am hopelessly endeared to the FI flashback in general, and since Koala is one of the few decent characters who came out of it not dead I can't help but love her. The story of this tiny little girl going from slave to Revolutionary is great, and the foil work between her and Nami hits me hard. What can I say, it's just good writing, and in a just world she would be Dragon's right hand woman instead of Sabo

I tag characters when the post is about them, but I'm not going to tag evey single person who shows up in a panel every time. It's tedious for me and I imagine obnoxious for the people actually looking through the character tags wanting to find analysis on their favorite characters. For example, yesterday's post about the foreshadowing of Sabaody had nothing to do with Luffy even though he was the one talking, so I'm not going to tag him. For the people actually searching through my blog, I tag chapter number

#sarc talks

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sweetlittlenamjoon · 12 days ago

Text

ʚ♡ɞ sleepy baby reg!reader + cg!jeonghan ʚ♡ɞ

for anon

♡ tags: lowercase, masc reader, baby/toddler regression, helping with your bedtime routine, you're just too dang small and sleepy, just the two of you in a nondescript apartment situation, baby gear mention (paci), pet names (sweetheart, baby, little one) ♡ warnings: non-speaking spell, medication (its part of my night time routine and thought i'd include it bc i know its part of a lot of ours), if someone brushing your teeth for you grosses you out skip from "he holds the handle out to you but your body just feels so heavy." to "that should do it." he nods and stands. " ♡ word count: 971

you sway softly from side to side, just enjoying listening to the various noises of your apartment. the hum of the heater, the gentle splashes and clinking of jeonghan doing the after dinner dishes, the way he softly sings under his breath to himself to help him through a task. you've picked up the same habit over time, humming or singing as you pick up your things or write emails.

it's getting late. honestly you're not sure why jeonghan is even still here, doing your dishes for you and letting you sit in the living room all bundled up and cozy. you'd almost feel guilty if he hadn't insisted so much, pushing you into your room to get into your pajamas by force. the blanket smells good too, freshly cleaned. you're not sure when you last did laundry, or even if this is your blanket. everything's so fuzzy and warm it's a little hard to think. it doesn't matter, really. as long as you get to stay all warm and bundled up.

your head had just began to drift off to sleep on your living room floor when you hear soft, padding footsteps. "sweetheart?"

you make a vague whine in response.

"hi baby." the warmth in jeonghan's voice seeps into your skin, sending tingles up the back of your skull. "does someone need to go to bed?"

you grumble and pull your blanket tighter around yourself, squishing your eyes even more firmly.

"no, none of that, baby." jeonghan's hands find your shoulders and start to rub slow circles. "if you fall asleep on the floor you'll get all sore, little one. you'll wake up and think about how mean i was to leave you out here, all alone on the cold hard floor! i can't have you turning into a shrimp, now can i?" you giggle, slowly blinking yours eyes as open as they'll go.

"there you are!" jeonghan smiles fondly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "my big boy, so responsible!" you think about thanking him, but your brain's too tired to make words at the moment. instead, you wriggle a hand out of your nest and touch his cheek. soft.

"hi baby." he repeats. "what do you say we get those teeth brushed?"

you whine.

he shushes gently. "i know, i know. but after that we can get our paci and get all snuggly in bed, doesn't that sound nice?"

you pout, looking up at jeonghan with your roundest puppy-dog eyes, but ultimately being all cozy under the covers with an actual mattress to lay on instead of the hard floor does sound nice. maybe you could even convince him to read you a story.

so, you nod once and wiggle your other hand out of the blanket, reaching up at him.

when he pulls you up and out of your nest you're suddenly hit with just how cold it is. you whine and cling to jeonghan's side for a few steps while he drags you behind him. he sighs lightly and turns back to you.

"you want up?" he holds him arms open. you try to protest, but without access to words it's a little difficult so you just look frantically between the floor and the door to your bathroom that's only about 20 steps away. "hey, hey. it's alright if you don't want to, but i really don't mind. i like taking care of you, little one." he smiles, warm again and you feel all the worry melt out of your body.

you nod a little shyly, letting him hoist you into his arms like nothing. it's almost silly how fast you reach the bathroom, and how soon he's setting back down, sat on the closed toilet lid. he walks back out to the living room and returns with your blanket, wrapping you back up. you watch with heavy eyelids as he picks up your toothbrush, attentively wetting the bristles and squeezing toothpaste on to them.

"here you are, sweetheart." he holds the handle out to you but your body just feels so heavy. you blink up at him slowly, wondering what to do next. a little noise leaves the back of your throat.

"do you need help, baby? i can do that." he coos and kneels down next to you. "say ah!" he presses lightly on the hinge of your jaw with his free hand and you open your mouth. it's a strange sensation, but not unpleasant. he brushes gently in little circles, getting between every tooth. he tells you when to put your teeth together and when to stick out your tongue so he can brush it too.

"that should do it." he nods and stands. your brush is rinsed and you're handed a cup of water before your brain registers anything. you rinse and lean to spit in the sink. he hands you your night-time meds without needing to double check, you've asked him to get them for you while you're busy enough times that he knows them by name. you take them with the rest of the water while jeonghan combs his fingers through your hair. "i'd offer to brush your hair too, but i think that might have to wait until morning." he chuckles softly as your head bobs again.

you feel yourself getting picked back up, fuzzily recalling standing first. after a few steps your placed into bed, cool sheets under you and soft blanket being draped over you. jeonghan runs his hands through your hair. you could swear he's talking but you can't register any meaning from his words. it's just so warm, and nice, and cozy. you feel a kiss be placed on your temple.

you wish you could thank him, for being so kind, for taking such good care of you, but it'll have to wait until the morning.

thank you for reading ✧.*

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cripplecharacters · 9 months ago

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I would like to know what you think of magical aids for disablilities in a fantasy setting! Things like: A prosthetic that is enchanted to be capable of fine movements. A wheelchair that can levitate. Hearing aids that are powered by a user's innate magic. Blind people with animal familiars that have a magical connection that allows the person to see through the animals eyes. Thank you!

Hey,

I think that magical aids, in general, can be interesting. But the few options you listed point to some issues.

First of all, the blind person 'magically seeing' - don't do this. There's no point in having a disabled character just to make them abled. Consider this post by blindbeta instead, where they go over fantasy/fictional guide animals. Your blind character shouldn't be able to see, that's just disability erasure.

The same point applies to the prosthetic - is magic just the in-universe excuse to give someone a Cool Robot Arm/Leg that is technically a prosthetic but has little in common with the real world equivalent? I recommend going through our #prosthetics tag, but the two important posts you might want to consider: this on upper limb prosthetics, and this on lower limb ones for what people with amputations actually want - and yes, there are major differences between those two kinds of prostheses outside of being different limbs.

As a cane user, I would enjoy a magical cane that can fit into my pocket when I need it to, or one that I could summon out of thin air when my leg or back decide to make me barely able to walk when I'm out. But to be honest, I'm rather boring and to me, it's important that these fantasy/sci-fi equivalents don't turn a cane unusable in other ways. Prime example, canes with those "doorknob" handles, that takes me out of the story more than a teleporting cane. Or those canes with swords hidden in them (opinions heavily differ here, personally I'm not a fan), structural stability of the thing aside, if I'm using the cane then I'm definitely not in a condition where I could swing a sword.

A cane that doesn't need changing the damn tip so often, or self-cleans every time I step into something gross would be great too. Or maybe one that is harmless to the user but bites people who touch it without asking.

mod Sasza

I don’t love the idea of a wheelchair that can levitate. Why should disabled people have to change our aids rather than the world becoming more accessible. Don’t get me wrong! There are still fun things you can do with wheelchairs in fantasy. For example a wheelchair with a spell that makes terrain (grass rocks etc.) a typical wheelchair would have trouble navigating flat. A power-chair that doesn’t use a battery but some other form of magic etc. I would challenge you to get creative and think outside of just levitation!

Mod Patch

I love the thought of magic aids. I agree with Sasza of the aspect of aids automatically cleaning themselves or having parts that you don't have to replace constantly. I know for me wiping down my wheelchair was always a hassle and the rubber handles on my breaks wore down constantly (my dog ate them one time) and were very hard to use with wrist that easily subluxed.

Aids that are battery powered running on magic or some other fantasy power source as a sorta battery would be so cool. A Port that magically accesses/de-accesses itself at the person's will? Oxygen Cannulas that never need changing/change themselves? A VP Shunt automatically adjusting its pressures to what the person needs? So many endless things you can do with them!

Mod Virus

I’m not entirely sure what is meant by hearing aids powered by innate magic. If that means never having to deal with replacing the batteries, sign me up! If it means anything other than that, I want more information on what exactly it entails.

Magic aids that function the same as not having a disability at all are erasure, plain and simple.

Mod Rock

#anonymous #mod sasza #mod patch #mod virus #mod rock #disability erasure #fantasy setting #magic aids #fantasy tropes #guide animals #wheelchairs #canes #hearing aids #perfect prosthetic trope

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d3m0nicdream · 1 year ago

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Prom Night: Colby Brock (Part 2)

**Colby Brock Prom AU Poll Winner**

Colby Brock x fem!reader - a budding story about two people believed to be unobtainable to anyone, until they set their sights on eachother.

tags: Slow-burn romance, multi-parts, POV change, kissing, drinking, partying. (smut in later parts)

If you havn't read the 1st part:

Part 1

***************************************

"Do you have date for Prom yet?" Kat asks through the screen of the facetime call. You were rummaging through all your dresses and outfits trying to pick on out for this party you guys were going to tonight.

"Ugh, don't remind me." You sigh. It was going to be really hard to find a prom date that wasn't looking to score you because of a stupid game.

"I just want to find a genuine guy. This sucks."

"Bitch, prom is next weekend. What are we going to do? This is senior prom we are talking about." Kat flails her arms before crossing them in thought.

"Why don't you just ask Sam. You literally won't stop thinking about him. Just go for it." You wiggle your brows at her as her face twists in disgust.

"Ew, I'm not asking a boy to prom. They need to ask me. Duh.... And I don't think about Sam Golbach. Gross." You laugh at her response. She was so dramatic but you wouldn't trade her for the world. She was the only one that didn't turn her back on you after the 'game' started. She never got jealous or changed her view of you in any way. She was indeed your best friend.

"What about you and Mr. Brock? You're telling me there isn't anything going on there?" You roll your eyes, trying to ignore her question.

"Bitch, you're dumb. Do you think I should just go with a little black dress moment? What do you think?" You hold it up against your body, modeling it for her.

"Oh yeah! And I have a cute little red one, we can complement each other!" You nod in agreement, happy to have a plan of what to wear, now it was a matter of being ready and looking hot. You had to make the 'game' interesting.

"Where is this party anyway. You didn't tell me anything except 'we are going to a party.' and now I'm curious." She sheepishly looks over at you.

"Well, it's sort of... at Sam and Colby's house." Your eyes go wide.

"Why wouldn't you tell me that!"

"Because I was afraid you wouldn't go." Kat was right. after what happened at school, the last thing you would have wanted was to go to Colby and Sam's house but it looks like this time, you have no choice.

"You are so lucky I love you." You laugh at Kat. It was a good thing there was going to be alcohol because you were going to need it.

*************************************************

"This is their house?" You marvel. It was huge. Where did they get the money for this?

"Oh yeah, this is your first major party. Yeah, they always host the biggest 'Before Prom Party' both this year and last year. It's always a rager." You pull your dress down a bit, suddenly very aware of how short it was. Kat grabs your arm and pulls you to the door. Unfortunately you don't go unnoticed. The minute you and Kat walk in the door, the music stops and the room goes silent before you hear somebody speak from the top of the stairs in front of you.

"Y/N is here." The audience cheers and its deafening. The music starts to play and a path opens for you towards the kitchen where there sits a familiar dark haired boy staring at you.

"Y/N has shown up to one of MY parties? This is insane." Colby giggles at your look and pours a drink, handing it to you.

"For you." Colby winks at you while holding out the red solo cup.

"Hey, what about me?" Kat spats.

"You're not the guest of honor. I see you all the time." Colby scoffs.

"I'M the one that got her to come here so I deserve some compensation." Kat stomps her foot like a child, seething at Colby's sarcasm.

"It's okay, Kat. I gotchu." Sam speaks from behind us as he makes his way into the kitchen.

"I'LL show my gratitude for the arrival of our guest thanks to you, Kat."

Thank you. At least someone appreciates me." She scowls at Colby before he laughs and passes you to leave.

"Have fun, drink up." He winks at you before walking out.

"You never told me you were sort of close with them, Kat." You kind of feel a little sad.

"I go to a lot of their parties so it's kind of inevitable to not be social with them. Plus, I'd rather talk to them than any of these knuckleheads but when it's school, we don't speak." She explains. It still would have been nice to know. Regardless, you down your drink and pour another. You came to get drunk and drunk you shall be. You and Kat are glued to each other's side until you are about four more drinks deep. The night was going exactly how you thought, every man coming up to you trying to shoot their shot. It was exhausting. This was the point when you end up losing Kat and go looking for her. The only problem is, now the drinks are starting to hit you. Your vision is blurry and foggy, everything is delayed. The music is unbearably loud and now without Kat, you were starting to panic.

You find an empty corner and stand there trying to gain your bearings but nothing was working. Your eyes scan the sea of dancing bodies for Kat but no luck.

"Hey Y/N. You okay?" Your thoughts were disrupted by Colby who you were pretty sure had just appeared out of nowhere. His hand touches your arm as if to stabilize you.

"To be honest, I'm fucked up and need to go home." You try to yell over the music but it was so loud. He looks around and nods for you to follow him. You both go up the stairs and down a busy hallway, bee-lining it to a door which Colby pulls out a key and unlocks. He leads you inside and the door shuts with him locking it again.

It was Colby's room. It reflected him almost to a tee. The dark and brooding lighting, the black bed sheets, curtains and couch. you were undeniably in his room.

"I know it's super overwhelming out there. It's more quiet in here. You can sit on the couch. Gimme a second." He rushes to the bathroom attached to the room and shuts the door. You look around the slightly spinning room. It was way more quiet here. Your headache was slowly subsiding.

Colby comes back out and he sits next to you.

"Are you okay?" He places his hand on your knee. You nod your head, not saying anything. Your eyes dart to his. they were a very pretty blue. The contrast even stronger with his dark, black hair. You take in his facial features, darting down his neck, his chest and then subconsciously his crotch. Your train of thought fumbled by his finger grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Y/N. Are you good? You need to lay down?" Without thinking you lean forward, pressing your lips against his gently. His lips were surprisingly soft. It was probably the alcohol, you were never this forward. It takes Colby a minute to realise what's happening before he starts following along. His lips dancing with yours, lightly biting your bottom lip. You decide you weren't trying to fight it so you let his tongue slide past, exploring every part of your mouth. The heat of your body starts to rush to your head. The kiss getting heavier with every second. You eventually move into his lap, straddling his legs. Your hands find the back of his neck, pulling him into you. Your bodies are pressed close together while his hands find their place on your now uncovered ass, your dress riding up your thighs. You were about to make some very bad decisions. Or so you thought before Colby breaks the kiss.

"Hey, I think we should tone it down a bit." Colby moves your hair out of your blushing face, your feelings on top of the alcohol misting your face with a pink hue. You lean in again and start kissing him once more, you can feel his arousal under yours as you desperately try to deepen the kiss but again, he pulls away.

"Y/N, seriously. Please, we are not doing anything else. You're drunk. You need to go to sleep."

"Mmmm you're right but... I feeeeel so good nooow." You slur as he stares into your eyes. Your hands roam his chest and then his abs. You pout and he leans in placing a quick peck, taking you by surprise due to being impaired.

"I know you do but I think we should revisit this when you're sober, okay?" With his hands still on your ass, he locks his fingers while leaning forward. He stands up, picking you up in the process and walking you over to his bed. He places you down and walks over to his dresser, grabbing a shirt and tossing it your way. You barely catch it and immediately starts taking your dress off with the awkward realisation that you would need help with the zipper.

"uhm... Colby , could you.."

"Yeah, lemme just..." He delicately pulls the zipper down your back, causing chills to run down your spine.

"Thanks. Now turn back around." You mumble. You don't have to tell him twice. He patiently waits for you to finish.

Once you are covered, he lays you down and covers you with the blanket. He turns to leave but you grab him quickly.

"Colby, will you take me to Prom?" You try your best not to slur your words. You genuinely wanted him to. He chuckles at your request.

"I'll give you an answer when you wake up, okay?" You nod before finally letting go of his shirt. Within seconds, you are out cold. He turns off the lights and heads back out to the party.

******************************************

Colby's POV:

Now that she was asleep, I check the time. 3am. The music had gotten quieter and over half the amount of people were still here and leaving.

'I need to find Sam.' I start looking around the house, picking up cups and plates and throwing away trash as I find it. I head back up the stairs when I don't find him in the kitchen or living room. I hit Sam's room, knocking on the door. He was definitely in there as I heard him shuffling to answer.

"Hey, what's up." He peeks his head out, clearly very much not wearing any clothes. He was holding his door close to shut so I couldn't see past him but there was definitely someone in there with him.

"Hey, tell Kat that Y/N is asleep in my room. I'm going to be sleeping in the living room. I'll clean up a little before I sleep." Sam blushes when he figures out that I know. He nods and closes the door, returning to doing whatever they were doing.

I yawn and start walking around with a trash bag. Everyone left except Jake, Corey, Seth and Nate, them being passed out in random areas of the house. It's not long before I decide the house is clean enough and I pass out too, on the couch in the living room.

******************************************************

Hope you guys are enjoying the series so far. Thanks for all the love

#colby brock #sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #sam golbach x colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock x y/n #sam golbach x reader

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unlicensed-queer · 4 months ago

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Friends to lovers headcanons with Donnie! One of my fav Jake g twinks :D (Donnie is college age)

Warnings/tags: smut. Donnies kind of creepy, but not like uncharacteristically creepy y'know? Femdom Reader, sub Donnie, switch pilot.

Okay so Donnie first

I'm sticking with the childhood friends sort of story like in "study Session", you guys were little hell raisers together.

He tells you about his delusions and you help him figure out what's real and what's not on bad days.

He always thought he was protective and jealous because you'd known each other so long, but he finally gets it through his skull that he's super into you.

He starts coming up with reasons you should come over more often. He got a new CD you should come over and listen to it, he needs help with his homework, how did you make that weird bracelet thing Maggie needs a birthday gift, etc.

When he decides he wants to confess, he trys to orchastrate it in a cute romantic way but things keep going wrong or he can't get the courage. Then one day you guys are hanging out and just talking, and it's normal and it isn't really special but the fact that it feels special is what makes it special (y'know?). And he realizes the reason he loves you is that he doesn't feel like he needs to perform around you, he can make stupid jokes and have his real laugh (he snorts), and he just blurts it out.

He either says "you're so beautiful" or "I think I love you" and then goes really quiet and red bcuz he's a cutie who has a hard time with emotions

NSFW

So I'm obsessed with Donnie being a creepy little horny fuck because it's fun and I won't be accepting criticism.

He steals your clothes. He's stealing your hoodies if you leave them at his house, he grabbed a pair of your underwear when he came over for your birthday.

When he's home alone he like to shove his face into whatever clothes of yours he has, underwear or bras are his favorite but shirts work, and rut on his bed. He would jerk off but he needs his hands to touch and feel the clothes and he needs you so bad

He gets off on the fact that it's kinda gross. He fantasizes about you finding out and making fun of him for it (kinda that's fucking disgusting show me how you do it, type stuff)

Gets sooooo overwhelmed and oversensitive that he cries. He just can't handle it

Goes brain dead when you ride him. It's his favorite position because he can just lay there and get pussy drunk.

Makes this weird little whimper grunt noise before he comes

Noisy as fuck, you always have to tell him to quiet down.

Tell him what to do and be kinda mean to him, he needs it so bad. He feels so directionless that he just wants to follow instructions sometimes. Also he's always up in his head about being a weirdo and it's cathartic to hear it from someone he trusts in a safe place

That's all folks :)

#jake gyllenhaal #donnie darko #fic writing

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simplegenius042 · 5 months ago

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Music Monday, WIP Wednesday & WIP Ask Game

Tagged by @aceghosts

Tagging @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @imogenkol @la-grosse-patate @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @shellibisshe @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @florbelles @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries + anyone who'd like to join.

Two songs for The UnTitledverse on a Transformers Prime WIP called Trust In Us, the sequel to Honour Thy Father, a snippet WIP for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, which has a Trigger Warning because the Raiders have evil intentions (but are unable to follow through with them) and also for graphically detailed bloody violence (because Alph is a champ and Ress believes the punishment should fit the wrongs), which is the main reason why this post is labelled mature. And lastly, a list of WIPs from The Silver Chronicles that you can ask about. You can listen and read these below the cut:

There's around two plot points to Trust In Us; the first is simply the Autobots finding a possible Energon Lab that Arcee took the decipherable coordinates of in Honour Thy Father, pushing back against the Decepticons and have them go on a wild goose chase so they can find the lab, and then getting ambushed by the Decepticons at the location. Second plot point is Arcee and Soundwave finding themselves in that lab and finding The Horrors(TM), with faulty equipment and weapons, wounded (from each other LOL) and being hunted by deranged A.Is. Sneaking around and outwitting their foes is a key part of this fic... considering the "deranged A.Is" are smarter than they act. Which is why I chose "You Can't Hide" as a song for this fic:

youtube

"I knew I was right to think I would find you over here Well, isn't it intriguing that you seem to be just A little bit weary enough to run off on me* Well, there's no need We know you want to deactivate us But we just can't let that happen Every night, always, it never changes But we can make accidents happen."

"We can make accidents happen We can make accidents happen We can make accidents happen We can make accidents happen."

[*Bon-Bon doesn't exist in this universe so had to change it up here to better fit the context]

During the second half of the plot, Arcee and Soundwave meet a Cybertronian who claims to have had "deserted the Decepticon cause" and found himself trapped down in the lab. They come to know him as Flatline, and while he is inherently suspicious, they must rely on his medical expertise and mapping knowledge to get out of the laboratory alive. Tumult arises when Arcee begins to trust one of the less deranged A.I's who only pokes holes in Flatline's story, which leads to a conflict on who to trust. Soundwave, while displeased with Flatline's desertion of Lord Megatron, does put more trust in him than the Autobot he's stuck with and the A.I she's been listening to. Shame that both options lead them to the same conclusion.

youtube

"Feel the grove Feel the grove Feel the grove Feel the grove Keep moving Keep moving Keep moving Keep moving

I feel like, you are not trusting me enough And I know what's right, I will guide you safely through this night And though it's true I kidnapped you, please know it was for your own good I've kept you hidden, now phase* four can begin, begin Now phase four can- Now phase four can- Know- I- can begin Know- it's true, I- can begin I kidnapped you

Safely, safely Please know Safely hidden, safely

You are not trusting me enough Trusting me enough You are not trusting me enough."

[*Night four doesn't make sense as a lyric in this context. Phase four better fits Flatline's plans]

Here's a snippet for my Fallout 3 WIP The Waters Of Life Flow. Alph and Amata are held captive by raiders in their first ten minutes of being on the surface. Fortunately (not for the raiders), a bigger fish shows up to steal from the small fry. [TW: While physically "Mohawk" only manhandles Amata, his and the other raiders words indicate more depraved intentions with her and Alph. Nothing graphic ever occurs though. However, TW for graphically bloody and detailed violence, courtesy of Alph's resistance and Ress' mercilessness in a Fallout world. Also strong language]. Read below:

Alph struggled against two of his captors as Mohawk howled with laughter at Amata's frenzied defiance. He had her restrained against the ruin's wall, a grin unnaturally wide filled with a wicked glee.

Sideburn and Iron Nose cackled and guffawed respectively at the display, manic grins all around on most of the thugs. The two that kept Alph pinned to his knees didn't wear smiles, though more from apathy corrupting their hearts than any moral discontent with the situation.

Mohawk chuckles died into a mockery of Amata's terror, mouth gaped wide into an open frown as he sputtered out an exaggerated cry. He soon replaced it with a tainted smile, hungry eyes roaming over Amata's figure.

He glanced over to Sideburn and Iron Nose, cocking his head to Alph, "I reckon we should all treat ourselves to a bit of early desert for lunch... and dinner if the meat lasts long enough."

The other woman, shorter than Sideburn, tittered cheerfully on the locker she kicked her feet on, the attention of her wide soulless eyes locking onto Alph, caressing the flamer beside her.

Alarmed, Alph pushed himself against the weight holding him down, but all for naught as he exerted his limits. He breathed rapidly, panic surged into his heart at how Mohawk gripped Amata's arms above her. Once more powerless to help. And it's all my fault.

Amata shook her head rapidly, a begging no, a choked plea going unsaid. Mohawk was undeterred, "What does everyone think? Nothing like a good fuck to release some steam, eh?"

His gang of monsters cheered in unison, amoral to the evil they were going to inflict. Mohawk bared his dark yellow teeth, "Alright then! Trix, you have a turn of the red-head first. This one's mine."

Trix cackled as she leapt off the locker, skipping her way over to Alph. The vault dweller in question shook his head in pure shock of the immorality the demons in flesh were willing to partake. His eyes became glassy as Mohawk pushed himself further into Amata's space, her desperate attempts to shake out of his hold futile.

When Trix came closer to him, he felt one of the goon's slacken in their hold. He felt a bold and ferocious fire ignite, and with Amata's life hanging in the balance, he delved into a source of fury he's only felt towards Butch and the Overseer.

Once Trix leaned too close, Alph bounced up into a pounce, his forehead colliding with Trix's nose.

A resounding crunch stopped everyone in their tracks, and a blood curdling scream from Trix filled the sparse seconds of silence, crimson splattering her mouth and face.

Alph shook off the pain that pulsed at his forehead. He took advantage of his captor's shock, pulling one arm from the guy on the left before elbowing his mouth, and proceeded to gut punch the other to his right.

Alph didn't spare a second to claim back his baton clumsily strapped to rightie's leg.

Alph made a dash for Mohawk, an action that made the depraved leader shove himself off of Amata for a chance to reach his sawed-off shotgun.

It didn't matter once Iron Nose's fist collided with Alph's jaw.

Alph lost his grip on the baton, and once he fell to the hard ground, he felt the dazed pain of a missing tooth and torn flesh on his lips.

"Alph!" Amata rushed over to Alph's side, hastily turning him over and pulling him up to check on him. She glanced to the approaching Mohawk, and she tried to drag a disoriented Alph to the corner of the ruins to put some distance between them and the thugs.

Mohawk stared at Alph, letting out a bemused chuckle, his eyes narrowing onto the two vault dwellers.

"Motherfucker!" Trix screeched, cradling her broken nose spilling red on the ground, "Fucking cunt broke my nose!"

Sideburn rolled her eyes at Trix, while Mohawk grinned in excitement, "Yeah, these vaulties got some bite in them."

Alph leaned onto Amata for support, spitting out the tooth that had broken off. He attempted to push himself in front of Amata, but his best friend remained firm, eyeing Mohawk with a fury to try and distract them from the tremors of her body.

Mohawk bit his bottom lip in thought, and tsked, "A shame really. We can't have our meat biting us back now can we?"

His hand pulled the sawed-off shotgun from his side, aiming it at Alph, "Let's see how much fight the damsel has when her hero drops dead."

Fear grasped Alph and Amata, the latter of whom hugged Alph closely to her as he weakly tried to push her away, eyes wet from the thought of his failure to protect Amata and find his dad, all the while surrounded by dirty and vile vultures of human beings, who grinned with eager anticipation to reach satisfaction.

"Now is that really necessary?"

Mohawk's gang and their captives turned their attention to the additional voice, spotting a tall woman standing above them on the crest of the slope.

Alph and Amata held onto each other, their eyes scanning the stranger. Her long platinum hair singled her out from the blue sky behind her, dark-tinted shades displaying Mohawk and his gang in the reflection, hiding her eyes from them. Her skin was darker than Amata's, she was cleaner than everyone in the ruins too; including her attire.

She was wearing a black zip-up leather jacket, with a high collar that was broad. She had matching slim black pants and dress boots, a fancy contrast from the blues of the vault dwellers and the faded garbs of the marauders.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mohawk questioned, the vaulties at his mercy forgotten at the appearance of the woman.

"Marissa Bishop," she introduced herself, her head bowing into a tilt, "But my family only have the right to call me that. So how about Ress instead?"

"How'd you even get in here? Jeremy should have splattered your brains against the pavement," Mohawk inquired, aiming his weapon at this 'Ress'.

Ress' lips opened up into a wide grin, showing off teeth too pearly for someone that's living on the surface.

"Well," she said, taking a step down the slope to walk closer to them, "I think I did have a run-in with this 'Jeremy', but our introductions ended with a handshake."

She stopped when she was at even leveling with Mohawk, surveying the group, "But I'd be more worried for yourselves than of him."

Mohawk blinked at her with an incredulous expression, though Trix seemed to have a more visceral reaction at the news.

Alph watched as Trix sauntered up to Ress, mouth and nose stained with her own dried blood, pulling out Amata's 10mm pistol, aiming it at Ress' face.

"What have you done to him you freaky bitch?! What the fuck did you do to my Jeremy?!" Trix shouted at the taller woman, who didn't change her expression.

"Aww, how cute," Ress cooed, replying, "To answer your question; nothing more than trash like him deserved. And the sames going to happen to all of you."

Trix sneered at the taller woman, while Alph and Amata glanced to each other, wondering how the newcomer was even keeping a straight face from being threatened with certain death.

"Oh yeah? Newsflash fucker; I'm the bitch with the gun," Trix cocked the slide back.

Ress hummed, taking a step back before lifting her hand in front of Trix's face; pinkie and ring finger curled into her palm, index and middle finger stacked together and point forwards, with her thumb standing up.

Is... is she for real?

Alph was baffled by the woman mimicking a gun with her hands, and couldn't help but wonder what joke she was trying to pull off, and the sensation of dread at the sinking chances of the likely unwell woman succeeding against Mohawk's gang being as close as Alph and Amata got to actual rescue.

"Mine's bigger," Ress replied, reeking of overconfidence and delusion as Alph began to mutter a prayer.

Mohawk and his cronies burst into laughter, the leader pointing his shotgun downwards as he nearly doubled-over from the embarrassing display.

Trix cackled at Ress' face, shocked and enraged and bemused. The taller woman, with her "gun" still pointed towards the broken nose of Trix, merely shrugged at the reactions. Her "hammer" pressed down onto her index.

Alph could have sworn her saw a small blue light leave from her fingertips until he witnessed Trix's skull caved into the back of her head in an explosion of crimson blood and white cartilage with bits of brain matter spattering onto the concrete ground.

Trix's headless body stumbled back, Amata's pistol falling from its grip as it fell to the floor with a massive thump.

Mohawk and his goons stood shocked, trying to process what they just witnessed, while Alph and Amata began to drag themselves to the corner wall, making distance.

Ress, however, merely wiped away the gunk that got onto her face, taking off her stained sunglasses to reveal captivating ocean blue irises, putting it away in one of her pockets.

She looked from Mohawk, to Sideburn, to Iron Nose, to the two goons who had sullied themselves.

"So," Ress stated, pulling the raiders out of their stupor, "Who's next?"

And lasting the WIP Ask Game for The Silver Chronicles.

Rules: Make a new post (I've broken this rule already) with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

Some of these are NSFW (which in this case only refers to sexual themes, because otherwise I'd have to put an asterisk on everything LOL) so I marked them with an asterisk in case you wanted to ask about something (relatively) SFW.

The Silver Chronicles

Silva's Hope

La Última En Pie

Old Dusk

Call To Arms Duology

Ain't It A Joy?

No One's Safe At Home

An unnamed Bloodborne fic that's straight up depression for the soul like the game but with twin sibling Hunters and a demigod, as well as a mix of the worst unrequited toxic yaoi I've made thus far between the demigod and his ex-buddy.

All Yours*

Faithful

Generosity (or the fic where the sexual tension is strong between Silva and Faith aka Faith tends to Silva's wounds to symbolize the intimacy of trust or something)

Hands On Bare Skin*

No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden

Only One Person Can Frustrate Me (And That's You)*

Strawberries

The Most Wonderful Of Mistakes*

Weaponizing The Obstacle

We're Primal Beasts After All

Where She Belongs

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barryhbo2018 · 11 days ago

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top 9 first watches of 2024 thank you for tagging me @frankburn :-) big year for movies for me .. I don't even remember some of these being a this year watch it feels like a billion years ago

theyre really in no particular order . anyway

challengers (2024, dir. luca guadagnino) number one movie of the year because I saw it 5 times at the cinema and two other times at home. all timer movie nothing more to say music cinematography characters tennis all ten out of ten to me...

the blues brothers (1980, dir. john landis) its perfect... the escalation is so good .. theres music.. carrie fisher blows stuff up.. its the blues brothers

boogie nights (1997, dir. paul thomas anderson) what can i say its boogie nights ... number one found family that fucks each other for fame and profit stays together movie <3 and i got to see it in 35mm as well woww so so awesome the colours the time period the everything. so beautiful

the wrong guy (1997, dir. david steinberg) this might be a perfect comedy movie idk every joke lands so well and its so over the top silly and available for free on youtube. everyone should watch the wrong guy

the big lebowski (1998, dir. coen brothers) well duh its the big lebowski .. its just so fun and wonderful theres bowling sex dreams and philip seymour hoffman and a chill dude who lowkey doesnt give a fuck .. okay maybe its a lame pick but both times i saw it i saw it in cinemas so. the big screen experience added to it ..

dick (1999, dir. andrew fleming) its insane how good this is i saw it in theatres and it just made me want good comedies in cinemas so so badly. every joke lands and the two girls manage to not be annoying at all and the soundtrack is awesome

paris, texas (1984, dir. wim wenders) i cried through the whole last hour of this . there you go. heartwrenching performances and a story about a man who did terrible things knowing he cant do anything to really atone for it with no real happy ending .. my number one favourite thing

magnolia (1999, dir. paul thomas anderson) recency bias at work maybe because i literally saw it yesterday but you know how hard it is for movies to elicit a response from me if i watch them at home and this one made me cry badly so it gets its flowers... i just love stories with lots of characters who are somehow interconnected a little and are just random everyday people

trap (2024, dir. m night shyamalan) its fun its silly. cooper trap is so kind and wonderful to his daughter. m night is so kind. movie of the year

and umm special mentions to the war zone (1999, dir. tim roth) mysterious skin (2004, dir. gregg araki) and the piano teacher (2001, michael haneke) for making me feel sick. eurotrip (2004, dir. jeff schaffer) barb and star go to vista del mar (2021, dir. josh greenbaum) grosse pointe blank (1997, dir. george armitage) and hundreds of beavers (2022, dir. mike cheslik) for being funny and great. and monster (2023, dir. hikaru kore-eda) gods own country (2017, dir. francis lee) black dog (2024, dir. guan hu) and conclave (2024, dir. edward berger) for being good . because i cant choose just nine...

I will tag @closetdbisexual @housefreak @rogersandclarke @2201 @westerberg .. let's all play movies ! what a wonderful year for movies

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carpathianspaceprincess · 2 years ago

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To Be A Soldier - (hbo!)Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: In which you have gotten yourselves and your young cargo into quite a dangerous situation. Now you have to decide who can be saved, but you're nearly out of time and Joel is as stubborn as ever. Rating: E. Minors DNI. CW / Tags: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Desperation. Soft kiss. Non-gendered reader. Detailed description of wounds and several mentions of death and/or bodies. Established relationship. Open ending. Recommended listening: The Day After Tomorrow - Phoebe Bridgers. A/N: HELLO DARLINGS!! dawg idk what this is. It's been in my drafts for at least three weeks while i hummed and haaaaed over it. Realised halfway through that I was subconsciously pulling from my own personal relationship with death and grief, particularly towards the end. (aka I have daddy issues lol) PLEASE interact if you liked it (or hated it!). Also note I hate sad shit LMFAO this is the rare angst for me - there will be more and this is not the end of the story.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Maria assured you this job would be a breeze. All you had to do was drop off some cargo over the river. “Cargo” being Johanna, a girl of around six, who was to be reunited with her ecstatic parents after several months of Maria trying to locate them. How hard could it be?

The ride up was familiar terrain, and with the promised payment of around 200 cans (two hundred!) sitting safely in a storage unit, you considered the whole thing a win-win. The only con? You’d been forced to leave Ellie at home, a conversation you’d mistakenly left to Joel. You tried to explain that the bridge crossing was safely abandoned, and assured her you’d be back the day after tomorrow, but she wasn’t having it.

“I miss you when you’re gone! You can’t just leave me behind again!”

“It sucks, I know… what if I bring you back something cool to make up for it?”

“Fine, but you better make it good.”

“I will, I promise.”

Having smoothed things over, you’d started out optimistic; Joel allowing the brush of your hand against his own as you passed folks shoveling snow and raking leaves, cheeks rosy as summer faded and made way for the fresh, icy winter air. You delighted at Joel’s unexpected patience and humor for Johanna, and as the three of you rode, your laughter hung between the dense firs like streamers.

Then a FEDRA unit caught your unsuspecting trio by surprise up near the river bank, a mere two hours after setting out. Things had spun out of control quickly, and in the scuffle to escape Johanna had suffered a fall. You’d found the only cover you could in this shithole of a shepherd’s shack, fending off gunfire while you and Joel tried to figure out how you’d get back to Jackson with no horses and dwindling ammo. In your effort to push the little girl under a solid table for cover, you’d been careless and exposed yourself to the aim of one remaining officer.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

“Fuck!” You stumble, back thudding against rotting wooden panels. “Fuck i’m stupid. fuck. fuck. fuck!”

“Shit.” Joel kneels over you, wild eyes reflecting your own. The steel of his shotgun gleams in the blistering sunset. Flustered concern etched in his forehead. “He’s down. How bad is it?.”

Wheezing in the dust and dripping sweat from your furrowed brow, you move your unsteady fingers over dirt-scuffed denim to get a better look at the sizable hole entrenched in the muscle of your inner thigh.

“Ahhh..I- I don’t know. Pretty deep.”

You shoot a dirty look to the bloodied bullet sitting just to your left. What a piece of shit. How could something so small cause so much fucking damage?

Warm, velvet red ripples steadily from the split skin.

“Bullet still in there?” He’s breathless.

“No.” You bite out. “Clean shot.”

You lift your hand, blood sticky and gross on your palm. He clicks his tongue as if it isn’t that serious, but the way his face whitens betrays him. This was all wrong. He should never have let you take this job. He should’ve convinced Maria to pick someone else.

“Okay. Okay. That’s alright. Scooch up now, I'll grab the kit.”

“No, no i’ll do it. Just…keep watch. I’ll be alright.” You rebuff his hovering anxiety, with more certainty than you feel. Mostly for his benefit.

Waving his hesitant form away with marginal annoyance, you grumble out a half-serious “s’fine.”

You will be, right? Fine? You’ve been through worse injuries than this. It’s not like you’re infected. Reaching up to rifle through the drawer beside you one-handed, you note that you can no longer feel the sting of your fingers, pinched over the wound to keep it closed.

Joel still hasn’t moved an inch, so you wave him off once more, needle and thread secured in hand. “Need you to keep your eye on the driveway, Joel.”

Christ, It’s only your lives at stake here. The last thing you need is him losing focus when he’s the only one with a gun, and you need him to actually use it if you want to make it out of this alive.

He reluctantly concedes, mumbling to himself. Anger and adrenaline still burn bright and hot in his chest at the sight of your wound, so while you pull on the edge of the thread with your teeth to free it, he turns away to focus on something else that isn’t covered in your blood, eyes landing on the corpse of the last soldier outside.

He knows he should feel bad that he’d gunned down that young boy without hesitation, should feel guilty. Some of these “officers” were still just kids, shoved out in front of threats as fodder.

But he doesn’t feel bad. He’ll do it again.

FEDRA radio static crackles from beneath the rest of the bodies splattered in the overgrown grass.

“Second unit ten minutes away, over.”

Okay. No reason to panic. You have ten minutes. This is fine.

You try hard not to focus on the mess as you thread the rusty needle with far more force than is required, slippery hands pressing the tip into the top section of flesh that’s split open. You push, wincing.

And the stupid thing breaks.

Snaps in two. Like it’s nothing.

No. no. no no no no.

Joel’s back is turned, and he misses the horror splashed across your features. Your heart beats out of your chest.

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“I broke it.”

He whips around, reaching for you immediately. “What? Broke what?” He spots the split metal beside you, red thread hanging limp, and picks the two ends up with an unreadable expression.

Forcing your eyes down purposefully into your mangled, pulsing leg, you barely see the fat lining through the ripples of blood and muscle. Fuck, that’s disgusting. Swallowing back a wave of nausea, you tear your sweat-soaked flannel over your head, pulling it as tight as you can stand. You can’t stitch it up, so this will have to do for now.

You shiver. Then two hands are firmly gripping your shoulders as you wither beneath Joel as he looms over you, dizzy and disorientated in panic. You grip his wrists to stop from losing face.

“Fuck. Okay…s’fine…just keep it wrapped. Won’t be long til’ the last of those dirty fuckers show up.” The timbre of his voice is deep, trembling. “I’ll take care of them ‘n then we get the hell out of here. We’ll head straight to Tommy’s..” He pauses. “You just gotta hold out for a bit longer, okay?”

You nod but can’t bring yourself to look at him as he brushes his large palm against your cheek in reassurance, standing to take his position against the wall by the door. You chew on your lip, tasting blood. How long can you really last like this? Night is closing in. The temperature is dropping fast. Your flannel is already wet. The reduced circulation will slow it down, give you maybe fifteen minutes of grace to figure something out.

But then what?

The faint rumble of engines sends electric shocks zip-zapping up and down your spine and Joel stands up straighter, index finger hovered over the slope of the trigger. He’s itching to pull it, to kill them all, end this horror of a day. Bury it in the past where it belongs. He’ll take you back home where it’s safe and run you a bath and forget this ever happened, banish it to the recesses of his nightmares.

Glossy with cold sweat, your pulse flutters. The ominous creep of a slippery puddle has begun to form between your inner thigh and the mottled floorboards. You count the seconds. And breathe. In and out. In and out. Think. think. think.

The silence is suffocating as you mull over your possible options. You could look around for another med kit, but what would be the chances? Plus, you can barely move and it would be a waste of energy. What about something to plug the hole? Tampons, pads…anything? Sweeping the barren room, you can’t see shit in the shadows except Johanna’s small frame, lying flat against the mattress. She’s been eerily still and quiet throughout the standoff, and you wonder if she’s afraid. Tear tracks stain her little cheeks. You chide yourself at forgetting to check on her.

“You alright, honey?”

She nods, but you notice the odd angle of her leg, and how she quivers. You had forgotten how dependent young children were, because Ellie was older and fairly self-sufficient now. An adult could potentially manage with a broken leg on foot for a while on regular terrain, but not a 6 year old. She needs a doctor, antibiotics. Joel will need to carry her back to Jackson.

The thing is, the numbness in your thigh that’s creeping steadily toward your hip tells you that the bullet has almost certainly nicked your main artery. Logic suggests you’d never make it to Jackson in time to stop bleeding out. Not even if you could run, let alone being unable to walk by yourself.

You watch the blood pool and spread, sinking into bug-bitten damp planks. Soaking the soil beneath. There shouldn’t be this much of it.

You turn back to Joel warily, angling yourself so that only your good leg is facing toward Johanna. She’s already seen far too much today.

“How many rounds you got left?” You ask.

“Enough.” He lies.

“Even if you manage the whole unit, I can’t run like this.” You gesture to your leg, but he doesn’t look.

“I’ll carry you. S’fine.” He swears, wavering. Convincing himself.

“Look at me, Joel.” You hiss.

You’re glaring at him as he methodically checks every part of the gun and frustration bubbles up inside you. You do not have time for his denial.

“Joel!”

He looks up at the sound of your growing desperation and you shift, grimacing as your thigh pulses with blistering pain. His eyes lower as you gingerly lift the shirt so he can see how bad it really is, plastered and dripping in the evidence of your failure. The uselessness and futility of it all. He starts toward you. “Don’t fuckin’ take it off! Jesus christ.”

“Hand me the gun, Miller.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You try to push back the tears that are brimming in your eyes. How can you convince him?

“Cop on, for christ’s sake. You only have two hands. If you give me the gun you can get the hell out of here and ta-”

You don’t get to finish your explanation as he slams the shotgun down on the table. The walls shake with the impact of it. “What kind of man do you fuckin’ think I am? Huh? You really think i’d leave you here? Abandon you?”

You exhale gratuitously, trying to get ahold of yourself so you don’t ruin this more than you already have. “It’s not about me Joel.” You plead, “I know what kind of a man you are. But look at that kid, she can’t fucking run!”

“ Don’t make this difficult for me” You whisper, biting back a wave of grief at how beautiful he looks in this light, even in his anger.

His eyes bore holes into yours. Silent. Unwavering. He won’t let you do this, there has to be another way. He’ll find it.

You look him dead on, mustering all the courage you have left in you.

“Could you live with yourself? if you let her die, just because you’re too much of a coward to let me go?” You almost regret the weight and severity of your words, but you’re pulling your last card here. Somebody has to survive this mess and you’ll do what you have to do, though it breaks your fucking heart to know you’ll never get the future you were imagining this morning - that you’ll never feel the warmth of the sun again or be able to see Ellie grow up, never have the garden you wanted so badly, or feel the rush of exhilaration when you ride out with Joel for a job. You’ll die right here when he leaves you behind and you have to make him do it.

Because if he doesn’t take the girl and get the fuck out out, all three of you are done for.

“You’re a dad, Miller.” You change tack, voice softer now, lilted. “You know what you have to do.” Your heavy, tired eyes flit to the left.

He’s silenced by that, pained gaze turned to where the youngster is sat. He knows her leg hurts and he can see the bone is resting at an odd angle. You’re right, she can’t run. But there has to be something he can do.

Joel looks at her like he has to double check several times before turning back to you - words twisted and caught in his throat. A large, soft hand rests on your thigh. “I-I’ll find another needle and thread and we’ll patch you up right here, okay? You…you can run if it’s stitched. We’ll make it.”

Tears burn your eyes as you see the devastation mirrored in his own. The longing. You turn your head down, snaking your hand through his curls and pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. Savouring every part of him as much as you can.

“I’m dying, Joel.” You release the words in one breath, but you surprisingly find you accept them easily. Naturally. You’d thought it’d be difficult to actually acknowledge it, but there’s no apprehension or venom in your voice.

“Don’t. Don’t you fuckin’ dare say that.”

You open your eyes and take him in, heartbroken. All orange and red and purple, soft and dream-like. A smile touches your cheeks and Joel marvels at that, how beautiful and angelic you are, even while you’re bleeding out in front of him. It’s too much for him and his chest constricts painfully. How could he have let this happen? You can’t be dying. He won’t let you.

“You have to let me go, Miller”

His head ducks down and he swallows thickly. Joel has felt helplessness before, more times than he cared to remember. This time it’s also denial that crushes him as he scrambles, trying to find a solution he knows already doesn’t exist. This is all happening too fast, his whole life falling down around him. What would he say to Ellie? She would hate him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Not if he did this.

“I won’t. I won’t fail again.”

Panic rises in you at his reluctance and you grip his hand as tight as you can. “You’ll fail me if you don’t get that girl to a doctor! I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t make it home to her mama, Joel.”

“It’s not your fault.” You add, softly, though he shakes his head ever so slightly.

You hear the disruptive crackle again. “Unit dropping in five, over.”

He stands abruptly and you do too, taking his outstretched hand and letting him support your weight as you both peer across the lawn, searching for the vehicles, but unable to see much beyond the winding driveway and thicket of trees.

The engines are a little louder now. Shouts and orders echoing distantly from empty streets and the valley edges. There’s nothing else alive here to make noise, save for a few infected wandering the edges of town.

Joel’s arm slides comfortably around you and you lean into it. So warm and good. Always there for you. Looking after you. Supporting the weight of your whole world. And as much as your exhausted body is begging for his touch, screaming for the comfort of his arms, dying for him to pick you up and carry you home and wrap you up to lie lazily in his bed, it would be real fuckin’ selfish of you to give in.

Your heart pangs as you think of Ellie. She’ll never forgive you.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks now, but you don’t care anymore and you look at Joel, really look, trying to etch every detail of this man’s face into your memory. God, he was beautiful. Every gentle line and every hair, the tug of his soft mouth and the glint of his eyes.

Your left hand grips his over the cold metal and you steel your resolve. This time you have to be the strong one. For him. For her.

“Give me the fucking gun, Joel.”

There’s a moment of silence where you think he might fight, might try to convince you there’s another way, try to make you run with him even though you can’t even stand up properly. But his grip relaxes and a huge wave of relief washes over you. Adjusting your position, you struggle unceremoniously with his help to a spot underneath the window that’ll give you the cover you need while you do this last thing. Your muscles relax against the floor, eager to rest. He reluctantly lets you slide down.

At the kickback of a truck that’s too close, he moves over to Johanna and crouches, motioning for her to climb onto his broad back. “Come on now, sweetheart”

“What about her?” The girl’s voice is quiet, resigned.

“Don’t you worry honey, I’ll be right behind you.” The lie is smooth and sweet in your mouth. Too easy, too sure. Parental. Joel’s been rubbing off on you. You reassure her even as you begin to tremble.

Joel’s expression is unreadable and he takes a shaky step toward you, holding his cargo carefully. She clings to him and you try to steel yourself.

Doors shut and slam in the near distance, and you realize they must be equipping and briefing down at the turnoff because they don’t know you know they’re coming. You give Joel a pointed look at the open back door, a silent directive. Go. They’ve parked up. You need the time. Instead, he advances til he’s right in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You croak, not wanting to prolong this, for his sake as well as your own. Aren’t you suffering enough? “You gotta go, Joel. You got like, five minutes to put as much ground as you can between us.”

“Let me look at you, for christ’s sake.” one last time. Committing to his own memory your sure grip of the shotgun he taught you how to use, searing into his brain the way your hair is curling in the humidity and the pretty silhouette of your nose. The inky brush of your eyelashes. When he’d picked you up two years ago in Arizona, you couldn’t even set a trap. Now here you are, willing to do the unthinkable for a child you don’t even know.

Would he still have stopped to throw you in the back of his truck, all that time ago, knowing now that going with him would end this way? That you’d never even make it to 30? That being with him was a death sentence?

He’s not strong enough to say that he wouldn’t have done everything exactly the same, and he thinks that’s fucking selfish. But what was his life without you? Knowing your warmth and your life and your joy, could he have ever consciously chosen to live without it? He’d never meant for this to happen. He had promised to protect you, not to leave you behind to die in some dirty shack. After all you’d been through and all the cards you’d been dealt, he’d sworn to make sure he’d take care of you for the rest of your life. That pain and death would be kept at bay. That you wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

Anger and despair and frustration all battled for dominance inside him, leaving him raw and broken in front of you. He’d coped with so much death, lost Sarah’s mom, then Sarah. Nearly lost Ellie. How could he give you up like this? Even when there was no other choice, no other way?.

In that moment he feels completely pathetic in the light of your bravery. Guilt crawls up his spine, twisting and pulling. He’s failed you.

“I’m sorry.”

You, frustrated, sniff back the sob that’s trying to break out of you. “No, Joel, it’s-”

“I’ll come back. Tonight.” He interrupts, tormented. His own sorrow crashing over you both. You shake your head. He can’t. Plus, you don’t want him to see whatever sorry state you’re sure your body will be in by that time.

“You gotta stay with Ellie, Joel.”

Reminded suddenly of the book in your bag and not wanting to forget your promise, you use your good leg to boot it over towards Joel. “Here,” Worn canvas slides along the floor and he retrieves it with his free arm, pulling the strap over and looking inside, realizing he’s looking at the book you’d been yarning your mouth off about.

“Promised her i’d pick something up. She was so mad at me for leaving her behind.” You offer, laughter mute and subdued.

He pulls it out.

“Give it to her yourself.” He returns, pleading.

Your gaze softens. “You’ll tell her I’m sorry?”

He curses and runs a hand over his face and his pain in tandem with your own is unbearable. So you close your eyes. The smell of him is still so intoxicating and you breathe deeply, willing it to linger, to comfort you.

The truth is, you’re only being brave for his sake. You know that if you let him see how afraid you really are, he’ll never be able to leave. You lean back against the wall, hoping it will ground you.

All of a sudden, his warm mouth is on your forehead pressing a kiss into you, and the intensity behind it blinds you despite the fact you can’t see anything anyway. The kind of kiss that’s supposed to stay with you. The only way he can. You’re dizzy, suddenly. You defy the urge to reach up and keep him held tight against you forever.

“I’ll bring you home, I promise.” The hope in his voice almost breaks you. If you do your job right, there won’t be enough of you left for that.

“I’ll be here.” You let the sobs tear through your body, gripping the shotgun as if it’s the only thing grounding you. Your heart squeezes painfully. Sounds become louder. Boots on gravel, metal clicking. You were out of time five minutes ago.

“Go.” You cry, unable to hold it back. You are fatigued now, everything hurts, every cell in your body is aching for rest and comfort and he has to leave now.

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He has to force his legs to move, every bone in his body, every instinct denying the act. The weight of the little girl in his arms barely registering. She’s passed out from the shock, breathing steadily against him. He can’t tear his eyes away from your shaking hands as he backs towards the door.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. Please forgive me. Please be alive. I’ll come for you.

The thud of his boots grows quieter, and you wait several minutes (trying not to fall into the clutches of a greedy sleep) until there’s nothing but the encroaching sound of your killers and the hum of their vehicles. Blinking away your tears, you realize with mid-sob that a warm weight is over your lap, stifling the chill that ripples away from you like waves in a pond. Eyes adjusting back to the light, you discover the culprit is his tattered, worn leather jacket. Of course. It’s been placed over you so carefully, so quietly, that you didn’t even notice.

Clutching it against you, you allow yourself to let go now. You cry and cry and cry until you’re empty, choking, throat hoarse. You don’t care if the FEDRA boys hear you, you don’t care if anyone hears you. Joel’s gone now, he won’t have to listen to this pathetic demonstration of your fear.

Please, God, let her live. Let her live, let her live. I’ll do anything you want. Keep her alive for me.

Joel’s not a believer in higher power, but you are, so he prays to your god anyway, as the scent of fir smothers the air, and the cacophony of the forest sounds too much like you. Reminds him of your sweet smile and the honey in your brown eyes as the sun dipped into them. How many afternoons passed by, lazily drenched in summer heat, like two cats gorged on life? How many moments has he spent, mapping and memorizing you? He’s walked away, but everything inside him is still there, in the shack with you. He hopes that you won’t be cold now. That his jacket will keep you warm enough and that maybe, maybe, you can slip away before FEDRA even gets to you. Maybe you can hide.

It’s logically close to impossible.

He feels like a hypocrite, muttering promises under his breath as he stumbles through the night, and wonders how could he pray now? Offer words up to a God who had condemned you both here? And who was God to choose? To turn the wheel, throw the dice on who’s life to give and who’s to take away? How was that fair at all? To take away your future like that? His future, too?

He also makes different kinds of promises. Ones he’ll keep to himself that involve his baser self. An eye for an eye. They took you from him? He’d take everything. Destroy the whole organisation from the inside out.

FEDRA and the whole damn world could go blind for all he fucking cared. He wasn’t fighting for justice. You deserved more than that. You deserved to have somebody avenge you. You deserved to know that you meant enough to somebody, were loved enough, that they’d tear apart the world for you.

He doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life.

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You hiccup, wiping your blurry eyes on the back of your hand with your shirt. His shirt. Sniffing and hoping Joel won’t find your face covered in tear stains and snot after you die, (despite the absurdity of it, you’d be so embarassed) you cock his shotgun and take a preliminary aim out of the corner of the hole in the glass window pane. By your own calculations, It’ll take the six men at the bottom of the winding driveway about a minute to get up the lawn, and you need to give Joel as big of a head start as you possibly can, although he’s likely already far enough away. You spot three more younger boys bringing up the rear. They walk slowly and using your other hand, you pull the leather jacket over you, settling against the window frame further because you’re tired and you’re done moving.

“Come out with your hands up, Miller!”

You bite your lip and stay silent. You wanted to wait as long as possible before engaging them and having them realize Joel isn’t with you, but one of the older officers with a “commander” badge fastened to his lapel slipped your eyeline and has come far too close to your position near the door. You decide quickly that you’ll pick him off before he can spot you. With a twitch of your index and a bang that’s absorbed into the hungry night sky, the man’s dead in the dirt with a splatter the size of Texas covering his front.

Unexpected chaos erupts. The younger officers are not as well trained as you had assumed they would be. To your dismay, they immediately panic, breaking formation and begin firing. Your own shots only take down two more.

The planks of the door blister and break and shrapnel and dust fills the air. You instinctively turn away from the window. “Shit!”

You have seconds left to reload and you’re too slow. But you’d known it was coming to this. Every moment of your life, every choice you made, leading you to this moment. You know you must look pathetic like this, crouched under the frame, bleeding out, cowering. In pain. But you’d do it all again for him. Joel was safe now, he’d make sure Johanna got back. That was all that mattered.

Your life in exchange for theirs. You, for two futures. More than fair. Jackson wouldn’t suffer through the winter. Ellie would still get her book. Joel still had time, he could find someone else, maybe even love again.

Boots thud and voices yell and a piercing pain suddenly blooms from your chest. Vermillion unraveling over your chest like an unfurling flower in spring. The door collapses into the frame and soldiers spill into the shack. Everything is hazy and distorted, shapes dissolving this way and that, voices shrill and every noise and sensation amplified. Faceless men. Toy soldiers. The overstimulation is painful, and you feel someone shaking you - hard. Another is clicking his fingers in front of your eyes, trying to keep you conscious.

“Hey, look at me! Miller. Where’s Miller?!”

“Don’t worry boys.” You cough out, laughing. It’s strange in your ears. Everything is ringing. When Joel finds your shot-up corpse, he’ll lose his mind, and as much as you hate that he’ll have to see it, you get a kind of sick satisfaction knowing they’ll have to suffer at his hands for what they’ve done. That your pain won’t go unpunished.

“He’ll…he’ll be back for-” You can’t manage to finish because blood has backed up in your throat, but you’re sure they get the picture. The iron taste is final in your mouth, filling up your lungs. You stop trying to hold yourself up, there’s no point. The soldiers are yelling, still trying to communicate with you. You’re done now.

As you hit the floor with an exhausted thud, you close your eyes against the sensory overload and it’s as if your subconscious knows you must be on the way out, because as FEDRA hands pull and grab at your shivering body and slick liquid pools on your stomach and waist, you’re enveloped by the arrest of your own memories, soaked in endorphins, dripping in affection. Your favourites flash before your eyes. The afternoon in the wheat field, your poems, the first time you’d met Ellie. His hands on your body for the first time, delicious currents rippling through your skin at his touch. His kisses, soft and luxurious, every touch for you so contradictive to everything else he had to handle in his life. The fire in your veins a result of his devotion to your pleasure - a way for him to reconcile the other things he’d had to do before you came along.

You know it isn’t real, know it’s that thing that happens to your brain when you die, but in your delirium you can swear that you hear Ellie’s tinkling laugh, feel the tender relief of Joel’s hands hot over your skin, melting away the bitter pain of the cold. You know you feel his breath on your neck and his kiss on your temple. You take it all, and you reach out - knowing he’s there. Whatever happens now, wherever you go, he’ll hold you. He’ll keep you safe.

“It’s cold here. It hurts, Joel.”

“‘S okay baby. I’m here now….no more pain. No more cryin’.”

He’s mouth-wateringly warm.

“I’m so afraid…so…so tired” You try to remember how you got here and what you were doing, but everything is so heavy around you, suppressing you.

“I know y’are. I know. You did well, sweetheart, we’re so proud of you. You’re so brave. My brave girl. But I need y’to let go and rest now, can you do that for me? ”

Of course. You’ll do anything he asks. You acquiesce easily, curling into him. So, so sleepy…

“Okay. Will you stay with me?”

“ I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You let go and dip gently into the black, waiting abyss.

#tlou #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedrostories #pedrohub #angst lol #rushkawrites #fanfiction #wtf even is this #fanfics #fics #reader insert #non gendered reader

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