#if there's no interest I'll keep on going solo

[phopollo]

Could we also get back stories for Electra and the components and their families?

Love your art❣️❣️❣️

Hoo boy, okay, time to avoid putting off this answer akdbskdje

None of them have like.... "simple" backstories, but talking about the electrics and their backstories in the cartooniverse is definitely the most complicated, because they all tie back to Electra and/or Purse and Krupp. So! I'll start with them!

Another big long post, im so sorry akfnskd

Purse & Krupp

Even though I'm talking about them together, Purse & Krupp didn't know each other or even about each other's existences before being hired to work together. Purse had participated in some shadier money management activities, most of which was under the table work. Trying to get out of that, he applied for a job with a large and well known company and production line, seeking a personal money manager/accountant, legal advisor, and PR rep. Not all the same job for the same person, for the new face of the company. But Purse, feeling cheeky, applied for all three job positions. And then proceeded to land all three of them. Krupp, meanwhile, wasn't anything or anyone special or of note. As an armaments truck, he'd worked part time with public security and part time shuttling things said public security needed back and forth. He was simply looking for a raise, and seeing that this big large company was looking for personal security for the new face of the company, applied, not expecting to get the job. Purse and Krupp met perhaps a week before they met Electra and were given an opportunity to bsck out, as they were still in production when they were hired. Neither Purse or Krupp really processed what their new boss not even being fully built yet meant outside of "Oh, they might be a little naive." (Welcome to fatherhood you two!)

Electra

Electra was factory built specifically for and by the mentioned company that Purse and Krupp were hired by. They had been powered on for perhaps three hours before immediately being shoved in to Purse and Krupp's arms, and then in to their new job. Their entire purpose was to be a pretty face and be convincing for people to want to do business with their company. They didn't work on a line, and they didn't race. Occasionally, they did something more akin to shows, but... never anything that gave them that thrill they'd been seeking. After about 2 years, they made a convincing enough argument to their company to be allowed to participate in a single race-- a decision that the company would later regret, because they'd continue to make arguements to keep entering in races, which they'd always win. Another two years later (so roughly 4 years old total), Electra decided to break off from their parent company to go out on their own in a solo career for racing, having felt so drawn to and called by it. They took Purse and Krupp with them when they did, leaving their company to have to scramble for a new face and employees all over again. Here's some bonus babylectra & their gay dads loyal employees content (both while company owned and on their own)

Wrench

I say this so affectionately, Wrench was a freaky little girl. She was surrogate built for her demolition truck parents, and grew up literally right next to a scrap yard, where she would very happily go play as a kid. She really really liked to take things apart and try to figure out how they worked. Her parents, being demolition trucks who's jobs were also to take things apart, were supportive if not a little concerned by how methodical she was by it, but hey, they guess she's taking an interest in the fsmily business? But one day, while doing her thing and taking scraps apart, she broke her finger and needed to be taken to see a repair truck. And that totally blew her mind. Being able to put things back together?? Oh she NEEDED to be able to do that. She HAD to know how things worked AND be able to make them work. So! Wrench started doing her research to become a repair truck immediately (much to her parents concerned support), despite being far too young to actually begin training. By the time she actually got to her repair training, she was extremely knowledgeable (and morbid-) about diesel and steam engines, as there was so much information out in the world about them. But she was fascinated by the lack of information she could find on electric engines-- so new, constantly changing.... there weren't any experts in her or any of her neighboring yards. So of course, she decided that thats what she wanted to specialize in for repairs, despite not many electric engines passing through her station. (The scrap yard became her best friend during this time.) It was difficult after she became a fully certified repair truck though, due to that lack of electrics passing through her yard and not having the heart to apply for a transfer. She wasn't taken seriously, and frequently wasn't fetched for the few electrics that did need repairs, as the other repair trucks frequently just went ahead and fixed whatever little problem it was-- screw needing tightening, plating reaplications, etc etc. One day, she was called out to one of her neighboring stations though, as there had been a crash on the tracks involving an electric engine-- Electra. When she arrived, rather than just fixing whatever problem was caused by the crash, she also identified and fixed long standing problems they didn't even know they'd had, most of which caused by non electric specialized repair trucks assuming they could fix something minor. She was offered a job as their personal repair truck before she even finished her work that day. Here's a little baby Wrench just starting her repair training & Wrench the day she was hired. She became the first component they'd actually chosen for themself.

Volta

Volta grew up in a bit of a smaller, more conservative yard. The old school traditional freight and coach roles and presentations were more prevelant. So of course, when Volta, as a freight car, started expressing and experimenting with self expression that was viewed as traditionally "more coach-like," caring more for his hair and getting interested in makeup and fashion, he wasn't exactly popular with his peers. Considered too coach-like to get on with the freight, and the coaches unable to see past him being freight and get along. It was rough for the little dude, turning him a bit jaded and snarky at a young age, just out of tje need tor a defense mechanism. It never stopped him, but the constant isolation and judgement did beat him down quite a bit as he made it to adulthood. Meeting Electra, Purse, Krupp, and Wrench was pure coincidence. They were simply passing through a station that was part of his work route at the same time that he was. And he was absolutely enamored with them. They were the first rolling stock he'd seen who's expression of self was so similar to his, how could be not stare? Purse was the one to approach Volta. He wanted to know what shade and brand he used for his eye makeup, and if he thought it would work for Electra. Volta, trying desperately to be more interesting and keep these people talking to him, cracked a joke that they'd have to pay him for a consultation. To his shock, Purse agreed and asked him about prices and appointment times. When Electra & co actually showed up for the consultation, he absolutely faked it until he made it and they were happy with the result. He felt so normal for the first time ever talking to them, that when Electra & co went to leave, he extremely impulsively asked for a job. It was mortifying-- the most embarassing desperate moment of his entire life. Especially when Electra said no. But a moment of weakness and desperation, because several months later Electra returned to offer him a job, looking for a stylist and knowing he was interested. Bonus of of course, baby Volta & Volta the day he was hired

Joule

You know the saying "it takes a village?" Replace "village" eith "circus," and say hello to literally Joule. She wae built as an animal car in a circus train, and while even though not everyone was technically her family, that didn't matter because they all behaved like her family. It was generally an extremely positive environment to grow up in. The obvious downsides to being a performer from a young age and having such a large family of course reared their heads, but generally speaking, she wouldn't say she had a bad childhood. She was working and participating in acts before she hit double digits, but... well there wasn't exactly a lack of animal cars, and in her early teen years began to feel like it wouldn't really matter of she were there or not. She isn't really sure what sparked her interest-- perhaps it was just being different from what she was used to-- but she eventually took interest in the art of fire eating. Researching in to that took her down the road of pyrotechnics, and before she knew it, Joule was converting in to a dynamite truck and switching acts. And she loved it. She loved it for a really long time. She still does, actually, but... well. After awhile, it just made her... tired. Being in front of an audience like that was tiring. After shows, she'd always immediately go check and lock and undo everything that if anything went wrong could make everything brust into flames, and by the time she was done, most of the guests who'd stay to chat were already gone or on their way out. Never talking to anyone but her family and doing the same things every day was just... exhausting. Which is why when she returned from her checks after a show one day and found some massihe blue freak and their entourage waiting to talk to her specifically, who hadn't spoken to anyone else, it was extreme pleasantly surprising. More so when they'd ask her challenging questions about her job and hypotheticals about how she'd do something. And even more so when they'd keep coming back. She'd begun to find the most exciting part about performing was trying to spot them in the crowd and speaking with them afterwards, even if the conversations quickly derailed. It hadn't taken long for her to learn that this massive blue freak was a racer-- Electra-- but it took quite awhile for her schedule to line up to go watch them the way they'd kept coming to see her. It was only fair, wasn't it? But when Joule showed up, the atmosphere was so.... familiar, and yet.... different. It was exciting. And the race was exciting. The idea of going that fast was so alluring. She knew she'd want to get more involved in the racing scene. And watching Electra race? They were so cool and hot and powerful, and-- just-- woah. They lived like this? They just went to different places, and they didn't have a set routine when they performed? Extremely enticing. And when Electra saw her in the crowd and waved to her? And then immediately approached her after winning? Insane. It made Joule feel more seen than she had in her entire life. She didn't hesitate in the slightest when they offered her a job. And as per usual, bonus baby Joule & Joule the day she was hired

Killerwatt

Killerwatt's story doesn't actually begin with him-- he doesn't actually show up until late. It actually starts about 2 years before he's built, when Purse and Krupp start to disagree with some of the choices Electra had been making. At first, they kept their mouths shut. It wasn't frequent. They weren't decisions that were big deals. But the more time went on, the bigger deals they were, and eventually, they couldn't keep their mouths shut about it. It started to get bad, with frequent argurments and disagreements, and tension hanging over everyone. Now, with Electra as their own company, their own business, they began to wonder if they really needed Purse and Krupp. They had long since learned to mange their own bank accounts and the legalities of things, and Volta and Joule had honestly taken up most of the social media managing that Purse was supposed to be doing. And fans were respectful-- there hadn't been any threats made other than with fellow racers, of which, Electra could easily handle themself. What was Krupp even doing? But-- sentimentality kept them from firing them. About five months prior to Killerwatt's building, Electra finally decided and told Purse and Krupp that they wouldn't be renewing their contracts. And when asked if they were being replaced, grew extremely concerned that Electra didn't plan to at least replace Krupp. The only reason Electra thought he wasn't doing anything was because he was good enough at his job that the security details never reached them. Purse and Krupp were so undeniably attached to Electra after almost 10 years together, and they were extremely nervous about leaving them with no protection. So the two of them formed a plan. About two weeks before their contracts ended, having waited and timed things as last second as they could so Electra wouldn't notice until after they were gone and it was too late, and while it was still legal due to some fun loopholes Purse found, the two of them pushed through a commission order to a factory. A commission... specifically for a security truck for a Electra. And their plan worked. Electra got the email two weeks after Purse and Krupp left that their security truck would be ready in about a week, and did they want to come choose from the batch themself, or have one randomly selected and sent out to them? (They learned a very hard lesson to check their bank account more frequently that day.) So Electra, after tweaking out over Purse and Krupp spending their money, and on a security truck that they did not want, decided that-- well they wouldn't let this all be a total waste. And it wouldn't be fair for someone to be built to do something and not even have the chance to, they'd offer the smallest timedrame contract they could. So they showed up about two days after the batch had been finished and had time to be told what to expect, as almost all factory built rolling stock get. And... well, none of them really stood out. They were all so well trained in security already that there really wasn't anything that made any of them stand out, and, honestly, Electra was on the verge of just hiring whichever one they thought would clean up best and look good next to the rest of the components. But-- hold on, I actually have a visual for this moment

And I fear then both of their faces were sealed in that moment. Electra had to have this one. He was the only one looking at and following them. And-- well even if he wouldn't be doing much of anything, how could they possibly hire a security truck who wouldn't keep their eyes on them and their safety?? It's now been 3 years, and Electra has since learned his name is Killerwatt, and this was the best hiring decision they could have ever made. Bonus Babywatt doodle, of course, just to show off his pretty curls better

[omnificent-orion]

This is just me throwing spaghetti at the wall, but are there any Kingdom Hearts artists that would be interested in doing something like a sticker rally to raise funds for aid work in Palestine?

I don't have any first-hand experience with physical goods, but I was thinking stickers are low-cost enough that they'd been the most efficient thing to offer and designs could be continually added over time from many different contributors. I've been trying to come up with something I could do with what little time and resources I have, and now the idea is at a point where I simply have to shout it into the void to see if anything echoes back.

[welcometogrouchland]

Anyway since they're apparently not going to go with the "Steph leading/babysitting a team of young heroes" book idea (pause for despair) I'd like to pitch MY idea for Steph: Steph gets back into playing piano (she already started doing so in Batgirls #18!) and ends up taking on a mystery related to the basement rock scene in Gotham (I know the underground concert game there is INSANE absolutely prime serial killer territory)

[louismygf]

just recently watched this is us with my college friends

[orcelito]

God, this is fucking crazy

So i only have 3 more classes to take, but it'll cost the same to take 3 classes as 4 classes. So I've been thinking about taking a 4th class just for the hell of it. Something fun and/or easy.

Out of curiosity, I looked up orchestras. I was in it in my first year, but I haven't consistently played since 2016. But I still dream about being in an orchestra again. I *miss it*. So I was like. Well, what if *that* was my 4th class next semester? What If?

I looked it up. This week is the last week they're doing auditions for it. There was only one more spot free after today. And that's *tomorrow evening*.

I haven't really played my violin much in YEARS. I'm so out of practice. But apparently they don't reject anyone outright. Auditions are just for placement. So worst case scenario, I get placed in an orchestra at a lower skill level than I was at my prime. It'd still be an orchestra.

It's crazy short notice, but I don't think I'd forgive myself if I passed it up. Bc I have just one more semester before I graduate. One last opportunity to be in a school orchestra. And if I didn't do this, I'd be left with that What If forever.

So. Crazy short notice, but I have a violin audition tomorrow!!! Hahahaha

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[rueclfer]

Fake Dating // Bakugou

a/n: hi all, i am back from the dead with this shit that took me DAYS to finish bc my brain is def not used to writing anymore. pls enjoy and maybe keep a look out for PART 2 if people want it !

You stare at your phone in disbelief. The audacity he had to tell you where to go, how to dress, and to essentially perform in front of everyone for him. Of course this was a mutually beneficial agreement, but at least you only dragged him along to your family functions sparingly.

You two had come to this agreement early last Winter when family members kept pestering you about potentially finding a love interest at your new University, and for him when he couldn't shake off all of the romantic confessions from the students in the other classes.

No one else knew about your arrangement. What made it so much more unbearable was the fact that you shared the same cohort and friend group, so it was a constant facade whenever you're in each other's presence with the others around.

You felt a bit awkward coming to the party alone, and a few hours late. You could hear the bass thumping through the door from the front yard, and from the looks of it, there were far more people than you expected, but on the bright side, it'll be easier to be invisible within the crowd than have to hold up this facade all night.

You approached the front to see Jirou catching a breath of fresh air. She had a drink in one hand and her other interlocked with Momo's

"Are you guys already tapping out?" You asked, taking the steps up the porch.

"Y/N!! For a second I thought you weren't going to make it!" Jirou says, releasing Momo from her grasp and giving you a big hug. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Can't blame me for always being fashionably late” You embrace her back.

"Better now than never." She drunkenly chuckles “Bakugo’s been a moody bitch all night please go contain him”

“Are we surprised?” You roll your eyes and laugh. “Where are you two off to?”

"I'm gonna take Momo out for some air and to maybe vomit, but go inside and I'll find you later!"

“I love you Y/N!! Take a shot for me!!” Momo slurs and blows you a kiss as Jirou drags her away.

"I love you too, Mo! I'll catch you guys inside."

Once you stepped foot inside, it felt like the air from your lungs were instantly replaced with the thick fog of weed and cigarette smoke. It was suffocating, but all too familiar at the same time. You recognized many of the faces around from campus, but none of which were your close friends.

Before anything else, you decided to stop by the kitchen to pour yourself something to drink. To be honest, you weren't picky with your liquor. As long as it did its job, you weren't going to complain. You grabbed a red solo cup off of the stack and poured in a shot and some change worth of cheap vodka.

Mina has to have some red bull somewhere around here…

You quickly down it and refill another cup to carry around while you look for your ball and chain, Katsuki. You wander around the crowd for a few moments, waiting for someone you knew to catch your attention, but no one did. You decide to take a break to lean against a wall and to send Katsuki a text to see where he was hiding. Before you could even get your phone unlocked, you received a notification from him.

After he sent the last message, you looked up and searched for his meeting eyes. He said he was looking right at you, but for some reason you couldn't find those fiery eyes.

“Looking for someone?” A low voice breaks you from your search.

You turn to see Katsuki leaning up against the wall right beside you, almost shoulder to shoulder.

“Hmmm yeah I am, actually. Have you seen my boyfriend?” You turn to him fully. “He’s tall, messy blonde hair, kind of has a stupid look to his face, really hot though, trust me, and also like a medium build?”

You catch a glimpse of the smallest smirk on his face.

“Yeah? Well I’ll be sure to keep a lookout for him. In the meantime though, can you keep an eye out for my girlfriend? Angel faced, toothy smile, obnoxious ass laugh though, like if you hear honking, it's probably them.” He retaliates.

You both stare at each other in silence before you break character and playfully punch him in the arm. “Shut up, idiot. I don't honk.”

“You do. Like a goose.”

"You're so good at this flirting thing, Katsuki. Keep it up." You say sarcastically.

"It is my job, after all."

He stealthily wraps his arms around your shoulder, bringing himself in closer to you. He damn near was caging you in against the wall, blocking out the rest of the party with his back.

“So what's the game plan for tonight?” You peered up at his towering figure.

“Hang out for a couple hours, do all that lovey bullshit and then I’ll take you home. Don't get too messy tonight either. I’m not trying to babysit.”

“Worry about yourself, lightweight.” You roll your eyes.

“And is this straight vodka?" He looks into your cup with disgust. "Are you mentally ill?"

“I couldn't find the red bull.” You shrug.

“So it's either that or straight vodka?”

“Yeah and? You have a problem with that?”

“Yeah I actually do. It's fucking insan-” He starts.

“Bakugou!” A voice interrupts behind him. “There you are!”

You two lock eyes for a brief second. Just when you were actually starting to enjoy yourself with annoying Katsuki, you remember that you were only here for one reason. Katsuki's jaw clenched as he turned over to lean back against the wall beside you.

“Oh. Y/N you’re here too.” They say in a deflated tone. “I was just wondering if you could give us a second to chat?” They bat their eyelashes.

“I'm not in the mood to chat.” He says, pulling you closer by the waist.

“We’re actually about to go meet up with the others. Catch him next time.” You smile sweetly, interlocking your fingers with his and dragging him towards the backyard.

To your surprise, your friends were actually all there surrounding the firepit.

Denki was the first to spot you. He gasps and jumps up from his seat.

"You're here!" He nearly trips over his own feet trying to get over to you. He pulls you in a big hug, sweeping you off your feet. "Oh my god Y/N I missed you so much I could cry right now."

He was clearly a drink or two over his limit. His cheeks were bright red and he was already starting to sweat through his shirt.

“I missed you too, Denks.” You let yourself get twirled around by him.

“Finally you're back, I’m tired of holding onto your nasty drink.” Kirishima says, passing a red solo cup to Katsuki once he sat down.

You tried to take the empty seat next to him, but he immediately grabbed your wrist to pull you to share his chair. Your eyes widen at his own, as if you could telepathically curse him out. You clench your jaw as you feel a hot flash across your face.

“It’s cold. Stay close.” He simply says.

You nervously chuckle. “There's a fire right there, babe.”

“Do it for me then.” He smirks.

You silently groan to yourself as you lean back into his chest in defeat. Luckily, the chair had enough width to allow you to not have to fully sit on his lap, moreso just a leg slung over his own.

“Try this.” He lifts the solo cup to your lips.

You peer down at the dark red liquid in his cup. The smell burnt your nose. You shot him a weary glance before you downed his concoction, having to pinch your nose right after to subdue the burn. The shock of spicy and tangy residue left your throat burning with every inhale.

"What the fuck is that?" You choke out, continuing to pinch your nose.

"Fireball, lemon juice, and OJ." He smiled mischievously. "Thoughts?"

"The nerve you have to comment on my drink after sipping on this bullshit all night? It tastes like piss.”

He shrugs, wearing a lazy smile as he grips the softness of your inner thigh, with his other arm wrapped around your shoulder, fiddling with a lock of your hair.

You were internally screaming. Usually, there would be a hand holding or an arm around the waist or shoulder, but he was never this touchy whenever you had to act like a couple in front of your friends or even in front of the people trying to get at him.

You look around the firepit to see that all of your friends were in loud conversation with one another- laughing, arguing, and definitely not paying you two any attention.

“What are you doing?” You say low enough that only he could hear. “You're like, all up in my shit."

“5 o’clock, babe.” He simply says.

You slightly turn your head to your right to see the person from earlier, trying to not-so-obviously stare at you both.

“Tryna give them a show or something? You roll your eyes.

“Only if you'd let me.” He whispers.

You felt a chill crawl up your spine. God he's being gross. But you liked it. When you first made your little arrangement, you swore to yourself to not to catch any type of feelings for him, but the more time you spent charading around as a couple, the deeper you fell into this infatuation despite how hard you fought against it or played it off as a part of the bit.

“Don’t kill me, okay?” You whisper, meeting his eyes and forcing a smile.

You turned your head to fullyface his own and leaned in. Both of you were caught by surprise- his eyes widening right before you made contact. You two had never crossed this line before, let alone talked about it. It was only ever the unspoken rule of “don't catch feelings” and “no couple shit when we’re alone.”

His lips were soft and swollen as if he spent the last hour biting down on them. Once your lips crashed into his, it felt like your stomach was turning inside out, and a fire lit within.

It's fine, it's for show. It’s fine, you agreed to this. It’s fine, it’s not real.

You were fucked. You hated him, but you liked him. Maybe it was more than like. Maybe like isn't even the right word at all, but all you knew was that you needed to stop and take a second to reevaluate what you were doing with Katsuki.

In reality, the kiss lasted no more than 10 seconds, but it felt like you had fallen into the fire pit and laid in it for hours. Your body was on fire.

Once you broke away, you two stared at each other blankly, blinking away the realization of what had just happened. You didn't know whether to laugh and slap him on the shoulder, or start crying.

“I-I'm gonna go get another drink!” You suddenly exclaim, getting up and leaving him in his chair.

I'm so FUCKED.

You quickly snake your way through the large crowd that had filtered their way to the backyard. You stop by the kitchen to pour yourself a heaping cup of whatever liquor bottle was closest to you, down a large gulp, and take the rest with you to the bathroom.

Your head was starting to feel a bit hazy from the mix of second hand smoke as well as your drinks from earlier starting to settle in your stomach. Did you even eat anything before drinking like this? You weren't really expecting to have anything more than one drink, but after your kiss with Katsuki, you suddenly feel the need to forget it all.

You were sitting up against the bathtub, wallowing in your complicated mass of feelings, and now fully intoxicated. You let your head rest on top of your knees while you replayed every single interaction you've had with him tonight.

Your phone started buzzing on the floor next to you. You opened the screen, eyes squinting to adjust to the brightness.

Of course it was Katsuki.

You sat and stared at your feet for a few minutes until you heard pounding on the door. Judging from the force of it, it was either a fucking SWAT team or Katsuki.

You grab a hold of the side of the bathtub to hoist yourself up, stumbling a bit while doing so and unlocked the door. Of course behind it was the latter.

He lets himself in and shuts the door behind him, leaning back on it.

You were wildly embarrassed for a multitude of things. You were on the verge of messy drunk, your face was stupidly hot and flushed, you kissed your fake boyfriend and ran away, you're swallowing down your feelings, and now here he is to reprimand you for all of it.

"Water as per requested." He pops open the cap of a fresh water bottle and hands it over to you.

"Thanks." You mutter and drink the water in silence.

"So are you upset at me?" He finally asks.

"Yes."

"And why is that?" He cocks his head to the side.

You were drunk, no doubt about it, but this unserious playful tone in his voice that pissed you off was clear as day. Why were you the only one freaking out? Did he not care? It surely confirmed that he does not and never have felt the same as you and truly did think of your "relationship" as nothing more but a transaction.

You purse your lips and remained silent.

"Because... you kissed me?"

You nodded.

"So you're upset at ME... because YOU kissed ME..." He states once more.

You were on the verge of tears. He loved making you look stupid but this was tenfold now. Not that he was wrong, but you weren't in the mood for it.

"So what if I am?" You choke out, tears now brimming over.

Katsuki's eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to break down so easily after a couple of harmless questions. You steps towards you and grabs your shoulders, not quite sure what to do or how to react.

"Hey hey hey, what the fuck? Why are you crying all of the sudden? Seriously, Y/N it's not a big deal."

"It is." You whine. "It is and you don't even care!"

He finally pulls you into him, letting you sob into his shoulder. His hand caressing your back in comfort.

"You idiot." He says after a moment of silence. "You're such an emotional drunk. This is why I told you not to get messy." He scolds. "I do care. But I won't if you don't want me to."

"I do want you to care. I want you to like me. Not just like me, but like-like me." You confess.

You feel him stiffen under you. Clearly your drunken state had forced you to say the wrong thing, but you didn't care.

"But do you like-like me?" He asked back, pulling you back to look at your tear stained face. "Drink some more water and sober up a bit before you answer okay?" He brings the water up to your face.

"I don't want anymore water!" You push his hand away. "I like-like you and I hate being your fake girlfriend and lying to everyone and myself about it!"

His smile grew, but he shook his head. "Okay angel face, let's talk about it then." He moves his thumb up to your cheek to wipe away stray tears.

"You're so wasted, you may not even remember this for tomorrow. But I think you're the coolest person on this fucking block, okay? And I like being around you even though you annoy the shit out of me sometimes. So stop crying and feeling bad. We're fine."

"But we're not! I don't want you to be my fake boyfriend anymore. I think you're cool too and you make me laugh and feel stupid in the heart and I fucking hate you for that, so that's why we shouldn't do any of this anymore."

He doesn't reply, but instead looks down at your sad face, lip still quivering, makeup smudged around your eyes. His hand continued to cup you cheek, forcing you to look back up at him.

Katsuki leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger for a second longer.

"That's okay. We can do something about that when you're sober. If you even remember any of this, anyways. Let's get you home."

He grabs your hand and swiftly leads you out of the bathroom. You wonder what you had just done, whether it was going to blow up in your face (if you even remember the next day) or work itself out? Would it even matter?

[kumkaniudaku]

101

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

"So…you come here often?" 

In a crowded bar tucked into a rapidly changing side of town, Asia sat perched on a barstool, listening to yet another potential suitor court her uninterested best friend. They always approached with unearned confidence, dropping some variation of the same tired lines only to be tossed back into a sea of misfit boy toys to make room for the next poor, unfortunate soul. 

Sabrina loved the attention, though. At a statuesque 5 '10", she didn't mind being worshipped like Aphrodite and choosing her favorite from the litter until she was bored and ready for the next man up. Asia loved it, too. Watching men fall all over themselves in a way they'd never done for her was weirdly empowering. She didn't get to take home any of the night's trophies, but she did get to listen to the stories of every Tom, Dick, and Devante that passed in and out of her friend's life. 

Barely interested, Sabrina sipped through a tiny black straw and regarded her latest contestant with tipsy indifference. "Not really. Why?" 

"Uh…I don't know. Just, uh, just wondering?" 

"Mhm. I'm drinking tequila." A loud slurp from liquid long evaporated from scratched glass filled with more ice than anything else brought the young man's attention to her hands and then back to her face. She offered him her best sweet smile and proposed, "Get me another?" 

Asia had never seen a man getting absolutely nothing in return move so fast to wedge himself between a handful of patrons vying for the bartender's attention. 

Sabrina let off a cackle loud enough to eclipse various pockets of chatter and music as she elbowed a laughing Asia. "That's, what, three for you tonight?" Asia asked, still swirling around the pity Jack and Coke she was gifted an hour ago. "One more, and you might get the record." 

"Girl, I'm not drinking that shit. I'm supposed to be meeting Eric later tonight, and I can't be drunk like I was last time. It's been a month, and I need that." 

"He's back from Portugal?" 

"Fuckin' finally," Sabrina gushed. "I don't mean to be a 'my man, my man, my man' ass bitch about a nigga that is not my man, but…" 

Sabrina didn't need to finish. Four years of their on-off whatever the fuck had been as much a part of Asia's life as it was Sabrina's. She'd been there for all the dates, all the late-night phone calls that pulled her friend away from plans, every blow-up and breakup, and the eventual reconciliation that would, once again, leave her as a lonely party of one. Unfortunately, she never got any of the fabled mind-blowing sex that came from their strange arrangement. Only the stories and the occasional video if Sabrina was feeling spicy. 

Asia downed the rest of her drink along with the jealousy brewing in her chest and slid the glass across the bar for someone to collect later. "Well, hey, as long as you're happy." Happy was relative. She really wanted to say as long as you're willing to keep your business out of my bubble, but swallowed the thought before it could breach her lips. "Should I keep my phone off DND just in case?" 

No immediate answer made Asia pause her casual scan of the room to look over at Sabrina, who'd all but buried her nose into her cell phone to grin at whatever was keeping her preoccupied. 

She called out to her friend again. "Sabrina!"

"Huh," she sputtered out, snapping from her Eric-mania. "N-no, I should be good. We're on good terms. Or I'll just go to my sister's house. Did I tell you she moved? Oh, shit. Let me take this."

Sabrina didn't leave much time for objection, though Asia couldn't say she would offer any if given the chance. She was used to flying solo. She liked moving around the city as a lone wolf, looking for any cocktail lounge or off-the-beaten-path late-night spot to slink into and observe the happenings of 20 and 30-somethings looking for something or someone to get into before trudging home when daylight came back around. 

The night was still young enough to hit up a cigar bar her old work friend Marcus had told her about. She didn't smoke, but the brown liquor was always smooth, and their food wasn't half bad. 

While she sat trying to get the bartender's attention to close her tab, a presence at her side made themselves known with an accidental shove that nearly knocked her off balance. 

"Gahdamn," she hollered, gripping the bar top for dear life to avoid starting a dangerous domino effect. Her mind didn't register the frantic apology from her newest enemy or the way he grabbed her waist to return her to a steady state. All she saw was his smile's familiar, gorgeous gleam when he realized who he'd bumped into just as his night was beginning and hers was coming to a close. "Kelvin?"

He slowly let go of her body and tried to appear taller than he was. "Good, I'm glad you noticed. Thought you might beat my ass. I know how you get down." 

"I still should. What the hell are you doin' in here, and did they card you at the door?" 

"Ha-ha. I'm a grown-ass man. Don't let the stature fool you." His fake laugh gave way to a real one shared between coworkers who cared enough about their jobs not to get fired but never enough for rapid advancement. 

Life as a creative in a city where just about everyone was a "creative" had a way of uniting strangers from all walks of life. When Asia stepped into her new agency searching for exciting new clients and an actual team of people to see in the office a few times a week, she didn't expect to be accosted by the bright-eyed Associate Creative Director who had no business fraternizing with the project management team. But there Kelvin was, half-sitting on her desk with his Nike-clad foot swinging while he rattled off lunch spots within walking distance for them to check out once she was done with her first meeting with HR. 

"You always this chatty," She asked while trying to make sense of her new Macbook. 

Kelvin sported a mischievous smile. "Only with the other Black folks. We gotta stick together. There ain't but six of us, and two of them are married." 

He quickly grew into one of her favorite people to see during the week while they worked side-by-side to meet deadlines and ward off culturally insensitive questions from well-meaning white folks trying to sell products to urban communities. She'd seen him be gregarious during long nights in the office filled with thumbtacks and beer from the bar cart. She'd also sat with him on Teams calls, saying nothing for some of the day while he quietly worked through lines to inspire consumers to do what they did best. 

But she'd never seen him outside the strict confines of work culture. In public, they were free to cross the lines of office politics and show their true selves. Asia's true self included a departure from relaxed trousers and professional shoes to make way for short shorts and sky-high heels that accentuated a figure Kelvin couldn't help but notice. 

His eyes slowly swept over her body while he finished his thought. "I'm in here because my boy just got his heart broken and needed some comfort. What you doin' in here? I ain't know Asia knew how to have fun!" 

"Nah, I can have fun. I just don't like y'all like that." 

"That is abundantly clear," he laughed. "You haven't had lunch with me in like two weeks. We got a problem?" 

Asia chuckled at him, trying to press her while she pulled cash out of her purse to pay the bartender. "I knew you missed me. I've been busy. Kam's been on my ass about the Moet timelines, and I'm trying to slim down a little bit for my birthday trip anyway. I can't keep eating smash burgers with you three times a week." Kelvin listened as he lazily pushed her hand away as soon as he could reach it and replaced her payment method with his. 

He lightly bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to look down at her legs again. "You definitely doin' that," he complimented, a flirtatious lilt thick in his delivery. "Make it up to me tonight." 

"How?" 

"Kick it with us. We won't be out that long." Kelvin used his head to gesture toward a table to people Asia assumed to be his friends. Two girls and three guys, leaving her to make the group even. He caught her trepidation and stepped a little closer so that she could see his face clearly under blinking strobe lights. "I got you. We can leave at any time if you want. Drinks on me."

Asia rolled her eyes. "I'm not askin' you to do that." 

"You don't need to. I aim to please, love. C'mon."

Part of her wanted to refuse his invitation and use Sabrina as her scapegoat. After all, she did step out as one half of a pair. 

Then, the other part directed her attention to the tall woman conspicuously making her way to the front entrance, her phone pressed to her ear, and an Uber waiting as her chariot to carry her away from the ball and to a man too shady to ever be a prince. 

Kelvin stood awaiting her answer, his eyebrows doing a bit of a cha-cha as he made them wiggle. 

Fuck it. "Alright. Start with a lemon drop, and make sure to introduce me as your favorite coworker. Really do your big one."

"Still demanding outside of the office. I like that." He bit his lip again, this time checking her out without shame. When she returned his brazen act with one of her own, he chuckled and flagged down someone who could really get the night going. "Aye, my man! Let me get something for my favorite coworker."

By the time he'd ushered her over to his group of way too cool art friends, Kelvin had dropped the coworker portion of Asia's title and shortened it to "my favorite."

They all sat huddled at a small booth in the back of the bar, nearly stacked on top of each other. It was Kelvin's idea for her to sit sandwiched between him and his homeboy, all but forcing her against his warm chest for any chance at comfort. It was his idea for the group to continue their conversation about sex and relationships even though it had fizzled to focus on a Black sitcom hierarchy debate. And it was absolutely his idea for him and Asia to hang back together once the other members of the group had set off to find comfort as pairs for the night. 

She could only take credit for dropping the frills in their cocktails and settling for straight shots of her good friend, vodka. 

Kelvin tossed back shot number he didn't know and let his mouth curl into a devious smirk while he watched Asia reapply clear lip gloss that caught the light just right. "You use dating apps, or you more of an organic meet-up type of lady?"

"I have profiles, but I can't tell you the last time I used one. And nobody is checking for me outside." Asia laughed quietly at the idea of someone approaching her for any reason other than asking for directions. 

"What's so funny?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. That you think people are interested in me to the point that they're swiping right of whatever the fuck."

"So you just be on there for fun? Nothing is happening?" He scoffed to himself and plucked a lukewarm fry from a basket in front of him. "You're at least hooking up."

"I've never hooked up in my life."

Asia tried to rush past her drunk confession, tried to push away the words just as quickly as they'd entered the atmosphere, but Kelvin had already heard them. 

He nodded, mostly to himself, then shrugged. "That's okay. Nothin' wrong with it. You waiting for marriage?" 

"Fuck no," she scoffed. "I'm just waiting for someone nice enough to not make it weird. It's embarrassing enough being 30 and a virgin. Not really trying to make it weird by discussing it over appetizers."

"Like we doin' now?" 

Asia laughed and finally took her shot while Kelvin watched her with the sheen of drunk thoughts clouding his eyes. He brushed her hair over her shoulder softly, his fingers lingering on her collarbone for a few seconds before he threw his arm over the top of the booth's seat and scooched lower, settling into a comfortable manspread.  

"This is different. You're easy to talk to and not being creepy about it." 

He nodded in understanding. "So somebody nice. What else?"

"I don't know. Somebody willing to teach and be patient. I'm a quick study. I just need the opportunity to learn somewhere safe." Vulnerability shared with a man she only kind of knew personally made Asia shrink in embarrassment as she rushed to clean up her verbal mess. "That's stupid to want, though. Nobody's trynna teach a grown woman how to fuck. I'm cool with missing out."

She'd started to try to cover her tracks so much that she didn't hear when Kelvin spoke back to her until the last words had tumbled from his lips in a broken sentence. 

She doubled back. "Wait. What did you say?"

"I said I'll do it. I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to fuck," he said so matter of fact that he sounded like he was talking about his grocery list or errands to run and not having sex. He continued despite the clear look of shock on Asia's face. "Only if you want me to. I'm cool either way."

"I-I mean…I don't…if you want. Maybe we shouldn't –."

He cut in and pointed at her shot glass. "You done or want another one?" Asia sputtered out that she'd had all she could drink in one night, and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket to pluck a credit card from his wallet's inventory. He tapped her hip to silently tell her to let him out, and she followed directions blindly for a reason she couldn't explain. Once he was standing, he looked down at her with a soft smile and kind eyes. "Just think about it and let me know. No pressure."

Asia didn't know what made her text Kelvin after work the following Thursday evening. All she knew was that he told her that his Friday was booked, but Saturday was all hers. 

They agreed on him stopping by at 8:30 p.m., after anybody planning to go out had started their dressing routines and those intent on staying in had wrapped up any reason to leave the house and turned in for the evening. In her mind, that ensured none of her neighbors would see her bringing in a man clearly there for a singular purpose. 

His prompt knock on her apartment door scared her even though she was the one who told him how to access guest parking, gave him a visitor's code, and told him her apartment number. 

Wiping her sweating palms on her pajama shorts, she padded toward the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open. 

He smirked when she came into view. "On the first knock? That's hospitable."

"Shut up," she admonished, though the joke had done its intended job and chipped away at building nerves. "And take off your shoes. There's fresh slippers in the basket if you need 'em."

Kelvin took Asia turning her back to him as an invitation to enter her apartment and to take a gander at the space he'd partially seen in meetings and their solo "work sessions." 

Despite not being a hands-on creative, he could tell she had an appreciation for art. Reyna Noriega art prints and classic hip-hop album covers formed a gallery wall over her couch. A display of CDs that he had no idea people still collected sat stacked by a vintage boombox he was sure cost her a pretty penny. Potted monsteras and a well-loved fiddle leaf fig took up space beside a large window overlooking a bustling street below. It was clear she loved color from the maroon sectional in her quaint living room and the complementary pillows crowded in the corner he usually saw her sit in. He immediately recognized her desk and the lit 'on air' wall sign above it, making him feel like he knew something about her with the present situation carrying the kind of nervousness and uncertainty that typically came with first dates. 

This wasn't a date, though. This was business—an agreement—a short-term arrangement for long-term success. 

Asia cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of water before sliding it across the island to Kelvin, who took a generous sip from his spot in one of her barstools. She watched him intently as she stood on the other side, waiting for less abrupt words to populate her mind. They never came, and she couldn't stand the wait any longer. 

She ran her hand up the back of her head to adjust flyaways beneath her fresh bun before speaking. "We should discuss a few ground rules…if that's cool." 

"It's your world," he laughed. "I'm just here to help. By all means, go ahead."

Asia took a deep breath and then reached for her phone to navigate to the unnecessarily detailed note she spent the previous night typing out. "Okay. To start, I need to see your most recent test results, and they can't be older than three months from today's date." 

"Cool," Kelvin shrugged, tapping at his phone screen before placing it back on the counter. "Those are from, like, two months ago. I can get you something more recent if that isn't enough."

A soft buzz in her hand signaled the delivery of his test results neatly packed in a PDF sent via iMessage, making her swallow a lump in her throat. Things were getting too real. She continued. "I'll…give those a look," she started, semi-impressed that he was keeping up with his health in that manner. "Next, no bondage or sub/dom play. I'm not into it. I haven't tried it, but I just know I'm not."

"Me neither. What's the next one?"

"We gotta use protection every time." 

"Copy." 

"No staying the night." 

"I don't like it over here that much anyway."

Amusement tugged at Kelvin's lips while he watched her scroll further down her list. Deep brown skin. She had narrow hips that almost duped you into thinking there was no ass behind her. Strong thighs. A beautiful smile. A good head on her shoulders. Perfect lips. Pretty —

Kelvin blinked back into the present when he heard his name called. "Say that again. My fault."

Asia rolled her eyes and spoke a little louder. "We can't change our behavior at work. No one can know about this."

"Bet." He was so nonchalant all the time, so unbothered by the circumstances no matter the topic at hand. Deadlines didn't matter. Client gripes and regroup after regroup did little to deter him. He'd always shrug his shoulders under one of his many distressed hoodies and proceed unphased. Kelvin took another sip of water before answering the question he sensed in Asia's eyes. "I'm rolling off of the only work we share anyway, so we won't interact that much."

"Woah, how come?" Asia caught her reaction and tried to dial her sadness back a bit. "I mean, you're… you're not leaving, right?"

Kelvin flashed a toothy grin while adjusting the blue velour durag tied tight on his head. "Nah, I'm still around for now. I raised my hand to take on some pitch work for a challenge. I'm bored." He paused to turn his lips up in an accusatory pout. "You gon' miss me, huh?"

"Stop trying to distract me. Which brings me to my next rule: no kissing during sessions or otherwise. Let's try to keep this as platonic as possible."

"Oh, nah." The one rule Asia assumed Kelvin would accept with no pushback was the one that gave him the most pause. He twisted his face into one of instant disapproval. "I don't have sex with people I can't kiss or hang out with. I know it's just physical, but I still need to like you as a person. Nah. We gotta kiss. Go get some food every once in a while. Something. Nah."

He was adamant and unyielding in his need for physical and emotional intimacy despite their arrangement not being one meant for the comforts of a relationship. 

Asia noted his gripe and raised a hand in surrender while she backspaced in her note. "Okay, okay. We can kiss. I'm probably not that great at it, but — "

"You don't need to worry about what you're good at with me. Nobody goes to swim lessons expected to know how to swim. I'm teaching, and you're learning. That's the point of all this."

Stunned silence dropped Asia's jaw for a half second until she had enough nerve connections in her brain to pick it up and try to salvage her image. Kelvin tried to hide his smile behind his near-empty plastic water bottle while he watched her with satisfaction dancing in his eyes.  For someone usually so poised, so sure of themselves as they moved through the tiny world that overlapped between them, Asia was flustered easily. A crack in the armor. Endearing. It made her human to Kelvin, who saw her as a mythical creature filled with unattainable magic. 

Standing, Kelvin pulled his hoodie over his head, a question muffled as he disappeared behind thick fabric. "Can I ask you some stuff, or is this more of an interview? I know I got movie star charm, but I do like a back-and-forth every once in a while. Keeps me humble." 

"Oh, brother," Asia groaned. "Ask what you gon' ask, Kelvin, before I change my mind."

A glimpse at his abdomen as his disrobing incidentally lifted the crisp white tee beneath did all the heavy lifting to stir Asia into crackling embers of desire masked by a deteriorating cool exterior. 

He caught her looking, eyes wide like deer in headlights and winked on his way to plop down on her couch. "This is niiice," he drew out, scooting deeper to get comfortable. Where you get this? Don't let me find out you've been letting me pay for lunch, and you're rich." 

"That's why I gave you a break the last few weeks. See how I look out for you." she joked, earning a dimpled smile in return. "Now, ask your question." 

Kelvin called her over with a quick tilt of his head and a disarming smile. "Come over here first." 

In her inner monologue, Asia passed the blame for her slow walk toward him to the fleeting gleam of his earrings under her bamboo floor lamp acting as a homing signal. In reality, it was simple attraction. Bare bones, uncomplicated attraction. He was boyishly handsome, the type of man you meet in college and remain "friends" with until one of you gets bored. Clean facial hair, glowing skin, straight white teeth, a sturdy hairline – all the makings of a classically fine man. What he lacked in height, he made up in personality and a beguiling genuineness. 

That's what carried her the few steps from the kitchen to Kelvin's side, her eyes low until he tugged her down into his lap. He chuckled into her ear as his soft hands rubbed a soothing path up and down her exposed thigh while he cradled her. "You ever hear your neighbors in here?"

"That was your question, Kelvin? If I can hear my neighbors? Not usually, no." 

He quietly scanned the corners of the room, nodding to himself in silent confirmation, then looked back at Asia with a lazy smile. His lips pecked at her neck before he spoke against her delicate skin. "And I wanted you to tell me about Friday. I saw you got the Hustle this week. That's big, girl. Congratulations." 

His deep mumbles vibrated across Asia's body, awakening nerve endings in places she didn't know could feel so electrified. Her legs tensed as she fought for a response. "Thank you. I…I wasn't expecting it." 

"I don't know why. You been bustin' your ass. Stayin’ late…” His voice trailed as his fingers danced across her stomach to the waistband of her shorts, hovering. Waiting. Teasing. "Comin' early. Skipping lunches. The least they could do is recognize you."

All of Asia's words came out in a needy rush of air. "Yeah, I guess so." 

"I know so." Long, deft fingers slid into Asia's shorts and over her thin underwear, looking for tension to relieve. "Tell me to stop whenever you want." Kelvin kept his lips attached her neck just as his hold on her waist tightened and her eyelids started to flutter closed. He spoke low and smooth, like warm honey. "What'd you do today?" 

A sigh and a whimper tumbled from her lips, fragmented and surprised. "I…I went to the farmer's market. The one uptown by the Whole F-foods." 

"What'd you get? More of that fruit juice you let me taste?" 

"Mhm." 

Asia had something else to say, something possibly important, had it popped up at a different time. However, the words faded into a haze of disjointed thoughts once Kelvin started making slow revolutions against her clothed center. The spot grew wetter with each pass. He listened to her try to breathe for a few seconds with the ghost of a smile on his lips while he focused on easing her into more stimulation. 

He rubbed his nose against her cheek to gently direct her to say more. "And what else? Focus on that so I can focus on you." 

Heat came first. An uncontrollable, blazing internal heat radiated from Asia's shoulders to her clenched toes. The fire inside created steam in her mind that needed a minute to clear before she could mentally wipe it away and think about the moments in her day that meant more than having her body controlled by a man who, less than a week ago, had never even seen her ankles. 

"Lunch," she panted. "I had lunch at…at a, um, a vegan spot. It was terrible. I…oh my God…I wasted my money." 

"You're vegan?" 

"No. Just…thought I'd try something different today." 

"Oh yeah?" Kelvin pulled his hands away long enough to lick the tips of his fingers before returning them further south. Slick and searching for warmth, he carefully led them into her panties for skin-to-skin contact. "You're full of surprises today, huh?"

Asia's answer became a shuddering sigh that never quite let all the air out of her lungs before she went to inhale. 

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Asia breathing in an uneven pattern, eyes closed and twitching behind crinkled lids. Kelvin slowly, deliberately circling the center of her pleasure with his nose pressed to her neck, inhaling the shea and sandalwood body wash coating her skin. Both of them caught up in the rapture of an impromptu lesson one. 

Kelvin snuck his free hand beneath Asia's shirt, caressing his way to both nipples that ached for contact. He ran his thumb across his favorite one a few times over before cupping her entire breast to gently hold it in the palm of his hand. 

"I didn't know this was the first session," Asia whispered as her body grew rigid and wetness coated her thighs, the words almost lost to the low roar of her dishwasher across the room. 

"It doesn't have to be. Consider it a chemistry test," he answered. "Wanna stop?"

Asia rushed to answer, "No! Stay right there…please."

Hearing her beg for his touch, for the feeling he was producing, sent Kelvin into a tailspin of emotions that he fought to put back into the mental box he never planned to open. But he couldn't escape the burning desire to press kisses from her shoulder to the corner of her lips. "Look at you. I think you know what you want," he commented as he increased the pace to elicit the whimper she tried to keep tucked away. "Don't be shy. Speak up." 

She couldn't. Even with the words knocking against the container of her mind like cold rainwater on a tin roof, she couldn't fight the sighs and sultry mewls taking precedence over making requests. All she could squeak out as her stomach clenched to welcome the first shocks of impending orgasm was a measly whimper.

"That's okay," he murmured. "We can work on it. Breathe deep for me." 

Or don't breathe at all. Asia's lungs chose the second option, involuntarily holding in a breath to receive the single digit tentatively plunging inside her while tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Kelvin kissed away the initial shock until she nervously returned the affection. 

It was all too good. The taste of mint on his tongue, the feeling of his hands dragging out every sigh and sound she could concoct, the way his moans mingled with hers, how his eyes seemed to try and convey something more than the carnal situation they'd found themselves in – all too good and far exceeding expectations.

Plush lips moved against each other like seasoned lovers, syncing up without much pomp and circumstance. Asia was right. She was a quick study. She'd learned the ebbs and flows of a solid kiss in no time as she relaxed into Kelvin's touch. Nervousness had quickly dissipated into familiar passion, loosening the bolts on what they both assumed would be an awkward first encounter.

Her hips swiveled against his lap in time with each push and pull of his middle finger. She could handle more. She deserved more. 

When his ring finger joined the show, Kelvin pulled away from their lip lock to let Asia's throaty moan ping off the walls and ceiling. "There she is," he cooed against her lips. "I knew you had it in you." 

Her private time had nearly gone unrivaled until he came along. She'd mastered how to get herself off efficiently with nothing more than a little mental stimulation and time on her hands. This was different. This was exhilarating. Having praise and pleasure in equal measure scratched an itch that she'd almost believed would never be satiated. Now, she had her first taste of a drug she wasn't sure she wanted to quit. 

Kelvin's reminder to breathe echoed through Asia's mind as her body welcomed release. Waves of warmth cascaded across her limbs to match the near sob in her throat. Sweat pooled beneath her t-shirt. He kept his lips pressed to hers, creating a heady feeling that juxtaposed the pressure quaking her insides and sending her essence all over his knuckles. Her breathing all but stopped until the slow tingle of feeling returning to her toes reminded her that not only was she still alive, but her coworker still had his hands in her pants and a silly, self-satisfied grin on his lips. 

"You sound so pretty when you're not yelling at me through a screen." Kelvin pulled his fingers out of her warmth and immediately stuck them into his mouth for the taste he'd been fiending for. Asia watched him with shock and intrigue on her face as he hummed in approval at his reward for all his hard work. "And you acted like you didn’t wanna kiss but you're not bad at it. I've had way worse." 

Asia's rolling eyes matched the deadpanned response she used to hide how flustered she was. "Oh, great. I was starting to worry," she scoffed. "Get out of my house, Kelvin. I'll see you next weekend. Same time?"

A pang of disappointment hit him as she stood to scurry toward her bathroom without sparing him a second look. "We don't have to be like that," he called after her. "It's up to you, but I got a Disney bundle and Uber One until the end of the month. And you gotta eat, right?"

"I guess so," Asia answered, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed while she quietly committed the dimples in Kelvin's cheeks to memory. "Can we get something I can put hot sauce on?" 

"You want your Wednesday usual?" 

She smirked and turned her back to leave. "Don't go browsing around my Netflix messing up my recommendations and shit. Wait 'til I come back!" 

Kelvin kept his smart remark to himself and sank deeper into the couch to scroll through dinner options until he found his target. An intentional lick of his lips when he knew he was completely alone brought Asia back into the room by taste and imagination, reinvigorating a stirring below the navel that he couldn't relieve until he was in the privacy of his own thoughts. 

Adjusting himself to find relief, Kelvin released a low chuckle and licked his lips again for the thrill. 

All business and no play was boring. Next Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

--------

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[bvidzsoo]

Every time I see you... (masterlist) ↰

...my throbbing heart rate spikes up

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

☆ Genre: slice of life, established situationship, post university setting, angst, fluff, smut ☆ Rating: 18+ (mature) ☆ Status: on-going

Summary: You had no issues committing to a relationship, but you've had too much misfortune while dating, so, really, you didn't even want to hear the word relationship. What you had with Mingi, however, was special...it was never said out loud, but to any onlooker, it was obvious what you were: just two people in love. Is that something you can come to terms with? Are you willing to open yourself to the man you've always loved but didn't fully acknowledge until now?

☆ Visuals ☆ 

︵⭒Chapter 1

︵⭒Chapter 2

︵⭒Chapter 3

︵⭒Chapter 4

︵⭒Chapter 5

︵⭒Chapter 6

︵⭒Chapter 7

︵⭒Chapter 8

🎧Be my little secret, keep it, hush, hush, but I think I'm in love🎧 

A/N: Man, I miss writing for my Mingi. IOMT really snatched my wig when it comes to Yunho, can one be bias wrecked by their own bias? Apparently, yes, because that's what happened. I've got this idea not so randomly, for those who know Giselle's solo song Dopamine, it was heavily influenced by it. I adore the song and can relate a lot to it, so here's me word vomiting another story for you guys! I'll start a separate taglist for this mini-series, so let me know on this post if you'd like to be tagged! I hope to see you all soon! ^^ Get ready to read about me gushing about Song Mingi for another eight chapters, yay! divider I hope to update every week, but it might get slower if we catch up with the chapters I have written so far.

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[captain-bubble-wrap]

You have to do it! Grocery shopping with Quinn! 🛒 ☺️

Because of those shopping gifs, huh? I know the ones!

"Ready, babe?" Quinn spoke louder than his usual, putting on his flat-billed hat in the mirror while he waited for you at the door. He had been ready to go for a few minutes but would never purposefully rush you, especially for something as mundane as grocery shopping. He really didn't want to go but the house was looking a little bare and the fridge was near depleted of anything fresh. It was simply time to go.

Quinn had told you that he was fine going solo but you had insisted on keeping him company, and didn't think it fair to make him go alone when you used equally as much of everything as he did, if not more especially when he was on the road.

"Yeah, I'm ready!" You said, hurrying from somewhere else in the apartment. You were still buttoning your coat when you got to his side.

"You look cute," he commented, wrapping his arms around you for a moment.

You smiled, "Thanks, babe! You don't look too bad yourself!"

Quinn would laugh and give you a quick kiss before opening the door for you. You had no idea where the two of you were headed, but anywhere with Quinn was a good place to be. Outside, it was much colder than it was normally due to the Artic blast moving through the region, and it made being outside quite uncomfortable. Thankfully, you wouldn't have too far to walk, in any of your errand stops, but when the air hurt to breathe -- it was never ideal.

"I don't think I've ever missed the rain so much in my life," you joked, climbing into the passenger seat.

"This isn't my favourite either," he replied clicking both seat warmers on as soon as the car was started. "Won't take long now. You know you can stay home, babe. No sense in you being cold if you don't have to."

"I know, but I don't want you to go alone!"

Quinn shook his head as he smiled, "Babe--"

"I know, I know, you don't mind," you mocked him playfully. "But I mind, so I'm going with you!"

"You're ridiculous," he laughed. "Alright, well, if you're sure. Off we go."

- - -

"I'm going to drop you at the door then I'll go find a parking spot," Quinn said, pulling into the lot. "And before you say anything, I want you to go inside and be warm."

Mustering the deepest pout you could, you looked at Quinn as the car came to a stop, but he wasn't having any part of it. "Quinn--"

"Babe, just trust me, please."

"Fiiiiiine," you whined, slipping out of the car and going into the store alone. You'd stay just inside the automatic doors and wait to see where he parked. Everyone and their mothers seemed to be out shopping today, forcing Quinn to have to park in the near back lot. He looked so miserable as he rushed toward the store, trying to duck down in to his coat as his hands were buried in his pockets. When the double doors opened, he'd make his way to you, his cheeks red from the harsh air.

"Brrr!" Quinn remarked, putting an arm around you. "It's cold in here, too!"

"Says the hockey player!"

He laughed, sheepishly, "It's not that cold on the ice like it is outside!"

"Fair enough," you teased. "Basket or cart?"

"Probably cart. Stock you up before I go out of town next week."

You looked down at being reminded that Quinn would soon be leaving for more games away from home. Your bed wouldn't be as warm, there would be no one to share a bath with before bed, no one to laugh with over dinner in the evenings, and the apartment would soon be deafly quiet. Being unable to keep your expression from dropping, you would turn your face away from him for a moment to keep from crying in public.

Quinn, always in tune with your usual moods would notice this change and would ask you about it after returning from getting you both a cart. "You got quiet, babe. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you mumbled, picking up a random item to look at it as if you were interested in taking it home.

"I didn't think you liked peanut butter," he quipped, leaning over your shoulder at the package of fudge you were holding.

"I-- don't," you said, unable to lie, and putting it back on the display you had robbed it from. Your cover was blown before you could even get behind it. Damn Quinn for being so quick sometimes, though you knew he hated when you kept things from you, namely when things were bothering you.

"Did I say something?" Quinn questioned, his hand resting on your waist, hoping you'd look at him.

"No, baby, it's me being sad over you leaving," you finally confessed, only looking at him after you had spoken your truth. "I'm just-- being a baby."

"You're my baby," he would whisper in your ear, in the hopes that it might make you smile if only because of how cringe it had been. "I know you don't like when I leave, and trust me, I know how it feels."

Your eyes were beginning to sting, fighting against your emotions, "I know it's your job, Quinn. I'm not trying to be one of those girls who comes off all spoiled and selfish. I just-- I just miss you."

Quinn smiled, bringing his lips to your forehead while you still faced him. "I know you do, and I don't think you're being selfish. You understand that this is my life. No one says it's easy, sweetheart."

With a sigh you leaned into him, face buried in the curve of his neck. At the moment, you didn't care that you were in public, having an episode of emotional weakness. You were in Quinn's arms and safe, everyone else could kick rocks. They didn't need to understand.

"Do you want to go home, babe?" He asked, leaning his head against yours.

You wouldn't answer him, you'd just shake your head slightly.

"For what it's worth, I'm not gone yet," he said with a smile in his tone.

This would get you to pull your eyes back to his. He had a point, and one that you were thankful for.

"I sorry, Quinn," you apologized solemnly. "I shouldn't be that way."

He kissed you again, knowing it often fixed things when you were feeling down, but he felt that you were struggling. "You're perfectly fine. I should be more careful with my words."

"You don't need to do that. I'll be okay. Maybe one day it won't hurt as bad-- but...I dunno."

Frowning, Quinn would touch your cheek, but his hands were cold. You'd take it in both of yours and try your best to give him a smile. "I love you. Sorry you have to put up with me like this."

"I just hope I help instead of making you sad."

"You do, I promise."

On that positive note, the two of you would finally get back to the reason of why you were there in the first place. "Should we get to shopping?" He laughed.

"Probably!"

- - -

"Bread?" He asked, standing before a literal wall of options.

"Oh, yeah! Sourdough!"

"Which is--," he stammered, watching you pinpoint the loaf you were after before he could finish his question. "That-- was oddly impressive."

"I know my bread!"

"That you do," he laughed, as you placed in in the cart. "What else do you want?"

Looking at the contents of the cart, you wondered if there was anything else that you needed. There was meat, vegetables and fruit, there were even a couple bottles of wine, and nothing else was ringing in your brain that you needed to get. That would likely hit you only after you were home.

"I can't think of anything. Is there anything you want?"

Quinn looked just as lost as you did which is probably why he laughed at your question. "I can't think of anything either."

"Oh! I know!" You said, excitedly. "I've been craving breaded shrimp!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Remember those sushi rolls I made with the fried shrimp, avocado and cucumber?"

His face lit up at the mention of sushi, "Those were so good! Are you saying we're having sushi for dinner?"

"Of course!"

- - -

"Here, take my card. I'm going to run out and get the car started and then I'll meet you out front and get them loaded, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said before placing another kiss your forehead. "Wait for me inside, please."

Not wanting to argue with him when he was being so kind and considerate, you nodded while he headed for the harsh world outside the store. It would take a while to get everything scanned and bagged, but eventually the time had come to brace for going back out into it.

Quinn was right where he said he would be, the silver SUV rolling into view when he saw you waiting there. He'd get out and insist on taking the cart while you got into the warmed interior of the car.

"I can help you," you begged, talking to him from the front seat.

"It's alright, babe, you just sit tight. I'm alright. Hockey player, remember?"

You'd roll your eyes at him while smiling. "I offered."

"I know you did, and I appreciate it."

Once everything was said and done, the heat was set on full as the two of you headed off from the grocery; safe and sound from the blistering wind battering the car.

"Anywhere else we need to go?" He asked, a cold hand finding your thigh.

"I just want to go home."

"Home it is."

[arc-misadventures]

Dancing Partner

Summer: Hey, Jaune you okay, you look nervous?

Jaune: Like hell I am... I'm waiting for my date, and I'm scared as hell...

Summer: You have a date?! I thought you, and Qrow were flying solo for todays school dance?

Jaune: That was the plan, but my date said otherwise.

Summer: Otherwise?

Jaune: She said I was going to take her to the school dance as her date, or she'll castrate me.

Summer: Oh gods...

Jaune: I don't understand why she's doing this?! Raven is the last person I'd expect to want to go on a date, let alone to a dance!

Summer: R-Raven...? As in, Raven Branwen 'asked' you to the dance?!

Jaune: Yeah... She did... technically…

Summer: Why the hell would, Raven ask you out on a date? Hell, why would she ask anyone out on a date?

Jaune: How the hell am I supposed to know?! Ever since I beat her in that CQC bout we had she's been giving me odd looks. I think she's trying to tell me something in her own socially awkward way.

Summer: What do you think she's trying to tell you?

Jaune: Hell if I... know...

Summer: Jaune? What are you... Oh gods...

Raven: Hello, Jaune~! Summer, are you looking forward to today’s dance?

Summer: Yeah.. I am...

Jaune: Wow, Raven... you look gorgeous...

Raven: T-Thank you, Jaune...

Summer: Oh... oh that's interesting...

Raven: Ahem! Thank you, Summer for keeping my date company.

Summer: Oh... No problem.

Raven: Shall we take our leave, Jaune?

Jaune: Of course, I'll see you on the dance floor, Summer.

Summer: See you.

Raven: Oh wait, before I go...

(Raven walks over, and whispers in, Summer's ears.)

Raven: Tonight he's all mine~! But, in the future I don't mind sharing~!

Summer: W-W-What?!

Raven: Till later, Rosebud~!

Summer: ...

Summer: I-I don't think I'd mind sharing either...

[luveline]

id love to see eddie and a shy!reader at a concert. r is overwhelmed with the crowd and eddie is being his usual lovely reassuring self

love you sm!

ty for ur request! —eddie insists on taking care of you when you get overwhelmed in the middle of a concert. fem!reader, 1.3k

"This is insane, right?" Eddie asks. Or, yells. 

The ground thumps with music. The drum feels as though it's being beaten against your own chest, heat at every angle, lights flashing above and roaming downward. You blink against the purples and blues, your hand sweaty in Eddie's. 

"I'm sorry!" you shout, nodding down at your joined hands. 

Eddie tucks a limp curl behind his ear. "I'm gonna give you the sweatiest kiss anyone's ever given!" 

"Gross," you say, a half second before Eddie's pressing his lips to yours. You can feel the vibrations of the instruments through his skin. It almost tickles, but Eddie's rough touch helps. 

It's a nice kiss, but there's so much going on. The crowd swells with a unanimous cheer as one song ends and another begins. Eddie yanks himself away from you to grin at the performance, whooping as his favourite guitarist takes centre stage for an intro. You gulp in dank air, the person standing behind you treading on your shoes for the tenth time in as many minutes, the person to your right smelling of pot and beer, sticky thick. 

A firm arm curls around you. "You wanna go up on my shoulders?" Eddie asks. He must be pumping with adrenaline, his kisses quick and plentiful over your cheek as you attempt to answer. 

"As if, Eds." 

"What, you don't think I can get you up there?" 

"I know you can't." 

Eddie visibly registers your shifting mood. "Hey," he says, giving your shoulders a jog, "are you okay? You look like you're having a whitey without the smoke, babe!" 

"I'm okay, I…" You blink sweat from your eyes. "I'm really hot." 

"Take your jacket off, baby. I can hold it for you." 

You shrug out of your damp jacket but feel the same. Still, when Eddie says, "Better?" you smile and wrap your arm around his. 

"I'm good. Now shut up! This is my favourite one!" 

You're not telling the truth, but your enthusiasm fools him. Eddie slides an arm behind your back and you hug each other from the side to sing along. You like the music and you love Eddie, you're not interested in ruining the precious couple of hours you have here tonight. You can grin and bear it. You have been for a while. 

Or, you think you can, but you feel something warm on your leg, and you know it's just beer spilled from a crushed plastic cup, but your ears ache as the drum solo starts and fireworks burst at the front of the stage less than forty feet away. The crowd closes in. It's too much. 

"Eddie, I think," —he turns to look at you, eyes sparkling— "I need to go to the bathroom. Okay?" 

"I'll come with you!" 

"No! No, stay here, we'll never get this close to the front again!" 

"Are you kidding? What if something happened to you? I'd lose my mind!" Eddie nudges you toward the back of the venue. "Babe, I know the kind of creeps that hang around, I'm not letting you go by yourself!" 

You're sick of shouting at him to be heard. "No, I'll hold it!" You won't ruin his night. "I'm okay, I– I swear!"  

"Don't be stupid, let's go! It'll be nice to have a break from Doctor Marten," he says, looking quickly behind his shoulder at the perpetrator in question, the guy who keeps nipping your ankles with his thick gummy soles. 

You shake your head. Eddie shakes his head back at you incredulously, twining your fingers together as he starts to fight his way through the crowd, dragging you with him. People are ten times as likely to let you move backwards rather than toward the front, and soon the air is cooling, your skin damp and cold as the fresh breeze finally reaches you. The crowd thins. You can stretch your arms out without touching anyone for the first time in nearly an hour. 

The relief is enough to have you closing your eyes, savouring the sudden lack of input. 

Eddie pulls your hand between both of his, calluses and rings and all the things you love about him scratching your hands as he squeezes you. "Feel better?" 

You should've known he knew. Nodding sheepishly, you say, "Yeah." 

Your breathlessness must endear you to him. Eddie's on you like a rash. Your jacket slips where it's tucked under his arm, but he doesn't let go of your hand, stepping with one foot between yours, his long hair brushing your chest as he closes the space between you.

"It's a lot, I get it," he says. His voice is rough from yelling, scratchy as hewn stone. "I meant to bring you those ear plugs and I forgot. I'm sorry." 

"That's not your responsibility," you say, frowning. 

He smiles at you. "You're my girl, aren't you? I look after you 'n' I like doing it." Eddie laughs, the sort of laugh that says, I'm really happy, I love you, and it's easy. 

Or maybe you just want it to say that. Regardless, he bumps his forehead into yours and closes his eyes for a few seconds, rubbing your fingers between his mindlessly. "Take a minute. Chill. We can stay on the outskirts for the rest of the night if you need to." 

You can deal with being uncomfortable, just not to the level you had been. That was dire. This is fine. 

"Sorry for losing our spot," you say, pulling away from him. 

"Sorry for putting you in a tough one, babe. How do you feel now? Any better?" 

"Yeah, definitely." You pull your elbow up to wipe your burning cheeks. 

"Better enough for a very public and disgusting kiss?" he asks. 

"How disgusting?" you ask.

"Tongue, for sure." 

"That's not that bad." 

"Didn't say where, did I?" he asks. 

"If you lick my ear I'm gonna have to go hide in the girls bathroom," you warn, flushing at the thought of it alone.

Eddie doesn't give you the kiss he threatened you with, only throws his arms over your shoulders to cup your head, lips pressed to your temple. He rubs your shoulders, and after a moment he starts to sway you both from side to side in time with the slightly less hectic song being performed by the band. 

"Chill out," he murmurs. "I don't care where we're standing if I get to stand with you, loser." 

You hug his back. You're uncomfortably warm still, but his touch is a remedy for the general frazzle of white noise that had been fizzing between your ears. 

"Come on, let's go back," you say. The band starts on a song you know Eddie loves, you've heard it enough. 

"I wanna be like, oh, no, I can't tear myself away from you, but I really fucking love this one," Eddie says. He gives you no less than six apology kisses against the bridge of your nose before spinning on his heel to usher you back toward the crowd. Not in the throng of it, but at least you're facing the right way. "Whoo!" he yells.

"Play it louder!" you shout, knowing no one can hear your individual voice over the cacophony. "My boyfriend loves this one!" 

"I love this one!" Eddie shouts at the top of his lungs. 

Your heart lifts at his huge, beaming smile. All the sweat and noise and raw ankles are worth it just to see him this ridiculously happy. He makes it easier, checking in on you periodically for the rest of the night, and persuading you to leave a little early to escape the rush. When he swings your tired arms between your bodies and declares it the best night ever, you know you can keep on coming to gigs no matter how crazy they get. 

[songbirdseung]

happy accidents / park jongseong

synopsis: maybe getting hit by a basketball wasn't so bad?

pairing: jay x reader

warnings: injuries?

wc: 1k

Your solo trip to the park did not go as expected when you felt a sudden pain in your back. Ignoring the fact that your drink fell from your hand and almost ruined the white maxi skirt you were wearing, you turned towards the direction you assumed the ball came from.

"I'm so sorry, my friend is a clumsy idiot," a voice called out.

"Jake, shut up!" another male voice responded before facing you and apologizing for hitting you. "Basketball isn't really my thing, I'm more into guitars."

You blinked, still processing the pain and the sudden chaos. The guy who had spoken was now standing in front of you, looking genuinely apologetic. He had a warm, approachable aura that somehow made the whole situation less frustrating.

"It's okay," you managed to say, trying to smile despite the discomfort in your back. "Accidents happen."

Jake and another friend, who you assumed was Sunghoon, jogged over, both looking equally concerned. Jake had a sheepish grin on his face, while Sunghoon looked more serious.

"Are you alright?" Sunghoon asked, glancing at you with worry.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you replied, waving off their concern. "Just a bit startled, that's all."

Extending his hand. "I'm Jay, by the way. Sorry again for that."

You shook his hand, feeling a bit more at ease. "I'm Y/N. And it's really okay, Jay."

Jake stepped forward, looking at the fallen drink. "Can we at least get you another drink to make up for it?"

You nodded, appreciating their efforts to make amends. "That would be nice, thank you."

As the four of you walked towards the park's cafe, you couldn't help but notice how easy it was to talk to them. Jay, in particular, had a relaxed demeanor that made you feel comfortable despite the awkward start.

"So, guitars, huh?" you asked, looking at Jay.

He chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I've been playing for a few years now. Basketball is just something I do for fun with these guys."

"He's actually pretty good with a guitar," Jake added, nudging Jay playfully. "You should hear him sometime."

"Maybe I will," you said, smiling at Jay. "If you're not too busy accidentally hitting people with basketballs, that is."

Jay laughed, shaking his head. "I'll try to keep my basketball skills in check."

As you all reached the cafe, you realized that what started as a mishap had turned into a pleasant encounter. You got your new drink, and the conversation flowed easily among the four of you.

As the four of you sat at a small outdoor table at the park's cafe, the conversation continued to flow easily. You found yourself increasingly drawn to Jay's warm smile and easygoing personality. The initial awkwardness from the basketball incident had melted away, replaced by laughter and shared stories.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to the park today?" Jay asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"I was just taking a solo trip to enjoy the nice weather and watch the swans by the river," you replied, glancing in the direction of the serene water where you'd been earlier. "It's one of my favorite spots to relax."

Jay nodded, his eyes following yours. "I get that. Sometimes, you just need a peaceful place to unwind."

Jake and Sunghoon excused themselves to get refills, leaving you and Jay alone at the table. The air between you felt charged with a new energy, the kind that comes with the potential of something more than just a chance encounter.

Jay cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You know, I really am sorry about earlier. I hope it didn't ruin your day."

You shook your head, smiling. "Not at all. Actually, it turned out to be a lot better than I expected, thanks to you guys."

Jay's face lit up with a smile. "I'm glad to hear that. Maybe we could hang out more often. You know, when I'm not accidentally hitting you with basketballs."

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I'd like that. Maybe you can even show me some of your guitar skills."

Jay's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Deal. How about we exchange numbers? That way, I can let you know when we have a less hazardous hangout planned."

You both pulled out your phones, quickly exchanging numbers. As you saved his contact, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

Jake and Sunghoon returned with their drinks, and you all spent a bit more time chatting before deciding to head your separate ways. As you walked back through the park with Jay, the conversation continued to flow effortlessly.

"You know, I wasn't kidding about the guitar," Jay said, glancing at you. "I really would like to play for you sometime."

"I'd love that," you replied, looking up at him. "And maybe you can teach me a thing or two."

Jay's smile widened. "It's a date, then."

As you reached the park entrance, Jay turned to you with a sincere expression. "I had a great time today, Y/N. I'm really glad we met, even if it was because of my terrible aim."

"Me too, Jay," you said, feeling your cheeks warm. "Today turned out to be pretty amazing."

Before you could part ways, Jay hesitated and then spoke up. "Actually, do you mind if I walk you home? Just to make sure you get there safely."

Before you could respond, Jake and Sunghoon, who had been lingering nearby, burst into laughter. "Aww, look at Jay, being all protective," Jake teased, nudging Sunghoon.

"Yeah, make sure she gets home safe, lover boy," Sunghoon added with a grin.

Jay rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smile. "Cut it out, you two."

You laughed, appreciating their playful banter. "I'd love for you to walk me home, Jay. Thanks."

With a final wave to Jake and Sunghoon, you and Jay started walking in the direction of your home. As you strolled through the streets, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself feeling more and more comfortable around him.

As you approached your building, Jay turned to you with a soft smile. "Here we are."

"Thanks again for walking me home," you said, feeling a bit shy.

Jay shrugged, his smile warm. "Anytime. I had a great time today, Y/N."

"Me too," you replied. "See you soon?"

"Definitely," Jay said, giving you a wave as he started to walk away. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Jay," you called after him, watching as he disappeared down the street.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't help but smile. Today had turned out far better than you could have imagined, and you were already looking forward to your next meeting with Jay.

[mayashesfly]

An interesting part of Stayed Gone and Hell's Greatest Dad is how these two duets visualize the different dynamics Alastor has between his two "rivals"

In this analysis I'm mostly going to focus on RadioStatic since they're the ones I'm brainrotting over, though there are a few things I've noticed about HGD that I wanted to point out in this post.

So if you're looking for a more RadioApple focused analysis, I'm afraid this isn't it due to my inherent bias. If you have any thoughts about Alastor, Lucifer, and their dynamic or anything in general about this post feel free to share your own thoughts and ideas! ^w^

First let's get to the starting portions of the song when Alastor is in the picture.

In Stayed Gone, we're first presented with the background of Vox's store front having an empty neighbor by its side. Until Alastor enters the picture.

Visually this already tells us that there's always been an empty spot by Vox's side that Alastor fills.

Interestingly enough, we also see them being visualized as cleanly slotting together in the song even if there's a definite line between the two of them that keeps them separated. (Which is also present with how their store fronts are also separated by a wall)

Meanwhile, in Hell's Greatest Dad, we're shown that Lucifer and Alastor starts off in the song by being physically beside each other.

Which Lucifer swiftly leaves behind to have his solo portions.

In Stayed Gone, when Alastor first entered the picture, Vox tried to push Alastor out. But kept failing as Alastor continues to keep himself in the picture.

Interestingly enough, regardless of how much Vox pushes and how much Alastor keeps himself in the picture, they're always shown together visually even when they're singing by themselves.

And the moments when they're are on the screen alone instead of together is shown to be very brief before Alastor enters the picture yet again.

Contrasting that to Hell's Greatest Dad, they spend alot of their singing portions being solo and alone on the screen. Making a point to push the other away before making their point with Charlie.

They don't really stay in the same screen together and beside each other for long.

If Stayed Gone started with Vox trying to push Alastor away before begrudgingly letting him stay on the screen with him.

Then in Hell's Greatest Dad, they started off as staying and singing their parts separately away from each other as much as possible.

Before they stayed with each other for a longer period of time and making them have their more heated instrument duet and the arguing at the end.

You could argue that the two songs are an inverse of each other in a weird sense.

Another thing I've noticed is how Vox and Lucifer were presented differently when it comes to being "below" Alastor.

For Vox, there's a very clear line that makes this sense of being below Alastor very apparent.

Meanwhile Alastor's attempt at making Lucifer seem below him isn't as apparent and clear cut as Vox's

(I find it so fucking funny and hilarious how Alastor gave Lucifer a thumbs down. He didn't even pull anything like I thought he did at first!)

That's all the things I can compare and contrast between Stayed Gone and Hell's Greatest Dad for now.

I have more thoughts about how Alastor and Vox's relationship is presented, but they're not as closely tied/limited to these two songs so I'll talk about that in another post :P

This post isn't meant to say that either RadioStatic or RadioApple is better than the other as that's not my intention at all with this post. I just wanted to give my personal observations about these two songs and their differences and similarities.

So if I accidently offended anyone, I sincerely apologize.

Since I'm a RadioStatic fan, I naturally talk about them more in a positive light, though I did try to keep my observations about RadioApple as neutral as possible since I'm not as confident with my observations about them.

I hope this was a good read regardless!

[thefirstknife]

Kell's Vengeance is out, which is a sort of an epilogue/tying a loose end with Skolas. It's a special mode of Contest of Elders, with only three arenas and you fight Skolas at the end. Really cool mission, though a little tough. Can't be done solo at all, as in you cannot load in alone, you need at least two people, but absolutely recommended to go in with all three. Has a really interesting mechanic for the boss fight!

Either way, I'll post the dialogues from the mission because they're intriguing. When you load in:

Interesting! Fikrul left him in the Prison because it appears to have been difficult to work with him. Needless to say, he does answer to the challenge, so there does appear to be something of him left.

When you start the first encounter:

He's calling us slurs <3 Love that for him. "Dream of Mars" I presume refers to the stuff from D1 where after his rebellion failed, remaining House of Wolves tried continuing on Mars. I'm not sure if there's anything else about him personally being interested in Mars.

When you finish the second encounter:

Outside of Skolas desperately trying to insult us, we've got grandpa warcrimes hyping us up. I do wonder if Skolas is specifically talking to us, as in the Young Wolf, or if it's just generic anti-Guardian stuff. Obviously we can't know since Variks doesn't translate, but interesting to think about.

After you finish the mission, aka after you kill Skolas:

Strange! Keeping him actually still alive and telling us as well (so it's not like Taniks laughing at the end of DSC as an easter egg, this is way more direct) is very intriguing. I wonder if this is how they'll keep the Eliksni/Scorn threats around canonically now that Eramis is leaving and Fikrul is gone. Or if there will be some other reason for keeping him.

[sgtpeppers]

"You are my love, you are my song": Paul & Love As A Duet:

One of my favourite things Paul does in his work is use the idea of singing a song with someone as a metaphor for love or a relationship, so I've catalogued the main instances I think this occurs below!

Now, Paul writes lyrics about music/songs a lot (because he's Paul, he lives and breathes music), so this isn't every song that he references music or even references music in terms of a relationship, but the ones I felt explicitly have a 'loving someone = making music with them' lyric.

Starting in the late sixties we have three songs where there are lines about performing alone, or hearing someone else's song but not necessarily being a part of it.

So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin, You're waiting for someone to perform with

Hey Jude (1968)

And when at last I find you Your song will fill the air Sing it loud so I can hear you Make it easy to be near you

I Will (1968)

Far away my lover sings a lonely song And calls me to his side When a song of lonely love invites me on I must go to his side

Goodbye (1969), written for Mary Hopkin

Once we get to Paul's first solo album, where he's actively bringing Linda in on his music, we have this line about singing songs alone in the past tense:

I used to ride on my fast city line Singing songs that I thought were mine alone

Man We Was Lonely (1970)

But in the present tense, has someone to sing his songs with:

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song

Maybe I'm Amazed (1970)

On Wild Life, we have the song that captures the idea completely, Paul and Linda singing to and with each other, both of them simultaneously the song, the singer and a recipient of a love song:

You are my love, You are my song, linger on, You are my song, I am your singer. You are my one You are my own melody, You are my song, I am your singer. Someday when we're singing We will fly away, Going winging. Sing, singing my love song to you. My song is sung, When day is done harmonies will linger on, I am your singer, I am your singer, Singing my love song to you.

I Am Your Singer (1973)

In Venus and Mars, we've got a little nod to the same idea, although perhaps less viewing love as a song to perform together, but certainly tying the idea of love and a song together.

My heart cries out for love and all that goes with loving Love in song, love in song

Love in Song (1975)

Then the idea seems to disappear, but reappears on Tug of War with Here Today, a song we know is about John. This isn't necessarily in the same vein as the Linda songs, but the very literal reading is about the importance of singing with John and keeping someone's memory alive in a song.

And if you take that metaphor of love as a song, the duet can still be kept alive if Paul continues to sing for the both of them.

What about the time we met? Well I suppose that you could say that We were playing hard to get Didn't understand a thing But we could always sing … And if I say I really loved you And was glad you came along Then you were here today, For you were in my song

Here Today (1982)

From here on out my thoughts are more scattered, because I think primarily this idea is something he ties to Linda and John. But there are a few more interesting lyrics I think it's worth adding here.

In Press To Play, we've got a reference to 'our' song, which again, alludes to the idea that love is a song created between two people:

If you should ever feel that something's wrong, I'm going to want to put it right, To bring a happy ending to our song, I'll carry on believing in a love.

Only Love Remains (1986)

On Flaming Pie we have him reflecting on how songs were something he and the other Beatles could come back to, this idea of music being a thread that ties him to other people.

But we always came back to the song We were singing At any particular time

The Song We Were Singing (1997)

On Driving Rain he reflects on a time where he was free, his heart was 'singing' and he was doing that with someone else:

I well remember when my soul was free My heart could sing, so could we

Tiny Bubble (2001)

And then this idea of him constantly reaching out, singing a song and waiting for someone else to join in:

If you love me, won't you call me I've been waiting, waiting too long In my soul is constant yearning Always singing, singing this song

Anyway (2005)

I'm not really trying to make some big point here, I just love this motif and especially the ways I think John, Linda and music all tangle together in his head. I'm not usually one for digging into every little line of a song for some sort of hidden meaning, but I do think it's interesting to note when patterns emerge in a body of work.

If anyone's got an additions/thoughts/corrections (or has written a similar post with a more coherent point), please do share, I love chatting about this stuff and reading other people's thoughts!