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rebelfell · 3 months ago

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shelter from the storm

eddie munson x fem!reader

When your power gets knocked out, your neighbor comes to check on you and make sure you’re okay. Among other things.

18+, MDNI 2.8k

cw: plus-size reader, drinking/smoking, references to r’s shitty ex/domestic disputes, some good old making out & grinding.

The lights in your trailer barely flickered when the storm outside knocked out your power.

In an instant you were plunged into total darkness, broken up only by brief flashes of lightning that struck overhead. The silence that engulfed you was almost oppressive, the outage having silenced everything, down to the ambient noise you had grown so accustomed to you only noticed it missing once it was gone—the distant drone of your A/C unit, the steady hum of your fridge, the static buzz of your radio.

They all ceased at once, leaving only the sounds of the storm and your heavy breathing.

You’d curled up on the sofa just as it was getting started, your eyes drifting from the old black and white movie playing on your TV to watch the trees bend and sway in the howling winds, dark clouds heavy with rain rolling in to blot out the sun.

And if you just so happened to catch a glimpse of your next door neighbor outside weatherproofing his windows, dressed in nothing but gray sweats slung dangerously low on his narrow hips and showing off his toned, tapered waist…

Well, that was just a bonus.

You certainly hadn’t chosen this spot in particular for its view of Eddie’s place. And it wasn’t like you had sat here many, many times before to watch him lounging on his porch, strumming his beat-up acoustic, or doing maintenance on his van in a sweaty tank top that clung so artfully to his lean frame, showing off sinewy, tattooed arms that flexed with every crank of a wrench and made your mouth run dry imagining his veins bulging while he cranked something else.

No, you simply enjoyed watching the storm. Seeing the rain come down in sheets, darkening the earth and tamping down the dust of the main dirt road. You found it oddly soothing to see the garishly bright cracks of lightning split the sky before the BOOM of thunder that followed.

At least until the power went out.

You jumped slightly at it, in spite of yourself, heartbeat picking up in your chest. You inhaled deeply, taking a moment to steady yourself only for you to jump all over again as someone started knocking rhythmically on your front door.

It was Eddie. And he was drenched.

In the handful of seconds it must have taken him to leave his place and cross the road, he had been effectively soaked through.

His clothes were clinging to him, his white shirt translucent enough in some places you could see the black ink drawings scrawled on his skin under it. And his long hair, typically all frizz and fluff, had started to form into wet clumps, his short bangs plastered to his forehead, water running down his soft features. And his pants…

Well, you couldn’t even trust yourself to look down at his pants right now.

But even in his current state, his smile still shone like pure sunshine as he grinned and motioned behind you inside your darkened trailer.

“I saw your lights went out too,” he said. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh…oh yeah, I’m–I’m fine,” you replied, shifting excitedly under the intensity of his gaze.

“You sure? You look a little…” His eyes flickered as they ran up and down your body, lingering on the sight of your bare legs in your sleep shorts, your thighs pressed tight together. “...spooked.”

You swallowed harshly, practically gulping as his eyes returned to your face.

“N-no, I’m just—” you tittered nervously, “Sorry, it must be the storm. I’m fine, really.”

“Oh. Okay. I, uh…I guess I’ll be going, then” he said, glancing out at the storm raging beyond the cover of your porch. You felt your bottom lip pull between your teeth as you watched him turn.

“Eddie, wait!”

You called out to him, words tumbling forth in a mad dash. For a moment, you feared the storm might be too loud and he wouldn’t hear you over it, but it seemed your voice had risen enough to make him pause, his foot hovering over the top step, Adidas slide being pelted with rain.

“Do you want a drink?” you asked.

He looked back at you over his shoulder and then slowly swiveled back around, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. You licked your lips, still trying to be coy as you held his gaze.

“I made up a cooler in case the power went out,” you explained. “Y’know, just to avoid opening up the fridge. Wasn’t exactly expecting to need it so soon, but…”

You gave a little shrug of your shoulders and leaned up against the door frame. Eddie’s eyes traveled all across your body again, and from the salacious look in his eyes, you might have thought you’d just offered to blow him right there on your porch. Which you hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.

He jerked his chin lightly in a nod, Cheshire Cat grin spreading. Teeth showing.

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

Eddie settled himself in on the couch while you went to retrieve a pair of beers from the cooler, lighting some candles along your way.

Seeing the one you’d preemptively set out on the coffee table, he leaned forward and dug his Zippo from his pocket. He lit it on his thigh, dragging it towards his body to open the top cover and then flicking it forward against his pant leg to strike it.

A long flame emerged from the silver box and he touched it to the wick, face bathed in the same wash of warm, orange light as when he lit up a cigarette or a joint. He caught your eye as you watched him from the kitchen and you chuckled when he started to expertly flip the lighter over and under his fingers, shiny metal catching the candlelight before it was tucked away.

He held his hand out for the beer you extended as you approached and you tried not to think too hard about just how large it looked as it wrapped around the emerald body of the bottle, his chunky silver rings only making his long fingers look all the more delectable. The flame from the candle on the table reflected in his eyes that had gone black in the dark. As though they were all pupil.

“Nice view,” he smirked, his gaze dancing as he nodded out the window at his own trailer.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, settling into the cushions. “Except for when my neighbor’s out there.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie’s brow arched, crooked smile still spread wide. “He must be super distracting. Can’t keep your eyes off him, can you?”

You scrunched your nose, bobbing your head.

“More like I can’t get a minute of peace with all the racket he makes.”

You stuck your foot out to kick him, but gasped softly as he wrapped his hand firmly around your ankle and pulled your leg into his lap. Your toes wiggled against his thigh and Eddie’s grip on you loosened. He brushed his fingertips in swirling circles up your bare calf, letting them drift lightly over your skin until he heard your breath stutter and felt you shiver under his touch.

Shit. How long had it been since someone had touched you like that?

Eddie stopped himself halfway to your knee, eyes lifting to meet yours from under a raised brow in a silent question of, is this alright?

And you aren’t quite sure of your answer.

You’ll have to let him know once you figure out whether or not you’re dreaming.

A clap of thunder outside restarts your heart in your chest. Your whole foot flexed instinctively, the dampness under it reminding you of how he had arrived, soaked through and dripping.

“Do you want some dry clothes?” you asked, drawing your leg back and tucking it underneath you. “I have some stuff you can wear, y’know. Sweats and a tee shirt.”

No underwear, but you don’t say that.

Eddie’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and he stared intently at your mouth as he thought, startling when he realized how long he’d been quiet for. Like he forgot how to talk.

“I’d love it,” he said, eyes never leaving your lips.

You slinked back towards the bedroom and went to your closet to dig out the last lone box of your ex’s shit—your spite box, for lack of a better term. It contained all the things he’d been asking you if you’d seen anywhere since he moved out.

Things you felt he no longer had any right to.

Among them, a Venom tee from their Seven Dates of Hell tour you’d found at a flea market and he’d just started wearing because it was “too small for you, anyway,” apparently; and a pair of cashmere joggers you’d splurged on as a gift when he burned a hole in his regular pair.

“Bathroom’s through there,” you said, nodding towards it as you held out the clothes to Eddie.

He rose off the couch abruptly, crowding into your space so your bodies were just inches apart. His scent came off him and made a home in your nose, thick and musky like suede and a bit earthy like the weed he might have smoked earlier or maybe even had on his person.

You found yourself fluttering at the sudden intrusion. But you didn’t dare pull away.

His face was even more beautiful up close, littered sparsely with freckles you had never noticed before. The lines under his cheeks so deep you could see them even when he wasn’t smiling. The slightly round, almost bulbous tip of his nose that added to his soft features.

Warmth enveloped your fingers as he laid his hands over yours to take the clothes from you, so much electricity buzzing between you you half expected all the lights to jolt back to life.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he purred. All low and rumbly like the distant thunder.

You tried to answer, but with your mouth and throat suddenly achingly dry for some reason, you could only nod as he brushed past you to go change. Blaming the lack of A/C for the way your face flushed and how your chest heaved, struggling to draw air into your lungs.

Reaching for your beer that was already starting to sweat with condensation, you gulped down a long swallow merely for some relief. And you nearly spat it out at what you saw next.

You couldn’t see Eddie, but he left the door open while he changed and his top half was just barely visible in the mirror. He was mostly shrouded in shadows, but the flame that flickered in there danced over the shape of his torso and the angular planes of his back as he turned.

The soft clinking sound of him undoing his belt preceded him dropping his pants, revealing that slutty little waist of his and the very top curve of his ass. Internally, you cursed your mirror for cutting off where it did and then chastised yourself for even looking.

Fucking pervert, you thought bitterly.

You returned to the couch and forcibly turned your head back towards the window. The rain was coming down so hard now you couldn’t even see Eddie’s place. It made your heartbeat quicken at the thought that he might not want to go back out in it anytime soon. That he might stay.

“These belong to numb nuts?” Eddie asked from behind you with a smirk you could hear.

He plopped himself back down on the sofa, so close it made you bounce slightly on the middle cushion, his knee now brushing with yours.

You paused for a moment, admiring the sight of him. The shirt was a little big, but it hung nicely on his broad shoulders and he’d tucked the hem partially into the waistband of the joggers. They certainly looked a lot better on him than they ever did on your ex.

“Technically,” you smirked back, “I kept them in lieu of alimony.”

Eddie smiled, but it fell slightly, his eyes cast downward to where your knee met his. He ran his thumb over the valley between them, touching yours and then his in a steady rhythm.

“You doing alright?” he asked. “With all that?”

You shrank slightly, thinking of all your fights with him Eddie might have overheard. All of the times you slammed the door as you stormed out and went to sit on the picnic table in your robe and slippers, eyes stinging as you tried not to cry.

You were so tired of crying.

More than a few times, Eddie had happened to come out for a cigarette while you were there. He always shrugged off your apologies, like he didn’t know what you were talking about when you told him you were sorry about the noise.

He’d just shook his head and muttered, don’ ever need to apologize to me for that as he pulled a Camel from his pack with his teeth.

Before long, he’d started to pull out two and lit them both at once before handing you the spare.

“I think I am, actually,” you said, surprising yourself with how true it was. “I…I don’t think I realized just how much of his shit I was carrying around with me until I put it down.”

Eddie nodded thoughtfully and his eyes flitted back up to your face, a proud smile on his lips.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice far too deep and his eyes too dark for you to mistake his intentions.

The praise trickled down your spine like you were underneath a shower head with a slow leak.

It made you squirm with need, nearly convulsing you wanted so badly to turn on the tap full blast and let the water spray down your back.

Eddie licked his lips and he nodded downward, making you think for one mind-melting second that he was trying to get you to look at his cock. But he was just indicating the pants on his legs.

“These are so soft,” he hummed. And your eyes followed his hand as he rubbed it back and forth across his own thigh before they lifted to meet his gaze. “You wanna feel?”

He shifted down in his seat, letting himself sink fully into the cradle of the cushions. Both his feet planted solidly on the floor, legs spread slightly apart so his lap looked like the most inviting and enticing seat you’d ever seen in your life. It made your heart hammer as you stared at it.

“C’mover here, pretty,” he said, patting his thigh once more. “Please?”

Your head shook on instinct. “Eddie, no, I’m—”

He silenced the too heavy already queued up on your lips by wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling your face into his. He licked the words right off your tongue and swallowed them down like they were his abandoned beer.

The surprise of his mouth on yours made your mind blank, your body and instincts taking over completely as you scrambled on top of him.

As your knees settled on either side of his hips, he groaned deeply—not in pain, not grunting with effort, just with the pure joy of finally getting to feel your weight settling onto him.

His arms slid around your waist and he squeezed you against him even tighter, encouraging you to give more of that exquisite pressure. He kissed you until your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, your head falling forward to lay on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

You inhaled more of his scent, extra concentrated at his neck, making you dizzy with his musk.

He kissed along your shoulder, to your neck, to the lobe of your ear he took between his lips and sucked on it like it was your clit—hard. And your reaction was more or less the same as if it was.

Your back arched, chest squishing up against his until his chin rested in your cleavage. His arms un -wound from around you to run his hands up the curve of your spine, making you shiver when his fingertips reached the nape of your neck.

“I’ve seen you watching me,” he husked gently in your ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on your skin. “I know what you want…”

A gasp fluttered in your chest as his hands dropped to your thighs, rough palms coasting across soft skin until every single one of your fine hairs was standing on end. He then grabbed onto your ass, firmly gripping your cheeks in each hand to haul you forward in his lap, the firm shape of his hard cock pressing insistently against the dampness soaking through your shorts.

“How about…” he groaned low in your ear once again, his warm breath rushing across your neck, “...we see how many times I can make you cum before the lights turn back on?”

ty for reading. love you, mean it! ☔️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic

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lovecla · 3 months ago

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

00.2. how did you and jack meet?

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 1k

➴ author’s note: mostly sophia’s first nhl concert and how she and jackie boy met. i spent the entire morning working on that Nonsense outro and i am gonna say that im very proud of it lmfao. hope u enjoy!

—♡

THE room looked full.

On the stage, you could feel dozens, hell, hundreds of eyes on you. Shanon had warned you that at least two hundred people were expected but damn.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our most expected guest for tonight, Sophia Montenegro!” A man’s theatrical voice was heard just before the first notes of Nonsense.

You and your team worked really hard to make this happen, because April flew by, really. Coachella was a hit and you got so many jobs out of it, it was crazy. But this was what you were looking forward to the most.

You sat on top of a piano, black dress shining with the lights directed at you. You smiled, feeling anxious and excited and maybe just a little bit nauseous too. There were men, women and children sitting in round tables in front of you, but what really caught your attention was the group of men sitting on the table right in front of the stage, all of them wearing shirts with your face in it. And they were screaming the loudest too.

“‘Think I only want one number in my phone, I might change your contact to ‘don’t leave me alone’.”

Singing for you meant living. It was a necessity, a need. Every time you stepped on a stage, you felt alive, you felt fulfilled. You felt like maybe you were on this planet for a reason, and that reason presented itself whenever the words came out of your mouth during a song.

So you enjoyed yourself, and watched as the other people did the same. Everyone seemed to enjoy the acoustic version of Nonsense— which you had never sung before, by the way— and it was so funny to see grown ass men singing the lyrics like their life depended on it.

“Lookin’ at you got me thinkin’ nonsense. Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in…”

“Please do the outro!” Someone shouted before the end verse and you giggled. You were already planning on doing it, but you gave the man a thumbs up either way.

“Shanon said I should keep it PG.

So, Father, I might need to be set free.

Because I really want a Devils in me.”

Loud cheers were heard and you smiled, biting your lip.

The rest of the little concert went well, and when you noticed it, you were dancing on the stage with another five players, who had two left feet and were probably a bit drunk too, but it was so much fun. One of them even asked for the mic so he could sing for a while too. You had the time of your life and you really hoped everyone else did too.

When the last song— Espresso— ended, you received a standing ovation. You felt yourself tearing up just a bit, and you closed your eyes, bowing your head.

“Thank you so much, everyone, I had so much fun tonight,” you started, voice wobbly and tired. “I didn’t know you guys were my biggest fans…”

“Nico here went to your concert!” Some guy shouted, pointing at the man— Nico, you suppose— beside him. You laughed, blowing him a kiss. The Nico guy looked like a tomato, face all red and cute, but he was wearing your merch too.

“Well, now I need to change and from what I’ve heard, we’ll have some delicious food and more amazing singers tonight, so please don’t leave!” You said, leaving the stage after another round of applause.

You found Grace in your dressing room, and you both hugged each other, yelling with excitement. “Can you believe this is our life, baby?!” Grace yelled, and you shook your head no. “I can’t either. Anyways. You have to change into a jersey and I have to take pictures of you with it.”

You looked at the jerseys hanging on the wall in front of you and smiled. “Can I have a Nico one, please?”

—♡

AFTER taking pictures with the players and their families— some of them had daughters who loved you as well—, you found yourself near the food table. You were deadass starving and you needed to get your hands on a hot dog before you passed out. Oh, and a drink as well. It was hot there.

“You got the wrong number on your back.”

You heard a playful voice behind you and you would’ve cursed, if you hadn’t had your mouth full of bread. You tried to swallow it all before you actually turned around.

What you saw was… interesting. It was probably one of the youngest guys in there, perhaps even the same age as you, and he had beautiful, blue eyes. He was wearing a white jacket and a Devils cap, so he was definitely one of the players on the team.

“Wrong number?” You asked, looking at your jersey again, the #13 plastered on your arms and back.

“Yeah. Should be wearing an eighty-six jersey instead.” He smirked.

“Let me guess. That’s your number?”

“That’s the best number. A girl like you shouldn’t be wearing anything less.”

You ignored the compliment (was it even a compliment?) and plastered a smirk on your face, too.

“I think I’m fine with Nico’s number on me. Since he’s the captain and all,” you shrugged. “He also went to my concert so that proves he is the best.”

“Sweetheart, you seriously need someone to show you what best means,” he stepped closer and suddenly your heart was racing all over again. “I happen to be the right person for it.”

“Right person?” You chuckled. “Got your hopes way too high, don’t you, lover boy?”

He shrugged, the confident smirk never leaving his face.

“Just an offer. You did say you wanted a Devils inside you.”

You audibly scoffed. This handsome ass man, with the tiniest bit of an accent and a huge lot of an attitude had some balls.

But then again. Last time you had sex with someone was a year ago, with your ridiculous ex-boyfriend, Harris. You were feeling pretty needy, but with all the work and energy you had to put into your performances, you just didn’t find the time to deal with other dipshits.

At least this one looks like he knows here your clit is.

You stepped closer, noticing how you tilted your head up so you could look into his eyes.

“Is the offer still up?”

He smiled, cocking his head to the side.

“For you, doll? It will always be.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x singer!fmc #Jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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a-libra-writes · 9 months ago

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can I please request for a Mordecai Heller x female reader? like reader is a showgirl who sings on stage like Mitzi one and tends to attract a lot of attention but backs out when they feel this murdercat plotting their death lmao. thank you 😁

heyo! I decided to do a looot of the cats for this one, since its p similar to my Peaky Blinders Jazz Singer post that I was fond of. GN Reader.

Being a Jazz Singer & Performer!

Rocky - When he was hired and met you for the first time, it was absolutely an "infatuation at first sight" situation. Pros!: He's unfailingly polite and sweet, he seems to play with even more energy when you two share a stage, his grin is very off-putting to creeps who shout up at the stage and harass you. Cons: He can get quite distracted when you two share a stage. Many times Zib has had to pull him back with the rest of the band, because he keeps unintentionally scooting closer to you.

The worst part of the Lackadaisy falling onto hard times is the fact you rarely worked there now - you had to sing at other clubs to make ends meet. One of Rocky's big motivators for getting the club back to its old self is you'd come back! Forever this time! (Probably). Rocky doesn't exactly have the time or money to visit the other clubs you work at, so he wants all of your attention during your infrequent visits to the Lackdaisy.

Freckle - Look, he's a shy kid, and the whole 'sneaking out under cover of night to do bootlegging/torpedo shenanigans' is still new. He doesn't have a lot of experience or frame of reference for what a good club singer is like, but Freckle thinks you've got to be one of the best. You have to be, right? Your voice is wonderful and you look positively celestial under the stage lights - wait, that's weird to think, right? Thank God he didn't say it out loud. ... He didn't, right?

Freckle hasn't the slightest idea of how to approach you, so it's up to Ivy and his cousin to drag him over and attempt conversation. It's... a little pitiable, but he's trying. That said, he's surprisingly outspoken and a little scary if someone tried to mess with you while you performed. You're used to the heckles and catcalls, but it's shocking to see that shy tabby jump up from his seat and raise his voice at them.

Ivy - She liked you from the moment she first saw you perform at the Lackdaisy, and that crush hasn't dulled over the months. She maaaay have kept a few posters that advertised the clubs you sang at, and may or may not have cajoled her way into those clubs so she could watch the show. She could easily sweet talk her way to backstage, too - seems you've got a fan.

When the Lackadaisy goes downhill, it's Ivy who wants to sweet talk you into returning. You'll bring in a crowd! The acoustics are great! Pretty pleeease? Her dad Ivy will pay you and not get in trouble until months later when the family accountant goes over the finances. Obviously she cares about the club's wellbeing, but she also wants to spend time with you! Though she's bold enough to just ask you outright. She's also bold enough to outright shout and fight anyone whose heckling you - throwing a heel is a favorite tactic.

Viktor - You're someone he saw often in the olden days, back when the club could afford to have you perform several times a week rather than once a month. Viktor never cared much for the cacophony the crowd and music made, though he knew objectively you were an excellent performer. Rather than endure the crowd, he'd listen to your voice drift across the caves backstage, rehearsing with the band or just by yourself. It was pleasant to listen to, and he could do so in private, either coming back from a job or about to go on one.

Once things began to fall apart, it's not as though he went around to clubs ... or anywhere, really. So if you stopped performing at the Lackadaisy, you might never see each other again. Choosing to stay (or at least do a few pity gigs) would lead to the surprising sight of the big, morose Slav working behind the bar and watching from there, rather than his previous hideouts. It's a little intense to be under that stare... but not all unpleasant? And given how sparse the crowd is, anyone making trouble and catcalling will get dealt with so promptly, they won't even have time to finish their wolf whistle.

Zib - Well, obviously he's going to be drawn in by an attractive singer. Come on. Zib can be smooth when he wants, chainsmoker-scent and rumpled clothes aside. The band likes to tease him mercilessly about it, but that doesn't stop him from cozying up while you two perform together and shooting his shot backstage after every show. Back when the Lackadaisy was thriving, he could afford to hang out at the other clubs you performed at; nowadays, though, that's not so likely.

Even so, starting up a friendship or even fling wouldn't be difficult. He's attracted to and interested in creative spirits, doubly so if you two had very different taste (so there's more to discuss!) and you got on well with the rest of the band. Late-night debates about this musician or that show over a game of cards and several bottles of wine, either together or with the rest of the boys, and waking up half-dressed and seriously hungover come sunrise. Opportunities for visiting would dwindle as the Lackadaisy's business dried up, though if you stayed on ... No, he wouldn't want that for you. If anything you'd be mentioning to him and the band that there's other places to perform to pay the bills. Well, it'd be food for thought.

Wick - Wick wouldn't call himself a music aficionado, especially what's listened to at these rowdy speakeasies, but he won't deny how hard it was to focus on his business associates when you were on stage. So when he discovered you often performed at his favorite club, it was a pleasant surprise. He really wanted to speak with you at some point, at least compliment the performance, but didn't want to come off as those typical entitled wealthy guys who get too fresh with ""lower"" class performers ... so sometimes you'd find flowers in the dressing room and an anonymous note of appreciation.

He finally gets a conversation when you're a guest at a posh party he's attending, or when you continue to perform at the Lackadaisy in spite of the dwindling crowd. It's a shame your large audience is missing, but at least it's way less awkward for him to strike up conversation when you come to the bar? He probably won't bring up the flowers. Oh god, what if you think that's weird. You probably assumed the flowers were some freak fan. Is he a freak fan? He's not, right? (It will take him like months of dating to finally admit to the flowers thing)

Serafine - A good-looking cat with a nice set of pipes is certainly someone she'd notice, especially if they were a regular performer at the Marigold Room and other places she frequented before that. If it was the former, she'd have plenty of chances to wink when you met eyes, "chancing" across you backstage or just being forward and chatting you up after the show. She certainly isn't shy about expressing her interest, and it could be a fun fling.

You do look adorable swinging your hips and swaying your tail along to the beat, not to mention the different get-ups you have to dress in. Serafine maaaay or may not have wanted to help pick a suit out, or help with make-up, or give you some of her jewelry to wear... It's half marking her territory and half she loves to lounge around your dressing room and be a pest. You'd never kick her out and she knows it. She'll do it in other clubs, too, though you have no idea how she keeps getting past security.

Nico - Like his sister, he has no qualms nor shame about trying to get your attention on stage. Unlike Serafine, though, he'd start doing it immediately and be a general pest after the show. The difference between his attention seeking and the other men's in the audience is he actually has some charisma when you two meet backstage, so you're only slightly inclined to tell him to buzz off. He wasn't much of a music expert, and he still isn't ... But he likes hearing you rehearse and hum to yourself, and it's endearing when he requests songs.

He's pleased when you get gigs at the Marigold Room, as it's easier to hang around before and after the show - and bonus, he gets to be extra aggressive with throwing creeps out to impress you! But if you're performing elsewhere then Nico will stop by. He might be bruised and/or bloody because he just left a job, but don't worry! Sometimes he'll even bring flowers or whatever - though without Serafine knowing, she'd never let him live it down.

Mordecai - He wouldn't approach you any differently from others - he'd still be his usual prickly, anti-social, often awkward self - in fact, he might avoid an avid performer, simply because they often have fans around them or at least people recognizing them. What could get his notice was someone whose real persona is very different from their ostentatious self on stage - more quiet and pensive, perhaps. Like any attempt at friendship, let alone romance, it's slow going with him.

That said, he's the type to admire professionalism in a performance. A well put together outfit, thoughtful musical arrangement (as if he's an expert ...). He wouldn't like a femme presenting singer have to wear skimpy clothes or tolerate a rowdy audience. If there was a questionable manager or creepy fan bothering them, Mordecai can deal with that, at least, not that he'd tell his friend/partner. Mordecai would generally glare down any touchy fans and annoying admirers like a jealous terrier. This amuses Mitzi to no end.

Asa - Simply put, he saw you performing at a ritzy party he was invited to and reached out to your manager so you might perform on a weekly basis at the Marigold Room. Very professional! He'd send flowers with his name to the dressing room afterward, would make sure you're finding everything to your liking and not being bothered by anyone. Requests to continue performing would bypass your manager to being nice, short handwritten notes.

Eventually he'd pay you extra and treat you to a nice dinner afterward, if you were comfortable with it. If you let the older man down, he's not too bothered. He'd continue the friendly business relationship and would still send flowers and so on. He'd rather keep you as a good business associate and continue to enjoy the performances than let his silly feelings get in the way. Alas, he is hopeless at discussions of your music. My guy called a ukelele a tiny guitar.

Wes - He never hung around the Marigold Room after hours - it's his workplace, and not really his vibe - but it's very hard to resist not sitting by for an hour (or three) with a drink while you finish your set. Sometimes you two will meet eyes, or he thinks you are, and he considers dropping backstage to say ... hello? He's an 'employee', so isn't checking up on you a normal thing to do? Make sure you're satisfied with the Marigold Room and all that. Right.

Ironically that's how he's finally able to meet the singer he's been mooning over for months. A drunk patron was getting too cozy on your way out, and Wes happened to be there. His face and ... charming demeanor is good for scaring off upper class wimps. So there's that. He's not so bad, though - clumsy, and prooobably realizes you're out of his league. You get to see more of his earnest side when you two meet outside of the Marigold Room, where his fellow murderous gangsters coworkers aren't watching yalls every move with popcorn in hand.

#posting 1 year later lets go lmao #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #viktor vasko x reader #zib zibowski x reader #wick sable x reader #serafine savoy x reader #nico savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #asa sweet x reader #wes clyde x reader #also lmao sorry mordecai would not take a singer/semi famous partner well. too much attention #its funny to think abt tho like. cannot imagine this man has taste in upbeat jazz #cant even pretend to dance at least calvin tries!

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marlynnofmany · 11 months ago

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Singing and Other Noises

If you have to clean the bathroom on a multi-species spaceship, you can at least take the opportunity to annoy your coworkers with some high volume space shanties. The acoustics of most bathrooms I’ve been in are great, and this one was no exception.

“If you find snacks in high places, adhesive eyes making faces…” I sang, passing the sanitation wand over the floor. “Someone gives thanks to the void, and knives to the droid … Then you might have some humans onboard, onboard, you might have some humans onboard!”

Paint laughed in the hallway. “I don’t think anyone would miss the fact that we have a human onboard.” When I leaned out to grin at her, she continued, “You’re very loud.”

“This is the perfect place to sing!” I said, leaning back and switching to a different song. “You’ll hear us singing loud and proud, in halls and hulls and ventilation chutes. You’ll know us by our range and joy, and we sing better than you!” It echoed nicely.

Paint was shaking her lizardy head. “Are there any quiet human songs?”

“Oh sure,” I said, looking for spots I’d missed. “Calm melodies for a relaxing afternoon, lullabies to soothe babies to sleep, plenty of those. They’re just not as fun. I like the ones where you can really feel your lungs vibrate, you know?”

Paint was giving me that cocked-head look that said she wasn’t entirely sure what I was talking about, but didn’t feel like saying so. “Right. I think that one made the floor vibrate too.”

“Oh, you should meet an opera singer. They can shatter glass.”

“What!” Paint stepped closer, switching her tail. “You are making that up.”

“No, really!” I said. “It’s very impressive. A rare talent for sure.” I got to my feet and emptied the sanitation wand into the trash chute. “My voice is nothing special. Pretty good, I like to think, but no kind of superstar. Still, singing is fun.”

Paint seemed to be having trouble coming up with a compliment. “Your voice is very… clear? Low? Is that a good thing?”

“I like to think so.” I put the wand away and washed my hands. “I can sing the low notes easier than high, which is great, because I enjoy them more. I think that makes me an alto? Contralto? Something like that. Not a soprano, at any rate.”

Even with her orange scales, Paint’s expression was a distinct mask of polite blankness. She nodded, hands clasped together.

“Not much for singing, I take it?” I asked.

Paint exhaled and dropped her hands. “I just don’t see the appeal,” she admitted. “It’s only talking! In a distorted voice!”

I switched off the light and joined her in the hall with a head bob of agreement. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Some of it’s fast and good to dance to, though.”

She pointed at me in excitement. “The dancing does make sense! That’s fun! But I just cannot understand the noises that go with it.”

I shrugged. “Eh, don’t worry too much about it. There’s bound to be lots of things that any given species does that makes no sense to others.”

“Like those shiny rocks you insisted on keeping?”

“Hey, that’s not just me,” I protested. “Zhee and Trrili both wanted some too. And you’ve still got those smelly seed-things that you liked so much.”

Paint raised her snout in pride. “They remain beautiful. Coals, Eggskin, and Captain Sunlight will agree with me!”

“And those are all the Heatseekers on the ship, which is exactly my point.”

A high-pitched noise that I’d been barely aware of grew louder, drifting down the hallway all faint and screechy. I had no idea what it was, and judging by Paint’s expression, neither did she.

“Is that metal scraping?” I wondered.

“I don’t think so,” Paint said.

The sound continued, changing in tone like an alien violin. I turned in place, trying to locate it. “Is that music?”

Paint rubbed her earhole. “It’s unpleasant.”

“C’mon, let’s make sure it’s not actually a problem of some kind.”

“Yes,” Paint said with a sigh. “Ignoring a mechanical failure because we passed it off as horrible music is not something I want on my record.”

I started off down the hallway. “I think it’s this way.”

Ready as I was for a long and mysterious hunt for the quiet shrieking, I was almost disappointed to find it coming from the third door we reached. This was the door to Coals and Trrili’s translation workroom. It was shut. I hesitated over the opening panel, then knocked instead.

The noise stopped.

When the door slid open, it was to a vision of exoskeletoned nightmares, shiny black and red, with pincher arms, mandibles, and a pair of antennae angled into a very irritated expression.

“Hi Trrili,” I said. “Everything okay in there?”

Paint added, “We heard a noise—”

The door shut in our faces. After a moment, the screechy serenade resumed.

I blinked. “Rude.”

Paint had her hands over her earholes. “What is it??”

“Probably not a machine failure,” I said, wincing as the noise approached nails-on-chalkboard levels. “Let’s go ask Zhee.”

We walked very quickly away, and found Zhee outside the kitchen talking to Eggskin. The sound was faint here, but still audible.

“Hey Zhee,” I said cheerfully. “Can you tell us what in the seven spherical black holes Trrili is doing right now?”

Zhee threw his own purple pincher arms in the air. “Butchering a classic,” he exclaimed. “I’ve told her that she’s got the middle part backwards, but she insists it’s a regional variant!”

I glanced at Eggskin, who was just shaking their scaly head. “So it is music, then.”

Zhee folded his pinchers with a flare of antennae. “There’s a skreeking competition at Basal Station,” he said. “She’s under the impression that the judges there will enjoy regional variants that are wrong.”

“I see,” I said, wondering if I should ask the obvious question.

Paint beat me to it. “What’s skreeking?”

“Leg-singing,” Zhee said. “You know.” He moved a hind leg in a way that made a brief screech.

I knew I was staring, but it was either that or burst out laughing, and that was rarely complimentary. You’d think I’d get used to discovering ways that my alien crewmates resembled Earth animals, but you’d be very wrong.

Paint let out a gusty sigh. “I don’t understand that kind of singing either,” she said. “This makes even less sense than the other one!”

“Remember, there’s always dancing,” I told her. “And if it makes you feel better, I have no idea how to dance to the noise Trrili’s making.”

Zhee hissed quietly. “No one could dance to that. Not without tripping over every other limb.”

Eggskin spoke up. “Well, I’m certainly not going to try. Would you three like to help me settle on the primary meal for tonight’s dinner?”

I smiled. “Oh, I’m sure we won’t disagree on anything there.”

~~~

Keen eyes might recognize the shanty lyrics from a couple older posts. I even used one song in The First Time Traveler to Survive, which is a different storyverse entirely, but it's too much fun to leave there. I'm going to say humans invented it twice, and no one's going to stop me!

Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#somebody did a lovely recording of one of those songs #but the link isn't working anymore #so I guess I won't share that #more's the pity #my writing #The Token Human #space shanties #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #science fiction #writeblr

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blackbird5154 · 9 months ago

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Continuing with observations on Papa III…

What do we know about Terzo's personality? Special Ghoul described him as a nice and joyful person, but they "don't know him that well". Tobias characterized him as a frustrated old guy with "his wounds and his darkness". Tobias likes the multiple layers: he creates layered songs, layered albums and layered characters.

At one of his acoustic performances, Terzo said: "Speaking of having fun and having, you know, this is a song about maybe possibly not having. Not having everything at least. When the night is over, some of you might have someone to go home with and some of you might not have. That might not be a good thing but it can be a good thing if you are in the company of your spirits... that can keep your company in a dark hour." And at another: "This is a song about having and not having. Spirits to accompany lonely nights. In times of trouble father Roky (*Erickson) comes and speaks to me." This is a reference to the song "Let It Be" by Beatles. Here is the original text:

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be…

If you keep listening to this song, you will realize that it is very sad. And so is the person who quotes it. The one who says that in tough moments he finds solace in a musician who passed away long ago. That on lonely nights, ghosts are the only emotional support he can count on. Are they literally ghosts or are they memories of people he has lost?

It's generally accepted that Copia is the Main Sad Guy of the Ghost universe. He comes on stage and talks about depression. He has a sad face, lives with his mom, and has no friends. But what about the guy who comes on stage with a smile in his eyes to joke around and entertain the crowd? The guy who never complains, is always joyful and nice, ready to encourage you and hold your hand? The one who doesn't socialize with anyone in the band offstage, not even with the ghouls? Who knows all about having and not having and goes back to his lonely house to talk with his ghosts?

[Part 5]

#terzo: observations #papa emeritus iii #terzo #the band ghost #ghost #papa emeritus #papa emeritus lll #papa emeritus 3 #ghost fanart #ghost bc #ghost lore

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

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Idol Dating Headcanons pt.2

Jungkook x Idol Reader

Warnings: teeny bit suggestive

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! As I said in the pt.1 hcs, I really love this duo sm, I just think they’re so much fun!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Cameos in each others MVs(like Tae in Hobi's Daydream and More MVs)

Really impromptu duet cover videos that are recorded in your bathroom or the stairwell at music shows because the acoustics are just *chefs kiss

Which only make your fans all the more antsy for an official collab.

Which is coming, eventually. Y’all are just perfectionists who want the song to have just the right vibe.

Proudly carries you photocard in his phonecase for everyong to see.

I could see you going on varity shows together and it’s super cute and sweet, untill the games start. And then y’all get waay too competitive waay too fast.

(I honestly don’t know which would be worse: you vs him, or you and him vs everyone else.*shudders)

On the upside, the fan edits were top notch👍

Oh yeah, watching fan videos together, like try not to laughs, on live would be a semi-regular thing.

“You just laughed! He laughed, right?” “No, I didn’t! I was clearing my throat!”

You regularly post pics of him and Bam with captions like “LOML(jk’s cute too)”

He won’t admit it, but he gets a little jealous when you do collabs, especially if it’s with any of his friends.👀 (You might turn up at rehersals with a few extra hickeys just to remind everyone you’re taken, but that’s bfkgnbgbfjklgn)

Naturally, you’d end up being somewhat close with all the members, but for some reason, I feel like you’d end up being besties with Jin? Cause, of course, you need someone to pick on him with.

Like, y’all hit it off immediately, and Jk’s just sitting there like “Oh God, there’s two of them.”

Misses you so much when either of you are traveling/touring. You absolutely have to video call each other everynight or else he won't go to sleep.

#jungkook reaction #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook headcanons #jungkook fluff #jungkook x idol!reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook idol au #bts x idol!reader #bts idol au #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts headcanons #bts fluff #bts requests #7ndipity

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jedipoodoo · 2 months ago

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Singin' In The Rain (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Obligatory wet hair Hunter screenshot courtesy of @saltyseaturtle bc tunglr won't let me add any good gifs

Notes: Idiots in Love(TM), dividers by @ve-ti-ver and @freesia-writes. Hunter listens to Dad Rock almost exclusively and sounds amazing.

"Finally, a bed!" You sighed in relief, shoving past Wrecker into Clone Force Ninety-Nine's bunkroom. After six months straight of switcing out the smelly bunks on the Marauder, you were ready for an actual mattress and a pillow to sleep on. You tossed your medikit on the floor and took a flying leap onto the bed closest to the door, armor and all.

"You do realize that's my bed, right sweetheart?" Hunter asked.

"And what of it? You're gonna be up writing reports all night anyway," You shrugged, hugging his pillow to your chest. It had been immaculately made up with military corners before you landed on it and mussed all the sheets.

Hunter sauntered over, resting his arm against the bedframe above his head, "Well, I was hoping to write the reports from the comfort of my own bed."

"Yeesh! Get a room!" Crosshair flicked a toothpick that hit the back of Hunter's head, and you giggled as Hunter glared at his brother. Tech settled himself comfortably at his work table in the center of the room, and Wrecker just grinned, all three of them daring Hunter to say something. You wondered why it took him so long to actually move, until finally, he stood up and stepped away from his bed.

"Alright lads, I'm gonna hit the showers," Hunter said, stretching out his back with the groan of a man twice his physical age, "The rest of you should probably do the same."

"Yeah, sure thing, Sarge!" Wrecker said, with a distracted tone that meant he probably wasn't going to get around to it. Tech waved him off, and Crosshair had already draw the curtains around the enclosure around his bed that he'd made with spare crates. Hunter rolled his eyes, grabbed a towel and his shower gear, and disappeared into the refresher.

With everyone settled, the room quieted, which was a stark contrast to the usual volume on the Marauder. Everyone knew that Hunter loved his shower time, especially when they had fresh running water. He could take hours you scrub the dirt from his sensitive skin and get his hair properly conditioned. If hunter got first shower, it was a safe bet that no one else would get in a shower that evening, even if he didn't end up using all of Tipoca City's hot water supply.

Wrecker began snoring in his bunk almost immediately, but it took Tech almost an hour before he finally fell asleep on top of his work project. You'd removed your armor to lie down more comfortably, but you couldn't quite get to sleep.

You and Hunter shared a lot of things, including but not limited to--canteens, blankets, blaster polish, personal space, even a ration bar or two. Living on a cramped ship got you very up close and personal with the rest of the crew, but was it really okay for you to take his own bed? You ran through the conversation again and again. You could almost swear Hunter was playing along with you, but you were still new enough to the squad as their medic that your place among the boys, these brothers, was still uncertain.

In the midst of your whirlpool of thoughts, another sound broke through the incessant white noise of the Kaminoan rain. It sounded like someone singing, but Wrecker snored again before you could make it out. When Wrecker paused to take a deep breath, you heard it again, and it was coming from the refresher unit.

You sat up on Hunter's bunk, and the lights, automatically dimmed from the lack of movement, turned on suddenly. You sprinted to the door to shut them off before they could wake up Tech. Already on your feet, you might as well listen closely.

Quietly, you made your way to the door of the refresher, kneeling beside the doorframe to listen. The tile was great for the acoustics, and despite the sound of rushing water, you could hear Hunter's voice singing loud and clear.

He was singing an emotional ballad from one of those rock bands your father always had playing. Kids at school called it lame, mostly just because anything that an adult enjoyed couldn't be interesting, but with Hunter singing the lyrics, it became so much more meaningful to you. The emotion in his voice was passionate as he sang about being in love with someone and being willing to do anything for them.

This one was your favorite as a kid. Most of the songs by this band were sad, lonely ballads about losing the love of their life. this one was just as emotional, but definitely had a happier ending.

Unknowingly, you started singing along, providing the melody to his beautiful tenor. You were so enamored by the music you and Hunter were both making that you didn't realize that the water had stopped running.

Hunter at least had the courtesy to let you finish the song, but no sooner had you crooned the final note than the door to the fresher slid open, and there stood Hunter, water dripping down his bare chest with a towel draped around his shoulders. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Hi?" You whispered, more of a question than a greeting.

"Hey," Hunter leaned against the doorframe.

Your eyes darted to avoid meeting his, but they were instantly drawn to a single drop of water slowly running down his chest and over his tummy, which hung out a bit over the waistband of his trousers. You quickly looked back up.

"See something you like?" Hunter asked with a grin. You leaped to your feet as if you were going to run away, but instead you rammed your head right into his nose.

"Kark!" You gasped, holding your head. It was sore, but you hardly had a bruise. Hunter had his nose pinched shut in a pre-emptive move to stem the flow of blood.

"Shoot, Hunter, I'm so sorry, let me take a look."

"I-it's not broken," Hunter tried to tell you.

"I'll be the judge of that," You grabbed a washcloth from the refresher and dragged him back over to the bunk, prying his hand from his nose. After prodding it this way and that, it was evident that Hunter's nose wasn't broken. This time, at least.

"I'm sorry, Hunter," You whispered, trying not to wake his brothers now that the coast was clear.

"You're fine," He waved it off, but accepted the ice pack you pulled from your bag and leaned back against the wall, "I shouldn't have come on so strong."

You froze, sitting just a foot away.

"You were coming onto me?"

Hunter froze, and you watched his throat bob nervously.

"Yeah. That's...if you're okay with it?" He mumbled.

You fisted your hand around the cushioning of Hunter's pillow. Here you were sitting in his bunk, and Hunter was asking you if you were okay flirting with him?

A toothpick shot across the room and hit the side of your head.

"If the two of you are going to make out, would you please get back in the shower?"

"Cross!" Hunter lobbed the ice pack in return and the sniper retreated back into his nest. Tech snorted in his sleep, and Wrecker mumbled something about a gundark's mother, but neither of them seemed to wake up.

Hunter studied each of his brothers to make sure you had adequate privacy before looking back to you.

You gave a little giggle and Hunter huffed a laugh through his nose, only to wince in pain.

"You sure you're okay?" You asked. Your hand was on his shoulder for a reassuring touch before you remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," He promised. You felt warm again. In this recent revelation, his usual nickname for you didn't feel as casual as you'd assumed it was.

"Yeah," you said softly.

"Yeah what?" Hunter said. His amber eyes were making you dizzy.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay with you flirting with me." You said lamely.

This wasn't how big romantic moments were supposed to go, right? You weren't supposed to hit your lover in the nose when he tried to make a move on you, and you certainly weren't supposed to sound like a blubbering Hutt when you finally accepted his advances.

Despite all the "supposed to's", Hunter smiled up at you, his face alight with joy. It was evident that the Bad Batch's penchant for disregarding the rules applied to their love lives too.

"Your voice sounded really pretty," He said, sitting up and scooting a bit closer to you on the mattress. He wasn't quite touching you, but his hand rested next to yours.

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, "I sound like a mynock when I sing."

"Don't say that," Hunter said. His voice was soft in volume, but sharp in tone. You had no choice but to meet his impassioned gaze.

He was trembling slightly. You could see it in the droplets of water that clung to his stray locks of damp hair. Bravely, he lifted a hand to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"I love listening to you sing." He said.

He couldn't keep making you spiral like this. If he kept saying things like this to you, you were going to faint on his karking bed.

"Well," You scooted closer, knee to knee, with a hand on his thigh. His eyes went wide and his breathing hastened as you leaned in, his nose nearly touching yours.

"I could say the same for you, Sergeant Hunter. Anyone ever tell you that you have the voice of an angel of Iego?"

"N-no, n-never came up before." Hunter's hands twitched, unsure of where to put them.

Jackpot.

You took one of his hands, guiding it to the mattress to help him balance himself, and place the other on your waist. You held his hands in place, unwilling to let go. The two of you sat there, until your breathing synchronized.

In, and out. In, and out.

It was actually kind of nice, even if it was a bit awkward.

"What happens now?" Hunter asked.

"I...dunno," You whispered, "I guess we could kiss."

Your faces were so close you almost missed his eyebrows shooting up. He quickly looked around the bunkroom, wondering if any of his brothers had heard your offer.

"Do...do you want to kiss?" Hunter asked.

Had it been all you could dream about since you first met Hunter? Yes. Were you thinking clearly enough in this moment? No.

"It might be a little too soon for that." You gave Hunter his hands back, sitting back on the bunk.

The tension vanished from Hunter's shoulders, "Oh, right."

It was impossible to miss the disappointment in his tone as he toweled off his hair, tossing the wet towel onto Tech's table and kicking aside various accoutrements in the search for a shirt that fit him.

You bit your lip, "That doesn't mean kissing is entirely off the table, though."

"It's not?" Hunter stopped with his head halfway through one of Crosshair's shirts.

You interwove your fingers, stretching them back and forth, "I...this was nice."

He nodded quickly, "Yeah, I thought it was nice too."

"You're both nice. Now shut up and let the rest of us sleep." Crosshair snarled from a cocoon of blankets that weren't his.

"Shut up!"

You snickered, holding Hunter's pillow on your lap, and Hunter marched back over to the bunk.

"I...suppose you want your bed back tonight," You said, even as you tucked your feet up underneath yourself.

Hunter shrugged, and you could see that his shoulders were far too broad for the tight fit of Crosshair's body glove.

"I think the phrase is, some people will...sing for their supper."

You glared at him. "You wouldn't dare."

Hunter raised his hands in a display of vulnerability, "Only if you want to."

You sighed, almost resigning yourself you another night of sleeping on the unforgiving floor, when you got your own brilliant idea.

"Only if you sing with me."

"That's not how this works-" Hunter tried to protest.

"Isn't it?" You teased, batting your lashes up at him, "You wouldn't have heard me singing if you hadn't been the one singing in the first place."

Hunter's hand came out of nowhere, but his touch was as gentle as the fur of a newborn tooka as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

"You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart."

This bastard knew exactly what he could do to you. Fortunately, you knew just how to drive him crazy in return. Before he could react, you placed your hand on his arm and gave him a sharp tug, pulling him down to lay on the bed beside you.

"Takes two to tango, Sarge."

Hunter was speechless as he stared into your eyes. You turned to settle into bed, but Hunter grabbed you by the shoulder, "We made a deal," He whispered in your ear. He smelled like the sharp pines of Kashyyyk, not at all like the generic soap and shampoo the GAR handed out.

Crazy indeed.

You rolled on your side to face him, untucking his blanket to wrap yourself up.

"What song did you have in mind?"

Hunter mulled it over for a bit, giving you the chance to admire the little wrinkle that appeared between his eyes when he was deep in thought. When he finally sang the first words of his chosen song, soft and hiding in the back of his throat so as not to disturb his brothers, it was another love ballad. You had to appreciate his taste in songs. This one was about two lovers, determined to weather any storm with their partner by their side. You'd appreciated it when it was first released. Never did you imagine that you'd sing it with a partner of your own.

True to your word, you sang with Hunter, letting him pull you closer until your head rested on his chest, his heartbeat keeping time for your song.

You fell asleep before you could finish the bridge, feeling warm and content with Hunter. And he certainly didn't mind.

#lizart writes #tbb hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #hunter bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter x you #tbb hunter x you #crosshair is a little butthole

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httpknjoon · 1 year ago

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her majesty | jjk

plot | This is how the rumors began between a princess and a rockstar.

words | 615

genres | fluff, humor/crack, modern royalty!au, celebrity!au

pairing | rockstar!jungkook x princess!reader

note | this one happened months after my last update!! enjoy reading <3

main masterlist | drabble series

Sweet September’s Jungkook Posts His Cover of The Beatles’ Song, Her Majesty

Spoiler alert: It might be dedicated to someone *royal*

Last night, the lead vocalist of Sweet September shared a thirty-second song cover on his Instagram account. The said video only shows Jungkook wearing a white button-up while playing an acoustic guitar in what his fans claim is his kitchen. Within just twelve hours, the video reached almost twenty million views and was posted on various social media sites by his supporters. Some fans claimed that the song was meant for someone *royal*.

In the clip captioned with a crown and yellow heart emojis, Jungkook sang The Beatles’ Her Majesty. The song was a hidden track in the band’s eleventh album, Abbey Road.

Earlier this year, fans noticed the attendance Princess YN of Zafiro made at two of Sweet September’s concerts during their Denim Jungle tour. In the first one, she was seen with her sister, Princess Astrid. For the second one, the crown princess was spotted by a few fans in the band’s performance in New York just a day after the Met Gala. She was said to be seen wearing a particular ID only given to staff and special guests.

Many sources told E! News that there are sightings of the princess and the rockstar together in various places.

“I saw Jungkook approach Princess YN during the Met Gala.” an anonymous Twitter user posted. “He stayed and chatted with her until she left with her assistant.”

Another source stated, “Although Princess YN and Jungkook are both busy with their different lives, they really try to make time for each other. He (Jungkook) liked the princess before he even met her, That’s why he really took the chance when he saw it.”

It’s no secret to Sweet September fans that the lead vocalist has his eyes set on Princess YN. It was revealed years ago when each band member was asked about their ideal type and celebrity crushes.

“Oh, mine is totally not from the entertainment industry.” a nineteen-year-old Jungkook answered.

“Yeah, JK. We all know it’s Princess YN–” Mingyu was then cut off by Jungkook’s forced coughs.

Back to the song cover, Jungkook can be seen smiling as he sang the lyrics. He even smiled wider while singing the last line,

“Someday I'm gonna make her mine, oh yeah. Someday I'm gonna make her mine.”

The rumor between you and Jungkook was still new and growing when the song cover was posted. Various articles were later posted from numerous media sites with the same rumor topic. It’s a piece of surprising news for everyone since it involves a royal princess and a famous rockstar. With this, supporters of Jungkook’s and yours had mixed reactions to the ongoing rumor.

@/DENIMBLUE: so they are really dating?????

@/ynandastridslay: lol this rumor going around abt princess yn is just impossible.

@/jeonswatch: i just know jungkook is kicking his feet giggling twirling his hair when he heard that song before

@/sweeties09: omg so maybe my sister is not lying when she said she served jk and that princess in a mcdonalds drive thru 🤠

Replying to @/sweeties09

- @/carminwoojung: EXCUSE ME WHAT???

– @/gigglysun: abi when did she told u that???!?

— @/sweeties09: it was like after the band’s performance in new york months ago

@/ZafiroPrincessesFan: The King and Queen would never let the Princess date a rockstar. It’s just totally against the tradition. #.FakeNews

@/goldencrown: wth are these rumors??? Jungkook is dating louise right?

@/PopCrave: Netizens spotted Princess YN’s official Instagram account liking Jungkook’s latest Instagram post before unliking it an hour later.

Replying to @/PopCrave

- @/user90249853: someone’s finger slipped lmao

– @/bluemoon04: not her forgetting to switch accounts 😭✊

taglist rules

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROCKSTAR TAGLIST

@heartjiminie @rbrm094 @rjsmochii @jjkreblog @sugaslittlekookies @saintsugar @alpha-mommy69 @natalia-rmnva @stupendouscookiehumanmug @yoonjinhusbands @lilliankoo @gxtwllsn @snkyuv @canyon-lwt @hiii-priestess @jksgirlhere @bbtsficrecs @jnk-pop @jjeonjjk7 @tokkiggukie @kooliv @oopscoop @hani0407 @taebae19 @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

#bts humor #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts series #bts established relationship au #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook series #rockstar jungkook #the princess and the rockstar jjk

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psychotic-nonsense · 7 months ago

Text

Steve Harrington doesn't expect today to be anything special.

His kid, Dustin, is out in the garage hanging out with his friend Lucas. It's a calm spring evening, and there isn't a single call coming from the phone asking for his services. The former handy man turned jack of all trades has a day off, and he's taking the chance to catch up on the fantasy book Dustin picked up for him on his last trip to the library.

He's older than he once thought he could be, he's alive, and he's happy.

He's mid sip of his sweet tea - recipe courtesy of the Byers family - when someone suddenly comes in through the front door. Mr. Harrington jumps, closes the book with a dog-eared page ("Terrible habits, sir, terrible terrible habits," says a voice from the past in his head). But then Dustin walks into view, and while he's not entirely calmed, he's less startled.

"Hey there, big guy," his starts calmly, but his mood quickly sombers when he gets a full look at his son. "Everything okay?"

Something's off. Dustin's coming in through the front door, not the back door that's easier to get to from the garage. Lucas isn't with him, and Mr. Harrington's old acoustic guitar is in his hands ("Be careful, love, you might end up as our backup," says the voice with a wink he can still see). But most importantly, Dustin looks nervous. Sad, even, and Mr. Harrington never lets that kind of face linger long in this household.

"Yeah, I'm okay, dad..." Dustin mumbles, pausing in the front hall, staring down at the guitar. His eyes look far away. "I was just wondering, um... you know that band group that I'm friends with?" Dustin looks up, directing all of that pain right at his father, stabbing at his heart.

"Yeah, your buddies on that forum, right?" Mr. Harrington says cautiously. He's leaning forward on his knees now, book discarded to a side table to give Dustin his full attention. "Were they telling you something? Is Lucas okay?"

"No, yeah, Lucas is fine, his mom called," Dustin quickly mutters, briefly distracting the nervous tension in his face with a shaking head. He takes a deep breath, releasing it in one big huff as he holds the guitar tighter. "So, you remember how I told you we were all helping each other? You know, learning how to write songs?"

"Yeah?" Mr. Harrington affirms, gently encouraging him to go on.

"Well, um..." Dustin looks away again, down at his feet shuffling in the carpet. "The- the lead singer of that band? Said he wanted some feedback on one, so uh..." His eyes glance at the guitar in his arms before meeting his father's eyes again.

Mr. Harrington huffs a small sigh of relief, a smile overtaking him. Nothing's wrong, it's just Dustin wanting to share a song with his dad, and he's nervous. Mr. Harrington has nothing to worry about ("A one man crowd? Gotta make this really memorable then," says the voice, teasing words but a soft, scared, nervous tone). "Yeah yeah, of course, kid, I'd be honored."

But then why is Dustin still so tense when he nods? Why are his eyes still so sad when he sits on the couch opposite Mr. Harrington, while he tunes the guitar? Why does he keep looking at the empty space beside him, growing more anxious each time?

"Take your time buddy, it's okay," Mr. Harrington tries to reassure, but Dustin doesn't look up.

Instead he sits there, breathing deeply a few times. Looks over at the other end of the couch, blinks a few times before nodding to himself, turning back. His left hand runs over the frets a few times, other hand coming up to rub at his eyes-

Oh god, he's crying. And his dad is just sitting there, helpless and useless. Mr. Harrington's heart is impaled once again and he reaches up, wanting to try and fix this, to help.

But then Dustin's hands are settling on the guitar, determination joining the mix of sadness and anxiety, and Mr. Harrington is forced to sit back and watch.

Because Dustin starts playing.

He's heard the music from outside the garage walls. He's bought plenty of guitars for Dustin to play over the years, heard many types of genres coming from under the secrecy of that roof. It's Dustin's thing, his hidden passion outside of science and fantasy, so Mr. Harrington has let him have the privacy, keeping his pride tamed for his son's sake.

So to finally see Dustin playing is like pride tenfold, longing grasping his heart tight when he sees how Dustin leans into the music ("We're the few good ones left, dear... We just feel it differently from others, you know?" bemoans the voice in his head). How his eyes close, the tension in his body loosening as music echoes from the guitar's.

And it's a beautiful melody. Simple, like all good things are, but melancholic. Longing incarnate. Nothing he was expecting from this, but he never wants it to end. It feels like lost love, regrets...

But then the singing starts.

"First things first

We start the scene in reverse

All of the lines rehearsed

Disappear from my mind"

Faint and echoing. Barely audible at first, but steadily growing in sound as Dustin plays. Ethereal, Mr. Harrington remembers from the book. That describes it.

It's not Dustin, he's too focused on the guitar. And his voice cracks on words this quiet, his tone off no matter what genre he's singing along to. Gets it from his dad.

It's almost familiar. Sounds like home.

"When things got loud

One of us running out

I should have turned around

But I had too much pride"

Suddenly, something shifts in the air. It feels cold, like soft wind in a breath, then going tingly. The light pattering of winter's first snow.

There's a window behind Dustin, the evening light shining through the blinds and curtains lighting everything in a warm glow. If he wasn't watching Dustin, he wouldn't have seen it. The beams being cast on the couch beside Dustin are slightly bright... and are swiftly getting brighter.

"No time for goodbyes

Didn't get to apologize

Pieces of a clock that lies broken"

Before his eyes, the sunlight starts moving, swirling and disconnecting into little beads of light. It shifts colors, a gradient of orange and reds, purple and blue, a hazy cloud slowly materializing on the couch.

It's shaping into something, moving into specific sections to the music and words. Changing color all the while, blacks and reds appearing deeper, a figure coming through the shape. The voice keeps getting louder, screaming familiarity at Mr. Harrington-

Then in a flash, it solidifies, and everything else fades away. No room, no weather, no sense.

Just music and singing and... and him.

"If I could take us back

If I could just do that

I'd write in every empty space

The words 'I love you' in replace

And every time would not erase me"

He's sitting on the couch next to Dustin, almost laying down. Leaning back against the arm rest, knees bunched up on the cushion but shoes hanging off the side. His clothes look aged compared to nowadays, but it's the same flannel and black ripped jeans and chains as the faithful day they lost each other.

Oh god, his voice has the same gorgeous vibrato, words flowing from his lips like poetry. His hair has the same soft curly bounce, product keeping it infinitely safe. His face, his hands, his presence remains unchanged.

He's not looking up, doesn't have to for those deep amber doe eyes to be so visible. He's messing with his rings while he sings, watching the silver glint in the light that created him. Doesn't hide how sad, how longing and lonely he looks and sounds here in this place.

A hand is coming up to Mr. Harrington's chest, tears blotting his vision and he's not ashamed of blinking them into reality, can't let himself look away from this.

It's him, it's him, dear god, the man he thought he lost over 30 years ago, the man he thought left behind their love by choice while he had never let it go, who's voice and presence never left his mind, who he thought would come back but never did and couldn't have, he's ghostly and gone, he's gone but it's him, his love, Steve's love, finally here after so long...

"If you could only know

I never let you go

And the words I most regret

Are the ones I never meant to leave..."

His voice starts cracking, that sweet pretty voice breaking. His face crumbles, hands trembling and it breaks Steve in two and he wants to reach out and help, he wants but he can't-

Then he finally looks up. Their eyes meet and there's relief and longing and pain and sorrow in both of their eyes because they're seeing each other, finally finally finally, after so long...

"Unsaid Emily..."

Sung in a whisper to the strumming of his son.

Munson.

Eddie Munson.

Steve's sweet, dear Eddie Munson.

He came back...

He finally came home...

#Julie and the Phantoms Steddie AU anybody? :'D #was thinking about this song again n figured i should make it a full thing #gotta rewatch the show to get the lore right but anyway #steve is dustin's dad in the 20-somethings i dunno when exactly yet #corroded coffin is the ghost band that dustin can see #their unfinished business is eddie's who was dating steve in the 80-90s before they had a fight and eddie left the same night the band died #and cc sticks together even in their lead guitarist's relationship drama #would keep going but later #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #lil cameo from #lucas sinclair #julie and the phantoms #sorry jatp fans a steddie infiltrated your place

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p0orbaby · 1 year ago

Note

Hey can we know how squish earned her nickname because in chapter 3 (I think, the one in the fair) she said she didn’t want to tell Natasha where it came from?

Origins

warnings: someone flirting with Wanda that isn’t Natasha

a/n: it had to be done I’m afraid

word count: 394

“Cute baby”

Wanda jumped at the echo of words. The parking acousting were never very forgiving.

“Urm, thanks,” she replied to the person who had somehow found themselves shoulder to shoulder with her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” they started before noticing Wanda’s skeptical look. “I’m Olivia, I work in Human Resources”

Olivia showed her building pass to confirm to Wanda she was in fact an employee. That gesture alone did have Wanda relaxing a little.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia,” Wanda said with a small smile. “I’m-“

“No need to introduce yourself, Human Resources, remember” Olivia laughed. The sound echoing off the concrete again.

Wanda chuckled in response, appreciating Olivia’s. “Right, of course, you already have my employee file memorized, don’t you?”

Olivia grinned, “part of the job, I’m afraid”

Wanda's laughter filled the parking garage, breaking the ice even further. "Well, Olivia from HR, I hope my file is full of good things”

The brunette leaned in closer, peering into the stroller. "Oh, absolutely," she said in a playful tone as she gazed down at you with wide eyes. "Especially the part about you having the cutest baby in the entire company. Look at those cheeks, squish central!”

Wanda couldn’t help but blush at Olivia’s compliment, and she looked down you who was now peacefully sleeping, oblivious to the attention she was receiving. “Thank you,” Wanda said, her voice soft with affection. “I think those cheeks are a babies secret weapon”

Olivia grinned mischievously. “Well, this one has got quite the advantage, then. Adorable babies can get away with just about anything, can’t they?”

Wanda hummed, looking down at you as you sleept soundly despite the chatter. “You might be right. I’ll have to remember that for the future”

It was then that the other girl's phone rang. She quickly fished it out of her bag and glanced at the caller ID. “Oh, it’s my boss,” she said with a slightly apologetic smile to Wanda. “I should take this. Duty calls, even in the presence of such cuteness. I’ll see you around, Wanda”

Wanda nodded understandingly, and as Olivia stepped aside to answer the call, she took a moment to enjoy the peaceful surroundings of the parking garage, her baby still peacefully asleep in the stroller. The soft hum of distant conversations and the echo of footsteps filled the air.

#squishverse #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #mom!wanda #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #child!reader #fluff

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

Text

𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑫 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺

pairing: musician!joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, romance, minors dni

word count: 5.2k

summary: entranced by the guitarist on stage, you're surprised when he comes over to introduce himself.

warnings: no outbreak despite what the title might suggest, a guy being a creep towards reader at the bar, mentions of violence and blood (joel punching said creepy guy), alcohol consumption, praise kink, piv, mild ass play, dirty talk, creampie (reader mentions she's on the pill), a little bit of public touching shenanigans

a/n: this fic literally wouldn't be what it is without @pedrito-friskito 's input and beta reading, love you babes, dedicating this filth to you ❤️‍🔥

Ethereal. That’s the only way you can describe him.

A curtain of light falls behind him, a soft red, softening the sharp edges of his face. He’s sitting on a stool, guitar propped up on one leg as fingers move diligently over the strings, a microphone standing an inch away from his lips. The rest of the bar is also bathed in tones of orange and red—that, mixed with the alcohol, gives your head a pleasant buzz. The beer bottle is cold beneath your palm. With a smile, you turn on your stool enough to completely face the stage.

He starts to sing; eyes closed and head swaying in a way as if the lyrics are physically moving through him. He sounds like marinated honey. Soft, and sensual, the southern drawl making goosebumps rise over your skin. The words circle around you in an almost hypnotic matter, pulling you close. He steals your breath away. His soft locks are messy, his beard patchy, and dark like his hair. You have an immense urge to thread your fingers through the locks, pulling him close to possibly lock your lips with his.

A shudder rolls up your spine, your legs pressing together at the thought of what he might feel inside. Swallowing, you attempt to focus on the lyrics. He’s singing an acoustic version of Take On Me, a song you haven’t really heard in a while but appreciate all the same. Some regulars mutter the words along with him, you notice a couple of flickering lighters swaying in the air. The ambiance is enticing and soon enough you find yourself moving along with the melody, your smile lazy and drunken, for as long as he’s on stage.

You notice the telltale signs that the song is about to end. The music slows, and he finally opens his eyes. Your breath hitches instinctively as he looks over the crowd. His gaze finds yours within the misty dark red hue of the bar. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you slightly lift your bottle as a greeting, half sure that he doesn’t even see the gesture. His fingers thrum along the strings, his smile crooked and endearing.

The crowd cheers when the song ends, he’s still looking at you. Placing his guitar on the stage, you watch him greet a couple of people on his way to you. Turning away from him, you gulp down your beer, nearly choking as the bitter fluid foams in your mouth. You cough as you pull the bottle away from your lips with a pop. You refuse to look in his direction, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You’re delusional. There’s no way he actually saw you greeting him in the dark. And there’s no way he decided to come and say hi.

No way on earth.

Then why do you feel his warm presence right next to you? His body towering over yours as he places a hand on top of the bar, your shoulder touching his broad chest.

You press your teeth together, cheeks burning from the inside out. Music starts to blare from the speakers, he leans in close, lips nearly brushing the shell of your ear. You feel his breath on your skin, forcing a shudder up your spine.

“Hi there, I’m Joel,” he says, voice dripping and smooth. You swallow. “Saw you sitting here alone, all pretty. You with someone darlin’?”

“Nope, it’s just me,” you answer with a small nod, finally looking up at him. When he takes a seat, you smile. “I loved the song choice by the way. You have an amazing voice,”

The way his eyes sparkle makes you short of breath. He orders himself a scotch neat, then turns back to you with a wide smile. “You think so?”

“Oh definitely,” you note the way your knees touch underneath. He places a hand on the thigh that’s closest to you. His other hand remains on the bar, waiting for his drink, finger tapping slowly against the surface. “I could listen to you forever, probably. Do you play here often?”

“As often as I can. You new around here?”

“Somewhat, I’ve been around for…I’ll say a month?” you let out an airy chuckle. “It’s hard to go out with no friends so this is my first time actually going to someplace decent,”

He scoffs, finger moving around the rim of the glass the bartender just placed in front of him, “Tommy would be happy to hear you calling the place decent,”

“Tommy?”

“My brother,” he grunts as if you were supposed to know. “He runs the place, always naggin’ me to come and play,”

You nod, tilting the bottle up to suckle on the last drops, but sadly nothing comes. With a drunken frown, you stick your bottom lip out. Your limbs are numb in a way you really need to force yourself to feel the nerves. You wiggle your fingers and let your hand fall to the table, you jolt at the sudden loud smack. A booming laughter follows.

Joel’s looking at you, his gaze soft, fingers pinching the point of his chin before motioning to the bartender to bring you another one.

“Not much of a drinker?” he asks, the length of his forefinger brushing the seam of his lips. He nips the skin with his teeth— something warm and pleasant spreads between your legs, you look down at the empty bottle.

“I drink, it’s just been a while. I’m more of a cocktail person, to be honest.” he cocks an eyebrow and you point to your lips, which he follows with his eyes eagerly. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth,”

“Ah,” he exclaims, leaning closer. “If you’d told me I would’ve asked you for something sweet, babydoll,”

“Beers’ fine for the moment,” you grin, and before you know it you have another freshly opened bottle in front of you. Joel’s eyes flit between the bottle and you, finally lifting his own glass towards you.

“Next time then,” he grins, clacking his glass against your bottle. “If you dare to go out again that is,”

Your eyes follow the way his throat moves at every swallow, you see the veins, the tiny scars, and the imperfections. Sweat clings to his skin, the heat of the stage no doubt the cause of it.

“I think you might be worth the chance,” you tease, taking a sip from your drink. The cold beer soothes you as it goes down your throat, you don’t even think your tongue processes the taste, you just need to feel something cool. “It’s a bit hot in here, isn’t it?”

You rest your back against the stool and fan your face with your hand to make a point. You feel his eyes tracing your skin, gaze dipping into the collar of your shirt, observing how you glisten under the red hue. Heat settles at the base of your spine. He leans closer, legs parting, he cages you between his thighs. You’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Mimicking the way he leans, you lean also, your own bare legs touching jean-clad ones.

“Not used to the Austin heat yet?”

“I guess not,”

“Maybe I can help with that,”

Joel holds up the glass and touches it right under your jawline, your skin tingling at the cold. Beads of cold condensation smooths over your skin, trickling down until it meets the swell of your breast. You let out a sharp exhale without meaning to. He smiles.

“Feels good?”

“Yeah, very.”

While the glass chills your skin, his other hand moves to your thigh. He squeezes tenderly, observing you, waiting for any signs telling him to stop. But the signs he fears to witness never appear. He slides his hand, hiking the skirt up your leg. You shudder as thick fingers curl into your inner thigh. His hot breath fans your face as he speaks, the scent of scotch strong in his every word.

“You feel a bit hot here too,” he murmurs, moving the glass down. You shiver when he holds it against the inner of your thigh. His fingers feel cold brushing against your skin.

He’s close—so close that you feel his lips on your chin without him physically touching you. You want to kiss him. Feel his strong body pressed against yours, a tangle of limbs, a mess of sweat and sex clinging to you both. Joel moves the glass further up, a wet path moving between your legs. He rests it right under your pubic bone. Knuckles brushing the seam of your underwear. His lips touch your ear, a bit of tongue touching skin.

“You’re burning, sweetheart.”

Your eyes meet, a twinkle of mischief glimmering in his. He starts to lean in, his knuckles gently caressing your clothed sex. You follow the way he licks his lips, your noses brush against one another, the music fades into the background—

“Joel, can I steal you for a sec?”

The growl he lets out resonates in your core. Your legs tremble around the glass, the contents of it now warm. He takes a sharp inhale, dragging his nose up your cheek. With half-lidded eyes, you manage to sneak a glance at the man standing behind him. His eyes remind you of Joel’s.

“What is it Tommy?” he grunts into your skin. “M’busy.”

Tommy, the brother, your drunken mind reminds you. You make an effort to smile at the younger sibling. His eyes drop to your lips, a soft one tracing his, he gives you a small nod.

“It’ll only take five minutes promise,”

Joel sighs and lets his head drop, where his breath touches your skin burns. Straightening away, he holds your chin between the pads of his thumb and forefinger, forcing your gaze onto him instead of anywhere else. “Don’t go anywhere,”

I won’t, you’re about to say when he presses his lips into yours. He sucks the words right out of your lungs, tongue eagerly licking the seam and teeth pulling at your bottom lip. Parting away, he seems just as kiss-drunk as you are. It takes you everything not to seek him out for another one.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he repeats, voice a beat lower and breathless.

You watch Joel following Tommy to the back. You wonder what’s there. You’re quickly distracted as someone takes a seat right next to you. Agitated, you take a look at the line of empty seats. He could’ve sat anywhere else. You take a slow breath. It’s alright, it’s not like no one is allowed to sit there. It is an empty seat after all. You take two gulps of your beer.

“You alone here, angel?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, instead take another sip, “I’m not.” you answer, hoping it’s sufficient enough to the end of the conversation.

Heart starting to beat a tad too fast, your eyes search for the bartender. He’s at the other end of the bar, entertaining a young couple who just arrived. You clear your throat, making it clear that you’re uncomfortable.

“You look alone to me,” he states, leaning closer. Your entire body freezes over, not an ounce of heat from Joel remaining. You cheat a glance at the man, he has dirty blond hair, brown eyes, and a mussed beard. With a sigh, your eyes move back to where Joel and Tommy trailed off to.

“All you newer broads are so rude nowadays,” he says eerily calmly. You hear the blood rush pounding in your ears when he touches your shoulder. “Just look at me, I ain’t gonna bite you,”

“I would fucking hope so,” you slur from behind the rim of the bottle. You’re about to get up and relocate to one of the booths but you feel a tight grip around your wrist. You whip your head back, glaring daggers at the man. “Let me go,”

“Dance with me,” he chirps suddenly, getting up and pulling you along with him. You trip over your feet as he spins your around.

Placing a hand on the man’s chest, you attempt to push him away. He only laughs, clearly not a care in the world. You look around frantically. Other patrons had got up as well, dancing along with the music. His hand trails down to your wrist and squeezes, heat builds under your nails. At the edge of vomiting, you attempt to put as much as distance as you can.

“Let me fucking go!” you sneer, pushing him by the shoulder. He only comes closer, breath stinking of alcohol. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“One dance ain’t gonna kill you,” he coos, he pins your hips together and bile rises to your throat. “Maybe you’ll end up even liking it,”

You’re disgusted. And even if it’s not your fault, you feel humiliated. Tears rapidly build in your eyes, the pleasant buzz in your head now replaced with thoughts fueled by fear. You attempt to yank your head back but that seems to only egg him on.

“Let go!” you scream this time, much louder than the first. But the music is louder. You’re pretty sure no one can hear you.

The red lights are menacing now. His eyes are hallowed out, lips curling like the Cheshire cat as he spins the both of you around. You repeat over and over again; Let me go, let me go, let me go.

Your prayers are answered in the form of a harsh tug from the opposite direction. The blond lets go of you, and you’re free. You find yourself slamming face first into another person’s chest. Someone you don’t recognize at first. Another body whirrs past you, heading for the blond man. You feel hands cradling your waist and when you look up you see Tommy.

The sound that follows your realization is similar to dry twigs crunched under heavy boots. You hear a voice—A voice that was not long ago soothing you and whispering you not to go anywhere.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” Joel shouts, a grunt follows and you turn around. Tommy’s arms are still wrapped tightly around you, holding you back. Funnily enough, you weren’t even aware you were trying to reach out to Joel. “Fuckin’ dipshit,”

His fist crashes into the blond’s jaw, the sound of it so loud that it overpowers the music. Anxious gazes follow as the dance floor gradually thins out. Your eyes go wide. The blond falls back to the floor, Joel follows, punch after punch being delivered.

You see a flash of blood. It’s redder thanks to the light. You should be horrified. At least that’s what your logic is telling you. Joel’s jaw is set, molars clenched tightly together as his nostrils flare. Sweat beads at his forehead. He has a wild look in his eyes. A look that makes you let out a stuttering breath.

“Joel,” Tommy calls out. “Joel, enough,”

Joel stops with his fist stilling in the air. He breathes heavily, eyebrows pinched together. Your eyes drop down to the man, he’s bleeding. Probably has a broken nose, but honestly, you don’t have it in your to care.

“What the fuck?!” the blond spits out, lifting himself with his elbows.

“Get the hell out of here, man,” Tommy answers, eyes moving to his brother. “Before I fuckin’ call the cops for assault,”

Tommy finally unwraps his arms from around your waist. Joel stands tall next to you, the way he holds himself intimidating. Your limbs feel like it belongs to a ragdoll. You look at him dumbly, not really sure if you should allow yourself to fall into his arms like a damsel in distress or just wait to thank him like a normal person.

“Assault?” the man balks at the three of you. “We only fucking danced,”

He shrinks when Joel takes a step forward. “She was screamin’ let me go. That’s not just dancin’”

You notice a couple of the bystanders nodding in agreement and relief sprinkles over you. The blond scrambles to his feet. He has the audacity to glare at you. “Fucking bitch,”

He turns around to leave and Tommy barely manages to catch Joel by pressing a hand to his stomach, stopping him. When Joel frowns, Tommy gestures toward you with his head. The older brother’s gaze softens. He cradles your face, pulling you close until your bodies are flushed against one another.

“Are you alright?” you nod, lips pressed together. His thumb smoothes over the skin under your right eye. “Let’s go somewhere more private, yeah?”

He leads you to where he and Tommy previously wandered off to. Joel briefly mutters something to Tommy and he heads out, you give him a puzzled look but he only shrugs, “Don’t worry about it,”

So you don’t.

His hand rests above the small of your back. A little gesture to let you know that he’s here. You walk through a small hall and enter the room at the end, it’s small and dimly lit, you assume it’s Joel’s little heaven in the bar. Spare guitar strings and pins lay scattered over a small table. You see speakers and microphones. Above the table there’s a small bulletin board and you see a lot of pictures of Joel, Tommy, and a young girl you don’t recognize. Joel follows your gaze, landing on a polaroid that was taken outside of the bar.

“That’s Sarah,” he explains fondly. “My daughter,”

He might as well smacked you in the back of the head, you look at him with shock, eyebrows reaching all the way to your hairline and lips parting. “You have a daughter?”

Joel shakes his head, and lets out a small chuckle, “It’s not what you think. I’m not married or anythin’. It’s just me and Sarah,” he quickly adds. “And Tommy,”

“Ah okay,” you nod, feeling sheepish. “Sorry if it seemed like I was prying,”

“It’s all good. Don’t worry your pretty head over it,” his smile is genuine, and the heat to your skin returns full force. “Are you alright? He didn’t…” he swallows thickly. “He didn’t touch you did he?”

“No—I mean other than holding my wrist and forcing me to dance, nothing,”

You’d say that to relieve him, but instead, you see anger shadowing his eyes. He looks away, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “I shouldn’t have left you. M’sorry,”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you hastily touch his cheek, turning his gaze back to you. “Besides, I’m okay. You saved me back there, thank you,”

He leans back against the table, rubbing at the wrist of the hand that delivered the blows. The skin between his knuckles is split, blood smeared across his hand like a Jackson Pollock painting.

“You’re weird,” he muses, lips forming a crooked smile. You stick your bottom lip out and he laughs. “I mean that in a good way. I like weird,”

“How am I weird?”

“Well, you’re not runnin’ in the other direction for starters,” he grins. You find yourself stepping closer into his space, he spreads his legs so you can slot yourself between them. “I would’ve killed him you know,”

“You would have?”

He shrugs and you grab both his wrists with both your hands. “Maybe. I wasn’t really thinkin’ at the moment,”

“You just met me,” you say more to yourself than to him. A soft smile tugs at your lips. “I feel that I shouldn’t be condoning this behavior,”

“Then what are you doing here with me?” he mutters, gaze following the way you dip and press your lips into his knuckles. He’s warm. “This is a bad way to teach a lesson.”

At that moment you want to say a lot of things. You want to thank him again. Have a brief discussion about feminism. Give him a recap of what happened scene by scene. Tell him how scared you were. How disgusted you felt. How trapped. He seems to notice how overwhelmed you are. Not knowing what to say or think. He cups your jaw, the pads of his fingers brushing your neck, he brings you closer.

His lips are on yours. No rush to them this time. Joel takes his time with one hand cradling the side of your neck while the other pinches your hip. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, then he pushes between them, tasting you properly for the first time that night.

You sigh into the kiss. Loving the way his tongue feels against yours. He moves in tender licks, the curve of his nose nestled into the side of your face. He tastes like scotch and smoke, not an unpleasant taste. The hand that rests on your hip now squeezes your ass, he pins you to him with need, his cock hard beneath his jeans.

Joel bunches up your skirt, the tips of his fingers following the elastic of the leg opening, he slips them underneath and strokes the heated skin, tracing blunt nails over the flesh. You shiver against him, your lips part as your hands form fists against his chest. Joel leans into your neck, licking the salt of your skin, he grins.

“I want to fuck you so bad, pretty girl,” he bites the words into your skin, arousal pools between your legs at the blossoming pain. “Can I?”

“Y-Yeah,” you swallow thickly, a rushed exhale stutters out of your lungs. You’re burning from the inside out. Wanting to feel more of him, your sprawl your hands over his chest, thumbs unknowingly brushing over his nipples. Your eyes widen at the sound he makes. A tiny gasp, such a soft, needy sound.

“You like that?”

“Who wouldn’t?” he grumbles, teeth nipping the corner of your chin.

Your fingers trail up the buttons of his plaid shirt. Slowly, you open them one by one, revealing more and more of his tanned skin. You push the fabric down his shoulders as you lean down, his hands squeeze your hips when you lick a nipple into your mouth. You close your lips around the sensitive flesh, swirling the tip of your tongue around one while you graze your fingers around the other.

His moans are divine. The sound rumbles deep in his chest, only coming into being at the back of his throat. You whimper as he rolls his hips, rough fabric overwhelming against the thin laced panties you have on.

Joel tugs you away by squeezing the back of your neck, you look up at him in a daze, your lips swollen. The abused flesh is puckered, glistening with spit. You move like a snake as you chase his lips, your thumb deftly rounding the wet nipple. He groans into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, you breathe heavily as he swallows your moans.

Suddenly you find yourself pushed up against the table, the corner of it digging painfully into your stomach as Joel forces you down, leaving your ass in the air. He roughly tugs down your panties, the cold air sending a chill up your spine. He kneads the tender flesh, parting it and taking a peek at your glistening sex.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he growls. “And all of it for me,”

“For you.”

The frills of your skirt tickle the front of your thighs, your breasts pressed against the table. He breathes heavily, the sound of a belt unbuckling and unzipping filling the silence between. The heavy weight of his cock presses between your legs, he lays his weight on top, chest flushed against your back. He knocks the air out of your lungs as he moves. You shudder at the way he grinds himself into you, the fat head of his cock catching your clit and making you roll back into him.

Your back arches beautifully, his hands trailing the notches in your spine like the frets on his guitar. His fingers dig into your shoulders, forcing you back as he fucks your thighs. His cock drips with slick, balls tight as he moans and groans openly into the air.

You wonder if anyone can hear. If someone passed the door, would they be able to hear how wet you are? Your moans? Joel’s heavy breathing?

Despite the alcohol lingering in his system Joel is quite observant; noticing the exact moment you start to stifle your moans with a harsh bite to the inside of your cheek. Your folds mold into the shape of his cock, spread wide. His one hand grips your jaw, forcing it open, when you do he sneaks two fingers inside, pressing them to your tongue to keep your lips wide open. Your sounds now unfiltered.

“Don’t be shy darlin’,” he says between harsh pants. “I basically own the goddamn place—Be as loud as you need to be,”

His words press into you like hot iron. Your entire body tenses, your insides clenching helplessly as you moan wetly around his fingers. There’s something mind-numbing about having permission to be loud, for him to have the power to let you do as you need. You shudder, all the times you’ve been shunned by a partner for being loud parts through your mind, and you moan again— And again and again. His cock slides between your thighs until it slips inside, you jolt at the stretch, your nails helplessly scraping the wood of the table.

“Joel—” you hiss, eyes rolling back. Spit trickles down the corner of your lips, your legs spreading wider to accommodate his length. His lips touch your shoulder.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” he rasps and continues to fill you inch by inch. “Just a bit more. You’re doin’ so good, taking me all in. Fuckin’ gorgeous,”

The praise goes to your head, making you keen and whimper. His fingers skim down your back, thumb smoothing over where he stretches you. “Gonna fuck you so good,” he breathes out, balls deep. “Gonna fuck you stupid, pretty girl,”

“Oooh fuck,” you groan, rolling your tongue over his fingers. You taste a hint of iron. “Please—Just—God, Joel,”

He thrusts into you with deep, hard strokes. Every time his hips are flush against yours, sparks fly over your skin. A fog of lust settles over you. You can only feel him, smell him. He’s around you, inside you. You never knew being suffocated could feel so good.

He’s still talking. Whispering praise and filth into the back of your ear— you feel so good, so tight, you’re filthy, a blessing—He goes on and on, solidifying to you that maybe you’re actually asleep at the bar and dreaming about the attractive guitarist on stage.

But then the slam of his hips becomes rapid, hips pushing into you deeper, movements desperate. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he grabs your hip, shoving your entire body into him so you meet the tortuous drag of his cock. The pad of his thumb traces the rim of your other puckered hole. You jump, a moan ripping from the back of your throat.

“You like that?” he asks, sounding entranced. “Bet you’d feel so good here too, honey,”

He slips the tip and you gasp, arching into him. Your heart is hammering against your ribcage, slick dripping, coating the inside of your thighs. Your insides flutter, clit throbbing as your orgasm nears. Joel doesn’t push beyond the tip of his finger, he pulls, stretching the tight hole. When you tighten around him, he does it again.

“Pretty,” he breathes out, his southern drawl thick on his tongue. “Are you gonna come on my cock, sweet thing?”

You nod furiously, clenching and squeezing around him. A choked out sound rattles his chest, ramming into you with enough force that it burns. He pushes you toward the edge, dangling you as you weakly attempt to postpone the moment of shattering. But it’s almost impossible with the way he’s stroking you, cock deeper with every solid thrust.

The hot pressure you force yourself to feel bursts beneath your eyelids. It’s blinding. Your body seizing, jolting as if it’s hit with electricity as you gush around him, the wet sounds echo in the small room. He jackhammers himself into you, balls slapping against your skin. Everything is so loud. His breathing, your moans. The pleasure runs through you like live wire, forcing your body up as he curls fingers around your sweat-slicken throat.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he slurs, teeth digging into your neck. “God—I’m so so close— You’re so fuckin’wet, that’s it pretty girl, moan louder for me—Scream my name,”

And you do. Over and over again. You’re incapable of saying anything else. He drags his nose up your neck, breath heavy and wet on your cheek. He sounds raw, guttural. The inside of your thighs burn and you clench around him, wanting to squeeze him dry. A groan rises from deep within you, he pushes himself deeper, holds your body close, and stills as he flexes himself inside.

Your legs start to shake, he’s so thick, the sheer length of him leaves you dripping.

“Come inside,” you moan, your hand desperately clawing at his wrist. “I’m on the pill—need,” you swallow, voice betraying the way you feel. “‘Need to feel you inside, Joel,”

Every fiber of his being goes rigid, his cock throbs. Joel lets out a stuttered breath as he grinds his hips, the slow stroke making you flutter. “You on the pill?” he asks again. When you nod, he sucks in a sharp breath. “You sure you want that, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you whine. “I do, I really do,”

He wraps his strong arms around you, pounding into your thight, sopping cunt. It does’t take him long before he’s spilling into you, hot ropes of come filling you to the brim, leaking from the place where you join. Your eyes roll back, the feeling of warmth spreading from your sex to your stomach, you’re so full. Unknowingly you squeeze around him, a mixture of him and your gushing form your stretched cunt.

“So good,” he keeps wihspering, keeping you still against him, pushing his cock deeper. “So fuckin’good,”

His rough palms move up the front of your body, softly cupping your breasts as he pulls out. The sudden emptiness makes you hiss, your back arches as cum trickles down, you feel his fingers scooping it and shoving it back inside. Your forehead drops against the table, a loud moan leaving you, you tilt your hips towards him.

“God, look at you,” you can hear the grin in his voice. “How are you feelin’?”

“So good,” you groan, starting to slide towards the floor, but he holds you, lifts you up as he pulls your panties back up. A weak chuckle drops from your lips. “I don’t think I can move for a while,”

“I can take you home,” he answers, voice clear. “And we can stay here a bit if you want, I don’t have any more shows tonight and the food here ain’t bad,”

“Food,” you hum, he sits you down on the sofa you hadn’t realized before. “That sounds good, and water please,”

“You got it.” he winks at you before leaving. “Don’t go anywhere.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller au #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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carlsdarling · 1 year ago

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BRO can i PLEASEEE get more step bro carl headcanons? obv it’s cool if not 😜

Stepbrother Carl headcanons Part II

Y/N, Y/N's mom, Rick, Carl and Judith living under the same roof. More headcanons. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

Your parents are constantly worrying about whether you are using protection correctly, and they keep bringing it up. "Carl, it's enough that we have ONE baby in the house," Rick said recently. And they note "condoms" on the lists whenever they go scavenging with other people. It's embarrassing.

Eating meals together. Always. It's kind of weird that Carl is both your stepbrother and your boyfriend. You five guys are kind of a weird family, but it doesn't bother anyone anymore.

Then it got even weirder when your mom got pregnant by Rick. So there will definitely be two babies running around soon! The weirdest thing ever is that Carl and you will then have a half-brother (or half-sister) in common. Imagine you and Carl having a baby at some point, too. That surely must be the very definition of a patchwork family....

Admonishments from Rick to Carl to stop fumbling with each other under the dining room table.

Your mom states more than once, "Rick, Y/N and Carl are even closer than we are."

You two are too loud when having sex. You, especially. Always, even when you're trying to be quiet. The worst was when everyone slept with the windows wide open in July. Not only did your parents have a front row seat acoustically, so did the neighbors. Everyone could hear you moaning Carl's name over and over, whimpering and begging. Daryl, Maggie and Glenn were still grinning in amusement days later every time they ran into you or Carl.... (Daryl is mocking Carl, by constantly whispering in his ear, "Oh Carl, pleeeeeaaaase! Go faster!")

Sometimes you and Carl have heated arguments because you're together 24/7 and it's too much from time to time, but you always reconcile quickly and celebrate make-up sex.

Secretly, Carl is glad that you live in the same house and the two of you even have a shared bedroom. After all, Carl is very jealous and somewhat lacking in self-confidence because of his eye and he is always afraid that you might find someone else. In the shared household, he can literally keep an eye on you. Of course, he would never admit that.

When you and Carl cook something together to surprise your parents, it always ends in disaster. Let's not mention the burnt casserole, the fire alarms, the over-boiled soup, and even more so the kitchen fire that developed because the two of you decided to go upstairs to fuck in the middle of preparing dinner.

Or that discussion with your parents about not sleeping with each other on the living room couch - after all, „other people still want to sit there!“ (Your mom and Rick came home from a meeting to find a crumpled blanket, a ripped condom wrapper, and some... used tissues in the living room. They were not amused.)

Carl's and your shared bathroom is a complete mess. Time and again, it's your mom who scolds you and cleans it up (and always sneaks a peek in the trash can to check if you're really using condoms...). Since Carl often just throws the condoms in the toilet, she's called you on it several times. "You guys do use condoms, right?" You: "Yes, we do." Her: "But there aren't any in your trash can." You: "Then Carl flushed them down the toilet." Her: "You'll get a blocked pipe!" It's not your favorite conversations, needless to say....

Carl and you babysitting Judith together, discussing whether she's too old to have sex around her yet.

Falling asleep together every night, waking up together every morning. You've gotten used to the fact that Carl often has nightmares and then wants to be cuddled and stroked back into sleep. You couldn't be closer.

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes smut #carl fanfiction #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines

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seeminglyranch87 · 1 month ago

Text

Taylor & Travis Timeline

October 2024 - Part 3

October 17 - Travis at training

October 18 - Taylor releases a video pre-show with her cat Olivia (x)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Taylor Swift (@taylorswift)

instagram

The Eras Tour, Hard Rock Stadium, Miami, FL N1. Rain show & the beginning of the final leg of the Era's Tour. Just 18 shows remain.

Donna, Jason, Kylie, Wyatt & Elliotte Kelce attend the Eras tour.

Juno by Sabrina Carpenter is added to the pre-show playlist - getting spicy Tay ;)

Taylor debuted new Fearless, Reputation, acoustic section & Midnights T-shirt dress costumes. as Taylor said:

''I got a new dress and everything.''

Florence & the Machine joined Taylor to perform Florida during the TTPD set.

Tim McGraw x Timeless (x guitar) & This Is Me Trying x Daylight (x piano)

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying and trying and trying… I wanted you to know this is me trying, I just wanted you to know this is me trying. You gotta step into the daylight and let it go, let it go, let it go. And I just wanted you to know that this is me trying to let it go.. LET IT GO (x)

October 19 - Travis arrives in California ahead of game.

The Eras Tour, Hard Rock Stadium, Miami, FL. Night 2

Taylor wore a new dress for Speak Now, Acoustic section & Midnights

Florence & the Machine guest appeared to perform Florida!!! with Taylor.

Should've Said No x I Did Something Bad* (x guitar) & LOML x White Horse (piano)

*The version where Taylor screams viciously "light me up!"

Your'e the loss of my life... but I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale I'm gonna find someone someday who actually might treat me well

October 20 - Chiefs v SF 49ers, Levi's Stadium, Santa Clara, CA

Chiefs defeat 49ers 28 - 18. The Chiefs remain undefeated 6-0

The Eras Tour, Hard Rock Stadium, Miami, FL Night 3. Rain show.

Chiefs game on screens in the Hard Rock Stadium prior to The Eras Tour starting.

Notable events at the final Miami show:

Taylor notes this is the final rain show for the Era's Tour as all other shows are indoors.

during the Betty speech, Taylor shares that these songs were written from a narrators perspective but “it reflected my own personal experience through these characters”

Florence and the Machine performs Florida!!! with Taylor for the 4th time during the TTPD era.

Taylor wears a new dress for the acoustic section.

Taylor sings "Karma is the guy on the Chiefs coming straight home to me" in celebration of the Chiefs 6th consecutive win today.

Out Of The Woods x All You Had To Do Was Stay (guitar) & Mirrorball x Guilty As Ain (piano)

October 23 - Are You Smarter Than a Celebrity? airs new episode with a reference to Taylor (x)

Natasha Leggero “We love Lady Gaga, but we don’t love her as much as any other blonde singers. There are some other blonde singers that we like more than Lady Gaga. Nikki Glaser "Not even close" Travis Kelce “I will have to agree with you on that. I do concur.”

New Heights Ep. 106 posted (x). The Kelce brothers discuss Jason's attendance at The Era's Tour in Miami

Addressing the photo (x)(x 12:50) that bestie Beau Allen posted to X, Jason fights back that he was not asleep but vibing and Travis wishes he was there (he had a game so could not attend).

Travis "we got to talk about it, you took a nap at The Eras Tour?" Jason "I did not take a nap" Travis "what is that all about" Jason "Travis you know I didn't take a nap I did not take a nap" Travis "how are you? This show is absolutely electric it's the greatest show that's ever been on stage and you're over here falling asleep!" Jason "Not only was it the greatest show but um obviously I went to the two London shows this Miami show was incredible and I think part of it's like I don't know if it's back the fact that we're back in the US because I think the London uh crowd was incredible but the rain and, dude it was like on another level I texted you halfway through it" Travis "You did" Jason "Like dude this rain, Tay is killing it, dude when reputation came on and she came out in the new outfit" Travis "was it gold?" Jason "and the rain was coming down and the the place could have [f**] erupted I mean it did like it was the amount of energy was insane, it was so exciting"

Travis "Well I had all the fomo in the world…. I wish i was there." (x) Travis “Shout out to Tay Tay for powering through a few rain shows”

A little lyric battle between Beau Allen and Jason Kelce on X ...

October 24 - Stevie Nicks interview with Rolling Stone

Taylor Nation post in celebration of 18 years of Taylor's music (x)....

LISTEN!!!!! Don't we know it @taylornation

Taylor sings "Everything has changed.... in the blink of a crinkling eye... I'll be eighty-seven you'll be eighty-nine, I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky oh my my my" "dude this girl's in love! She is in LOVE!"

** sound up

Go to previous update -> October 2024 part 2

Go to next update -> TBC

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luck-and-larceny · 3 months ago

Text

FFXIV Write: Tempest

You're as charming as ever,” he says to me with a smile on his lips and malice in his eyes. With Marrant every compliment is actually criticism.

“That's true,” I reply and beam a giant grin at him that I hope is so brilliantly charming it fucking blinds him. “Which is why you went out of your way to contact me. You've missed this,” I motion back and forth to the “this” between us; it's nothing but animosity.

We stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime, neither of us blinking. I just come around to the idea that this interaction is intensely stupid when he sighs (and, notably, blinks first).

“Look, Lika, I need your help,” he finally says.

“Oh, is that all?” I ask cheerfully, “Great! No.”

Ah, that felt good! I just sat down at this bar and now I'm getting back up again. I love a good exercise.

I'm out the door in a heartbeat, but he's right behind me. He grabs my arm to keep me from disappearing into the night. I slap his face for having the audacity. The sound echoes through the empty alleyway we now stand in. Wow. Great acoustics in this spot!

A storm crosses his face, darkening every feature and tensing his jaw. I love storms. I especially love them on his face because it means I've pissed him off. If we fight here, anybody in proximity– tourists wandering the city at night, patrons in the bar, the asshole wine vendor parked right outside the bar selling overpriced bottles to the already drunk patrons exiting said bar– will need to run for cover.

It's been so long since I've seen that expression on his face that I almost welcome it. Let's have it out here. Let him tell me how I ruined his life all those years ago. Let me tell him he hasn't seen anything yet.

But the storm passes almost as soon as it arrives. I'm surprised. And mildly disappointed. I pretend I'm neither and return to the earlier game of staring bitchily at him and not blinking. It's still stupid. Oh, well.

“I need you to rob a rival of mine,” he finally says after a breath to gather his senses again.

Here's another thing about Marrant: He always hated when I stole things… except for when I'd steal them for him. Seems nothing has really changed.

“Fascinating,” I reply. “Tell me more. Who is this rival?”

Relief softens his features. “His name is Audr Shade. His home is in Lavender Beds.”

“Audr Shade?” I repeat thoughtfully.

“That's right.”

Great!” I chirp. “I'll just go off and let him know you wanted to hire someone to rob him. Maybe he'll give me something nice for being an upright citizen! But even if he doesn't it'll still be worth it because I did something good and moral.”

He used to say shit about how I wasted all my talent doing pointless, petty tomfoolery instead of something ambitious, moral, and good. I hate the me that dated this blowhard. I also hate the me that remembers anything he said to me during that time.

He smiles at my response. His inner monologue is probably something like: “She used to pretend what I said didn't bother her. When she responds by repeating my words back at me I see that it did. I smile because in that moment I know I've won.”

Forget all the mes that I hate. I hate this asshole most of all.

“Fuck you, Marrant.”

“Mature as ever, Lika. Listen, I know you despise me. And you know the feeling is mutual. So consider for just a moment that if I've come to you that, sure, yes, I'm desperate. But there might also be something you can get out of it that is even better than my desperation.”

Obviously I want to say there's nothing better than his desperation but that lends itself far too easily to a sex joke. And there's really nothing that would repulse me more than associating sex with this guy ever again.

Better, I think, to say, “I don't care. This is boring. I'm going home now.”

He looks annoyed before replying, “But you do care about something and I have information about it. I will give you that information if you first rob Audr Shade and then rob me immediately after.”

Then rob him immediately aft– what the hell? No. Don't fall for this, Malika. You don't care.

“I don't care. Good luck with the self-sabotage or whatever the fuck, you absolute fungus.”

“The Tempest Tapestry,” he says quickly. “I know where it can be found.”

I'm speechless. It's not because I'm impressed by what he's said; it's because I'm pissed. If I open my mouth to say anything at all it will open so wide that I will swallow him whole. I look like a 5’4” miqo’te standing in a dingy alleyway, but I’m actually a swirling vortex of rage. How dare he try this on me? How dare he even say those words?

He takes my silence as a good sign because he's an idiot. “It wasn't easy,” he says with a self-satisfied preen and smile.

“It's impossible,” I correct him as levelly as I can, “Because it isn't real. I already looked into it. You didn't find shit because there isn't shit to find, Marrant.”

There’s a legend that there is a book so old that only luck and spite keeps it held together. I admire that. The cover is said to be sewn together by thousands of threads, all a different color. That book is said to hold the answers of how to find the first item ever spun in the Spinner’s loom: The Tempest Tapestry. The book is named the same. I’d told Marrant years ago that finding and stealing that would be the ultimate job. I'd stop stealing after that.

I didn't mean it, of course. That's stupid. Might as well tell me to stop breathing. But if the book existed– which, again, it doesn't because I've fucking looked– I'd still want it.

“There's no such book,” I say, my voice low, hot and full of barbed wire. I'm saying this to myself more than to him. I can't get obsessed looking for this again. I can't. It almost destroyed me the first time.

“I'm not talking about the book,” he counters. “I mean the actual tapestry, Lika. I can tell you where it is.” No, he can't. That's stupid and offensive.

But I'm in trouble. I could and should say no this. Whoever has told him they know where this tapestry is is lying because there isn't one. It isn't real. It's a story.

But someone believes they have something they are pretending is the Tempest Tapestry. That's 1) blasphemy, I suppose and 2) fucking intriguing. Of course I want to see what someone thinks they could pretend is a legendary artifact.

And even when it's nothing but trash I'm going to want to steal it. Stories are more important than truth. People tend to believe in stories more than they believe the truth, too. Stories have power.

I'm so dizzy with wanting to do this, I think I might throw up.

This is a trap. It's so obvious. I go to steal from this Audr Shade guy and then from Marrant as he's requested and there are guards waiting at his place to apprehend me– that's GOT to be his plan. That has to be why he wants me to rob him. There's no tapesty. He is making it up. Say no to this, Malika. Walk away. Walk away. Walk away.

“Fine. Tell me more.”

I'm so fucked.

#FFXIVWrite2024 #FFXIV Write #FFXIV #Writings #Marrant #Tempest #These can't all be winners #I have an idea in mind for why he wants her to rob him too but this story is already too long #I had a different idea for the information he'd give her but I couldn't make that work #So artifact hunting it is

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