#if you know where those lyrics are from a) you have good taste in music and b) have you considered checking out my doai music playlist /lh

[doodle-girl]

Keep forgetting to post this one! This took me genuine hours and I guarantee you that at minimum a quarter of the time spent there was on the damn teeth ✌️ Really proud of how this whole thing turned out, tho!!! (Also click for better quality because it’s tumblr)

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: YOU SPEAK HIS NATIVE LANGUAGE TO HIM (18+) (One Piece) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: I had this idea after remembering that Luffy is Brazilian. Enjoy! And please, PLEASE let me know if any of the foreign phrases used are not correct or accurate. I did the research on Google. Thank you! -Jazz

*********

LUFFY (PORTGUESE) 

You always loved it when Luffy spoke in his native language. 

He is from Brazil and though he hadn’t lived there in years since meeting Shanks and traveling among the Grand Line with the Strawhats crew, nothing and nobody could ever take the Brazilian out of him. It was in his blood. 

He always made it known with the Brazilian recipes he would ask Sanji to make and the music he would blast across the ship. Usually, this resulted in him forcing you to dance him with and holding your hips as his his swayed and rolled in ways that often resulted in your knees going weak and every part of you becoming tingly and sensitive (including the places where Luffy usually had his mouth on). 

He wouldn’t speak Portuguese often; only sometimes and at random moments, like when something exciting happened or when he was asleep. You would catch him mumbling words in his native tongue as he drooled on the pillow, making you giggle.

He would do it during sex too, usually when his tongue was buried deep in your pussy: “Você tem um gosto tão bom, mama. Deliciosa (You taste so good, mama. Delicious.),” he would mumble into your pussy while you whimpered and moaned.

Or when he had his cock buried deep inside of you as he hammered away at your insides, gripping and smacking your ass: “Tão bom! (So good!)” he’d moan into the bedroom. “C’mon, mama, cum with me! Goze comigo!” 

His usual high-pitched voice would get deeper and raspier in his native tongue as each foreign words rolled and flipped on his tongue. It would make you combust every single time, cumming all over his cock at the same time as him bursting inside of you. He would then peck your forehead once you snuggled up together, his hat on your head. “Te amo,” he’d whisper, never telling you what it meant, but you had a feeling. 

So after picking up on some of his lines and inflections, you decided to try out speaking his language one night. It was a boring night and Sanji was cooking, trying to get Luffy out of the kitchen as he groaned and complained about being hungry.

“Y/N, would you please come get him?” Sanji sighed. “He won’t leave and I’m not gonna have him sneaking the ingredients off of the counter to eat.” 

“I’m not gonna do that!” Luffy protested. “I told you so, Sanji!”

You had giggled and walked to the stereo sitting on the table, playing one of Luffy's favorite songs that was popular in Brazil. The captain’s head immediately shot up from the table, his big eyes staring at you. You smiled and began to sway to the music, opening your arms for him. 

With the biggest grin on his face, he shot up and went to you, immediately gathering you into his arms. You giggled as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and held your hips as he began to sway with you, your senses invaded by nothing but him. He softly sang the lyrics to you, his voice raspy and soft, each word rolling off of the tongue. He sang has if the very song was written for you and you decided now was the perfect moment. 

“Luffy?” you whispered. He pulled away to look down at you, looking like a confused puppy. You cupped his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips before whispering, very low, “Te amo.” 

Once those gears in his head started turning, you’ve never seen him look so happy. His smile grew about ten sizes before he gripped you to him and coated your face in kisses. “Hey, hey!” Sanji yelled. “Not while I’m cooking! Do that outside!” 

ZORO (JAPANESE) 

Compared to Luffy, Zoro barely spoke Japanese. 

He would only mutter his native language in swears when he was stressed or angry. Other than that, you could never catch him doing it. He barely even spoke about Japan as a whole.

“Why you askin’ so many questions?” he would grumble, glaring at your curious gaze. “I haven’t been there since I was a baby. Go read up on it or somethin’.” 

But when he did speak Japanese, and that was very rare, you loved it. His voice would get even deeper when he spoke the foreign swear words during a battle and it would make your heart skip several beats. You wanted to somehow coax him to speak it more or even be closer to him than you already were. 

So you started teaching yourself Japanese. You collected as many language books as you could during your stops on islands when walking into town with Nami and Robin and began practicing. In two months, you began speaking in sentences though not professionally or fluently. However, you got each inflection down. 

The first time you said something in Japanese to Zoro, he was busy working out one hot, boring day and you had wandered in, feeling extra bratty. “What?” he demanded, grunting as he did his bench presses, his muscles bulging and glistening in sweat. 

“Just came to see if you broke up with your dumbbell yet,” you asked sarcastically. “I don’t know how the cuddling at night works, but to each its own.” 

Zoro cut his forest green eyes your way before going back to his exercises, barely pausing. “Woman, if you’re gonna come in here with that shit, leave it at the door. You know I need to focus on my training.” 

“But you’re already so strong, Zo!” you protested, padding farther into the room. ��And a great fighter. You can spare one day without training.”

Though Zoro looked pleased with the praise, he still didn’t let up and continued to pump those sexy arms away at his presses. Pursing your lips, you walked over to him and kneeled down before him, just as he lifted the dumbbell up and put it back up on the rack behind his head. 

You began to run your hands up his thick, tree trunk-like thighs in his green slacks, squeezing the muscles and digging your nails deliciously into them. He liked that. He tensed immediately at your touch, breathing heavily from the workout. “Stop that,” he growled. “I’m tryin’ to cool down.” 

“Then let me help you,” you purred, sneaking your hand over his cock to give it a squeeze. You were pleased to find that he was already hard. He grunted at the contact and began to squirm under your touch. “I mean it, Y/N,” he panted. “Cut it out.” 

You looked up at him then, staring boldly into his eyes. "Watashi o tsukuru (make me)”, you said in a low, breathy voice that often made your man go absolutely insane. 

At the sound of his native language coming from your lips, the swordsman sat up straight and stared down at you, astounded and extremely aroused. His cock grew in your hand as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

“What did you say?” he questioned, his voice dangerously low. You just smiled and stood up, tearing your hand away from his cock.

“Now are you gonna spend time with me?” you questioned, a hand on your hip and arching a brow at him. 

While this didn't get him out of the training room, it did help tear him away from his workout to instead work you out, your legs spread over his bench and his cock pummeling your insides as he whispered how good you felt in Japanese.

Mission accomplished. 

SANJI (FRENCH) 

Sanji always felt proud of his ethnicity and heritage, so he always made it a point to speak his native language. 

Like Luffy, it would be at random moments. He could be cooking and would mutter to himself in French about instructions or maybe lyrics to a song.

Sometimes, he would swear if he nearly dropped a bottle of sauce or about the noise Luffy and Usopp would make outside the kitchen door. But always, when he served you and the crew, he would give you all a bright, proud smile and a “Bon appétit!”. 

And always, always, he would speak French during sex. He would whisper in your ear about how good you felt and how sweet you tasted, his words like honey in your ears.

“Je me send is bien en too, princesse, (I feel so good inside you, princess)” he’d moan into the tense, sexed-up air of your bedroom, your ankles on his broad shoulders as his cock stroked your insides. “Tellement parfait. Si belle. (So perfect. So beautiful).”

He would kiss your foot before taking one of your toes into your mouth. 

That would usually set you off like a rocket, making you cum all over the bed and his cock. And because he thought you were so pretty, he would always explode deep inside you, filling you to the brim. That’s part of why he always let his native tongue slip in the bedroom with you. 

Other than the nasty shit, he would always tell you, “Je t’aime”. When he would kiss you; before you went to bed; when you’d separate for an expedition or when when you’d go to the other side of the ship. It was only right as the love chef. “Je t’aime,” he’d say, an adoring smile on his face and hearts in his eyes. It would make you tingle and feel warm all over you. 

So you surprised him one night when he cooked dinner specifically for you before the crew even ate. “Sanji, baby, you didn’t have to make me a whole separate meal,” you giggled as you sat down in the chair he pulled out for you. “I would’ve eaten the lamb!” 

“Nonsense,” he tutted, looking sexy in his apron dusted with flour and spices. “You said you didn’t like lamb too much. And believe me, honey: fixin’ grilled fish for you is nothing compared to what these hooligans want.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek and whispered, “Bon appétit, my love” before hurrying back to the stove to check the yeast rolls in the oven. 

You stared down at the dinner spread on your plate: grilled fish drizzled in lemon and garlic with a side of honey-glazed, oven-roasted carrots, kus kus, and steamed broccoli. You cut a piece of the fish and put it into your mouth, humming in pleasure at the taste. You turned to Sanji, his back to you, as you gushed over the food. “This food is delicious, Sanji!” you said. "C'est trés bon! (It's very good!)” 

Sanji visibly paused before turning around to look at you, confused. Your smile grew and you lowered your fork. “Mes compliments au chef (My compliments to the chef),” you giggled. Before you could take a breath, Sanji was flying across the kitchen and planting kisses all over your face as you giggled. “Since when do you speak French, my love?” he laughed, giddy. 

“I’ve been practicing,” you hummed, playing with the color of his shirt. “I wanted to impress you.” Hearts in his eyes, Sanji pressed his forehead against yours. “And impress me, you did, mon there,” he murmured. “Now finish that food so I can hear more of my native tongue coming out of those sweet lips.” 

You did and while he had you bent over the kitchen counter while the crew ate in the other room, you repeated one word to him, over and over again, as he pummeled inside of you: “Je t’aime”. 

LAW (GERMAN) 

Law never spoke German. Or at least, not in front of you or the Hearts crew. 

“What’s the need?” he asked when you asked him to teach you something in his native tongue. “I haven’t lived there in years. Why are you so interested in my language anyway?” You would tell him you were curious, but that wouldn’t make him budge. 

You found it sad. Though he claimed he felt pride in his ethnicity and his native land, he barely mentioned his time there or taught you any phrases. So, in order to coax him into it, you fixed him a German dish. One day when the ship docked on a little island, you ran out to town to grab the ingredients for it and fixed it for him that night. It took a lot of preparation and stressing over whether or not he’d respond well to it, but that night, you sat the crew down for dinner. 

“I made something special for y’all,” you giggled, smiling secretively at Law. He scowled in confusion and suspicion at you, not sure what you were up to, until the crew took the silver covers off of their plates to reveal their meal: slices of roasted pork shoulder glazed with a cumin sauce and sitting on a bed of roasted potatoes and peppers. “Ta-da!” you shouted. “Sh-wen-braten!” 

At you mispronouncing the name, the corner of Law’s lips quirked a bit while his crew barely blinked. They were too busy drooling over and gobbling down their food. “Wow, Y/N!” Bepo growled. “This tastes amazing! I haven't tasted pork this good in so long!” 

“Thank you,” you giggled, but your attention was still all on Law as he took a bite. You stood behind his chair, nervously ringing a dish towel around your hands. “How is it?” you asked, bending down to hear him better over the chatter. 

He continued to chew and chew, leaving you in suspense, before he swallowed. “S’good,” he murmured and you sighed in relief. “Though you pronounced the dish wrong.” You made a face, pouting cutely in confusion at him. “It’s pronounced “schweinebraten,” he said, his deep voice rolling over the foreign word.

“Sch.” He paused, waiting for you to repeat it back to him. “Weine.” You parroted him, doing your best to keep from smiling out of giddiness. “Braten.” 

“Braten,” you pronounced, earning a satisfied nod before he turned back around to finish his meal. But you weren't done. you leaned down to his ear, loving how he tensed at your touch and presence. “Between you and me, I already knew how to pronounce it,” you purred. “I just wanted to hear you say it. Guten appetit (Enjoy your meal).” 

Something happened to Law in that moment hearing you speak in his language. His cock swoll in his pants and he nearly broke his fork as he sat rigid in his seat. You turned and walked away back to the stove, swaying your hips and biting back a grin as he watched, wanting to fuck you right there in front of his entire crew and make you say some very nasty words in his native tongue. 

“Law, why are all red like that?!” Jean practically yelled across the table. 

“Shut up!” Law growled as you laughed. He was gonna get you back for that later tonight.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ fuckboy!mingi x party girl!reader (feat. best friends/roomates!woosan)

synopsis ✭ you like to party but that doesn’t mean you’re always down to fuck, so, when notorious fuck boy song mingi takes an interest in you, you’re certainly wary of him. but something about his insistence and willingness to go the extra mile is incredibly attractive. when they see you start to play into him, though, your best friends wooyoung and san do everything in their power to keep you away from him. so mingi has no choice but to fly under their radar.

content/genre ✭ smut MDNI 18+, fwb/situationship to ???, undefined relationship, secret relationship

word count ✭ 5.3k

warnings ✭ alcohol consumption (not during/before sex), protected sex, slight dirty talk, fingering, sex is pretty vanilla

✭✭✭✭

CHAPTER 1: SWEET TALKER

The scene was very familiar to you. A packed bar on a Friday night. A skimpy outfit that made you feel good. Loud music that shook through your body, lyrics drowned out by the heavy bass and mass of people. All of that on top of a drink in your hand paid for by a guy you knew full well you were not going home with. It was the recipe for a perfect night.

You certainly weren’t a stranger to a good party. And this one wasn’t any different from the others. The drink in your hand was free, paid for by the pretty stranger you were talking to. His name completely slipped your mind, but you didn’t really need to remember it because, moments after catching your eyes from across the bar, your friend slipped his arm over your shoulder.

When you looked up at him in mock surprise, he kissed your forehead. He turned to look at the guy you were talking to, one who was mildly surprised to find out you had a boyfriend.

Despite his surprise, though, he piped up anyway, “Can I help you? We were kinda talking here.”

Wooyoung shook his head and laughed, “I don’t really appreciate guys buying drinks for my girl and trying to hook up with her.”

“But–”

“We’ll be on our way actually,” Wooyoung cut off the nameless man, leading you away with his arm still around your shoulder. 

It wasn’t until the two of you made it to the tall table where your friend San was standing that he dropped his arm from your shoulder.

Immediately, though, Wooyoung glared at you, “Was the drink worth it?”

“Honestly, not really,” you laughed, “His taste kinda sucked.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, “You’re just mad you can’t anyone to pay for your alcohol that isn’t San.”

“I only pay because he never stops whining,” he glared at your friend. “And it’s not like I’m gonna drink tonight either,” he said, taking a sip of the Coke in his hand.

“You don’t have to be the designated driver every weekend, San,” you told him, “Wooyoung knows how to drive, too.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “You bitch. You know how to drive. Why don’t you ever offer?”

“Because you are a gentleman, and you would never make me drive you home after a long night.”

“That’s some bullshit logic.”

You shrugged, “It works on San.”

“You know I don’t mind,” San chimed in, trying to break up this completely unnecessary argument.

You knew, but pushing Wooyoung’s buttons was always fun, especially when he was tipsy. Turning away from the table, scanning the bar. It was relatively early, only around ten, but the bar was packed with mostly students from your university. They hung around the bar and danced on the floor. It was a typical Friday night for a lot of students at your university. Since the bar was only half a mile from campus, you’d be hard-pressed to find a body in here who didn’t attend your school or know someone who did. Despite that, most of these people you had never seen before in your life. 

Song Mingi was not one of those people. 

Personally, you had only ever interacted with him in passing. Mostly with his friends. When they bought you a drink hoping you’d come back to their place. The majority of them had failed (in fact, only one of them had ever succeeded). But you knew his name at least, and you were pretty confident he knew yours.

He had never really tried. Probably because you had a reputation for rejections. Most guys, fortunately for your wallet, saw this as a challenge, and you were never gonna turn down free stuff.

From where he stood across the bar you could tell he was staring at you. Even with his stupid sunglasses on. He was staring at you with complete disregard for the fact that there was already a girl on his arm. You saw his eyebrows raise above the glasses as if he was greeting you without tipping off the girl with him. You rolled your eyes a looked back over at San who was sliding around the table to your side. 

“He’s been watching you all night.”

“Really?” you titled your head, minorly intrigued. Maybe “minorly” was a lie because you could hardly ignore the butterflies in your stomach at knowing that fact.

“Y/n…”

You side-eyed him, “What?” 

You knew “what.” Of course, you did. That much was obvious from the girl on his arm who he was pretending to pay attention to. Mingi went through girls like they were busy work. Checking them off like boxes and moving on to the next. As far as you know, he hadn’t had a girlfriend in your four years of attending the university, and you weren’t delusional enough to believe that the attention he was giving you was anything special.

As much as you despised a fuckboy, though, you would be a fool to deny that Song Mingi was the epitome of your type. Tall, dark hair, great style. Dressed in all black and adorned with carefully chosen silver jewelry. Sometimes you wondered why all the hottest guys you knew were the ones who were almost certainly never going to settle down. San would be the one to tell you to reassess your type, but listening to San was something you didn’t do very often (even though he was always right).

“I know you, and you do not want to mess around with him.”

“Correction, I don’t want to date him. I would very much like to mess around with him.”

San looked at you disapprovingly, “You and I both know that you don’t go home with guys because you know you’ll catch feelings for a one-night-stand. Tell me how the fuck you’re going to mess around with him and keep it purely casual.”

He was right, as per usual. You weren’t really the type to be able to separate romantic feelings from your sex life. God, you had surely tried, but each attempt had ended in disastrous heartbreak. And you had no reason to believe that this would be any different.

“One drink couldn’t hurt.” You were desperately trying to reason with him. Well, you were more trying to reason with yourself, but San was there to be of assistance.

“Ask him why the fuck he’s wearing sunglasses inside at night,” Wooyoung chimed in from behind you.

“Stop encouraging her.”

“Ok, dad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and took a sip of the Coke San had left on the table.

“It’s fine, Sannie, I’m not gonna fuck him. I’ll just talk to him, and maybe dance with him. That’s it. I’ll still come back here, and we’ll all go home together. Ok?”

Despite San’s major disapproval, you made your way back up to the bar. If he wanted you that bad, he’d come to you. You certainly weren’t going to make the first move here. If he wanted to get closer than just checking you out.

Inevitably, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was Wooyoung, and he was letting you know that Mingi was making his way toward the bar. 

In order to avoid another mediocre drink, you started ordering a drink for yourself. When the bartender asked for your card at the end of your order, you started digging around in your clutch. Mingi knew your game. He knew full well, as he approached you, that that clutch held absolutely nothing of monetary value. And he was right of course, you had brought it for the sole purpose of holding your phone and a tube of lip gloss. 

“Go ahead and make two of those,” Mingi reached over your shoulder and handed the bartender his card.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, faking your surprise, “Oh! Thank you.”

“Of course, anything for a pretty girl who goes to bars without a wallet” he smiled down at you. Leaning against the bartop.

Laughing, you shrugged, “I don’t need to why pretty boys are willing to pay for my drinks.”

“So you knew I would pay before you even got up here?”

“Please, I could practically feel you staring at me all night,” that was fully a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Couldn’t help myself. You look great it black,” He gestured to the minidress you wore. It was one of your favorites, so it felt good that he seemed to like it, too.

You grabbed at the jacket he was wearing, running your thumb over the fabric, “So do you.”

The bartender slid your drinks to you, and Mingi picked both of them up. His fingers brushed your own as he handed it to you. 

The two of you chatted and flirted for the better part of an hour. The time honestly flew by. You looked over at your friends to see that some more people had gathered around their table. Great. That meant you had time. San chatting away with people meant he wasn’t ready to leave. And you wanted to dance with Mingi. So you for sure weren’t ready to leave. You looked out over the dance floor, it was still super lively. Just crowded enough for you to have fun. 

When you set your empty glass down on the bar, Mingi grabbed your hand. He nodded toward the dance floor you were looking at so longingly, “You wanna dance?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “sure.”

✭✭✭✭

Dancing with Mingi was incredible. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that he looked so fucking good under the low lights of the bar, but holy shit. 

The rings on his hand dug into your waist where his hands were holding you against him. With your head leaned back against his chest, you could feel his breath on your neck. He groan slightly ever time you gripped his hair. It was such a subtle groan that you could only really feel it reverbrate of hiss body. 

When he turned you around in his arms, you where quick to place yours over his shoulders, pushing your chest into his. He smirked down at you with both of his hands resting on the lowest part of your back, any lower and he fully would have been groping you.

You danced with him for an indecerable amount of time. You were sweating from the amount of bodies in the room, and you can tell Mingi is too from the sheen on his forehead. 

Moving a hand from his shoulder you grabbed the sunglasses, his stupid fucking sunglasses, and lifted them up onto his head. Looking into his eyes for the first time, he winked at you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him, as if it were even possible. You tangled your hands in his hair as the two of you danced together. Communicating with nothing but body movements. Everything was hot, from the air in the room, to his hands on your back. You felt nothing but pure dopamine infused ecstasy. 

Most of the time, the men who bought you drinks spent their time with you bragging about themselves and telling you how good you looked in whatever outfit you had opted for that night.

It was rare that you actually had fun with them. That was usually reserved for your friends.

Maybe it was the fact that you had already decided on not going home with him, though that decision was sounding more and more unappealing as the night went on, or maybe it was because you were dancing with a man who just knew how to have fun. 

There were no thoughts in you head other than the utter giddiness you felt when his hands squeezed your waist or when his head dipped to your neck as he breathed something in your ear.

Nothing could take you out of this moment. Well maybe except your phone buzzing in your bag. You had felt it buzz around six times before you reached into your bag to see what it was. 

Of course, as you suspected it might be, it was Wooyoung. Telling you that he was tired and wanted to go home. You huffed and thought about ignoring it when you saw San approaching you.

Quickly, and without much thought at all, you reached into Mingi’s back pocket. He looked a bit taken aback by the action. When you pulled out his phone, he looked down at you, intrigued. 

“Open it,” you told him. He did what you asked, unlocking the device and handing it back to you. You were quick to type in your number with your name. Simple. No emojis. No petnames. He could change it up later if he really wanted. 

By the time San had grabbed your shoulder, you had already given him his phone back. And that was it. You let San pull you away. Left him with nothing but your phone number. Not a kiss. Not a promise to meet up. Not a “call me” with a wink. Nothing.

You left him with the hope that, if he really wanted you, he would chase you. At least just a little bit.

✭✭✭✭

Mingi had really pulled through. He had texted you that next night. It was nothing special. He told you that he had had a good time. That he thought you were beautiful, and he’d love to see you again. You texted a bit through the week, too. Casually flirting with each other. Well, it was more of him flirting, and you responding calmly. A completely false persona, because every time he mentioned anything suggestive you were a total wreck. Kicking your feet, giggling with red ears.

Even when he texted you at work.

✭✭✭✭

Working the closing shift was always such a bore. Working until the late hours of the night, cleaning up messes that you had no part in making. It was the perfect storm for a less-than-perfect evening. 

Having a friend to join you in that suffering, though, made it just a little more bearable. You had to beg your manager to keep scheduling you with San in the evenings, but it certainly paid off. The restaurant was small, so it was just the two of you at night. Left to your own devices to clean up and close down. 

Being alone with him, though, unfortunately, gave him time to lecture you.

You’d just finished mopping the floors in the back kitchen when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You smiled a little when you saw who it was.

“Oh god,” you heard San grumble from where he was next to you, also mopping the floors.

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You know what,” he rolled his eyes, “are you actually talking to that douchebag?”

You shrugged, “it’s nothing serious. It’s all just fun.”

“Yeah, it’s all just fun until you actually start catching feelings for him, and then he dumps you like he has so many other girls.”

His words stung quite a bit, but mostly because you knew there was more than a small layer of truth to them. You knew this was far from the first time that Mingi had given a girl this much attention, but you’d be fully lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like it. His sweet words and constant pet names were something you looked forward to every day.

Which is why you looked back down at your phone despite San’s obvious disapproval.

| mingi: you work at arriba’s right?

| you: uhh…yeah? who told that? and why?

| mingi: no one told me. ive just seen you there a lot 

| mingi: and you said you were working tonight so i wanted to know if i could pick you up after your shift

| mingi: my roommate’s gone tonight. thought maybe we could watch a movie or whatever. we’ll have the place to ourselves

Holy shit. He was inviting you over. You’d only been talking to him for a week, but you were starting to wonder if texting back and forth was going to be the extent of this…thing…the two of you had going on.

| you: riiiight… watch a movie…

| mingi: we can do whatever you want baby

| mingi: i don’t give a shit about the movie. i just wanna see your pretty face

You glanced over at San, who was still vigorously mopping the floors in the kitchen. There’s no way you could have Mingi pick you up without him noticing. He was your ride home anyway. You didn’t want to lie to him either though. Which meant you’d have to face the humiliation of telling him you were going over to “watch movies” with the guy he was desperately trying to get you to avoid.

But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see Mingi. And you’d be lying even more if you said you just wanted to watch a movie with him. You were trying so hard, though, to make him keep playing this game. To see how far he was willing to go. How much he was willing to chase you. 

You couldn’t help it, though, that every time he texted you thought back to him dancing with you at the bar. His hands on your waist and your back. His lips brushed up against your ear. The strands of his dark hair between your fingers.

Noticing your silence, Mingi messaged you again:

| mingi: please baby? i really want to see you

| mingi: i’ll even pick up some takeout on my way to get you

| mingi: and i’ll drive you home tomorrow i promise

Tommorow? Well fuck. You really weren’t sure at first if he wanted you to spend the night, but that much was clear now. Sure, you probably wouldn’t get done at Arriba’s until midnight, but you thought maybe he’d just drive you home super late. But spending the night? Well, that just added a whole new level of intrigue.

| you: fine, i get off at 12. don’t be late

| mingi: wouldnt dream of it 

San was still mildly upset at you as the night went on. Well, upset wasn’t really the word, he was more worried you were gonna get your heart broken which you assured him wouldn’t happen because there were no feelings really involved here. Hell, you hadn’t even met up outside the bar yet.

But San’s poor attitude made it significantly harder to bring up this evening’s plan.

“Hey, um,” you started, not looking at him as you wiped down the table in front of you, “I, uh, don’t need a ride home tonight.” 

You glanced up to see that he’d stopped wiping down his table. 

“Ok,” he responded, resuming his cleaning.

You cringed, that response was almost worse than a lecture, and you told him that. 

He shrugged in response, “You’re an adult. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I can strongly advise you against certain things, but I’m not going to stop you,” he met your eyes, “If he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, though, please call me, ok?”

You nodded.

“I won’t lecture you at all. I’ll just come get you.”

"Thank you, Sannie,"

✭✭✭✭

After counting down the cash and setting the alarm, you were both ready to go for the evening. You checked your phone for the time. 12:14. Below it, of course, was a message from Mingi:

| mingi: im here

[attachment: 1 image]

| mingi: and ive got food

You bid your friend farewell with a hug. When you stepped out into the parking lot, you saw Mingi leaning up against the hood of his car, food in hand. San’s eyes burned into the back of your head as you made your way over to him. Actually, you had more reason to believe he was staring at Mingi rather than at you.

He pushed himself off his car when he saw you coming. He held the food out to you, grinning. 

“What’d you get?” you asked, taking the bag from him.

He shrugged, “Just some chicken. I wasn’t sure what you liked. There’s fries in there too, and I’ve got a Coke in the car if you want it.”

“Thank you.” “Not a problem, baby,” he glanced over your shoulder, “Although…is your friend gonna be alright? He won’t stop staring.”

The butterflies you got seeing him call you “baby” over text were nothing compared to the pure giddiness that came from hearing it out loud. 

Of course, though, you had to remind yourself that you were far from the only girl whom he’d called “baby” with that voice you’d come to obsess over. This wasn’t about the use of a pet name, it was about how his voice really got you going. But just maybe you did enjoy him calling you “baby.”

“Don’t worry about him. He just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Oh, how refreshing,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t go unnoticed by you.

✭✭✭✭

After pulling his car into the parking lot and leading you up four flights of stairs (apparently, the elevator has been broken for months), you arrived at the door of Mingi’s apartment. He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He turned around to usher you through the door.

“Here she is,” he mumbled.

You laughed a little, “You refer to your apartment as a ‘she.’”

He shrugged and laughed a little with you, not providing any explanation at all. 

You took a glance around the apartment, other than the bedrooms, you could see the whole thing from where you stood in the doorway. It was small, but it definitely was an adequate living situation for two college students on a budget. You walked through the kitchen, setting the leftover food on his counter since you had eaten most of it on the drive here. 

When Mingi disappeared into his bedroom, you froze just a bit. He’d seemed super casual over the phone. It was obvious that he definitely wanted to have sex with you but not at all like he’d try to force it out of you. You were kind of under the impression that the ball was in your court on that one. Maybe you had misread the situation.

Despite your confusion, you made a couple of steps toward his room only to see him emerge from the room moments later with some clothes in his.

“I figured you might want to change out of your work clothes,” he says, pushing the change of clothes into your arms. It was nothing special, a black tee and some gray basketball shorts. “If you want you can use the shower too. I cleaned it yesterday, too, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

You were a little thrown off by his demeanor. Maybe the flirty Mingi you had previously been interacting with had an on-and-off switch, because, right now, he was just treating you like a friend who was crashing at his place for the evening. Not at all like the Mingi who you’d been talking to all week who was desperately trying to get into your pants.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I actually wouldn’t mind taking a shower.”

✭✭✭✭

After you had finished your shower and, mostly, dried your hair, you and Mingi sat together on the couch. His arm rested behind your shoulders as he scrolled through different shows on the TV. 

Holy hell he smelt good. You couldn’t tell if it was just good hygiene or cologne or maybe even just fabric softener, but, nonetheless, you couldn’t help but breathe in and lean closer into his side. When he felt you lean closer, the arm around your shoulder pulled you in just a bit closer. You glanced up at his face which was still focused on the screen in front of you. Illuminated solely by the television screen and the faint light in the kitchen behind you. Your eyes traced his profile watching how his eyelashes fluttered and his tongue absentmindedly played with his lips. They looked soft. Really soft. 

Forcing yourself to stop looking at his lips, halting the dirty thoughts that began clouding your mind, you looked back up at his eyes which were focused on the screen ahead of you. Light from the TV reflected off the glassy surface of his eyes. He truly was beautiful. 

In all honesty, you felt yourself falling into dangerous territory here. Everything about this situation, him buying you dinner, letting you wear his clothes and use his shower, cuddling on his couch while his roommate was out of town. All of it screamed couple. Right? Why was he treating you like a girlfriend? You knew for a fact that wasn’t his angle here. Or at least you thought. God this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t you just relax and enjoy yourself in the arms of a beautiful man? This is why you never went home with guys. You would spend the entirety of your night micromanaging your thoughts and overanalyzing the situation. 

Subconsciously, in the midst of your chronic overthinking, you had pulled away from Mingi just a little, but it was enough for him to notice and look down at you.

“You good?” he asked. Setting the remote down on the couch next to him.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Maybe I should kiss him. You thought. That would make it clear what you wanted. Give him some indication. No that’s a terrible idea. And an impulsive one, too.

He found your speechlessness endearing. He laughed softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing your jaw with his fingers and swiping his thumb softly across your cheek.

Well, fuck. You lost all restraint over yourself in that moment. 

Holding his hand against your face with your own, you leaned into him and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss, smirking slightly as his moved with your own. His lips were just as soft as you imagined. Like velvet when they passed over yours. And fuck he tasted good, you could tell he had definitely freshened up while you were in the shower. 

You sighed even further into the kiss when his hand moved down to your neck. Throwing one leg over his lap, you straddled his waist. He kissed you even harder now. Playfully biting your bottom lip. Pulling at it before kissing your chin. Then your jaw. Down your neck. All the way to your collarbone.

His hands dug into your hips much like they had when you had danced together the weekend prior. Your hands gripped his t-shirt. Failing to contain your anticipation.

“Baby,” he whispered, the depth of his voice shot straight to your core, “how far do you wanna take this?”

You whined, grateful he was defining boundaries but overwhelmed with the fact you had to tell him how you wanted it, “Please, Mingi.” You breathed out a heavy breath, “I need you.”

He smirked, his demeanor changed ever so slightly. Noted. You thought. He liked it when you begged. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Burring your face in his neck and gripping his shirt tight, you rolled your hips. Grinding your core into him, “Mingi,” you moaned softly, “You’ll make me feel good, right?”

“Of course,” and apparently that was enough for him because, in the next moment, he pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head. Leaving your bare chest exposed to him.

He shifted you slightly. Motioning for you to lay back on the couch. You did, and he was quick to start kissing at your chest. His lips brushed over you collar bone. He kissed down your sternum and reached your belly button before coming back up to kiss your breasts.

You gripped his hair as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Biting at it as he massaged the other one with his hand. He wasn’t wearing his rings right now, but you could only imagine how it would feel. The cold metal against your skin.

With his mouth occupied, you felt a hand slip under the waistband of your shorts and past your panties. You gasped, loudly, when he slid his finger through your folds. He hummed contently when you arched your back into him as he slid the finger into you. Adding another soon after you. 

His thumb played with your clit. Slowly. You could tell he wasn’t trying to make you cum right now. He was doing his do-diligence and prepping you. You had no doubt that he could make you cum if he wanted to or else he wouldn’t be so popular with women. You had heard stories about nights with Mingi, and everyone was always overwhelmingly positive about his skills in bed.

Your eyes rolled back slightly when he slipped a third finger into you. Mouth open in a silent moan that came out as nothing more than a little whine, you threw back your head. 

Shortly after though, he pulled his fingers out of you. He pulled off your shorts and panties together before ridding himself of his own pants and underwear too. Fuck, he was big. He smirked when he saw you looking, “You can take it. Right baby?”

You nodded breathlessly, “Mhm.”

When he hovered back over you, you gripped at his shirt. Trying to pull it over his head. He helped you out. Reaching behind his back to pull the tee over his head. You would have spent more time admiring his build but he was back to kissing you in an instant. His kisses made you so dizzy. You probably could have just kissed him for hours if you weren’t so undeniably horny. 

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t even notice when he’d slipped on a condom. You whined when he slid his length between your folds. He held down your hips when you started to roll them. Begging for something to touch your clit that was almost throbbing for attention. 

“Don’t be so greedy, baby. I’ll take care of you.” 

And that he did. The moment he slid into you, you lost all control of yourself. Your nails dug into his back as he thrust into you. Painfully slow at first.

“Please,” you begged, “faster…” You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

His thumb furiously rubbed at your clit as he thrust into you. Faster and deeper with every movement of his hips. You gripped at anything you could, his shoulders, his hair, his back. 

You were so undeniably lost in your own pleasure. Your mind was foggy. All you could think about was this beautiful man, furiously fucking you, grunting in your ear, and breathing on your neck. 

Even though you thought it was impossible, his thumb moved fasted on your clit. When he hit just the right angle you cried out, and he could feel you tighten around him. 

“Oh?” he asked between pants, “Right there?”

“Fuck! Yes, right there!” your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your legs shook as they wrapped around his waist, holding him close. With one final movement of his thumb, you came around him. Your walls fluttered as you reached that incredible high. “Oh god!” You cried out. 

“Shit,” he grunted, “I’m close, baby. Hold on.” With a couple more thrusts into your sensitive pussy, he came into the condom. 

He fell forward on top of you. His arms or either side of your head held him up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your chests both heaved. 

“Wow,” you said, breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed you softly, “Was it good?”

You nodded, “Great.”

When you looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, you momentarily forgot that you were not supposed to get your feelings wrapped up in this. Sirens rang in your head as he kissed you again, but, if he was gonna fuck you this good, you could ignore them for just a little longer.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ayyeeee it's done!! i honestly don't know how considering i have midtrems this week 😅 anyways, this has been in the drafts for about two months, and i'm glad i finally decided to start it!

if you enjoyed, please let me know! i absolutely LOVE hearing feedback whether it be through my inbox, comments or reblogs.

not sure when the next chapter will be released, but if you want to join the taglist you can lmk here or sign up here :)

[delopsia]

ride the lightning | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, slice of life, Rhett's shoulder injury, showering together, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, food, absolutely zero plot to this one. Brief Summary: What's more fun than a post-rodeo party? Running off and having your own personal rodeo right before the storm hits.  

"You've got to quit eyeing those cowboys," Autumn's already chiding you, her words distorted by the glass resting against her bottom lip. 

Hesitant, your gaze drifts back to her. Weren't quite done scanning the room, but if you don't stop now, then you'll lose the luxury of feigning stupidity. "What do you mean?" 

"You're not slick!" She pauses, taking a sip of the liquid gold that fills her cup, the taste so bitter that her nose wrinkles. "I see you looking over there." 

"Because I'm looking for someone," you chirp, your nail tapping against the table as you begin to look around again. 

There was no way that wasn't his truck out in the parking lot. You'd know that aftermarket lightbar anywhere. But you don't see him. Not by the jukebox or the pool table. Hell, he's not even with his buddy Archie over there beside the empty water trough. 

"It's that bull rider from the rodeo, ain't it." Autumn's hit the nail on the head, and she knows it. Swirling the ice in her glass, grin growing wider with every second that passes. "You sure have a type."

It's not as if you could ever defend yourself from that accusation, but you're leaning forward, voice low as you whisper. "Yeah, like you don't have a thing for blue-eyed blondes."

"Blue-eyed blondes with money." She tips her glass at you as if to further her correction. It's not until after she's downed another greedy gulp of beer that she opens her mouth again.  "At least we have the eye thing in common."

All the men in the world, and here you two have picked men that happen to be neighbors. Arch enemies at that. Classic, century-old feud stuff. At this point, they don't hate each other for a reason; they do it for tradition.

You reckon a family hobby would be healthier, but that's not your dog, and it's certainly not your fight.

...not yet, at least. 

"At what point are we obligated to hate each other?" Dipping a finger into your drink as you speak, mindlessly swirling the ice until it forms its own little whirlpool. It's pretty to look at. Blue in color, with a little cherry and framed in a dainty glass, but whoever mixed this gave you all tequila and no juice. 

She hums, looking at something behind your head. "Whenever someone coughs up a half-mil."

Your finger stops, feeling the alcohol keep spinning past your finger. The cherry stem scrapes your skin. "Our friendship is only worth half a million to you?" 

"No," her eyes finally dart back to you, glinting in the light, "but that's how much is in Luke's checking account."

You don't even want to know how or why someone would have that much money ready to spend at a moment's notice. Or, better yet, where the hell that money came from.

Whatever is behind you, Autumn seems pretty interested in it, and you've got a good enough guess that it's the face of a man you're not interested in seeing. If you make eye contact, he'll take that as an invitation. 

Music sparks to life, blaring from a pair of cheap speakers somewhere on your left. You vaguely recognize the start of the song, but you're too busy scanning the crowd to pay attention to the lyrics. There are so many cowboy hats that you can't even cling to your usual method of finding him. Fuck, and hardly anyone has taken off their rodeo chaps. How are you supposed to—

There he is, beside the coolers. Red solo cup in hand, full of what you can only assume is more cheap beer. 

He's already looking at you, the corner of his lip lifting as you meet his gaze. 

"Speaking of," Autumn's already beginning to get up, the plastic table jolting as her hip bumps into it. "I just found who I was looking for."

"Have fun," pausing to glance at who she's so focused on. You're not sure why you expected it to be anyone other than Luke. "Try not to show up on the Abbott ranch with another hangover."

"No promises!" And just like that, she's left you. 

If history is anything to go off of, she'll charm him into driving her around in one of those fancy sports cars again. You've got a feeling that she's gonna be up in Jackson before sunrise, nestled in a fancy hotel for the weekend. 

"'s this seat taken?" 

You recognize that voice.

You've got to tilt your head to see him. Towering over you like some kind of giant, all broad shoulders and scruffy as can be, rodeo dirt still decorating his unshaven jaw. He hasn't even bothered to change out of his flannel, the ripped upper sleeve falling open to reveal the thick bicep lurking underneath. The left one sits a little awkwardly. Higher. An old injury aggravated by tonight's ride.

You want to climb him like a damn tree. 

"Maybe it is." Coy.

"Oh really?" His head cocks off to the side, hair falling into his face. "Who's it for?"

You've already got an answer brewing, but you hold it on your tongue for a moment, feigning thought. "His name is Rhett."

He hums. "Never heard of him." 

Silence. 

And then—

Rhett's laugh twists through the air like a melody, the plastic chair squeaking as he all but falls into the poor thing. One of these days, he's gonna do that, and it'll snap in two, but today doesn't seem to be that day. 

His hand motions toward the lone drink resting on the table, with its obnoxious blue color and lone cherry still swirling from when you toyed with it. "What's that?"

"Something terrible," you're already lifting the glass, holding it out for him to take. 

It's strange seeing him sipping from a dainty cocktail glass. Looks so much smaller when it's in his hand. You're not even sure if he notices the severe lack of juice, entirely unphased by the tequila that greets him. The cherry slips between his parted lips, the stem catching between them. 

"I thought you didn't like cherries?" Your head tilts to the side, curious. 

"I don't." His brow furrows, all too focused on something that you can't see. "But I like doin' this." Before you can begin to process what he's just said, his mouth opens, a tied cherry stem resting on top of his tongue. 

And here you thought you'd seen it all from him. "Is this your new party trick?" 

"Somethin' like that," the stem falls, landing somewhere that you don't see. Maybe you would know if you weren't too busy watching him lean forward, eyes sparkling with something he has yet to share. "Hey, do y' wanna get outta here?" 

"Not having fun?" Your answer is yes, but you're not sharing that yet. 

"I am, but..." then, lowering his voice, as if there's a risk of someone hearing him over the booming music, "'s more fun when it's just us."

You don't know where he's planning to go after this, but you're sold.

"I still can't believe you!" The squeal of the passenger door nearly drowns out your giggles, plastic grocery bags rustling as you climb out of the truck. 

You haven't the slightest clue which bag has the popcorn and which contains the chips, but the weight of the drinks is painfully obvious, the plastic handles rubbing uncomfortably against your arms. Curse the cashier for cramming all the bottles into one bag.

"Yeah, like you ain't never distracted me so you could pay for somethin'." Rhett's still laughing, that big cocky grin plastered across his face.

"But I never pretended I lost my keys!" Raising your voice for added effect, rounding the back of the truck. 

He's already beaten you here, opening the beaten tailgate. "Maybe ya should've." Wink.

Your eyes roll so hard that it hurts. "I'll remember that for the next time we get snacks."

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, pushing just hard enough to make you sway. "You'll forget." 

"I'll forget." Immediate acceptance. You've sung this tune so many times that even you know that you never follow through in the end. 

The back of his truck is a damn mess; square bales of hay, two empty gas cans, the shredded remnants of a flannel, a handsaw, and you think that's a bag of chicken feed over there in the back corner. The tailgate is the only open space for you to set the bags on, and it's only now that you realize how many snacks you've actually gotten.

"We probably should have gotten dinner at Odessa's instead," you find yourself saying as you poke through one of the bags. Where in the world are those candies you got?

He reaches past you, plucking a stray screwdriver out of the mess that is his truck bed. Something tells you that he's been looking for that. "What makes ya say that?" 

"Look at all the junk we got!" Opening up one of the bags for him to see, as if he wasn't there when you both picked out and bought these things. 

But Rhett just shrugs, "Don't see nothin' wrong with it."  

Hypothetically, it shouldn't take you that long to find your candy. There are only five bags, but even as you poke through them all, you don't see that brightly colored packaging anywhere. But you know they were rung up. They're on the damn receipt! So where the hell...did you miss them somehow?

By the time you find them sitting in the front seat, nestled up against Rhett's lost bag of sunflower seeds, he's already set up the blankets. Thick, old things layered on top of each other as a makeshift cushion, protecting you from the rocky ground lurking beneath the grass. One of the downsides of choosing a pasture to lounge in, you suppose. 

He's already sitting on the corner of his makeshift blanket nest, half-lidded eyes drinking you in as you settle down next to him, your knee clumsily knocking into his thigh. You'd pay attention to him if you weren't too focused on this box of candy, pushing your thumb under the thin cardboard edge, forcing it open. 

Weight appears on your shoulder. 

Those Western romances always talk about the allure of a stoic, gunslinging cowboy, weathered by the elements and the human definition of fearless. They always fail to mention the cowboys who blink up at you like a puppy, too shy to verbally beg for a piece of your snack. 

"Do you want something?" Dipping your fingers into the box, pulling out one of the candies.

Rhett hums. Not quite a yes, but not quite a no, either. It's one of those sounds that you've heard enough times to know what it means, already lifting the first piece of candy to his lips. The scruff of his chin tickles your skin when he takes it.

Blind, your hand feels along his face, stealing away the overwhelming warmth residing there, drinking in the soft drag of his facial hair, finally at that perfect length where it no longer feels like sandpaper but has yet to begin looking like the beginnings of a beard. His tongue presses on the soft inside of his cheek, pushing against your fingers.

"Quit that!" You squeal, yanking your hand back.

"'s it really feel that weird?" His head tilts, and you don't need to look to know that he's peeking up at you.

"Yes!" And there might be more to add to that, but you're pushing one of the candies into your mouth, the sweetness effectively shutting you up. Remaining quiet even as he tilts his head to press a prickly kiss to the side of your neck, such a simple gesture that should not have your lower belly twisting with something familiar.

You've got to think about something else. Something that doesn't involve jumping on and biting him like a flea. Sucking hard on that little piece of candy, eyes scurrying for something to look at. But all you're finding is darkness and more darkness.

No lampposts or porch lights or flickering campfires, just the pale glow of the moon and the speckling of stars hanging in the sky. There are so many of them up there. Almost looks as if someone has dumped a bottle of glitter atop a roll of never-ending black velvet fabric, twinkling proudly against their backdrop of nothingness. 

The weight on your shoulder disappears. Leaves behind an absurd sense of coldness as he gets up to fetch something from the truck. Odd, how you never seem to realize how warm he is until after he's gone. 

Even the poor lighting can't hinder you from taking him in. The rodeo spurs clinging to his muddied boots. The leather chaps that hang low on his hips, with the thin little buckles in the back that squeeze the thick meat of his thighs. You know there's a reason for them to be there, but the irrational part of your brain reckons they exist solely to make you dizzy. 

"Are you ever going to take those chaps off?" You find yourself asking, after a moment, dragging your gaze away from his ass. 

Rhett freezes, his hand still wedged in the plastic bag as he looks down at his own two legs. "Eventually," he pauses, cracking open one of the cans. You haven't a doubt in your mind that it's one of those spiked lemonades he's recently discovered. "Whenever my shoulder loosens up enough t' let me mess with it."

"Need help?" Words firing off your tongue before you can process what they mean.

The black and yellow can lifts to his mouth, poorly concealing the upward turn of his lips. "I ain't never said no to you undressin' me, doll."

One little sentence, and you've forgotten about your candy entirely, letting it fall onto the blankets without any care for whether or not it spills. You've hardly got to move; settling onto your knees is more than enough. He steps forward, standing right on the edge of the blanket, that oversized buckle glimmering in the moonlight. Your fingertips brush over the edge of it, dented from the hoof of last week's bull.

"I thought the clasp broke on this?" Audibly tapping a nail against it as you make your way to the much smaller buckle hanging underneath. Not thin or frail by any means, but the contrasting sizes isn't doing it any favors. 

Your fingers hook beneath the belt, tugging on the tiny strip of leather until he gets the hint.

He grunts, boots shuffling as you drag him forward. "Nothin' a little weldin' couldn't fix." 

It's easier to see the awkward hang of his left shoulder from down here, tense and lifted higher than the right one, like someone's wound the muscle too tight. Maybe that dislocation would have healed correctly if he agreed to that hospital visit. But...here you are.

All you've got to do is pull the leather strap backward, and the prong pops out of the hole. For such tough-looking chaps, they sure come off easily. One weak tug is all it takes to have them falling down his legs, falling as quickly as you'll let them, hands gliding down the sides of his thighs and past his bony knees, eating up as much time as you can.

It's a shame that you don't need to undo the buckles around his thighs, too; you wouldn't mind the tedious process of helping him buckle them back up, either. But it's too late for that. You've already gotten the leather past one of his boots, working it over the other just as quickly. 

Even as you set those old chaps to the side, Rhett doesn't make much of an effort to move, standing idle as you fold them. Eyes locked with yours, transfixed by the simple image of you on your knees, right in front of him. You know what he's thinking. You're thinking it, too. Memories so prominent in your mind that you're already beginning to act on them.

Something booms in the distance. A deep noise that rolls through the pasture like a warning of something more to come. You think that's lightning, you see, flickering in the corner of your eye, but you're not paying attention. You can't. Not when your hands are moving on their own whims, gliding up the sides of his thighs. 

Rhett's hum echoes into his half-empty can. Seems to carry for miles. "Didn't realize we were gettin' another storm."

His breath hitches. Eyelashes fluttering. 

Your hand drifts across the tent in his jeans once more. Warm. Growing heavier with every passing second. "Think we have time?" You ask as if you don't already know the answer. As if there isn't a sudden heat flushing between your legs, the voice in your head impatiently demanding that you hurry up and pinch open his belt.

"'n here y' say I'm the one with a problem," but just like that, he's sinking to his knees. Face to face, all too quickly. 

"It's not my fault that you look like...that!"  Floundering for an escape from the situation you've created all by yourself. 

One side of his mouth quirks upward, that lopsided smile so bright that it ought to put the sun to shame. Wind rips past, nudging his hair out from behind his ear and into his face, but it does nothing to hide his pretty face. Scruffy as it may be.

It must be the breeze that nudges you forward because you don't feel yourself moving. But you're leaning forward, mouth blindly clashing with his. A little too far to the right at first, and then his hair is in the way, and...

oh.

You've missed this. 

It's hardly been a few hours since the last time, but your heart argues that it's been a lifetime and a half. One little chaste peck, and then another, and another, and another, until you cease to part ways altogether. Those big arms wind around you, his palm pressing into the small of your spine, drawing you up against him.

And you're melting into him like ice cream in the summer sun, any semblance of control vanishing alongside it. Hands roaming up the broad expanse of his chest, tickling against his neck, curling around his prickly jaw, tangling in the curls resting at his nape. Your touch is nothing special, and yet he groans into your kiss anyhow. 

Callouses catch on the soft skin of your lower back, his hands shamelessly wandering beneath your shirt. Pulling it off is tempting, but Rhett's lemonade-flavoured tongue is licking into your mouth, and the wind whispers that you don't have the time for that kind of luxury. Not if you don't want to get rained on by another one of Wabangs popup storms. 

But you do have time to reach for his flannel, dragging your finger through the buttons, audibly snapping apart at record speeds. He needs to wear pearl snap flannels more often.

"Shit," he's gasping against your lips, breaking apart for the slightest of seconds, "'s a lil cold."

The world spins around you. Back hitting the ground with all the grace and ease of a newborn deer. A bolt of lightning tears across the sky, set off by the burning hands that appear on your hips, tugging at your waistband. Your body lifts, and they're gone. You're not even sure what has become of your shoes. Don't recall feeling them come off, but your socked feet are sliding against the blanket, fighting for purchase. 

Rhett's eyes snap shut, squeezing so tight that his forehead wrinkles with the effort. 

"What hurts?" You already know that look. Already have a vague idea of what could be bugging him. 

"Shoulder," speaking through gritted teeth, not bothering to ease up, as if relaxing his jaw could bring on another wave of pain. "moved it too fast." Slower this time, he leans forward, hands falling onto either side of you, and—

"Shit." He's hissing under his breath. Sounds more like a snake than a man. There's no way that he's going to be able to put weight on that left arm, not with his shoulder visibly twitching, sent into an angry spasm. 

"This isn't gonna work," you whisper, chasing the dwindling hope that your words will reach his ears but not his already sore ego. 

Rhett hasn't even opened his eyes, but he's already shaking his head. Stubborn to the end. You know what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. "Hold on, if you give me a second..."

You've already got an idea. "Lay on your back." Your hands find his chest, gently pressing until he gets the message, limbs awkwardly tangling as you exchange positions. Straddling his plush thighs, settled a little bit lower than you'd intended.

It's not quite what you originally had in mind, but you've never been one to complain about riding a cowboy, already beginning to reach for his belt buckle. You don't know how you found this difficult when you first got together; all it takes is the slightest motion, and it pops open. Then comes his belt and the crooked zipper that struggles to run down the tracks.

His hips jerk, thighs smacking into your ass. "Not that I'm complainin', darlin'," there's a weakness to his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. Like he's run a marathon in the time it took you to blink. "'s there somethin' rilin' you up?"

"No." Then, smiling, "Just you."

Blue eyes dart away. Looking off to the side. "Oh."

If it were lighter outside, you think you'd catch a whisper of a blush coloring his cheeks, but your vision has been reduced to dark blobs of color. Can't even tell what color his boxers are, even when your hand dips through the front of them, blindly reaching until—

Rhett sucks in a breath. 

It's hardly been a few minutes, and yet he's already so damn heavy. Thick in your grasp, a bead of precum running down the underside of his tip. Your thumb swipes across it, dragging it back up to his plush cock head.

"You're already so wet, cowboy," you muse, lazily tracing circles around his slit. There's so much of it. Dripping like a damn faucet, so much precum that you can see the glisten of it in the darkness. 

Thunder rumbles to your left. Closer now. But you just can't help yourself. 

Your mouth finds the underside of his cock. Pressing kisses onto the vein that runs along there, working your way up from his base. Tongue lazily poking out to swirl around his head, so used to the saltiness of his precum that you hardly even notice it. One of those advantages that comes with knowing him like the back of your hand. 

Like how you know that the delicate scrape of your teeth will make him—

"Ah!" Sharp. Pitchy. The closest thing you'll get to a squeal, the kind of sound that has your thighs trying to squeeze together, suddenly warm. 

Something in your jaw pops as you take him into your mouth. Sucking lazily, like you're savoring a piece of candy, not even making an effort to stop the drool from slipping past your lips. The wetter the better. Because you're pretty sure you know the answer to the question you're about to ask.

"Condom?" Pulling off of him with a soft 'pop.' 

Rhett's head tilts toward the truck, brow furrowing, visibly thinking for a moment. Then, his lips flatten into a line. "'s in my jeans at home."

Thunder rumbles once more, urging your already racing thoughts to scramble even faster. Pulling out could be an option if not for the fact that it's never worked out for you in the past, always seeming to forget in your final moments. Riding in that bouncy passenger seat with his cum leaking out of you has never been the most comfortable thing. Cleaning up is the worst, but...

Fuck, you really can't seem to make yourself care about any of that.

Rhett's belly flexes with the effort to sit up, his right elbow bracing his weight. A familiar blob of black peeks out from beneath his open flannel, that old bucking bull tattoo. Under the thin veil of darkness, it's easy to convince yourself that it's brand new. That the poor-quality ink hasn't caused it to fade quicker than it should have. 

A kiss presses to your cheek. "What're ya thinkin'?" 

"A little mess never hurt anyone," you don't know if you're talking to him or yourself. Maybe both. 

You don't realize how close you are until your noses clash, knocking together as you squirm up to settle in his lap. His left hand finds its way to your hip, burning against your chilly skin. Doesn't do anything more than rest there, touching you for the sake of touching you. 

It's a bit crude, reaching down to pull your underwear to the side rather than pulling them off entirely. But then you're guiding him up, and his dripping tip is dragging through your folds, and you can't think about anything else. 

"You're just as bad as I am," Rhett's laugh is so much bigger than any of that distant thunder, rumbling through you in delicate waves. 

"Like this hasn't been a known fact for years," and for that statement of his alone, you're stringing this out even longer. Bringing him back up before he can begin to sink into you, selfishly rubbing him against your clit, sensitive from lack of attention.

Lightning flickers. Rhett's hips shift, slipping back down your cunt, stubbornly nudging against your entrance. Manages to lift himself enough to create a blooming pressure there, the very tip of him slipping inside. 

Fuck, you're still aching from the bit of fun you had before the rodeo. Tangled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to the rapidly ticking clock. Or maybe the discomfort is from the severe lack of lube. Nothing but spit, precum, and your own wetness to soothe the drag of him as you begin to sink down on him.

"Mmph," Rhett's head tilts back, pale throat exposed. "How're you so—shit. How're you still so damn tight?"

On its own, something in your lower belly loosens, almost as if it didn't realize it was doing it in the first place. Allows you the fleeting courtesy of a breath of air before his tip fully slips into you. Heat jumps up your spine, swirling around in the back of your head. 

"I should ask you the same thing," your voice comes out weaker than what you anticipated, "why are you so damn big?"

And all that's done is make him laugh again. Nose nudging your cheek as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his smile too big for it to be anything more than a peck. But you want more, chasing after him as he tries to lean away, helpless to do anything but fall forward. 

Gravity quickens the glide of your body, his cock sinking further into you. The curve of him rubs into a set of nerves, never has taken very long for him to find them, thick length incessantly dragging against it. 

A heavy fist strikes the land to the west, the resounding boom washing over the surprised grunt that wrangles its way out of Rhett's throat. The only reason you catch note of it is from the way it rumbles against your bottom lip, pulling the corners of your mouth up into a giddy smile. 

All too quickly, you're fully seated in his lap, fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Bodies carved to fit seamlessly against one another, lost in the blending of limbs, tangling until you can no longer tell where one of you begins and the other ends. A shiver races up your spine, pussy involuntarily spasming around his thick cock. 

"Didn't think I was gonna be the one gettin' ridden tonight," there's no reason for Rhett to be grinning up at you like this, with that healing split in his lip and those glistening eyes. Mesermized. As if he's taking in the sight of a precious painting lost for centuries. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was looking at the stars behind your head.

But he's only looking at you. 

It's got you lifting yourself a little too quickly; haven't even begun to adjust to his size yet. "You'd better hope it lasts longer than eight seconds."

Something sharp digs into your knee as you lift yourself, but it's impossible to pay attention to. So fucking full of him that your every racing thought has wrapped itself around the shape of his name. Oh, and it's not helped by the burning drag of his cock; a little too big for you to be riding him without lube. 

You're sinking back down when his hips lips, snapping up into you midway. Fuck, you're burning alive out here. Growing wetter from that little motion alone, that tingling heat climbing your spine and settling into your cheeks. 

"Impatient," you're huffing, lacking any bit of the conviction you'd hoped you would have.

"Them bulls buck, y'know," that smug grin of his falters as your hips swivel, readjusting yourself, "'m just playin' my part."

So annoying. 

So, so annoying.

Something about the change in an angle has him rubbing up against something he hadn't before, air catching in your throat as he presses directly into it. Shit, it's too early for your thighs to be shivering like they are, and it's all you can do to flatten your palms against his chest, forcing yourself to remain upright. 

"Keep—mmh keep doin' that." Stupid cowboys and their stupidly pretty whines. Has no right to be squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head back and forth like he's trying to shake the feel of you out of his head.

And he just keeps rubbing against those little nerves, over and over and over. Stars sparkle across your vision, so many of them that you can no longer tell which hang high in the sky and which stem from your own imagination. Whether or not that's thunder or the hammer of your own heart, you're not even remotely sure. 

A stray hand meanders up your back, his touch so feather-light and ticklish that it's got you arching away from it. Unintentionally angling him into those soft little spots even more, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that you nearly freeze in place. 

You hardly feel yourself reaching for his wrists. Only recognize the feel of them in your grasp, thick and strong from years of manual labor, yet so willing to be pinned over his head. Falling into place like they always longed to be there.

"Fuck," Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, stifling a noise that you wish you could have caught, "so fuckin' pretty on top of me." 

"And here I thought you were marveling at the storm," panting into the open air like a damn dog, breathless all too quickly. As if the slow rise and fall of your hips is simply too much for you to handle. 

Rhett's biceps flex, muscle visibly rippling as the thunder crackles. "Nah," grunting, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "could watch y' ride me all fuckin' day." 

God, what is it about sex that makes him so fucking talkative?

Your hand darts out to the side. Blindly patting the blankets until you find one of the candies that spilled out of the container, shoving it past his parted lips before he can utter another word.

His mouth wobbles. Torn between a smile and something he wants to say. Neither manages to win the upper hand, instead beaten by a secret third thing. Because now he's sitting up, wearily bracing himself on that good arm, eyes falling shut midway as he leans in to kiss you. Knocking into each other so abruptly that your teeth audibly clatter.

But the wind is twirling past you with a kind of ferocity that wasn't there before, and in the back of your mind you're convinced that you've inadvertently caused it to happen. Distant storm falling into a rage as you tumble forward, forearms resting on either side of his head, hands in his hair, drowning yourself in the lemonade and candy that paints his tongue. 

Something sparks behind your eyes. "Rhett..."

He doesn't respond. Doesn't need to. The lift of his hips is more than enough of a reply, so sudden that it rips a sharp noise out of your throat. A decade of bull riding has made him too fucking strong for his own good, pushing up into you with devastating ease. 

This...thisis something. His breath tickling your skin. Your chest against his, nails scraping at his scalp. Helpless to do nothing but whine as he brushes against those little spots once more. Long, heaving motions that jostle you with every thrust, your eyes already struggling to remain open. 

"Rhett," repeating yourself like a broken record, panting into his ear like you're getting paid to do it.

The ground shakes. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance, volting through the soil, up through your knees, and into your belly. Or maybe it's not lightning at all, simply the dizzying sensation of his cock driving up into you with a sickeningly wet noise. You can't help the way your legs squeeze impossibly tight around him. Can't stop the familiar tingle from settling into your core, spreading down into your thighs. 

You don't remember when the babbling started, but you can hear the sound of your name twisting through the air, chanting beneath his breath like a melody. His prickly cheek rubs against yours, and you just know that it's going to leave your skin raw, but you can't bring yourself to pull away. 

"'m gonna..." the rasp of his voice has you clamping tighter around him. A whimper slips off his tongue. "I—"

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. One look is all you need. 

You are, too. 

There's no need for you to reach down and touch yourself. His cock alone is enough to have you crumbling like a house of cards, burying your head into the crook of his neck, unable to muffle every little noise he punches out of you. Downright merciless as he rubs into those sensitive little nerves over and over and over and—

A ghost of wind is enough to push you over the edge. Tumbling over the edge and into the abyss, the world around you going quiet as you cum around his cock. Not a sound breaking past your lips, head swirling round and round until you can no longer tell which way is up. 

You're only distantly aware of the sudden stalling of Rhett's hips, pushing up into you so hard that he lifts you up. Can't miss the sensation of his cock twitching, his cum spilling into your pussy, rope after rope of it, so much that you think you can feel it pooling inside of you.

A drop of rain hits your shoulder. Cold. Biting into your skin with its sharp little teeth. 

The storm is so much closer now, thick clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the stars entirely. Electricity arcs across the sky as you begin to lift yourself up before your body is even ready to move. 

Rhett's cock slips out of you with an awkward noise, slapping audibly against his belly. Shit, you can already feel it beginning to spill out, don't know how you plan to get home without making a mess of your clothes. 

A groan sounds from below you. "So fuckin' full of it," the soft tip of his cock presses back into you, and you don't need to look to know that Rhett's eyes are fixated on the obscene sight of his cum leaking out of you. "God damn."

"Well, don't...mmh, don't keep pushing it in," but your complaint is futile, and you're making no effort to try and stop him. No point in it, you suppose; it's not as if you can clean yourself up out here. 

He chuckles at that. You think the stars have secretly gathered in his eyes, sparkling in those deep blues. "Can't do nothin' 'bout it now."

"Hold on!" Your giggles echo through the kitchen, wet feet stumbling across the tile. "I can't move that fast!" 

But Rhett's hand keeps tugging you along, sliding around the corner and into the hallway. Water pours from his hair and shoulders, speckling across the floor, leaving a trail in his wake. A mess that you'd complain about if not for your own soaked clothes, so cold that you've gone entirely numb. 

Lights flicker overhead, power fading in and out as the storm rages on. Rain striking the windows so hard that you can hear it, even as you fumble down the hallway. Wet socks slide against the tile as you try to turn, your shoulder bumping into Rhett's. His hip smacks into the door frame. Your feet tangle. 

"We ain't never doin' that again," he's stumbling toward the shower, reaching for the knobs. Twists until he can't crank the hot water up any hotter. Something, anything to melt away the ice that's about to freeze over your skin.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin. "I thought you liked having sex outside."

"I do," he pauses, pulling the material over your head. It audibly hits the floor, the beginnings of yet another mess. "I don't like downpours 'n hail!" 

The red mark on his forehead is only just beginning to bloom, sure to darken as the night rages on. It's a little too high up to be blamed on a bar fight, but you're sure he'll find a way to play it off when his momma asks about what happened. 

Your pants are on the floor before he can finish getting his flannel off, not a care in the world for where they land. Your mind only has enough room for one thought at a time: hot water. A cloud of steam greets you as you step into the shower. The water has yet to hit your skin, and yet you can already feel yourself melting, the heat eating away at the invisible frost that has long since settled upon you. 

It's almost too hot, the spray seeming to burn little holes straight through your chest, and your toes sting. Such a sharp contrast compared to the heat that you wonder if it'll eat you alive.

A firm chest presses against your naked back, familiar arms settling loosely around your waist. "Y' jus' gonna leave me behind like that?" His attempt at sounding irritated doesn't miss your ears, but it dies before he can finish the sentence. Isn't helped by the kisses that appear on your shoulder.  

"If you can ride bulls, then you can climb into the shower by yourself," leaning back into him, your eyes fall closed. It might be the first time you've blinked since the rain began to fall, starting the moment you'd begun gathering the blankets into your arms. Mother Nature's punishment for not taking her warnings seriously.

Rhett hums, the vibration tickling the side of your neck. "Then." Kiss. "I should probably." Kiss. "Tell you." Kiss. "That we didn't bring any clean clothes..." Kiss. "Or towels."

...the towels. 

Your groan bounces off the tile walls and out into the hallway, probably even ventures past the closet and out into the living room. Why did it never occur to you to grab towels and clothes before you climbed in here?

"We'll rock paper scissors it after we rinse off," it's the same solution he uses for every conflict, but you find yourself agreeing with the idea anyway. 

He loses. Never deviates from playing rock, even when he knows full well that you will forever play paper. You're not sure if he's waiting for the day that you crack and play scissors or if he's intentionally losing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion it's the latter. He's way too content to dart into the hallway for towels, returning with more than either of you could possibly need.

"Did you grab every towel in the closet?" You laugh as you pull one of them around your shoulders, hugging it to yourself like a blanket. It's too damn cold in this house.

"No," then, grinning, "I left one behind."

He's gone before you've finished drying off, comes back one more time with your favorite pajamas in his hand, then disappears into the darkness of the house. Where he's gone, you're not sure; it's hard to tell when he never turns any of the lights on, navigating based on muscle memory alone. 

But you can hear the television turning on, your forgotten movie picking up right where it left off. 

"Rhett?" Calling out as you mosey out of the bathroom.

Damp carpet squishes beneath your feet, frigid and not at all what you expected to find yourself standing on. Only seems to get worse as you make your way down the hall, hopelessly soaked with rainwater. The old fan is already out, cool air blowing across the worst of it, licking at your heels when you step past.

Rhett's pale shoulders stick out like a sore thumb in the living room. All too visible as he moves around, hands audibly patting something down on the couch. Blankets. The ones off the bed, out of the closet, hell, he's grabbed the decorative one off the rocking chair. All to build an oversized nest, high around the edges, like he's trying to keep something out. So focused on the task at hand that he doesn't notice you until it's too late.

"Jesus!" His naked back jumps away from you as if burned by your kiss.

"Watcha buildin'?" Your speech mimicking his just a little more than usual, already leaning in to press a second kiss in between the knobs of his spine. Rhett twists in your arms before you can land a third, the swell of his chest mere inches from your lips now.

You'll smooch him here, too. 

"Our last line of defense," his giggle rides on the coattails of another roll of thunder. "Jus' in case that storm knocks out the power 'n steals our heat."

You don't realize his arms are around you until he's falling toward the couch, taking you right along with him, landing in a messy heap on top of the blankets. A box of candy rattles behind your back. Someone bumps into the remote, the movie pausing on the television screen. 

A piece of the candy bounces off your chin, narrowly misses landing back in Rhett's hand. You find it squished between your chests, pushing it between his parted lips. 

"Y' gonna keep force feedin' me candy?" He asks, that little candy rolling across his tongue as he speaks. Wonder if you'll be able to taste it if you kiss him. 

You lean in, nuzzling your noses together. "It's my new party trick."

His eyes roll so hard that you hope they'll get stuck. 

[304blur]

"he'd be the type of guy to.." haikyuu edition ♡

notes: NOT proofread, i wrote rhis at 1:50am just some thoughts, all will be written with timeskip versions of them in mind. fem reader just cause also i chnaged title cuz it sidnt make sense LMAO

warning/s: NONE

genre: fluff

characters: hinata shoyo, kozume kenma, kageyama tobio, miya atsumu

hinata would be the type of guy to let your dates go unplanned (in a good way!!!) ypu guys get to do whatever you'd like, unrestrained. if you wanna go to a goodwill/thrift store and find cool items, he'd happily go with you. he'll also secretly get you some things that you stared at for too long. like those sparkly pink cowboy boots, a music box where instead of a ballerina spinning it's a middle finger, and a bikini that barely covers anything. then after buying those, you'd go in your car, and he'd hide them under the car seat, but the bikini's straps stick out from under the seat, and you go "what the fuck is that??" so he has no choice but to bring out the bag filled with the stuff you looked like you wanted, and surprised you early. do you want to go to an indoor volleyball court? hinata rented one just for the two of you to play. but you never got to play anything, you two are busy running around, playing hide and seek in the surprisingly large building. yes, for other people, things don't always go to plan. but for you two? you make the best out of unplanned surprises.

kenma would be the type of guy to really REALLY appreciate all of your pitiful efforts to pay him back for what he buys you. he loves, LOVES spoiling you, spending his CEO money on you is his love language. even though he acts a little nonchalant about it, he always loves seeing the smile on your face when he bought you something you've wanted for so long. but, you'd feel bad about what he's spending on you, and the effort he puts into working so hard 24/7, and going with you to the mall and buying you everything. so, you decide to repay him in different ways! like baking cookies that took you all day to bake but they taste bitter, but he still eats all of them in one sitting. you made him lots of origami flowers, he'd have it displayed in his room, without a single speck of dust landing on the paper, he knows that you feel guilty about him spending lots on you so you do these things, he keeps telling you that what he's spending on you isn't going to make a dent in his bank account, but you still wouldn't listen. (he secretly freaks out if you do things for him)

kageyama would be the type of guy to learn about anything you're into, and he'd teach you about what he's into in return. if you like a certain singer/band, and you love to quote a line from a song/an inside joke, he's going to be curious about it, and eventually, he'll start quoting it too, (at the start, he usually had trouble deciding whether or not the situation you're in would apply, but he's quoting that lyric/inside joke like he knows that band/singer better than you do.) he taught you volleyball, do you love spiking? he'd set for you, and you'd drive that ball home. do you prefer setting? he's gonna make you attend setter bootcamp, on god he's gonna turn into your coach instead of your boyfriend. you like blocking? he'd make sure he'd get his hits past your blocks, and of course tell you all sorts of positions you put your hands in if you want to change the trajectory of the ball, or completely shut it out. do you like recieving? he'll throw different types of serves your way so you'll learn how to recieve all of them perfectly. or if you'd love serving more, he'd be teaching you how to get service aces and eventually be better at serving than his team (according to him). he may be a pro volleyball player, but that doesn't mean he won't make time for you.

atsumu would be the type of guy to relax and pamper yourselves in his free time. despite his loud and rowdy personality, you and mr japanese barry b benson with a kansai accent, oftentimes go to spas, and get massages, facial treatments, all that good stuff. then he'd take you out to a hot spring after a major tournament is over, the steaming water helping to relax, and also give his skin some benefits too! after all, he's a volleyball player that has the looks of an idol, he has a face and body he has to maintain. if you guys don't want to go out, he'll look up recipes for diy mud masks to apply to eachothers faces, maybe even bringing out a stash of facemasks from his skincare mini frige and watch a movie together while waiting for the facemask to dry out. you're pretty lucky to have a skincare boyfriend, since you have never had a single skin problem ever since you started dating him. if there's an event you two will be attending, he'll prioritize the both of you looking and feeling fresh. you two would be the couple with the clearest skin in the room.

[akirathedramaqueen]

Octavia's and Blitzø's potential relationship development

I believe that the show, despite Octavia openly hating Blitzø, gives us some hints that they have much more in common than it seems. I’ve noticed a couple of moments where Blitzø and Octavia are… pretty much in sync, if that makes sense.

Here are those moments I’ve noticed… maybe stretched in some places, but! Hear me out!

1. Here, they don’t hear each other, but both are repulsed by Stolas’s obnoxious language and express the same reaction. It’s funny that Stolas is the one calling them out.

[Blitzø]: WHAT [Octavia]: THE [Blitzø]: FUCK [Octavia]: DAD?! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 4:52

2. They also share a distaste for Stolas’s behavior throughout the episode, albeit in slightly different ways. In fact, this serves as a great demonstration of how deaf and blind Stolas is to obvious social cues at the beginning of the series—he doesn’t stop even when directly asked to do so on multiple occasions.

Blitzø is disgusted by Stolas’s awkward, overly sexual advances and demeaning language towards him and his work.

[Stolas]: You are so cute when you are serious! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 6:06

Octavia is taken aback by essentially the same. However, she blames both of them, understandably failing to recognize that Blitzø is just as uncomfortable as she is. From her perspective, Blitzø is a homewrecker who contributed to destroying her parents' marriage.

[Stolas]: You know, it's quite thrilling to see you on the job, Blitzy.[Blitzø]: Save it, bitch, I am working. [Octavia]: You both need to get a room. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 8:20

3. They share the hate for the same clown!

[Blitzø and Octavia]: I hate that fucking clown. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 8:50

4. They seem to have similar tastes in music! The song My World Is Burning Down Around Me, which Octavia plays to tune out Stella’s screaming, is also heard in Blitzø’s van when he comes to pick up Loona in the Queen Bee episode, although it’s only instrumental. Here, have a look. If, for some reason, the service with the timeframes isn’t working, I’ll also provide the timings in writing so you can check it yourself on YouTube.

Octavia turns on the song, and for a while, we can hear the lyrics before it fades into the background as the scene shifts to Stella yelling at Stolas and later to Stolas’s conversation with Octavia. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 2:52 - 3:50

The song’s instrumental version can be heard when Blitzø’s van arrives, and the background noise at Queen Bee’s club is different, so there’s no chance for misinterpretation. It is the music Blitzø’s was listening to. S1EP8, Queen Bee, 8:20 - 9:14

5. Haha, they freak out in the same way in the Seeing Stars episode! I know it’s probably just a stylistic choice to transition from Octavia’s initial experience with LA to Blitzø having to contact Stolas and explain what happened. However, I might be indulging in a bit of wishful thinking, suggesting that this similarity in their stress responses could have some deeper meaning.

S2EP2, Seeing Stars, 4:42

So-o... What am I trying to say with all these points I've made?

Like the kind of delulu who yells, "Ghostfuckers, save us!" (we know Viv, we know how trying to put our hopes up ends, haha), I draw a complete unhinged card and I am going to make a very bold claim:

I think that once Stolas and Blitzø finally get their shit and themselves back together, and Octavia realizes there’s much more to the story than, “Oh, it’s just horny dad cheated on my mum with a red lizard dickhead and my dad ruined my family,” Octavia could actually bond with Blitzø quite nicely, and he would make a good second dad to her! Well, don’t get me wrong. She might never want to take it to that level. Also, we don’t know how things will turn out, nor do we know her relationship with her mum, Stella.

But I do believe that their parallels were thrown in for a reason. Despite the circumstances, they can, and maybe will, be on much better terms than they currently are.

Go on, call me delusional and leave me be in my complete denial corner. <3 I admit I do tend to forget the current state of the Stolitz relationship in the series, as in my world, where I’m prioritizing my time working on that fic, they are finally together. I am bitter-sweetly excited that @tealvenetianmask and I are slowly but surely getting close to finishing it. :)

(Yes, yes, it was shameless self-promotion—sue me for the unlawful use of a speculatory-analytical post space to promote our version of Stolitz working hard to sort out their issues post Apology Tour and having some silly and horny fun along the way.)

[giggly-squiggily]

Fiesty (Blue Lock)

Heyo everyone! It's come to my attention that despite loving these boys very much, I have yet to write anything with Kunigami and Isagi. I am ashamed, and shall repent by bringing you this fic of the boys being dorks together :D I hope you like it!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @cupcake-spice13 @chibsstuff @imjusthere07 @riisada @ticklish-n-stuff @intheticklecloset (I know y'all aren't on my Taglist but like-blue lock! :D)

“Whoops, my bad!” Kunigami called out as his shirt flew, landing on Isagi’s face.

Normally Isagi would brush it off with a “It’s cool, man” or something to that nature, maybe even bring it back to the self-proclaimed hero.

Today though: today he was feeling a bit feisty. So much so he balled up Kunigami’s shirt and slugged it as hard as he could towards the back of his head.

The effect was anticlimactic. The shirt unfurled halfway there. What was supposed to be a satisfying whack turned into it haphazardly landing on Kunigami’s own face, briefly blinding him.

Silence. The two boys just kinda sat there as they let what just happened sink in. Slowly, Kunigami pulled it off, turning to look at Isagi with raised brows. The brunette stiffened- an apology on his lips.

Then that feistiness came back and he opted to square his shoulders, raising his chin with a mild glare. No words though- just a glare. The silence stretched.

“...Do you wanna fight?” Kunigami blinked- his tone lacking any anger despite the words. If anything, he sounded more amused. Isagi felt his temper flair some as he glared harder- hoping the shape of his mouth was a tight lipped frown and not a pout. “Is that what we’re doing right now?”

“Y-Yeah! We’re fighting!” Isagi finally spoke, puffing up. “Let’s go, you and me! Right here, right now!”

Kunigami stared at him, unreadable. Then he grinned, standing up and rolling out his arms. “Alright. A fight it is.”

Isagi pulled up further, readying himself. It was also at this moment he realized he had no idea how to fight. He had never been in one before- he’d only seen the kids at his school get into them, and even then he stayed out of it.

Kunigami closed the gap while he realized this, and after looking into the ginger’s eyes, he realized this wasn’t the kind of fight he expected at all.

“Wait- wait I take it back! I take it ba-ahhahaack!” Isagi went to run, but Kunigami had him by the collar, pulling him into his chest. Seconds later, fingers were flying up and down his sides, making him yelp and kick. “Kuhuhuuhuhunighahahahahahmi!”

“Come on, Isagi- you don’t run from a fight you initiated!” The older boy chided gently, pulling up an arm with one hand and pinching up his ribs with the other. “That makes you look weak! When you challenge someone to a fight, you have to be prepared to go all out!”

“Buhuhuhut I dohohohon’t wahhahahanahaha fiihihihght no mohohohore!” Isagi cried through his giggles, clawing at the hand stubbornly attached to his mid-set ribs. “Iihihihih’m ahahahhall abohohohout thahahaht phahahahahcefihihihist lihihihife nohohohw!”

“Pfft- yeah, says the guy who’s not afraid to get physical on the soccer field.” Kunigami laughed good naturedly, daring to drop a hand to Isagi’s lower ribs just to hear him scream. “Where’s all that edge? That fiest? That zest of life you had five minutes ago?”

“Whahahaht the hehehehehell ahahahre yhohohohou gohohohoing on abohohohout?” Isagi snorted through his laughter, legs growing weak with each squeeze to that terrible spot. He tried to rip himself away, but a quick tug and sweep left him flat on his ass, trapped within a leg grip as Kunigami dug into his belly. “AHehahahahahahah noohoohohoho!”

“Eh, a bunch of words I heard Gagamaru say when describing dumplings. I think their lyrics to a song? You know his odd taste in music.” The hero snickered as he dug both hands in, leaving no spot on Isagi’s belly untouched as the brunette writhed about. “Hey, you’re always humming those silly anime tunes of yours- why not sing me something? Anything! Then I’ll let you win this fight.”

“LIHIHIHKE HEHEHHELL! GEHAHHAHAHHA!” Isagi all but howled at the tickles, cheeks on fire and starting to hurt from how much he was smiling. “I CHAHAHAN’T SIIIHHING FOR SHIHIHIHIHIIHIHI-EHEHEHE!”

“Who can? Well- he can.” Kunigami hummed as he moved his hands to Isagi’s armpits, making him nearly croak from silent mirth. “Well, I guess I can count this squawking of yours as music. It’s a new version of screamo, yeah?” He finally let him be, pulling his hands back and gently patting Isagi between the shoulderblades as Isagi gasped for air. “There- still want to fight?”

“Gehahah…ahahah…yohoohu’re an ahahaass.” Isagi groaned, jerking with a giggle when Kunigami pinched his sides. “Yoohohu started it- the whole fight thing!”

“I did? Oh- wait, yeah I did.” Kunigami released him fully, pulling back as Isagi turned to face him. “Sorry- I didn’t know anyone else was in the room. I should be more mindful.”

“Pfft- it’s fine, really. I don’t know what got into me.” Isagi smiled, lightly kicking him in the shin. “I threw it back pretty hard, so I’m no better.”

“That was hard?” Kunigami asked- followed quickly with them saying in unison “That’s what she said”. Isagi cackled, delighted, and Kunigami wheezed. Laughing like children on the locker room floor, they carried on changing into sweats before making their way to the main room, still laughing.

“What’s got you so giggly?” Chigiri asked, unable to fight off a grin as Kunigami sat beside him. “Bit by the tickle bug or something?”

Isagi blushed a few feet away as Kunigami laughed more. Shaking his head, he turned to Bachira- finding the other curled up half asleep against both his and Isagi’s futons. “Scoot over some.”

“Cuddles if I do?” Bachira pouted up at him, sprawling out further. Isagi snorted, nodding as he gently moved him, fitting perfectly into Bachira’s arms.

“Always.”

Thanks for reading!

[honorarysimp]

Allegations

series masterlist

day 8

The apartment is quiet, the sun beaming through the large window basking the room in a soft warm glow.

You have your head in Tara’s lap, her fingers delicately running through your hair, your eyes may be closed but you can tell she’s lost in thought.

Tara’s been off since you got back from her meeting your friends last night, not in a bad way, more so in a way like something is nagging at her.

You know it’s got nothing to do with meeting them, they all adored her more than you by the end of the night.

She’s the blunt type, never one to hold her tongue, so you have a pretty good idea what it may be that has her silent for once.

The one thing you both tip toe around.

“You can ask, you know” you murmur quietly, her hand pauses on your crown and then those pretty brown eyes are looking down at you.

“I don’t know what-“

“We don’t bullshit each other, remember?” you say gently, gazing up at her openly, nothing to hide. Even when the flicker of memories in the back of your skull leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

“You know I’ve always been honest with you”.

“I know, that’s why I never asked”.

That makes you sit up, crossing your legs on the couch as you turn to face her, expression twisting with confusion as you mutter “I don’t understand”.

Tara sighs, running her hands down her face, something you’ve noticed she does when she’s too deep in her head and is trying to find a way to covey what she’s feeling.

“I want you to feel safe enough with me to tell me on your own time, not just because I asked”.

You nod slowly, tentatively reaching out and gently grasping her wrists, tugging until she drops them from her face. For a moment you just see her, the curiosity, the confusion, the guilt laced with uncertainty.

“It’s not pretty” you start.

That makes her scoff softly, giving you side eye that makes the corners of your mouth quirk up just the slightest.

“Are you kidding me? After what we went through?”

You hum, bringing her hands up and kissing her knuckles softly before resting them in your lap.

“Alright, I guess… as cliché as it will sound, I’ll start from the beginning”.

New York, 2015

Rhythm. Back then, music was the only thing that moved you, gave you motivation.

Which is why you’re currently attempting to sweep the floor, however the headphones covering your ears blasting Rihanna’s Umbrella has you a bit distracted.

Hence, attempting being a key word.

This apartment is a cozy haven, but it was in need of a thorough cleaning, with a few items scattered about here and there. The living room has a large, soft couch and several throw pillows that begged to be used, along with a few framed photos on the walls and a small coffee table in the center.

The open kitchen was partially visible and had the same clutter as the living room, with dishes in the sink and a few crumbs on the counter. Overall, the place has a homey feel, but is overdue for a good tidying up.

You wish you could whistle, it would just feel right, but instead you’re stuck with mumbling the lyrics under your breath as the chorus hits.

Sweeping what you’d collected into the dustpan is of ill fate, as you stand, and suddenly the music stops. Headphones ripped off your head.

You shriek, dropping the pan, and fully swing the broom in a three-sixty at whoever had attacked you.

Barely ducking your defense tactic, and jumping back up just as quickly to rip it from your hands, is your best friend.

“Are you kidding me? Again?” Anika half scolds, half laughs at you.

You give her a shove, heart racing as you snatch the broom back “are you fucking kidding me dude?! Your privileges are revoked, give me your spare now-“

“Yeah, cry later” Anika swats your hand away and palms your whole face as she walks by into the kitchen, where she proceeds to start gathering trash off the counter “you live in a pigsty, dude, we’ve talked about this”.

“Yeah well I was trying to clean, until someone tried to kill me” you grumble, beginning to sweep up the dirt on the floor again.

Anika just shoots you a look, dumping the trash into the bin before fishing under the sink cabinet for a cleaning bottle “if I wanted you dead you’d be dead”.

You roll your eyes and sweep your pile into the dust pan once more, moving to dump it in the bin “sometimes I wish you’d come by just to see me, not bite my ass for literally every little thing I do”.

“Someone has to” Anika says pointedly as she wipes the counter, “how is douche canoe anyways?”

“The usual”.

“Still in Vegas?”

A shrug, you put the broom up and head for the living room.

Anika tails you.

“Just let me adopt you already-“

You grab a pillow off the couch and launch it at her, a playful smile tugging at your lips “how about you fuck off and help me clean this place up since you’re going to burden me with your presence”.

Anika aims the spray bottle at you, to which you instantly raise your hands.

“Take it back”.

“No thank you mother”.

She sprays you anyways, making you shriek as you launch yourself over the couch, another pillow clutched in your hand like a weapon.

“STOP IT! BEHAVE CHILD”.

All you see as you launch the pillow, is her leg getting taken out just as she tries to round the corner, dropping as she’s knocked off balance.

You’re on the ground with her, clutching your side as you gasp for air from all your laughter.

“RIDE BY YOURSELF IN A TAXI TO SCHOOL TOMORROW, ASSHOLE”.

You both know she doesn’t mean it.

____________________________________________

Quinn greets you at the door, wide smile and practically tackling you into a bear hug before dragging you inside.

This party is in full swing, despite it being only 9pm. The lights are low, the liquor flowing, and the music blaring. The apartment is fairly cramped, with bodies packed together and alcohol cups covering nearly every surface.

There is a mix of kids from different grades, from sophomores to seniors, all of whom seemed to be taking full advantage of the cheap booze and loud music. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and the sound of excited chatter and laughter, making it clear that this party was off to a rowdy start.

“Jesus Christ how the hell do you expect me to crash this party?” You say with wide eyes, shrinking away as two burly football players shove their way through the crowd, bellowing drunkenly.

“By mooching off the free alcohol” Quinn says as she keeps one arm around your shoulders, “and also saving Ethan from the upperclassmen”.

Right. That’s why you’re here.

One panicked phone call from Ethan about his older brother throwing a rager, pleading to come crash at yours.

You’d only just agreed when you heard him curse and the call had abruptly ended.

After a quick follow-up with Quinn for reassurance, who sounded already tipsy, you were out the door within seconds on your way.

The logical idea was to show up, extract your friends, and get out.

Logical didn’t guarantee ideal.

Richie is a complete douchebag, across the board, and finds far too much amusement watching his older friends pick on his younger brother.

You wonder how he’s popular, but then the moment he comes into view with a joint tucked behind his ear as per usual. You’re reminded why.

It’s a wonder how he manages to hide it from his overbearing law enforcement officer for a father.

That’s where you find Ethan, trying to mold himself into the wall as subtly as possible, as one of Richie’s friends seems to be trying to coax him into taking something.

Now, granted, you aren’t a fighter. Not by a long shot, but you didn’t need physical intimidation.

Only mental.

“Shows over, dancing pony needs to come home now” you say loudly, making a few heads turn to look at you, Richie simply rolls his eyes.

Ethan visibly relaxes, pushing off the wall to walk towards you, only for Richie’s friend to grab his shoulder and flash you an empty smile.

“What’s the rush? Hm? We were just having a little chat-“

“Chat is over, goodbye no name” you cut him off, shooting Ethan a look, he shrugs off the hand on his shoulder just as Quinn comes up next to you.

He scoffs “my name is-“

“Irrelevant”.

That makes a few nearby chuckle, you nudge Ethan ahead of you just as you hear him speak up behind you “hey I’m talking to you bitch-“

“The only bitch here is you, considering how you’re whining like one. So unless you want me to grab my strap and really seal the deal, I suggest you shut the fuck up” you snap sharply, whirling around just as you feel Ethan grab your arm, Quinn laughs gleefully somewhere from behind you.

The no name asshole steps forward, Richie watches in amusement, making no effort to intervene.

Typical.

“Coming from the slut with no parents, I’d kill myself too if you were my daughter-“

You don’t even get the chance to knock his words back down his throat, as Anika suddenly appears, your knight in shining armor as her dainty ring cladded fist connects with his face.

He stumbles back into the table, everyone around you goes ballistic, but all you see is Anika glaring at you.

“I told you to wait for me”.

“I couldn’t-“

She holds up her hand, cutting you off, and then points. Your head drops back and you head in the direction of the door, Ethan leading the bunch.

You’ll blame him for this later, but you can’t wipe the grin off your face as you hear Quinn yelling more insults over her shoulder.

You may be retreating, but you and your crew definitely won that one.

____________________________________________

You’d like to say the words from last night didn’t sting, but they do.

It’s nothing new to you, the scandal was city wide.

At least, what’s known about it. And quite frankly, you don’t want to know more.

You’re content with how things are.

Absent uncle who’s your legal guardian, a bottomless tab at the coffee shop he owns and makes an ungodly amount of money off of.

Parents you never knew, but from your lack of connection with your other family still living and breathing, and your uncles lack of effort.

You basically do whatever you want, and it’s nice.

Family doesn’t mean much to you.

Or at least, it didn’t, until Anika actively decided to take you off the street like some stray dog when you were both ten years old.

You’d hated it, initially, a bit mean to her if anything. But goddamn was she relentless.

And then she finally managed to talk you into coming over to her place for dinner, you had no one to go home to, and it would stop her asking.

So, you’d agreed, the rest is history.

“We’ve got TEN MINUTES-“

“I know, I know! Fuck, it’s in here somewhere” you say as you tear through another box in your uncle’s office, Anika somewhere behind you going through the drawers in his desk.

Not like he’ll care, you’ll have everything back together and in its spot before he even thinks about coming back for another temporary visit.

What are you two both frantically searching for, you may ask?

A limited edition baseball card, Anika’s dad claims it is.

The guy is a huge Yankee’s fan, collects cards for fun. Anika thinks it’s dorky, so naturally you have to go against whatever she says.

He’s described a specific card, how rare it was, and something had tugged at your memory. The same card, you’d seen it somewhere in your uncle’s office at one point, and if it was what you thought it was, you were going to take it and give it to him.

Only he’d packed it away, not knowing what it was, or maybe he just didn’t think it was worth anything. You’ve spent the last two months looking for it.

His birthday dinner is tonight.

“God we should’ve skipped school to do this today, I don’t know what I was thinking-“ you groan, aggressively tossing one of the bags that had fallen out of the top shelf of the closet back where it had dropped.

“It’s in here, if you say it is then it is” Anika says without pausing her ransack through your uncle’s desk.

You let out a pitiful noise, walking towards the desk “yeah well this is the part where I say abracadabra and someone cuts us some fucking slack-“ you then kick the back of the desk, a little harder than necessary.

A click followed by a thump can be heard under the desk, Anika freezes and looks up just as your head turns to meet her gaze.

She then ducks under the desk, making you scramble to peer over it from the other side.

“What kind of James Bond shit is this“ is all you hear before she reappears, you barely have a chance to push yourself back before she’s dropping a medium sized box between the two of you on the desk.

Your brow furrows “where the hell was that thing?”

“You know I was wondering why this desk was so bulky and the cabinets were so small” Anika mutters to herself as you start going through the items in the box.

All of it looks expensive, and organized. A watch in a velvet and glass case, a bottle opener with what you can assume has diamonds embedded in the handle, a little bag of coins probably all rare. A little booklet and -

And then, a tape recorder.

Your brow furrows as you fish the tape recorder out, fiddling with it.

First , why is he hiding a box of expensive items under his desk? And second, why is this piece of junk in with it?

Your thumb traces the faded white lettering across the front, microcassette-corder m-560. And underneath it a piece of tape with a name.

Your biological father’s name.

“Dude no way look!” Anika produces the baseball card from the booklet that had been within the box, but when she sees the look on your face her smile falls “what? What’s is it?”

You press the play button, an audible click, but nothing. You hit the stop button, looking within it, pressing the eject.

An empty tape lies within.

“Talk to me, you’ve got that look on your face” Anika says, using what you’ve deduced as her ‘mom voice’.

You look up, raising the tape recorder so she can read off it.

“It belonged to my dad.”

Anika’s face goes blank, her eyes analyzing you carefully.

Eyes dropping to the tape recorder in your hand, your stomach churns uneasily.

Why did you never ask? Well, you know why, who can you ask when your Uncle is never around? And when you did ask as a kid, he’d punish you by not acknowledging your existence for weeks.

Your fingers curl around the tape recorder, “you know how I think the case was never actually solved?”

A pause, “I do, yeah”.

Theres a beat of silence, and then you’re looking up, something in your eyes. Not justice, not revenge.

A broken child, a lost soul, abandoned if you’re honest with yourself.

But not alone.

“What if the rumors are true?”

Anika’s shoulders tense, swallowing hard as she pins you with a hard look “I don’t think this is a road you should go down, there’s a reason-“

“Why would he have this then? Hm?” You hold up the item for further emphasis, “he practically spits on the ground any time they’re mentioned, the same asshole that locked me in my room for three days just for asking if I could see a picture of them!”

You watch her wince as your anger bubbles, you know it isn’t her fault, it’s not your fault either.

And that makes you furious.

“No one will ever give me answers” you say, and it feels strange addressing something you’ve ignored for as long as you can remember.

Or just maybe, you’re old enough now to understand that your life sucks, you’ve got trauma. And you want to know why.

You see the conflict in her eyes, because she sees just how far gone you are now in your head with this. With how impulsive you tend to be, Anika knows it best to stick by your side to keep you in check than to piss you off and you go about it on your own.

And to be frank, Anika has been waiting for this moment. It was only a matter of time before you wanted answers about what happened to your parents, other than a shitty police report writing it off as ‘accidental deaths’ or ‘possible suicide’.

“Okay. So, what do we do?” Anika says holding your gaze, even when worry chews at her insides for your mental state.

Jaw set, gaze hard, you click the tape recorder shut and head for the door, the faint sound of her scurrying feet on the hardwood floor behind you.

“We go get them”.

____________________________________________

Now, on a normal day, you’re extremely practical.

You’ve always stuck to the facts, because facts are the truth. And the truth is real.

But as Ethan swipes his dad’s badge at the back entrance of the precinct, you’re at least rational enough to admit to yourself this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Luckily for you, New York is busy. There’s always something going wrong, which means most everyone in the precinct will be bustling about with business at hand.

You take the back entrance anyways.

All you’d had to do was tell Ethan you needed answers that were long overdue, and that you just wanted to see the police report.

He’d said his dad would refuse, that it’s a ‘closed case’. And then proceeded to flash a copy of the keycard that Richie had made, that Ethan had stolen from him.

You may hate Richie, but right now he’s your third favorite person. Sorry Quinn.

As you walk in through the back end of the building, you notice that there is significantly less foot traffic and activity compared to the front. There’s a rare sight of people milling about, and the area has a slightly more dilapidated feel, with some of the buildings and infrastructure showing signs of wear and tear.

The building has a rugged, industrial feel, and the lack of crowd gives the hallways a more relaxed atmosphere. If you're looking for a slice of the city that's a bit off the beaten path, this is the place to be.

The two crept along the hallway, keeping your footsteps light and movements stealthy. You both duck out of sight and hide behind corners whenever you hear the sound of footsteps or voices approaching, waiting anxiously until the coast was clear before continuing on the way.

Adrenaline peaked, you both move with a heightened sense of awareness, constantly scanning their surroundings for anyone potentially passing through. Every step was taken with care, every movement slow and deliberate, as they navigated the hallway.

“How much further?” You whisper, sticking close to Ethan as you glance over your shoulder.

He may be a quiet kid, but when not under peer pressure, the guy is the definition of whiplash. Which is why he leads you through the building towards the room that held all the physical documentation and evidence on all known cases.

Suddenly, Ethan comes to a halt, you almost crashing into him from behind. Before you can ask, he gestures to the sign on the door that read "Case Files." You both exchange a look, knowing what lies inside might very well rock your world.

Ethan swipes the card and opens the door, ushering you inside “I’ll keep lookout, just be fast okay?”

“Ethan, what? No-“

He shoves you inside and shuts the door, no window leaving you in darkness, at least until the motion lights activate.

You turn, taking in the room. The room was a massive storage space, filled from floor to ceiling with rows upon rows of shelves, each one stacked with countless boxes. The air was thick with the scent of dust and deteriorating cardboard, and the only illumination came from a the flickering lights that hung from the ceiling above.

The shadows cast by the dim light danced menacingly across the boxes, giving the impression that something lurking within them, ready to leap out at any moment. The room gave off the intimidation of a cavernous warehouse, filled with countless secrets and untold stories, waiting to be discovered.

You push onwards, driven by a determination to find answers. You move between the rows of shelves, eyes scanning the row upon row of boxes for a specific year. Your hands glide across the dusty labels on the boxes, searching for the one that would give you the information you sought. You could feel the weight of years of unanswered questions pressing down upon you now more than ever, and your heart races as your fingers trace the numbers, hoping to find the one that held the truth you so desperately sought.

As you searched, you feel a sense of urgency and desperation building within you. You feel the answer just out of your grasp, praying the truth would finally bring closure and some semblance of peace. But the boxes seemed endless, and the years blur together in your mind, making it all the more difficult to find the one you needed. You push past the mental fatigue and frustration, driven by the hope that you were getting closer to what’s sought.

There. Feldman, 2002.

As you finally reach the correct box, you carefully pull it down from the shelf, and feel a moment of hesitation. You pause, fingers gripping the edge of the lid, and a thousand questions swirl through your mind: what will you find inside, and will it be the answers you’ve desperately sought for so long?

You take a deep breath, heart pounding in your chest, and slowly lift the lid. Inside, you find a stack of folders, each labeled with the case number.

As you go through the file, you feel a wave of emotion wash over you, a mix of disbelief, horror, and shock. You can feel their mind reeling as you read the words on the page, gut churning and stomach twisting. It's a murder case, a double homicide on the marital couple, your parents.

The words on the page swirl together as you try to make sense of what you’re reading, but the reality of the situation is hitting you like a freight train, and it's all you can do to keep themselves from collapsing.

As you skim through the pages with shaky hands, you come across a section detailing the status of the case. You can feel a lurch in your stomach as you read that it's still an open case, unsolved after all these years. It was all a lie. All of it.

You continue, feverish now, eyes widening as you read that your father worked in the morgue and falsified a large number of autopsy reports. It's a revelation that rocks you to your core. Feeling a mix of anger and disbelief, you reach into the box and pull out a photo of what you’re safe to assume is your parents, the first time you’re ever actually seeing them. Must’ve fallen out of one of the folders.

The photograph is old and faded, but the image is still clear. The couple's faces staring back at you, and the protagonist is struck by how young they look, how carefree and alive. You struggle to reconcile the image of your parents as innocent victims with the knowledge of your father's sinister actions. It's a moment of overwhelming emotion, a mix of sadness, anger, and disbelief.

As the magnitude of the situation sinks in, you’re overcome with a wave of agony. You feel a deep sense of guilt and pain for not having looked into this sooner, for allowing yourself to be oblivious to the truth for so long. Every second wasted, every moment spent in ignorance weighs heavily on your conscience, and the hurt is almost too much to bear. It's a moment of intense self-reflection, a moment of realization that nothing will ever be the same again.

With a shaking hand, you tuck away the photograph and pull out a tape recorder from your jacket. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and click on the recorder. The sound of the device whirring to life fills the room, and you begin to meticulously read off every detail from the files, documenting all the information you can find plausible. As you speak into the recorder, your voice wavers, filled with a mix of emotions.

You detail every aspect of the case, every fact and figure, every piece of information you can glean from the files. You read off the allegations on the chain of events leading up to, the details of the crime scene, and the evidence left behind. You read off the reports, the falsified autopsies, and the names of the witnesses and investigators involved. You even read off the handwritten notes, the comments from the police, and every last detail you can find. The tape recorder whirrs continuously as you speak, capturing every words for future reference.

Suddenly, you hear commotion outside the room, the sound of voices and footsteps approaching. You cut off the tape recorder just as your heart sinks, realizing that time is running out, and you quickly scramble to put everything back into the box. You feel a pang of worry for Ethan on watch, hoping that he had’t been caught. With a sense of urgency, you grab the tape recorder and shove it into your jacket before quickly returning the box to its place on the shelf.

You make your way back to the door and press your ear against it, straining to hear any sounds of movement or voices out in the hallway. But all you hear is silence, a tense stillness that hangs in the air. You feel a rush of anxiety and tension as you stand there, blood pumping. With a deep breath, you slowly crack open the door and poke your head out into the hallway, scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble.

As you peer around the door, you catch a glimpse of Ethan being led away down the corridor. You only manage to get a brief glimpse of the familiar face leading him away, before the two figures disappear around a corner. The sight fills you with a sense of dread.

Poor Ethan, you owe him everything and he doesn’t even know it.

You make a promise to yourself to make it up to him, probably for the rest of your life, as you start heading back the way you came.

But even as you do, you can’t ignore the weight that now rests in your shoulders.

A double homicide? In two separate locations on the same premises? Execution style?

It’s not until the fresh air hits you when your stomach loses itself, you scramble for the nearest solid object to grab on for our cause as you empty out everything you’d eaten today.

Murdered. No killer caught. No suspect. Well, one suspect, but found innocent on account of being documented out of state when it happened. If someone killed them, why? What for?

Shaking, and sinking to your knees, you begin to wonder how deep this goes. If you stop now, you might have a chance to come back from this.

And live with never knowing the truth? You need to know, especially if it meant what allegations could potentially be the truth.

Legs trembling slightly from exertion, you push yourself up to your feet and steel yourself.

You’re getting answers, one way or another.

____________________________________________

Ethan is on lockdown until further notice, according to Quinn.

Now, you love Quinn, you adore her. But… she is a chatter box and to be blunt, she’ll blabber if she knew the truth.

So you go to Anika, your first and last resort. She’d always be your first choice, if it weren’t for the confirmed ass chewing you get all the way from point A to point B.

But you needed help, and you can’t do it alone.

You use to be a loner, but that was a long time ago, no thanks to her. And you’re reminded why, as Mrs. Kayoko opens the door and smiles so wide you’re sure that a drop of sun had blessed her when she’d been born.

She’s the only motherly figure, not counting Anika herself, that you’ve ever had. Every time you look at her you think of the day you met her, when she was so kind to you, so gentle with you. How the moment you got a taste of that motherly unconditional love, you’d fallen apart.

Weak. Embarrassing. At least, you thought, until she pulled you into her arms without question. Your loyalty has been with them ever since, you’d do anything for the Kayoko family.

They had saved you, after all.

You couldn’t be broken, not with all the love that surrounds you.

Those comforting arms wrap you into a familiar embrace, a gesture that always makes your heart swell, instantly reciprocating.

She scolds you for looking tired, you blame it on school, Anika comes around the corner just as you’re weakly swatting away the older woman’s prying hands at your hair.

“Hey freak show”.

“Limp twizzler” you shoot back, making her turn beet red just like every time.

“Don’t be pissy because you’re shorter than me, let it go”.

You two start going at it, as always, Mrs. Kayoko scolds you as usual and Mr. Kayoko can be heard cackling somewhere from in the kitchen.

The older woman shoos you two away, letting you know dinner will be ready soon, and the moment you’re in Anika’s room you close the door and give her a look.

Her insult, whatever it was - you weren’t listening, cuts short as she catches that look in your eyes.

“Oh my god, are you the reason Ethan is unplugged and off the board right now?”

She really can see right through your bullshit.

“Okay hear me out, it’s not like I stole anything-“

“Stole anything?! What did you do?!”

You hold up the tape recorder, expression serious “my parents didn’t kill themselves”.

Anika’s expression drops, irritation and confusion shifting to utter disbelief.

“I mean, yeah we assumed that but wasn’t it actually-“

“I don’t know” you cut her off, voice quiet, “but I found out my father use to work at a morgue local to here”.

She looks even more horrified, if possible, as she whispers “excuse me?”

“I’m gonna break in, and I need your help-“

A scoff, “yeah I think the fuck not-“

“Quinn will jump on it without question, so either you come with me or she will” you hate giving her an ultimatum, but you need Anika in on this, you can’t keep bouncing around her forever with this.

You’re growing more desperate and it’s showing, you should be more worried about the consequences of your actions, and what all you’re asking your friends of.

But this, it’s important, you can’t stop now when you just started digging.

She holds up for a long moment, but then just slumps slightly as she scowls at you “I’m going to kill you after this”.

“Plausible, and totally acceptable”.

“…well? Don’t hold out, what did you find?”

previous, next

[inadvisablebutinevitable]

what time period accurate songs do you think jeremy would be listening to in tsc? 👀

Miss California by Dante Thomas

Anon I love you so much because you have no idea how much I ask this to myself on a regular basis. A couple weeks ago I was walking to work whilst brainstorming Jeremy Knox music headcanons and almost died to the tune of Believe by Cher while crossing the street. (Embarrassing, but also, what a way to go)

after changing my mind about 700 times, I decided that Jeremy, at least on a surface level, will dance/sing to literally any popular song with a good beat, (whether or not he actually sings the right lyrics is always 50/50) but he does love to sing. This comes from a tumblr post I saw like years ago saying that Jean takes a video of Jeremy singing Kylie Minogue’s “Your Disco Needs You” at 3am, and now that’s just canon Jeremy to me.

Jeremy was a kid in the 90s so TONS of 90s nostalgia stuff, all upbeat. Song 2, All star, What is love, Baby one more time, Tubthumping, all the catchy earworms he would hear on the radio and belt out as a kid. (It’s @kevinsdsy’s fault song 2 was the first on this list. The Jeremy Knox blur brainrot is real)

Jeremy, having heard these songs as a kid, knows all the lyrics just by memory. Even he doesn’t know about this until Cat plays Ricky Martin on her boombox and all of a sudden Jer is on the table with a solo cup microphone.

(“isn’t he only attracted to men?”Jean whispers to Cat as they watch Jeremy belt out ‘She Bangs’ in the most enthusiastic way possible.

“Honestly, l didn’t even think about that. I’m just pissed that they’re only playing the English version”, Cat whispers back)

Jeremy is also notorious for dancing to other team’s entrance songs when they walk on the court. The Breckenridge Jackals, for example, walk on court to Who Let the Dogs out, and Jer unironically uses that as pump up music. He aggressively nods his head to the beat of Let’s Get it Started when Penn State walks out. This leads to many (many) YouTube compilations titled something along the lines of “10 mins straight of Jeremy Knox shaking ass to his opponent’s anthems”

BUT also, privately, on his little 2006 iPod Mini (lol remember those), Jeremy listens to more alt rock (modern-day dad rock), like Muse, The Killers, Queens of The Stone Age etc… (this is based on a lighter version of the style of music Nora assigned to Andreil in the EC, and also my personal taste from that time period). I think it’s what he listens to on bad days, either bc he needs to drown out his depressing thoughts after seeing his family, or bc he isn’t quite mentally ready to fully process the insane truths Jean reveals on a day to day basis. Also days where he’s feeling more in-tune with his emotions and stuff.

anyway, I’m sorry, this got really long. I guess the tl;dr would be: imo, In TSC Jeremy loves to sing and dance to literally any popular 90s/early 00’s song bc that’s just who he is but privately on bad days he likes 2000’s alt rock.

[fictionalmenxyn]

From anonymous,

Heya! hope ur doing well and i love your work and was thinking if i can request where y\n's a small girl member of tf 141 and they knew her for having cute stuff and they react to hearing you listen to rock\metal songs (like they didnt think she would be into those genre cos she's always on cute things 😂) That's all Thank you 💖💖

—

Of course I can do this for you, this is a good idea! I love this consent as in person many friends of mine don’t know I actually listen to rock/ heavy metal since my father listened to it and I grew up on the music genre! I’m also doing well thanks, hope you are ok too :)

Ghost

His reacting would definitely be shocked

Like you literally have no band shirts, posters or anything that could show your into the music genre. Your room has loads of soft toys from the team from past Christmas’ and birthdays’

So it wouldn’t make sense if you listen to rock/metal???

If you were his s/o. Feel like they way he’d find out is that he’s casually laying on your bed while your showing and he hears Metallica blasting in the bathroom with you singing the lyrics word for word as if your James 😂 (Metallica’s lead singer)

If your not s/o then it probably be something like your both on a run and feel like he doesn’t find having music on is concentrating as he focuses on his surroundings and his heart beat as he is too paranoid

So while you two were on a jog he could hear your music as you like it loud and almost deafening which is always makes Ghost confused

Once you’ve finished listening to music he’d definitely ask ‘since when did you listen to that type of music?’ You tell him how long you have been listening and he’ll ask you types of stuff like what bands you listen to or what specific genre you like

He is very interested and invested in this once he’s found out and for your next Christmas or birthday depending on which comes first he’ll definitely buy you your first band shirt

Soap

Feel like he would definitely gasp!

Like when he hears the strong strumming on the guitar or the heavy beats of the drums he’ll gasp loudly and say ‘you listen to that music?!’

He’ll like Ghost ask when you started listening to it and he’s so shocked it’s like he just found out he won a million pounds

He loves spending time with you in your room as he says it’s the comfiest room cause of the toys or fluffy blankets and yet he’s never noticed your music taste

The man’s flabbergasted that’s all I say 😂

He’s like those type of people who gasp loudly and place a hand on their heart

He honestly thought you were the type of person to listen to One Direction or k-pop (I’m not trying to hate on the bands just giving examples)

Gaz

Honestly thought it was Ghost at first but when he heard your voice singing along to each lyric he ran to your room and knocked on your door

He’d say something like ‘since when the fuck did you listen to that type of music?!’

He honestly digs it. Cause I feel like he secretly listens to a few rock bands to but not metal (there is a difference)

He’d sit in your room or in the break room and ask if you went or wanted to go to any of bands/singers concerts and you told him a few

So that night he’d look at any available concerts and book tickets

Let’s say he became your favourite team member for a long long time

Price

Feel like he wouldn’t be surprised. Also feel like he wouldn’t be shocked cause he knew you were the type of person to have many interests but wouldn’t tell people

He like a few bands like AC/DC and Black Sabbath so when you two are alone you’d definitely offer to put a vinyl on or music on your phone

Feel like he’s a bit like Ghost. He’s invested on your obsession with the music genre especially for the person most people see you as he’s definitely asking at least ten questions

Buys you a few small trinkets or a poster as he wants you to show off your cool ‘hidden’ obsession as you like to show off your fluffy blanket collection or your obsession with plushies

Loves the idea of how your such a kind and cute person but listen to the most rock and roll/ metal music ever

Alejandro

He’d probably be like Gaz with the hand on heart followed with a gasp

He’d say ‘didn’t know you were into that type of music, mi amiga (my friend). Are you a metal head?’ You nod and he’d say something like cool or since when

Definitely gets you to list the bands/singers you listen to and notes them in his head so he could get you something relevant to the band/singer

Loves how you can talk for ages about the music genre and how facilitated you are with it

Also love the fact that you have more stuffed toys in your room than you have pillows and you have a lot of pillows

Rudy

Flabbergasted. He’s like another hearing their child swear

He’s like ‘since when?!’ Then you laugh and tell him about it and when you’d tarted listening to the genre

He then gets it and likes how you are ‘diverse’ going having a load of TY toys and a hella collection of fluffy socks and being so polite yet listen to the most strong and loud rock/metal music

Actually is impressed when you can to the scratchy voice (kinda like if you were singing korn, megadeth or Metallica maybe Iron Maiden songs)

Only things he doesn’t really enjoy is standing in HMV all day as you look through cds/vinyls. You take in everything when you go and search everything (much like my dad and I’m the one standing there forever, although I do look it’s just I can’t get vinyl as he won’t let me use his vinyl player 😖)

Thanks for making a good suggestion. If anyone wants to feel free to message or ask me any requests you’d like. Don’t be shy! It just will take a it if time to do it so don’t expect it exactly that day or the next.

Hope you enjoyed, have a good day/night :D

[alltrap]

Hazbin Hotel Song Tierlist

Ranking Explanations-

S Tier (my favorite songs)-

Loser Baby: Do I have to explain myself?

Hell’s Greatest Dad: What’s better than watching 2 prideful ass men fighting? Nothing.

A Tier-

Stayed Gone: Love this song so much. Debated on putting it in S tier but I’ve been replaying those songs more than I have this one.

B Tier (Songs I like but I’m picky)-

Respectless: At first I didn’t like it but it kinda grew on me. I don’t like Velvet since she’s kinda dumb but she absolutely ate during this scene.

It Starts With Sorry: Super sweet and I really liked it. Not in my playlist but I wouldn’t mind listening to it.

Hell is Forever: It’s fine. I love rock so this song could’ve gotten into A tier but most of it is pretty mid. Even though I know Adam is supposed to be an asshole he just makes the song annoying. I only really like the last part of the song. Plus most of my other complaints aren’t really about the song, mostly writing of the actual show and Adam’s design. Adam’s design sucks.

C Tier (Mid songs that I would only sit through when watching the show):

Poison: Don’t get me wrong, I love Angel Dust and his story but I feel like this is such a bad song to convey his feelings through. It’s like it’s trying to be a catchy pop song but also trying to convey abuse and deep feelings and it just falls flat. Some of the lyrics just get on my nerves because of how much they’re repeated. “Yeah” doesn’t even feel like a word anymore after this song. Reminds me of Cotton Candy from Helluva Boss. It would be a good song if the words “cotton candy” weren’t 90% of it. But like I say with most music, everybody is subjected to their own music taste and it’s cool if you like this and I don’t. I just wouldn’t listen to this unless I was rewatching the show.

Happy Day In Hell- Again, this song is fine. There’s a few seconds where I kinda vibe but most of it where I don’t. It’s a mid tier song.

More than Anything- It was cute and all seeing Lucifer be there for Charlie but it felt a little rushed. Plus it didn’t really stick out to me. If I listened to it again maybe it could grow on me but for now it’s mid tier.

You Didn’t Know: Like I said with More than Anything, it didn’t really stick out. I liked the Seraphim taking Charlie’s side and stuff but it didn’t really do anything. They were trying to protest and stuff but the song kinda felt useless after Sera made her final decision. Still mid.

D Tier (Songs I literally forgot about):

Whatever It Takes: No joke, forgot about this song only a week after I watch the episode. That’s how bad this song was. I didn’t like the pacing in the song. Charlie and Vaggie’s conflict felt rushed too so Vaggie’s part felt unnecessary. Plus, we still barely know anything about Carmilla except she makes weapons and she loves her family so this song really falls through. I think the show’s writing sabotaged this song but I don’t want to get into that.

Welcome to Heaven: 😐. My face during this song. Such a bad song. I guarantee to you that I’ll forget about this next week. I also just don’t like most of the designs from heaven. They look so tacky and rushed. I literally let out a disappointed sigh when I saw the seraphim. Most of my gripes about this is mostly just the character design. I know Viv put thought into some of the demons but the angels have me dead.

Here’s me ranting again about the show that doesn’t have anything to do with the songs. I just have so much stuff I want to rant about this show, some of it good and the rest bad. But that’s my tier-list so far.

[fallevs]

No one asked, but I thought, why not?

If Glee kids listened to Italian music

(+ links to the songs if you are interested in listening to them and judging whether I got the genre right; some lyrics too)

Rachel: Mina

Considered the greatest performer in the history of Italian pop music, Mina is definitely the ultimate diva! That is why Rachel loves her. And maybe, just like Mina, it could also happen to her to retire from the stage but forty years later continue to make hits from the walls of her home!

Her favorite song is Se Telefonando.

(If looking into your eyes, I knew how to say "enough!", I would look at you. But I can't explain that our love, barely born, is already finished.)

Finn: Ligabue

Ligabue does a genre that Finn really appreciated, given his penchant for alternative rock music, but what he appreciated most was the words of his songs. Ligabue talks about love, of course, but mostly about life, youth and those tastes and smells that we sometimes forget because we take them for granted.

In fact, his favorite song was Certe Notti. He listened to it on repeat in the period after high school, when he still had to figure out who he was and what to do.

(Some nights the car is hot and where it takes you it decides. Some nights the road doesn't matter and what matters is to hear it go. Some nights the radio playing Neil Young seems to have figured out who you are. Some nights resemble a vice that you don't want to stop, never stop.)

Blaine: Annalisa

Blaine thinks that Annalisa's best phase is up to 2022 when, for marketing reasons, she started making more commercial music. However, Annalisa has a wonderful and powerful voice (many call her the New Mina) and her old songs, the early hits, are true poems. But that of course doesn't mean that Blaine doesn't love to dance to the notes of her more jaunty songs!

His favorite is definitely Questo bellissimo gioco which Blaine listened to assiduously during the breakup. When he (and Kurt) believed there was still room for hope and the opportunity to start over, accompanied by the sunshine and the opportunity to make mistakes. A solution had to be created between them, but they see their relationship as a beautiful game that they continue to play (4x14, for example)

(Love burns the crumpled afternoons, the two of us hugging each other. Trying to find a point of balance between what to say and what to do. And this sweet sickness of ours that keeps me behind your vigil. Too busy courting some of your mental space without knowing if really what you give, can really be enough for me.)

Kurt: Marco Mengoni

Marco is one of those artists who, with his voice, his poems, his music, makes you vibrate in another dimension– makes you feel pure love! His are quite intimate songs that touch chords that, as we know, Kurt tends to keep hidden within himself.

At a specific time in his life, he listened to Venere e Marte on repeat. And you can understand why.

(I can make a thousand promises to you, or swallow them like pills. And swallow these words without even tasting them. This world alone is not much, yes, but neither is it in two. But with you it's a little less dark. Even when the sky is covered with clouds, and you were waiting for the rain to stop but you stayed all day long, I hoped it would rain harder. Because it's good to have you around again.)

Tina: Subsonica

Tina is shy, quiet and awkward. Hers is a mask she wears to avoid getting hurt and others hurting her, but she manages to find herself in music. She loves Subsonica because they are not only a band to listen to but also to watch and discover. Intense and charged, just like her.

Her favorite song of the moment is Universo. It is about a perpetual conflict with herself and the world, told through a succession of metaphorical images such as forests, oceans. The vibes that Tina loves and in which she sees herself a lot.

(Who knows if ever, if sooner or later, among the swarming of people; if you will meet the peace that life has always denied you. If it will end the war in you, the cold friction with the world; if you understand that my universe today is you.)

Artie: Fabri Fibra

The progenitor of Italian rap, Fabri Fibra represents freedom of expression and imagination. Hated even a little by many, he elevated an audience that existed only under the radar. He unhinged the hierarchies of the music industry, dispensed rawness and irony, often coupling them, in doing so he silenced bigots and censors. That's why Artie loves him, because he is someone who is not afraid to speak his mind. Which Artie sometimes fails to do.

In fact he loves Non crollo, because life is hard, but he doesn't give up.

(And this is the reason why I don't give up. Even if I'm with shattered nerves, stoned to the core, I don't collapse. They are squeezing me by the neck. They are strangling me preventing me from taking off.)

Santana: Loredana Berté

Even today, Loredana Bertè, at 73 years old, is considered a queen of music. Since her early days, she has been able to make her mark in the entertainment world. A true rock diva, feminist and nonconformist. Like Santana, Loredana Bertè never minded the rules. That's why she loves her.

Her favorite song is, of course, the iconic Non sono una signora. Her motto, basically.

(I am not a lady; one with all stars in life. I am not a lady but one for whom the war never ended. I am not a lady; one with just few marks in life.)

Quinn: Elisa

Elisa is one of the most melodic, delicate and at the same time powerful Italian voices. That's why Quinn loves listening to her and sees herself a lot in her lyrics. Elisa's voice is an expression of the soul, and her compositions reveal its fragility and strength.

Eppure Sentire is her song. Words imbued with a poetic sensibility and tell a story of inner strength and perseverance.

(One step away from possible, one step away from you. Afraid to decide, afraid of me. Of everything I don't know. Of everything I don't have. Yet feel, in dreams at the bottom of a cry, in days of silence, there is a sense of you.)

Mercedes: Mia Martini

Loredana Berté's sister, Mia Martini is considered by many the Italian Whitney Houston. A scratchy, rough and powerful voice, that is why she is Mercedes' favorite. Unfortunately, however, Mia is a misunderstood artist. She will be removed from the spotlight because of the nastiness and jealousy of the entertainment world; the suffering will be such that she will lose her life at only 47 years old. Yet her voice has never been forgotten.

Her song is Libera. You can understand why.

(Free to speak, free to search, free to do and undo, free to be just myself. Free to understand, free to feel, free to realize an end and to be wrong. I know well what I want and what I don't want. I have my pride, what does that have to do with you? A woman used to walking alone.)

Brittany: Lorella Cuccarini

Brittany is Lorella's fan more because of her dancing career than her singing one, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love her songs! At 58 years old, she is still considered one of the most beautiful and talented small screen dancers. The best showgirl of the 1980s. May Brittany aspire to be like her?

However, her favorite song to dance to is undoubtedly La notte vola. They also resemble each other, don't they?

Puck: Vasco Rossi

Besides being the undisputed idol of many and Italian rocker par excellence, he is considered the worthy rival of Ligabue. 70 years and almost 50 years into his career, Vasco's music has accompanied generations with his rock lyrics as well as lyrics about love and life.

That is why, although Puck does not admit it, his favorite lately is Canzone. It reminds him of someone who is no longer there. Someone he never told how important he was to him. His best friend.

(And when I meet you one day, maybe in the street, maybe right under your house. Look at the chance, though! Look at the splendid fate! Cruel and splendid. And meanwhile the days go by and memories fade and habits change. It was splendid.)

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

hi hello hi

i love ur headcanons, they're the most canon headcanons i've ever read 🫣..

was just wondering if you could write some about what you think the mercs favourite bands/musical artists would be 👁️

What Are The TF2 Mercs Favorite Bands/Music Artists?

————————————————————

Awe tysm! Of course, I can, I love writing about music 😭 I had to delve into the depths of my Spotify to actually see what bands I know, that I should pick for these guys. This totally isn't me projecting btw.

I ended up just giving them a band they like and a singular musical artist.

(I've been forgetting to specify or elaborate on this, most of the time, unless mentioned, these silly's are in present day and not like the 60s lmao.)

————————————————————

SPOILERS FOR THE BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY MOVIE! (Also a little angsty, sorry <3)

————————————————————

Demo and Hozier oh my god, its insane how much he likes him. I don't know how to elaborate on this further, but like, "Would That I"??? I feel like he loves that song! Also, I feel like all I have to say is "Take Me To Church" and I know some people will understand that immediately. This man just uses music as escapism, of course he likes Hozier.

Will Wood and The Tapeworms is a band that I've already deemed one of Demo favorites because of "The First Step." but this man just genuinely loves all of the songs. "The First Step", "Front Street", "6up 5oh Copout (Pro/Con)" and "Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In!" Are his favorites though.

————————————————————

Engie is a hardcore Dolly Parton fan. I know it's played out, I know it's obvious, I know its tropey, but I can't deny that this man loves Dolly Parton. Like this man is head of the fan club and I won't stop saying it. It would be wrong for me to pretend he doesn't heavily relate to "9 to 5."

Also loves the Chordettes oddly enough? He thinks all the way they sing is beautiful. He adores the cover of "Hello! Ma Baby". But is also a sucker for the popular ones, "Mr. Sandman" and "Lollipop". I will say though, it's utterly disturbing to the other mercs when it's like midnight and they get up for something and just here a really softly played "Mr. Sandman". Only one not disturbed is Medic, but like, it's hard to disturb a man who also has been known to play those old eerie songs at odd hours, they bond over this.

————————————————————

This man loves Elton John, he loves how he can relate heavily to some of the songs and then just genuinely enjoy other ones with no other meaning. Like he'll listen to "I'm Still Standing", and feel a lot of emotions from it, and then like "Crocodile Rock" will come on and just vibe to it.

Heavy also likes the Beetles. I don't know I just think he likes way the songs are sung, and the meaning he pulls from the lyrics themselves. Reads into music a lot and values being able to do that. Likes songs about love, and the Beetles are great for that. Don't get him started on "I Want To Hold Your Hand", and "Eleanor Rigby".

(Uh did I make this man have kind of old man music taste? Yes. Am I wrong, and will I apologize? No. He is old!) (Affectionate)

————————————————————

MARINA being Medics favorite is a mix of him being a teen girl in my mind, and an actual genuine ability to relate to some of the songs. I will say this until the day I die. This man has never felt good enough. Not even once. He's always working to try and get better, and once he does get better he's moving the goal post of getting better. Has played "Are You Satisfied" more times than you can count. "Oh No" and "Hermit The Frog" are also one's he finds himself both loving and relating to.

Would you guys be mad if I said this man was obsessed with Queen? (I am not projecting here, I swear!) Similarly to Heavy, he's a sucker for a romantic song or two. Loves "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" Also you want to talk about not feeling good enough, loops "Bohemian Rhapsody" Have you guys seen the Bohemian Rhapsody movie? You guys know the scene where Freddie (Rami Malek) is singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" and sings the line "I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!" and has a slight break because he realizes he just actually said that? Yeah. That's how Medic feels when he first hears the song. But on a lighter note he also likes "Killer Queen" and "I Want To Break Free."

(Went crazy on this one, I really just need to make an entire breakdown on Medic one of these days 😭)

————————————————————

Scout is a Tom Cardy fan. I don't know how to elaborate without just yelling "Mixed Messages" like come on. Also, have you guys heard "H.S" Man he loves that song! Also oops another mini headcanon inside a headcanon, Sniper introduced him to Tom Cardy when he had "Read Between The Lines" playing one day.

Mindless Self Indulgence is a tad self-explanatory but who am I not to explain something in graphic detail? Gives him such confidence and makes him feel so cool. I already headcanon that he loves "Get It Up" so it's only natural that his favorite band made a song he loves. I stand by what others have said. Trans boy swag, well also a mix of that and white boy swag. White trans boy swag makes a Mindless Self Indulgence fan.

————————————————————

Sniper- Honestly? I racked my brain for this one, and I'm going to get silly with this. I'm going to say he likes George Ezra, purely because "Budapest" reminds me so much of him. I think he'd love that song. Another case of putting his emotions into his music or more like, liking music that conveys his emotions? Ough the song just gives me Sniper angst vibes.

Uh controversial opinion, what the frick??? Oingo Boingo fan. Again something I can't but he loved "Dead Man's Party" It's just a song he's always really liked. "No Spill Blood" and "Controller" are also ones he likes. I feel like "weird" music is his favorite genre of music.

————————————————————

I hate to say it but Spy is a fan of Olivia Rodrigo. I'm not going to lie, he's the second most teen girl-coded person on the team. Sings "bad idea right?", "Brutal", and "good 4 you". Sings them in the shower, the other mercs are sick of it 😭

Is it too much to say Mother Mother for the fact that I love Spy angst and can see him crying over "Arms Tonite" and relating to "Verbatim" so hard it's insane? Ugh, I live for Spy angst. I want him to be happy too but it's so easy to put angst😭. (Also I can't stress how much "Wrecking Ball"

————————————————————

Soldier is a sucker for AC/DC. Dad music (I say this with love, I get why people like AC/DC they have good music.)This man is just a criminally insane dad, in my mind anyway. The other mercs have been woken up to "Highway to Hell" once or twice and have let Soldier play "Thunderstruck" as hype music before a battle.

I think he likes Tom Petty, like how are you going to tell me he doesn't love "I Won't Back Down" and "Free Falling" just loves the sound of the music itself (if that makes any sense) more focused on the sounds instead of the actual meaning.

————————————————————

Pyro is a huge fan of Jack Stauber. They adore the music. Enjoys the pop of "There's Something Happening" and loves the slow and sad sounds in "Cupid" Ugh they just love Jack Stauber so much. The only issue they had was when they first listened to "Bumblebees Are Out" it caused a meltdown, poor Pyro was reminded of trauma they forgot. Engie had to calm them down for an hour after. (They're okay, don't worry!)

PYRO IS A JUGGALO 100% I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. They kick their legs while listening to "Imma Kill U". Listen to "My Axe" and replace any mention of an axe with their flamethrower, in their head. I'm just imagining an AMV or just seeing Pyro walking to "Boogie Woogie Wu" and scaring the shit out of anyone and everyone.

————————————————————

I finally finished it 😭 I had like five asks? All at the same-ish time and I was so hyped but then my brain decided to revoke all my motivation. It's okay though I just pushed through it. I love being able to answer asks!

An ask about about Medic and Junji Ito's Gyo coming tomorrow hopefully!

[ohallthecrushes]

"Need A Little Love"

A/N: Why is this so freaking sad? Well, I was in a mood for a good cry, so I gave myself something to cry about. ;( The song: Need a little love

Summary: Reader is in love with Morpheus and wishes he feels the same. She puts all her feelings to this little love song she sings. And Morpheus hears her.

The night had been slowly crawling into your bedroom through an open window. You were sitting on your bed, holding a guitar. Alone with your thoughts and hopes. Your heart was beating in your chest a melody dedicated to him.

You were hopelessly in love with the Lord of Dreams. You were trying to tell him that on numerous occasions, but could never bring yourself to do that. The fear of rejection stopped you from giving yourself a chance to know if he felt the same about you.

Your thumb ran smoothly across the guitar strings. The vibrations created a sound you were looking for. Even though you were never good at expressing your feelings with words, music always gave you a way to freely speak what was inside your heart.

It was time I figured out what everybody knew Life is lived in black and white if I don't have you

You knew he tolerated you in the Dreaming, liked you perhaps at times. There was evidence, cause sometimes you spent most of the night with him while he was telling you all those wonderful stories he had... But there were also times when he left you on your own as if he almost ignored your presence. You understood when he was busy, but sometimes he wasn't and yet, he couldn't bother to even look at you.

Oh, you can make my head spin all night long By your sweet side, that's the place where I belong

Couldn't find the answer, oh, I lived for ridicule Some girls they made eyes at me, played me for a fool

You couldn't figure what he felt about you. Always so enigmatic and reserved. but you guessed it was ok... Someday you'd tell him what you felt.

Need a little love, I won't say no Need a little love, I won't say no...

In the quiet depths of the Dreaming, Morpheus stood amidst the walls of his palace. The soft glow of moonlight bathed his pale face as he listened to the ethereal melodies that filled the air. Y/N, a mortal with a heart full of love, had struggled to express her feelings to him. And now, she had found her voice in a love song dedicated to him. As the haunting notes reached his ears, Morpheus closed his eyes, allowing the music to weave its way into his essence. The lyrics carried your emotions, your longing, and your vulnerability. So he listened attentively.

Need a little love, I won't say no Need a little love, I won't say no

Need a little love, I won't say no Need a little love, I won't say no to you In that moment, the Lord of Dreams felt a stirring within him, a flicker of something he rarely experienced. It was as if the song had pierced through the walls he had built around his heart, reaching a part of him that had long been dormant.

Found me just a taste of heaven, every day was bliss How can flesh and bone collide and make me feel like this? A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he contemplated the significance of your gesture. He could feel the weight of hope your heart was holding that he, The Lord of dreams, perhaps could love you back...

You could deny this world and I'd agree Now you're out there keeping all your love from me

The song echoed through the Dreaming, resonating with the dreams of countless souls who sought solace in his realm.He knew you loved him truly. His Little Dreamer... Morpheus found himself drawn to you, his footsteps carrying him towards the waking world. He materialized beside you, his presence both comforting and enigmatic.

Need a little love, I won't say no Need a little love, I won't say no... You looked up, surprised to see him here. You didn't realize your song could have reached the Dreaming. Your hand stopped moving. Your eyes filled with nervous anticipation. The words you had struggled to say were now written on your face, waiting to be acknowledged. "Morpheus..." you whispered, you voice barely audible. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. In that touch, you could feel the depth of his emotions, the complexities of his being and the heartbreaking answer to the longing of your heart. "You have found a way to speak to me," he said proud of you, his voice a low murmur. "In the language of dreams and music. It is a gift." A tear escaped you eye, mingling with a smile. You had hoped for understanding, hoped for connection. "I love you," you confessed, your voice steady and resolute. Hope never dies. Morpheus leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead, a gesture both tender and comforting. "And I, in my own way, cherish you," he replied, his voice almost apologetic.

You closed your eyes, letting this shared moment to sink into the softness of the night. When your eyes fluttered open, Morpheus wasn't there. Your fingers slightly trembled before they brushed the guitar strings again.

Soar on a trip to the stars Never thought I'd slip out of your atmosphere

Your shaky voice, heavy with feelings filled the room and the song continued to play.

Now it's clear if you reappear I'd pray softly and then maybe You could break this spell

[judasrpc]

LYRIC STARTERS BASED ON MY CURRENT "ON REPEAT" SONGS

aka, subtly exposing my music taste by slamming a bunch of songs onto one post, even if these probably exist as separate ones somewhere. the sections will be separated by the song titles & artists. this only includes my top 10, because we would be here forever if i included any more.

add context & change gendered language to your needs !! if multi, please specify which muse(s) !!

INVISIBLE - DURAN DURAN

" Living without choice is a life without a voice. "

" Has the memory gone? Are you feeling numb? "

" Will you say my name? "

" Hindsight is falling on my face. "

" When you don't hear a word I say […] "

" But a voiceless crowd isn't backing down. "

"Can you say my name? "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FLIGHT OF THE CROWS - JHARIAH

" I cannot help but think I've overstayed my welcome. "

" The company's quite nice on crimson nights like these. "

" Well, I think that I've gotta go, and I don't know why. "

" I need you to promise that you won't cry. "

" Let those old memories go. "

" Please understand that I will find a brand new life. "

" So just let me out of your mind. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

BLOOD UPON THE SNOW - HOZIER & BEAR MCCREARY

" Nature offers a violence. "

" The world that hardens as the harsher winter holds. "

" The ground walked here is a wonder. "

" And all things nature's given; she takes all things back from the living. "

" I've walked the earth, and there are so few here that know. "

" It's not my arms that will fail me. "

" This world takes more strength than it gave me. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

RISK, RISK, RISK - JHARIAH

" We would've never worked out together. "

" Wager all you've got, and run me all that shit. "

" I can't take another day! I need some change. "

" There's things you just can't see with such precautious eyes. "

" I don't think I need to tell you; you'll see me when I do. "

" Better bite your tongue! "

"I don't second-guess a vision. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

EAT YOUR YOUNG - HOZIER

" Let me wrap my teeth around the world. "

" I want to feel the edges start to burn. "

" If there's something to be gained, there's money to be made. "

" Throw enough rope until the legs have swung. "

" You can't buy this fineness. "

" If there's something still to take, there is ground to break. "

" Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CARELESS WHISPER - GEORGE MICHAEL

" I feel so unsure. "

" Something in your eyes calls to mind a silver screen, and all its sad goodbyes. "

" Though it's easy to pretend, I know you're not a fool. "

" To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind. "

" But there's no comfort in the truth, pain is all you'll find. "

" I wish that we could lose this crowd. "

" We could have been so good together. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

APOCALYPTICISM - MOON WALKER

" We fight fire with silence and pray somebody hears. "

" No one said the world can't change in just a couple nights. "

" We want a revolution, but only with condition. "

" He came baring the heart of a liar; wearing the face of an honest man. "

" Start feeding the dogs of war. "

" We're in your head and hiding in plain sight. "

" But I don't see any difference, they both look the same to me. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

DIGITAL SILENCE - PETER MCPOLAND

" I won't ask a question; I'll state the truth. "

" This is the way that it is. "

" Something you love turns to something you miss. "

" This is the way that I know. "

" I feel it inside me like a pulse; it's starting to slow and the meter dips. "

" This is the sound of the truth. "

" There is nothing you can do. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

KINGSLAYER - BRING ME THE HORIZON & BABYMETAL

" Are you looking for the other side? "

" I need to know where your loyalties lie. Tell me, are you gonna bark, or bite? "

" Wipe the system and back the fuck up. "

" You are modified. "

" You're a puppet! When they cut your strings off, don't come crawling back. "

" You're on your own. "

" I'll fight for you until I die. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I'M AFRAID I'LL GO TO HEAVEN - MOON WALKER

" I don't wanna live forever, 'cause I don't want what's coming next. "

" Don't think we stand taller together, 'cause half of us ain't got no spine. "

" My biggest fear ain't no red Devil, it's being near you people all the time. "

" I'll be fine as long as you go somewhere else. "

" They tell you truth is what you make it. "

" It's like we don't even gotta try no more. "

" I'm sure your god would love to keep it white, but I think that me and mine will be alright. "

[reasonsmandy]

TRACK 2

He said I looked

like an American singer

There were few things that persisted in your essence since you were a little child, some quirks came and went, some tastes faded as you got older, but your love for creating music always persisted. In your house there were always papers spread out with some random ideas that appeared in your mind during the day, your school notebook had more rhymes than any subject studied, you lost count of how many napkins you had scribbled with letters in the restaurant where you worked.

But until now they were just lyrics, there was no composition or musical support whatsoever. You needed more, something that would transform your lyrics into unforgettable songs, and that was when you spent most of your days dedicated to creating your first collection of songs. It wasn't always easy, after all, you had to work in the meantime but every morning and break from your job you were strumming the guitar and taking notes and taking notes without stopping.

When you finally had the opportunity to move, it was like a step that made your dream closer, despite your shyness and insecurity preventing you from going after producers who would open doors for you, you believed that everything would gradually fall into its rightful place. And it did when you met Daisy Jones.

Daisy and you were like two perfectly fitting pieces, complementing each other to create something extraordinary. Daisy was good, she was the essence of talent and what's more, her voice was impeccable. From the first night you met you were already sharing lyrics and melodies, and in that first week alone you had four songs ready, you were unstoppable.

You have become a dynamic duo, and have grown in recognition with Daisy's first album, nothing could be more rewarding than finally feeling your purpose hit you like a calm breeze. You moved closer to the coast, finally living on what you always wanted, there were mornings filled with swimming in the sea and letters filling your notebook.

But, as your rise there was the fall of "The Six". Billy had just checked into rehab, Camila had just given birth, and the rest of the band were desperately looking for jobs. It was sad to feel something they had longed for so long slip through their fingers like sand.

But whether by madness, coincidence or chance of fate. Warren Rojas went to work every day just a few steps away from your home, admiring boats and caring for them with complete curiosity. Transforming his decadence into a new passion.

But not only had boats become an admiration for Rojas, but interestingly, so had you. It was a routine for you to go out every late afternoon to write while admiring the sea, with each wave breaking, your pen finished some vowels and consonants to fill the pages of more and more songs.

And it was on one of those days that Warren caught a glimpse of you for the first time.

The sun made its journey to set over the horizon, while Warren was cleaning the last parts of the last boat he had to take care of that day, when above it, feeling the water slowly hitting the boat, he sees you lying on a towel in your bikini writing as always. He stops abruptly, knowing it would be really weird to watch you from afar but unable to avoid it.

“Rojas, we have work to do.” The drummer's co-worker catches his attention when he sees him standing still. “And I want to get home early today.”

Warren doesn't answer him, he continues to lean on a doorpost admiring your figure.

“Who is she?" After a few seconds, he questions. Making the man turn around intrigued and confused.

“Who?" He talks approaching Warren, to see the vision he was seeing. “Oh, she's a songwriter... Or singer. I don't know actually, but she's in the music industry.” He clarifies, returning to drying the closest furniture.

“Do you think she will be here tomorrow?”

“As I told you Rojas, I don't know anything other than this.” The man wipes the sweat from his forehead, staring at the drummer.

You get up, walking to the sea for one last swim.

“Hey, I'll be right back.” And before his colleague even protested he was making his way into the boat in search of paper and pen.

Warren Rojas: *smirks* I mean, I had my moves you know. I still have them, actually. *pauses* With my wife, only, of course. *says looking at you*

Y/n Rojas L/n: Do you know how long it took for both of us to connect the dots and realize that we had already met before? *Laughs* I mean, we were high the first time and the second we didn't get to actually see each other.

The salty drops of water fell from the strands of your hair to wet the sand this time, when the mixture of grains and water gradually involves your foot with each step you get closer to where you left your belongings. Now the wind indicated that perhaps rain would come, you look at the towel finding a drink and a letter next to it. Frowning, you look to the sides, seeing yourself with only the boats moving with the tide and the seagulls taking flight.

You bend down to see what it was about, there was no sign of anyone else near you. It wasn't a very neat letter, you could see that it was improvised and the cursive writing seemed to be done in a hurry, you sit down reading it.

“I didn't want to seem like a weird stalker and bother you during your afternoon rest but, I just wanted to say that you are more stunning than this sunset. Hope you enjoy this, it's my favorite drink.”

Y/n Rojas L/n: I got that letter and kept it, of course, but... I never got another one *looks down*

Warren Rojas: I got fired for some reason I still don't know, after that the holidays were coming, Billy was coming back home. After christmas we were already writing and adjusting Honeycomb, so I never came back. *thoughtful pause*

That morning promised a lot, in fact, for the drummer every day had something for him, but he would finally be returning to what called for them since they decided to move from Pittsburgh. After a long time he would play the drums as an instrument for work and not for recreation, and he loved the feeling of giving himself over to music.

The band was waiting in the sound booth that had been rented for them by Teddy for a while now, Rojas felt time passing as he played with some soda cans that were there. It was obvious he was restless, eager to see the magic happen in front of his eyes. He liked Honeycomb, but didn't dare comment that he felt something was missing, Little did Warren know that not only did he think that but the man who brought you there did too.

“You’re not going to stay still, are you?” Karen complains, as the drummer moves around the room once again.

“It’s not my fault, it’s taking too long.” He complains, randomly hitting the cymbals on the drums.

“He is kinda right, what are we waiting for?” Eddie adds, biting into the apple he had brought from home.

“Teddy told us to wait a little.” Graham answers when he gets back from talking to Billy. Who obviously seemed sullen about the situation.

Y/n Rojas L/n: We were late, very very late... But look, most of the time when Simone wasn't around I had to do almost everything to get Daisy going, waking her up in time, making breakfast, cleaning the apartment and stuff. That day I tried my best to get us in time but, well *shrugs* I don't blame her though, I know she'd do the same for me.

Breathless, you enter the place where you would spend your afternoon, Daisy behind you walked calmly, smoking while observing her surroundings. You pull her by the hand once again, going towards the sound booth where they told you you were going to work. Curious eyes remained on you as you entered the place without precepts and with fanfare.

You knock on the door asking for permission to enter, but Daisy takes the lead entering the place, you sigh "By God's sake" before entering after her.

“Hi!" Daisy says when she enters, smiling like she was having a blast. You feel your chest warm to see her happy.

“Daisy Jones.” Teddy says pointing to her. “Billy Dunne!” He points to the singer now.

“I like your song.” She smiles bigger.

Y/n Rojas L/n: If I felt excluded? God, of course not... I liked composing, not singing, that was never what I wanted. I remember she was so excited about it all, and of course I was too. But with different points.

“Oh, I'm sorry who are you?” Billy answers her, his hands showing how close to this he was.

“Hey, uh, I'm Y/n she's Daisy... Teddy called us to help.” you introduce yourself, he still has the same serious face. You feel a little embarrassed, but you let it go.

“You told me it was just one girl, now there are two?” Billy ignores you, directing his words solely at Teddy.

“Don't worry, my job is already done.” Annoyed, you say, rolling your eyes. “I just came to join Daisy and show Teddy all we came up with.”

Billy lets out a sarcastic laugh. “What you come up with?”

This time you ignore him, turning to Teddy with a questioning look. “How can I help you?”

“The band is inside, I'll adjust things on the soundboard, you can join them and join me there later. Sounds good?” He suggests, you agree, giving Daisy a kiss on the cheek to indicate that you would be nearby.

Y/n Rojas L/n: Sorry, but Billy wasn't nice at all. I'm glad the rest of the band was lovely to me.

The rest of the band watched the commotion behind the glass in the room part of the soundboard. Karen lights a cigarette which she shares with Graham, trying to deduce what was happening as the sound was muffled and basically inaudible. Eddie played with the guitar strings without even noticing what was happening, his mind focused on something, but Warren had his eyes fixed on you and your every movement.

The drummer approaches Graham first, discreetly nudging him, or so he thought he did.

“Hey Peaches, do you know that girl over there?” Warren questions, stealing the cigarette from his mouth.

“The redhead?" He returns the question, giving up complaining about Rojas' "stealing."

“No, the other one.” He squint, trying to remember why he felt like he knew you.

���Nope, never seen her anywhere.” He ensures, trying his best to remember.

“What about you Karen Karen?” Rojas asks the blonde, who just now sees the drummer there.

“Why? Are you interested in her Rojas?” She says teasingly, Warren crosses his arms in denial, shrugging his shoulders.

“No... That's not the point, don't you think you've seen her somewhere?” The feeling grew inside him as he had a better view of you, but he still couldn't remember.

“Well, you better stop acting weird because she's coming.” Karen shrugs, heading towards her keyboard.

Warren Rojas: Y/n always had the gift of leaving me deconstructed, I would become more foolish than I already am in her presence. I think I'm still like that today.

“Hey, I don't want to intrude or anything but Teddy told me to stay here with you guys until he needs me.” Shyly you say, it was bizarre how you could express yourself so much better on paper and pen and were a disaster in front of new people.

“Oh don’t worry, sit down, do you want a cigarette?” Eddie offers, now that he's come out of his trance. You nod, accepting the offer. “I'm Eddie, the bassist.” He introduces himself.

Y/n Rojas L/n: That's when I noticed, they didn't remember me. I don't know if I was relieved or offended to be honest.

Eddie Roundtree: Wait, what? We met before?

Y/n Rojas L/n: Warren kept staring at me, I was feeling kinda uncomfortable. At a certain point I was already wanting to get out of there, but luckily for me, they asked us to give Billy and Daisy the space to sing.

“I think she wants us to leave.” Eddie says when he sees Daisy pointing at them several times.

“But it's our song.” Warren complains, smoking once more.

“Don’t you guys want to talk to Deb?” Karen suggests, you watch the movement from the corner of your eye, feeling a little excluded from the group.

“Deb is working today? Oh shit” Warren says making his way sloppily, towards the door.

Eddie doesn't take long to follow him, you notice that Graham takes his step only when Karen also leaves. The youngest Dunne leaves in a hurry, without noticing the blonde stop and look at you.

“Are you coming with us?” She says with a smile, and you admire how pretty she is. Nodding as you walk out with her.

Slowly you hear the voices of Billy and Daisy becoming a muffed sound, and the lights of the reception catch your eyes as you lean against the nearest wall. You fiddle with the zipper of your bag constantly, a way to release your anxiety, having the idea of leaving there to eat something while Daisy was recording.

You don't announce anything, you just make your way trying to draw little attention to the exit door. Warren, who was watching you from the corners of his eyes, notices and quickly gets up to catch up with you. Surprising both Eddie with his abrupt attitude and Deb with his disinterest.

“Hey nightingale, where are you going?” He makes you stop, you don't notice, but Karen rolls her eyes as she laughs at the drummer.

“Uh.” You say, noticing that you were the person he was talking to. “I thought I’d go get ice cream or something.”

Warren smiles big, “I love ice cream, can I join you?”

You smile small, happy with the suggestion. “I would love that.”

Warren fumbles in his pockets for the keys to his van, and you smile at his nervousness. Leaning on his hands to indicate for him to stop.

“Don't worry, I'll drive” You blink an eye, turning to go to your vehicle, hoping that this whole scene was attractive in some way.

Warren Rojas: It was sexy as hell *smirks* I mean, she is sexy as hell... *shrugs*

Y/n Rojas L/n: He said that? Yes! *tiny celebration*

You stop in front of the motorcycle, Warren watches your movements in shock, feeling goosebumps when he sees you putting on the vehicle's helmet.

“Here drummer, take this one.” you say handing over the helmet, he still watches you speechless.

Warren Rojas: Is there anything sexier than your wife driving a motorcycle? I mean, she wasn't my wife at the time but, you get it!

Y/n Rojas L/n: I did my best to look badass, but deep down, I was nervous, very nervous... I drove to my favorite ice cream shop at the time, which was very close by, but I spent the whole way there thinking "What the hell am I going to talk to this guy about?"

Warren Rojas: What did I think along the way? I thought about who she was and why she was so familiar *pause* and I also tried to find out what her shampoo smelled like. *smirks* Strawberry with honey, that's the smell.

“So...” Warren says when you two sit at the closest table.

“So...” You copy him, trying not to look into his eyes. “Why were you staring at me the whole time there at the record company?”

Warren swallows hard, still watching you talk about the situation casually while reading the menu as if he didn't know it.

Warren Rojas: I thought it was discreet. *shrugs*

Y/n Rojas L/n: *laughs* The last thing he was was discreet, but I love my goofy husband.

“It's just..." He says nervously, scratching the back of his neck, it was the first time you noticed this tic indicating nervousness in him. “It feels like I know you, like, you look familiar... Although thinking about it, you look like an American singer.”

You arch your eyebrows, hugging your torso to the table. “More like a composer. But it was close.”

✧.* 📚 — Hello! So, my first time writing something with more than two parts. I hope you like it because I'm very excited about my ideas. As it is different content, I don't know if I will use the same taglist that I always use. So here's the new one (in case you want to be tagged)

✧.* taglist — @cieopatrasss @neptunes-curse @boredshit-shadow