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bejeweledblondie · 1 year

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Captain John Price Headcannons

A/N: these are as realistic as I can make ‘em about to be, all of the headcannons I have are inspired by my personal experiences living on a military base & the experiences I’ve had with foreign military (even the Brits, playing cards against humanity with them was interesting)

Captain John Price x F! Reader

• You & Price met through Laswell, you were her intern turned assistant you had gone to college for international relations

• Your intelligence sparked his interest, Laswell had to do a whole presentation on their Task Force should interact with the women in some of the countries they completed missions in

• He was fully attentive & took notes the entire time

• When Price had asked you to dinner it took you by surprise initially, you were oblivious to his small gestures

• He’d bring you coffee, always visit you at least once a day, & would offer to carry your bag into the office

• He took you to a nice little Italian restaurant

• He opened the car door, made you walk on the inside of the street, pulled you chair out etc.

• His parents & grandparents raised him to be a proper gentleman

• He ordered the nicest wine for the both of you

• Afterwards, you guys walked around & just chatted, the conversation flowed beautifully

• When he drove you home he walked you to your door & you kissed him goodnight, once you closed the door he had a shit eating grin

• That following Monday a giant bouquet of roses sitting on your desk with a sweet note from him

• He’s so sweet on you, a true gentleman

•He found out how much you loved dogs & gifted you a golden retriever puppy

• You cried when he gifted the puppy to you

• After a year & a half of being together he proposed to you

• He used the Diamond from his grandmothers ring as your center stone, & he spent months with a jeweler custom making

• Laswell knew the entire time while he was planning the proposal & the ring

• Your wedding was a winter one the week after Christmas so everyone was able to take leave

• Soap, Simon, & other men he had served with were all part of the Saber exit you had at the end of your ceremony

• Soap was the one who cheekily tapped your behind with his saber to “properly” welcome you into the military

• “Mrs. Captain Jonathan Price, welcome to His Majesty’s Army”

• You guys opted for a nice cottage near post because on post housing absolutely sucks

• Shortly after you two had moved in, you had found out you were pregnant

• It terrified you initially & you came up with a creative way to tell John

• You picked up some Army themed baby onesies at the on post NAAFI (the British equivalent of the U.S. Militaries Post Exchange)

• You told him once he got home he had a gift waiting for him & he initially looked confused at the baby onesies, then it clicked

• The both of you decided to hold off on telling everyone until you were far enough long & starting to show

• You both decided to wait to find out the gender

• He treats you like a China doll while you’re pregnant (along with everyone else)

• You’d wake up to him talking to your stomach, he’d tell your baby all about his day

• In office surprise baby shower happened & everyone went ham with the gift buying

• An emergency hostage rescue operation came across Laswell’s desk the week you were due

• You sobbed into him when he told you, he absolutely hated seeing you this sad

• Like clockwork the night he was already mid-mission, once he got back Laswell informed him you were in full blown labor

• John was crushed, one of the nurses held your phone up so he could at least watch his baby being born on screen

• He broke down once he heard the cries of their infant coming into world

• It was a boy, you decided to name him John as well both after his father & grandfather

• He met you in the hospital 12 hours later still in his gear

• As soon as he possibly could this man brought y’all’s son to work

• Laswell was all over him, constantly wanting to hold him

• You do own Tactical Baby Gear with “Price” plastered all over it

• I don’t think you’d return to work after having your first kid tbh… it would’ve been too stressful with Price’s job

• You two definitely have more children, two boys & one girl

• Price 100% coaches your sons soccer (or if you’re not American; football) team

• Your little girl has him wrapped around her finger (along with her “uncles)

• He would sport a tiara & boa for her tea parties (any “uncle” that came over would too)

• He brought his daughter & her little friends to the Eras Tour (he had a blast btw)

• I think your two sons would join the army to follow in their father’s footsteps

• He was so proud when they graduated from Basic Training

• Price on the battlefield is a hardened man but as soon as he walked into your home his hard exterior dropped & he’d go full on domestic he truly loves you & the life you two had built

✨NSFW✨

• Price was the one who had been your first, due to the fact you focused more on school & your studies you hadn’t been with anyone else

• He wears that like a badge of honor, knowing he was the first & only one to show you how you should be treated in bed

• somewhat discreet office sex

• you’d like out a whimper or a moan & he’d whisper “mmmm you gotta be quiet sweetheart, you don’t want anyone to walk in hmmm”

• you have sucked him off while he’d been on calls in his own office

• he smokes cigars while you ride him in your backyard’s hot tub

• you’re a moaning mess on his cock & he’s just taking in the view of you bouncing up & down on him

• he’s 100% an ass man

• has a HUGE corruption kink, & loves being called “daddy” or “captain”

• he has a collection of nude Polaroids of you hidden in his bucket hat, Soap accidentally found one that had fallen out & Price immediately ripped it from his hands

• He definitely bought you sex toys before he leaves for deployment

• you two go at it like rabbits when he comes home (makes sense how y’all have three kids)

• you gave him a blow job after he was honored at a military ball in the bathroom, as a thank you for his service 😏

• People assume you two are vanilla & bland in the bedroom as oatmeal but boy looks can be deceiving

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haechanskins · 8 months

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Lose Somebody - Winter

☆ note: this is my first wlw writting ever, if you think I can improve in something or want to advice me, I'm all ears! I would really appreciate if you let a comment with your thoughts ♡

MINORS DO NOT READ OR INTERACT

☆ genre: f!reader, smut;

☆ warnings: kinda hate sex, toxic ex gf/fiancée, reconciliation through sex, teasing, choking, swear words, fingering, oral receiving;

☆ wc: 2.3k

click here to see the pool. ☆

It was the 30th missed call Minjeong left on your phone. You knew she was drunk again and would say things she shouldn't, just like last time. "I messed up, multiple times. You need to understand that you have to come back to me. Who will love you like I do? Who will wreck you in bed like I do? Who will even care about you? Your destiny is with me". There's no mental readiness to answer the phone; no valid reason to relive it all. You know the calls will only stop when she passes out or sleeps, so you decide to turn it off and lie down. The night seems much longer when your mind refuses to let go, surrounded by worry and dreams returning to the day it all happened...

"How many more times is this damn woman going to show up?" Minjeong shouts as your friend Giselle visits your house again. Your fiancée spent the night away without explanations, and Giselle stayed to calm you. "All that bitch wants is to take you away from me, can't you see?" Anger makes the beer bottle in Minjeong's hands fly towards the wall near you. In that moment, Minjeong realizes her mistake, even though she's far from sober, and rushes toward you. She always had jealousy issues, and you usually let it pass, but this time, the shock and fear were too much. Her touch alone was enough to make you scream and cry.

"Please, forgive me!" she says amidst tears, trying to hold your face. "Babe, please forgive me!" she continues, trying to hold your hands while you throw the ring away. She kneels, holds your arms - the last place you need to be - the last face you want to see is hers. Thursday morning, 8 am, was when it all happened. The last words you heard after walking through the door were "Slut, go be with your bitch Giselle and then tell me if she's better than me! I know I can find someone better than you.". These words echo in your mind during what should be a peaceful sleep, but you're awakened by your own voice calling your ex-fiancée's name incessantly. Should you call her? But why? To hear mockery and provocations?

A hot shower should bring some calmness. All you can think about now is a bit of tranquility. The water flowing down your body makes this feeling seem true for a moment. Walking through the apartment, you realize there's garbage to take out, and your little dog starts jumping on your legs as if asking for fresh air. "Just because I need to take out the trash, okay?" putting the small one under your arm and heading to the elevator. "Do you think I should call her, Kima?" you ask, touching the tip of the small pet's nose, and her head turns around. "She can't even answer and would disapprove" but does she miss her other mom? Thoughts consume you again until Kima gets restless and starts barking while leaving the building. You search for reasons, put her down, and check if there's something on her tiny body. Then she escapes to the automatic gate. Minjeong is leaning against it, at first, you think it might be your sleep playing tricks on you or the lack of glasses, so you start shouting for Kima to come back.

"She misses me too" the redhead shouts. "Please, let me in. I just want one last conversation." You sigh and think for a moment before opening the gate. "I'm doing this for Kima. You have 15 minutes at most!" you say, approaching the gate and opening it.

Keeping with the usual, as you reach your floor, you make coffee for both while Minjeong plays with Kima in the living room. As you sweeten the drink, your mind begins to question the decision to let her into your home, into your comfort. In a moment of distraction and vulnerability, you grab the hot iron kettle without realizing it, screaming in pain and alerting your ex, who was in the other room. "Here..." she guided you to the sink, letting cold running water flow over your hand. "Do you have burn ointment?". "In the bedroom, second door on the corridor" you answer without much thought. When you hear the doorknob turning, you scream at Minjeong to go back, but it's too late. You still have photos with her on the desk, and your steps after the unresolved breakup have been slow. Seeing her still confuses you, and your heart, whether you like it or not, beats faster.

"I found it" showing the ointment in her hands while smiling slightly. She extends her hand, waiting for yours, and applies gently. Pointing to the sofa, she asks you to sit and grabs the cups, placing them on the small coffee table. "You still have..." she begins, but you cut her off instantly, asking what she wants to talk about and why she's there. Minjeong sighs and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, as if waiting for the words to fall from the sky into her head. "I miss you…" you continue looking while her eyes seem to search for another focus and her mouth more words. "Is that it?" she remains silent. "Then you can leave!" the girl watches you walk towards the door to send her away, but she doesn't move. "I said you can go, Minjeong." The last thing your ex-fiancée would do is leave. She managed to contact you after months, entered your house, and was in your presence. She won't leave.

"Okay" as you open the door, Minjeong closes it again, leaning over you. Not much taller, but already causing some intimidation due to the angle and proximity, she continues "Do you prefer to hear me here or in bed?" Silence hangs in the air, and the atmosphere is palpable. You want her to leave while simultaneously wanting her to touch you any way she pleases. "Sorry, didn't mean to cross boundaries. I thought we could..." she backs away from the door, trying to explain her recent behavior. But you’re faster and more eager. It's impossible to lie to your own body. A fervent and quick kiss begins, lasting for a few minutes until you both need air.

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me ever again!" "This is the last time, Kim Minjeong. This is the last time." Everything around you seems to vanish until you touch and fall, fortunately, nothing breaks on the way to the bed. "Whatever you want," you say, watching her eyes darken. Supported by your knees, facing each other, you feel your neck being squeezed. Minjeong's laughter resonates in your ears, sending a shiver down your entire body.

"If this is the last time, then I'll fuck you like the slut you are" she almost spits out each word, pushing you onto the bed and lightly biting every exposed inch of your skin. You don't resist for a minute; her words only make you crave more, yet at the same time, they ignite a sense of anger, uncertain if it's just a fetish or something serious.

"I'm the slut, and you come crawling to my door?" you move on top of her. "Not going to answer?" you question, slapping her face, and she smirks, attempting to put her hands on your waist. However, you pull them up, leaning on them, just inches away from Minjeong's mouth. "I'm not the one missing you," spreading kisses on her face. "I'm not the one begging every day to come back. Or am I?" you mock, a statement mixed with truth, both with hearts pounding and panties soaked.

"You..." she starts.

"I don't want you to speak. I want you to beg," you interrupt.

"I like your attempt to take control. It's cute. But it doesn't work with me" she retorts "but since you're here, you'll make it easier for me," she continues smiling, and your head knots for a few seconds. How did she manage to flip the situation like this?

"I won't do anything you want," running your hands through Minjeong's red hair. "Why should I?"

"Because you've always obeyed me, like a good girl." she teases.

"That's over, Minjeong."

"Over?" she laughs. "And would you spread your legs if I commanded?" she asks, pulling your hand towards her mouth, licking and sucking on the two middle fingers. "Would you take off this blouse if I told you to?" continues. You feel your body shiver and yield to each word she says. You get up from the bed, and her eyes follow you as she sits there, glancing at you. You remove your blouse and the small pajama shorts, turning around to reveal just your panties. Minjeong observes every inch of your body, running her hands from your neck to your thighs.

"Is this what you want?"

"I want much more!" she replies, pulling you by the waist. You look down at her and give her a slap. "I wished you'd never show up here again" her eyes search for whether it's the truth or just a game. "I wished you'd disappear from my life forever" another slap. "You could find someone better so easily, and yet, here you are, begging for me," you say, sitting on her lap while speaking. "Is it cute for me to try to boss you around?" You laugh mockingly and give another slap, moving your hand down to Minjeong's neck, squeezing it. She continues to look at you with doubt, but there's nothing in you that worries about responding at this moment.

Drawing her silhouette with your hands, she shivers with every touch and sighs with every scratch where her skin is exposed. Kneeling on the rug in your room, you put your hands on her waist to find the edge of her pants, starting to pull along with her panties. Once done, you move your hands up again to take off the remaining blouse and bra. For the first time, you observe the shaky breaths coming from your old partner instead of yourself.

"Look who's the slut now. So needy and alone that you're wet for so little" one hand squeezing Minjeong's neck, while the other is wandering across her intimacy. "How many fingers do you think I can fit without even touching you?" you ask, making a pout. "Three? Already?" you pretend to insert your fingers, and her eyes close, mouth opens with a slight moan. You laugh; she opens her eyes disappointed, and mumbles.

"I want you to sit on my face" you say, lying on the bed and waiting for her, but Minjeong laughs and doesn't follow. "As I said, it's cute," she says, leaning into the space between your legs "but it doesn't work with me" she concludes, placing kisses on the inner part of your thigh, causing shivers and a soft moan to escape. Minjeong laughs and moves closer to your pussy.

Positioning herself on top of your body, she confesses several times that she felt hatred towards you for ignoring her, that she wanted to have you all the time, but you were a complete slut. That's why she was there, to show you why she should be the only one to touch your body forever.

"You're going to cooperate with me now," she said, biting your thigh "properly" she continued, placing a kiss on your clitoris, then licking your entire intimate area from top to bottom twice, watching you squirm and moan. "Hmm... so you like this, don't you?" she laughed. "Want more?" She licked again and gave another kiss.

"Please," you responded with a trembling voice.

"Please, what, my love?" she licked once more.

"Please, I need you to go down on me."

"Good girl," she replied, doing what had been asked. Then, she inserted two fingers while alternating between slow and fast sucks, murmuring, "Delicious as always," and grumbling, "You're so tasty. I love the taste you have," making your entire pussy vibrate. When the redhead noticed that you were moaning too much and holding onto her hair tightly, she stopped abruptly.

"Did you stop?" you asked desperately. "I was almost there," you grumbled.

"I want to come with you" she said, kissing up your belly and breasts, sucking a few times. "I want to feel you" she continued, immediately kissing you. She gradually pulled your hair while one hand played with your clitoris and returned to your breasts without any warning or alert. Everything seemed to make you 100% more sensitive to her touch, more needy, and addicted to that touch.

Minjeong pulled you closer "We've never tried this. Do you want to?" She pulled one of your legs up onto her thigh. You knew what she was talking about and involuntarily smiled. The only answer you could give was your own body fitting perfectly with hers; pussy against pussy. You could hardly breathe with your hearts racing amid so many moans. The only sound besides them was the wet skin-on-skin noise. "It's unbelievable how beautiful you look when you're about to cum for me" Minjeong gasps. "You're mine," she continues, grinding against you even more.

"I'm yours. I'm only yours" you say as your voice falters amid whispers and almost tears. "I'm going to—" you say, almost shouting.

"Cum in my pussy" she replies "with me" she continues, holding onto your waist even tighter, giving more and more thrust. The moans get louder, and you both hardly know where to touch—lacking hands for hair, breasts, waist, thighs, lacking voice.

You climax together. It wasn't the last time you saw Minjeong or had sex with her, but on this specific day, after everything, she stayed with you, and you slept entwined. Minjeong still believes to this day that you were in a deep sleep when she whispered "I had to lose you to realize I can't live without you... what an idiot... I hope this never happens again. I love you, y/n."

tags: @minjeongswife

#kpop smut #aespa x reader #aespa smut #haechanskins #winter smut #wlw smut #winter x reader #minjeong x reader #kim minjeong x reader

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tzyuki · 1 year

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[ 김규빈 ] ONE & ONLY ꒰ K.GV x F!READER

008. WAZE DORMS?? | smau + written (778 wrds)

IN WHICH ✶ — Rumors about Y/n pursuing a Zerobaseone member backstage at music bank start floating around the media after she and ZB1 member, Kim Gyuvin are seen talking behind in one of the episodes of ‘Eunchaes Star Diary’. Some netizens believe it and some don’t, some hated her for touching his shoulder and some didn’t care. Y/n went live to debunk the rumors, saying she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the time. The thing was, the rumors were true. She secretly was pursing Kim Gyuvin, or at least she wanted to. Ever since she first saw him backstage at M Countdown when ‘Love Killa’ team got to perform she was starstruck. She saw him at the vending machine and wished him luck in ‘Boys Planet’. She actually never had watched an episode of the survival show at all, she said it would be too painful for her, but that was the night she started to watch and most importantly, vote for Kim Gyuvin.

Y/n flopped onto the couch in the living room of their dorm, exhausted from the early schedule she had. The rest of her members had gone out for lunch leaving the girl home alone.

The chiming sound of the dorm bell ringing, her head lifting up to see who was at the little screen at the door. She could see the faint face of Moon Jaeyun. Almost forgetting that he’d come by to hang out with the girl and later so would Gyuvin.

“Coming!” She shouted as got up from the couch, walking towards the door. “Hey,” She said to the boy as she opened the door. “How are you?” Y/n said, opening the door wide so the boy could walk in.

“Hm—good. We’re working on a comeback right now so I’ve been kind of busy.” Jaeyun said, putting a thought to it. “How are you? I saw you started filming for your guys show.” He asked as the two plopped down onto the couch side by side.

“Good, I have to bring Lulu back home soon so I’ll have to miss my break day.” Y/n sighed. “And our show is gonna be so tiring to film this season.” Y/n groaned. “I thought you guys just do stupid missions at the academy and each mission reveals each step to the big secret—or whatever.”

“It is,” Y/n slightly tilted her head, thinking about the youtube show they released last year. “But sometimes we film real scenes that take hours to do.”

“You guys are actually kind of good, did you ever think about taking acting up professionally?” Jaeyun asked genuinely. “You watched it?— and no, I’ve always wanted to sing and dance.”

“Who hasn’t?” Jaeyun chuckled. “It’s filmed and edited well. The fact that it’s only a show made for your fans” He scoffed. “I think people who aren’t your fans should watch it.”

“Is it really that good?”

“Yeah, the drama is there, the acting is good, and the plot is actually really good—like for a variety show it’s really good—you’re really good at acting too.” Jaeyun gassed up the girl. “You’re being nice to me, Jae. This is so weird getting complimented.” The girl chuckled.

The doorbell chimed again.

“Are your members back?” Jaeyun asked, his head turning to the door. Y/n awkwardly chuckled. “I forgot to tell you, Gyuvin and one of his members are also hanging out here.”

“You double booked?” Jaeyun gasped. “Look, I'm trying to bag the guy.” Y/n held her hands in surrender. “Come open the door with me.” She ran to the door, “Coming!” Jaeyun walked up behind her. “Oh my god—that’s Matthew!” Jaeyun shouted a little too loud, Matthew and Gyuvin could be seen laughing on the camera.

“Matthew!” Jaeyun shouted as the door opened, he pulled the other into a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here!?” Matthew said, pulling away. “Come in, come in.” Jaeyun said, acting like it was his dorm.

“Hi, Gyuvin.” Y/n chuckled, the two gave each other looks as the other two were talking in english. “Hi, Eumppappa.” Y/n said in a slightly high pitch tone as she petted the dog.

“He likes you.” Gyuvin said. Eumppappa was excited and happy as Y/n stroked his ears. “Let me go get Lulu.” Y/n smiled as she ran to open her room door. The pig ran out oinking as she approached Gyuvin and his dog.

“She’s clearly happy.” Y/n giggled. “How’s your day?” Y/n asked, slightly leaning on the counter of the island, not trying to seem awkward. “It’s good, I’ve just been walking Eumppappa. How is getting back into work?”

“Tiring, as always.” Y/n scoffed. “It’s a fun job, but it gets tiring with all the practice and content we have to film. It’s hard to keep a happy act at times.” Y/n confessed. “You seem so passionate on stage, thought?” Gyuvin said. “I am, I really love performing and everything, but once I show an ounce of being tired it’s like the whole internet is calling me lazy.” She laughed.

“I’ll admit, I make jokes about them so it goes over my head.” Y/n sheepishly laughed. “Am I talking too much?” She asked, worried she was talking the boy's ear off. “You aren’t, I like talking a lot too.” Gyuvin chuckled.

“To be honest, I double booked. I didn’t want it to be awkward between us so I invited my friend as well.” Y/n admitted. “At least it worked out great, they already know each other.” The two looked at the pair on the couch goofing off.

m.list — previous — next

taglist (open) 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ @jinkyu @whoschr @str0l0gy @sieuneo @enhaz1 @weoris @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @jiawji @trsrina @esc6pism @tmrx2gther @jiaant11 @latriii @annoyingbitch83 @pwarkj @sleepingisweak @beomibeom @seosracha @sparklingsjy @ahnneyong @mioujon @whippedforbeomgyu @wonqr @lunavixia @y7n2394-ze @wtfhyuck @lcv3lies @mangowonyo @nyujjan @chaeryvips @tocupid @chanlixed @svtglitch @wonluvrbot @wondering-out-loud @igotkpoops @jeongintwt

#gyuvin scenarios #kim gyuvin #gyuvin drabbles #gyuvin smau #boys planet gyuvin #gyuvin fluff #gyuvin imagines #zb1 gyuvin #gyuvin x reader #zerobaseone gyuvin #zb1 #zb1 oneshots #zb1 smau #zb1 x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 scenarios

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deuxcherise · 4 months

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Collar Crimes: All Bark, No Bite (1/2)

A/n: So a long time ago, before reader met Eris, reader met a certain dog~ Hint, hint: she was mentioned in the last chapter (can I call it a chapter? It was in part 2). It’s not the bartender, by the way. So this is going to be a two parter because it got too long. Huh… Is it just me or are these getting longer and longer? Even the animal is getting bigger lol. Enjoy~

Masterlist | Part 0, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (1/2) (you’re here!), Part 3 (2/2)

[Seven years ago…]

“Hiiiii~ Welcome to Petal Blush Cafe, dear guest. We’re so happy-happy to see you~”

“Oh, what do we have here? I heard a lot of great things about you. Come give Papa a big ol’ smile, why don’t cha?”

You keep your ever present resting blank face on, place your index fingers together in front of your mouth and drag them apart in an upward curve. You throw in a tilt of your head, as a bonus.

He throws his head back in ecstasy. “AHHH! So it’s true what they say. I feel so refreshed. Papa’s got an appetite for some sandwiches… unless you’re on the menu today?”

“Oh my~ You flatter me~ But unfortunately, nooooo sir~” you say with a high-pitched cutesy voice that heavily contrasts your stiff-robot face, fanning yourself for show.

You’ve always hated these kinds of customers– actually you really hated this job in general. Not only were you forced to wear a ridiculously, scandalously short pink waitress dress uniform regardless of your gender, but you had to listen to yourself talk with an ear-gratingly high-pitched tone because that’s what sells the performance here.

It’s not like you can just leave, as much as you wanted to. Where else would they pay you enough to make rent? Besides, with who runs this cafe, do you think you’d be able to leave scot-free? No.

Ah… if only someone with a lot of money could just… sweep you off your feet. Someone kind. Someone considerate. Someone polite.

Pff. Like that’s ever going to happen.

You take his usual order on your paper notepad. As you leave, you feel something heavy slap against your behind, the action sending a jolt through the rest of your body. You glance behind you and see him don a sleazy smirk, which further adds to your disgust and increasing resentment for this place and this man, as you pick up the pace to hand over the order to the chef. You slam the paper down onto the counter with a little more force than expected, warranting Remy’s attention.

“Which table?” he nonchalantly asks, cracking a couple of eggs onto the pan.

Somehow, despite wearing the same outfit as you, he maintains an extremely powerful look with his exposed bulging muscles and trimmed beard held by his hairnet. You envy the man.

“Table 13,” you grumble.

“Special sauce?”

“Special sauce.”

“Got it.”

The bell rings and in comes a trio of brothers in fancy suits, three of your most loyal customers, along with an unfamiliar face. Upon their request, the hostess leads them to a table in your section. You grab four menus before walking over and greeting them as usual.

“Hiiiii~ Welcome back to Petal Blush Cafe, dear guests. We’re so happy-happy to see you~” you say, with your iconic blank face.

The three men roar with delight. The lady with them, wearing the same kind of suit, simply pinches and pulls at her sleeve as she keeps her face downcast. One of the brothers turns to the lady with them while pointing at you. “Hey, Sis. Whatcha think of (Y/n), huh? That straight face and cute voice– combo’s real nice, ain’t it?”

“O-oh… um…” The woman makes eye contact with you for a split second before she looks away, a blush appearing on her face. She nods animatedly, releasing another roar from the men, much to your confusion.

“Oh right! (Y/n). You already know the three of us: Dante, Vergil and Nero. This,” Dante says, placing an arm around the lady’s shoulders, “is our baby sister, Lyn. She may look shy right now, but put a weapon in her hand and–” He whistles before chuckling.

“Ah. Happy-happy to have you, Lyn~” you say, cutely wiggling your fingers.

“... T-thank you… (Y/n).”

“Good girl,” one of the brothers sitting across pats her on the head. She reminds you of a golden retriever, with her blond hair and gentle, round eyes.

“Yay~ Now, what will it be today~?” you ask, clicking your pen.

They order some sandwiches and some drinks. You place the order in exchange for picking up the order for that sleazy customer who calls himself Papa. You and Remy exchange knowing looks before you deliver the food.

“Oooh. This looks delicious. Thank you very much, sweetheart.”

You nod and start walking away, before your arm is grabbed by a meaty hand. You turn your head around to see the man grinning at you maliciously.

“Now, wait a gosh darn second. I heard that this establishment offers a… special service. Now… you aren’t holding off on me, are ya?”

You rip your arm out of his grasp, used to being grabbed by unscrupulous individuals like this man. You answer, “Oh~ The special service~ Sorry, hon~ That’s a privilege only reserved for customers who have dined here more than ten times~ Since you’ve come here once, that means you’ll have to come back nine more times.”

The special service in question refers to asking any server to sing the cafe’s jingle and perform a cutesy dance for the customer asking. Everyone who works here must learn this song and dance before they can be placed on the floor. Each server adds their own twist to it, of course, thus providing a unique experience.

The man slams a fist on the table and stands up, his face red with anger. “WHAT? I CANCELLED AN IMPORTANT MEETING FOR THIS. NOW IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME THE SPECIAL SERVICE, I AM GOING TO–”

Click!

Both your heads turn to the side to discover Lyn pointing a loaded revolver with one hand just a feet away, aimed directly for the man’s skull. Her eyes are sharp and narrowed, unlike the gentle, round ones you were introduced to earlier.

She raises her eyebrows. “Is there a problem here, sir?”

“D-do… do you know who you’re pointing that gun at, lady?” the man stutters, sweating beading up on his forehead.

Lyn shrugs. “Does it matter?”

“O-of course it does! Shoot me and you’ll have the West Razors going after you and your entire family.”

She raises an eyebrow. “... Never heard of them before.”

“What? Who are you then, huh bitch? Some don’s lady?”

She scoffs to the side. Her eyes widen, pupils contracting, as she cocked her head with a smirk. “Lyn Aurem-Diavolus. Of the May Devils.”

The man gasps and immediately lowers his knees, Lyn’s gun following. The man clasps his hands together in a prayer as he begs for his life. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know! Please forgive me! I didn’t know this server was your lover!”

…Who? Is what now?

Lyn’s eyes soften back to their round shape, her face darkening to a red hue as she stutters, “E-eh?”

“That’s right!” Dante pipes up with a smirk, coming behind Lyn, followed by the other two brothers. “Mess with (Y/n) again, and we’ll send you straight down to hell, capisce?” He gives the man a thumbs down with a frown. “Now scram.”who want to get on the bad side of the May Devils. The less competition, the better anyway.

Lyn replaces the safety lock before she puts it back into a hidden holster. She bashfully asks you, “Are you okay… (Y/n)?”

You nod and give a thumbs up. “Yeah. Thank you, Lyn~”

“N-no, well I mean yes, that too. But what I meant was–”

“Ooh, free sandwiches,” says Dante. “Don’t mind if I do–”

You throw a hand out. “No, wait!”

-----🔔-----

Ever since the brothers introduced you to Lyn, she has been visiting the cafe every day you’re scheduled to work for months now. Sometimes she comes with the brothers, sometimes by herself if they’re too busy dealing with… probably mafia stuff.

“Hiiiii~ Welcome to Petal Blush Cafe, dear guest. We’re so happy-happy to see you~”

“H-hi… (Y/n).”

At this point, there is no need to provide her with a menu anymore. She always orders a peanut butter milkshake and a plate of chocolate cake. Somehow, aside from the extreme sweet tooth she possesses, you always feel weird about giving her the chocolate cake. She’s definitely human but… she really does remind you of a very shy golden retriever… with perhaps a German shepherd side to her.

“Okay~ Here is your milkshake and your cake. Will there be anything else you’d like today, Lyn-Lyn~?”

You expect her to say no as per usual, but this time it seems she has something on her mind. Based on the way her face has turned red and her eyes look like they’re panicking.

“O-oh! U-um… (Y/n)?”

“Yes, Lyn-Lyn?”

“Do you… what time do you get off work? D-do you have time after work?”

That catches you off guard. “Why~?”

“UH… UM… I… I-I have something… to tell you! Come meet me behind the cafe.”

“Oh… kay. Okay~” you answer.

-----🔔-----

“Alright. Good job, everyone! Have a safe trip going home!”

“Yeah!” “Thank you! “Yes!” “Uh-huh.” “See ya!”

The day has ended and all of the customers have left. Your boss leaves first, but you and your coworkers stick around and begin making conversation.

“Oooh, you gonna go meet lover girl in the back, (Y/n)?”

You roll your eyes at a coworker’s words. “Ha ha. Real funny.”

“What does she wanna talk about anyway?”

You shrug, closing your locker. “Beats me.”

“Ooh, do you think she’s going to confess?”

You scoff. “No. Where’d you get that idea from?”

Your coworkers exchange looks before bursting into laughter.

Ever since that day when the don of the West Sharpies or something assumed you were Lyn’s lover, your coworkers have never let you live it down, especially with Lyn’s daily visits. She is… kind, considerate, polite, and she was pretty hot when she defended you back then. However! You do not have such a relationship with her, nor any kind of feelings like that.

You’re the last one to leave, the only one to leave through the back door to meet with Lyn. You see her leaning against the wall, dressed in her suit as always. The moment she spots you, she blushes again. She has never seen you in civilian clothes before, but you look so… beautiful. More so without the pink outfit.

“Sorry, did I keep you waiting?” you ask in your regular voice, out of character. Your face is still stiff though.

“O-oh, not at all, not at all. Um, here.”

She manifests a flower bouquet from behind for you. You take the bouquet, entranced by the largeness of it and how beautiful the colorful flowers look in the alleyway’s streetlight. When your eyes finally break away from the flowers, you find Lyn kneeling down on one knee and looking up at you with a very serious expression.

“Lyn?”

”(Y/n). Over these past several months,” she starts off, “I have been trying to figure out my feelings. I’ve thought about it over and over, tries to rationalize it as… as just infatuation, but… I know what’s in my heart. And I’ve finally come to a conclusion. Ever since I first met you, you have… captured my heart. I am in love with you, (Y/n).”

…..

You stare at her with wide eyes. “Huh?”

She clears her throat and starts glancing between you and the surroundings, embarrassed. “I-I know you may not feel the same. My brothers… and everyone else have told me already. And it’s not like I’ve really done anything to win your affection…” She mumbles something in between before continuing. “But if you give me the chance, I can show you what I’m capable of. As your potential girlfriend.”

She holds out a hand to you. “Will you… go out with me?”

“I…”

Do you want to try going out on a date with one of the May Devils, the youngest one too? You didn’t have any prior romantic feelings for the girl, which makes you feel bad. What if you never develop any feelings for her? What if she stops showing up to the cafe? What if you accidentally do something that triggers the entire famiglia after you?

In the midst of your thoughts, something dark emerges from you. A devil. It sits on your shoulder and whispers into your ear, “What if this is your chance to get out of here? She has money. You need money. It’s a match made in… well, ya know?”

…..

You smile, an expression Lyn hasn’t seen before but is entranced by, as you place your hand onto hers.

“I would love to.”

-----🔔-----

You hadn't expected to enjoy going out on dates with her, but you were sure glad that you said yes.

“(Y/n)! Look what I got for you!” Lyn excitedly says, holding a neatly wrapped box for you over your shoulder.

“Another one?” you chuckle, accepting the gift as she hugs you from behind and nuzzles the back of your neck. “Designer clothes. Designer bags. Luxuries cars. Lyn-Lyn, you're spoiling me too much. You're going to go bankrupt!”

She shakes her head, her hair tickles the back of your neck. “Mm mm mm mm. You're not being spoiled! You're being pampered! By me. Your loving, romantic girlfriend. Who regards you dearly very, very much! Forget about the money. Just let me enjoy spending it on you.”

You giggle and place a hand on her cheek, turning your head so you can share a kiss with her. Of course, Lyn starts planting lots of kisses on your face afterwards, like the lovely puppy she is.

You both fall into bed, full of laughter and joy until you both settle down to cuddle with each other. With your fingers interlocked with hers, Lyn gazes into yours with so much adoration, it makes you shy. You turn away and hide your face against the pillow.

“(Y/n), look at me,” she whispers.

You refuse, for a moment, but you make eye contact. You both gaze into each other's eyes, lovingly, until Lyn breaks the silence.

“I love you, (Y/n).

It makes you freeze, hearing those three words fall from her mouth for the first time in your relationship.

What shocks you more is that…

Well…

The thing is… normally…

You're… supposed to say it back, right?

You open your mouth but not a single noise leaves it. You avert your eyes in shame, biting your lip.

Why can't you say it? After all she's done for you so far?

…..

“I-It's okay, (Y/n),” Lyn suddenly says, making you look at her. Her eyes and voice are filled with sadness. “I know… that it takes time for a person to develop feelings for someone. I mean, it took time for me to realize my feelings too, and… I did ask you out knowing that you might not… reciprocate my feelings. At least not yet. That's why people date, right? To get to know each other and hopefully fall in love. So… I'll wait for you. Besides, we’ve only dated for a month, right? I’ll do my best to make you fall in love with me. Okay? Prepare yourself~”

You nod, happy that Lyn still wants to be with you even if you can't say those three words back to her yet.

-----🔔-----

“Who are you talking to?”

You look up from your phone. “Oh! One of my old coworkers. He was just asking how I'm doing now since I've left the cafe. Thanks to you,” you answer, with a playful smile.

Lyn’s face doesn't share your expression. “Oh. Okay.”

You pout, wondering what's going on with Lyn lately. She'd catch you on the phone, ask you who you're talking to, and then ignore you until she finds something else to ask.

You crawl towards her on the bed and ask, “Lyn, I know you're upset. Do you want to talk about it?”

Lyn looks at you, looks away, and then looks back at you again before she leans forward and catches your lips with a kiss. She pushes you down onto the bed before releasing you from her lips and just looks at you.

Her eyes move from your eyes to your lips to your exposed collarbone before going back up to your eyes. She sighs before laying her entire weight on you, her head nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Lyn?”

“I love you, (Y/n)... Do you love me?”

“I…” Your voice catches in your throat for nth time.

You feel her breath as she sighs. “I know.”

Tears start to fill up your eyes out of frustration. “I'm sorry…”

She pops back on her elbows, worried. “Oh no, it's okay. Shh shh. It's okay. (Y/n). My (Y/n). I'm sorry,” she coos, caressing your cheek and wiping your tears.

For some reason, no matter what she did, nothing could spark you to say those three damned words back to her. It isn't your fault but…

It is starting to drive her insane.

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as-amemory · 6 months

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I Could Drive You Crazy

Pairing: Éomer x OFC (unnamed)

Summary: She drove him crazy, with her little mannerism specifically crafted to irritate him, to get a rise out of him, for it was then, in that sweet spot before he starts to boil, before his true ire took over, that they find themselves in the heated throws of passion.

Warnings: NSFW, explicit, racism against Dunlendings (if thats a thing? I don't know, I'm new here), unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: less than 2k.

Setting: Aldburg, Rohan - some years before the War of the Ring.

Notes: This is the result of me ovulating and having no outlet as well as a song-bug stuck in my ear: I Could Drive You Crazy by Sierra Ferrell. Basically its a song about being crazy and I thought that might make for an interesting character to pair Éomer with, since apparently I enjoy watching him suffer. I'm not yet ready to name this OFC. I kind of hate her but I want to play with her a few more times and see what mischief she can get up to first before I decide if she needs a permanent residence.

I'm probably going to the small section of hell they specifically reserve for the sickos who deface Tolkien's works with such vulgarity. Enjoy!

Hay Fever threatened to take him fully yet she barged through the door as if he hadn’t complained to her that morning of an oncoming headache. She loved to do that. Ignore his every word and then act surprised when he was upset with her for having to repeat himself. Rare did he share his feelings with others, rarer still that he was forced to repeat himself. Not as Third Marshal of the Mark, Lord of Aldburg. People listened when he spoke. She did not.

“Feed your dogs, Éomer,” she says, voice full of spite. He hated when she called him by his name so casually. He never particularly cared for the triviality of titles. It matters not to him how he is referred to, as long as he first gave leave to call him by his given name, yet she takes the privilege without even bothering to ask permission.

She eyes the hound dogs sprawled at his feet with contempt. She did not like that he allows the dogs to reside inside the confines of his home. They belong in a kennel, outside. “They look as though they will devour me.”

This was his home. It would do her well to get used to seeing them laying on the floor. He sits back in his seat appraising her, the judgment seeped deep in her dark eyes. She is of mixed ancestry, there is no doubt of that by looking at her. Carrying enough blood of the Dunlendings to mark her differently. A mark of his resentment towards her. Resentment that blossomed into hate, the sweet fuel to their more rousing escapades.

“I should let them.” The threat comes out harsher than he intends, the start of a cold restricting any tenderness from escaping his throat.

Tossing two halves of an uneaten pheasant on the ground the dogs swallow it whole in one bite. He had taken his supper in his room that evening, not in the mood to dally with the residents of Aldburg. Typically the seasonal Hay Fever did not affect him but the heavy spring rains had caused an influx of new weeds to run wild in the fields causing him to feel less than ideal. Currently a pain bloomed behind his eyes and at the base of his throat, leaving him in no state to make friendly conversation. Yet here she is, when he had specifically ordered the Doorward not to let anyone into his rooms.

She could drive him to insanity with her blatant disrespect of him. He did not know why he kept her around. They had nothing in common and his list of grievances against her was long in number, dating back almost a year prior, growing longer still.

Showing up late to a personal invitation to go riding, acting as though they had never agreed to a time and certainly not a place of meeting. She had once offered to cook him supper to which he almost choked on the bones swimming in the stew. Had ruined a hunting trip, scaring away all the animals with her incessant humming. A tune which was stuck in his head for almost a fortnight. There was no fishing to be had with her, requiring more patience than whatever little she possessed. Yet time, and time again, him found himself tangled in sheets of his bed with her, or roughly pressed against the edge of his desk in the solar, partial to the idea of being caught, or in the hayloft above the stables, straining so deliciously tight around him as she rode -

He teeth grind at the sight of her, fluttering about his room, touching this and that, moving it slightly away from its original spot as she talks about her day.

“I found a lovely bolt of cloth that would make a fine dress.” She has picked up the crystal paperweight from his desk, peering at it as if she is speaking to the paperweight and not him.

So it was money she wanted? He should have known better than to think she was checking on his well being. He lifts his chin, waiting for her to meet his eye. She would have to ask him directly if she desired any coin from him but she continues to pick up random items just to set them down again, completely ignoring him.

“Come here.” His patience has grown thin. He will not ask her twice yet she looks at him as if he should be the one crawling on his knees to be near her. As if he should hand over his purse just to be allowed the honor of being in the same room as her.

When he does not concede to her silent petition she nods her head in appreciation to his stubbornness. A sly smile curls on her lips as she approaches him, already lifting her dress to better seat herself on his lap.

“I don’t know what I ever liked about you,” he says gruffly as she straddles him. Pushing aside her skirts he unties the laces of his trousers. He would have his due of her before this Hay Fever set in fully.

She laughs mockingly at that. “You love me.”

“I don’t think I do.” He nips at her lips and she smiles ruefully. Skirt pulled around her waist he is able to easily palm the wet folds of her labia. “You seem to like me,” he draws out, pushing the heel of his palm into her sensitive nub, eliciting a delicate gasp from between pink parted lips. He takes the opening to kiss her fully when she otherwise does not particularly enjoy the intimacy of a long drawn out kiss. She surprises him by matching the energy, eagerly molding her lips against his. Rutting down on his hand and along his ever hardening cock causes a gasp of his own to escape his mouth and into hers. His eyes closed briefly at the contact. They had last laid together only that morning. Was he so fallible to her that he could not even keep from gasping out like an inexperienced adolescent?

She bites down on his lower lip. Hard, drawing blood. He hisses his resentment through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into her side. He hated when she did that. This she knows. She remembers that particular detail about him, yet could not remember the name of his first horse or his favorite fishing spot. More than anything she loved to know what he hated.

She is trying to get a rise out of him. Make his boil, just a little. The sex was always better for it.

“Minx,” he growls against her mouth. Taking hold of his cock he spreads the juices of her pleasure along the length, lining himself up with her entrance. Greedily he flicks his hips up into her without warning. She laments her pleasure, loud for all to hear. The Doorward, no doubt, will not be expecting reprimand from him, not when he can so clearly hear the results of his mistake.

Wiggling against him she tries vainly to adjust to the size difference but he holds her in place, fingers digging into her sides. He wishes that he wasn’t so incorrigible. That he wasn’t so tempted by her teasing. That he could withhold himself from acting out so rashly. Maybe like that of his older cousin, whose poise and sense of propriety had always come with ease. Yet he falls for her time and time again, fucking her exactly as she enjoys. As he enjoys.

Letting his eyes linger on her undulating body he sets his jaw to keep from baring his teeth at the pressure of her rolling hips. If only she rode horses as good as she did him then she might be worth her weight in the saddle. Yet for all her withering she is shit astride a horse. It was that cursed Dunlending blood, tainting her ability to be anything but subpar.

A whimper escapes her lips, and he smiles cruelly, at least she suffers, same as him. She rides him slow, a painful pace that leaves him groaning. His only respite from her torture is his thumb circling her clit. She might know everything he hated but he knew exactly what her body loved. Specifically how to milk an orgasm out of her that would leave her seeing stars. It starts slow. Small circles to bring her to attention, and then an increase of pressure as blood engorges to the area. Her breathing hitches in her throat. Like the cat that caught the canary, he smiles at the sight of her. A harsh thrust of his hips, he fills her fully causing her pace to falter. The careful placement of his thumb halts, watching the confused look cross her features as her incoming orgasm slips out from under her.

His name is a growl on her lips, a slight warning. “Éomer.”

That he could take his name from her lips.

She knows the game he plays, the same one she taught him all those years ago. His thumb picks up pace with her rolling hips. He cradles her neck with his free hand. Skin hot, beneath his touch. A sheen of sweat is building along her hairline. He traces the curve of her collarbone and down her chest, across to her nipples, hard beneath her bodice. She is almost as sensitive here as she is between her legs, her hands clench around his shirt trying to hide her rising ecstasy. His nostrils flare, eyes trapped on the expanse of her face, carefully watching for each small indication of her pleasure.

Turning her head she tries to hide from him but he quickly has her jaw clasped between his fingers. He would see her. Shaking her head she waves off his touch, attempting to cover her eyes behind her hand, like a child hiding in plain sight. He clicks his tongue, taking her hand in his and after some struggling binds them both in his clasp behind her back.

“Go on then.” He flicks his chin in her direction. Her pace has all but stopped, hesitantly she finds it again, knowing full well that he now possesses all the power. The power to dish out pleasure as he saw fit.

Yet her rolling hips are more powerful, more exaggerated than before, causing him to grimace, lest he call out her name. She would love that, revel in his undoing. He steels himself with a deep breath through his nose. A ragged breath from her lets him know she is close again. He slows his thumb, wondering if she’ll cry out, plead with him to give her what she wants.

“Éomer.” His name, like a prayer on her lips, is soft and sweet, and he knows he no longer possesses the control he once touted.

Letting free her hands, he pulls her in close until her head rests against his. He can feel the warmth of her breath as he takes his pace, thrusting into her. She has brushed away his teasing thumb, replacing it with her own skilled fingers. A shuddering breath and she tightens further around the length of him. She cries out loud enough that he is certain they hear her in the Great Hall. He is still thrusting into her as she convulses hot and heady around him but he soon follows suit, letting his release run him fully with a loud groan of his own.

Panting, she rests her head against his chest, forehead sticky with sweat it clings to the thin fabric of his shirt. She does not cuddle. She never has lingered in his arms as they slowly drift down from their high. She slips off his lap and he shutters at the sudden loss of contact, hands gripping the armrests of the chair.

By the time he has regained his senses enough to stand she has relieved herself and wiped clean his seed dripping down her thighs. Maybe a good romp was the cure to any oncoming ailment. He drowns the last of his ale, eyeing her as she smiles prettily for him under dark thick lashes. So demure and pliant, when only moments earlier he was ready to have her thrown from his room for her uncouth behavior.

“You spoil me, my lord,” she says coyly. He bites back a scoff.

Her gaze is taken with the leather purse heavy on the corner of his desk. A slight nod of his head and she promptly reaches across the expanse, showing off the long lines of her body, and that of the soft curves she knows he loves to grab hold of during their coupling. Deftly, her fingers dip inside the pouch, taking out three coins.

“This should cover the cost.” Her gaze darts to him, searching for any subtle hint of permission that she could take more but he is hard set against giving her indication. Already she pushes the bounds of his generosity.

“And one more,” she purrs softly, plucking a fourth coin out. “As insurance to return to you.”

He rolls his eyes, knowing well she will only return when she pleases not because she feels indebted to him. Offering a low curtsey, she mumbles her thanks, letting his gaze linger on her, on the low cut of her dress. Her bosom all but swells out of the strains of her bodice. When did such a salacious style come into fashion? Surely his sister did not expose herself so scantily in Edoras? He bites his lip, thoughts of his sister quickly pushed from his mind replaced instead by the women so humbly lowered before him. Already he feels a slight twitch of his groin.

She rises, satisfied with her display of deference. A Haunting smile on her lips, she glances at the hound dogs splayed out on the rug.

“Feed your dogs, Éomer,” she instructs as a final goodbye. Out the door he is certain she can hear his mocking laughter following her.

#I probably got his voice entirely wrong #but I had fun writing this #eomer fanfiction #Eomer x OC #Eomer x OFC #Eomer smut #lotr fanfic #lotr smut

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paracosmenthusiast · 1 month

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I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Chapter 2: The Black Dog

Warning: 18+, some drunken fun in this one!

CHAPTER 2 - The Black Dog

Six months before Chicago - Starring The Infernal Ex Fiance

My ears were ringing from the concert. I was high on the experience, giddy at seeing my friends perform, happy they’d played my favorite of their original songs. And there was my fiance hiding in the back of the room pouting because he wasn’t getting enough attention as usual.

I think I did cross a line, maybe, spending time talking to the vocalist of that band; he was an angel who had spoken to me every time I’d followed my fiance to these shows, the one person who made an effort to talk to me when my fiance routinely sat me in a corner and ordered me not to move, and I had come out of my shell enough to feel confident talking to the vocalist first.

He was really excited by the little patch on my jacket that I had embroidered the band’s name on. Grateful for the support. And I was grateful and excited for a platonic friendship with someone in that music scene, as I was new to it. Especially someone who was so considerate of me for no reason other than the goodness in their heart.

But my fiance hated this. He didn’t bring it up at the time, and he didn’t even say anything on the hour drive home. But when I dropped him off at his parents house, he leaned in for a kiss goodbye and then out of nowhere his hand wrapped around my throat.

“I don’t ever want to see you talking to him again,” he said.

I was too shocked to respond. Hardly intimidated–hard to be physically intimidated by someone who couldn’t walk up a flight of stairs without getting winded–but I was shocked and scared by the fact that it had come out of nowhere.

I said the vocalist’s name out of knee-jerk reaction and surprise. “Don’t talk to him anymore?”

And then he hit me! He actually hit me!

Not hard enough to split my lip–but close. Just enough that I was rattled, that my head spun a little bit, that I stared in disbelief and agreed without another thought sure, I won’t talk to that band anymore. I think I probably would’ve said anything just to get him out of my car because I was just so shocked.

With one foot out the door he looked back at me. “You know, they don’t even like you. Everyone just feels awkward with you there because you don’t really fit in.”

Then he got up and he closed the door and left those words to resonate with me and I started the car, because I didn’t want to sit there and cry, because I was stung by the words and because I found it terribly hard to believe and terribly hurtful if it were true.

After that there was some distance.

We stopped sleeping together for months–I claimed I wanted to try out celibacy ahead of the wedding for the sake of getting off birth control to try to get my anxiety medication under control. It should’ve worried me how easily he agreed to it but I was so relieved to be free from the constant stress of his inability to perform (it had to be because of me, right?) that I let it go just like that.

Again. Things that add up in hindsight, things I shouldn’t have ignored in the moment. A bingo card filling up with red flags.

Present day -

“Oh, listen to that! I love the beat of this thing. It’s not a happy song but it always makes me want to dance.” Kendra does, in fact, get up, shaking her hips but holding her (very full) glass of wine stable in front of her. “Of the Jesus-looking singers, Noah Kahan is one of my favorites.”

I almost inquire and how many of those are there? But in a bid to avoid a tangent I turn my glass of wine and take a very long and generous swallow. I don’t even really like wine but it gets me drunk faster than anything else.

“So tell me,” Kendra says, after a moment of bobbing about in front of me along to the beat of the song, “What happened, again?”

I never told anybody what “happened” between me and Carmen. Because I was in pain, because it seemed such an injustice to the person that I had grown to–uh, to have deep feelings for; and to bring it up now seems cruel. “He was never around and we just got distant. I think I wanted a Taylor Swift-esque moment in the rain and it was just never the right time.”

Never the right time summed up our entire relationship. It’s a mystery to him how we had ended up together as he frequently told me there was no reason “someone like me” should ever be with “someone like him.” I wonder if he still uses that line to pull girls. I wonder if it ever works.

And it always hurt my feelings when he said that. Just a little bit. I liked to look at it as a marvelous incident of that old idea of fate, and he thought it was a series of mistakes colliding until we did, too.

Nope. Not thinking this way. More wine. “How is it that we’re talking about a guy I hooked up with four years ago instead of the guy that I was supposed to marry?”

“Ugh.” She clears her throat quickly to try to cover up the huff. “I mean, I don’t know. But we just saw this guy. And he’s so cute! That’s way more interesting.”

I almost ask her something about Taylor Swift just to change the subject from Carmen, but I don’t have the energy, so I look down and disappear into the depths of wine.

But then 2 glasses later, the words start to trickle out against my will.

There’s some weird part of me that does want to think about it. At least, thinking about Carmen instead of thinking about the abandoned wedding ring. “Oh my God, I left a fucking note before I ran away like a child.”

“As you should.” She’s not slurring. She’s probably not even that buzzed–Kendra can put away a metric ton of alcohol. Certainly more than me. But she’s also an entity of chaos and so she encourages my lapse in rationality. “That guy was a total loser! Please, I can’t move with you, I have to think about the future of my band, I’m thirty and I still obey my mom’s curfew, and think I’m gonna make it as a rockstar, and I spent our wedding budget on a master of the shittiest single ever produced–”

“Hey,” I say. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. One more half-glass of wine. “Can you help me find something?”

Stagger up from the floor. I love the floors in here. They’re wooden and gorgeous and they feel old and solid and real and I love them. I love the floors. This place is so much better. This place is so much better. Yes, I’m glad I moved to Chicago, already.

“Sure. What are we looking for?” Kendra trails after me. I slide my free hand down the wall as I wander toward the bedroom.

Nasty thought interrupts whatever I was going to tell her. “Hoe attire, Kendra. We’re looking for hoe attire.”

That takes her back but only for an instant before she’s back on board. “Fuck. Yes. I am so ready to hit the bars!”

Yes. And I want to drown in someone else’s skin and not think about the reason why I’m living in Chicago. I want that slinky black dress I know I packed with the matching heels–the one that screams I’m here for a good time not a long time–

Kendra and I ransack the bedroom, half from the alcohol, half from her excitement at my sudden change in spirit. Now that I think about it, I haven’t had a drink, not since I got with my fiance. Ex fiance. He was sober and so I turned sober out of mere convenience.

What we end up with is the slinky black dress of legend for me, a similar note in emerald for her, and a lot more confidence than perhaps we should’ve had for two drunk women in an unfamiliar city.

Kendra whips out her phone while I’m looking through my makeup, searching for a nearby bar. Though I keep the makeup to a minimum because of my inebriated state and generally being out of practice, I do down a couple glasses of water to help return myself to some semblance of a normal human being.

She actually holds her breath watching me drink the water, as if I’m going to go back on my decision to go out when I start thinking clearly. Wrong. At least, wrong this time. With the water put away, I raise my hand. “Onward?”

“Hell yes! I’m so down to bar hop in Chicago!” She could bring the energy for three of us if need be. “You look amazing, I look amazing, and we’re going to go to a bar and find–anything better.”

At the very least, I’m fairly sure I’ll find a much-needed distraction and an ego boost.

Kendra whips out her phone while I’m putting the finishing touches on my hair. “There’s a place down the street from us, so we can walk. That’ll be nice.”

“How far is it?”

“It’s like a seven-minute walk.”

That should be enough to sober up at least enough to put away something else. Vodka, maybe. Vodka is usually my drink of choice for the bad feelings to go away.

After a full-body mirror check, Kendra and I lock up the apartment and hit the streets, heading toward whatever bar she’d picked out on her phone. It’s not that late yet, 11pm, so I’m not even sure the crowd will be all that good.

But maybe I just needed a change of atmosphere to get certain things off my mind.

“Oh–we need to cross here.” Kendra grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop on the street corner, and I obediently rotate to face the direction she’s looking. It’s getting a bit cold, although not enough to justify wearing a coat over my outfit. Especially because then I’d have to keep track of a coat, one of my biggest bar-hop pet peeves.

The traffic light changes, beckoning us across the street, and we step across together. Luckily, Kendra is correct and the bar isn’t far at all; it’s quite close, and the exterior is surprisingly welcoming.

It’s not bad. When Kendra opens the door, we’re met by a rush of pleasantly warm (not too humid) air, and the low thrum of music not so loud as to be obnoxious but not so quiet as to be awkward.

Beeline for the bar. Kendra orders the same thing she always does–a signature cocktail, which is nearly twenty dollars and I have to shake my head at her choice. I’ll pick something much cheaper. Redbull and vodka.

“No, no way.” Kendra interrupts my order. “We’re celebrating! She just moved here. Can we get… Um… Whatever that guy’s having.”

She gestures down the bar and the bartender swipes her card with an obligatory smile and assures he’ll have the drinks right out to us.

“You really didn’t have to do that.” I push my hair back from my neck. “I’ll buy the next round.”

“That’s a great compromise, I like it! Now, tell me more about the plan for tonight.” She leans in close, a conspirator to the very end, with a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows. I think this is way too much power for her to have and I wish she would’ve ordered me something like a dark beer–something that would take longer to drink and maybe wouldn’t get me blackout drunk. Kendra loves going on a bender.

Then again, I’m almost certainly going to be fielding calls from unknown numbers all night as my ex fiance has been so prone to do in the last two weeks, and do I really want to be fully conscious and sober for that?

The bartender slides our drinks over to us with a smile, and I answer my own question. No, I do not want to be fully conscious or sober for anything that’s going to happen next.

The atmosphere in the bar picks up after that, with one drink down and another round ordered a fresh group of people come in, the energy is livelier, and the music is a little bit louder and a little bit better. Kendra is tempted to dance, I can tell from her frantic tapping of her hands and feet, but there isn’t really any space to do it in here and everyone seems to be particularly excited over a sporting event.

Actually, why not? I drag her to one of the screens and despite not being particularly engaged with the sport or the team, we introduce ourselves to the group watching and quickly fall under their spell of rooting for victory.

It’s nice. Jumping up to our feet when something happens, gasping and clinging to each other in tense moments.

Another drink: This one is just a double shot of whiskey. We’re drinking with another girl at this point, a tall and beautiful and hopefully sapphic woman that Kendra is doing her best (and failing) not to salivate over, with long dark hair and darker eyes but a very soft and feminine voice that absolutely does not hint at the pure rage she expresses when her team fumbles a play.

“I will never understand how you can do that,” Kendra says. “I love drinking and I still wouldn’t do that with whiskey.”

I want to tell her it’s because we have very different taste buds–she likes sweet and floral or soda-like alcohol, and I like anything incredibly bitter and subtle, but the words get mussed in my mouth so I end up laughing it off and get up to order another drink.

“Get me one,” Kendra’s friend calls. “You can put it on Kendra’s tab! Anything with tequila!”

“You’re really impressing me and the gentleman over there,” the bartender tells me.

I lean forward over the bar, heart beating in my ears. “Huh?”

He pushes a bright blue drink across the bar to me. “This is from your buddy in the sports group.”

My mouth opens slightly. “Is that an Adios, Motherfucker?”

The bartender laughs a short, abrupt laugh. “I usually hear Adios, Mother F’er, or just an ‘Adios,’ but fuck yeah. Good for you.”

I pick up the drink and then turn around to look back at the group of cheery sports-watchers. “Who��d you say?”

“That one. Guy in the white shirt?”

It’s dim and alcohol makes it hard to see straight, but I pick out the white silhouette of the guy’s shirt and nod absently at the bartender. “Thanks, dude!”

On my way back over to the group, I try to meander, try not to make a direct beeline for the dude, but that’s essentially what happens. Except as I pass Kendra I hear her stifle her laughter and turn to her friend:

“I think you just got stiffed.”

“Whatever. You should get me one, then.”

Kendra leaps up, and brushes her hand over my shoulder as she passes me. To check if I’m alright maybe. I am.

My drink is–not delicious, but not terrible, and heavily, heavily concentrated. I haven’t had one since college so it’s a nice trip down memory lane.

I come up on him, the guy who bought me a drink, a moment later and raise my glass. “Nice. I haven’t had an Adios since college.”

He laughs. Up close he’s very attractive. He introduces himself, but I get distracted by the motion of his hands (he has a set of interesting tattoos and scars) and honestly his name doesn’t even make it fully into my consciousness before I completely erase it.

Whatever. Who needs a name? I introduce myself back, and before I can thank him again for the drink, something happens that has all of our new bar friends leaping to their feet with cries of indignation.

Yes. This is very fun.

Two more drinks down: I finish the Adios to a crowd of cheers and do shots with my new handsome male friend, Kendra, and Kendra’s very handsome female friend. Now I’m beyond dizzy–I want to go hide in the bathroom and try to breathe through some of it–but I’m too hyped. Too excited.

We’re getting to the end of the game. The scores are close but our team is definitely in the lead. Strange to feel camaraderie with people I barely know for a team I’ve certainly never supported in the past.

The homestretch. Everyone is clustered around the TV–even the bartender is at our end of the bar, hovering, trapped by the contagious atmosphere.

I grab my friend’s hand. Unlike everyone else, he’s sitting on a bar stool, a little more relaxed, a little less invested, maybe. His hands are very rough and calloused–it surprises me–and give it a very tight squeeze. I think he’s looking at me but I don’t peel my eyes from the game. If I’m blushing no one can tell because we’re all so flushed from yelling at the screen.

And then our team wins!!

I cry out in excitement before I can control it. The bar erupts into chaos, fans jumping to their feet and those few non-supporters shaking their heads at our antics. And in our group we’re hugging, and shouting, as if the triumph really belongs to us…

I want to kiss him so I turn to my male friend, caught up in the excitement, not a chance to second-guess, and I just—

I just lean in and he is surprised, but then kisses me back quick, his breath tastes a little bit like nicotine and I can’t stand smokers but for some reason, for some reason I don’t mind.

His hand comes up to my neck, gentle, cupping my jaw, and then just as quick I step back, still grinning, a little exuberant and a lot drunk. I have to raise my voice over the cheerful celebration going on around us. “Oops, I’m sorry!”

His eyes are very blue, I think, blue like the drink he bought me earlier. His hair is pretty and wild and curly and I want to run my fingers through it. “Uh, no, I mean, I’m sorry. Did you mean to kiss me?”

“Yes, I did.” Did I say I leaned in to kiss him? I got a little over-excited for how much balance I have in these heels when this drunk and to extricate myself, I have to put my hand on the bar and pull back. Oh, but I’m still smiling, I can’t peel the look off my face.

He laughs a little bit at that and then I realize I’m still clutching his other hand, a little tight. I apologize again and go to pull my hand away.

He doesn’t resist–per se–but doesn’t look away from me, either. I brush my hands down my sides, smoothing out my non-wrinkled dress to give my hands something else to do. Don’t grab him and go for another kiss. The aura is too confusing right now. I really can’t tell if he’s about to storm off.

“Do you want to sit?” he gestures to the stool next to him. “You almost fell just then.”

That’s a little embarrassing. I’m back to smiling, sheepish. “Well, I guess I figured you’d catch me.”

“Oh–no.” He shakes his head. “I am too drunk to be trusted with a–very beautiful woman. Like you.”

He smiles, it’s hazy, I can see now that he’s telling the truth about being drunk, and he clasps his hands together, gently rubbing them as if he has something to do.

“Okay then,” I say. “Then are you in the sweet spot or do I need to buy you another drink to take advantage of you?”

“Oh, you’re going to take advantage of me? In that case…” He pauses, pretends to contemplate. “Probably I have one more drink in me until we have to get out of here.”

We both try for a minute to get the bartender’s attention, but he is firm in ignoring us–attention completely directed to the opposite end of the bar.

My friend leans in close, lips almost touching my ear. “I think we might be getting cut off.”

I shake my head and push myself away from the bar. “Hey, you know what, I live just up the street from here and I got one handful of whiskey shooters if you can stomach it.”

He gets up from his seat, smiling again. “Alright then, lead the way.”

I turn in a quick circle, looking for Kendra and her friend, but they’re nowhere to be found. “One sec.”

I pull out my phone–it’s sometime past 1am–and there’s a short, abbreviated text message from Kendra. She’d taken the very lovely lady home. Or rather, the very lovely lady had taken Kendra home. Followed by a live location share and a pin of her address.

I send her a text back. Success with the guy.

Then I shove my phone back in my purse and reach for my friend’s hand again. “Come on, we gotta walk fast, it’s going to be cold!”

If the walk across and up the street was short with Kendra, it was much shorter with my male friend. Partially because I was self conscious trying not to fall down, and partially because I felt warm from the alcohol and that made the bracing cold so much easier to bear.

But thank God we make it back to my apartment and back inside and I’m flicking the lights on as he’s making himself comfortable on the couch. Where had we thrown our bag of road trip snacks? The shooters were in there, purchased at some gas station at Kendra’s behest and against my better judgment, as we had initially planned to stay in all night and drink in the apartment.

Whatever. It worked out in this case. I find it, wrapped up in a reusable tote bag imprinted with my home state, wadded up on the counter.

I come back out to the living room with a bigger smile, holding up the small bottles, and sit down next to him, dropping the bottles in his hands and then reaching down to undo my heels.

When I straighten back up with a breath of relief, he’s taken the tops off and hands one of the bottles to me.

“Cheers,” he says.

Obediently, I tap the rim of my bottle against his, and without breaking eye contact, we turn them bottoms-up.

For a moment I think that the walk over here sobered me up, but then I feel a sluggish haze spreading down to my fingertips. Dullness over my periphery.

He coughs. “Oh, fuck. That’s strong.”

I echo his sentiment. Mouth doesn’t want to obey me. “Sure is.”

One moment he’s looking at me and I’m looking at him and then our little bottles get wedged in the couch and he pulls me across the distance and half into his lap, lips pressed to mine.

He bites my lip, clumsy, and when I right myself, one hand on the back of the couch to leverage myself up, he laughs, breathless. Lips a quarter millimeter from mine he says: “Sorry.”

Actually, looking at him this close… “You know? You look really familiar. D’you get that a lot?”

He shakes his head. “You look familiar.”

Except staring at him doesn’t make it come back to me, or maybe I’m too drunk to care. I grab his hand, and put it on my waist. “I like your tattoos.”

“Thanks–”

I put my other hand on his chest to push him back down. He’s a million degrees warm but somehow not hot and when I kiss him I let my hand trail down his arm–he’s strong, muscular under my touch–and then his chest and feel his heart beating under my touch and then his hands cup my waist, scrunching the dress up and up so he can touch my skin,

And I close my eyes, push everything else out of my head, and think about how all of my skin feels like it’s on fire at the very, very welcome touch of a familiar stranger.

Chapter 3: Chloe Or Sam Or Sophia Or Marcus

Master list: Paracosm Enthusiast Masterlist

#carmy the bear #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #heartbreak #heavy angst #hurt/comfort #carmen berzatto x female reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the black dog #I can do it with a broken heart

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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If you could build a character to screw with Bells Hells (in an ideology way Deanna already did the other) how might you build them?

You know, this is a very difficult question for a couple reasons:

The first is that the party itself has a pretty wide range of ideologies! I think it's very hard to faze Fearne or Chetney (unless you're his ex, apparently) simply because she's so open to experiences and he's lived such a long life. Imogen and Ashton are both very cynical, but I think they'd mostly be disgusted at worst by a super perky and naive person. Laudna likes most people, as does FCG, and Orym is unlikely to make waves even though he does have plenty of personal preferences.

The second is that I firmly believe that you can make a character that intends to push people's buttons...but you are here to work with the party, if you're playing a PC. I've been thinking about this a lot actually, what with all the "Emily breaker of DMs" discussion, because on NADDPod's various commentary shows (both the Patreon-only Short Rest after show, and also a lot of their D&D Court/Hearthside Chat episodes) she always talks about being very sensitive to both party composition and wanting to play a character who very much has a reason to be there and to bring everyone together. I find that aspirational, and so some friendly ribbing or playing someone who will challenge a character ideologically is fine, but I'd be reluctant to be actually antagonistic.

So I think like, the true answer is "Aabria sufficiently messed with the party by being a cleric with a complicated deity relationship, which messes a bit with both FCG and Imogen, and also was Chetney's ex so that got him good, but at the same time her build was incredibly beneficial to the party composition; she has won, and no one's going to top that." But were I to attempt to compete: I mean, I'm going to take @captainofthetidesbreath's suggestion here and do cleric of the Dawnfather/Chronurgy wizard:

Cleric of the Dawnfather now is going to fuck with everyone, especially if you are just straight-up a generally nice person who follows the Dawnfather and has no specific ties to Vasselheim or the larger church hierarchy. I think a life or light are the obvious domains to pick; the domain itself won't really affect how the party feels about you.

Chronurgy wizard who just knows Ashton's whole deal immediately is going to totally mess with them.

I think the combination of cleric and wizard would do all kinds of wild shit with Imogen's understanding of power; following a different god than FCG and having very high intelligence/knowing the world isn't flat is going to be a whole fun thing there as well.

For maximum fuckery: Be an elf who's like...450-500 and a survivor of Molaesmyr. This achieves several things. First off, you can feasibly call Chetney a young man while being middle aged yourself, and see what the fuck happens. Second, you can just hate Ludinus for petty reasons. Literally if anyone breathes any positive words about the Vanguard be like "did you know? Ludinus HATES dogs." Go full Bitch Eating Cookies on him. This is hilarious and great because it shuts down conversation but you can just be like "no I have ideological reasons, obviously, but more importantly, he failed to reimburse me for 400 gold worth of high quality paper."

Be very slightly dismissive of druidic magic. Not in like a bad or hurtful way, but just enough to make Fearne and Orym sort of grit their teeth a bunch. Also, just be like...not into Pâté. Like, not freaked out, not upset, just. Not into it.

EDITED: I was so caught up in the flavor and details I forgot this was a cleric multiclass and your wisdom has to be decent so take either the observant feat or locate object and make it super hard for Fearne to steal from you. (Sorry, I am envisioning this as like 2 cleric levels and the rest wizard, so I'm thinking of them as mostly wizard).

Have an ring of mind shielding that you have made invisible.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #this was fun

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allycat75 · 9 months

Text

Ok, I want to get real with you Boston Dumb Fuck.

I have been holding onto this post for a bit and the thought behind it has been haunting me for months.

While I am constantly amazed at your lack of moral fiber, when I see a fellow human in trouble I can't turn away. You look like you have just enough energy to literally put one foot in front of the other, play your part and slip into unconsciousness for the rest of the day. I have seen it before and it doesn't end well. It's a living purgatory.

But I also don't like being manipulated or being made to look stupid or crazy, so I will continue to call out your bullshit and how it is emblematic of everything that is wrong in our society. I also don't think many have called you out on your bullshit before so I am happy to provide that service. As much as I desire this to be my last rant to you, I am not naive enough to think that will happen anytime soon. The Red Knight has you tight in its grip (Side note: "The Fisher King" is a great movie to watch or re-watch. It may resonate right now).

I do wish I knew that you understood how fucked up you are and have at least a semblance of a plan of how you are going to make it right once you are free. I think the reaction from your (former) fans and even the general public was a shock to your system and you have so far to go to just come up to sea level again. If past is prologue, I fear you will just coast on your White Male Privlege and never learn the valuable lessons of this disaster. But ultimately, I am probably screaming into a void. At least I have put it out into the universe...

Early on, I compared your work in "Ghosted" to a Matthew Perry performance.

Before I continue, let me say I loved Matthew Perry and I can't believe he is gone. I always felt he had so much potential, as seen in "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" and "Go On", but there was always a barrier I sensed he put up, almost like it was a performance within a performance. What he thought we wanted him to be. Now, as we know, there was a mountain of insecurity he was hiding and numbing that haunted him to the end. How I wish he could have freed himself and enjoyed some true wins.

Now, I can't help but draw some additional mournful parallels to you and your current state, beyond your "Ghosted" performance within a performance.

We know you hate yourself (you were not joking during the SMA interview). You took your hand off the wheel and eyes off the road, relying only on your Captain America/internet boyfriend/dog dad persona, and wound up trapped in a blind alley. Now you are locked in this ridiculous contract.

To numb what you have become, you have disappeared into weed, at the very least. But escaping using weed is only healthy when you know what you are escaping from. When you have no tether, you are only sucked into a void where you risk not being able to return. You may say "it's just weed", but we have seen you make bad decision after bad decision and it only takes one to be life altering.

This may be hyperbolic. You may be in control of all of this and laughing at our reaction. Maybe you have mastered The Method and apply goth white makeup before you go out, have changed your diet to be sickly thin and hunch over on purpose, for your craft. But my daddy didn't raise a fool and I don't suffer them. I know when something is rotten in Denmark. I was raised to offer a hand when I could, regardless the reason or reward. So my offer is this (much of this is repeated from previous posts, but repetition is key to learning):

STOP! STOP! STOP! Your contractual obligations should be met by now. The little racist twat got press on her project release dates. That is all she deserves. If not, you need a doctor's note saying this is killing you, because it appears it is. And switching from awkwardly showing off that fucking ring or oafishly grabbing the wifey's hand in order to meet that contractual obligation to lovable, single dog dad so as to reinforce your dog food is Nazi-free has got to be dizzying; making the crazy-maker crazy. So whomever thought this was a good idea and kept you in it long after the effects were detrimental, remove them from your circle. They have no place in a healthy future.

Get help to change the behaviors that got you painted into this corner. This situation didn't come out of nowhere. Someone or many someones exploited your vulnerabilities and they could do it again if you aren't careful. And no more shushing or egoic narrative- either that is complete bullshit or no one taught you the next part of the curriculum. For once in your life, take accountability and accept responsibility for your actions.

Take the time to become healthy and strong in mind, body and spirit. And let those who still have a chance of liking you in the future miss you. You even admitted you don't make the best first impression. Lately you haven’t been making the best second, third or fourth either. Even Scarlett seems to be getting tired of you. One or two more stunts and no one is coming back. We may be talking about you, but a short term gain will mean a long term loss. Don't worry, we will remember you, and if you do the work, we will celebrate you.

Take an active role in rebuilding your life. Decide what to be and go be it. Others shouldn't care more about your happiness and success than you do. Enjoy some wins, you are allowed. Get back into the world again and see where you can make an impact (hint- it is not with ASP. I actually think that could set us all back. A good idea whose time has passed).

You were given privlege and opportunity and it is chicken shit you ran as soon as it got a little hard. Fight for your life. Others have lost their chance but you are still here and can make it chicken salad.

PS- "Cousins" is a great movie if you are wondering about the chicken shit/chicken salad line. And don't let anyone tell you the French version is better. They are just being pretentious.

#brian wilson vibes #Ai in human form #do better #Don't shush- learn the leasson #is this the life you wanted #We only get one life- you can either make it chicken shit or chicken salad.#Rich white male privlege- check it

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pixiedust0 · 2 years

Text

𝚆𝚒𝚜𝚑

❥𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙

❥𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 𝟸.𝟶𝙺

❥𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

❥𝙰/𝙽 - 𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏.

Masterlist

Jack was tired.

All he did was work, he had every thing he could’ve ever wanted. He made his dreams come true. At first he did it for himself, he wanted to show the world what he could offer it.

It slowly turned into him just doing it for his fans. For all the people who wanted to be just like him. He wanted to show them what they could if they stuck at it. But after awhile it just got to the point that jack didn’t even want to do it anymore.

He was exhausted it just seemed like he never had a day off. He was a people pleaser so when ever someone asked him for anything he just did it. Don’t get me wrong he loved it but at some point it went for a dream to a chore.

He was at his wits end it felt like he juggling so many things at once he was surprised nothing fell through yet. Jack really didn’t have time for anything he really wanted to do. Like start a family. No one really understood how bad Jack wanted to be a dad and a husband.

Somedays it felt like that was all he thought about. Sure he was still young and had time but damn was he lonely. He didn’t have time for anything serious so he settled for hook ups. He hated that, yes he had a playboy image but that not how he felt deep down.

He was lover at heart. He wanted his soulmate someone who understood him who could make him feel like he wasn’t always working and tired even though he really was. He wanted love that’s all jack really wanted.

In the small gaps of space he had free time he would always find himself back in the same park in Kentucky. Where he would watch family’s together having the time of their lives wishing that it could be him happy with a family of his own.

Most of the time when he came to the park he would see the same people. Specifically a woman around his age with a daughter who couldn’t be anymore than eight and the golden retriever he always saw accompany the two.He didn’t mean to be nosy or stare at them but he couldn’t help but notice they never came with a man.

She had no wedding ring on her finger. But what he did notice was your electric smile anytime he saw it he had fight his own. His friends would always give him shit about how he never had the balls to introduce himself to you.

He just kept telling himself he was too busy for a girlfriend let alone one who had a daughter. He would try his best to ignore you not like you noticed him anyway. He only had an hour left before he had to go to the studio. So there he was in the park working on some verses for a song.

Trying to find any sort of inspiration. “Hey mister!” His concentration was effectively broken. He looked up seeing your daughter standing a few feet away from him. The dog stand on his four leges right next to her in a protective way.Her long blond hair was pulled into two ponytails. He thought her wearing a dress to a park was a little weird.

Her new balance sneakers our what caught his eye. They were the same exact ones he had on.“Yeah?” She tilted her head sideways looking at him with squinted eyes. “You’re always here, what are you doing?” Her question made him laugh slightly. “Music.” His response was short trying to brush off the little girl.

“Oh yeah you make music?” His eyes were back on his page looking at the horrible verse he had written slightly ashamed of himself. “Yup.” She moved for her spot sitting next to him. The dog sitting by her feet now

“You famous? You don’t look famous.You got anything I would have heard.” God did she ask alot of questions. Weirdly enough it didn’t bother him. “You don’t know who I am?” He didn’t mean to sound so pretentious. It’s just that now his face was everywhere and Louisville was his home town he just figured everybody here knew him.

“Should I?” This actually made him laugh. The kid was funny, bold but funny. “Nah not at all kid.” They sat in silence for awhile his eyes looking at her every now and then as she kicked her legs back and forth like she was on a swing.

“Can you keep a secret?” She looked around trying to see if anyone one was listening which he found adorable. He nodded his head at her. She leaned in waving her hand at him, he brought his ear closer to her. “My mom’s famous.” She whispered softly making him give her an amusing look.

“What’s she do?” He looked over in the direction of you watching as you also wrote things on a piece of paper. “She makes clothes.” It made sense by the way you and her dressed. “What’s your name kid.” He looked back at her, he watched as she played with her hands.

“Bellerose but everyone calls me belle or rose but my mom calls me b and this is Romeo.” She reached down rubbing his head.For an eight year old the kid talked a lot. “I’m jack.” She scrunched her face up at him. “That’s a lame name.” He gave her an offended look that made her laugh.

“I like your shoes.” She looked down at her shoes then at his, her eyes widened. “We match dude we’re like best friends!” He want to respond by her excited reaction but the notification sound on his phone stopped him. He grabbed for his pocket looking at text from Neelam asking where he was.

His time was up and he was thirty minutes late.He honestly couldn’t believe he spent more than an hour talking to belle sure didn’t feel like it. “I gotta go kid.” He picked up all his thing’s placing it in a backpack. Standing up getting ready to walk away.

He looked at her and seems like her joy a visibly deflated. “Didn’t your mom tell you not to talk to strangers?” She gave him a sad nod. “Yeah but Romeos a guard dog and she’s been watching us this whole time.” She pointed at you and he followed her finger with his gaze.

His eyes connected to yours as you gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He smiled back at you waving as well as his brain scattered. “I told her I want to talk to the sad man who looked lonely and she told me to bring ro I thought you could use a friend.” He felt his heart melt and snap in his chest.

He thought it was incredibly sweet she thought he needed a friend and she could be the one to help. But also hurt that his sadness was that apparent that an eight year old had to come to the rescue. “I didn’t need a friend.” He saw her head fall as she looked at the dog on the floor.

“I need a best friend thanks belle.” She was soon filled back up with that bubbly energy. She smiled at him widely. “You’re coming back soon right?” He question made him smile. He nodded his head at her telling her yes saying his good byes walking back to his car getting in and driving off.

…

It had been a week since he went back to the park. He tried to have free time sooner but he was busy. He told urban about the interaction with Belle and urban had been hounding him to talk to you.

He was finally there now. He got out of his car walking over to bench he always sat on. Before he could sit down he was rushed into a hug. He looked down noticing the short blonde perpetrator.

“You came back.” He looked around until he spotted you with your hand covering your mouth slightly laughing from across the park. Romeo sitting next to you his head laying on your lap. “Told you I would.” She pulled away from him grabbing his hand and attempting to drag him.

“Where are we going?” He wasn’t even fighting back that much. He watched as she struggled to pull him plating her feet strongly against the ground. Pulling with all her might. “To my mom so you can meet.” She said with a huff her voice strained. He gave in letting her pull his towards you.

Once they made it in front of you belle smiled widely and removed her hand from his.“This is my mom Y/n, Mommy this is jack.” As she said her sentence she moved her hands. Causing his eyebrows to pull together. Seeing his face you silently laughed looking at your daughter pointing to jack.

She looked confused until she looked up at him. “Oh sorry I forgot, my mom is deaf. She can read lips pretty good but it makes it easier on her if you do asl.” She signed her whole little speech making her you nod once she was finished. Jack just kind of gave her a humorous look.

“Why do you think I talk so much, I have to if I don’t no one will understand her.” He saw the way your eyes soften at your daughter. He knew you didn’t mean to put a burden so big on her. “I don’t know how to do asl.” Belle signed for him.

“I can teach you!”

…

And she did. For the next few months every time jack came to the park which use to be twice a month which turned into three times a week Bella taught him. He was still so amazed she knew that much asl at eight years old.

He considered himself a fast learner he ever practiced when he was at home, Or on the road or before an interview. He did it when ever he could. The more he hung out with you, Belle and Romeo the happier he became.

He started telling people no. He even started falling in love with Music again just as quickly as he was with you. He felt like himself again. He even worked up the courage to ask you on a date.

Which you of course said yes to. He learned more about you. How you lost your hearing when you were five and how actually famous you really were. He didn’t even realize he had worn some of you clothes multiple times. You designed clothes for a lot of famous people.

You loved what you did and you were great at it. For the first time in a long time Jack was happy. He was in love and he was happy. After a few years of dating you, belle and Romeo moved into his house. Sorry your house.

His family and friends loved you and what shocked him even more is his fans loved you. They loved playboy Jack Harlow but man were they some suckers for dad Jack. You guys even had three kids of your own.He made a point to make it known to Bella that even if he didn’t help make her she was still his firstborn.

That just made your heart melt. B never had a dad you had a long time boyfriend you thought you were going to marry but once he found out you were pregnant he left. So seeing how jack interacted with her and treated her like his own was everything you could have wished for.

Hell you guys were all jack wished for. He couldn’t have thought his life would have gone in this direction but he was thankful it did. Who would have thought the little girl who asked a lot of questions would’ve became his daughter and led him to his soul mate.

#imagine #jack #jack harlow #jackharlow #jack harlow fic #fluff #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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coffee-counts-as-a-meal · 2 years

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warning for tlou ep 4 spoilers (and TLOU Part 2) but:

not to be horribly meta on main but I'm mainly screaming over how this episode exemplified how well this story was adapted to a television format, ESPECIALLY regarding the themes that ND has repeatedly stated he wanted to explore in the TLOU Part 2 that maybe didn't quite land the way he meant them to

(Benioff and Weiss and their hatred for eighth grade book reports should be taking copious notes rn lol)

I remember when the second game came out and there was this big to-do about how the perspective towards "villains" had changed - not just in the fact that you spend half the game playing as Abby (Joel's killer), but that the developers had actually given names to all the NPCs that end up as cannon fodder for the player. The AI was supposed to be so advanced that for every enemy you killed as either Abby or Ellie, the NPC would beg for their life or curse you as you make the final blow or whatever, and then when their NPC friends found them you would hear their wailing and crying out for "Beck" or "Miranda" or whomever the fuck and the whole idea was that it was supposed to make you the player really think about the implications of taking a human life and the cycle of revenge yadda yadda yadda.

Which is a GREAT CONCEPT, but I just remember how...tedious it became, after a while. TLOU Part 2 got a lot of flak for a lot of reasons (some more valid than others imo) but I personally think its impossibly difficult to instill the lesson of "taking a life is something that carries real emotional weight" through the medium of a video game where you are mowing down LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE. That's just par for the course - you end up killing so many people that after a while their names mean nothing, BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY TO CONTINUE THE GAME WITHOUT DOING SO. (I remember one reviewer talking about how fatigued they were with it - they didn't want to be killing all these people and stabbing dogs and they as a player were screaming through their fingers at the decisions Ellie was making to continue down this cycle of violence but there was no way to continue the game without going through it, even though the point had already been hammered home over and over again to the point where it was exhausting, we get it, killing should not be this easy but this is a video game for fuck's sake).

And maybe that was also the point was to make the player wonder how some characters (like Joel, maybe) eventually become so numb to the concept of taking life, but I just remember it being a point in Part 2 that ultimately just...kind of missed the mark.

And BOY OH BOY did the show hit it in this episode.

Literally, TLOU Part 2 wanted to make its point by naming hundreds upon hundreds of NPCs and TLOU Episode 4 managed to hit it with a single character named Bryan.

I think it also helps that when Joel is shooting back at the "hunters" (idk what they're calling them in the show canon but that's what they were at the game) we don't really see them die onscreen, so it makes Bryan's eventual demise even starker. But holy fuck hearing him plead with Ellie and Joel for his life hit so much harder than it ever did in the game. Hearing him try to bargain with a little girl, screaming for his mom only to go silent...I freaking love Joel and even then in that moment I felt that horror and slight...idek what to call it, not even disgust but just the moral grayness of it all made my stomach churn.

Ellie's tears felt so deserved in that moment. Even Joel's moment of hesitation (fuck you Pedro Pascal I hate how good you are at EVERYTHING) even as you know this must have been a thing he's done thousands of times before and even as necessary you might consider Bryan's death to be. Even as justified it may have been to kill an enemy in that moment, "It doesn't get any easier" is something that rings true. I believe it.

tldr; another banger episode from a team that knows what the fuck a theme is and how to tie that into your story with subtlety and nuance and FUCK EVERYONE AT NAUGHTY DOG AND HBO I CAN'T KEEP GETTING MY HEART BROKEN FOR ANOTHER MONTH AND A HALF

#tlou #tlou hbo #tlou spoilers #joel miller #tlou series #tlou part 1 #tlou part 2 #ellie tlou #pedro pascal #hbo #meta #neil druckmann #craig mazin #tlou meta #the last of us hbo #the last of us #hbo the last of us #themes may be for eighth grade book reports but

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welcome-tothe-madness · 7 months

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So upset I have yet to see a kuroshitsuji edit to Brutus, like, ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

That song is SOOOO O!Ciel coded.

I could literally do a lyrics breakdown analysis of how each verse correlates with his backstory.

I've been watching him for my entire life

I hate the air he breathes, his foolish decrees

His words so contrived

And I hate the way the townspeople gather outside

They hang on every breath, cling to his chest

Home to his heart full of pride

Obviously, O!Ciel has been forced into his brother’s shadow, and watch how everyone adores his brother while he stays inside alone with a dog

The oracle told him to beware the Ides

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wishing

For untimely death or demise

Or am I just wishing I could be like you?

That the people would see me too as a poet

And not just the muse

The oracle could be Undertaker meeting the twins when they were young, foreboding a terrible fate to come. Also, O!Ciel had to face some pretty complicated feelings of being in R!Ciel’s shadow.

Oh, it's not true, I don't wish harm upon you

From birth we've been like brothers of different mothers

Within the spirit of the same womb

May the gods strike me down if I forsake you

Frater meus, you're beautifully made

And to you I'm forever grateful

O!Ciel does not actually wish harm upon his brother, but he does feel immense envy for being born as his sickly spare. But he is grateful to him for being his protector and light

I'll never forget that you showed me to make art

And I know the love you showed me came

From a pure and noble heart

I love you, and if you want, I'll call you King

But why do I lie awake each night thinking

"Instead of you, it should be me"?

O!Ciel knows his brother is kind, noble, and pure, but he cannot help but believe he is the one deserving Earldom

Something wicked this way comes

And as I set to face it, I'm unsure

Should I embrace it, should I run?

What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love?

What's more wrong; that I too wish to be great

Or my mother wished she'd had a son?

And even if I can't be the one

Maybe I could at least help make way for him

Until the day that he comes

Maybe my name could also be known

That I helped return good to the people

And restored greatness to Rome

I believe this could be where Sebastian is introduced and O!Ciel begins to grapple with survivors guilt, his own selfishness, and him forever being changed by what happened. He wants to be the one remembered.

My name is Brutus and my name means heavy

So with a heavy heart

I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy

My whole life, you were a teacher and friend to me

Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy

I, too, have a destiny

This death will be art

The people will speak of this day from near and afar

This event will be history, and I'll be great too

I don't want what you have, I want to be you

I believe these lyrics for the most part are self explanatory, but I think this would be a cool part to bring back O!Ciel witnessing R!Ciel’s death (by a dagger), and him reclaiming his dead brother’s name and family ring

I always knew I could be the one

Though I feel the endless pain of being

And I am scorched by the Sun

Of humble origins and born of the cursed sex

My name is Brutus, but the people will call me Rex

That last lyric is the one that feels like the cherry on top for me. “My name is ___ but the people will call me Ciel” is a good alternative for a potential black butler animatic/edit whatever.

Idk, I’m an artist so I could def be the one to make this happen, but GRRRR I think this song fits him so well it drives me insane I haven’t seen anybody else make the connection

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #manga #o!ciel #r!ciel #Spotify

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medicasino · 2 years

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my very suited to my own personal tastes OC ask meme

yeah i'll throw this into the ring. here. have it. asks in no particular order, just whatever i could think about wahaha. feel free to use these for whatever :-) also has a few "games/interaction/not quite asks" things because this is MY list and I MAKE THE RULES /lh Also, all of these questions are SFW!

What genre of music do they listen to the most? Would people assume they would like that style of music or is it wildly unfitting to their appearance? (ie; cutesy pastel girl likes heavy metal)

In terms of power scaling in-universe, are they about as strong as everyone else, way overpowered, extremely weak, etc?

Their playlist. Show us their playlist (or, if it's extremely long, the most fitting songs on it) and include specific lyrics from each song you consider to be the most fitting. Explanation not required but you can if you feel like it! Do not care about cringe. It is fun.

Make a moodboard and/or stimboard for them! Remember to source your images! (And preferably use a royalty-free image site such as Unsplash instead of Pinterest!)

If their personality has changed drastically over development, what's something that was once true about them that is now absolutely absurd to imagine and false?

When it comes to food, are they more into savory, salty, sweet, sour, spicy etcetc food? Are they picky with their food or will they eat just about anything that isn't spoiled?

In your opinion, do you think if they were real you would be friends with them or not?

^ Relating to above question, do they consider themself easy to get along with, and is that actually true?

Have you ever tried to make them in a character creator? If so, share pictures (if you have them)!

Do you have a voice claim for them?

What's their "theme" color? What color do you associate with them? Is it in their color scheme or just a color that reminds you of them?

Would you consider them well-liked in universe, or are they more an... acquired taste .

^ What about outside of canon? Are they one of your more well-liked characters?

What do they smell like? If unsure of specifics scent-wise, do they smell good, overly-soaked in perfume, like garbage etcetc?

What would their theme song/leitmotif be titled? What would it sound like, if you have an idea?

Are they a projection of yourself in any way? How similar are they to you?

Are they capable of holding their own in a fight or are they laughably easy to beat?

Do they swear often? On occasion? At All?

How do they text people? Lots of exclamations? All lowercase? Very Serious And Grammatically Correct? 1 Billion Emojis? Cutesy uwu speak? Etc etc.

How easy is it to befriend them? How easy is it to make them hate you?

How do they prefer to be referred to? First name, last name, nickname, another alias entirely etc?

Compared to the rest of your cast, are they tall or short?

Are they a dog or cat person? Neutral? Do they prefer another animal entirely?

Do they know what a sigma male is. Be honest .

How do they react to being loved and/or cared for? Similarly, how do they express their love for others?

How do they react to being disliked? Similarly, how do they express their distaste for others?

What Pokémon type(s) would they be?

Are they the type to be chaotic and reckless or are they more the type to think before they act?

Are they an open book or hard to read emotions-wise?

Can they keep a secret?

What are some things you associate with them? Certain aesthetics, items, colors, feelings, tastes etc! Anything goes!

What role do they serve in the story? Are they a main character, side character, antagonist, protagonist etc?

What's the meaning behind their name?

What inspired you to create them?

FREE SPACE! Drop some miscellaneous fun facts, tell us their backstory, do whatever! Go wild!

#blaire.txt #ask meme #oc ask meme #ask meme template #questionnaire #questionaire #oc questions #i ran out of ideas fml </3 ummmmm maybe ill make a part two #HOPE YOU LIKE IT THOUGH

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fillyboy19 · 7 months

Text

Upward Falling

Kaoru wants to slam the door. He doesn’t, but he wants to. Instead, he closes it quietly and flops down onto his bed. The last few rays of warm, golden sun are streaming over him, but it does little to ease his irritation. He knows that right now things are probably just getting into full swing at the local hang out and he’s missing all of it because of one jerk.

It isn’t fair.

It wasn’t his fault that some asshole who didn’t even know him was teasing him about giving boys blowjobs in the bathroom and calling him a slut just because he was gay. And maybe it was his fault that he’d punched the guy and broken his nose, but he deserved it.

Kaoru’s cheeks flame at the thought of doing something so dirty in a public bathroom. No. He’d never do anything like that, especially not where someone could see him. He hasn’t had sex with anyone. Or done that. He hasn’t even kissed anyone yet.

Not that there wasn’t someone he wanted to kiss.

He worries at his lip ring, trying to push the thought away. He focuses his gaze on the posters littering his wall. All of them are soft remixes of famous paintings or fliers for one gallery show or another that he’s attended. It’s an odd juxtaposition to the bright skateboarding ones hanging above his bed. Photos of men and women, all flying through the air, with boards he can’t even hope to one day afford if he doesn’t get the scholarship he needs.

Maybe his mother’s right. Maybe he had acted rashly. Maybe he had risked his scholarship over something as petty as the opinion of a boy he didn’t even care about. Still, that wasn’t a reason to ground him for the entire weekend.

He eyes the small calligraphy set on his desk. He should be practicing. That would be the responsible thing to do – make the best of this bad situation – but he doesn’t want to. He wants to pout. He wants to go and hang out with his friends. He wants to skateboard under the stars.

He’s tempted to pull it out, his own, meager deck. It’s little more than frayed wood with cheap wheels, and black and pink spray-painted lines on the underside. It stays tucked beneath the bed, hidden away from his mother’s prying eyes. If she ever found out that he was doing something as reckless as skateboarding, she’d do more than ground him. She’d–

tap-tap-tap

Kaoru sits up, eyes drawing to the window and finding nothing but the night sky outside. He supposes that it was nothing more than a bird but his curiosity still spurs him to his feet. He crosses the room and lifts the glass. He sees nothing out of the ordinary until he looks down to find two bright, brown eyes staring up at him. He nearly screams at the surprise, hand flying to his mouth at the last second so as not to draw his mom’s attention.

“What–” Kaoru leans down, face only inches from Kojiro’s as he hisses, “How’d you even get up here?”

Kojiro chuckles and raps his knuckles against the sturdy tree branch he’s perched on. “I climbed, duh.”

“What are you doing here?” Kaoru glances back towards his bedroom door, ears keenly listening for the sound of his mother’s footsteps.

“Came to see you.” Kojiro stands, carefully balancing before swinging his leg over the ledge and sitting down, straddling Kaoru’s window. “You should come skate with me tonight.”

“You know I can’t.” Kaoru tries to walk away but finds Kojiro’s fingers wrapping around his and pulling him back. “I’m grounded.”

“It’s almost eleven. Your mom probably went to bed hours ago. She won’t even miss you.” Kojiro pulls Kaoru’s hand to his face and places a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Besides, what are they going to do? Ground you for another weekend? I’ll just come sneak you out again.”

Kaoru blushes at the gesture, both hating and loving the stupid smile that turns up the corners of his lips as he listens to Kojiro. “You’re such a delinquent.”

He tries to walk away again, but Kojiro holds his hand firmly and gives him the best puppy dog eyes he can manage. Kaoru spares one last glance towards his door. It’s true that he hasn’t heard his mother moving around for a few hours and he almost never broke the rules. She’d have no reason to come into his room and check on him when she was certain that he’d simply gone to bed already.

When he looks back at Kojiro he finds that silly, pleading looks still plastered on his face and he caves. “Fine. One hour.”

Kaoru grabs his board from under his bed and then swings his leg out over the ledge. He hands his board to Kojiro and focuses on making sure he doesn’t fall as he climbs down the tree.

The moment his feet are on solid ground, Kojiro is shoving his board back into his hands. “Race you!”

Kojiro takes off, board clacking as he throws it down and jumps onto it. He pushes off, practically flying down the street. Kaoru runs to get momentum and drops his board. He catches up easily, laughing as he pokes Kojiro’s side and pulls ahead. They move fast through the small side streets until they reach the downtown area and then they slow to little more than a lazy glide.

They talk about school and their parents. Kojiro lets him lament about the lame summer camp his mom is forcing him to go to. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go to an art camp; he just wishes that she’d given him some sort of say in the matter.

They’re on the main drag, weaving in between people on the crowded sidewalk when a bright display catches Kaoru’s eye. It’s a bright neon billboard touting the merits of a computer programming summer camp. It shows kids his age flying drones and talking about the potential for AI driven cars and fully integrated home electronics systems. He’s not sure why he’s interested in it, but he snaps a photo of it with his phone anyway and then rushes to catch up with Kojiro.

He’s only just pulled alongside his friend when the taller boy elbows him playfully. “Try to keep up, Princess.”

Kojiro takes off like a shot, ducking and weaving and nearly toppling over a couple as he ducks beneath their interlocked hands. Kaoru finds himself following without even thinking, throwing a small apology back over his shoulder to the couple who are still standing and staring, flabbergasted at his friend’s antics.

He turns off the main street and Kaoru follows, watching as Kojiro steals a small package from a street vendor’s stand. The man turns from his stand to holler after Kojiro and Kaoru barely avoids colliding into him. His face grows warm and red at all the attention they’re attracting. Almost as if he can sense it though, Kojiro makes a sudden left turn, and they find themselves back in the darkened back streets.

“I cannot believe you just did that.” Kaoru throws Kojiro an angry look as he chastises him. “I’m already supposed to be grounded and now you’re trying to get me arrested!”

Kojiro just chuckles at him, not even attempting to defend himself as he opens the bag and holds out a chocolate covered pretzel. “If you’re gonna get arrested then you should at least share in the spoils.”

“Delinquent,” Kaoru scoffs, but still takes the treat. He hasn’t had a snack in a while and he takes his time, savoring the salty, sweet taste. He finds himself falling behind, just watching Kojiro’s back as he moves. Without his friend he never would have even left his room tonight.

He wouldn’t be feeling the wind in his hair or snacking on stolen food. He wouldn’t be contemplating how to ask his mom if he could go to the summer camp he’d seen instead of the boring one she always sent him to. He doesn’t realize that he’s staring until Kojiro turns back to face him, pinning him under a wide, cocky grin and handing him another pretzel stick.

Their fingers meet. It’s just a small touch, innocent and fleeting, but something in Kaoru’s chest starts to grow warm and tight at the contact. Another cheeky grin and Kojiro takes off again, leaving him behind to float in this odd feeling.

I love him…

The realization hits Kaoru hard and he nearly topples off his board. He drops his snack and bails hard to avoid drifting out into traffic. He’s lying on the cold, hard ground, staring up at the darkened sky and trying to figure out where the thought had come from.

Green hair and brown eyes are suddenly above him, staring down worriedly. “You okay?”

“I…” Kaoru blinks up at him slowly, taking in the question and that odd, concerned look on his friend’s face. It feels like he’s seeing Kojiro for the first time, the way one lip tilts up higher than the other at the edge, the way his bangs just reach his eyes.

Kojiro’s hand is in his hair, pushing it back off his face, fingers checking the back of his head for bumps or bleeding. Kaoru isn’t thinking when he reaches up and cups his friend’s face. His thumb grazes over Kojiro’s jaw as he leans up. Maybe he shouldn’t but…

Kaoru closes his eyes and presses their lips together. He’d thought it would feel like a spark, like lightning shooting through his body but, instead, it feels like warm water filling his veins. It feels like coming home.

The fingers in his hair tighten and then relax and Kojiro hums softly against his mouth as he pulls away. “About time, Princess. Thought I was gonna have to steal one from you.”

A smile quirks up his lips as he chuckles and leans up, to kiss Kojiro again. “Delinquent.”

~END~

Written for @wish4adventure (Twitter) for the @MatchaBlossomEx (Twitter)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53117605

#fanfic #sk8 the infinity #sk8 anime #matchablossom

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