#and SO MANY PEOPLE showed up in fucking BEIGE

[artschoolglasses]

And to think I was concerned that everyone was just going to lazily show up in floral print.

Fucking wish people showed up in floral print. Instead of this bland-ass sea of beige.

I didn't hate beige outfits before tonight.

I hate them now.

#I cannot believe there was such a basic garden theme #and SO MANY PEOPLE showed up in fucking BEIGE #you should all be banned from future met galas #forever #I hate you all #met gala #artschoolrambles

[risuola]

OPEN YOUR MOUTH FOR ME — F. READER x NANAMI KENTO, who joined you for a simple mission during the Halloween night

You liked to joke that Nanami is always overdressed for the occasion. His suits were always crisp and perfectly tailored, showing the unmatched confidence with their color – light beige fabric in combination with dark blue button-up perfectly accentuated his mature features and blonde hair. Your work colleague knows how to dress to impress, and the grown-up apparition matched his character perfectly. Both were cold and calculated, so once, you decided to greet him in the hotel room a little underdressed.

cw: smut, lingerie + suit, blindfold, oral (m. receiving) face fucking/deepthroating, reader discretion is advised — 3,1k words

masterlist

If there was ever a person who’s overdressed for every occasion, who always looks composed and perfectly prepared, who always has suits perfectly crisp and tailored – it would be Nanami Kento.

Your friend since high school, your former classmate, your now work colleague and one of the closest people to you. Your bond with him is unbreakable, many horrible experiences you shared over a decade of being sorcerers, despite him leaving for a little while but besides what’s bad, you have so many great memories with him, it’s hard to describe. So many movie nights, every each of them quickly turning into late hours of just talking, drinking wine and enjoying the time together; so many casual walks, so many bakery visits and tests. He was your number one guinea pig when it came to your amateur baking hobby – he tried everything you made, gave you his honest opinion, sometimes too brutal, but you loved him for that. There was no bullshit when it came to Nanami, he always spoke his mind and you valued his opinion above everyone else’s. He’s a great friend.

That being said, there was always a lot of bickering between you two, and the way he’s always suited up, with that atrocious tie is your main weapon of choice when it comes to pushing his buttons – even though he looks perfectly fine, and he knows it. There’s no denying that Nanami Kento is a man created to wear suits. His fit, muscular frame fills in this kind of clothes perfectly and it also fitted his character. Calm, collected, always composed and on the field – effective enough to never stain the light beige fabric of one of his favorite numbers. It showed how confident in his skill he is and if someone makes him take his tie off and loosen up the dark blue shirt, you always pitied them. When the yellowish, spotted tie comes off, you know Nanami means business.

Even though you often made fun of the way Kento’s suited up even to go and grab groceries, you couldn’t say you don’t enjoy the view. You’re friends, but you’re not oblivious to how attractive he is – tall and broad, with his light blonde hair swooped back, his strong features and cheekbones sharp enough, you were sure, to cut a finger once touched. Not much of that skinny emo boy from ten years ago was now left in him and you’d say he had a great glow up. He aged like a fine wine and sometimes you caught yourself wishing to have a taste. To cross the line of friendship and explore more of him. Sometimes, during those long late hours, in the silence of the nights when it’s only you and him chatting quietly, you wondered how would he react if you just caressed his thigh. How would he react if you kissed his neck or slipped your hand over the very inviting bulge in his pants? Would he flinch away? Told you to stop? Maybe his composure would snap, and he’d taken you on the couch? You’d lie if you say you never fantasized about being fucked by him. You don’t need him to be your boyfriend, you don’t need commitment, you just wished he’d let you have a friendly taste of him.

The night of Halloween was never really your favorite – not because you’re that no- fun, but because during that night, many curses were let loose, balancing between crowds and some people couldn’t even notice what hurt them. Chaos was integral part of 31st of October and although you didn’t like it, you learned to accept it. That year you and Nanami got paired up to check on one little place on the outskirts of Tokyo – it was a simple mission, you quickly had it done and you couldn’t be more grateful to have him as a partner. You were meant to stay in the hotel for the night, just in case something happened, but ultimately, around 9pm you were already finished with the job.

That night you decided to test your luck. Worst case scenario, it will be just a little awkward and quickly forgotten. Best case – you’d achieve what you want. With that in mind, you couldn’t be happier when Nanami told you that he’s gonna go and quickly check things outside once more, just to make sure, reassuring you that you can stay in the room because he’ll be right back. Giving him a nod on that, you told him you’ll take a quick shower and that’s when he left.

Cold, October air cooled Nanami’s thoughts a little. The job was easy, there was nothing for him to check on, but he just needed a quick breather to calm his nerves before the night you two were meant to spend together. It wasn’t the first time, you had countless sleepovers, you shared beds previously, you hugged and held hands many times, but somehow, for a little while now, Kento couldn’t really keep his cool next to you. He had always found you attractive – you were just perfect in every aspect he could think of. Maybe except the baking, but even that you improved a lot recently. You were the only woman he had such close contact since high school and, of course, there were his other female friends, like Shoko, Utahime or Mei Mei, but you, being his classmate – he felt the most comfortable with you. He loved your character; so light and cheerful and yet mature and calm. Nothing soothed him more than those movie nights with you. The ones that always turned into hours of chats about everything, with the film playing in the background. And in his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman he’s seen. Your figure got him salivating; so many nights he spent fucking his hand with the picture of you in front of his mind, it was almost embarrassing to think of a friend that way. But he couldn’t help himself and deep down, he was thankful for the way his body was able to keep composure with you close to him.

He had no idea how he’ll survive another night in one bed with you – it’s been quite some time since you shared one bed. For few years now, even if you were on a job together, you usually had different rooms or at least separate beds. He wouldn’t count those nights when you fall asleep on his shoulder, fully clothed on the couch as sleeping together. He couldn’t tell how many times he wished to just have you. For once. To see how you taste, how you feel. To make you feel good. Would that make things awkward between you two afterwards? He couldn’t tell. You were always fully honest with yourselves. Well, almost, because if he was to be completely straightforward with you, he’d tell you already that he dreams of you bouncing on his dick.

“Oh, fucking hell, get it together, Kento,” he muttered to himself, looking up at the clear sky through the soft cloud of steam that came from his mouth – evidence of temperature now being much lower at nights than it used to be in the last few months. The harsh moonlight nearly blinded him and he exhaled deeply, silently wishing that instead of this boring mission he’d get something more involving. Maybe patrolling Shibuya on one of the busiest nights during the year would have him occupied enough to not wonder how your pussy would feel around his cock. Could you even take him? Would you cry? Would you enjoy it? Fuck, he was really doomed.

Coming to terms with his cursed fate, he visited nearest convenience store, grabbing few of your favorite sweets and a bottle of wine and headed back to the hotel. You were nowhere to be seen in the apartment but the quiet cacophony of hushed noises from the bathroom clearly indicated that you were still there, probably getting ready to bed, so Nanami made sure the doors are closed and put the alcohol into the fridge. His thoughts were still wondering somewhere between reality and a fantasy of you.

“You bought us some liquid courage?”, you joked from behind him, your voice soft and mentally he kicked himself for not noticing you sneaking up on him, because when he turned out, the sight caught him off guard.

You were there, smelling divine with the slightly fruity note of the shower gel you used. Your hair was dry mostly, just barely dampened at the ends but what made him forget how to breathe properly was what you were wearing. Or rather what you were not wearing. You stood there, heightened on your tippytoes and barefoot, dressed only in a set of lingerie – it was blood-red in color, made entirely of thin, soft looking lace and leaving not much to imagination in a way it hugged your breasts; the see-through pattern made your nipples just teasingly noticeable. There was a thin, golden necklace hanging on your neck, drawing attention between your breasts where little letters K and H were hanging – your way of having both of your former classmates always next to your heart, but now he couldn’t focus on the shiny accessory when it was situated in the little valley between the swell of your chest. When Nanami looked a little lower, his eyes sliding down the curves of your body right to where the little, equally thin panties were resting against your hips, he swallowed thickly. The view went straight to his dick and it felt straining already.

“Should I look away?”, he asked, his voice cracking just barely at the beginning of the sentence, but his voice was now an octave lower, and you found it incredibly attractive. The question he asked was experimental, he needed to know if you wanted him to look at you or you just, for some reason, forgot the clothes from your backpack and came to get them.

“I’d wish you to not,” you replied, gently placing your hands over his chest and pushing him few steps back, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Once you took his glasses off and made your way to the little table to safely put them there, you gave Nanami a chance to see the back of what little you were wearing, and he nearly moaned at the sight of the tiny thong.

“Is that your Halloween costume?”, he asked, noticing little devil-like tail that you had attached to the waist band of your panties. It’s only now that he realized there are two little horns on your head as well.

“It is Halloween after all,” you chuckled, getting back to him. “I figured you have enough tricks with Gojo, but I might have a treat for you.”

Kento sat down on the edge of the bed, pushed back by your hands and you found a place between his legs, slowly brushing your fingers through his hair. There was a certain amount of hesitation when he allowed his palms to rest on the sides of your thighs, the feeling of your soft skin sent electrical impulses from his fingertips to his member, making it more uncomfortable than it was just moments before.

“Oh my god, you’re beautiful,” he muttered, burying his nose into your stomach, peppering soft kisses over your flesh and immediately intoxicating himself with the subtle, sweet scent of you, the warmth of your flesh, the taste.

“So, you accept me as your Halloween treat?” You asked lightly, scratching at his scalp before he pulled away from your belly.

“If you are a treat, I might start liking that day.” He declared, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you over his thighs. You straddled him and immediately found his lips, hungry to finally taste him. Your nearly naked form and red lace contrasted heavily with the complete suit he still had on, the cotton fabric rested comfortably against your thighs as you fought with him for dominance in the kiss. Nanami’s large hands wandered over your shapes, examining your frame and sending shivers down your spine. His palms were cold against your skin, or maybe it was you who were burning with anticipation already, but the cool feeling made you gasp into his mouth.

Your hips rolled against his crotch; you could clearly feel his strangled erection fighting for any space inside his dress pants, the light beige cage trapping him almost painfully and you smiled into the kiss as he groaned lowly at the contact. Not faltering from his mouth, you began slowly grinding your clothed core against his dick, the size of his bulge made you more wet than you thought you’d be at this point and you were sure that if that takes any longer, you’ll leave a sticky patch over his trousers.

“Can I taste you?”, you asked, barely pulling away from the kiss; your lips still brushing against his as you panted out the words. “I really want to taste you, Kento.”

Nanami wasn’t the type to receive, he was rather the giver. He found pleasure in making others feel it, but who he was to say no, when you asked so nicely. Stealing one more kiss, he let go of your hips, allowing you to move down from his lap and he watched how you slowly dropped to your knees in front of him. He took few mental pictures of the sight, you really looked breathtaking like this, with your eyes half-lidded, your lips swollen and parted, glistening from saliva and panting softly for air. There was also some kind of unreasonable satisfaction to have you on your knees, dressed so scandalously whilst he had the perfectly tailored, business suit on.

“God, you’re bigger than I thought,” you muttered once his pants were opened and with a pull on his underwear, you let his cock spring free. His hard length bounced against his stomach, the tip angry and leaking, eager to be caressed and Kento purred when your hand wrapped around his girth, giving him few experimental pumps.

The way you looked at him from between his legs made him feel, like he could cum just from the sight of your eyes, so to spare himself the embarrassment, he grabbed his tie and with upmost expertise, covered your eyes with it. The sudden loss of vison made you gasp quietly, but there was no protest from you.

“Open your mouth for me,” he ordered and you were quick to comply, leaning in and giving his length few long licks. Your tongue followed the swollen vein on the underside of his cock and each stroke you finished with a soft suck on the tip. Hungry for more, you finally took him into your mouth, enveloping him with the warmth of your throat and you began to move – at first slowly, up and down, feeling his girth and using your hand where you couldn’t reach.

Nanami placed his large hand on top of your head, smoothing over your hair as you picked up the pace. The way your tongue danced around him, as you worked it intensely against his dick made him groan lowly – a sound that went straight in between your legs, the best kind of praise to what you were doing. You couldn’t see him, so what you were feeling and hearing filled you with satisfaction and you noted to yourself, that his already sexy voice sounds even hotter when he’s all worked up. You rarely ever heard Kento growl, he wasn’t usually angry or worn out enough to show anyone that side of him.

“Just like that, such a good girl,” he praised and you could feel him growing in your mouth, throbbing and flexing as you were sucking him like it was your job. But you were curious, so eager to know what he’s capable of, what he really wants because you struggled to believe he’s always so composed. Even now, as he was panting from pleasure you were giving him, you could tell he still held back, kept himself gentle and aware not to hurt you. You wanted him to let loose.

“Use me,” you pleaded, pulling him out of your mouth with a soft pop.

“I will hurt you,” he replied breathily, the top of his knuckles softly smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I will let you know if it’s too much,” you reassured. “I’ll tap your thigh if I can’t take it.”

There was no need to repeat it. Despite initial doubts, Nanami trusted you – a testimony to a decade you spent together. He knew you well enough to know you will indeed let him know if something’s wrong. You were not the type to please at the cost of your own health, so he wasn’t worrying that much when he collected all your hair into a ponytail, throwing the headband with devil horns away.

“Open,” his tone was demanding, way less friendly and much more harsh and the second after his words reached your ears, your jaw dropped down. You worked with him once his dick was back in your mouth, adjusting to the tempo he forced upon you. The tip of him time after time was hitting your throat, the salty precum spread all over your palate and you focused on breathing through your nose instead of gasping through lips.

You knew Nanami was close, you could feel his thighs tensing on your sides and you could tell by the way his grip on your hair tightened. The stinging pull on your follicles caused you to moan quietly, the vibration of your vocal cords reverberated onto his length and he groaned from above you. You teased him playfully with your teeth, grazing them alongside his dick and earning yourself a punishment – he pushed your head down onto himself, his tip deep down your throat and you whined incoherently, causing him to twitch right there. In no time, he was cumming, still forcing your head up and down his cock, abusing your pharynx with every thrust.

His seed was spilling through the corners of your mouth and once he let you off his member, his fingers were quick to catch the white drops from your chin and push them back into your mouth. Nanami scoffed slightly at the eagerness with which you sucked on his fingers and so it didn’t surprise him when even though he came already, you were quickly back on his dick, licking him clean and purring.

Nanami would let you play a little more if not for the desperate need to feel your pussy. Hence why in a matter of seconds, you were on the bed, flat on your back whilst he crawled above you, already toying with the waistband of your lacey panties.

“Now it’s my turn.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #kento #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #kento smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk x you #jujutu kaisen x you #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #kento x you #kento nanami x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x y/n #kento x y/n #kento nanami x y/n

[ak-rye-47]

So we are all aware how Lou (Tommy) has naturally curly hair right?

Now imagine Buck had to baby sit Lil Jee-Yun and she wants to go on a picnic with his uncle and Tommy happened to be crashing at bucks for whatever reason after a long tiring shift and just wanted to curl up beside his boyfriend and watch a movie right?

But Buck can't risk tears in his niece's eyes but also don't wanna leave Tommy alone. Tommy senses that and is like fuck it! what can be more relaxing then a picnic with his boyfriend as he watch him play with his niece under the streams of soft sunlight that glow his face up as they sit under a tree on soft grass eh?

So there they are sitting and enjoying and Jee-Yun sees the ice cream truck and is now giving those puppy dog eyes which is definitely taught by buck to trick her parents and now karma has come to show her colours in all her divinity and He leaves to get the ice cream and leaves Tommy with jee -yun and Tommy as he was tired starts to nod off and is now lightly snoring.

Buck comes back with ice cream in his hands and see Jee-Yun sitting in Tommy's lap and even as he is half asleep he has his arms protectively wrapped around Jee-Yun. He is an ex marine after all. And Oh! our little Jee-Yun is plucking lavender shaded tiny flowers and Daisies from the flower beds beside their picnic blanket as many as she can cause Tommys hold even on the doorsteps of first waves of sleep is strong.

And she is putting them in his hair as if she was sowing them in earth. Tommy's head is filled with them like a crown. His curls engulfing their stems and keeping them in place. Even then they are so carefully and skillfully planted as if they were his own hair.Cause Gosh! by whatevers pure and holy he looks like a goddamn angel gleaming under the sunlight in his white cotton shirt and beige coloured pants and daisies growing out of him like a old resting god whom Demeter(god of harvest) himself took upon to look after. The earth hugging him like a soft blanket providing him hermitage and making flowers grow out of him.soft and delirious tired after a long day. Asleep and under heavens care.

And buck can't help but smile at him and Jee-Yun who beams at him and blabbers out "i made him Bubuful!"

"yeah .....yeah you did...."

Buck Now has a picture of a sleepy Tommy with daisies clinging to his curls with a Beaming Jee-Yun in his lap as his Phone Wallpaper. His two most important people.

And buck has never wanted to marry him right there and then. To have children of their own. And watch them love their father just as much as he does...if not more.

#bi buck #evan buck #evan buck buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #tommy x buck #buck x tommy #bucktommy #buck tommy #tommy kinard #911 #911 abc #911 fox #911 show #911 season 7 #911 buck #911 tommy #911 Jee-Yun #jee yun buckley han #9 1 1 buck #9 1 1 fox #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fanfiction

[helioslover]

CHERRY - CL16

PAIRING : singer!charles leclerc x actress!reader SUMMARY : you listen to the song charles has written about you for the first time. you hate how in love with him you are. WORD COUNT : 4.4k TW : angst, mentions of alcohol, breakup, sex SONG : cherry - harry style

You hate planes. You also hate being too shy to ask the stewardess for a night mask so that you could sleep through the flight. You hate knowing who’ll be picking you up at the airport. You also hate the way you're happy to see a familiar face in a country where you don’t know anyone, even if it is this familiar face. But you mostly hate the way you're eager to see Charles.

You have spoken a lot through the last few months, and you think that maybe the heartache you've felt for so much time has finally healed. Charles' has been staying in Monaco -he now splits his time between there and London - for a couple of weeks as he is recording some new songs for the next album. As unbelievable as it sounds, you have meticulously avoided any of Charles' new songs until now. The only one you're familiar with is Sixteen but you know that title tracks aren’t the ones Charles puts his entire soul in. You aren't ready to hear the brown-haired boy that used to drive you crazy sing about another woman. Yes, you've seen the pictures of Charles and Alexandra and yes, you've cried in your pillow until your body felt so dry that there were no tears left to cry.

“What do you mean you’ve never listened to my songs ever since we broke up ?” Charles had looked so shocked when you told him the truth (not the part about crying yourself to sleep, no, you didn’t mention this) that you had laughed. “Not even the ones from Fast Cars ? We were still talking when I released Fast Cars, Y/N !” His voice sounded raspy and you remembered that it was still early and that Charles had never been a morning person.

“Why are you up so early ?” you were clearly trying to avoid the subject.

“You called me, you idiot. I only answered because it was you. But now, I’m considering the option of hanging up. I mean… I’m not trying to brag but where were you for the last four years ? My songs have been everywhere.”

You chuckled. “Oh for fuck’s sake, I know that. You have no idea how annoying it is to avoid your songs at parties, on the radio, on TV, everywhere, you’re fucking everywhere, dude.”

“Don’t dude me. I think we're a bit closer than that, Y/N.” He was smiling at the camera, showing off his dimples. Behind him was a patchwork of photos, posters and movie tickets hanging on a beige wall. You tried to imagine the rest of the room. “Don’t think I’m forgetting what you just admitted. Mon Dieu,” he sighed overdramatically, “how would you react if I said I never watched any of your movies, huh ?”

You rolled your eyes. “I never said that I didn’t know any of your songs, Charles. I know some of them. But, I hate saying this, I kind of did not want to hear you sing about other people. See what I mean ? It’s alright when it’s from a time where you didn’t even know I existed, I mean some of yours are probably part of my favourite songs, but not when it’s- not when I-”.

“When what, Y/N ?” Charles asked, his voice softened as if he understood how hurt you would feel by hearing songs that weren’t about you.

“Nothing, just leave it. And don’t even try to pretend you’ve seen all of the things I act in. I’m pretty sure you haven’t heard about half of them.”

Charles was now smiling again. “I’ve seen all of them, Y/N. And you were good in every single one of them.”

Something broke inside of your heart because Charles' voice sounded like a warm hug. His statement somehow seemed like a proof that you weren’t the only one to find it hard to get rid of what you felt. And somehow, you hated it. “I gotta go. See you.” And you hung up. You were feeling too many things at the same time. You hated it.

You hate delay. Your plane hasn’t taken off yet and you're already bored. Your neighbor looks like he could be somewhere between fifty and eighty-four and it’s too cloudy to see anything through the window. Your book is not as interesting as it looked like and you know you haven’t downloaded enough playlists. You hate it, not knowing what to do.

You checks your phone to see if Charles has seen your previous message, warning him about your flight being late.

‘its ok, ill still pick you up, y/nickname.’

You smile. Even after all this time, you still don’t know if you hate or loves it when Charles uses your nickname. Another text appears on the screen.

‘since you have time, listen to my favourite one.’

There’s a link leading to a Spotify song and you download it, right before the pilot finally announces that the plane is about to take off. You put on your headphones, press play and instantly, as the first notes of the guitar resonate in your ears, cry.

Don't you call him baby [...] Don't you call him what you used to call me

The first time you called Charles baby wasn’t intentional. You recall the exact moment it slipped out of you mouth and the look Charles gave you after. You were about to have dinner with his mom and his brothers in Charles' flat and you hated how stressed you felt about truly meeting his family even though you'd already been introduced.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you have to warn me about, huh ?” you asked Charles for the hundredth time as you put on a blue shirt that made you look older than you were. Dinner was ready, Charles was too : the only one that was still changing her outfit (for the fourth time already) was you.

“Y/N, I told you : you have nothing to worry about. And you met them already, it’s not like they’re complete strangers.” Charles said from the kitchen where he was setting up the table.

You sighed. You couldn’t help it. The last time you'd seen Charles' family, you were just the girl who starred in his debut movie with him, not the girl he fucked every night. “Maybe blue isn’t my colour, don't I look kind of pale ?" you asked as you joined the kitchen.

“Shh, you’re making me crazy. You look perfect, just like you always do.” Charles handed you a glass of wine. He was wearing a red jacket on some beige pants and looked good. Like really good. “Drink this, it’ll help you.”

The wine was good, really good, and Charles' hands massaging your shoulders felt even better. You hated how Charles always seemed to know what you needed.

“Jesus, baby, this feels good.” The word flew out of your lips so naturally you didn’t even notice at first.

“What did you call me ?”

Your cheeks were turning red under Charles' sharp green eyes. You had seen this look before and knew exactly what usually came right after. “I- um, baby ?”

Charles took a deep breath. His body had gotten closer to yours. “And she does it again, Jesus, Y/N.”

You didn’t exactly understand why such a simple word had such an effect on Charles but you liked it. You liked having this power over him when you usually were the one looking like a middle-school girl talking to her crush for the first time. You felt a knot forming in your stomach, getting eager for a contact with Charles' skin. “Well, baby is gonna have to calm down. At least for now.” you answered, smiling wickedly.

Charles lost his smile. “Y/N. Stop it or I swear I’ll-” The doorbell had rung. Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo were there.

We're not talking lately

You hate the fact that every line in this song seems directly aimed at youYou. He clearly remember Charles telling you this one word for word. It happened a couple of weeks after your breakup, after you'd moved out of Charles' London flat and had taken all of your things, even the ones you'd always left behind during your previous crises. You never really believed that this time was going to be the real one, that all of the years you'd spent around Charles were on the verge of becoming memories and nothing more. You couldn't even remember the reason you had started fighting. All you knew was that words couldn’t be unsaid and that you couldn’t look at Charles without remembering all the things that had been yelled that infamous night. So you had packed your bags in the middle of the night and had left.

Charles hadn’t called. For about a week, all you could do was look at your phone every ten minutes, hoping for a message, a missed call notification (though it would’ve been merely impossible for you to miss that call), something that would prove you that Charles cared about your relationship. You had walked away so that Charles would realise that he couldn't keep on treating you like you were granted and you had ended up losing it all.

Weeks had gone by without a word from the man you now called your ex. And then weeks had turned into months. Tabloids had sparked dating rumours of Charles and some amazingly pretty girls and it looked like the 'Y/N' chapter had quickly been forgotten. You had felt like an idiot until you'd received the long awaited message.

‘hey y/n, i hope you’re doing good. we’re not talking lately but i just needed you to know that i miss you’

Your heart had stopped beating. Or had it started beating faster ? You had felt like your insides were burning and your mind stopped functioning. It’d been so long since Charles had gone out of the picture that you weren’t even waiting for a sign anymore. You'd started moving on, helped by some of your friends who, tired of hearing complaints about the way things should’ve been, had decided that you had to create a Tinder profile. You'd been on dates, you'd met men that were willing to fill you heart with pure joy and some who were just willing to fill you. But you'd taken what you wanted from both categories and you'd stopped aching with the simple sight of Charles' name on a billboard.

But this message, it wasn’t supposed to ever be sent, it was too late now. It disrupted every plan you'd made to deal with the loss of the one you'd thought would be the love of his life. So you did what you believed was the best to do for your heart. You never answered.

I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it You hated it but you still knew every single part of Charles by heart. You'd learned over the years how to decipher every single one of his expressions, even the ones Charles thought nobody would notice. You knew what a half-smile meant, what the subtle frown hid and what the quick eyes puckering could be translated as. And this particular knowledge of Charles' feelings also meant that you totally knew that he was lying when he was claiming to be really happy for you. Charles hated it, he wanted to disappear, to go back in time and never let you leave because he’d never been as happy as you'd made him ever since. You knew that, you could read in the discrete clenching of his jaw.

You weren’t supposed to meet, not more than two years after your last interaction. Charles' message had been left unanswered and he’d never sent another. But awards season was always the theatre of a lot of unwanted encounters.

Charles was as beautiful as ever in his white turtleneck and black pants. His eyes sparkled when they met yours and there was nothing you could’ve done to avoid the conversation.

“You look quite good, Y/N.” You shivered, you hated the way your entire body still reacted to the simple sound of Charles' voice. “How’ve you been ?”

“I- erm…” You hated yourself for having to clear your throat, “I’ve been alright, thanks for asking. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. I thought you were on tour.”

Charles smiled when you admitted knowing his schedule. “Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to come but then they sent the guest list and I don’t know, I guess I figured I’d stop by.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was openly flirting with you.

You hated the way you'd missed out on most of the ceremonies because you did not feel ready to face Charles. You'd been right. The sight of Charles' ringed fingers, his grown hair, the sparkle in his eyes, the smelling of his very own scent that hadn’t changed a bit ; it all made you weak. You just knew by the look on Charles' face that you were sharing the same thought : how could you have let go of what you had ?

"Well I’m glad you’re here.” You weren’t, but you hoped you weren’t as easy to decipher as Charles was so that you could keep the act on long enough to be convincing. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to win every single one of these things. You always do.” This last part was genuine : Charles was one of the most talented people you knew and even though you had no idea what his new album sounded like, you were pretty confident it was good.

“Oh thanks, Y/N. I’d be surprised if your movie didn’t win anything tonight. How ‘bout we go out after that, huh ? I mean, if I get to win something and to see you, this night might become the best I’ve had in a while.” His green eyes were reflecting a malicious light that almost made him look mischievous. You felt a knot forming in your stomach. You knew it was physically impossible to refuse Charles' offer but also knew how bad of a choice it would be. You were stuck weighing pros and cons in your mind, well aware that your silence was getting a bit too long. You hated the way Charles' presence made it almost impossible for you to think straight.

Your phone rang in you pocket, a sort of a way out you clung to. “Hi, baby, where are you ?” On the other end of the line, Daniel, your new boyfriend – was it really a boyfriend if the only thing you shared was an appreciation for each other’s body and a fear of being entirely alone ? – answered but you didn’t listen to anything he was saying. Instead, you focused on Charles' visible frown and the tears that he was fighting back. He mouthed something that looked like “I’ll see you”, though you both knew it wasn’t true and left without ever looking back. It took you a couple of seconds to process what had just happened before you were able to concentrate on what you were being told.

What Charles never let you know – perhaps because he hated how uncontrollable his feelings for you were – was how big of a mess your encounter had turned him into. He then fully understood that he’d lost you, that it was over, your love had supposedly died when he still believed he would be able to bring it back to life. He hated himself for being selfish, for hating it when you looked so well, for being the one unable to get over it. His wound was still bleeding when yours seemed to have already healed, at least from what he’d seen. And it was at that moment, as he was curled up on his bed, wondering if he was a bad person for hating the way you could be happy without him, that Charles started writing Cherry.

[...]

You hate the way your eyes will look reddish and puffy for the rest of the flight as much as you hate the tears that are running down your cheeks. You secretly hope your neighbour won’t notice your unease and replay Cherry. You already know you've missed out on some lyrics and you don’t want to. You want to hear every single one of Charles' words, the ones that seemed to have been written only for you to hear.

And suddenly, you hate the fact that other people have been able to hear this song (even more so that they did it before you). It feels like such an invasion of Charles' intimacy, of what he has shared with you. Everything sounds so obvious – from the lyrics to the title, reminding you of how you'd learnt a French endearment and always used it to call Charles : chéri, chéri, chéri – it’s an open window on your relationship and the way its ending was handled, the effect you had on Charles.

But then, now that you think about it, you also come to the realisation that, except for those of your friends that know and the few people in Charles' life that are aware of the two-year-long relationship you had, no one knows that you and Charles even kept in touch once the promotion of your movie ended. It’s not an absurd logic : you don’t think Charles has ever seen any of the other actors in years. And this, the fact that for the majority of people, what you had never existed, brings more tears to your eyes. Nothing in the song gives off any hint on who it is written to for people who’re not close to Charles. You somewhat feel deceived. As much as you hate the feeling of losing some privacy, you hate the fact that you can’t really brag about this song being about you. It is a beautiful song, you have the right to feel quite proud of inspiring it.

It must be the fourth time Cherry replays when you catch on some line and realize that, intentionally or not, Charles has left a hint as to who’s the song about. It is not really obvious but you know how fans are eager to decipher any small details.

I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress

You had hated this interview. Six months had eventually gone by after Charles' last attempt of talking to you when Alex and Lily had shown you the extract. You were in their apartment, sharing a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes, having just learnt that Alex had gotten the role in the movie he’d auditioned for.

“I never thought he was hurting as much as you did before I saw this” he had said, lighting another cylinder. His living room was already full of smoke. “but I swear, I might not be the closest to Charles, but I’d never seen him look so sad, Y/N” he had added as he was searching the video.

It was one of Yuki Tsunoda’s restaurant interviews. Charles looked as good as ever and you had hated the way you'd had to repress a smile from appearing on your face. Something looked different but you couldn’t point out what it was. In the restaurant, Yuki asked Charles about his fashion style evolution. You couldn’t figure out why Alex wanted you to watch this.

“I don’t really think I tell myself : oh yeah, this is the kind of style that I’m going to go for. I truly believe that my outfits are a way of expressing the way I feel and also that the people who surround me have a great influence on the way I dress. I mean, you asking that is funny because right this morning I looked at myself in the mirror and I started thinking of the way, you know,” and suddenly, in a matter of moments, Charles' eyes had started shining from tears that threatened rolling down his cheeks. His voice sounded hoarse and full of sobs, “there’s quite literally a piece of the person I love in how I dress. I still have some clothes that I used to steal from our closet and that I forgot to give back. Like this,” Charles pointed at his sweater, “this one’s Y/N's but I love it”.

The name had slipped out of his mouth but neither he, nor Yuki, seemed to have noticed, too focused on his emotions (Charles had to actually wipe a tear) to care. But you had noticed and so had others. So had Alex and Lily.

But this wasn’t what had retained most of your attention. There was no point in lying but you had hated the way you'd loved hearing Charles refer to you as the person he loved.

I just miss your accent and your friends

It happened once. Between their infamous encounter which had led to Charles starting to write Cherry and the day he finished the song, you and Charles had only talked once. 

You had broken up more than two years ago and yet, you couldn’t say that you were over Charles. It would’ve been safer to just say that you'd just learned to live without him. But you'd gotten pretty good at it. It struck you sometimes at night and you would find yourself crying in your pillow. But then, you were able to go on for days and weeks without thinking about Charles. Things still reminded you of what you had shared but it did not make you automatically cry anymore. It was pretty much like learning how to live with a missing limb. You can live without it, sometimes you can even forget that it’s not there, but somehow it always feels like something should be here and isn’t. 

That’s what you tried to explain to Alex as you were heading for the bar in which Carlos and Pierre were waiting for you. All of you had met while filming the movie Carlos directed. Alex, Pierre and you starred in it as well as Charles who also created the soundtrack. You all got awards for it. 

“You guys are so late it should be illegal.” Pierre said as he tried to look annoyed. His face almost immediately broke into a smile. “I’m glad to see you.”

You laughed as you sat down next to him, a pint of beer already waiting on the table. “We all know it’s because of Alex.”

"Shut it, Y/L/N."

“Well, at least, you’re not as late as Charles. He’s the worst.”

Your eyes went wide hearing Charles. Except for Alex, none of the boys knew how hard it was for you to get through this breakup. They all believed you when you swore to be over him. You couldn’t blame them for inviting him, you just had to play pretend. “Oh, erm… I didn’t know he was coming tonight, I-I thought he was still in Monaco.”

It was Pierre who had told you that Charles was now splitting his time between the two cities and you had felt a sort of relief mixed with this silly feeling of regretting the way things had become. 

“Oh no, he’s not. Speaking of the devil !”

You didn’t even have to raise your eyes to feel Charles' gaze planted on you. Yet you did and for a minute, as your eyes crossed, it felt like there was no one else but the two of you in the entire pub. He was still as beautiful as ever, just like you remembered him to be, but something had changed. Charles was no longer the young man you'd known, he’d grown into a real man and was now entering his golden age. It saddened you to realise that you were both evolving without the other one to witness the changes but it quickly faded away as you felt your stomach twisting with desire. 

“God, I missed you guys !” Charles almost cried after breaking eye contact with you, something that seemed to have cost him an effort.

You internally thanked your friends for being so chatty. The night had been going on for a while now without requiring too much effort from you. You mostly drank, comfortably seated in the settee and squeezed between Pierre and Carlos. You also tried to discreetly check Charles out, though you weren’t really sure your glances had gone unnoticed. You couldn’t resist it. It felt so weird to see him, just a couple of metres away from you. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here.” God, you hated unisex bathrooms. His green eyes met yours through the mirror. His cheeks were a bit reddish and you couldn’t say if it was because you were here or it simply resulted from the heat of the pub.

“You mean, here as in the toilettes, sorry, in the bathroom or here in the pub ?” You knew he was tipsy from the casualness of his voice. Charles squinted as your gaze took an inquisitive look. “Are you mad at me ? For coming ?”

“I”m not.” A sigh escaped your mouth. The water was still running from the tap. “What are you doing here, Charles ?” 

“I don’t know.” You were now side by side.

“I had forgotten about this you know, the way you squeeze French words in the middle of sentences. It's funny, I guess I just miss your accent and that, being there with our friends.” You could imagine the heat of Charles' skin and the way his lips would feel if he kissed you just right here. You shook you head ; Charles wasn't the only one affected by alcohol but you weren’t just tipsy, you were completely drunk. 

“Oh, really.” He was trying not to sound unsettled, you knew it. “Is that your way of saying that you just miss me ?”

You chuckled and his green eyes sparkled. “You get to choose, Charlie. Is that your way of telling me you’re missing me too ?”

You hated the way you had missed the taste of Charles' lips and how his hands clung to you body when you kissed. The water was still running from the tap. 

[...]

“Did you like it ?” Charles is literally glowing under the Monégasque sun. His skin is a little tanned and you love how weak in the knees it makes you feel. You're in his garden, drinking beers and smoking. The sky is so blue it seems endless. You love the way it feels like summer. 

“What are you talking about ?” Charles' hand strokes you bare arm gently as you're laying on the grass. You're so relaxed you're not even thinking about the hours you spent crying on the plane. Your eyes are still reddish and puffy, though. 

“Cherry. Did you like it ? I mean, you obviously cried but I hope it is because you regret boycotting me during all these years.” 

“I hated it.” You answer, eyes closed. You can feel Charles' body shifting. He’s now looking at you from upon you guess since you feel his breath crashing on your face. “As much as I hate you.” You add, smiling. 

This time, it’s Charles who kisses you. You love how there’s nothing to hate.

#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #reader insert #alternate universe #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine

[auteurdelabre]

Dare to Surrender (Series) Part 4 [Javier Peña x f!reader]

Pairing: Javier Pena x f!reader [no name/ physical description/no use of y/n]

Words: 7.6

summary: You can’t stand Javier Pena but when Steve Murphy makes an off-hand remark that gets both you and Javier’s competitive sides going, there’s no telling how far you’ll go.

A/N: This is porn with a dash of plot because my other story is angsty and stressin’ too many people out and I love me a good enemies to lovers story.

MASTERLIST HERE

=========================================

Dare to Surrender Part 4

Why is Murphy out sick? Of all days why does he have to be out sick?! You need him here! You need his big looming sexually-neutralizing presence 

Because today Javier Peña is wearing a suit. 

Fuck. 

He never dresses like this unless there's a courtroom or a serious meeting with Noonan. It's light in color, almost a frosted beige and it clings.... To everything. The curve of his ass, the tight muscle of his thighs. 

You're convinced that you can even see the outline of the thickness between his legs when he twists a certain way. But maybe that's wishful thinking. 

You've been doing a lot of that lately. In the month since you first slept with him there has been much thought about Javier Peña's body. Nights spent at home coming with his name huffed under your breath and shame on your cheeks.

But those thoughts are now overshadowed by thoughts of Bradley - Brad- Williams. His beautiful eyes and charming smile. 

You showed him around Bogotá last Saturday, introduced him to your favorite food spots and the secret stretch of beach you go to when you're feeling overwhelmed. 

It had been so easy, so fun. Brad had made you laugh and when he held your hand it was gentle. You'd spent the entire night waiting for him to kiss you, desperate for his mouth on yours.  But Brad is a gentleman. He doesn't rush things. He kissed the corner of your mouth and said you he wanted to see you again. 

He's nothing like Javier Peña. 

And now you're here at work, wet and wanting and it's all because of the sloe-eyed DEA agent that's turning his gaze on you. 

So while you can help but enjoy the view of Peña in a suit, you can't help but frown when he strides over. 

///

"Mind if I use your phone?" he asks lowly, his eyes trailing over you.

You look good this morning, despite the frown. You've started loosening up at work, wearing your hair untied, your blouse not done up all the way to the top button. You seem more relaxed. 

Javier thinks he knows why and it makes him drag a hand over his mouth to hide the grin. 

"Why can't you use yours?"

"It's busted," Javier lies. He likes being this close to you, desperate to see how you react when he's near.

Before you used to ignore him, ire coming off of you in waves. But now? Now that he's made you come twice at this desk? Now your eyes flutter, your breasts heave. And your mouth? The quick way you bite back at him all flustered? It's so fucking sexy. It makes him hard. 

He used to fuck his hand a couple times a week, just enough to make sure he was able to focus. Now though? Now it's daily, sometimes multiple times as he recalls you. 

I need it faster. Please, baby?

He must be staring because you've glanced up from your file to glare at him. 

"What? Use my phone or get lost."

///

Javier eyes lose that dreamy quality, replaced almost immediately with a glint you know too well. You ignore it, turning your attention back as he punches in the number on the phone.

"Hola," Javier greets. He begins speaking rapidly, his voice quiet and throaty.

You can hear a female voice on the other end of the phone but it's muffled. You don't speak Spanish, so you have no idea what he's saying. It's only when his voice drops that you realize something is off. 

"Vas a hacerlo por mí hermosa?" Javier purrs. "Gonna pet her for me?"

Jesus Christ.

Your hand grips the pencil tightly in your fingers. You will the flush from your body and you make the notes in the margins. Small, tight letters. 

Gonna pet her for me?

More Spanish, more deep chuckles that you force yourself to ignore, more tight margin notes and then mercifully he's concluded the conversation. 

"Sorry," Javier says replacing the phone to its cradle. "Personal call." 

It's too much. The thudding between your legs is now overwhelming. You force yourself to swallow, nodding. "Mhmmm."

"Speaking of calls," Javier starts, half sitting on your desk. "That's two wins to your zero, if memory serves."

You pretend you haven't heard him. Your right hand is hurriedly making notes while the left lies next to the page. Javier's fingers trail over your wrist, slipping under and you know he's trying to feel your pulse.

"Should we discuss my prize?"

" Peña -"

"I did your paperwork for a month," Javier tells you, his fingers still on your wrist. "Today marks thirty days. I even dressed up for the occasion."

Jesus, that's why he's wearing the suit?

"And now I want my reward for winning," Javier murmurs with an amused grin. "But I promise you, mine is much more pleasant for both of us." 

He removes his hand from your wrist in order to slip a piece of paper over to you at your desk. You don't move to grab it; you just stare at it, your heart hammering. 

"My address," he informs you when you make no attempt to open it.

His address to his apartment. The same one you heard him take that prostitute. 

"I'm not one of your girls," you hiss at him. "You don't get to tell me where and when and force me to fuck you by saying I owe you."

Javier goes quiet and for the first time you think you see hurt there in his dark eyes. It's blinked away just as fast. 

///

He moves to from your desk sharply, suddenly uncomfortable with your close proximity. He throws himself behind his own desk, his face hot. 

Force you?

So you really do think that lowly of him. He's never forced a woman to do anything. Suspicions long suppressed pop up, igniting in his chest as he tries not to look at you.

He’d always suspected you thought yourself better than him. But he’d always laughed it off, thought it strangely amusing. Thought you only felt that way because of rumors around the embassy.

He'd thought this whole thing was all in good fun. Teasing and sexy and a way to relax. He'd worn the suit because he was excited. Excited to talk to you about his prize and just excited to talk to you full stop. 

When you aren't arguing with him you're making very good points about work. When you're not criticizing him, he finds you funny in a dark, dry way. 

And he thought you were actually starting to enjoy his company. Hadn't he made you laugh? Didn't he bring you coffee every morning, one milk two sugars just like you always take it? 

Where did things go wrong? 

Because you're not smiling. In fact your face is miserable and anxious looking. It makes him wish he'd never started the whole thing in the first place. 

There's a knock at the office door. 

"Come in," you say with a tremor in your voice. Javier expects Carillo so he's surprised when a tall blonde enters the room. 

Brad fucking Williams. 

He turns his megawatt smile on you and Javier watches as your face previously pinched and anxious blooms into the most beautiful smile he's ever seen. 

"Hi Brad."

"Hi osita," Brad teases. 

Javier grits his teeth. That was your inside joke with him, not fucking Brad. 

And why do you smile so bright when Brad calls you osita and not Javier? Why does Brad get flushed cheeks with wide smiles and Javier gets nothing but scowls? 

Javier forces his attention back to his typewriter, feeding the paper into the roller. 

"Hi Javier," Bradley says waving to Peña before striding over to your desk. Javier doesn't even look up but gives a sharp nod. 

"Bradley."

Javier's eyes drag from his typewriter over to you. Brad is settled at the edge of your desk, sitting similar to how Peña does when he's irritating you. 

"It's nice to see you again," you say with pink cheeks and bright eyes as you gaze up at him. 

"Couldn't stay away."

"I'm glad." 

Javier feels his eyes widening in shock at the realization of why you're acting like this. Are you still actually trying to flirt with this guy? This bland piece of toast on legs?

You give a small giggle at something Brad murmurs. A sound Javier has never heard from you. Ever. It sounds forced.

Javier scoffs out loud; only aware the sound has carried when he realizes that you're glaring over at him. You turn your attention back to Brad and the smile is back on your face.

"So are you around Friday night?" Brad murmurs. "I wanna pay you back for showing me around on Saturday." 

Showing him around on Saturday? What the fresh hell is this? Since when? Is this why you're acting so weird?

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

"Dinner? Dancing? There's that club everyone talks about here. Gusto I think it's called?"

"Let's do it. Sounds fun."

You nod, tilting forward slightly. When you do this, Javier (and Brad your intended recipient) can see the white lace of your bra peeking out from under your shirt. 

Javier's mouth goes dry. 

He hates that so much of your body is still left to be explored. To be seen, kneaded, touched, nipped, licked and sucked. And he hates that this giant, blonde bulk of a man standing by your desk is going to be the one to do it. Not Javier. 

Fuck this.

///

Dinner and dancing at a club?

You can imagine few things worse.

You hate the pulsing music and dark, alcohol covered floors. You hate the men that grope at you and call you names in Spanish, ugly ones. You hate paying for overpriced drinks that they always mark up as soon as they see you – turista, they whisper.

But Brad is so handsome and sweet and if he wants to go dancing why shouldn't you just suck it up and try to have a good time?

You subtly press your arms together hoping to get Brad's attention that way. So far he's been impossibly gentlemanly, and when you tilt over exposing the lace edges of your bra, he darts his gaze away quickly, his face flushing.

"Fuck this."

You hear the mumble from across the office and you both watch as Javier pushes from his desk with a grunt, striding from the room with his leather jacket under his arm. The door to the office slams behind him. 

You shrug, looking up at Brad in confusion. He shrugs back but then becomes emboldened now that it's just the two of you. 

"Well, I'm looking forward to Saturday," Brad says, his tongue trailing over his lower lip. "But I don't want to wait until then for this."

His fingers fly to your chin, holding you in place as he lowers his face to yours. You feel the soft graze of his lips against yours and you smile. He's so impossibly gentle, so sweet. And the kiss is just that, gentle and sweet.

He pulls back from you looking shy and smiling. "I hope that was okay?"

"More than okay."

"So, Saturday?"

"Why not tonight?" You offer huskily because at the sensation of Brad's kiss you feel your entire body starting to thrum with anticipation. The arousal pooling between your legs as you stare up at him thinking of all the things you could do tonight. 

He could fuck you over your des-

Nope. No no no. Stop that. Plenty of other places to have sex!

Bradley is surprised at your response but he quirks a smile. "Working late for Carillo "

Oh right. People actually work here.

He pushes off your desk, grinning at you. "I'll see you Saturday, osita-"

Osita.

Dark brown eyes flash behind your eyelids. 

You wave Brad off, glancing back at your desk and the paper scattered on top of it. Your eyes move guiltily to the files Peña completed for you last night. 

Doing your paperwork for a month. Just as what? A bargaining tool? A way to ensure you’ll sleep with him again?

Why can't you stop thinking about Javier? It's not like he's a particularly nice part of your day. It's not like he causes you anything other than grief and frustration. 

And yet as the pulsing between your legs continues all you can think of is him and how he wore that suit today. That’s sweet isn’t it? Almost affectionate in a teasing sort of way.

But he was so angry when he left. Confusing you, distracting you. Was he upset by that offhand remark about the prostitutes?

"Why do I care?" You say out loud to yourself. 

Who cares if Javier stormed off? Who cares if he had that sad look in his eyes before? Who fucking cares?

You sure don't. 

///

Javier Peña’s apartment is a clear reflection of who he is. It's bare, no mementos hung on the walls and most of his items still in boxes. He never unpacked them when he moved here and he doubts he ever will. 

His bed is his only luxury, lush with sweet smelling pillows and thick sheets. But he's on the sofa, a blanket from home over his legs and his thoughts on the only two topics that occupy his mind these days. 

Capturing Escobar.

And you. 

It's weird how much you occupy his thoughts. At first he understood it, this distraction of wanting to fuck you. But now he has and it's still not enough. It's actually worse.

There will always be more to discover in you. New areas of flesh to taste and pinch and kiss. New sounds to draw from you. New positions and places. 

Taking Sofia to bed with you listening on the phone had been electric. At first it had been a tease, a way to get under your skin. But the more he'd talked, envisioning she was you, the more he'd wanted it to be you. 

When you hadn't hung up, he'd known. You want him just as much as he wants you. So why are you playing coy? Why are you acting like you want that fucking Williams agent with all the charm of a boiled potato?

If you were Javier's girl it wouldn't be dancing at some club. Anyone who has known you five minutes knows how much you hate that shit. 

No, it would be dinner in some exotic locale where the two of you would be tucked away together drinking good wine and eating good food. And laughing. He loves making you laugh. Then it would be skinny dipping in the Laguna Chisaca, kissing in the darkness. Then he'd take you home, showering the sand from your bodies together, fucking you there against the tile before taking you to his bed where he'd make you come in any position you wanted as many times as you wanted.  

The thought of such an evening has him hard and he's sure his tip is already weeping. Javier resigns himself to another night of self pleasure when there's a knock at the door. It's late, too late for a social call. 

He moves to the door and his heart gallops even as he tells himself it can't be you. Maybe it's Murphy or Carillo or-

It's you.

Hair wild and face flushed as you worry your bottom lip. When he fully opens the door and you tilt back to look into his eyes he feels his stomach jump. He affects a casual pose, one forearm on the doorframe as his dark eyes scan your body.

"Osita," he rumbles. "This is a pleasant surprise."

He sees you bristle at the nickname before you're pushing past him into the apartment, as if by doing this you can't back out. 

"One last time," you tell him, shrugging off your jacket. "Tonight and then it's done."

Javier watches you toss the jacket onto a chair, your eyes going around to survey his place before landing back on him. He responds with a smirk and a rising brow. 

"Better make it count, then." 

///

"I'm not saying that."

You shake your head as you take in what he's requested. Your cheeks are burning just at the thought. "When you lost all you had to do was my paperwork."

"For an entire month."

"I'll do yours," you insist, your voice taking on a plaintive edge. "For two months."

"But that's not what I want," Peña says almost laughing at how horrified you look. "I want this."

The two of you are standing in his kitchen. You're holding an empty water glass, glancing around his sparse apartment. Hasn't he lived here for several years? 

"How am I supposed to look you in the face after this, Peña?" 

Javier's hands are stemmed at his hips and he's giving you an incredulous look.

"You've sucked my cock, let me fuck you bareback and made yourself come at your desk," Peña says with amusement bordering on awe. "And this is what you find embarrassing?"

You know he's right, but in every one of those instances you'd never had to do anything you didn't personally find sexy. This... verbal prompt however? It makes you pull a face. 

"It's so . . . weird" you insist. 

There are so many worse things Javier could have requested. Javier moves the empty glass from your grip to the table. Then his hand slides along your side, pulling you gently to face him. He tilts forward. 

No kissing

You tilt away until his mouth grazes your earlobe. 

"Just try it," Javier coos. "That's all I ask."

You take a moment, your eyes flicking over his. He looks so calm, so amused. His dark eyes are simultaneously warm and heated. You take a deep breath nodding. "P-"

"No, not yet," Javier insists in a whisper, his finger coming to press against your lips, stilling them. "I'll let you know when." 

You roll your eyes. "Let's do this then."

The smile is still there in his face but his eyes tell the different story. His entire disposition changes and he takes a step back from you. 

"I'm not going to force you to do it," Peña says and suddenly that haunted, sad look is back from this afternoon. 

"I know," you reply just as quickly. "I know you're not."

"And we don't have to do. .. this " He motions between the two of you. You frown. 

"You didn't make me come here tonight. I chose to."

He nods, satisfied that this is cleared up. You extend your hand to him, nodding that you're ready. He smiles that warm, playful smile of his and takes your hand in his. He begins to lead you into the hall. 

"Not your bed," you say, your eyes turning pleading when Javier rolls eyes. "It's my only rule for tonight. I promise."

For some reason the thought of doing it in Javier's bed feels too intense, too domestic. 

He nods and now guides you to the sofa pressed against the wall. Without pausing he removes his shirt, leaving him shirtless in jeans. You can't help it admire the breadth of his shoulders and the tapering of his waist. He reaches a hand to the belt loop of your skirt, hooking his finger there and tugging you into him. 

Your hands fly to his chest for purchase and you marvel at how smooth his skin is, how taut against sinewy muscle. 

"You nervous, osita?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against yours so lightly you're not sure it happened. "You're trembling."

You are. You're fucking trembling and he's barely touched you.

Get it together.

You're just so desperate for release after seeing Brad and his sweet mouth and you know that Javier is all tongue and fluid hips. He makes you feel feverish just being this close to him. 

"I'm just cold."

"Then let me warm you up."

And now his fingers have come to the buttons of your blouse. He undoes them quickly, his breath growing labored. 

Your bra is unremarkable. A simple lace thing that you wear because it doesn't show under your blouse. But when Peña sees it, it's like Christmas come early. 

"Always wondered what you wore under there," Peña says softly. Before you can assure him that you have much better under things his mouth is back on yours, his hands dragging down the cups of your bra so he can push you out of it. 

Your nipples hit the air; pebbling and you inhale sharply against his mouth. He kneads your tits, tongue laving over your nipples until you're shaking against him. 

He looks to your relaxed face and feels his cock being strangled by his jeans

"Want you out of that skirt," he groans. His hand reaches for the zipper at the back but you still him. 

"Condom," you remind him. You don't want to start and get carried away. Javier looks confused. 

"You're on the pill."

"And I heard you on the phone with that woman," you tell him pointedly. "So condom."

"She was clean," Javier tells you, pouting. "Plus you heard me, I wore one with her."

"After  you'd had quite a bit of fun," you say, tilting your head back. "Condom or I'm leaving, Javier." 

Javier sighs heavily through his nose. Regret regret regret. He's going to the clinic tomorrow to prove he's clean. He only wants to fuck you without a condom. He only wants to fuck you.

"Gotta make me hard first," he whispers as if he isn't already well on his way. You can see the bulge in his jeans from here. 

Nevertheless you nod, looking thoughtful before moving to the buttons on your blouse and swiftly unbuttoning the rest of them before letting the blouse fall to the floor. Javier watches, still half dressed as you reach behind and remove the clasp of your bra, unhooking and feeling as your breasts are released. 

You don't miss the sharp inhale from Javier as he stares. The bra joins the blouse on the floor at your feet, discarded and forgotten. You stand before him in just your skirt. 

"Does this help?" You murmur. 

"Yes," is his immediate reply. You watch as he fumbles with his jeans button, slipping them down over his narrow hips. Then he's naked and Jesus, he's gorgeous. 

You get it. 

You get why the women gaze at him when he saunters by. Now that you've been fucked by him, now that you've seen him naked and bronzed and beautiful you get it. 

After taking a moment to take in the sight of his unabashed naked frame you stand there before him in only your skirt your own chest heaving in anticipation. You wonder what he sees when he sees you naked. He can't be as struck dumb as you. 

You slowly move your hands to cup your breasts, forefinger dragging along the hard nipples. Javier is just standing there open mouthed, staring. You feel antsy and irritated that you're not fucking yet. 

"We doing this or not, Peña?"

Javier snaps to as if being woken by a hypnotist. He reaches into the table next to the sofa pulling it the small square foil. Always prepared. The condom is opened, and you watch as Javier moves it around the blushing head of his cock with practiced ease. He does it quickly, well versed, and the sight hits you between the legs. 

How does he manage to make that look sexy?"?

"You wanna do the honors?" He quips when he catches you watching him.

He's surprised when you nod, replacing his hand with your own as you roll it down the remaining length of his shaft.  You don't look at his face, can't get stuck in his eyes. You feel your cheeks warming when his thrusts forward in your hands. 

"You like my cock, pretty girl?" 

You remain silent, sliding the condom down, watching Javier's eyes shutter as it reaches the base of his cock. 

"You know the secretary Virginia? She said you were big but I always thought she was exaggerating."

You can see the immediate delight in his face at that. You've finished putting on the condom but it doesn't stop you from gently stroking him through it, fascinated at the feeling of the latex over his stiff cock.

He shudders at the sensation before he takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. He drops down naked, cock poised. 

You feel as his hand comes to the zipper at your skirt. He unzips quickly, eager to see more as he pushes it down over your hips. 

The skirt pools at your ankles leaving you wearing nothing but the pale blue panties you tossed on fresh from the laundry. In this moment you wish you had chosen something sexier than blue cotton. 

Javier says nothing, simply drags his hand over his mouth and murmurs something in Spanish. You curl your fingers over the top of your panties, getting ready to step out of them. 

"Slower," Javier tells your hips in a low murmur. He shifts, his arms adjusting over the back of the sofa. 

"Striptease wasn't part of the deal," you say embarrassed. It makes you feel too exposed, even in the darkening light of his apartment. "You want a good show; go see one of your girls."

You don't say this with malice, just amusement. You even smile over at him when you do. Javier pulls his heavy gaze from the center of your thighs, creating a scorching trail all the way to your eyes. 

"You don't even get it, do you?"

"What?"

"How fucking sexy you are." 

You feel your entire body flooding with shy delight at Javier's husky declaration. But you feel too observed, too seen. It makes you feel funny. You want to get this whole thing started. 

"Enough," you chide as you quickly strip off your panties and then cover your sex with your hand. Javier looks pained at this, his brows saddling. 

"No, baby," Javier croons, pulling your hands away so he can see. "Don't hide -"

"Don't call me that," you snap, hating the newest nickname he’s given you.

Osita. Pretty girl. Well, the latter isn't the worst. But nicknames like baby? Those feel too intimate. Just as if you fucked in his bed. You pull your wrists from his hands. Then the dazed look is gone from Javier's eyes, like he's trying to control himself. 

"So, you and Virginia talk about my dick a lot?” Javier asks, prompted by your previous conversation.  

"No," you shake your head smirking at him. "I just listen. You have quite the reputation." 

Javier chuckles, welcoming you into his lap with outstretched arms. You move into them and his hands slide down your spine, coming to curve around the globes of your ass, urging you down. 

You bracket his thighs with your own as you crawl into his lap, your hands going to his shoulders to steady yourself. Your chest is at his mouth level as you do this. Javier tilts his mouth to capture one of your straining nipples, licking and nipping as you let out a sharp intake of breath at the pleasant sensation. 

Javier shifts, laying down the length of the sofa. He keeps you balanced on his hips, but you have to grab the back of the sofa with one hand to keep steady. Javier gazes up at you, his head tilted by the arm of the sofa. 

"You know what the guys say about you?"

The amusement drops from your face. "Guys talk about me?"

"Last week," Javier tells you, hips shifting as he urges you to sink down his bobbing length. "Haldeman was asking Ortiz who he thought was the most fuckable in the department."

You barely interact with anyone outside your own office. You didn't even think you'd be on their radar. 

"Gross."

"You won by a landslide," Javier tells you through a groan as the lips of your pussy circle the head of his cock. You hate that this pleases you in any way. You don't want to think of an office of senior agents talking about wanting to fuck you. It's disgusting and what if Brad heard? 

Brad. 

You smile as thoughts of Brad's mouth guide your slick cunt down Javier's waiting cock. 

Javier lets out a soft hissing noise when you finally slide down his length. He's still so fucking disappointed to be wearing a condom but then you start rocking against him and all the animosity drains from his body because it feels good. Really good. 

He watches as your brows knit together when you take him, your mouth hitched. You look fucking gorgeous, sitting there on his hips, his cock buried in you. His hips shift, urging you to rock against him. 

"And you know what I was thinking the whole time I was with those agents, osita?"

"Mmm?"

"That I'm the only one who knows what this pussy feels like," Javier grunts, hands on your hips. "The only one who's seen your needy cunt just aching to be filled with my come."

You suppress a low moan. Javier has a way of saying the exact filthy thing that you need to hear. The exact thing to make that pull at your core go deep.

His hands come to grip your tits as you ride him, curving and kneading with his long fingers. Then those digits disappear into his mouth coming out wet and twisting your sensitive nipples as you hiss in pleasure.   

You tilt back, taking him deeper. It hits something inside you that blurs your vision. Javier's cock notches so perfectly inside you it makes you whimper, your body jolting at the steady pace he begins.  

"Those sounds," Javier groans, his hands spreading over your lower back and guiding you to just the right angle.  His right hand snakes over the crease of your thigh to find your clit flush with his hips. He circles it, tapping and causing a deep tugging sensation at your core. You grunt against him, rolling your hips. 

"Take it," Javier urges. "Take it all, pretty girl."

It feels surreal to be riding Javier Peña in his place, on his ugly sofa. Fingers of night creep along the walls of his apartment as headlights pass by, the sound of traffic just outside. 

He feels good. That's the thing, just sitting here, pussy swallowing him, Javier feels good. One of your hands is still on the back of the sofa, keeping you balanced as you begin to shift over him. The other covers his hand on your hips, nudging you to and fro.

You rock against each other slowly, languidly. Javier is so good at it, touching and circling your clit just enough before ebbing away, bringing you so close and then taking you to a deeper pleasure. You don’t know how long this goes on before the tension is back, your focus stuck on making sure he comes.

This is Javier’s reward, his prize and you don't mind him taking it.  You still feel terrible about what you said before. 

"No," Javier admonishes gently. 

Your eyes fly open to see him frowning up at you. "What?"

Javier looks at your face concerned before his hand takes yours and pries it from the sofa back. He guides you by the wrist to his chest. 

"Put your hands here. Both of them."

You look at him strangely, leaning slightly forward to place both your hands palm down on his pectorals. His broad chest flexes under your touch. 

"Lean forward.”

You do, confused as to what this is all about when your body tilts and he shifts his hips up. Suddenly you're hitting him at a new angle. A new angle that feels really fucking good. 

"F-Fuck!"

"There she is," Peña smiles up at you when your eyes shut, pleasure overtaking your body at the sensation. "I need you feeling good."

You do. It feels really really good to roll your hips over his, to take him deep and to just enjoy it. There will be no further bet, no further prize so you can just enjoy this night. 

"Gonna bounce on it, osita?" 

He asks it like a question, even lifts his brows but it's no inquiry. He's already started thrusting up and down, delighted with you when you nod. You lift your hips up, circling and then slowly starting to bounce against his hips, sliding along his pistoning cock.

"So pretty," Javier coos as you take him. "Such a pretty girl riding me." 

Your palms are still on his chest, your head pitched forward as you bounce. You feel your arousal dripping down his cock as he fucks you. 

"So fucking wet," Javier says in a voice of soft awe. "Are you close?"

Something in the surprise of his tone makes you feel embarrassed, like you shouldn't already be so close. You go to tilt your face away from him but his hands are coming to move the hair from your face, cupping your cheeks almost affectionately if you didn't know him better. 

"Don't be shy," he commands, and you nod. His hands slide over your breasts again, thumbs grazing over those straining nubs. "Doing so good, pretty girl."

It feels so good like this, so perfect that he's calling you pretty girl and how his teeth grit when he’s grunting up, fucking you. His dark eyes are heavy lidded, and the sight turns you on more than you comprehend and now it's starting; that impossibly good feeling that borders on desperation. The fervent need to climax but not rush things that makes you whimper out short little whines as you rock against him.

"I know," Javier soothes, as if this is painful for you. "I know, baby. Gonna feel so good so soon. Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

You're having a hard time focusing on anything anymore. The fact that he's called you baby, the sweetness to his tone. All overlooked as you chase your climax. 

His thumb is circling your clit again as he's thrusting up into you, his hand on your thigh and you can feel yourself getting so fucking close. You just need a little more pressure and it'll feel so good. You're so close. You start chanting under your breath. 

"More .. More...."  

Javier can see your slackened jaw, the way your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and he knows you're close. You move lazily, feeling absolutely wrecked already. Peña does his best not to grin up at you. You’ll take it for mockery when its anything but.

"I wanna give you more, but you need to give me what I asked for," Javier tells you in the voice of a gentle teacher. "Remember?"

The rhythm is slowing, his hips formerly bouncing you up and down on his cock now barely move. He's waiting, looking up at you expectantly. You growl down at him exasperatedly. Javier just smiles up at you in response, the grin now full of gentle teasing. He wonders if you're actually going to say it. 

It's all he wants, just to make you say it so that you'll begin blushing the entire length of your body.

It's amusement really, something to tease you about later. He loves how you look when you're angry with him; all pink cheeks and bright eyes. 

He knows you hate nicknames and this one in particular. And that's exactly why he picked it as his prize. 

You'd been matched with Javier early on in your position at the embassy and instructed to go on a ride along with him one morning. The object of the ride along was to get information from a new intel from a woman that just so happened to be from Peña's favorite cat house.

From the minute he'd entered the brothel before you, you'd heard nothing but an onslaught of the term from the women flocking around their favorite DEA agent/customer. Beautiful women swarmed him, some pressing kisses to his cheek, others simply smiling at him.

Javier had smiled crookedly each time he caught you rolling your eyes when the term came up. You told him later it was disgusting. He'd just laughed. 

"C'mon, pretty girl."

He shifts his hips to slowly circle out of you before thrusting brutally back inside. As his cock grazes your clit in the ascent you give a needful yelp

"Give it to me."

He sees the way you steel yourself, the way you try to focus even though Javier can see you sliding your hips up and down him the best you can until you finally groan. 

"Si...papi."

The second he hears it, the honorific you'd been avoiding, he smiles widely. He can see how red you've gotten and you're rewarded with your hips being pulled viciously against Peña's as he fucks you again in earnest. 

"Yes," you groan out.

It feels so good. He hits so deep. Your tits bounce heavily as he thrusts up into you, holding you by the waist so he can drive himself into that sweet spot you can never reach yourself.

"So good," you're moaning without even thinking about it. 

"So fucking good," Javier reaffirms. "Taking papi's cock so well."

Javier looks forward to brushing by you at work, pretending to grab a coffee or a file just so he can lower his mouth to your ear and ask in the lowest voice he can manage if you've "been good for papi?' he can't wait to see you get flustered at work. 

You suddenly toss your hair from your face, biting your lower lip and looking so fucking good as you move against him. 

"More," you moan, your hands over his that hold your hips. "Please papi, more."

The amusement drains from Peña's gaze as you thrust your hips against his. You're so needy, so desperate and you say the word like it was meant for Javier alone. Peña never expected you to be into the whole 'papi' thing. The last thing he'd expected was for you to gaze down at him, still bouncing, and say it again. 

"Fuck," he growls, his hands on your hips thrusting you further and faster along his cock. You're so wet you can take him even deeper without trying. "Say it again."

He knows you're emboldened by his own delighted reaction and this turns him on even more. You're turned on because he's turned on. You're smiling down at him, your body warm and rolling against his. 

"Need your big cock, papi," you cry out, no longer inhibited. "Fuck me deep, please." 

Javier can tell now that you're actually into it. The way your pupils have blown wide. Or maybe it's how you can see that Javier likes it and his arousal is turning you on. 

Suddenly he needs to hold you to him, to feel your entire body warm in his arms. 

He shifts you until his spine is against the back of the sofa and you're sitting in his lap, still rocking as he wraps his arms around you, banding against your lower back. Your eyes are unfocused, your body movements have become slow and lazy. 

She's drunk on my cock, Javier thinks smugly, his mouth goes to your neck, pressing damp kisses there before pulling back, still rocking into you.

"Is my girl feeling good?"

"Mmm so good, baby," you slur not thinking, your forehead pressing against his as your hips roll. Javier lets out a strangled noise as his cock drives deeper in and out, in and out. 

He urges your mouth to his and in the heat of the moment you eagerly kiss him back, all rules forgotten. His lips are so full and soft and when he kisses you, you're convinced you feel it everywhere. You let yourself surrender, your eyes closed as he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth. 

"You have no idea how fucking sexy you sound," Javier tells you between kisses. "So fucking sexy bouncing on my cock and calling me that."

You smile, preening under the praise. Pleasure just keeps rippling through you like tiny little massages everywhere. You feel sleepy but in the best possible way. It makes you want to be nice and soft for him. 

"I like making you feel good," you murmur serenely. 

He licks into your mouth once more and is rewarded with a soft sigh from you and your arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close. 

"Gonna come for me pretty girl?" Javier asks, his hands skimming all over your back before pulling you tightly against him.

"Wanna come for you," you tell him, your temple against his. Javier feels his hips stutter and decides to press his luck. 

"Am I making you feel good, baby?"

"Mhmmm."

"You like fucking me don't you?"

"Yes, Javi," you gasp before you kiss him again, your mind full of everything and nothing all at once. 

Your arms are around his shoulders and you must have done something right because you hear the moan ripped from him and feel him empty into the condom. 

You follow in quick succession, grunting and rutting against him calling his name as you come, falling against his shoulder as you do. 

///

Moments span, liquid time where everything feels hazy and sluggish. Moments spent with your forehead on Javier's shoulder while he breathes in the crook of your neck. 

This is when your arms should drop from around his neck and his from around your waist, but they don't. You continue straddling him as he softens, your body

"Fuck it's freezing," you finally say shivering. Javier smirks, reaching to the far back of the sofa and bringing the crochet flower blanket his mother made for him as a child around your shoulders. 

He wraps you in it, only your face peeking out at him as you continue to sit straddling his lap. You give a yawn, drawing an indulgent smile from him.

"Sleepy?"

"Mhmm."

"Just rest."

You're too tired to fight him on it. Too tired to tell him it's too intimate. He shifts until he's laying down the length of the sofa, bringing you with him in his arms. You nestle in his arms, tucked up with the blanket over both of you. You roll to your side, your hand going over his sternum. 

Your eyes are shuttering closed, feeling the steady beat of his hearts dance under your fingertips. His large hand covers yours there. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"What for?" Javier asks sleepily, his eyes closed. You realize he must be drifting off as well. 

"The thing I said about you forcing me. I know you'd never force me or anyone into bed with you. It was a shitty thing to say."

"You were just living up to your nickname," Javier smirks, his hand stroking yours over his chest. "Looks sweet but oh, that bite, osita" 

He tries to keep it light. He has no desire to make you feel shitty right now. Not after such a great night. 

"Javier."

Javier cracks open an eye to look at you. You so rarely use his first name. You're propped up on his shoulder, your hand on his sternum.

"Mmm?"

You give him a level stare, urging him to truly listen. 

"I'm sorry."

The amusement is gone now, leaving only dark-eyed vulnerability in Peña. The kind you saw when he left your desk earlier that day. Your eyes swim over each other's and Peña can't help but trace a knuckle over your cheek before he nods. 

"I know, baby."

It slips out of him, the muttered term of endearment. But you don't flinch or cringe from him this time. You just nod, your head tilted back down. 

"Wake me up in an hour," you tell him sleepily. "I'll leave then. I just need a quick nap."

Javier murmurs something against the crown of your head but you're already asleep.

///

It's light when you wake up. Well past an hour has passed because it's clearly almost morning. The early sounds of Bogotá are outside the window. You hold in a groan. 

Thanks a lot Peña.

Javier holds you tightly in his arms; his breathing huffed over your cheeks. In your sleep your bodies have both found refuge under the blanket together, legs entwined. He's hard against you, morning arousal nothing new to you and you ignore it, casting a sleepy look at your colleague. 

His face is relaxed, his full lips parted as he breathes slow and even. You're shocked at how sweet he looks when his face is unguarded. No sneers or smirks, just sweet unguarded Javier. 

You feel a strange pull, a slight feeling of affection. Maybe he's not as annoying as you always thought. 

A still very sleepy part of you considers waking him up, urging him onto his back so you can fuck again but really slow.

You inch back off the sofa and out of his arms, pulling on your clothes scattered nearby. When you're dressed and your purse is over your shoulder you stop by the sofa. You don't know why, what compels you to do so. But you take a moment to stare down at Javier's sleeping face one last time. 

His mouth is so impossibly pouty, so plump. His dark lashes fan out over his cheeks. His hair is tousled from sleep. He's so pretty. You can't stop yourself from bending down and pressing your lips against his gently, marvelling at how soft and warm they feel against yours. Quickly you pull back, sure not to rouse him.You leave, trying to keep the sound of the closing door behind you as quiet as possible. 

As soon as the door closes, a very awake Javier opens his eyes. 

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal javier #javier pena x reader #Javier Peña #narcos fanfiction #javi pena #fanfics #fanficion #fanfiction #smut #coworkers #he falls first

[starysky1289]

Rookie!Vanessa X Guitarist!Reader. Steady

“ where’s our next gig at Mathew? “

“ why, so you can tell your new cop girlfriend to come watch? “

You groaned, ever sense the previous concert, Mathew and your fellow band mates may as well off been living in your business about you and Vanessa. You two didn’t really talk after the concert, besides the texting and the…lovely photos she sent you. You’d still find yourself going back and looking at them every now and then.

You all were setting up to start practice, when the patrol car rolled up to your garage. Everyone Audibly groaned, as Mathew walked down to the car, Derek got out, Vanessa at his side.

“ we haven’t even played, and fucking karen already called you? What’s wrong now?? “

“ I’m sorry matt, but yall can’t practice here anymore. The only person who has any right to practice in the house is Y/N. I’m sorry guys, to many reports “

“ this is bullshit! “

Mathew stormed back into your garage, angrily packing his stuff. You sighed, putting your bass down as you walked down to the officers.

“ officers, are you sure we can’t like, appeal this? We don’t have anywhere else to practice, we don’t get paid enough to rent out a space. “

“ I’m sorry y/n. You can try and appeal, but that’d cost more than a practice space. I’d suggest looking around for people who’d let you practice in open apartments or something, not much else I can- “

“ Fuck you Derek! And fuck you ‘ Officer Vanessa ‘, fucking rookie Bitch. “

Mathew shouted at the officers as he stormed into his car, immediately driving off. You stood alone, your other bandmates packing up, talking amongst themselves, glaring at you. Like it was your fault just because you had conversations with Vanessa.

“ I’m..I’m so sorry y/n…I can help you look if you want- “

“ save it. I don’t need your excuses…”

You groaned, turning back and heading into your garage, packing up the bass and heading inside. You threw the case on your couch, making sure it didn’t fall off, before laying on your bed, screaming into your pillow. Stupid neighbor, stupid cops. You couldn’t stand them anymore.

*~*

It was late, you were still up, starring at the ceiling. You had to eat something, you hadn’t eaten all day. You got up, heading to the kitchen, as your phone buzzed. You picked it up, looking down at the text message.

Vanessa.

“ Hey, can we talk? Maybe I can come over or we can call? “

You sighed, you weren’t mad at her. You’re here just upset at everything else. You shot her back a quick text before going to make something to eat.

“ You can come over. I suppose we should talk. “

*~*

Vanessa had came, like she said she would. She wore a simply beige sweater and some black pants, her blonde hair still in its ponytail. You let her in, leading her to the living room, letting her sit on the open spot on the couch. Your guitar case was still on it, so you pulled it off and laid it on your lap, opening it and singing. Its yellow metal was cold on your fingers, as you ran your hand over the black stripes on its edge.

“ Mathew didn’t mean what he said to you. You can understand why we’re upset. We don’t have anywhere else to practice, and our next few shows won’t get us enough money to pay for a studio to practice in. “

“ I know he’s upset, and you are too. What about a family member..? Maybe they could- “

“ I have no more family. None that’ll support me. My parents are mad I dropped out of college and joined this band cause I didn’t wanna be a lawyer. I guess it’s kinda stupid on my end, but I, I couldn’t do it. “

Vanessa was gentle with you, hiding your hand on the bass, studying it with you. She didn’t want to be the first to speak, she knew you had a lot on your mind.

“ in all honesty, Mathew is a douchebag. I originally wanted to be a singer, I could be double trouble, bass and vocals? I’d sell out clubs, but he was persistent about him singing cause he was the ‘ leader ‘. So we all just keep quiet, even if he didn’t sing to well “

“ oh, thank god I’m not the only one who thought he sucked the other day. You thought, you played wonderfully, the solo you had was amazing. I bet your voice is just as good as your bass skills too. “

You chuckled, closing the case and putting it to the side. You looked around the room, before back at Vanessa, sighing.

“ about the other night. I’m sorry I’ve ghosted you…I-i never ment too. I was so flustered from your photos, and then my mate’s have found out I talked to you and are all up my ass about it….i just..I’m not good at being a communicator…”

“ y/n…im not mad at you. I knew you practiced today, I figured what’s her name Karen would call and file a complaint, and we’d come up. I didn’t know about the situation until Derek said it to Mathew. I was gonna talk to you then, if things didn’t get out of hand. Did I, go to far with the nudes-? “

You quickly shook your head, slightly squeezing her hand before smiling softly.

“ n-no you didn’t! I..I enjoyed them..quite a w-welcome surprise. “

She scooted closer to you, holding both your hands now, blushing as she struggled to get her words out.

“ do you wanna…see it in person~? “

Your heart skipped a beat, as quickly burried your face in your hands, akwardly chuckling. The last thing you expected was her offering something like that.

“ think of it as a apology…we could…if you want, do more- “

“ n-no! No I’m just..I-I’m not ready for that..I should take you out a few t-times before I deserve that..”

“ alright then. Do you..wanna see them then..? “

You poked your head out from your hands, and nodded silently. Vanessa chuckled, taking your hands and putting them on her lap. She slowly lifted her sweater and bra, almost teasingly pulling it up enough for her tits to pop out. You blushed again, but stayed frozen. She looked just as gorgeous as she did in the pictures, her skin practically glowing in the dimly lit house.

“ you wanna touch me y/n..?. “

“ y-yes…yes please…”

Vanessa took your hands and placed them on her chest, letting you gently squeeze them. Her skin was just as soft as you imagined, as you gently massaged them she’d let out little moans, that’d only make you blush darker.

“ y-your so..pretty…I-i…I’m s-sorry I-I was mean to y-you earlier, I-i..”.

“ shh…it’s alright honey…cmere…”

You gently let go of here, and she pulled you into a hug. You held onto her tightly, putting your head in the crook of her neck. You pulled down her sweater to try and warm her.

She pulled back, holding your face in her hands, and kissed you gently. You felt like you were going to explode from it, your heart was racing. Vanessa could see it in your face and chuckled.

“ if…you want, you guys can practice in my place…and you can pay me back by taking me to dinner~ “

“ r-really! I-I mean..you’d let us? “

“ yeah, I have a open bedroom, yall can practice in there. I wouldn’t mind having a little show either. “

You chuckled, smiling again. For the first time you felt so loved, so appreciated. You kissed her once again, standing up and leading her to the door.

“ well…give me a text..I’ll try and talk to the guys. Thank you Vanessa..thank you so much…”

“ of course y/n. I love you dear…”

You smiled, and hugged her tightly.

“ I love you too…”

Vanessa let go, and made her way to the car. She hopped in, waving to you before driving off. You stood, watching her leave, before heading back inside. Never once where you shown such care and respect for your art, you couldn’t let go of her.

#vanessa shelly #five nights at freddy's #vanessa shelly x reader #rookie!Vanessa #guitarist!reader

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Oh Bushman and his super racist backstory (not that he wasn't a stereotype before). Again it could be done well, but it very much wasn't

also why is bushman and some domi are colored grey when African-American characters like Gena are colored a more brown color often in the same comic? Do you think there was a choice there or it's just the colorists fucked up?

(compared Shang-Chi being orange and his father Fu Manchu being bright yellow but all the other Asians and Asian americans were beige)

Hi there! Yeah... Any time a comic heads into Africa for a villain story I have to take pause and wonder just HOW racist this story is going to get. Or at least the art and the depictions of the locals.

I think in the case of the coloration of Bushman, if you look at the other characters that are coming from his homeland, they all have the same ashen black/brown color. Or… At least the bad guys are.

There's a lot that can be said about that.

I'm going to tred as carefully as I can but it's going to get dicey.

You might have noticed that people come in different colors. Even those colors come in different colors.

Not all black people are 'brown'. Some are lighter and some are much darker. The same goes for Asians and white people and all sorts of ethnicities.

BUT. How do you show that in comics? Comics are printed. And sometimes that printing isn't done well. And not all shades of ink print well.

If you use a darker color, you aren't going to see any shading, details, or ink. You can't use black or you lose everything and you have to start outlining in red, white, or green. Which can be jarring if you are using black outlines everywhere else.

So you get the gray color to show darker black toned skin.

HERE'S WERE THE RACISM COMES IN. Boy howdy.

Remember a moment ago when I said 'the bad guys are'?

There was a very popular notion for hundreds and hundreds of years that the darker you are, the uglier and more inhuman you are. (Thank you colonialism). In fact, there is still a notion in beauty standards that many people are trying to change. The notion that dark is ugly. ANd good luck finding cosmetics for the darker colors. Again, companies are trying to change that and be more inclusive, but this is a VERY recent event.

So it's not uncommon in Hollywood to use the darker colored skin to signify the bad guys.

The same goes for comics.

You have "Beautiful and warm brown" for our heros like Luke Cage and T'Challa and Storm! Then you get ashen gray for Bushman.

Yikes.

And Asians? Well… The more yellow…

So next time you are reading a comic that actually includes POC, take note of the shades that are being used. Then take note of where those people stand on the good vs. evil scale.

If you are reading something more modern and they are still using that scale of shading to denote evil, you might want to stop and think about who wrote this and WHY they might be using that color scale. If you are reading an older comic, this is going to be hard to avoid. But pay attention to it. Realize that even the best comics were not immune to racism.

Good job on noticing this, my friend!

Comics can often show us a pretty good idea on the politics of what was going on during the time it was written as well the mental ideas/pictures of people.

I'm sure there's SOME paper or dissertation or thesis out there that talks more about this. If not, someone should absolutely do one! I'd love to read it!

#Ask away #Talk to me about Moon Knight #Racism in comics

[bulldyke-rider]

So makeup companies are slowly starting to have a more narrow range of foundation colors, probably a more narrow range of colors in general. Slowly cutting out products made for black women.

And people are saying "it feels like we're going backwards" (that's a phrase used for a lotta things these days). The biggest flaw in that is that people ever believed there was any kinda progress. The majority of shit companies do has nothing to do with any kind of social progress unless they were legally required to change.

"We're so inclusive" was a marketing scheme, not progress. Increasing the range was not just to get more black women to make purchases either. It was to get people talking about the product. It was to trick everyone with a makeup account into advertising.

Shade range became a topic partially organically with women like Nyma Tang showing the darkest shade from different foundation lines looking for one that would match her. And then there was also Rihanna's makeup line which had one of the most impressive shade ranges. Not sure which trended first, but it came to the same end. The concept of shade range trended on a wide scale; it was no longer something just black women were talking about. And that's 🤑 to marketing teams.

The increasing of shade ranges was marketing. It was a little obvious with the way they were trying to one up eachother repeatedly. And the trend has fallen off, they've one upped eachother too many times to keep going higher, that kinda marketing falls a little flat now with the demographic they actually view as their consumer. And more shades cost more to produce. And a lot of the darker shades don't sell as well as light sand or ivory beige, so they're cutting them.

It was never progressive. It's more fucked up than if they had kept their shit shade ranges. They're using your skin to get a white influencer to market to white women. You're cut when the white influences move on. None of it was ever for the benefit of black people.

[katyspersonal]

Also do you have any headcanons about Pthumerians?

Yeah, I do! They might be a bit hard to organize, though, since I scatter them everywhere 🤔 I will try, though!

🗡️ I do think that Pthumerians and humans can mix and have hybrid children! They're both humanoids, the unification of "beasts" and "aliens"... Though I am still not sure whether Flora and Fauna (The Great One beast) created them, or simply took the domain over them. But Maria, for example, is partially Pthumerian! Logarius is a Pthumerian almost entirely. Laurence and Henryk's family have a lot of Loran blood in them, etc. So much mixing happened mostly because long ago, Pthumerians seriously messed with the cosmos and beasthood, and the surviving, least afflicted ones had to flee elsewhere, resulting in having many families with humans in other civilizations.

+ I also think that Fishing Hamlet people are a group of mixed Pthumerians and humans too! They speak "English" (simply whatever the local language is), but also show some very Pthumerian things - the 'skull' shaped spirits as their weapon like what we saw from Logarius (but their is purple, not red) and the gigantic variant of their species (Shark Giants).

💀 Yes, speaking of that! They have gigantic variants. x) Church Giants are gigantic variant of Church Servants, Undead Giants are gigantic variant of the Pthumerians from the dungeons, etc. Huge size and strength does come at the cost of large intellectual gap. Also, Pthumerians have racial variety just as humans! Whereas humans have beige or variants of brown skin, Pthumerians have bleach white or variants of grey skin!

🗡️ Annalise is a far descendant of Queen Yharnam herself, like the branch of Cainhurst nobles in general! But since Queen Yharnam herself could not have children after Mergo fused with her womb (likely lithopedion), it was her brother Cain that continued the bloodline. I like to think that Cain became partially a batlike monster, and this curse still dwells in the blood of this line and can manifest. So, when nobles wanted to have children, they'd have to be "selective" about their partners and seek those strong enough (and distant enough) to not let that happen! I've got this headcanon because Japanese name for Lost Child of Antiquity is 'Ancient Bastard':

( x )

💀 I believe that Chalice Dungeons are way more the actual tombs than sort of a time-travel into a messy verse where events are mixed 🤔 So, Pthumerians found there are pretty much.. alive? But almost all of them lost their minds from the curses they messed with and from living too long. I already explained that theory some time, I can reshare if needed, but Yharnam we're fighting in the dungeons was a resurrected body by Mensis scholars, when her spirit is separate and dwells into Nightmare! I think so because her belly has a cut on it, as though they've extracted just the cord, since the rest of Mergo's body is just a mess of bones and crystallyzed blood ;-; Fucked up concept. On the other hand, Chapel Dweller is the biggest proof that there are friendly ones!

🗡️ Pthumerians culturally had the trend of associating red with birth, when otherwise most of their clothing was dull and grey: Bell-Ringing Women wear dark clothes but they have red variant during birth of The One Reborn, Chapel Dweller is the same type as Labyrinth Ritekeepers but in red instead of grey... This persisted in Cainhurst, too, with their typical grey noble dresses having burgundy variant for those expecting a child! I think Arianna's mother ran away while still being pregnant with her, so that's why she has that version:

+ I think it is needless to mention that Cainhurst descends from Pthumeru Ihyll in particular 🤔 Annalise can recognize Ring of Betrothal that Queen Yharnam is wearing (it is modeled on her finger!!), there is a portrait of Bell-Ringing woman in Cainhurst, Maria displays pyromancy... All that. Meanwhile, Hemwick descends from Hintertombs: @val-of-the-north put all the evidence for the theory we've discovered together in this ( x ) post!

💀 Recently @heraldofcrow and @fantomette22 raised a discussion about Leo and silver hair in Pthumerians, and I also joined, so we ended up with some interesting bits of lore: ( x ). The conclusion we've reached is that silver hair is actually 'ideal' state of mastering the blood magic, rather than simply a common hair color for everyone! Vilebloods aspire for that, decorating themselves with imitation of silver hair flocks. I am not sure what are general colors for Pthumerians, though, since almost all of them are bald. Labyrinth Madman is an exception since he has black hair, but it is hard to say whether it is HIS hair or the "fur" growing from the bones (like Darkbeast Paarl's or black "hair" on beastly skull of Laurence). Maybe colder shades like purples and blues were more common! No, not like anime hair, I mean really desaturated.

🗡️ I think Pthumerians DID have their own variant of the Dream and the Hunt! 1) There are many Hunter runes in the dungeons (mostly on grave stones), whereas this symbol is ALSO the Hunter Mark that lets the Paleblood Hunter to reawaken 2) There are statues of Messengers in the dungeons 3) Nightmare Frontier should be created from nightmares of Loranites since we find Loran chalice and Loran beasts there 4) Ludwig's Holy Moonlight Sword was "discovered"! Whereas Ludwig's Holy Blade is inspired by HMS, the Kirkhammer is inspired by the hammer that was used to forge HMS long ago!

💀The only instances of Pthumerians speaking their language are some utterings that feel more like spells than talking 🤔 There are extracted voice files @val-of-the-north sent to me some time ago which I am not sure how to load properly, but Shadows of Yharnam, Queen Yharnam, Labyrinth Ritekeepers and Logarius utter some incomprehencible things! But Willem used to speak in similar manner when he was still going to have a battle, while casting his spells. I think Pthumerians were less verbal than us humans and mostly used "language" for magic, like spells or the runes engraved on weapons (that Healing Church ended up reposting with credit to the original artist fdshfdhs). When they'd "speak" with each other, a lot of information could be passed with just a few noises... almost like a telepathy! However, they could adapt to humans languages very easily. Chapel Dweller needed 0.1 effort speaking Yharnam's language now, Pthumeru Ihyll could quickly talk with "Japan", and so on. Their "language" is just harder to comprehend because they stayed in close proximity with Great Ones since the start, whereas humans had chance to develop their own cultures and various languages far away, in less 'mystical' environment!

🗡️ Pyromancy is a very Pthumerian thing, but there are two different types of it! One is something given by Wet Nurse in her sacrifice, so Pthumeru Ihyll could survive the plague of beasts. Another comes from Loran messing with fire and bolt both, that are, ironically, beastly.

_______________

Thank you for the ask, I tried to stay focused at my best ability!! You know how Bloodborne lore talks are: you touch one topic - you have to touch ALL of them to explain everything :')

#bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #pthumerians #ask replies

[docholligay]

Let me clarify here: I don't think I'd go to the mat saying TNG is the *best* Star Trek, but it is the one I grew up with, and so is the one I enjoy and have fondness for. Happens all the time that things we grow up with we assign more merit to. They got to show concepts that we DIDN'T KNOW were tired and annoying, and when you're a child, solving something immediately feels fuckin great. This is actually why I caution people against recommending a show to me they grew up with--you don't have an objective gaze. And by you I also mean me. I am well aware that Sailor Moon is not actually good, storytelling wise, or even character wise ahaha, but it is good to me because it was a thing I grew up with that fulfilled a need for me at the times it came back into my life, and so Haruka and Michiru grew up with me, and became the people they are in my head.

When I think of TNG, I think of the feeling of sitting cross legged on the ugly beige carpet of our living room in front of our too old TV, my mom sitting on the blue and pink couch we had where the threads were coming off. I never sat on it, it was too scratchy. I think about the way she made a bag of microwave popcorn and split it between us, and how it was just her and me, because my dad hated it and my sister was easily scared. I think about how I loved these ideas that had never fucking occurred to me, so young, and how I envied Picard's bearing and calm in the face of fear, and how I wanted to be like that (unfortunately I became a shit-talking goblin, oops). The goodness or badness of the show is surpassed by the memory of what it was to be watching it at five or six or seven years old. Such as it is with so many things.

So yeah I bet the other shows ARE 'better'. I actually am not sure what order they go in. I've seen some of the original, Voyager, DS9, and Discovery, and DS9 was the only other one I continued on with for awhile. But better and favorite are very very different words, and I don't claim one follows the other.

#Doc watches DS9 #DS9 S6E19

[junkdyke]

i am homeeeee from Denver (Wheat Ridge) Colorado!! my last trip until next year

tattooed super dope pieces almost every day, ALL of my clients were some form of fem kweer (dykes, enby, and transfems) including one of my fucking COOL ASS MUTUALS @seraphbutch !!!!

my friends are thinking its a potential place to move, but we'll be visiting again soon to really get a feel! idk, its really fucking white tho. speaking of white; so i was making fun of my friend for her Tinder algorithm and finally caved in and remade mine. i have never seen so fucking many granola femmes in my LIFE, amd not like the fun and funky granola either, just kinda beige. I matched with all 10 of the only butch/mascs in a 50 mile radius LMAOOO and then i felt bad bc i exchanged 1 or 2 messages with each of them before just completely not replying to any of them cause i got too busy 💀 a couple of them did, however ,message me again so i answered, they were really cute but it's a shame i am just NOT in place to be doing the app thing rn. Fun to look though!!

i went to a metal show with tattoo crush while we were out there, and I might be going to another one with her later this month!! Both her and Dyke Roomie are down to go to the orchestra with me!! The shop we worked at was SOOO cute with the sweetest artists, one of them wants to get tattooed by me when we come back which is such an honor!! we saw the most gorgeous views during our 16 hour drive, our airbnb host was fucking UNHINGED lmfaooooo, she had us check in late after we had just finished driving for hours, would just NOT leave the room cause she was trying to finish setting it up, had been sick so she had no voice, and then when she finally left, texted Tattoo Crush to say "I'm sorry i'm such a mess. I think I left my vape in the room. jkkkkkkkkk. sorry this is like the worst week of my life, my grandma is sick. the mess is because the other people that live here are going through a nasty divorce. sorry again, im such a mess." just...insanity!!!!! But it was a really fun trip, i love my friends so much!!

We're all agreed that next year we'll be traveling monthly or bi-monthly! Some for sure spots we'll be hitting up are Atlanta, Portland, Seattle, Austin, I'm hoping Vancouver, maybe Boston, San Francisco ofc and maybe spend more time in Oakland, Dyke Roomie wants to go to Salem, another of my coworkers wants me to go to Nashville with her...so excited, so happy, i love life rn and the people in it💖

#just gotta get through 5 more weeks of school and ill have full freedom for this #so so happy and so so sleepyyyyy #exploring the world with my dyke friendsss!! #mine #personal #travel tag #dykeposting #wlw #lesbian dating

[sunpuffsstuff]

I gotta be honest I really didn't like how...how Beige the majority of outfits at the met were this year (I had my favorites ofcourse I'm not blind) but the way it was taken so literally with "Garden of Time". Like, excuse me? This is supposed to Show us the beautiful And Game changing pieces and trends that made fashion what it is and bringing those silhouettes and designs Back!

I want Color, I want Textures, I want Whimsy! I chucked up my own little designs of what I would have personally done. My main inspirations where The 50's Dior collections, Alexander McQueen, Vivienne Westwood (which should be next year's theme fight me) and Charles Dana Gibson's "Gibson girl". I wanted the silhouettes to be delicate yet dramatic, the Extravagant, garden party like hats with birds in them mixed into the Loose yet put together hair do's. Another thing is I wanted Bows, which always adds an extra level of class yet fun. These are mostly scribbles but is a basic concept of what I had in mind:

I want ruffles and layers with a princess bride meets Labrynth type of fantasy vibe. These obviously aren't the colors I'd use (expet very dusty blues and other shades of that nature, maybe ballerina pinks and greens. I envision this with Pat mcgrath type makeup since it helps sell the untouchable porcelain doll aesthetic I usually go for.)

So many talented people are working for brands that have changed the game and you give me BEIGE and Florals? I feel like Miranda Priestly "Florals in spring? Groundbreaking"

It's the Fucking met. ACT LIKE IT!<3

#met gala #metgala 2024 #vivienne westwood #alexander mcqueen #Design #art #traditinal art #tags #idk #fun #bored #yay #drawing #me #my art #christian dior #Fashion design #fashion #original #hope everyone is having a lovley day #Vals stuff #❄️ #💌

[canineical]

[Image Description: A zine in an 8-page layout.

The first page has “Oh, the HORRORS!” written near the top of the page with a subtitle underneath it saying “a zine on horror (wow) & all its forms” with the word ‘wow’ in parentheses. To the side of the title, there’s a drawing of a cat with its head twisted around and backward in a way it should not be able to move. The cat is edited to sit on a photo of a bookshelf filled with horror movie VHS tapes.

The second page reads “Everyone's image of horror is a little bit different, and usually informed by what they fear (especially for people who don't particularly like horror). Some people think of carnivorous bugs, some think of monsters, and some think of killers.” Along the right side of the page, there is a drawing of a wasp whose body is red, an alien head that shimmers green, blue, and purple, with a big forehead and eyes and a small mouth, and a scarab beetle that is colored teal.

The third page reads “This is why so much horror media is incredibly fucked up! Species are inherently dangerous and evil, and are out to get you. Murderers are often portrayed as queer-- proposed as confused about how they embody their sexuality and gender.” Across the middle of the page, there are two images that separate this first part of the text from the second. One photo is from a poster of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and depicts Frank-n-Furter and Riff Raff. The second is the title ‘Her Body and Other Parties,’ each word cut and pasted from the cover of the book. The text then continues: “Some media, like the Rocky Horror Picture Show, fights back a these narratives by allowing queerness to be simply powerful, and murder to be just part of the fun (fictionally, of course). Even more modern horror like Her Body and Other Parties, which does even more work to allow space for fear, dreamlike yet utterly real feelings of being lost, and casual queerness.”

The fourth page reads “American horror (in the past, though patterns have changed with 21st century horror) often takes the shape of slasher films, sci-fi/horror fusions, and the ill-defined creature feature. Let's zoom in a little on slasher films, because to me, this is a prime example of regional fears deciding how horror is formed. Usually focusing on suburban white America, these movies tend to follow the narrative of a small town being terrorized by a killer. Of course, this is not the fear of all America. In reality, POC (and especially Black) experience constant violence and countless murders from within their own communities and from the very people who are oathbound to protect them. But this is the fear of White America-- that they could ever experience targeted violence, too, however less severe.” Along the bottom of the page, there is a drawing in superhero comic style of a white man in a suit seemingly dashing away from some sort of monster chasing him.

The fifth page reads “In other regions, horror looks very different. Under the Shadow, for example, was made in Iran, and details the horrors of war and the evil & the ghosts that come with it. In many Indigenous cultures, horror stories take the shape of scary fucking forest monsters. I believe & fear those most, personally.” Near the top of the page is a screenshot from the movie Under the Shadow of a young girl, Dorsa, holding her doll and looking to the camera with a fearful or worried look. Along the right side of the page is a poster for the same movie in black and beige, depicting Dorsa and her mother, Shideh, cowering in a corner of a room, away from a window with a big ‘X’ taped across it.

The sixth page reads “These sorts of stories, about the wilderness and what it hides, are obviously most common in rural areas, with not many people there to incite fear. These always scare me most, mostly because stories are so consistent through generations and across all  the world (though most cultures have their own unique creatures, too).” The text is evenly split between the top left and bottom right corners. In the top right corner, there is a gothic black and white sketch of a man in a tricorne hat & cloak on a horse pulling to a stop and looking down at a man who is cowering over his own seemingly dead horse. The ground is snowy, they are directly in front of a forest, and there are two winged creatures in the background. In the bottom left corner, there is a gothic black and white sketch of a man in a top hat riding his horse through a forest and cowering away from some sort of ghost hovering near and above him.

The seventh page reads “In recent years, with the rise of the internet, horror has began to take even more forms. Creations like Creepypasta, The Magnus Archives, and more-- while different-- all embody a new approach to horror, where people get attached to characters and concepts just like they would with any fiction! Scary creatures are lovable and interesting,and even cute at times! Whether this reflects a change in approach to fear as a whole is debatable, but an interesting discussion nonetheless.” In the bottom right corner, there is a simple drawing of a black humanoid creature with wings, a round head with a beak, hands with claws, and big eyes. It is facing and creeping toward the left side of the page, and we can only see its profile.

The eighth page reads “Horror can look a million different ways, and all of them are fascinating-- at least to me, and hopefully to you, since I assume you read this whole zine if you're reading this right now. Thank you for that, by the way! I hope you enjoyed it, and that you enjoy whatever horror media you consume next.” Below the text, there is a dashed line, and below that line is the text “by Xalli, may 9 2023.” Under that, there is the Instagram logo next to "desertfirelight," the Substack logo next to "palmlungs," and the Tumblr logo next to "baringteeth." Along the entire right side of the page is a drawing of a long, grey-yellow colored squid-shaped creature with bright, narrow yellow eyes. Instead of tentacles, it’s body fades into wispy sort of strings. Below that creature is a drawing of three magenta ants crawling around. /End ID]

zine about horror for y’all !

feel free to print & share or distribute or whatever it-- just don’t remove credit

#coyo yips #mine #zine #art #also do rb if you like it ! i make zines to share #it's meant to be for others! #not just for myself like how i write poetry

[arcplaysgames]

I'm not gonna post the grisly screencaps but the Shujin principal got murdered via mental shutdown and hit by a massive truck. It's unfun.

you know akechi

i'm not sure i disagree with you here

The fucking predictable shit happens, which I'm glad about because the game has put so much effort into the Thieves wanting to do "big stuff" and get popular that it needed to be foreshadowing for this. The principal died after a tabloid revealed that he helped cover up Kamoshida's abuses. Despite killing not being the modus operandi of the Thieves, people start saying the Thieves are the ones who killed him for his crimes, many even justifying his death because the cover up and he "got what he deserved."

So at least we are running with that story beat, I'm honestly glad, though also interested in what Persona 5 thinks of the morality of the Thieves. Again: fictional characters, and I have the foresight of being the player of this game so I'm vaguely on the Thieves' side. But as a morality question the game is proposing, I'm not sure I am.

Though if you did it Right, if you stripped out the Phansite shit and stopped Ryuji from running his mouth about making it big and being famous, if it was genuinely about extrajudicial actions to target untouchable people, then sure. I'm with you.

But that's def not the scenario we're in, is it?

So.

Here we go, spin me a yarn, Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 5 The Royal. I am listening.

come on Sae, you can't be this fucking mean and get this little results from it

F I N A L L Y it's hitting the more sensible members of the group that hey maybe this huge fame spike is actually a super bad idea.

Ann even suggests they lay low until it dies down a bit but Ryuji jumps down her throat, and tensions are sky high as everyone discusses Okamura. Basically, the majority of the mental shutdown cases are linked to him by proximity, though no obvious cause/correlation is known yet.

But he has a Palace, so Ryuji wants to take him out.

Aaaaand the Mona Bomb finally detonates. That fuse was bound to run out.

Ryuji and Morgana have a huge fight and Morgana fucks off to apparently take on the Palace alone.

AND BECAUSE ATLUS IS RAILROADING ME, I DON'T HAVE AN OPTION TO SAY "Morgana, I think this is reckless, but I'll be damned if I let you go alone, lemme grab my shoes."

DON'T GO WHERE I CAN'T FOLLOW

okay but for real, if Morgana dies or something, I'm uninstalling

oh okay so

let's talk about Akechi because we got a Beige Front coming in from the south

Akechi shows up to be a sassy bastard to Sae again, which I feel is justly deserved because she kinda sucks despite her awesome intro

And weirdly, Akechi was absolutely the one to tout the idea that the Thieves were the ones behind the mental shutdown cases before, but now he is upset with her for threatening Sojiro without any evidence to back up her theory.

I know Akechi is not on the Thieves' side and I know that he's fucking with Sae.

It's interesting that he's the second Detective Prince because Naoto was absolutely rigorous on the search for truth, but I don't think that's what Akechi's into here. Like, I don't know what his job is functionally for the police at all, and it seems the majority of what he does is just sow more chaos.

Which, yes, I know this is not MegaTen proper, but it is still interesting, this inversion it's presenting. MegaTen games tend to give you a choice not between good or evil but Order vs Chaos, without really advocating for either. It's more like a player personality test than a judgement call.

Akechi is on paper on the side of Order, but he is extremely good at muddying the waters and making things less clear. He's excellent as a plant or spy.

Meanwhile, the Thieves are on paper Chaotic (albeit Chaotic Good/Neutral) but they are trying to rein in people who are breaking the order of the world. They're trying to enforce justice where it has failed.

So, at least at this point, this feels like the game is flirting with Chaos vs Order, with the representatives of each inverted for funsies.

Hm.

SMASH CUT TO

I'm going to set everything you love on fire Ryuji

oh god i've been replaced. Morgana has replaced Reverie with the girl with the poofy hair and the high pitched voice.

REPLACED

MAYBE SHE WILL BE A BETTER KEEPER OF YOUR HEART, MORGANA, I'M SORRY SOBS

Anyway, the team (minus Ryuji) is actually concerned when Mona doesn't return and thus Futaba tells everyone to gear up, they are going into Okamura's palace tomorrow, no delay.

Futaba is the only person here I respect.

#p5 #persona liveblog

[callmearcturus]

I would love to see you and Akihiko fight about it. Oh, you don't mean with me. I'm sure Akihiko would enjoy watching you and me fight about it. Oh, not him either? That's fair.

Mitsuru has this moment of talking about Akihiko getting more mature and it fucking HIT ME. It hit me that Akihiko is her Junpei. My god. Two leader ladies who are supported by boys who are well-meaning but sometimes hilariously obtuse but with fight to the mat for them. Holy shit.

Aigis is finally back and remains on team Kill Ryoji, and is all torn up about slowly becoming a real gorl. It's hard, being a kid and growing up. etc etc

She gets her Persona Glowup too and its hilariously unsubtle.

Palladion becomes Athena. So the Pallas, the shield/emblem becomes the real thing. Of course. What else could her persona evolve into, honest to god.

Everyone resolves to not kill Ryoji and try to fight Nix. It's cute because Yukari and Mitsuru decide together, Ken and Akihiko talk about it, and Fuuka and Junpei meet and discuss it. That leaves Aigis, and by process of elimination (sorry Koromaru) I have to convince her. It's nice and symmetrical.

Also wow Yukari/Mitsuru is some classique "we can't say they're girlfriends but they are girlfriends" shit that the game doesn't really shy away from in the way I remember P4 urgently reassuring everyone HAHA NO ONE IS GAY HERE EVERYONE IS HETERO. There are many days I miss this kind of "we are implying everything but cannot say it outright" thing to the cowardly bullshit of today. BUT ANYWAY.

Ryoji shows up and is like "hey please kill me" and i'm like "nah that leads to the shitty non-standard game over i bet" and ryoji is like "okay but pleeeeeeease kill me" and I'm like "listen man i would if i could okay"

and then ryoji is like

and i'm like BRUH. BRUUUUUUH you look cool as hell. see, if you looked like that from the start, all the people at school calling you a hottie would have made sense. if I had a choice between damp-looking dude with alfalfa hair and beige clothes, and this? I'd be a cool goth Orbital Frame every day of the week and hang with Jehuty on weekends.

also i'm not gonna kill you, Fuuka would be sad and I don't want Fuuka to be sad.

this is how i react to 60% of what Junpei says so: relatable.

#persona liveblog

[movementsofmylife]

bad buddy ep 5 (rewatch)

how many times does pran pull out his entire (extremely intense) set of markers and not use them:

total so far: ////

so this episode. i have watched it so many times. and every time i am left in shambles. it builds up to that final rooftop scene so well and so insidiously.

they start the episode in this brown white beige complimentary look, with pat wearing the 'friend' shirt. which is so fucked up considering where this episode ends.

like it starts with pat declaring himself a friend and teasing and flirting in a way which shows he's more than that. (ink explicitly states that they have a "lovey-dovey atmosphere") and over the course of the episode this dichotomy gets pulled apart as pat realizes it himself.

i've also already screamed about the breakfast scene over here.

this is so good! because it's both asking pat to consider like, they aren't romantically involved, so why are they acting like this. but also when pat responds "i'm not your wife" it's a direct call out to later on in the episode where they critique the terrible wife/husband dynamic thing from bls.

also often in bls the one making food is classed as the sub/wife/bottom w.e in the situation. but pran is absolutely not having that, and he never does. love my non-heteronormative king.

i fully never clocked this, but pa's holding ink's 'p' bracelet in the opening. we should have known.

so while pat is flipping through the photos on pran's computer he comes across this one with ink, and it gets about as much pause as every other photo in the set. and actually the last lingering shot is on the one with just pran. how this man didn't know is truly a mystery.

again, it should be something chill to tell ink here that pran's the one she reminds him of. but i think he knew if he mentioned that ink would actually understand what he's saying, (ink is fully on the patpran ship, she has definitely known since high school) more than he would.

also secret keeping of and for each other is patpran's entire jam. and while its a necessity at times, i think they both enjoy keeping each other and their relationship close to their chest, precious and just for them.

i remember when i first watched this and lost my mind. ink is so clearly flirting with pa the entire time, she's an inspiration.

this music store is a place of so many awakenings for pat. i feel like because the high school concert was clearly leading towards pat and pran figuring something out but it was aborted, it makes sense that his actual realization comes in a music related space. the whole episode is basically about music and how it carries love and bravery.

pran would be such a good anime protagonist.

the sheer confusion from pran through this entire jealousy scene. also the green shirt of doom. there's so many green shirts of doom in this ep.

case in point. also the fact that in the first part when pat and pa are having this conversation pat is wearing this bracelet. and at this point he's taken it off, he's realized!!!!

he got soooo close here to connecting the dots. but truly insert the shane/ryan i connected the dots you didn't connected shit meme, because that "they became rivals" line smh.

pa on her ink agenda as always. i like the parallel to pat in high school who didn't realize his feelings for pran yet. and pa here, in the same situation with ink.

pran is so brave through this whole thing. i feel like this is part of how he's dealing with pat's confession about ink. he's declaring to everyone, but also to himself, that pat's his friend and that's what he can have.

and then he proceeds to sing this fucking song about friends being confusing lol

look i cannot get a good screen shot here, but i'm sure i don't need to. i feel like this is branded on everyone's brains at this point. i just couldn't not include it.

also god this fight scene hits so hard. this analysis of it by @jemmo is so good!

to slightly derail from the emotions. is this what showers are like for all tall people?? or is this an exceptionally small shower. it was so confusing to me. like why does he look like he has to crouch to get under the water.

"I just stood there, bathed in the quiet No," (cut your bangs by girlpool, which overall is not about this, but this line)

this point where pat realizes the situation, looks beyond just his feelings for pran. fuck. devastating.

also the fact he's in blue, red and there's a swathe of yellow behind him. their love is so intense and present in this scene. but also feels so far away.

this fucking episode. like from ep 4 on i feel like this show does not let you breath.

#bad buddy #badbuddyrewatch #bad buddy ep 5 #fmu forever