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mrscarmenbearzatto · 4 months

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gallagher next door | lip gallagher

lip learns an interesting fact about you and has to change it. ─ 1.43k ─ nsfw content, minors dni! (fem/afab!reader, 'angel', 'honey', other pet names used, oral - f recieving, unwrapped p in v, fingering, friends to lovers, no use of y/n)

Lip Gallagher’s throwing pebbles at your window, and it doesn't surprise you.

Lip had been your best friend for a few years now. He was the boy you went to for dating advice, you were the one he went to for his crazy family dramas and advice on what to do most of the time. You two were each other’s soulmate, as people joked.

Ever since you moved to Chicago nearly sixteen years ago and met Lip as the boy next door, you knew there was something unique about him. Something that drew you to him naturally.

He’d made a habit most recently of climbing into your window to talk. Late night thoughts, troubes. Anything and everything, all he had to do was throw small enough sized pebbles to get your attention and you’d sneak him in through the front door up to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it was happening again tonight. An oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts, you stuck your head out into the cold summer air. Finding Lip down below as you hum. “Whatcha doing, Gallagher?” You ask.

“Hey, there’s the prettiest girl. Do you look prettier then the last time I saw you?” He asks, head tilted up at you as your roll your eyes. “You saw me this morning, Lip.” You comment.

"Point stands, sweetness. You gonna make me stand here all night or do I get to come in?" He asks. You pause like you're contemplating it before you giggle, rushing downstairs and opening the front door. "Your parents home?" He questions as he hangs his coat up.

You shake your head. "Business conference." You answer as you walk upstairs with him. He plops himself down on your bed, grabbing one of your stuffed rabbits and playing with its ears. You sit beside him. "Have you eaten today?" It's always the first thing you ask him, knowing he can either get so busy and forget, or just forget to eat in general.

"Nah. Had oatmeal Fi made this morning, though. Wasn't very good." He answers as you frown. "Lip, that was like eight in the morning. It's almost.." you give a glance to the clock. ".. nine pm. Let me make you something. Mac and cheese?" You offer, remembering it's one of the boys favorites.

He lets out a soft groan. "That sounds better then head right now. You know me so well." He says as he sits up. You laugh nervously. "I wouldn't know but.. whatever you say." You comment.

He stares at you. "No one's ever gone down on you?" He asks, all seriousness in his voice. You roll your eyes. "Don't call it that, Lip. But to answer, no." You say with a shrug.

You frown as he continues to stare. "It's not a big deal." You mumble. He shakes his head. "No, no I just- I guess I assumed an ex would have offered or something at least."

"I don't know. One guy.. tried I guess.. but he wasn't very good and he stopped just like, a minute in cause I took too long." You answer.

"Okay.. angel, can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"You trust me, right?" He takes a step. "Of course I do, Lip, more than anyone." He nods. "Next question.." He says.

"Would you let me taste you?" He's suddenly standing closer to you, just within arms reach.

Your eyes meet his instantly as you stare at him. "Lip-" You begin to speak but cut yourself off, shaking your head. "I don't want you to feel like you have to or anything, and I don't want this to change things between us."

"It won't. You trust me, don't you? I wanna do this." He says, pressing his forehead against yours. You stare at him before you exhale. "Okay." You agree, your voice soft.

It doesn't take long after that for his lips to be on yours, kissing you slowly. Your hands sit at your side before you think to move them, wrapping them around his neck. His find your waist, slowly beginning to move you toward the bed, letting you fall back first as you smile against his lips.

His hands explore new areas, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You let him do as he pleases, your hands gripping at fabric as he pulls away, beginning to kiss down your jaw.

“Lip.” You moan as he begins sucking on your neck. He only pulls away to remove your shirt, so he can have easier access to your chest. Kissing down your chest, hands on your thighs as you let out soft moans that he thinks are heavenly.

He then removes your shorts, removing his own shirt. Hands kneeding at the skin at your thighs, as he begins kissing down your stomach. You let out impatient whines as he smirks against the skin. “Patience, angel. Gotta take my time with you, y’know?” He whispers to himself as he finally reaches your wet cunt.

“So wet f’me, aren’t you?” He asks softly, the only sound filling the room was the fan blowing in the corner. You can't answer, anticipation stopping you as you just nod, staring at the ceiling. Staring at Lip as his nose bumps against your clit seems impossible.

He gently slides his tongue past your wet folds, your body wanting to arch at the sudden intrusion of his tongue in you. He holds your hips down, only moving away from placing kisses on your clit to gently insert a finger in you. "Taste so sweet, angel." He whispers.

Your mind is fogged, the only thought being one thing: Lip. Needing to feel him, you reach a hand down to run a hand on his hair. He grins, placing kisses on the inside of your thigh as he adds a second finger. He begins leaving a hickey on the inside of your thigh, as he arches his fingers.

He removes them, replacing them instead with his tongue. Eating you like a man starved. He can't stop, he tells himself that he cannot stop. Grinding into the mattress, the only thought plaguing his mind is you. How sweet you taste, how tight you feel. The way his jaw is soaked with you.

"Lip, I'm close." You moan softly, as he kneeds the skin on your thigh.

"Come for me, sweetheart." He requests, and you do so. Letting yourself fall apart for him, as you throw your head back.

He grins, as he pulls away. "I need to feel you, Lip, please." You beg, and he's already removing his pants and freeing himself from his boxers. "Okay, okay.. now, honey, I can grab a condom but-"

"No, please. I'm on the pill, we're safe." You confirm with a nod, as you stare at him. He laughs, as he kisses you again as he slides himself past your folds, giving a quiet warning before he inserts himself into you.

You let out a mix of a gasp and a moan, wrapping your legs around him in an attempt to push him deeper. "Shit, angel." He mumbles as he does go a bit deeper in you, thrusting ever so slowly.

“Squeezing around me so tight, yeah? This - fuck - pussy was just made for me, wasn’t it?” He asks, knowing you’re too fucked out to respond with anything more then nods and moans.

“Good girl. Taking me so well, yeah?” He asks, a hand snaking through between your bodies, finding your clit and his fingers rubbing small circles on it. “Could stay here forever, y’know? Just live right here with you..”

You don't hear most of his incoherent rambles except for one more thing: a very soft "I love you."

"Lip, 'm close." You signal as you run a hand through his hair. He continues rubbing circles on your clit, as he buries his face in your neck. "Let go f'me, sweetness." He pleads softly.

You give in, your climax succeeding as you sigh into the mattress. He doesn't last long after that, spilling into you before pulling out swiftly.

Neither of you say anything until you remember what he mumbled. An I love you. "Did you mean it? When you.. you said you loved me?" You question. You're really asking if he meant as a friend or as more.

He looks over at you. "I've been in love with you since I met you, sweetness, of course I meant it.” He answers. You stare at him for a moment before you kiss him again.

Things definetly couldn’t be the same between you two.

˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜

shine on, shine on, my loves!

thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my lip gallagher masterlist here for more fanfics!

- mae

#maeberzatto #mae writes!#mae writes: shameless #lip gallagher thoughts #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x you #shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless fanfic #shameless thoughts #lip gallagher x fem reader

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stylesharrys · 7 months

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Knight in Skinny Jeans

Y/N gets stood up and Harry is her knight in skinny jeans and a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt.

A/N: this is an old patron exclusive fic guys, it is more of a little lengthy blurb but it's something for just you guys! this also has Zayn in it I miss him :(

WC: 2k

In all her years of life, Y/N’s only ever been hauntingly afraid of one thing. Spiders and bugs have never bothered her, and even as a child, she didn’t mind the dark. She seeks comfort in thunderstorms and welcomes the rush of adrenaline when she stands at great heights. She’s not afraid of much, but there’s one thing that makes her wish the ground would swallow her whole.

In retro respect, she supposes it wasn’t the best idea to agree to meet him at the restaurant. And looking back now, she guesses making as much as an effort would only get her hurt.

It doesn’t change where she is now, though—tucked away in the booth with a half-empty glass of water and a grumbling belly. And let’s not forget the overwhelming sense of nausea in the pit of her stomach.

Embarrassment. That’s Y/N’s biggest fear.

Y/N supposes it stems somewhere deep in her childhood, where a traumatising memory takes place that her mind has blocked from remembering.

She’s been stood up. Plain and simple.

He’s over an hour late and not replying to her texts, so she thinks she gets the message.

Y/N feels a little sick. Her hands are clammy, and she can’t seem to stop her knee from bouncing under the table. She gnaws her bottom lip raw, and her eyes are scatty as she gazes over other guests in hopes they’re not all looking at her and realise what’s going on.

She’s never been stood up before, and in a classy restaurant such as she’s in now, dressed to the nines, it only makes matters worse. If she stands up and walks out, everyone will know she’s been stood up. But she can’t sit and wait around, either.

Y/N feels like they already know—like they’re snickering under their breaths and all eyes are on her.

She’s wrong. No one has noticed yet, and she needs to get out of the damn booth before another waiter comes over with a pitty-filled smile and asks if she’d like to order or not.

Maybe she’s lucky her tea dress can be considered a little casual, and perhaps if she plays her cards right and leaves smiling, people may think she’s left early from dinner with a group of friends.

Y/N knows she shouldn’t be overthinking it this much, but she is. Her chest and neck feel hot with heat, and her eyes are prickling with tears as her nose starts to tingle. She needs to get out of here.

Y/N clears her throat and reaches for her little purse, standing and evening out her outfit. She’s put the bag over her shoulder as she manoeuvres through dim, candle-lit tables to make for the restroom.

She tries to keep a light smile on her face when she brushes past a brisk waiter before pushing into the toilets. It’s empty inside, the harsh lights reflecting over her and highlighting her most unattractive features. She closes the door and makes for the line of sinks, a long mirror coating the wall behind them.

Y/N lets out a shaky breath and braces herself against the counter. She can feel her eyes starting to water, the way she loses control, and her lower lip begins to tremble. She can feel the way her knees start to buckle, how her head grows fuzzy, and everything becomes too much.

She feels stupid. How could she believe she had a chance with someone like Daniel fucking Morell? The idea of seeing him again in class next week is disgusting to her. So much so that she starts to wonder if it’s too late to change her major completely.

Boys are horrible.

Y/N takes another deep breath and stands taller. She straightens her back and plasters on her most believable smile. Her theory is: if nobody sees her sad, how can they have pity?

With her shoulders held high, Y/N pushes her way out of the bathroom and through the restaurant. She walks with ease, lets people believe the glimmer in her eyes is pure happiness and confidence. She doesn’t let them look long enough to realise they’re tears of overwhelming sadness and embarrassment.

She knows she’ll cry the night out when she gets back to the safety of her dorm room.

Y/N doesn’t spare anyone another glance before she pushes out the glass doors of the expensive restaurant and it’s when the cold air of the splintering night hits her, that she feels the heaviness of the situation sit heavy on her shoulders.

She was finally asked on a date by one of the most popular boys on campus -- the boy she’s been crushing on for the longest time -- the boy that they all know is well out of her league. And he stood her up, plain and simple. He told her he’d meet her at the restaurant, and then he ignored her texts.

She wouldn’t be surprised if she rounded the corner and found him and his friends waiting for her just to sit and point and laugh.

Stupid, Y/N. Stupid!

It’s pretty quiet outside (save for a few girls to her left that she briefly recognises from school, and a couple is waiting for a taxi to her right).

She reaches into her purse for her phone, reckons she’ll just call a taxi rather than walking a mile and a half home. The cold air bites at Y/N’s skin, and she’s a shivering mess of nerves and anxiety. She feels naked; like everyone knows she was just stood up.

She needs to stop caring so much what people think.

But it’s when she’s typing away at the Uber app that the girls from moments ago approach her. Y/N looks up from her phone, brows raised slightly and while they all seem vaguely familiar, she doesn’t recall any of their names.

“Y/N, right? We share Mr Harris’ class on Thursdays.”

She’s pretty, Y/N acknowledges. Soft brown hair and gorgeous tan skin. She’s got lean legs and a cute button nose -- captivating brown eyes and if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s incredibly intimidating, Y/N thinks she could quickly develop a bit of a crush on the unnamed girl.

Y/N nods. “Yeah. I don’t know your names, though…” she eases off with a gentle chuckle -- one that suggests discomfort but neither of the other three girls say anything.

They shrug her off, waving their hands with a dismissive headshake. “Doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?” The same girl from before speaks again, and Y/N can feel that lump bubbling up her throat.

Her voice has grown louder as she asks the question and Y/N knows she’s about to be outed for being stood up. She doesn’t look around her; she can’t bring herself to. Instead, she pretends her face and neck aren’t scorched burnt and keeps that unconvincing smile on her face.

She doesn’t realise that the loudness of their tone catches the attention of a certain boy that also happens to attend the same college and share a fair few classes with all four girls.

Harry’s brows knit together as he passes off the lit cigarette to another of his friends. They’ve just left the pub, and he’s a few beers under, but if anything, he only feels more aware of his surroundings. He strains his ears to listen in, can already gather something’s going on.

Y/N’s back is toward the group of them, and all Harry can see is the smug grin on Chelsey’s face. He grimaces. She’s always been a cunt. But then he sees her lips move.

“Where’s your date? You’re not here alone… are you?”

Harry doesn’t bother to tell his friends he’ll be right back. Instead, he palms off his drink to Zayn and exhales the last puff of smoke he didn’t realise he was holding in. There was no way in hell he was about to let Chelsey and her two minions gang up on some (no doubt) innocent and nice enough girl.

His feet kick over to them. He sees the back of Y/N’s head, but he doesn’t recognise her from the position. Her hair is down, she’s got on a pretty tea dress with black tights and some little black booties. Even from a few feet away, Harry can see she’s shivering and cowering into herself.

He takes a deep breath and shrugs off his jacket, leaving him bare to the cold air in just a pair of skinny jeans and his old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. He approaches the four of them, and Chelsey clocks him first, but he takes no notice.

“Sorry babe, boys were taking ages.” His raspy voice is what has Y/N turning around and Harry’s setting his jacket across her shoulders and pulling her into him.

She looks up, completely bewildered but when she recognises him, she relaxes just a little. She knows Harry from classes, and she’s worked a project or two with him before. They’re friendly, sure, but she’s confused as to why he’d willingly save her off his own back.

She feigns a warm smile, though it’s half genuine. She thinks he’s her knight in skinny jeans.

Harry smiles down at her just the same, and he finally recognises who it is he’s saved and he’s a little surprised. He didn’t peg Y/N to be the type of girl to be stood up. Harry reckons she’s a pretty cool girl; kind and funny, super-smart, too. And she looks extra pretty, now he’s really looking at her.

He can tell she’s made an effort for her date tonight and the fact that she’s been stood up makes him a little agitated.

“S’okay. Know how they can be.”

Y/N plays into it leisurely, coddling into his side. She sets a hand on his chest as she rubs over his left peck and Harry chances it to reach down to give her a tender kiss to the top of her head.

He finally addresses the girls.

“What we chattin’ about?” He stuffs a hand in his pocket and bites back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Chelsey’s face.

She scoffs to herself, but Y/N doesn’t give her a chance to say anything. “They were just making sure I had a lift home. Girls looking out for girls, just like we should.”

Harry knows Y/N’s lying through her teeth, but he doesn’t say anything -- decides to nod and play along. He hums. “Hate to cut it short then, but the boys are gonna go to The Napier. D’ya fancy goin’ or d’ya jus’ wanna go home? S’whatever you want, love.”

She stares at him for a moment, ponders what he’s offering. Harry hopes she gets the hint that he’s actually offering, that if she doesn’t want to come, he’ll get her an Uber home. Y/N hopes that’s exactly what he’s doing, and she can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s actually offering.

“The Napier sounds good to me.” Y/N grins wide, snuggling into his side and Harry says nothing about how fast her heart is pounding against the side of his ribs.

She’s thankful, knees nearly buckling that he came and saved her, and she reckons she could actually cry. She turns back to the girls, ignores the tingly of her nose. “Thanks for checking in girls. I’ll see you Thursday?”

They don’t have the chance to reply because Harry is pulling Y/N away and toward his small group of friends, and Zayn has been watching the whole thing with a teasing smirk and a raised brow.

“Thank you so much.” Y/N finally breathes out in relief. Harry’s arm is still thrown over her shoulder, so he gives her a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t mention it. Have a few drinks wi’ us and forget ’bout whoever stood ya up. He’s a knob anyway, doesn’t deserve a good girl like you.” Harry kisses the top of her head again, and Y/N all but melts into his touch.

“I’ll be your date tonight instead.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagines

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yawpyawp · 10 months

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I spent entirely too long on this comic version of my super soft established relationship Macdennis fic

Turns out reconfiguring a written narrative to work as a comic was a challenging but interesting process!

Nerdy details under the cut!!!

1. Dee’s ‘Useless Femme’ t-shirt is from Sapphic Southerner

2. Charlie has always given me Toynbee vibes so the ~classic Toynbee Tile seemed like an appropriate graphic tee for him lol

3. Mac needs to get into shonen anime and he would love Yu Yu Hakusho because it’s literally the greatest anime of all time

4. Dennis’ shirt in the last scene (actually Mac’s shirt) is from 12th St Gym, which was a fixture in the Gayborhood for years and years. Mac was totally going there out of ‘curiosity’ in the same way he was going to the Rainbow before he came out. Unfortunately 12th St closed right around the time Mac came out for good :(

5. (VIEW FULL SIZE!) Lots of little details in the bathroom cuz there needs to be clutter! It’s mostly Dennis-focused items, cuz the thinking here is this is Dennis’ bathroom (cuz I subscribe to the belief that their apartment has two bathrooms)

A: Mid-2000s Phillies ticket

B: Charmacden at the bar :)

C: Literally a printout of this Aquaria Instagram post! I think drag would be a very healthy and constructive outlet for Dennis to explore, and I think Aquaria specifically is sort of an idealized version of what Dennis would want to look like in drag. (Also she’s originally from Philly!)

D: A Lamborghini Countach, ofc ;)

E: Cute lil Macdennis selfie

F: Lipsticks (stolen from Sephora)

G: A mug he stole from a Green Line Cafe and subsequently broke

H: An origami elephant that Mac made to demonstrate Finesse

I: Recently I learned that Rite Aid is Philly-based (although not exclusive to here) so those bandages are specifically store brand for additional local flavor lol

J: Lil figurine of Gobo from Fraggle Rock

K: Drugstore foundation (stolen from Rite Aid)

(I guess this version of Dennis shoplifts a lot?)

#iasip #it’s always sunny in philadelphia #macdennis #mydoodles #i made this because im mentally ill

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sleepinginmygrave · 3 months

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uh. hello

you can call me jupiter or james but nicknames are more than welcome ⁞ minor ⁞ they/him/hers ⁞ pangender ⁞ pan+aroaceflux ⁞ saphillean ⁞ capricorn ⁞ christian ⁞ witch ⁞ therian ⁞ french ⁞ regulus + barty + evan kinnie ⁞ harp player ⁞ art is the most important thing to me ⁞ astronomy and marine biology nerd ⁞ big big big animal lover ⁞ huge classical music enjoyer

about me. i guess

musical artists (it is all over the place sorry)↬tv girl. alex g. mac demarco. current joys. mother mother. ethel cain. abba. lamp. vashti bunyan. ichiko aoba. lisa ono. gorillaz. radiohead. nirvana. tyler, the creator. mf doom. crystal castles. conan gray. home. cavetown. deftones. sum 41. rammstein. the smiths. david bowie. queen. t-rex. the beatles. arctic monkeys. simon & garfunkel. sufjan stevens. the cure. strawberry guy. lana del rey. steve lacy. the neighborhood. roar. vacations. lukrembo. liana flores. duster. kyo. sign crushes motorist. macabre plaza. beabadoobee. m83. her's. memo boy. pink pantheress. men i trust. eminem. beach house. yot club. cigarettes after sex. tame impala. eyedress. jack stauber.

classical composers↬ tchaïkovsky; ravel; saint saëns; debussy; satie; fauré; grieg; shostakovtich; liszt

currents animals obsession↬ jellyfishs, sharks, whales, whale sharks, african wild dogs, bovines, horses, (all farms animals. tbh), isopods, snails, any murids, all birds, tarentulas

things i'm deeply passionate about (or enjoy)↬ the sea • rain • animals • plants • poetry • art in any from • classical music • forests • thanatology • marine biology • astronomy • music • bugs • reading at night • art history • plants • gothic architecture • flowers • winnie the pooh

hobbies↬ baking. painting. drawing. knitting. crocheting. playing the harp. going outside. skateboarding. listening to music. reading.

miscellaneous

• i love baking and uhhh i make crêpes almost every week

•@orbitfalls n°1 fan!!!!! everyone go check on her art and read what she write RIGHT NOW because golly i still can't beleive it's possible to be this talented

•i knit and crochet. a lot. too much

•@sceirlose & @idk-what-to-put-here-123 are my parents and i love them very much

• i'm half norwegian so i go there every years and you will see me posting about it

•orange and blue color combo offical biggest fan. i even have a tag for it it's #almost-night blue+warm orange from the windows i think

•i have three older brother :3

•@evanmp3 is my rp blog and i think you should join we still have a lot of free places and we're so funny and cool (to join ask @thedvilsinthedetails)

• you probably guessed that i play the harp, i've been for 8 years now, i'm in a concervatory and play in an orchestra :]

•i love uhhh music,,a lot,,,

• i'm very normal about everything (lying. if you couldn't tell)

•i want weird pets rn i NEED a tarentula and a snake and a lizard and a crow SO BAD it's not even funny i need them SO SO BAD PLEASE GOD LET ME HAVE THEM I WOULD TREAT THEM SO WELL,,,, I LOVE ANIMALS HLHKFKG *shaking crying sobbing etc*

•i love love love winnie the pooh and tagging me in Winnie the pooh stuffs is more than welcome

• i'm just a silly guy ya'll :3

• i'm in a qpr with the amazing @url0cal-weird0 <33

• I LOVE ART SO SO MUCH art history is so so so interesting and i will reblog a lot of art stuffs (i also do art (oil pastels my beloved) and will post it occasionally if i feel silly)

• also i'm uhh i'm a jellyfish.. and a whale shark..(literally. i'm therian) btw i have a nonhuman sideblog now!! it's @st4rllyfish :3

• i'm trying so hard to make this intro post aesthetic and uhhh stuff but really i'm just a guy i promise i can't do anything serious in my life this is very hard for me please be kind :3

• how do you. make a cool intro post

(dividers by @roseraris and @the-blinkie-guy)

blinkies and userboxes!!

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chouxsardine · 3 months

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Amabo Te---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: When jealousy and insecurity get the best of you, when he wants to teach you a lesson. Will you give him a chance?

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 5002

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, established BDSM relationship, dom!jake/sub!reader, brat! reader, the infamous Jake snap, caning, alcohol, language, jealousy, insecurity, self-esteem issue, self-deprecation, unprotected p in v sex, crying, a mix of soft and mean Jake (?), nerdy Latin sh*t,

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort (with fluffy ending?)

Author's note: Sorry for the wait! inspired by this idea from @hearts-hunger. I've been wanting to write about this since the first day I've seen it, so I kind of took the idea and run with it. It turns out a lot softer than I expected (oops). A new attempt for me to toy around with power dynamics. Every single one of you is deserving of love. I love you a lot. Enjoy!

🎧: How Many More Times by Led Zeppelin; Sorceress by Jess Williamson; When Anger Turns to Honey by Chelsea Wolfe; Hey Now (When I Give You All My Lovin')" by Romare

You know damn well what you’re doing. The thumping of the drum aligns with your heartbeat, melting into your veins along with the few martinis that you’ve downed consecutively. The air is a mix of ostentatious colognes, sweat, and smoke that wafts off dancing and heaving bodies. The floors feel sticky under your feet, and the label of the dress you are wearing has irritated you all night. You can feel it digging into your sides, the two almost invisible row of plastic nubs cutting into your skin with each exhale and rubbing against it with every movement. Isn’t it amazing that such a trivial and hidden matters can make such a fuss? You know damn well what you’re going to do—bratting to get Jake’s attention—but you don’t know why you’re doing it. At this point, the anxiety and the alcohol in your system have managed to form itself into a vicious ouroboros, and you can’t tell which one is the cause.

Have you and Jake been spending less time together recently because he was busy? Yes. Have you been honest when Jake asked if you want to go to this party with him? No. You have also had a rough week, and you just want to cuddle with him on the sofa, watching some silly rom com while languidly poking at a bowl of Mac and cheese with generous amount ketchup squirted on top. However, you are afraid to say no because you don’t want him to think that you are a spoiled and needy brat. Welp, you guess this is where lying about your feelings leads to: uncomfortably standing in a night club, being a brat in another way. In the back of your mind, you know that if you’d only be honest and tell the truth, Jake will get you out of here in a heartbeat with no judgement. But the alcohol is messing with you, and it doesn’t help that a girl has been hitting on Jake this whole time.

She was also wearing a tight minidress—a searing red one with spaghetti strap, hugging her body in all the right places while also showing it off just enough skin to leave space for imagination—one that makes the one on your body eclipse. She puts her elbows on the bar counter while leaning purposefully so that all it takes is one careless movement while reaching for one’s drink to touch her breasts. Jake wasn’t paying attention to her, or at least not now, not yet. You feel jealousy shoot up your veins. Having left Jake’s side when he met an old acquittance and their conversation was getting too long , then being blocked by the crowd rushing into the dance floor when you plan to stride back, you are now standing on the other side of the room, anxiously tapping your feet, waiting for the hideous song to end.

You take another sip of your drink, and as you raised your eyelids, you saw the girl getting off the bar stool. She should’ve known better than standing up holding a full shot glass in her hands or perhaps she shouldn’t have done that silly little hop trying to impress. Of course, her heels got hung on the footrest a second too long, and she fell forward, throwing herself on Jake. He caught her, his hand on her shoulder to restore her balance. His action was neat and brief, his complexion barely changes. It is clear as day a spontaneous and innocent response, but for you, that’s the last straw.

You didn’t even care continue watching for their further exchange—or whether there was one. You down your drink and slam the empty glass on the counter a bit too harsh before stepping onto the dance floor. You make eye contact with the nearest guy. “Would you like to dance?” The music is loud and it is dark. You lean in closer and ask again when he doesn’t hear you.

Now you are sure that Jake has seen it. When he catches your eyes, a pang of guilt and shame zips through you, you feel like a child being caught red-handedly cheating on a test. You know what you are doing is wrong and petty, you are doing it to get his attention. But in the heat of the moment, with your emotions tangled up, jealousy gets the best of you. You try to look away, and that’s when you see the snap.

It is something that he has conditioned into you. Whenever you’re acting up in public, Jake’s snap is his warning to you. And when it’s quiet around, it’s a gentle but firm squeeze a little above your knee under the table. You got three strikes, but you usually get back in hand just with his warning glance or him simply raising his hands a little.

Jake was leaning back against the bar, his elbow resting on the counter. It is a quick snap between his fingers with a flick of his wrist. There was no way that you would hear it above the music, but in your brain, it rolls loud like thunder.

Out of the reflexive response, your body acts before your mind catches up. You freeze for a second, and you feel a phantom touch like a subtle current rolling over the area above your knee. You try your best to feign your indifference, peeling your glance away. He started it, you lie to yourself.

As the song comes to an end, the guy you were dancing with asks to buy you a drink. You accept and follow him to the bar. Before you even sot down, you feel Jake coming over and standing behind you. His hand is on your waist. A gentle squeeze. Subtle but possessive.

“Hey, what—” The poor guy is confused.

“Would you please excuse us?” Jake’s voice is calm and smooth. You don’t have to turn back to know that he is smiling politely. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

The man cocks his eyebrows. You don’t dare to read his expression. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before he can respond, you turn on your heels and let Jake lead you out of the bar. Jake isn’t even gripping hard on you, but by now, every nerve in your body has learned to be attentive and obedient to his touch. It is only when the cold air outside hits you that you try to break away from him.

You knew you have gone to the point of no return. You have achieved nothing with your childish act, and to continue a tantrum is your only way to save face.

“Let—”

“Shut it,” Jake cuts you off, rage boiling behind those two words.

“I’ve got three strikes! That was only one!” You retort.

Jake narrows his eyes. “Then consider this your strike two.”

“Fuck you!” You blurt out, instantly regretting as the words left you lips. You see a moment of confusion and incredulous flash through Jake’s eyes before anger takes over. He lets out a dry laugh. You shiver.

“That’s it.” Jake releases your hand, taking off his jacket, flings it over your shoulder with a push at the small of your back. He walks the two of you to where the car was parked. He still opens the door for you and puts his hand up to protect you from hitting your head before circling to his side.

In the few seconds of silence between your side of the car door closing and his side of the car door opening, you sag like a bounce house with a puncture, all the furiousness has left your body, replaced by the bone-deep regret and exhaustion. You want to go back to a few hours ago, where you would say, “I don’t feel like going out tonight. Can we stay in and watch a movie?”, where you would say, “I don’t want to be here anymore. Can we go home?”, where you would straight up look into his eyes and tell him, “I miss you so much, I just want to spend time with you, alone.”

The broody silence stretches through the whole way home. You almost hop he would just leave you in the car. You feel ashamed when he yanks your side of the door open with his hand up on the frame.

Once you are in the house, Jake walks directly to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a glass. He stands in front of the French window, his thumb hooked in his belt, the left side of his jacket riding up.

There is no sign of the rage you expected. You are still wearing his jacket, your fingers curled up in the leather. The shame that was burning inside you clashes with the icy feeling down your spine.

You expect him to push you against the wall, or spit out “strip”, or at least a “go upstairs”. You know that you will drop down on your knees the second the first syllable of any those words parts his lips. Or something through his eyes, a silent scowl, a stern look. Even when Jake is silent, his eyes always convey something—-or at least you can always read something from them.

But he is not even looking at you now.

Please don’t ignore me.

“The silent treatment now, really?” It can’t be any clearer that you are fighting a lost battle. Your voice bounces off the silence and stabs you like a boomerang.

Jake finally turns around. He lowers his head and smirks. The next words he says make you icy cold. It’s like you are standing on a frozen lake and have misjudged the thickness of the ice beneath you feet; with a misstep, it cracks, and you fall into the piercing cold water.

“Do you think you deserve ‘treatment’,” he accentuates the word, “of any kind, my dear?”

The nickname is stripped off all its concomitant affection, only adding to the insult with biting irony. You’d rather he didn’t use it at all. The tears threaten to spill. You clench your fist.

“That’s your way of talking, huh?” Jake paces towards you, each step slow and steady like a confident predator cornering his prey, “some yaps and some whines, but my little brat just loves running her mouth.”

Brat. That word punches you like a left hook. A brat. That’s exactly what you have been tonight.

You know for sure you are finally going to submit, and once you reached that stage, it’s going to be pure bliss; it will be the closest you’ll ever felt to him. And that’s all you want, to be close to him. Sure, a beeline from point A to point B is straight and clear, but where’s the fun in that? Being a brat feels like an elongated foreplay. Just as you are ashamed of the amount of swearwords and moans you let out when being edged, you can’t deny that you love it. Love it so much that you are doing it to yourself. You wanted it so much, but you refuse to accept it without some struggle. You feel unworthy when things land on your lap easily. The emotions you will experience after winning the lottery probably would be fear and suspicion, as you contemplate “now that I’m hit on the head with pennies from heaven, what will I lose in exchange? You are plagued by the fairy tale in which the king is ravished with joy when he finds a precious jewel but then proceeds to lose his beloved once as the backfire. After all, life never gives anything for nothing, a price is always exacted for what fate bestows.* You believe the same goes for love. Jake came into your life so suddenly, sweeping in like a whirlwind, with such velocity and intensity that you are afraid one day he will exit like one, leaving your heart in the ruins. You have to earn his love, you will be his good girl.

“Have I been ignoring my princess? Attention, is that what you want? Jealousy, is that what got into you tonight, um?” His finger grips your chin.

You both love and detest how Jake has always been able to strip you bare with such ease, your body and your desire. To see through the “yes” behind the “no” when your pride and stubbornness get the best of you, and the “no” behind the “yes” when you overexert yourself and try to please while ignoring your limits. It does takes quite some effort to reach this almost telepathic stage, a bumpy trail full of frustration and trial and errors, but it’s worth the effort. When the voice inside your head gets loud and your body is aching with unsoothable desire, the wrong punishment will immediately send you crying in a non sexy way.

You have no choice but to look into his eyes. One simple stare from him dissects your thought like a scalpel. With one clean, cold cut, he slices you open. Exposed, vulnerable.

You are already playing a dangerous game, walking the tight rope, teetering on the edge. Now, you are pulled off balance by his eyes drilling into you, demanding complete honesty and obedience.

“Please.” You mumble, lowering your eyes.

“Please, what?” He tilts your chin right up.

Your voice is meek, barely audible, but legible enough for Jake. “Please punish me, Sir.”

He lets go of you. Immediately you miss his touch.

“Upstairs. You know what to do.”

You are on autopilot as you remove your clothing, leaving them in a pile on the floor and nudging them into the closet with your feet. Out of sight. The sequins on your dress shine like a flamboyant humiliation.

It can’t be more than five minutes until Jake comes into the room, but every single second feels like purgatory to you. You let out a long sigh of relief as you heard his footsteps. You hear him shuffle behind you, and then the sound of him rummaging through the drawer, collecting the things he needs. Finally, you see his feet in your lowered sight as he steps in front of you. You keep your head down, knowing better than looking up to see what he has in his hands. But you can’t escape the shadow that was projected onto the floor. Something long and thin.

“Please don’t tie me up.” You blurt out before immediately biting down on your lip.

“I’m afraid you’re not in the position to bargain, dear, ” He’s right. “This is a punishment; it’s not supposed to be what you want. You take. Is that understood?” His voice looms over your bare skin, giving you goosebumps.

“Yes, Sir.”

Then something hard touches your thigh. You look down and see the end of a cane. The cane. A blessing and a curse. It isn’t very often that Jake uses a cane on you. To you, it hurts more than a paddle but turns you on more as well. The cane draws a wiggly line down your legs, stopping at that area above your knee with three taps. Your kneeling frame perches up in response, your body instantly connecting the touch with Jake’s warning squeeze.

Then, a clear and crisp snap break through the quiet room. Your head shots up spontaneously and you crash into Jake’s eyes. His dominance is dialed up to the fullest from this angle. His long eyelashes cast shadows under the eyes, deepening his brown pupils. His lips are lightly parted, his eyebrows relaxed. He looks appreciative, like admiring an art piece of his own creation.

“Ah, so you do remember.” He makes a statement, but it sounds like a reprimand in your ears.

“I…”

“You will have plenty of chance to speak tonight, but not now.” Honestly, you are secretly glad that he stops you because you don’t trust your voice not to break. The apology lodges and throbs in your throat.

“We put a lot of time and effort into our warnings. It doesn’t come easy, I think you know that,” Jake continues, “you chose, deliberately, to ignore and violate them tonight. So I’m sure you have good reasons to do so.”

The cane nudges the inner side of your thigh, signalling you to stand up. And then a goad with the tip on the back of your sacrum, making you topple forward, with your hands gripping on the end of the mattress.

The whoosh sound of the cane as it comes down startles you even more than the stinging, closely followed by Jake’s gruff demand: “Enlighten me. Why?”

The delayed pain is now blooming over your skin. Why? All the previous shame resurfaces, forcing you to recall every detail. You drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

The next hit comes down harder, moving up slightly from where the last one lands.

Still silence. You close your eyes tightly, tears burning behind your eyelids. You want nothing more than being honest with Jake, but somehow you just can’t squeeze the words out of you. Thinking back now, it is so not worthy to act up something so trivial. Everything would have been fine if you just be honest right from the start, if you communicate your feelings directly. But why can’t you?

Whack.

The next one hits an inch to the left. The cane is worse because it gathers the sensations. If the paddle feels like putting your hands into a basin of hot water, the cane feels like splashes of hot oil. Obviously, you are still an independent grown-up with full control of your body autonomy, but at the moment, you so desperately need to transfer that control. Even if it’s temporary, so that your brain would stop lying to you. And Jake is demanding exactly that.

Why? Why can’t you be honest with him? Time has proved that this man has been nothing but respectful, understanding, and non-judgemental. What are you afraid of? What more can you ask for?

Whack.

“What’s your color?”

“G..green, Sir.”

You press your lips together hard. An involuntary tear escaping from the corner of your eyes. Your brain is determined to play a tug of war with the help of your stubbornness, but your body revolts. The pain is numbing your volition.

Whack.

Now that you’ve known each strike is calculated. Jake never hits the same place. They are always placed from each other with some space so that the pain spreads and connects like drops of paint on paper, spreading into a watercolour in different shades of pink. Your muscle contract. You are absurdly wet; it feels almost purely physiological, even though you know the agony is only a calling. Deep down there’s the yearning— craving to be touched, to be soothed and caressed. But are you worth it?

Whack.

“I am an ungrateful, attention-seeking brat.” You cry, your forehead dropping down on your laced fingers.

Jake is grateful that you can’t see his expression. And maybe that’s a good thing for you too. Because if you see the heartache in his eyes, your pretense of strength will fall apart in an instant. It rips his heart to hear you degrading yourself. It tortures him when you can’t see how worthy, beautiful, and precious you are the way he does. It hurts him to know that he fails to earn your trust, to earn your complete honesty. He knows your body; he has learned your threshold of pain and pleasure, and has the skill of a pharmacist when it comes to mixing the two to give you euphoria. However, he is an unarmed man facing the voices inside your head, he is clueless standing in front of the thorny-hedged gate of your heart. And it confounds him too when sometimes hurting you is the only way he can show you love. If you would only let me, princess, if you would only let me love you.

This time, there is only a gentle tap on the fleshiest part of your butt.

“Nice try. That’s not the answer I asked for.” It takes everything in Jake to maintain his domineering facade. Bullshit. You’re a loving, gentle, poetic, sensible soul that just happens to be too good at feeding yourself deprecative lies.

By now, all the fight left in you is a poorly-crafted sandcastle swilled over and over by waves of pain. The good pain. Cathartic. Liberating. Hypnotizing, almost. They converge into the mysterious song of the siren, whispering in your ear: “Stop fighting. Give it up to me.”

The voice sounds warm, assuring, familiar: “Let me in.”

That busts you right open.

“I know there was nothing, I only did it to get your attention.” Once the hardest part was out, you find yourself unable to stop. The box-ed up feelings cascade out of you. “I..I don’t want to be there! I d-didn’t tell you because…I don’t want to look n-needy. You’re too good for me. You’re one of countless good things that have happened to me, w-what if you leave?”

Ugly sobs ripple through your body. Your legs threatening to give out as you shake your head in guilt. Tears burn you blotched skin and gone cold way too quickly, leaving damp trails on your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I’m sorry.”

Between your whimper, you hear another swoosh of the cane coming down. You tense up subconsciously. There is the sound of the cane hitting flesh, but the anticipated pain never came. Before you could think further, your were pulled up and sat in Jake’s lap. His woodsy musk envelops you as he tucks your head under his chin. Pangs of guilt shoot through your body, hurting way worse than your behind. Slowly but surely, Jake’s warm and strong hands find the nape of your neck, pulling you towards his chest where you bury your face, your shoulder shudders, and you cry. Jake's heart contracts painfully along with each of your sob. He closes his eyes tightly.

“You silly, silly little fool.” He sighs, rocking you back and forth, “it would be so much easier if you just say so from the start. But my little kitten just won’t go down without a fight, will she?” His finger combs through your sweaty strands.

“Is that how you love, little flame?” Jake murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple, “always so fierce, so effusive, like a supernova?”

You keen on that word. You think you’ve never loved a a nickname more. Jake’s steady heartbeat against your chest grounds you and slowly restores all your senses like books being put back onto the shelf after being swept down to the floor in a storm. Slot by slot, mise en place.

Feeling that you’ve calmed down, Jake takes your face in his hands. “Let me show you.” He leaves kisses all over your face, pausing between each one to speak.

“This. Is. How. I. Love.”

He touches his forehead to yours. It is impossible to look away, impossible to feel anything else other than him.

“Allow me to love you.”

The sentence is like a curse, one that undid some wicked spell, one that wilts all the thorns on your heart, one that undid you completely.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel the butterfly in your stomach. You know it was triggered by the long-caged bird in your heart flexing its wings. Soar. Soar head-on into love. Take the fearless flight and never regret thy fall.

The slightly weird sensation on the left side of your face makes something click in your brain. You hurriedly pull Jake’s hand down and see a swollen mark welt across his left palm.*

That’s where the last hit lands. He takes it for you.

“See? equal.” He holds up his palm.

“Jake…” Your lips quiver. You hold his hand in yours, desperately kissing it. Jake hardly seem to mind at all, using his other hand to wipe away your tears. His eyes infinitely gentle.

“Do not feel guilty, that’s not my point. I am sorry for not letting you trust me enough. I love you, it is my fault to not make it known to you it all the while.* We’re even now, clean slate. Only trust from now on, okay?”

Nothing reassures you more than a clean slate; that means you are not completely fucked up, that means you still have the opportunity to redeem yourself, to do better, and this time you know that you have a better chance because you are not doing it alone, you have Jake by your side, and he has managed to make you believe that he will always be by your side.

You press your lips against his. His tongue dips into your mouth. You roll your hips on his thighs. The need rekindles inside you.

“Tell me what you want, princess. Anything for you.”

“I want you. Jake. Please make love to me.”

With that, he lifts you up and flips you over. You land on the bed, letting out a chuckle as you watch him get rid of his shirt and pants. Your limbs go warm when his body covers yours. The pendant of his necklace drags down your sternum and dipping into your navel as his kisses your breasts. His mouth finds your nipple, his tongue circling around your areola, feeling it grow harder and perk up even more. You let out a squeal, arching your back, your clit meeting his pelvis for a futile relief. You feel him, hard and determined, flush against your entrance. Your muscles tense up, clenching around the emptiness. The silky desire flows down through your veins, gathering downward.

You lie open like a book, allowing his velvet tongue to explore every letter and punctuation. You are completely at his disposal. Jake’s movements are slow and skilled, tentalizing and hypnotic

“Please.”

“Please, what?” He repeats the question with a cheeky grin.

“Please, fuck me already.” The verb sounds so vulgar, yet you’ve never said it with so much love and tenderness. Fuck. You love the plosive in the end. Explosive, fervent, triumphant.

“Please,” Jake mused. His hand snakes between your bodies, his finger plunging into your wetness.

“Do you know,” his fingers curls and scraps, collecting your slickness and stroking them up and down your labia, “how do they say ‘please’ in classical Latin?”

“Poetic nerd.” You quipped, followed by a vindictive press of his finger against your tissue that makes you mewl.

“Amabo te.” He whispers as he holds his cock in his hand, his tip tapping on your entrance along with each syllable, each of them dripping onto your skin like honey. Knock, knock.

“Amabo te.” You mindlessly repeat after him. The sound is magical and mesmerizing, rumbling off your tongue with such gracefulness.

“And it just happens to also literally mean,” he pushes his hip forward, making every inch pronounced. The double suspense makes your breath hitch.

“I will love you.”

He bottoms out in one long, silky thrust. Every sensory system in your body fires up. Air is whipped out of your lungs and restored by his kiss. Your hands map his back, hugging him tighter, nailing him into you even deeper. Jake only pulls back slightly before pumping right back, cherishing the silky heat of yours as if there’s no tomorrow. His sharp pants fall all over your neck and your collarbone. The pleasure is building up at a scary pace.

Jake’s face is so close to yours, you see yourself in his eyes, fused with nothing but bliss and desire that danced through his blown-out pupils. At this moment, you are love. The realization sends a tremor through you. For the first time tonight, your body and brain and in sync. No more fighting.

“Can feel you, love,” Jake grunts, the vein visible on his sweat-coated forehead. You buck up your hips, spurring him on.

“Take me with you.”

For a few heartbeats, the world went silent. Never has an orgasm felt so good. Zings of fire sparkles and spreads. Your mouth hangs open; the pleasure robbed your voice, pinning you down as a time stamp. You are preserved in the moment like a butterfly specimen. It makes you want to exist like that forever.

Your leg jerks, urging him to stay as he rolls off you. In your peripheral vision, you saw you were still holding hands, his fingers laced and lodged with yours like a promise.

Jake’s lips graze your ears, a strand of his curls falls across your lips. His voice is raspy and low, with an easily detected tenderness. “Did I do it? Will you let me love you?”

You know it takes a lot of energy out of him as well. And now, a faint trance of postpositive guilt and the languid afterglow mixed with the subspace are catching up with you. Every inch of you is uncurled and loosened, but in the back of your mind still remains some sanity the size of a laundry basket where you have a heart to be strong, be strong for him; he takes such good care of you. You pull Jake’s welted palm against your bare chest, close to your heart. You squeeze his hand, followed with three gentle pats on its back. Just like the way he tells you that you are safe and he’s not leaving when you are blindfolded and tied up.

You know you will talk more about it in the morning over plates of French toast or blueberry pancakes, but for now, everything is good…..and that conversation doesn’t sound scary to you at all. You know that the man lying next to you will dote on you with nothing but pure love and acceptance. And that doesn’t sound half bad at all.

-----------------------------------------------------------

*1: adapted from Stefan Zweig, Marie Antoinette: The Portrait of an Average Woman

*2: inspired by Three-Line Whip: A First Time Maledom BDSM Novella by James Hardcourt

*3: adapted from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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Yay! you made it! Thank you SO MUCH for reading :))

any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated.

my other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones || Coming back to me || Warm Honey || He Would || Hold Me (1) (2) || blurb: Chin Tattoo, Ribbon Bow 🎀, post-show

#greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiskza x reader #greta van fleet smut #jake kiszka #gvf fic #gvf smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jakedown

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clusterbuck · 1 year

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been trying to do it right

6x14 coda (buck’s version | eddie’s version)

“he’s not gonna ghost her, buck,” hen says. buck opens his mouth to protest that he isn’t saying eddie should ghost her—

and promptly closes it again when he realises that’s pretty much exactly what he’d said. keeps it shut when he realises exactly how much he wants eddie to do just that. forget to text this girl, lose her number, so everything can stay just the way it is.

which probably makes him a bad friend, he thinks. he’s supposed to want eddie to be happy. he’s supposed to want eddie to date someone and feel—fulfilled, or whatever. happy with his life in a way that—

in a way he apparently isn’t now, if he’s dating.

which, buck is rapidly realising, he doesn’t want eddie to do.

it’ll change things, he tells himself. that’s why. if eddie’s dating, if there’s someone significant in his life, it’ll make it weird when buck shows up on their day off just to try a new recipe. it’ll make it weird for eddie and christopher to turn up at his place with a bag full of fifth grade homework just for a change of scenery.

yeah, buck thinks. that’s definitely why the whole thing has him on edge.

—

eddie never actually asks buck to watch christopher during his date. buck simply asks what time it is, and shows up at eddie’s an hour before. eddie looks up from the dining table and grins at him in greeting, and buck kicks his shoes off and takes his place at the table.

“you made this, right?” buck asks christopher in a mock whisper, and christopher laughs.

“oh, fuck off,” eddie says. “you know you love my mac and cheese.”

“eddie!” buck says, pretending to be scandalised. “there are children present!”

“there’s one child,” eddie says, grabbing buck’s plate and serving him mac and cheese, “and he’s definitely heard you say worse.”

“lies and slander,” buck declares, then grins.

“shut up and eat your macaroni,” eddie says.

buck shuts up for at least three bites, then turns to look at eddie. “so, i guess your date isn’t dinner, huh?”

“nah, just drinks,” eddie says. “she picked the place, so—”

“smart,” buck says, shovelling more macaroni into his mouth.

“you think?” eddie asks.

“easier to escape drinks,” buck says. “you don’t need to worry about finishing your food or wasting an expensive meal.”

“i’m not going to escape,” eddie says, indignant. “despite what you might think, i’m not panicking.”

buck grins. “i didn’t say anything about you.”

“that’s just rude,” eddie says and tries to take buck’s plate away, but buck holds his arms around it protectively.

“sorry,” he says, knowing he doesn’t sound at all contrite. “she’s going to fall desperately in love with you from first sight. you won’t be able to get rid of her.”

“wait, i don’t know if i want that either—” eddie says, just as his phone buzzes. buck sees the alarm pop up on the screen.

“shit,” eddie says, standing up. “i gotta get changed and go.”

“what,” buck asks, grinning, “you’re not going like that?”

eddie looks down at his cutoff sweats and the LAFD t-shirt with a hole near the hem. “wasn’t planning on it, no.”

shame, buck thinks. he looks good like this, soft and comfortable.

then he blinks, unsure where that thought came from.

“okay, go, go,” he says giving his head a tiny shake to clear it. he gestures at the table. “i’ve got cleanup.”

“you’re a lifesaver,” eddie says, and disappears into his bedroom.

he comes out a couple of minutes later wearing a dark red suit. buck turns back to the dishes in the sink as soon as he sees it, because it turns out the alternate option is to stare at eddie for far longer than is probably normal.

“okay,” eddie says to buck’s back. “i’m gonna,

uh—”

“have fun!” buck says, and suddenly can’t tell if his voice always sounds like this or if there’s something wrong with it. “but, you know, not too much—”

“buck!” eddie hisses.

he turns to leave. “make good choices!” buck calls out after him.

and then the front door closes, and he’s gone. eddie is officially on a date, and buck—

buck is left sitting in eddie’s house with the knowledge that maybe, as it turns out, he’s not really all that okay with it.

#i have a problem #911fic #911 spoilers #buddie #shush emma #emma writes

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theloveoftoms · 1 year

Text

one hell of a pilot - maverick x reader

summary: after a recent breakup, your long-time friend goose suggests you join him and the others at a bar off base. maverick and you forge a meaningful connection <3

a/n: hello babes, guess who's back from her far too long hiatus, this girl! I started writing this a few weeks ago, and I finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy, I know writing it was a blast! I have my poetry final today, so wish me luck lolz. have a great day :)) - xoxo mac

wordcount: 4.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, shitty ex-boyfriend, language ;0

Today had been a rough day. Training at Top Gun had increased to a new level of difficulty. With each new assignment and flight training demanding a new level of grit and determination to accomplish. And it certainly didn’t help that your heart was still in the process of mending from the pain caused by your most recent boyfriend, well, now I suppose, ex-boyfriend.

The day at Top Gun was finally over, and the thought of coming home to your single-unit pleased you in the moment, but you knew damn well, that the second you got back to your apartment, the dread of it all would sink in.

So, after a shower, and a luke-warm beer that you had forgotten to put in the refrigerator, you found yourself perched on the arm of your living room couch, fiddling with the remote that never seemed to work, but probably just needed batteries. You found some shitty action movie on tv and ate a plate of strawberries as the sound of fast cars and men with Floridan accents became a comforting lull in the background.

Your night, or at least how you had planned it, would consist of, 1) the second half of this shitty movie 2) the leftover chicken quesadilla you had waiting for you in the refrigerator and 3) the cheap thriller novel that you had found at the drugstore last week. What you didn’t anticipate happening, was the doorbell ringing promptly at nine, just after you had finished your dinner.

So, you pulled yourself up from the couch, and on the way to the door, when you passed a glimpse of your reflection in the hallway mirror, you debated grabbing a cardigan or a blanket or something to cover up your sloppy look. You were wearing a navy-branded t-shirt (courtesy of your days at the academy), and pair of biker shorts that appeared to be non-existent as they hid beneath the excess material of the mens tripple-XL shirt. But the closer you got to the door, the further that thought was in your mind, and you decided, that whoever was on the other side of the door would just have to deal with your post-work image.

“y/l/n,” Goose stated confidently, a hand resting on his hip, “you busy tonight?”

Your posture relaxed when you realized who it was; the man you practically grew up with.

You deadpanned and gestured to yourself, “does it look like I’m busy Bradshaw?”

Goose shrugged, not entirely sure how to reply to that retort of yours.

“What do you need Goose?” You asked nonchalantly, both wanting and not-wanting to get back inside to the comforts of your sofa.

“A couple of the guys and I are going to grab drinks at the Duke and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along?”

You gestured to yourself again, “Does it look like I’m fit to go to a bar Nick?”

“It looks like you need a pair of fuckin pants,” he said jokingly, which earned a slap to his bicep.

“I know things haven’t been great for you lately y/n,” Goose said, “with Brett and all.”

Brett. Just hearing his name brought an unwanted surge of pain through your chest. Specifically, the surge of pain that you had been trying to push away for the past couple of weeks. You didn’t cry about him anymore, in the daytime that is. But at night, when you would lie in bed beneath the darkness of the moon, missing the presence of having someone to curl into, the tears would come, and they would temporarily make an impression on your pillowcase. But as you slept it off, the tears would dry, and you would wake up the next morning feeling mostly okayish.

“And I think,” Goose said, bringing you back into reality from the facade of memories that you had been reminiscing upon within your mind just then, “if you came out with us tonight, you’d have more fun than you would here,” he said, gesturing to your townhome, “spilling a tub of ice cream all over yourself while you sit alone with the lights off.”

Way harsh Goose, you thought to yourself. But he did have a point. You hadn’t been out in forever. The last time you actually went and got drinks like a proper twenty-something-year-old was with your parents when you relocated to San Diego for your position in Top Gun. And that was just at some locally owned Mexican restaurant that happened to have a bar inside. Maybe it would be good to get back out there?

You rolled your eyes, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

So, as Goose, your childhood best friend stood in your kitchen, washing the plate you had used to eat your chicken quesadilla, you were busy in your room getting yourself ready for the evening. You dressed yourself in a lacey black tank top that looked only slightly like lingerie, but didn’t if you wore it tucked into a pair of straight-cut jeans and wore it alongside a pair of low beige heels. As you ran a comb through your wavy hair, you couldn’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror.

Sure, it was a pretty typical outfit that other young women of your age wore when they went out for drinks, but it was cute. And it did provide you with the security of looking just like every other woman. Thats exactly what you wanted to appear to be; just like every other woman. Brett had dumped you because you weren’t ready to settle down with him. You weren’t ready to move in, you weren’t ready for marriage, and you sure as hell weren’t ready for children. Brett wanted you to finish up Top Gun and then lie low for a while, putting your career aside. “Be realistic,” Brett had said, “This pilot shit can’t last forever. Maybe look at getting a different job, one thats more feminine?”

Your career was very important to you. You had worked so hard to climb the latter that that is the United States Navy. Your career was the highlight of your life. It was everything you had ever worked towards. And you weren’t going to give that up. And as much as you hated to admit, the reason of your recent break-up, had been affecting your ego ever so slightly.

So tonight, as you admired your curves in the mirror, and put on some mascara, you told yourself that you were just like every other woman.

…

“This better be worth it,” you grumbled, shutting the door to Goose’s Bronco, scanning the beach-side dive bar with your eyes.

Off in the distance, the evening tangerine hue was beginning to creep up and onto the horizon, putting the day to sleep in preparation for the night. And alongside the dimming of the evening, the neon lights of the dive bar became more welcoming.

The Duke, the off-base bar that Goose had insisted you join him and the others at, was the kind of place that had charm, but only if you knew where to look for it. It was the kind of place with neon lights and drinks that were both cheap and good. It was the kind of place that people came to forget about the day they had just had. Thats what you wanted. And the aura of the loud music coming from the bar would sure help with that.

“Trust me, y/n,” Goose reassured you, responding to your question, “it will be.”

You wanted to believe Goose, you really did. And the moment you saw the table of guys that you’ve began to come to know as your group of friends, the night already seemed better.

“Look who made it!” Iceman said as you approached the table, making you feel welcome, “Its good to see you Cobra,” he said, calling you by your call sign.

You smiled and as you took a seat at one of the empty chairs, saying your ‘hellos’ to the other classmates that were here. And at the end of the table was no other than Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell – perhaps, your greatest competitor – sitting laxly with a beer in his hands and his regular leather jacket draped around his chair.

Damn he had nice arms.

“Evening Cobra,” he said to you, leaning back ever so slightly in a way that seemed to be slightly too confident.

“Maverick,” you offered as a form of pleasantry.

Slider, who was busy looking at the drink menu slapped it down on the counter, pointing to one item in particular. “Now this,” he said, his finger drawn to a platter of five tequila shots, “this is what we need to get things going.”

So, as soon as a one of the circulating waitresses happened to be walking by your table, she wrote down, and then brought over the collective order of your table, the night certainly got a whole lot more exciting.

“Alright,” Goose said, handing you your stalky shot glass of 100% pure tequila, complete with a rim of salt and an accompanying lime, “To good times,” he said nodding.

“Good times,” you repeated along with the others, before drawing the glass to your mouth, tasting the dryness of the salt right before proceeding to take the shot.

The warmth of the alcohol tricked down your throat as you swallowed, and you forgot just how strong shots could be. You weren’t sure if swallowing it as quickly as possible made the uncomfortable sensation better or worse, but as soon as the clear liquid was all emptied from your glass, you jammed the lime into your mouth and squinted your eyes shut as a way to combat the sensation. You weren’t the only one. It seemed everyone at your table, was just to realizing how strong Slider’s chosen shots were.

“Shit,” Goose groaned, setting his glass down on the table, “And you enjoy these Slider?”

Slider shrugged, grinning, “Its awful right now, but hey, come ten minutes, you’ll feel real great.”

Opening one of the beers on the table, you rolled your eyes Sliders comment, “It’ll take more than that,” you sarcastically groaned to Goose who was seated beside you.

“What was that y/n?” Iceman asked.

You shook your head, “Ah, it was nothing.”

“Do I hear you wanting to go for a round two?”

Now, a sensible you would have said no. But since it was Friday night, you wouldn’t have to get up early tomorrow for class. And its not like you had any other plans for the day besides catching up on some paperwork and going on your usual walk. So for once in your life, you threw caution to the wind and agreed, “You got it Ice.”

So, naturally, when your platter of shots arrived, you passed them out, handing each one of the guys their respective glasses with a smirk.

“Maverick,” you said charmingly – gee, thanks alcohol – and you tried to avoid the warm feeling in your chest when your slender fingers skimmed against Maverick’s as you handed him the glass.

“Three, two, one,” you counted down, giving yourself, and possibly the rest of your group, the mental preparation prior to that same burning sensation that would wreak havoc in your mouth prior to swallowing and quickly placing the lime in your mouth.

There was a collective groan from your table as the five shot glasses returned to their small cedar serving plank.

You laughed, washing down the remaining remnants of the uncomfortable taste with the beer you had ordered. “I am not doing that again.”

So, for the next while, as the effects of the alcohol began to make itself present in your body, you sat at the table, just chatting and hanging out with your classmates, sharing stories from your lives before the navy. And while the five of you talked, you couldn’t help but stare at the opposite end of the table where Maverick was seated.

Sure, naturally, prior to this evening, you had realized that Maverick was attractive, but being in a relationship with someone didn’t really allow you to fully appreciate his beauty. With his dark hair, carelessly brushed in an effortlessly windswept way atop of his head, and his oceanic eyes, that in some lights appeared green, and in others, appeared to be almost blue.

Physically, he was gorgeous, but your past interactions with him intrigued you to what it would be like to know him. He had an ego, one that was strong and unaffected, but there was something about his drive, about his reach, about the passion he put into everything he did. You couldn’t help but wonder if one knew him intimately, if he would pursue them with the same passion and drive.

The thought cleared from your mind when his eyes met yours, making you look away, and ultimately force yourself to think of something other than the man that is Maverick.

You hadn’t noticed, but with the loss of your collective sobriety that each one of you can your friends had came in with, the music in the dive bar began to form a sound for itself. The radio collection, of rock, and pop, and some hard core groovy songs had elevated in loudness, so much so, that in a section of the bar a cluster of people had begun to dance among the cleared spot in the building.

“Do you guys see that?” Slider asked, his face drawn in a grin.

You turned in your chair, studying the dancers with your eyes, then turning back to face the table, “What?” You asked.

“That blonde over there,” Slider said, “She’s giving me some serious fuck me eyes.”

Hearing those words come out of your classmates mouth nearly made you choke on your beer, you weren’t expecting that.

“Wanna join me Ice?” Slider asked, “She’s got friends.”

You rolled your eyes as the two of them as they both threw themselves out of their seats and leisurely sauntered over to the dance floor.

“Anything to get laid,” Goose muttered jokingly when the two men began to sway to the beat of the music not quite beside, but very much near the two women.

“You could probably meet someone out there Cobra,” Goose said, more directly to you.

You scanned the crowd again, “I’m not too sure if I want to,” you gestured to the men, “they all look like their mothers still pick out their clothes for them.”

Maverick snorted from his spot over across the table, “She’s got a point Nick.”

You turned to face Maverick and flashed him a grin, “see, someone gets me!”

Goose shook his head, trying to hide his smile before saying, “I’m going to go give Carol a call, I promised I’d call her tonight. You two try and stay out of trouble,” he said, lecturing the two of you like children.

Seemingly the moment Goose left the table, Maverick’s gaze met yours. You were usually fine with eye connate, but there was something about the way that Maverick’s enchanting green eyes were staring into your own that made you feel both nervous and calm at the same time. You weren’t too sure what to say, or what the two of you could talk about, so as a way of diverting the imminence of your conversation, you took another drink of your beer, which only provided a moment relief where you weren’t required to think of what to say.

“You dance?” He asked you, the comment coming out of nowhere.

You shook your head, “I can sort-of dance, but I don’t that often,” you told him unsure of why you chose to tell him that. “And you?” You asked him back.

Maverick shook his head grinning, “not really my thing either.”

And then from across the room you heard a voice of familiarity, and right away you knew who it belonged to. Brett. Your ex-boyfriend Brett. The man who broke your heart Brett.

As much as you didn’t want to turn around, and face the man who had told you to take a step down from your career, your suspicions got the best of you, and as much as you didn’t wish to see him, there was some sort of burning panic in your chest that wouldn’t be fulfilled if you didn’t turn in your seat.

There he was. Standing tall, with his sandy hair, and well sculpted physique, whispering tiny inaudible thoughts into the ear of a woman with bleach blonde hair. Your eyes met his, and suddenly you wanted to leave. You wanted a sinkhole to come up into the bar and swallow you whole. And the moment Brett flashed you a grin, one that said, this is my new woman, you jealous? You felt the desire, no, the need to get out of the bar. You weren’t ready to face all of this just yet.

But time doesn’t always work in your favour. And so the moment Brett walked over to your table, his arm linked tightly around the slender waist of the bleach blonde woman, you weren’t too sure what to do.

Brett smiled in the kind of way that reminded you of what it was like to know him, before spewing out pleasantries and introducing the woman known as Crystal who was joined at his hip. “Its good to see you out y/n,” he said coyly, and in that moment, a ping of hatred found its way through your heart, how had you ever been with this man.

But instead of telling him off, as much as you wanted to, you smiled bluntly, your eyes revealing your true nature, “And its good to see you indulging in pleasures other than morning runs and cheap beer from the gas station.”

As Crystal gave you a dirty look, Maverick snorted before walking over to your end of the table and putting an arm around your chair, “I think its time for you to be on your way man,” he said to Brett.

Brett shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “I was just coming by to say hello,” before he walked away, his hand moving down from Crystals waist circulating above her ass. Good riddance Brett!

You turned to Maverick, flashing him a gentle smile, “thanks for that Mav,” before pausing and looking to the door, “if you don’t mind, I think I just need some air.”

And without protest, you pushed yourself up from your seat, and tried to compose yourself as the night time air hit your face. You felt warm – thanks to the alcohol – but the coldness felt lovely on your skin. You felt refreshed, cleansed almost.

On the opposite side of the Duke, was the sandy beach leading up to the ocean, which now, in the dark of night, was illumined by nearby houses and buildings, and the light of the moon reflected calmly on the waters. You decided to walk onto the sand, removing your heels from your feet and letting the now-cold sand wiggle around your toes as you walked, until you found a spot within the sand to take a seat.

Gosh, the one person you didn’t want to see tonight was Brett, and surely enough, he was there. You hated that you saw him, and you hated that you weren’t quite over him yet. Naturally, things would take time, you just wanted to get through that as quick as you could.

Behind you, you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, which made you turn, your awareness of your surroundings coming into a fuller passage.

It was Maverick, waking slowly towards you through the sand. “Mind if I sit?” He asked.

You gestured to the available ground beside yourself, “by all means, be my guest.”

You didn’t really feel like you wanted company, but then again, it was Maverick, only Maverick, and you didn’t want to turn him away after he had stood up for you back there.

And as soon as Maverick sat down beside you, the warmth and familiarity of his scent filed your way through the air, a blend of sandalwood and citrus, and cedar, and near-summer nights, you found yourself relax a bit in his presence.

For a while, the two of you just sat there beneath the moonlight in one another's company, just listening to the sound of the waves upon the shore. It was peaceful.

“So that was him?” He finally asked you.

You nodded, turning your face ever so slightly to face him, “that was Brett, the Marine.”

Maverick nodded, “Goose told me about him,” he paused, “he seems like an ass.”

You chuckled, not too sure why, “you’re right about that.”

You weren't too sure how much of your failed relationship you wanted to share with your friend. You and Maverick weren't particularly close, but the two of you obviously cared about one another.

“I just hate,” you sighed, “I hate how when I was with him, I didn’t even realize how big of a dick he could be.”

Maverick looked over to you, as if he knew you were going to say more.

“He told me to give up my career after I’m done at Top Gun,” you said, feeling a sense of relief by telling someone else about the matter, “He wanted to get married, and have kids, and he wanted me to follow him wherever he went.”

Maverick scoffed.

“And its not that I even hate that that’s what he wanted, I hate that part of me, a very, very, small part of me, considered it. And sometimes, all I can do if worry about if I made the right decision, and walked away from him, from that life for the one Ive worked so hard for.”

Maverick shook his head, and in a more quiet tone, he turned to face you, “don't ever doubt yourself like that. Ever.”

You looked away from him, feeling some warm sensation in your chest, but when Maverick resumed to speak, you had no other choice but to turn back to face the brunette.

“You’re a pilot,” he said, “Its in your blood, its in your veins, its who you are. And you’re damn good at it. Hell, somedays I wish I was nearly as good as you. You fly with so much precision and drive and when you're up there, I only wish I could have a fraction of whatever it is that you do, because you are just so so good at it.”

You looked back to Maverick, noticing the soften in his usual expression. His moonlight eyes were on you, and only you.

“And if you ever think you would be better off with some dick like Brett, you’re wrong, because someone who loves you, shouldn’t hold you back from your potential, they should push you, they should inspire you to do better, to be better, to become better.”

For a while, the two of you just sat in silence, absorbing the pure intimacy of one another's gaze. You hadn’t realized how cold it was beginning to get because you were too busy thinking about what Maverick had just said. You didn’t realize the trail of goosebumps that had found their way across both of your arms, the cool night time air that brushed against them. But Maverick did.

Maverick slipped his arms out of his leather jacket, and draped it around your shoulders, a peaceful expression on his face. “Here,” he said, dawning the jacket, the very one that smelt so much like him it made you relax, “Its not super warm, but its better than nothing.”

When the warmth returned to your arms, almost the minute you gathered the material around yourself, your thoughts were finally gathered back into your head. You turned to Maverick, your knee brushing up against his faintly, but just enough that you were aware of its presence, and the way in which the faint warmth radiated through the fabric of both his jeans and yours, until you became hyperaware of its presence, and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” you told him.

“For the jacket,” you said, pulling the leather closer to your chest, “and for what you said. No one has ever told me that before.” You paused a moment, “it means a lot.”

Maverick’s expression softened and he looked at you contently, “its the truth,” he said softly.

You leaned into him, your head now resting on his shoulder, you felt a sense of peace, a sense of relief, you felt relaxed in Maverick’s presence. And when he leant his head, gently atop of yours, you knew that what Maverick had said was genuine.

And so, like you had initially thought, when Goose suggested the idea of going to a bar, you thought you would have maybe made one or two bad decisions, maybe choosing to kiss a man with far too much tongue, or follow him home. But what had ended up amounting from the evening was far better. You made a real connection, with someone who you would later find out, would become well worth you time.

That was the night you had met Maverick for the second time. The night when the two of you forged a connection one that even time wouldn’t be able to take away.

#top gun #maverick #pete maverick mitchell #lt pete mitchell #goose #maverick x goose #maverick mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #iceman #tom iceman kazansky #slider #maverick x reader #maverick x y/n #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #nick bradshaw

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psychangels · 2 months

Note

For the writing thing: Chai finding out about the corporate t-shirts (from the finance level) of ‘I survived the defect incident” and getting one, to the dismay of absolutely everyone

well, he did survive, so it's only fair that he should get one, too.

It's as Chai is looking through the many things he picked up along his way through Vandelay that he finds it. It's nothing particularly special on the surface. Just another log. It's contents, though, are special. So special that he can't help but laugh as he reads it.

I have to get one of those.

He realizes after a beat that they wouldn't have made any. Considering, y'know, Kale blew himself up and all.

Guess I'll have to call in a favor.

The gang—sans Chai, who they're waiting for—are in the cafeteria having lunch. They're chatting about nothing in particular. Just work things, future plans, and whatnot.

808's ears twitch right before they hear their missing member call out, "Hey guys!"

They all turn to greet him—and then freeze.

Peppermint's eyes widen. "Chai, what the fuck are you wearing?"

It's a rather simple looking grey hoodie. On the front, it says, "I Survived The Project Armstrong Defect Fiasco."

"What? You don't like it?" he asks as he walks over. There's a big, stupid grin plastered on his face.

"...How did you even get that?" Korsica questions.

"Had to pull a few strings—it was a real pain in the ass—but! I managed! And I think it was totally worth it."

CNMN tilts their head. "But...why?" "'Cause it's hilarious!" "I suppose it is a little humorous." Chai huffs. "Oh, c'mon! You get it, right, Mac?" "Uh...sorry, little guy..."

He frowns, slouching down with his hands stuffed into the hoodie's pocket.

Meowing, 808 hops onto his shoulder. She nudges the side of his face. Smiling, he reaches up to scritch her behind the ears.

"Well, at least I got you on my side." Peppermint rolls her eyes.

#hi fi rush #chai hi fi rush #808 hi fi rush #peppermint hi fi rush #korsica hi fi rush #cnmn hi fi rush #macaron hi fi rush #angelanswers.txt #angelwrites.txt

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seriouslycromulent · 21 days

Text

The Surprising Reason John Larroquette Took His Career-Defining Role on 'Night Court'

The comedy ninja reveals all this week's 'Parade' cover story.

MARA REINSTEIN

UPDATED:JAN 19, 2023

Get in a car and drive about 30 miles north of Portland, Oregon, into southwest Washington. That’s where you’ll find actor John Larroquette.

He and his wife, Elizabeth, have lived on a piece of rural property for about five years. He collects books and likes to narrate plays in his home recording studio. Sometimes the couple head into the city to try new restaurants and go to the theater and concerts. “It’s really beautiful,” he says. “And at my age, it’s time to slow down and be out somewhere.”

In fact, Larroquette is so fond of his far-from-Hollywood lifestyle that not too long ago, he considered himself retired from the business with a fulfilling career and a room full of trophies to show for it. Never did he think he’d return to grueling TV work, let alone reprise the very role that made him a household name.

Guess what happened next?

Yup, Larroquette, 75, is suiting back up as wise-cracking, endearingly smarmy lawyer Dan Fielding in a new version of the irreverent sitcom Night Court (premiering Jan. 17 on NBC). Set decades after the 1984-92 original, it still chronicles the colorful cast of characters passing through the New York City after-hours courtroom. But now, the Honorable Abby Stone (Melissa Rauch), the daughter of Judge Harry T. Stone (Harry Anderson), bangs the gavel.

Fielding starts the series as a process server, though not for long. “As an actor, I thought it would be an interesting idea to revisit a character 35 years later in his life and see what happened to him,” Larroquette says. “I can’t do the physical comedy and jump over chairs anymore, so my conversations with the producers were about how to find the funny.”

Call it the latest unexpected turn for a seasoned star who began his professional journey as a DJ for “underground” radio in the 1960s, moved from his native New Orleans to Los Angeles to jumpstart his career, once took a gig in exchange for marijuana, played a Klingon in the third Star Trek movie and completed rehab to kick his heavy drinking—all before his very first audition for Night Court in 1983. After the sitcom’s last episode, he won his fifth Emmy (for the drama The Practice) and a 2011 Tony for the Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. He and Elizabeth, wed for 47 years, have three grown children.

“I honestly wish I had a tape recorder going at all times because he’s led such an interesting life and has such wonderful stories,” marvels Rauch, his co-star and a Night Court executive producer. “He’s super-quick, funny and definitely tells it like it is.”

Exhibit A? His interview with Parade, in which he discusses life and death, and everything in between.

Did you sign on to the series right away or was it a tough sell?

When Melissa [Rauch] presented the idea to me, I immediately said, “No thank you.” I didn’t like the idea of being compared to my 35-year-old, younger self. These conversations went on for a year. Then, one day, she told me that she wanted to be on-camera as well, so I decided to try and do it. We ended up pitching the show together, and it got picked up. You know, in New Orleans, there’s a French word called “lagniappe,” which means “a little bonus.” That’s what I consider myself. She’s the heart of the show.

Sadly, a few of your co-stars—including Harry Anderson and Markie Post—have died in recent years. What was it like being on the set without them?

Very emotional. Harry passed away in 2018, but it’s still a tender spot in my heart because he and I were together for a long time even outside of work. Markie and I were very close, and we had exchanged a few emails about the show before she died [in 2021]. She was a big cheerleader for it. And Charlie [Robinson, who played the clerk “Mac”] died when we were shooting the pilot last year. I saw him a lot because we both love the theater. Being on the set—I don’t say this glibly—but it was like seeing dead people. I’d always remember how I had this bizarre and completely sincere family for nine years.

Going back to the 1980s, why did you originally take the Dan Fielding role?

It was a paycheck. This was 1983, and I was still a journeyman actor going from job to job. I was a regular on a series in the ‘70s [Baa Baa Black Sheep], but then I took a few years off to do some extremely heavy drinking. After I got sober and realized I wasn’t going to die, I thought, “What am I going to do?” I had been in a pretty big [1981] movie called Stripes with Bill Murray. I read for Ted Danson’s role in Cheers.

Wait, how far did you get in the Sam Malone casting process?

Oh, I just walked in and did a cold reading along with every other 32-year-old actor at the time. But then I auditioned for the judge in Night Court. The producers asked me to read for this other role of Dan Fielding and I said, “Sure.” Even if I hated the role, I would have taken it because I needed to make money to help pay the rent and support my family and be a responsible member of society. It was luck that I really liked it. Then I got lucky again when NBC picked up the show as a mid-season replacement.

During the height of the show’s popularity, you earned four consecutive Emmys for your performance. That must have felt beyond validating.

Obviously, being acknowledged by your contemporaries was an incredible honor. I don’t say that blithely. It was a remarkable, remarkable feeling. And I was up against some formidable talent—mainly all those guys from Cheers.

Why do you think the character was and is so appealing?

I think because he allowed the audience to know that he wasn’t a bad guy. He was more like a feckless buffoon. He also really wanted to be loved. As a matter of fact, in our pitch, we screened an old scene of Fielding in a hospital bed telling Harry, “I don’t have a life; I have a lifestyle. Nobody has ever said, ‘I love you.’” So when we find Fielding again, he’s loved and lost. And Harry’s daughter forces him out of his cave. It’s a real full-circle moment.

Let’s go back to your own start. Did you have any music skills coming out of New Orleans?

Well, I started playing clarinet in third grade, then I moved to the saxophone in the 1960s. But I euphemistically say that I could talk better than I could blow. So, I took that sax out of my mouth and became a DJ and started using my voice as much as I could. I’ve always loved the analog aspect of audio. I still have some reel-to-reel tape recordings and old microphones.

Is that how you ended up narrating the opening prologue for [the 1974 horror classic] The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?

No, no, that wasn’t through any kind of past work. In the summer of ‘69, I was working as a bartender at a small Colorado resort in a little town called Grand Lake because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life. [Director] Tobe Hooper happened to be in town and we became friendly. Flash forward four years, and I found myself in L.A. collecting unemployment checks and trying to decide if I wanted to be an actor. Tobe heard I was in town and asked for an hour of my time to narrate something for this movie he just did. I said, “Fine!” It was a favor.

Per the Internet, he gave you a joint in lieu of payment. True?

Totally true. He gave me some marijuana or a matchbox or whatever you called it in those days. I walked out of the studio and patted him on his back side and said, “Good luck to you!” Now, I have also narrated the consequential films and did get paid. You do something for free in the 1970s and get a little money in the ‘90s. I’m not a big horror movie fan, so I’ve never seen it. But it’s certainly the one credit that’s stuck strongly to my resume.

But you’ve appeared on the big screen plenty of times. Did you have movie-star aspirations following all your TV success?

The movies I’ve done are mostly forgettable. Blind Date [from 1987] is an exception, but that’s because of Bruce Willis and Kim Basinger. And Blake Edwards directed it. It was funny. But my face is not made for a really big screen. It’s a broad, clown-like face. It’s good for a TV two-shot. And you ride the horse in the direction that it’s going and television was always right there and offering me stuff, so I kept doing that.

You also performed in a musical for the first time in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying in 2010. How was that change of pace?

I was hesitant to do it because I had never sung and danced on stage. I was convinced I was going to be fired in the first two or three weeks. I’d keep going in my head, “five, six, seven, eight!” just trying to get the steps down. But I loved the lifestyle of being a stage actor in New York. I loved working with Daniel Radcliffe, and we became fast friends. It got to a point where I couldn’t wait to get to the theater and try it again that night. If you’re given the opportunity to do something that may be a stretch, I think it’s important to try and see if you can pull it off.

Can you talk a bit about your personal life? You seem a little reclusive.

Reclusive isn’t accurate, but I’m definitely an introvert. Elizabeth and I met doing the play Enter Laughing and got married in 1975. She puts up with me, and you can’t ask for much more than that. Our kids are grown. My daughter Lisa is a graphic designer and my son Jonathan has had a podcast for the past 17 years called Uhh Yeah Dude. And my youngest son, Ben, is a musician who graduated from the Berklee School of Music. He actually composed the new theme music for Night Court. They’re all lovely, and I love them dearly.

That’s quite a professional and personal success story, no?

You know, considering where I’m from and the kind of culture I grew up in, yes. I’ve been very successful in my chosen field. And I’m grateful for having done that because there were times when I thought I would not live, much less have a career. It’s nothing to be taken for granted. But I’m very old now. Three quarters of a century. I’m sort of playing with house money from now on, regardless of what happens.

Sorry, but 75 isn’t very old!

Yes, it’s old. It’s old. Please. It’s old. There are certainly people who live longer, but I can go down the list of wonderful friends and coworkers who are now deceased. One being Kirstie Alley, my costar in [the 1990 comedy] Madhouse, who was younger than I am. She was a lovely person, and so funny. There are only a few more exits on the freeway and you’ve got to choose one. But I’m not afraid of the hereafter and I don’t bemoan it. It’s been an interesting ride, and all rides eventually end.

Do you have any sort of words to live by?

As corny as it sounds, take things one day at a time. You know, I learned when I stopped drinking at age 32 that all you have is right now. Use the present in your life as much as you can.

Source: https://parade.com/celebrities/john-larroquette-night-court-cover-story

-----

My thoughts (please feel free to ignore):

I'm sure someone in the fandom has already posted this interview John did last year with Parade magazine when the new Night Court premiered. But I can say that it's new to me, so I'm sharing it in case it's new to someone else too.

I apologize for the highlighted purple sections above. That's just me marking the parts of the interview that resonated with me the most.

I don't know about anyone else, but some parts of his answers to the questions made me feel kind of sad. Partially because he's clearly experiencing grief at the loss of his friends. And partially because John himself may not be with us for much longer (although I hope I'm wrong and he beats Betty White to 100).

But I was talking to my mother about some of his answers, and she said that as someone who has reached an age milestone herself, she understands his perspective. And I guess I do too.

It's important to remember that in any other profession, John would likely be retired by now. So we should really be grateful for any roles he takes or public appearances he makes, and hope that his days ahead are filled with the calm, joy and laughter that he so rightly deserves.

#john larroquette #new night court #night court #fandom #interview #parade magazine #night court 2023 #bittersweet

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stillsaltyaboutmcr · 1 year

Text

I will always be here- A Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Cursing, Rooster being jealous, Hangman surprisingly not being a dick? Mentions of Abortion, but just the word.

Jake Seresin x afab!reader

It was a regular day for you.

Until you got home.

In your hand was a little white and blue stick that read ‘pregnant’. You had been late with your period and noticed a couple of other signs, so you wanted to take a test just to be sure. This couldn’t have come at a worse time for you, being in the middle of training for the Uranium mission. You didn’t know what to do, so you called the first person that popped in your head. Phoenix. “Hello?” She answered the phone, voice raspy. It was nearly midnight, so you assumed she must’ve been asleep.

“Come over.” You startled yourself with how quickly those words shot out of your mouth.

“Is everything okay?” Her voice, much more awake now, was laced with concern. When you didn’t answer, she hung up and drove straight over. Your silence the only answer she needed.

As she knocked on the door, you answered, your whole body shaking. “Hey? What’s going on?” She was wide-eyes seeing you this way. You were hardly ever shaken up this bad.

“Tasha…I fucked up.” You were on the verge of crying, tears pooling in your eyes.

“What? How? Y/N tell me everything.” She put her hands on your arms, trying to steady you to focus in on her.

“Bathroom. T-the counter.” She nodded and let you lead her into your small bathroom. You pointed to the little test as she approached it and flipped it over.

“Y/N…oh sweetheart.” Her face was a mix of happiness and sympathy. She still wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Considering you weren’t in a relationship, she went with the ladder. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do I do?” You were sobbing now, your face red, and tears soaking the collar of your t-shirt.

She didn’t dare ask, not quite knowing how you’d react, or if she even wanted to know, but it was vital information. “Who’s the father?”

“Tasha!” You snapped.

“Y/N.” Her voice was gentle, yet stern when she stepped closer holding the test up in front of you. “Who is the father?”

“I don’t think I can say.” Your hands went up to your face. You were so embarassed and if he found out about this, everyone would know.

“Y/N, you can trust me. I won’t tell anyone. I just need to know so I can help you okay?” She followed you as you lowered yourself to the floor, leaning against the wall as you sat. She sat next to you, holding you as you put your head on her shoulder.

You took a deep breath. “It’s Bradley.”

——

The next morning was a blur. You didn’t really know what to do. Phoenix had stayed the night, helping you compose yourself for training today. Taught you how to act like nothing ever happened last night. “Hey C/s! How you feeling?” Bob tapped you on the shoulder, coming up behind you. You flinched and he took a step back. “Woah, are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He crossed his fingers in front of him, looking shy.

“It’s okay, just jittery today. One too many cups of coffee I guess.” You chuckled a bit, trying to make your lie believable.

“Ah, my bad. I just wanted to see how you’re feeling about todays training?” It was well into the day and today had absolutely drained you. You knew damn well you shouldn’t be flying, but then everyone would know something was up if you stayed grounded. Plus, you’d have to tell Mac and Cyclone about your incident.

“I’m exhausted for sure. Ready to finish up with the group and Mav and go home. You?”

Bob let out a sigh, “Same.” He smiled a little and laughed. “I caught myself dozing off during lunch.”

Just then, you heard Mav call for the final debriefing of the day. You followed Bob as you both headed in.

——

Sat next to Hangman, you tried to focus on Mavericks words, but your mind kept racing about what you were gonna go when you began to show. Maybe you’d be done with the mission before that even became an issue. You didn’t even know how far along you were. Your hookup with Rooster was just before your call back to Top Gun.

You had found out he was stateside, having known each other for decades now. You had hooked up a few times throughout the years, but it was never anything more. This time, trouble accompanied.

“Hey, what’s up with you today? You’ve been whiter than usual. Normally you talk my ear off every chance you get.” Hangman leaned down and whispered, breaking you from your trance. You and Hangman were best friends. He had been there for nearly every breakup, stupid guy and any heartbreak you felt. Every family death, friend troubles or just bad mental days. Hangman always had your back, and always reminded you he will forever.

“Just didn’t get good sleep, that’s all.” You said, not even looking up at him.

“C/s, I know you better than tha-“

“Hangman, would you like to share with me what you and C/a are talking about?” Mav caught him.

“No sir.” Hangman leaned back into his seat, away from you, but slipped a note over a few seconds later.

‘We’re not done talking about this. I’ll come over and bring pizza tonight at 6 okay?’

You read the note and put a check mark underneath, signaling that was okay. You couldn’t tell him ‘no’, he’d really be suspicious then.

——

After training had finished and you were all dismissed for the day, Phoenix found you immediately after the showers. “Want me to come over tonight?”

“No, Hangman’s coming over. He insisted and if I told him no, he’d be even more suspicious of me.” You shrugged, throwing your stuff in your locker.

“Are you gonna tell Rooster?” Her voice was hushed, keenly looking around to make sure no one else was hearing you both.

“I’m not sure. Should I?”

“Y/N. It’s his child. Are you even going to keep it?”

“I have to.” You looked down. “Is he still here?”

Phoenix looked up at you, then behind her. “I think he just finished showering and is about to leave. If you’re wanting to do this now, here’s your chance.” Just as she said that, Rooster came around the corner.

“Hello girls.” He cooed. “Nice to see you.” He quickly opened his locker, throwing his stuff in. Phoenix raised her eyebrows at you before excusing herself to go home. Now, you and Rooster were alone.

“Hey, Rooster? Can we talk?” Your voice was small, quiet. You hoped he wouldn’t hear you and you could just escape this whole encounter.

“Are you okay? What’s up?” He turned around, obviously nervous himself.

“Something’s happened and I need to speak with you in private.” You looked down, swallowing hard. There was no going back now.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

——

After following him to a more sucluded room, you took a deep breath, him staring right through you.

“So, Brad.”

“I don’t like when you use my government name. That never leads to anything good.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

“Our most recent hookup has lead to some complications-“

“Don’t tell me you have an STD. God no-“ He interrupted you, to which you cleared your throat, signaling to let you finish.

“Bradley, I’m pregnant.” You blurted it out before you could even think. His face was stone cold. No emotion was showing whatsoever. “Say something, please.” You were on the verge of tears again. “Brad-“

“I mean this in the best way possible, but we’re not qualified for this. I can meet you halfway for an abortion.” He said it so calmly, like this wasn’t a big deal at all.

“Brad, I’m keeping it.” You said, a little offense in your voice.

“We can’t have a kid Y/N! It’s not right. We’re friends, we hookup. I can’t just up and drop everything because you forgot to take your pill!”

“You’re the one who said you were allergic to latex!” Both of your voices started to raise, and tears started to fall down your cheeks. You took a deep breath and calmly spoke, “You’re telling me you don’t want anything to do with our baby?”

“I’m not ready to be a dad. I’m sorry. Let me know if you decide to take me up on my offer.” Before you could get another word out, he left, leaving you in a sobbing mess.

——

That night, you had typed and deleted a ‘don’t come’ text to Jake about 20 times until it was too late. 6:00 had arrived and as soon as the clock struck, his knuckles were knocking at the door.

You stood up, opening the door, face still red from crying, as much as you tried to hide it. Jake immediately noticed and rushed into your apartment, setting the pizza down and bringing you into him all without saying a word. You cried into his chest, leaving tear stains on his shirt. “Shh, shh. It’s gonna be okay. You don’t have to tell me anything, but just know I’m here for whatever is going on.” One hand was on the back of your head, cradling it. The other was on your back, slowly rubbing it, soothing you. “Let it out sweetheart, I’m right here.”

After awhile, you pulled away, silently moving to the couch. Jake followed your every movement, bringing the pizza and setting it on your coffee table. “Jake.”

“Oh God.” He knew you only called him by his actual name when things were bad. “Darling, what happened?” He moved to face you.

“It’s Rooster.” Jake’s jaw tensed. He knew all about your little fling with him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a fan, and voiced why all the time. He took a breath and looked up at you, signaling to continue when you were ready. “We hooked up right before we got called back for Top Gun. I spoke to him today about it. It didn’t go well as you can see.” You signaled to yourself and laughed.

“Why did you speak to him about it?” Jake was amused at your attempt to lighten the mood. “Tell me what he did to you.”

“Jake-“

“What. Did. He. Do?” His voice was cold. Jake was your biggest protector. He would kill anyone who hurt you, even a fellow aviator.

“I’m pregnant.” Jake’s body completely changed. He looked down into his lap, leaning heavily into the couch. “He told me he’d pay half of the abortion. He doesn’t want anything to do with our baby.” Your whole body was shaking. Jake remained silent, his head still down, you unable to see his face. “Jake?”

You could hear him take in a shaky breath. He slowly looked up and you could see he was holding back a lot of emotion. Whether that was anger or sadness, you couldn’t tell, maybe it was both. You swallowed hard, his silence eerie. “He said that to you?” His voice was quiet. Too calm.

“Yes. He then left before I could rebuttal.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“He got you pregnant, and now is leaving you out to dry.” He looked into your eyes. “What a fucking prick.” He shook his head and stood up. You know realize it was anger he was holding in. “God.” He put his hands on his head as he paced around. You remained seated, anxious at his behavior.

After some moments of Jake pacing and muttering to himself, you spoke up. “What am I going to do?” He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you. “My child is going to grow up without a dad.”

Your gaze met his as he slowly thought to himself what you had just said before rejoining you on the couch. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, nothing.” You looked at him in concern. “YOU are going to do nothing. WE on the other hand are going to take you to a doctor, see how far along you are and what the next steps are. Then, we are going to find a way to live together. We don’t have to be romantic and we don’t need to be married but by God, I am not going to let this kid go without a father. I am going to help you raise this baby. Whatever it takes.” He stared at you a moment before his words finally hit you.

“Jake-“

“Don’t say anything. I’m staying the night and in the morning we’ll go see someone and get you in the correct care. I’m the father now, if anyone asks. Rooster doesn’t deserve that title anymore. We’re in this together now.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You fell forward, leaning into hun as you sobbed. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this man stepped up so easily, without hesitation to raise a child he didn’t create.

“You didn’t deserve this. So I’m going to do everything in my power to turn this around.” You looked up at him as he laughed to himself a little.

“What’s so funny?”

“Y/N, we’re having a fucking baby.”

#jake seresin #top gun maverick hangman #top gun fandom #bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster

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clementinesandwine · 1 year

Text

Snowed In…

✧˖° includes~ fluff Gyutaro x Fem reader; established friendship, suggestive ending, modern au

Gyutaro had surprisingly invited you over to his house to finish an assignment for your biology class. You guys had been partners the entire year, as you sat at the same table, but normally did the work at the library. A friendship had formed due the repeated homework “dates” and other activities you invited him to, like when you wanted him to come to the movies with a group of your friends. Gyutaro really didn’t understand why you wanted to actually be seen in public with him, but he adored your presence and loved that you always included him. He had begun to develop a small crush on you, even though you probably didn’t think of him in that way, and wanted to get closer to you. The only way to get closer to you, he figured, would be to invite you over, since he couldn’t invite himself over to your house.

Leading up to the day you were supposed to visit, he had deep cleaned everything. Even Ume’s room, which proved to be tedious. Gyutaro had also done some food shopping for snacks that you might like as a human. He bought mini mac and cheese cups, oven bake pizza, hot chocolate packets, tea, water bottles, milk, and even bread. Him and Ume had some human stuff, like pastas and spices, for when they felt like experimenting. Overall, though, he really didn’t know how to cook and didn’t want to risk it for the first time you came over.

The day arrived and Gyutaro sat anxiously in his room, second guessing himself because todays weather wasn’t gonna be good. However, the assignment was due tomorrow anyway, so better late than never. You were still home getting ready, feeling nervous to be alone with Gyutaro. Not because you were scared of him, but because you had a huge crush on the boy. In public, it was easier. You could leave at any time if you felt embarrassed. But you had agreed to come over for the assignment and you were sure nothing would happen. You sent him a quick text, letting him know you were dressing like a bum, considering you were only gonna be in the house. You put on some sweatpants and a tight, cropped t-shirt. It wasn’t too short, only sitting right above your waist, an inch or two above the waistline of the sweatpants. Since it was cold, you put on an oversized crewneck and your jacket, heading out the door with a slight blush.

Gyutaro sat smiling at your message, looking himself over. He was already in his gray sweatpants and had a simple black t-shirt on. He grabbed some blankets from his bedroom closet and put them on the couch in the living room, in case you got cold. Of course, the heat was on, but he knew you got cold easy. He was glad Ume had decided to stay at a friends house tonight. She knew about Gyutaro’s crush and would tease him repeatedly as he set up. Suddenly, there was a small knock on the door, barely audible, and he ran to open it. His heart was pounding and he felt like throwing up; you were actually outside his door.

“Oh, its snowing,” he said, as he opened the door. You giggled slightly, hiding your blush behind the scarf you wore. You thanked yourself for being so forgetful when you found it in the car. Gyutaro looked so cute with his hair, half up half down, and a confused expression on his face, you couldn’t help but turn crimson. “Don’t you watch the news? Its supposed to snow all night. I think we will be fine though, I can leave before it starts to get bad,” you respond.

Gyutaro felt terrible. It would be dangerous for you to drive home in the snow, why did you even come see him? Was he actually worth the trek? “Well,” you interrupt his thoughts, “may I come in?” He opens the door and you take off your boots, leaving them at the welcome rug.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t know it was gonna snow,” he says. You push his shoulder playfully as he leads you into the living room. “Its okay, I know you’re lying. Of course a dangerous demon like you would want your best friend to die in a snowstorm,” you joke. He looks back at you over his shoulder smiling, his daggers flashing at you. When he turns back around, you look him over, eyeing his muscles, which were visible through his t-shirt. Gyutaro was considerably taller than you, and his muscles made him all the more attractive. The gray sweats, black t-shirt, and bun made things even harder. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest, ears tinged pink, as you began to take off your outer layers.

𓂂𓂂𓂂

A few hours later, the assignment was finished. You held your hand up for a high five, to which Gyutaro sheepishly touched. “Well that was fun, but I should get going before it gets bad out,” you say with a frown. You were kinda glad it was over, being in such close proximity to him was killing you. You were having the same affect on Gyutaro, but he was sad to see you go. He wanted you to stay and maybe even eat with him or watch a movie, but it was best to go early, in case the roads got bad. Gyutaro walked you to the door and gasped when he opened it.

“I guess I won’t be leaving any time soon,” you say softly. The snow was already up to your knees and plows had not even made it down this side street yet. You began to panic, you really didn’t want to intrude. You were well prepared, always having a sleep bag in your car, but the thought of staying with Gyutaro all night made your heart race. On the other hand, Gyutaro was excited. Trying to relax himself, he says, “I don’t mind if you need to spend the night. Ume won’t be home, so you can stay in her room, or I can sleep on the couch and you can stay in mine.” The image of you sleeping in his bed starts an onslaught of dirty thoughts. “Okay, I have a sleep bag in my car,” you say. “I have to put on my boo-“

“I’ll grab it!” Gyutaro yells, immediately putting on his shoes and running out the door. You pop the trunk with the remote and he quickly makes his way back. His cheeks are red and you aren’t sure if its from the cold or if he’s nervous you would be staying the night. Either way, you grab your bag and head back inside. “Let me put on my pajamas, then we can figure out what to do,” you say with a smile. He nods, thankful you suggested something because he had no idea what was next. You walked to the bathroom and pulled off your sweatpants. You only ended up putting on some boxers, keeping your undies, t-shirt, and crew neck on. You liked the mens boxers because they could double as shorts in the house, but it didn’t matter because the crew neck covered your bottom. After setting up your bathroom supplies, you made your way back to the living room, where Gyutaro sat on the couch scrolling through netflix.

He looked back at you and almost fainted. Were you even wearing pants? Of course you were in shorts or something, you would never show yourself like that to him. But it looked like you had nothing on and the blood just rushed straight down. Your thighs looked plush against the hem of the sweater, Gyutaro couldn’t help but imagine his hands running along them. “Did you want to watch a movie?” You ask, plopping down next to him. When you don’t get a response, you add, “I really like horror, but we could watch one of those cringey Christmas romances? Those always make me giggle.” He nods.

“I bought hot chocolate, would you want some? I really like horror, too, but I’m up for a laugh,” he responds. You nod, feeling nervous, but follow him to the kitchen. He grabs two mugs, some milk, and a hot chocolate box. “I’m not actually sure what to do,” Gyutaro says. You look up and see he has his hand on the back of his neck, looking off to the side. “Oh,” you say, “thats okay, I can show you. I can even show you my special ingredient.” He gives you a look of suspicion and watches as you begin to pour some milk in the mugs. “Put these in the microwave, please.”

He grabs the mugs as told, his hand sliding past your own and his vision goes blank. Your hands just touched. You must feel so dirty and he instantly regrets offering this idea up. But you don’t say anything. And you don’t seem to care that he had touched you. This was the opposite though, as you felt like your heart was yelling at you to grab his hand and pull him close. Of course, that was only a thought. You knew he probably didn’t like you like that. “What’s this secret ingredient, hm?” Gyutaro asks. You look up at him again, hoping your blush isn’t obvious. “Cinnamon,” you say softly.

After the hot chocolate is all made and you both sit on the couch, you pick a random movie. You’re shaking too much to really read the descriptions and figure it doesn’t matter anyway, since you guys want something cliché and stupid. “Wow, this really is good,” Gyutaro says. You can only manage to smile at him. Sitting this close has your stomach spinning in circles and you’re not even sure you can take a sip.

You’re about half way through the movie when Gyutaro finishes his hot chocolate, getting it all over the corners of his mouth. You had relaxed by now and instinctively wiped his mouth with your thumb. You look at each other, realizing what you just did, and snap your hand away from his face. But he just keeps looking at you, not speaking. His eyes look soft and you think, maybe he didn’t mind you. Maybe he liked you being this close. Maybe, you think, you should get closer.

Gyutaro can’t believe you just wiped his mouth. You were quite possibly the prettiest girl in class, hell the prettiest girl at university. The prettiest girl he had ever met. There wasn’t any way in this world that you thought of him in that way, he was sure of it. But here you are, watching a movie with him, wiping his mouth, inching closer and closer. Wait. He’s confused. Why are you moving closer?

Suddenly, he feels your lips against his, leaving Gyutaro’s eyes wide open. Did you willingly just kiss him? He couldn’t believe that. When you pull away and see him, you know you fucked up. “I-I’m sorry, you just… you just kept looking at me and I thought,” you start. Gyutaro smashes his lips into yours again, letting his hand find its place at your cheek. The feeling of your tongue grazing his lower lip smacks Gyutaro back into reality, making him pull away.

“Did you actually want to kiss me? Or was that just a spur of the moment?” He asks, hesitantly. Even though you both leaned into each other, he can’t help but think he is tainting you with his dirty hands. How you probably only feel pressured to kiss him. He feels nasty, like he has just ruined his one good thing, and begins to tear up. “Gyutaro,” you say, drawing his attention to you. “I’ve liked you for a long time. I don’t know what came over me tonight, but I couldn’t stop myself anymore,” you say, hands fidgeting in your lap. This can’t be possible. You like him. You like a monster like him. You want to kiss his lips, the ones that hide his shark-like teeth. “Can I keep kissing you?” you ask, not knowing where you are getting this confidence.

He can only nod, and you lean in again, pressing softly into him. Gyutaro swipes his tongue on your lower lip, practically begging for access, which you allow. His hands slowly slide up your thigh, but retreat quickly. The thought that he is dirtying your pure, beautiful body was deafening. You wouldn’t let him go, though. You grab his hand and place it back on your thigh, before swinging it over his lap. Straddling him, you are taller. He looks up at you, breathless, hands sliding up your thighs, along your back. You lean in for more of him, deepening the kiss, until you feel him growing. Gyutaro’s hands are still on you, one on your waist, the other on your cheek, when you decide to grind down on him. He groans into your mouth and squeezes the plush of your waist, causing you to squeal.

“Y/N,” he groans. “What do you think you’re doing, hm?” Gyutaro is unbelievably shy, but wants to make sure you are consenting to this. He needs to know that you really do want him, that you need his lips the way he needs yours. He needs to know that you want to be in his lap. That you don’t find him dirty for enjoying this so much. To Gyutaro, this just can’t be possible.

You grind down again. “Gyutaro, please,” you whine, feeling flustered. Your cheeks are bright and burning, your lower half throbs against him. He runs his hand up the back of your neck, softly grabbing the hair at the base of your scalp and pulls you into another heated kiss.

Part 2 coming soon :)

#gyutaro fanfic #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro fluff #gyutaro x you #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro #gyutaro smut #smut #demon slayer #demon slayer smut #kny fluff #kny fanfic #kny x you #kny x y/n #kny smut

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

Note

can I have rafe with a reader with a broken neck 🥹😭 for legal reasons 😭

Opening requests for one person and one person only. Go send her some love folks, she needs all the support in the world right now❤️

"You're kind of a shitty nurse." I mutter, eyes screwing tightly shut as a twinge of pain shoots up the back of my neck and into the base of my skull, Rafe's careful hands shaking on either side of me as he tries to set me carefully down onto his bed.

"Ya know what-" He mutters with a playful smile, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones as I bite back a smirk. "I could let go of your head right now and you'd be like a new born baby trying to lift your head up." My lips part in quiet shock at his teasing but it only makes him more proud of himself as he tucks me into his bed, pulling the blankets up onto my waist and triple checking the pillows behind me.

He had little warning, little time to prepare his room to accommodate me being this injured but I guess it came as a surprise to the both of us. He was texting Wheezie frantically in the waiting room of the ER not even three hours ago, urging her to go to the drug store to buy ice packs, pain meds and all of my favorite snacks- worried that he would have to leave me in order to find things to comfort and support me.

Forntunately for us, Wheezie loves me more than life itself.

"Mean." I mutter but he simply laughs and reaches for the remote, flicking on the TV with a deep sigh. It's been a long few days for the both of us, in and out of emergency rooms and urgent cares trying to get to the bottom of my pain following an untimely accident the other day.

Neither of us would've assumed that I'd be sent home, six hundred dollars later, in a neck brace and on bed rest for weeks.

There goes our sex life.

He's been more stressed than me, pacing the length of the emergency room while waiting for me to come back from scans, checking his phone every second to fill Wheezie in on any updates the doctors would bring us.

"You're telling me." He laughs, running his fingers through his tangly hair before reaching out to skim his fingers beneath my jaw, making sure the collar of the brace isn't digging into my chin. "You're a needy patient." He whispers with a small pout, thumb brushing against my bottom lip.

"I'm a needy person." I whisper, reaching out to him as he scoots a bit closer to me, but still too far away for my liking. "You're just sad cuz without me, you'll have to make the both of us dinner."

"I hope you're okay with take-out or mac-n-cheese that Wheezie makes then." He grins, knowing that I'll pretty much take anything he has to offer me since I'm completely at his mercy. It's not like I'm going to decline my extremely attractive boyfriend spoon feeding me kraft mac and cheese.

"This just means you get every excuse to stay home and baby the fuck out of me." There's a part of me that's actually looking forward to the time spent with him, feeling secure in the fact that he's always been the best at taking care of me. Every flu, every injury, every long night- he's there. So even though the pain is insurmountable and unbelievable, a part of me knows that I'm at least lucky to have him.

"I already do that." Tapping the tip of my nose, he shifts, spinning around so he can slide down onto the bed beside me. "Coming in." He huffs, folding his hands behind his head and (out of the corner of my eyes) I can see him tilting his head to look over at me. "Do you need anything before I get comfortable?"

"No but I'll probably think of something in ten minutes." His 'annoyed' scoff makes me snicker and I reach out blindly to grab his hand, intertwining our fingers. Even though I can't see him, I can feel his eyes on me and, for as much shit as he gives me, I know that under all that teasing that he's genuinely worried.

"Pain in my ass." He mutters through a grin.

"And you're a pain in my neck."

"Ouch, wasn't my fault that asshole t-boned you." He sighs, leaning up so I can see him, his cheeks tinged with a light blush at the thought of the accident, upset at the fact that he wasn't there to give the guy some shit for hurting me.

"You act like you're not happy that you get to keep me in bed for weeks on end." His brows raise at my insinuation, tongue sweeping out over his lips as I poke his chest. "Don't forget about the sponge baths." His eyes widen- like really widen- as a shameless giggle escapes me, feeling Rafe's hand on the side of my head, thumb brushing against my temple.

"Oh fuck- really?" He quizzes in a hushed whisper, brows furrowed cutely.

"Just saying." I watch him settle beside me once more, arm stretched out behind me and he peppers kisses to my hairline.

"Best job ever." He coos and, suddenly, all of my worries about being a potential burden or annoyance vanish in an instant at the realization that he's completely and utterly willing to spend his time taking care of me. "But seriously, I'm messing with you. You need something, you've got it. Anything." He promises, my chest aching with love, and I so desperately wish I could turn my head to give him a kiss.

"Kiss?" I ask instead, earning a playful groan from him as he leans towards me once more, carefully ducking towards me to press a simple kiss to my lips. However, he hovers, lips lingering as he pecks my lips a few more times before whispering.

"I've got plenty of those."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #the outer banks

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hazgoldenstyles · 10 months

Text

Enquainted

In a quiet, empty bakery, there he sits sipping his strawberry tea while humming a tune of Mac DeMarco. While His soft humming gets interrupted by the clock striking twelve, he gets startled by the slightly loud noise causing his tea to spill a bit on his chin.

“Oh goody, I guess I better get outta here”, he says wiping his chin while quickly standing. He leaves a good amount of cash by his receipt and draws a sloppy flower while saying his goodbyes to the last workers on shift.

Harry has had his fair share of women in his life. So his experience was lets just say… pretty good. He’s always been really shy and sweet but the upmost caring person to anybody, even if he didn’t know them.

Most of the women in his life knew his needs and knew how fragile he was but always found a way to take advantage of him. But Harry didn’t like being alone, so he suffered with the mistreatment while also doing things that he didn’t like so much.

But Harry is a vampire.

A sweet soft one at that.

The 27 year old loves marshmallows and strawberry tea… quite weird right.

But right now he’s thinking about someone who can fulfill his needs, but also want him for who he is.

He walks down the street in his baby pink jumper and cream slacks on his way home.

While he’s walking he sees a girl sitting all alone on a bench with pretty arm warmers on.

Oh those look so fuzzy and warm Harry thinks to himself, I should go tell her.

Harry makes his way over to the girl nervously playing with the edges of his jumper and mutters out, “ex- excuse me”

The girl whips her head up and smiles, mostly because of how adorable and shy he looks. She tucks a curly strand behind her ear.

“Oh, yes” she responds.

Harry smiles a bit while rocking on the balls of his feet, “I really like your jumper, I- I think its really pretty.”

The girl smiles softly at the nervous boy, “why thank you, I love yours as well” she compliments. Staring at how the boy bashfully smiles at the ground.

“Th-thanks. My mumma got it for me back in England” he responds, looking around at his surroundings forgetting that its quite dark out and he’s just talking to a random girl while he should be on his way home. But Harry barely talks to people, so while he’s worrying, he secretly basks in it.

Not knowing how to exit the conversation with a pretty girl thats making him oh so nervous and giddy he says, “uhm okay… byeeee” he darts his eyes around while quickly making eye contact. He waves his fingers that she notices are painted a soft pink.

She smiles at that. How adorable can he get

In her own headspace forgetting that he bid her a goodbye, she sees him already a ways down the sidewalk.

Hopefully she sees him again.

🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐

Sunday morning Honie walks down the street on her way to Pinkys Cafe. A quaint, cute little cafe that one of her friends recommended to her.

While she’s walking, she hears some tussling and loud voices so her interest won her over. She follows the sound to see what’s going on.

Oh lord please don’t let it be nothing too bad she says to herself.

The noise trails to a group of guys surrounded by some boy in a all blue crewneck with fuzzy sleev-

That’s the boy who complimented her a few days ago.

Immediately she rushes over trying to help ease the situation and try to get the sweet shy boy somewhere she knows is comfortable.

She walks closer to the scene with rage in her eyes, “HEY” she yells.

The group of men quickly look up and scurries off, most likely not wanting to get into any legal trouble knowing she was bound to call the police.

She wastes no time in consoling the shaking, whimpering Harry. He put his sweater paws on his eyes to control his emotions, laying his head on the pretty lady’s shoulder.

“I was j-just trying t-to g-get to work… but I s-saw them so I didn’t l-know what to d-do” he stutters in vulnerability, tears falling down his soft rosy cheeks.

How could someone be so mean to this poor angel.

She looks at him with sadness and has the perfect idea.

“Oh no, hey hey, none of that now you’re too pretty to cry you know.” She says softly with a smile on her face. He looks at her with nervousness but with a small shy smile.

He looks down playing with his flower ring anxiously, remembering what just happened. “I was actually about to go get some tea if you wanted to come with?” She questions softly.

He looks up and nods his head with misty eyes, “yes please. I think that would make me feel better”

She smiles at him fondly and holds her arm out for him to latch onto. He loops his around softly snd cautiously, darting his eyes around so he doesn’t have to make eye contact and says, “okay, I’m ready for some some tea. I-Ive been craving it since yesterday” he says shyly while walking.

“Well lets go get your tea sweet boy”

A/N- hi guys! I hope you like the first part to this series!! Give me feedback please, it really helps me and build my motivation to have the second part out faster than the original set date. Also, tell me your theories and what you think may happen in the future, it’ll be greatly appreciated. Thank you my bleu babiessss 🤍

Baby Blue Blood Masterlist

#hs #harry styles #harryedwardstyles #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harrystyleswriting #reblog #babyblueblood #i hope you like it #the second part will be longer!#vampire!harry #harry styles x black reader #harry styles masterlist #harrystyles smut

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olive-frog · 2 years

Text

The Truth Hurts | Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x Female! Reader

Summary: Y/N has had a crush on her best friend, Eddie, since the seventh grade. With the new year rolling over, she plans on keeping her feelings hidden, but how long can she keep up this charade until things start to get complicated?

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: bestfriend! eddie, fluff, slight angst, use of pet names (let me know if i've missed anything!)

A/N: here it is! chapter 1 at last. it's a little short but i wanted to set the scene a little bit before delving into the full story straight away. reader is 18 and eddie is 20, and this fic is written in third person. i hope you enjoy! ~ ellie <3

| Next Chapter

December 29th, 1985.

It was a cold winters evening in Hawkins and even the old trailers within the trailer park were adjusting to the seasonal changes. Ice glossed over the poorly made roofs of the refuse little shacks that people called home.

"Hey! Y/N? Are you even listening to me?"

Y/N sat comfortably on her best friend's couch, skimming through the box of cassette tapes that he had forged from his not-so-tidy bedroom, her face full of curiosity as she picked up a tape, one by one, being careful not to cause any noticeable damage to them. She had a bad habit of accidentally breaking some of his more delicate possessions.

"Sorry! Sorry, what were you saying Eds?" She places the tape she so carefully held in her hand to her side, gazing over her shoulder to her best friend who had a slight sulk on his face, disappointed she hadn't been listening to him for the past five or so minutes.

"Well, if you were actually paying any attention, you would've known that I was asking if you wanted to join me tomorrow for the Hellfire meeting?" He asked, before turning to the saucepan of what looked to be a store-bought mac and cheese. Since school had finished for the holidays Eddie had decided to keep the Hellfire meetings going to give the boys something to preoccupy themselves with, and to feed his own personal D&D desires as well.

"Yes! Yes, I'm sorry Eddie, I was too engrossed in your, need I say, excellent, taste in music." She smirked at him before turning back to place the tapes back in their dusty cavern. Eddie's sulk quickly twisted into a grin as he carefully poured the pan of mac and cheese into two bowls he had grabbed from the fragile shelves above him.

"Hm, well, since you know how much flattery works on me," he began, picking up the two bowls and making his way over to her, "then I guess you're forgiven, sweetheart." He finishes, placing the bowls down on the table in front of the couch. Y/N let out a laugh as she watched Eddie toss himself onto the couch beside her, the grin on his face becoming wider by the minute. He was always so easy to please, she thought, before turning to him once again.

"I stopped by the video store earlier today on my way home from work. Robin helped me pick out a few of her horror favourites, Steve tried his best to help." She giggled, before delving into the bag neatly placed on the table.

"So, what are we thinking... Fright Night? Or maybe The Howling?" She began, still flicking through the films in the bag. "Or! Nightmare on Elm Street? Your favourite and such a classic." She finished, bringing the movie up to her face and waving it about with a toothy grin. Eddie laughed at his friend's enthusiasm before politely grabbing the bag and giving the movies one last look through. He hummed as his fingers delicately slid past each one.

"What are you in the mood for, sweetheart?" He paused to look up at his sweet friend as her smile instantly faded.

“Me?” She questions, slightly taken back by his reply. Stop. Stop stop stop, he’s going to notice, she thought before trying to regain her previous composure. Why did he have to have such gentle, puppy-like eyes? She fought back the thoughts consuming her mind before he let out a light chuckle.

“Yes, you, you dork. What do you fancy watching tonight? I always pick. It’s your turn.” He asked again, oblivious to the blush that was almost swallowing his friend’s face.

“W-Well… You know me, I’ve always been more of a Fright Night kind of girl myself.” She gave him a small smile, quickly taking the movie out of the bag in her lap.

“Then Fright Night it is, sweetheart.”

That damn pet name, she thought.

He tossed her a smirk before grabbing the film from her shaken grip. She let out a quiet sigh of relief in her head as she watched him stumble his way to the VHS player.

You’re such an idiot, Y/N.

“And I’m such an idiot Robin! Blushing like a cat in heat all because he asked me to pick the movie? I don’t know how much longer I can go on for.”

Y/N sighed, rolling over on her bed, anxiously fiddling with the phone cord as she waited for her friend on the other line to respond, previous flashbacks of the night before clouding her once perfect vision.

“You said he didn’t notice anything right? You’re overthinking it, Y/N.” Robin replied, her voice echoing through the phone that was now tightly in Y/N’s grip.

“Oh no, it gets so much worse. After he gave me a ride home he went in for a hug, completely normal right? We always do that. But I- I decided to dodge the hug, for some reason unbeknownst to me clearly, and go in for an awkward fist bump instead. You should’ve seen his face Robin!” She says, burying her own face into the pillows beside her, trying desperately to wipe away the persistent memories of last night’s ordeal. It goes silent for only a moment before faint laughter belts through the phone. “Robin!” She groans, burying her face further to hide away from the growing embarrassment tormenting her insides, “I can’t believe you’re laughing right now!”

“I-I’m sorry Y/N! It’s just a little funny… I mean, you guys have been best friends since what? Middle school? Why don’t you just tell him how you really feel?” She finally replies. Classic Robin, combating idiocy with the cold, hard truth. Robin was used to dealing with Steve Harrington on a day-to-day basis, so giving good advice came naturally to her, much to Y/N’s distaste.

“You know I can’t do that.” She said, her tone shifting from silly to serious for a brief moment. She knew deep down that Robin was right, but to jeopardise a friendship of seven years over a silly little crush that began in seventh grade, the thought made her feel sick to her stomach.

“I know what you’re thinking Y/N… How could I possibly jeopardise a friendship of seven years over a silly little crush.” Robin replied, mimicking Y/N’s voice to an absolute perfection. Did she forget to mention that Robin was also a mind reader? And a smart-ass.

“But I’ve seen you two when you visit the store, laughing and bickering like an old married couple. You guys are sickening, in a cutesy couple way, you wouldn’t even have to try! Nothing would change-”

“Everything would change Robin!” Y/N blurts out unexpectedly, which causes Robin to sit up from her bed, a little taken back from her friends’ unusual outburst.

“I just don’t understand what you’re so afraid of.” Robin finally says, easing the tension between the two.

Everything, Y/N thought to herself, before sighing. She knew deep down the real reason why she would never tell Eddie the truth, and she knew that Robin did as well.

“I just can’t.” Y/N says, and she hears Robin shift around in her bed. Robin knew that at this point it would be like beating a dead horse, so she decided to drop the conversation.

“Okay well, you know I’m always here for you.” She smiles, wide enough so that her friend could feel it through the other end of the phone.

“I know Robin.” Y/N smiles back, feeling slightly more at ease.

The phone call ends after both friend’s says their goodnights. Y/N stares up at her bedroom ceiling, re-living the conversation between herself and Robin for a few moments more. I just don’t understand what you’re so afraid of. Robin’s words linger before she lets out a heavy sigh, turning to her lamp to turn it off. School starts in just two days, she thinks to herself, you’ve survived this long without him knowing, just keep doing what you’re doing.

What could possibly go wrong?

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