#then i wake up for real. and make this post

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

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[healcunt]

thinking again about making a friend in college. maybe the same one as my last post, maybe a new one, but either way, she’s a psychology major. she invites me over to her place, we chat and smoke a little, and she tells me she’s super stressed about a test she has next week.

“what’s it on?”

“hypnosis.” i feel my cunt clench around nothing but i think i hide my arousal well. i know hypnosis is real, and the kink is just a small aspect of it, but it still makes me a little bit wet.

“oh.” is all i say.

“i really need practice, but none of my friends will let me hypnotize them.” she pouts at me. “i really really need to pass, can you let me hypnotize you just a little bit?”

“uh.” the weed is clouding my brain and the way she’s looking at me doesn’t make it any easier. “just a little bit, sure.”

she grins at me. “thank you!” she exclaims. she sits up on her knees and has me look directly into her eyes as she pulls out a pocketwatch. “i was really hoping you’d say yes.”

i try my best not to shift my legs too much as i feel my cunt start to drip more and more. she swings the watch in front of my face, and as she instructs me, i get sleepier and fuzzier. i don’t remember falling asleep, but i do remember waking up. she’s still smiling at me.

“oh, sorry,” i start. “i must’ve not slept well last night. can we try again?” she cocks her head slightly.

“i already hypnotized you, silly!” i blink at her.

“am i hypnotized now…?” she laughs.

“no, do you want to be?”

i plan to say no, but a “yes” comes out of my mouth instead. i think nothing of it.

she grabs my chin, tilting it down, and as i’m staring into her lap, i see a tent forming in her leggings. my jaw drops open, as if on a hinge, and i can’t close it. i can’t even bring my hand up to force it closed. i can’t take my eyes off of her cock, i can only watch.

“lick.” she instructs, and i do. i lunge forward, licking her hard cock through her leggings, desperate to taste her precum, to make her feel good. i find myself inhaling deeply, getting dizzy on the scent of her. “stop.” my mouth is still open, still holding her in my mouth, but i can’t move again. “good puppy.” an orgasm suddenly shoots through me, forcing me to moan on her cock. it takes a full thirty seconds to subside, and the aftershocks leave me breathless.

she grasps my hair with one hand, pulling me off of her and uses her other hand to shut my jaw. “show me your tits.”

i’m suddenly able to move my body, but not able to control my movements. i pull my shirt off as quickly as i can, throwing it somewhere. i don’t turn my head to see where it lands, it isn’t important. i unhook my bra and throw it in the same general direction. i don’t just show her my tits, i cup them in my hands and pinch my nipples hard as if i’m offering them to her. “good puppy.” the same intense orgasm shoots through me, but this time i continue to pinch and unpinch my nipples as i cum. she laughs at me, and my clit twitches.

“you went down really easy, you know?” i stare at her, scared but more turned on than i have ever been in my life. “and you told me all about your hypnosis kink. god, you look so innocent, i never would’ve guessed you rub your cunt to things like this. can you show me how?”

i take one hand off my tits and quickly move it under my skirt, under my soaked underwear. i rub feverishly, feeling my brain get cloudier and cloudier as i get closer to my orgasm. “don’t cum.” my hand stills. i don’t even get to ruin, the almost-orgasm lingers. “clean your fingers.” i don’t want to, but it doesn’t matter what i want. i pull my fingers out of my underwear and push them into my mouth, fucking them into my own throat ever so slightly and swirling my fingers around them until they’re covered in my spit.

she puts her hands behind her head and leans back on a chair, spreading her legs. “suck me off.” my eyes widen slightly. i’ve never sucked a cock before, and i doubt being hypnotized is going to make me into an expert cocksucker. she raises her eyebrows.

regardless of my thought, i find myself taking my hand out of my mouth and off my tit and pulling her leggings down to her ankles. her giant cock slaps her stomach as it’s freed, spreading a small amount of precum that makes my mouth drool. “you can clean me first, if you want.” i really, really do and i don’t think it’s the hypnosis. i put my hands on either of her hips and desperately lap up the semen on her happy trail before i wrap my lips around her tip and lick her urethra, lapping up any precum she gives me.

“throat.” i can’t even react as my jaw opens so widely it almost hurts and i lurch forward until her head is halfway down my throat, my nose in her bush. she moves one of her hands to hold my head down, although i don’t think she needs it. my tongue moves slightly up and down her shaft as she gently fucks my throat, barely thrusting. she starts moving faster and breathing more heavily after a few minutes, and when she’s about to cum, she pulls out of my throat and uses the hand gripping my hair to make me look up.

my eyes are still open as she jerks herself off to finish, painting ropes of thick cum across my face. she narrowly misses my eyes, although i don’t think she missed on purpose. once her balls stop twitching, she lets go of my hair. “freeze.” i can barely breathe, much less move, as she lazily walks across the room to grab her phone. she takes at least a dozen pictures of me, some with the flash on, some with it off, and for the last one, she lays her cock across my face. she takes her time finding the angle for that one.

“you can clean me up again.” i can move again. i don’t wrap my lips around her whole cock this time, only around the thickness of her shaft as i use my tongue to scrub as much of her cum off as i can. i lick the sweat off of her balls, and lick any excess cum off of her tip. “good puppy,” she tells me again as i finish. my eyes flutter closed with this orgasm, hitting me harder than the first two.

she pushes me back on the ground as i finish cumming, tilting my chin up again so i am forced to look in her eyes. “i’m going to snap my fingers, and you’re going to fall back asleep. when i snap my fingers a second time, you’re going to wake up. you’re not going to remember any of this until i want you to. you’re hypnotized by my cock, nabi. you’re helpless against me and it makes you wet. when you see my cock, you will fall back under. when you think of my cock, you will edge and tell me about it. you will never remember how deeply you are hypnotized until your mind is under my power.”

she snaps her fingers, and my eyes shut. i drift into a dreamless sleep immediately. i can feel a washcloth on my face, but it’s distant from me. i feel my bra hook around my chest again, and feel the fabric of my shirt go around my neck, chest, torso. she snaps her fingers again and i completely forget everything that happened.

“so?” she asks as my eyes flutter back open. “how do you feel?”

“um…” i trail off, trying to think if anything feels different. “the same?”

she pouts. “you don’t feel well-rested?”

i think a little bit harder and realize i do feel more energized, better than i usually do after a full night of sleep. “oh! i do, i feel like i slept for eighteen hours.” she beams at me.

“it worked! i might actually pass my test! would you let me practice on you more before i have to take it?”

the thought of being hypnotized is still too much of a turn-on for me, so i open my mouth to let her down easy. but what comes out of my mouth instead is “of course! this was really fun!”

#i keep. getting away from what i go to write in the first place #but this is closer to what i was gonna write last time

[adambja]

✴️THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND✴️

The Guide - the only post you will ever need to understand how your subconscious mind works!

1. Time isn't real

Let me break it to you! Time isn't real at all cuz think about it all these hours and numbers are made by humans!

But how?!

They just track how the earth moves around the sun and that's all

Yes without time there will be morning and night and still these hours aren't real

As in whole THE UNIVERSE!! TIME DOESN'T EXIST IF YOU AREN'T ON THE EARTH!

which GETS US TO THAT ONE POINT

SUBCONSCIOUS MIND REPROGRAMMING DOESN'T TAKE 21 DAYS OR ANY TIME

Subconscious mind reprogramming is instant

That's why I always add it to my tapes as benefits and that's why I made the benefits! cuz it bypasses the conscious mind and it makes it easier for your subconscious to make it reality!

So basically it all comes down to what you assume!!

2. Languages

I got that question a lot about what if I can't speak English, will the affirmations work?

Yes ofc they will

whatever it's affirmations only or my tapes

Even if you make your own tapes it will work!!

3. Thoughts

Is it really "it is what it is"?

Yes, it is what it is

For ex.

if you think you already got 50k US DOLLARS you already have it it's that simple (like that success story a girl experienced with one of my free tapes she manifested 50k US DOLLARS! - also this one success story - The tape is on YouTube btw)

Again it all comes down to what you assume!

4. Assuming

Assuming hmmm... Do you know that all your thoughts are assumptions?

But there are two things about these thoughts!

Did you assume that they are real and true?

Do you assume that whatever you want is already achieved?

Do you assume that you are always right?

Or did you assume that it can't happen cuz you think you are lying!

Just be honest with yourself

Get a piece of paper and write everything you think about down ABOUT A SPECIFIC MANIFESTATION YOU GOT ON YOUR MIND!

And if you think you are lying why? Ask yourself! Make all that noise go away and clear it for yourself! You deserve better

Now this gets us to another point which is your manifesting self-concept and your self-concept they are very important for ur existence like they are the core of your life! So a little advice work on them then do whatever you want!

Cuz it changes the way you think and what you assume

So like a person with a bad or mid self-concept they will always assume the worst for themselves

Another person with a good self-concept they will be aware of who they are and what they are capable of!

5. Thoughts, Feelings and beliefs!

Again and again

How you feel is created by thought

Subconscious programming → beliefs → feelings → thoughts

So if you keep saying "oh I am sad" multiple times you will be sad it's just that simple

Use it for your own good!

And imagine what... Right now

Your beliefs will reflect in your reality after one thought instantly after reading this post so be careful cuz i already manifested this while typing this!

And listen to in control tape by me on YouTube!

Basically you can always create beliefs instantly cuz you believe that time isn't real... Did you know what we are doing here? Just assuming the best for us but you still have to be constant to get used to it and make it a part of your programming like everyday

Someone like me I enter the void every time I nap and sleep I got used to it and I don't even feel tired anymore when I wake up there and I don't use it that much anymore!

I literally enjoy how easy it is in life to do whatever I want and experience whatever I want!

6. Simple assumptions to have a good relationship with your subconscious mind

I will give you 10 affirmations from my paid subconscious mind tape at the end (I know it won't be the same as the tape itself because of the benefits but still it might help you guys!)

Do you know that your subconscious mind is here for you like a parent it's like your personal assistant - it has everything about you, your memories and it controls ur whole life it accepts every single thought you think about unless you say it it's not something you accept so it gets in your subconscious mind like "oh I don't accept this"

Even the negative statements your subconscious mind knows it negative!! Same thing with the positive statements

Like for ex.

I am not a bad person - negative statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it!

Your subconscious mind won't take it in like "I am a bad person" without the "not"

Even the same thing with

I am a good person - positive statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it TOO

The subconscious mind ACCEPTS THE NEGATIVE STATEMENTS TOO!

IT IS simply WHAT IT IS!!

It's not the opposite at all as some weird bloggers said! Or even that book about the subconscious mind it's called "the power of the subconscious mind by Joseph Murphy" it's full of bs and limiting beliefs - I genuinely hate it

I literally saw a coach in Saudi Arabia on X (PREVIOUSLY Twitter) selling a whole course for almost 30k USD and sharing all the limiting beliefs in that book and that was months ago!

I mean at least IF YOU ARE MAKING PEOPLE PAY FOR SOMETHING PROVIDE THEM WITH THE BEST THINGS AND INFORMATION

I hated how some people let some crazy stuff like that get to them without doing their own research or just creating their own rules!!

Be a little independent please for your own good

Your subconscious mind can be programmed instantly YOU DON'T NEED ANY TIME all you need to realize and understand is that yes "I always reprogram my subconscious mind instantly" and YOU JUST NEED comfort and just repeating the affs - this is a way

Another way to do it - make your own tapes and it's just repetition

Another way to do it - simply be it be whatever you want to be! Like it's already you!

One last way to do it - my free tapes + paid tapes they are very effective they work from the first listen because they have benefits again what actually made my tapes get that much success stories is the benefits

I am gonna upload 2 new free tapes they are small but very effective! Everyone here will like them!!

🎀10 Affirmations for your subconscious mind🎀

from my paid subconscious mind tape

Affirmations:

Me and my subconscious mind are one.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything I say as true.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything think about as true.

My subconscious mind is already my best friend forever.

My subconscious mind always helps me with everything.

My subconscious mind always loves me.

My subconscious mind always helps me reach my highest potential in this lifetime!

My subconscious mind already believes what I want it to believe easily effortlessly quickly and instantly.

My subconscious mind always manifests everything I want easily effortlessly and instantly.

I have a perfect relationship with my subconscious mind.

Thank you guys for all the support and love and I hope this post helped you!

If you have any questions you can always send an ask I will be happy to answer them whenever I am free! Also you can dm me if you want a paid tape or a custom tape!

One last thing these tapes are with benefits they aren't like any other tapes that are available everywhere these days! 🎀

Enjoy!💗

#loa #law of assumption #neville goddard #self concept #loassumption #void success #loa success #success stories loa #self development #self esteem #non dualism #non duality #nonduality #nondualism #subconscious mind #subconscious reprogramming #subconscious #void concept #voidstate #the void #void state #void #the void state #void state tips #how to manifest #manifestations #manifest #manifesting #manifestation

[annwrites]

you should see me under the hood of this thing, sweetheart.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: billy gets a flat & while waiting for a tire, you're stuck in oklahoma for a couple more days.

— tags: billy opening up a little. billy working on a car. going to an arcade. going night-swimming.

— tw: there is a homophobic slur in this one.

— word count: 6.8k

— a/n: i hope this entry sounds halfway decent. i wrote the grand majority of it surrounded by other people/noise/music, instead of at my work desk, listening to music that helps me write.

find my other posts concerning billy here

After considerable effort on Billy’s part, he’d eventually coaxed you back into his car and driven the both of you back to the motel. You’d cried the entire way there, and he felt like a piece of shit for it.

Once inside, you’d sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor.

“I’m going to shower again real quick—sweated through my fucking clothes from nerves.”

“Okay.”

He sighs. “I need to worry about you running off again while I’m in there?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “No. I’m tired. I just want to go to sleep.”

He nods and watches as you get ready to lay down on the left side, which is nearest the door.

“Other side,” he says.

You look at him. “Why?”

He crosses his arms. “Please just do what I’ve asked. I don’t feel like fighting anymore tonight.”

You roll your eyes, lying down on the right side, cocooning yourself in blankets.

He goes to wash up quickly then.

When Billy comes back into the bedroom, you’re already fast-asleep. He feels relief that you’d stayed. He’d rushed so much in the shower that he’d gotten shampoo in his eyes. He was surprised the sound of him cursing hadn’t woken you.

He lies down in only his briefs—hating the feeling of clothing on him in bed, but chooses to suck it up for tonight—and he lays on his side, looking at you. Your bruises were still, obviously, quite prominent, but a few were beginning to turn more green instead of their previous dark-blue shade.

He briefly wonders how the fuck your dad could’ve ever put his hands on you, then thinks on how he nearly did just the same less than two hours ago. He tells himself he wouldn’t have done it—but the thought had crossed his mind. He’d wanted to see you afraid in that moment. And then, once he had, immediately regretted it. Deeply.

A muscle in his jaw feathers when he thinks of how you’d asked him to please not hurt you. How he’d come out of the bathroom to find you curled into a ball on the floor, a nervous wreck.

He did that to you.

You’d come with him to get away from your abuser, only to find another one along the way. What the fuck was wrong with him? Picking on you and getting under that pretty skin was one thing—he honestly fucking loved pissing you off and making you flustered. Plus, it turned him on unlike anything else. But scaring you? It just made him hate himself even more than he already does.

He slowly reaches up and gently runs his fingertips along your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

You stir in your sleep, scooting a bit closer to him. He then tries something that, if you wake up, he’s sure he’ll get his ass chewed out for. He wraps his right arm around you, bringing you in closer to him, until you’re against his chest. Thankfully, you remain asleep. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

He then realizes this is the only time he can really talk to you—if he so chooses. He knows if he tried while you’re awake that you’d listen. But what if you later used it against him? Or thought him weak? Or some faggot for ‘sharing his feelings’? No. He had to be strong—tough. That was what constituted being a real man.

He tucks your head under his chin. “I won’t ever scare you like that again. I’d never raise a hand to you.” He lays his cheek against the crown of your head of soft hair. “I don’t know why the fuck I act the way I do. I just don’t know how to stop it. Maybe I can’t.”

He sighs. He was tired—bone-tired after the adrenaline that had rushed through him as he drove down street after street looking for you, mind racing with horrible thoughts. Thoughts like: if someone did kidnap and kill you…the last thing you would remember would be that everyone you’ve ever trusted has either hurt or abandoned you—including him—that no one was coming.

He pulls you impossibly closer then. “Still not going to stop getting on your nerves, though,” he says with a small smile.

You’re awake. Have been the entire time, but choose not to react—to say anything. You want him to continue talking—letting it—anything—out. This is the him you like. Someone who’s capable of opening up and being the least bit vulnerable. Not the monster you’d bore witness to earlier in the evening. As you looked at the hatred in his eyes then, you felt like you were looking at a stranger.

Then again, you feel that way when he’s nice, too. Maybe he has multiple personalities. You smirk at the stupid idea, for whatever reason, then snuggle closer to his chest, enjoying the warmth, his broad back blocking the AC from blowing on you.

The two of you fall asleep like that—twined around one another.

When you wake the next morning, Billy’s heavy form is lying half on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, one of his legs positioned between both of yours. He snores lightly into your ear. And then you notice you’re now drenched in sweat from his body heat.

God, he’s like a human furnace. How the hell does he wear that leather jacket all the time?

You try to wiggle away from him and his snoring pauses for a moment, then continues as you lie still momentarily. You then move further toward the edge of the bed, and once you’ve slid out and onto the floor, you stand, looking down at him, seeing he’s now practically star-fished all across the mattress.

You walk over to your bag, now needing to shower again yourself to wash the sweat off, and grab a few items of clothing, silently padding into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

When you emerge half-an-hour later—half that time spent blow-drying your head of long hair, and pulling it into a ponytail—something you’d not done in the last couple of days—instead opting for leaving it down—you find Billy already awake, leaned back against the headboard, one arm behind his head, the other holding the TV remote in his lap.

He glances up to you, appreciating the view of you in a crop-top and jean shorts. He wolf-whistles and you don’t even give him a reaction as you place your things back in your bag.

You then turn around and he winks at you.

You don’t want to admit it, but him acting cocky and full of himself again actually comforts you. This him you can tolerate, if not begrudgingly.

“We have to be checked out in a little over an hour.”

He nods, continuing to look you over. “Why don’t you ever tease your hair?”

You shrug, even if you’re taken a little aback by the question. “I used to.”

“When?”

You cross your arms, leaning back against the wall, smirking. “Before you came to Hawkins.”

He frowns. “Why stop?”

“Why do you care what my hair looks like?”

“Just think you’d look hot with it done up is all.”

You walk over, throwing the curtains open and he squints, wincing against the bright light now streaming in. “I don’t have anyone in particular that I’m trying to impress.”

He rolls his eyes at the cheap shot.

You seat yourself on the foot of the bed, facing him.

He raises a brow. “Somethin’ on your mind, doll?”

You grow serious then. After last night, you weren’t sure you could go back to this charade. Not after seeing such a different side of him on the interstate. “Do…do you want to talk about last night?”

He almost replies immediately with 'not really', but refrains. “What about it?”

You look down to your hands in your lap. “They’re not going to be happy, seeing as you put a hole in their wall.”

His jaw flexes. “They can hang a painting up then. Or plaster over it. Like I care.”

You look up to him. “So we’re going back to this, then? You acting like nothing matters to you? And me pretending to believe it?”

He leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “What is it with chicks, man? Always wanting to talk about your damn feelings all the time.” He looks at you. “I got pissed, I did something stupid, and then you did too. What, you want to kiss and make up?”

He cocks his head to the side.

You understand the walls he has built around himself. You’re two sides of the same coin that way. It’s why you didn’t put much effort into making friends at school. You knew what happened when you opened up to people.

They often disappointed.

You scoot closer to him and he shifts uncomfortably, knowing what you’re doing—trying to get closer literally, so as to get closer to him figuratively. He knows this is you trying to connect—form some deeper type of relationship with him, and he should want that, but he simply can’t.

He stands then, walking over to his duffel bag to start getting dressed.

“Billy-”

He keeps his back turned to you. “Just don’t, alright? I’m not the sappy, chick-flick type. We had a fight, we both got upset, it’s over. Just drop it.”

You deflate. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he says, pulling out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt from his bag.

The two of you get breakfast at the motel—cheap waffles and fruit, but it’s something, and free at that, so you fill yourselves before getting back on the road.

And nearly three hours later finds you on the side of the interstate with a flat tire.

You’d both felt something wrong with the front driver’s side and you’d looked at him, while he groaned, slamming his hand against the wheel. “Fuck, what now?”

He’d pulled onto the shoulder, kneeling down and looking it over. You stood nearby, staying silent as he let out a string of curse words.

He then stood, walking around to the back and popping the truck. You stood idly by, watching as he tossed your bags and his onto the ground, removing the spare tire from the trunk, then the jack and lug-wrench. He tosses the tire down near the flat, then angrily pulls his jacket off, tossing it at you.

You catch it before it can smack you in the face and gently drop it in the back seat.

You watch as he gets to work loosening the bolts on the tire and you feel yourself flush. Watching him work on a car…you hadn’t expect this reaction.

You then wonder if he’s ever done any other work on it before. By the callouses on his hands, especially at eighteen, you imagine so.

When he begins to jack it up, you bite back a nervous smile, feeling something pool between your thighs. Oh, not good. Not here.

You turn away for a moment and he glances up to you. “What, can’t take watching a man get his hands dirty? Sorry your pretty-boy Harrington isn’t here and fuckin’ clueless, I’m sure.”

You turn back around and he notices your flushed cheeks, and you refusing to meet his eyes. “No, it’s not that.”

He stares at you for a moment, then it dawns on him. You like this. A toothy grin forms on his face. “You should see me under the hood of this thing, sweetheart. I’d really have you sweating then.”

He turns back to the tire, loosening the bolts the rest of the way, pulling it off, and looking it over. Then he explodes, causing you to take a step back. “Motherfucker! Are you fucking kidding me? Goddamn piece of fucking shit! Fuck this, I knew I should’ve bought a Goodyear!”

He stands, hands on his hips, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he stares down at the ruined tire, nostrils flared.

“W-what’s wrong? Can you not patch it somehow, maybe?”

He stays silent for a moment, refusing to take this out on you. “No,” he says, brow twitching in irritation. “I would’ve, had the puncture not been in the goddamn sidewall.”

“That’s bad?”

He looks at you, replying sarcastically. “Yeah, honey, that's bad. Means the thing is fuckin’ junk now.”

He kicks it. Then he sighs, bending back down to put the spare on.

“Well, you can just drive on that one now, right?”

He looks upward to the sky, begging for the strength. “Women…” he mutters. “Not more than thirty or forty miles. Definitely no more than a hundred, and that’s if I really want to push my fuckin’ luck and risk another blowout, if not screwing up my alignment, which will just create an even bigger mess.”

It all sounds like Greek to you. “What’s wrong with that tire?”

He looks at you like the answer should be obvious. “It’s a goddamn donut. They’re not meant to be driven on for long periods of time.”

He shoves it on the car, screwing the nuts back into place.

You stay silent after that.

You’re currently standing beside Billy—the back of his shirt drenched in sweat from the summer heat—and watch as the man in front of you, standing behind the counter of a local auto-body shop, talks lowly to someone on the phone, glancing to Billy every few seconds, who is now in a…bad mood, to put it lightly.

The man finally hangs up, turning back to him. “Soonest I can get one in is two days.”

“Two fucking days? Are you kidding me?” He shouts.

You blanch, staring at the man with wide-eyes as he crosses his arms before his chest, giving Billy a rather displeased look.

You then grab the side of Billy’s shirt in your fist. You look at the man. “I’m sorry about that, we’ll be right back.”

Billy looks at you. “Don’t apologize to him. This is fuckin’ ridiculous-”

You shoosh him rather loudly—people already staring in your direction—and pull him back outside for a moment. He stares down at you.

“What?” he spits at you.

“Who cares if it’s two days, or four or five? It’s not like we’re on a set schedule. All that matters is that we eventually get there. I mean, maybe we could start taking detours along the way and do some sight-seeing. No reason to race all the way there and not enjoy the trip, right?”

He studies you for a moment. His first reaction was to tell you this isn’t a fuckin’ vacation—you weren’t going to be pulling off and taking photos of obnoxious tourist-traps. And then he suddenly softens.

This is you trying to spend time with him…right?

If he tells you no…he fears it may come off like he’s trying to get to California as quickly as possible so he can finally be rid of you.

Then he wonders what happens once the two of you do finally reach those sandy shores. Will you leave him behind, too…?

He shakes his head for a moment, ridding himself of that thought and you deflate at his reaction to your suggestion for making your road trip just a bit more exciting.

“Oh. Sorry. Nevermind. Just forget that I-”

He looks at you again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, I wasn’t-” He sighs. “Fine. We’ll take a couple days off and just explore around town. Find some overpriced souvenir shop so you can buy some ridiculous t-shirt. Happy?”

You smile, nodding.

He heads back inside then. “Two days is fine.”

You decide to pay up two nights at a local Red Roof Inn, which happens to have an outdoor pool. When Billy was told this by the receptionist, he’d looked to you with a raised brow and a smirk, his eyes trailing down your body, then back up. “We’ll have to pick you up a bikini, sweetheart.”

You’d not replied or even reacted as you picked up your bags, turning to head to your room.

Once dropping off your things, Billy had walked back to the door, intending to head back out, intent on keeping his promise of buying you skimpy swimwear. He’d merely called over his shoulder, as you came out of the bathroom, “You comin’?”

It takes a bit of driving before you come across a local clothing shop. You head over to a rack of sundresses and flowy skirts once inside, while Billy heads to a rack a few feet away with women’s swimwear. He smirks when he finds something similar to what he had pictured in his head for you to squeeze into.

He holds it up, the hanger dangling from his index finger, and he calls to you.

When you look at him you flush—of course the bottoms are equivalent to a thong. Your eyes then meet his and he’s waiting for you to respond, a brow raised in offer.

You then shake your head lightly, looking away.

He sighs. “Course not.”

He flips through a couple other options, then picks up a red two-piece—the top essentially a push-up bra. He clears his throat and you look to him again, then quickly away.

He walks over to you, hanger still in-hand. “Oh, c’mon. Just try this one on. Humor me, honey.”

You shake your head, nose raised. “I don’t think so.”

He leans down. “Pretty please?”

You look at him, his face inches from your own.

You shift from one foot to the other. “If I pick one out will you shut up about it?” You ask sweetly, batting your lashes.

He smirks. “If I get to watch.”

You turn away, rolling your eyes, his own landing on your ass, humming his approval at the view.

You find a high-waisted two-piece and a one-piece you like the look of, and you head for the changing room, Billy following closely behind you, which you don’t notice until you turn to shut the door and he places his hand flat against it, keeping it open.

You stare up at him. “Move.”

He leans against the wall with his shoulder, other hand on his hip. “You never said I didn’t get to watch.”

“It was implied.”

He just continues staring down at you.

You then step closer to him, gripping either side of his jacket in your hands, looking up to him with hooded lids. “Hey, Billy?”

God, it took no fucking effort from you for him to be set on fire.

“Yeah, doll?” He asks, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Go find someone who’s desperate enough,” you say, pushing him back, and just as he catches his footing, you slam the door in his face.

You decide on the two-piece, the one-piece a bit awkward-looking in the crotch.

When you exit the changing room, you find Billy standing near a wall half-full of novelty t-shirts.

You wander over to him and watch as a smile breaks out across his face as he pulls down a shirt. He then glances to you at his side and holds it up in front of him.

“What’d’ya think?” He asks.

It’s a plain black shirt with white lettering and a red heart, reading: I heart sluts.

You look at him with an unimpressed expression. “Really?”

“Oh, I definitely fuckin’ do.”

You turn away. “I’m going to check out.”

Billy puts the shirt back, flipping through a handful more and then he laughs to himself. “Oh, fucking perfect,” he says, taking a different one up front with him.

When Billy comes out to the car, he has a pair of swim shorts in a plastic bag and is wearing his new t-shirt.

He gets inside and turns toward you, the front of his shirt on full display. “Where to next? Unless you want to head back and let me see you in that suit?”

When you look at him you let out a completely unexpected laugh.

He keeps his face impassive. “Somethin’ funny?”

You stare at the front of his shirt—just how utterly ridiculous and on-the-nose it is—and then look back up to him, breaking into a fit of giggles.

Seeing you like this—happy, having a laugh for once—he starts to, too. “What?” He asks, snorting. “You think I don’t want to?”

You look back down to his shirt again, tears streaming down your face. “Oh, I do. You’re just not going to.”

He finally turns the engine over, pulling away from the shop. “Oh, baby, you should know by now: I’m not one to give up easily.”

You glance back down to his shirt. ‘Fuck virgins’. Really?

After grabbing a quick bite to eat for lunch, Billy finds a local arcade and the two of you head inside, simply looking for something new to keep you occupied for a couple hours.

And it’s when you look around at the flashing lights and take in the sounds of music and machine sound effects, couples and friends laughing and competing against one another, that you realize that for the first time in a very long time you feel worry-free.

You glance up to Billy at your side and find yourself unable to understand, exactly, how it is that you now feel toward him.

You’d seen a different side of him last night on the side of the interstate—the same man who’d picked you up on your way out-of-town—and just wish you could get more glimpses of that version of him. A version you feel you can actually trust and let your defenses down with.

I can’t do this without you.

You weren’t sure you could’ve made it this far without him, either. In reality, you were the one who needed him. He had the car, the money, the wherewithal, and the knowledge to keep you going. And then you briefly consider how those things, coupled with his more serious moments, make you feel safe in relying on him. You wonder how that would make him feel to know. And then you think of his fist in a drywall and withdraw a little.

“You were wrong, y’know,” you say softly.

He looks down to you, stopping, hands on his hips. “What’s that, darlin’?”

You clasp your hands in front of you, looking down. “You could—can—do this without me. You’re not the one who needs the other here.”

He studies you for a moment. Then he grips your chin gently between his fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his. “You’re wrong.”

He turns, taking your hand, and leading you over to a machine that will turn his cash into tickets for games. He bites back a satisfied smile at you admitting that you need him as he shoves dollar bills into it. It means a lot to him to hear. Means a lot that you’re willing to actually admit it out loud.

Once you’re both holding handfuls of tickets, Billy heads toward a racing game, while you go to wander in the opposite direction, wanting to try a claw machine, until he grips the hem of your top, dragging you along beside him. “Stop wanderin’ off.”

You look up at him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think I can get lost in here.”

He smirks. “I’ll win you a stuffed animal later. Once you’ve earned it.”

The two of you then sit side-by-side, readying yourself to race. He glances to you as the screens begin to count down. “Don’t think I’m about to take it easy on you either, just because you have a pair of tits.”

You glare at him. “Why do you always have to be such a vulgar ass?”

He smirks. “Says the girl with a foul-mouth.”

Your wheel jerks and you gasp in disbelief that he was already ramming his car into yours.

You keep your eyes trained ahead at the screen then and accelerate, then see Billy shifting gears out of the corner of your eye.

You mentally resign yourself to losing to him… And you do a couple minutes later, him standing with a smug look on his face, arms crossed.

“Billy, one. You,” he shrugs, sucking on his teeth, cocking his head to the side.

You look behind him and smile, stepping past him, heading for the air hockey.

You currently have six scores to Billy’s two, and as you glance up to him—the irritated look on his face—you find yourself unsurprised that he’s the competitive type.

He smacks the puck back toward you, brows furrowed, free hand gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles are white. “How the fuck are you so good at this?”

You shrug, smacking the puck back his way. “Guess it just comes naturally.”

He glances up to you with a smirk. “Oh yeah? Putting stuff in holes your specialty?” He smacks the puck back toward you.

You don’t take the bait, and instead choose to flip the script on him. “Maybe I just got a lot of recent practice in the night Steve and I went out. Maybe we went to the Hawkins Arcade after.”

You smack the puck as hard as you can, his eyes now trained on you and not the table, and it slides into his side easily. The table lets out a musical jingle at yet another victory on your part and you raise your arms above your head, and jump. “Yes!” You say with a smile, settling back into fighting stance.

His nostrils flare and he leans over the table, slamming the puck down and smacking it so hard it goes flying past you.

You roll your eyes, heading over to grab it and when you bend down to do so, you feel a hard smack against your behind and when you whirl around, Billy standing behind you with a wide smile.

“Bet Harrington didn’t get to do that, though, did he?”

You shoulder check him as you head back to the table. “Felt like a flea bite to me.”

Just as you set the puck back on the table, you feel him grab a handful and squeeze.

You squeak in surprise and before he gets a chance to make it back to his side, you smack the puck over, scoring yet again.

His smile drops from his face. “Hey! That’s fuckin’ cheating.”

You smile sweetly. “Sounds like a skill issue to me.”

He’s fuming now and you can’t believe just how serious he’s taking this.

But one more score on your part and the game will thankfully be over.

Billy once again slams the puck down on the table and doesn’t look at you once as the two of you battle it out—him the image of utter concentration.

You then throw at him, “If you let me win, maybe I’ll repay you in sexual favors.”

His head shoots up and the table jingles and he lets out a loud curse.

Billy is still fuming a few minutes later as the two of you browse their other games, until he eyes up a pinball machine and smiles.

You go to walk past it, until he grabs you by the hips and lifts you onto it.

You flush, glancing around, afraid of being kicked out by an employee, until he shoves two tickets into the machine, positioning his hands on either side of you, over-top of the buttons, his eyes staring into your own.

“Skill issue my ass,” he says, pulling the knob back, sending the tiny pin ball flying.

You cover the entire front portion of the game, so there’s no way he has any idea what he’s doing. Until he pushes the button for the right bumper, then the left, left again, right, his eyes never leaving your own.

The scoreboard begins to climb behind you—ten points, thirty, thirty-five, fifty, eventually a hundred, a few hundred. He smirks. “You won the last game, so what sexual favors do I get rewarded with again?”

The pinball tings under you.

You shift and he just continues staring, waiting.

“I…” You trail off. It wasn’t like he had let you win. You’d cheated, like he said. Twice, really.

The machine begins to go wild under you and coins begin to shoot into the dispenser—so many they begin spilling onto the floor.

"You should see what else these fingers are good at playing with." He slides his hands up your thighs until they’re resting over your hips. He pulls you closer to him. “Maybe I should just choose.”

You laugh from nerves. “I wasn’t serious.”

He slides his hands onto your bare waist. “You think I’m letting you out of it that easy?” He steps back finally, scooping coins into his hands, stuffing them into his pockets. “Not likely, sweetheart.”

You stand silently beside Billy as he looks over the larger prizes against the wall behind the counter. They even have an Atari. He’d wanted one for a long time, but after getting told no more times than he could count by his dad, he finally gave up on it. And when he got his car, he didn’t have much interest in wasting his time on anything else. Working on it more than served to take his mind off his shitty life.

He looks to you and you smile up at him, waiting patiently while he makes up his mind.

Then, “You choose.”

Your smile falters. “But you’re the one who won.”

He smirks, then reaches up, running his knuckles along your cheek. “Oh, I know I did. And don't think for a second I don't plan on collecting on that offer.”

You and your mouth. Stupid.

After dinner at a small diner—Billy paying for you again—the two of you return to the motel and once the door has closed behind you, Billy goes to strip right in front of you.

You gasp in shock, turning your back to him. "Can you please stop doing that?"

He slips on his new pair of swim trunks. "You've already seen my ass once, sweetie. What's another time or two?"

He then comes up from behind you, pressing himself against your back and you jolt.

He leans down toward your ear. "Might want to slip your suit on, too if we're going to swim. Unless you'd rather skinny dip?"

You grab the plastic bag which houses your new two-piece and head for the bathroom.

Once you've put it on, you look over yourself in the mirror for a moment, ensuring everything is properly covered. And also mentally prepare yourself for the lewd comments you already know Billy is going to be incessantly throwing your way.

You exit the bathroom, Billy leaning back against the open doorway to your room, arms crossed and his head rolls in your direction, eyes widening.

You're wearing his favorite color—blue. Almost an exact shade-match to his Camaro. He wonders if that choice had been intentional. Your bottoms are high-waisted, but at your hips are small, thin bows, every inch of your long legs on display. The top cups your breasts perfectly, a small bow between them as well.

He wolf-whistles. Then licks his lips and says, "I'll tell you this much, honey, the water won't be the only thing making you wet tonight if I have anything to say about it."

You walk past him. "You don't."

Just as he shuts the door behind the both of you, he reaches up with both hands and undoes both ties at your neck and backside, your top slipping off. You quickly reach up, covering yourself with your hands and he snickers as he grabs your top before you get a chance to.

You stand there, mortified. "Give it back!"

He holds it up above his head. "You want it so bad, take it from me."

You glare up at him, irritation building to a boiling point.

He shrugs, turning away. "Guess you don't need it all that bad then."

Once his back is turned to you, you make a split-second decision and pants him.

He curses, dropping your top long enough to pull his bottoms back up and you grab it, jogging down the stairs to get away from him long enough to get it back on.

You reach the pool before he does and deflate when you see the sign on the gate: Night swimming strictly prohibited.

You turn to go back go to the room, deciding on just watching a movie in bed, instead, after taking a hot bath, but bump into Billy's bare chest.

"What're you doing?"

"The sign says no night swimming."

His brows furrow. "So?" He flips the lock on the gate, stepping past it.

You quickly follow after him, grabbing his arm. "Billy, stop."

He turns back to you, expression that of indifference, clearly not caring about the repercussions of his future actions.

"We could get kicked out for this. And I doubt they'd be willing to refund you for the room tonight."

Your voice is a tone of pleading.

He's silent for a moment, as if he's considering his options, then sighs. "You're right, I'm sorry."

You fill with relief, glad he's listening you for once.

Until he bends down, wrapping his arms around your knees, picking you up. You wrap your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling off of him backward. "Billy, what're you-"

He races toward the pool and cannonballs in, instantly submerging the both of you.

When you get above the surface, he's floating on his back, arms behind his head, flashing you a smile.

"You are such an ass."

You go to swim in the other direction, toward the steps, until you feel his strong arms wrap around you from behind. "Oh no you don't."

You squirm against him and he just laughs as you struggle, turning you around until you're chest-to-chest.

"Let go of me, I want to get out before someone catches us."

"No one's going to catch us. Can you just chill the fuck out for a second? Jesus. You're aware you're allowed to let loose every once in awhile and have fun, right? You don't have to be so uptight all the time."

You stay quiet, ignoring the feel of his hands at your hips, which then move back to wrapping around your back.

He sighs."You're not there. You don't have to act like the woman of the house anymore. You don't have to keep it together all the time with me. You can be whoever you want now; do whatever you want. No one's going to stop you."

Your eyes sting and you tell yourself it's from the chlorine. Not from him having read you so easily.

And then you relax a little."I don't know how," you say softly.

He looks at you for a moment, thinking. "What's something you've always wanted to do, but felt like you couldn't, either because of him, or because you were afraid what everyone might think?"

You search yourself for an answer, but don't come up with anything. There was no point in thinking about things you might've been able to do if you had a different life before. You didn't. You were who you were, and you made your peace with that.

You shrug. "I'm not sure."

He rubs one palm down your back. And then he smirks, and you know whatever he's come up with is going to be the worst idea anyone has ever had. "You ever been drunk before?"

You frown. "That's not really my idea of fun."

"Just answer the question."

"No, I haven't."

He grins. "Want to?"

You debate it for a moment, sure it's a foolish thing to do. Especially with him. "Not tonight..."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

You know it's an impulsive and stupid thing to do, but you know you'll never "let loose" all on your own. Because what you'd told him is true: you don't know how.

You've never had the option to do anything before but what was expected of you. Or, rather, what you expected of yourself, since your dad couldn't be relied on for nearly anything. Other than getting drunk himself. Then you worry: what if you agree, and you come to discover you have a predisposition to alcoholism yourself?

You nearly groan for over-thinking yet one more thing. Just like always.

"Okay," you reply quietly, knowing you will have all day tomorrow to change your mind if you so choose.

He smiles. "Yeah?"

"I said okay." Your fingers brush against his curls at the base of his neck.

He squeezes your hips. "I'll have to get you liquored up so I can finally take advantage of you."

You roll your eyes skyward. "I changed my mind."

"It's called a joke, sweetheart. Stop taking everything to heart."

He glances behind you then. "Shit, what're those doing over there?" He asks with a tone of flat, feigned confusion.

You turn your head to look across the pool and you feel your skin grow hot when you see your bikini bottoms floating atop the water.

You push off of him then. "You're such a perv!"

He laughs and pinches your bottom as you swim away from him to go grab them. So that's why he'd been so handsy with your hips—he'd been busy untying them.

As you put them back on, tying the bows back into place, you look back to him with a heated expression. "So you were distracting me so you could do... That."

You lays flat on his back, floating. "Maybe. But I still meant the things I said: that you need to get over yourself and have some fun. Make a couple bad decisions. Might turn out to be the best thing you've ever done."

You splash him, then get out, heading back up to the room.

Once you've both bathed for the night, Billy exits the bathroom...completely naked.

You reach up, covering your eyes."Will you please stop doing that?!"

He walks around to his side of the bed. "I told you, I don't like sleeping in clothes. So from now on I won't be. Get used to it."

He crawls into bed beside you and thankfully covers up.

You lower your hands, looking at him. "You wore something last night."

"Because last night was different."

You groan. He's going to do whatever he wants. You already know you're wasting your breath arguing.

You nearly threaten to do the same, so as to give him a taste of his own medicine, then bite your tongue, knowing throwing that in his face would give him exactly what he wants.

So, instead, you lean over him smirking, your body hovering over his, your left leg between both of his and he looks up at you with a look of happy surprise. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and your smile disappears at the unexpectedly soft gesture as you awkwardly grab the TV remote from his bedside table and plop back down on your side of the bed.

You hadn't expected such a...sweet reaction. You were just doing it to lead him on and then tick him off.

And it turns out it worked when he speaks. "God, you're such a fuckin' tease. I don't buy the innocent act anymore, so don't bother with it."

You turn the TV on, flipping through the channels. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Billy doesn't get what he wants when, an hour later, you're both lying down for the night, and he's under the top sheet, while you're atop it, but still under the duvet.

"Be a lot warmer if you just pressed yourself up against me again like last night."

You can't see him in the dark, and know he thus can't see you, but you roll your eyes anyway. "Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired. You could always help with that."

You feel him shifting onto his side, then feel a warm hand sliding under your nightgown. You reach down, trying to shove his hand away, but, with him being stronger than you, he just keeps pushing higher until he reaches second base. Well, sort of. His hand merely skims the soft skin beneath your breast, but you huff loudly out of irritation, turning onto your other side away from him.

"Honey, if you wanted to spoon, all you had to do was ask."

He then presses his frontside against your back and you go to get up, until he wraps an ironclad arm around your middle.

"No, that's not my pistol, before you ask. I'm just that happy to see you."

"You are so fucking obnoxious. Get off of me."

He snuggles closer to you. "Mm, I don't think I will."

He becomes quiet then, and it's only a couple minutes later before he falls asleep, exhausted from the long day.

You stay silent, not wanting to wake him and hear more inappropriate comments. So you shut your eyes, falling asleep in his arms. Reluctantly.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader) #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader

[dazednmatthews]

for now, let’s get away ~c. sturniolo x reader

drummer!chris x reader au

this took me i’m not kidding three weeks to finish and i still hate the end omfg. i hope yall like it. this was the chris fic i was teasing for fucking ever. this shit is 7.7k words.

this is the second to last thing i have to post before i leave 🥹. all that’s left is the finale to number neighbors (ik i said two more parts but i changed my mind cause the part 15 was pretty much perfect and there’s nothing more for me to do but end it on a funny silly note so). i love u all so much pls tell me what u thinks bout this i worked so fucking hard LOL. okay bye MWAH ENJOYYYYY

there’s lights flashing, smoke billowing through the air and scattered screams floating through the semi-crowded bar. y/n sits with her group of three, nursing a too-strong cocktail, watching the band on stage with interested eyes.

her eyes keep wandering back to the drummer, a long haired, brunette that’s hammering down on his instrument like there’s no tomorrow. she’s already deduced that they’ve got to be siblings, him and the lead, because honestly she thought she was seeing double from the moment her and her friends walked in.

they’re performing a cover of hole in the earth, by deftones, a song that she adores, which is honestly making her shift in her seat slightly. the drummer wears a long sleeved, black and white shirt, red stars on the shoulders. his hair is falling down into his face, which he pushes back in between his parts, causing the light to reflect off of a silver bracelet hanging off his wrist.

y/n’s been staring at him shamelessly the entire performance. he’s hot and talented and she’s a little bit tipsy so her art of subtlety is very much off. not that she cares.

he’d been looking at her too, periodically through the show. she’d caught his eyes more than once, opting for a small smirk and look away, usually to his carbon copy on the mic. it makes him shake his head with a smile every time.

her attention is shifted from the stage when her best friend nudges her. “you and the drummer have been eye fucking since the moment they got up there.” there’s teasing to her tone and y/n just shrugs.

“well, look at him,” she claps when they announce that they’re done for the night and start to thank the crowd. “how could i not?”

her other friend, who’s standing in front of her nods with a dreamy sigh, “you’re so real for that. i think i’ve been staring open mouthed at the singer for like half an hour.”

y/n laughs, looking back at the stage. she’s disappointed to see the band gone, their empty set up the only thing left in their wake. she picks up her drink, finishing it, before calling the bartender over to get another one.

before she can say anything though, a voice cuts through. “whatever she wants, make it two.”

y/n looks up, surprise filling her face. mr drummer man was right beside her, damp hair and wide smile blinding her. she raised an eyebrow before giving her order, then turning in her stool to face him.

“do you typically buy drinks for every girl that’s at your shows?”

he laughs, short and breathy. “only if they look like you do.” he says, leaning forward so she can hear him better. “and if they spend my entire set staring me down with eyes as pretty as yours.”

warmth spreads through her cheeks, but she doesn’t falter. “nice one.” she takes a sip as the drinks are placed in front of them. “wonder how many times you’ve used that one.”

drummer boy leans his elbow on the bar, slotting his body in the space between her and the person in the next seat. “maybe like, six times. but it doesn’t make it less true.”

she laughs, throwing her head back just the tiniest bit. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’ve been told once or twice.” he runs a hand through his hair. “you have no idea.”

y/n feels loopy, between the alcohol in her veins and the warmth in her stomach from his attention, she thinks she might be in for a little bit of trouble here.

“i’m just kidding though. i noticed you pretty much the second i got on stage.” his eyes are so blue it’s freaking her out. in a good way, though. “knew i had to look for you afterwards.”

y/n raises her eyebrow. “oh, you had a plan?”

“of course i did. no way was i letting you walk out of here without talking to you.”

she knows it’s a line, knows his type. the smooth talking, shit-eating grin that could make any girl fall to their knees. part of her wants to ignore him, just for the sake of it. but a much bigger, much more attracted to him, so badly it’s putting crazy thoughts in her head, part of her is incredibly down for the chase.

y/n turns to look at her friends, who are now talking to the rest of the band. she chuckles, seeing her best friend and the lead singer basically pressed up against each other talking, her looking up at him with what y/n knows are the eyes. her other close friend is talking to who she thinks is the guitarist and a new face, who coincidentally looks exactly the other two.

when she turns back to the boy in front of her, she picks up her drink, looking him dead in the eyes. she’s not entirely doing it on purpose, wrapping her glossed lips around the straw slowly, before putting her glass back down on the bar, but she can tell that it takes a toll on him.

drummer boy blows at a breath, moving his eyes from her lips back up to her eyes. “can i know your name now? or do i have to beg?”

he’s slightly closer to her now. she can smell his cologne in the space between them, and now can see the silver dog tag that hangs from his neck. she notices the silver hoop in his right nostril that she didn’t see before. it makes a chill go down her spine.

“hm,” she basically purrs. “you begging me for something has a nice ring to it.”

the smirk in the corner of his mouth widens. “i’ll beg you for anything you want, sweetheart.”

she decides to stop torturing him. “y/n.” she offers him her hand.

he looks down, bigger one enveloping hers immediately. his hand is warm and slightly rough. it makes her shift again. “chris.”

chris, she thinks. of course his name is chris.

“so who’s in the band with you? cause it’s kind of freaking me out how much you look alike.”

he lets her hand go, not without lingering slightly. “my brother matt,” he looks up and laughs. “who is five seconds away from making out with your friend right now, is the lead. nick’s the photographer and does the behind the scenes shit. jack is just our friend.”

she nods, “triplets.”

“yeah, unfortunately.” his eyes are fond. “i’m the best looking one by far though.”

y/n rolls her eyes, ready to humble him through a lie, when all of sudden there’s a shout behind them.

“she said get lost, you fucking loser.” nick says, standing in front of the friend of y/n’s that isn’t attached to matt.

the presumably drunk asshole sneers at him, “i’m sure she can speak for herself, dickhead.”

“i did speak for myself, dumbass.” her friend says, rolling her eyes. “i’m not interested, not even in the slightest. walk away.”

“you’re not all that anyway, bitch.”

matt speaks next, “watch your fucking mouth, bro.”

chris can tell it’s getting out of hand when the guy keeps taking steps forward, matt’s hand on nick’s arm to stop what feels inevitable. y/n’s friend scoffs. “i was ten seconds ago when you thought, for some odd reason, that you could ever approach me.”

the guy doesn’t seem to like that answer or the various insults the group of them keep giving him, so he shoves past nick and gets right in her face.

y/n takes less than three seconds to throw her drink and shove him backward, causing him to stumble into another drunk asshole, which doesn’t end well.

there’s liquor flying everywhere, fists being thrown and all out chaos in the bar, causing security to come bustling through the crowd. people have started to fight just for the hell of it, and now they’ve got to go.

chris grabs y/n’s hand, tugging her towards the back exit. “we’ve got to go, now.” despite the chaos, he’s grinning, and she kinda wants to kiss him.

her eyes find her best friends, shoving through people recklessly. when she gets to them, they’re laughing incredulously at the chaos they’ve all inadvertently caused.

“i think i’m gonna go with chris,” y/n says over the madness.

“you don’t even know him!” her friend replies, eyebrows sky high.

“yeah,” she says, looking back to chris who is urging her forward. “but i think i want to.”

her other friend grins ear to ear, looking back at his brothers. “go. text us wherever you end up. we’re going with them.”

they shout love you’s and go in opposite directions, her friends with the band and her with chris.

he takes her hand as security gets into the main crowd, pulling her through expertly. once they get to the back door they’re running, fast and hard, feet slapping against the pavement.

she can hear their laughter roaring in her ears, can feel both their pulses in her fingertips where her and chris’ hands connect. it’s crazy, her following him blindly.

she couldn’t even pretend to be bothered by it.

***

“i can’t believe i actually just ran from a bar brawl with you,” y/n says, texting her friends to make sure they ended up okay. they told her that they were at a diner right now with the rest of the band, safe and sound.

chris is also texting, his brothers she assumes, before he slides his phone back into his pocket. “i can’t believe you started the bar brawl.”

his face and tone is teasing. she rolls her eyes, nudging his shoulder as they walk side by side down the city streets. “i did not start it. that drunk dick that couldn’t take no for an answer did.”

chris’ hands are in his pockets as he leads her down the road. she thinks, hopes he knows where he’s going. “i know. it’s just funny watching your face twist up.”

they don’t say anything as they continue their path. they’re in what looks like another bar strip, except it’s pretty much deserted. there’s walls with beautiful graffiti next to them, parking meters decorating the sides of the sidewalk. the street lights are on and bright, and occasionally a car will speed down the one way road like a bat out of hell.

y/n pulls her jacket, which she managed to grab off her bar stool before they escaped, around her tighter. december in new jersey was unforgiving, and the short skirt and fur lined tights she had on weren’t doing enough to protect her from the cold. she’s just glad she opted for vans tonight.

she looks over to the man next to her, hands shoved in his front pockets and hair falling into his eyes. chris’ nose and cheeks are dusted pink from the cold air, and she wants to brush it out of his face. so she does.

she stops him in the middle of the sidewalk, grabbing his arm. he looks at her quizzically, breathing soft. she reaches up and rakes a hand through the soft, brown locks, positioning it so she could continue to see his eyes. he lips turn upwards.

“where are we going?” she says, her arm falling back to her side.

he nods his head towards a car parked a little bit away. “my car.”

she cocks her head. “why the hell are you parked this far from where you’re performing?”

“we were here earlier,” chris says, walking ahead. she follows. “after we set up at the Phoenix, we came here to get some drinks. too much time to kill led to a round of drunk pool. we ubered to the show.”

she doesn’t know him very well, but she knows it makes sense. “very professional.”

chris unlocks his car, leaning over and opening the passenger door. he leans his forearm on the roof of the car, grinning. “that’s rock and roll baby.”

she scoffs a laugh. “never say that, ever again.”

he laughs too. “yeah, alright.”

once they’re settled in the car, chris hands her the aux. she looks at him, surprised. “you want me to play music?”

he nods. “it’s a good character tester. show me what you got.”

she thinks there’s something more underneath the words. she takes the challenge. “you’re on.”

chris pulls off into the night just as pyramids starts.

***

something y/n had never understood was magnets. sure, they had a specific and concrete explanation, scientifically proven, but it just never really settled in her brain right. the concept of push and pull and attraction to metal was a mystery to her.

she kind of feels like a a stray paper clip right now, though. as chris glides through the streets of jersey she’s encapsulated with the way the fleeting lights ghost over his face, outlining his jaw. he’s got one hand on the wheel and one on the middle console, which makes her wish he’d reach a little further to the flesh of her thigh.

when he parks in the back of a big building that she knows far too well, she’s mystified. “why the hell are we at my childhood rec center right now?”

chris leans forward, looking out the windshield. he shrugs. “i didn’t even know that’s where we were. i was just driving to be honest.”

y/n notices the pull towards him again. cause what a coincidence right?

she unfastens her seatbelt and turns her body towards him, leaning her back against her door. “so what made you wanna be a drummer?”

the question seems to come out of nowhere, to chris at least, but he welcomes it. he copies her movements, facing her as well. his seat is pulled all the way back. “just always loved music. so has matt. my brothers are my best friends, so getting a chance to create music with them seemed like a life i’d always wanna live.”

she loves that answer. makes her heartbeat a little faster. “big softie.”

chris smiles wide, teeth poking out. “kind of.” he fiddles with the steering wheel cover. y/n has noticed that he’s always moving in some capacity. fingers always twitching or drumming on a surface, hands in his hair, cracking his neck— he can never sit still. “what’s your thing?”

she thinks. “don’t know if i have one.”

he tuts. “everyone has a thing.”

her eyes laser focus on his necklace. she’s searching her brain for the best thing to say, but keeps coming up short. there were things she loved, books, movies, art— but there was nothing that really made her feel like she could do it forever. it made her feel boring in comparison.

“i don’t know, really.”

chris looks at her like he’s trying to decode a riddle. she kind of shrinks under the gaze. “i think you’re holding back.” she rolls her eyes, because she doesn’t know what else to do. “but even if that’s true, you’ve got time. nobody has everything figured out.”

the words are comforting, but a little too heavy for the night. what she’s going to do with her life is so not the conversation she wants to be having with the hot drummer she ran away from a bar fight with.

“thank you so much, dr. chris.” he laughs, shaking his head. y/n has a sudden stroke of recklessness genius. she smiles like a cheshire cat, slow growing and completely mesmerizing to the boy across from her.

“what’s with the evil smile? you’re freaking me out.” except he’s lying. he’s quite literally hanging on to her every word.

“let’s go.” she’s climbing over the middle console now, stopping briefly on his lap before reaching for his door. why she just didn’t get out on her side, she doesn’t know. she does. the inexplicable need to be close to him compels her to do it. stupid fucking magnet theory.

before she can grasp it though, chris’s hands plant themselves firmly on her hips. she looks down at him, raising an eyebrow. he just grins up at her, looking peacefully.

“just give me a minute. this is pretty much the view i was imagining the entire show while looking at you.” y/n feels herself pulse at the sentence. “it’s even better than i could’ve ever pictured it.”

“dirty dog,” she teases, but settles down anyway.

“oh come on,” he replies. his hands are wandering the tiniest bit, brushing the curve of her spine. “you’re telling me all your thoughts of me have been perfectly respectable?”

she scoffs in amusement. “you need to be humbled, like immediately. maybe the fame’s going to your head.” she trails her eyes down his chest where their bodies connect. “and there’s no telling which one.”

chris chuckles. “not my style, sugar.”

“oh?” y/n leans down, head above him and hair acting as a curtain around them. “am i your first groupie?”

the smirk that slides on to his face is sweltering. his fingers are rubbing circles into the skin of her back and she forces herself not to shiver at the feeling.

“is that what’s going on here? i thought we were just hanging out.” there’s a sly smile on his mouth, eyes implying less than pure things. he leans up on his elbows, causing his hands to disappear. she misses the touch as soon as it’s gone. there’s barely an inch apart. “looks like i’m not the only one who had a plan. hm?”

she shoves his shoulder, causing him to lay back flat with a laugh. “you’ve bumped your head on one too many tour buses.”

y/n opens the car door, reaching down and grabbing his hand. chris lets her pull him up. he’s still laughing. “what are we doing?”

“being quiet,” she says, leading them to the back door she’d seen almost every night back in her teenage years. “not a word.” she warns.

she’d left her purse in the car, but it doesn’t really matter. pulling a bobby pin from her hair, she gets to work jamming it into the lock and wiggling it around. she can feel chris’ body heat behind her, and the cold air makes her want to sink into it. she’s a woman on a mission though, so she pushes the thought from her head.

she smirks when the lock clicks, like always, and pulls the door open. “lets go.”

the surprise on chris’ face is evident. he’s cautious, looking all around him. “are you insane? we are not breaking into a community center right now.”

y/n leans on the door with her arms across her chest. “scared?”

“very much, yes.” he looks at her with something incredulous in his eyes. “don’t really feel like getting arrested tonight.”

she rolls her eyes. “i promise you this isn’t the first, tenth or hundredth time i’ve done this.” she moves to stand directly in front of him then. “it’s a jersey teen rite of passage. we’ll be fine.”

he looks unsure, but he’d be kidding himself if he thought he could ever say no to her. the way she’s looking at him, with wide, sparkling eyes and plump, glossy red lips stretched into a smile that makes his heart thud. he’s a goner. already.

“fine.” he says, despite his better judgement. “lead the way, miss criminal.”

she just laughs as she pulls him inside. the sound makes him think that everything could go to shit in a matter of minutes, and it would all be worth it.

***

the sounds of their foot steps echo through the abandoned space. y/n leads chris through the darkness with expertise, helping him dodge strewn about chairs and walls that he nearly smacked into several times.

she’s giggling like a mad woman, making chris’ lips freeze in a permanent smile at the sound. when they get to where she wants to be she stops and tells him to close his eyes.

he hears the sound of a switch or two, and when he opens his eyes he’s met with a giant community sized pool and some bleachers in front of it. there’s a couple overhead lights, some benches lining the sides of the pool. it looks exactly like what you’d picture a rec center pool would look like.

the thing that catches his eyes though is the graffiti that paints the walls around him. vibrant colors and designs that are so intricate he can’t even wrap his head around it. he’s in awe. when y/n comes to stand in front of him, he looks from the wall to her still dumbfounded.

“this is fucking sick.” he travels to see the art up close, running his hands along the pictures. there’s a flurry of random images with a distinct style chris could never figure out the name for, but all his eyes and brain can register is that it’s fucking beautiful. “have these always been here?”

y/n is looking at the wall with nostalgia swirling through her irises. “kind of. there were a bunch of random additions over the years and it just became this big piece. heard the artist got caught a bunch of times but nothing could stop them.”

chris scoffs. “um, yeah, if i was this good at anything artistic i’d draw that shit on everything too.”

she laughs, turning to him with a mischievous look. he raises an eyebrow at her, questioning what the look was for. she doesn’t say anything, just leans down and starts taking off her shoes.

chris watches her with raised interest, heartbeat speeding up when she gets to the hem of her shirt. “i’m confused on the signals i’m getting right now.”

she shrugs, “strip.”

and with that she pulls of her top, exposing her deep red bra. chris’ eyes trace the valley of her chest and even though he feels like a dick, he can’t help it. he already thought she was the most beautiful girl he’d seen clothed, so her stripping in front of him wasn’t doing him or the pants he was wearing any favors. not to mention that moment in the car was constantly burning through his brain, making him hear. for her touch.

her skirt is off in the next second, and she’s looking at chris like he’s missing an opportunity. “are you gonna stand there and creep on me or are you gonna take your clothes off?”

he’s snapped out of the trance he was in and sends her a sheepish grin. “i’m still kinda lost on what we’re doing right now.”

y/n walks to him slowly, hair fanning out around her shoulders. chris find his hands itching to bury themselves in it, pulling, grasping or even just playing with it softly. when she’s right in front of him, he looks down at her. the sight nearly knocks him off his feet. she’s peering up at him through her eyelashes, eyes dark and sensual, mouth quirked up in a sinful smile. she brings her hands to the waistband of his cargo pants, toying with the button.

chris is hot all over. he can’t do anything but keep his eyes on her hands, following their every move. she pops the button with ease, “do you want me to do all the work or..?”

chris’ voice is shaky as he blows out a breath. “i mean kind of, yeah.”

“i think you’ve got it under control,” she says, voice like honey. “can you finish for me?”

it should be embarrassing how fast chris steps out of his shoes and shows his pants down to his ankles. he’s hoping his dick isn’t standing straight up because he’d probably try to drown himself.

when he’s down to his boxers, y/n trails a nail up his chest and puts her lips to his ear. “good boy.” he shudders, then questions himself cause what the fuck? but then he mentally shrugs because he knows that anything that fell out of her mouth would turn him on. “i really hope you can swim.”

the words register a second too late, because chris is suddenly submerged in water before he can even think to say anything. he hears y/n’s cackle on the way down, and can feel the break of water as she jumps in after him.

he pushes to the surface with a glare, splashing her as soon as she emerges. “you’re evil,” he says, huffing. “you distracted me.”

she splashes him back with a wide, genuine smile. “you’re a guy. distracting a child would be harder.”

chris rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to lunge at her through the water. she squeals, manically laughing as he chases her around. they spend the next however long slashing each other and trying to dunk each other under water without getting too close to be grabbed.

y/n doesn’t know the last time she felt this good around a guy. the last time she was so allowing to have someone in her space. it makes her stomach turn in a delicious, tantalizing whirl of want.

chris catches her off guard finally, wrapping his arm around her waist as she tries to get away. he pulls her to him and she turns, taking it upon herself to get as close as possible. they’re treading water, looking at each other in the eye.

it feels like they’re having a conversation without saying the words, and y/n is terrified chris can hear her heart beating in the silence. he reaches up, tucking a wet strand behind her ear. the moment is oddly tender. “you’re beautiful.”

he says it so concretely that it makes her stomach (among other places) clench. like there was no room for debate. it’s probably the shyest she’s been all night when she looks down at the distorted sight of their legs underwater.

like a mind reader, chris nudges her burning cheek, making her look up. he’s close as he can be but still giving her space. he searches her eyes for a moment, before he starts to say something. “i-“

y/n is looking at him, waiting for him to finish but ultimately he doesn’t. “fuck it.” is the only thing he says before slotting his lips perfectly over hers.

it’s instantaneous, the way her body suctions itself to his. his right hand is gripping the base of her throat hotly, his other hand in her hip. her hands are in his hair and she’s moved to wrap her legs around his waist.

they’re pulling at each other like they’ve been apart for years. it’s desperate and needy, the way chris trails his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking on any part of skin he can see. the way she tugs roughly at his hair to pull him back up to her lips, like she can’t stand to be away from them for a second.

it’s the hottest thing either of them have literally ever experienced and she strongly believes that she’s about to fuck this man right here, right now.

only, they can’t, because there’s a sudden slam of a door and a jingle of keys. “hey! you can’t be in here!”

they pull apart instantly, and y/n’s eyes widen. “oh shit, we gotta go.”

“what the fuck—“ chris looks like a deer caught in headlights, but y/n has been through this way too many times to let them be caught.

she’s pulling chris’ arm with an iron grip to the side of the wall their clothes are at. “let’s fucking go, chris.”

it takes all of two seconds for him to move with her instead of against her. they pull themselves up the wall as the security guard moves from the open door with haste. y/n can’t help but laugh as chris fumbles around with his shit, almost slipping and falling to the ground.

“is that you, y/n?” the guard says, and she can feel chris’ confusion. she doesn’t stop though, continuing her escape with chris in row. “damn kids.”

“you’re fucking insane,” chris says through his own laugh because well, he can’t fucking believe this night. can’t believe this girl.

“little bit!” she calls over her shoulder as the guard chases them around the border of the pool. they run to the door in the other direction, bursting through to the arctic air.

“oh my fucking god my balls are shriveling up i can feel it.” chris says as they run barefoot, soaking wet and freezing cold.

they make it across the parking lot, all the way to chris’s car by the time the guard is at the back door, throwing their clothes and themselves in haphazardly.

chris shakes as he blasts the heat and slams on the gas. he’s out of the space in record speed, driving on to the main road a little fast until they’re a safe ways away. he looks over at her, and she’s already looking him. they burst out in the most insane, bizarre bout of laughter.

they look ridiculous. wet hair and in their underwear, shaking like falling leaves. it’s comical and unbelievable and they would never want to be anywhere else.

“god i was kidding when i called you a criminal but you really fucking are,” he shakes his head. “he knew your name and everything.”

“hey!” she says, holding her hands up. “there’s not much to do around here. sneaking into here was like a weekly routine when i was in high school.”

“my little jailbird. what the hell am i gonna do with you?” there’s a glint to his eyes and she shivers again, not from the cold.

she ignores the feeling and points up ahead to a small alley. “you’re gonna pull in there so we can put our fucking clothes on. i’m freezing.”

“completely your fault, by the way.”

“blah, blah, blah.” she looks at him while he focuses on the road. the smile that spreads on her lips makes her skin heat. “pull over.”

and he does.

***

it’s a little while later and chris and y/n sit in his backseat, joint being passed between them, now fully clothed.

y/n lays with her back pressed up against the back left door, legs outstretched and wide with chris laying between them. the weight of his ribs on her hips is heavenly, and all she’s been thinking about for the last ten minutes is how it’s not close enough.

her hand is resting at the top of his head, lazily twisting a strand of hair around her finger. chris hums every so often, body slouching down more into her body heat.

“hey,” he says. “tell me something true.”

she takes a long hit, holding the smoke in before exhaling. “i’m high as bones right now.”

they share a giggle, before chris swipes the joint from her fingers. “i said true, not obvious.”

she shrugs, watching the smoke around them swirl. “it’s both, actually.”

he shakes his head, looking up at her from his place on top of her. “seriously.”

she thinks for a minute. there’s one thing she can think of, but for some reason it feels embarrassing. the way chris is looking at her though, completely enthralled with low eyes makes her not care. “that was my graffiti at the pool.”

chris flounders for a second, mouth dropping open in slow motion. he moves slowly, but it feels abrupt. he spins his body so his back is now facing the other door. she misses his body weight already.

“no fucking way?” his eyes are as wide as they could possibly be, considering how intoxicated they both are.

y/n just shrugs, pulling the last hit and leaning forward to place the filter in an old pepsi can in the front seat. “not a big deal.”

chris scoffs incredulously. “not a big deal? not a big deal?” he shakes his head, his mop of hair bouncing. “you lied to me.”

“about what, exactly?”

“i asked you what your thing was. you told me you didn’t have one.” he gives her a pointed look. “that’s a pretty big thing to have.”

“i haven’t done any art in years,” she argues. “so not really my “thing” anymore.”

he won’t let it go and she has no idea why. a couple random pieces she did out of teenage rebellion were so far back in her brain that it wasn’t even a factor. it’s been years since she even drew anything.

“well get back to it,” he says. “cause that’s not the type of thing you just stop doing. you’re fucking incredible, y/n.”

the authenticity in the words makes her shift uncomfortably. she doesn’t know how to take it and she damn sure doesn’t know what to make of him staring at her like she was pablo picasso reincarnated. it was kind of freaking her out.

“yeah, yeah.” she says, because it’s all she can.

“i’m serious. you’re so talented.” he moves his face directly in front of hers. his eyes trace the expanse of her face so delicately, it makes her want to been seen by him always. “so fucking perfect.” he whispers.

the words fill her with a softness she doesn’t think she’s ever felt. he really means it. she can tell by how honest his eyes are and how tightly he’s gripping on to the spot right above her knee. she doesn’t know how to thank him, so she connects their lips as a sign. he takes it immediately. they stay like that for a couple moments, learning the ins and outs of each others mouths, languidly kissing.

then, she’s back to being on top of him, but with a fire igniting in the pit of her stomach. she’s grinding her hips down into him, chasing those pretty noises he makes at the back of his throat. she’s breathing heavily, mewls falling from her lips as he sucks a particularly deep bruise into her neck.

“your pace,” he says through a groan. although it almost physically pains him, he slows her hips. she whines, chasing the friction like a woman on a mission. “whatever you want.”

“what do you want?” like a brat, she removes his hands, rolling her hips sinfully slow. chris almost chokes on his own spit.

“just want you.”

it makes her dizzy, the desperation in his voice. she needs him now. “well you have me,” for the second time tonight, she pops open the button of his pants. she places a searing kiss on his lips, making him chase her own when she parts. “now make it count.”

and he does. so much so that y/n has to remind herself several times during it that this man, this moment— is just for tonight. no matter how much she wants differently to be true.

***

“yeah,” y/n says, disoriented and out of breath. “yeah we’re coming.”

chris snorts from his place in the drivers seat. he puts on his shirt, taking a second to run his hands through his hair, trying to fix it.

“already did. several times.”

y/n punches him in the arm, trying to listen to her best friend rattle the location they ended up at. she hums in reply, not really listening as she watches chris watch her, his hand wandering to the flesh of her thighs.

when he gets a little too close to her underwear she clamps her legs shut, sending him a look. he only smirks in reply.

she pulls the phone away slightly. “you’re insatiable.”

he shrugs. “when it comes to you? yeah.”

y/n hears her best friend gasp. “oh my god. you just got finished fucking!”

she can feel the heat rise to her face. “i’m hanging up now.”

“oh my god, bitch!” y/n heard shuffling, no doubt grabbing the attention of her other friend. “y/n fucked chris.”

she can hear a protesting bleh! that sounds like nick over the phone, before squeals fill her ears. she already knows her friends are very much drunk. “goodbye.”

when she hangs up, she turns and slaps chris on the shoulder. he flinches, but he’s laughing nonetheless. “you idiot.”

“what? like you weren’t gonna tell them?”

“yeah, tomorrow.” she emphasizes. “not tonight when they’re surrounded by your drunk brothers in the middle of a bar!”

“trust me,” he says, toothy grin shining. “nick and matt have heard worse.”

y/n rolls her eyes, “slut.”

chris doesn’t do anything but send her a dirty smirk, turning up the music and backing out of the parking lot they were in, weaving through the streets like he’s lived here all his life.

y/n can feel a dreadful weight settle in her gut, thinking that the night was approaching its end. through the silence she studies chris, wondering what he’s thinking. if he felt the connection between them as much she did. if he was just as unwilling to let it go. when they pull up outside the bar, she can see his brothers and her friends standing and laughing loudly outside, waiting for them. she wants to speak, but she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. luckily for her, chris has never been one to stay silent for long.

“so.” he says, looking at her with what she thinks is nervousness. “am i gonna have to beg for your number? cause i have no shame. and i will.”

y/n lets out the breath she’d been holding. he felt it too. of course he did.

she outstretches her hand to which he places his phone into. she types in her contact, but before she presses save, she motions him close to her. “come here.”

she snaps the picture of them, cheeks pressed together sweetly and makes it her picture, sending it to herself as well. when she’s finished, chris grips her face in his hand and turns her to him, placing one last kiss to her lips.

it’s slow and intimate, no trace of tongue or the desperate need from before. it feels like a promise or a nudge towards the future. like this couldn’t possibly be the last one.

“text me. or call me. whatever. i’ll answer for you anytime.” he whispers into her mouth. she snaps a mental picture of the moment.

“i will.” she means it.

she gets out the car then, alerting her eccentric friends of her arrival. she gives nick and matt a brief hug as they pass her on the way to chris’ car, thanking them for keeping her friends safe.

she watches them all the way to the car, waving at chris once more as they pull away. she kind of feels like a piece of herself went with him.

“you have to tell us everything.” her best friend says, but y/n is somewhere far away.

“yeah, i will. tomorrow. for now, let’s get you drunk fucks to bed.”

he’s the only thing she can think about the whole way home.

***

eight months later

there’s a distinct difference in atmosphere between this night and then last is all y/n’s thinking as she pushes through the crowd of screaming girls to the back of the venue.

before, it was a lowkey bar with more drunk customers than excited fans. now, there’s people with band tees and signs, nearly passing out as she watches the band throw guitar picks and drumsticks into the crowd. her leather pants are sticking to her tightly, sweat collecting at the small of her back.

she’d gotten matt’s number from her best friend, texted him and told him that she’d be here tonight. chris had no idea, and while she was excited beyond belief to see him, there was a part of her that was riddled with insecurity that he wouldn’t share the same feelings.

they’d texted consistently for a couple months after that night. the odd phone call every few weeks to catch up. it was never awkward, despite how much time had passed. she missed him all the time when he wasn’t around, so every time they talked it felt so comforting she yearned to be in his presence again.

but then they got busy, and consistent texts turned into a random conversation here and there and a call once in a blue moon. the eventually, it turned to nothing at all. she still thought about him all the time, but she her fear held her back from ever reaching out. she assumed he felt the same. well that, and the fact that the guys’ band had found massive success seemingly overnight. she was happy for him, she just hoped there was still room in his memory and his life for her.

y/n paces around the band’s small dressing room while she waits. the anxiety is eating her alive, building a lump in her throat she’s scared won’t ever go away. she’s half a second away from running out of there and never looking back when the door opens.

and in walks chris, shirt off and slung over his shoulder. his hair is drenched with sweat, dark, baggy jeans low on his waist. the emotion that floods her makes her hands shake, so she wrings her hands together to make it stop. doesn’t work one bit.

chris hasn’t seen her yet, but she sees nick and matt in the entry way at the door, smiling and flashing her a thumbs up before they shut the door loudly. chris looks back the door in confusion.

“where the hell—“

“i’ve been stuck in this room for twenty minutes and you still haven’t noticed i’m here. remind me to never try to surprise you ever again.”

chris’ entire body stills. he looks up slowly, hair on his arms standing at full height. when he sees her, his eyes widen three times their normal size. his mouth opens and closes helplessly, so much so y/n can only laugh at him.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

chris doesn’t move from his spot. “i feel like i’m looking at one.”

the eye contact they make is sweltering. all of sudden, the thoughts that had been plaguing her for so long fall away. chris walks to her slowly, like he’s afraid she’s gonna disappear if he moves too fast.

“are you really here right now?” he says, voice full of awe. “i feel like i’m going insane right now.”

she chuckles under her breath. “yes, chris. i’m really here right now.”

the sun opens up in that very room in that moment as soon as chris realizes what’s happening, cause he smiles so wide it looks like it might hurt. he closes the space between and hugs her, lifting her body off the ground.

“chris—“

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he questions, pulling back with his hands on her waist. “not that i’m not glad, i’m just fucking flabbergasted by it.”

y/n’s smile matches his. wide and unrelenting. “well,” she says, pulling a folded up flier out of her bag. she hands it to him, motioning for him to open it. “for this.”

chris’ eyes light up as he scans the paper. he looks at her with so much pride it almost knocks her off her feet. “you have an art show.”

“i do.” she nudges his shoulder. “someone told me once that it was my thing.”

chris wants to kiss her. so badly. he hadn’t seen her in months, hadn’t even spoken to her, but he feels that same thrum of electricity in his veins that he did that night. she looks even more beautiful than before. he can’t take it.

“so that’s why you’re in los angeles?” y/n knows the question is bait. she knows and she wants to keep up the calm and collected ruse really bad, except she thinks she might explode if she doesn’t feel her lips in his very soon.

“yeah,” chris’ shoulders shrug the tiniest bit. “that and this band i like was playing tonight. don’t tell anyone, but i kinda have a thing for the drummer.”

they’re moving closer to each other without even realizing it. chris’ hands have righted their grip on her and she’s about an inch from his face.

he smirks. “mm, good choice. i’ve heard he’s the hottest one.”

“biggest ego too.”

they don’t even have to question it. don’t even have to say the words. chris pulls her to him and closes the gap, his lips finding hers after so long. way too long.

y/n can feel how much he missed her in the way he’s holding her so tightly. she hopes she’s pouring the same feelings into this. kissing chris was like coming home after a hard day to your favorite spot on the couch. she never realized just how much she needed it, never knew how much she missed it until she had it again.

“i missed you.” he says, barely pulling away to say it.

“me too.” she says, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

with one final peck to her lips, chris hesitantly pulls himself away from her. “let me pack my shit and then we can get out of here. it’s my turn to show you around.”

y/n watches him move through the room in haste, dropping shit and bumping into chairs out of pure excitement. her heart swells twice in size, eyes sparkling at the thought of the night to come. she knows this time is different. there was no way either of them was going to let go for a second time.

chris sends her a blinding smile while he packs his backpack and she knows, just knows this man is going to be someone special to her. with the way her heart pounds just by looking at him, he already is.

thank god for boys in bands.

TAG LIST:

@cottoncandyswisherz @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @55sturn @chrryclouds @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @mattstunsgf @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @hypnotizedsturn @riowritesitall @kitaysworld @h3arts4harry @fikefries @conspiracy-ash @matty-bear @always-reading @thehighgrounds @ribread03

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo texts #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo x black reader #chris sturniolo x black reader #matt sturniolo x black reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

[sgiandubh]

From barf bag to pity party

The whole 'Kick in the hornets' nest' involuntary series was started by this Anon, received by the de facto leader of the Disgruntled Tumblrettes yesterday evening (in Europe):

The next morning, another Anon chimed in, on the same page, with what prompted the First Kick: S has a child with 'a woman', but God forbid, not with C 🤣🤣🤣.

And then, one of their group felt the need (then the clearly irritated urge) to come back and comment on the above Anon. No less than 5 (five!) long and plethoric comments were written, prompting my Second and Third Kicks - as you all know, the woman practically begged for them.

I feel it's time to show some mercy and draw the line here.

This blog is read (and trusted) by many. Comments were received. Very interesting, matter-of-fact submissions, to say the least. You know: FACTS (🤣🤣🤣). People who have rich and full and loving lives, people who travel. People who don't even agree on many things, yet spontaneously concurred on what things very probably looked like, on that Palm Sunday morning.

Exhibit 1: Mom and Traveler #1 (a mom I am not - but I was a child, unbelievable as it might sound, and I absolutely confirm every single bit of it)

I am not yet ridden with dementia, and I remember very well waking everyone up at ungodly hours and refusing my mandatory afternoon siesta (a very bad habit we have in Southern Europe). I wish I would still have that same insane energy now. I also wish I would have kept my 3 year old fashion model food quirks - but that is another story.

However, I am a dog slave (not owner) and as such, I am taking Baby out for his short (but excruciating) morning routine at 7:30 AM. Come rain or shine. Beg him to finish his business with grace and dignity. He never listens. Labs are a charming, addictive handful and my Greek boy is no exception:

Exhibit 2: Mom and Traveler #2. Who happened to be in GLA on Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024 (for the thick people at the back!):

All that trip was abundantly documented on her own page. I am reasonably sure she might be reblogging this with her own pics from that day.

And now, for the real questions at stake:

Why make such an unbelievable fuss over an Anon with no pic, that I was reluctant to publish myself?

Why have a cosmic meltdown, in public nonetheless, if you do think this is such a pile of unbelievable nonsense crap? (*imagine the freakout in DMs, if this made the headlines!)

How many times has/have S (or C, or SC) been seen by Antis in GLA in similar postures, without a word being uttered in public?

Why would such an occurrence be An Event, outside of this (help me, I have no words) fandom?

Why insist with your crappy arguments, when it is plain to see you have got all your facts dreadfully wrong?

Why mention 'central Glasgow', when it is public lore (and included in Waypoints!) that S does not live there anymore? (* I blacked out the exact reference, which makes total sense - the least thing I would like to see happening is freaks like you stalking them)

One last time, you insist - comments 6 and 7 (wow, girl!):

First comment is a lie and if you read my Anon (and you know you all did and discussed it to oblivion) you'll have also read this:

Which part of 'he didn't approach' you don't get, in plain English, madam? I am lousy at drawing, but hey - for the cause (open in separate page, questionable humor included):

Second comment, I won't even get into it. God only knows what the hell you meant. I am Romanian and we tend to be a very sarcastic bunch - especially the Southerners.

You posted those at about 2:45 AM, local time (if you are, indeed, a Scot). That's 4:45 AM my time.

I am a lifelong sufferer of insomnia. You, madam, you are mad wae it, as they say in Glasgow.

Don't drink and post, seriously. It makes for a very #sorry hangover show.

And with this, I am done with you. All of you, in that corner. You showed me more than enough. You know there is substance to that Anon, despite the lack of a picture - hence the collective freakout.

From barf bag to pity party. Who knew?

[Later edit:] re-reading the sixth comment, I think she wants to imply it was the 'other child' - I was literally blind with sleep when I first saw it. Well, there is no evidence of whatever she is trying to explain (has she contacted The Climber? between midnight and 2 AM, local time?). Also, a 5 year old child is not a toddler anymore: kids are considered toddlers up to 3, only. That boy, as we all know (and I am sorry we do), has dark hair - where is the resemblance Anon noticed?

Desperate, grasping at straws, lying through her teeth and mad wae it, all the way.

@pamalissou, thanks for bringing us a third mom's POV in your reblog.

#fandom #shitshow

[moonlitkilljoy]

michie ficrecs!

hi!! i saw @24-guy asking for michie fic recs for what to reread and figured i’d just post the fic rec list i made for my friends :-) i’m making my own post because it has some fics written by 24-guy and i’d feel really weird recommending those directly to zem, but i figured someone else might also be interested fjdjfnd

i've split this list into completed fics and ongoing fics for your viewing pleasure, otherwise they're in no particular order :] let me know if there's any mistakes or misattributions, i didn't get anyone to proof read this for me before posting ^^;

enjoy!

COMPLETED:

Max Jagerman's Socks by lab_trash / @lab-trash

"Max's socks start getting interesting, to the point where people actually notice. They don't even look like stuff he'd own, really."

~4k words, 1 chapter, rated T; pure fluff, 5+1 things, a really cute and cozy secret relationship fic

Dangling from the edge by Olive_of_Vanders / @oliveofvanders

"On that fateful day at the Waylon place, a certain weeb saved the bully."

~1.5k words, 1 chapter, rated T; richie saves max's life at the waylon place, plus bonus points for the uncle paul headcanon :] i actually stumbled upon this while trying to remember which fics i’ve been meaning to rec but it's VERY good so i just had to include it

Near Death Panick by lab_trash / @lab-trash

"Max and Richie panic when Max almost dies and they forget they aren't alone."

~2.5k words, 1 chapter, rated G; richie saves max's life at the waylon place, with added secret relationship <3 a delight to read

Hatchetfield's Finest Breadsticks by KairiTheMango / @kairithemang0

"Richie was unsure if he regretted agreeing to be Max's Algebra tutor just yet, however out of the kindness of his heart (and deep down his desire to spend more time with him) he chose to take the job. How hard could it be really? Just a few hours of extra math, it wouldn't hurt anyone."

~1.5k words, 1 chapter, rated G; a short and sweet tutoring fic!!! real neat

class of 2021 by hatchetscandal

"living it, ten years were just that—ten long years. but looking back, ten years is simply the blink of an eye. or the hatchetfield high school class of 2021 is celebrating their ten year reunion, and things have changed drastically in that time."

~4k words, 1 chapter, rated T; cute future class-reunion fic :]

Michie short series - What the fuck happened last night by bonezthewriter

"Richie wakes up in the bed of Max Jagerman one fateful day. Follow them as they develop their relationship; and themselves."

series: ~5.5k words total, 4 works (4 chapters total), no ratings except for the last work (rated T); possible cw for misunderstandings of a somewhat sexual nature, nothing actually happens but they sure do convince themselves it did

Lost and Found by 24_GUY / @24-guy

"A Canon Divergent AU with Michie secret dating and a lot of suffering for Richie. (Less suffering in the sequel, I'm determined to have a happy ending.)"

series: ~21.5k words total, 2 works (18 chapters total), all works rated T; hurt/comfort + secret relationship, THIS ONE IS SO GOOD. it explores richie’s grief at losing max in a really interesting way and then manages to work in a happy ending <3 cw/tw for detailed depictions of the different stages of grief (especially depression)

cause i can’t help it if you look like an angel by pixelprotag / @milgram

"max finds a pretty cool cosplayer online. halloween rolls around, and it turns out he goes to his school."

~1.5k words, 1 chapter, rated T; a really cute fic surrounding the idea of richie doing cosplay, plus another win for "paul is richie's uncle" truthers :P

Paul Matthews and his many children by ThatStar_Guy

"Paul acquires his first adopted son when his sister kicks out his nephew, Richie, because of his sexuality. Richie goes to Paul for help, and he and Emma are glad to provide it. He acquires his second adopted son when Tom perishes in an explosion. Tim, having no other family, comes to live with them. He acquires his first unofficial son when Pete starts spending every day at his house. He acquires his first unofficial daughter when Ruth also spends every minute at his house. He acquires his second unofficial daughter when Grace starts dating Ruth. He acquires his first blood daughter with Emma when they are 32. He acquires his first son in law when Richie marries Max at 20. He acquires his first unofficial daughter in law when Pete marries Steph at 22. He acquires his first grandchild when Richie and Max adopt at 24. He acquires his first and second unofficial grandkids when Pete and Steph are 25."

~3k words, 1 chapter, rated G; a "paul is richie’s uncle” fic taken to the extreme in the absolute BEST way possible. mostly paul centric and focused on paul/emma, with background richie/max, grace/ruth, and pete/steph as far as ships go. THIS ONE IS OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITES!!! lots of Black Friday references

r/TrueOffMyChest by lab_trash / @lab-trash

"I (21m) am in love with my roommate and former bully victim (20m)"

~3k words, 1 chapter, rated G; future fic, in-universe reddit post format. this ones clever and addresses just how shitty Max was in highschool

Maybe We Can Find A Home Here by 24_GUY / @24-guy

"Max confides in Ruth once, and gets a family out of it."

~3k words, 1 chapter, rated T; a really cute ruth and max friendship fic. words cannot express how much i adore it :3

UNFINISHED:

Won't you pray for me? by Whowillprayforyou / @whowillprayforyou

"Max Jägerman is as straight as a board, as per the norm with being who he is. King of the school, Star quarterback. He's got one weakness, Repressed nerds, and thankfully Grace chasity isn't letting up any time soon. Imagine his surprise when his focus shifts to a different not so repressed nerd, after a life changing event. Even more shocking, said nerd is Richard Lipschitz."

~17k words, 5 chapters, no rating as of posting; richie saves max’s life at the waylon house, slow burn ensues <3 i'm literally obsessed with this one

Zeek: The Fighting Nighthawk by lab_trash / @lab-trash

"Max strikes up conversation with their school mascot without knowing who's under the costume. Richie just goes with it, even through that massive anxiety… which fades so quickly for some reason. He learns so much about Max, and he'd never seen him so relaxed before. It's not so bad."

~9k words, 4 chapters, rated T as of posting; secret identity shenaniganery >:] I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH. it's probably one of my favorite npmd fics. plus, this one has the “trevor is richie’s twin” headcanon in a really prominent way which the author executes really well

Car Lights by 24_GUY / @24-guy

"When Richie takes Amanda - his best friend's daughter and his goddaughter - to the grocery store to fill their day, he least expects to run into Max Jägerman of all people."

~36k words, 18 chapters, rated T as of posting; future fic with background steph/pete and some really sweet ruth and max friendship moments :3 I FUCKING ADORE THIS ONE!!! another great twin headcanon piece as well. it should be noted that i've been a dancer for 15 years and this is somewhat of a dancer au, so i may be biased

Beanies by lab_trash / @lab-trash

"As soon as Max turned 16, his father began berating him to get a job so he could pay rent for his room. Actually, that’s a lie. It started a couple weeks before he turned 16. To “give him time.” He actually expected Max to have a job as soon as he was 16. It wasn’t so bad at first, since he didn’t have school and he could manage his part-time job and whatever sport practice he had going on at that time. But once the school year started… Max was always a bully. But in his junior year, he became a literal monster. OR: Max works at Beanies and accidentally sort of makes friends with a regular customer who just happens to be a nerd."

~16k words, 9 chapters, rated G as of posting; paul is richies uncle and theres a background focus on paul/emma. probably my all time favorite michie fic— lotta well thought out references to the other musicals. i've been rereading at least part of it every day for the last couple days, its just that good

thanks for reading!!

feel free to drop into my ask box to talk about any of these or just hatchetfield stuff in general ^w^ have a lovely day/night

#benny beeps #fics recs #michie #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #richie lipschitz #npmd richie #max jagerman #max jägerman #npmd max #also does anyone know where my phone is. i cant find it :( #UPDATE: FOUND MY PHONE. 30 minutes later BUT I FOUND IT

[eneablack]

remus in my dr

(i already shared these but i really miss him rn so i wanted to make a post on all the things i cherish about him.)

first, his personality. he’s very similar to how he’s represented in All the young dudes, he’s imperfect just like that, not soft but truly real and unique. he’s independent, honest and straightforward, mature and chill but he can be funny when he wants to, intimidating lol, he’s really protective over his loved ones, but he also has many flaws that make him so real and beautiful, really. he’s very complex. he’s not really sweet contrary to what people present him in those scenarios, he’s laid back but he sometimes can’t contain his anger with people who go against us, he’s unbothered if they mess with him and reacts only when it’s about his closed ones, and with us he’s very straightforward and surely lets us know if we get on his nerves lol.

he’s not a touchy type of person, but he often would brush his pinky over my hand when we’re close. he did this even before we got together, it’s just something that he does, could be also unconscious i’m not sure. when we became a couple he wasn’t too afraid to hold my hand sometimes, he doesn’t mind if people are judgemental (which is often what we encounter) and that’s probably because he can be scary lmao, he just doesn’t care, but he would make sure i want it and am comfortable with it (also bc i wasn’t the first times).

he’s tired all the time and would sleep at any occasion if he could. he sleeps like a baby, he breaths deeply and makes little noises. sometimes he would slip in my bed at my dorm and lay over me (he’s freaking tall therefore is heavy and would basically crush me but that’s fine) and put his head on my stomach so i would caress his hair and he would just knock out. he’s a deep sleeper too, like not even a scream in his ear would wake him up (exaggerating rn).

um, he kisses very well. one day we decided to meet at night in the slytherin common room and there is a muggle radio always turned on, so we were sitting quietly on the sofa next to the fireplace that was slowly falling out and then he kissed me (i sound calm but i am not), and there was the song “cover me in roses” by golden laurence and i know this song in this reality but it never had a meaning, now it does, so yes this is our song now i don’t make the rules.

as far as I’ve seen for the some months we got in a relationship, he’s very caring but he doesn’t really show it, he’s not sweet almost at all but just because that’s how his personality is like. his love language is like he’s always available for me and takes time to pass some time with me and talk about anything, even if he doesn’t talk much generally, he’s more of a listener.

when i go to therapy, both here and in my dr, i always feel so drained and tired to the point that i’m annoyed by anything and can’t even talk and can’t do shit for the whole day (yeah that’s how much it affects me idc). so when i’m in cr i just go to my room or the garden at my house to simply do nothing, hoping that no one will talk to me cause i would just reply with zero patience or sometimes i would just straight up sleep. but when i’m in dr, yeah i do the same, but there’s him and he’s always available when i need him, so i would just secretly crawl in his bed at the gryffindor’s and he would caress my hair and not speak a word, cause he just knows what i need.

#remus lupin #s/o #reality shifting #shifting #shifting realities #desired reality #shifted #success story #shifting to marauders era #shifting stories #shifting to hogwarts #shiftblr

[justsomeguycore]

ya boy is so brave i woke myself up via lucid dreaming out of a three level nightmare

#level three: the worst party i’ve ever been to #my lucid dream test is when i’m having a crisis in a dream and my brain can only think this makes no sense i must be dreaming #i see if i can turn the lights on/off with just looking at the light switch #so i did and got so excited and like basically threw myself around the room trying to wake up #level two: i wake up so happy that that nightmare was not real #except then everyone tells me it did happen and i basically have woken myself up after sleeping after that party #some more stuff happens i’m like no this makes no sense am i still fucking dreaming?? #so i wake myself up into…. #level one: i wake up and try to stumble out for confirmation that this is indeed real life #someone starts whispering ‘platypus pancakes’ #i’m like WHAt ???? #they’re like ‘platypus pancakes’ #i’m about to just start crying i want things to make sense again so bad #then i wake up for real. and make this post #phew!

[sergle]

When ppl will create a "curvy" girl character and get pretty much the whole body's proportions right, obviously they're putting emphasis on bust/hips but it seems like it's being executed well--- except that they completely, fully, and deliberately, skip the stomach entirely. Just nothin there. Not even a whisper. I'm like. Just sack up, make it make sense and be honest with yourself by making it official and say it's canon that they got a tummy tuck. You cowardly ass, yellow bellied, wet brained, upside-down dog mouthed dirty bitch.

#it'll look so uncanny bc it'll be like oh this more or less looks like it could be a body type I've seen on a real pers--- oh wait #you TOTALLY flattened the stomach for like no goddamn reason and you still want points for making her curvy. pass. #if ppl clown on this post I will not hesitate to turn off rbs and call a bomb threat to your house #sergle.txt #do you know what I mean though. like actually #you want EVERY aspect of a body type that does in fact. exist. very commonly actually. in the proportions you want #you want it all but you are so allergic to ANY substance on the stomach. so what now. #anything but the stomach. literally impossible to draw apparently #I'll be like ah maybe it's obscured with the clothing or pose but I see other art and I'm like oh no nvm it's on purpy. #''why does it have to be a plausible body type'' why put in any effort at all. why draw. why depict women ever. why wake up in the morning #nut up or shut up.

[wrinkleintime]

enterprise text posts: featuring t'pol my beloved <3

+ BONUS

was a toss up on which screencap to use for girls night! so you get BOTH. ft. archer hanging with the girlies in the labyrinthine catacombs beneath the city <3

#i too wake up everyday saying SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME and then i go to work :) #and how am i expected to act normal when theres literally sounds!!!!!!!!!!!!! she is asking the real questions!!!!!!!!!!!!! #star trek #star trek enterprise #t'pol #enterprise text posts #mine #the way archer is looking into the camera in the he's not my boyfriend one cracks me up. he's really just some guy t'pol drags around. #anyway this whole set was so fun ive been making these like one at a time for months and have finally accumulated enough for a full post <3

[onehundredfallenpetals]

A change of trains, an unexpected companion on the way home

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #shuake #akeshu #amamiya ren #p5 joker #goro akechi #akechi goro #persona 5 protagonist #p5r #kurusu akira #akira kurusu #I am late on my posting schedule again!! Sorry!! My brain is wanting me to do studies but if I do studies I don't finish the piece on time #but if I don't do studies I also don't finish the piece in time because my stupid brain and ability to analyse is telling me I can improve #Also real glad I added the silhouette person in there #makes the train feel like there are more people than just shuake on board #Story for this one is Akechi catching up with Akira when he has to change trains + wait a bit for the next train to come #He gets on the same train as Akira and looks for him in the train cars #Akira has already fallen asleep cause he's been on a train for hours so Akechi wormed his way in #and is shushing Mona to not wake him so he can surprise Akira when he wakes up at his stop at home! #Also took Akira's glasses off for him so he's not sleeping in them

[heartorbit]

a wahoo girl in a wahoo world

#emu otori #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #ignore the tone of the ena i posted the other day. this s emu territory. Kyaa with me. Shalalalaaa #court mandated emu #the court in question? ME...! #birthday mandated emu actually #i havent open splat3 in literally a month sorry LAWLLLLL #My cringeflop cat is cuddled up to my side with her belly up and its taking all of my willpower #not to shove my hand into her belly because itll make her mad as fuuuck and she'll wake up #BUT SHES SOOOO CUTE. ok goodnight ^_^ #OOH MY GOD MY TABLET PEN THAT I BROKE OPEN AND MELTED BACK THE WIRES TOGETHER ON ISNDOING ITS THING AGAIN #it wont recognize the pen skmetimes. UHGGGG SOLDERING IT WAS A PAIN IN THE ASSSSS I HAD TO DO IT WITH A SCREWDRIVER AND A CANDLE. FAWK OFF #huion FAAACK you and your tablet pens that break at a stiff gust of wind. I know i got this like 6 years ago but still. IT SHOULD WORK #this is so lazy injust wanted to try 800 brushes and draw emu ok. I CAN DO WHATI WANT!! #ok thats all my grievances goodnight for real #emu my scp creature very very true

[theshadowrealmitself]

Once again thinking about Human who was adopted by a Vulcan/Romulan couple, my current thoughts about it:

The Vulcan parent: Seems controlling and strict to outsiders, has everything of the Human’s life planned out, wanted them to have an arranged marriage even tho Humans don’t go through pon farr

Meanwhile, in reality, that’s their solution to handling the Human’s anxiety (cause y’all just know this is another traumatized oc), the idea is that if they plan everything out for them in advance then there’s nothing for them to be anxious about, and if they arrange a marriage then they know that their kid isn’t gonna end up with a creep (found dramas and stuff while researching Human culture for their child)

The Romulan parent: Seems more laidback to outsiders, was against an arranged marriage and any other life planning for their Human kid, comes across like they just really support choosing your own destiny, but that’s actually their theory on handling the Human’s anxiety, they think if the Human keeps getting pushed to do more and more stuff, then they’ll “see there’s nothing to be anxious about” and it’ll help them long term, wants their kid to be able to handle themself in case anything happens to their parents

The Human: A young adult by now who gives off no indication on having been raised by a Vulcan and a Romulan if you aren’t paying close attention, more anxious than the average person, benefits from both parents’ interference (some stuff is good to avoid and some stuff does get better if you go out and do it)

#star trek #humans #Romulans #Vulcans #real quick post before I pass out because I will wake up and forget to make this if I don’t #there’s just something funny to me about two alien parents and they’re almost normal by human standards Human kid #balanced each other out pretty well good job

[nientedal]

Usually I just save stuff like this to my drafts until I calm down but you know what, fuck it, I'm done.

Any so-called leftist who refuses to recognize that our options right now are "genocide abroad, progress at home" and "genocide abroad AND genocide at home" and that there is a significant difference between those two options is cordially invited to eat shit and die. We do not have time to entertain your anti-voting hopeless nonsense. A future in which we are able to move towards less death will always be preferable to the one in which we can't, and if you smug, sneering little clowns sacrifice that future on the altar of your own self-righteousness because you're too high on your own farts to realize how far up your own ass you are, I genuinely hope you fucking drown. Specifically, I hope you drown in the blood of the people who will die all over the world as a result of your bizarre refusal to work towards a future that doesn't include ethnic cleansing.

This is the United States. We sell war, here. I don't know how so many of you are only just now figuring that out, but you better get over your shock like yesterday because we are out of fucking time. We ran out of time when Reagan took office if not long before. You think not voting will improve any of this?

Keep calling, keep writing, keep screaming. Governments everywhere are (slowly) beginning to listen. Democrats are (slowly) beginning to listen. But Republicans never will, and if they seize power again next year (which they will absolutely do their damned to attempt), everything will be so, so much worse for everyone, everywhere. The work is slow and painful and imperfect but it will only get done if we show up and do the work, so keep calling, keep writing, keep screaming-- and when the time comes, you show up and vote for the future that lets us build a better tomorrow instead of just choking to death in the steaming shitpile of today.

#''i can't have No Genocide tomorrow!!! so i don't want No Genocide at all!!! WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH'' that's you. that's how you sound #''if i can't have perfect then don't even fucking bother with better!! just give me worse instead!!'' are you for fucking real #you don't care about Palestine you don't care about anything other than being able to go ''Well. at least I didn't choose this.'' #not choosing is still a choice! you stupid motherfucker! #choosing to stand at the lever and do nothing and watch the trolley crush five people is still a choice!! #how DARE you act like that blood is not on your hands! #again: THIS IS THE UNITED STATES. WE SELL WAR HERE. #not voting for Biden is not going to help Palestine! #in fact it will absolutely measurably make the situation WORSE! #for them AND everyone else! #this is the reality we are working with and if you want it to change then you HAVE to play the long game! #leftists heard ''don't let perfect be the enemy of good'' and went ''WHAT THE *FUCK* DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T HAVE PERFECT??! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'' #and i have fucking had it! #all i can do is try to keep working towards a day when the current left is the farthest right we have #but we are never gonna get there if y'all don't wake the fuck up and get moving #us politics #vent post #so help me god if this turns into a game of Spot the Tankie in the notes i'm gonna start knifing people

[camels-pen]

consider sanuso bodyswap where Sanji is of course "admiring" Usopp's body and Usopp is trying desperately to keep himself from getting worked up so that he doesn't light himself on fire.

Luffy and Chopper are not helping. They are in fact doing the opposite of helping. They've ramped up their pranks and are doing anything possible to get Usopp angry so that he combusts, freaks out, and then dives into the ocean to put himself out. They think it's hilarious.

Nami and Brook are Also not helping, since they're conspiring with Sanji to put on a fashion show with Usopp's body. Sanji called it "not wasting a precious opportunity to get him in something other than overalls". Usopp called it mutiny and he was gonna- dive into the ocean, holy fuck Sanji why is it so easy to catch fire?!

Best part about this is that Sanji assured him, several times, that his body doesn't get hurt by catching fire. Usopp still jumps into the ocean every time.

Robin pipes up at one point, asking if Sanji was immune to just his own flames or all flames. Sanji just kind of shrugs and said it depends. Franky, having just been leisurely watching all of this gets an idea. Would his Franky Fireball hurt Sanji's body or just give him more fire to work with?

He tries to coax Usopp into agreeing to test it out and, somehow, he manages it. Albeit, Usopp is all knocking knees and chattering teeth, a very odd sight from 'Sanji'. As part of the deal though, he can only shoot a fireball the size of his hand.

Usopp meant his small hand. The one Franky used for tinkering and fine detail work. He did not, however, clarify this.

So, when a fireball the size of Franky's big hand comes out, well. Usopp runs for his goddamn life.

It takes him a few moments- and the voices of his friends sounding distant and below him- to realize he hadn't, in fact, run to the men's quarters, but rather into the fucking sky.

And oooooh, boy he is gonna kill Sanji one of these days. Why was his body's first fucking instinct when running to go up, what the actual HELL-

Usopp lit himself on fire again.

He curses out Sanji as his Sky Walk fails in the same moment and he plummets towards the deck.

#one piece #sanuso #nemotime #usopp the first time he lights himself on fire: WHAT THE FUCK WHAY THE FUCK WHAT THE HELL OH GOD OH F- #oh ndvdggdvdv okay listen. listen. omagine Zoro's been asleep this whole time. and he misses the memo that there was a bodyswap. #and he wakes up to 'Sanji' kicking him abd immediately goes into fight mode... and then is really fucking spooked #bc 'Sanji' is blubbering about Zoro going to kill him and that he couldnt die this young and Zoro's just. Still as a statue. #Literally cannot compute. #and then 'Usopp' comes up to him. threatening him and calling him names the way he was expecting from 'Sanji' #Brook: oh dear he mustve slept through all the commotion. Zoro-san! Usopp and-! #Nami covering Brook's mouth: No wait i smell a money making opportunity #shes gonna con him. idk how or with what yet but shes definitely gonna con him #hes gonna be sooo pissed when he finds out she conned him but his usual outlet for physical violence is currently indisposed so. lol. lmao. #i like making zoro suffer idk why its just funny #wait wai what if Usopp didnt trip on him what if when he plummets to the deck he lands on Zoro lmfao #also Franky's standing there like 'Why did you dodge it?!' and Usopp is right back to trying not to light himself on fire again lol #oh n Jinbei gets roped into the fashion show stuff #where he incurs 'newbie's first debt to Nami' #damn now im thinking about him slightly concerned about all this spontaneous combustion and then Robin saying something to make it worse lol #ANYWAY MORE IMPORTANTLY the real tragedy of this post is that because Usopp's constantly worried about Combusting #it never really sinks in how blatantly Sanji is checking out his body + enjoying doing that fashion show #and because of Sanji 'enjoying the view' he never notices the brief moments where Usopp quietly does the same #before being interrupted by Luffy and Chopper coming out of nowhere wanting to roast marshmallows on Usopp's leg #okay im done were done im good its bed time gnight gmorning gday to all