#Stretch Film Rewinder

[honeydippedfiction]

Joe x Angel Angst Prompt #42 “You Promised” with #14 “Don’t you dare walk away from me” with fluff prompt #35 “ I just want to be there for you.”

Whew this one is a lot… prepare your heartstrings (also takes place when they’re still engaged so pre-Zariyah era)

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#42 “You Promised”, #14 “Don’t you dare walk away from me” & #35 “ I just want to be there for you.”

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Angel adjusted the gold necklace resting just above the neckline of her sleek black dress—the same one Joe had picked out for her birthday last year during a surprise trip to New Orleans. She could still remember the way he’d stood behind her in the boutique mirror, arms wrapped around her waist, whispering that she looked like everything the world didn’t deserve.

Now, in the quiet of her hotel suite’s bathroom, she stared at her reflection. Flawless makeup. Confident eyes. The ESPN badge clipped to her waist was a reminder that she’d earned this. After years grinding on the sidelines, chasing quotes in freezing locker rooms, she wasn’t just reporting on college football anymore.

Tonight, she was hosting—live, in front of the country—at the College Football Awards.

It was everything she had worked toward.

The moment she’d dreamt about when she was pulling double shifts during grad school, when she was the only Black woman on set, when she was told to smile more and talk less. All of it led here.

And Joe had promised he’d be there. Not just as her fiancé, but as her partner. As her biggest supporter.

She could still hear his voice from the week before, warm and certain: “Babe, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’ve supported me through everything—now it’s my turn.”

But he had missed it.

Three hours after the stage lights dimmed, after the cameras stopped rolling and the congratulatory hugs faded into the background, Angel stood alone in the driveway of their Cincinnati home. Her heels dangled from two tired fingers, her arches aching, but that pain was nothing compared to the tight, bruised feeling in her chest.

The sky was a soft charcoal above her, clouds hanging low, the kind of Midwest night where the air tasted like rain even if it never came.

She took a breath, lingering at the driver’s side of her car, part of her still hoping—still foolishly clinging to the idea—that maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe he had made it home early and was waiting upstairs, half-asleep in his clothes, her segment paused on the TV. Maybe there was a good reason.

She unlocked the front door quietly, slipping inside. The familiar scent of pinewood and lavender greeted her. The living room was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of the lamp beside the couch.

And there he was.

Joe was curled up on the sofa, hoodie loose around his frame, legs stretched out, his face bathed in the cold blue glow of his iPad. One headphone dangled from his neck. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, locked onto film breakdown, fingers tapping occasionally to rewind or freeze a frame.

He didn’t look up until the door clicked shut.

“Hey,” he said casually, glancing at her like she’d just come back from the grocery store. “How’d it go?”

Angel didn’t speak right away. She just stared at him. Her hand tightened around her keys.

“You weren’t there,” she said quietly.

Joe’s smile faltered. The guilt on his face wasn’t sudden—it had been there, simmering just beneath the surface. He sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat.

“Angel… I know. I—Coach called a team meeting last minute. There was new breakdown footage from practice, and he needed us to—”

“No.” Her voice sliced through the space between them, sharp and clean. “Don’t start with that.”

Joe’s brow furrowed. “I’m not making excuses. I just—”

“You promised, Joe.”

He sighed and set the iPad on the coffee table. “I swear, I wanted to be there. I was watching the time the whole meeting. But it ran long, and by the time I thought about leaving, it was—”

“Wanted to be?” she repeated, her laugh sharp and bitter. “That’s supposed to be enough now? Wanting?”

Joe stood, rubbing his hands down his thighs like he could scrub the guilt off. “Angel, come on. You know what my schedule’s like. It’s not like I was sitting here playing Xbox. This is my job. You knew this is what life with me was going to be.”

“Exactly,” she snapped, stepping closer. “It’s always your job. Always football. Always something more important than me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” Her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders drawn tight. “What’s not fair is standing on a national stage, my first time ever doing live television, with my heart in my throat, looking for your face in the crowd and praying you'd walk through the doors. Thinking maybe you got caught in traffic, maybe you were running late, maybe—maybe—you gave enough of a damn to show up. But you didn’t. Just like last time. Just like every time.”

Joe’s jaw clenched. “You knew what this life was when you signed up for it.”

Angel blinked. Slowly.

Her voice dropped an octave, calm now. Dangerous. “I didn’t sign up to be a footnote in your life, Joe. I signed up for you. I thought we were building something together. But I’m starting to feel like I’m doing the building and you’re just passing through.”

The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating.

Angel turned sharply, walking down the hallway without another word. The sound of her suitcase rolling open and the zip of fabric felt louder than any argument.

Joe followed, pausing in the doorway of their bedroom, watching as she began throwing clothes into a duffel bag with a methodical, practiced rhythm.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice tight.

“To Monica’s.”

“You’re seriously leaving over this?”

Angel paused at the dresser, her hand hovering over the engagement ring that had once symbolized the future they were building together. She looked at it for a long moment—her finger, the precious metal, the diamond that had been a promise, now feeling heavier than ever.

Then, without a word, she took the ring off and set it gently on the counter. The sound of the band meeting the stone felt louder than it should have in the silence of the room.

She looked at him. Her eyes were tired now—not angry. Just disappointed.

“I need space, Joe.”

Joe took a step forward. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

That stopped her cold.

Angel slowly turned, her face unreadable. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“Angel—”

“No,” she said, yanking her arm back when he reached for it. Her voice cracked, but her stance held. “Until you can respect me—until you can treat this relationship like it matters—consider our engagement over.”

It hit him like a blindside sack. His lips parted, but no words came.

She slung the duffel over her shoulder, grabbed her keys off the dresser, and walked out. No tears. No dramatic pause. Just the sound of the front door clicking shut, quiet and final, as if the house itself exhaled in her absence.

Joe remained where he was, still trying to make sense of what just happened. His legs felt like lead, his hands trembling, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. Not now.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the house, like the softest slap of finality. No tears. No dramatic pause. Just the quiet, irreversible exit.

And then, she was gone.

Joe stood there in the silence, his heart pounding, his mind racing with all the things he should’ve said, should’ve done. The house around him felt colder somehow. The weight of Angel’s absence pressed in on him, suffocating the air. And there, in the center of their once-shared home, was the ring. The promise that had slipped through his fingers.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

The night air hit Angel like a slap the moment she stepped outside. Cold. Final. The door shut behind her with a dull click, but inside her chest, it sounded more like a door slamming shut on something sacred.

She didn’t even remember getting into her car. Her hands moved on autopilot—key in the ignition, seatbelt pulled, drive. The streets blurred as she drove through Cincinnati’s quiet neighborhoods, the city lights casting shadows across her dashboard.

And still, no tears.

Not at first.

It wasn’t until she pulled up to Monica’s apartment complex—a beige three-story building tucked behind a row of oak trees—that the adrenaline wore off. That’s when her breath caught in her throat. That’s when the first sob ripped out of her like it had been waiting all night.

By the time she reached Monica’s door, she was trembling. Her fist knocked harder than she intended, but her control had slipped. All of it had slipped.

The door opened within seconds. Monica appeared in plaid pajama pants, a bonnet secured over her tight curls, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one hand and a face mask half-applied. Her eyes widened immediately.

“Angel?” Her voice sharpened. “Girl, what the hell—what happened?”

Angel tried to answer. Tried to say I’m okay, or It’s nothing, or Can I crash here for the night? But the only thing that came out was a choked sob.

And then she broke.

Monica didn’t hesitate. She stepped aside, looping an arm around her best friend’s shoulders and ushering her inside like she was guiding someone out of a burning building.

“Okay. Sit down. I got you.”

Angel dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto Monica’s couch, tears streaming freely now, her body shaking. Monica knelt in front of her, one hand holding Angel’s and the other reaching for a blanket from the armrest.

“Breathe. Just breathe, okay?”

Angel nodded, but her breath came in gasps.

Monica waited, rubbing her thumb over Angel’s knuckles until her breathing finally slowed. When Angel was able to wipe her face and speak, the first words came in a hoarse whisper.

“He didn’t show.”

Monica blinked. “What?”

“For the awards,” Angel said. “He promised me, Monica. He swore he’d be there.”

Monica sat back, her expression darkening. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Angel shook her head. “I kept looking at the crowd, thinking maybe he’d walk in late, maybe he’d surprise me. But he didn’t come. I got home, and he was just there. On the couch. Watching film.”

“You’re kidding me,” Monica said flatly. “Watching game film?”

Angel nodded, another tear slipping down her cheek. “Like it was just another Tuesday. No apology, no flowers, no effort.” Her voice broke. “And I—I just snapped.”

“Damn right you did.” Monica stood up, pacing now. “After everything you’ve done for that man? After all the times you’ve canceled things for him, traveled with him, bent over backward to support his ass—and he can’t show up for the biggest night of your career?”

Angel looked down at her lap. “I told him I needed space. That I was coming here.”

“You did the right thing,” Monica said without hesitation. “He needed to hear it. He needed to see that you won’t sit around waiting for him to finally remember you’re not just the woman in his house—you’re the woman who’s next to him, or supposed to be.”

Angel winced. “I told him to consider the engagement over.”

Monica stopped in her tracks. “Good.”

Angel looked up. “Mon—”

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “If he can’t treat you with the respect you’ve earned, then he doesn’t get to wear that ring like it’s a badge of honor. You’ve always been more than someone’s fiancée. You’re Angel Carter. You don’t need a man who only shows up when it’s convenient.”

Angel wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, her voice small. “I still love him.”

Monica’s expression softened, and she returned to the couch, taking Angel’s hand again. “I know. And maybe he loves you, too. But loving someone means more than saying it. It means showing up. Not just when it’s easy. Especially when it’s not.”

Angel nodded slowly, her tears finally slowing, her body exhausted.

“Get some sleep,” Monica murmured. “I’ll make waffles in the morning. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had carbs and clarity.”

Angel managed a soft, tired smile through the ache in her chest. “I love you.”

“Love you too, babe,” Monica said. “And just so you know, if I do see Joe in the street tomorrow, I’m fighting him. That’s not a threat—it’s a premonition.”

That pulled a short laugh from Angel, a watery one, but real. It wasn’t healing yet. But it was the first breath after drowning.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

The first night at Monica’s, Angel barely slept.

She spent most of it curled on the couch under the weight of a fleece blanket and her own thoughts, staring at the ceiling fan slowly spinning above her. Her phone buzzed twice—both messages from Joe.

She didn’t read them.

She couldn’t.

The next morning, she awoke to the smell of cinnamon and the distant hiss of Monica’s waffle maker. She shuffled into the kitchen, hair tied up, hoodie draped over her petite frame. Monica handed her a plate and a side-eye full of sisterly concern.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Angel said preemptively.

“Didn’t ask,” Monica replied, pouring syrup like it was holy oil. “But I’ll listen when you’re ready.”

Angel spent most of that day in sweats, watching reruns of A Different World and only half-listening. Her mind drifted back to that moment in their hallway—Joe reaching for her like he could fix everything with a hand on her arm. The way his face had changed when she told him to consider the engagement over.

She hadn’t said it to be cruel.

She had said it because it hurt too much to pretend anymore.

By Thursday, her emotions had shifted. The anger wasn’t gone, but now it was folded beneath layers of sorrow and confusion. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped. What if he was saying the right thing now? What if he wasn’t saying anything?

She didn’t check. Not yet.

Friday came with silence. Monica went to the studio for a podcast taping and left Angel with the apartment to herself. Alone, Angel found herself scrolling through old photos—tailgates at LSU, their first NFL Draft night, the weekend in Miami when Joe told her, “I don’t know what the future looks like, but I know you’re in it.”

She had believed him.

By Saturday, the air was heavier. Something about weekends had always made Angel feel closer to him. Their lazy mornings. Coffee in mismatched mugs. Her feet on his lap while they watched film or movies. The ritual of love, in quiet moments.

But tonight was different.

They had planned dinner at Joe’s parents’ house weeks ago. Robin was making her infamous shrimp étouffée. It was supposed to be the kind of warm, casual night they both loved—family, wine, a break from the chaos.

Angel stayed on the couch, her phone on silent beside her, as Monica made sangria in the kitchen. She couldn’t face Robin. Couldn’t put on a brave face and pretend that everything wasn't unraveling.

Across town, the Burrow house was quieter than usual.

Dinner was ready. The table was set for six, though only five were seated.

Robin stirred her wine and looked at the empty chair beside Joe.

“Where’s Angel?” she asked casually, not yet suspicious, just curious.

Joe didn’t meet her eyes. He poked at his rice and shrugged. “She couldn’t make it.”

Robin blinked, surprised. “That’s not like her. She’s never missed a family dinner.”

“I know.”

Silence settled over the table, but Robin didn’t let it rest.

“She okay?”

Joe swallowed hard. “We, uh… we had a fight.”

Robin set down her wine. “What kind of fight?”

Joe shook his head, still not looking up. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

“She just… needed space.”

Robin let the words hang there for a beat. Then, without a word, she reached for her phone, walked out of the dining room, and stepped onto the back porch.

She didn’t need to ask for Angel’s number. She had it saved.

It rang twice.

“Robin?” Angel’s voice came on the other end, hesitant.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Robin said gently, but there was a steel edge beneath the warmth. “I missed you tonight.”

Angel’s breath caught. “I’m sorry. I… I couldn’t come.”

Robin’s voice softened. “You don’t have to apologize to me, honey. But I would like to know what happened.”

There was a long pause. Angel considered dodging, softening the truth. But she was tired of pretending.

“He promised he’d be at the College Football Awards,” she said quietly. “He didn’t show. I came home to find him watching film like it was just another Tuesday night. And I broke.”

Robin exhaled sharply. “He didn’t show up for you?”

“No. And not just that night. It’s been building for a while. I feel like I’m standing alone in this relationship, and when I told him that, he got defensive. I told him I needed space… that I was leaving.”

Robin’s voice went cold. “And he let you?”

Angel didn’t respond. She didn’t have to.

There was a beat of heavy silence.

“Well,” Robin said finally, her voice rising just slightly, “you may not be my daughter by blood, but I love you like one. And I’m not going to sit back and watch my son sabotage the only good thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Angel closed her eyes. Her heart ached from the kindness, from the clarity of being seen.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Robin didn’t respond right away. But when she did, her voice was low, firm, and meant for one person only.

“I did not raise him to be this man. And if he doesn’t wake up soon and check into reality, he’s going to lose the only woman who’s stood by him through everything. And believe me, Angel—he knows it.”

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

Robin stepped back into the house, the sliding door gliding shut behind her with a soft click. But the shift in her presence was anything but soft. The warmth in her smile was gone, replaced by a cool determination that made everyone at the dinner table sit up a little straighter.

Joe looked up instinctively. The second he saw her face, he knew.

He’d never been afraid of his mother. Not as a boy, not as a man. But right now, seated at the table like nothing was burning around him, he felt something close.

Robin crossed her arms and stared at him.

“Get in the kitchen,” she said.

A few glances darted across the table. Everyone else fell silent as Joe pushed his chair back with a scrape and followed his mother into the kitchen. He didn’t need a map to know where this was headed—he could feel the storm coming before she even opened her mouth.

Joe blinked. “What?”

“I said get up. Now.”

The scrape of his chair against the hardwood was the only sound as he followed her. Once they were out of earshot of the others—just past the pantry, near the fridge—Robin turned on him.

“I just got off the phone with Angel.”

Joe’s heart sank, but he kept his jaw tight. “I figured.”

Robin’s voice was low, sharp as a blade. “You figured? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he muttered, but it sounded weak, even to him.

Robin leaned forward, her eyes fierce. “Don’t you dare minimize this. You broke a promise to her. Not just any promise—a big one. Her night, Joe. After all the times she’s been there for you. After all the ways she’s had your back, stayed quiet, made space for your career, smiled for cameras when she wanted to cry. And you couldn’t show up for her once? She didn’t come tonight because she couldn’t bring herself to sit across from you and pretend like you didn’t break her heart.”

Joe’s stomach sank.

He opened his mouth, but Robin wasn’t done.

She raised a hand, and he immediately fell silent.

“No. You don’t get to talk yet. You get to listen.”

“Do you understand how lucky you are that that girl even looked at you twice, let alone stayed with you through everything? Through the chaos, the injuries, the relocations, the media—she’s been there. Constant. Loyal. Proud of you. Loving you out loud, in front of the world. I’m not saying this as her friend. I’m saying this as your mother. You want to be a franchise quarterback? A leader? A grown man who earns respect? Then you better start with the woman who’s been holding you down since LSU.”

Joe’s chest rose and fell, slow and tight. He’d felt guilt before—but this? This was something deeper. A sinking realization that he hadn’t just made a mistake—he had wounded something sacred.

“And you couldn’t be bothered to show up for her,” Robin said. “Her night. A night she earned, worked for, dreamed of. You left her alone in that room, looking for your face and realizing you weren’t coming.”

Joe’s shoulders tensed. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there—”

​​“Wanting isn’t doing,” she snapped. “She didn’t need you to want to show up. She needed you to be there. In the seat you said you’d sit in. Supporting her like she’s supported you through injuries, media storms, trades, and a schedule that devours every minute of your life.”

“Mom, I—”

“No.” Her voice dropped, quiet and lethal. “Joseph Lee Burrow.”

Joe froze.

That was it.

The full government name. Robin hadn’t said it since he was sixteen and wrecked her Camry backing out of the driveway too fast. Back then, he’d known it meant he’d crossed a line.

Now, hearing it again, as a grown man, the shame hit him in the chest like a linebacker.

“You didn’t just miss a dinner,” Robin continued, voice trembling now—not from anger, but from disbelief. “You missed her. And then, when she called you on it, you let her walk out that door instead of fighting for her. You let her pack a bag and leave. She told me she called off the engagement. Do you even get what that means?”

Joe’s throat was dry. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” she snapped. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at this table acting like you’re just giving her space. You’d be on your feet, in your car, at her door, doing whatever it takes to win her back.”

He looked down at the tile floor, hands braced on the edge of the counter. The image of Angel walking out—her bag over her shoulder, her eyes full of fire and heartbreak—played in his head like punishment.

“I didn’t raise a man who hides behind excuses or expects the people who love him to always be the ones bending. I raised a man who knows how to apologize. A man who knows when he’s wrong and makes it right.”

Joe’s throat tightened. “I know I messed up.”

“Messed up doesn’t even cover it, Joseph,” she said, using his full name now. “She left your house. She’s staying at Monica’s. And she told me to my face that she called off the engagement.”

He flinched.

Robin took a breath, softer this time. But no less serious.

“She loves you. But love isn’t a one-way commitment. And you are this close—this close—to losing the best thing that’s ever happened to you because you’re too buried in game tape to notice the person in front of you is drowning.”

Joe leaned against the counter, hand to his face. “I know,” he whispered. “God, I know.”

Robin stared at him for another moment, and then walked closer, her tone dropping to something gentler.

“I adore that woman,” she said. “She’s strong, she’s brilliant, she’s loyal. She chose you—not the NFL, not the spotlight. You. And you’ve got one chance, maybe two, to make this right before she walks away and never looks back.”

Joe nodded slowly, the weight of his mother’s words settling into his bones.

“Figure it out,” Robin said, pointing a finger at him like it was gospel. “Because if you don’t, she’s not going to be the one who regrets it. You will.”

Robin took one last look at him and let out a breath like she’d just set something heavy down.

“I raised you better than this. So act like it.”

With that, she turned and walked back toward the dining room, calm as ever—leaving Joe alone in the kitchen, heart pounding, shame burning like fire in his chest.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

Four days.

That’s how long it had been since Angel left.

Each one stretched endlessly, heavy and hollow, the kind of days that don’t tick forward—they drag. The kind of days that make a man sit in silence and realize just how loud a quiet house can be.

Joe didn’t go back to the facility. Not after the fight. Not after the dinner at his parents’ place where his mother, with every ounce of love and fire she had, peeled back the armor he’d been hiding behind and forced him to look at himself. Really look.

He told Coach he needed a few days. Told the team he had something personal to handle. That was true, at least in part.

But what he really needed was her.

And she wasn’t answering.

Not the simple Hey. Not the full paragraph that started with I’m sorry and ended with I don’t expect a response, but I hope you know I love you. Not even the one that just said: I miss you.

Joe had always known Angel was special. Since the beginning. Since LSU. But these four days stripped away every distraction, every assumed “tomorrow,” every excuse.

He wasn’t losing some girl he casually dated. He was losing the woman who had rooted for him when he was a backup quarterback, who had defended him when no one thought he had an NFL arm, who had stood in the shadows of stadium lights so he could shine—without once dimming her own brilliance. The woman who made him, him.

And he had let her down. In front of the world. In front of herself.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

That fourth night, just after 9 p.m., Joe stood outside Monica’s condo building, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his hoodie. The spring air wrapped around him with a quiet chill—the kind that seeps past cotton, settling in your chest, reminding you that time keeps moving whether you’re ready or not.

He shifted his weight on the concrete stoop. His breath fogged faintly in the porch light as he looked up at the door. From the outside, everything looked normal. Cozy, even. But inside those walls was the woman he’d spent the last four days aching for—and she hadn’t given him a single word.

He deserved it. That silence. And still, it hollowed him out more than any hit he’d taken on the field.

Joe exhaled once, a breath that rattled in his chest, and knocked.

The door creaked open a crack.

Monica appeared, bonnet wrapped tight, arms crossed, eyes sharp as nails beneath arched brows. Her sweatshirt read Don’t Try Me, and she wore it like a mantra.

She didn’t blink. “If you’re here to start drama,” she said flatly, “turn around now.”

Joe didn’t flinch. He nodded once. “I’m not,” he said, quiet and low. “I just… I need to talk to her.”

A long pause stretched between them. The kind of silence that measures character.

Monica narrowed her eyes, then sighed. She didn’t soften, but she stepped back just enough to let him pass.

“She’s in the back,” she said, tone clipped and cautious. “And if she tells me she wants you gone, I will personally help her pack your ego into a suitcase.”

Joe managed a small, broken smile. “Fair enough,” he murmured. “I understand.”

The condo was warm—light jazz playing low from a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in the living room, candles flickering from a side table. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus, cocoa butter, and the vanilla lotion Angel always wore at night. The familiarity of it almost made him dizzy. He didn’t deserve the comfort—but he took it in anyway, like a man gasping for air at the surface.

He moved down the hallway slowly, like each step mattered.

Because it did.

Every one of them was an apology. A plea.

He reached the end of the hallway just as she stepped out.

Angel stood barefoot in Monica’s oversized T-shirt, joggers hanging low on her hips, her curls pulled back into a loose pineapple bun. There were faint smudges beneath her eyes, the kind that didn’t come from makeup—but from not sleeping. From carrying too much.

She looked exhausted. And somehow, impossibly, still stunning.

Joe’s heart twisted hard in his chest. She was right there—so close—but he could feel the distance between them like an entire ocean.

He cleared his throat, voice low.

“I messed up,” he said.

Angel didn’t move. She didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t cross the room. But she didn’t walk away either.

That was something.

“I told myself I could balance it all,” Joe said, eyes searching hers. “That football and us could live in two separate lanes. But that’s not how love works. You’re not something I fit into the margins of my schedule, Angel. You’re the center. You’re home. And I haven’t been treating you like that.”

Still nothing. But her arms fell from their crossed stance. Her fingers laced together in front of her like she was holding herself still.

Joe stepped closer, slow and careful.

“I keep saying I love you,” he said. “But love isn’t missing your biggest night because I was too wrapped up in game film. Love is being there. It’s showing up. And I didn’t. I didn’t show up for you—and that’s the part I can’t stop thinking about.”

Finally, Angel’s voice cut through the quiet—soft, steady, and sharp.

“Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be taken seriously in this field?”

The words were simple. But they carried years inside them. Years of being questioned. Overlooked. Undermined.

“I do,” Joe said, voice hoarse.

Angel’s jaw tightened. “No. You think you do. But you don’t. I’ve stood on the sidelines in the snow, gotten talked over in press conferences, been told to smile more and speak less. I’ve had people call me lucky for being on air—as if I didn’t earn every second with sweat and receipts. That night… it wasn’t just about the award, Joe. It was about being seen. And I needed you there. Not as my boyfriend. Not as the NFL quarterback. As my person. The one who claps loudest, even when no one else is watching.”

Joe closed his eyes briefly, the weight of her words sinking into his bones.

“You’re right,” he said. “I failed you. I see that now.”

Angel looked down, blinking fast. Her arms hung loose at her sides now, like even holding them up took too much effort. When she spoke again, her voice trembled—not with anger, but with fatigue.

“You let me stand alone in a room full of people who didn’t expect me to be there in the first place. And you were supposed to be the one face I could find. The one person I never had to doubt.”

“I know,” Joe said, taking a tentative step forward. “I can’t fix the moment. But I can do better. From this moment on.”

He looked at her, bare and open, no defenses left.

“I just want to be there for you. Every time. No more excuses. No more ‘next time.’ You deserve more than promises. You deserve action.”

The silence between them stretched long—thick with history and hurt. And love.

Angel’s gaze lifted. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the kind you don’t cry because they carry too much. She looked at him for a long beat, like she was deciding whether to believe again. Whether to let him back into the soft, vulnerable places.

Then, quietly, she said:

“I don’t need perfect.”

She took a step forward.

“I just need present.”

Joe nodded, voice caught in his throat. “I can be that,” he whispered. “From now on… I will be.”

No dramatic music played. No world paused. It was just her—moving closer. Slowly. Until she was in his arms again, wrapping herself around him like she belonged there.

And she did.

Angel pressed her cheek into his chest and let out a breath that seemed to collapse four days of holding everything in.

Joe buried his face in her curls and held her like she was gravity itself.

No, it wasn’t forgiveness—not fully. And it wasn’t forgetting.

But it was hope.

It was us.

It was the start of something new, built from the rubble of everything they’d nearly lost.

In the hallway of a quiet apartment, beneath the hum of candles and the weight of a love still learning how to grow, Joe and Angel didn’t fix everything.

But they chose each other.

And sometimes, that’s enough to begin again.

Joe didn’t move right away. He just held her, arms wrapped tight like he needed the physical confirmation that she was real, that she was here, that she hadn’t slipped through his fingers completely.

After a long moment, she pulled back slightly—just enough to look up at him.

Her eyes were still glassy, lashes clumped from tears that hadn’t fallen. But her shoulders weren’t so tense now. The storm in her chest was settling.

Joe reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and slowly pulled something out—small, delicate, shining faintly under the hallway light.

The engagement ring.

He hadn’t let it out of his sight since the night she left. It had slept on his nightstand, sat on his kitchen counter while he ate cereal he couldn’t taste, pressed against the palm of his hand when he paced the house in the middle of the night.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice quieter than it had been all night.

Angel looked down at the ring, then back up at him. Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching.

She didn’t answer with words.

She held out her left hand.

Joe took it gently, like he was handling something sacred, and slid the ring back onto her finger—slow, deliberate, like a promise being made for the second time.

It glinted under the warm overhead light. And this time, it meant something more.

Not just love—but earned love.

He looked back up at her, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So,” he said. “Do I get a kiss, or...?”

Angel lifted one brow, her mouth twitching into the smallest smirk. Her voice was soft, but teasing.

“Don’t push your luck, Burrow.”

Joe huffed a laugh, the first real one in days, as she shook her head—but didn’t pull her hand away.

He didn’t lean in. He didn’t need to. That one look, that one line—it was hers. It had always been hers. And he’d take it gladly.

In that quiet hallway, no kiss was exchanged.

But the ring was back where it belonged. Her hand was still in his. And his heart—finally—was back in the right place.

They had a long way to go. But they’d go together.

And that made all the difference.

[v6quewrlds]

after all of this love island talk we need a blurb about joe getting wifey invested into it (yes, him getting her invested into it cuz i know that hoe secretly watches love island. also taylor should have gone home sorry not sorry)

author's note⠀⁎⠀taylor needed to go home and i'll stand on that. no sympathy for charlie, but based on the info that the islanders know, it should've been taylor smh

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist / series masterlist.

Reality TV had been her thing. She loved the messy, the dramatic, and the unexpected. Joe, on the other hand, was more of a sports and sci-fi guy, begrudgingly indulging her housewives and bachelors in exchange for his space films and nature documentaries. The offseason always presented a lull when his teams weren't playing, so he'd reluctantly sit through an episode or two of her favorite shows, his body warm under the weight of their large throw blanket and her head on his chest. He'd pay more attention to her reactions, their bowl of pretzels, and his delivery of slow, soft kisses to the crown of her head than to the actual plot unfolding on their wide-screen TV mounted on the wall.

This season of Love Island USA, however, had captured his interest. Maybe it was the palm trees and ridiculous shenanigans of the fame-hungry islanders. Or perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of grown adults playing raunchy games to find 'love' in a villa with camera rolling 24/7 from all directions. Either way, he found himself leaning into the drama, his eyes following the screen with more interest than he was comfortable allowing anyone else but his girlfriend of four years to witness.

“You make zero sense,” she scoffed, her eyes trained on the screen, watching the scrub bar rewind under Joe’s control. The black remote in his hand had become a tool of power in their debates, allowing him to replay moments that he had become much too invested in deciphering. “Nic might be interested in Iris, but Olandria is a stretch. We’ve never seen them interact outside of challenges.”

“I swear it’s the editing. You can’t just dismiss it because you don’t see them together as much.” He clicked pause on the remote, freezing on a frame of Nic looking at Olandria. “Look at his face. He has no reason to be staring at her like that.”

Her face reflected just how deeply she was unconvinced by the frame Joe had frozen. She rolled her eyes and reached for a pretzel. “You’re reaching, babe. Reaching hard.” She crunched the pretzel, the sound echoing in the room, before continuing, “If he was interested in her, don’t you think they’d show more than just glances?”

Joe leaned back, his arms folding over his chest in a rare display of defensiveness. “You just don’t get it. It’s gonna be a slow burn, for sure. But it’s there. Trust me.” He reached for a pretzel, mirroring her earlier movement.

“Alright, Mr. TV Romance Expert. What’s your most concrete piece of evidence?” she smiled, popping another pretzel into her mouth.

Joe sat up a little, the challenge in her tone lighting a spark in his eyes. “Remember when Nic asked Olandria how she would feel if he was the one to kiss Iris outside of a challenge?”

She nodded, the crunch of pretzels pausing momentarily.

“I do remember that,” she conceded.

“Exactly. Why would Nic ask Olandria how she would feel about him kissing someone else, when he’s in a couple with Cierra? Unless he’s testing the waters, seeing if Olandria is into him, too.” Joe’s voice grew more confident as he spoke, gesturing as if punctuating his points.

She took a sip of her wine, considering his words. “Or he could’ve been testing to see if her position on Hannah not doing anything wrong by kissing Pepe would hold up if it was a guy stepping out on his couple. He was trying to be subversive, playing devil’s advocate.”

She leaned back into his body, her head resting against his shoulder. Subconsciously, Joe’s arms wrapped around her, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. Her eyes fluttered shut, feeling him kiss her temple gently.

“You think these Love Island guys are trying to be subversive? Half of them couldn’t spell subversive, let alone understand it.” Joe laughed, his voice low and warm as it rumbled against her ear.

“Maybe not, but Nic’s an RN. He’s not as dumb as he might play,” she responded. “Besides, they’re bored as fuck in there. They have to find things to talk about to keep themselves entertained.”

“Maybe. But when shit pops off between them, you’re gonna have to admit that I was right,” Joe said with a smug smile, his thumb now stroking her arm.

She laughed, the sound low and sweet. “You’re cute when you’re delusional.” She turned her head to kiss the corner of his mouth. “But if you’re right, I’ll admit it. Maybe even throw in a little something extra for you.”

“Something extra? Like what?” Joe teased, his eyes flickering with curiosity.

She looked away. “You have to be right to find out.”

[starsinthesky5]

does joe ever play any of songbirds old interviews like lets say jimmy fallon on the tv just to watch?

(i thought of this watching the video of him and taylor playing guess the song)

a/n: meant to post this last night. oopsies

absolutely! joe one hundred percent watches songbird’s old interviews. quietly, fondly, and often when he’s alone. he doesn’t always mean to, but he finds himself pulling them up late at night when she’s already asleep beside him, her breathing slow and even, face soft in the dim flicker of the tv. sometimes his fingers brush against the remote too deliberately, pretending he’s just flipping channels, but they always find their way to her.

even on long, aimless nights when practice is over and his muscles ache just enough to keep him from sleeping, joe finds himself sinking into the couch, legs stretched out, the room dim except for the flicker of the tv and the low hum of the fan overhead. she’s not home yet, late studio session or a dinner with her team, and the house feels too quiet without her. the hoodie she wore earlier is still crumpled on the armrest, and her perfume lingers faintly in the throw blanket draped beside him.

he scrolls without much purpose, one hand curled loosely around the remote, the other absently rubbing over his sore quad. eventually, he lands on an old clip of her on fallon or kimmel, and something shifts in his chest. he leans in, a slow, almost unconscious smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—the kind of expression that only ever comes out when it’s about her.

he watches her like a quarterback watching film—carefully, nothing every little detail, frame by frame. he studies the cadence of her laugh, the graceful way she crosses her legs, the way her smile lifts more on the left side. he watches her younger self—from before they met—when her eyes still held that subtle flicker of unease. she always looked so composed, but joe knows the tells now. the too-wide smile. the way she played with her rings when she was nervous. the polite laugh when something hit too close. she was a people pleaser, back then. shaped by expectation, softened by performance. and it guts him a little, how alone she looked in crowds of people who were supposedly cheering for her. he sees it and wants to rewind time. wants to walk onto that stage, take the cue cards from the host, and say, “she doesn’t have to keep performing. let her breathe,”.

one of his favorite clips is the fallon episode where she plays that chaotic guess-the-song game. she’s in a navy blue silky dress that hugs her just right, hair in soft waves, earrings sparkling like little stars every time she throws her head back to laugh. she’s completely locked in by round three, humming frantically and blurting out lyrics with growing exasperation. there’s a moment where she messes up the chorus to a huge hit and claps a hand over her mouth, cheeks flushed, laughing so hard she doubles over. joe replays that part the most. the way her face lights up when she gets one right, the way she does a silly dance and spins in a circle, victorious. he grins right along with her, chest warm and aching with affection. she’s so her in that moment, raw and unfiltered and joyful. it makes him want to kiss her silly, even through a screen.

and then there are the interviews from after they got together. the difference is night and day. she’s still funny, still quick, but there’s a steadiness to her now. a comfort in her own skin that wasn’t always there before. she leans into questions more. holds her ground. sometimes, when asked about love or happiness, she flashes a little grin and says, “someone special,” and her hand will rise, almost instinctively, to fiddle with the necklace he gave her. joe watches those clips with a fondness he doesn’t even try to disguise. he mouths her answers along with her. swells with pride if she’s wearing something he helped her pick. if she sings a snippet on camera, he hums along under his breath like a prayer.

he rewatches them more times than he’d admit. sometimes multiple times in one sitting. if someone walked in on him, he’d fumble for the remote, mutter something about checking scores. but if it’s just them? he doesn’t hide it. never has. he turns the volume up and pulls her close, letting her fall asleep in his lap while he listens to her talk from years ago, tracing soft lines along her spine.

and when she catches him?

she blushes. laughs. teases him with a little smirk, “you’re such a simp, burrow,”.

he just shrugs, totally unbothered, one hand stroking slow circles into her thigh while the other keeps playing the video.

“yeah,” he says simply. “so?”.

because there’s nothing, not even football, he loves studying more than her.

[lbxbx]

Blackmail 5 | KTH

Pairing: Idol!taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, angst. Five shot

Synopsis: being part of their staff meant you had to be around them all the time, Taehyung has a checklist of all the girls he slept with and filmed and you were next on the list, as he lures you using several ways one of them being actually showing you the content he films, before you finally give in and he actually films you to tick you off of his list. Little do you know it’s the biggest mistake ever.

Disclaimer: events and incidents in this fiction are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. This does not resemble Taehyung’s character whatsoever. taglist: @idkduewhy @wiebouquetbarbarian @tan-veee @pookiej @xstfudaisyx @junecat18 @whipwhops @mother2onsters @lil0u0 @whoa-jo @latinapoetbts

Previous 

Your doorbell rings twice before you rush to open it, your joints still feel loose from the night before and today hasn’t been quite your day, despite it being your weekend, you’re not enjoying your time still trying to recover from last night’s hangover.

You were on the verge of doing something very stupid when alcohol was at its peak in your entire system, but you got lucky, and realized this morning that thankfully nothing happened.

The exact second you open your eyes the next morning you feel instant regret, you want way overboard with drinking to the point of actually falling asleep still in your dress on your couch. Immense pounding headache makes you close your eyes again and frown, you’re extremely sweaty and you need to shower like right now.

You do remember something happening the night before but you can’t pin-point it. It’s something that had to do with Taehyung, but you’re not quite sure what it was. Good god, why is the sun so bright, what time is it?

Your head snaps quickly to your surroundings trying to locate your phone, your neck is stiff from the long sleep on the couch and your back hurts like hell. You end up finding your poor phone thrown down on the floor, and it seems like it spent the night laying there.

Your sore joints don’t help when you stretch your arm over to grab your phone and unlock it, you looked so miserable this morning to the point of face ID barely recognizing you, you have to rub your eyes before looking back onto your screen and finally unlocking it.

And it unlocks straight into a post you wrote the night before and you instantly rewind the tape from last night and what exactly happened. You know you do stupid shit when you’re drunk heavy so it was a little expected for you to do such thing, luckily when you clicked share last night you still had to select an option on where to post the media you selected, you had to choose a platform to post onto.

You let out a breath of relief when you finally make sure that none of the media you selected was posted, you delete the entire post and lock your phone again before getting into the shower and proceeding with your usual morning routine.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” You’re standing near your doorstep in utter confusion, you started questioning yourself on when did he figure out your address? But then your call that he drove you here once.

You’re still oblivious over the reason why he suddenly showed up on a Saturday morning. “Can I come in?” A heartwarming smile sits over his face, you invite him in and close the door behind him. “What’s up?” He takes a seat onto your couch.

“Not much, is there anything wrong? Are you okay?” You take a seat on the same couch only a couple seats away from him. “I was driving nearby, I figured I’d come over maybe we could have a chat.”

“Couldn’t this chat wait until Monday?” You ask, and he pauses to look at you feeling a little unwelcomed in your place, which makes you laugh nervously and scratch your temple. “I didn’t want it to sound like that, would you like a drink?”

He shrugs it off right away and answers. “Just water please.”

And as soon as you turn your back and head to your kitchen, Jungkook looks around the place scanning every single corner, memorizing the details around your place just like he was taught, he even gets up onto his feet and walks towards the console under your TV to search into the three drawers.

“Stay out of this Jungkook.” He’s about to leave the room before he gets pulled back by the wrist, “No I can’t stay out of this, just so you know, your stupid kink can not only ruin your career, it could ruin mine too, and I can’t sacrifice everything I worked hard for this past decade just so you could have your own fun.”

Taehyung has his own selective hearing and fully decides on not listening. “Look, you know I want the best for you right?” Jungkook asks which makes Taehyung pay a little attention.

“Yes, and?”

“I’d say you keep your distance from Y/N specifically, she’s after you. And I’m afraid if you’re not careful enough she might just… tell someone, or make a scene, and you don’t want that do you?” The younger genuinely cares about his friend, he’s even frustrated when Taehyung scoffs and immediately argues. “Trust me she won’t. she can’t prove anything. Besides.. I can’t post anything you know that, I’d be harming myself before I harm her, and honestly I could care less about her.”

“We kind of had a chat the other day , I’m pretty sure she said she has something that could possibly ruin your career, I don’t know what exactly, but she does. And I need you to be careful because she’s onto something.”

Taehyung drives Jungkook frustrated when he grabs Jungkook’s arm away from his own wrist and mutters. “Stay out of this Jungkook, I know what I’m doing.”

“Except you’re not.” Jungkook interrupts him right away. “I never thought I would say this, but I’m willing to testify against you if she decides to post anything, Hyung, I thought I’d choose you over her, but now I’d choose my career over you.”

Finally something manages to mess up Taehyung’s mind, Jungkook’s words finally knocked sense into him, “And Taehyung, if anything happens, you’re on your own.” He’s about to leave, but this time he’s the one being pulled by the wrist. “Jungkook wait.”

And the youngest turns towards Taehyung with a knot formed between his brows, “Jungkook tell me what should I do?”

And apparently, this is why Jungkook showed up to your place uninvited just so he can start his so called plan with Taehyung. Jungkook panics and gets back to his seat right away when he hears your footsteps coming back to the living room, he’s never done anything like this before and he’s nervous himself, worried that he’d get caught by you.

“Here you go.” You hand him a glass filled with water and he takes a sip to calm his pounding heart down, “I’m sorry I showed up uninvited, but I figured we could talk and probably help each other out.”

“Help each other?” You get back to your seat, he nods and puts the glass down. “I’ve been thinking about this whole thing with Taehyung, and I just wanted you to know that I’m fully on your side no matter what. He’s been doing this for so long to so many girls and it can’t be right.”

This by the way is totally against Jungkook’s principles, but fuck his principles right now he’s going to try and save his career that could vanish right after Taehyung’s.

“Look I tried so hard to talk him out of it, but he’s really determined to do it, so I figured I’d talk to you, maybe find out what you have against him, we could try and figure out something that could save us both.”  He gets closer to your seat before his hand lands onto your knee. “I care about you Y/N.”

The problem is that he sounds genuine to you at this moment, he’s worried over himself and his own career so this is his last minute decision to try and save it. “Thank you, Jungkook.” A faint smile sits on your face and you put your hand over his. “I have what it takes to end this man, you shouldn’t be worried.”

You feel the physical tension when he suddenly moves even closer and tugs your hair behind your ear before he whispers. “I trust you, Y/N, but we have to work together, and I want you to trust me too.”

“Just leave it to me Jungkook—“ And before you even finish he interrupts. “Shh, I know you can do this whole thing, but Y/N, I can help you keep your job.” He ends up pressing a kiss onto the warm skin of your neck right above your pulse, “Look we don’t have to decide anything right now, you seem a little tense and tired, maybe I can help you relax a bit.”

“I’m okay, I just..” You release a breath when he starts rubbing your shoulders and neck, making your eyes almost shut close. “.. I fell asleep on the couch last night.”

He gasps and clicks his tongue. “You shouldn’t have, that’s why your neck feels all tense.” He climbs up on the couch and wedges himself in between your back and the back of the couch, making you sit between his legs, he collects your hair away from your neck and pulls it to the side. “I was just thinking, that maybe you hand me what you have against him, maybe I could show it to someone without having to post it.”

“Taehyung wanted to post it, maybe we could grant his wish.” Your tongue feels heavy as you speak when he keeps rubbing all your knots, and right after rubbing each one he presses a kiss onto your skin. “Don’t just give him what he wants on a silver platter.” He argues, running his fingers down your covered back, “How did you manage to get your evidence?”

His fingers trace your spine and stop right by the hook of your bra, he leans his chin onto your shoulder and you can feel his breath right by your neck which sends goosebumps all over your body. “I got access to his folders when we spent our last night together.”

“On his iPad?” And you nod right away, he feigns a little giggle before he presses another soft kiss onto your neck, one of his hands running down your thigh. “Gosh have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

This feels a little forbidden to you specially after all you’ve been through with Taehyung, you’re aware that you shouldn’t repeat your mistakes. “Thank you.” You’re about to get up from your seat but he wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your neck. “No please stay.”

“Jungkook this doesn’t feel right.” You whisper as if you’re worried someone might hear you. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since we spent that night together, I kept thinking how much I’d like to have you just for myself.”

And in one quick movement he slides his hand into your shorts and panties to run it over your cunt, ever so gently rubbing your sensitive bud while kissing your shoulder and whispering. “I dreamt about how this cunt would wrap around my dick and take it so well.”

You tried resisting letting out any noise but your body seems to give in even when this feels absolutely wrong, Jungkook has a different touch than Taehyung, his is more gentle and softer, and he could easily give any girl the placebo effect that he adores her even when he’s just touching her to prep her for what’s coming next, while Taehyung was more explicit, his touch was tougher and stronger onto your skin.

“So is it on your phone?”

Something smells fishy to you at this exact second, you open your eyes and clear your throat, it takes you a second to answer. “No, it’s on one of his cameras.”

“So you have it?” He asks.

Could he possibly be here just to set you up? Hundreds of thoughts are all up in your head when you’re trying to figure out what’s the matter, Jungkook isn’t like Taehyung, he can’t be.

You can easily test the theory you have in your head, you’ve already copied the file on your phone so you can easily hand him the camera and still you’ll be one step ahead of him.

“Yeah, but I trust you Kook, you know that right.” You turn your head to look at him and your noses hit, you’re about to pull back but he pulls you in and dares to steal a quick peck from your lips. “You can trust me.”

He notices how different your body language suddenly got which makes him force a laugh. “Friends kiss like all the time, and we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yeah sure.” You get up and rush inside your bedroom, Jungkook quickly takes his phone out and sends a voice message to someone, you figure it’s Taehyung when Jungkook speaks. “Consider it done.”

Of course.

Taehyung never had to think and list his priorities regarding this because it basically never backfired, his brain doesn’t function like other people and he’s extremely selfish, he’s willing to do anything just to save himself even if he had to hurt someone. You’re basically a threat to him right now.

He recalls what Jungkook sent him an hour ago, consider it done? Which means you really have something that could ruin his career? Like what? He doesn’t recall you taking any pictures or having any of the clips he filmed, Fuck, Taehyung. Think.

He throws himself down on the nearest chair and buries his face into his palms, the man has an excellent memory, so he tries to recall the nights you two were together, you could’ve possible hid your phone behind something like he does, or you could’ve stolen the date on his iPad or perhaps one of the cameras.

The cameras, his bag of cameras is in the building hidden in one of the lockers, he rushes up from his seat and takes the elevator up to the lockers. And after looking around left and right making sure he’s not spotted by anyone, he fishes out his keychain and unlocks the metal doors of the locker, he takes out the handbag and when the bag keeps being shuffled in his hand, the cameras are clearly heard being mixed into each other.

He puts it down onto the floor and gets onto his knees, how can he make sure that all the cameras are in there when he doesn’t know how many he has in the first place?  But this doesn’t stop him, when it comes to his own benefit he’s willing to do anything, he could try and dig out for the receipts when he bought them but this goes back to years ago, and he uses his cards all the time so it was nearly impossible to find the receipts.

Okay scratch that. He shakes his own head and proceeds to count the cameras, he opens each and every one of the cameras and he finally realizes, that the content from the other night you two spent together doesn’t exist on any of the cameras.

And that night he recalls pressing the record button after his stupid mistake he made when he spent  the night with Jungkook and you, plus he was sober. Could you possibly have one of the cameras?

“Hyung, I got the camera.” Jungkook barges in to the locker room with a tiny go pro sitting in his hand, and finally Taehyung feels a little relieved, totally oblivious that you were able to copy the folders more than once.

“Thank fucking god.” He releases a sigh and grabs the camera from Jungkook and opens it, the folders are still there which makes him a little too sure that you’re no longer able to do anything.

“Please use it wisely, and don’t fuck things up.” The youngest is relieved as well and he leaves the locker room knowing that he’s safe too. Taehyung turns the camera off and shoves it back into the handbag and locks it inside.

Monday morning felt so off for you, you woke feeling nauseated and exhausted, you barely got any sleep the night before and you feel like you’ve reached your dead end. Things can’t get worse than they actually are.

You’re going to try talking to Taehyung like the adult you are for one last time, hoping that he’d go sane or perhaps understand and change his mind, well practically you weren’t too hopeful but of course you’re willing to give it a try.

“Morning!” It makes you flinch at how cheered up Jungkook sounds, you scoff on the inside and fake a smile behind your face mask. “Morning.”

“How are you today?” He puts his bag down and takes his seat. “I’m doing pretty well thanks for asking.” And you walk past him to your destination, mumbling under your mask. “Fucking hypocrite.”

You actually thought this man could be different, but he’s just like his friend, willing to drown anyone just so he can survive.

You reach the makeup station and you roll your eyes when you see Taehyung already seated, they were pre recording something today so you rush yourself and get to work. “Good morning.” He looks at you through the mirror and you answer right away. “Taehyung we need to talk.”

Even when it’s the beginning of the week, the styling room was empty only him and you left alone inside, you had to have a chat with him, he’s a little taken back to see you behaving agitatedly when it’s still morning time, but he can easily guess what you’re about to say.

“Alright.” Taehyung gets up from his chair and closes the door shut before moving back to his seat “What’s up? Why are you being all weird?”

“We need to talk.” Your worried expressions don’t even trigger his fight or flight and he couldn’t care less on why you look so agitated. “Yeah, you stated that earlier, what do you want?”

“I think we should both go on separate ways, we both have a career we should focus on and I think it’s not worth losing it for the stupid thing we did, we both can’t lose what we worked hard on. Now I know you’re not going to post anything and neither will i—“

He high key rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Y/N, sweetheart, If anyone is going to lose anything then it’s going to be you, I can’t lose anything. Look, I don’t know why it seems so difficult for you to understand, but you just have to do what I say, and when I call you to spend the night you just come over and that’s it. Doesn’t sound too hard does it? We can make each other feel good.” He makes it sound so easy, but what he doesn’t know is how your self worth is long gone when you’re left on the floor in the middle of his hotel room all soiled and sore and worn out, he doesn’t understand what it feels like to be actually called by him and having to be there because you were forced, just to have him pleased and satisfied, it never mattered to him how you felt, he only thought about himself the entire time.

You too agreed it was sex only and this is a sealed deal, but every time he kissed you and made you feel good, it was his twisted way of making himself feel good, every time he fucked you or went down on you, it was just for himself, he felt good doing it, it didn’t matter how you felt. And even if he eventually found out you faked a performance the last time it wouldn’t probably matter to him, at least it made him feel good and he was left satisfied.

“No.” You give him a solid answer. “Don’t expect anything from me anymore, I’m not willing to give you what you need and I believe you already know other people who can give you the exact same thing, but I can’t anymore.”

“I’m quite sure I already told you, your family and coworkers won’t be happy when they see the clip—“

“Save it Tae, I’m not scared,” You cross your arms too. “Whatever happened between us was a stupid mistake. I wish you can really see how I feel about you, because Taehyung, really, I pity you, and I think you truly need help, there’s nothing half appealing about you anymore, actually it’s the exact opposite, to me you’re someone that being with was just a waste of time, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed my time when I’m with you.”

It hurts his ego for you to tell him this even when he tries to deny it in his head that you mean it, he thinks you’re just saying this to piss him off and just belittle him. He grits his teeth again and you can see his temples growing bigger with each time his jaw tightens, he tilts his head before squinting his eyes. “I know you’re just doing this out of spite, but I don’t have to remind you and show you the video where you literally begged me to fuck you.”

“Again Tae, save it really, I’m watching every move you make, and if you’re going to post the videos just do it, I don’t care anymore, but I want you to know that I’ll always be one step ahead of you.”

When normal people feel threatened they’d actually do something to protect themselves even if they had to fake an entire brave persona when they could nearly shit their pants, and that was the normal behavior for someone like you, but Taehyung’s career is jeopardized right before his eyes and he’s standing still with a straight face not even blinking, totally careless about everything you’re saying.

It doesn’t take you twenty minutes to finish working on his face, it felt like twenty hours with all the tension in the room, and whenever someone walks in they’d either question on why the door was closed on you two, or questioning what’s wrong when they can easily sense the electrocuted atmosphere in the tiny room.

Once you’re over you and Taehyung get back to the practice room to start filming whatever they had to film and you take a seat, you clearly see Taehyung and Jungkook talking in the corner and you know it’s about you when Jungkook tries to avoid looking into your eyes.

“Did you give him the camera?” Your voice rings across the practice room, you stand behind them, Jungkook crossing his arms and facing you fully.

“Who do you think you are?” Taehyung gets defensive as he walks towards you with a smirk on his face, “I knew about the camera all along, Y/N, I’m not that stupid, I know that you stole it.”

You have nothing to lose anymore so you giggle and nod. “Mhm, yeah, I’m pretty sure your friend retrieved it back for you.”

“I’ll give it back and you can consider this a gift, you can keep it, and to prove to you that I’m not afraid, I’m willing to show your videos to everyone.” He takes another step closer, his scent that you personally find repelling is wafting up your nose. “Let them see how much of a great performer you are.”

“Maybe they can see their favorite idol performing too.” You challenge him. After all you still don’t want anything to be posted for your own sake too. “I’ve got nothing to lose Taehyung, but you have everything to lose.”

And in a blink of an eye, the sore loser closes the space between you two and grabs you by the wrist tightly right in front of everyone, and with his tightened jaw and reddening face he whispers. “You have nothing to prove sweetheart, and you’re wrong. I’ll always be one step ahead of you.”

“Taehyung stop.” Jungkook stands between you two and tries his best to push his friend away, but the firm grip was really tight around your wrist to the point of hurting you. “Get away from me.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” Jungkook who’s shielding you looks behind his shoulder. “Let us discuss this like adults.”

“Oh fuck off you’re no different than him.” You glare at Jungkook still trying to escape Taehyung’s grip.

Taehyung isn’t doing his best right now and his brain was completely fogged by hatred, he’s now positive you’re hiding other things from him and he’s getting furious by the second, he’s getting the taste of his own medicine.

Around the practice room there were several people who are now watching Taehyung’s behavior that they’re not so familiar with. “Prove it, show me what you have against me.” And his grip is getting tighter and he’s being louder than before.

“Taehyung stop.” Jungkook seems embarrassed by Taehyung’s behavior.

They’re usually so secretive about their personal lives and their staff aren’t used to seeing them being like this, they always tried so hard to isolate their lives and their personal problems but right now it’s a show for everyone to see.

Your heart races and through the rush of adrenaline you pull your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. “Looks like you are afraid after all.”

“I’ll fucking end you, Y/N.”

“Not before I end you,  Kim Taehyung.” And finally you click post.

“Y/N, don’t—“ Jungkook tries and his attempt ends up failing.

The entire media is finally out for everyone to see, this is your only way to get your revenge at him.

People can now see how Taehyung degrades women in bed and humiliates them using his sick and twisted ways, they can finally see the true man he is. And not only you published the clips you had in your hand, you also managed to dig into the folders of your phone and find the nudes he sent you back during the tour, and it’s quite obvious that it’s him, It’s Kim Taehyung in the photos and in the videos.

Taehyung never saw this coming, he always thought he had control, he never imagined that he’d taste his own medicine this way. Not only did you show people his true personality, you managed to do something to the career he never thought he could damage or even lose.

Around the practice room the atmosphere was quite tense and stressed, but around the building people were going insane, continuous calls and paper work trying to do anything to hide this or even deny it, the headquarters are in shock knowing that the idol they trained and known since he was a young kid grew up to be this kind of person. They gave him everything he wanted, why in hell is this happening?

The social media has gone crazy and people are reposting and the post has now gone viral to everyone, it sucks that even with evidence people seem to still defend him, people are still trying hard to prove that this isn’t their idol, this can’t be their idol, but it is.

The image he painted for his fans is ruined by every second longer your post stays up, and frankly there’s not an ounce of regret inside you, this person deserves it, goodness he even deserves worse.

Back in the practice room it’s as if time froze, everyone’s phones started beeping and buzzing texts and calling, and monotonously they all pick up their phones and manage to read the news, whether it’s emails or even relatives asking if it was true? Some even having their families calling to tell them to get away and quit their jobs.

Girls around the practice room who’ve been in your place somehow feel relieved that it’s not only them, the man they despised finally got the end he deserved.

“You should’ve thought about this before you started it Taehyung.” You try to escape his grip but it only tightens, you look him up in the eyes and he dares to smirk even when his career is almost over. “Don’t come crying later, Y/N.” And he finally takes his hands off of you to leave the practice room, you look around the practice room to see everyone watching you with terrified faces.

You convince yourself that you shouldn’t panic, but you’re slowly starting to, it’s quite a fine line between regret and panic right now and you can’t identify which one is it.

“You must have lost your mind.” Jungkook finally faces you. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“Oh how I wish the night I spent with you was caught on camera, I would’ve ended you in fucking seconds Jeon Jungkook.” Your chest is heaving and your heart is pounding, it feels like you were running for miles, and as much as you tried having respect and self control to not slap him in the face, you couldn’t. “Just fuck off Jungkook, turns out you’re exactly like him.” His eyes meet yours for one last time before he turns his back and leaves the practice room.

“What have you done, Y/N?” Mira asks, you clear your throat and try to talk but nothing seems to be able to escape your mouth, you’re sweating and stuttering hoping you’d come up with some sort of sentence but zero.

You knew it could backfire to you but you never thought how it would, you’re practically alone in Seoul and you have no one to stand with you, it’s basically you, against Taehyung and the entire world. Even the girls who were hurt by him, they never thought it would get serious, and most of them are now worried, what if the videos they were in got published? They’d be in trouble too.

You’re having second thoughts, you probably should’ve given up and just let him do whatever he wants, maybe you shouldn’t have sought for revenge, But he wronged you, of course you have to seek for revenge, he deserves it.

Fuck, you’re looking around, the girls are no longer satisfied with what you did, they look like they hold grudge against you now, but you practically helped them.

Could you possibly be the only one wrong? Could they be right? It’s getting complicated by the second.

“Y/n?” Their manager enters the practice room and you hold your breath, you can feel your heart beating against your back and pounding into your chest. “They want you upstairs.”

-

 It’s been almost four hours around the meeting table and you’ve never seen anything like this, it’s too much paperwork for you and people are talking endlessly, you’re too lost to keep track of what they’re saying, but it seems like they’re talking about lawyers and lawsuits.

Even when you can barely process what they’re saying, still you were able to “try” and defend yourself, but they did end up taking down the post.

Your train of thoughts is interrupted by a stack of papers landing in front of you. “Sign those.”

“What’s that?”

“Your resignation papers. You no longer work here.”

“But he deserves to be punished too, I was forced to sleep him just like the other girls were forced too.” you try to deny but it’s a lost cause at this point. They were all seeking for his protection, after all he matters way more than you do.

“Just sign it Y/N.” They hand you a pen and you end up signing anyway. Apparently this is your only way to end everything, this blackmail was the worst thing that ever happened to you, but even when it costs your job, you still were able to show Taehyung’s true colors to the world.

It’s getting suffocating around the meeting room  so you rush things to get over with and just leave, the world feels so small around you and you’ve never felt like this, it sucks big time that the career you actually imagined staying in is now completely over. You can’t deny that you wish none of this happened, you regret it a little now.

You collect your bag and leave the meeting room, you have so many things around the building that you need to collect that belong to you so you rush upstairs to the dressing rooms and pack your stuff, and you can’t not notice every set of eyes that’s been watching you pack quietly for the next 20 minutes, it does make you tense a little so you look up to meet their eyes. “I know what you’re all thinking.”

You’re looked at in pure pity and it hurts to your core, the other week people respected you and enjoyed your company but today they’re all afraid to even talk, it hurts that the girls you enjoyed working with stare at you like that which makes you sulk. “I did this all for you, for us, I did what you girls never dared to do.”

You sigh when they turn their heads away and move on with their day and you finish collecting your stuff, it’s all over now.

Right when you’re about to turn and leave the dressing room, you feel a hand wrapping around your wrist so you turn to see Luna, who’s looking at you with the same look of pity, her mouth slightly opens before she sighs in frustration. “You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Luna I—“

“Before you say anything, have you seen the media?”

“Yeah, I know, and I did it on purpose, he was after all of us.” You argue, she tilts her head and argues back. “What are you talking about? It’s all denied, Taehyung is innocent.” You feel your eyelids getting heavier, and it feels like someone dumped a bucket of cold water all over your shoulders and back.

You’re in denial that your entire body stops functioning, your head is shaking left and right subconsciously. “No.”

But she was right.

You lost your job for nothing, and honestly what were you expecting? Kim Taehyung is considered an international icon, of course they’d think you’re making rumors. Once your post was published it was taken down in less than ten minutes, and if you even bothered to pick up your phone and scroll through the media, it’s like nothing happened.

People are totally unbothered and it drives you insane, no one even reposted anything or tried to look through the evidence you posted, they’re all on his side even if they saw everything right before their eyes.

“I’m sorry Y/N, you should’ve thought this through.” It’s the same look of pity on her face. “He’s Kim Taehyung, he has people for everything.”

-

You had to wait a couple of minutes by the elevator door hoping that it’d stop any time soon, the box you were carrying was extremely heavy, you feel your arms and fingers cramping and you’re no longer able to hold the box,  your body is barely able to hold its own weight so you cannot wait to get home.

Just when the elevator doors open and you step in you drop the box and all your stuff splatter on the floor, you fall onto your knees and begin collecting your stuff back onto the box, the elevator doors got too impatient and they immediately closed and you forgot to press the button to the ground floor, and you don’t realize that until you’re half way through the box and it feels like the elevator is not moving.

You’re about to get up onto your feet to click the button but the doors open on their own, and fucking Kim Taehyung enters the elevator. He’s the last person you’d want to see right now.

The first couple of seconds are completely silent but you can feel his eyes on you when he sees you down onto your knees, he puts his hands into his pockets and clicks the button down to the parking lot before the elevator doors close again.

He laughs quietly and watches you for a second before deciding to spit out words that remind you that you shouldn’t feel guilty at all. “Didn’t expect to see on your knees this soon.”

You brace yourself and bite your own tongue to avoid talking back to him because really you’re seconds away from beating him up.

“You know Y/N, I really admire how brave you are.” He starts and you roll your eyes, collecting the last few items and putting them into the box, before getting back up onto your feet. “I know you don’t believe me but I truly do.”

You look up hoping the numbers would go down faster because you can’t tolerate a second longer with him.  “You know what’s the difference between you and me?”

This time he turns to face you and takes a step closer, tugging your hair behind your ear and inhaling your scent for the last time. “You and I are both sluts, but the only thing different between me and you is that I have someone to cover up for me and clean up shit after me, and you don’t.”

You turn and finally face him again with denial, he can’t be a true human being with a heart, you’ve never seen someone like this man, you had a little faith in him that he might actually be nice after all, you thought he’d been taught a lesson after all this that happened but no, he’s both careless and heartless it shocks you.

“You thought you’d win, I feel kinda bad for you.” He sighs, “I warned you, I’ll always be one step ahead of you Y/N.”

This is Kim Taehyung.

The one you met years ago no longer exists, the new whole different version of him now exists and he feels like a fucking epidemic. And even when you lost your job, and the future you had planned for is now long gone too, at least you’re no longer around him.

And even when you couldn’t make justice with your story, someone else will and they’ll get him eventually.

[s1aywalker]

꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ straight to video. ꨄ

↷ ✩ —— video store clerk sam monroe headcanons. (nsfw 18+)

warnings: smutty smutty smutty. minors do not interact or else i'll collect your kneecaps. porn (duh), masturbation.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who lingers and hangs back a little too long in the furthest section of the video store every time he has to put away the lazily disinfected x-rated returns back into their designated slots.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who makes a bad habit out of scoping out the newest releases when he unboxes them before they hit the shelves. it's not usually anything super crazy�� the same old titles with "busty" and "hot" in big bold letters. most of the covers are on the classier end, displaying lingerie clad women tantalizing the potential renter with what lies within. but some of them... some of them lacked any subtly at all.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who has to take a sneak peek at all the dirtier titles that occasionally came through their doors. the ones marketed as more "hardcore" that don't bother teasing or leaving the viewer wondering— instead showing blondes with fake tits on the cover, one or two or more cocks shoved into their mouths, full cunts on display and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination before even hitting play.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who doesn't always bother checking the most interesting ones out. they don't even make it out of the fucking store, let alone into the privacy of his own bedroom. he's instead taking his pick and inquisitiveness into the back room at the end of his shift when he should solely be focusing on putting a rewind on the stack of returns. the ones that are being dragged along under his arm with the selected gangbang in brand new condition that he gets to test run first.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who puts his curiosity before his nonexistent work ethic because he's known to be impatient, and immediately feeds the tape into the mouth of an older model vcr that brings the film to life with a mechanical whirr.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe whose impatience in question forces him to press fast forward as he sits on the shitty couch with stained cushions from spilled lunches and dinners. forwarding and forwarding until he finds a scene that makes his whole body react and his dick twitch, and he knows he has to make this quick.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who lets the explicit sounds of pornographic moans and skin against skin fill the space of the small room, and he's about to add to the harmony of it. his fingers are quickly undoing the buckle of his studded belt and letting it fall open just as the film plays at a normal pace, and he can't reach his hand into the confines of those baggy hot topic bought tripp pants fast enough.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who works his wrist at a deliberate and desperate pace that might've left burn marks if he weren't a seasoned, jerking off professional. he's trying to match the rhythm of the video playing out before him of a stretched cunt getting repeatedly fucked and hammered into, while her stuffed throat can't make any sound other than lewd gurgles. he doesn't even know what this chick really looks like, he didn't catch enough of the beginning. but he also doesn't fucking care what she looks like. his eyes are too busy glued elsewhere and he refuses to let them screw shut.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe whose teeth are clicking against the labret pierced through his lower lip as he sucks in harsh breaths in between groans, and bites at the skin while his chest heaves with whimpers. "c'mon please, please, please—" he's not sure what exactly he's begging for... the sweet release, he supposes. every tug and stroke from his fist brought him closer and closer and—

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who doesn't waste much time after cum coats his hand. the mess is lazily wiped on his shirt after he shoved his cock back into his boxers and it's like nothing happened at all. he reaches to rewind the tape back to the beginning until it clicks and the machine spits it back out, and it's shoved back into the pristine sleeve to be put aside before he moves on to the stack of returns.

[starsomens]

I'm sorry if you're not taking these type of requests or any at all, but I had a thought...

So imagine, after you and noah made one more sex tape and you're editing it he gets so turned on by watching you guys fuck, how hot you looked and how well he fucked you that he wants to fuck you right there and then.

And after ,you're just finishing editing, and you're cockwarming him for the rest of the time it takes to have a half decent tape :)

Obviously, he is a perfectionist. He'll finish the rest by himself until it looks like a movie ( playing with himself along the way because he just can't resist how beautiful you looked taking him)

Thank yooou

Kisses for you 😘 😘😘😘🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Note: I....ANON! I don't know where yall be storing these stories, it amazes me to no end!

Warnings: SEX! Unprotect PIV (protection first!!), dirty talk, creampie, rough-ish sex, recording, watching your own sex tape, masturbating, slight somnophilia (masterbating while reader is asleep),

You open the door to your room and go right to your boyfriend who sat in front of his computer. You open your bottle of water and take a seat in his lap, after taking a few gulps you off him but he declines. You set the bottle down and lean on his chest watching his computer screen. What was he doing? Well you were currently watching him edit your sex tape. After the first time you made one it kind of became a habit. The tapes became longer, the editing started taking place, and of course more rounds came when editing or watching.

"I like that shot," you said pointing to the screen "You make a good camera man babe" you compliment. The shot was set up at the corner of you bed, filming you in a low doggy position. Noah's arms caging you in, his body low to your own as he thrusted into you. The thrusts werea bit shallow but they were strong and felt amazing. You were able to see Noah fucking you so nicely, and your face while he did so

"Yeah I like it too, look how well you're taking me," he rewinds to the start of that segment to when he first pushes in "I also noticed how your eyes roll back whenever I put it in" he chuckles. Another thing he loves about sex tapes he can visible see what your body reacts to the best.

He lets the segment play to review the edits he made, the sounds of your moans and his grunts leak from the speakers. The slushes of your juices being pumped in and out of you only added to the erotic scene. Noah feels you wiggle in his lap as you watch the screen intently. He leans into yoru ear and whispers

"Like what you see princess?"

"mmmmm" you couldn't help it! At first it was a bit strange to watch yourself get fucked but after some time, to becomes unbearably arousing. Noah's hand trails down to your pussy and rubs over the fabric of your panties, Luckly you only had on one of his shirts. He could feel how hard he was getting the longer he watched.

"Tell me princess, tell me what you want" he asks as he grinds upwards against your ass. His breath becoming heavy against your neck as his digits dip into your aching pussy. His fingers dragging in and out against your sweet spot, your legs spread to allow him more access.

"Mmm I want...your dick," you moan as you grind against his hand, your moans nearly syncing with the ones on the screen.

"Use your manners princess," he kisses your skin as his other hand begins to slip his hard cock out of his underwear.

"P-please!" you nearly beg as you can feel your juices start to drip out on to his fingers

"Good girl....so good for me," he slips his fingers out and licks up your slick juices. His hands find your thighs and adjusts you on his lap, you hover over his dick, as he aligns himself with your entrance.

"Now, sit on my dick like a good little slut," you whimper as you sit down on his hard cock. You were still a little sensitive from how you were just an hour ago. You let yourself slide all the way down, his cock stretching and filling you to the brim

"OH...fuck...." "shit," you both moan out, you back arching away from Noah. Noah hits play on his computer and spanks the side of your ass

"Come on princess, fuck yourself on daddy's dick," you start to rock your hips in circles, making sure to push back a little extra for him to see. He lifts up the shirt you wore up and over your head. His large hand comes down and strikes your skin and grabs at it "yeah baby...just like that..." he watches as your hips bounce up and down his cock. He spreads your ass to watch more clearly.

"Fuck Noah....fuck so good!" you moan

"Mhm, that's right princess...tell me how good you feel..." he leans back to watch your ride his cock biting his lip hearing your whimpers and moans "I know baby, I know."

" 'S...so good! You're so....big...so fucking....good!" you lean foreword allowing more pressure against your g-spot. His arm wraps around your hip, and his slender fingers rub at your sensitive bundle. His lips kissed up your back as he rubbed with more pressure

"Good girl....good fucking girl....make yourself cum baby" he licks and bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, holding the skin between his teeth enough to cause you please. Feeling you tighten around him as you hear yourselves finish on the screen.

"Have I ever...told you...you sound like a goddess when you cum?" he chuckles into your neck "Could cum just from it...." he thrusts half way to meet your hips as your moans become louder and your breather sharper

"That's it baby..." he whispers in your ear "let me hear it again" like a prayer being answered you cum again with goosebumps covering your skin as the tremor overtakes your body. You ride him slower and slower riding out both of your highs

He could feel the mix of your cum and his rolls down on to his lap as you pulse around him "making such a mess baby, such a pretty messy pussy" you carefully stand up and whine as you feel him slip out of you leaving your empty. His kisses just above your hip and gives a gentle slap to your pussy

"Why don't you get the shower started, I'll meet you in there" his round brown eyes looking up at you as he tucks himself back into his shorts and takes a deep breath. He saves his progress on his editing and gets up from his chair to go and wash up with you in the shower.

.....

"mmm babbeee..." you roll over in bed and cringe at the light in the room from Noah's computer "come to bed" you muffled against the blanket cracking one eye to look at Noah. He spins in his chair and tilts his head

"I'm almost done angel, 10 more minuets and I'm there" he whispers to you, you simply hum and just close your eyes again. He spins back to his screen and observes the last clip to be edited. This time you were holding the camera and Noah was laying his stomach between your legs. To some this may only be arousing to women, but he loved videos of him eating you out. He's able to recall your taste, your smell, the wetness, the texture and of course the way you'd pull on his hair when he hit just the right spot.

"..oh fuck....yes noah fuck...." he hears your quiet whispers as he watches himself lap at your pussy. His shorts had gotten tighter from just the few seconds he watched, looking over to you, he felt a bit guilty...but damn this was hot. He brings himself out for one last round before his night ends and starts to pump his shaft slowly but surely.

Precum leaking from his tip and giving himself some lubrication to work with. He takes deep breaths as he watches the screen, you legs snapped against his head only for him to pin them down to the bed. He tries to keep his panting to a minimum, not wanting you to wake up and see what state he was in. He looked over his shoulder and stared at you as he slept. Peacefully me now knowing the sinful acts, he was committing just a few feet away from you.

Each curve in detail of your face, how peaceful you looked, the way your lips were slightly parted as you snore in your slumber. Just seeing your gorgeous face made him twitch his fist. The low volume of your moans and breathing brings him back to the screen. He grabs his phone and opens his camera. He knew tours to be difficult, especially when they were more than just a couple of months. He always records a few videos for you or he had to leave on his next one. Just so you can have fresh content before he leaves.

His hips start to buck and thrust up into his hand as you writhe under his hold. He fucks his fist faster and faster as he finally cums. The thick liquid coming up in small spurts as he rises out his high. He knew you loved when he came on video with his moans of course.

Grabbing some tissue he cleans himself up, saves his final edits for the video. He shows the computer down and pushes away from his desk. He crawled into bed behind you and pulls you into his body. He kisses the back of your head and snuggles into you for the night.

Little did he know that you saw the entire thing and you were sure to tease him about it in the morning. ;)

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @leneisdown @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @just-pretend-again @lma1986 @daylightlvrs @darling-millicent-aubrey

[ghostieblr]

Secret Life of Stiles & Derek

IT IS FINALLY HERE! Inspired from this post of mine (of which i posted a sneak peak here)... now i bring to you, the FULL FIC ON A03.

Thank y'all for showing interest in it <3

Here is a little bit of sneak peak:

*

He settles beside Cora, stretches there so his legs open to create space for Stiles. Stiles, who doesn’t even glance at Scott calling his name, too busy in arranging the snacks, and then finding the remote. Derek waves it once, and Stiles beelines for it.

“I want it! I get to choose the film, ok Sourwolf, because I called this pack night!” As he says it, he’s moving forward, and it makes Derek’s heart soar that there’s no second thought before he plops himself down between the V of his legs. Derek hands over the remote.

And of course Stiles puts on Star Wars, Episode III.

“Why.”

“Inflection, Der, use them. They’re the souls—”

“—Souls of language. Yes, I know, Stiles. But I love to—”

“—love to fight against period, commas and question marks because I love to see you squirm.” Stiles recites perfectly, thanks to the number of times they’ve had this argument, and then corrects himself, “I mean, you love to see me squirm, you asshole!”

Somewhere distantly, he hears Scott mutter, “Yeah he is. Come here Stiles.”

Derek puts his free hand around Stiles’ waist and pulls him backwards into his chest, and Stiles lets him do it. He settles firmly in Derek’s lap, like this is the easiest thing to do. It makes Derek happy.

“Now shush, let me watch the credits in peace!”

Derek takes the remote and fast-forwards it.

“Nephew…”

“You’re an idiot,” Cora tacks on to their uncle's reprimand, and then, “Why do you never learn?”

Stiles simply takes the popcorn bowl from his hand and puts it in Cora’s hands. She swats away Boyd’s hands from taking any of it, and then sighs loudly as Derek and Stiles devolve into a wrestling, writhing mass of degenerates beside her.

Stiles emerges victorious and wins the remote, so Derek pulls him in by his hips and wraps his arms around his chest. Puts his head on Stiles’ right shoulder and groans when he rewinds the film back to the starting point.

“Idiot,” Cora mutters, and hands back the bowl of popcorn to Derek. He isn’t really sorry about it, though. And both Cora and Peter know it, so they send him knowing looks which he steadfastly ignores.

The movie begins again. Stiles cuddles closer to him, Derek’s hands on his chest, his hips. Enclosing him in. He turns his head, and their faces are so, so close. Their noses touch. Their eyes are cross-eyed they’re so infuriatingly, blessingly close. Stiles says, “Der.”

He pulls back and picks up a handful of the popcorn, more salty ones than tomato flavored ones — they’re more his favorite, not Stiles’ — from where he’d kept the bowl between him and Cora, and feeds Stiles one by one.

Once the handful of popcorn has been eaten, Stiles turns back, and Derek picks up his own handful. A couple minutes pass by, the world on the screen the only noise, but then Stiles turns around again. He doesn’t say anything, but Derek understands anyways and feeds Stiles. It makes him satisfied in a way he’s both thrilled and concerned about, which basically sums up his life. But in this moment he focuses on Stiles, and the intimacy of their trust, the way Stiles allows him to provide for him. The way Stiles trusts him with these small things, and when it matters, with the big things. Like Stiles’ life.

This time, a murmur kick starts between the betas. Mainly Isaac and Erica, who are trying to tamp down their curiosity but are unable to do so. Boyd isn’t into the gossip, but Derek sees him watching them a couple of times.

On the other hand, he can smell Scott silently fuming, and Allison’s gentle scraping along his scalp, his arms. Trying to control him. Anchoring him. Derek smirks, unable to help the way his chest expands with possessive pride.

“What’s up?” Stiles asks, without turning. His eyes are locked onto the screen.

“Nothing. Just the popcorn’s almost over.” It is. They’re down to two handfuls each.

Stiles pauses the film, never one to miss even a second of it, and scans the coffee table. It’s still full with food. He frowns. “Nobody is eating?”

Nobody is replying, either. Stiles stands up and hovers beside the table, looks at Derek helplessly. He’d brought everyone’s favorite and some extra — he’d planned this down to every last detail. Except, of course, realizing that they don’t know about his and Derek’s history, or their current friendship.

*

You can continue reading it here on AO3.

Tagging the people who wanted me to tag 'em once i posted this fic:

@demonicfaery @lovehahajk @emilyinhouston @jadezdominion @sterekloverforever @hogwarts-starship @deliahale @princecharmingwinks

[ladylooch]

Cups and Cradles - [Timo x Emma]

A/N: Our sweet Livy girl coming to fruition. I love this. Laughable that Timo thought they could go months without each other 🙄 Thankfully he is married to Emma.

Word Count: 4.3k

Emma Meier considers herself a good wife. 

She loves her husband, takes care of him, and offers support when things are going haywire in his life. She birthed a baby for him, designed a house that they both love, and dutifully attends a majority of his home games.

But this shit, she did not sign up for.

Inside their master bathroom, Emma smoothes on her night time skin cream, asking herself how she is going to get through who knows how many weeks of this crap.

The crap? No sex until playoffs are over- Stanley Cup or not. With how dominating the Devils were in their first series, she has legitimate concerns hopes that the Devils will reach the Stanley Cup finals. This means she has weeks, maybe months, left of no dick. With that realization, Emma sighs heavily, arms slapping the sides of her thighs. She glances into the bedroom at her nightstand where her various vibrators sit. 

They’re just not the same. 

She puts her robe back on it’s hook by the shower, then pads into their bedroom. She has to hold in the moan at how damn sexy her husband looks with their son sleeping on his chest. Timo rests propped up with several pillows behind his back. On his chest, Lio sleeps soundly in dinosaur pajamas, little lips pulled open into an oval. He’s been out for awhile. They have been good about Lio sleeping in his bed lately, but the little boy is getting over a stomach bug that required a lot more daddy snuggles than usual. 

Beneath Lio, her husband is shirtless, grey sweatpants resting low on his hips. The band of his underwear lays flat against his muscular abdomen, stretching the words Calvin Klein across his skin in a way that makes Emma want to sink to her knees. In Timo’s hands is a small iPad. He casts game film onto the large TV in front of their bed. His eyes are focused, examining the play again as he rewinds the footage. 

Emma’s brown orbs narrow at his lack of attention to her. She’s in silk, ivory pajamas. Her skimpy tank top dips low over her cleavage and her nipples perk from the soft fabric brushing them. The shorts barely cover her ass, which she makes sure he realizes as she leans down to gather Lio into her arms.

“No.” Timo pouts, but allows her take him.

“You’ll have plenty of time with him this week.” Emma reminds him as Timo kisses Lio’s head for a final time that night. The Devils are the only team done with their series and it’s likely they won’t be back in game play for over 7 days while the other series finishes. 

Emma saunters out of the room, but steals a look at her husband who has his eyes glued to her ass. When he sees she caught him looking, he grins and shrugs, then goes back to game tape with a smug face. Emma sighs. Damn him. Damn his rules. Damn him for putting on those pants that he knows drive her crazy! Never mind that she did the same thing with these pajamas.

Emma lays Lio down in his bed, smoothing his hair down and tucking him in for the night. His little lips flutter in a sleepy sigh. His fingers reach out for something, curling into his blanket. Emma holds her breath until she is sure he is going to stay asleep. Then she carefully tip toes from the room. 

As she comes up on their bedroom door, she slows her pace. Peeking in, Timo is where she left him. His left hand muses at his bottom lip as his gaze drags across the TV. The starkness of his wedding ring on his finger has wetness pooling in Emma’s core. All of that gorgeous man is hers. Forever. 

Wordlessly, Emma continues into the room. She stops at the end of the bed, slightly blocking the TV he is so interested in tonight. He does a double take at her, blue gaze darkening when he sees the wanting so clearly etched into her face. Timo’s fingers click the iPad to go dark, causing the TV behind her to turn black. He slowly puts the iPad on his nightstand, then looks at Emma with his hands braced on his big thighs. 

Emma presses her palms on the expensive bedding she picked out a few weeks ago, then she drags one knee up. Timo licks his lips, eyes drinking her in like he’s starving the way she is too. She drags her other knee up, then places the final palm on the bed so she is on all fours. When she begins to crawl, Timo’s eyes close in defeat.

“Fuck.”

“You? Yeah I’m going to.” 

Emma continues to crawl up his spread legs. The closer she gets, the more his cock swells in his sweatpants. Emma hovers over his lap, then leans forward, maintaining eye contact as she presses her lips to his thin happy trail. She runs her tongue along it, flat, like she would if it was his cock, then kisses up the ridges of his abdomen. Emma’s hands stay on either side of his hips, careful not to touch him any way except with her mouth.

Timo can’t keep his hands to himself. From above her, he runs his fingers through her hair, resting that big hand on the back of her neck to hold her in her next kiss. She sucks his skin into her mouth, worming her tongue along the pinkening slice of abdomen. 

“You look like you need something big in that mouth.” His voice is gravely, low, dangerous, the way he gets when he’s incredibly turned on. Emma smirks then kisses over the tent in his sweatpants.

“But baby, no sex during the playoffs?” Emma pouts dramatically at him, pressing her breasts together with her biceps so he can see the deep canyon of her cleavage from above. When he doesn’t answer, Emma puts her mouth back on his happy trail, allowing her tongue to graze the waistband of his underwear. Timo sighs in exasperation, trying not to moan as she keeps working her lips over him.

But Timo Meier is only a mortal man. 

And somehow, his right hand gathers a boob into it. He massages her breast gently until her nipple reveals it’s self again. Then he scrapes the edge of his pointer finger along the perky tip, flicking it for good measure. As he does that, Emma peels the waistband of his pants away. Timo’s cock flaps out against his abdomen, taut and ready to be buried in whatever hole his wife will give him. Emma continues her teasing, bringing her open mouth close to his cock, but not touching it. Instead, she kisses around it with wet, sucking kisses that make his shaft throb and tighten every time she raises her mouth.

“Babe.” Timo groans. His weakness for her is throwing any reservations on this to the wind. 

He is a weak, weak man.

“Put it in your mouth or I’ll do it for you.” Timo snaps at her when she runs just the tip of her tongue on the cleft of his head.

“This is your rule. You break it.” She challenges. Call Emma a control freak, she doesn’t care. But damn does she love watching her husband lose it for her. 

Emma stays perched on her knees, mouth wide open, tongue out and flat, brown eyes boring into his until Timo moves his hand. He grips the base of his shaft then slaps his swollen tip against her tongue. He glides his head up her wet muscle until it disappears behind her teeth. Emma collects him at the back of her throat, then she shoves his hand away to choke on his cock like the good wife he deserves. A tortured groan squeezes from Timo’s throat as her hand works him over too. 

“Oh. Baby, that feels incredible.” He praises her. “Mmm, you miss sucking on this, huh?” He asks her, pressing her head gently down him more. Emma breathes through the gag, then drags her mouth up him excruciatingly slow. As she does this, her tongue laps at the underside of his shaft. Timo gathers her hair up so he can watch her mouth work him over. His hips start listing up into her mouth. Emma can feel his hand shaking to resist fucking her mouth too hard. 

He only lets her do this for a few minutes, long enough that they both get enjoyment from it, but not long enough that he explodes.

“Off. I am not coming in your mouth.” He pulls Emma off his cock with a firm grip on her hair. Emma’s eyes widen excitedly. He chuckles knowingly, appreciating how hot it is that she likes to be handled roughly. 

Timo reaches his hands out to help her crawl up to him. Then he kisses her mouth deeply, threading his fingers through her hair lovingly this time. Their tongues connect. Timo sucks on her top lip, then presses her hips down to rest on his cock laying attentively on his stomach. Emma rolls her hips, dragging the silk of her shorts along his erection until he gets fed up and pulls her up so she kneels over him on all fours. 

Timo’s hands come to her shorts. He ignores the bow on them, deciding that will take too long. Instead, he grips the waistband, ripping them down her thighs so he can bury his fingers in her core. He fucks her harshly, her wetness coating his fingers while the noise takes over the room. 

Emma’s breathing hitches as his fingers curl up, playing with velvety walls.

“Fuck.” Emma hisses. Her head drops back to the ceiling and she smiles happily. This feels so damn good with him. Perfect. Exactly what she needed. With her eyes closed, she feels Timo nudge her nipple over the silk camisole. She wraps her hand around the back of his head, holding him there as he sucks it through the thin material. Emma arches against his fingers and he grins.

“Needy as fuck.” Her face snaps back to his, glaring.

“Yeah! I’ve been without you for so long.”

“It’s been two weeks, babe.” He laughs against her wet shirt. He pulls back, pushing the fabric up to get her bare nipple. His tongue probes it, tracing the bumps around it until his lips enclose the sensitive bud. Emma moans, loudly, then begins to pant as he works his fingers in the perfect rhythm with his mouth. Then his thumb drags across her clit. 

“Mmm.” Emma sighs to him, pressing her hips down onto his hand. Just as she feels herself about to explode, Timo stops. “No!” She cries. 

“I need to be inside of you. You feel way too good right now.” Timo insists. 

“That was so mean.” Emma whines as his fingers slide out of her. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” He murmurs. Emma rolls to the side. She wraps her hand around his cock, stroking it a few times then leaning forward to suck on his swollen head again. Timo’s hand comes under her chin, pulling her off. “Get up here.”

Dutifully, Emma wiggles her pajama bottoms the rest of the way off her legs, then she crawls on top of Timo, ass facing him for reverse cowgirl. This way he’ll fill her the fullest, especially when his hand pushes into her stomach like… that. 

Emma and Timo groan in unison as she slides down him completely. She stays there for a moment, rolling her hips forward and back, letting that fullness consume her senses until she can’t stand it anymore. Then she lifts and slams back down him. Her ass bounces against the V of his tight abdomen. He meets her thrust the next time she does this, causing an electric surge to go through her body. Goosebumps break out on her arms. Emma grips the edge of her camisole, taking it off in one swoop and tossing it to the floor. 

Her hands move in front of her between Timo’s spread legs. Then she curls her legs closer to his body to give herself the most leverage. 

“Oh my god.” Timo moans. His large hands come to her ass, spreading her cheeks apart to watch her pussy swallow him with each downward thrust. “Baby.” He groans this time. Emma can hear his head hit the headboard as he leans back. She looks over her shoulder at him, grinning at his blissed out look. His hands slide from her ass to her hips, feeling the way she rolls and presses down on his cock. He cups her waist puling her back onto him, wide fingers spreading out along her stomach. She moves his right hand towards her belly button, pressing in. 

Emma works herself back on his cock harder, faster than she can remember doing with him before. She reaches back to hold an ass cheek up as Timo presses more into her stomach. The girth of him has her tempo faltering for a moment.

“Oh fuck. Fuck… oh…” Emma pants, then shakes as she comes undone. Her orgasm rips through her, almost taking Timo with her.

But he still owes her one. 

Once, she slows her bucks back onto him, Timo holds her in place for a moment, so he can get on his knees. Then he gently drags himself out of her. 

“The mess you just made on my cock.” He smirks.

Timo drags his head through her slit, teasing her. Emma feels the mess collect there, then he pushes back into her and she sees stars. Timo wraps a hand around her stomach, rolling her clit as they begin their climb again. He’s gentle, knowing she’s sensitive, but wanting her to build fast. He’s still just a man after all. And his wife knows all the ways to tease him. Like she is right now, purposefully fluttering her walls around him.

Emma can tell when her husband has had about enough of that. His hand twirling her clit gets faster. His hips pump deeper and harsher into her and her body weight is forced deep into the mattress. Emma lays there, letting him use her, feeling the delicious build. The waves lap at her body, making her warm, loose. She enjoys the climb this time, barely able to moan out her pleasure as Timo fucks her hard, fast, fully, just like she needs. 

Timo releases her hip, leaning forward to run his hand along her forearm. Then he tangles the fingers of their left hands together. As his thumb strums her clit harder, Emma squeezes his fingers. 

“That good, baby?” Timo grunts into her ear. 

“Yeah.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Yeah!” She whimpers.

Timo kisses her cheek, collapsing down more for long thrusts into her pussy. Emma wails out his name, then comes hard around his cock. Timo pushes jerky thrusts through her second orgasm then fills his wife up like he promised. When Emma recovers, she pushes her hips back into him to keep his cock buried inside of her. Timo noses her shoulder, then plumps his lips along her shoulder blade. 

“Worth it?” Emma whispers to him, walls still fluttering around him, making him wince from the sensitivity.

“You always are, baby.”

Emma smiles, then lays forward as he slides from her core. She crosses her legs while Timo lays back, putting a big paw on her bare ass. He wiggles it in his grasp, then sighs happily. His fingers keep rubbing over her butt, lulling her further into her happy, blissful state. Emma can still feel the comforting heat of his cum inside of her as she rolls over to her back. Her gaze connects with the glass of water on her nightstand. She sits up, then takes big sip before hurrying herself across the floor to the bathroom. 

It isn’t until she is cleaning Timo’s cum out from between her thighs that she remembers the other reason they were waiting until after playoffs. She walks to the bathroom door, looking out at Timo who lays in bed, still naked, with his eyes closed.

“I’m not on any birth control.” Emma murmurs. 

“Oh fuck.” Timo starts to laugh, remembering as she does her appointment to remove her IUD two weeks ago. After the season officially ended, they were going to start trying. Getting pregnant now would be a huge distraction down the stretch. Emma cringes, then chuckles.

“Forgot about that…” She tosses the towel she had been using into their laundry hamper. 

“I doubt you’ll get pregnant after one time.”

Emma gives him a ‘really’ look then points toward their son’s room.

“To be fair that was three times.”

“Yeah, back when you used to love me.” Emma pouts, climbing into bed with him.

“You can do it, baby. We all gotta sacrifice for the cup.”

For the second time that night, Emma can’t remember why she signed up for this shit.

- - -

Despite the constant presence of nausea, Emma Meier could not be happier as she watches the final 15 seconds of the game trickle down. The Devils are up 4-2 after an empty netter by Jack Hughes. The Stanley Cup returning to Jersey is imminent. Emma stands with her son in her hands, trying not to lose it completely as the whole Devils bench rises, bouncing excitedly.

5 seconds now. Emma cheers loudly with her sister-in-law, Lexi, who proudly stands next to her. The two women look at each other, both obviously crying as their husbands mutual dream comes true below. 

The final horn sounds. 

Prudential Center is electric. The cheering raises the hair on Emma’s arms as she bounces Lio gently but excitedly in her hands. He laughs loudly, cupping his little hands over his ear protection. 

Next time they are in this building, Emma will be considerably more pregnant. 

She found out close to two weeks ago, right before the Stanley Cup Finals began. Timo doesn’t know. Emma didn’t want to distract him with any of this before the biggest series of his career. Not when he has worked so hard for this. With this being her second pregnancy, Emma knows what to worry about and everything has been fine. Except the sickness she’s had the last four days. She could do without that. Timo hasn’t seemed to notice her frequent trips to the bathroom. But he has been a hockey machine and trying to rest to nurse his several nagging injuries.

Emma and Lexi stay in place for the celebration and the ceremony. Emma almost sobs so hard she throws up when her brother lifts that Cup. Indescribable, that’s how she will explain it to him later. She knows how hard their family has worked, the sacrifices, the way they all showed up for him over the years. All of that effort is what helps Nico thrust that glorious silver cup into the air. She yells back like his screams are for her then turns to the left to hug both of her parents.

Damn, this day is wrecking her. 

She turns back to the ice in time to watch her brother skate his lap. He comes closer to them, thrusting it even higher, yelling louder. The whole group screams back at him. Emma wraps an arm around Lexi, squeezing her tight with their babies in their other arms. The two women hold each other through Timo getting the cup too. Then the group ignites wildly again. Lio tries to hide his face from the excitement. Emma kisses his head, then softly coos in Swiss German for him to look at Daddy. 

Timo’s grin as he looks up at them, the Cup over his head, is an image Emma will never forget. All their dreams coming true in this moment. A Cup, a healthy baby, happily married with another one on the way.

Suddenly, the secret she has kept from him for two weeks, feels impossible to hold. She wants to tell him. Now.

With her family, including Timo’s parents and Larissa, Emma heads down to the ice with the rest of the Devils family members. They all chat excitedly, barely able to hold back for the rest of the laps before the doors open and the carpets are rolled out. Lexi takes off first, rushing over the red carpet to leap into Nico’s arms. He catches her effortlessly.

Emma’s approach to Timo is more cautious with the precious cargo she carries.

“I can take Lio?” Her dad offers in Swiss German as her mom is loaded down with a tired Lucie.

“No, I want to bring him to T.” She tells her dad.

Emma steps onto the carpet laid over the ice, smiling at Timo who immediately clocks his wife and child. She hugs Lio closer to her, carefully continuing forward towards him. Timo slows down on the ice next to her.

“Hi Timo Meier, Stanley Cup champion.” Emma greets him with a huge, teary grin. Then her and Lio are in his arms. Tears splash out onto Timo’s jersey, not that anyone would notice with how wet it already is. 

“You won!” Lio giggles to his dad. “Puck!” He hands Timo the puck he flipped his son from warm ups. It now has Emma’s writing on it. She wasn’t sure exactly how to tell him, but once the puck hit Lio’s hands earlier, she knew this was it. She just needed Timo to win in order for it to be perfect.

Timo Meier, Stanley Cup Champion, Husband, Father of 2!

Timo tilts his head as he reads it, then snaps his gaze to his wife. His blue eyes are widened like saucers. For a man who refused to come in her mouth weeks ago, he sure looks shocked at how his wife could be carrying his child again.

“Wait, what? How!?” 

“We can recreate it later.” She smirks. Timo pauses, then connects the dots. 

“No… baby, but how?”

“You insisted on not coming in my mouth, remember? About 6 weeks ago?”

“I….okay that’s on me.” He takes Lio from her and gives him a smooch. “6 weeks… you been keeping this from me?” Emma nods her head. 

“You had a few other priorities, no?” Timo scoffs.

“You know where you lie in all of this.” Again, Emma nods; she’s number one. She reaches for Lio, smoothing his jersey back down his body where it had ridden up against Timo’s equipment. Nervously, her hands reach for her husband next, stepping closer again so she can whisper to him.

“Are you happy?” Emma asks, unsure. Her fingers hold the back of his neck to keep them close. He looks at her and she’s got tears in her eyes. Even though she knows this time is different, old feelings from this moment with Lio are right there below the surface, making her stomach bubbly. 

“Wha- yes, Em. Of course I am!” He chuckles. A hand comes to her cheek so he can hold her face close to his and kiss her. “I’ve been wanting this. So much. You know that.” Emma nods then presses their lips together. It’s a soft, sweet kiss they never want to end. 

“We have a baby!” Lio cheers. Timo cups Lio’s head against his shoulder to quiet the announcement from reaching outside their little huddle.

“Our baby, huh?” Timo smiles, leaning down to kiss Emma again. “I love you. So much. So lucky to do this all over again with you.”

Suddenly, Emma is snatched from Timo’s arms by the Devils captain. Nico lifts his sister up, twirling her around as her husband frantically gasps.

“Hey, Hey, HEY! Nico, put her down!”

Emma cuts Timo with a look as Nico puts her back on her boots.

“It’s fine, T.” Emma assures her cranky husband. Emma wraps her arms around Nico’s shoulders to hug him. His long brown hair flops in front of his face as he hugs her deeply. “I am so proud of you.” She tells her little brother. “But who do you think you are laying out to block shots like that?” She asks, pulling away and shoving at his chest. 

“I don’t know.” Nico answers honestly with a laugh. “Lee! Come see me!” Nico turns his attention to the boy in Timo’s arms. Lio practically dives into Nico’s chest. With free hands now, Timo comes to his wife, wrapping her into a tight hug. The smell is triggering to Emma who pats his back for him to let her go.

“I love you so much, but you stink.” 

“Here we go again.” Timo teases her, rolling his eyes. But when he looks back at his wife, he’s drowning in obvious love.

Another baby is joining their perfect world. Timo is a Stanley Cup champion now. What else could this little family want?

Emma glances over to where Lexi is returning to the ice with Lucie. She’s got little pom poms in her pony tail and adorable red boots on her feet with black leggings and a tiny Devils jersey. Lucie reaches for her uncle Timo when she sees him. Lexi and Emma line the two hockey players up with the kids, snapping pictures of them together. 

Seeing her husband with their niece, Emma can’t help but ask the universe for one more thing: a baby girl.

Read more Timo and Emma here.

[zombii-ships]

SDJ BOYS: KINK HEADCANNONS

sorry if these are ooc i was just brainstorming and bein a horny nerd

Jack

-World’s biggest breeding kink. Dude’s absolutely got a huge thing for claiming his partner, and he loves to watch his cum spill back out of them.

-Praise. PRAISE HIM. PLEASE. Tell him how good he makes you feel and he’s over the fucking moon. He’s so motivated by praise, the simplest “you’re making me feel so good” is gonna flip such a switch in his head.

-Makeup/Body Paint. Whether it’s seeing his partner in clown paint, painting their body and feeling them up, his own makeup smearing on them, or theirs running on their face, he loves it. Jack’s immediately down for round two if he catches a glimpse of his partner’s liner/lipstick on his chest.

-Foodplay. You thought whipped cream was just for the pancakes? Surprise surprise!

Joseph

-Size Difference. Loves feeling big compared to his partner, whether he’s topping or bottoming, he loves the difference. Loves seeing his partner in his clothes, especially his jackets and pajama pants. Put on something of his and its gonna ignite something in him.

-Voice Kink. He LOVES getting to hear his partner, if they make a noise while they stretch? He’s horny. Moan? Horny. Whisper in his ear? Horny. So so easily stirred if he’s the one who gets you to make noise for him, too~

-Hickies. MARK. HIM. UP. PLEASE. Dude absolutely loves getting to show off what his partner did to him, he wears them like badges of honor.

-Bonus, I know he’s an absolute FIEND for giving head and he loves just knowing that he’s pleasuring his partner. Dude’s a total pleasure top.

Shaun

-A nut for roleplay. Pet/Owner, Slasher/Final Survivor, Vampire/Prey, whatever, dude LOVES playing a little horny pretend with his partner.

-Masks. Ghostface, leatherface, pyramid head, gas masks, he loves the mystery there and he finds it really hot. Goes along with his roleplay kink, but either way, he’s super into it.

-Exhibitionism. Give him the go to make porn of yall and he’s gonna go nuts. Something about filming the deed or just you getting off turns him tf ON. Plus if he can go back and show you the footage?? “Look how pretty you looked here. Fuck- lemme rewind so I can hear that sound again~”

-Monster/Abnormal Toys. What’s a horror junkie without some monster dildos??

Nick

-Begging. Beg HIM. Beg him for whatever, doesn’t even have to be sexual, he just loves it. He just wants to hear you pleading with him, asking for his permission.

-Shibari. Let him make your body into art. The more intricate the better. Whether it’s simple ties or a whole full body production, it’s the artistry and the restraint that really gets him, plus seeing you wrapped up for the taking isn’t half bad either. Bonus points if he gets to do pretty harnesses and collars ✨

- Waxplay/Temperature Play. You or him, but mainly you I think. You’re the canvas and he’s the painter, and he’s obsessed with how you let him paint you. Whether it be pretty dark colored wax, gently touching you with ice, or just warm hands against your skin, he loves your reactions, watching you squirm between the different sensations.

-Oral Fixation. Don’t suck on his fingers unless you wanna rile his ass up

Ian

-Cosplay/Costumes. IF YOU LET HIM DRESS YOU UP he’s going to go absolutely feral. Ian’s a fashion fan, so seeing you in something he specifically coordinated to look good on you and to his personal tastes would have him going over the deep end. He’s literally obsessed.

-Blindfolds. Now I know he’s scared of being left alone, but I think he’d enjoy the rush of giving up control to you like that, letting you touch and trail over his body without knowing what’s next would have him super sensitive and needy in seconds. Plus if you let him blindly roam his hands over you?? He’s about to get SO handsy.

-Also a roleplay guy. He’s an actor, let him get into a role! Not only is he excited to make the bit convincing, but he might slip pretty deep into it, local man gets horny from improv.

-Body Writing. Write all your favorite things about him on his body, and let him put his signature on you?? Dude would be over the moon going about his day with your words of praise written on his chest, tummy and hips.

[joocomics]

Totally random thought. But what if you write a delicious smut with your man Jooyeon, that includes (but is not limited to) oral and the phrases “Staying quiet was never your strong suit, wasn’t it?” “Well, you could do something about it.” You may pick who says what😌

tags: bf!jooyeon x fem!reader, oral (m!rec) | mdni

a/n: took some time but here it is! this is based on the promt BUT also inspired by your post xh as seasons where you mentioned that jooyeon is mid autumn with slasher movies and shades of red… <3 honestly glad that i waited so long cause i don’t know if i was gonna think of combining them before ~ hope you enjoy how it turned out!!

“Jooyeon.” You lay eyes on your boyfriend’s side profile, but he continues his rambling despite you calling out his name. “Baby!”

You turn the volume of the movie down a bit more.

“Wait, what are you doing? Aren’t we gonna watch it till the end?”

“Maybe we will if you stay quiet for more than ten minutes.”

Jooyeon’s lips instantly turn pouty from the remark, but quickly melt into an enticing smile after his reaction makes you chuckle.

“I thought you like it when we chat during a movie! I’m making some serious commentary here.”

“I do, but when it’s not every five minutes.” You laugh, rewinding the scene to the beginning. “We just missed something important again.”

“Okay, okay…” Jooyeon faces the tv screen, getting a hold of your legs that are resting on his lap. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse.” He pretends to throw a key in the air after locking his mouth, and fixes his gaze back on the slasher film.

As expected, his silence didn’t last long.

He seems too full of energy today. He’s always lively and playful around you, wanting to keep that precious smile of yours glowing on your face at all times, but tonight he’s more bubbly than ever.

It’s Saturday night and you’re in the middle of yet another movie, picked out from the special list with scary films you made together, deciding to keep the tradition going by watching one every weekend.

One Saturday you hang out at his place, the next - at yours, - since you’ve been dating for little over a month and you still don’t live under the same roof.

It looks like for the first time you won’t finish a movie… It’s not because he’s not able to shut up, it’s because you simply find it attractive. He makes you laugh with another joke as his right thumb draws lazy shapes on your bare skin. The bangs of his chocolate brown hair frame his face beautifully every time he turns in your direction to see if you’re looking at him. And you always are…

You catch Jooyeon by surprise when you suddenly straddle his lap; your fingers grip his shirt eagerly. You stay like this for a moment with lips hovering over each other, and the intense sounds of the movie filling the silence along with the rain that’s banging on the windows.

The corners of Jooyeon’s mouth slide up as the realisation of what’s happening slowly settles into his mind. It doesn’t take long for his hands to move beneath the oversized tee you’re wearing so he can feel more of your skin.

He still touches you like it’s for the first time - slowly and tenderly.

“Staying quiet was never your strong suit, wasn’t it?” You ask, and he smirks. It’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him, and you both know it.

“Well,” he whispers before his mouth stays open from the sudden pressure of your clothed cunt against him. “You could do something about it, baby.”

You don’t even kiss him.

You kneel between his legs after leaving him only in his shirt and run your tongue from the base of his cock to his tip. The delightful contact turns him fully hard, and you grip the length comfortably, inviting it into your mouth.

Jooyeon sucks in a breath as he keeps his eyes open to look down at you. He will never get bored of the sight of you drooling all over him; holding him with your gentle fist until you fit it all down your throat. He loves your hollowed cheeks, your stretched puffy lips that currently are burgundy red from the lipstick you’re wearing, your fluttering lashes every time your eyes close as you swallow another inch, your little muffled sounds as you do your best to keep up the pace he likes.

“Holy shit, baby…” His hand properly gathers your hair away from your face. “You take it so well in that pretty mouth… I like it so much.” His voice slows down its tone, as the pleasant thrill spreads through his body.

He doesn’t guide you. Sometimes he does, but not tonight. He doesn’t force your head down, his hand just holds your hair as he lets you do everything the way you want to.

After a moment of deep throating him, you pull back, keeping your scarlet lips on his leaking tip while your slick fist twists around him. The flashy lights of the tv land on his handsome face that’s contorted with pleasure. The living room is dark, because the lights are off, but thanks to the movie in the background you get to see his weak eyes and the way he bites his lips perfectly.

There’s screaming which only gets worse as the plot thickens, but none of you care about it.

You suck on his warm tip before rolling your tongue over it. The seductive movement makes Jooyeon groan shamelessly.

“Fuck, baby, please, please…” He throws his head back against the couch, breathing much heavier than before. “Wanna cum, please…” His brows furrow when you give the head of his cock a kiss.

“Shh, no need to beg.” You glance at his exposed neck and see his adam’s apple move after he gulps.

“So close—“

His thighs begin to shake when you resume to suck him off, this time quicker, working your tongue more intense to bring him to the edge.

The rush multiples in Jooyeon’s veins, turning his moans into high pitched whines. They elevate more and more meanwhile his fist tightens without letting go of your hair.

His body convulses as his cum starts to paint your throat. You keep one hand resting on his chest as the other stays on his thigh while you hold your lips glued around him; his tip as deep as possible as it spills its warm arousal.

You swallow it down, humming in satisfaction. After you glance up at him with a horrific scene unfolding behind your back, Jooyeon smiles lightheaded, only able to see you.

“That was fuckin’ amazing…” He admits out of breath. This is the first time you swallow his cum, and he’s excited about it. “I don’t know what to say…”

You give him a coy smile, then place a kiss on the pale skin of his thigh. The red mark of your lips sticks nicely.

“Good.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[mattsfootcramp]

Just us again

Chapter 1: more than friends, less than lovers

Matt’s voice carries through the house like it always does—loud, a little raspy, full of energy like the camera’s still rolling even though it stopped ten minutes ago.

I sit on the floor of his room, half-listening, half-hoping he won’t notice I’ve been staring at the same screen on my phone for the past five minutes.

“Okay, I seriously think that was the funniest video we’ve filmed in forever,” he says, flopping onto his bed like gravity doesn’t apply to him.

I smile, eyes still on my phone. “Yeah. You guys were unhinged.”

Matt laughs, that soft breathy kind of laugh that feels like home now. “Unhinged is the brand.”

He stretches out across the bed, his arm dangling off the side, fingers grazing the carpet where my hand rests. I don’t move, even though my brain is screaming at me to. His fingertips barely brush mine, warm and easy, like it doesn’t mean anything.

It does.

To me, it does.

“You good?” he asks, turning his head to look down at me. “You’ve been quiet.”

I glance up, caught in that moment where his hair’s a mess, his eyes are soft, and I feel like the only person in the world who gets to see him like this. “I’m always quiet.”

“Yeah, but like… quiet quiet.” He lifts a brow. “Something on your mind?”

You.

But I smile and say, “Just tired.”

He nods like he gets it. Maybe he does. He always kind of does.

Matt sits up suddenly, cross-legged now, his energy bouncing back like a rubber band. “Okay, be honest—what part of the video was the funniest?”

I shrug. “Probably when Nick walked into the wall trying to do that cartwheel.”

Matt snorts, tipping backward with a wheeze-laugh that makes me grin without meaning to.

“Dude, I had to cut out, like, three minutes of us just dying,” he says. “I looked at Chris and started crying.”

“I know. I was there.”

He nudges me with his sock-covered foot. “And still, you barely cracked a smile.”

“I’m mysterious,” I say flatly, and he grins.

“Nah, you’re just scared the camera’s gonna catch you laughing.”

He’s right. That is a fear of mine. Not the laughing part—but being caught off guard. Caught being real.

“I like it better back here,” I mumble, motioning vaguely to the safe zone behind the camera.

Matt doesn’t say anything right away. I look up and catch him staring—not in a weird way. In that quiet, thoughtful way he does when he’s figuring out how far he can go without pushing too hard.

“You know I’d never make you do anything on camera, right?” he says softly.

I nod.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

And I do. He’s always been careful with me. He teases, sure, but never crosses the line. Never makes me feel like I have to be anyone else.

We fall into a lull. Just the quiet hum of his fan and some faint street noise outside the window. It’s always like this with Matt��loud and chaotic one second, soft and still the next.

I don’t know how he does it. Makes me feel safe and nervous all at once.

He shifts a little, reaching for his laptop. “Wanna help me go through footage?”

I blink. “Me? Really?”

“Yeah. You’ve got taste,” he says, nudging me again. “I trust your eye.”

That makes something warm bloom in my chest. I scoot closer, sitting beside him now, knees nearly touching. His laptop rests between us, and the second he presses play, his face lights up like a kid watching fireworks.

He narrates everything as he watches—laughing at Chris, groaning at himself, rewinding the dumbest parts just to laugh harder.

I mostly watch him.

Not in a creepy way. Just in a can’t help it kind of way.

He gets so into it—his expressions changing every second, eyes wide, mouth moving like he’s still mid-joke even when he’s not talking.

At one point, he catches me watching and pauses the video.

“What?” he asks, a little breathless from laughing.

I shake my head quickly. “Nothing.”

“Were you just staring at me?”

Panic. Actual panic.

“I was watching the screen.”

He grins, smug. “Mhm. Sure.”

My cheeks burn. “Shut up.”

Matt laughs again but lets it go. The video resumes, but now I can’t focus. My heart is too loud, and his smile is too bright.

Eventually, the video ends, and the room feels bigger without the noise. Matt leans back on his hands, staring at the ceiling.

“I missed this,” he says quietly.

I glance at him. “This?”

“You. Hanging out. Just us.”

I don’t know what to say. The truth is—I missed it too. So much it physically hurt some days.

Lately, it’s always been someone else around. The boys, the cameras, the fans. And I love watching him do what he loves. I really do. But there are days I feel like I’m watching from behind glass—close enough to see him, never close enough to keep him.

“Me too,” I whisper.

He looks over at me then, really looks. His expression shifts into something I can’t quite read—soft and unsure and maybe a little scared.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

And for a second, I think maybe he means more than just the room.

But I don’t ask.

I don’t push.

Because we’re just friends.

And I’m not supposed to want more.

[pizzabox-box]

I needed to force myself not to write this until you posted the next DMW part lol, I love this story but I feel like it's going too fast

Blind Man's Bluff, Part Four

Theirs was the last car left in the drive-in theater. The movie was turning out extremely well, and they were on the final three scenes. Doise had thought WAR would be the most stressful scene to film, but oh boy, had Pizzascare given him anxiety. At least they were at the home stretch now.

He stared blankly at the laptop he had on the dashboard. Since Fake Peppino was out of the picture, or at least hadn't shown his face since his restaurant burned down, Doise had to put some serious thought into how this boss rush was going to play out. He sighed and looked over at Noisette. She had fallen asleep in the passenger seat about fifteen minutes before the film as it stood had ended. He knew Noise was lurking somewhere nearby, watching her like a hawk, but he hadn't felt Peddito anywhere all day. That made him nervous.

He noticed the light of the full moon dim and immediately went on edge. He barely had time to spin around before he heard a door creak open and saw a tall, skinny figure backflip onto the car. Oh boy. It was the beanpole. This might actually be trouble.

Doise shot an accusing finger at Pizzahead. "Look pal, I'm not in the mood for your games! Now get your dirty boots off my paint job before I get not so friendly with you!" The mascot giggled. "Ooh, aren't you a feisty one! It's nice to not know what to expect from someone for once. Well, you can relax now, buddy!" Doise decidedly did not relax. "What do you mean?" Pizzahead laughed and pulled out a remote control. "Well, let's see!"

Gesturing to the screen, he rewinded to the fight between the two gremlins. Doise immediately tensed up, and Pizzahead put his arm around him in a gesture of familiarity he had no right to have. "When my cameras showed me what you did to that freak's pizzeria, I admit you caught my interest! For once, I had to really do some pretty significant research to figure out what was happening." With a click of a button, the camera zoomed in on the combatants' faces as they grappled. He paused on the very frame one man got yanked backwards by a barely perceptible pink smudge, so barely present that even on film, its existence was easy to question. The dust-covered, bloody man's eyes practically glowed a vibrant red, and his expression was filled with a bewildered, abstract terror. Pizzahead whispered in the terrified Doise's ear: "You're not quite mortal, are ya?"

Doise looked into his eyes. "So now what? Are you going to tell everyone who I really am? Let me get mauled by the mob?" Pizzahead shrugged and waved one hand in a dismissive manner. "Why would I? The show's only just getting good!" He grinned wickedly and looked at Noisette, still fast asleep and dreaming sweetly. "In fact, it would be a lot more exciting if you weren't constantly chained to this doll's side, don't you think?"

Noise and Noisette twirled beautifully across the dance floor. She giggled happily as he dipped her. He danced with a passion she had never known, which was impressive given the feats they had preformed at their wedding. He stared at her with the deepest love a man could ever feel, though Noisette thought she could see a trace of sorrow in his eyes as he danced and sang.

You can dance every dance for the one who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight, you can smile every smile for the one who holds your hand in the pale moonlight, just don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be, so darling, save the last dance for me!

With that, he swooped her up and kissed her with a deep passion. As she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, she thought she could hear the priest's voice leading the ceremony: "...in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" They came up for air, and Noise gently caressed the side of her face. "Hazel, my love, my life, I won't ever stop loving you, even after my heart stops and turns cold as stone," he told her, staring in her eyes with a love that couldn't be described, though it was tainted by heartbreak.

Noisette was suddenly filled with a sense of extreme dread. Something wasn't right. She clung close to her husband, chilled by a fear she couldn't explain. Without warning, he shoved her backwards, knocking her on her back. She sat up, incredulous - just in time to see Noise get splashed with a strange substance from overhead. It had the consistency of thin mud, and looked like blood mixed with a blue-gray plaster. Noise fell to his hands and knees, inexplicably weakened.

Noisette reached out to him - then scampered backwards as she saw the clay start wrapping itself around him, swiftly enveloping him in the otherworldly slime. He struggled against it, seemingly trying to escape, but his eyes were filled with a knowing despair. He had known this was going to happen. He stared at her mournfully.

Noisette started forward again, determined that time. "Theo!" she called, stepping forward. Noise put a hand up. "Hazel, stop. I need you to listen to me carefully," he said. She stopped. He had never sounded this serious before. "Don't get close to me. Be wary of anything I do for you. I will love you for eternity, but you can't trust me anymore. It's way too dangerous for you to be near me. And whatever happens." He almost looked like a statue now. His mouth was covered by the clay, but his scarlet eyes stared into her soul, grieving as if he was the widow rather than the deceased. His voice seemed to come from her heart.

"I'm. Not. Me."

The blue-gray figure rose to its feet and approached her, blood red cape fluttering despite the absence of wind. Blue and pink lights flashed furiously around her before fading into yellow and orange, the screaming void behind the mask seemed to be calling her name, drawing her in to her destruction -

She awoke with a scream, looking around her at the unfamiliar surroundings. A hand gently grabbed her own, and a voice attempted to soothe her. "Hey, hey, hey, what happened? Are you ok?" She turned and saw Noise in the driver's seat beside her. That's right, they were at the drive-in theater. So had it all been a dream? She sobbed her sorrows into her husband's chest as he rubbed her back. He reassured her it was all going to be ok.

Later that night, she rolled over to look at him, fast asleep in the bed beside her. She fidgeted with the new necklace he had given her, making her promise never to take it off. She felt horrible about it, but something about Noise was making her feel like something was wrong. She tried to push those thoughts aside. You mustn't think things like that! He's been so devoted to you, and anyway, it was just a dream, right?

"I'm. Not. Me."

...right?

previous part

Another part already??? 👀👀👀👀

The dream sequence was genuiely heartbreaking :( You nailed Pizzahead's character very well! Wonder what he's planning , also the necklace seems deeply suspicious .

Either way, I'm excited to see where this will go 👀 keep cooking!

Once again, thank you so much for continuing this series :D

[bnsni]

REWIND / CHROMEDOME

(adopting gn!human reader)

a/n : been wanting a cute fluffy request I hope I wrote them uh satisfactorily 😭😭 I actually enjoyed writing about baby and cdrw maybe I’ll write more scenarios with this little family ughhh so cute

"Alright folks, we're leaving in thirty minutes!" Rodimus's voice echoed through the speaker.

"It's either you get on or get off the ship forever— Er, ah...oh what's that? We're not allowed to leave when— Damn it. Apologies, there's been a restatement by Ultra Magnus declaring it's illegal, you guessed it, for whatever reasons I'm not bothered enough to care. Blah, blah blah. Oh, shut it drift. Anyways, latecomers are welcomed in the brig. Buckle up in thirty! Rodimus out."

Rewind swivelled his gaze from the rock nestled on the grass, then to the ship, hovering not too far from where he's crouching. "Huh, guess I'm taking a detour." Then, his camera skims over the verdant fields of rolling hills. Red lights, blinking. "Won't hurt, would it?"

The LL had a short break stopping on Earth, mostly for refuelling, fresh air, stretching limbs,,,totally not because Brainstorm blew up the left wing again and The Science Team had to patch things up discreetly

Seriously, where is HR when you need it?

And, obviously, the Archivist is not missing the opportunity to explore, of course. It's earth! Home to,,,well,,,,the most complex (derogatory) kinds in the cosmos. And, this rock he's been examining? It's an extraterrestrial mineral. Figments of rocks from asteroids, comets, and the like originating outside of the Earth. Crazy, huh.

Better keep that for safekeeping.

Aside from, ah, well wandering where he's able to film stuff, occasionally animals and cows of the like, it's more like a need, at the moment, for a bit of (lets put this gently) space away from his conjunx — since, he's been acting like an ass of late.

Ahem, going behind his, ahem back to doing ahem Mnemosurgery....again.

It's not even an 'again' anymore, it's just borderline often

Why does he even bother to listen? You can't break old habits, as Ratchet would say. They'd break themselves before they could ever stop.

"So that's it? You're just going to ignore me like that?" Footsteps pattered behind him

Rewind huffs, walking faster. "Took you long enough to figure it out, genius."

He groans. "Oh for— Primus sake, Rewind, come on. Don't do this. We can talk."

"Oh sure, sure! Talk." He threw his hands up, whirling around to face his conjux. "That's what you always say, promising me like you're going to get your eyes gorged out if you didn't. What else, tell Red Alert to stop being paranoid and Whirl, a psychopathic ass?"

Chromedome palms his face. Primus, this apology isn't going well as he expected it to. "Look, I messed up. I breached a trust you had in me. I shouldn't have done it. That was very... inconsiderate....of me..."

"What is this, eight grade? Spelling bee on who's responsible?"

"That's not the point! You can't just—"

And, so it begins. The bickering. The blaming. Hand pointing. Arguments ablaze, never listening. Voice raising — just the tip of the iceberg, not even close to it's full potential.

"I bet my words doesn't mean anything to you now, does it?"

"It's does, Rewind. It does!"

"Hey! Stay there! Don't even come any closer or I swear to Primus I'll—"

A cry gurgled out amidst the bushes.

The Mnemosurgeon stiffens. He looking around for the source of the cry when he notices conjux was staring at him. "What?"

"Wow. Wow. Low blow, Chrome dome." Rewind puffs and presses his fists on his hips. " Low blow. I didn't think you'd do this. You're gonna resort to mocking me, now?"

He sputters. " You think that was me?"

"Yeah, blame it on the cows. Blame it on 'em like you do when avoid all responsibility."

"What's even a cow? Oh, for—" Then suddenly he lets out a surprised sound, dropping to crouch next to a bush. Rewind doesn't bother to look. Why would he? He's busy sulking and he wants that Mnemo-no-to-the-o to see it. Though, his audials tuned into a rustle of leaves when—

"There! Primus, Rewind look at this."

Said Archivist was still sulking, arms crossed, looking away. "Nuh, uh."

"Don't you nuh uh me." CD chuffs and figured actions were bigger than words so he scooped up the bundle of blankets and shoved it up his face. "Well? Still got film for this?"

Rewind takes a moment to register the visage.It was, if he knew his terms correctly, a human child. No, wait. A baby. It's the size of a sparkling but....smaller. And, significantly softer.

Most of all, it's crying. Coolant— er, tears streaming down the side of it's cheek. Gently, his servos curled around the scoop, nestling it softly against his chassis. He felt a kind of pull in is spark. Something fond pulsing. Chromedome loosened, looking away. What's the point? The mask already hid his smile.

"Seems pretty far from it's residential zone." Chromedome peers across the horizon searching for even the most recognizable specks of rooftops.

Nope, nothing.

Just rolls and rolls of green foliage.

"Hey there little fella." The Archivist coos, digit caressing the cheek to soothe it. The baby sniffled then blink, lifting up it's tiny fingers to bap his index. "What's a baby doing here of all places?Aren't human, uh, carrier, sires are very protective of their offsprings?"

Chromedome doesn't know what to say, he's not Ratchet or Percy, but he's sure as hell relieved their argument took a turn into park. "Misplacement, maybe."

"...How do you misplace a baby in a bush?"

"Things like that can happen, you know."

"If anything, it seemed like it's deliberately thrown in there. Look! It's even wrapped in a blanket."

He held it up for the Mnemosurgeon to see who, in turn, simply shrugged.

"Yeah. To keep it warm."

"Until someone finds them."

Chromedome narrows his optics. He's got a bad feeling about this. "Rewind. What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is that this child is deliberately left here to be found. We can't just leave it out here—"

"Are you saying we should steal it?''

"I'm not saying we should- ugh yes! I'm saying we should steal it—"

"You're kidnapping children now?"

Ratchet cuts through both of their comms, immediately barraging them, "Are you two idiots done squabbling with whatever stupid problem you have or are we gonna have to wait another fraggin' hour until you both make up and kiss?"

They had to take the baby, much to CD's dismay.

Ultra Magnus was losing his mind. What do you mean you found a baby in a ditch, in a bush, in a field of all places?! Even worse, literally miles and miles away from the nearest habitual region!

Purely, coincidental. He'll have to look in his files for crimes like this lest another is let loose for havoc. The young are the future for society! Something Cybertron is severely lacking in

Unacceptable. Simply unacceptable. Oh, and by the way, you're both going in the brig. You're late.

"Chromedome stalled me."

"Here, we go again."

Everyone is busy cooing and taking turns prodding the bab, and can someone please keep whirl away from the child he's armed, (with the exception of Megatron, the medics and UM) who didn't, mostly for the fear of passing diseases to it, mostly stood far with unimpressed looks on their faces.

First Aid, though, eventually took matters into his own hand,,, by taking it into his own hands and putting it in a glass box (shut up Brainstorm we're not using your stupid Polyhex Quadrilateral Box or whatever) to scan it's vitals and conditions

Everyone was outside, peering through the glass, prodding, helms jut at odd angles to see through the crowd — while the medics delicately assessed its condition.

Ratchet had to explain poor Rewind that not everyone wants children and not every parents are deserving of it so. He's seen this a lot in human culture.

"So they abandon babies just for the fun of it?!"

Well, he's got a point. Most of it at least. "Rewind.... no."

When they were done ensuring the baby is in optimal condition, Ratchet comes up to the, er couple, if he had to put it that way and crossed his arms, a brow raised.

"Do you trust yourselves enough to look after the child?"

"Might as well." CD sighs. ".... I've got enough responsibility on my plate, already."

"Nobody forced you to go back and take it." Rewind mutters.

Ratchet held up a servo to cut off another argument brewing. " I'm going to put this out clear."

A digit points to them. Ratchet grits his dentas and every word that spooled out of his vocalizer, more intense.

"You both are going to have to put your differences aside. You're going to resolve that problem of yours, and resolve it clean — not in front of the child, but behind. Go hide in a broom closet for all i care. Mutilate or incapacitate each other's limbs, if it helps. Fight all you want, kill each other if you have to. But this baby? This baby? You're going to give this child the most loving, caring family it can have. You hear?"

Shenanigans ensue.

Obviously, given they're Cybertronians, human anatomy isnt a topic they're very well versed with. Rewind does know a thing or two. But consulting videos are not really the best way to go when neither of them have the tools to feed the baby

Percy and Nautica (because he doesnt trust brainstorm) are tasked with concocting the milk formula. They're seen tinkering away in the lab, barring the other scientist against a let-me-in charade. Lab doors are locked and padlocked with a specific colde — suck it BS.

All elements, minerals and resources as such are to be provided Rodimus (begrudingly), then fact-checked by the medics, very, very carefully.

They're like guts deep in space and very far from earth. A quantum jump to said planet, in case of an emergency, can affect the only organic living onboard.

Moreover, Ratchet doesn't trust CDRW to learn the stuff themselves, so he holds five hour long sessions daily on how to provide sufficient needs for the baby. You know, handling them, playing with them, learning their gestures, mannerisms,,,etc

CD loves holding baby by the armpit, and especially loves it when he does that, baby tries to bap his face, squealing and babbling, trying to reach him— he finds that his chassis always melts a little.

Rewind, on the other hands, adores cradling baby in a blanket. He likes how warm and soft it is against his arms. And how easily it his to nestle baby under his chin as he walks.

He is the most affectionate from the two. And definitely records everything. Soccer mom-esque, cheering loud whenever baby does something' monumental, for instance, blabbering dada coherently. But also the most rigid. Like, lattice structured rigid.

''Rewind you watch snuff films you hypocrite, a Sunday cartoon getting a liiiiittle violent is nothing compared to the archives you go through." Rodimus wags the CD in front of the Archivist, an upturned pleading pout, pulling his features. He looked comical hunching to regard the smaller Archivist with baby nestled under his chin.

It was an obvious ploy to fiddle with the baby. Everyone's trying to get a nab of their little squeals, these days. Why wouldn't they?

Those adorable fats for cheeks, soft and cuddly, crawling around the habsuite like a cretin, gumming on everything they could find.

Skids managed dodging through the vents after a successful glimpse of peek-a-boo (Rewind forbids physical touch. He's not risking any disease that can be transferred.)

He slinked down and baby immediately latched onto his pedes, babbling for an upsie. It took him a while, and much restraint, not to take it through the vents

Swerve almost poisoned baby with the engex again because, in his own words, what's a little harm in trying new things?

He's now locked up in the brig, banned from touching baby ever .

This entire crew is a hazard and Rewind wasn't having it.

"Is this the same captain known for illegal conduct of meteor surfing?"

"....Oh, shut it."

Chromedome's not very affectionate but is less-rigid when it comes to baby. He's the type to cave in when they want something. Sweets? Oh, you want sweets? He doesn't care if the Lost Light is miles away from the nearest planet. He's going there and he's going now.

Stop him and he'll plunge those long, needle-like nails into mecha's skull, their ancestors could see Primus's aft whole again.

Hoards like,,,,around fifty satchels of sweets. It was only until Ambulon had a private chat with the Mnemosurgeon, that, yes, the baby is going to die eating that much.

So, he offered safer alternatives if baby wanted something sweet. Boiled potatoes, ripe avocados and fruits could help. (They'll have to frequent the nearest planets)

CD is like the most cynical ass ever to exist so Rewind find himself with an existential crises, staring off into a wall, when baby would scrunch up their face, the way CD does when he's displeased.

"That mask stays on."

"But I didn't even—"

"It stays on."

But he also finds, a little begrudingly, that CD is a lot more understandable these days. Mostly always cradling baby and humoring the little cretin . Arguments are close to nill. He barely has to raise his voice

Cybertronians naturally have harsh edges, given they're metal (duh), so their rooms would be congruent in terms of features as well. Not exactly a pleasant thought when an organic is dawdling about.

So to be safe, in their habsuite, Chromedome installed padded cushions everywhere. Even the ceiling is padded, mecha's kibbles are also padded (much to Rodimus's chagrin)

And, every inch and crevice of that room is filled with scribbles. (Scribbles only Swerve can decipher, but he's busy lounging in the brig so there's that.)

Red Alert, during a habsuite check, once blacked out inside the room because he didn't recognize the new change. It was so pastel-ish, bright and soft, he justs goes away

Chromedome finds the poor mech on the ground, baby on top with their crayons, assaulting said mecha's face while squealing at the teal green against stark red paint

"A new paint job, huh."

"Chromedome, get the poor guy up for Primus's sake!"

Baby is limited to the Library and Med-bay (as per Rewind's request). Library because Megatron is there and they know for a fact he's more trustworthy with the baby than anyone. And, Med-bay because, well, medics

But obviously, baby is like, a little cretin who thinks rules are a no-go and said social construct a danger to society. And, by who's declaration? Rodimus. It's Rodimus.

Rewind is going to murder that speedster of a captain

So , it's a given mech's will see CD scampering across the halls upon spotting baby dangling off a goddamn beam. Or, hanging off someone's shoulder, (said bot doesn't know, because baby is so small, the sensors didn't pick up), then sees the mnemosurgeon slumping onto the ground in relief, passed out for a minute

What's baby doing there?!

Rip CD's spark rate.

And, since they've got to play the part of a happy family, Rewind has to sleep in the same berth as his conjux. Not that they didn't ever

After the reveal (CD going behind his back doing unethical things w/ his fingers) Rewind was obviously displeased so they sported separate berths. Now? They'll manage squeezing in the same bed.

Rewind tried to act all huffy about it, glancing to one side, as though he doesn't want to be there. He does. He's just sulking.

Chromedome silently stares at the ceiling. Baby is between them, chewing on a miniature Rung figure (that Rung gave because, somehow, it calms the little thing)

Baby notices the silence and wants attention, so they bap their hands on the surface when both mechs weren't listening. And does it again for the fifth time. CD sighs and decides to humor baby, a little.

"It's past bed-time." He says quietly, patting their head

With a squeal, baby plays with CD's servo and curls it over their head. He scoops the little bundle up into his arms and loosened up a little.

Rewind swivels to find baby nuzzling his conjux, both deeply asleep. Something soft thrums in his spark, and while he’d rather bash his conjux’s a skull with a hammer, he can’t deny the lovely visage of him cuddling their child. So, he scoots over a little, resting his helm on CD's shoulder. He doesn't flinch when a servo lands on his shoulder plate, pulling him close.

Maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

[usedkarma]

🖤Only the Freaks Fall Like This I Part 3

Series Masterlist

Previous Part Here I Next Part Here

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

Genre: Not Slow burn, very much mutual pining that is resolved soooo fast you guys because they are a bit insane, 80s chaos-romance, canon divergence  Fem!Reader is french for some reason (I’m french, I’m the reason, but it’s not a big thing in this I promise)

🖤Synopsis : You were supposed to clock out, rewind a few tapes, and forget the day. Instead, you danced on the counter of the video store to Judas Priest like the world owed you a stage. Eddie Munson watched like he’d never seen gravity before. He came in asking for a Dio tape. He left with a bootleg, a racing heart, and a problem that sounded a lot like your name. A fanfic about ,late-night glances, forbidden tapes, and the freaks who fall too fast, too hard, and never quietly. Basically just two idiot teenagers going full speed into romance.💌

🖤 Content Warning/Disclaimer : 📼 Mild language, smoldering tension, sarcastic banter, counter-dancing, Eddie Munson being dangerously charming. 💋

🔞 Future chapters may contain mature themes. You’ve been warned, freaks. I don't know if i'll write smut yet...

Part 3: Knock Knock, Munson’s Here

The music faded, the moment slowly unraveling like a frayed cassette ribbon, but the electricity clung to your skin.

You slid off the counter with a grin still blooming across your lips. Chaos had been released, the adrenaline ebbing into something softer — a satisfied ache behind your ribs. You turned toward the shelves, already organizing the scattered tapes, but your mind was still half inside the song.

Behind you, Robin let out a long sigh as she dropped another stack of plastic cases. “I swear, one day you’re gonna knock out the security camera with your boots.”

Steve just shook his head, his mop now more prop than tool. “Y’know,” he said, “for someone so allegedly mysterious, you are the loudest damn person I know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, waving him off. “I just needed to let out some steam. Sorry, Dad.”

The air cooled. The night stretched its limbs. And then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The knock was soft but definite — like a question wearing boots.

You looked up. There, at the front window, stood Eddie Munson. And he was smiling.

That lopsided, sheepish, crooked half-smirk kind of smile — the one that makes you feel like you’re about to get away with something. His guitar case was slung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked nervously into his jacket pocket, and his hair… god, it looked like he’d just rolled out of a glam metal dream.

Your heart thudded in an unfamiliar way.

“I think I know that boy,” you said under your breath, before glancing at Steve.

He was already glaring toward the window like it had insulted his mother. “The hell does he want?”

Robin elbowed him. “Go see what he wants, dingus.”

Steve scoffed. “You go!”

But you were already walking.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Eddie’s heart was pounding. Stupid. Loud. Unreasonable.

He hadn’t meant to knock. He’d meant to walk away, tell himself he’d imagined it all — your dancing, your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you mouthed those lyrics. But his feet had other plans. And now, here you were. Coming toward him.

When you opened the door, he forgot how to swallow.

“Can we help you?” you asked, leaning just slightly against the frame, brow raised like you already knew he had no excuse.

Eddie stared for a beat too long before blinking. “Uh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. Ran a hand through his hair. Made it worse. Somehow hotter.

“I was just… wondering if you had any Dio tapes.”

Inside, Steve groaned audibly. “Seriously, Munson? Dio?”

Robin popped her head around the display. “What, like filmed concerts? This is a video store, dingus.”

But Eddie didn’t look away from you.

His eyes flicked across your face, then down — a quick, not-quite-subtle sweep. Not pervy. Just… stunned. Like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You crossed your arms, amused. “Dio, huh?”

He nodded, grinning now. “Thought I’d check.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, because Dio’s the height of taste, Munson.”

You turned your head without missing a beat. “Shut up, Harrington. You like Duran Duran. You have no right to judge anyone’s musical taste.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. And just like that, the tension cracked open — easy, fast, natural. Like maybe you’d done this before in another life. Like maybe this night had always been waiting to happen.

[lagooneah]

Just watched Interstellar for the second time and...

My genuine reaction to this film every time I see it.

This is one of the best movies ever MADE, and no one can tell me otherwise.

The heartwrenching reality that things seemed hopeless for a while? The death- the not making it to see the hope? The THEME of death being so normalized to Tom that it still couldn't drive him and his family away from their home? The fact that, as heartwrenching as it is, Cooper had to sacrifice time with his own family to save humanity? The fact that, no matter how much you try, you CAN'T rewind time- you just can't. The only way time moves is warping, stretching, and moving forward.

The overarching, very loud theme of LOVE throughout the entire film. LOVE was what drove Cooper to be part of the mission. LOVE is what made him communicate to Murphy, LOVE is how Murphy got the answers she needed. LOVE is what made Cooper rebuild TARS, LOVE is what drove him to Brand on Edmund's Planet. LOVE is what drove HER to Edmund's planet, the safe place for humanity.

LOVE truly is the one thing that transcends time and space.

[firespirited]

Hackers 1995:

The computer nerdery is terrible (do watch Halt and Catch Fire if you want a history of computers) however the film does start out with social engineering and blind folder browsing using common passwords before it devolves into throwing viruses at a private server to 'overload' it.

The costuming is impeccable early 90s : well-off rebellious girl in rip curl, genderbending grunge, stretch tees for your futuristic cool guys.

Missing the heap of badly rigged computer junk that makes the room overheat and puts wires everywhere. Also missing in action : scraggly facial hair, terrible posture, the huge levels of racism and homophobia (yep, even coded into the programs).

You all were wrong about Matthew Lilliard as Cereal Killer being transfem... that was gangly white boy with postpunk swag in the 90s. There's a cartoon-cat-girl wearing phone hacker in high-waisted-trousers, leopard print and dancer's body language right there. Wild how the codes changed in the mid 90s, like how Barbie's Ken was sporty and bold then seemingly overnight he was gay if he wore a dash of colour with his suit.

The story and pacing weren't bad, the bad guy had period accurate pickup artist clothes and general vibe. The stakes weren't too silly.

It definitely has the pre-2001 optimism that permeated the web before the patriot act and y2k bug conspiracies. I miss that, a sweet spot between cyberpunk, cheap geek jokes and the hackers-as-villains trend.

It's just fun. Lilliard gets the best comedic lines, Miller is doe eyed and baby faced, Jolie gets to kick off her streak of strong female leads with an adorable pixie cut and lots of sporty ocean blues. Nikon appears late, Phreak and Joey are in jail half the movie so they get less attention which is a shame, I really liked their characters.

Highly recommend watching with the pause and rewind button to look at background costume and set designs for the club. Pretty camp, getting camper with time. The type of film to rewatch with company and quote at eachother.

This film was tailor-made for teen me: it would have landed perfectly: the music is spot on, the tech, the fashion, the sense of community and fun.