#but in their defense I am incredibly loud

[daydadahlias]

literally can’t describe anything meaner than telling someone you don’t like their laugh. Like imagine hearing someone express joy in its purest form and going “you’re doing it wrong”

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Sensitivity✨

I am an absolute SLUT for Luci’s wings so I wanted to write something with them :), huge thank you to @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis for the help 💖

Also I’m legit on a cruise ship rn, but @amberlouise473 knows I gotta feed y’all like I’m tossing corn to my chickens 🤣

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: You’re super curious about Lucifer’s wings, but neither of you knew how sensitive they were. You didn’t know how sensitive you could be either…

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, ruined clothes, pet names, oral (f receiving), face riding, over stimulation, multiple orgasms

It was time for bed and Lucifer was still working. You knew he worked late sometimes but this seemed a little later than usual. You decided to take a look to see if he was still in his office. Sure enough, you saw him sitting down at his desk when you entered the room. But when you looked closer, you saw that he’d fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting in his arms. He looked so peaceful lying there, you almost didn’t want to disturb him. But you knew he’d feel a lot better if he actually slept in your bed instead of hunched over his desk. Quietly, you walked towards him trying not to make any loud noises that might startle him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly.

“Luci?,” you whispered, “Luci, it’s time for bed, wake up sleepy head.” He moaned quietly, but your shaking didn’t seem to have done the trick. You shook his shoulder a little hard. “Luci, c’mon hon.” Nothing. You took your other hand and placed it on his other shoulder, shaking him even more. “Lucifer!,” you nearly screamed!

With that, Lucifer’s eyes shot open, pushing himself off the desk. “AAHHH!!! WHAT?!?! What’s going on?!,” he yelled. You never saw him so frazzled before, it was kind of cute. But what you really didn’t expect was to see Lucifer’s wings spring out from his back. It must have been an involuntary reaction from the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His eyes found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you, darling,” he breathed. “You really scared me there! I guess I must have fallen asleep, forgive me.” You were only half listening to him at this moment, your gaze was still fixed on his angelic wings. You’d only seen them once or twice before, but never for long. It was then that Lucifer turned his head and noticed what had caught your attention. “Oh! Sorry about that, it’s a defense mechanism, as silly as that sounds. I’ll put them away-”

“No, wait!”, you shouted louder than you meant to. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding why you had stopped him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just…I never get to see your wings. They’re really beautiful.”

A light blush dashed across his face, he gave you a shy smile. “O-oh, thank you! I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“That’s a shame,” you pouted, “I think they’re incredible.” You walked closer to him to get a better look at them. Their white and red coloring were breathtaking. Their length took up almost the entirety of the room you were in, and his office was not small in the least. A tiny part of you wondered if he always had red feathers, or if they had changed after he…

Perhaps that was a question for another time.

“Are they heavy?,” you inquired.

“Oh! Umm, I don’t think so,” Lucifer pondered. “I don’t really notice if they are. I might have gotten used to them over the last 10,000 or so years.”

“Can I…touch them?,” you asked shyly, averting Lucifer’s gaze.

He smiled. “Of course, love. Let’s go back to our room, shall we?”

Lucifer’s wings disappeared for now as he gently grabbed your hand and led you out of his office. Once you reached your bedroom, he unfastened his shirt and threw it off to the side. It made you blush, even though his bare chest was not a new sight to you. Lucifer noticed your reddened face and smirked.

“It’s a little easier this way, don’t you think?,” he chuckled. He walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs in the process. He tapped his thigh, offering you a seat in his lap. You smiled and wrapped your legs around his torso, straddling him. “You ready?,” he asked with a little smile. You nodded your head eagerly. In an instant, his three sets wings appeared again. You noticed something was a little different though.

“I could have sworn they were bigger,” you puzzled.

“No, you’re right, they were,” Lucifer laughed. “I can control how large or small they need to be. They might have broken something in here if they were any bigger!”

You chuckled lightly. They were even more breathtaking up close, his scarlet feathers glistened even in the dim lighting of the room. You stuck out your hands and touched the top of his first set of wings. Unexpectedly, Lucifer inhaled sharply from your touch, screwing his eyes shut. You pulled away instantly.

“Oh no!,” you gasped. “Did I hurt you? I swear I barely touched them! I’m sorry!”

Lucifer exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “No, no, it’s alright, love,” he cooed, “it wasn’t painful. I just didn’t expect the sensation. Let’s just say they’re…more sensitive than I originally thought.” It was only then you felt a bump forming between your legs.

Oh…OH!

You quickly caught on to what he was referring to. And having you straddle his lap probably wasn’t helping. A small smirk crept across your face. You couldn’t resist the urge to make him squirm from your touch; the thought excited you.

“Well, in that case…” you smiled slyly, reaching out for his wings once more. This time, you gave them a slightly firmer grip than before. Lucifer nearly yelped from your touch and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You ran your hands up and down the tops of his wings, almost massaging them in a way. Lucifer was unable to hold back his moans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he panted.

You loved the sight of him bending so easily to your simple touches. You wondered if you could break him. You began to shift your hips in his lap, grinding on the now very apparent bulge in his pants. Lucifer nearly sobbed as you ground your hips against him. You moved your hands down to his second set of wings to give them some attention. You could tell he was unraveling quickly.

“D-Dear,” he choked out, “i-if you don’t stop, I’m g-gonna…f-fuck…”

His plea only made you grind against him at a faster pace while continuing to stroke his sensitive wings. At this point he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, only broken moans and gutural sounds left his lips. You moved your hands down to his smallest set of his wings, pinching them between your fingers.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK,” Lucifer cried out as your movements finally pushed him over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, completely ruining in pants. Once he came down from his high, he looked into your eyes, almost distraught.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t think that…I didn’t mean to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. His wings disappeared from sight as he buried his head into you chest

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you told him as you lifted his head up to plant a tender kiss to his lips. The small tears that had formed in his eyes fell down the side of his face, but you wiped them away with your thumbs. “Luci, please don’t apologize,” you soothed. “You never have to feel sorry for that! Did you feel good?”

Lucifer steadied his breathing, trying his best to calm down. “Yes, love, it was amazing. You’re amazing.” He lifted you off his lap and placed you on the mattress while he stood up, discarding the rest of his now filthy clothes. “But I absolutely refuse to be the only one being pleasured tonight.”

Without warning, Lucifer leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, filing your mouth with his tongue. You moaned against his lips, feeling as though you might be devoured by him. Lucifer tugged at the hem of your pajama pants, asking permission to remove them. “Mhmm,” was all you could mumble. In one swift motion, your pants had vanished and all you felt was the cool air on your legs. Lucifer brought down his fingers to your folds, loving the feeling of how wet you were for him. He captured your moan on his lips, but suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving you to whine in protest.

Lucifer broke your kiss and brought his soaked finger to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. “Mmm, you always taste so delectable, darling,” he marveled. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, he knew just what buttons to press when it came to you. He crawled back up on the bed and laid flat on his back, his head propped up by the pillows. “Come have a seat, sweetheart,” he teased as he pointed to his coy smiling face.

Your face became extreme hot as you crawled towards the demon king. You made your way on top of him and came to a halt when your dripping cunt hovered right above Lucifer’s eager smile.

“A meal fit for a king, truly,” he laughed as he dug his face into your aching pussy. You nearly screamed as his forked tongue worked his magic along your slit. He devoured you, making sure every inch of you was consumed. His lips found your clit and started to kiss and suck at it. He’d only just started and you were ready to snap.

“O-Oh my God, Lucifer, shhhiiittt, I’m so close…s-s-so close…,” you whined.

“God can’t hear you down here, angel,” he teased you before continuing to lap at your folds. He made quick work of you, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“Fuuuuccckkkk, imcummingIMCUMMIMG,” you screamed as you finally felt your walls clench and spasm around nothing. Lucifer happily swallowed your juices as your orgasm started to recede. You tried to lift yourself up off Lucifer’s face, but he kept a firm grip on your legs.

“I’m not done with you, love,” he chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, golden shackles formed around your ankles, the chain hooked underneath Lucifer’s back. A twisted look of fear and passion flashed across your face. You were trapped.

“L-Luci…what are you-” you tried to asked but were cut off by another long lick up your sensitive cunt. A gutural moan escaped your mouth, you still hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm.

“I thought it would only be fair to ruin you, since you ruined my clothes,” he chastised playfully. “But if at any time it becomes too much for you, tell me and I’ll let you go immediately, okay?”

“Al-Alright,” you stuttered, trembling from the anticipation.

Lucifer hummed against your lower lips. “I’ll make this a little easier for you, sweetheart.” You saw Lucifer’s form start to change beneath you. His horns had erupted from his head while his eyes shifted to a deep red and gold color with onyx irises. “Something for you to hold onto,” he murmured sensually.

Tentatively, you took hold of his horns and braced yourself for his next move. You didn’t have to wait long before you felt his tongue attacking your cunt once more. The grip you had on his horns could have torn your skin clean off with how tight you were holding them while he nipped and sucked your overstimulated clit. Before you knew it, your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Then your third, your fourth, your cunt was getting absolutely abused by Lucifer who hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down since he started. After your fifth orgasm washed over you, your legs had given out from under you, completely collapsing on top of Lucifer.

“No more…,” you begged. “No more, please…”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and the shackles around your ankles disappeared in an instant. You conjured up the remainder of your strength to push yourself off him and roll over onto your side, an absolutely breathless mess. You could hardly keep your eyes open. You could feel yourself losing consciousness until Lucifer pulled you flush to his chest.

“You did so well, my dear,” he murmured against your ear. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep…” was all you could muster. Lucifer chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

“Goodnight, love,” you heard him whisper as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. It was the best sleep you ever had.

~~~~

“I just think they’re neat!” - Me w/ Lucifer’s wings also Lucifer inventend pussy eating, this is fact, ALSO also something something handlebar horns

[misstycloud]

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

-

[kedsandtubesocks]

give you something to dream about

joel miller x f!reader

summary: It’s game night at the bar and you stumble upon the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak AU, Joel has both of his daughters, ‘strangers at a bar and maybe something more’ scenario with eventual husband!Joel, mentions of drinking, spicy making out session, Joel gets a bit handsy, gendered language / reader is addressed as “baby” & “darlin” light football discussions and terminology, lovesick and possessive!Joel

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my love letter to Joel, his love for football and maybe my own love for Texas football as well lol. To have this as my first fic of the new year and for it being for Joel means so much. To come back and write for the Pedro fandom is special and means so much. Big thank you to my babe @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream my sports girl head off about this, and for @lowlights for giving me guidance when I needed it. And lastly - thank you for reading, you are what truly makes this so incredibly special and wonderful

A mixture of bright neon and low soft white lights bathe the bar in a cozy ambient glow. The music is barely audible, a sort of after thought. Instead commotion and the ramble of sports announcers fills the room.

You manage to squeeze through the sea of onlookers dressed in burnt orange. Maria thankfully stays close to you. Now at the bar counter relief floods you as you lean against it.

“Order me a beer, I’m gonna find our table.” Maria yells over the liveliness swirling around.

You give her a thumbs up and thankfully don’t have to wait for the bartender long.

“Like your shirt!”

The bartender’s voice catches you instantly. Bright and direct you blink towards him. He’s cute, young, maybe a grad student from UT Austin who works here.

You can’t help but glance down at what you’re wearing.

Even under your jacket the shirt is comfortably a bit larger on you. The main focus is the old cartoon type logo of Bevo, the Texas Longhorn's mascot. The burnt orange coloring is faded adding to its weathered look.

A warmth flutters through you from just seeing it.

“It’s vintage, cool as hell.” The bartender continues admiring.

“Thanks. Uh, a friend of mine gave it to me.” Thankfully the bartender nods understandingly and doesn’t press the topic more. Instead he soon asks what you’ll be having.

You order Maria’s beer and a drink for yourself.

“So, you a big Texas fan? Well okay, I mean…you gotta be if you’re here.” The bartender, grabbing a drink glass, starts up another conversation with you as his tone becomes playful.

“A lot of people I know and love are. So by default I am too.” You admit with a sleepy grin.

“Aw,” his face melts. “Now that’s sweet. Well glad to have you here cheering for Texas.”

The bartender now even winks at you. You politely laugh but then, the bar erupts silencing the conversation.

Excited yells come so loud you jump out of your skin. Quickly you turn around to view the many tvs and projectors showing the game.

From what you can tell the Texas defense managed to take down the quarterback. You even watch the replay to see what the fuss is about. It was a good tackle and the play kept the other team’s quarterback from even advancing.

The game has you memorized now. You watch as the burnt orange and white uniforms of the players scramble like chaotic ants now trying to rush after the ball was kicked, no, punted to them.

Your lips twitch. You never would’ve thought you knew this much football terminology or could at least follow the game. Yet here you are.

The bartender clears his throat and embarrassingly fast you turn back around.

Not two but three drinks sit before you on the bar counter.

One happens to be a surprise shot that makes your eyes go wide.

“Uh, so the guy at the end of the bar sent it your way.” The bartender explains lowly, trying to be discreet about it.

Your eyes instead whip up to search for the mystery man. Then your heart sprouts wings when you discover him.

Leaning against the bar rail at the very opposed end of where you are, the man seems like something out of a romance novel’s dream.

Ruggedly handsome, his distinguished aged face and striking nose glow against the mixture of neon and dim lighting. It highlights the grays in his beard and gorgeous dark hair. His chocolate eyes bore into you as if you’re the only one in this bar.

His attention on you alone has your knees weak and you wonder maybe you suddenly turned into jello.

Your mystery man lifts his beer up to you, a silent ‘cheers’ and then takes a sip.

Just watching him take a swig of his beer has you dizzy. So you readily snatch up the shot, toast it back to him and down it.

The alcohol burns, but you’re surprised it’s your favorite liquor of choice. You can’t help but cough up wildly and the bartender snickers at your reaction. It’s been too long since you’ve had a shot and you’re thankful to chase the stinging sensation down with your mixed drink.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice calls out and her bright smile greets you as she slides through the packed crowd.

“Hope you didn’t think I forgot about you.” She laughs warmly. She grabs her beer and slides a tip to the bartender.

But then her eyes notice the empty glass.

“Oh? You took a shot without me?” She teases.

You tell her someone bought it for you and her eyebrows fly up fast in eager surprise.

“Oh?” Even her tone is warmly excited. “You get a good look at who your mystery shot buyer is?”

You turn your attention towards the end of the bar, right where he should be. Except your mystery man has vanished.

A bit of disappointment trickles in.

“I did, but guess he took off.” You tell Maria a bit low.

“Well, his loss then. Come on! Let’s head back to our table-”

“S’cuse me…”

A smooth deep and accented drawl, direct and firm enough cuts through the commotion politely cutting in on Maria.

Just as fast, there’s suddenly a deep warmth behind your back. The presence is broad, warm, and smells of the beautiful hint of a sandalwood cologne.

“If you don’t mind, I think I might steal this pretty gem for myself.” The accent seems thicker now and melts off his voice like sin.

He’s talking about you.

Maria smiles wildly entertained while her eyes flicker between you and your mystery man.

Silently you stare back and with pleading eyes you mentally communicate that yes you want to stay, yes it’s okay for her to head back.

“Alrighty then, see you two later.” She says grabbing her beer and gives you one last amused look before heading back to the table.

Your heart races so loud in your ears you don’t even notice the upset yells at a bad call given by the refs.

“…Howdy…”

The voice purrs, absolutely dances against the noise of the bar and beckons to you, your personal siren’s song.

Turning around the shadow of the mystery man falls over you. He stares down with those obsidian pool eyes as his lips turn into a boyish grin.

“I’m Joel. S’nice to meet you.”

You think about all the songs that sing about Texas beauty and how they all must have actually been speaking of this man.

Joel extends his hand out to you and the simple pure southern gentleman introduction has excitement bubbling in you like you’re a champagne bottle about to pop.

Your lips fight back a disbelieved smile as you introduce yourself and shake his hand.

It’s larger than yours, warm and beautifully callous that speaks of hard work. Joel leans closer to you and you can’t help but slide more towards him as well.

“I like your shirt.” His fingers playfully tugs at the bottom edge of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you take a sip of your drink to gain more courage. “A friend of mine let me wear it.”

Joel laughs. It’s warm, touches his face and sounds like it settles in his chest.

“A friend huh?” His voice grows even more amused.

You simply hum a nod as you take another sip of your drink. Your body hums with so many wonderful emotions like a jenga tower trying to hold onto its form on a moving table.

“That friend of yours a boyfriend?” Joel asks, a dark drawl sticky as molasses and trapping you to him.

You can’t help but shake your head no. The taste of your drink momentarily settles you.

“Pretty thing like you single? Ain’t that a shame.” Joel comments with a low rumble and all the ease you had gathered floats away.

Your eyes flicker back to Joel. But your focus goes between his stunning eyes and his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over, become hooded with a hazy desire. How much it intensifies his gorgeous features makes your stomach flutter.

The game must have quieted down or maybe you’re just this focused on this man.

He moves to whisper in your ear.

“So…Wanna find a nice quiet spot to chat? Get to know each other better?” His lips softly graze your ear and an electric current runs up your spine.

“Yeah.” You mutter back now tipsy off Joel’s presence.

The moment you agree, Joel’s hand slips towards your waist and draws you to his side. He quickly slams down plenty of bills on the counter to cover for the drinks and tip. Your poor drink and his are forgotten.

Now Joel shifts into a man focused.

Squaring up his shoulders, he stands taller as he takes the lead. His broad shoulders become a guiding force, keeping you close to him. His hand intertwines with yours while he navigates you among the crowds.

His larger hand suddenly squeezes yours, a reassuring pressure that draws you closer to him. Moving through the tables against the crowds, you arrive at the outdoor patio where the early night air clears your mind.

Joel continues guiding you to a smaller area where the bathrooms are outside by the patio. You stand before the family restroom that holds the sweet title of “cowpokes” on it. Opening the door, Joel leads you inside. You take in the slightly larger yet still small rustic bathroom that glows under the murky amber light.

The door locks behind you and you turn around to find Joel staring you down with hunger brewing in his smokey eyes.

That’s all you can focus on before you get caught up in a dizzying whirlwind.

Hastily Joel rushes forward to pin you against the wall. His body firm and large presses so deliciously against you. Before your eyes can even soak in the close sight of him, he sweeps in and kiss you with a ravenous fierceness that steals your breath.

He quickly consumes you.

Joel faintly tastes of beer and something intoxicatingly uniquely him. While his hand moves to hold your face, his tongue licks into your mouth, diving in, almost trying to get drunk off you. You can’t help but draw him closer to you as much as you can. You want your nails to dig into him the same way he’s burning under your skin and seeping into your core

His hips begin to grind against you with an eased pace and you moan into his mouth. You want more, need more.

“Oh baby.” Joel groans out and sounds like sticky delicious sin.

Suddenly the loudest cheers leak into the bathroom.

So fierce in their excitement it echos into the room and freezes you and Joel immediately.

He sighs against your lips.

“We must‘ve scored.” Joel mutters.

“Are you upset you didn’t see it?” You ask gently and kiss his lips soft as the heat begins to settle.

“Nah. I’m aimin’ to score here myself.” He grins and the line has you laughing. Your face goes to rest against his as you continue to snicker. The prickle of his beard gently scratching against your skin feels wonderful.

“Darlin’ you’re killin’ me. I wanted to sound slick.” Joel sighs again, sounding deflated now.

“You did...sort of.” You smile.

“Forgive me,” He smirks and turns to press another soft kiss against your lips. “Been outta practice for a while.”

“You aren’t too bad, cowboy. You managed to get me in here.” You hum amused while your fingers run against his jaw, through his scruffy wonderful beard.

Joel chuckles and it dances within his chest, resonating through him.

“You’re the only one I want in here.” He mutters.

You and him share a few more soft slow eased kisses that are rushed, almost shy now.

With one last kiss, a deeply melting one that now makes you ache to keep him here, Joel pulls away. You hold yourself back from pouting.

But, you’re now rewarded with the sight of Joel fully before you. The dim amber light paints him like something pulled from a sunset dream, an aged handsome man so sweet with his furrowed concentrated eyes.

You watch Joel pat around his jean pockets and suddenly your eyes go wide.

“Joel Miller if you lost them-”

“Calm down!” He huffs cutting you off while he rapidly digs into his deep jeans pocket. He yanks something out in his grasp.

He smoothly slides closer back to you and holds out his palm where two wedding rings sit waiting.

His and yours.

Your heart melts out of your chest seeing them and your ring finger itches for its missing piece. You grab Joel’s ring, leaving him yours and move to slide his back onto his hand.

In the same manner, Joel slides your wedding band back onto its rightful place. The memory of when you did this at your actual wedding faintly flutters in and settles warm in your heart’s chamber.

Joel draws your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

This man, your husband - you yank him towards you again to kiss him.

It’s a kiss that’s like coming home, of sweetness and cultivated bliss reuniting together again.

“Wanna see that bartender try flirtin’ with ya now with that ring on your finger.” Your grumpy husband grumbles adorably.

You bark a laugh. “Oh please, he was being nice for the tip and you know it.”

“Uh huh.” Joel dryly huffs as he stares at you unamused.

“Hey he was nice. He even liked my shirt.” You reply back.

“My shirt.” Joel clarifies strongly. “That’s my shirt.”

You roll your eyes playful.

He is right though. The shirt is his. Your husband is a superstitious football fan. And ever since you wore his shirt and Texas won, Joel used his beautiful brown eyes as weapons to get you to wear his shirt every game since then.

“Come on, curious to see what the score is.” With one last sweet kiss, Joel leads you back out into the evening air.

Hand in hand with him, you find your way to Tommy and Maria. Both of them brighten up at the sight of you and Joel.

“Hey! Look at that! You’re a married man again!” Tommy cries happily and you laugh. Joel, after sliding your chair in for you, rolls his eyes now while you and Maria snicker to each other.

“Bet it was fun while it lasted.” Maria grins.

“Eh.” You shrug but the truth tugs at your lips amused.

A few nights ago, when you and Joel had come up with this idea of going to the bar without the rings, pretending to not know each other, you worried for a split moment that you’d enjoy the freedom.

You worried you would realize how much you missed and enjoyed the playful banter, the flirting and pull that comes with being single. But instead you simply found your way back to Joel.

The excitement of seeing him, of having that same sensation rush through you like it did when you first met him, was nostalgically addictive for a moment.

However, you instead soak in the comfort of sitting beside Joel because it feels like coming home. While being single for another moment again was fun, you want to find Joel in every lifetime, find him as your husband in every universe.

The bar suddenly breaks into wild excitement. Joel as well cheers so loud. You turn to the game and find Texas intercepted a pass.

Now you go to check your phone and find both your daughters thankfully are doing fine. Sarah even sent you a photo text of her and Ellie at the classmate’s birthday party they’re both at. There’s a lightness that settles into your bones seeing them and having their father, your husband, beside you.

Joel and Tommy, as if they’re ESPN announcers in deep analysis, dive back into how Texas needs to sharpen up their offensive line. It’s adorable. It makes you fall in love even more with him.

Maria goes to ask Tommy something about the game and Joel leans towards you.

“You happy to be married again?” His voice drops soft and low. You catch the hint of true curiosity and almost hesitation residing under his tone.

“Of course. It’s my luckiest day all over again.” You truthfully tell him with a warm grin.

“Yeah?” He mutters tenderly as his eyes flicker to your lips again. “Make sure you share some of that luck with the team alright?”

You playfully nudge his arm and Joel smirks. You love him like this, light and teasing.

Joel drops a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t worry baby, this is my lucky day too. Goin’ home with the most gorgeous person here and I’m married to her.”

You could say the same thing. You’re leaving with the most handsome man and knowing you’re married to him? You feel honored, proud, and grateful.

Even when he starts yelling at the quarterback as if the poor guy can hear him.

“I could throw a better pass than that!” He argues upset.

You’re not as big of a fan as Joel, but Texas holds a place in your heart forever. It intertwined you and him in its own unique way.

Back when you were dating Joel patiently explained the game, so gently spoke to you without any judgment when you asked questions you were sure would make any other seasoned fan mock you or get annoyed. But not your Joel.

The first big moment you met Ellie and Sarah it was over at his place during a Texas game.

You experienced how wildly invested Ellie got, just like Joel, and how amused Sarah got seeing her dad and sister scream at the tv. From that point - all the days, the games, laughs and moments cultivated into a path that has led you to this moment, to this bar.

And now, here you are.

You love Joel’s love for the game, for the sport. You love how it’s connected you to him.

“Honey, you okay?” The voice of your husband pulls you from your thoughts, like a call home.

You turn to find Joel intently looking at you, your sweetheart provider. You can’t help but grin and nod.

“Yup, just thinking about the handsome stranger I met earlier. Hope he asks for my number.” You tell him.

Joel breaks into a chuckle that touches his earth eyes.

“Between you and me, he’d be a fool if he didn’t.” His hand now slides to yours, his thumb even begins to twist and fiddle with your wedding ring, a sweet habit of his.

You snort amused at how effortlessly he can play along with you.

Before you can tease him again or even wander back into your thoughts, the crowd roars to life with shouts. All eyes including yours snap to the game.

Texas just intercepted the ball and the play breathes life into the bar, into your husband who claps loud and proud.

It’s a great energy to see the end of the second quarter and the start of the halftime.

Suddenly, Joel’s hand begins softly trailing against your thigh. Warm and almost eased, the slow movement ignites a blooming desire in your chest.

Joel easily laughs with Tommy about the game. His eyes stay on his brother. Yet Joel’s hand slides now confidently deeper into the inside of your thigh. Your throat tightens and heat now begins to soak between your thighs, almost daring him to touch you.

Then a collection of happy cheers burst in the bar and steals all the attention.

All the tables nearby including yours turn to find a group of ladies. One of them currently grabs the cowboy hat off a taller man who grins so warmly down at her. She laughs loudly after doing what had to have been a wild shot.

The guy orders her, and her friends, another round causing them to squeal loud and excited again. Maria leans back to talk to Tommy and so you too lean closer to your own husband.

“Maybe I should pretend to be single again.” You tell Joel. “To see if I’ll get free shots and attention like that.”

Not that you’d want any of that. You just enjoy teasing your sweet grumpy husband from time to time.

“Nope.” Joel says with an unwavering sharpness. “You ain’t going anywhere without that ring Mrs. Miller.”

His words are rather light, almost playful, but you catch the underlying possessive simmering. It ignites an even stronger warmth beneath your skin.

“And who says you don’t get free shots? I’ll buy you as many as ya want.” Joel adds and his clipped almost ruffled voice has you laughing.

But as you settle, your thoughts wander. The smell of Joel so close, the mixture of his faint cologne and the detergent you use to wash his clothes, brings back the sensation of having that smell surround you when you were in the restroom with him.

It makes you ache.

Your hand now softly wanders to rub his warm broad chest. A low rumble comes from him, an awareness of your presence as you drape against him now. Maria and Tommy thankfully have begun to make fast friends with the couple sitting beside your table.

Your face leans to rest against Joel’s and the slick honey like desire you felt earlier creeps over you once more. It urges you to be bold.

“Wanna go mess around before halftime is over?” You offer soft and low, only for his ears.

Joel peers over to you, his eyes now smoldering coals.

“You wanna?” He mutters back.

Your answer comes as a soft kiss you place against his cheek. However, your hand now begins to slide up his thigh just like he did to you earlier.

Joel loudly clears his throat and sits up fast which untangles you from him. Immediately he yanks out his wallet to slam his card on the table.

Tommy and Maria now blink back at the sudden action.

“Order anything y'all want. We gotta grab somethin’ from the truck.” Joel lies effortlessly.

But Maria knows as she grins knowingly while embarrassment instead rises in you.

And apparently her husband isn’t as easily fooled either.

“Yeah yeah! Get outta here ya horn dogs!”

Joel barks a sharp ‘hey!’ at his younger brother’s crudeness while you can only laugh against him. Tommy simply makes obnoxious kissy faces while Maria snickers besides him. Unable to endure anymore teasing Joel playfully calls Tommy a piece of shit and with that you wave a quick and thankful to Tommy and Maria.

Joel once again leads the way to the entrance.

The two of you now stay stuck together closer than earlier. An almost giddy frenzy now keeps you both hyper aware of the other. His hands keep you so firmly close to him.

The giddiness you had earlier while pretending to be single with Joel is nothing compared to this. This feeling swirling in you comes from knowing you get to sneak away with your husband. It has you floating, only tied to this world by Joel keeping you steady and protected.

Around you, small chatter about the game hangs in the air.

Texas might not win. But as you slide closer to Joel, a unique shade of triumph washes over you.

Your good man, your wonderful husband.

He is your victory and champion.

Your victory lap and your welcome home party all at once.

And when he kisses you wildly against the side of his truck…you think he might also be your sneaky devilish opponent as his hand already starts to slip under your, no his shirt.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[bosbas]

Chapter 8: this is falling in love in the cruelest way

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, heavily going off of book canon, me stirring the pot (im sorry)(no im not), PINING!!!!!!!, anthony being very much in love with his wife

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: guys i'm sorry but this picture is INSANE. the THIGHS??? HELLO? i am looking respectfully.......👁️👁️

June 5, 1816 – And yesterday, much to this author’s surprise, Lord Barlow reportedly proposed to Lady Montclair! This proposal comes unexpectedly after the Duke’s promiscuity with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball a few weeks ago. Given the fact that Miss Barrington has been compromised, it is incredibly shocking that Lord Arthur Barlow would do something like this in polite society. Luckily, Lady Montclair remains a single woman and swiftly rejected her former beau’s proposal. But this only begs the question: why did the Duke propose? Is Lady Montclair simply too alluring to pass up, or is something else amiss between Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington? 

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Colin under his breath, his eyes quickly scanning Lady Whistledown’s column as he sat on a bench in the garden. 

“What’s that you’re reading, brother?” asked Anthony, ears perking up at Colin’s scandalous language, even if it was just between brothers. 

Colin felt a slight blush forming on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud, having been too caught up in the news that you had finally received a proposal from Lord Barlow. It was a lovely day out, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were in the gardens of Number 5 Bruton Street after a round of fencing. 

Of course, once Francesca had come outside holding a copy of Whistledown to read in the gazebo, Colin had stolen it out of her hands and abandoned his brothers in favor of catching up on the ton’s happenings. Though no one should have been surprised by his interest, really, given that you were the main topic of most of the gossip sheets nowadays. 

“Nothing,” Colin answered quickly, trying to recover from his blunder. “It’s bizarre how invested one becomes in Whistledown while living here. Is this what every summer is like when one isn’t traveling for half the time?”

“In essence, yes,” answered Benedict, still jabbing at the air with his épée as Anthony stared at him amusedly. “What does she have to say today?”

“Lord Barlow proposed to Lady Montclair yesterday,” said Colin, a slight edge to his voice. “And he looked a sight while doing it, too, apparently.”

Benedict dropped his foil, turning around to fully face Colin with a shocked look on his face. “And what did she say?” he pressed, intrigued about the outcome of this curious development. It was practically unimaginable that the Duke had proposed to you after defiling another lady in the ton, and Benedict hadn't considered him capable. 

Anthony clapped him on the back, smirking at Colin as he did so. “Well, did you not hear the man say, ‘thank God’? Obviously, she said no.”

Colin crossed his arms, immediately defensive. “It wasn’t that obvious! She could have said yes, and my ‘thank God’ could have been because she would’ve finally left me alone. Duchesses have a lot to do; I doubt she’d find the time to be irritating while attending to her duties in the country.”

Benedict and Anthony gave their brother unimpressed looks, watching amusedly as he squirmed under their gaze. 

“I assure you, brother, that there was absolutely no possibility of that being the case,” said Benedict jovially, earning a snort from Anthony. 

But before Benedict could laugh, too, Colin lunged at him, épée in hand as he glared playfully at his brother. Finding himself unarmed, Benedict yelped and ran toward the house, citing a very important painting to attend to before sprinting back inside. 

Turning to Colin, Anthony smiled curiously. “So, it’s true, then? What Daphne said?”

“What did Daphne say?” asked Colin innocently, dreading the conversation that would follow.

“Don’t be daft. That you love Y/N.”

Colin rolled his eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. “I don’t love her; that’s ridiculous, Anthony! A mere two weeks ago, we absolutely despised each other. I hardly think I could love her now.”

But even as he said those words, Colin questioned whether he actually meant them. Could he love you? He hadn’t ever felt this way about anyone, but then again, no one had ever vexed him quite like you. Though lately, he had been finding the line between irritation and fascination to be quite blurred. So blurry, in fact, that he was having trouble seeing a line at all. 

Having clearly overheard part of the conversation, Gregory ran up to his brothers, laughing hysterically as Hyacinth chased him. He stopped and let his sister catch up, smiling evilly at the older Bridgertons “Colin loves who, now?” 

Hyacinth arrived a few moments later, panting heavily. “Y/N, of course,” she stated while trying to catch her breath, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What? What do you mean? Why do say that?” pressed Colin. Why did everyone in his family seem to think that he loved you? Surely they saw the two of you bickering incessantly, right? Your feud was so famous it had even made it to Lady Whistledown’s column. Colin couldn’t understand how anyone could think he had so much affection for you. 

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at her older brother, unamused. “Colin, I am not an idiot. Though perhaps you might be,” she added brightly. And before Colin could respond, she quickly turned to her eldest brother. “Now, Anthony, could you please tell Gregory to give me back my quill?” she begged.

Gregory, scoffed, glaring at his sister. “I’d only borrowed it for a moment! And I only did so because Hyacinth hid mine! Anthony, she’s being unreasonable,” he whined.

Anthony affectionately patted them both on the head and flashed a faux sympathetic smile. “I rather think both of you are being quite the nuisance right now.” 

At times, Anthony found himself slipping into the role of a father figure to his youngest siblings. It was an unspoken duty he assumed after their father's passing. Yet, it was important to occasionally remind them that he was still their brother.

Hyacinth responded with a frustrated groan, her teeth grinding audibly, thoroughly vexed with her brother. However, the sight of Gregory's smug smile reignited her fury, and she immediately charged at him. Despite being older than Hyacinth, Gregory wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her, and he took off in a panic, screaming as he tried to outpace his deceptively quick sister.

Colin shook his head in amusement as he watched the antics of his youngest siblings. “Were Daphne and I truly like that?”

“Worse,” said Anthony flatly, but he couldn’t mask the warmth and fondness interlaced in his words.

At that, Anthony began to turn back toward the house. “Well, I must be-”

“Wait!” interrupted Colin. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had stopped his brother, other than the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility that he could love you. You, the person he supposedly hated. The person who certainly hated him. 

But, as always, Anthony was the right person to talk to about this. He would know what to say. Though it was well known that Anthony was completely smitten with his wife, Colin remembered a time when the pair seemed to dislike each other fairly intensely.

After a few moments of charged silence, Colin met Anthony’s expectant gaze. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up. “Purely hypothetically, and simply out of curiosity, when did you fall in love with Kate?”

Anthony smiled, amused. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin. “As long as it's purely out of curiosity,” he teased. “It wasn’t like I simply fell in love with her one day, Colin.”

“Yes, but if you had to pinpoint a moment?” pressed Colin, slightly exasperated. If anything, he needed to know if he had experienced that moment himself.

Anthony’s gaze softened, and he suddenly saw a lot of himself in Colin’s uncertainty and pause when it came to a woman who profusely vexed him. “I found Kate in the library the night after we played Pall Mall for the first time,” he recalled fondly. “We were at Aubrey Hall for the country party and it was raining outside quite loudly, a terrible storm. She was huddled underneath a desk because she was scared of the storm. I very quickly realized I couldn’t hate her anymore. Not properly, anyway. Not when I just wanted to sit on the floor with her and protect her from the storm, and anything else that might come her way.”

His voice had softened as he spoke about his wife, recalling the moment he truly knew there was no way out. Anthony had tried to deny it to himself after, but his protests simply held no conviction after that night. 

“You never told me that,” said Colin thoughtfully, not missing the glint of emotion in his brother’s eyes as he talked about his now-wife. 

“Yes, well, the real challenge was getting her to love me back,” he said, coming out of his musings. “And that didn’t happen for quite some time after that. It was rather premature of me to declare my love for this woman while I supposedly hated her and was still technically courting her sister.”

It was truly a wonder that he and Kate were married now. But when it was meant to be, it was meant to be, Anthony supposed. Something that was proving to be particularly true of you and his brother. If Colin, who had a deep-seated need to be liked by anyone and everyone, could fall in love with you, the only person who didn’t actually like him, then surely it was meant to be.

Colin, still deep in thought, chewed his lip nervously. “And how did you get her to fall in love with you?”

“We were caught in a… compromising position. She had been stung by a bee and I… Well, I’m sure you recall,” said Anthony, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy as he remembered the circumstances that allowed him to marry his wife. “It’s far easier to get a woman to love you when she’s already your wife,” he finished sympathetically. 

Colin choked back a laugh. “Unfortunately, I can’t very well put Lady Montclair in a compromising position, can I?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But Colin, I thought this was all hypothetical,” teased Anthony, playfully punching his brother on the shoulder. 

Colin cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance as Anthony continued laughing at him. “Never mind. I’m off to find Eloise,” he muttered, patting the eldest Bridgerton on the back and leaving him free to go dote on his wife. 

After speaking with Anthony, Colin had a renewed sense of purpose. He had to find out why you hated him. He was so utterly exhausted of hating you and of having this tiresome charade of fighting with each other at every available moment. At this point, he didn’t particularly care who in the ton liked him or not. Colin knew he would happily take the entire ton’s wrath for the rest of his life if it meant you loved him.

But he needed to know just how unrealistic his hopes were. Eloise would be the best–and perhaps only­–person who would know. 

Colin found his sister practicing needlepoint in the sitting room, focused intensely on the material in front of her. It was unclear whether she was trying to sew the fabric or her finger, given how often she was pricking herself as she attempted to thread the needle. 

“El!” he called by the doorway, pausing when he saw his sister grimace after pricking herself once again. “I can return later if you’re busy.”

“No! No, please interrupt. Thank heavens,” gasped Eloise, grateful to be able to do something other than draw her blood. 

Colin laughed, amused, and suddenly felt a tad sheepish. Was he truly about to ask about you? To ask about you to Eloise, who would no doubt hold this over his head for the rest of eternity? But he had to know. He had to ask, at the very least. 

“I was just…I was wondering if you knew why Lady Montclair hates me,” he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Eloise let out a snort. “Well, I can’t imagine she’d be hard-pressed to find a reason why, given how you treat her.”

Seeing her brother’s crestfallen face, Eloise immediately sobered. Standing up and walking toward him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I thought you disliked her as well,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Of course I do,” clarified Colin quickly. “But she hated me first and I still don’t know why. I thought she might have said something to you, given how close the two of you are. Do you know at all?”

Eloise clicked her tongue in sympathy, looking at Colin with concern. Perhaps his feelings did run deeper than anyone thought, and the recent dancing and promenading were more than just Colin being his usual charming self around you. “I’m sure I have no idea, Col. But you could always just talk to her.”

Colin shook his head, smiling sadly at his sister. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t usually seem very eager to speak with me.”

Sure, the two of you had been getting along recently. But that had only been twice. And was that really enough to undo the weeks of hatred?

---

It was a particularly delightful Wednesday afternoon, and you found yourself feeding the ducks at Hyde Park as you watched Isabelle and Charlotte skip rocks across the pond. Though you loved Louis to bits, it was a lovely feeling to have both of your sisters home with you. There was simply something about being out in society that he could never quite understand like them, though not for lack of trying. 

After lunch, you, Charlotte, and Isabelle had managed to sneak out of the house just as the post-meal discussion grew rowdy. It was not unheard of to have such lively discussions in the Montclair household, and you frequently even enjoyed them. But there were some days, like today, that you frankly just wanted to have a quiet afternoon with a baguette and about a dozen ducks. Luckily, your sisters had decided to join you, and the three of you had set off toward the park in search of a flock of birds to feed.

It seemed that the ducks had taken much more of a liking to you than to your sisters, and they had grown disinterested in the endeavor. Charlotte and Isabelle had opted to give you their remaining bread and take a stroll around the mostly empty park, and you couldn’t say that you were complaining. Coming from such a large family, it was a rare luxury to have an afternoon largely to yourself. 

A while later, after most of the ducks found themselves happily full, you spotted a stumbling figure making its way toward you. As you turned to your sisters with a questioning look, you were disappointed to find them in deep conversation facing away from you, neither one of them noticing you. 

As the figure neared, you realized who it was: Nigel Berbrooke. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your stomach drop, unpleasant memories of him and his disgusting words flooding your brain. You had no desire to speak to this man, and you looked around for anyone you could speak with instead. But you had not brought a lady’s maid, and everyone else was too far to intervene.

“Lady Montclair,” said Nigel, with what looked to be an attempt at a seductive smile on his face. 

You stood up from your crouching position rigidly and turned to face him. You were unable to form any words, discomfort far outweighing any other emotion you were feeling. This had to be his first time back this season after his absence, you thought. You hadn’t seen him at any events since the Danbury ball, and you rather thought you would have noticed him, looking as vile as he did now.

His nose was a tad more crooked than on the night you had met him, and the bags under his eyes were ghastly. But perhaps it was just your perception of him, knowing what you did about who he was.

“Mr. Berbrooke,” you settled for saying, nose crinkling as you caught a whiff of the pungent smell of alcohol emanating off of him.

“A promenade?” he asked roughly, reaching for your hand without permission. “It’s a lovely afternoon, it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Oh, Mr. Berbrooke, we were just about to head home,” you pointed your head toward your sisters, panicked. 

Isabelle and Charlotte were far too immersed in their conversation to look like they were ready to head home, but you prayed that Nigel’s inebriated state would distract him from this.

He growled at you, clearly displeased at your rejection. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Montclair. Your dowry, as well as your other…assets, are far too good to pass up,” he slurred, very obviously staring at your chest. “It’s a shame Colin’s gotten to you first.”

You were scandalized, opening your mouth to chastise him, or to scream for help, or anything that could get you out of this situation, really, but he cut you off before you could say anything. 

"I've heard Lord Barlow abandoned you, and truth be told, it's hardly shocking," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain as he regarded you with a sneer. "You insist on playing the coy maiden, denying every man what he craves. It's the only reason they’re after you now, you see? They want what you didn't give Arthur. And it appears Colin has taken the lead in the chase, the lucky bastard."

His words brought you crashing back down to reality. Of course, he was colluding with Colin. You had conveniently overlooked that fact as you found yourself becoming bashful in his presence, feeling secure, even desiring his company after these recent days. A surge of bile rose in your throat.

You felt tears prickling in your eyes, and you were impossibly angry with yourself for forgetting the very reason you despised Colin Bridgerton. How could you have let yourself forget? He was still the same man you overheard at the Danbury ball, and you were too embarrassed to admit that his charm had worked on you. 

You were disgusted with Nigel and Colin, but also with yourself. You were more than this, you chided. How could you have let this happen? The two men were clearly no good, and you had unwittingly allowed yourself to be ensnared, much like you had with Lord Barlow.

“Excuse me,” you said roughly, dodging Mr. Berbrooke’s outstretched hand as you ran toward where Isabelle and Charlotte were standing, propriety be damned. 

“On va chez nous. Tout de suite,” you said to them urgently, practically begging as you tugged on Isabelle’s hand (We’re going home. Right now). 

Charlotte looked at you, confused, and then noticed you glancing nervously at Nigel as he approached, angrily staggering over to you as his face contorted into an ugly scowl. 

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry Mr. Berbrooke,” Isabelle said firmly, “but it seems we have to go.” 

Not waiting for a response, your sisters hooked their arms in yours and hurriedly walked back from where you came. They’d be damned if he let anything else happen to you after what happened with Lord Barlow, and they were not about to waste any time.

Nigel only grunted, displeased, but let the three of you go without protest. Both of your sisters’ husbands were very powerful men, and Nigel was not so deluded as to forget his place in society.

“Y/N?” Charlotte questioned softly once you were sufficiently far away enough. 

But you were too embarrassed, tears streaming down your face as you choked back sobs. How could you have let yourself fall for Colin’s charm? You knew exactly who he was, and you had ignored it anyway. It didn’t matter that he made you feel safe and that the two of you had more in common than you cared to admit. He would never respect you, and you could never love him. 

Nigel had come at just the right time, you thought sullenly. Right as you were thinking you could finally overlook your rivalry with Colin, right as the memory of why you disliked him in the first place was fading. And thank heavens he did. You would not be taken for a fool again, by Colin or by Lord Barlow or by anyone. 

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (get added here):

@marvelspogue @5sosmakesmelaugh5 @maddiebaddie1 @livingthatprovinciallife @willieoo @jessica-1120 @dreadity @h0eforwadewilson @ziarah @wordsgodeep @mrs-c-bridgerton @dianxiaxiexie @like-gabriel-and-castiel @snapeeballsack @sosasi521-blog @saturnssunflower @indecisive-empanada @invisible-dreamers-world @angerpearl @ssexsellls @smugrogerina @cherrysxuya @theonekaysstuff @idkwhatimdoing6 @ella33 @tiger1357890 @mswwvaleska @bozoqt @unadulteratedwolfcrown @anthonylockwoodandco111 @beamuont @adxrekyun @stevenwithav01 @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @patty2191 @expensiveinnocentgurl @erysione @hockeybabestars @inkwriter122 @nighttimemoonlover @chamomiletea-beforebed @alexendria-rose @watersevn @funalpaca @babypink224221 @littlecoffeeadict @agoldenwoe @sydneygal3107

[junnieverse]

— DRUNK BOYFRIEND ENHYPEN ! 💭

➙ drunk boyfriend enhypen thoughts

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

genre: crack, fluff

request: " i just want to say that the enhypen drunk series (?) is so cute. can i request that you do one of where the members don’t recognize their partner bc they’re drunk and tells them to back off LAMSOSKD i’ve seem sm tiktoks on this "

warnings: for obvious reasons ni-ki was not included, mentions of alcohol/drinking, lowercase intended, not proofread

a/n: had a brainrot moment so I hope nothing sounds too repetitive or 'boring' but I also hope it makes you all laugh, thanks anon!

🖇️ — 양정원 ; JUNGWON !

"Jungwon calm down baby, it's just me!" you try to reason with him as he hid behind jay

"Stop saying we're dating! I don't know who you are, Jay tell them to get away!" he defends himself as jay awkwardly laughs being trapped in the middle

what was once a night out with the guys soon turned into jungwon trying to kick you out of your own house because he claimed you were a crazy fan that broke in claiming to be his partner

your boyfriend didn't enjoy drinking to begin with but his members convinced him to have a few celebratory drinks and he had one too many he could handle

"I know taekwondo! I-I won't fight you but I will if necessary. What did you do to my partner?" he said glaring at you lifting up his tiny fists as his cheeks and ears became more rosy tinted

jungwon was usually pretty calm, but seeing as he could barely recognise you and he thought you were kidnapped or hurt he got quite riled up and defensive

looking over to jay you shake your head in disappointment knowing you would have to deal with your boyfriend who didn't even want to be near you

"Look what you guys did, you broke him."

🖇️ — 이희승 ; HEESEUNG !

"This is insane... I didn't know (y/n) had an identical twin, the resemblance is uncanny." heeseung says poking your cheek

asian flushed and completely wasted, dealing with a dazed heeseung who didn't recognise you was not part of your plans at 2 am on a sunday

"That's because I am (y/n), I don't have a twin baby." you correct him swatting his hand away from your face

suddenly becomes more giggly and nothing he says makes sense anymore

"I have the best partner actually. I haven't seen them today though, but it was great meeting you, the family genes must be super strong. Woah, you even have the same mole on your nose like they do, that's crazy!" your boyfriend says clapping as he covered his mouth in shock

"Lee Heeseung, we've been together for 3 years and you know I only have an older brother. I don't have a twin." you remark once again trying not to shake him so he gets back to his senses

no matter how many times you try to tell him you're dating him, he still believes you're just his partner's identical twin

wakes up the next morning asking where you were the entire night and how he met your 'twin' he hadn't known about

🖇️ — 박종성 ; JAY !

jay knew how to handle his liquor quite well but it seemed he had something stronger he couldn't handle

when he was drunk he was either extremely loud or just quiet and stoic, no in between

unfortunately tonight he was on the more reserved and quiet side of his drunkenness

what you weren't expecting was for your boyfriend to be drunk to the extent of not recognising you

"Here's some water to help you sober up honey." you say giving him a bottle of water to which he shook his head pushing it away

"If this is your way of flirting, I'm not interested. You can leave." he says coldly not even glancing at you

to say you were shocked was a complete understatement, you were flabbergasted, appalled

"Jay what, you're literally dating me." you say not believing how incredibly drunk he was

"I think I know what my partner looks like thank you very much, and how do you even know my name-" he asks glaring at you as a small hiccup escapes from his lips

at some point, you couldn't even get through to your stubborn boyfriend and his friends had to help him sober up before he finally started to recognise who you were

🖇️ — 심재윤 ; JAKE !

jake drinking was one thing, he could handle himself

jake drinking with friends and really letting loose was another thing

everything would be going well up until the blackout stage

finding your boyfriend passed out at the table you had reserved you shake him awake and he looks at you confused

"Let's go home baby, you're extremely drunk now." you tell him running a hand gently through his hair

"I'm sorry but who are you?" jake asks trying to keep his eyes open as his speech came out slurred and soft

"I'm your partner Jake." you laugh at the confusion

his eyes suddenly widen as he steps away from you seemingly to have his sleep kicked out of his body

"No way! I have a girlfriend already, her name is Layla!" he says with a slight stutter which usually happened when he blatantly lied

"Jake, sweetie... Layla is your dog."

🖇️ — 박성훈 ; SUNGHOON !

this was your first time witnessing sunghoon being this drunk

I'm taking wasted to the point that your own boyfriend couldn't even recognise you and it was breaking your heart

"Sunghoon, it's me love, stop trying to run away." you say chasing after him across the playground as he hid in one of the tubes

"Leave me alone! I don't know you! My mom said not to talk to strangers." he said glaring at you as you laughed softly at his childish manners

heeseung mentioned he was drunk but never did you expect him to have been on this level

"I'm your partner Hoonie, did you really forget me." you pout trying to crawl over to him in the tube

"Well whoever you are, you're nice and all but my partner probably thinks I'm missing so I need to go find them." he pats your head leaving through the slide as you sigh to go after him once again

he did eventually come back to his senses but he didn't remember half of what happened

"Where have you been?? This one weirdo kept following me around claiming it was you." he whispers the last part looking around afraid he was still being followed by the 'stranger'

how this tall man managed to squeeze into those tiny play area tubes remains a mystery

🖇️ — 김선우 ; SUNOO !

"You remind me alot of my partner. Not only do you look alot like them but you're sweet and funny too." sunoo tells you as he hiccuped

"That's because I am your partner angel." you say to him with a soft smile

here you were with an arm around a drunk sunoo taking him home after a night out with friends at a bar

although it seemed your boyfriend had a little too much because he couldn't recognise you

he simply thought you were a kind stranger who was helping him that oddly knew his name, knew where he lived and looked extremely alike to his lover

nothing out if the ordinary, plus he was too drunk to analyse and question how weird everything seemed

"No you aren't, my partner always has our matching ring on." he says with a pout showing you the ring on his pinky finger

lifting your hand you show him the ring and his eyes immediately widen

"You stole it from them!" he accuses you as he gasped in shock

[adventuringblind]

Possessive

Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Dialouge: "You are ours and ours only."

Summary: Oscar gets possessive during a night out.

Warnings: downright Filthy smut, marking, dom/sub, double penatration,

Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration

Masterlist

Neither Lando nor Oscar would say they are possessive men. They love each other and their girlfriend, and they know she loves them. It's very difficult, however, to remain neutral while watching another man flirt with her.

He started a conversation while she was dancing with Lily and Carmen during their post race celebrations. She'd politely tried to get away from him but the man is annoyingly persistent.

"Should we help her?"

"Can we do it without punching him is the real question."

"But it would be so satisfying if we did."

"Osc, you scoop the spiders up and take them outside. There is no way you can punch that guy."

The Australian whips around to face Lando. A smug look plastered on his face. "Wanna bet?"

Lando, with no alcohol in his system since he Despises the stuff, agrees. The Brit would soon come to learn never to challenge Oscar again.

The woman in question still looks highly unlikely comfortable and getting more agitated by the second. Relief, however, hits her as Oscar appears behind the man pursuing her and taps him on the shoulder.

"Pretty sure she wants to be left alone." His arms cross over his chest but he still looks as unassuming as ever.

Most people would assume Oscar doesn't know the definition of the word violence. She knows better, though. Her and Oscar had been together before Lando. If it's in the name of defense, he won't hesitate to swing.

"I don't see a boyfriend anywhere. Maybe you should go where you are wanted." The stupid man who can't take a hint seethes.

Oscar takes a step closer, invading the others space. "Seeing as I am one of two boyfriends she has, I think you should step away."

There is silence on the other end. Then a brutal look of disgust. "Well if she's used goods then you can have her, pal."

The look she hasn't seen for years only appears on Oscar for a second. The one that has is inner demons raging. The unflappable, sweet, gentle Oscar is seeing Red.

Only a second before the Aussies fist collides with the other man's jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He's always had a nasty right hook.

She says nothing as Oscar promptly takes her hand and guide her to the entrance. Lando trailing them from where he was watching. The Brit looks a mixture of terror and turned on.

The car ride is silent apart from the loud expressions passed between her and Lando and Oscar's fingers wandering occasionally. The last time he was like this neither of them could walk the next day.

The thing about Oscar, the incredibly calm and unfazed Australian, is that he takes all those emotions and puts them elsewhere. Into sex, specifically. Lando learned this the hard way. His teasing went one toe over the line. He ran out Oscar's patience in a series of events over the course of a week to test the limits.

So Oscar likes control more then he shows. It gives him an outlet, per say. He times and calculates and gets some kind of high off it. Plus it resets him to where he can take whatever shit people throw his way without losing his mind.

Oscar doesn't let go even after they are saftley back in their flat. Instead her body is slammed into wall of the entry way.

"Why don't you tell her what you said Lando. What got you into this mess." The voice he pulls out is the condescending one. The one that makes her knees weak.

"I said you wouldn't punch the guy."

"And if I proved you wrong?"

Lando swallows hard enough for her to hear it. Probably see it also, but her eyes are stuck staring at brown ones that are eating her alive.

"That I would do whatever you wanted tonight. No questions asked."

Lando screwing himself is not shocking. Now, Lando actually doing what he's told? That is even more shocking then when he got drunk. Only once before he decided he hated it for sure.

"Then I want you stripped and on the floor in the bedroom." Silently, the Birt pads away to do as told. Oscar loosens his hold on her body and give her some space. "Seriously though, are you okay? We won't do this if you were any kind if put off by that."

"And miss this opportunity? Absolutely not. If anything to sight of you actually punching somebody has me feral."

"Good. Then let's go find Lando."

Lando, to his credit, is following through. He just looks wicked sad about it.

"Lando? You alright love?"

"Doing what you're told is much less fun."

Oscar rolls his eyes at the pouting boy on the floor.

She was going to ask for instructions. But as she opens her mouth she finds there is no need. Oscar is dragging her to bed. Her clothes are litterally (and unfortunately) ripped from her body. The room is cold without layers, but it won't be for long.

Oscar's lips are everywhere. He kisses, sucks, licks, and bites every inch of skin on her body. Every peice of her knows the feeling of the Aussies warm lips. Every kiss leaves her tingly and every bite leaves her wanting.

"Lando, come here. I think people need to be reminded that she is ours. Would you like that baby? Do you want people to know you are ours and only ours?"

Her brain is too far gone to respond coherently. Lando has already got to work, claiming her where Oscar hasn't already. The Australians voice is gentle, but it's demanding. There is a need burried within it that says he needs people to know she's taken.

"I swear you're just too pretty. Everybody wants you. I'm tired of them not knowing you're already spoken for." Oscar is the next to shed his clothes. Lando's hands have gone from stagnant to touching her like she is the air he breathes. Both males are staking their claim on her tonight. A shared feeling of want for people to know she chose them passes between the two.

Mumbled pleads escape her. Some kind of contact where she's sensitive needs to happen or she might combust.

"Think you can take both of us in the same hole love?" Back to gentle. His need to care for her outweighed the need and desire to have her like this. It makes her agree so fast she gets dizzy from nodding her head so much.

Lando gets to be underneath her. His lips are still attached to her skin. It muffled the moans and tiny whines he's letting out as she sinks down onto him.

"Yiu know, Lando. That guy said our girl is used goods. What do you think? Do you agree with him?"

Lando detaches, his mouth agape. "I can barely get into her mate. I don't know how you're going to. Feels good to me."

"But aren't I used?" She whimpers.

Lando's hand reaches around her front to play with her clit. His large nimble fingers send shockwaves through her body.

"You are not 'used goods' baby." Lando says into her skin. His warm breath sticks to her shoulder. "We love you. We're keeping you. Fuck anyone who says shot like that."

To say she's gushing at this point is an understatement, despite that fact Oscar decideds lube is a smart idea. Now she's even more wet and sticky that she was with just her own self made lubricant.

Oscar takes it incredibly slow. To slow for her liking. But the second he's sliding into her, the friction with Lando, the stretch and positioning of everything. Yeah - it hurts.

Her teeth sink into Oscar's shoulder. Lando's hand is caressing her cheek and wiping away the stray tears that slip down the sides of her face.

It is ridiculous, really, the situation she's in right now. But she can't think as Oscar is cooing praises in her ear and Lando is meticulously puting his hands on her.

They spiral quickly after that. The tension that was in Oscar's shoulders releases as he is finally able to take what he needs. Lando has decended into a mess of moans and thrusting hips.

She is completely at their mercy. A mess of movment. The symphonic melodies of their voices fill the space of the bedroom. Hot breaths stick to her skin over the already present layer of sweat.

The ache in her bones and coil in her stomach rapidly approach a breaking point. She can't even warn them as everything in her snaps and leave her body a flailing mess. The two boys stutter and sink further into the mattress.

Then a silence. An amazing thread connecting all three bodies together.

They stay like that for the next ten minutes. Unmoving. Listening to the sounds of breathing and heartbeats.

"That was eventful."

"No kidding."

"Sorry if I was to rough."

All of them laugh. "Maybe you should apoligize to the guy at the club."

Oscar pulls out slowly, and then Lando lifts her gently off him. Then they actually collapse. Arms outstretched to hold each other close. "We need to clean up."

"We also need to look at your knuckles, Osc."

"I still can't believe you punched him."

Oscar rolls his eyes. "Well it ended well didn't it? I don't hear you complaining."

"Remind me to never challenge you again."

[shadesslut]

a father's malice, pt. 4

Pairing: (Ex-Gf!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader x Chad Meeks-Martin)

Content Includes: (Angst, blood)

Summary: Ethan goes to the one place he feels accepted

Masterlist

✮

✮

✮

The noises of chattering college kids made Chad’s knee bounce anxiously. Even in his dorm, he could hear the loud conversations his suitemates were having. Harsh white lights made his head hurt, and the plastic chair he sat in at his desk caused his lower back to ache. He didn’t look like it, but he hated being around new people. He never really had a best friend since, well, not since Wes. Only a handful of circle jerk assholes who only tolerated him for his looks. For a year he’d been on edge, so that’s why when a curly-haired brunet entered the room abruptly, he jumped.

He looked nice enough, but still, Chad was cautious. The brunet jumped as he saw Chad. He was easy on the eyes, nice looking. He held a cardboard box and wore a beat-up Jansport backpack. 

“Hi.” He croaked out, his voice straining. Chad nodded at him, and the brunet awkwardly shuffled closer into the room. He looked at Chad’s bed, then his, and set his box down on it, dust slowly puffing up. “Guess this is my side,” 

Chad swiveled back in his chair, taking a deep breath as he stared at the chipped surface of his wooden desk. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled, exhaled, and stood up. He put on his chipper smile, eyes not quite matching. He stuck out his hand to the other boy. “I’m Chad, it’s Ethan right?” 

Ethan let out a breathy laugh of relief and nodded. “Y-Yeah, Ethan.” He responded, taking Chad’s hand in a firm shake. Chad’s eyebrows furrowed as he confusedly reacted to the rough, strong hands Ethan had. And for a split second, he had hope of making a new friend. 

—

It was almost nine, and Chad had finally reached the point of relaxation with Ethan that he stopped checking his phone for texts from Mindy. He learned a little about Ethan; he liked old cheesy movies like Star Wars, he loved ketchup, and he had something in common with Chad. 

Home didn’t have a lot of good memories.

Chad had set his laptop on his desk, which now sat towards the middle of the room after two hours of Ethan and Chad rearranging the furniture. Their beds pointed towards each other, and every so often Chad would check to see if Ethan was watching the movie playing. 

“So do you know anyone that goes here?” Ethan asked before stuffing his mouth with a handful of fries. Chad readjusted in his position, putting his arm under his pillow as he laid on it. 

“My sister Mindy, and our friend Y/N.” He answered, purposely not mentioning. Sam and Tara. “She’s on the third floor.” 

Ethan nodded, returning his gaze back to the movie. “I got a sister too.” He mumbled. Chad lifted his head up at him.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, she’s back at home.” 

Chad hummed softly. “Close with her?” 

Ethan smiled to himself, reconciling childhood memories of playing with his sister. “Yeah, she’s older than me. Really like, protective of me y’know?” 

At this point, neither of the boys were watching the movie. Only quietly admiring each other as they asked each other questions. “That’s how I am with my sister.” Chad stated.And maybe that’s how they’d be with each other. Ethan smiled at his comment, but it quickly faded. 

They sat in silence for a moment, their breathing matching the other’s. Ethan huffed as he sat up on his bed, making Chad slightly sit up. “Where you going?” Chad asked. 

Ethan smiled defensively at him, and then he pointed towards the bathroom door. “Gotta take a leak,” Chad snickered at his answer, checking his phone. Ethan laughed as he jumped off his bed, eyes widening at the sound of a metal object clanking onto the floor. Chad immediately sat up, looking at the source of noise. 

A push-button blade sat on the tiles of the floor. Chad tensed, but he just brushed it off as his anxiety pushing his buttons. Ethan, however, looked incredibly nervous. “It was my dad’s,” Ethan coughed out, bending over to retrieve it. “He gave it to me cause y’know, New York! Crime!” 

Chad laughed nervously, but Ethan didn’t give him time to answer, quickly stepping inside the bathroom. Chad didn’t think too much of it, he never expected Ethan to be the type of guy who could practice self-defense, let alone stab anyone. But you know, maybe he didn’t know the guy. 

—

Chad had truly considered Ethan to be his best friend. Even after one of the Ghostfaces stabbed him with the same blade Ethan had dropped that first night in their dorm, he still felt that way. Ethan was his best friend.

It hurt him more when Tara confirmed his suspicions of Ethan in the hospital after. Nine stab wounds to the chest, internal bleeding in his organs, and the one thing that hurt the most was finding out who Ethan really was. He let Y/N spend the night in his room that night, and even though he knew she probably knew about his feelings for Ethan, he felt safe with her.

She told him she was pregnant, and then she asked him if they'd stay friends. Chad didn't have to think to answer.

It was weird; falling in love with Y/N while still having feelings for Ethan. It was weirder helping her raise her and Ethan's son, but at the end of the day it helped him sleep at night. On Chad's worst nights, when he watched those old cheesy movies Ethan liked, when he wore one of Ethan's shirts, thinking of Y/N and Ollie helped him fall asleep.

After awhile, he'd had enough. He turned his love for Ethan into hate, and maybe that wasn't the healthiest option, but it was the one that felt the most good.

When he burned Ethan's shirt he wore to bed, he told himself never again. Never again would he open up to Ethan.

—

It was late, Ethan was tired and irritated, sitting on the dusty wooden floors of the bookstore. Mary held a mug of coffee in her hands, matching pajamas hugging her skin. Ethan’s hands ran through his messed up curls. 

“I’m sorry, again, I know this has been weird.” Ethan apologized for the umpteenth time. Mary straightened her posture and adjusted her glasses. He’d been there for two days, ignoring the buzzing of the incoming calls from Y/N and Chad. 

“I just didn’t know where else to go.” 

“Did she kick you out?” Mary asked softly, trying her best to hide her smile. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you, since you know,”

Ethan stared blankly at his shoes. 

“You’ve been crying on my couch for the past few days.”

Ethan sniffed as he threw his head back, resting it on the bookshelf behind him. His eyes were teary, and he choked out a sob as he shook his head. “I’m too dangerous to be near her, near my kid.” 

Mary listened quietly.

“I’m scared I’m never gonna change. I’ll always be this, this monster. I hate that I have so much malice in me; everyone I see that has the slightest chance of hurting them, I just wanna hurt them.” Mary leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees as she listened carefully. 

“I think up ways,” He started, voice shaky. “Ways to get rid of people, and ways to hurt them.” 

“What’s wrong with being a monster?” Mary asked, interrupting him. Ethan jerked his head towards her, looking for an ounce of unseriousness; it was not there. There was a lingering feeling in the air, something uneasy. Ethan stared at her as if she was the most unique thing. There was no sign of uncomfortableness shown on her face, not even a twitch at the corner of her lips. 

“I know you were the one who bailed me out.” Ethan stated, ignoring her previous comment. She blinked, trying to fathom what he was saying.

“How did you-”

“I put two and two together.” He interrupted. “When you showed me your shrine, and when you didn’t ask about me being released. It was you, right?” 

She slowly nodded, Ethan following after. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you Ethan.” She admitted. She swallowed nervously as she waited for his response. It was a remark Ethan should’ve felt safe with, but his worry only grew. He knew what he was, what he did, and yet Mary treated it like it was as miniscule as a robbery. Ethan dryly chuckled. 

“I really don’t, Eth.” 

Ethan’s fingers twitched, and his brows furrowed. Only two people were ever allowed to call him that. 

“I think you only wanted justice for your brother. There’s nothing wrong with that. I would’ve done the same thing if I were in your shoes. I think you’re really special.” Mary continued to rant, not having a clue that Ethan was fuming not five feet away from her. 

He stayed silent as she talked, and his hands itched to reach for the push-button blade in his back pocket. He wouldn’t know who his victim would be, him or Mary. 

“Maybe it would’ve been easier if she died, you know?”

“What did you say?”

Silence. Silence took over both of them as Ethan stared, eyes wide at her. His eye twitched as he physically held himself back from leaping over to her and stabbing her. “I just mean- I know you tried to kill her, I saw the photos. Wouldn’t it have been better for you if you didn’t have the burden as well?”

“‘Burden’? You mean my son?” Ethan seethed through gritted teeth. He started seeing red again, just like earlier that night. Red, hot emotions coursed through his veins as he thought about Ollie, as he thought about Y/N, as he thought about Chad. No one else mattered. It was only them for Ethan. He knew he would hurt anyone who hurt them. 

“I didn’t mean that.” 

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Ethan muttered as he stood up. He stumbled a bit as he fully stood up, Mary was quick to stand up alongside him, helping him keep steady. Ethan jerked his arm away from her, stomping away towards the door. He had his hand on the door handle before Mary stopped him. 

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, don’t go.” She pleaded, placing her hand on his wrist. Ethan breathed heavily as he looked down to the contact. He slapped her hand away, barely opening the door before he felt her hands reach for the knife in his back pocket. He didn’t have time to react, before she swung the blade and stabbed herself in her thigh, lightly squealing as she did so. Ethan’s eyes widened at the action.

“What the fuck?” He yelled at her. Blood seeped through her pajama pants as the knife stayed plunged in her leg. She lightly smiled as she stared, feeling her adrenaline rushing through her. 

“If you leave, I’ll tell them you did this.” She threatened. The probability of them believing her over Ethan, knowing what he’s done, was more likely. Just because of that, Ethan had no care of what he would do in that exact moment. He lunged towards her, tackling her to the floor, causing her to grunt in pain. She kicked and thrashed as Ethan pinned her down, yanking the knife out of her thigh. She screamed in pain, not realizing the extent of what Ethan would take. 

A surge of emotions, familiar and unfamiliar, flooded Ethan’s mind as he raised the knife above his head. He saw Y/N on the floor below him, bloody and beaten. He saw Chad spewing out blood from his mouth as he cried. He hated it; he used to love the feeling killing gave him, but now, it only reminded him of all the hurt he caused the two people he loved the most. He let out a defensive yell, fully ready to swing the knife down into Mary’s soft, tender throat.

He hesitated. For a split second he hesitated and he saw Y/N again. Her teary eyes looking up at him on the ground, shirt stained with dust and blood. She was back in the theater, and so was Ethan.

“Do it.” She whispered. 

His confused expression put his mind in a haze. A tear rolled down his cheek, running down to his neck. He felt soft, alluring hands run up his back. He slightly turned his head, gasping hoarsely as he heard Y/N’s voice repeat the command in his ear. 

“Do it.”

She snaked her hand to his jaw, turning his head back to look down at Mary. He let out a choked sob as his eyes hovered over Mary. Chad’s screams echoed through his head, and Y/N dug her nails into Ethan’s shoulders. 

Mary laid there, on the dusty floors of the bookstore, knife punctured in her chest. Her once feminine and white pajamas are now stained with crimson. He sobbed and thrashed his body away from hers. The echoing of Y/N’s whispers and Chad’s screams made Ethan cover his ears with his palms as he banged one of his fists against his forehead. 

He sat in that same position for thirty minutes before leaving. He told himself he’d take care of her body the next day, but right now, for his own sanity, he needed to see Y/N and Chad. Make sure they were alive, just in case. 

Ethan was met with an obvious “I’ve been crying for two nights straight” Y/N after knocking once on the apartment door. Her eyes were red and puffy, yet she was a sight for sore eyes for him. Immediately he was met with a cautious, but loving embrace. 

She didn’t ask him anything, not where he was or what he had done, but somehow, deep down she knew. Chad was in her bed, with a solemn expression.  Maybe the old Ethan would’ve seen red at the sight, but all he wanted to do was jump in the bed and sleep. 

They didn’t ask about the small blood stains on his fingertips. Nor did they ask about why Ethan’s hands shook as he lifted the covers. He laid in between them, looking over at Ollie’s crib to see him peacefully sleeping. Resting his head back onto the bed, he felt Y/N curl up next to him. 

The fear and worry left his body as he felt her, really felt her, for the first time in a year. Ethan slid his hand near Chad’s, causing Chad to look at him. 

“I’m sorry.” Ethan whispered to him, moving his hand back. Chad grabbed his retreating hand, and  he held it in his own. 

“It’s okay.” He responded before closing his eyes again. Both of the boys’ hearts heated slightly faster, knowing the exchange wasn’t about Ethan’s touch.  He’d do better, he told himself. He’d do better for them.

(Taglist: @onlyreadz @lloyd907 @hearts4meeks @emitaylorsverson @depressedseaweed @athenalive @b3bybunny @aliciacat20 @whoaitsbibi @fallinforhappiness @Dabbin22 @leyla-1905 @sflame15-blog @i-love-milfs2 @zerodotzer0 @ahalliwell5 @gabbylovesreading @wishyouwere-sober @leaveitbythewave @itsnotino @elltheawkward @writinganything @buffhoshi @reysdriver @asapkyndall @champomiel @afro-hispwriter @ggothfirlcliquee @dellykins88 @halforangecuts @an0nymous-sm4t @yookayyo @arabellasolstice @justanotherkpopstanlol)

(a/n: Also if your name is in bold above, I am unable to tag you! If you still want to be tagged DM me or comment so I can find a way to tag you:) )

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Okay, let's talk about Ming, and how some people are talking about him like he's an irredeemable monster. (It's okay that you don't know anyone who was emotionally neglected and you have a decent relationship with your parents, but it's not okay to pretend your experience is universal and everyone else is garbage)

I know some of you remember my loud defense of Ray from Only Friends, and here I am again, to fight for the loveability of the character who doesn't know what to do with all their big feelings.

Ming's family, from what we see, is not a warm, loving place for him to learn emotional intelligence.

May is pretty great, but there is only so much an older sibling can do when your parents are physically or emotionally unavailable.

Ming's mom had only been seen trying to control Ming's life, marry him off to a woman, and insisting he is incapable of being on his own. Not exactly mom of the year.

Ming is clearly incredibly lonely, and so, so sad.

He likes Tong, but mostly after his sister and Tong are already involved -- because it's safe to transfer feelings you don't understand to someone that those feelings cannot go anywhere with. When he starts to feel too much for Tong, he leaves the country, because he can't process those feelings, and he doesn't want to hurt his sister with his crush on her boyfriend.

He comes home, and he sees Joe first. His likeness to Tong is obviously what pulls Ming in, but it is very quickly apparent that Ming is genuinely interested in Joe, but he has no fucking Idea what to do with that interest.

And when Joe clearly likes him back? It gets worse. He lashes out and then feels bad, but mostly doesn't apologize, he just moves on, because apologies require reflection on what you've done wrong, and Ming doesn't know how to do that! We see him struggle with it multiple times!

He does not know how to deal with being wanted. With the expectation of care that comes with that. Because, ironically, Tong and May are the best example of a relationship he has to look at, and he had to tell Tong to go take care of May when she was sick.

His crush on Tong remains so deeply a part of his identity, even as it obviously fades, and it clouds everything because Tong uses Ming's affection for him against him! And Ming doesn't see that! He doesn't see Tong's flaws until after Joe's accident, and even then, I don't know that he acknowledges Tong's actions as cruelty and manipulation, or if he ignores that all under his own guilt and grief over losing Joe.

And this brings us back to Ming and Joe.

Ming didn't have a crush on Joe. He sort of accidentally fell into a situationship, but then became intensely possessive and obsessed with Joe. We see him be so unbelievably soft with Joe, in moments where he's allowing himself to be, to stumble through having feelings and carrying for other people. But there is so much holding on tight that Ming can't seem to turn off.

He holds on to Joe --both of them!-- so tightly. He sees threats to his claim on Joe everywhere, and he can't confront that idea, so he doubles down on being possessive, and he looks cuckoo-bananas.

But it really just reads to me like he doesn't know what to do with feelings! I know people --especially ND people, who needed a little extra help to learn how to person -- who had emotionally neglectful parents and didn't understand healthy attachment until years of therapy and some determined friends got involved.

I don't have the greatest track record for "healthy attachment", and lean towards codependent in a lot of my relationships.

Some of the people I love the most are "hold on tight even when it's not good, because if I let go you'll leave" people.

They are absolutely deserving of someone who loves them. They deserve a happy ending and middle, too. They deserve the chance to learn and grow and become better versions of themselves.

(and they deserve people to love and cheer for them even when they're being assholes and throwing tantrums and hurting people because they are still learning how not to do that)

AND THIS DOESN'T EVEN TOUCH ON HOW JOE ALSO MISSED A LOT OF EMOTIONAL LESSONS, BUT IT MADE HIM UNHINGED IN A TOTALLY DIFFERENT WAY THAN MING!

Idek if this is coherent, or everything that I wanted to say, but here it is, my treatise on why Ming is my baby, actually, and why I will defend him until he is either better or actively worse.

ETA: what Ming has done is obviously not okay, reasons are not excuses, but I do think he deserves a chance to learn. and to tell Joe he loves him.

[antimony-medusa]

You Blew Me Into Stardust

Kristin laughed, the sound emerging too-loud in the half-empty bar. She hung her head in her hands. “Oh yeah,” she told the bar top. “I mean, the mechs—they were originally designed to battle sculk anyways, and it’s not like anything bad happened to the people who built them, so we’ll be good.” “Oh yeah, all those ancient cities still goin’ strong today.” Techno ran a finger around the top of his glass. “Civilization standin’ strong overall. Whole situation went so well, I don’t give us more than a 50% chance of someone dyin’. Maybe 40% if we’re lucky.” “Oh god.” Kristin emerged from her hands laughing, and pushed her hair out of her face. “No worries, it’ll go great to go back there. We’ll all do great. Happy about this, actually.” Ponk came over with the bottle and refilled her glass, and she nodded to them. “Thanks.” “And if only one of us dies—” Techno grinned at her, tired. “Then the other person just has to deal with it. And that’s easy. I’m doing great.” “I’m doing great,” Kristin echoed, a little choked up. She straightened fully and looked down at her drink, turning the stem of the glass between her fingers. “I miss him.” She cleared her throat. “I miss my husband, Techno. I miss him a lot.”

Status: 9/9 chapters, updated 9 August, 42,846 words

Fandom: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Kristin Rosales Watson, Phil Watson | Philza, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Technoblade & Kristin Rosales Watson, Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson | Philza, Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza, Technoblade & Kristin Rosales Watson & Phil Watson | Philza

Tags: Alternate Universe - Mecha, Technically Post Apocalypse but that's kind of background, Benchtrio is also here, Syndicate is also here, Dream is also here, Endersmile hand in unlovable hand, while I'm tagging duos, Peerpressure, Wardens (Minecraft), Alternate Universe - Sculk Kaiju Defense, Grief, Happy Ending, 40k of chanting Let Kristin Kill at higher and higher volumes, Inspired by Art, We fridge Phil but then we get him back, Hospitals, Needles, Body Horror, Really abysmal management, MCYTblr Summer AU Fest 2024, Marvel-movie levels of violence throughout, Queerplatonic Relationships, Queerplatonic Technoblade/Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson | Philza

And it's time for the second fic I wrote for @mcytblraufest! Inspired by art by the incredible @errs-other-other-blog-again and betted by the invaluable @droidofmay, this is slightly more than 40k of mech au that contains a lot of terrible jokes about grief and death, because well— gestures to the main characters. This fic has put me through the wringer due to the time constraints, but I love it a lot and am delighted to be able to share it with you. Enjoy!

[missyandthemisfits]

Obi/Hinawa x Reserved!Fem! Reader 

A/N Requested a whiiile ago, I'm so sorry for the wait *cries in procrastination*

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Akitaru Obi

- Obi likes to think he's a nice cross between a serious, strong willed leader and a fun guy to be around - and he'd be correct in his assumptions.

- He doesn't take himself too terribly seriously but also knows when and how to command authority and as such, has experience handling all sorts of personality types; so meeting someone as even tempered and reserved as (Name)?

- Truthfully, it's almost like a breath of fresh air .

- He approaches her like he approaches anyone; with kindness and a warm smile, careful not to startle her out of her book but speaking just loud enough for her to know he's addressing her. 

- Somehow, she's still a bit jumpy despite his approach but he makes sure not to draw any attention to it, introducing himself with an outstretched hand, patiently waiting for her to take it. They're pretty fast friends and from then on, it's like they lean towards the other's company more than they realize.

- It's subconsciously grained into them a few months after meeting; Anytime they're in a room together one will gravitate toward the other, sitting or standing, exchange glances and smiles all the while, even during team meetings. 

- She just feels... really seen with him. And very safe. 

- And she's always incredibly attentive, able to scope out his emotional state with pinpoint accuracy, even when he's trying not to make a spectacle of it.

- In fact, they soon realize how much emotional support the other provides, mere seconds later realizing just how much the other means.

- He wastes no time confessing his feelings.

- "-And I know this might be sudden, but I'd very much like to take you out to lunch some time. Honestly, I think you're a real catch (Name), and I'd hate to miss out on the opportunity. Life's too short." 

- The confession is so forward yet well meaning it sends (Name) into shock; a blushing, stuttering shock.

- But he waits patiently, albeit slightly nervous, for her reply; it's a yes, of course. 

Takehisa Hinawa 

- Hinawa is...a very no-nonsense individual, one could take a single look at him and tell.

- It's because of this fact that he actually strongly prefers someone a little more reserved than most. That said upon meeting (Name), he was convinced that if the infernals didn't eat her alive, the rigorous Fire Force training would. To his surprise, he was dead wrong. In fact, she excelled.

- She was capable of taking out swarms of Infernals in seconds with expert offensive abilities partnered with spot on defensive capabilities. She was tactical and focused, something he noticed many of his peers lacked even on the battlefield. He grew to respect her prowess, honestly. 

- "Excellent work out there, (Name)."

- "!!!"

- She gasped loudly, startled at the approach of the man and his seemingly random compliment. 

- He watched in disbelief as she subconsciously backs into a wall, facing him, face reddened. 

- He doesn't necessarily lose respect for her, but he certainly thinks twice before approaching her unexpectedly again - not hard for him at all, but she does feel pretty bad for overreacting.

- Works up the nerve to apologize but also stumbles into a very unexpected confession. 

- "...Th-that is to say... I respect you as a Lieutenant and-,"

- "So am I wrong to assume you want a pursue a romantic relationship?" 

- "Um...!"

- (Name) is at war with herself for a few more moments and he sighs, running a hand through his hair with the tiniest blush, gaze averted somewhere to the side. 

- "...I only ask because I myself might be interested..."

- It's... less than romantic but (Name) can tell it took him a lot to say it. She could tell they'd be taking their time in this thing, together. 

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[callyourose]

match point, chapter five.

↳ masterlist

— In which Art and Patrick find themselves intertwined with the relationship of tennis superstar Tashi Duncan and her best friend, Lennon Caddel.

LENNON CADDEL DIDN'T HATE TENNIS. She hated playing tennis. Which was an entirely different thing. She loved tennis. She just hated playing. She hated how everyone's eyes were on her while she played. She hated the way her legs felt after a match where her opponent ran her up and down the court. She hated the way her shoulder and her knees and her back had started to hurt all the time. It was ruining her. Physically and mentally. For months she had been hiding things from her parents and her best friend. She had started hiding things from her physical therapist. "Does it hurt when I press here?" They would ask. And she would shake her head no, even if it did. She cried in the shower after every match, even if she had won. She liked crying in the shower because nobody could hear her over the rush of the water and, if she tried hard enough, she could convince herself that she wasn't crying. It was just the warmth of the shower running over face. The crushing weight of Tashi and her dad's disappointment if she quit was enough to make her stay. She felt like she just needed to tough it out. If she toughed it out for a year, maybe two, Tashi and her dad would let up a little. They would let her pick up an extra hobby without shaking their heads in disappointment and telling her she needs to practice more. She was talented, incredible even. She knew that. She had known that for years. But she felt like her career was starting to plateau before it even really took off. And though she would never admit it, she was ok with that. 

Patrick and Lennon didn't talk about tennis for the rest of the time they were out on the golf course. He felt terrible that he made he cry, truly. So in the three hours that they were sat shoulder to shoulder on the grass, he learned almost everything there is to know about Lennon Caddel. He asked her every question he could think of. Where she was from (San Diego), what her favorite color was (yellow), if she had any pets (one, a cat named June.) By the second hour, Lennon had all but forgotten their earlier conversation. She was throwing her head back in laughter when Patrick cracked a stupid joke and shoving him playfully when he poked fun at her. She found herself not wanting to back to her hotel and, by association, Tashi. It had been so long since she had had a conversation, a real genuine conversation, with someone who wasn't her best friend or her parents. She was learning a lot about Patrick, too. Every question he asked her, she threw right back. She wanted to know as much of him as she could. It was like if she didn't know everything about him, she would wake up from this dream of a moment.

It was 2 am by the time Tashi finally called her. Lennon was rolling on the ground, clutching her side, laughing so hard she couldn't breath, when she felt the pocket of her shorts vibrating. She knew who it was instantly. She sat up, desperately trying to catch her breath and wipe the tears in her eyes as she answered her call. 

"Hello?" Lennon spoke into the phone, smacking Patrick's arm as he tried to make her laugh again. 

"Where are you?" Lennon could hear the concern in her voice and she knew that no matter what she said next, Tashi would sway her to come back.

"Some golf course..." She bit her lip to contain another giggle and Patrick laughed out loud, which Tashi definitely heard. "I honestly don't know. Patrick brought me here and we've just been talking."

"Taking about what?" There was a sense of defensiveness in her tone, like she was offended that Lennon and Patrick wouldn't talk in front of her.

"Just tennis... and school." She lies. Tashi hums on the other end of the line and Lennon could feel the panic start to rise in her chest. "We were just about to head back." She glances at Patrick, his brow furrowed and a slight pout on his lips. Lennon mouths an 'I'm sorry.'

Tashi sighs. "That'd probably be best. We have to leave early in the morning, you know." Lennon could pratically see the way Tashi was sitting with her legs crossed, the phone sandwiched in between her ear and her shoulder, looking at her nails. 

Lennon nods, even though she can't see. "I know... We'll be back soon. Promise." 

That was a good enough answer for Tashi. So she says "Ok," and hangs up.

Lennon and Patrick were stood outside of her and Tashi's hotel room. She wasn't looking at him, subconsciously trying to avoid the disappointment she assumed was on his face. He wasn't disappointed in her, the opposite actually. He was grinning ear to ear. Their lack of time together making the time they were sharing all that more exciting. 

Patrick reaches up to brush a stray hair out of her face and she looks up at him. She's shocked by the smile on his face, but she smiles back. 

"When can I see you again?”

She blushes and looks away again. Patrick finds himself wanting to keep his hand on her face, to brush the pad of his thumb over the expanse of her cheek. He pulls back, albeit hesitantly, and smiles softly as she tries to find her answer. 

"I'm uh, moving to Stanford in a couple days. And then I have a few matches the first week I'm there. So I'll be pretty busy..."

He nods slowly, fiddling with his fingers. He opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

"But I can make time for you! If you want to, um, y'know... stop by." Her hands are shaking, the confession that she wants to see him again almost embarrassing. 

He grins. "Yeah... yeah I'll come see you."

The door to the room swings open and Lennon and Patrick jump away. Tashi is standing in her pajamas, her arms crossed as she leans against the door frame. She eyes both Lennon and Patrick up and down, before locking eyes with the brunette boy. There's a sort of understanding between the two of them that Lennon picks up on. They're having an entire conversation with her eyes right in front of her, like she isn't even there.

"Are you coming in? It's so late." Tashi's voice snaps both Lennon and Patrick out of their daze. She nods and he backs away, but not before pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek. Lennon's face gets so red she almost looks sunburnt.

"Bye, Lennon. I'll see you soon, yeah?" 

She's stuttering, unable to form a proper sentence. He didn't even do anything crazy, she knows that. But her entire body feels like it's on fire. She jerkily nods her head before Tashi speaks for her. 

"Goodnight, Patrick." She grabs Lennon's arm and pulls her into their room, closing the door behind her. 

Lennon is facing the door. She can feel Tashi's presence looming behind her. She's unsure if she's mad at her. You would think after nineteen years of friendship, she would get easier to read. But alas. 

"Did you have fun?" 

Lennon lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She can hear the smile in Tashi's voice and she can't help but mirror it. She turns around slowly. She's still blushing and she's biting her lip to keep from smiling so big her cheeks hurt.

"He's so fucking cute, dude." She laughs, putting her face in her hands. Tashi sits on their shared bed, her chin in her hand as she watches. She's grinning. Lennon's happiness meant the world to her. Truly. She reaches her hand out, waiting for Lennon to take it. She does and steps closer.

Tashi looks up at her, both of them just staring at each other and giggling. "I can't wait to hear all about it tomorrow."

Lennon isn't tired. She could stay up all night talking about Patrick. But she lets Tashi pull her into bed. The sooner the morning comes, the sooner she gets to talk about him.

Patrick is resting his head on the cold wood of his hotel room. His eyes are closed and he's taking deep breaths, as if he's trying to come down from a high. Art is laying on his back on the bed behind him, smoking a cigarette. 

"How was it?"

Patrick whips his head around to face him and he rests his back against the door, tapping his own pack of cigarettes against the palm of his hand. "It was fun.. yeah. It was fine." His brows are furrowed as he goes to untie his shoes and Art raises his head to look directly at him.

"Did you guys talk about Stanford?"

Patrick shakes his head, biting on his lower lip. "No, no. She like..." He sighs and stands up fully before running a hand over his face. "She, like, started crying when I mentioned tennis."

Art's brows furrow, mirroring his friend. "What?" He laughs in disbelief.

The brunette shakes his head, dumbfounded. "Yeah I felt bad. Too bad to keep talking about tennis." He sheds his shirt and crawls into his bed. His hands are locked behind his head and he's staring up at the ceiling. "Did you talk to Tashi while I was gone?" He turns to look at Art, a smirk on his face. 

Art smiles before reaching across the bed and throwing a pillow at him. "Why?" He laughs, dodging Patrick's attempt to get him back. "You jealous?"

[omegawolverine]

i love how the first three episodes of soul eater very clearly tell us what the characters are like even in a 24 minute episode limit...soul and maka are very capable as partners, they had 99 kishin souls but the thing that sent them all the way back to square one was overestimating themselves. they thought blair was a witch, they didn't bother checking and just. killed her. sure, she has 9 lives, she's fine, but they not only overestimated their ability to tell she was a witch, but they also jumped right into the fight and kept persuing her without confirming at all if she was a witch all because maka was so determined to make a weapon stronger than her mother had, a weapon stronger than her dad who she hates. and soul is so caught up in the excitement of getting the status of death scythe that he just follows along with it.

the episode show us how well they work together as a pair, maka being quick on her feet and soul coming up with a plan out of nowhere, something not even maka imagined him doing which ultimately helped them sell it in the end, but we also saw their weaknesses.

we get a glimpse into maka's insecurities early on with her truly believing soul was leaving her for blair, equating it to cheating and us getting a montage of spirit cheating on her mother with various women all in front of maka (although he was unaware of that last bit). and although soul had spent the better half of the episode picking at her insecurities in a way that could come across as mean spirited, we see his immediate reponse be "how am i supposed to know? cool men don't cheat on their partners." which makes maka realize he was just setting up blair to fall directly into his trap and get her soul. while maka is usually regarded as the smarter partner, soul shows he is a great asset in a fight, weapon form or not, because he's a quick thinker and can transform from weapon to human fast enough for them to get the drop on blair who has cat like reflexes for...obvious reasons.

in the defense of maka and soul, even lord death and spirit think she's a witch at first, but lord death also stresses to them both that if they fuck this up they have to start all over and they don't even...double check that she's a witch? idk how easy that is in this universe especially given this is before maka can see soul wavelengths (which is probably a huge part of why they just went with whatever intel they had) but i'm sure there has to be some way to tell if it's this huge of a deal to aquire one.

and then we have black star who...immediately shows us he could be a very good assassin if he didn't give himself away every fucking time 😭😭 his ego is his biggest downfall but it's also what gained him his incredibly loyal, kind, forgiving partner tsubaki, who saw him be so bold as to stand on top of the building and ask who would work with someone as loud, obnoxious and brash as him and that's honestly probably the best way he could've went about it. how else would he find somebody willing to put up with all of his flaws if they couldn't even handle him as his regular, outgoing, over the top self?

it's also really interesting how tsubaki and black star go over the assassins' rules of silence, stealth, not being seen, etc. followed by black star immediately throwing that out of the window. and tsubaki chastises him. instead of her being the type of girl who just goes along with whatever black star does, she tells him he doesn't understand assassination at all and complains about how they never collect any souls. black star doesn't take any of her words to heart though and tsubaki doesn't take his actions to heart either.

after this we see lord death even say their issue isnt skill, its purely performance, its how they (black star) don't take the mission seriously and tsubaki accepts blame for both of them instead of just pinning it on him. even if she knows he's the problem, she also sees them as a package deal, a team all the way through and she's okay with this. tsubaki also shows that she fully trusts black star as a partner and thinks he will make her a death scythe, it'll just take a little longer than others.

tsubaki and black star both show a lot of strength in battle, with tsubaki being able to transform into multiple weapon forms, black star being very agile, with the ability to do all sorts of moves that most of the other characters are never seen doing. we can see black star go from a poor excuse for an assassins to an impressive one within seconds to mifune and all it took was him actually wanting to do it. we see he can make himself silent and he can use stealth quite well, making it so mifune doesn't even notice him and tsubaki have switched places for a few minutes and he only notices because tsubaki's breathing is different than black star's. we also get to see that even if his ego is a flaw of his, it's also why he can use his wavelength so well when nobody else in his class really can. he has the confidence in his abilities that most of his other peers do not and that is part of what makes him dangerous when he is actually determined to kill somebody.

and he was determined to kill mifune until he found out that he was just protecting a kid. witch or not, angela was a fucking kid and black star couldn't do it. tsubaki could've. she even tells black star they should take they opportunity that was practically handed to them, with plenty of kishin soul's and angela's right there for the taking and he refuses. despite how they have no souls collected, he still choses to walk away and takes the souls back to lord death in a sack rather than having tsubaki consume them because that isn't a real win to him, he didn't kill those kishins.

and then we get to kid's episode and right off the bat we see this dude is talented and a bit cocky but despite his abilities, his ocd gets in the way of retrieving kishin souls. patty's stance is off, he yells at her about it and she responds apologetically, but clearly isnt upset by him yelling, implying it either happens a lot so she can brush it off or she is truly just that bubbly that it doesn't phase her (probably both). liz, on the other hand, tries to reason with him, telling him now is truly not the time as they're in the middle of pursuing a man and when he keeps lecturing them, she just complains, but let's him do it anyways. it's only when he gets a little too out of hand with it does she put him in his place, punching him and telling him he probably shouldnt be talking about how unsymmetrical her and patty are when he has three stripes on one side of his hair and not the other. he calls himself an abomination and cries. they comfort him despite their (liz's) clear annoyance before.

this shows us that despite them all working well as a team in battle, they get caught up in the actual performance of it all, much like black star and tsubaki do, but for completely different reasons. they're plenty skilled, but instead of ego getting in their way like it does with black star, it's arguing (similar to soul and maka) over what seems like little details to liz and patty, but are all consuming to kid.

we also get a line from liz about how "these little rich kids are always so gullible" which implies her and patty are, at the very least, not well off (though we don't know the extent yet). this is when we learn he is lord death's son and that he doesn't actually need to be doing...any of this. he doesn't need to collect souls, doesn't need to train to be a meister or have weapons or work with his team to make them death scythes for his father, he's doing this out of pure want. lord death says because he had two weapons, he needs to collect double the souls. kid, cocky once again, says he wants to collect all 198 + 2 witch souls at once. he's cocky, but they have the skill to back it up.

and obviously they do, kid's a reaper after all and he specifically picked out patty and liz because he knew of their reputation on the streets (plus the symmetry, but lets stick to skill rn)

but again this isn't what slows them down. they go on a mission and as soon as they get there, kid starts worrying about whether or not a painting he has at home is off center and he cant stop obsessing over this thought until the point where he straight up abandons patty and liz when theyre in a pyramid about to fight mummys.

so instead of seeing kid's strengths, we see liz and patty's. the sisters are great at fighting even when the plan goes to shit, likely due to their time before the DWMA. liz shoots with good aim but switches with patty effortlessly when the mummys get too close, not even having to say anything for patty to know to switch with her. and patty shows that she's definitely less scared than her older sister and works better under pressure, hugging the mummys, giggling at them and sticking liz right in one of the mummy's mouths to blow its (metaphorical) brains out while liz complains about it being gross and creepy.

they collect all the souls alone, without their meister and split them evenly just to respect kid's unsaid wishes.

and then finally kid comes back! he's on his gay little skateboard of course, forgot to mention that earlier but it definitely says something about him that it's his primary mode of transportation and its named beelzebub. he gets back just in time as patty and liz have been captured and since they cant use their weapon forms, kid uses his skateboard to free his partners, but that's about as much as he can do before realizing the pharaoh is perfectly symmetrical and he would rather die than destroy it. like he is literally getting torn to shreds by this fucker but he cant do anything about it.

but then the pharaoh steps out of it's tomb and kid sees how asymmetrical it is and that's also what saves them. it almost gets him killed, it ruins missions regularly, his ocd absolutely disrupts his day to day life, but in this instance it also saves them as he gets so mad about the asymmetry that he blows a fucking HOLE through the back of the pyramid and DESTROYS THE ENTIRE THING by unbalancing it.

so yeah, basically i say all this to say the first three episodes do such a good job of introducing us to the main characters and showing us what their strengths and weaknesses are, even if they're played for laughs like kid's ocd, maka's insecurities or black star's ego.

[shotorozu]

pretend boyfriend

(i use guardian because idk there was this one time i used “mom” in a though unrelated n old draft and i showed it to someone and they replied with “i don’t have a mom” 😧)

note(s): also this totally wasn’t inspired by something that happened to me some time ago 😭 and this upload is late so IGNORE that it’s no longer february (actually, for 10 days now) and focus on how i’m early for white day— basically a day in japan in which guys give chocolate to their crush or partner instead of girls giving chocolates to guys (which happens on valentines day) white day is on march 14 btw

»»————-　♡　————-««

you realize your sad plan for your single, partner-less white day— an extension of valentines day, backfired on you when your guardian asks you about a boyfriend upon your usual visit from school.

“what?” you question, sounding unbelieving of the question, like it was a collection of meaningless words. “i don’t have a boyfriend—”

“the chocolates say otherwise,” they point out, interested in the heart shaped box of sweets. “can i see a picture? i need to know if they’re good for you!”

what an… interesting way to determine who’s good for you. “there’s no boy— no one, trust me.” you insist, sounding a little more panicked than you would’ve liked— and this only fueled her suspicion.

“there has to be someone, you’re beautiful!” they insist. you would’ve felt complimented if it weren’t for the context of it all, and also the fact that they’re just talking about physicality “really, who gave it to you?”

you’re hesitant to say that you actually bought them yourself, not just to replicate the experience of having a significant other, (now that you’ve realized how hard you’ve been pining over someone incredibly unattainable)

but also because you couldn’t resist the contents of the box.

sure, you were given other pieces of chocolate and sweets from your classmates even some of the girls! (which wasn’t common to see on white day of all days) and a suspiciously expensive looking cupcake box landed on your table too.

(you didn’t eat it, you just couldn’t accept the fact that it wasn’t actually decor, until you went to eat lunch and smelled the thing.)

but those chocolates were obviously obligatory, considering the context of white day. besides, the box you bought was different— it had all your favorite flavors and it was from your favorite sweets brand. you just couldn’t help but tear a small portion of your allowance out of your wallet for this treat alone.

you don’t know what your guardian would say— they’d either insist that you’re lying, or they’d make fun of you, and none of these options sound appealing.

you deflate, not having a good defense. “… a friend.”

they don’t seem convinced. nobody used a friend to refer to their actual friend. you mentally beat yourself over this simple mistake.

this only proves their point, “hmm, okay..”

there’s a beat of silence.

“i’m still expecting a picture.”

your heart rate picks up, and you can feel your veins be filled with anxiety.

and now you’re returning to the dorms, absolutely mortified— and it clearly shows on your face based on how your best friend, todoroki shouto, approaches you at the front door with a concerned look.

“you look.. distressed.” he notes out loud, as he opens the door.

shouto’s quick to help you get your shoes off, letting you lean on him as you undo your shoelaces. he pulls off each shoe afterwards— the action so casual.

“it’s because i am, shouto!” you exclaimed, following him in. “i did something stupid and now i’m paying the consequences of my actions!”

shouto’s two toned brows furrow, there’s a deep look settled on his pretty face— and he draws all his focus on you. “whatever it is, we can fix it.”

“i’m sure but, my ego! my dignity!” you groan, and your hands cover your face as if it’ll burrow you away from the embarrassment and transport you to a place of peace.

“i won’t laugh,” he says, an indirect way of saying that he won’t absolutely clown you for any of your decision making skills.

shouto then holds his pinkie up, waiting for you to take it. it’s a clear show that he’s intent. “promise.”

“sure,” you say as you link pinkies, the warmth of his pinkie making embarrassment creep up your neck instantly. “i trust you.”

you breathe in as preparation. “i bought chocolates for myself and my guardian thinks i have a boyfriend and is asking for a picture, so now i’m screwed because i don’t have a boyfriend in the first place, and i’ve told them that i don’t but they just don’t believe me, so i might have to get a fake boyfriend for a picture!”

all of it just spilled out at once. you aren’t even sure if shouto understood, let alone was able to comprehend all of it due to the lack of reaction.

but when you carefully examine— you realize that a reaction slowly shows on his face, like it just dawned on him the information you’ve dumped.

“fake boyfriend.” he echoes, “for a picture.”

“yes!” you groan, mortified of the other possible solution of the matter being slapped in your face again, “and they need to be tall, handsome, and apparently someone that looks rich— don’t know how a picture can prove that, we don’t even have jobs.”

“anyway, they’ll just criticize me for my choice in people.” you sigh, “i’m lost.”

he folds his arms together, and he unintentionally flexes. your eyes follow the movement for a short second before you realize that you cannot be caught gawking at someone you’ve met when you were both five. “it appears you are quite in a situation.”

“yeah..”

“if only there was someone available to help.”

“yeah—”

“someone close to you.”

“i figured— it’d be awkward to ask someone who i’m not really close with to be my fake…” you trail off, brows furrowing when you realize there might be some insinuation in his words. you can’t tell what he is necessarily eluding to— but,

you take a good look at shouto— an very good look. you size him up, and he allows this as he is basically standing politely. there’s a fixed look of stillness in every aspect of his expression, and he’s calm when he speaks,

“i could play the role.” he suggests like he doesn’t understand the weight of his words, or he doesn’t care that much about it.

you can feel your heart in your throat all of a sudden, and the beat of it is becoming painfully loud.

“shouto,” you somehow manage to get out, “they know who you are.”

your deep rooted history together as close friends would be seen as a plus point, if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve refrained from showing (let alone hinting) any sign of your feelings for him. shouto did the same, except you are absolutely sure he doesn’t want anything more than platonic with you— as he has displayed no such signs.

the sudden shift of events would raise more questions instead of just solving one.

besides, who doesn’t know him nowadays? he’s tall, good looking, strapped with money and a multipurpose and hella useful quirk. heck— his appearance during the sports festival was a huge thing and has definitely made a positive mark on his reputation.

additionally, it was hard for your guardian to miss someone with an alluring presence like shouto’s, and a head full of naturally snow-like, and flaming red hair.

you think carefully before coming up with something easy. “what if i just asked one of the girls to wear an oversized hoodie; and stand on a stool? i’d crop out their face, of course. kyouka or yaomomo could—”

before you were allowed to finish your thought, shouto continued to press on his idea. “i’d be the most preferable, since the backstory makes the most sense.”

you pause. you’ve never thought of an actual backstory for you too, and you couldn’t quite indulge in the self blame— you didn’t think he’d agree at all.

“childhood friends turned best friends, and with a bond that drew us together.” his gaze fleets somewhere below your eyes, and then he draws them back up— a small boyish grin now blessing his face. “besides, you’d be in quite some trouble if they asked for a picture of their face.”

oh, that description sounded way too close to home, so much that you forgot. now that shouto mentioned one, that solution does seem to have its loop holes.

“touché.” the lengths he’d do for you is admirable, and your heart would’ve stuttered if it weren’t for the dull reminder from the back of your mind, of what it’s really like between the two of you.

“so uhm, what now? do you want to take the picture right later or—”

“now would be good.”

“oh uh, okay then…” shouto never wastes time, even when it came to unimportant stuff it seems, and he watches as you shift around to find your phone.

getting your phone is something that never takes any time, but with everything being taken account for, your hands are starting to feel like jelly.

after opening your camera app and switching to selfie mode, you position your phone carefully. not just like a photographer that was about to capture a rare wild animal laying still, but also similarly to how people take pictures with celebrities.

you are cautious of the angle. although you’ve almost seen every single expression that he could make— you’re worried how you could make everything look good, make him look phenomenal. (although it seems impossible to make him look anything but)

you end up snapping a photo that’s majorly of him, and the only show of you being in the same frame was the very top of your head shoved to the corner of the screen.

the two of you stare at the photo, exchanging glances. you might think that this is enough, considering that this photo of shouto is nowhere on the internet. so— plus one for authenticity, sorta.

he’s not your real boyfriend, but your guardian won’t know that from looking at the picture.

“let’s do a retake.”

you nearly stumble, like his words were a gust of strong wind. “huh?”

“this photo.. doesn’t seem authentic. i wouldn’t know what it’d be like to be in a relationship but the couples on television look— different. don’t you think?”

you take another look at the photo. although the couples shouto is referring to are actresses and actors playing roles— he’s right for the most part. the distance between the two of you is hard to miss, nobody would be able to guess that you two were together.

not to mention, it’s more of a picture of him instead of the both of you.

“alright then,” you say in agreement. “any suggestions?”

“if i may.”

“of course you may,” you encourage.

“then…” he shifts, feet moving closer to you. “if you’ll allow me.”

shouto’s hands reach out, and you’re immediately drawn to them. although unsure about his next course of action, you don’t stop him as he pulls you close— hands with contrasting temperatures maneuvering the positions to his liking.

eventually, the two of you were positioned in a way that made you encase shouto in your arms and have you turnt slightly towards the camera.

the side of your faces are pressed against each other’s, and despite trying your best to stop it, the proximity had your heart thumping against your ribcage once again.

making sure you don’t prolong the ordeal more than you need to— you snap the picture and attempt to pick yourself up afterwards.

but shouto makes no effort in detaching himself from you, relaxing in your arms as he leans against you to view the picture. you feel yourself flustering again, and you just know that he could end you one day and be blissfully unaware of how and why.

although you just took a big risk that could possibly have your feelings found out— you were just as curious as he was to see the outcome.

and you two seemed like a couple indeed.

“thoughts?” you ask in place of allowing yourself to slowly pass away on the inside. your skin feeling increasingly hot all of a sudden, and you’re confident the boy beside you has nothing to do with it this time.

“just as i suspected.” a small smile pulls at his lips, “we look good together.”

your brain buffers, “huh?—”

and then, he’s pressing his soft lips onto your cheek— pulling back as quickly as he pressed his lips onto you.

you choke on practically nothing, and you stare at him with eyes so wide they rival saucers.

and then it started to make sense, “what— are you playing me?— you’re doing all of this for a picture i didn’t even take!”

he tilts his head, confused for a moment before letting out a disapproving noise. “i… was teasing at some point, but i would never play you. i even pinkie swore.” he said, holding the same pinkie he linked with yours earlier to prove his memory.

“so why… after all this time?”

his gaze sharpens, “why not?” he states simply, “i figured just recently that.. the feelings are mutual, and that you’re interested in the way i’m interested in you.”

he clutches you, shoving himself deeper in your embrace, “besides, there was no way i’d let you ask anyone else to be your pretend boyfriend when i’m right here.”

“it would be just for a picture though.” you note, slightly amused that todoroki shouto was jealous at the idea of having a pretend boyfriend for a picture— even if said pretend boyfriend were to be one of the girls from your class.

a specific blank expression is pinned onto his face. “still.” he replies, quite dryly.

though the expression immediately melts away as he says these next words, “now then,” gorgeous, gorgeous heterochromatic eyes meeting yours in a gaze. shouto holds it, and it seems that he’s taking advantage of his effect on you. he’s quick, not to mention— observant too.

“we should take another picture, one that’s much real.”

[goodtoseeyoupotter]

His Snake, Her Badger - One

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

Prologue , Part Two , Part Three

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 971

You and Cedric had made the late night study sessions a regular occurrence, often meeting up twice a week to help each other out. Cedric had passed his Potions O.W.L with and 'Exceeds Expectations' and you had passed your Muggle studies end of year exams, so both had decided to continue studying together this year. He had just explained how muggle photos worked and you were writing an essay on the differences as you started to think out loud. "Are you going to enter?" You asked, yesterday the triwizard tournament had been announced and Cedric was just old enough to enter.

          "I don't know, I've got NEWTs next year and I don't know whether I want to dedicate this year to something other than preparation," He answers and You roll my eyes.

          "Look at you being responsible," You say. "You should enter, you'd be really good at it, your defensive magic is more advanced than most people sitting their NEWTs and your incredibly smart so you don't have to worry about that," You added making him blush a little.

          "James keeps telling me too, I'm the only 6th year Hufflepuff that's already 17 so," He adds, leaning back in his chair and seemingly thinking about it.

          "You should, I'd make sure to be cheering you on from the sidelines," You say causing him to smile.

          "Well, I might just enter then," He says, this time making me smile.

          "Come on then," You say getting up and starting to roll up my parchment.

          "What? now?" He stutters as he stands to his feet.

          "Better late than never," You say swinging your bag over your shoulder, only for Cedric to grab your hand and stop you from moving.

          "Let me think about it," He says honestly. "Dumbledore said it was dangerous and I don't know whether I want to put myself into a situation like that," He says calmly.

          "Ever the badger," I say with a soft smile.

          "Ever the Snake" He counters, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and smiling softly. You stop for a moment before Cedric interrupts the silence. "I'll let you know if I'm going to enter, I need my no.1 supporter there," He says making you blush.

          "I'll see you then," You say and he lets go of your hand before you turn and leave the library. You didn't realise that Cedric had stopped to watch you walking away, shaking his head and smiling before getting back to work.

__________________________________________

Dear snake, You were right, again. I am going to put my name into the goblet of fire, meet me in the great hall after dinner, about 8 pm. Can't wait to see you, Your Badger

__________________________________________

          When You look up and see a large group of Hogwarts students barrel through the doors; Cedric is being pushed forwards by two of his mates, James and Sam. You watched intently as once released, he took a moment to neaten himself up before looking around the room, his eyes coming to land on you. He gestured for you to join him, so you excused yourself from your friends before walking over to join him.

          "I'm glad you came," He said smiling as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug.

          "I wouldn't leave you without your no.1 supporter would I?" You ask teasingly making both of you laugh.

          "Come on Ced!" One of his other mates shouts making him blush.

          "Yeah, go on Ced" You repeat, never having called him 'Ced' before, he smiles before taking a few steps forwards. He takes a deep breath before crossing the age line, causing the group behind you to erupt into cheers. He stands up straight and drops a folded piece of parchment into the flaming goblet. He turns around and jumps back into the arms of his friends. Once safely on the floor, he comes over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

          "You're celebrating with us tonight," He says smiling at you, and you return it with a massive grin...perhaps Pansy was right, perhaps Cedric did like me.

          "I would be honoured," You joke as your led out of the hall, You quickly wave bye to Pansy but you couldn't see Her reply. You're taken towards the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room where there were already loads of people, most waiting for Cedric to return.

__________________________________________

          "The Durmstrang champion is Victor Krum!" He announces and the hall claps and cheers for him. You were sat next to each other; all of the tables having been pushed against the wall. Your hand rested on his shoulder as you could sense hoe nervous he was.

          "We all knew it'd be Krum," You say to Cedric who just hums in agreement, clearly lost in his thoughts. You don't get time to ask if he was alright as the flames turn red again and the hall goes quiet.

          "The champion from Beauxbatons is...Fleur Delacour!" Dumbledore announces. I turn my body slightly so I can see Cedric, I take his clasped hands in mine as we wait. "And Finally, our third and final champion, from Hogwarts is...Roger Davies!" He finally announces and you can feel Cedric's dejection; his shoulders slumped and he let out a deep breath that he had clearly been holding.

          "I'm sure it'll be for the best, at least that gives us more time to spend in the library," You say softly, hoping to raise his spirits a little.

          "It definitely does," He replies with a slight smile as He takes your hand in his and squeezes it gently. "Thank you for being here,"

          "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," You assure him. 

__________________________________________

[tieronecrush]

OKAY I SAW SOMEONE ELSE ASK THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE BUT I HAVE MY OWN TWIST.

So actor!Joel and actress!reader are on set and they have a pool table & Joel finds out that reader has never played pool before and his determined to teacher her. So Joel invites her back to his place where he has a pool table in an “entertainment” kind of room at his place. Then he’s helping reader try to play but she can’t focus with his hands on her and him up against him so after a few shots she just decides to tease him. And then just take it away from there 😫

umm this request made my brain go crazy like first of all, actor!joel?? i picture him similar to matthew mcconaughey (probably cause both are from austin lol) but like slightly a little more awkward or kind of grumpy. just not as pretty boy suave kind of southern charm man like mcconaughey but still obviously handsome and endearing. also i am a sucker for competency of any kind so joel having a skill you don’t have and wanting to teach you?? hot. tysm for requesting this from me, i had so much fun with it!

orange crush

actor!joel x actress!reader

orange crush: the weaker player is given the 5 orange ball and the break, also known as the crush.  this is a handicap with the name derived from the defense of the denver broncos football team.

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

word count: 4k

warnings: au joel, actor!joel, no age mentioned, no use of y/n, use of pet names (darling, sugar, sweetness, sweet girl, baby), really bad descriptions of playing pool/billiards, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of food/eating, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk

i did not proofread cause i am feeling lazy today, so apologies for typos or bad grammar

“Cut! Let’s wrap for lunch everyone, back to shooting in an hour!”

The loud bell rings twice after the director, Nancy, calls out to everyone on set, and you immediately relax from the scene's tension and fall out of character, looking up at Joel kneeling next to you on the mattress in the middle of the soundstage. Broad shoulders lead down to muscular arms, veins popping out of his forearms as he strains to hold his weight comfortably over you. His bare chest feels strong under where your hands are still resting, your legs spread around his hips. The intimacy coordinator, Julie, starts to cross the stage, with two robes in her hands.

“Great job, guys! It all looked awesome on camera, was the choreography more comfortable for you two this time?” Julie smiles as she hands Joel his robe, his frame scooting back away from you and standing up from off the mattress. He clothes himself as you sit up from your position, taking your own dressing gown from Julie.

“Felt a lot better to me, not sure how you felt about it?” Joel’s eyes fall away from you as you dress again, his body turning full towards Julie and his large hand moving up to cradle the back of his neck. The tiny hint of awkwardness behind his body language makes a smile tug at the corners of your mouth; the man is gorgeous and confident in his acting, but the suave persona that most of his characters have doesn’t quite reach Joel. He’s endearing and so incredibly respectful, his Southern manners and caring personality have pulled you to him like a magnet.

“I think it was a lot better too. Much more…natural, I would say.”

Joel nods in agreement and Julie smiles, clapping her hands together as she looks back and forth at the two of you standing on set. After a quick conversation about small details she wants to change up for the handful of takes they want to get after lunch, all three of you part ways. You run back to your trailer to change out of the (minimal) costuming you’ve got on and into some loungewear, heading back over to grab your lunch and eat with some of the crew like you’ve been doing for the entire shoot.

Your eyes scan the room for Joel, disappointment blooming in your chest when he’s nowhere to be found. It’s not like you two had made any plans to hang out over lunch, and after what you had spent all morning doing, you figured he wanted some space to recuperate before getting back at it in an hour.

Both of you have been spending more and more time together in between scenes and after half days of filming. He’ll grab you a coffee and breakfast from craft services most mornings, hand delivering it to you while you get your makeup done, and always getting the right amount of milk and sugar. After one conversation about how much you loved Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and how Joel had never read the classic novel, you had lent him your prized and battered copy. You'd shown up to your trailer the following Monday to the whole set of Jane Austen classics with beautiful artistic designs across their clothbound covers. The copy you had let him borrow sat next to the set, and the new Pride and Prejudice he had gifted you had been pulled out of the box and laid on top, and when you flipped open the cover, you were met with an inscription Joel had left in his chicken scratch handwriting:

“I can see why you’ve always loved it. You’re Elizabeth. And I admire you ardently. - J”

How could you not have a crush on him after that?

Once you're finished eating, there’s still a generous amount of time left on lunch so you head over to the break area filled with crew members playing cards, lounging around and chatting, and even playing ping pong and pool at the tables on the far end of the room. Searching for a group to join, the royal purple Lakers shirt you saw this morning in the makeup trailer catches your eye.

Joel is leaning over the pool table, cue balanced between the knuckle of his index finger and the pad of his thumb, concentration evident in his constricted pupils and the flat line of his lips pressed together. The hand reached back on his cue pulls the wooden stick back and snaps it forward, sending the white ball rolling quickly across the table and knocking the blue-striped ball inside the corner pocket.

Meandering up to the green felt-covered table, you settle next to one of the sound guys, Phil, to watch as Joel continues his turn. He makes it look easy, sinking two more resin balls into the pockets before his last shot misses by a few centimeters.

Joel’s focus breaks as he lifts his gaze from the surface and holds the cue vertically, head turning towards Phil to say something when he notices you standing there. A smile stretches his mouth to one side, boots shuffling along the concrete floor as he traipses up to you.

“I have to say, those were some impressive skills there, Joel.” He laughs softly and leans on one hip, holding the stick out to the side as it rests on the floor.

“Why thank you, sugar. Could’ve aimed a bit better at that last shot, but I think my angle was off in the first place so I don’t think I was gettin’ it in no matter what I tried.”

“I have no idea what you mean, so I’m just gonna smile and nod like I understand.” Your head moves up and down, and Joel gives you a playfully quizzical look.

“You’ve never played pool, like ever? Not even tryin’ one shot?” You give him a shrug, eyes pulling away from his to watch as Phil sinks one of his shots.

“Never. Didn’t have a table growing up and never had the chance to learn. I barely understand the basic rules, like why do you put them all in the triangle thing and how do you decide who’s the stripes or the fully colored ones?” 

“Well, it’s pretty easy to pick up,” Joel glances at his watch and then looks back at you, your eyes meeting his as he addresses you, “We don’t have much time left on lunch, but I’ve got a table at my place if you’d wanna come by after filming tonight to learn.”

“Oh, no it’s alright. You don’t have to go out of your way to teach me the game, Joel. You should relax and enjoy the night off tonight.”

His lips quirk up in a boyish grin, head shaking as he hits the cue against the ground as if he were announcing a proclamation.

“I insist. I wanna teach you. Plus, what if the next big role you’re up for is for some femme fatale professional pool player? You would definitely need to know at least the basics to get the part.” That makes you laugh, picturing whatever ridiculous movie that would be a part of. Before you can get nervous about the thought of it being only the two of you at his house, the PA announces over the loudspeakers that you and Joel are being called back to set in the next ten minutes. You can feel a flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you match his smile, doing your best to hide the nervous excitement you’re feeling.

“Alright, Mr. Miller. I’ll come by tonight. How’s eight o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect, darlin’. I’ll send you my address.”

Joel is all over his house. Not physically, but you can see and hear and smell him around you as you make your way into the basement behind him, drink that he made you in hand, and listen to him answer your questions about when he moved into the house in the hills.

A worn chestnut leather couch filled with navy blue and rich maroon red throw pillows takes up most of the seating area. You’re surprised by how soft all of his furnishings are, the touches of mid-century modern with eclectic patterns across the whole place with a Turkish rug across the floor and hints of his Texan background in his art decorating the wall and coffee table books on the glass surface.

It feels like a home.

And it’s immediately comfortable, feeling like you’ve spent hours or days of your life here despite it being the first time. 

His pool table is a deep wood, burgundy felt covering the playing surface. It’s a much more modern shape than most tables you’ve seen before, fitting in seamlessly with the rest of the basement.

Joel sets his glass of whiskey down, crossing the room to grab a cue off of the holder on the wall. A small cube of blue chalk sits in his large hand as he comes back to you, trading your drink for the chalk.

“You want to rub the chalk on the end of the cue, keeps it from slipping against the surface of the ball.” He places your drink next to his and steps to the side of you as you both settle at the edge of the table helping you to get the pool stick into position.

His hands cover yours as he instructs you on how to place your hands and fingers to balance the cue for a good shot, leaning back but placing his palm on your lower back as his deep timbre vibrates in your eardrum and sends goosebumps down your spine.

“So you’ve got it all lined up now, does this position feel good to you?”

You nearly joke at the question, your mind pulling you to a completely different scenario. With a hem, you clear your throat and nod, using all of your power to make your voice come out cool and collected.

“Yeah, feels good.”

“Alright then, sugar, give it a shot. Just aim towards the center to break, and then we can take it from there.”

You can still feel him close behind you as you pull the cue back with one hand, forcing it forward and watching as it strikes the solid white ball. Rolling across the table, it makes a knocking sound against the resin of the yellow number one ball. The rest of the triangle falls apart, sending each piece of the game in all directions. You stand up, grinning happily at the results, and feel Joel’s chest against your shoulders.

He steps back a few inches to look down at you, mirroring your expression with a glint of pride in his eyes.

“Great job, darlin’. Seems like you might be a natural at this.”

You’re tempted to make a “that’s what she said joke” to break the tension building in the air, but any words get caught in your throat at the feeling of Joel’s warm hand resting against your waist. He turns you back to the table, mapping out each possible shot you could take to decide whether you’d take the solids or stripes. You go with whatever shot he said last, your brain not computing anything else but his proximity and the smell of his cologne filling your nose. Cedarwood, cypress, patchouli, and vetiver mix together, wafting off of his skin and smelling of summer. All you want to do at the moment is bury your head in his neck, taking in the scent of his cologne with his musk and pressing soft kisses at the corner of his jaw.

 Thoughts babble on about him, half listening to him as he explains the game and helps you with each shot that you make. Heat flows off of him, his calloused fingers from playing guitar brush against your exposed arms in your short sleeve blouse, gently manipulating you into place.

Every touch ripples more adrenaline through your limbs, head lost in the clouds as you imagine him bending you into positions for a different reason.

After a few more shots, fully distracted in your mind, you decide that you’ve had enough of being the only one out of focus. It was so easy for him to get you worked up while teaching you, but wouldn’t it be just as simple to do the same for him as the student?

In the next shot that Joel is teaching you, his hands fall to your hips to angle them closer to the table. You take the opportunity to bend a few inches forward, seemingly reaching to stretch your arm on the table without using your elbow like he had taught you only about fifteen minutes prior. The bend of your spine swings your hips back more, pressing your ass against his thighs and the crotch of his jeans.

“Basically, you’ll want to-to, um,” Joel trips on his words at the contact, letting out a quiet exhale before continuing, “You want to aim the cue to the right side of the ball to spin it and get it to curve towards the left.”

You feign understanding with a nod, using your years of drama training to act confused. You move the cue way too much to the right, looking back over your shoulder at Joel with doe eyes.

God, you hate that you’re acting dumb to tease him, but it’s what you can think of to keep his hands on you. 

“Like this?”

His lips press together in a straight line, eyes avoiding yours as he shakes his head. Stepping out from behind you, he moves to your side and touches the cue instead of your hands to move it to the correct placement.

You take the shot, the spin of the ball too fast and charts off course to hit against the wall. Your back straightens as you stand up, looking at him next to you.

“Maybe it would help to see you do it?”

“Sure, darlin’.” Joel’s lips curl up into a soft smirk, taking the stick from you and setting up the shot for himself. You press in behind him, leaning to look over his shoulder at his form. Fingertips ghost up his spine, splaying out to wrap around the nape of his neck to support yourself. Your chest is pushed against his muscular back, and your free hand slides from his shoulder down his bicep to rest in the crease of his elbow.

A smirk finds your lips as you hear Joel huff out a sigh quietly, easily taking his shot and sinking the ball in the pocket.

Joel stands back up, and your hands stay on him for a second, dropping to take the cue back from him but instead of handing it back to you, he lays it across the table.

“You don’t wanna play anymore?”

Joel leans a hip against the edge of the playing surface, head shaking back and forth as he locks his gaze with yours. His eyes are darker than you’ve seen them before, a confident composure across his relaxed features. He doesn’t say anything more, and you stutter to fill the silence.

“Well, um, should I head out? I know we have an early call time tomorrow so I totally get it if you wanna get some sleep.”

Joel stands up straight, broad frame taking up your vision as he closes the gap between the two of you. One of his hands goes to your cheek, thumbing skating across your skin and your eyes flutter closed at the touch.

“I don’t want you to go, sugar. And I don’t think you wanna leave either. Am I right?”

A thick swallow echoes in your ears when you nod, eyes opening again to fasten with his.

“Yes.”

“And I think, maybe, you want me to kiss you as much as I want to kiss you. Is that right, too?”

“Maybe. I want you to kiss me, but I don’t know how much you wanna kiss me, so I can’t confirm or deny that thought.”

Joel smirks and chuckles softly, eyes rolling playfully.

“Always contesting.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

It’s your turn to smirk, leaning your head into his expansive palm. He tilts your head back to look up at him more, a glimmer of lust in his eyes, and his head moving closer by inches to ghost his lips over yours.

“I do. I like everything about you,” the Texan drawl weaves into his words, a rustic rasp in his voice that floods your core.

Before you can respond, your bottom lip is caught between his in a light kiss.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and you chase after him, connecting in a deeper kiss with him. Your hands find his chest, one slipping up and around his neck to hold him close. Your lips part as you inhale shortly, and Joel takes the chance to lick into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan that gets swallowed in the exchange.

Joel’s hand drops from your face, gripping your hips with his other and turning you to push you back against the pool table. His bulge is flush against you and you cant your hips against him in an attempt to release some of the growing pressure in your gut. Joel groans against your mouth, fingers notching in the waistband of your jeans, pulling his lips away and saying in between panting breaths.

“Is this alright?”

You nod quickly and grab his hands in yours, guiding them toward the button and zipper of your pants.

“More than okay, Joel.”

He takes your words and actions in stride, fingers popping the button loose and drawing down your zipper. He pushes the fabric over the swell of your ass and down your legs while you tug your shirt over your head. As Joel settles on his knees to free your ankles, your hands find the collar of his shirt and pull gently to hint at him.

Immediately, he strips out of the t-shirt he was wearing, tossing it to the side with your garments. Large hands skim across the velvety skin of your thighs, Joel’s ghostly kisses cresting waves of goosebumps. He presses his lips to your clothed mound, a shiver crawling up your spine as it arches and pushes your hips closer to him.

Joel looks up at you with a devilish grin on his face, grip shifting to the sides of your legs and working to turn you around. A hand at your lower back nudges you to bend forward to lay your front on the table’s surface, a whine falling from your lips when you feel Joel’s breath fanning across your panties that are stuck to your center with your wetness.

“Please, Joel…”

“Hmm? What, sweet girl? What do you need from me?”

His hands tease over the folds of your cunt, featherlight touches pulling soft whimpers from you. Your eyes close as you focus on the feeling of his fingers on your skin, taking a breath before answering.

“I need you to touch me. Please, baby.”

Joel hums at the pet name, pressing a kiss to one of your asscheeks before grazing his teeth over the same spot. You moan his name and he chuckles darkly from behind.

“I can do that for you, darlin’. Can I taste you too?”

“Yesyesyes. Pretty please.”

Joel works your panties from your waist, dropping them to fall to your ankles and you step one foot out of them. His hand holds one of your thighs and one of the sides of your ass, pursed lips blowing cool air against your soaked pussy.

“So pretty. Did me teaching you and having my hands on you get you dripping like this, sweetness? Naughty girl.” He smacks a light slap to your backside, using his digits to rub soothing circles into the spot as he leans between your legs and licks up from your clit to your taint, tongue pausing to slip into your entrance to tease you. A moan slips loudly from your lips, eyes screwing shut as you blindly reach to grip the edge of the table.

Joel sucks as your clit, thumb notching at your entrance. Your hips press back to feel more of him, and he lets out a groan at your need. He pulls away with a smack of his lips, biting a nip into your inner thigh.

“Taste so good, baby. Such a sweet pussy for a sweet girl.”

One of his thick fingers drags through your seam, gathering your wetness before slipping easily into your cunt. As he thrusts his digit in and out, his lips attach to your clit again, alternating between tongue-swirling circles and suckling at the spot. Whines pour from your mouth, his name the only coherent word you can speak.

A second finger glides in along with the first, stretching you further and filling you up even more. Grinding back against his face and hand, Joel’s moan vibrates against your pussy and adds to the pleasure he’s building up and up as he kneels behind you.

“Fuck, Joel, want your tongue.”

“Anything you want, sweetness.”

His fingers pull out of you, quickly being replaced with his tongue thrusting into you. Wanton moans and whines fill the room along with the squelch of your wetness against his mouth, the stubbly, patchy beard covering his chin scratching against your sensitive skin. His fingers coated in your arousal find your bud, working the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter toward your release.

“I’m close, baby, so fucking close.”

Without a response through words, Joel works you faster, free hand gripping tightly to keep you in place as you try to lean away from the intense stimulation he’s giving you. Eyes screw shut, jaw dropping with a rumbling moan of his name as you come, white spots sparking against the black of your vision.

“Such a good girl. Such pretty sounds from you, sugar. Could listen to you all night.”

His fingers are still circling languidly around your clit, his tongue swiping along your folds to collect your come. Your hips twitch in overstimulation, a hand reaching back as you straighten up, tangling with his graying locks to pull him away from you.

His chin and lips glisten in the low lighting of the basement, a dab of your wetness caught on the tip of his nose. A haze covers his eyes as he looks up at you as if you were from another world, completely pussy-drunk. Kisses are pressed delicately to the back of your thighs and you hum contently, tugging at his hair to ask him silently to stand up.

You turn as his arms wrap around your waist, hands gripping your ass to pull as close as possible. The two of you share a kiss, the taste of you all over his lips and his tongue. Pulling away, you rest back in his arms, a confession crossing your mind.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything, sugar,” Joel rasps out, squeezing the swell of your ass.

A smirk plays at your face, teeth catching your bottom lip between them before you speak.

“I know how to play. My dad started teaching me when I was like twelve. Had a table in my basement and everything.” Joel’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and after a beat of silence, a loud laugh breaks through the room and his head falls back. He laughs for a hot minute before looking back at you, a wide grin on his face.

“Are you telling me that you kind of…hustled me?”

“I mean, if you can do it for getting eaten out instead of money, then yeah, I guess I did.”

That gets him to laugh again, shaking his head as he leans down and kisses you sweetly.

“Darlin’, if that’s what you think of it as, you can hustle me any day you want.”

It’s your turn to press a kiss to his lips, pulling away with a grin.

“Well, I’ll make sure to only hustle you. Things might get awkward if I did it in the break area on set.”

“Extremely awkward. But I’m honored to be the only one to get hustled by you.”

You laugh and shake your head at his cheesiness, rolling your eyes playfully before grabbing his shirt off the ground and pulling it over your head.

“Alright, rack up, Miller. We’re playing for real. Winner gets hustled, by my definition of the word.” You send him a wink as you step over to grab a cue, watching as Joel scrambles to set up a game for the two of you.

“Oh, you’re on, sweet girl. But I hope you realize, I’m winning either way.” He smirks at you and gives you one last kiss before nodding to the table.

“You got the crush, sugar. Go for it.”

“We both have the crush, honey. That’s how we ended up here.”

tagging some peeps: @swiftispunk @joelsversion @johnwatsn @beskarandblasters @atinylittlepain @lunapascal @ladamedusoif @pedrospartner @pedgeitopascal @addictedtotlou @death-wife @wannab-urs @northernwindd @devilmademepostit @scrambledslut @pr0ximamidnight @theelishad @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @spideysimpossiblegirl