#like there is so much more drama when it's the other way round

[mauveberries]

if tom riddle wasn't lord voldemort and just some rando student 3 years above harry at hogwarts... harry would be SO down bad it would genuinely be EMBARRASSING.

like... you cannot tell me that harry james potter, who still describes tom as handsome after learning that he eventually becomes the man who killed his parents, wouldn't try so hard to get tom's attention.

and harry'd be so taken with the way tom is so nice to everyone all the time...*cough* cedric *cough* and he'd be obsessed with the way tom is so smart (smarter than hermione) minus the nagging and self-righteousness, which just makes tom even more likeable.

harry would be so satisfied when tom seems to dislike draco, too. but he'd be jealous of the attention tom seems to give the blacks and lestranges.*

and even though harry can't speak to snakes he'd be smitten with the way tom does. LIKEEE

if anyone is grovelling and pining in tomarry, it's harry, who is just horrendously down bad, like you are not convincing anyone otherwise.

*: assuming in a world without voldemort, rodolphus, regulus and sirius have children

[velarisdusk]

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

word count: 5.3k

content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ]

summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow.

author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jar, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

[boyfhee]

박성훈 、SECRET NEVER KEPT

sunghoon likes getting detentions.

featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader, highschool au

contents ⋆ kissing, suggestive i mean you can say this went out of hand a little...sunghoon is crazy guys don't try this at school ( 0.78k )

notes ⋆ another rich boy hoon bc it's always on my mind. they should cast him in a drama and make him third gen chaebol heir idk. btw this one is for @atrirose

sunghoon’s lips curl into a subtle smile when he heard footsteps coming towards the classroom. he knows it’s you, he knows your pace, way too familiar with you to not even recognise the faint humming echoing in the hallways.

he chuckles, his smile growing wider as he pushes one of the desks aside. he shakes his head at how easily you make him smile, and you aren’t even in the room. the melody you’re humming gets a bit clearer, and he turns towards the door as you slide it open.

“detention again?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. it’s unfathomable how giddy he looks after getting detention. “it’s pleasing to watch the mayor’s son sweeping the tiles,”

“just a little charity work for school,” he hums jokingly with a shrug, and then he looks up at you, his eyes are soft and just a tad bit crinkled at the edges and his smile is sweet as if an invitation to come and kiss him. 

not a whiff of what happens at school reaches his parents because he knows his dad will have anyone who dares point fingers at him lose their job. while his mother is more inclined towards him trying to lay low and mixing into the general public, sunghoon can’t help but stand out. 

he likes attention.

he likes it when people talk about him when he walks down the hallways, or when you wink at him from across the room. he liked it when you visited him when he had gotten detention for the very first time, and it’s a routine now. you stay after school for extra lessons and he hates not being able to sneak in a few kisses with you in the storage after school ends. fortunately, detention gives him the perfect excuse to stay.

“charity is nice but this—” you say, pointing at the mop and bucket, walking towards him as he carefully holds your hand so that you don’t slip over the wet tiles. “— doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

and sunghoon laughs, sitting on one of the chairs around, pulling you on his lap. your arms wrap around his shoulders out of habit, and he can’t help but swoon at the way your gaze rests on his lips for a fraction of a second before going back to his eyes. “well you win some and you lose some,” 

and he doesn’t really care, honestly. with hands that are made to caress your cheeks and hold you close, he doesn’t really mind if they’re occupied with mopping the floors. just the same way he doesn’t care if his father hears about you and him. with elections ‘round the corner, he will be furious to see his dear son dating the daughter of the opposition. 

but when has sunghoon ever cared about what others have to say about you?

“you know, anyone could walk in right now,” you warn quietly, although your actions are contradicting your words as you tilt your head a little, giving him an easier access as he presses his lips against your neck, leaving a trail of slow kisses down and then to your jaw.

he pulls away slightly, taking in the fragrance of your perfume— it’s the one he had gifted you on your birthday, and he likes how irresistible it makes you, as if you aren’t already. “the whole building’s empty,”

“the guards take rounds after school,”

“well, no one will come. and if they do,” he gently tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers drawing random patterns on your thighs, and you can feel your cheeks heat up as he slides his hand a bit further up. “we can put on a little show for them,”

“hoon—” he doesn’t let you say much, simply cutting you off with a kiss. most of the time, it doesn’t fall upon him to be the responsible one in the relationship, but you’re not any better with the way you pull him closer, fingers lost in his locks. you huff and his arms move up to your waist, and you pull him closer, kissing him deeper— a clear confirmation that you’re into this just as much as him.

and it does end up this way, most of the time. you on his lap, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck, lips together, in the empty classrooms or storage, under the staircase— sunghoon doesn’t care if someone sees. it’s least of his concerns when you’re with him. sunghoon falls first, he falls hard. everyone knows it, it has never been a secret. 

[veritasangel]

Giving them the silent treatment

ft. Bokuto, Kuroo, Akaashi, Kita (pt.1 here)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ any pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw in Kuroo's {mdni} ↣ {wc: 1.8k}

↣ I think it should be obvious but to clarify, anytime i write for hq, it's always post-timeskip

Tetsurō Kuroo

He laughs it off

Finds it funny that you resort to silent treatment and definitely teases you for being all moody as you ignore him

This man is 110% a brat tamer (don't argue with me on this)

Kuroo’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches where you’re sitting in his office chair, looking mad. “You didn’t have to bring me lunch.” he muses, “Thought you’d be too stroppy to stop by today.” he teases as he closes the door and savours the aroma of food in the air.

An eyebrow raises when you don’t respond, “Oh, we’re still mad at each other, huh?” he tuts a little as he leans against his desk, loosening his tie slightly, “Thought I fucked the attitude out of you this morning, no? I’d say let’s go for round two but we both know you can’t keep your mouth shut and these walls are way too thin.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you try to ignore how his words make you feel. You continue to relax comfortably in his chair, occasionally looking up at him, his appearance already slightly dishevelled from the day and you so desperately want to fix the messy strands of his hair that are out of place, but you refrain.

“You’re cute like this… all grumpy.” he smirks as he goes through the lunch you brought him, his favourite. You look like you couldn’t care less but you still came all this way to give him a homemade lunch, he grins at the irony as silence fills the room.

“Oh okay, you’re serious about the silent treatment this time, my bad.” he chuckles half heartedly as he relaxes against his desk, beginning to tuck into his food.

After a few bites, he holds the fork out to you for you to have a taste and as you slowly lean in, he pulls it away, “Gotta' use your words if you want some.”

“But I made it-” you scoff

“Not the words I wanted but it’s a start.” he grins mischievously as you roll your eyes and he can’t help but give in, handing the fork back to you. “I’m sorry sweetheart, forgive me?” he tilts his head at you.

“I forgave you ages ago.”

“Then what the hell was the point in this?” he chuckles as he pulls you in closer to him, putting the lunch to the side momentarily.

You shrug, “Just wanted to annoy you a little more.” a small smirk tugging on your lips and he shakes his head, knowing damn well he’s gonna wipe that smirk off your face before you leave the office.

Kōtarō Bokuto

He gets grumpy when he realises you’re giving him silent treatment.

Pouts about it and acts all sad and mopey.

Tries to make you feel guilty for ignoring him so that you’ll talk.

It was a stupid argument, really, but you were both stressed and it escalated way too quickly. Bokuto brushed it off, but you were feeling so frustrated, you couldn’t help but give him the silent treatment.

Bokuto’s mood plummeted the moment he realised you weren’t responding to anything he said. His usual energetic self was replaced by a mopey, pouty version. He huffs dramatically, hoping you’d hear and take pity on him as he snuck a glance over at you in the car. When that didn’t work, he tried to look even more miserable, if that was even possible. Gave you puppy dog eyes and kept mumbling about how sad it was in the silence.

“It’s such a shame I have nobody to listen to my amazing gossip.” he exclaims, dramatically, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “Meian and Atsumu have some crazy drama going on…Imagine I had someone to tell it all too-” he sighs.

He missed your voice, your laughter, even your frustrated groans when he teased you too much. This silent treatment was torture as he drove you guys back home.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-” the words come spilling out before you can stop them. It was too hard when he looked as sad as he did. He was like a big teddy bear and it didn’t look right seeing him so dejected. You were frustrated at him but you weren’t heartless.

His eyes widened, the joy practically already returning to his face as you smiled at him, your hand intertwining with his, “Spit it out then.” you try and sound mad but it doesn’t work.

The mood is instantly lifted in the car as he rambles on and on about the drama that happened at practice. Honestly your fight was long forgotten as the two of you gossiped for the entire journey back home. His boisterous grin was back on his face and you felt bad for ignoring him, if only temporarily.

“I’m sorry-” you begin but he cuts you off, squeezing your hand.

“Sshh, doesn’t matter. We don’t even need to think about it, let’s just be happy.” he grins at you, sending a wink your way as he parks the car.

“Pizza for dinner?” you ask.

“God, you’re an awful influence.” he sighs, before quickly nodding, “Pizza. Just don’t tell Hajime.”

Shinsuke Kita

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care enough to give you the satisfaction.

Will continue on with the day as if nothing’s different.

You give him silent treatment to annoy him and it backfires because you’re more annoyed that he doesn’t say anything about it.

You were already tucked up in bed when Kita came in from his shower, still getting ready for bed. Honestly you don’t even remember what the argument was about and you always said you’d never go to sleep on one and honestly this was probably more one sided, so you dropped the silence.

You looked over at him, trying not to admire his physique too much as you sighed, “I’m sorry Shin-”

He throws on some sweatpants as he gets into bed beside you, looking completely unphased, you weren’t even sure if he’d heard you, until he finally spoke.

“For what?” he mumbles.

“You know, for being silent with you all day…” you mumble, trailing off as you notice he’s not even looking at you, he’s just looking around the room.

“Had no idea.” He shrugs, eventually looking back at you as a small chuckle leaves him, “So that’s why it was so nice and peaceful today.”

And Kita swears you want to hit him over the head, with the glare you’re now giving him.

He shuffles sheepishly, “Sorry.” Kita mumbles as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in so that your head’s resting against his chest and you can feel his comforting heartbeat. “Honestly just sorta forgot about our little spat, it was that stupid.”

*Yep, you were definitely in a one sided argument, giving him the silent treatment earlier*

“Really? It got a little heated.”

“It was heated because I was tired and Rin called earlier, pissed me off prior to our disagreement.” He says casually as he runs a hand along your skin, “I’m sorry if I upset you, shouldn’t have let everything get to me.”

“I’m sorry too.” you say softly as you look up at him, his eyes meeting yours, “Sorry for the argument and….maybe for being a little childish afterwards and trying to ignore you.” you mumble the last part quietly.

“You know I don’t care.” he says as he kisses the top of your head, “I mean, you should know this by now. After all this time of being together and you think I care about some ridiculous bickering? Baby, it was the most pointless argument ever. You think we’re even going to remember it 2 days from now? Absolutely not.”

You smile a little, knowing he's right, “I love you.” you whisper as you feel your eyes drifting shut.

“I love you too, idiot.” he says softly.

Keiji Akaashi

It’s definitely not silent treatment after an argument because this man is a green flag in a relationship. But you do it as a little prank to see how he’ll react.

He doesn’t take you seriously at all and knows you can’t ignore him for long.

Just so chill about it honestly.

When he arrived home and you didn’t greet him at the door like usual, he just knew you were trying something today. He tried to engage in brief conversation as he got changed from work but you didn’t budge an inch at his words, so he just laughed, shaking his head before going to have a shower.

“Are you doing one of those stupid trends on me again?” he mumbles as he approaches you after his shower and you squeal because he hasn’t dried off yet so he drips water onto you.

“Oh my bad, guess that breaks the silence, huh?” he teases as he runs a hand through his wet hair.

You shake your head, still refusing to speak.

“What? That absolutely counts, your mouth was open and a noise was emitted.” 

You still don’t give up, making an effort to act as though you’re zipping your mouth shut.

“I can tell you’ve been babysitting all day.”

And you laugh, unable to hold it in because it’s true. You were babysitting his niece and she wanted you to try the prank out on him

“That has to count! That was a full on noise.” he exclaims, smiling at your foolishness as you lean in to give him a quick kiss. You pull away far too quickly for his liking, but he lets it slide.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you have that one-  But only because I have so much to tell you.”

He grins, knowing you too well, silent treatment never works with you because once he’s home from work, you always have so much to talk about. You’re like Bokuto, you’ll talk for weeks once you get going, he must attract the babblers, he thinks to himself.

“Ah, I gave in too easily, she’ll be mad at me for letting you win.” you groan as you lean into Akaashi,

“I’m sure she’ll survive.” he jokes, hands resting comfortably on your waist. “We could never have kids, you’d be like this all the time.” he croons, resting his chin on your head.

You fake gasp, “You mean you don’t want me doing anymore more stupid pranks?”

He has to take a moment to think about it, a slight smirk appearing, “I suppose I could handle the silent treatment if it made our little one happy.”

“Look at you, getting carried away already, you’ll have to help babysit next time.”

“Mhm, I will...And ’ll make sure to get you back.” he grins, leaning in to kiss you once more.

༄ m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[enhard]

heyyy can u make a smut read for jake sim as ur co model, modeling w u for tiffany and co, u both are idols and tiff and co ambassdors and get into dating rumors w each other being called the 4th gen it couple. u guys model for the shoot and then go into a room and do some things can u do that request??

i’m sorry this took so long it’s an amazing idea !

sim jaeyun — “picture perfect”

pairing: idol!s.jy x idol!fem!reader

cw: SMUT, unprotected sex (he pulls out), semi-public sex, implied first time, making out, jake is packing heheh, a little size kink i had to throw in there, implied multiple rounds

not proofread, enjoy! (MDNI)

debuting in the same company as enhypen was already enough drama for you and jake.

you never expected to get the dating rumours you dreaded to hear of, it was more frustrating to hear about it everyday. paparazzi following you everywhere just to catch you with jake, it was exhausting.

i mean, you were just minding your own business and promoting your songs. it got even worse when your managers thought it was such a great idea for you two to do a dance challenge together.

“they’ll love it” and they did. everyone went crazy over it, hybe barely let you two have interactions so this was enough.

the rumours got even worse when you got a phone call one day from your manager telling you that you got scouted to be an ambassador for tiffany & co. you were excited at first but when you arrived at the infamous building, you noticed jake was there too. it didn’t take long before he noticed you too.

he smiled.

his smile is beautiful, it brings you warmth. but at the same time.. his smile brings anyone that same warmth, right?

you both greet each other and wait for your managers. you catch up a bit, laughing together at the rumours. of course you were both aware but it was impossible for you to respond to the rumours, that’s a pretty strict rule when it comes to idols.

“you’ll have to do couple shoots, it’s what the company wants.” the manager comes back, her words ringing over and over in your head.

“really? couple shoots after all the rumours?” you thought. you continue with a sigh, “well this won’t shut them up..”

jake looks pretty unaffected by the whole thing, almost enjoying the words spread by the media. even if they aren’t true, it doesn’t seem to affect him as much as they affect you.

“sweet.” he mumbles through his teeth, enjoying the idea of you doing couple shoots a bit too much.

regardless, you get started on it, wearing your jewelry that you’re supposed to promote, showing it to the camera. you both get in a few close positions, putting your hand up, leaning your head back a bit to show all the sparkly necklaces and bracelets.

the photographer requested you’d both get in a position where jake is hugging you from behind, arm over your shoulder.

you quickly get into position, fixing your hair before grabbing onto his wrist.

you both look at the camera and you try to focus on it but.

he’s so close to you.

you can’t deny it, you love his scent. you love his warmth.

you never wanted this shoot to end. where was this coming from?

after the shoot was done, you smiled at him and thanked him for cooperating with you.

you both looked through the pictures, choosing your favourite ones together.

you suddenly loved the idea to model along with jake, you loved modeling with him, for him.

each time you entered that building you got ready for him.

you didn’t know why you were feeling this way but it’s what you wanted.

after the photos were posted to both your accounts, the fire was about to spread.

“newsflash! y/n and jake are dating!”

you roll your eyes. “how could we be dating, we just did a photoshoot together.”

that logic flies over anyone’s head and it’ll be too late to deny anything. you both subconsciously agreed that you don’t think about dating, the rumour is just persistent enough to be everything you can think about.

your names spread like wildfire over the whole internet, the title “4th gen it couple” paired with them. funny how you were called that even if you weren’t a couple in the first place.

4th gen it couple.

it seemed so important yet so stupid knowing the truth. “more like 4th gen it fake couple” you both joke around.

it came around the time to do another one of those shoots.

you both get dressed and ready.. but when you saw him in a stunning black suit, hair on his face.. you couldn’t stand it anymore.

you felt this burning sensation inside, it was like passion. a sudden passion to have him.

he kept checking you out before the shoot, his eyes touching your plush skin, your pretty face, your pretty lips.

he’d been feeling like this ever since you debuted. he found you the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

he was clearly in love. what else could he say? i mean the rumours might as well just be helping his case.

“ready to do this, rumoured boyfriend?” you smile at him, feeling confident.

he smiles back, playfully sticking out his tongue at you. “you know i am, rumoured girlfriend.”

during the photo shoot, you two just got closer and closer. your lips weren’t almost touching just for the picture. there was an energy like a magnet pulling you both in.

you stare at each other, slightly smirking.. completely forgetting about the camera in front of you.

he slowly travels his hand down to your waist, grabbing it gently. you don’t push his hand away, instead you rest your hands on his chest, the rings on your fingers reflecting the studio lights.

the voice of the amazed photographer became a background noise, your ears captivated by the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.

“cut!” the director yelled, making you both snap out of it.

you were about to kiss right there. you felt it.

he releases the grasp on your waist, making you crave more.

the photographer praises you both for your performance and you both shyly thank him, only thinking about how to get out of there together.

suddenly, jake makes a lousy excuse to everyone who tries approaching you on set, grabbing your hand to pull you in a spare makeup room.

you’re a bit stunned, but you’re so determined to get that suit off him and he knows.

he pulls you into that intoxicating kiss, you swore to not pull away until you were satisfied and he seemed to always want more.

you both make out, your kisses more sloppy as time went on. you grab onto his hair to pull his lips in deeper, the taste keeping you addicted.

he keeps a few moans down his throat, the kisses too heated for him to interrupt now.

“i need you.” you mumble through kisses.

“i know baby. i know.” he smiles into the kiss. but then he pushes you back real hard trying to smash his lips onto yours harder.

he succeeds to insert his tongue inside your mouth, only slurping noises being heard throughout that quiet room.

your hands stop at his shirt, tugging on it with all your strength.

“take it off.” you say while breaking the kiss. you wanted to go all out. you didn’t care, let the rumours become reality.

he does exactly as you say. he slowly takes his shirt off and that body is everything you’ll think about from now on. fuck he was so hot. you knew he looked good, but maybe not this good.

you trace his abs with your fingers, enjoying every second of this until he grabs onto your wrists to make you look at him.

“i know you like what you see, let me undress you first. you’ll be looking at my abdomen as i pound into you anyway.” he smirks. oh he knows too damn well what he’s doing to you.

your mind almost collapses hearing his words.

you try to get back on track, not wanting to keep him waiting. you nod at his request as your stomach is dancing within you.

he drags his fingertips all over your body, giving you shivers down your spine.

he stops at your top to take it off, exposing your bra. he seems captivated already, slowly moving his hands up to cup your breasts, looking at you for reassurance.

you bite your lip at him and start begging him to touch you already.

he takes your bra off, already touching and pinching at your breasts. you let out quiet moans that he absolutely adores, leaning in to kiss them a bit.

it doesn’t last too long, figuring that he doesn’t want to keep you waiting either, knowing how desperate you were for him.

he makes you lay on a couch that’s there, quickly crawling on top of you. he starts kissing at your neck, being careful to not leave too many hickeys.. but those few he left being a bit too visible to anyone.

he slowly takes off your skirt, leaving you in your panties only.

he notices how wet you got for him, he laughs.

“you’re so wet, shit i can’t wait to fuck you.” you giggle at his remark, getting hornier than before.

“fuck me faster then.. please.”

he nods. he’s ready if you are.

he takes his prada belt off to unzip his pants as fast as he can. he takes off his pants as well as his boxers halfway, exposing his cock already.

he was huge, nothing you couldn’t take. oh you would do anything for him right now, but he was big. it’d be a stretch to say that it won’t be hard for you to take him in. (yes that was a small pun)

he spreads your legs to pull your panties aside, foreplay going out the window. you two had practically no time to beat it around the bush.

“ready?” he says, positioning himself to your pussy. “i’ll be slow, don’t worry. tell me if anything’s wrong.” he reassures you again.

you nod, looking down to see what he’s doing. he slowly pushes himself inside you, going as slow as he possibly can. it still stretches you out badly. you’ll need to get used to it for a bit.

once he’s all in, he gives you time to adjust until you give him the signal to keep going. once you feel comfortable enough, you squeeze his forearm to make him thrust in and out of you.

he starts, going slow for you. he lets out a small moan being careful to not hurt you.

once you start moaning with him, he gets the signal to go faster. he picks up a normal pace, grabbing onto your knees.

you start moaning more often, loving how he feels in you.

he throws his head back while thrusting into you, digging his nails into your knees.

“faster.. please.” you cry out. he picks up his pace significantly. he definitely knows what he’s doing. he’s so good he’s making your head spin.

you clench up around him due to the pleasure and he hisses at you, the pleasure getting too much.

“feels so good..” he breathes out, leaning in over you to give you a few kisses.

you both moan into the kisses, the air around you getting more tense.

this keeps going for a pretty long time, his pace consistent and his moans louder with every thrust.

you try to push yourself back, trying to not cum already but you can’t. he feels that you’re close.

“cum for me baby.” he whisper shouts.

oh how you wished to hear those words fly out his mouth. you cum all over him, your legs giving out with a tremble.

he picks up his pace as much as possible, chasing his own high. you grab onto the couch material, waiting for him to cum.

he stops thrusting into you to pull out, just to stroke himself a few times. his cum shoots all over your stomach as he has his eyes rolled back. you were both out of breath and moments away from anyone catching you.

but who cares, one round wasn’t enough. you needed more of him.

you give him another kiss, smiling at him.

“fuck me against this couch.. please.” you try sitting up, already thinking to bend over it.

he smiles, finding your desperation quite cute. “ready for another round already? who knew my rumoured girlfriend was this desperate for me…” he teases.

“oh come on, aren’t you ready to make it official? we want each other.” you both smile thinking about it.

you both wanted to be the picture perfect couple.

thank u for this request (˶ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lupe Vélez (Cuban Love Song, The Girl from Mexico, Naná)—iconic Mexican glamor, known for her dramatic romances and hot temper. she could do unspeakable things <3 to me <3

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lupe Vélez:

(joint propaganda for del Río and Vélez) When I asked my 58-year-old coworker who I have been keeping updated on the vintage men tournament if there was anyone she wanted me to submit on her behalf, almost immediately she said Dolores del Río, soon followed by her assigned rival by studios (due to being the first major Mexican actresses in Hollywood) Lupe Vélez - which del Río did not play into and Vélez did. We love queens who know what they're about. No drama vs drama for the sake of publicity. These ladies are fantastic, my coworker has excellent taste.

A beautiful girl with a beautiful singing voice. She also loved small dogs.

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Probabaly a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

[astonmartinii]

first impressions matter | george russell social media au

pairing: georgerussell x reader

george is meeting y/n's dad for the first time and all hell breaks loose

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, mickschumacher and 31,634 others

yourusername: pops finally had the time off from his busy busy life to visit his one daughter (he was only in a good mood cause verstappen won)

view all comments

username wait ur telling me george's gf is a max fan

yourusername i am a george fan first and foremost but my dad is staunchly orange army... it's a point of contention

georgerussell63 can't wait to see you guys soon!

yourusername i miss you baby i'll be back in a couple days

username WAIT george hasn't met papa y/ln yet?

landonorris he's too scared

georgerussell63 wrong !! falsehoods !! he's a busy and important man

alexalbon you had your blood pressure tested after talking to him on the phone ...

f1

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 501,761 others

tagged: georgerussell63, maxverstappen1

f1: these two line up 1 and 2 in baku, who do you think comes out on top in the first corner?

view all comments

username wait isn't y/n's dad here this weekend? george better back off if he wants to live

landonorris i just sit back and observe

alexalbon i got $20 on george getting dumped this weekend

danielricciardo yeah i back this

username y'all see george's face when he realised he'll actually have to not hit someone ?

yourusername i have faith, proud of you georgie

georgerussell63 thank you !! finally someone believes in me in this comment section

yourusername any bullshit with max and my dad said he'll disown you before you can even join the family

maxverstappen1 i just watched him fall to his knees (say hi to your dad for me)

f1teaspill

liked by 12,566 others

f1teaspill: it all went off after the sprint when george russell and max verstappen came together, do you think george was being a "dickhead"?

view all comments

username get me a netflix camera in the y/ln household stat

username i was sat in the same grandstand as y/n's dad and that man actually nearly fainted

username i can't be the only one thinking that you guys are all just being a bit dramatic like people can separate sport from their own personal lives

username was george in the wrong? who the fuck cares i love the drama

username you guys know y/n wouldn't joke about the situation if it was really that deep

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, lewishamilton and 41,778 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: favourite boys in the whole wide world

view all comments

username i hate the way any joke in this sport immediately has to become an attack y'all hate fun

georgerussell63 was a pleasure to finally meet the man, the myth and the legend

yourusername welcome to the family georgie xx

username this is so so cute y/n is so lucky !!

alexalbon get in there russell always knew you could do it

georgerussell63 you literally asked me for my car collection in my will before i left for dinner

alexalbon is the offer still open?

georgerussell63

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 712,458 others

tagged: yourusername

georgerussell63: i think i finally passed the family initiation

view all comments

username now see why did y'all try to ruin this, this is cute as shit

username peep the signed max pic in the back though orange army stay winning

yourusername the pasta won him over i think

georgerussell63 i think it was much more than that

username now what does this mean....

username they know something we don't and i don't like it

yourusername

liked by f1, maxverstappen1 and 101,564 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: now we've all finally gotten round to meeting we can officially announce that the russell-y/ln family is about to get just a little bit bigger x

view all comments

username OMG DAD!GEORGE INCOMING

landonorris congrats you two

maxverstappen1 congratulations !!

username i cannot express how much i am not chill about this

alexalbon bagsy god father - congratulations xx

username the way they kept it a secret so long so they could tell y/n's dad in person

lewishamilton looking forward to meeting the little one

note: this is a real random one but lol i found it fun - also thinking of making one of those "buy me a coffee" accounts if anyone wanted to nice a struggling student xx

[dollfacedsl1ut]

Thoughts about ghostface aespa with sprinkles of g!p ?

!ghostface g!p! Aespa let’s talk about it….. this is the !nice fem popular reader version you can ask for the other one and I’d post it maybe..

a/n : ik there’s gonna be some type of typos AND IM SORRRRY SPARE ME PLEASE

content : murder (shocker), panty stealing, yandere themes, smut, mentions of a fivesome, the jock leaves reader for a rando.., unconsenual recording, reader gets leaked to the jock, groping, sexual corruption??, overall idk what this is you don’t either so yeah..

All members of aespa are in college and had their fair share of people they hated and wanted dead it didn’t matter who you were If you did something that angered them you were on the hit list which rounds up to 95% of the school especially the popular kids (they hated them so much) expect you, to them you were a actual person who didn’t care about luxury brands and cars or about drama / who was fucking who’s boyfriend while they were away to them you had a pure and innocent mind which made this attraction to you grow

It started off with stalking and obsessions to breaking in your dorm whilst you’re in classes maybe if they’re lucky enough you’ll be sleeping they stole various of things from miniature accessories you owned to clothing such as panties and bras..yeah you noticed stuff going missing but you just though you misplaced them or they got lost whilst you took trips to the communal laundry mat…

But one day there was a Halloween college party at a cabin in the woods, everyone was invited so everyone was there, the aespa girls took this as a good opportunity to start their killing spree.. the kill started off good they got rid of the people who would be missed by a minimal amount of people they enjoyed hearing their cries and their begs for forgiveness it just drove them too kill more that night but once you arrived it was like a switch flipped in their brains instead of their murderous mood they were more hyper and eager..

Their eyes scanned over your body looking at the way your costume hugged your curves the coils even see the out line of your panties, if they looked close enough they could tell you weren’t wearing a bra. The happy mood they once had flipped again once they seen who you brung, the jock that had the worse attitude and bullied people who didn’t have the latest car model needless to say they were pissed that you brung him out of everyone else on campus he was the worse guy you could’ve picked and they weren’t happy with you they were gonna make sure you never bring someone who isn’t them to another party..

They watched you and the jock the whole time, every single time you giggled, and felt uncomfortable by his sick jokes, but when he dismissed himself to “piss” they knew it was the perfect time for his death as well, the funny thing was he didn’t have too piss he was fucking another girl in the outdoor bathroom although they wanted to kill him there they wanted to make him feel overwhelmed with emotions so that’s when they finally approached you, you were scrolling on your phone drinking out of a red cup, the conversation was the best one you’ve had in years y’all had so much in common which turned you on although they haven’t showed their faces yet it was a turn on to have things in common it was Giselles idea to go to the bedroom to further explore this attraction..

Once y’all reached the bedroom it just felt like your panties were soaked right that minute the way their hands wondered on your body, the soft touches on your plush thighs, although you’ve never had a fivesome before you wanted to make this work the, sensations of them stretching you out felt so good you’ve never came this fast when you had sex but the way their cock filled you up so nicely you overall had the best experience besides the sounds of camera clicks you weren’t sure if that was your imagination or not you were too horny to be bothered with it, your body was sore and tired after it was finished you just wanted to take a quick nap, Karina and winter being the ones to wash you down and Giselle and ningning getting ready to send the videos and pictures of your sexual encounter with them to the jock,..

After you were sleeping soundly they knew it was time to start their next kill The Jock, after the recordings were sent to the jock they left kisses on your face Giselle might’ve left a slap on your ass and Karina might’ve groped your tits but it’s not like you would care much, the burner phone they used to send the pictures to the jock was ringing with messages angry to ones pleading for you to meet up with him so they did just that, He was pacing around in the back yard with his phone in his hand replaying the video just to hear your soft moans ring in his ears, they could tell he just finished fucking yet another girl and it seemed like you were the next, his pants were unzipped as his cock poked from between the hole in his boxers, They stood in the shadows until they eventually pounced on him ningning pinned his hands to ground as Giselle held down his legs, Karina replayed the sex tape over and over as the jock cried he knew they were the ones that fucked you and slutted you out the video replaying in his head even if the phone was no longer in his vision he couldn’t help it but feel blood rush to his dick watching you get fucked by 4 people at once wishing it was him and his friends fucking you instead, abusing your tight holes then leaving you alone crying and sore but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore to anyone he felt his body going numb as Karina cut into his chest blood gushing on the grass it just made them smile seeing yet another pathetic person being humbled but he wasn’t the first one they needed this to happened too and he certainly wasn’t gonna be the last..

[f0point5]

As if you couldn't turn Max watching her breathe into a masterpiece, don't lie🙄 idk maybe they're driving around in her new car and they coincidentally see Elliot😂 would be a nice reprieve from *clenched teeth* freddie

Sooo.

I tried to incorporate a bit of Max watching her just breathe because it’s funny. But also Elliot. But also the car.

But also mostly I was just freaking out because the male perspective is so alien to me. This might suck. We’re going to be KIND if it sucks because I’m just a girl okay men don’t make sense to me.

Anyway, I’m deciding to name this one because this is what I was listening to when I wrote it.

✨set during winter break✨

Call It What You Want To

“How do you take this long to get ready?” Max groans in frustration, dragging his hand over his face.

He’s been waiting 45 minutes. Not the longest he’s ever waited for you, but he’s been looking forward to this night out for two whole days. After everything that’s gone on in the last couple of weeks, and how none of that is likely to be resolved before Testing next week, he could really use a drink or twelve.

“I’m almost done,” he hears you call back, your tone telling him you’re unbothered by leaving him waiting. “Do you want everyone to think you have an ugly girlfriend?”

Max opens his mouth to reply but closes it just as quickly. What is he supposed to say to that? That no one on earth has ever thought his girlfriend is anything less than breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that it stopped him for thinking you could ever be his girlfriend more than once? That sometimes during a race he looks at the tv screens on the track in case you’re on camera? That whenever he passes the picture of you in his hallway he thinks he’d have hung it up even if he didn’t know you, because you’d still be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? No. He’s not saying any of that. Three months is way too soon to let you know that you could use his balls as earrings. It’s not like you need a bigger head.

“I want my girlfriend to get to the club before it closes,” he shouts, stifling a smile. It’s been three months, but he still likes saying girlfriend.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he hears you say, your voice getting closer as you make your way to the living room. “We can’t all just put on a t-shirt with a funny saying on it and-“

You stop when you round the couch and finally notice him staring at your slinky black satin dress. Actually, he’s staring at the parts of you not covered by the dress, which gives him a lot to stare at. He might just give everyone what they want and quit driving if they could promise him he’d only have to lol at you in this dress for the rest of his life.

“What?” You ask him, which has him blinking furiously, trying to focus. You’re holding out a pair of heels to him, the ones you bought with the gift card his dad’s wife had given you for your birthday.

“Nothing,” he says, taking the shoes from you. He shifts off the couch to kneel in front you, lifting your leg to put the shoes on your foot and do up the buckle. “You look good,”

Above him, he hears you chuckle, and then your fingers run through his hair. You’re petting him like a cat, and he’ll be damned if he ever admits how close he feels to purring.

“Why does that still sound like it’s painful for you to admit?” You tease, using a bit more of your nails on the final run through of his hair.

“It’s not painful,” he tells you winding the glittering strap around your ankle.

It’s not painful. Sometimes it’s a lump in his throat, or a tightening in his chest. Sometimes, when he’s on one knee in front of you like he is now, it’s an urge to say something he can’t yet find the words for. But no, it’s not painful.

He finishes with your other shoe, squeezing your calf gently before placing a kiss on the inside of your knee.

“You’re just painfully gorgeous,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Can we go?”

You roll your eyes at him with with a smile. “Your car or mine?”

********************

He chooses to take your car. Every time he gets in your Ferrari, he thinks about Vegas. He drives it often.

He weaves through the streets of Monaco with one hand on your thigh, and he can’t remember where the fuck he was putting that hand before you.

“The thing is, unless the contract gets sorted next week, he’s totally fucked,” you’re saying as Max turns onto Avenue Princesse Grace. There’s a gaggle of people outside with their phones out. Simply fucking lovely. “You’re not listening to me are you?”

Max turns to you, squeezing your thigh as the car slows. “Of course I am, Engel. Do me a favour? Just say fuck again, a bit slower,”

“You’re twelve,”

“You would not have gone out with me at twelve,” Max jokes, slowing to a stop in front of Twiga as a valet comes towards the car.

“You were cute at twelve,” you say, “fourteen is where it started to go haywire,”

Before he can respond, you’re getting out of the car, and immediately the camera phones are focused on you. Max follows you out, handing the keys to the valet as he tries to ignore the feeling of being hunted. He wonders if they know he can hear every word they’re saying. He wonders if they’d like him to take their picture and post it all over the internet. He watches you slink through the crowd towards him, not even bothering to pretend you’re not being watched.

It’s ironic, he thinks, he brings the spotlight, but you’re the one who shines in it.

Inside the lobby, you head straight for the elevator while he talks to the woman at the front desk- it’s a well rehearsed routine. Lando isn’t here yet, typical. He asks if they can send over some St. Tropez cocktails and some gin tonics, and texts Lando to hurry up, before turning to join you at the lifts.

Except, he notices, you’re not alone. You’re standing by the lifts, with a big smile on your face, explaining something to a guy with a familiarly large head.

Max has seen Elliot around a couple of times. Monaco is stupidly small, especially in the winter when it’s nearly empty. The two men always studiously ignore each other, because what is there to say? Max doesn’t know if Elliot knows that you’re together now, and he knows it shouldn’t matter, but it does.

He didn’t hate Elliot in Austin, even though he’d planned to. But then they’d met and Max found he really couldn’t hate someone who was as smitten with you as he was, as he’d always been.

He finds that he kind of hates Elliot now, though, as he gets close enough to hear you giggle at something.

“No. It was actually okay, just cold, you know?“ you stop when Max places a hand on the small of your back, where you dress is low enough that he’s touching your skin. You turn to him. “Oh, hey. Is Lando here?”

Max shakes his head.

“Typical.” You sigh. “Max, you remember Elliot, right?”

“Yeah.” He says, and they shake hands. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” Elliot says with a shrug. His shirt matches your dress. Fuck him.

“Well, you can if you want,” Max jokes, except it’s not a joke because he hates those Britishisms. If you want to say something just say it. And if things are fine and you have nothing to complain about why make it sound- he just doesn’t like the guy. And he doesn’t like that you liked the guy.

Mercifully, the lift arrives, and when it does, Max steps aside.

“You take this one,” he says, gesturing to the open lift. Elliot looks like he wants to refuse out of politeness in the way only English people do, so Max forces himself to put everyone out of their misery. “It’s the least I can do,”

It’s such a dickhead thing to say, but he can’t help but smirk, and it does the trick. Elliot gives both of you a tight lipped smile and steps into the lift, pulling out his phone as the door closes.

You turn to face him, his hand falling away from your back as you fix him with a quizzical look. He waits for you to chastise him for his comment, then wonders fleetingly if you’re comparing him, in his silly t-shirt and tight jeans, to Elliot in his perfectly crisp chinos. Then he finds himself staring at your lips.

“Oh, right,” you say suddenly, tapping his shoulder. “That’s what I was saying. So this builder says he’s ordered all the materials, but he has to no contract. And my dad…”

Max listens to you talk, winding his arms around your waist in a way he’s still getting used to, and you smile at him in a way he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He promises himself then never to get angry with you when you’re getting ready. You’re worth the wait.

[herrscherofinsanity]

Anything for you

Summary: Nayeon would do anything for her girlfriend, even getting over some of her biggest pet peeves.

Fluff

Im Nayeon x fem!reader

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: This is me being kinda back. In honor of Twice's 8th anniversary I wanted to write something for my ultimate bias; I'll be back simping for the aespa girls soon, I have lots of ideas... I just need to find time to write them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and also thank you for reading!

____________________

“Hey can you pause the movie for a second? I really need to go to the bathroom”, Momo whined as she got up from the couch making the other girls groan.

“You always do this!”

“It was just getting to the good part!”

“Can we kick her out?”

“Is one night of peace and quiet too much to ask?”

You chuckled, watching the chaos unfold; a warm feeling spreading through your chest when you felt your girlfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hold. You turned your head towards her, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

“You find this amusing?” Nayeon whispered, not wanting to draw unwanted attention towards the two of you.

“I do” you whispered back, a playful grin on your lips, “you girls have quite the bond, I’m jealous”.

“There’s no need to be jealous, babe” she said, kissing your cheek “you’re my favorite anyway”.

Before you could reply, another voice cut you off. “What do you mean she’s your favorite?!” Chaeyoung complained, wanting more drama to unfold.

“Jihyo, the couple is being annoying… again”, Tzuyu said.

“Oh, leave them alone” Sana said, your girlfriend sent her a grateful smile, but Sana’s sentence wasn’t over yet. “Nayeon can’t help the fact that she’s whipped”.

The members laughed, teasing the two of you relentlessly. Your girlfriend shot you a defeated look, so much for spending a relaxing time together without any interruptions.

“What are we talking about?”, Momo asked as she made her way back from the bathroom.

“Nayeon being stupidly in love with y/n” Jeongyeon replied nonchalantly; your girlfriend silently sulked behind you.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you two something?”, Mina looked towards you, a curious expression on her face.

You sent her a gentle smile, encouraging her to ask her question.

“When did you realize you were in love with each other?”.

An innocent question, but you felt as if you were about to go into cardiac arrest with the way your heart dropped. Nayeon wasn’t that far behind you, she felt as if the living room started spinning. On the other hand, both of your reactions left the girls feeling clueless. Why were you being so awkward? Surely you two had already… wait.

“W-well, we haven’t-” Nayeon began.

“Actually, I know the answer to that question!” Jihyo exclaimed, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“What could you possibly be talking about?” Nayeon hissed, shooting her fellow member a suspicious look; the whole interaction caught your attention.

“I would also like to know” you cleared your throat “…please”.

Nayeon looked at you with what you could only describe as pure panic, “baby, I really don’t think-”.

“Jihyo! What are you stalling for?” Jeongyeon exclaimed.

“Yeah! Go ahead and tell us!”

“Okay!” Jihyo exclaimed, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Gather ‘round kids! This is the story of how I realized Nayeon was without a doubt, head over heels in love with y/n!”.

____________________

Two months ago.

"You can't be serious".

"I swear! They kept calling us 'wig group', Sana was about ready to lose it" your girlfriend, Nayeon said, her tone full of amusement.

You laughed at her story, not fully believing it, but still amused by how creative her fans could be.

Im Nayeon, better known as Twice’s Nayeon, but to you she simply was Nayeon; the same girl who nervously asked you to be her girlfriend 3 months ago.

You two were introduced by your mutual friend, Yeri who had spent weeks going on and on about how she knew the perfect person for you to go out with.  You were incredibly hesitant, but you eventually caved and agreed to give Yeri’s friend a chance.

Nayeon surprised you in the best of ways; after your first date, you couldn’t help but agree with Yeri, she really was the perfect person for you. The loud girl carved a permanent place in your heart for herself and nothing could come between the two of you; not the hate comments, not your companies, and definitely not the malicious rumors surrounding your relationship. Being with Nayeon was definitely worth it.

“We should get going, babe”, she said with a sad smile “you have a photoshoot and I’ve got an interview; we can’t stay any longer”.

As if to mock her, right in that second it began to pour. Nayeon looked at you in shock, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the troubled expression she wore. You knew perfectly well you would have to find a way to leave the small café you were currently hanging out at, your schedules depended on it, but still, a few extra minutes with your girlfriend couldn’t hurt.

“We’re going to have to make a run for it”, you sighed, the responsible part of your brain outweighing the not-so-smart one.

Nayeon looked at you with a frown on her face, her gaze kept moving between your frame and the raging storm outside. “You’re not wearing a jacket, y/n”.

You hummed, “it doesn’t look like this rain is stopping any time soon, we can’t afford to wait”.

“You’re going to catch a cold”.

“Maybe, but you know the deal, our relationship must not interfere with our careers” you rolled your eyes as you recited the same speech that had followed you around for the past month.

“Stay here”, she said sternly, “I’ll be right back”. You frowned, but followed her instructions. Not even five minutes later, Nayeon was back with a black umbrella in her hand.

“Where’d you get that from?” you asked her, she definitely didn’t have an umbrella when you got here.

“I just bought it” she grumbled, “I’m not going to let you get sick. Now come on, we really should get going”.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Jihyo was currently waiting for the rest of her members to finish getting ready, they had an interview lined up and who knows what else might get magically booked along the way.

In an attempt to entertain herself, the leader unlocked her phone and tapped on the Twitter app. She mindlessly scrolled through her timeline, nothing truly catching her attention; that was until she came across two familiar figures.

Several pictures of her fellow member and her girlfriend greeted her. Now, Jihyo wasn’t surprised by the pictures in general; Nayeon, despite the countless warnings, was always going out of her way to show off her relationship. What truly surprised the group’s leader was the fact that the eldest member had an arm securely wrapped around you, her other hand too busy holding an umbrella in an attempt to shield you both from the rain.

An umbrella?

Before Jihyo could think about it any further, Nayeon made her way into the dorm.

The first thing the oldest Twice member did as soon as she got home was throw the umbrella somewhere far away from her, a sour expression on her face. Jihyo let out a loud laugh, not believing the sight before her very eyes; the leader’s laugh finally catching the other girl’s attention.

“You’re such a simp, Im Nayeon”.

_____________________

Loud laughs bounced back and forth across the Twice dorm and Nayeon wished she could disappear. What would you even say to that?

 “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why did that make you realize she loves me?” the members gave themselves whiplash with how fast they all turned to look at you.

“You mean she never told you?” Dahyun asked.

“Told me what?” you asked nervously, Nayeon whined, wrapping you in an even tighter hug.

“Nayeon absolutely hates umbrellas, y/n” Jihyo explained. “She hates them so much, back when we were trainees, she used to wear a box on top of her head whenever it rained”.

“Even to this day!” Sana continued, “whenever our managers try to help her out with umbrellas she runs away” she giggled.

“But somehow all of that goes out the window when it comes to you” Jeongyeon smirked, “you have her wrapped around your finger, y/n”.

“Nayeon can’t have her princess getting sick” Momo teased.

The girls kept throwing jabs here and there, but you tuned them out, trying to focus your entire attention on your blushing girlfriend. You sent her a soft smile, she returned it immediately, feeling absolutely at ease once she saw that sparkle in your eyes.

“Do you really hate umbrellas that much?” you laughed.

Nayeon groaned at your question, feeling embarrassed all over again. “I do, I really really do”, she paused to steal a quick kiss from your lips, “but I love you way more”.

You beamed at your girlfriend, feeling on cloud nine when you finally heard her say those words you had been longing for.

“I love you too, Im Nayeon” you said, pressing your lips against hers in a sweet kiss.

“Jihyo! The couple is being annoying again!”.

_____________________

A/N: Everytime I think of a one shot I always have the idea that it will be roughly 500 words, and somehow I always end up going past 1k, oh well.

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any requests or anything like that feel free to let me know :)

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚅𝙸. 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: inherent power imbalance due to boss/employee dynamic, Feelings Turning Into Action™, fucked up family relationships and drama, abusive relationships, brief mention of abusive child/parent interaction, alcoholic parent, Joel being protective, Joel being an old man, dialogue on steroids, the messy journey of healing | WORD COUNT: 10.4k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: After a chaotic, tumultuous New Year's Eve, you start the New Year off with Joel by your side and make some much overdue resolutions.

The light is coming from the wrong direction.

The gentle glow of the hazy, hesitant sunrise creeps slowly through the blinds and sheer purple draperies, ghosting against the impending day. There’s an unfamiliar but welcome stillness to it all, but the subconscious recognition that you aren’t waking in your own bed stirs you. Your lids lift and flutter as your mind begins piecing together all the atmosphere and context of your current setting.

The cuffs of Joel’s flannel, bunched up in your grasp, beckon your nose closer just to breathe in the scent of him. When your eyes flutter again, the room is significantly brighter. The blink of an eye and hours gone by. You’re fully awake this time, though; no drifting again. The house is still a comforting quiet, but there’s the intimations of someone else already up and about. The crust in the corner of your eyes feels particularly sharp as you rub them. The floor is cool against the arch of your foot when you swing your legs from the warm bedding and finally start to face whatever awaits you.

You’d kissed Joel. He’d kissed you back.

And then you’d practically run off upstairs while he sat there in shock. Did he regret it? Did he think you regretted it? Do you regret it???

No. There’s no amount of mortification that could ever make you truly regret finally getting to know what his lips felt like against yours. Still, you can’t quite meet your reflection’s eye while washing your hands in the hallway bathroom after peeing. His pants feel soft and warm around you. You stare into the sink, finger dabbed with toothpaste acting as a brush, and give up looking for mouthwash after a minute or two. Nothing left but to go downstairs and be confronted with the aftermath of your impulsive, reckless advance last night.

Music drifts low from a speaker somewhere in the corner of the kitchen.  A spice bottle is almost to his nose as he squints at the label. He huffs and glances off the other way and snatches something off the countertop. The swell of his bicep stretches the hem of the sleeve as he bends his arm towards his face. The slightest peek of his torso is revealed when his shirt lifts from the movement.

Joel Miller in all his scruffy morning glory. Pajama pants impressively wrinkled. T-shirt sporting several misshapen areas that droop and give from being pulled too many times. Hair mussed and tousled. Scruffy beard serving as a place for his hand to rub contemplative passes as he skims the label on the spice bottle, words and letters coming into focus with the help of his readers perched atop his curved, proud nose. His lips move in little rounded and bent shapes as he wordlessly reads through what you imagine is the ingredient list. He looks so warm and cozy and homey.

He’s breathtaking.

Your silent ogling is noticeable, apparently, because Joel notches his head in your direction in a swift jerk, eyes and mouth softening at the sight of you.

“Morning,” you offer up nervously.

He smiles, an affectionate, relieved wash over his features, and returns the greeting with more confidence. “Mornin’.”

“Uh, Happy Ne–” You stop yourself short of wishing him a happy new year when you remember you already did that several times last night and would rather not bring up your incredibly forward advance that went with it.

He grins easy like he knows your train of thought. “Hey, it’s—”

“No,” you interject. “Listen, I shouldn’t have—” You take several strides into the kitchen. You need to own up to your actions and take responsibility for making things weird. Had you made things weird? There was something shifting and new in the air, that was certain.

He holds up a hand to stop your spiel, but you drive the conversation forward.

“I’m really sorry about last night, and I shouldn’t have just done that,” you hastily apologize. “And if I crossed a line, I’m– I really wasn’t meaning to make— I just–”

“It was nice,” he contends with a casual shrug.

“Wait, what?”

You weren’t really sure what to expect, but it wasn’t that. A reminder that things need to remain professional, maybe. A gentle correction that you hadn’t asked permission before kissing him. But a declaration of acceptance? You hadn’t let yourself hope for that much.

“Yeah, you know, I haven’t had one of them in a while,” he explains. “A midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve,” he adds when you shake your head in confusion.

“So you’re… not upset with me?”

“The only thing that’ll upset me is if you don’t help me read the fuckin’ tiny writing on this thing.” He holds the spice bottle out for you to take. 

“Um.” You hold it in your hands and read out the list of ingredients in the mix. You hand it back to him and fix your face from the dubious, hesitant hope it wants to broadcast. 

“Thanks, Pluck,” he beams and gives your upper arm a quick rub before continuing whatever it was that you’d walked into.

Was that it? Was it really going to be that simple? No big conversation? No huge deal made about it? You aren’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, and you aren’t sure if it makes you feel better or worse.

“Y-Yeah, Goob. No problem.”

He sorts out some additional spices and sets them beside some pans. The oven is already on a low heat, and you smell something salty and sweet. 

“You, uh, got anywhere you gotta be this mornin’, or ……?” he hedges.

Is he asking because he’s trying to be polite and doesn’t want to outright ask just how long you plan on invading his personal space? Is he asking because he wants you to stay but doesn’t want you to feel obligated to do so?

“No. Is that–Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” he chimes. “Need me a sous chef today.” The corner of his mouth twitches up like there’s some funny inside joke. 

“What’re you making?” you ask, deciding to just take his lead and act like everything is normal. 

It’s the least you can do for letting yourself get out of line last night. You wish he could just understand the sense of calm and safety that overrode your brain when you woke up with his arms around you. You wish you could explain how after months and months of feeling seen by him, you’d finally given into wanting to be felt by him, too.

“Classic New Year’s Day dish. Ham, cornbread, and black eyed peas.” 

“Never had it,” you admit with a shrug.

He gives a theatrically shocked look, wide palm clutched across his chest, with an exaggerated gasp to pull it all together. You giggle and give him a small shove with your elbow.

“You’re acting like everybody should’ve heard about it – like it’s some huge deal.”

“‘Round here it is,” he contends. “Been makin’ this every New Year’s since, well, as long as I can remember. Used to have it as a kid, and then I just sorta kept it up when I got old enough, I guess. Now I still make it even though it’s just me around to eat it.”

“Oh.” Even though he hadn’t said it in any way to suggest it, you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on some private tradition meant for those nearest and dearest to him, which you most decidedly are not.

“What’d’ya mean ‘oh’?” he snorts.

“Just sounds… I dunno, sounds special, I guess. Sounds nice.”

“It is nice,” he agrees. “And, yeah, pretty special, too.”

You force yourself to meet his eye again, and the warm, welcoming brightness there speaks volumes.

You belong in this space. You’ve earned yourself a seat at the table for something like this. I want to share this with you, too.

“So you gonna learn the ropes and join the ranks?”

“Such a fearless captain at the helm, how could I refuse?” you jibe.

He throws you a flimsy salute and stations you to prepare the cornbread. Your body feels electric every time his shoulder bumps into yours side by side at the counter as he explains the “absolutes” and the “must nots” of the meal.

He explains how you soak the beans the night before so they cook evenly and timely, how it's imperative to use yellow cornmeal for the cornbread, how a pinch of sugar brings out the flavor and compliments the ham.

“You gonna eat greens if I make ‘em?” he asks over his shoulder, digging through the fridge for various ingredients.

Thankfully your brain autocorrects I’ll take anything you want to give me, Joel into “I’ll give them a try, sure.”

The morning passes languid and cozy as you watch him come to life, animated and bright over something clearly sentimental and meaningful to him. Part of you knows that you’re involved simply because you happened to be here, but another, smaller part of you likes to imagine that he would’ve liked to have had you here and a part of it all regardless.

Being this close to him, all soft and cozy in the kitchen as you share in a little feel-good bubble, brings the simmering want that your kiss last night sowed. It’s teething and clawing in your belly, this need for more more more of him heightened in every conceivable way. Any minor and innocuous movement or glance threads a burning wire throughout every bit of you, all alight and inciting as though it was being done just to pull you further into the clutches of him.

Your body feels hot and itchy, the urge to just throw caution to the wind and kiss him again - just to see what would happen - inches closer and closer to drowning out all the sensible thoughts in your head. You’d expected a more stilted, awkward atmosphere this morning and had waited for it, but it never came.

The better than expected reception has emboldened you in a way that you don’t recognize. The only thing keeping you from throwing yourself at him again is the notion that he deserved – you both deserved – to know that you weren’t just being reactionary from last night’s trainwreck and seeking out something to comfort yourself as a result.

You get the first major distraction from your inner thoughts when Joel’s phone lights up with a call. A silly little photo of him and Sarah together, her name bright across the top of the screen. It’s a video call. His eyes flit to yours, something apologetic mixed with something imploring. You aren’t sure if he wants you to be in the background of the call or not, but you aren’t up for all the questions that would garner.

“I just remembered I should probably charge my phone from last night,” you point out. It’s not untrue. You went to bed with it unplugged and didn’t think too much of it with everything else swirling around your mind at the time.

He nods and tells you there’s a mix of chargers on the desk in your room before picking his phone up just as you make your way out of the kitchen. It doesn’t take much searching to find a charger that works with your device, and you quietly descend the stairs to avoid alerting Sarah to your presence. You listen to the light, affectionate lilt in Joel’s voice as he talks with her.

You find the closest vacant outlet and plug in your phone. It takes a few moments before it comes to life again. There’d been no notifications on your old phone, which hadn’t died because old bricks like them seemed to survive just about anything, but you still worried you’d missed something on your work phone. No missed calls or texts from your dad, which is a relief, but there are a few from Kenzie along with dozens of texts.

A quick scan through the messages reveals numerous apologies and pleas for you to let her know you made it somewhere safely. There are a few notable messages, namely i wasn’t thinking straight as well as i fucked up so bad pls im sorry i just want to know if ur ok.

You feel guilty for worrying her, which annoys you for some reason, but it’s the overwhelming feeling of self-disgust for leaving her by herself last night that takes center stage. You know deep down you should be making sure she’s okay, too – that nothing horrific happened after you abandoned her, drunk and emotional with two creeps in an already unpredictable environment.

You lock the screen and push the phone aside on the table to finish charging. A hearty chuckle from Joel draws your attention back to the kitchen where you stealthily creep against the doorframe to listen closer. He’s holding the phone at an unnatural angle above his face, fat fingertip poking and jabbing at the screen as Sarah mocks him for not knowing how to use technology.

“You sure got lots of energy for somebody who was so drunk last night she didn’t even text me that she got home okay,” he chides half-heartedly.

“Ohhhh my god, dad, I’m sorry,” she groans almost petulantly. “I was with Ben – you know that. I was perfectly safe, I swear.”

“Uh huh. Weren’t you just sayin’ how y’all were both taking turns throwin’ up earlier?” he snickers.

“It wasn’t that much,” she scoffs. “Like, two times each max.”

“Yeah, enjoy that while ya can, kiddo, because once you hit about thirty those hangovers start lastin’ longer and hittin’ harder.”

“Yeah, well, right now I’m young and invincible,” she jokes. “And hungry.”

“You mean you ain’t had any time to cook up some peas and ham in between all the puking?” he snorts. “How’re you gonna usher in good luck and prosperity in the coming year?”

“Ugh, that actually sounds so good right now,” she huffs. “Me and Ben should try to find somewhere that makes it so we can have it today.”

Joel rambles about how next year they should just come stay with him so he can play chauffeur and chef for them. You’re hyper-aware of how neutral and nonjudgmental the conversation is. She’d called him and evidently spoken freely about how she’d had too much to drink, hadn’t been entirely responsible during her night out, and had been sick as a result of her revelry for a good part of the morning. 

Joel hadn’t given her a lecture about being hungover and overindulging and hadn’t admonished her for not texting when he’d told her to. It was just an uncomplicated, warm conversation about their lives and happening –  a simple exchange between two people who simply cared about each other.

You wish you could see Calum.

“Alright, tell Ben I said hi and all that.”

“I will, dad. Love you.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you. Bye.”

He’s smiling warmly at the screen when the call disconnects. His expression holds so much tenderness and warmth it makes your insides feel syrupy. He rests his phone on the counter without locking it and continues staring fondly. When you crane your neck to see what’s holding his attention, a little gasp gets caught in your throat. His head snaps your direction, fingers quickly turning the phone over and hitting the lock button.

Your eyes meet, and you swear you must’ve imagined it. Surely he hadn’t taken one of those pictures Kenzie sent of you yesterday and made it his wallpaper. His bugged eyes and mouth practically agog suggest otherwise.

“Phone charger?” he chokes out while regaining some composure.

“Huh?”

“Found a phone charger?” he repeats, fumbling forward with the conversation and glossing over the fact that he almost definitely has you set as his phone background.

“Um, yeah. Yes. Charging it now.” You nod and clamp your teeth together to hold down the nervous giggle threatening to bubble up.

“Good. That’s good.”

His cheeks are flushed a delightful shade of pink as he runs a hand along the nape of his neck, eyes zipping around for a diversion. “Your, uh, friend doin’ alright? She text you that she got home okay?”

Classic Southern gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead, apparently, but you’d wish in Joel’s case at least that it’d take a long nap. He never would’ve left anyone, especially a young woman, in a situation like that. If he knew the truth about how you’d deserted her and threw her to the wolves, he’d probably not be all warm and fuzzy about sharing sentimental family traditions with you and letting you spend the night in his house.

“She’s fine,” you mumble, now also avoiding his eye and looking around for something to occupy your gaze.

“You, uh, you never said what happened last night other than some sorta fight between the two of ya….”

“Just dumb stuff,” you say quickly – dismissively. “It’s fine.”

He bobs his head, slow and understanding despite the fact that you both know you’re lying. “Okay.”

“So anyway—”

You rock on the balls of your feet and gesture broadly to the stovetop. He takes the hint and gets back to putting the meal together. Things return to a normal cadence, and he strikes up conversation again as you plate the dish into pale blue bowls that somehow are so distinctly Joel that it makes your heart ache for something you don’t understand.

“Any resolutions?” he asks when you finally sit down together in front of the steaming food.

You chew a tender piece of ham and work it over for a moment in thought. “Mmmmm, this is delicious,” you praise. “And, uh, I dunno. Always seems like I’m jinxing something if I try to think that far ahead. High expectations means big disappointments, you know?” 

Being candid with him felt so dangerously freeing. Even sharing that small bit of truth had you hungering to let everything out in all its chaotic, thorny veracity.

“I do,” he sympathizes. His forehead scrunches and relaxes. “Ya know, sometimes when things feel like that, it can be less intimidating to just pick somethin’ real small.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs and works through a heaping spoonful before answering. “Just mean that you can start with somethin’ that ain’t high stakes. Even like watching more movies, like you said a coupla weeks ago. Just somethin’ you wanna do more of, somethin’ to make you happier.”

You hide a smile behind a big bite. His preoccupation with you getting to watch and enjoy more movies – all because you’d mentioned it almost offhandedly some weeks ago – makes your tummy feel fluttery. 

“That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” you concede. “I think that’s a really good one.”

“So there ya go: resolution sorted.” He has that big, lopsided grin that makes you want to devour him.

“And what about you? What’s your resolution?”

He thinks it over, takes it earnestly into consideration, and decides on something you think wouldn’t hurt for you to take up, too.

“Taking bigger chances, maybe? Maybe not like crazy leaps of faith or somethin’, but just– I dunno, not letting me talk myself outta somethin’ every time. Maybe just not thinkin’ too hard on things every single time, learning to lean into instincts or whatever a little bit more.”

“Trusting your gut,” you summarize.

“Yeah, trustin’ my instincts,” he reaffirms.

The meal and the company have left you feeling full and comforted, and the two of you make quick work of cleaning up the kitchen. It’s so calming listening to Joel hum a song you don’t recognize, feeling like somehow you know it intimately after hearing him sing it. Midday rolls around, and it’s the first point where the bubble bursts.

“You never said anything about a ride home,” he starts.

“Oh. I guess I didn’t.”

The sentiment that you’ve overstayed your welcome leaves you embarrassed.

“I mean you’re more’n welcome to stay as long as ya want. Just don’t want you stickin’ around because you feel sorry for me bein’ by myself or somethin’. Don’t wanna hold you hostage.”

“Joel,” you huff, entirely incredulous that he could ever think you wanted anything other than to be right next to him, wherever that happened to be. “This is the best New Year’s I’ve had since… well, this is the best New Year’s I’ve ever had, actually.”

Joel makes a face, and you’re sure he’s wondering how on earth that could be true when you had such a terrible night last night with Kenzie. “Kinda hard to believe that,” he chortles. “Bar must be so low it’s in hell for that to be true.”

Just as he often did, Joel ran straight into the point without knowing just how right he was.

The burgundy sedan parked outside your house isn’t one you’ve seen before, and it’s certainly seen better days. You don’t even bother lying to Joel about the fact that you don’t recognize it despite it being parked clearly in front of the curb of your house.

“M’comin’ with ya” is all you get before he’s opening your car door  and herding you to the front of the house like a personal bodyguard. Not up for discussion, and certainly not going to be disputed. It doesn’t feel domineering or demanding, though. It gives a sense of calm and protection. Your dad’s compact SUV is parked in the driveway as usual.

Joel inspects the lock and seems satisfied that there��s no sign of forced entry or damage to it. You tense as he turns the knob and heads inside first. You tail him like a second shadow, eyes darting furiously around for any indication of something amiss. The foyer has several shattered picture frames on one side, and the doorframe into the living room is missing a chunk out of it at about shoulder height. You set your handful of items on the foyer table with a shaky hand as you strain your ears to listen.

“You stay behind me, you understand?” is Joel’s firm demand, maybe the first one you’ve ever really heard from him with such a tense tone. You nod and let him take the lead again.

“Dad?” you call out. Joel whips around and pins you with a look that says you probably shouldn’t be shouting out your location into a house that’s clearly had some sort of disturbance recently. You duck your head down and mumble an apology.

How could you explain that the state of the house isn’t out of the norm? How could you explain to Joel that you wouldn’t have looked twice at the damaged areas if you’d come home like usual? The only aspect of it that was unexpected was the worn down sedan parked outside.

A soft sound travels down the adjoining hallway where your room is located, and your heart sinks. Had your dad gotten drunk and decided to ransack your room for an impromptu inspection? Was he going to find the envelopes of money you’d hidden around that end of the house in various vents? How fast could you get a handle on the interaction before Joel put his foot down and demanded you tell him everything? Could you control the situation enough that your dad and Joel wouldn’t get into a physical altercation?

Without thinking, you rush towards the sound and get an immediate hiss of disapproval from Joel who picks up his strides to cut you off right in front of your bedroom door. A louder sound comes from somewhere you can’t see, and you’re almost knocked on your ass with how quickly Joel shoves you behind him, acting like a shield. There’s some shuffling – whoever it was in your room now being alerted to you and Joel’s presence in the hallway - but you can’t see past the width of Joel’s back, and his arms are outstretched behind him to keep you bracketed and guarded.

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doin’ here?” he snarls.

“Jesus christ, man! What the fuck! Who the fuck are you?” a man’s voice snaps back, a trill of panic laced in the challenge.

“You got ten seconds to get the fuck outta this house before I–”

Joel doesn’t have a chance to finish his threat as you launch out from behind him and stagger towards the stranger’s voice — except it’s not a stranger at all.

“Calum!” you gasp when your eyes land on him, confirming that it really is him even under all the bumps and fresh bruising and dried split lip.

You’re running and crashing into him with loose limbs before you can even process the situation fully. Hot trails stream down your cheeks as you grab at him and grip him tight so he can’t get away – not that he’s trying. Your chest fractures into a tiny million pieces when he lets out a soft exhale that’s one breath away from weeping as he grabs you up into his arms and holds on for dear life.

You’re a blubbering mess, but Calum isn’t far behind, sniffling and warbling your name as he holds you closer and sways you both on the spot in a meager attempt at self-soothing. 

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry he keeps saying over and over.

Your strangled whispers of “it’s not your fault” and “it’s okay” fall on deaf ears.

“This your brother Calum?” Joel interrupts. His voice has a tense edge to it, like he’s still not at ease with the situation.

You break away from Calum and nod. “This is my brother Calum,” you confirm.

He eyes him with patent suspicion but doesn’t speak on it. You step closer to Joel, who surprises you by angling his body slightly in front of yours and directly addressing Calum.

“You make a habit of going through her shit?” he demands in a harsh voice you’ve never heard from him until this moment.

“Joel!” you snap. “He can be in my room. Stop it.”

You and Calum exchange a loaded glance and drop it quickly. You know he can sense that Joel isn’t abreast of all the nitty gritty details of your life. Joel cocks his head sideways and back to meet your eye like he’s sizing up whatever silent, weird undercurrent he’s clearly not privy to.

“There’s a car you don’t recognize parked in front of your house and then we come inside to find shit banged up and broken. Then there’s sounds from your fucking bedroom? After you called out and nobody answered? He’s lucky I don’t fuckin’ carry because plenty of people woulda assumed it was a fuckin’ intruder and shot his ass,” he gripes.

It’s so unlike Joel to be so tightly wound, and it’s hard to pin exactly why he’s reacting so severely.

“Hey, man, I didn’t mean to scare anybody,” Calum offers. “I’m sure that it was kinda crazy to walk in on the house like that. I’m sorry.”

Joel is still tense, the lack of being clued in on the unspoken situation clearly causing him further agitation. “You got any explanation for why you look fucked up?” he demands.

“Joel!” you hiss. “Don’t fucking talk to him like that!”

You round on him now, placing yourself between the two of them, and square up your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get why he’s–” You’re sure Calum is ready to stick up for Joel, but you’re not having it. Joel has no right to come into your house and demand anything from Calum. 

“He doesn’t get to talk to you like that,” you say plainly.

Joel’s outstretched hands beckon you closer, a gesture of apology and placation. “Can I talk to you in private in the hallway for a minute?”

Calum gives you a terse nod, and so you agree.

“Somethin’ weird is going on here,” he starts in a low voice once he makes sure Calum’s out of earshot. “I don’t know what it is or if you know what it is, but I don’t feel comfortable leavin’ you here alone with him.”

In a moment of clarity, you’re afforded the realization that Joel is acting so unkind and sharp because he’s afraid. Not of Calum and not of the mysterious stranger he’d been up until he’d confronted him in your bedroom. No, he’d been afraid that something or someone could’ve been lying in wait to harm you. Leftover frustration at the feelings of adrenaline and fear that you could’ve been in a potentially unsafe situation by yourself if he hadn’t insisted on accompanying you inside. A threat to your well-being that ultimately ended up okay but still left him with an electric energy to keep you out of harm’s way.

You soften and take his hands in yours. “Joel, I trust Calum with my life. He’s safe. I promise you, he’s okay.”

Joel swallows hard and slides his jaw back and forth in a moment of calculation. “Would you tell me if he wasn’t?” he wonders. Your head inches back in surprise at the question, but he’s talking again before you can even answer. “You would tell me? If you needed to get out of here? Because you know if you said the word, sweetheart, we’d be outta here no questions asked. You’d come to mine, and we’d figure it out from there. You’d tell me if that’s what you needed, right?”

His hands slide above your hips on either side of your body, a gentle squeeze pressed into the flesh there. Something in his pleading eyes and open, earnest face that tell you he’s not just talking about right here and right now. He’s begging for you to tell him that you’d come to him if you needed somewhere to go, someone to talk to.

“I know more than ever that you’d show up for me, Joel. Last night you came to get me without a second thought. Trust me, I know I — I know that I have you.”

“You do,” he repeats firmly. “You have me.”

You’re locked into each other much in the same way you were on the couch last night. His lips part ever so slightly, and you don’t need the fireworks bursting into the night air to feel that same fiery explosiveness between you. You tilt your head back in an invitation. Kiss me.

“I can, um, I can go if that would….” Calum’s head is peeking out of your doorframe, eyes darting curiously to where Joel’s hands rests on your waist.

“Let’s just take this outside,” you announce abruptly, turning on your heel and making for the front door. Calum follows in step with Joel stepping in sync behind him. You know Calum doesn’t have anything he needs to grab on the way out. There’s nothing for him here anymore. You grab your things from the front table and hop down the porch steps.

“Ride around the block and talk?” Calum surmises from your silent thoughts.

“Yeah. Just give me a minute, okay?”

He nods and shoots Joel a wave before heading to his sedan. You turn to find Joel still watching him with a probing stare.

“Hey,” you gently prod him.

His gaze settles down to you and softens. He’s still worried. You can see it in every etch and downturned corner of his mouth.

“He just ain’t gonna explain anything about why the fuck the house looks like that? Who the fuck was he throwin’ hands with? Your fuckin’ dad?”

He sounds almost incredulous, as if the idea of Calum and your dad beating on each other was outlandish rather than the normal fare that it actually was.

“Probably,” you answer plainly. Your mind is racing too fast to come up with something, so you opt for the most simple version of the truth.

Joel’s brow pinches together with a whole new expression of concern. Why doesn’t that upset you? Why does that sound like it’s not a surprise to you in the slightest? Why don’t you seem fazed by any of this?

“Listen, I’m going to go for a drive with him so we can talk—”

“In that piece of shit car?” he balks.

“Joel,” you warn. “I’m going with him. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

His hands splay wide across his hips, one knee jutted out while he thinks it over. He huffs but eventually appears to come to the conclusion that you’re getting in that car with or without his approval.

“I want you to check in. Not a text, okay? Call me,” he urges. “Please,” he adds softly. 

“I promise. I won’t leave you hanging, okay? I’m going to call you first thing.”

“That thing even have heat?” he wonders aloud, almost to himself. “You gonna be warm enough?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer and instead peels off his outer flannel. He helps you work your arms through the sleeves and straightens it up on you. He brings you into a tight hug and rests his mouth just beside your ear.

“You tell me if you need anything. Anything. I’ve got you.”

You shiver when his lips graze your earlobe as he pulls away. He watches you get into your brother’s car, sparing an inquisitive look at your house just as you round the corner and lose sight of him in your rearview mirror.

The drive to a nearby park is quiet and serene. It feels unreal and leaves you almost giddy just to be in close proximity with your little brother again. He parks and cuts the engine. He turns to face you, and for a moment you just smile back and forth. A rarity to be in each other’s company without the threat of imminent harm closing in on all sides.

You break the silence first. 

“What happened with dad?”

He scoffs and flicks the steering wheel. “Came to talk to him. A real conversation - or at least that was the goal. Figured if I did it on New Year’s it wouldn’t be so bizarre. New beginnings and setting intentions and all that.”

“I can’t believe he even let you in.”

“He didn’t. I still had a key. Dumbass hadn’t changed the locks. Probably thought I’d be too afraid to ever step foot in the house again, so no need to change them.”

You swallow hard thinking back to that fateful day Calum had left. He’d have every reason to be afraid of crossing the threshold of that front door ever again. You straighten up and dismiss the memories for now.

“So, you waited up for him? Or …. I mean, what happened?”

He smirks, but it lacks any trace of amusement. “Well, he was already pretty hammered when he got in. Saw me waiting in the living room and accused me of coming to ‘kill him like the coward I always was.’ Told him I’d come to talk with him and see if those bridges were really burnt up, you know? I think he got kinda smug thinkin’ I meant I wanted to make sure I hadn’t burned any bridges because I wanted to come back, so he let me stay and say my piece.”

He shakes his head and laughs as if recalling the memory of it was too absurd to be real. “ Once he realized I was basically letting him know I had no intention of speaking to him ever again, he got pretty pissed. That’s when we started scuffling. I tried to hold back so it wouldn’t escalate, but he just kept going harder. You know how he gets.”

Your lips press together in a tight line. You knew very well how your father got.

“Anyway, I got him off me and told him I was leaving. Didn’t need him calling the cops or something. He was already bent over the kitchen table with a bottle of something when I went out the back. I hung around until he blacked out because I could tell he was going to, you know? Didn’t know where you were and wanted to wait up for you. Wanted to see you and make sure you were okay.”

“That unfortunately sounds about right, I guess,” you sigh. “ Um, thank you for sticking around to see me. I’ve– It’s been a little bit. How’ve you been? I’ve been worried about you.”

“Been doing okay,” he offers up noncommittally with a lazy shrug. “Don’t wanna jinx it by saying it’s been going good, you know?” he exhales in a laugh. 

“But you are? Doing good?” you press. 

“Yeah. I am.”

He picks at his hands like he’s hesitant or unsure of what to say and where to start. You give him the space and time he needs.

“I stay and work at a halfway house sorta place. They agreed to let me board there even though I’m not on anything. No drug habit or whatever to overcome, but they still allow me to board there.  Guess they took pity on me and needed some extra help anyway. So. Yeah. Got a safe place to lay my head at night. Get two free therapy appointments a week there. My counselor specializes in sobriety and recovery, of course, but he’s still been a big help with all… my stuff.”

“Wow,” you breathe. Your chest feels like it could burst hearing how well he’s doing and how secure he sounds. “That’s so amazing!”

He snorts and waves off your praise. “Yeah, wasn’t all that impressive when I first got out there. Bouncing from shelter to shelter. It’s where I met Jaz, though. She’s the one who got me linked up with the sober house. Wouldn’t be doing as good if it weren’t for her.”

“Jaz?”

He gets noticeably antsy at the way you clocked his attachment to this Jaz person. “Yeah, Jaz. Or Jazzy. Jasmine.” He says her name so delicately, like if he spoke a syllable too harshly the name would crumble altogether on his tongue. There’s a soft reverence there, and you want to know all about whoever it is that has your brother so clearly happy.

“So you still get to see her then?”

“I guess you could say that.” His shy grin stretches until the glint of his teeth is visible, his palpable joy unable to be contained. “Only about every day.” He doesn’t bother holding back now, his whole face beaming with a bright smile.

“So are you….”

“Yeah. Girlfriend territory, definitely. I mean, we haven’t sat down and had the conversation or anything official, but… I mean, if having Thanksgiving with her folks isn’t official then I don’t really know what is.”

You stiffen slightly with a twinge of hurt at the mention of him spending Thanksgiving with a new family. A normal family. One that didn’t include you. 

Realizing the impact of his choice of phrasing, he quickly attempts to correct himself. “I shouldn’t have said it all casual like that. I’m sorry.”

A watery smile plays on your mouth. You tell him that it’s okay. That you know he didn’t mean anything by it. That you thought about him on Thanksgiving Day, too, and imagined that he was somewhere with a group of people who were warm and kind and welcoming. How happy you were to know just how right you’d been in your wishful hoping for him. That you don’t begrudge him for doing so well all these months apart.

He in turn tells you that he thought about you often. About how he’d told Jaz’s parents all about you already. That her mom was a Community Outreach Coordinator who, along with Jaz’s Nonprofit Organization Lawyer father, had given her the passion for helping others and offering the gift of her empathetic heart.

Calum went on to share that Jaz and her parents knew all about his upbringing and what had landed him in a shelter on his own so young in the first place. How they’d taken it in stride and applauded his steps to bettering his situation. How they’d said how proud he should be of himself and how proud they were of him.

His own eyes shimmer now with fat lines of wet threatening to spill over. He sniffs loudly and clears his throat. You imagine it’s probably the first time in his life a parent, even if it was someone else’s, told him they were proud of him.

“I came back because… well, I wanted to see you, but also because my counselor had said I should give myself ‘the gift of closure.’ Coming back to talk to dad and make sure that deciding to go no contact was the right thing. Because I was starting to doubt myself, you know? Even with all the good things happening with him out of the picture, there was still that little thought of what if. And thinking like you and him were a package deal or something since you still live at home. My counselor said that wasn’t true, you know? And after all that went down this morning, it was the push I needed to cut ties with dad completely.”

“I understand.” You look out into the clouded sky, a visual white noise to let your coherent thoughts through. “There’s no path forward there. Just a dead end.”

“Yeah…. I always sort of knew it, in a way, but I think I needed to come here to leave myself with no doubts. And – just let me finish saying this, okay? – I owe you an apology. I should’ve reached out. I didn’t have your number when I left because my phone died and got cut off, but I still could’ve— I dunno, I could’ve called the grocery store or something. Reached you that way. I was just so into my own shit and getting my head clear that I just left you behind, and I didn’t even mean to. I didn’t realize it had even happened, and that’s what makes me feel so fucking bad about it all. I didn’t realize how long it’d been since we last spoke, and it’s not okay. I got so lost in my own process to deal with all this shit that I just left you here even though I know exactly the sort of shithole it is.”

“I don’t blame you for getting out and not looking back.”

“I know that. You were always too nice for your own good, I think.”

You share a small laugh at the truth of it. The laugh runs short when he offers a place for you to come with him.

“Just… up and leave? Calum, I-I can’t do that.”

“Dad’s not stable. You know he’s not fucking stable,” he rebuts. “It’s only a matter of time before he does something serious. Not just a broken door or a slap across your face. He’s dangerous, and he just gets worse the longer time goes on.” You can hear the tinge of fear in his voice.

“I know,” you concede. “I’m-I’m working on it, okay? I’ve got a real job now, and I’ve been able to put aside more money than ever. I’ve got myself into a good path to getting out, but I want to do it on my own terms.”

“And do those terms include Joel?” he pries with a smile you can hear in his voice without even needing to look.

“Maybe.” You bite back a grin and shrug.

“So, what? I tell you about Jazzy, but I don’t get to hear about him? Fuckin’ guard dog of a boyfriend. Thought he was gonna beat my ass for a second there,” he huffs in a laugh.

Boyfriend. The sound of it makes something warm and syrupy drip down your spine. As much as you’d love to claim him as such, you tell Calum it’s not quite that straightforward. You don’t downplay your feelings for Joel when Calum asks you about it directly. He’s delighted at all the thoughtful gifts you received for Christmas. You tell him all the small things Joel does that make you feel supported and set up to succeed and seen. You tell him how you don’t know what to do with all of it sometimes. How you feel overwhelmed with the goodness of it all at times. 

“I know. It’s such a weird feeling, isn’t it?” he commiserates. 

“What feeling?”

“Of somebody taking care of you. Wanting to. Not expecting anything in return. It’s a mindfuck.”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, something so freeing and weightless about the candor and being so deeply, intimately understood passing between the two of you. 

“You know, Joel seems like a good guy,” he notes after a beat of quiet. “I think you should go after it – whatever it is to you. Really. Just– Just chase happiness, you know? Because you deserve it. You deserve to have that.”

You reach over and squeeze his arm, shooting him a soft look of appreciation. “It means a lot to know you get a good feeling from him, even if he probably was about to rock your shit at the house.”

He chuckles again and tucks his chin down in reflection. “I do. But I trust you, too. Your judgment. And, if you feel safe with him, then he’s my new favorite person.”

Your next exhale feels like you’re breathing out all the tension and last bits of apprehension about diving head first into Joel. 

“Plus he’s just so handsome,” Calum gushes theatrically.

You playfully shove him but don’t argue because it’s the truth. But just as good things do, it has to come to an end eventually. Calum apologizes for having to leave so he makes it back by curfew. You aren’t ready to go back home just yet.

“Drive me to Joel’s?”

“Like I didn’t figure that’s where you wanted to go,” he snorts. “God knows you don’t wanna go back to dad.”

His engine sounds pitiful as it cranks to life, but you’re quickly headed back into the neighborhood. He pulls to a stop outside Joel’s house but motions for you to wait before getting out.

“Hey, promise me you’ll go to him if dad does anything.”

“Calum, I can’t just—”

“No. Promise me.”

You sigh and give in. “Okay. Fine. I promise if anything happens, I’ll go to Joel.”

That placates him, apparently. He leaves the car running while he walks you to the door. You see him grin from the corner of your eye when the front door swings open to reveal a relieved looking Joel who appears appropriately sheepish and apologetic about their previous interaction.

“Sorry about that. Earlier, I mean. Just got a little high strung there for a minute. Hope you don’t take it too personal,” Joel says with a sort of tail between the legs kind of tone.

“Not at all. Consider it history, Joel,” Calum supplies brightly. “Actually pretty glad there’s somebody out here looking after my sister like that.”

They shake hands and put the awkward first meeting behind them. You hug Calum as tight as you can and triple check that he has your number before seeing him off. Joel shuts the door softly behind you both just as Calum rounds the end of the street.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t text or call before coming over.”

“You can come over whenever you want. Open invitation. You should know that by now, sweetheart.”

A loud sound from the TV draws your attention, and Joel skirts around the couch for the remote to mute it. You follow closely and ogle the way his shirt stretches the span of his back with each movement. You hear Calum’s voice echo in your head.

Chase happiness. Chase happiness. Chase happiness.

You can’t stop thinking about kissing Joel. He’d kissed you back last night, hadn’t he? Was it just reflexive? You’d both just woken up. Maybe he was just so shocked by it that he didn’t have time to react in a way that was aligned with his actual feelings? Had it meant anything to him? But then you could’ve sworn he wanted to kiss you again just a few hours ago in the hallway of your house.

“Found it.” He switches the volume off and sets the remote back down on the table before plopping down onto the couch and patting the spot next to him. You sink slowly into the cushion beside him and work your flannel – Joel’s flannel – off you.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this.”

“You can keep it on if you need to.” He almost sounds like he wishes you’d keep it.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“So, did he… what was goin’ on with–”

“Can I ask you something first?” you interject.

Joel sits up straighter and angles himself towards you. “Yeah, of course.”

“Are you– Did you think anything after… when I … last night when those fireworks woke us up?” you gulp, chickening out on asking a straightforward question.

He’s quiet in thought for a few beats and reaches out gently for your hand, which you readily slide into his warm palm. 

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

“I was thinkin’ about how guilty I felt to just take from you like that,” he admits.

“What?” you gasp. “ You didn’t take—”

“You’d just been in a fight with your friend – obviously had a bad night. Needed somewhere to crash. Probably weren’t in the best of mind, and that still wasn’t enough to keep me from kissin’ you back.”

You sit in a stunned silence and absorb this alternate version of events that hadn’t even occurred to you. It made sense from his perspective, you suppose. You’re glad you didn’t tell him about Logan because you can only imagine the sort of unwarranted guilt he’d feel about it.

“And I, you know, I’m your boss, and if I’m puttin’ you in a weird spot–it’s just – I don’t wanna take advantage–”

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?” you interrupt in a strained whisper.

His head inches back in surprise. “I– Would you want me to?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I would. I really would.”

He licks his lips and nods, eyes skirting down to your mouth and then back up. He reaches out for you no sooner than you’re clambering onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. His mouth is hot and eager on yours, the plush give of his lip contrasting delightfully with the scratch of his beard. He rocks up into you, pressing on the curve of your spine to flatten your body against his. The wet smack of your mouths is only drowned out by the breathy moans escaping your throat.

The warm pad of his palm runs along your back where his hand is shoved under your shirt – his shirt – and dances across your bare skin. Your body writhes against him instinctively, seeking out more points of contact between the two of you, as the kiss deepens. His free hand wraps around your hip and encourages the swivel of them against his lap. Joel’s gravelly groans spur you on until you’re deliberately rocking against the plump of his belly. 

You’re thanking yourself for forgoing your bra and panties from last night and just donning the clothes Joel gave you to borrow because there’s so little separating your bodies. When your reflexive grinding lands the heat of your core against the firm pressure of his thigh, you gasp and break from the kiss.

 Joel’s eyes are dark and half-lidded, eyeing you with a hunger that makes you clench around nothing. 

“You gotta tell me to stop if you need it to stop,” he grits.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you choke out as you rush to resume the heaven of his touch.

You chase his lips and pout when you realize his mouth is drifting to the side as he pulls away for a moment longer.

“Listen, I just gotta– I gotta make sure of somethin’ before I get caught up in all this and can’t string two thoughts together. Are you, uh… you been with … somebody before?”

You blink a few times and level your breathing while you process the unexpected question. “You mean am I a virgin?”

His face flushes a million degrees. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m askin’.”

“Are you a virgin, Joel? You’re pretty pink right now.”

He flushes deeper. “Nah, quit it. M’serious. I just, you know, I wanna make sure you’re— I don’t wanna hurt you or anything is all. I don’t mean to ask after your whole history or somethin’—”

“You sorta sound like you’re interested in deflowering me,” you tease.

“Christ, I dunno about that,” he scoffs.

“You mean the idea of a sweet, innocent virgin doesn’t do anything for you?”

“Honestly, it’s — that would be— that’s a lot of pressure if I’m bein’ honest. Not that I wouldn’t— I would take care of anybody that needed— I mean, of course, but I think I’d be so in my head about it the whole time worried I’d ruin your first time or somethin’.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. I’m not a virgin.”

He gives you a crooked smile. “Phew,” he jokes.

“But, um. Well, I’ve actually never— I’ve only been with girls, so I’m sort of new to … your type of equipment,” you admit.

“Oh. Oh.  So– wait. You— you’ve had stuff up there before though, right?”

“Fingers.”

“Small fingers if it’s just been girls.”

You shrug. You can feel heat flooding your face now, too. You hoped you weren't coming off as inexperienced and scaring him away. “Normal fingers,” you petulantly argue.

“No, what I mean is—” he takes your hand in his, easily cradling it in the size of his own “—mine might be a little more to take. Among other things.”

Heat floods your cheeks and panties. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” you assure him. While you really do mean it, you pray that Joel doesn’t want to stop.

“How about we just see after you today, huh?” he suggests. “See where that takes us.”

“What did you have in mind?” You roll your hips against his lap and giggle when he groans and grips your sides.

“You gonna be trouble for me, huh?” he rasps. He slips a hand under your  waistband and curves his hand around the meat of your inner thigh, knuckles grazing against your pussy lips.

You jolt forward with a loud moan and grip onto his shoulders, mouth gone slack. You catch the satisfied grin on his face before he ducks his head to nuzzle your throat where he lays a line of wet, open mouthed kisses.

You grab at his wrist to push him closer to where you ache to be touched, but he freezes for a split second in confusion, thinking you wanted him to stop. A devilish grin blooms on his mouth when he realizes it’s quite the opposite, and then he’s teasing his thick fingers in a V on the outside of your lips.

“Can’t even wait for me to touch you there, can ya?” he goads. “You need it real bad, huh?”

You shake your head dumbly at a complete loss of words. He grins even wider.

“Yeah you do,” he hums low and breathy.

He presses against your thigh creases before drawing his fingers together, trapping your lips between his middle and pointer fingers. He massages the engorged flesh and applies pressure and friction to your clit with your own folds. The smear of his movements makes your dripping arousal smack and pop.

“Please touch it,” you beg, not even caring how desperate and needy you sound.

“Like this?”

Four of his fingers stacked on top of each other form a wide, flat plane against your folds where he runs firm passes. Your hips buck as you cry out, and you feel a release already building. You could say it was the much needed tension relief or how long you’ve wanted Joel like this, but it’s undeniable that he is about to make you come faster than you can ever remember with anyone or even yourself.

“Yeah, you like that,” he husks. “All wet and needy. You just let me take care of that.”

“I think I’m gonna come,” you squeak out.

“Yeah?” His face lights up with an eager hunger. “Come for me, sweetheart. Lemme see how much you like my hand, and we’ll see what else I got that you like.”

You grind in sync with his rubbing, and your pussy clenches hard and deep inside, feeling so intense you could swear it’s pulling on your stomach muscles with each contraction. Everything is a hazy euphoria as your orgasm tears through you. You’re vaguely aware of Joel’s running commentary to himself as you come down from your high. Murmurings of “pretty when you come for me” and “look so good like this.” You whine when he removes his hand, but he just chuckles and goes back to kissing and nuzzling your neck.

“You gonna let me see it or am I just allowed to feel it today?”

“You can do whatever you want to it,” you breathe, drunk on pleasure.

“Mmmm, just like I thought. Trouble.”

He turns and lays you on the couch. You feel weightless and warm. He asks if it’s okay to tug your pants down, and you draw another chuckle from him when you impatiently start shoving at it yourself. He pulls them down to your thighs and drags one pant leg all the way off before discarding them completely. He sucks in a sharp inhale when he leans in closer to your soaked pussy.

“Fuck me that’s pretty,” he murmurs under his breath. 

He drops a leg off the couch so he can crouch forward and rest his cheek against your thigh. You nearly launch off the couch when he presses a soft kiss to your clit. “Sshhh sshhhh, I got you. So sensitive, sweetheart.”

“I can’t help it,” you pout.

“I’ll be real gentle, okay? I just wanna taste you.”

“Okay,” you say back in a hush. “Lemme feel your mouth.”

He grunts at the invitation and hovers just next to your glistening core. “Look at me. Wanna see your face when I eat this pretty pussy.”

You oblige and prop yourself up slightly on your elbows until you’re holding Joel’s gaze. Your head snaps back when he flits his tongue just inside your slit, and you have enough mind to crane your head back down to look at him like he asked you to. His grin is wild and devilish, eyes locked onto you and waiting for you to look at him again before he’s lapping slow strokes up and down. 

You’d always thought that if you ever did end up getting with a guy that they wouldn’t be as skilled at going down on you as the girls you’d been with or even want to at all based on stories you’d heard from others. Apparently neither applied to Joel because you can barely keep yourself conscious of anything but him and his mouth as he devours you with a genuine enthusiasm that only further turns you on.

“Feels so good,” you whine.

He groans in approval, and the added vibration nearly sends you over the edge right then and there. He yanks your lower body closer to him so he can drape your leg over his shoulder, and you realize the loud, pitiful whimpers and moans floating through the room are coming from you.

“Look at me when I make you come,” he urges.

You hold eye contact right as he latches onto your clit and sucks with wet, pursed lips, and you’re freefalling again. Your entire body droops against the cushions, hands grabbing Joel’s curls as he rocks his head back and forth to work you through your high. He gently laps at your release, slipping his tongue around and inside you and suckling every drop until you’re limp and worn out.

Your head lolls to the side, and you watch as Joel grips a large bulge in the crotch of his pants. He almost looks pained as he squeezes, and your eyes widen at the size of his outline.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

“Just tryna…. tryin’ not to come, sweetheart,” he grits, leaning back to sit against the couch.

You scurry over to him and palm him through his pants. “I want you to come, too.”

“This is about you tod—” He lets out a ragged exhale when you clumsily stroke the outline of him.

“Please. I wanna see you.”

He obliges with an okay, sweetheart, and you keep your expression in check when the heft of him falls free. You’ve never seen one before, but you’re pretty sure that his is bigger than average. You awkwardly grip a hand around it and gently tug up and down.

“Show me how to do it,” you whisper.

He presses his hand around yours and strokes faster, but it feels a bit dry. You spit onto the tip of it, and his face is something you wish you could capture forever. Brow knitted, mouth hung open and low. Looking like he’s indebted to you and astounded all at once. The added lubrication makes your hands move faster, and you watch curiously as his balls start to pull up into themselves.

“M’gonna come,” he warns, and a few seconds later he’s erupting all over himself and both of your hands with a guttural moan.

It’s unfamiliar and arousing to see the thick ropes of cum spurt and splatter everywhere, and you watch with unabashed interest. You’re only pulled away from examining the way his stomach rises and falls as his breaths even out when he slings an arm around you and pulls you into a kiss.

It’s slower and more deliberate than before, and you taste the tang of yourself on his tongue. You get into a lazy, sated rhythm, exploring and learning one another, until you both eventually slow to a stop.

“That was really nice,” you say in a hush.

He grins and nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“I feel so good.”

“Mmmm, me, too. Wanted to make it about you, but I just got so fuckin’ hard tasting you.”

You giggle and cuddle up against him. “You looked so hot when you were coming.”

“Same to you times ten. Looked like an angel singing when you came all over my fingers and mouth.”

“The devil was an angel, too, you know,” you joke.

“Like I said earlier: trouble,” he laughs. “Just my kinda trouble, sweetheart. Just my kinda trouble.”

Thanks for your patience on this one. I will be slow responding to anybody who comments or reblogs because of irl shit, but I will do my best. Thanks for reading.

tagging:

@survivingandenduring @bizarrelove-triangle @cumberpegg @verybigvag @jodiswiftle

@umnitsa @ellenmunn @fairy3333 @doblasftcisco @ctrlaltdel3te

@fishingforpike @copperhalfcent @zooty-and-fruity @jupiter-soups @walw1017

@beelzebeth87 @pastelpinkflowerlife @samiamproductions @koshkaj-blog @dontjudgemyobsessionpls

[15-lizards]

Not sure if you've been asked this before but I love the detail and research you put into your ASOIAF material. What do you think ladies of various houses did for fun? What talents would they be encouraged to develop as they grew older? What did different kingdoms view as being an "accomplished" lady? I know this is HUGE, but I'm always so curious about domesticity and the interior lives of women in fantasy.

I loveeeee the domestic lives of historical women I love material culture and decorative arts that shows us how they lived

-northern noblewomen are usually taught a variety of textile arts, to repair old cloaks, embroider gowns, weave tapestries, quilting blankets, etc etc. A lot of it is practical, as everyone is needed to pitch in on household preparations, especially when it's getting close to winter, but it still functions as entertainment, like when Sansa goes to needlepoint circles to make pretty wall hangings and gossip. Other entertainments include singing and listening to traveling bards (though "refined" instruments are not common up north). An "accomplished" northern lady is one who can do a wide variety of domestic tasks in order to provide what she can for her family.

-Iron Islands womens' domestic life is as bleak as everything else on the islands :/ Women do a lot of practical sewing and weaving, but there isn't much time or product available to do it for leisure. Entertainment often comes in the form of drinking, feasting, and (oftentimes lewd) songs, but highborn women are not allowed to participate as much as the men, though they participate significantly more than mainlander women. The concept of an "accomplished" women is kinda sneered upon on the islands, as men think that kind of stuff is for uppity southerners, but there is still an unconscious expectation for noblewomen to be able to complete practical domestic tasks and be able to run the household, though not so much as they overstep the men.

-Riverlander highborn women take great pride and enjoyment in textile art especially I think. Obviously they do it for practical uses, but there is soooo much woven art in a Riverland women's household. Long, detailed tapestries that run the length of the wall and all of the pillows and gowns and blankets have cross stitch decoration. Outside of textiles, riverlander women love love love traditional songs and ballads, passing them down from generation to generation, especially the bittersweet ones about Jonquil or Simeon Star Eyes. An accomplished riverlands woman is well-rounded and able to apply her domestic talents to many areas, and creating a warm and comfortable home is the most important aspect.

-Noblewomen of the Vale are expected to be paragons of domesticity. Their leisure time is often filled with very feminine pursuits. Praying for her family in the sept. Shyly dancing with kings and lords at balls. Doing delicate lacework and needlework upon her gowns or gifts for others. Doing these things makes one an "accomplished" lady in the eyes of Vale culture. A pious and virtuous young woman who can offer her domestic talents to her family, as well as expertly navigate a complex social web full of gossip and drama, while still staying above all of said drama.

-In the Reach, noblewomen are given a masterclass in aristocratic leisure activities. Not only do they delicately sew and stitch, but they are also taught pretty songs, court dances, how to ride and hunt and hawk like a lady, and even how to gossip slyly appropriately. Because there is more room for comfort over practicality in the south, "accomplished" women are not expected to contribute as much in the way of household management. Instead they are molded into perfect ladies, who can lure in any suitor or charm any guest, one who clearly has the resources to learn so much in the way of entertaining. Overall expected to become a symbol of refinement for their father and/or husband's name.

-Westerlands women are very similar to Reach women in their leisure activities and domestic lives and what they consider to be "accomplished", due to their proximity. However I think there's more of a focus in the Westerlands for women to be more practical, so that they can be more apt in household management and "useful" domestic tasks. This is due to an underlying seriousness in western culture, which I think is the main difference between them and their neighbors. Both charming and sly and self-interested, but present themselves in different manners.

-Crownlands women have the most available to them in terms of leisure and entertainment (rivaled only by the Reach), both social and domestic. Large balls, public plays, and royal feasts are expected to be attended if you're a noble lady, but one is also free to privately garden, read, ride, bind books, make dolls, sew gowns, paint, etc etc. What counts as an "accomplished" women fluctuates on whoever has the most influence, so many nobles play it safe and teach their daughters the basics of court manners and needlepoint and dancing. However since Kings Landing especially is a large mix of cultures and values, there are many noblewomen who are differently talented and in their own right.

-Stormlands women often enjoy outdoor activities for their leisure. Even in the rainy, muggy weather, they are out on the hills to ride or hawk or hunt. They pursue domestic activities as well, like the other noblewomen of Westeros, but are also expected to enjoy the outdoors like the men, in order for their health and constitution. They feast and dance and sing and drink, and its not uncommon for them to match the men in these activities. An "accomplished" woman in the Stormlands is someone who can easily juggle domestic tasks, running a household, and be able to keep up with the men in their activities, and do it all without complaint. More "frivolous" activities are not required.

-Dornish women's domestic culture is fairly unique compared to the rest of Westeros. Due to the weather in most parts, many noblewomen do their leisure activities indoors. These include games like Cyvasse, reading fictions and Dornish poetry, arguing philosophy, playing instruments, singing, and dancing. Due to the general equality between genders (and no im not calling Dorne a feminist utopia) women are allowed to take part in more mental pursuits. Because of this, an "accomplished" Dornish woman is expected to be one who is well read and knowledgable about many fields, and can carry on intelligent conversations with anyone, as well as being charming and hospitable to all who meet her.

[mrsensitive]

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did

a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋

1

You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.

When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.

Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.

“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”

You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.  

“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.” 

You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”

“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”

You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead. 

Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.

“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”  

You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”

“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing. 

“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”

Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated. 

You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.

“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”

2

You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.

“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.

“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”

“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”

“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”

“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”

And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.

“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!” 

You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”

“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.” 

“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.

“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”

Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.

“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”

Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.

“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”

Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.

“Wanna take bets?”

3

Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.

“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’

As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all. 

When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.

“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”

You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”

He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”

“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Let me show you around!”

You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.

Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is. 

“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.

You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.

He doesn’t quite hear her at first.

“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”

Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.” 

His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.

“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”

“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.

She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.

“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”

“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”

Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.

“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”

“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”

This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.

A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.

Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?! 

Brock: I like movies too :))

4

For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.  

If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew? 

Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.

You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost. 

You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust. 

Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”

You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.

You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”

“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.

“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.

“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”

“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.

Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions. 

In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.

“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down. 

“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.

“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”

He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.” 

He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door. 

Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.

He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home. 

You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”

“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out. 

He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.

He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”

“Is it shooting here as well?”

“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.

“So you’re gonna do it?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”

Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.

“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”

When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.

“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”

He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.

You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.

He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.

+ 1

Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.

You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.

“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.

“No.”

Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”

Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”

Quinn only stares at him in response.

“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”

There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”

“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”

Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”

Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.

“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.

“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”

Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.

“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”

“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”

“I’m what?!”

“You heard me.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you home right now?”

“Ye-”

You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”

Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”

You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”

You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.

“Fine.”

You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.

Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.

Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring. 

When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it. 

Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)

– Beau

You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.

Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.

Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)

It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between. 

You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.

You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump. 

“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom. 

You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume. 

“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”

When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.

You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.

“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”

You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match. 

“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”

Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”

You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.

“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.

“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way. 

You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.

“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there. 

You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”

On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.

It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway. 

Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.

Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.

Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.

Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.

“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”

“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”

“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.

You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.

“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”

He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.

“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”

“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.

Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.

“Can I kiss y-”

“Please.”

His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.

When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.

“I, uh-”

“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”

You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb. 

You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.

[leclercss]

Tainted Love, Part 10 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,

Part 9

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: the final part. it's been 84 years since i first started this fic. thank you for the love.

word count: 7k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @tempo-rary-fix, @bbygrlllllll, @teenagedreams-cl, @lunamelona, @leclerc16s, @palomaxaxaxa @viennakarma, @cmleitora, @angeliquekalampoka, @mirrae, @amalialeclerc, @roseseraj, @glow-ish, @janeholt3, @eviethetheatrefreak, @toppersjeep, @miniemonie2001, @angelwithoutmywings, @nichmeddar,

"[Y/N]!"

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at something in particular.

"[Y/N]!" The voice is closer to you this time a round but it's still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when the plastic stick laying on the counter top in front of you is snatched away that you're pulled out of your trance.

"You can keep looking at that test all you want, it's not going to change the outcome".

Your eyes immediately shoot up as you see Lewis standing on the other side of the counter with a wry smile on his face.

"What? Huh?"

His smile softens as you struggle to muster up a few words. His sudden appearance and the sudden disappearance of the pregnancy test has clearly caught you off guard. So much so that your cheeks are slightly red at the fact that you've been staring at the negative pregnancy test more than you would like to admit.

"I said, you can keep looking at the test all you want. It's not going to change the outcome," he repeats. You're pretty sure the humour in his voice is to hide the disappointment (or relief) in his voice.

"Unless, you want it to be positive?"

You immediately shake your head. "No, oh God, no!"

Lewis chuckles once more, "It's okay, [Y/N]. If you don't want to have babies with me you can just say i- Owww!"

His hand immediately shoots up to his now sore bicep. No thanks to the punch that you've just thrown at it.

"It's not funny, Lewis," you try to stifle a laugh but the look Lewis is throwing at you as he rubs his bicep is only making you fail.

"And no, I don't want it to be positive," you continue. A lot more serious this time. "The last thing any of us need right now is a baby in the picture. Life is already a shit show, I don't need to add literal baby shit on top of that too".

Lewis smiles at you softly. He's still rubbing at his tender bicep. Drama queen.

"I know," he responds. "Would have been a cute kid either way though".

Because you and Charles are some of the most attractive men I've ever laid eyes on?

But you held back on expressing that thought out loud. The situation at home was still extremely raw. The fact that you and Lewis were having a conversation like this was almost a miracle. Especially after you learned that Lewis and Charles had a face to face meeting while you were spending some time in your home town. A conversation which Lewis had initiated. How he ever got Charles' contact details was something that you were too scared to ask about. Some things were better not knowing.

And while you were thankful that both of them left their confrontation without any physical bruises, there were clearly some internal bruises that still hadn't quite healed. Especially when Charles had looped you in on the conversation, distain in his voice any time that he mentioned Lewis. He was so agitated after the meeting that Charles had unintentionally ratted both Lewis and himself out on the fact that neither of them covered themselves in glory. Both of them using their sexual experiences with you to try and get one up on the other.

He didn’t ask you whether or not you had sex with him before you went to Belgium. When you had confronted Lewis about the meet up, he volunteered that information himself. It was his way of “being more honest in our marriage” before he ranted about Charles being arrogant and entitled. How ironic.

You were initially angry at their behaviour but you somewhat understood it. It was childish and pathetic for the both of them to use you having sex with them as some sort of dagger into the other's heart but they were desperate. Trying to salvage whatever they could from your relationship. And who was to say you wouldn't behave the same way if the roles were reversed?

You feel your breath catch in your throat as Lewis is staring at you.

"Because that kid would have the most beautiful mother," Lewis finished his sentence, his voice ever so gentle.

His words leave you without any words of your own. You feel your heart strings tug as his words sunk in.

You hadn't realised a tear was running down your cheek until Lewis wipes it away with his thumb. His eyes meet yours and you begin to feel your body slowly melt as under his gentle touch.

While, to his credit, Lewis was there for you when you began panicking about your period not arriving and offered his support, this moment was so delicate and intimate. And it had been the first moment like this since you had returned from Belgium a few days ago where you could almost feel you give yourself to him.

And while your relationship was still at one of its lowest points, it felt nice to have a moment like this and appreciate that deep down, you've always loved each other. Even if at some stage in your relationship you had grown to dislike one another.

As the two of you are still looking at one another, you feel your hand reach up and lay it on top of the land Lewis has rested against your cheek. Your fingers eventually lacing into his.

You were savouring this moment with him.

You stood like this until the two of you were interrupted by Roscoe. He'd clearly been missing some attention from the two of you and decided that dropping a slobber-coated toy onto your feet was the way about getting your attention again.

"Thanks for that, Roscoe," you joked as you kneel down to pick up the toy and begin to play with your beloved pet. And as you do so, you can't help but notice that Lewis' eyes remain fixated on you.

As you played with Roscoe, your mind drifted to what lay ahead for you. You weren’t ready to let go of Roscoe. Surely you’d come up with some arrangement either with Lewis but you weren’t sure how emotionally ready you were for all of this.

You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose before Roscoe decides that he’s ready to lay back on the sofa for a while. You decide to follow him with Lewis not far behind.

As you sit on the sofa beside Roscoe, you’re a little surprised that Lewis decides to take a seat on the other side of you. He takes your left hand and intertwines it with his own. He’s smiling to himself but he looks sad.

He stays silent for a moment, before finally letting you know what he’s thinking. “It’s weird holding your hand and not feeling your wedding ring”.

You let out a little sigh before resting your head on his shoulder. “I know. I feel naked without it”.

Lewis begins to play with your fingers. He’s touching you as if he’s remembering every last millimetre of your body.

“Why do you think your period is late?” he asks you quietly.

“Probably stress,” you tell him. “High levels of stress can affect my cycle”.

He nods. His tattooed fingers are tracing the palm of your hand. Memorising every little line.

“Have you told him?”

He doesn’t want Charles’ name mentioned in your home any more. He told you this before you left for Belgium a couple of weeks ago. And out of respect for your marriage, with what little hope there was left in it, you obliged with Lewis’ wish.

You sigh once more, “No. I haven’t”.

He doesn’t think you catch it but you see the glimmer of joy that quickly flashes across Lewis’s face. For him, it’s a small victory. When you found yourself in a state of panic last night, realising that your period was over a week late, it was Lewis you had come to. You had trusted him to get you a pregnancy test this morning. And you had trusted him to wait with you while you waited the two minutes for the result.

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out,” he had told you.

You had nodded, not saying much. Once the negative result showed up on on the test, he had pulled you in for a hug as he waited for your reaction.

He didn’t know what outcome he would have wanted. The possibility of you having a child with him excited him. But then the realisation that it could also be Charles’ angered him. And so he said nothing.

But as he sits here now, with your hand in his and your head on his shoulder. He feels some sort of hope. Maybe he was delusional. You had taken your wedding and engagement rings off after all. But you were here with him. And it was him that had supported you through the pregnancy scare. Not Charles.

You looked around the living room, taking in all of the furniture and decor that you and Lewis had bought over the years. Wondering how you were going to divide it all up. It was a job you could save for another day. But you didn’t have long before you had to figure it all out.

“Are you excited about the idea of New York for a year? Work must be happy that you said yes”.

You feel Lewis let out a deep exhale while your head still rests on his shoulder.

When you had returned to London a few days ago, after a couple of weeks at home, Lewis had received a call from work about an opportunity in New York. They were expanding operations and needed a man on the ground to oversee the project. And as Lewis spent a lot of time in the US over the years, they felt like he was the perfect man for the job. And they needed someone ASAP.

And with your marriage in tatters and having spent the day before looking at Charles' smug face, Lewis seized the opportunity without a second thought. That was until you arrived home and he broke the news to you. He was moving across the pond. After a heated discussion, Lewis finally admitted that he didn't know what that meant for the two of you. He was keen to fix things between the two of you but he couldn't go back on his commitment.

If only the commitment of a lifetime together had meant just as much when all of this started almost two years ago, you thought.

“Yeah, I mean I love New York. It’s my second home. But there’s just so much to do before the move in six weeks,” he replies. “My mum said she’d take Roscoe for us. Until I figure out if it’s a more permanent move”.

“That’s good”.

“You can visit whenever you want though. She doesn’t need me there to want to spend time with you,” he continues.

You look up at him and smile.

“I think she prefers you to me, anyway,” Lewis scoffs, causing you to let out a giggle.

“Not possible, Lew”.

You pause before asking him, “Did you tell her everything?”

He shakes his head. “No, not everything. But she knows that we’re separated,” he tells you. “What about you? Did you tell your mum everything?”

“No. Same as you. I’m not ready for the lecture she’d give me,” you sigh.

Lewis half-heartedly chuckles.

“So she doesn’t know about him?”

“No, she doesn’t,” you sigh once more.

Your hand has still been in Lewis’ the whole time, his fingers still tracing every millimetre of your skin.

“You know, work said they’d be able to get a visa for you,” he tells you quietly.

You lift your head from his shoulder and look at him.

“You what?”

He looks at your hand in his for a moment longer but finally lifting his eyes to look in yours.

“They said they’d get you a visa for the States. So you can come to New York with me. We can start fresh,” he sounds nervous. “We can start a new life. A new city, a new beginning.”

You don’t say anything. You’re just trying to process what he’s told you.

“We've always dreamed about New York, baby. This could be our chance to make things right. I want to make things right.”

-

Your mind flashes back to the first time that you stood outside Charles’ building. You’re just as nervous this time around as you call Flat 807. Charles has made sure that Joris and Riccardo weren’t home, he’d save you from their rathe for today. He just wanted you to himself. It’d been long since he’d been able to do so.

As you’re buzzed into the building and make your way towards the lift, your conversation with Lewis about New York is still rattling around in your brain. Well, it was more of a proposal from Lewis rather than a two way conversation.

He’d told you about an apartment he found in Greenwich Village. You were a big fan of the show Friends so it was the perfect area in Manhattan for you both. It had an extra room, perfect for a walk in wardrobe for you both. Or even a nursery if you guys were ready to start a family. He’d clearly taken inspiration from your recent pregnancy scare. He then told you about how Roscoe could eventually move over and how you could spend winter weekends skiing in Vermont with spring and summer weekends spent in Miami or the Bahamas. It was your choice for a do over. The past forgotten. The future full of possibility.

Just thinking about it made you feel dizzy. And you couldn’t allow it to occupy your mind any longer. Especially not when you were about to see Charles for the first time since he came to see you at Whitney’s.

You pushed the idea of New York to the back of your mind and made your way out of the lift as you reached the 8th floor. You see Charles waiting for you at his front door.

Your heart skips a beat at seeing him again and you immediately run towards him. He’s just as desperate to see you as he pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your neck. Indulging in the feeling of you again.

"I've missed you, amour," his voice is so gentle in your ear.

Your hand makes its way to the back of his head, your fingers already getting lost in his long locks.

"I missed you too, Charles".

You embrace each other for a little longer. It's the closest you've been in so long and it feels so fulfilling to have him cling onto you like this.

As you fingers softly massage his scalp, you turn your head slightly to place a gentle kiss on his ear. While subtle, the kiss causes Charles to lift his head so he can look at your face and your eyes immediately connect with his.

"Hi, baby," you whisper. Your fingers are still lost in his hair.

"Hi, amour".

The smile that's on his face is almost enough for you to just want to grab his hand and run away with him forever. He looks so happy. It's the smile he gave you when you told him you loved him for the first time.

Despite what your body is telling you, your mind flashes back to a couple of days ago when you had that intimate moment with Lewis. And you were almost ready to give your everything to him. And that's how you feel now. But you can't help but feel guilty.

"Are you okay, amour?" Charles asks you. A hint of concern in his voice.

You've gone quiet for a few moments and so you nod to reassure Charles. You need to get Lewis out of your head. And so you lean in and kiss Charles.

The feeling of his lips on yours soon allows you to forget about your husband. As Charles' hands make their way to cup your face, you feel the image of Lewis in your mind drift away.

The two of you slowly make your way into Charles' apartment, lips still attached. You stumble your way into the kitchen where Charles lightly presses his body against yours so you're backed up against the counter. He eventually peels his lips away from yours.

"Merde, I don't think you realised how much I've missed you," Charles says with a light chuckle. You can't help but smile.

"I know, I've missed you too. I can't believe it's been almost three weeks since I've seen you".

"It's the longest we've ever been apart, amour".

You can't help but let out a light-hearted laugh. It felt good to see him after all this time. Bar from having to behave in public around your friends and, erm, husband, yourself and Charles could barely stay apart from each other once you were in close distance to each other.

You always seemed to find a way back to each other. And here you were once more, in his arms. His face ever so close to yours. The smell of his aftershave subtly lingering in the air. He was intoxicating.

"How was Belgium?" he asks you.

"It was fine," you respond. "Nothing ever really changes there though. But it was nice to see my mum. It'd been a little while".

He nods. "Yeah, I know the feeling. It's been a while since I've been back to Monaco," he says before pausing for a moment. His eyes quickly scan your face before continuing, "Did you speak to your mum about what's happened?"

You shrug your shoulders. "A little. I mean, I told her things haven't been great between Lewis and I. That we were spending time apart".

Charles nods once more. "How did she take it?"

You let out a sigh. "I mean, she was upset that I've been having a hard time of it. But honestly, I think she's a little relieved. Her and Lewis didn't always see eye to eye".

Charles can't hold in his laughter.

"I feel like I've heard that once or twice before".

You roll your eyes playfully. The grin on Charles' face right now is bordering on smug.

"Yeah, well, he's a polarising character. You either love him or you don't," you sigh while crossing your arms across your chest.

Talking about Lewis in front of Charles is a lot harder for you this time. The memory of the last few days is coming back to the front of your mind again. The pregnancy scare, Lewis, New York. Talks about babies and new beginnings. The nervous feeling is growing in your stomach once more.

Your mind continues to race. Only when you feel Charles place a hand on your cheek do you snap out of it.

"Amour?"

"Huh?" you ask, suddenly started. "Did you say something?"

Charles shakes his head. "Don't worry about it?"

"No, Charles, what did you say? Sorry, my mind went blank," it's a little bit of a lie. You can't tell him that your mind keeps drifting back to Lewis.

He lets out a little sigh before asking, "Do you still love him?"

Fuck! You so weren't ready to answer this question.

And the longer that Charles looks at you, waiting for answer, the more nervous the feeling in belly grows. You lick your lips. And as you run hand through your hair, hoping to find the courage to answer Charles' question, you notice his eyes move towards your hand.

Your left hand.

While you're caught off guard, Charles grabs your hand and pulls it towards him. He inspects it closely, taking in a sight that he's never seen before. You're ringless.

"Charles," you begin but stop as he looks up at you. You're unable to read the look in his eyes.

"You're not wearing your rings?" he asks, his voice almost silent.

You shake your head, you need to find your words.

"Charles... I have to-"

Charles saves you from having to find any more words. You're ringless and for Charles, that's enough proof and the answer he'd been looking for.

Your hand still in his, he lunges towards you and catches your lips in a sloppy kiss. The desperation of being apart from you for so many weeks is getting to him. And now, seeing you without your wedding rings, he can't be without you any longer.

The kiss is messy as the two of you grow more and more hungry for one another. Your tongues have found their way into each others mouths as you claw and grab onto one another in any way that you can. Your hands in his hair. His hands on your ass. Your hands under his shirt, the feeling on his chiseled abs being glazed over by your finger tips. His hands kneading your breasts.

At one point, Charles' hands make their way to the back of your thighs as he lifts you up. Your legs instinctively make their way around his waist. Lips still very much attached, Charles leads the two of you two towards his bedroom. You're slow in navigating the hallway. Banging into walls and furniture along the way.

As soon as Charles manoeuvres his way to the bedroom, he kicks open the door before placing you on the bed. His lips never leaving yours.

The desperation of needing one another only intensifies as the two of you begin to strip one another. Clothes are being pulled off one another in record time, finding themselves in every corner of the bedroom. Your lips even stay attached as Charles fiddles with the hook on the back of your bra while you pull down his boxer briefs. His penis didn't take long to become hard and fully erect. The absence of your body for three weeks and the lonely nights of imagining your touch was enough to have him hard and ready.

"Oh shit," you gasp as you feel Charles fingers graze your folds. You hadn't even noticed him remove your panties from your body.

You hiss again as he pushes his fingers past your folds before his fingers begin to make circling motions on your clit.

"Mhhmmm," you groan. Charles' warm breath is hitting your face and you open your eyes to see his face practically against yours. He's looking into your eyes, watching you as you begin to squirm and groan at his gentle touch.

"Did you miss me?" he whispers, applying more pressure onto your clit.

You nod as you let out a groan, your head falling backwards. As you shut your eyes once more, you see a flash of Lewis' face and immediately open your eyes.

You're grateful that Charles is toying with your clit as you let out a squeal at the image of Lewis.

What the fuck is happening? you ask yourself. You've had sex with Charles, more times than you can remember and yet Lewis never came into your head before. But today, he won't leave you alone.

Needing to occupy yourself, you wrap your hand around Charles' member and begin moving your hand up and down with consistent strokes. Your thighs jerk at the sound of Charles growing in your ear.

"Shit," Charles groans at your touch.

Your lips find each other's once more in another wet and sloppy kiss as you both play with one another.

"Do you want me to lick you out?" Charles grunts into your ear before he begins sucking your lobe. Occasionally licking at the skin beneath your ear.

"Yes," you pant.

Charles wastes no time and quickly makes his way down to the bottom of the bed. He doesn't spend time playing with your breasts or with teasing you any longer. He's hungry and he wants to hear his name roll off your tongue again.

You look down at Charles as he takes a familiar position between your legs. He makes sure his eyes are connected with yours before he leans forward to suck on your clit.

"Oh, God," you instantly cry out as you feel his lips on you. Your thighs jerk once more.

Charles releases your clit from in between his lips so he can give your pussy a long, wet lick.

"Say my name".

You moan at the sound of his voice, so deep and commanding.

As you open your mouth to say his name, Charles takes your clit between his lips once more.

"Oh my god, Charles," you squeal.

Charles begins his assault on your pussy once more and your hands find their way to his hair so you can release some of the tension by pulling at the strands. His face is practically buried against your thighs as he devours you. He's takes in the sight of you squirming before him. Your moans are like music into his ears. He pushes your hips back down towards the mattress before sliding two fingers inside of you.

"Oh, fuck. Charles, I can't," you whimper.

Your pussy is throbbing as Charles' fingers move in and out of you.

"Can't what, baby?" he teases.

Your eyes immediately shoot open at the sound of Charles calling you baby. He never calls you baby.

"Shit, I-," you begin but he plunges another finger into you.

"Do you want to cum?" he chuckles. However, his laugh is anything but innocent.

You nod, hoping that your orgasm ends whatever the fuck is going on in your head right now.

And it does, as you moan and let your body reach it's peak, you look down between your thighs once more as Charles laps up all of your juices.

He puts aside any opportunity for you to return any oral favours as he climbs on top of you, positioning his body in between your legs as he prepares to push himself inside of you. But before he does, he looks at you for permission.

"Are you okay to go?"

You nod, unable to find your words as you come down from your orgasm.

Charles wraps your legs around his waist before lining his dick up against your still throbbing pussy. He takes a moment before he pushes himself in side of you. The both of you moaning simultaneously.

While you adjust to his penis inside of you, he places his hands either side of you head. His face close to yours once more. Your juices glistening his lips and stubble.

His hips move slowly at first, aware that you may still be sensitive from your recent orgasm. As his hips begin to pick up a rhythm, Charles leans down to place a kiss on your lips. As your lips move against his, you let your hands roam across his chest and torso. Letting your fingers dance along his skin.

His movements are finding some momentum as Charles is thrusting in and out of you. Moans rolling from your tongue as you feel his cock moving deep within you. You're taking in every movement and thrust, letting him kiss you however he pleases.

"I... I love you, amour," Charles whispers into your ear.

Tingles run through your entire body as he confesses his love for you. At first you moan at his response, after all he is fucking you. But you let one of your hands run up to his cheek, making sure that his eyes are looking into yours, before you tell him,

"I love you, too".

It's enough for Charles to pick up his pace and begin thrusting into you even quicker than before. The two of you moaning more and more frequently.

Charles takes you by surprise as he takes your hand. It's your left hand. And he's wrapping it around his throat so you're lightly choking him.

You look at him, surprised. But he doesn't let it stop him. If anything, he fucks you harder.

You've never choked him before. You notice that he's running his fingers over your hand that's over his throat.

Wait.

He's not just wanting him to choke you, he wants to feel your hands on him because you're no longer wearing a wedding ring.

You try not to let this phase you. After all, you've thought about Lewis more times than you would like since you came to Charles' place. You won't let him get into your head as Charles makes love to you.

"Merde," you hear Charles groan. He's clearly enjoying the feeling of your hand around his throat while you have no idea how you feel about this. It’s all so new and out of character for Charles.

"I prefer it when you choke me instead," you joke. You feel a sense of relief as Charles laughs.

"Anything for you, amour," he pants as he lets your hand go before he gently places his hand on your throat.

"I don't want to go this long without you again," Charles grunts. The movement of hips becomes more sloppy as he nears his peak.

"I love you, Charles," you whisper as you feel yourself reach your own high. A knot tying in your stomach.

He leans down to place another kiss on your lips before he tries to pick up the pace.

"Fuck, I love you," he moans. He thrusts into you a couple more times before finally releasing himself inside of you.

Charles collapses down on the bed beside you. The room is also silent aside from the two of you panting, recovering from your orgasms.

As you lay on your back, you feel Charles' arms wrap around you, pulling your body against his. He places a gentle kiss on your temple.

But you can't seem to get rid of the feeling that's in your stomach. And the longer the two of you try to recover, the larger the knot becomes.

You almost flinch at the feeling of Charles' fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

"Sorry, amour, didn't mean to startle you," his voice is so sweet and so warm. He pulls you closer to his chest, not wanting to let go of you.

"I... I can't believe it," Charles begins.

The knot in your stomach won't go away.

"I, I wasn't actually sure if you'd leave him, you know," Charles continues. "When you left for Belgium, I thought it'd be okay. But when I met Lewis that day, I was a bit sceptical. He said that the two of you had sex before you left. I tried not to believe him but the longer you were away, I started to believe it may be true".

It's like he has word vomit. He can't stop talking. He's so relieved that you're here.

"But then you said you were back and you wanted to meet. I was a little hopeful but you never know how these things go. But when I saw you get out of the lift and when I saw your face, I just knew it was all going to be okay."

He leans down to place a kiss on your lips. He's so excited.

"And then I saw you without your rings. I... I can't quite believe it. But it's real. And you're here, with me and we-"

"Lewis is moving to New York," you blurt out.

Fuck, that isn't what you wanted to say. But Charles is so happy and he can't stop talking.

But now he has, and he's looking at you. He's a little confused but he's still happy.

"He's moving to New York?"

You untangle yourself from his arms as you sit up against the headboard. Charles follows suit.

You look at him and nod. Charles can't help but smile as he takes your hands in his.

"That's good, right?"

You gulp. "He's moving in a few weeks".

Charles nods. "Okay, well if you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay here. We'll figure it out, okay? We'll get somewhere of our own if you want? But the important thing is, we can be together".

'Charles..."

"What’s wrong, amour?"

You let out a sigh as you close your eyes.

"I... I ... Lewis is going to New York and he wants me to go with him".

The End.

(There will be a sequel please don’t kill me)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Madhubala (Mughal-e-Azam, Barsaat Ki Raat, Mr. & Mrs. '55)—The Venus of India; heart-throb of all who saw her; responsible for the sexual awakening of every single desi lesbian I know (including me!) And my god, she is breathtakingly beautiful. Look at the subtle grace with which she moves, and that smile - the kind of radiant smile that can make you laugh with sheer delight, or cry because of its hidden pain. Those wild curls! That Cupid's bow! The way she tilts back her head and smiles at you with mischief dancing in her eyes! She has a way of looking at the camera that makes you feel she's sharing a private joke just with you; it's something about that quizzical twist of the lips and eyebrows. As an actress, she is inimitable; she seems to effortlessly inhabit roles ranging from a heart-broken courtesan to a laughter-loving socialite. Fun fact : she's had quite the fan following in Greece! Stelios Kazantidis even wrote a song as a tribute to her.

Olivia de Havilland (Adventures of Robin Hood, Gone With the Wind, The Heiress)— The woman who took on the Studio System at the height of their power and Won! A double Oscar winner! Is magnetic and beautiful in everything she's in and gave us all the juicy scandal with her sibling rivalry with Joan Fontaine! Before the Oscar Slap was the Oscar sister snub! Also everything she wears in Robin Hood she makes beautiful even a purple green and orange monstrosity how does she do it! Anyway this scene is one of my old Hollywood favourites

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Madhubala:

An icon of Bollywood, who was well known for her beauty and has continued to inspire performances and songs into the 21st century. She was at times described as "the number one beauty of the Indian screen" and "the biggest star in the world".

SHE IS EVERYTHING AHHH. JUST LOOK AT HER SMILE-

She's been nicknamed the Marilyn Monroe of India and was one of the highest paid actresses in the Hindi film industry (the term Bollywood did not exist yet) during the 1950s. Also an extremely talented dancer and singer

SHE'S JUST SO STUNNING, like seeing her eyes IMMEDIATELY CAPTIVATES YOU, THE DANCING, THE BEAUTY!!!!!!!!! She worked in Bollywood for over 20 years and passed away at a sad early age of 36, BUT THE IMPACT SHE HAD WAS UNMATCHED!!!!!

That sassy sideways glance she does always has me WEAK AT THE KNEES. And when she's making silly faces at the camera to mimic someone ahhhh my gay little heart <3

Olivia de Havilland:

She is just perfection. She has a smile that is looks like it is barely holding back, and yet so reserved as well.

Broke the contract system and won freedoms for actors (the de Havilland Law is still in effect I believe). 2 time Oscar winner. Beautiful and smart

She legally challenged the movie studios' unfair contracts and won, setting a precedent for other actors to be treated more fairly. This was at great cost to her financially and essentially getting her blacklisted for years but the resulting judicial opinion is still known as the De Havilland Law and has won her a great deal of praise and admiration.

Her performance in The Heiress is one of my all-time favorites, she’s so good at making melodrama feel real and grounded without sacrificing any of the passion/drama.

Serenely beautiful, she struck a balance between crowd-pleasing fluff and prestigious drama. Famously at odds with her equally successful sister Joan Fontaine, she was too much of a lady to ever say anything public. Successfully sued Ryan Murphy for portraying her as a saucy gossip in Feud.

the period costume + eye patch combo in That Lady is just an absolute serve

She has the most adorable and cherubic face and voice

[familyvideostevie]

OH EM GEE LOVED THAT GRUMPY X SUNSHINE FIC WITH JAMES SO MUCH, I was wondering about a grumpy!sirus and sunshine!reader/ sunshine and sunshine protector (omg that trope with a platonic marauders 😩😩) I lvoe your writing so much babe <333

thank you thank you! here is some grumpy!sirius and sunshine!reader. i still don't know that i've got this trope totally down correctly but hope you like it anyway! :) | fem!reader, fluff, 1k

You can hardly hear Remus when you pick up the phone. You check the clock on the wall. It's time for him to be at the pub with James and Sirius, so you're not sure why he's calling.

"Hello?" you say. 

"Oh, thank fuck," Remus cries. If he's cursing, you know something is up.

"What's wrong? Is Sirius there?" You expect that maybe he's gotten into trouble with another patron or that he's let his phone die and asked Remus to tell you. 

"Is that her? Did you get her? Beg her, Remus. Tell her I'll buy her drinks for a week!" James is shouting in the background to be heard through the phone.

"I'm handling it," Remus calls back. You pull the speaker away from your ear as he does. What is going on? "Sorry," he says, much quieter now. He must have cupped his hand over the microphone. "Listen, can you come out to the pub? Our regular one?"

"But it's boy's night," you say. They invite you round more often than not, but it's important to you that they get to have their time as mates, too. 

"I know," he sighs. "But--" There's a bit of a commotion and a lot of cursing and then James comes on the line.

"Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, can you come 'round? Your boyfriend is being miserable and it's going to get us kicked out. And this is my favorite spot!" Your stomach ties itself in a knot. Sirius? He hasn't texted you about anything concerning beyond reminding you that he'd be home later than usual. 

"Is he okay?" James must hear your concern because he backpedals.

"Oh, yeah, he's fine, love, honest. We just ran into that tosser Lestrange on the way over and he's a bit sour. Family drama, and all that. Can you just come and get him to chill the fuck out, please?"

You're already reaching for your purse. It still makes you a little giddy that everyone knows you're the one who Sirius responds to the most. For some reason you can always bring him out of a mood, and you like doing it. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes or so."

"Is she coming?" Remus calls from the background. "Can I have my phone back now, please?" You end the call and shove your feet into your shoes and head out the door. You're not really in a pub-going outfit, but it'll have to do. You know that Sirius won't care much. 

When you get to the bar you shoulder your way to the back where you know they'll be. Familiar faces call out your name and you wave to them, dispensing smiles and greetings with genuine happiness. 

Your heart swells when you finally get to the back booth. Sirius is sat on one side, glaring at the beer in his hands. James and Remus are chatting to some other friends close by. As soon as you take a step towards your boyfriend, he looks up, like he sensed you coming. And his entire body transforms. He sits up straighter, his hands loosening their grip on the glass. He doesn't smile, not quite, but his jaw unclenches and his pupils dilate. 

You beam at him. He quickly scoots out of the booth to greet you, hands outstretched as you reach for him in turn. 

"My girl," he says, kissing your cheek before pulling you in for a hug. "What are you doing here?" Sirius rarely sounds delighted unless he's talking about how his club crushed their rival or how he managed to trick James into glueing his hand to his face, but this is pretty close. 

You shrug in his hold. "Got bored at home." He pulls away and smoothes his thumb over one of your eyebrows. 

"Hmm," he says. "Try again." You laugh, loudly and freely, and that does get him to smile. Only a little, but you count it as a victory. His smiles are like treasures and you keep them all in a lock-box in your chest. 

"Remus called," you tell him honestly. He makes an annoyed noise, looking over his shoulder to glare at his friends. Both of them resolutely keep their gaze elsewhere. 

Sirius leads you back to the booth and you settle in next to him, thigh pressed to his. He drapes an arm around you. Seeing that the danger has passed, James and Remus slide in on the other side. 

"I told them not to bother you," Sirius says, frowning. But his hands betray him, one curling around your shoulder and the other resting warm and heavy on your kneecap. 

"As if this is a bother," you scold. "Plus, James said he'd buy my drinks." You look at your t-shirt -- and old one of Sirius', and frown. "I wish I had thought to change, though."

"No," he says quickly. His fingers tuck under the collar to press into your bare skin. "No, I like this."

"It's fucking magic," Remus mutters from the other side of the booth. "Unbelievable."

James has his head in his hands. "It's like he didn't tell me to shove my head up my ass ten minutes ago." Sirius flips them off and leans in close, pressing his lips to your ear.

"It's obvious you're wearing my shirt," he says, voice gravely. You flight the urge to shiver. "Got me thinking all kinds of inappropriate things over here."

"Alright, you're going to get us kicked out for a different reason," James whines. You look at him and he winks. It's obvious that you're the keeper of Sirius's happiness and no one minds all that much, considering they love him. You all do. It's the easiest thing in the world.