#why are all the hot guys named Joe?

[oatmilk-vampire]

[bootleg-nessie]

Rating band names based on their accuracy:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts

(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)

Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink

Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like

Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it

The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to

Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury

Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams

The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few

U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band

Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”

Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot

Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music

Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location

Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes

The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho

Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago

Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used

Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho

The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location

The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate

Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.

Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go

Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green

The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band

KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes

The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me

We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable

They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants

The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two

Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit

The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not

The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring

Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic

Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that

Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar

Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew

Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole

Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that

Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go

The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate

Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long

Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking

The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit

Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head

Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful

Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden

Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out

Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk

The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list

The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot

Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!

Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma

Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction

Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways

Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it

Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points

Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal

Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury

D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band

NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it

Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud

Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold

No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts

The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes

Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally

Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad

Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one

Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death

Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band

Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie

Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are

Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools

Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment

Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is

Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis

Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast

Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead

Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?

Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify

ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite

5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with

All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this

T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments

Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10

The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons

The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins

Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history

Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot

Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this

Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out

Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out

Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[carolmunson]

we better make a start (older!modern!eddie)

continuation of orange colored skyorange colored sky setlist

inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i go to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. tw: outside of an age gap, not much. super fluffy it borders on gross. eddie is in his late 30s/early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. music inspo: everywhere - fleetwood mac

Wednesdays at two… You wished you’d met this guy in the fall when you still felt cute getting off the train. It was like being in a sous vide every time you got on and off, walking back out into the hot sun of the city. Would your hair frizz? Was your makeup melting? You were at least smart enough to wear bike shorts under your skirt to avoid the rubbing of your thighs – hopefully he wouldn’t notice. Your feet hurt in your 90s looking wicker sandals but at a passing glance in a store window you figure you don’t look half bad. You look infinitely better than when he first saw you in your ‘errands ugly’ clothes. Maybe he’d even think you look cute. Y’know – if he’s even there. Why’re you meeting up with some random stranger anyway? A sick flare of nervous embarrassment slides through your chest like a snake – this is stupid. He probably forgot about it. Whatever, you wanted to pick up a couple things anyway – it’s totally fine – this isn’t weird at all – and if he’s not there? It doesn’t matter. Who cares? You’ll be fine. You’ll go home and sift through a never ending collection of left swipes and ‘haha not much, just chillin naked. wbu?’ messages on whatever dating app you feel like opening that day. 

A block and an escalator later, you’re in the depths of the shopping center where Trader’s is. You swallow the sick creeping up in your belly — this is so stupid — but it doesn’t take long for you to spot him at a small table near the coffee stand across from the store. His hair sits in a low bun this time, most of his wavy curls spilling over and framing his face. He looks nice, black tee shirt that he might’ve pressed, smarter looking black chinos with a belt he likely got at a vintage store. The silver buckle looks pretty and polished, shining like the rings on his fingers and the rim of the wire glasses he had perched on his nose. He’s typing away on a laptop, black iced coffee melting next to it that he occasionally reaches to sip.

“Um…You’re Eddie, right?” you stammer out as you walk toward the table. He looks up from his laptop, the glow of this screen reflecting back in his glasses. He stops to look you over, straw still in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins, a breath of relief puffing out of his nose, “Didn’t actually think you were gonna show up — was sort of a shot in the dark.” He stands up, hand outstretched for yours to shake, “I never caught your name.” 

You take it, his handshake is firm and you can make out some of the tattoos on his fingers and hands. You introduce yourself and he mumbles a ‘nice to meet you’, your name sounds nice coming out of his mouth. “This feels like a business meeting,” you laugh, “Like I’m here for an interview.” He laughs back, “I did just come here from a meeting so I might still be in work mode, sorry.” He takes off his glasses, hanging them off the collar of his shirt. He packs up his bag, a well worn Jansport backpack covered in patches like the vest he had on the last time you saw him. You could tell it was old since there was a patch right at the center that read ‘METALLICA 1997 - Poor Touring Me’. A few other concert patches with ranging dates, 2003, 2009, 1998 littered the black canvas, you smile at it. 

“1997?” you ask, “Metallica concert at what – nine? Your parents were cool with that?” 

He looks down at it and his cheeks go pink, letting a breath puff out of his lips that makes them push out and motorboat, “What year were you born?” “‘92,” you answer, “Why?” 

“Jesus,” he mumbles, rubbing his face with a tight smile, “You’re a young thing, aren’t you?” 

“How old were you in ‘97?” you ask while you both make it through the double doors of the grocery store. He grabs a basket and raises his brows with another big breath. “Seventeen,” he says, “Got this backpack two days before that show actually.” “You still have it?” you ask, trying to do the math in your head of how old he is and how long he’s had it. “Jansport has a lifetime warranty,” Eddie smirks, “I’ve been putting it to good use.” “So why’re you back here,” you ask, following him to the back aisle where the bread is, “You just went food shopping a few days ago.” “I went for my neighbor,” he explains, grabbing two baguettes, “He fractured his foot and hasn’t been able to get up and down the stairs. Been running errands for ‘im in the meantime.” “Oh,” you smile, “That’s nice of you.” “Thanks,” he says, “You like bruschetta?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” he starts, “I didn’t really think that Trader Joe’s was an ideal date so I thought I could ask you out here and also get some stuff for it ahead of time.” “Oh,” you repeat, heat creeping up on your cheeks, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well if you’re free tomorrow afternoon…” he begins, but gets sidetracked. He sneaks behind you to grab some yogurt covered pretzels, “I saw you grab these the other day and got some too, they’re fuckin’ delicious.” 

The spicy suede scent he had last time is replaced with a bright citrusy cedar, it matches his overall disposition. Your mouth waters when you inhale. 

“Anyway, as I was saying,” he starts again, “If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, I’d love to treat you to a little something cute in the park. It’s supposed to be not so swampy.” “Like a picnic?” you ask with a hint of a tease. “Yeah,” he says, a glow of pink perking up on his ears hidden by his hair, “Something like that. If you’re into that – like – if you even want to go on a date with me.” “I showed up here. I feel like that’s answer enough, right?” “Right, right.” The conversation quiets while he tosses a few more things in his basket. “So what was your meeting for?” you ask, watching him look over the cold cuts and cured meats in the open refrigerated section. He was one of those, a ‘stand-and-starer’ instead of just knowing what to get. You try not to grind your teeth. “Oh, new client meeting,” he says, like you know exactly what he’s referencing. 

“For what? If you don’t mind me asking.” He reaches for a package of salami and prosciutto before turning to you, “Do you eat meat?” You nod while he continues to pick up and compare products, “New client for my side gig.” “Which,” he says, tossing his selections in the basket, “If you can believe it, pays a shit ton more than my main gig.” “What’s your big money side gig?” you laugh, following him to the next aisle. “I’m a web developer,” he says, squatting down to look at granola. He hopes you don’t hear the way his knees crack, the way his face winces at the slight tightness in his joints. In Eddie’s defense, he didn’t get a chance to stretch this morning – normally he’s much more limber – he promises. “Like making websites and stuff?” you squat next to him, your own knees cracking. You hope he doesn’t hear it. “Just like that,” he says. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your arm to steady you as you wobble to move out of his way. His grip is gentle but firm, the spots beneath his fingertips buzzing with electricity, “Careful there, sugar.” A smile spreads deep across your face while your eyes make friends with the floor under you, both of you rising back to your feet. His keys jingle on the same carabiner from before, clinking against a silver chain that you’re pretty sure connects to a wallet in his back pocket. He has Nike Killshots on today, the white with a black check instead of the navy. Everyone and their father has the white and navy. “Do you like it?” you ask, holding in a giggle while he grunts getting up. “Writing code and doing graphic design? Sure,” he shrugs, “Got into it really ahead of the game. You were probably still in grade school.” You roll your eyes and he snickers, “But mostly, I make websites for trust fund kids who use daddy’s money to start new businesses. So it’s sort of like my side gig is uh…” “Exploiting the rich?” you grin, he grins too, “Super punk.” He shakes his head while you both walk out into the produce section, “No, no, super metal.”

“What’s your main gig?” “Oh, come on – don’t break my heart,” Eddie’s dramatic flare shines through when he leans up against the flat edge of the pillar holding up the bananas. He holds his free hand to his chest, looking at you with a faux forlorn face that makes his brown eyes shine. Now that you’re really taking stock, you see the thin silver hoop hugging his right nostril – something about it makes your heart thump harder in your chest. “The tattoos don’t give it away, huh?” he asks, passing the basket to the other arm, both biceps flexing against the well tailored t-shirt’s sleeves. 

“A tattoo artist?” you wager a guess with a grimace and half shrug. “No,” he says, the word covered in a soft laugh, “But I’ve been in my artist's shop enough that I might as well get paid to be there.” “I can see that,” you nod, pulling a bunch of bananas from behind him and cradling them in your arm, “So what is it then?” “C’mon, it’s obvious,” he smiles, “I’m a rockstar.” 

“Are you?” you ask, your laugh bubbles out of you and it makes the back of his neck get hot. You’re too pretty to be flirting with him in Trader Joe’s but he can’t stop trying to make you laugh and smile. 

“Well,” he shrugs, kicking off the wall, “Sort of.” “Sort of a rockstar?” your brow lifts while you scan some of the fruits, hand reaching down to a display in front of you, “If you’re doing food food, how about I do dessert?” 

“Peaches, huh?” he asks with a smirk, wrinkling his nose, “A little messy, don’tcha think?” 

“They’re nectarines,” you correct, putting a few in one of the produce bags, “They’re not the same.” 

“Hm,” he shrugs, letting his finger trail over the smooth waxy skin of one of the nectarines in the display, “Whatever you say, Peach.” “Pfft,” you shake your head the same way he did to you, tying off the bag while you try to ignore how the butterflies in your stomach multiply at him calling you Peach. “So if you’re doing dessert that means you’re free tomorrow, then?” he raises his brows, waiting for your answer while you both walk to the checkout line, “You never said if you were.” “Yes I did,” you protest. His tattooed hand reaches out for the nectarines and bunch of bananas you’re holding. You look down at them and then back up at him, Eddie gives you a look, encouraging you to hand them over.

“No, you said you’d go on a date with me – gimme these, I got ‘em–” he beckons you with his hand to take them until you relent, putting them both in his basket, “And trust me, I’m glad you’re down to go on a date with me. But I just wanna make sure you’re around tomorrow so I know to turn on my charm in the morning.” 

“Oh, it’s not on right now?” you flirt. Eddie’s smile gets boyish and shy, tucking a loose salt and pepper collection of strands behind his ear. He’s too blushy to respond, thankful that the Trader Joe’s worker directs you both for the next cashier. He hands you your bananas and nectarines and you plop them into your canvas bag while he finishes up, walking together out of the double doors. 

“Um, could I - uh – damn why am I so nervous to ask you this? What am I, sixteen?” he thinks out loud to himself, furrowing his brow at his own ridiculousness, “Fuck, could I um – get your number?” 

“You already asked me on a date and you’re nervous to get my number?” you tease, “For real?” 

“Long story, I’ll tell you one day,” he says, handing you his phone. He tucks in his lips while you take it, watching eagerly while you put in your information. You save it under ‘Peach 🍑’ with your real name in the second line. 

“Oh what, did it happen all the way back in the 70s or something? Hard to remember?” Your mean girl tone of voice has a hold on him that thrums in his chest. 

“So you’re one of those girls, huh?” he releases his lips, tip of his tongue pressing against one of his canines, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He takes his phone back when you offer it to him, taking a quick second to shoot you a text that just says ‘eddie m.’ Your phone dings in your hand, going to save his number while he watches. 

“M’gonna put it in as ‘Sort of Rockstar’,” you giggle to yourself. “Please don’t.” “Too late.” 

You drop your phone into your canvas bag, giving him a final once over. He does the same and his stare almost makes you nervous with the way his brown eyes soften when they find your face. Not one for awkward silence you reach your hand out like he did when you met outside of the store. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie,” you say, a lightness to your voice that has him swooning. His hand takes yours, big and slightly rough, calloused fingertips slightly brushing your wrist. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he says, giving you a firm shake, “Same time tomorrow? At the park?” 

“Sounds good.” 

“I’ll um, I’ll text you. I’ll drop a pin,” he offers. 

You’re both quiet for a moment, anxious with anticipation for tomorrow – for a real date. You say your goodbyes, your ‘see you tomorrows’. Only to both start walking the same direction towards Target. 

“Oh,” you laugh, “Are you going to Target, too?” 

He laughs back, slightly hoarse and rough, smokey sounding, “I am. Should I wait a little? Don’t wanna cramp your style or anything. I know we just said goodbye.” 

“No, no, we can go together,” you smile, big and bright, “We can both decide on what I’m making for dessert.” 

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[nenestansunsthings]

"Hey. You're Joe Hills, right?"

The man who turns to him to looks far too normal, a casual guy with long hair and green glasses and gloves. Quackity can't imagine why they beat Wilbur. Why her people campaigned so hard for him, why they had hundreds in the lead for hours upon hours until the polls closed and Wilbur lost to her. When the guy smiles cheerfully towards him, the question only becomes more poignant.

"Yup! That's me! Joe Hills, from Nashville, Tennessee." He offers their hand to shake, and in a flash Quackity takes it. Her grip isn't strong, and he blinks in surprise when Quackity's own is firm. "And you're Quackity, right? Good job with your poll!! That was a real close win, but your people pulled through right where it mattered!"

Quackity waves it off. "I never had a doubt. Of course my fans wouldn't let me lose! I'm the sexiest red bird around here, after all!" Unbidden, his wings flutter. "But heyyy, that's not what I came here for. I came here for you! We had an alliance, didn't we? Come on, hi-five, amigo, we did well today!"

Joe blinks. "We had an alliance?"

"Uh, yeah? What, don't tell me you didn't know." He scoffs. "Your fans didn't tell you? I heard you were out there campaigning yourself. Posting shirtless videos and everything! Just my kinda guy." Cheerfully, he slings an arm around Joe, pleasantly surprised when the guy doesn't even flinch. "I thought you agreed to the alliance yourself!"

"... Oh, that alliance!" Their eyes light up in recognition. "Yeah, I saw a few people talking about that. People get really excited in my chat, y'know? Though they were pretty torn." He shrugs. "I mean, Grian's a friend of mine, even if I have no clue how he thinks. But yeah, that was all them!"

Quackity can't help but stare. "You didn't know they were allying against a friend of yours?!"

"Nope! They just kinda do what they want." Joe laughs, the sound tinged with fondness. Something in that makes Quackity's gut churn uncomfortably. They just… do that? Ally against friends? Work with people who they think will stab them in the back later? And all in the name of someone who doesn't even know what they're planning? "I think it's great that they all got together to support you! But hey, there's only one person I'm hoping will win, and you know who it is! I wouldn't be campaigning for myself if I didn't want that win."

"Ha! Yeah, I know how it is." He grins back, golden tooth gleaming brilliantly. "Don't feel too down when I thrash you, alright?"

"We'll see about that!" Normally, Quackity would be on edge from that kind of declaration, but there isn't a shred of hostility in her vice. There's only delight, friendly competition. "I have faith that my viewers will pull ahead, and that I can campaign hard enough to convince people! I've been working really hard, after all. Even bought some new rainbow eyes, just for the occasion!"

"Wait, what."

Joe blinks, and when their eyes open again they are joined by a hundred others, flickering with a thousand colours and all seeing- staring- beholding. Just before he can think the word watching, they flutter shut.

"That's not the right word for me, just to be clear," Joe chastises him. "Watching. I'm not a part of that group."

Quackity has no goddamn idea what she means. So after a moment of stunned silence, he continues.

"... Do your fans think the eyes are hot?"

"I think they're sexyman enough to win the contest," he says, which clears up nothing. "But, most importantly, I think they'd vote for me anyway! Even without my beautiful, glowing, rainbow-checked eyes. Which are, by the way, divinely beautiful, and should be appreciated."

"Hey, man, if you're the kind of guy to buy new eyes for a competition, they'd better vote for you." Quackity shakes his head. "What, did they bribe you for it? Say they'd vote for you if you blinked in rainbows? That's not a healthy relationship, man, you gotta get out of there."

Joe snorts. "No, this is all for me. But thanks for worrying! If my people ever start demanding I grow new eyes before they tip me, I'll just find new people." He waves a hand nonchalantly. "I don't think my viewers would do that, anyway."

"... Hm." Quackity hesitates, settling a few feet away from Joe. "... I dunno, man. I mean, they made that alliance without you, didn't they? Hard to think you could trust 'em after something like that. Not a lot of unity in that kind of campaign, especially if there was some kind of in-fighting about voting me over your friend."

Some tiny, tiny part of him feels a little sick at the thought. But it dies down quickly enough. This isn't the first time he's brought people to blows over loyalty, after all.

But Joe looks unbothered. "They're good people. They'll figure it out for themselves. And they understand why people would vote you over Grian, or why their friends would support you."

"Oh?" Quackity raises an eyebrow. "You talk like you've seen it yourself. Did they shake hands and make up and write songs about their reconciliation? I'd love to see that- you encourage their poetry, it looks like. They've gotta have some skills."

"Nah, nothing like that. You're thinking too big, Quackity HQ." Their sunny smile shifts, softening at the edges. "They're just friends. They don't hate each other for wanting a different person to win. If this was something important like politics- which is very important, remember to vote on both a local and national level to support what's best for your community!- then it might be different. But this is fine."

He scoffs. "Please. I've seen the posts. Some of those guys came out swinging against me."

"And they know it's an exaggeration!" she assures him. "Just look around. All across this great land of Tumblr, there are people reminding each other to be kind. To be civil. To watch whether their feelings are turning into hate, and to take a step back and breathe if things go too far. Sure, things have gone too far. But that happens in all kinds of events, not just this one. And mostly, our viewers want to be kind."

"Man. You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you." Quackity looks away. "But that's not really what I mean. It's more…"

He's not sure the words are right on his tongue. He says them anyway.

"They're supposed to be united," he tries. "I know you all wanted a Hermitsweep. Your people rule the polls. Doesn't it scare you, that they can split so much behind your back? Isn't it weird, to trust them with this?"

For a second, Joe is silent. Quackity grits his teeth, turns- but the faint green glow of his checkmarks is dim, and there's a twinge of honest fear in his eyes.

"... To be honest, it feels weird." He rests his head on their knees, fingers wrapped tight around her arms. "Just a little bit. I didn't expect this much. And the competition last round was a lot, let me tell you."

Quackity snorts. "I was there, man. No need to tell me. So much voter fraud…"

"And bribery! Don't forget bribery." Joe laughs. "But I do trust them. Whatever they do. I'll be disappointed if I lose, obviously, but it happens. It's hard to really be angry when you think about the core of all this."

"Popularity?" he jokes.

"Well, a little. I've been told Scar is not a sexyman, just a sexy man. Still not sure what criteria people are voting by. But mostly, I think it's love."

"Love?" Quackity raises an eyebrow. "What made you think that?"

Joe sighs. "I dunno. It's just… it's the only thing that it could be, really. This contest doesn't mean anything. There's no prize. All it is is just people wanting the entertainers they love most to win. And look at everything they've created for that goal."

Quackity knows. He's seen the swathes of art, the stories, the people getting out drawing tablets or phones or paper and camera to thank people who voted in their favour. He's seen old artworks shared years after their making. He's seen silly powerpoints, walls of text, analysis and promotions of videos from the starts of careers. It's a little terrifying, really, in the same way angels are.

He's pretty sure Joe would know, too.

"Yeah, not every one of my viewers joined your alliance. Even with my personal campaigning, none of them brought it up to me. But whoever they voted, whether it was Grian because he's someone they fought to see this high up or you because they wanted to share the support your people offered me, they voted out of love. Because they love me, or they love you, or they love whoever else they wanted to win."

"... They love you, huh?"

It's an odd thought. Quackity's well used to heartbreak, to abandonment. To people only staying because he had something to offer. But in this silly contest, with tens of thousands of people cheering for him…

"They love you too," Joe says with a smile. "So I'm happy you won. I'd say you're a pretty worthy opponent."

Quackity barks out a laugh, turning to Joe with fire in his eye. "A worthy opponent? You'll be taking those words back when I win. My people love me, don't they? So I'm sure as hell they'll put their money where their mouth is."

"Oh, we'll see." A thousand eyes open, turning a rainbow gaze upon him. He meets their stare head-on. "After all," Joe Hills says, "You were right about one thing. We want a Hermitsweep."

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug on the Jedi in 'The Clone Wars'

Y'all have asked, and Dr. Meat Muffin might be a disgruntled old hag that chugs too much Trader Joe’s bourbon and doodles too much subpar art, but she keeps her promises!

Just so y’all know, if you’re a major character (Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, etc) you keep your name, because it was drilled into Doug’s head over 8 seasons of Clone Wars and the movies. Everyone else, though, Doug gave up and created his own catchphrases for them.

CW: This one's not as spicy as Doug's previous rants regarding Star Wars, but y'all know if y'all know. "It'll all come out in the wash."

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

Plo Koon: Ah, Shrimp Daddy. He looks like a shrimp that’s been boiled and left in the sun after a potluck. But my wife LOVES him, she says he has the nicest voice and she wishes he’d narrate some books. I loved him too, he was my favorite. That scene where he tells his clone boys in space that they’re important to him? Ah great. They should have him lead HR meetings. 

Aayla Secura: Babe-the-Blue-Jedi. They sent her away from the Temple because Yoda didn’t want that hotness distracting everyone. Is she and Miguel (Bly?!) dating? They are, right? 

Kit Fisto: Reggae Swamp Thing. Tell me that boy don't look like he lives in the Atchafalaya and bangs on the steel drums all day. I wonder if he stole those shorts from Michael Phelps. He’s cool but does he need to have a tank to swim in on his ship? Does he have gills? I need more info on this guy. 

Adi Gallia: Storm’s Cousin. Doesn’t this chick look like her? She does, right? Maybe she's a Jedi cause she can't control the weather. Didn’t Maul’s brother Saul impale her on his horns and that’s how she died?* Why didn’t Maul do that to Obi-Wan? Maul was obsessed with Obi-Wan, do you think it’s because he had a crush on him after he sliced him in half?

(Doug also ships Obi-Wan with Maul now? IS THERE ANYONE WHO DOUG DOESN'T SHIP OBI-WAN WITH?!)

Shaak-Ti: Ahsoka’s Aunt. They’re totally related. (“No, they’re not.” “Says who?” “Um, EVERYONE?!”) She’s cool, nice to the clone boys. I like her horns. 

Saesee Tiin : Angry Bull Boy. He looks like a minotaur whose daddy left him at a Wal-Mart instead of the Labyrinth after drinking too much.

Deepa Billaba: My Coworker Anu. Seriously! She looks JUST LIKE HER. I even texted her a screenshot, and she used that as her Slack Channel picture for the longest time. Nice lady, she's a good master to Lil Kanan. Hm, Lil Kanan sounds like a rap person my niece would listen to.

Ki-Adi-Mundi: Mutant-Mall-Santa. Look me dead ass in the eye and tell me the man don’t look like he was supposed to hand out presents and ask kids what they want for Christmas and ended up hanging out in toxic waste instead. He's a snotty asshole, I don't like him, he thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.

Luminara Undali: Lady-in-Drape. She’s a green lady, and she wears a drape. Meat Muffin, I'm tired and it's about to snow.

Barriss Offee: Little Lady-in-Drape. Man, she was awful, but she had good points, ya know? Kind of like Darth Maul. Do you think Darth Maul and Obi-Wan ever dated? Or would Obi-Wan’s boyfriend get jealous? 

Quinlan Voss: College-Hippie-Boy. Doesn’t he just look like one of those goofs that fart around with hackysacks all day long? I'd buy weed from him if he was selling, he looks like an exporter and consumer, if you know what I mean.

Even Piall: Dobby the House Jedi. Man he looks like he was on his way to help Harry Potter or something and ended up in a bathrobe with a light saber. Ah well. 

*= Savage is ‘Saul’ and Feral is ‘Paul’. So it’s Maul, Saul, and Paul. I strained a muscle laughing when I got this. 

Tagging my Redneck Doug stans here! @amalthiaph @sued134 @eyecandyeoz @thecoffeelorian @merkitty49 @megmca @skellymomam I missing anyone?

Let me know if I missed any Jedi, those were the ones that came up that Doug didn't immediately recognize.

[bueckerssturns]

now you know. - c.sturniolo

WARNINGS : mentions of abuse and death, cursing, urge to vomit

this will be from chris perspective (they’re not famous in this)

1

————————————————————————

it’s been a week since i decided to take y/ns case into my own hands, the only problem? i had no fucking clue where to start looking for clues or who i should start asking questions to.

looking at old reports and news articles to at least find a lead source for this case was not helpful all the reports had the same thing little to no information at all.

a lack of evidence will not stop me. the lack of sleep was starting to take a toll on me making me slowly lose consciousness until all i saw was black.

-

when i woke up i wasn’t in my room, well i was but it was different my posters were not on the walls my bedsheets were different, before i could continue my analyzation of the room a girl barges in.

“joe, get up we’re going to be late for school!” she said “i- what?” i uttered slightly confused looking at the girl in my supposed room “did you hit your head again? joe you seriously need to stop skateboarding you keep falling! now get up we have twenty minutes before the bus comes!” she said leaving my room.

“why did she call me joe?” “who is she?” “how did she get into my house?” thousands of questions raced through my head as i got ready.

i made my way to the bathroom to wash my face turning on the light i look in the mirror, i looked like me but i wasn’t me the sudden urge to vomit made its way through my throat i grabbed the edge of the sink to help me steady myself, who was i because i was certainly not chris.

-

my mind was racing throughout the whole bus ride to school when we arrived i was glad to be met with my old high school.. wait i graduated 4 years ago..

getting down the bus i was looking around but no one i knew was here, as i walked in a guy was approaching me nate! im so glad to see him “bye joe ill see you at home” the girl said making her way to her friends.

“joe, dude, i’m serious when i say this and im sorry for it but damn is your sister hot!”

“nate, ew what? that’s my sister!” i replied disgusted, wait i don’t have a sister.. “who the fuck is nate bro? did you hit your head again?” laughed nate or who i think is nate next to me.

as i looked in front of me i see two people matt and nick! “yo mike, how you doin my man” said matt to nate while dabbing him up ‘what the fuck is going on? if nate is referred to as mike here then what are nick and matts names?’ i thought.

“earth to joe?” nicks hand waved in front of my face trying to get my attention “huh?” i asked being brought back to reality “dude are you faded as fuck again?” he laughed “what? i don’t do that shit” i replied “what you finally quit?” asked matt closing his locker “uh, yea i decided to quit like last week” “finally” they all laughed as i looked around i saw her

“not going to happen” mumbled nick from next to me as he placed a hand on my shoulder “what?” i replied looking at him “dude come on you’ve crushed on y/n since freshman year! plus she’s dating the star quarterback bradley” he said as who i suppose is bradley appears hugging her from behind.

“yea dude listen to austin it’s not going to happen they’ve been dating for like a year or two!” chimed in matt “sorry joe” shrugged nate or mike as we started walking to class.

we made eye contact her smile slowly fading when her eyes met mine giving me a subtle nod to which i didn’t understand our eyes never leaving each others until i was out of her sight.

through out the whole day i spent it in boring classes and getting loads of homework what a great way of being back to school.

at the end of day we rode the bus back home getting to our bus stop i quickly got down and ran into my room, looking through all the cabinets and drawers to find at least something that could give me an idea of who i needed to be.

i had searched the whole room with no luck to find out who i’m supposed to pretend to be i made my way to the bed and sat down my foot slightly hitting the floor making a weird noise come from the floorboard beneath me.

i bent down knocking on it. it sounded hollow fidgeting with the floorboard to find an opening, finally getting it open i found a journal hidden under the board.

“property of joe beckett”

i read through the whole journal to find out more about this joe character and when i finally did i did as many things possible to match him and how he acted.

-

it’s been three months. three months that i’ve been pretending to be joe, i found out his sister is best friends with y/n, she comes over every weekend to hang out with her. he also works at the gas station near the woods speaking of i was getting ready to take the late shift.

“bye alyssa i’ll be home late so make sure all the doors are locked and if someone knocks on the door don’t open it unless it’s mom she’s supposed to come in a few hours” i told my younger sister as i got my car keys and headed to the door.

“bye joe i’ll see you tomorrow be careful love you!” she shouted at me not taking her eyes off the television.“love you too” i replied back before heading to my car and heading to work.

2:30am

i was putting some canned food on the shelves and reorganizing some stuff i looked up to see a girl under the gas station lights the low glow of the lights barely making her visible, sending chills down my spine it was y/n.

what was she doing here?

she was looking around surely looking for her boyfriend that wasn’t going to appear anytime soon, before i could make my way to her a tall man in all black appears behind her, he has a cloth in his hand placing it over her mouth and nose she struggles for a few seconds before she’s knocked out.

i see him drag her body to the back of the store, i get up quickly making me way to the office in the back checking the cameras and surely there he was dragging her body before roughly letting her down face down and kicking her, i wanted to look away so bad but the scene in front of me was so brutal i physically couldn’t.

he then pulled out a knife violently stabbing her over and over again thirteen times just like the article said, this couldn’t be happening i was witnessing a murder and i couldn’t do anything!

the man took the body a little deeper into the woods afterwards he took out a shovel digging a hole for the knife and covering it up again. as he made his way to the front of the store a gush of wind blew off his hoodie that was covering his face, he looked up making direct eye contact with the camera it’s like he could see me.

waking up with a gasp i look to my side by the sudden buzzing of my phone.

“unknown caller” read the caller ID

“hello?”

“back off this case or your little friend and brothers get it.” 

————————————————————————-

what do we think? 👀

tags: @sturnioloslurps @hearts4chris @patscorner @lexisecretaccx

[madsblogsstuff]

heaven - joe burrow x reader (pt. 1)

INSPO:

She was innocence. A perfectly painted picture created by only the greatest higher-ups. She was the sheer image of flawless and excellence all wrapped up in a human body, and she was standing right in front of my own two eyes. Y/n Taylor - our Coach, Zac Taylor’s daughter was nothing short of gorgeous. Every-time she smiled or talked had me wanting more, and more. I couldn’t get enough of her. I knew she was destined to be mine. She was heaven on earth.

———————————————————————-

I woke up in my dorm still sore from the football game last night. As much as I love being an LSU Tiger Girl, my body still disagreed with all the intricate dance routines we do for game-days. Just something I’ll never get used to in all my years of dancing, I suppose. Yet, the pain was worth the screams of the crowd when we hit our final 8-counts and all the recognition we are able to get from the way our bodies move - in a good way. LSU and dance were traits I don’t think I could ever get rid of. Baton Rouge was my home now, and a damn good one if I do say so myself. 

I decided to clamber my way out of the lifted twin bed and get a start with my day. I opened the blackout curtains to the bright Louisiana sun, shinning its way into the small room. My roommate, Kelsey, had already left early in the morning to go see family for the day. Yes, Baton Rouge is a good home - but it would still be just as amazing if I had some family that lived here. I wish I could go see family like Kelsey did, but the fact that my family lived about 4 states over; prevented me from seeing them as often as I would like. It also prevented them from being in the stands on LSU game-days. Which meant they weren’t able to see what I worked so hard to become, why I chose dance as a sport. It made me upset, with it being my rookie year and no family to come watch every Saturday, but I have amazing teammates and friends who make up for it. 

Now, I don’t blame my parents harshly for missing game days. My dad stays busier than a squirrel in a nut factory, but both him and mom try to be here whenever they can. My dad, the one and only Zac Taylor, is the new head coach of the Cincinnati Bengals. So yeah, I really can’t blame him for not being here on game days. After making my way to the rooms private bathroom; I decided to take a nice long shower to wash away the hairspray, dried sweat, and body glitter that had invaded every bit of my skin. Turning off the water, I grabbed my towel and dried off. After doing necessary hygiene and hair styling, I put on an LSU shirt, black shorts and my white tennis shoes. The weather was about as hot as hell in Louisiana and the dorms can get pretty stuffy at times, so I always try to stay as cool as possible. I was finishing up putting my jewelry on when my phone started to ring.

“Hello?” I picked up not even bothering to look at the contact name. 

“Honey! It’s so good to hear your voice again!” A joyful voice spread from the phone to my ears and my mouth grew into a huge smile.

“Mom! It’s great to hear your voice again to. What’s going on?” I responded back, starting to miss my mom a little more than I already had been.

“Oh nothing really hun, I should be asking you what’s going on after that huge win last night! Your dad and I got to watch some it and even got to see you dance some - well from what the cameras would show”  My heart swelled, mom and dad were actually watching for me last night.

“I’m glad y’all could see me dance some, I wish you guys could be here. I miss y’all” I said, wishing I could be with my mom and dad right now.

“We miss you so much Y/n, I’m honestly still not use to seeing your bedroom empty” I heard my moms tone change. I hated hearing and seeing my mom get upset, but I know me living so far away took a toll on her.

I opened my mouth to respond, but then my mom started talking again. “Wait, how many classes do you have this week? And do you have practice any?” She questioned.

I looked over at my desk calendar checking to see if this upcoming week was busy. “Uhm, I actually only have one in person class this week on Thursday and no practice this week because it’s an off week, Why?” I questioned back.

“Why don’t your dad and I buy you a plane ticket and you come up and spend the week at home!” My eyes lit up in excitement, going to Cincinnati sounded great right now.

“Really? You guys would do that for me?” I said, surprising myself that I was able to form that sentence without screaming in happiness.

“Of course hun, I’m going to go tell your dad and get that ticket! Would you be good with leaving tonight?” 

“Yes, that sounds great! Whatever gets me to y’all the fastest!” I don’t even think happy is the word to describe my mood right now.

“Yay! I’ll text you the ticket and everything else as soon as I get it Y/n. I love you sweetheart, I can’t wait to see you!” My mom squealed into my ear. 

“Okay mom, I love you and can’t wait to see you too!” After that we said our goodbyes and I had some bags to pack.

I shoot Kelsey a text saying I had a last minute trip to Cincinnati and probably wouldn’t be here when she got back. I let her know when I’d be back and that if she needed anything - to call. I grabbed some duffel bags and started packing up whatever I had, still in shock that I was going to be able to see my parents. Even though it had only been a few months since I last saw them, being separated from them made it feel like years. 

Mom ended up sending my plane ticket about thirty minutes after our call had ended. I was departing at 7 tonight, and with it only being 11 in the morning - I had some time to kill till I needed to leave for the airport. I continued packing when my phone buzzed.

Coach Dad

Miss you lil bit ❤️ so glad you’re coming home. Let me know when you get to the airport.

Love, Dad.

I smiled at his text. He still felt the need to sign off his texts like a letter, even after the countess times of me telling him ‘people don’t do that’. Ever since my dad took the head coach position of the Bengals, I don’t have much time to see or talk to him. So, I cherish any moment I am able to get with him. Hopefully this trip would allow me to get even closer to my parents - especially my dad.

———————————————————————-

I threw all my bags in the back of my car and hopped into the drivers seat. I cranked up the car, pulled out of my dorm buildings parking lot and made the quick 20 minute drive to the airport. 

Upon arriving to the airport, it was only 4:45 p.m. - so I had time to get checked in, go through TSA and chill before my flight. Dad always said to ‘get to the airport extremely early, just incase’ although it was annoying when we flew when I was younger. I was never known to be an early bird, so leaving at 4 a.m. for 10 a.m. flights when I was a kid was dreadful. I still remember when we moved to Cincinnati, I was a bit younger when we moved but the flight over was one of those 4 a.m. deals. I texted dad and mom that I arrived at the airport and got out of the car to grab my bags. I checked in at the first desk I saw and then walked down the incredibly long terminal. ‘Why did airports have to be so big?’ I thought as my feet started to drag. I reached my boarding area and went through TSA - thankfully not having to be stopped to be patted down. After TSA, I was free to roam till the flight boarded. I wasn’t really hungry and airport food is expensive, so I don’t think I’ll get food - plus it was only a 3 hour flight, so I would just eat whatever they provide on the plane. I decided to sit down and scroll on my phone, trying to waste time. I looked at the texts my parents had sent back about my flight and to text them when I took off and landed, so I responded back to those first.

I then opened my Instagram and started to scroll through and like what was on my feed. Photos ranged from LSU posts to something my friends had posted the day before. After scrolling for a minute, a Cincinnati Bengals post popped up on my feed. Yes, I did follow the Bengals account but I never really kept up with them - I was always too invested in LSU to even think twice about the team dad coached. Plus since dad had only started coaching them this year, I really didn’t keep up with them - I hadn’t even gone to a game yet. The post consisted of introducing their rookies and their stats after the first few games. First slide: Tee Higgins - Wide Receiver, Second slide: Logan Wilson - Linebacker, Slide three: Akeem Brian- Davis - Linebacker, Fourth and final slide: Joe Burrow - Quarterback.

Joe Burrow. Joe Burrow. Joe Burrow. I repeated his name in my head over and over, but where had I heard it from? I decided to look this Burrow kid up and to say I was shocked was underplaying it.

Joe Burrow - Heisman Trophy Winner 2019!

Joe Burrow Drafted First Pick for Cincinnati Bengals!

Joe Burrow and LSU win 2019 National Championship!

Joe Burrow. The name made sense now. Joe Burrow. The dude was a fucking legend at LSU… and he just so happened to be playing for my dads team. I remember hearing people talk about him when I first arrived at LSU, especially the girls. I guess I’ve never put two and two together till now. I looked at pictures of him. I’ll give it to him - he was pretty cute, but from what I’ve heard he had a reputation at LSU; specifically a fuck-boy one. 

I looked up more about Burrow. Something about him was so interesting to me, I couldn’t figure out what it was though. I’m honestly surprised no one had asked me about him yet because of my dad - but I guess since dad was new, nobody really knew I was his daughter. 

Looking at his pictures more made notice how Joe looked absolutely angelic… like something from heaven. I shouldn’t get caught up in obsessing over him though. He had a bad reputation at LSU and most likely now, and I needed to keep mine a clean slate. I was attending school on a full ride athletic scholarship because of dance - being that the LSU Tiger Girls recruited me for their squad without even having to tryout.

If I ever got into an entanglement with a guy like Joe Burrow then there’s no telling what it would do to my character. There’s no way a guy that looks like Joe would step foot in my direction though. I’m the coaches daughter, so if he ever did figure out about me then I’d probably be way off limits…and he’d be totally out of my league.

After all my research and pondering, the airport intercom called over to say my flight was boarding. I grabbed my carry on bag from beside my chair and made my way to the tunnel outside of the plane, making sure to text my parents that we were boarding and going to leave soon. Once the other passengers and I were boarded and sat in our seats, the pilot went over the basic rules of plane, what to do in an emergency, and all the extra details. Once he finished and the plane was ready, we were good for take-off. As I relaxed in my seat and looked out my window at the runway lights, I couldn’t help but think about three things: Cincinnati, my parents, and Joe Burrow.

———————————————————————-

first part ever! ah so excited - i hope this turns out to be all i wanted in a fanfic, and i hope you guys enjoy it! <3

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Unfaithful

Pairing: JoeQuinnxReader

Summary: Request

You've been cheated on by your husband. You're a bit older than Joe. You're nursing your sorrows at the bar and he shows up, offering to buy you a drink and to help you forget all about that dick of a husband.

18+ Only

Men sucked. You sat at the bar, nursing your Jack and Coke, ruminating on the shitshow your life had suddenly become. This morning you had headed off to work thinking you were happily married. Maybe not overjoyed about it but definitely content. No marriage was perfect but you’d thought the two of you were doing okay. This evening, you learned your husband wasn’t as happily married as you were. 

Her name was Layla and she was his secretary. His secretary that was twelve years younger than you, a perky and youthful 25 to your 37. They’d been sneaking around together for six months and you’d been dumb enough to fall for it. You’d believed him when he said he had to work late or go out of town for a meeting. It was all a lie. Your marriage was nothing but a sham and you were the idiot left sitting here alone in a bar, trying to drink it all away. 

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror over the back of the bar, the fine lines that were beginning to show on your forehead and around your eyes, the gray hairs that had begun sprouting that you covered up monthly at the salon, the softer padding that had developed around your middle as you’d lacked time to keep up with your fitness routine. No wonder he’d found someone else. Look at you. You were a complete disaster. Of course he wanted someone younger, someone more beautiful, someone with a tight ass and perky breasts.

You were attempting to catch the bartender’s eye so you could order your third drink, determined to down enough liquor until you were numb, until you couldn’t feel all the anger and despair that was threatening to drown you. 

You rolled your eyes as a guy hopped onto the stool next to yours, not even bothering to glance at him. Why did he have to pick the stool right by you when there were plenty of other seating options around? You so did not feel like having to listen to some jerk pass you his best one-liners. You just wanted to be left alone to wallow in your own self-pity. 

“What are you drinking there, love?”

The soft British accent caught your attention, something you didn’t hear every day. You turned your head and were met with a pair of brown eyes that were as warm and inviting as a cup of tea on a cold evening. A bright and infectious smile graced lips that were so full and perfectly pink that you couldn’t help wondering what they would feel like pressed against your own. A tousle of brown curls topped his head, looking so soft that you itched to touch them. And that beard…the perfect length, just enough that you could almost imagine how good it would feel rubbing along your thighs. 

You shook your head. Jesus Christ! What in the hell were you doing? What was wrong with you? You were married. You’d just found out your husband was cheating on you. You were losing it. That’s all this was. Some good looking British guy was smiling at you and you were desperate to feel like anything other than the hot mess you currently were. 

He raised his eyebrows at you and you realized you’d never answered his question because you’d been so lost in how fucking attractive he was. You looked back at your empty glass before raising your eyes to his again. Shit, he really was so damn beautiful. Where did he get off looking like that? 

“Your drink?” he asked again, pointing at your glass. 

“Oh, it’s just a Jack and Coke,” you answered. 

He raised his hand, waving the bartender down, “Can I get a dirty martini with olives and can the lady get another Jack and Coke?” The bartender nodded, turning to make the drinks and the beautiful stranger held his hand out to you. “I’m Joe.”

“Y/N,” you replied, reaching for his hand. The moment your skin met, it was like shockwaves straight to your center. You pressed your thighs together, willing your body to cooperate with you. He smiled again and you noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled. It was a genuine smile, a reach your eyes, kind of smile and when you saw the little dimple form on his cheek you melted. 

“So, just needing to be alone or out to get completely pissed?” asked Joe as the bartender set your drinks down.

“Completely what?” you questioned in confusion. “I’m not pissed. I mean, I am pissed actually but I don’t want to be pissed.”

Joe laughed and you groaned softly. Even his laugh was beautiful. It was a sincere, joyful sound that rose from his belly. You’d barely met this man but you could already tell what you saw was what you got. Or was it? You clearly hadn’t been the best judge of character as of late.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I’m British. Pissed means drunk but on that note, I am quite intrigued. What could have a beautiful lady such as yourself so pissed off?”

“A cheating, lying, dick of a husband,” you muttered, taking a long drink of your Jack and Coke before slamming it back down on the bar. 

“Well…” he replied, those eyebrows almost meeting his hairline, tiny little lines creasing his forehead. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, shaking your head. 

“I suppose this is very bad timing on my part,” conceded Joe. “I just noticed a very lovely lady sitting all alone at the bar, no wedding ring, and I thought I would buy you a drink. I would still like to, but if you don’t want that right now, just say the word and I will go.”

You looked up at the beautiful Brit sitting next to you, sipping his martini. Fuck, you should tell him to go but you didn’t want to. Your husband was a lying, cheating bastard. What did it matter what you did? Why should you care about his feelings? You had spent the last ten years with a guy having mediocre sex at best. What would it be like to be with someone new, someone exciting, someone that was the complete opposite of your worthless husband?

“No actually,” you replied, offering him a smile as you turned on your stool to face him. “A drink with you sounds good. I could use the company.”

“Well, good,” he grinned, raising his glass to you before taking a sip. “So, can I ask what kind of moron cheated when he had a stunning wife like you at home?”

You laughed, “Yeah, well, he cheated with his secretary who is twelve years younger and a whole lot perkier than I am.” You took another drink, closing your eyes and relishing the way the liquor was loosening all the tense places within you. 

“Twelve years younger?” Joe asked, a skeptical look on his face. “How old was she? Sixteen?”

You almost choked on your drink, “Oh come on. You’re laying it on a little thick, don’t you think? There’s no way you think I am only 28.”

“How old are you?”

“37,” you answered, staring him down. “How old are you?”

“I’m 29.”

“Jesus,” you groaned, bringing your fingers to press against your forehead. “You’re a goddamn baby. Come on. Why are you sitting here talking to me?” You gestured around the bar with your hand. “There have got to be plenty of younger ladies here tonight that you would find far more desirable?”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” he replied, spinning on his stool. He leaned back, his elbow resting on the bar. “There is not another woman here who can compare to you, darling. You caught my eye from the moment I walked in that door. And you don’t look 37.”

“Please,” you snorted. “I have lines on my face.”

“So do I,” said Joe, pointing to his forehead and the corners of his eyes. “Those are just proof of a lot of laughs and a lot of life lived.”

“Wow, you must have really good luck with the ladies,” you chuckled. “You are one smooth operator.”

Joe shrugged, “I’m not trying to be smooth, just being honest. Your husband is a real wanker for not seeing what he had right in front of him.” He leaned forward, his lips right next to your ear as his fingers trailed along your bare arm. “If you give me the chance, I can treat you the way you deserve to be treated, the way he should have treated you. Let me show you just how desirable I find you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, heat pooling between your thighs. Damn, you wanted this. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly felt desired, truly felt desire, truly felt a craving for someone. Sex with your husband had become just something you did because it was what married people do. It was a once a week thing you checked off a to-do list. You wanted passion. You wanted lust and need and longing.

“Do you live close by?” you whispered, shocked at your own forwardness, your willingness to head off with this man you didn’t even know. 

“I live across the pond but my hotel isn’t far from here,” he offered, tossing some bills on the bar as he stood and offered you his hand. You met those beautiful chocolate eyes and took it.

Joe hailed down a cab in front of the bar and you both climbed in. Those beautiful fingers, that soft hand, rested on your knee as the cab pulled away. Your skin felt like it was ablaze under his touch. You could feel how wet you already were just from the anticipation of what was to come when you got to the hotel. 

Those fingers moved along your thigh, slipping under your skirt and you gasped. The cab driver’s eyes met yours in the mirror and you worked to mask your face so he wouldn’t notice that the man next to you was under your skirt. His eyes went back to the road and you almost sighed in relief but then Joe’s fingers slid along the edge of your panties and you had to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out. 

“Mmm…you’re so wet, love,” he whispered softly, two of those fingers moving beneath your panties and pressing into you. “Fuck, I can’t wait to know what that pussy feels like wrapped around my cock.”

Jesus Christ. You couldn’t believe how brazen he was being with the cab driver right there. You had never been one for exhibitionism but damn if it wasn’t even hotter, knowing if you couldn’t keep control that the driver would know what was happening. 

His fingers slid from within you, rubbing along your slick until he found your clit. You bit your lip so hard, you could taste the blood, fighting back the desperate urge to scream, to release this pressure cooker of ecstasy he was boiling within you. 

“You have to stay quiet,” Joe whispered as if he could read your mind. “Don’t want us to get caught.” 

The knot in your stomach tightened as those expert fingers worked you until your thighs were shaking. Then they were gone. You looked around, stunned and confused for a moment, until you noticed that you were in front of the hotel. You couldn’t get out of the cab fast enough. Joe chuckled, paying the driver, as he came around the cab and took your hand, leading you into the hotel and to the elevator. 

The doors opened and you both stepped inside. The minute they closed, he was on you, pressing you against the wall, his body molding against yours, those luscious lips moving over yours, his thigh pushing against your center. This time, you let the moan come, rocking yourself against him, desperation as you’d never known invading your body, needing release, needing him. Your fingers slid into those curls and fuck, they were just as soft as they looked. 

A soft ding sounded through the elevator as the doors slid open. Joe backed you out of the elevator, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming along every inch of your body as he continued moving you backward until your back was up against the door of his room. He fumbled in his back pocket until he found the key, continuing to kiss you as it took him three tries to get the door opened. 

The two of you stumbled into the room, you grabbing the bottom of his fuzzy blue sweater, pulling it over his head. Your eyes raked over his body, fit but soft in all the right places, an enticing trail of soft hair leading into his jeans. He smirked when he caught where your eyes were focused and you felt yourself flush. 

“No worries, love,” he assured, his voice thick with desire, those warm brown eyes now flashing with desire. “You’ll get to find where that trail leads soon enough but first, I need to finish what I started.”

Joe’s hands rested on your shoulders, pressing you back against the wall as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His eyes gazed up at you as his hands slid under your skirt again, pulling your panties down your legs. You lifted one foot and then the other so he could dispatch them. 

“I am going to worship you like the queen you are, darling,” he purred, lifting your leg and propping it over his shoulder, opening you up to him. His face moved between your legs, his nose running over your clit and you whimpered, your head making a thunk against the wall as it fell back. His tongue ran from your entrance all the way up to your clit. “Fuck, I knew I had to taste you from the moment I saw you in that bar.”

Joe devoured you like a man starved. You thought you’d had a pretty good sex life but fuck, you had never felt like this before. His tongue was like nothing you’d ever known, swirling in circles, darting over your clit, sucking it between his lips before slipping down and moving within you. Your entire body shook, shockwaves of pleasure rolling through you as he tortured you to the brink of oblivion before bringing you back, only to send you there again. 

“Oh my god…” you whimpered, your fingers sliding through his hair, gripping it, pressing his face against you. You rolled your hips, rubbing yourself against him, overcome with a need for release. “Fuck, that’s so good…Jesus…”

Just as you thought it couldn’t get any better, Joe slipped two fingers inside you once again, curling and twisting them in a way you didn’t even know was possible, as he sucked your sensitive little bud between his lips like he was sucking on a jolly rancher. 

“Fuck!” you shrieked as your orgasm ripped through you, slapping the wall with your open hand so loud you hoped no one was in the room next door. Your leg shook so badly you feared you would fall but Joe’s free hand gripped your hip, offering you stability. Sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of flowed from you as Joe continued working you through the waves of your release. 

As you slowly came down, he slid up your body, his hands resting on either side of your head on the wall. A slow, sexy smile crossed his lips, “Do you feel desired, love?”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped, hands resting on his shoulders since you still didn’t trust your legs. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“It’s not that hard,” he offered, his lips trailing kisses along the side of your neck. “Some men don’t concern themselves with ensuring their lady leaves satisfied. I do.” He grabbed your shirt, pulling it over your head and then made quick work of your bra. “I find the most pleasure in making sure the woman I am with has her needs met.” Those lips headed south, moving over your breasts, taking your nipple between them. “There is nothing more sexy than listening to the sounds of pleasure a woman makes, the faces she makes when she’s enjoying herself.”

“And what about you? I believe I was told I could find out what that trail led to,” you mused, bringing his face back to yours so you could kiss him. You slid your tongue past his lips, moaning into his mouth at the taste of him, vermouth, olives, and cigarettes as your fingers worked at the button on his jeans. 

You pushed his jeans and his boxers down over his hips, breaking from the kiss so you could see the treasure you’d uncovered. Shit, everything about this man was beautiful. Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his cock, gripping him as you moved it along his length. 

Joe groaned, his forehead pressing against yours, “Bloody hell, darling. I need to know what that pretty little pussy feels like.”

He grabbed your waist, tossing you onto the bed. Joe slid a condom on and then climbed over you, his lips moving along your neck again, his hard length pressing into you. You wound your legs around his hips, needing to know what that glorious cock felt like filling you up. Joe’s hand grabbed your wrists, holding them together as his other hand guided himself to your entrance. He pressed into your slowly, his eyes focused on yours the entire time. 

“Oh shit…” you gasped as he buried himself to the hilt within you, pausing and relishing the feel of your bodies coming together in sweet perfection. “Joe…” 

“Jesus, you feel even better than I imagined,” he groaned as he began to move his hips, his cock stretching you completely. 

Your hands came up to rest on his back, your fingers feeling along his shoulder blades. He was moving agonizingly slow, drawing out the experience. It felt incredible but you were also aching for him to move faster, harder, to completely take you, own you, make you his. 

“Joe, please,” you pleaded, rocking your hips in an effort to show him what you needed. 

“Words, darling,” he urged, that little smirk playing at his lips, causing that dimple you wanted to dive into to appear on his cheek once again. 

“Joe, faster…harder…please…fuck me,” you managed. 

“Your wish is my command, love,” growled Joe, he thrust into you with force. The bed began to rock, audibly hitting the wall and you cried out in relief. “Tell me, darling. How does that feel?”

“It’s fucking amazing,” you panted, your nails raking along the skin of his back, causing him to hiss. 

Joe gripped your calf, lifting your leg up by your ear and you cried out in pleasure as this new angle created sensations you’d never experienced before. His other hand released your wrists, gripping the headboard as he drove into you again and again, your bodies colliding over and over in a frenzied blur of want and lust. 

“Shit, darling, I’m close,” he rumbled. “Come for me, love. Touch yourself. Come for me again.”

You obeyed, your hand snaking between your bodies, your finger finding your clit and working over it. It didn’t take much. Joe had you so wound up, your body was just aching to let go again. Your entire body tensed, back arching, as your second orgasm rolled through you. 

“That’s a good girl,” praised Joe, thrusting once, twice, and then his body stilled, pressing into you, his grip on your leg tightening and you felt as every muscle in him went taut with his release, a strangled roar rising from within his chest. 

His body shuddered over you and his head dipped down, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. He rose from the bed, disposing of the condom, before lying down next to you, his arm resting over his head, releasing a long, slow breath of satisfaction. 

You glanced over at him before sitting up, looking for where your clothes had wound up. This had been amazing but it was what it was, a one night stand. You were sure he was ready to be done with you now. You told yourself that was okay but the truth was, you wanted more of him. You’d never had sex like that before. It was…earth shattering, life changing. It was like nothing you’d ever known and neither was the man. There was something so comforting about him. You’d just met him but for some reason you trusted him. 

“Hey, what you doing there, darling?” he asked, reaching out for you and pulling you down against him, your head resting against his chest. “You’re not thinking of leaving already, are you?”

“Oh, I mean…I just assumed…this was a one time thing. I don’t want to make it more complicated than it is.”

Those eyes looked down at you as he lifted his head, “Do you want this to be a one time thing?”

“Isn’t that what this is? I mean…I thought that’s what you thought it was.”

“I thought you might stay over,” he said with a smile. “I thought we might order some room service for breakfast, maybe have a repeat of what just happened, and then you could show me around your city for the day. How does that sound?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hide how delighted that made you, “That sounds pretty good, actually.”

“Good,” Joe said, his finger bringing your chin up so he could kiss you again before he gathered you in his arms. “I quite like you, you know. I’d like to get to know you better. I’d like to show you how a real man treats a lady.”

You laughed softly, “Trust me, you already have.”

[babybluebex]

long lost love: before | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: part one of two! on your first day at the london academy of musical and dramatic arts, you meet a sweet boy, and you quickly grow close. two years of dating go by, but, when you suspect that joseph is cheating on you, you make an irreversible decision. pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader (rpf - don't like, don't read) tags: accusations of infidelity, smut (MINORS DNI) - p in v sex, mentions of blowjobs - jealousy, lots of cute joey, wes makes several appearances, lots of suspect behavior from joe , a poor understanding of how LAMDA operates author's note: hi babes! thanks for reading this fic, and i don't have much to say other than enjoy! only one more part after this!

When you first saw him, your heart nearly stopped. 

You didn’t know who he was; nobody really knew anybody else here. It was only orientation, and the room was full of hopeful young musicians and actors that were waiting for their education. The energy in the room was anxious and electric, and your eye was drawn to nearly every person that walked in, wondering what their aspirations were. Maybe some wanted to be directors or producers or music engineers. It was usually easy to spot the real talent in rooms like that, the kids that would really make it far, and you suppose that’s why you saw him almost instantly. 

He wore the little badge with his name around his neck, looking cute and sweet with a nervous little smile on his face and a shaggy dark blond hairdo. Eighteen years old; when you thought back to him and looked at old pictures, you wondered if he ever regretted that hairstyle. He wore thick black glasses over his dark brown eyes, a small black earring in his left ear. He was cute, maybe even hot, but there was something about him, something magnetic, and you couldn’t help but wonder what his deal was. You could tell, just by his energy, that he was one of your fellow actors, and you looked at the seat beside you, empty and awaiting someone. Maybe he would sit by you and you could talk to him. Although, knowing yourself, you would be too shy to really talk to this cute guy.

The sweet and cute shaggy-haired boy spotted the empty chair quickly, and he scooted past other people in the row to get to it. He threw you a quick smile��� braces on his teeth— and, in a soft voice, asked, “Is this seat taken?” 

“No,” you told him quickly, moving over a little bit on your own seat to show just how empty the chair next to you was. 

“Thanks,” he said, and your heart slammed in your chest as he sat down. He smelled good, like expensive cologne that he probably got when he graduated from secondary school, and he gave you that smile again before he said your name. 

“Huh?” you asked. How did he know your name?

He pointed at the badge around your neck, the one with your name and “ACTING ACADEMY” printed on it, and he said your name again. 

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, and you looked at his own badge. “JOSEPH QUINN: ACTING ACADEMY”. “Do you go by Joseph, or, like, something else?” 

“Really only my mum calls me Joseph,” he said. “My friends all call me Joe.” 

“Joe,” you said. “Looks like we’re gonna be classmates.” 

“Looks like it,” Joe chuckled. “What dormitory are you staying in?” 

“Umm, I’m not,” you said. “I’m actually from London, so I live with my family.” 

“Oh, cool,” Joe said. “We have something in common!”

“Do we?” you smiled, and you pushed your hair behind your ear nervously. “That’s cool. Where are you from?” Before Joe could answer, you added, “Wait! Can I guess?” 

“Go for it,” Joe laughed. “Only if I get to guess where you’re from.” 

“You’ll never guess right,” you chuckled. 

“Oh, I’ll try,” Joe laughed. 

The whole day, your conversation never stalled, not even once orientation started. You whispered to each other and giggled like children, even after you were fussed at by the orientation leader, and Joe just smiled and tried to keep his laughter down. Finally, the day ended with Joe stuttering out a request for your phone number. “Really?” you asked. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Joe said. “I think you’re… Well, I think you’re fit, and you’re really funny, a-and, yeah… You don’t have to, but I thought I’d ask—” 

You leaned in and placed your lips on his cheek for just a moment, just long enough to feel the warm blush he had, and, when you pulled back, his blush had invaded his whole face, even up into his hair. “Sure,” you told him. “I��d love to do that.” 

“Cool,” Joe said, and he tugged his phone out of his jeans pocket and passed it to you as he took a deep breath. “That’s cool… Umm, I’ll text you.” 

“Sounds good,” you said. “I’ll see you at class, Joey.” 

“Joey?” he repeated. “Nobody really calls me that.”

“Well, now I do,” you told him, and you bit your lip and smiled. “Bye, Joey.” 

What you didn’t know was that, when Joe got home, he immediately told his mother about the awesome girl he had met. What you didn’t know was that he told his best friend since childhood about you, sighing and saying, “Wes, I met her.” When Wes asked “Her?”, Joe rolled onto his back and imagined your smile and said “Her! My girl, the one I’m gonna be with forever! I met her today!” 

What Joe didn’t know was that, when you got home, you told your own mum about him, and you said, “He’s gonna do great things someday. I know it.” When your mother asked, “How do you know?”, you shrugged and said “I just do. Good things come to good people, and Joey… He’s gonna do amazing things.” 

It didn’t take very long for Joe to ask you out. You had talked every day, sharing most of your classes, and he was a great friend, funny and smart and loyal. It was hardly two weeks into the term when he stopped you after a lecture one day and said, “Hey, umm, my friend and I are gonna go to the movies tonight, and I-I was wondering if you wanted to come with us.” 

“Really?” you asked. “That’s nice. I’d love to go.”

When Joe picked you up at your house that night, he seemed nervous. His friend, a blond boy named Wes, was in the backseat of his car, letting you ride in the passenger seat, and the three of you talked up a storm. You had fun with them, but the real heart-pounding fun started once the lights went down in the theater. 

The movie was fine, suspenseful but predictable, but Joe’s hand kept lingering over to yours before withdrawing, like he didn’t mean to keep touching your hand. You wondered if he would make up his mind— will he or won’t he?— and finally, he committed and held your hand properly. It was adorable how nervous he seemed, and your lips tingled. You wanted to kiss him.

Towards the end of the movie, the darkness around you seemed encroaching suddenly, and you took the opportunity to clutch to Joe’s arm, squeezing his hand. He looked at you and smiled softly, and he leaned in and whispered, “Are you scared?” 

“No,” you mumbled. Your face went hot, though, and you added, “Maybe a little.” 

“I’ll protect you,” Joe chuckled softly, and he removed his arm from your grasp to sling it over your shoulders, drawing you right up against his warm body, barred only by the armrest between you. He rested his cheek against your head, holding you close as the movie finished, and you caught Wes’s smile as the lights came up.  

“Y’know,” Wes started as you waited for Joe outside the restrooms. “You’re all he talks about.” 

“Really?” you asked. “I mean, I think he’s pretty cool, and I talk to my mates about him a lot too…”

“He’s been dying to make a move on you,” Wes told you, and the heat returned to your face. “But he’s also kinda a pussy when it comes to asking girls out; I’m surprised he even managed to ask you to the movie. Basically, all I’m saying is… Don’t count him out.” 

“I’m definitely not,” you told Wes. “In fact, I… I was planning on kissing him tonight.” 

“Good luck,” Wes said. Then, his eyes flicked behind you, and he added, “Shit, here he comes, act cool.” 

You laughed as Joe approached the two of you, and Joe asked, “What’s so funny?” 

“Oh, umm, nothing,” you giggled. “Wes just made a joke.” 

You could feel Wes’s gaze on you as he lingered behind you and Joe as you walked to the car park, Joe’s pinky finger nudging yours every so often. Carefully, you captured his finger with yours, linking you together, and Joe adjusted his glasses as a pink blush filled his face. 

The ride back to your house was quiet, all things considered, the tension between you and Joe so thick that Wes could have swam in it, and the tension only snapped when Joe offered to walk you to the door. “Oh, you don’t have to,” you sighed, even though you knew what that meant. You had seen plenty of romantic movies— if Joe walked you to the house, you would exchange an awkward but pleasant conversation before he tried to kiss you. Your heart thudded in your chest as Joe shrugged, and he said, “It’s not a bother.” 

In the electric buzz of your mum’s porch light, Joe took your hands and laced your fingers together, and he mumbled, “Alright, so, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now how much I fancy you. And it was nice of you to, like, hold my hand and let me put my arm around you and shit, but you-you don’t have to pretend or anything.” 

“Who said anything about pretending?” you asked. “Joey, I’m an actor, but I’m not that good of an actor. I really fancy you too.” 

“Do you?” he asked, his eyes rounding with hope. “Do you really?” 

“I do,” you said softly. The pounding of your heart was getting overwhelming, and you squeezed his hands. “I really do.” 

“Awesome,” Joe chuckled. “Umm, c-can I kiss you? Before I leave?” 

“I…” you started, halfway embarrassed about this. “I’ve never been kissed before.” 

“That’s okay,” Joe told you. “That’s not something to be ashamed about. Do you want me to kiss you?”

“I… I’d like that a lot,” you told him carefully, and Joe gave you a relieved smile. Slowly, making sure not to move too quickly and scare you, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes slipped closed as your arms moved to swing around his neck, and he held your hips tightly as he titled his head and deepened the kiss just a bit. His lips were soft, and he tasted like cherry Chapstick, and you sighed as you pulled away to break the kiss. As far as first kisses went, you considered it a pretty damn good one, and you laughed softly as you looked down at your feet. 

“Thanks, Joey,” you told him. “Umm… Do you wanna be my boyfriend? Y-You can say no! But I just really fancy you and—”

Joey kissed you again to stop your blathering, smiling against your lips, and, when you pulled away, his glasses were a little bit askew. “I’d love that,” he said. And that was it. Easy peasy. 

From then on, you and Joey were inseparable. You hung out between classes, had dates every Friday night, stayed over at each other’s places for the weekend. It wasn’t long before Christmas holiday came, and you kissed your first boyfriend at midnight as the new year rang in. Joey was your first everything: he was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, the very first boy you ever loved. 

He was also your first time, which was a point of contention. By the time the new term rolled around, you knew how impatient he was getting. He never would have admitted it to you and would have denied it to the ends of the earth had you asked him, but he was a, by then, nineteen year old boy— he probably had wanted to fuck you since the first day you met. But you were nervous, and kept postponing it. You had done little things to try to alleviate some of his waiting, rubbing him through his jeans and letting him feel up your shirt, but going all the way was daunting. You told him as much the first time he tried to get in your pants, and Joey was understanding. “We can wait,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me, truly. I just want you to be comfortable.” 

Finally, summer holiday came, and you decided that enough was enough. By now, Joe and Wes were renting a flat not far from campus, and you spent most of your time there, but now that you were unencumbered by classes, all of your time was spent there. You had practically moved in with them— you kept clothes in Joe’s closet, a toothbrush by the sink, tampons in the bathroom— and, one night, Wes packed a bag. “I’m staying at Liam’s for the night,” he told you when you inquired, and you childishly puckered your lips and made kissy noises at Wes as Joe cooed at him teasingly. Liam was Wes’s current boyfriend, and Wes had gushed to you about how he thought Liam was “the one”, and you poked at him absolutely relentlessly about it, but you were just happy that Wes was happy. 

“Have fun,” Joe called as Wes left the flat, and no sooner was the door shut and locked than were you straddling Joe’s waist and kissing him. He grunted in surprise and grabbed at your waist as he kissed you back, and it was only once you broke the kiss that he asked, “Darling, what’re you doing?” 

“I’m fucking done with being scared,” you told him. “I know that you’re good, that you won’t hurt me or anything like that, and virginity is such bullshit anyway, it’s not real, so who cares?”

“Love,” Joe said lowly. “Are you really sure? Because we can wait if you want, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, I’m okay waiting however long you want.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” you told him. “I want you.”

“Alright,” Joe sighed. “Okay. Fuck, all my condoms are old, I don’t—” 

“I’m on the pill,” you told him softly. “Got on it just for you.”

“Oh, don’t say that, you’ll give me an ego,” Joe chuckled. “And a boner, but that’s already happening.”

“You’re so funny,” you told him, and you kissed him again. “Make love to me, Joey.”

That night, Joe did as you asked, and he made love to you for the first time. He undressed you slowly, taking his time to care for you and love on you, sucking on your skin and feeling you in his hands, and he laughed softly when you carefully took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. “You look so handsome like this,” you told him, and Joe eagerly kissed you, spreading your legs to wrap around his waist. 

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” Joe told you, and you kissed him deeply. 

Joey held your hands as he slid deep inside you, shushing you when you whined at the unfamiliar stretch and burn, and he rested his forehead against yours and watched you react to every roll of his hips. His eyes stayed locked on yours intensely, heightening every sensation, and each panted breath was met with a kiss. Before long, you felt that knot tightening in your belly, and you whimpered, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Me too,” Joe huffed out. “Want you to cum first.” 

It wasn’t much longer before you were squeezing your legs around his hips and throwing your head back as his fingers met your throbbing clit, and you moaned as you came, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach invading your head and taking your breath away. He wasn’t far behind you, pulling out just in time to spill all over your stomach, and his reddened chest heaved with heavy breaths as he pulled himself out of bed and found a towel to clean you off with. “You alright?” he asked, wiping at the remnants of himself that laid on your belly and chest, and you threaded your fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss. 

“I’m alright,” you told him. “I…”

“Yeah?” Joe asked expectantly. 

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and the flush in his chest crawled up his neck to his cheeks and ears. 

“You do?” Joe asked, his eyes big and round and hopeful. You loved his eyes. 

“Of course I do,” you told him. “I’ve loved you for a long time, I’ve just been… I don’t know, too scared to tell you until now. But I’m not scared anymore. About anything” 

Joey leaned down and softly kissed you again, and he mumbled, “I love you too.” 

If you thought you were inseparable before, nothing compared to that summer. Most of your time was spent in each other’s arms, fighting off the heat in bed together. Now that every boundary had been broken down, you weren’t afraid or hesitant anymore, and Joe liked it. He was more affectionate than before, always trying to kiss you or hug you as you cooked dinner, dragging you into bed whenever he got the notion, and you indulged him every time. 

Also that summer, Joe turned into a man. He invested in contact lenses during the break, got his braces off, cut the ridiculous mop on his head, and took out his earrings (you cried, because the earring was just so cute) and your boyfriend’s burgeoning maturity only made you want him more. God, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. He was better than those stars in the movies that he took you to see on date night, and he was better because he was yours. 

When the term started back, you noticed something about your boyfriend. Before, girls didn’t really take notice of him. Maybe the lone girl who giggled at him when he goofed off in class, but everyone knew that you and Joe were an item. You were the “it” couple at LAMDA, everybody knew you, but, with all of the physical changes that Joe made, came more competition. Suddenly, girls were trying to talk to him more often, pair up with him for breathing exercises or short film projects— you were almost twenty by now, you were an adult, but jealousy still flared in your stomach. 

And Joe. Your sweet Joey never really saw it. He mentioned it off the cuff a few times, mostly joking when you were sullen after finding out that he had been asked out again by some girl— ”Aw, baby, are you jealous?”— but you never let him know the full extent of your jealousy. He didn’t need to know. You were just his girlfriend, not his controller. If he wanted to talk and flirt with other girls, that was his business; after all, he was fucking you and not them. You were never worried that he would cheat on you, because you knew his heart was good and that he would make reasonable decisions. 

In retrospect, you both should and shouldn’t have been worried. 

Just after your two year anniversary, weeks before Joe’s 21st birthday, an opportunity fell into his lap. “An audition,” he told you excitedly. You sat on the couch in his flat, legs drawn up under you as you read the email on his computer that he had presented you, declaring that a new BBC show was casting young men ages 18-25 for a role in their new period piece. “I got an audition.” 

“Oh, Joey!” you crooned and put the computer aside, sitting up and hugging him tightly. “You remember our audition class last year? You aced it! You’re gonna do great, I know it.” 

“I’m so nervous,” Joe admitted, rubbing your back as he buried his face in your neck. “What if I don’t get it?” 

“But what if you do?” you asked. “Baby, you can’t discount yourself, you’re perfect for this! I always knew you’d do great things, and this is just the start. And so what if you don’t get it? The fact that you even auditioned is amazing. I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you so much,” Joe whispered. “Thank you for sticking by my side.” 

“Of course,” you told him. 

The next week was his audition with the BBC, and you fretted all day. You felt sick and called out from class that day to stay home and wait, and, when the door to the flat opened and Joe bustled in, you couldn’t wait anymore. “So?” you asked eagerly. “How’d it go?” 

“Good,” Joe said simply, unwinding his scarf from around his neck. 

“Just good?” you asked. “Tell me all about it! Who was there, what happened—”

“Well, love, I’m under contract, I can’t really talk about that,” Joe said, and you sighed. 

“Yeah, but I’m your girlfriend, contracts don’t count when—” and you stopped yourself. “Wait, contract? What contract?” 

Joe was quiet, but his smile was a mile long. “A BBC contract,” he said finally. “They offered me the role at the audition.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. You screamed and jumped up, and you flew into Joe’s arms and squeezed him around his middle. “Oh my God!” you cried, kissing him all over his warm and pink face. “Joe! No way!” 

“I have a job,” Joe said, proud of himself, and you kissed his lips before you laughed. 

“What did I tell you?” you said. “Don’t count yourself out! Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you! What’s your character’s name?” 

“Arthur,” Joe told you. “Arthur Havisham.” 

“Arthur,” you repeated, and you kissed him again. “Oh, my sweet boy, I knew you could do it.” 

To celebrate his accomplishment, you went out to dinner that night, leaned in, smiling and laughing together as you shared a bottle of wine. When you got home, the flat was empty— Wes was at Liam’s again— and you went down on Joe. His hands clutched your hair and he filled your mouth, and he reached down and kissed you, whispering “I love you” as you swallowed his spend. 

The show, a quaint period piece called Dickensian, started filming in the new year, and you were excited for him. In the weeks preceding the shoot, he had costume fittings and hair and makeup tests, and you went with him to everything that you could manage while still attending your classes. He was the talk of the town at LAMDA— a third year acting student getting cast in a large-scale BBC production didn’t happen often— and everyone seemed to know him and, by extension, you. As much as Joe had a role to play, so did you: the supportive girlfriend. Of course you were proud of him and never said otherwise, but he was all anybody wanted to talk to you about anymore. “How’s Joe? What’s he doing? What’s it like on set?” You answered all of their questions and more, but, little did they know, trouble was brewing. 

It started with little things. Joe would tell you that he would be home from set at a certain time, then text you minutes before, telling you that they were running late and not to wait up for him. Then, he’d lumber into the flat late at night, not even bothering to greet you some nights before he passed out asleep in bed. He would wake up early, for his call time was always fairly early in the morning, and he’d slip out of the flat without waking you to say goodbye. 

One of the bigger incidents was when he flopped into bed one night, leaving his clothes on the floor, and, when you went to gather them, found red-colored stains on the collar of his shirt. “What is this stain?” you asked him, running your thumb over the stain. 

“Why d’you care?” Joe mumbled, grabbing his pillow and shoving his tired face in it. 

“I need to know if I need to treat it before I wash it,” you told him, then, under your breath, added, “Since I do the washing up around here, apparently.”

“It’s, umm…” Joe started sleepily. He yawned, then said, “Makeup. They make me wear a lot of makeup.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked, and Joe sighed. 

“Yes, fuck,” he grumbled. “Let me sleep, love, I had a long day.” 

Red makeup. Why would he be wearing red makeup? You swiped your thumb across it, and it came back a little waxy. Lipstick. You knew that he was lying, but you dreaded a fight, so you kept it to yourself. Lipstick on Joe’s collar; it made your stomach turn. 

Another incident came on Joe’s birthday. He wasn’t filming that day, but he was still out all day. You were awaiting his arrival, tired and lonely and just wanting some time with your birthday boy, and you sighed when the door finally opened. “There you are,” you smiled, and you opened your arms for him. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too,” Joe said, coming into your arms and kissing you gently. “Sorry, my mum wanted to take me out.” 

“No worries,” you said as alarms went off in your head. You had called Joe’s mum earlier in the day to try to get her recipe for Victoria sponge so that you could make it for dessert after dinner (you had succeeded, and a completed cake sat on the counter in the kitchen), and, in the conversation, it came up that Joe’s mum regretted not being in London for Joe’s birthday. “I’m in Liverpool for the week,” she told you. “I guess we can celebrate when I get back.” If he wasn’t with his mum, where was he?

Finally, the nail in the coffin came. On a cold March night, your skin still rippling with the feeling of Joe’s tongue, your boyfriend asleep next to you, he mumbled in his sleep. He did it every so often, mainly when he was stressed or nervous about something, but it was usually little things, things that you couldn’t discern. But this was discernible, and it made your stomach turn. “Amelia…” Joe mumbled, and he turned away from you in his sleep. 

You were awake all night. Amelia. Who the fuck was Amelia? The same girl who had left the red lipstick on his collar? The same girl he had spent his birthday with? You didn’t want to feed into delusions and jump to any sort of conclusions, but everything seemed so damning to you. You were scared and anxious and looking for any answers, and the girl’s name gave you an answer. Joe was cheating on you. 

By the time Joe’s alarm woke him up at 6am (you even doubted his call time now; was he leaving early to see her?), you were up and packed. You lived with Joe and Wes now full-time, and you sniffled as you tried to think through your options. You could move back in with your mum until you found accommodations, or you could shack up in a hotel somewhere, or move in with a friend, or... Anywhere but here. Joe stumbled out of the bedroom to find you on the couch, jiggling your leg nervously, biting your fingernails down to the quick, your bags by your feet. “Darling?” Joe mumbled, scratching his blondish curls. “Wha’s’this?” 

“I’m leaving,” you told him simply. 

“Is everything okay?” Joe asked with a start. “Has something happened?” 

“You know, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you,” you said, your eyes narrowing as you held down your tears. “When we were eighteen, our first day at LAMDA, and you came and sat next to me, I’ve loved you since that moment. And I only thought that you felt the same way.” 

Joe’s eyes nearly burst out of his skull behind his thin glasses. “I do!” he said quickly. “Love, what’re you talking about? Of course I love you!” 

“Then, have the decency to break up with me before you start dating another girl!” you hiccuped. “At least spare me the heartbreak of hearing you say her name in your sleep.” 

“What did I say?” Joe asked. “Darling, what name did I say?” 

“Does it matter?” you asked. “It’s not mine, and that’s what matters. The lipstick on your collar was the biggest tip off for me, and I-I let you explain it away! I should have left you the very moment I found that shit!” 

“Please calm down,” Joe begged you. “You can’t leave, you can’t, what am I supposed to do without you?” 

“You should have thought about that before you went and cheated on me,” you spat. “I hope Amelia makes you really happy, because you’re all hers now.” 

“Amelia?” Joe repeated. And he laughed. The bastard laughed at you. Anger ran hot in your chest, and you gnashed your teeth and grabbed the handle of your bags. “No, wait, darling, let me explain! Amelia isn’t— She’s my—“

“I don’t care who she is,” you told him. “I’m done being lied to and deceived. I’m just fucking done.” 

What you didn’t know was, as soon as you left, Joe fell to his knees and wept. His heart pounded, and he clutched his chest, trying to dig his poor heart out. He was still on the floor in the living room when Wes came home from Liam’s, his sobbing still as heavy as when it started, and, when Wes too fell to his knees and asked what was wrong, Joe sniffled. “She left me,” he said. “Just packed up her things and left.” 

What you didn’t know was that, the day you found the red makeup, Arthur had been beaten, and had reddish-purple bruises on his face, and some of the painted makeup had gotten on Joe’s collar. What you didn’t know was, when Joe spent his birthday out, he was at a jeweler’s, looking at engagement rings. What you didn’t know was that, at that moment, Joe’s heart was irreparably broken, and he clutched his childhood best friend as he sobbed. 

When you first got home to your mother that day and told her what happened, she sighed and held you as you cried, and let you curse Joe’s name over and over. “I thought he loved me,” you sobbed. “I thought he loved me!” 

Luckily for you, the end of term came while Joe was still filming, and he missed most of your shared classes. Word got around quickly that the "it" couple had broken up, and, while nobody asked you about it, you knew they were gossiping. But no matter. You had your own career to deal with, signing up for auditions and sending out self-tapes to anybody that was accepting. You got a role in a small teen sitcom on BBC 3, just a three-episode arc, and you were elated. Your first job, right out of school! You were proud of yourself, but the victory felt hollow; you had nobody to share it with.

You only saw Joe in person one other time, at your small graduation ceremony in the spring. He received special honors and was chosen to be class speaker, and you held back your tears as you listened to him talk about perseverance and hard work. “And, truly, I couldn’t have done it without someone special,” he said, and he locked eyes with you for just a moment, just long enough for your heart to soar, then he looked past you. “My mum.” You clapped with everyone else, and wiped away a tear.

He approached you after the ceremony, holding his diploma under his arm, and you shouldered your purse as he gave you a small hug, the most awkward show of affection in the world. Your hand nearly went to the nape of his neck, the way you knew he liked, but you stopped yourself. “Hey,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’m still proud of you, you know.”

“I know,” Joe said. “I heard you got cast in something.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just, umm, some stupid sitcom. Three episode arc, you know how it is.”

“That’s still cool,” Joe said. “I just wanted to… Congratulate you, I guess.”

You nodded silently, brushing off tears again. “Wes told you to come speak to me, didn’t he?” you said softly. “You didn’t wanna come talk.” 

“You know me so well,” Joe said, with no hint of humor in his voice. “Be good, okay?” 

“You too.”

At Christmas, just as filming for your show ended, you were flipping channels on the telly, looking for something that wasn’t A Christmas Story on a loop. You thought back to this time last year, pulling crackers with your lover and unwrapping thoughtful presents, and your heart hurt just as you flipped to the BBC, and suddenly Joe was on your screen. No, not Joe; Arthur. Arthur Havisham, incensed about something. You leaned forward closer to the television to try to get a better look, and you watched as his face pulled up in that way it did when he was trying not to cry, and he said, “Didn’t you hear him? I have no home.” 

“Mum!” you called, and you clutched the throw pillow to your chest as your mother came from the kitchen. Your eyes stayed glued on the screen as it flipped to a different scene with different characters, and your mum asked just what was the matter to have you yelling halfway across the house, and you sniffled. “I hate him, but I’m proud of him.” 

“Who, love?” your mum asked. 

“Joseph,” you mumbled. “His show is on the telly.” 

“Oh,” your mother said softly. “Well, turn it off, then.” 

“No,” you said as he came back onscreen. He looked so handsome, his dishwater blond curls done just right, his eyes big and expressive, his lip trembling— you tried not to imagine what you would be doing if you hadn’t broken up. You probably would be sitting in his lap and kissing him silly every time he came onscreen, and he would be laughing and protesting even watching it in the first place. Wes would be at your side, maybe Liam too, and you would be one big happy family. But he had ruined that, ruined it with—

“Amelia Havisham.”

Your heart stopped. Amelia. The girl onscreen answered to that name, and you wanted to throw up. Amelia. Amelia was a character on the show. Amelia was Arthur’s sister. “Oh no,” you whispered. “What have I done?” 

You grabbed your phone and dialed Joe’s number, and you waited for him to pick up. Only, he never did. The call rang for ten rings, then sent you to his voicemail, and you cleared your throat. “Hi, Joe,” you said softly. “It’s me. Umm, I just wanted to let you know I’m watching Dickensian, and you… You did a really good job. Well done. And Amelia…” You weren’t sure exactly what to say, and you gently added, “I’m sorry. Call me when you get this; I just wanna talk.” You hoped that he understood what you meant.

In your heart, you knew that you had done Joe badly, not letting him explain his point of view when you broke up, but, getting confirmation that he in fact did not cheat on you only proved to you how truly shitty you had treated him. And now he wouldn’t answer his phone when you called. He didn’t have an Instagram that you could stalk, and you were certain that even Wes would avoid your calls, and your heart seized up. You ruined it. Not Joe, you. You had ruined the only good thing you ever had. You had surely broken his heart, and it made you sick to think how badly you had treated the only person who loved you totally unconditionally. 

Joe never called you back. You never saw him again— not in person, anyway. Every few years, you’d be watching television and come across him. A random role in Game of Thrones, a small part in a time-travel show, a not-so-small role in the BBC’s Les Miserables adaptation. Your heart never really healed, and every time you saw him only opened the wound a little more.

And then, one day at work, your world turned upside down. Literally.

-

taglist: @eddiethebloodiedhand, @zestychili, @tlclick73, @chickennug90, @etherealglimmer, @phyllosilicate-s, @cinnamoncunt, @stardancerluv, @birdysaturne, @joeqnz, @freakymunson, @winchester-angel, @wordscomehither, @icallhimjoey

[lovinbarzal]

COFFEE & HITS | our song au

wyatt johnston x fem! barzal! reader

au masterlist | masterlist | a/n i love wyatt johnston🙈 this is how sugar and wyatt met! sugar goes to UNT Dallas! (i mentioned in ine of the posts that she released sour and it hasn't happened yet in this lol!) i also think this is absolute shit but i haven't released an imagine in so very long soo uh here it is!

Stress. That's how Y/n was feeling. She was stressed. She had just made a jurassic move from Michigan to Texas and she already had a big exam that would could cost her half her grade. All she wanted was a nice cup of coffee in hopes of calming down.

Which is why she found herself in Flying Horse Coffee Shop. She had only heard good things about the place so she waited in line. When she reached the front of the line, she ordered her black coffee before moving to the side.

Wyatt Johnston walked into Flying Horse Coffee Shop with Joe Pavelski. The two, along with their team, would be facing the New York Islanders later that night. The two were sent to pick up the team's coffee orders.

He saw her first. He saw her standing to the side texting in her phone.

She was texting her brother, Mat, who would be in Dallas later that night to play the Dallas Stars. She was in the middle of ranting about how hot it was when-

"Y/n Barzal!"

Her name was called for her order. She prayed that no one recognized her name. She had a good amount of fame from her acting career & her brothers hockey career.

"Wyatt Johnston!"

Wyatt snapped his attention away from the girl as he went to grab his orders not noticing that she was also reaching for hers.

Their hands grazed each others cause the two to quickly pull back.

"Sorry!" The two blurted as they both attempted to reach for their drinks against only for their hands to run into each other.

Joe watched from behind them with a smirk before pushing between them and grabbing the team's orders in the carriers.

"Grab the sugars and everything. I'll wait in the car." Joe said sending Wyatt a look as he walked away. Wyatt nodded before trying to go around the girl to grab the sugars.

The girl also walked to the sugars. He saw her put a lot of sugar in her drink making him wince slightly.

"Got enough sugar?" He joked with a smile making the girl blush before looking down.

"What can I say? I got a sweet tooth." She said looking up at him with a small smile and faint blush.

She looked back down before walking out of the coffee shop with Wyatt following closely behind.

She got into her rental car as she had yet to buy one before letting out a loud sigh and letting herself fall back on her seat with a smile.

Wyatt made his way to Joe's car with a smile. He opened the passenger seat and was shocked to see Joe sitting there.

"No way!" Wyatt exclaimed as Joe nodded. Joe was very much one of those guys who cared deeply for his car and he never let anyone other than his wife drive it. Wyatt excitedly ran to the drivers seat.

The two didn't see each other as they pulled out until-

BAM!

The two were quick to jump out of their cars. Both freaking out for different reasons. Wyatt just hit someone the first (and probably last) time driving Joe's car and Y/n just hit someone in a rental car.

The two ran to where their cars collided and gasped when they saw each other.

"I'm so sorry." Y/n spoke first rubbing her forehead.

"No, this is totally my fault! I wasn't watching where I was going!" He exclaimed looking to Joe who quietly watched from the passengers seat. He knew that he was gonna pay for both of the cats to be fixed but he wanted to watch this play out.

"No! I mean, no. I, uh, I'm not used to driving in these tight parking spaces. This was completely my fault." She shook her head before pulling out her phone. She was gonna need Mat since he should've landed an hour ago and she had no idea how to talk to mechanics.

"I'll pay for both of these." Joe finally walked over.

"Oh no! You don't have to! This was my fault!" She exclaimed not even noticing that tears were threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've got it." Joe said rubbing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you." She sniffled. Even in tears, Wyatt swore she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

"I just am going to need you phone number." Joe said as Y/n nodded before trying to tell him her number, "Uh, can you give it to gim actually? My phone is in the shop."

"Sure." She said turning back to Wyat who stumbled to get his phone out of his pocket. She told him her number before the trio bid farewell.

As the two drove off they both realized that they didn't get each others name. They both tried to remember what names the barista called but both came up blank.

Y/n walked into her apartment with her coffee and was met with the toilet flushing. She grabbed the hockey stick that she kept by the door and slowly crept towards the bathroom. She screamed and almost swung the stick as the door opened.

"Y/n/n IT'S ME! JESUS!" Mat exclaimed blocking the stick from hitting him in the head.

"Shit, Mat!" She yelled tossing the hockey stick on the ground.

"I thought you were gonna head straight to America Airlines Center?" She said walking towards her kitchen.

"I was but then I asked Coach if I could come see you." He said sitting at her island.

"How did you get in?" She asked grabbing him a water.

"You do remember that I pay for this apartment, right? I have a key." He said making her eyes roll.

"Oh. I forgot." She shrugged. "What time do you have to be back?"

"I got to go in like 5. Wanna come? Our media girl is out." He said as she sighed.

"Yeah. Gimme a sec." She said going to her room to change. She put on the Barzal jersey and stayed in her leggings and air forces.

"Let's go." She had her camera around her neck.

"You look adorable. with your little pro camera." He said squishing her cheeks. She seatted his hands away.

"You're so weird." She said as the two walked out.

"Jesus fuck, Y/n/n. What did you do to the rental?" Mat said as examined the small (large) dent in the bumper.

"It's fine. The guy said he'd pay for it. You didn't get my text?" She said opening the driver door.

"I didn't. I think I blocked you again." He said making his way to the passenger side.

"Fuck you." Mat shrugged as the two made their way to American Airlines Center.

The two walked in and Mat was quick to walk to the locker room as Y/n made her way to where the media and camera crew people were. She got her pass and quickly made her way to the bench. She watched as the teams came out for warm ups. She didn't notice the boy on the otherside who was staring her down.

"Joe! Look! It's her!" He exclaimed as Joe skated next to him. It didn't take him long to look at the jersey you were wearing. Barzal.

Just like that he remembered your name, Y/n Barzal. He looked to Joe who nodded but right before he was gonna skate up he heard the horn. Warm ups were over. He saw you attempt to walk off the ice with the help of Mat.

The entire game was filled with Wyatt sending Mat dirty looks and (legal) checks. He was only sent to the penalty box once and that for accidentally tripping Bo Horvat. That was when she got a good look at him and realized who he was. She almost dropped her camera. She shook her head and pointed her camera towards him as he sent with a frown on his face and his arms crossed. He looked like a child. She let out a light laugh before turning her attention back to the Islanders.

Once the game was over (Islanders won), Y/n made her way to the visitors locker room which passed by the Stars locker room. She stopped for a second looking at the locker room before making her way to the other locker room. She almost didn't hear him as she was too far into her thoughts.

"Hey! Sugar! Wait!" He called from behind her making her stop and turn around.

"Sugar?" She questioned crossing her arms.

"You never told me your name and you put a shit ton of sugar in your coffee." He laughed making her smile.

"Y/n. My name it's Y/n." She said holding her hand out.

"Good to meet you, Y/n. I'm Wyatt." He said shaking her hand.

"I know. I mean, I, uh, saw your name on the jumbotron." She blushed in embarrassment.

"You sure do blush a lot." He commented making her blush even more.

"Thanks? I, uh, I have to go but it was nice to see you again." She said slowly taking steps back.

"Wait! Um, could I get your number?" He asked making her smirk.

"You already have it." She said raising a brow.

"Oh yeah." He mumbled looking down.

"Would you wanna go for dinner or something?" He proposed.

"Totally. It's a date." She laughed before receiving a text from Mat asking where she was.

"Bye, Johnston." She finished before running to find her brother.

"Bye, sugar." He said to himself with a small smile.

Joe watched the whole thing from the locker room. He knew from the look in his eyes that those two were gonna be infinite.

[pinkiepiebones]

Guys I keep dredging up old Renfield articles by people who got to visit the set and I am MAKING A FORMAL DEMAND THAT UNIVERSAL RELEASE THE DIRECTOR'S CUT AND/ OR THE REST OF THE DELETED SCENES I AM B E G G I N G

Stuff I pulled from this article. My commentary in parenthesis.

"The role of Dracula has to be played like a movie star, with charisma that makes us understand why people like Renfield would want to follow him around for nearly a century." (Okay but they were also in love. For a bit.)

"Dracula and Renfield have been on the run from vampire hunters for the last 70 years." (SO WAIT DID THEY HAVE TWO DECADES OF CHILL TIMES BEFORE ANYONE CAUGHT WIND OF VAMPIRE HAPPENINGS AND SET OUT TO KILL THEM?)

"The mobster Lobo family has been involved in criminal enterprises in New Orleans since the 17th century, and for a mural that showcases the Lobo family history, Hammond originally planned on hiding hundreds of wolf heads within the image." (WHAAAAAAT)

"Ridley says that there weren’t any restrictions from Universal when taking on Dracula in this way." (Honestly big W for Universal there)

"When Dracula becomes angry and more primal, his teeth become longer and extend further." (Hot.)

"The lining of Dracula’s red leather cape has a brilliant design of bats". (Honestly just give Lisa Lovaas and the costume team all the awards)

"One of Dracula’s canes opens up and there’s a sword inside. While it’s never shown in the film, it’s again, another remarkable showcase of the film’s level of detail." (1 I would like to see it 2 all y'all good Dracfield writers need to write them fencing or smth)

"Hoult discussed the opening scene of the film, which involves Hoult and Cage getting green-screened into the previous Dracula movies." (DUDE. THERE WAS MORE FLASHBACK FOOTAGE. I - FUCK!! GIVE IT TO ME!!!!!!! Like I know the director said that, like Lego Batman, this Dracula was going to be THE Dracula, from Bela Lugosi to Gerard Butler, but I wanna see it!)

"The opening has Dracula being attacked in his library room by Van Helsing and priests" (VAN HELSING?!?! No wonder he knew Renfield's name... Oh, wow...)

"We also were able to tour the hallway that Hoult was running down, full of fire, dead bodies, and blood. Again, the attention to detail was immaculate in the sets, and through the hallway and the library room, we can see centuries of Dracula’s life being told simply through the set design. Items that were once regal and impressive are now covered in dust and left in tatters. You can feel the centuries of age on Dracula’s possessions, and the wear that must’ve occurred on these items in the trek from Europe to New Orleans." (Just give the set designers and prop makers all the awards)

And I saw it mentioned in the article and elsewhere- Fangoria, I think- but Apache Joe had a backstory and his mask is made out of the tongues of his victims

Anyway, I want a production book for this fucking movie. I want a novelisation. I want a 4K UHD Halloween re-release director's cut. I want a line of shirts from Fright Rags. I want this to be a cult classic. I love Renfield so fucking much you guys ;-;

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Megan thee stallion and astrology ⭐️

Credit: @insertlanasong

(Im in no way blaming dv on where the stars were in the sky. the gremlin and all these other male bullies are accountable for their OWN actions)

*Lilith in 1st: I’m not gonna stfu about this placement. When I say men are intimidated by us and we don’t even have to speak. Megan constantly gets told she’s acting like a man and trying to play a man’s game for being openly sexual. These same people lust after her all day long. It should be noted how many men online and in the industry seemed to gang up on her for someone nobody gaf about all like that and who had a history of violence. With Lilith in 1st people are waiting for your downfall and you have to be mindful of who is around and why they’re there. 

*her aqua sun she’s definitely been very giving and she’s been promoting charities for cancer, I think she’s trying to open some hospitals, organized a clean the beach event, and advocated for victims of abuse esp black women.

* Megan has a Leo mars and people have compared her performance energy to Beyoncé who also has a Leo mars. I do enjoy this placements ability to put on a show

*Shes a good representative of Taurus rising women as she can go into multiple spaces. She’s recently visiting the White House and her classy Venusian energy fit in well.

* megan stated in a live that she can’t stay away from Virgos and her ex friend Kelsey was one also Moneybaggyo. She has Virgo in her 5th which could explain her gravitating towards them because of the fun and excitement that house brings.

*Megans bf Pardison has Venus square Lilith (which represents his relationships w women and she’s Lilith prominent) his mars in her 7th/8th house cusp and hella 10th house synastry. She’s known as the hot girl coach and was introduced to the public as looking for a fun time and not taking men seriously. But of course 10th house synastry makes you wanna go to show that person off esp Venus.

*I love Nickis music so barbs pls don’t come for me (idgaf) but nicki has been arguing w herself. She’s a sag sun and Venus so these placements are likely In Megan’s 8th house. People like to debate what the planet person feels but it’s alot of mutual energy. Megan seemed to be a fan of nicki and they seemed to get along. Then something clearly happened and nicki started throwing shot after shot at Megan since 2021. And to this day *in my tiktok voice* nicki is arguing w herself in the public eye coming after Megan HARD. I’ve had an 8th house stellium with this guy and it’s gone very similar it’s a love-hate until it’s straight up hate after a certain point. It’s been weird to see this considering nicki has never so overtly came after somebody this much esp somebody she co-signed and collabed w. And nicki is a sag Venus (aka a bisexual which Megan is as well) so I wouldnt be suprised if this could be a scorned lover situation.

Torey Lanez’s pluto squared Megan’s sun, moon, and mars. His Lilith conjuncts her sun plus his mars in her 1st house. That man was obsessed w her and he already had a clear anger problem that he admitted to during an interview. My cousin has sun square pluto w her bf and he’s very controlling and insecure when it comes to her.

7th house synastry though very comfortable Can also be be open enemies. For ex: Megan thee stallion after that gremlin shot her you had numerous MEN coming to attack her (Of course with Lilith in 1st) . I would like to name three of them. Drake, Joe Budden, and Dababy all Scorpio placements. Megan is a Taurus rising w unconfirmed degrees but I bet she has 7th house synastry w all of them. Drake has Venus, sun, and mercury in Scorpio. Joe Budden has a Scorpio mars and Dababy has a Scorpio Venus. They all came for her at one the most difficult times of her career just to drag her down even more. Drake and Dababy publically lusted after her and Joe budden was drooling in his seat interviewing her prior to his comments about her. Im a late Aries rising and I’ve had issues w many Scorpio placements because they had some underlying issue w me for no reason. Scorpio In the 7th is very difficult because if our enemies don’t know if they wanna harm us or literally f*ck us it’s insane. She even said something similar in a freestyle.

I hope she keeps glowing cause her vulnerability and strength is inspiring🫶🏾🫶🏾

[sjhhemmings]

“Chief’s Daughter”

brian zvonecek x fem!reader

a/n: i got this idea from @winchesterszvonecek after reading trouble so i hope they aren’t too similar, you’re an inspiration 😘

warnings: mentions of sex, brian on blast lmfaoo, that should be it! enjoy 🤌🏻🤌🏻

me after writing this imagine ⬇️ i’m absolutely laughing my ass off rn

“Anyone got any plans after shift? Cruz asks out to the rest of truck 81 sitting at the common table, “Oh and uno.” he added once he placed down a yellow draw two.

“Uh yeah, I’m meeting my girlfriend’s parents…” Otis replied while playing another draw two causing the next person to have to draw four. According to house rules anyway.

“Oh-ho-ho, meeting the in-laws. How long has this one been brewing?” Herrmann asked causing Otis to blush.

“About 4 months, we’ve been taking our time, nice and slow.” Otis lets out a soft chuckle leaving the rest up to their imagination.

“Really? You think it’s gonna last long?” Cruz asks in an irritated tone since he ended up having to draw 12 because everyone else around the table so conveniently had another draw two.

“Hope so. I really like her. Depending on how much of a hard ass her dad actually turns out to be I might even love her,” He laughs as he says it but he knows he’s already in love with you.

“Is the sex good?” Cruz asks and the whole table gives him a look. “What!? it’s a fair question and you don’t gossip to me about your love life anymore mister ‘i have a girlfriend and i need to spend time with her blah blah blah…’”

Once he finishes his rant that was for sure out of jealousy, (in a sense that Otis’ gf spends more time with him than joe does, not the fact that he doesn’t have a gf). Everyone expectantly looks at Otis.

“Well, I don’t want to brag, but it’s really good.” Is all Brian says and the guys are still giving him the same look.

“Details buddy let’s go,” Cruz says borderline actually annoyed.

“What else am I supposed to say? It’s good, it’s hot, it’s sexy. She’s the women of my dreams! She’s definitely not quiet, ‘Oh Brian, oh Brian!” He says in explicit detail mimicking your sex noises.

“What are we talking about here?” Chief Boden says as he was eavesdropping for the last 30 seconds.

“Oh, Otis is telling us about how hot the sex is with his new girlfriend!” Cruz shares a little too eagerly earning an unamused eyebrow raise from the Chief.

Otis then slapped Cruz in the chest now embarrassed of his friend.

“Well, go on, let me in on this ‘bro’ talk.” Boden says encouraging Brian to share.

“I mean I don’t want to bore you with the details sir…” Brian says embarrassed in front of his chief.

“Oh c’mon you gotta tell him about the part where she’s not quiet, and literally screams your name! You know the whole, ‘Oh Brian, Oh Brain!’” Herrmann says now mimicking Otis’ perception of you.

“Yeah he’s meeting her parents tonight! Says he might love her if her dad isn’t too crazy!” Cruz says dying laughing and still not fully grasping that this is extremely embarrassing for Otis. Meanwhile Otis sits in his self-loathe at the moment beat red wishing he never said anything at all.

“That is just…wow. What a coincidence though, I’m meeting my daughter’s boyfriend tonight. Dinner, at my place…7 o’clock.” Boden says piling on the details.

“Wow that is a coincidence…sir.” Brian coughs at the last second praying that his girlfriend is not his chief’s daughter. She would’ve mentioned something right? Like oh hey, just to let you know, your boss is my dad! She knew he was a firefighter at 51 why did she not say anything. Suddenly the room felt really hot and Brian was being cooked.

“You know, Otis, the coincidence is really just uncanny, like how my daughter’s boyfriend is a firefighter, and you’re a firefighter. And how my daughter’s boyfriend works at firehouse 51, and you work at firehouse 51, oh and also, my daughter’s boyfriend is coming over to meet us tonight, and you’re going to meet your girlfriend’s parents tonight. It’s just…wow! Absolutely…crazy.” Boden says finishing his train of thought smiling like a maniac getting an absolute kick out of this little ‘bro’ talk he decided to indulge in.

“I’ll go mop the app floor now.” Brian said getting up and excusing himself from this horrifying situation he’s found himself in.

“Make sure you wash all three trucks too. I wanna see my reflection in every single one head to toe. And don’t be late to dinner!” Boden said walking away laughing knowing he was going to call Donna and tell her everything.

[corsairesix]

Fallout TV show thoughts

Spoilers ahead because I'm like, talking about the show and what happens in it.

The first two episodes are the strongest definitely. The vault dwellers being culty trad weirdos and the brotherhood being technofascists is a great return to form. But after that, the aspects of both of those tend to get subsumed into "Lucy and Max are naive"

Lucy and Max kinda stop having ideologies pretty quick. It's easier to accept with Max because he's shown from the beginning to be less interested into the technocult aspects of the Brotherhood but Lucy has fully drunk the vault kool-aid and that kinda becomes secondary to "she's from a vault so she's used to good people"

The central tension of "if it's life or death, you'll abandon your morals" vs "but we have to keep being better anyway" is a really popular one for post-apocalypse stories to tell, but it's kind of a boring Fallout story for me.

The early Brotherhood stuff really hits the sweet spot between the creepy ritualistic aspects and the fact that a lot of them are just shitty bullies. Titus going from the helmet voice to his normal voice was a really good scene.

Tangentially, I don't particularly care for Ghoulgins. I thought the pre-war plot with Walton Goggins was great, but with Ghoulgins it felt like every scene he was in he walks up to someone, snarls a bit, kills everyone present, and walks away with no variation.

The best part of episode 3 onwards was all of the stuff with young Steve Buscemi solving mysteries

I laughed at the fact that they did Kid in a Fridge 2, but after the fifth time or so that they played that clip it was increasingly obvious that it was the only backstory that Maximus had. We know exactly five-ish seconds of his life outside the story. And sure, part of that was that he's like, raised in a high-control cult, but so is Lucy and we learn a half-dozen hobbies that she has in the first minute.

Also is it just me or did they put one black guy in every scene where Max was getting his ass beat? So like, invoking a certain imagery for sure but not textually saying anything about racism, which seems like the worst of both worlds

There's a running textual and subtextual dichotomy between "innocence/naivete/ignorance" and "willingness to do violence" but it's undercut a little by how often characters screw up by doing violence because they were ignorant or naive

Lee Moldaver call me

(side note, I'm not a "wouldve been way better if at the end the Black Panther turned to the camera & said "i am communist now" & then specified hes the exact kind of communist i am" person, but honestly Fallout is allergic to ever depicting American communists. McCarthyism can only be bad if it's aimed at the wrong target.)

I just realized Sarita Choudhury was in Gawain and the Green Knight and she was really hot there too

I *really* liked the plot device of "Vault-Tec has a fiduciary responsibility to the end of the world" but I thought every company we know the name of sitting around a table and going "we're going to do the end of the world" was corny. I'm surprised Slocum Joe wasn't there to pitch an iced regulah and strawberry frahsted vault.

Slight tweak that could be more compelling--vault tec wants things to be bad/drive up paranoia to sell reservations, but they don't actually want the world to end. It's like an insurance company that wants you to be scared of disasters, but doesn't actually want to pay out. That's the exact type of corporate hubris I could see them trying to thread. And it still works with stuff like suppressing Moldaver's cold fusion.

Wait why was the cold fusion in that guy's head? They injected a similar thing into the dog, so I assumed at first he could like, psychically communicate with the dog and that's why the dog could track his head. But the dog was injected before the guy so like, did the dog just have general cold-fusion tracking software injected? Like I know it was an excuse to have Dogmeat IV, but I genuinely want to know if anyone knows the deal with that.

A good amount of stuff that turns me off of the show is that I genuinely find the post-post-apocalypse of some Fallout games more interesting than just post-apoc.

This show seemed less built up than even Fallout 4. All the locations seemed kinda disconnected from any sense of space. I cackled when the snake oil guy showed up to treat the guy's foot. He's not anywhere near the other two places we've seen him. Is this even his building?

"The Governmint" being two guys and their boss who looks like every wasteland mayor ever was really good. Good enough to wipe out Shady Sands? Jury's still out.

I'm not particularly mad about "they destroyed the NCR!" but I wish they did something interesting. I do like how Moldaver flies NCR flags. That was probably the most interesting element of it

[siremasterlawrence]

Words Mightier Then A Body

joe manganiello is a random hot guy on a beach stretching from the ground in a state of heat the sand adorn on his skin checking out everything around him.

He has no idea my eyes can’t stop staring at him until he spots me I freak out exiting the area as quick as possible I start to pack away all my things.

I jet from the area in a moment of complete embarrassment like many people have done to me over the years for stupidest reasons in this.

I remember being in class an idiot ran from me when I approached him to say hi but he would but look at me and he soon ran from me.

Making my way to the side of a building as I try to jet to my car without being caught I see him in a random cars mirror walking on the opposite side.

Unfortunately for me he catches me off his own guard bumping into me he smirks with a hardy laugh as I roll my eyes and try to excuse myself.

“Hey wait a minute “

“I am sorry! I did not mean to stare “

“You think I am hot nerd”

“Excuse me!”

“You heard me”

“You can admit it”

“Why I can admit is you are in my way?”

“I’ll move if I can take you on a date “

“What on earth?”

“I am not interested “

“Liar! Yes you want me”

“Why ask then?”

“Prove it! Kiss me”

“Hell no!”

“I dare you “

“Fuck no”

“Wuss”

“Immature asshole! Fine”

“You know you want me”

“So! What if you do?”

“Oh believe me”

“I will have you “

“Won’t it wreck your status”

“Pretty boi “

I get a brave stance walking to him standing on my tip of my sneakers I propel up to face him and lean in.

He peers down meeting my lips mash with his he gloats taking my neck yanking closer to him as we make out intensely to my utter shock.

I pull back a bit in disbelief he stands with the light washing aglow over his body as his pecs, nipples and ass pop to a glorious type of appeal.

Next thing I know he demands to give him my cellphone he types his number calling himself and he happily types in the name nerd.

I shrug leaving him for the next hour I can’t stop thinking about him when he calls me a few hours later asking me to join him on a date.

I give up agreeing to go to his house for a late night dinner to take a shower, and dress as I head out to end whatever this thing is for good.

Parking my car I head to his front step and of course he sees me opening the door and I get yanked in to a huge bear hug which is weird.

He places me back down the music is on along with him singing and dancing to what exactly and we are at the table in no time for a great adventure.

The food is exceptional as he a great cook so I wonder what is his endgame for the longterm that is when looks at me with a curious facial expression.

“Tell me something about you that is cool”

“Ha! I thought I was nerd”

“Oh sorry! I can be a jerk “

“You don’t say “

“Ha!”

“I am a Hypnotist”

“That is intriguing “

“Put me under “

“Yeah! This is hmm”

“Do it”

“Fine! Focus on the candle”

“Bring it to me and light it”

“Sure thing”

“It’s lit “

“Relax, focus on the light, watch it spring to light.”

“Watch it grow and shrink grabbing all of your attention.”

“You can’t turn away from it, from me and you like it.”

“No! I can’t “

“The free fall has begun removing the land off the ground.”

“You fall in to the void of nothingness “

“My voice is all you hear, your body relaxes and collapses for me.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yyyeeessss”

“I am the flame “

“We are one “

“You are the flame “

“We are one “

“You obey the flame “

“I obey the flame “

“Good boi “

“You love the flame “

“I love the flame “

“You are madly in love with me the flame “

“Stop sitting and kneel”

“You will obey only me”

“This collar shall remain on your always “

“It’s a simple of your submission “

“You long to be owned and obey”

“I long for it “

“Rise to your feet “

“Yes”

“I am your Master”

“You will address me as Master Lawrence “

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Were you in the army?”

“Yes”

“This is more interesting by the minute “

“At attention “

“YES SIR”

“Good boi”

“Mmmm”

“Strip for me”

“YES SIR”

“Don’t move”

“Perfect! This going to be fun”

“I can’t wait to unleash hell on you “

“Clean up this place, follow me to your bed room and get on the bed.”

“You believed I was some small chump”

“Fat chance buster and but now you are mine.”

The end