#but that is the one thing I really would have preferred to go in braced for

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 1

[prompt: against a wall window]

male reader x huh yunjin

5k words

You're not entirely sure where the jacket to your suit has gone.

You know you should know; it’s a rental and you need to return it in a week. But Yunjin told you to take it off, and since then, things have been... a little hazy.

More concerning - or it would be, had Yunjin not also lost some part of her attire - is what her thumbs are hooked into. Like she's peeling out the silhouette to her skin-tight, backless dress - the way she can't keep from leaning against the elevator wall. Your lips have the taste of her red lipstick all over, and her body melts with every little flick of the tip of her tongue against yours, puddles that much further when she feels your fingers curling into the folds of that skin-tight black material.

The motion to push the fabric up and over the rise of her hips is a purposeful kind of thing.

For the past hour, her skirt kept brushing over the fabric of your pants while you went from shaking hands to kissing hands to her placing yours on the hem of her dress, in the quiet space of a balcony the hotel staff had clearly marked as off-limits. A kiss behind the shell of her ear, a suggestion, a shiver.

Now, things are happening in a sort of reverse: from slow and curious, to needing more and wanting less, and suddenly, neither of you want to wait - until her thighs are spread wide apart, with your free hand slid over her smooth thigh, fingers skirting the edges of her lace, cupped over her heat - right, there. The throbbing.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," is what she's asking.

"Something awful," you reply, but there's only a gasp out of her throat to prove your point. No words.

Just the look: desire clouding over the expression. The not-so-subtle display of want, need. Tongue pressing to lips and tugging along the corner. A moan, two, quieted behind the knuckle she can't quite help putting in her mouth.

You consider shoving her panties down the curve of her thighs and spinning her around - leaving her arms to brace the railing and keeping the dress around her waist while you fuck. Quick, rough.

The mental image is too nice to let it go.

You consider how much she might genuinely prefer to that to whatever she'd had in mind when she suggested you really ought see the view of the city from her room - oh, the skyline, it's gorgeous, she offered, lips tugged into a perfectly practiced little quirk that said: the view of me, on all fours, face down into a mattress as my ass swallows down your cock - I can't wait to have you.

You can feel the thought concrete itself to the base of your skull when you roll the flat of your finger over her clit and start sliding up and down between the lips of her pussy - finding her a little wet already, dripping onto the fabric in the most obvious way. When the elevator stops a few floors shy, you try to play it off by squeezing at her rib cage and tugging the fabric back in place, hiding the tell-tale lines between the fabric, just as Yunjin starts that gentle laugh from the very base of her spine. A real beautiful timbre in its sound.

But things get more muddled, admittedly, when the doors ding and the group on the other side piles through.

There's an exchange of glances, where they're asking if this is allowed, is there enough room, can they make room. One of them, in a dizzyingly plunging, strapless blue number that has you pressing your palm into the small of Yunjin's back just a little more than you have been up to that point, considers, carefully.

"Yunjin," she says, fingers brushing through the fringe of a smart-chic bob, prim cut of jet-black hair.

Yunjin shifts her weight onto the other heel. "Chaewon."

"By the looks of it," she says, and the way she looks you over has all the judgmental verve of an older sister, a real cold stare. "You've got a I'll-be-staying-in-tonight kind of vibe."

A deeper laugh now, rolling out across the backs of her teeth. "If it's all the same to you," is what you hear from her, "it'll be an early night for me."

“Don’t make it a habit,” she tells Yunjin.

“We’re just going to go enjoy the view.”

“Yeah.” Chaewon gives you one final, disapproving expression. “I bet he will.”

The elevator isn't totally silent, not for the subtle hum and whir of machinery. But everything is a lot closer now. Especially your thoughts, the way Yunjin pulls herself closer against you by a hand on the back of your dress shirt - her fingernails mapping the ridge of your spine, finding your hip bone, thumb curving back and forth against the curve of it.

The four girls at the corner are just making chatter in their corner of the lift. They've got a reservation - in name, anyway. If things were as simple as getting from the hotel to the elevator and beyond, no need for the next forty floors to pass at a snail's pace.

In fact, the four have this sort of tense, concentrated way to them that suggests otherwise - like maybe they came all this way and made that sort of promise to have the whole night end the way some things ought: alone.

"Don't stop on account of us," one of them says after a while.

Which is enough to set off this glare into the furl of Yunjin’s brows. Not her friend's intention. But they laugh it off.

When the doors scuttle open, finally, the two of you stumble out, feet not catching up to the rest of you before Yunjin has her fingers around your wrist and drags you out. Her heels - red-bottomed and not entirely flat but definitely a lot less heel-ey than others (she’s tall, she says, it makes her self-conscious), are clacking quick across marble tile until she arrives at the door of her room, pulls her keycard out of her clutch and leans shoulder-first into the door after the click and whir of entry.

She takes a step backward.

The door locks at your back when it's kicked into its frame.

The first thing you notice is her dress: pooled on the floor around the arches of her heels, cast off like a cloak or some overcoat - to be tossed aside once the sun goes down.

"Make a habit out of this, huh?" you ask in an effort to keep yourself busy - gawking's never been a good look on anyone, even with your natural gifts, the glint in your smile, all your charm - but the curves of her body are stunning, curves that start where her thighs begin, wrap around her hips, cut in at her waist, bloom from the perfectly-small-breasts that now are showing their dusky pink nipples, firm and on full display.

All of Yunjin, like this, beneath pale moonlight pouring diffuse through the fish-bowl-glass of her hotel room, is nothing short of an invitation.

A good look, is what you're about to say if you don't come up with anything else.

"You do this kind of thing often?"

"What's that," Yunjin says over the sharp line of a grin.

"What I mean to say is: I hadn't pegged you for the," and you gesture, rather elegantly, with the flop of your wrist, "lure-some-poor-sap-away-from-a-party-and-take-advantage kind of type," before managing something like a genuine laugh. "Not to knock that lifestyle or anything."

"There's not a thing in the world you know about me," is what she offers. Which is, unsurprisingly, totally true, and slightly unfair.

Yunjin is walking toward you while you consider it.

Drifting when she comes around. It's that close. You can smell the warmth of her skin, a whiff of that vanilla, an infuriating softness - the room is dark, but the moon is bright and the city is glowing, reflecting its light and the various hues from neon signs below, outside, until Yunjin stops, standing right in front of you, just, waiting.

Then, the steady rise of an eyebrow that, for a second, feels like a challenge.

“So," you kiss into her lips, and that's the first. "Let me know you."

The second is when her hands slip up and over the back of your neck and you can't keep from reaching for her sides, pulling her closer. Her hips and ass and those fucking gorgeous, full, legs that can't decide which direction to take - until she's pressed, warm, soft, and perfect against your body, and she's sighing this sigh, heavy, a moan.

The third time, she's licking into your mouth, tongue rolling in and around the taste of your own.

"Too many clothes," she murmurs, and you can feel the pull at your half-undone bowtie, the collar to your dress shirt. She's working the buttons off their slots with deft, clever fingers.

"That's what happens when I'm trying to look sharp."

"Sharp, and hot."

"Is it working?"

Her eyes are as dark as the hair framing the smile that plays at the edge of her mouth. "I'm taking your clothes off, aren't I?"

"Mm," you reply, a smirk of your own. Pressed right into her jaw, her neck, the column of her throat, where she tastes sweet and salty. Like the sea and the night. Before you can even ask, with your fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear, I'm guessing you want me to do the same.

Yunjin makes a sound like, mm-hm.

The hotel room is quite standard, which is to say, nice. But, for what it is, it's not too fancy. There's a large, king-size bed with the crispest sheets you've ever felt. A little kitchenette. Some counter space and a fridge. A TV hanging opposite the bed, with an armchair and a love-seat positioned to face the screen.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Yunjin asks, and her voice is low. Almost a husk, a whisper.

"What did you have in mind?" you say to her, and there's a hand on the nape of your neck, a fist of soft, slender fingers wrapping the length of your cock.

"You're going to fuck me until I'm cumming on your cock. You'll get me on my knees, first, though."

"That's the plan?"

"Unless you have another." Yunjin grins, a smile so full and bright and genuine. You don't know anything beyond her name and the perfectly sculpted curve of her ass. She could be anyone, an actress, a singer, a model. A girl-next-door. A friend of a friend.

She could be yours.

And in a way, when she's on her knees, her mouth hot and tight around the shape of your cock, those fucking lips pressed into the base of it, sliding easy with the spit she leaves on your shaft, that's exactly what you tell her.

"Yunjin," is all you're saying, a sigh, a hiss. You're helping her get your pants off the ends of your feet while your cock is lathered and bathed in her spit, feeling her slender fingers pull up and down your shaft. "That feels so fucking good, baby. Just like that." It's fast, sloppy, she's taking you in and out of her hot mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world. A slurp, a cough, and she's completely unfettered, sucking down and swallowing another breath - not to mention all that about her tongue. A swirl over the head of your cock and you show how much you like it, letting her read the bite into your lip, inventorying every little wince through your brow.

But see - you have your fingers in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. Away from where Yunjin's eyes are breathtaking and glittering, blinking back up under upturned brows, looking up at you from where she's taking you into the hot wet of her mouth, inch-by-inch. And the part of you, this cruel, twisting sensation, would hate for her to think anything of your hands - how they're at the top of her head, cradled behind, and easing her forward, the head of your cock teasing the roof of her mouth.

The back of her mouth.

The back of her throat.

Fuck, her eyes go wide. She's good. She takes it.

And just from the pretty look she keeps on her face, Yunjin loves it. Loves to be pushed, loves to have her hands running along the ridge of your thigh until her fingers are prying the very bottom, the underside, your balls. Like this, with her kneeling down between your legs, the flexing muscle of her upper arms to her palms squeezed tight on either cheek of your ass, where the heat starts to stir deep - to pull. Bring the full length of you to the back of her throat.

The choked sound from deep in her chest should surprise you.

And for the shortest moment, you're holding still and forcing her head, your hands keeping her perfectly put: just there, right there. Exactly like that - where she could look like the perfect mess and feel a twitch right between those lips that keep asking so kindly, go ahead, fuck a load of cum down my throat, baby, use these lips - the soft swell of these lips until you're cumming for me.

Or something else along those lines.

The thought of it crosses your mind: cum spilling from the corner of her mouth as she tries to take everything you have. The flutter in her throat wringing it all down. The mess that all would make. Not that she isn’t already a perfect sight.

You tug on her hair again.

Yunjin's eyes sparkle.

Her eyelashes go a little droopy, hazy. Dark.

And she starts humming across this wistful note of a sigh as her lips start slipping over your shaft - dragging in that slow, agonizing, blissful way over everywhere sensitive and aching. Taking her time, while one hand goes up and strokes what her mouth can't touch, while you pull her head, those perfect strands, just a touch further down, because if she can't quite deep-throat you then Yunjin can give a goddamn masterful impression.

Her cheeks hollow, and the suction - god.

You could cum right in between the pretty little pout of her lips, over the flat of her tongue. Right down her throat.

But in a turn of events neither of you anticipate, you don't do it; you are, much like anyone else, not without limits. Which is probably how you end up lifting Yunjin back up by the underside of her elbows, asking, "that feels a little one-sided, no?"

It's only fair to pull a smirk, kiss, all the best tricks - all for the best parts of her, full, curving, down from her neck, shoulders, her arms, the palms of her hands, every part of her: that perfect shade of peach, pink. From there, everything else falls away. The slow way Yunjin sneaks away with the kind of saunter you'd expect, hips swaying all the way up, sashaying out this inviting side-to-side before you realize it's working -

And you're asking, "Yunjin?" then telling, "I want you up against that window."

The sun's long set - but it'll come up soon enough, over the edges of skyscraper-blocks and shining up out from the base, until everything is bright and gleaming.

"Which window?" she teases.

So you swat at her ass. A not-so-delicate slap. "I don't care so long as I fuck you into it."

"And if someone sees?" she laughs out, still intent on teasing you, and the small edge in her voice is some combination of excitement and worry.

"Then we better give them something worth seeing."

Yunjin's palms land flush to the glass, fingers spread out - wide, wanting, willing - where the blue, yellow glow of city lights shines in over the curves of her profile, the slope of her cheek, the bright pools her irises turn under the warmth. She's the only thing worth seeing, and there's nothing that could possibly stop you from needing, wanting more, right now.

There's no other explanation. No other reason, really, to explain how you're desperate: to fill her, bury yourself inside her - to where you're promising, coming up behind her and guiding her over - so you can spread those creamy thighs apart, push her shoulders up against the cold surface of the window. Where she'll catch a view of her reflection staring back at her: beautiful, exposed, and hers.

"I'm going to fuck you now," is exactly what she's been begging you to say, is why she ends up feeling, with the deep, twisting need building somewhere, how you'll work your cock so deep into her wanting cunt that the only thing that makes her legs go weak - wobbling, really - is the promise of cock rubbing so close and teasing the slick folds between her legs. Until she's a little more demanding, needy - and fuck, where is all the foreplay you'd promised earlier? That perfect, thick cock of yours is missing. She knows what all this really needs.

"Yeah? You need me here?" and she gets this whine, a little pathetic, but in the cutest way.

Yunjin turns her eyes to you, over her shoulder, just the faintest bit of a sneer. 

Because she needs it, right now - rough, quick, good. 

A gasp catches in her throat when you drag your cockhead through her wet heat, once, twice, and the slide of it against her clit becomes the only thing that matters in the entire goddamn world. 

"Inside," her teeth are clamping hard on her lip now, holding it from trembling as she tries to put words together, "Put," is where she loses focus and you're sucking, and kissing, and biting at her shoulder, "put, fuck. Please, put your, put - that cock of yours in my-" You slip into her hot-soaking-wet cunt, and after you've clenched a fist and brought a palm to the center of the window, so that you could open up your body around her a little easier, her muscles squeeze and grip and milk the first few strokes so tight. So-fucking-good.

There's not even a word for it, how she fit like a glove around the first thrust, but if the expression on your face says anything, it's everything Yunjin wanted and more: the shape, the angle, how you're pressing your fingers so hard into the impossible geometry of her waist, the round of her ass - oh, she’ll be a mess of red marks, shapes and lines, reminders of how good you fucked her - these long deep strokes in and out of her creaming pussy - evidence left where the heat inside her builds and pools.

And god, Yunjin is so, so easy to fuck: you can pound into her as rough and steady and fast as she'd begged - there with your other hand, pulling hard, hard, at the loose, dark locks of her hair. Where it has Yunjin gasping, moaning, the whole nine. She has to look to find her balance - and meets the two silhouettes framed inside the reflection on the window. Two shapes, lost in the blurred shadow and outline of lights outside the hotel window, behind which the whole city and its crowds might have stopped the way they'd started, with the rest of you caught between these strange moments:

First, the mindfulness. The purpose and meaning in movement, sensation. In being alive and young, hot, gorgeous and dumb as you can afford to be be.

Yunjin's murmuring, "right there, I want you," or telling, or begging, "don't, you have no idea, I, no-" until your body presses flush up against hers, hips rocking into her perfect figure - taking you like she was built for it, and everything feels so much tighter now, so much closer. Her palms and cheek against the glass, her knees are all shaking and ready to fold at any moment. "So deep, fuck. Fuck me right there, just like that."

Then as you suppose, the unbridled lust on display: Yunjin's turned to this kind of abandon - she's swearing out loud, saying things that have no name and very little form until you've dragged the roughness of your fingers all over her body and found she needs a palmprint on her inner thighs, her ass. That she's whimpering with every deeper plunge until, finally, she gets what she's after - and the words are falling out of her mouth. All it does is mean nothing now - whatever you've been waiting to hear, the pleas to fuck her harder, the cocksleeve talk, or any other request or order.

It's a small miracle, really, considering how she'd gotten you throbbing and aching with just the press of her lips and the dangerous little curl of her tongue - the tight heat all in the back of her throat - but Yunjin cums first.

Loudly. 

Messily, too, as she rides out the feeling - tightness gathering right into her core. But her head, it's in the clouds and a little far away, the skyline bathing her skin in shades of glittering silver and gold. And god, the heat of her tight, twitching, soaked pussy - pulsing around the thrusting curve of your cock: the sublime kind of place, spot, rhythm.

How her arms give out and she's pressed, flushed, back to chest with you, right there. Her words are soft. Wholly unimaginative: yes and fuck, yes and oh, she wants you, loves how well you fuck. The murmur comes from that gorgeous body of hers, the exact shape of everything that feels good to feel. The jut of her hips and her legs are longer than her height suggests they'd be, flawless from the ankle and foot to her thigh to where your arm wraps around the base of her ribs, hugging her from the back.

It's a perfect fit.

And not in the glass-slipper kind of way that means there is such a thing as a soulmate, no.

"Cum in me," she breathes, and then - all over. That's it. The moment your fingers are splayed back out over the pane of window, she can't hold her gaze steady. Those tears prick up at the corner, where they get caught. Where her voice is too high and pitchy - begging, a whining noise and some syllable. Something inaudible that has pressing these hot, open-mouthed kisses right into the pretty rise-and-falls of her spine. The sloppy-wet sound from your cock slipping back in, and back again, until you're just left fucking these little ragged breathes out of her chest.

The space between her lips and the glass, the white-ghosting breaths of air out between those plump little pouts that have shaped and molded themselves into some version of words, a few half-finished pleads: “kiss, hold, fill, fuck, just," and, "my body, love-

"Your fucking pussy, Yunjin, holy shit, it's - fucking - so, god," you all but growl out.

Pounding into the tight clench of her cunt.

The bed in the other room might be the better choice, the sheets and pillows for more support than the hard wall she's propped against. But the glass, to see the view and take her up against it: it feels nice, cool and comfortable, even when your motion makes it fogged and sticky with condensation. She had, when your first thrust pushed inside the molten heat of her pussy, reached around the corner - fingertips splaying wide apart, up, along the foggy pane, watching the shadow of her palms turn blurry and indistinguishable against the soft glow of neon beyond.

"I'm cumming," you tell her, "I'm cumming - fuck," before shoving her body even further into the glass. Fucking her hard - just short of bending her to the point of where she might break.

That last stroke or two goes a little wild; all that coiled and pressurized want and need, boiling over the moment you fuck your cum deep into her trembling body. This time, your sounds aren't just the thoughtless hum and groan from the depth of your lungs, but some collection of dirty words, grunts. Nasty things. A whole host of obscenities: like how it's for the sake of claiming, leaving something of yourself behind. How you're pulling the smooth, curve of her hips into your body to push as much of yourself inside the gripping warmth of her. How your hot cum is starting to spill from her pink, perfect, hole - all for the better because when you take your thumb and swirl and trace and smear all along her slippery-wet slick, she gets like this: squirming in these lazy, needy little wriggles against your touch.

It takes the two of you sometime longer to move. Not long, but, you know, a little while.

When it is that Yunjin comes back to herself, you feel the smile as the ghost over your arm.

The kind of thing to ask, though you're too fucked to pay attention, are questions about life: where do you go to school, how long will you stay? All of that. There's a quiet moment where your mind plays back, vaguely, a little more intensely, the realization - and regret of it, the waste - of fucking a stranger for a night.

And in a real short moment:

"That was - really good," she says, still not recovered quite enough to walk.

Yunjin sounds all that same: a stranger. Not familiar. That's, like, your last chance or whatever. Before this becomes a one-off.

("Stay for a while?" is what she doesn't manage to ever ask.)

"Have to leave early tomorrow." And she looks at you, shoulders dipping at the ends. She says things like: "my work," and "we have an international flight. Customs is a bitch."

"Oh," is what you say to all that, looking her body over again, drinking down all the small details of her. The ones you'll lose forever after tonight. All of them, you know.

All because that's how it had to be, from the start.

"For sure."

Yunjin's hands are twisting at the end of her hair, stroking and brushing through the silky, black strands. Just for something to do: maybe, optimistically to keep herself occupied with some semblance of a thought that has nothing at all to do with how she can't seem to shake this sudden, cresting wave of frustration - how there's an urgent throb from deep within, pushing into her skin like a force.

You swallow. Try to smile. "It was fun."

-

The hotel's checkout desk is staffed by a cheerful looking man, almost fresh out of high-school. Too cheerful a smile, perhaps, and maybe a little too bright for the time of day. You'd been busy pacing the lobby, trying not to stare at your phone for the third or fourth time since stepping out of the elevator. Your feet have scuffed the ground under the coffee table, around the floral couches - almost tripping over the boutiques lined in the middle of this path. Likely you'd have considered them if you weren't focused elsewhere.

Thinking about how you'd put off any discussion about piecing back together your rental suit.

"Did you have a good stay, sir?" the concierge asks, reaching out across his desk to pick up a card. He's placing a machine in front of him.

Your face warms ever-so-slightly. "Wonderful."

"That's what we like to hear. Just swipe your key here."

The machine's screen flashes and there's another cheerful beep, indicating everything was processed.

"Could you get me my receipt?"

"Absolutely. One second."

And the printer whirs to life: spitting out line-after-line of printed data. Until there are twelve characters of nonsense and garbage, including but not limited to the link to a questionnaire and an explanation for all the boxes marked 'x'. It also indicates your total costs (minimal, really) and lists a detailed breakdown of services: breakfast, in-room bar, laundry, towels - all the necessities.

"There, would you like- wait. Sir? Someone asked me to hand this to you," and after reaching under the desk, "looks like a suit jacket of sorts."

"Oh."

He raises an eyebrow. "From the event, I'm assuming."

It's hard to tell what it's about. But as you wrap your fingers into the cloth of the fabric, tug at it a bit, there's a note that slips and falls to the floor.

You sort of frown, skeptical. Fumble with the note. And the note says this:

In your absence, I helped myself to your jacket, your wallet, an extra serving of breakfast, as well as a large iced-coffee. Promise you I'll get the next one. Call me: (xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

Affectionately, your (girl)friend for an evening,

Huh Yunjin

#yunjin smut #le sserafim smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[punkshort]

Roommates | 3. fun in the sun

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Maria organizes a getaway to Lake Travis for a long weekend. You invite your new boyfriend, but things quickly deteriorate, leaving Joel to help you pick up the pieces.

Chapter Warnings: language, smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, flirting, sexual tension, jealousy, mutual pining, smut (18+ MDNI), semi-pubic sex, fingering, hand job, description of a panic attack, heartbreak, food consumption, golf

WC: 8.4K

Series Masterlist

Charlie was cute.

Well, cute didn't seem like the right word, and handsome sounded too stiff. But he was both those things and more. You discovered he was also very dapper when you met him for lunch one day during work. He wore a perfectly tailored dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. One button was left open at the top, revealing a sliver of his tanned skin underneath. You almost felt out of place wearing what you thought was one of your nicer dresses when he took you to some steakhouse you never heard of that didn't have the prices on the menu and you began to wonder how he didn't own a home yet since he appeared so successful.

"I never have the time to look, to be honest," he told you with a shrug. "Work keeps me busy during the week, and even some weekends. Then between grocery shopping and laundry and occasionally going to parties and meeting super pretty girls," he smiled with a wink and you giggled, "I just never find the time to house hunt."

"I guess I got lucky with Maria doing all the heavy lifting for me," you joked as you picked at the remains of your salad.

"Yeah, and she did a great job. It's a good starter house," he said with a nod before checking his phone.

"Mm, I don't know about starter. She was hoping to raise a family in that neighborhood one day. She really likes the schools."

Charlie made a little noise and you glanced up. "What?" you asked with a small smile.

"Nothing, it's nothing," Charlie said, setting his phone back down on the table. When you tilted your head and gave him a look, he sighed. "It's a fine area of town, I just personally would prefer to raise a family elsewhere."

"Oh, yeah? Like where?"

"Barton Creek would be great," he said, and you nearly choked on your drink.

"Barton Creek? That's like, so expensive," you laughed but his mouth didn't twitch. Your smile slowly fell and you said, "are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. You wouldn't want to live there?"

You huffed and sat back in your chair. "Yeah, sure, in my dreams. But I could never afford something like that."

Charlie leaned forward and took your hand. "But one day, maybe you could. If you go back to school at night and really apply yourself, it would only take a few years-"

"I told you I'm not interested in becoming a lawyer," you said, smiling up as the waiter cleared your plates. "I'm happy doing what I'm doing right now."

"Well, I'm just saying. You're young, there's options out there. You should really give it some thought."

At the time, you thought Charlie was being sweet and encouraging by trying to help you reach your full potential, but you would later discover you were wrong.

"I want to get out of town for a bit," Maria said at family dinner one night. You all looked up at her, bracing yourselves for whatever she had already planned in her head. "What do you think about renting a spot on Lake Travis?"

She immediately clocked the table's hesitation. "Just a long weekend. Four days on the lake, get out of this heat and on the water. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"When?" Tommy asked, and Maria knew instantly she had won.

She gave him a few different options while he scrolled the calendar in his phone to look at his work schedule. Weekends were hard for Tommy and hit or miss with Joel, so she knew it would be a tough sell.

Tommy picked a weekend and Maria's eyes lit up. Joel was about to decline when you piped up and agreed to go and suddenly, he couldn't resist.

"Amazing!" Maria said, clapping her hands giddily. She picked up her phone and began to look at availability for lodging. "You can invite Charlie, too, of course," she added without looking up.

"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for not even considering him. "Yeah, let me see if he's free."

Joel's heart sank and he looked down at his food, pushing the pasta around on his plate while you texted that guy you've been seeing, completely unaware that it was tearing him up inside. He tried to not let it bother him and he thought he was doing a really good job so far, but he wasn't sure how he would be able to handle four days in the same house, watching him touch you and kiss you and make you laugh. All the things he wanted to be doing, and more, but couldn't.

"He can come for Saturday and Sunday but he has to work Friday and Monday," you announced. Okay, so two days of watching another man touch what should be his.

Maria spent the rest of the night planning the trip while Joel bit his tongue. Why couldn't Charlie take off work a month in advance? he wanted to ask. Doesn't he want to spend time with you?

But of course, he didn't say a word. He and Tommy listened as the two of you researched activities, restaurants and bars in the area and planned out the weekend, making sure to carve out enough time to relax on the beach because you knew that's what he and Tommy really wanted to do. Fuck, he couldn't wait to see you in a bikini.

"Aren't you excited?" you asked him when Tommy and Maria headed up to bed.

"'Course I am."

"You don't seem like it. I thought this would be right up your alley."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "Why's that?"

You grinned and settled back into the couch. "Girls on the beach, obviously. Dripping wet from the water or sweating from the heat. I thought you would be more excited."

"I am," he said, leaving out that he was excited to see you dripping wet from the water or sweat. You hummed and stretched out your legs on the couch.

"Feel like watching a movie?" you asked, and he quickly nodded.

He knew it was pathetic but he couldn't help it. Any amount of time you wanted to spend with him alone, he would take. And when you curled up under a blanket and shoved your feet underneath his thigh while you watched the TV, it took everything in him not to pull you into his lap and press his lips against yours.

Because you were spoken for. And that would be wrong.

It was so fucking hot.

The day you left for the lake, the temperature was close to record breaking and all of you had to admit once you were in the comfort of the air conditioned truck that Maria's plan to get out of town was truly inspired. And once you arrived at the house you rented, you had to give Maria even more credit because the place was stunning.

It was a two story cabin with four bedrooms, a spacious living area and a kitchen behind it. The walls were all made of wood, stained a dark cherry for ambiance while the house sat a mere ten minute walk to the beach.

"Oh my god, this place is so cool," you said softly as you walked around the upper level, checking out each bedroom. It was hard to choose, they were all equally beautiful and had great views of the small forest around you, so you didn't mind when Tommy and Maria picked the master suite. Each room had its own charm.

The first evening you were there, you decided to go to dinner and then hit up a bar nearby, just the four of you. Charlie had planned on arriving sometime the next morning and then you would head to the beach, where you would spend a majority of the day getting tan and drinking whatever was coldest from the cooler you brought from home.

"Okay, do not even start that shit with me, Joel! You know I have a fear of heights! I'm not going anywhere near that fucking thing!"

He laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the boardwalk behind Tommy and Maria.

"It ain't even that high! It's just a goddamn ferris wheel!"

"I don't care, I'm not going on it. You guys can go and have a lovely time. I will stay down here, safe on the ground where I can't plummet to my death."

"C'mon, now. You know I won't let anythin' bad happen to you," Joel said, his voice dropping an octave lower as he pulled you in closer, the alcohol coursing through both your veins began to call the shots when you leaned into his hold.

"And what are you gonna do, Joel, if the thing breaks and I'm stuck up there? Do you have some superpowers I'm not aware of?"

"No, I think you're aware of all my superpowers," he teased, making you blush and shove him away with a laugh. "But I know I could distract you. Help keep your mind off it til help arrives."

You stumbled a bit as you laughed harder, Tommy and Maria leaving you behind when they spotted an ice cream stand.

"Yeah, I bet you would. Telling me shitty jokes or more stories of how you tormented Tommy on the school bus?"

Joel grinned and grabbed your hand, yanking you into him again as you continued to walk past various bars and restaurants packed with tourists.

"Both would work, I'm sure of it, but I had somethin' else in mind," he said without thinking, getting too carried away in the moment. It felt too good, it felt so natural as you walked with your fingers linked together around your shoulders and your head leaning against the side of his chest.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" you giggled, then hiccuped, then giggled again. Why did you have to be so fucking cute?

He opened his mouth to say something he would probably regret in the morning, then bit his tongue when you looked up at him curiously. You saw the look in his eye and you cleared your throat, leaning away from him when you realized how inappropriate the two of you must have looked.

"Maybe I'll try the smaller one," you said, trying to steer the conversation back after the awkward moment.

"Nah, I'm just teasin' you. Don't do anythin' you ain't comfortable with," he told you, making you smile right as you caught up with Tommy and Maria. He loved making you smile.

"You guys wanna head back?" Tommy asked, tossing a handful of used napkins in a nearby trash can.

"Yeah, I should probably get to bed. Charlie's getting here early tomorrow and he wanted to try to get a hike in before the beach," you said, pulling your phone out to see if you had any missed texts from him. Joel swallowed and looked away.

"A hike? Since when are you a hiker?" Maria said with a laugh. You shrugged and grinned before looping your arm with hers, heading back in the direction of the house.

"Charlie must really like her," Tommy said as he walked side by side with Joel, both of them watching you and Maria giggling and poking each other in the ribs. "Always took him for a workaholic. Surprised he would be interested in coming out here."

Joel frowned before lighting up a cigarette. "It's the weekend. Didn't think he worked on the weekends."

"Oh, he doesn't, but he likes to put in extra time. Always chasin' that next promotion. Always been that way."

Joel exhaled a puff of smoke before replying. "How'd you know him again?"

"Used to work at the bar with me, if you can believe it," Tommy said, "but it was just somethin' to keep money in his pocket while he finished school. He was always a hard worker, even behind the bar. Real focused, y'know? Wasn't surprised at all when he got a job right outta college with that finance company."

Joel took another drag from his cigarette and allowed his gaze to drift to the curve of your ass in your shorts, knowing that the darkness would give him cover. "And you stayed friends all these years? Doesn't sound like you got much in common."

Tommy shrugged. "He's a nice guy and fun to hang out with when he lets loose. Used to be a good wingman back in the day. But he's the type of guy who's real driven. Sets his sights on a goal and will do whatever it takes to get it. I think his parents put alotta pressure on him growin' up."

Joel nodded and flicked his cigarette onto the pavement as they walked up the driveway to the house. He should be happy for you. It sounded like Charlie was a catch but he couldn't stop from comparing himself to your boyfriend. Even if he quit his job tomorrow and started over doing something normal, he would never reach the level of success Charlie had.

He didn't stand a chance in hell.

Maria was right. You were decidedly not a hiker. But Charlie seemed so excited to explore the area and you were just so grateful he took time out of his busy schedule to spend an entire weekend with you that you felt compelled to agree.

At least he gave you a great view of his muscular back as you trailed behind him, your legs ready to give out from the exertion any minute.

"I bet you made so much money as a bartender," you told him. He turned around and shot you a smirk.

"You checking me out back there?"

"Can you blame me?" you giggled.

"It's beautiful out here, babe," he said once you reached a high point with a clearing. He took a swig of water while you caught your breath. "Thanks for inviting me. I've never been out this way before."

"Really?" you asked in disbelief, "it's not that far from the city."

"Yeah, well, you know how it is," was all he said. You sat down on a fallen tree and stretched out your legs while Charlie took a few pictures of the view.

"Isn't Joel seeing anyone he could have invited this weekend?" Charlie asked out of the blue. You paused for a moment, taken off guard at the thought of Joel with a girlfriend. Something you never really considered before.

"Uh, I don't think he's seeing anyone serious," you replied.

Charlie chuckled and sat down next to you. "He's a bit of a fifth wheel, don't you think?"

Your face twisted up in disapproval when you looked at him. "Not at all. He's, like, part of our family. If anything-"

You stopped yourself before finishing your sentence but it didn't matter. Charlie furrowed his brow and glared at you.

"What? If anything, I'm the fifth wheel?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you were about to."

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just because we all live together, that's all."

He scoffed and stood up, brushing off the back of his shorts before picking up his water bottle from the ground.

"We should head back," he grumbled as the guilt settled deep in your chest. You stood and wrapped your fingers around his bicep.

"Wait, come here," you said softly. He sighed and hung his head before turning around to face you. "I'm sorry. Really. I am," you reached up to cup his face and pressed your lips tenderly against his. You felt him relax into your touch and you smiled against his lips. "Can I make it up to you later?" you asked suggestively, and Charlie laughed.

"I'll hold you to it," he said with a playful swat on your ass. You squeaked and he grabbed your hand. "Let's get back. I wanna go to the beach and relax with you."

"That sounds amazing," you said dreamily as you followed him back the way you came, grateful the trail was now downhill.

Joel didn't like Charlie.

And it wasn't because he had his hands all over you the entire fucking day, but that didn't help matters. He tried to keep an open mind, he really did, but something about him just felt off. It clicked with Joel later when he noticed Charlie had encouraged you to cover up your bikini before heading over to the bar to grab some drinks, even though they had brought plenty to share in the cooler. You had initially protested, laughing him off when you thought he was joking, but gave in when you realized he didn't want other men staring at you at the bar.

Charlie was trying to control you and you didn't even realize it.

Those chips are terrible for you, babe. Try these instead. They're baked.

You gotta reapply sunscreen after swimming. Don't you know that, babe?

What are you reading that trash for? You gotta let me broaden your horizons, babe.

Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe.

It was really getting under Joel's fucking skin.

"You're so quiet today," you said, plopping down next to him after spreading out a towel on the sand.

"Am I?"

You gave him a look and grinned. "Yeah. What's up with you? Did you not sleep good or something?"

Joel shrugged and looked out at the water, grateful his sunglasses were able to disguise his feelings on that particular day. "Not really."

You hummed and regarded him silently for another moment before lying flat on your back, stretching yourself out to bask in the sun's warm rays. You took off your sunglasses and closed your eyes with a contented sigh while he fought the urge to stare at your perfect body so goddamn close to him.

He forced himself to scan the beach, looking for anything to keep his mind off your soft skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat just within an arm's reach. He felt a stirring below his waist when he imagined running his tongue between your breasts, licking up the sweat collecting there.

"Everything okay?" you asked when Charlie reappeared, his phone in hand. Joel shifted and tried to subtly rest his book over his crotch.

"Yeah, just a quick work call. Hey Joel, I think that girl's checking you out," Charlie said, sitting down in the sand next to you.

Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes and forced himself to be nice. For your sake.

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"The one in the white bikini. Blonde hair, big tits."

You whipped your head in Charlie's direction, unable to keep the shock from your tone when you whispered his name in disbelief. Joel tried not to watch but he could tell you were offended and he hardly blamed you. Who says that in front of their girlfriend?

"Not really my type," Joel said, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes.

"Not your type?" Charlie scoffed, and Joel cracked open one eye, once again grateful for his sunglasses because he caught you trying to silently shut Charlie up, but he continued to ignore you. "If she's not your type then who is?"

Your fucking girlfriend is my type, asshole, he wanted to say. Instead he just shrugged and hoped he would drop it.

He didn't.

"Come on, why don't you at least try to talk to her. Maybe invite her to dinner tonight. Then it would be all couples for once."

"Charlie," you hissed, a little louder this time. "He's not interested. Leave him alone."

"What's the problem? You were just saying earlier how you wished Joel would find a girl. I'm just trying to give him a little encouragement," Charlie said with a smirk. Your mouth fell open and you shook your head but it was too late. Joel's heart plummeted into his stomach and the familiar sting of rejection crept up his throat, strangling him. If you were privately telling Charlie you wanted him find someone, that must mean you were really over him, and whatever foolish shred of hope he was clinging to was all for nothing.

"I never said that! Joel, I'm so sorry," you said, scrambling up from the sand and turning on Charlie angrily. "Why would you-"

"It's fine," Joel said curtly, standing up and brushing the sand off his swim trunks. "You're right. I'm gonna go talk to her."

You twisted your neck to look up at him, your mouth opening and shutting as you struggled to come up with something to say.

"Y-yeah. I mean... go for it," you stammered and watched as Joel made his way across the beach. Even from a distance you could see the girl's face light up as he approached and you felt a pit form in your stomach.

"Why would you lie to him like that?" you asked Charlie with a scowl. He grinned and settled back into his chair with a book.

"I just had a feeling if a close friend motivated him, he would do it. Poor guy needs to get laid."

Fortunately you could blame the heat from the sun on your reddening cheeks. Charlie had no idea what Joel really did for work. You always skirted around the question whenever it was brought up because deep down, you knew Charlie would have a problem with it.

You slipped your sunglasses back on with a sigh and crossed your arms, still pissed off with Charlie but not in the mood to get into an argument. You tried not to stare as Joel flirted with the girl in the white bikini. She leaned into him and playfully shoved his shoulder with a giggle and your chest tightened when you saw him thread his fingers together with hers and lead her towards the bar.

You had absolutely no right to get jealous. Joel wasn't your boyfriend for that exact reason: jealousy. You had your own boyfriend who was very smart, handsome and successful. And sure, sometimes Charlie pushed you into doing things out of your comfort zone, but he was trying to help you grow as a person. So if he was so great, why did you spend so much time thinking about Joel?

Chelsea was sweet, in her late twenties, got her degree in economics and also spent the better part of half an hour subtly rubbing her ass against Joel's hips at the bar. It was crowded, being right on the beach, and getting louder and rowdier as the afternoon dragged on. At first, Joel thought it was an accident, that the crowds of people forced her to press up against him. But he soon discovered it was quite intentional when she ducked her hand under the bar to rub his cock through his swim trunks.

"Whoa, what're you doin' down there?" he chuckled. She beamed up at him innocently.

"Feel like going for a swim?" she asked. He thought she was ignoring his question until they got in the water, swimming out a ways where it was quiet, but not too deep. Chelsea glanced around before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth against his, wasting no time slipping her tongue past his lips with a soft moan.

"I recognized you," she admitted, dragging her mouth down the column of his throat and dipping her hand below the water. He hissed when she slid past his waistband and wrapped her hand around his cock.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm," she said with a mischievous grin, her fist languidly stroking him up and down where nobody could see. "You're in dirty movies."

He laughed and squeezed her hips, encouraging her to come closer to him.

"You got me."

Even though she had her hand down his shorts in the middle of a lake surrounded by people enjoying a hot summer day, he had to admit that Charlie was right about her. She was sexy and charming and he liked how confident she was. She also seemed more than okay with his profession, which thrilled him. Maybe this was something that could actually work.

The first red flag came when he had two fingers curled inside her and she murmured I bet I feel better than those girls you have to fuck, huh?

It took him off guard for a moment but he shrugged it off, thinking it was just an idea that turned her on, so he told her yeah, so tight, baby.

The second red flag was when she asked are you gonna think about me next time you're at work?

His hips stuttered a bit underwater and he could feel the mental block building up. He tried kissing Chelsea to keep her from talking but it was too late, so instead he focused all his energy on getting her off with his fingers. Her grip loosened around his cock when she came, her moans muffled against his mouth. She grabbed at his shoulders desperately as her muscles went lax and he whispered I got you and held her against his chest until she caught her breath.

Over Chelsea's shoulder he could see you and Charlie on the beach. It was far away but he could spot you anywhere. While Chelsea murmured into his skin and raked her fingers through his hair, his eyes were pinned on you. You were standing up and brushing the sand off your legs, your perfect ass sticking out when you bent over in that hot pink bikini that was driving him fucking crazy all day.

Chelsea's hand was wrapped around his cock again, the mental block disappearing the longer he watched you. He groaned when you began to rub sunscreen into your arms, your tits bouncing with each and every movement. Chelsea took that as a sign to go faster. She whispered in his ear how big he was and before he even had a chance to stop it, his mind was imagining you saying that, instead. He remembered how nervous you were but then how you begged for his cock and his hips began to thrust into her hand underwater. Then, his breath caught in his throat when he watched you untie your bikini top, your arm holding the tiny pieces of fabric against your chest as the strings hung loose and you positioned yourself face down on the towel to tan in the sun.

"Fuck," Joel groaned, his cock pulsing in Chelsea's hand as he came. His breath was ragged and he fought to stand up in the water and not succumb to sinking to the bottom of the lake. She seemed to sense his struggle because she whispered in his ear let's go back.

As he swam to shore, the guilt began to wash over him for thinking about you when he was with another girl. That wasn't his intention at all. It was disrespectful to both you and Chelsea. But you were directly in his eyeline and he couldn't seem to stop himself. He could do better. He would do better.

"Hey, what're you doin' for dinner? A few of my friends are all goin' to this Italian place-"

"Oh," Chelsea said, cutting him off in surprise when they finally made it to the beach. "I'm sorry, thank you, but I have plans tonight."

He was a little disappointed but he knew giving a girl he just met a couple hours notice to go to dinner was asking a lot. "Don't worry 'bout it. Can I get your number? Maybe we can meet up tomorrow?"

Chelsea gave him a disbelieving look as she adjusted her swimsuit. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, 'course I am. I'd like to get to know you better," he said with a lopsided grin. She laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck and that was when Joel felt the uneasiness settle deep in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Joel. I thought this was just a hook up," she said, biting her lip and glancing around the beach. He could feel the smile fall from his face but he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Y-yeah, sure, I get it."

"I mean, you're really sweet and all, it's just... you know," she said with a little shrug. He swallowed and nodded. He knew. You can't take a pornstar home to meet your parents.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" he said, and Chelsea nodded. She kissed him goodbye and he watched as she made her way down the beach towards her group of friends, who had been watching with great interest.

He was living every man's dream and he couldn't feel shittier about it.

He didn't want to just hook up with random girls anymore. It was fun when he was in his twenties but now it just felt pathetic. He sighed and turned his head in your direction. Charlie looked like he had dozed off in his chair while you were still laying face down with your eyes closed on your towel, your smooth skin coated with a sheen of sweat, pinkening under the sun's rays.

As he began to walk back towards the pair of you, he spotted Tommy and Maria making their way over from the opposite side of the beach, having done their own excursion for a couple hours that day and promised to catch up with the rest of you before dinner.

Joel was relieved. At least there would be a buffer.

Admittedly, Joel drank a little too much at dinner. He was still a little bothered by his afternoon with Chelsea, but he would have gotten over it had Charlie not picked at the scab every chance he got. First, he ribbed him about not being able to seal the deal when he showed up to dinner alone, but Joel just politely laughed it off. Then, as dinner progressed and the table was on their third round, Charlie began to point out girls around the restaurant who looked like they could be single, asking Joel if he thought they were his type with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You hadn't really been paying attention. You were too engrossed with something Maria was saying, leaning across the table excitedly as the thin strap of your sundress slid down your shoulder. Your skin was practically glowing from the sun, your eyes sparkled when you giggled with Maria and Joel was finding it more and more difficult to keep his gaze off you. Charlie either didn't notice or care. His arm was resting along the back of your chair, his thumb brushing against your back or your arm while he explained to Tommy the Chelsea backstory. Tommy's eyes flickered back and forth between Charlie and Joel, providing a few forced chuckles at his teasing, then changed the subject the first chance he got.

"What d'we wanna do tonight?" he had asked, breaking up your private conversation at the other end of the table.

"Why don't we hit the boardwalk?" Charlie offered, tossing back the rest of his old fashioned.

"We did that last night," you said.

"It's my only night here, babe. I wanna check out the rides and shit."

Joel's jaw tensed and he looked down at the table.

Of course, everyone agreed, so once dinner was over they all strolled down the sidewalk towards all the bright lights, the intoxicating smell of sugar and the sound of carnival games in the air. Charlie spotted the Ferris wheel and snatched your hand.

"C'mon, babe, let's check it out!"

You stopped dead in your tracks, making him spin around in surprise. "I don't like heights, I'll just wait-"

"Oh, come on! It'll be romantic," Charlie murmured suggestively, pulling you into his chest and pinching your chin. Joel hurriedly walked past to catch up with Tommy and Maria, unable to stand there and watch him kiss you. He knew he was being unreasonable. He knew he had to get his jealousy under control or else it would drive a wedge between the two of you and he couldn't possibly risk that. You meant far too much to him. So, he tried to distance himself for the remainder of the night. He hung out with Tommy and Maria, checking out various shops, getting candied apples and playing games while he forced himself to not look over his shoulder and seek you out.

Looking back on it, he probably shouldn't have gotten that beer and shot at the bar after Tommy and Maria ducked into a photo booth. His head was already swimming from the drinks at dinner but he really didn't want to be awake later to hear you and Charlie through the walls.

Tommy and Maria found him after the photo booth and showed him the strip of pictures, laughing at some of the props and faces they were making when Maria suggested they take a ride on the ferris wheel since it would likely be their last chance. Joel told them he would just wait, not wanting to admit the mere thought of those little cars swaying back and forth made his stomach churn with the amount of alcohol he had drank that night.

He was smoking a cigarette and scrolling on his phone, sitting on a bench near the ferris wheel after Tommy and Maria had gotten in line when he heard you. The panic in your voice sent a jolt of fear down his spine and he jumped up, flicking his cigarette on the ground as he whipped his head back and forth, searching for you. Finally, he spotted you pushing your way through the crowds of people in front of the ride, your face red and soaked with tears. His heart sank and he rushed over just as Charlie emerged a few seconds behind you. When he reached out to touch your arm, you yanked it back so forcefully that you fell on your hands and knees, scraping your skin against the hot blacktop.

Joel called your name and you looked up frantically, your chest heaving. You reached out a shaky arm towards him and he immediately pulled you up off the ground, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you for damage. Aside from some red scrapes on your hands and knees from the fall, you appeared fine, but you clawed at his arms and gasped I can't breathe and his heart began to slam wildly in his chest. He held you up against him and twisted around, trying to spot a paramedic when Charlie waved you both off with a dry laugh.

"Bro, she's fine, she just got scared on the ferris wheel."

"She's not fine, fuckin' look at her!" Joel yelled, turning a few heads, but he didn't care. He dropped his gaze to your face, cupping your jaw and wiping your tears away. "You're alright. Hey, c'mon, you can do this. Take a deep breath in through your nose, like this. Watch-" he inhaled deeply and you did the same through clenched teeth, then he exhaled slowly, pursing his lips as you continued to follow his lead. He did it a few more times until the tears stopped and your color returned to normal.

"You alright?" he asked softly, brushing your hair away from your face. You nodded and looked around for somewhere to sit. He seemed to read your mind because he led you by the elbow towards the bench he vacated. Giving you a chance to catch your breath, he turned on Charlie.

"What the fuck, man? Why'd you make her go on that goddamn thing?"

His nostrils were flaring and he could feel the anger bubbling up into his chest.

"I didn't force her to do anything," Charlie said with a frown. "She's a fucking adult, she made her own decision-"

"Because you fuckin' pressured her!" Joel shouted, taking a menacing step forward. "I heard her tell you she was afraid of heights so don't bullshit me."

Charlie's hand clenched into a fist and his jaw tensed. "Why don't you mind your own fucking business before I knock you on your ass?"

"Is that a threat?" Joel countered, closing the distance between him and Charlie, staring him dead in the eye as he waited for him to make a move.

You shoved yourself off the bench and quickly wedged yourself between the two men, a palm pressed against each of their chests, pushing them apart. "Stop it, please," you begged, "I just wanna go back to the house."

They stared each other down for another moment before Charlie looked away with a scoff. He grabbed your hand and muttered something under his breath as he began to lead you away, but when you passed by Joel, you stopped.

"Thank you," you told him softly. You reached out to grab his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. He nodded and forced a small smile before Charlie tugged on your other hand. Joel watched until the two of you disappeared into the crowd before he sighed and collapsed back onto the bench. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to get his temper under control when Tommy and Maria walked over, hand in hand with huge grins on their faces.

"You missed such a great view, Joel," Maria said, then looked around the boardwalk, asking where he thought you and Charlie went.

"Back to the house," was all Joel said before gruffly standing up and lighting another cigarette to help with the burst of adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Joel managed to calm down by the time the three of them arrived back at the house. He replayed what he had said and done over and over and just hoped that you didn't hold it against him. It didn't seem like you were pissed with him when you left but he knew his actions just made the next day incredibly awkward, so Joel decided once he saw Charlie in the morning, he would apologize.

When he walked by your closed bedroom door, it was quiet with the exception of the water running in the bathroom. He slipped into his own bedroom down the hall, then turned on the TV and fell asleep.

He slept in a little later than he intended but he had a hunch he wasn't the only one. It seemed like everyone had a little too much to drink the night before and from the sound of the plates and silverware clinking together in the kitchen below, everyone was getting a slow start to the day.

"Mornin'," Joel mumbled to Tommy, who was sitting at the table, rubbing his eyes over a steaming cup of coffee. He glanced up and nodded in return before bringing the mug to his lips and taking a sip.

"Need help with anythin'?" Joel asked Maria who was busy cracking eggs. She laughed and shook her head.

"Go sit down. You look like you feel about as shitty as your brother."

Joel didn't need to be told twice. He sat down next to Tommy with a grunt, his hands curling around his own cup of coffee, blankly staring down at it, hoping it would bring him back to life.

"Hey," Tommy whispered, eyeing Maria from across the room who was busy gathering things from the fridge. Joel leaned forward and arched an eyebrow. "Charlie left real early this mornin'. I heard a car door slam and noticed his car's gone when we got downstairs."

"Shit," Joel muttered, glancing over at Maria quickly, making sure she didn't notice them gossiping about her best friend.

"Think they got in a fight or somethin'?" Tommy asked, but right as Joel opened his mouth to tell him the details of what happened the night before, Maria bounced over to them with a plate in each hand.

"I'm gonna go wake them up," she said, turning on her heel. Joel gave Tommy a curious look and he just shrugged.

"Didn't tell her," was all he said, then rolled his wrist in the air. "Tell me before they come down."

Joel managed to give Tommy the bullet points then began quickly shoveling eggs into his mouth when they heard Maria descending the steps. She entered the kitchen with her hands on her hips, looking concerned.

"What's up, baby?" Tommy asked innocently. She swiveled her finger around in the air as the gears turned in her head.

"Charlie left."

They both did a good job of acting surprised as Maria sat down with her own plate of food and with a hushed voice, told them you were upset and didn't want to come down for breakfast.

"Did they break up?" Joel asked, realizing too late that he sounded a little too eager, but Maria didn't seem to pick up on it. She was biting her nail, worried about you and trying to figure out how to navigate the rest of the day.

"I think so."

Conflicted was the only word to describe what Joel felt in that moment. He really didn't like Charlie but he hated the idea that he could be partially responsible for your pain.

After they finished eating, Maria checked the time and tapped her foot. "I think I should cancel the zip-line, Tommy," she said, "I don't want to leave her here all alone." Maria had planned for her, Tommy and Joel to zip-line over the beach, overlooking the lake. Knowing your fear of heights, she had intentionally picked that day, expecting you and Charlie to spend some alone time together.

"I'll stay, you two go," Joel said immediately, picking up their plates and heading to the sink.

"Are you sure?" Tommy asked, and Joel nodded.

"I'm not exactly in the best shape to be flying through the air, anyway."

"And I am?" Tommy replied, but Maria shoved his shoulder and put her finger to her lips behind Joel's back while he scrubbed the plates. "Uh, yeah, thanks Joel. You let us know if you end up goin' out and we'll meet up."

Joel stayed downstairs, alternating between going on his phone or watching TV. When it got closer to noon and you still hadn't come down, he began to worry. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple water bottles. Putting them on the counter, he scoured the fridge and scratched his chin. He was always a terrible cook, so he gave up quickly and resorted to ordering a couple burgers for delivery before taking the waters upstairs.

He rapped two knuckles gently on the door, then heard some shuffling before your voice called out, inviting him in.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said sympathetically when he saw your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You sat up in bed and tried to run your fingers through your tangled hair before sighing and giving up.

"Leave it to me to get dumped on vacation."

He gave you a sad smile and held out a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted. He sat down on the edge of your bed and watched as you drained almost the entire bottle, then handed you his. You thanked him and set both on the end table before turning your attention back on your television, which he hadn't even realized was on.

"Legally Blonde?"

"I wanted to laugh but I forgot she gets dumped in, like, the first twenty minutes."

Joel chuckled and leaned back against your headboard. "I'm so sorry. If it was 'bout last night-"

"It's not your fault," you sniffled, pulling the comforter up to your chin.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not yet."

He hummed and nodded, turning back to the television. He gave you all the time and space you needed, staying close by for the rest of the afternoon in case you wanted to talk, only leaving to get the burgers when they arrived. You ate them in your bed, grease dripping from your fingers and laughing at stupid movies until you felt good enough to get up and shower.

"You wanna go mini golfing?" you asked over your shoulder as you fixed your hair in the mirror. Joel cringed but agreed. He absolutely hated golfing, but for you, he would suffer through it. Especially considering your mood seemed to be improving.

"Lemme text Tommy and let 'em know where we're goin'," he said, pulling out his phone and following you out the door.

"Oh, let's just do our own thing tonight," you said, then cleared your throat when you realized how that sounded. "I mean, y'know, they probably want time to themselves, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Joel agreed, side eying you before hopping into the truck. You gave him directions to a mini golf course ten minutes away, then rolled down the window and stretched your arm out, the warm summer air slipping through your wiggling fingers. Even though the sun had set, the air was still so thick with heat it felt like you could grab it.

"It's so hot," you said, sliding out of the passenger seat once Joel parked the truck. You fixed your skirt; a flowy, white number that felt feather light against your thighs as you walked. Joel agreed and checked his phone, noticing a text from Tommy.

"Hold up," he said, and you twisted around, your tennis shoes crunching on the gravel parking lot.

We're gonna go to that Mexican place. 30 minutes.

"They're invitin' us to dinner," he told you without looking up.

"Tell him we already ate."

He nodded and tapped out a quick reply before pocketing the phone and approached the cashier.

"Two tonight?" she asked, smacking her gum between her teeth.

"Yes, but I'll pay for mine," you said, reaching for your wallet.

"Nuh-uh," Joel said with a frown, about to argue but the cashier spoke up first.

"It's date night. Two for the price of one."

Your cheeks felt hot at the insinuation that you were on a date with Joel, but you couldn't pass up the deal to play for half price. Glancing at him awkwardly, you shrugged and he slapped his card down with a cocky smirk.

"Alright, pick out your ball, but for the love of god don't pick the-"

"Oh, look at the hot pink one!" you exclaimed gleefully, snatching it up from the bucket. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. "What?" you giggled, shouldering him playfully as you admired your ball.

"It's just such a girl thing to do," he said with a grin, then leaned over to pick a neon yellow ball for himself.

"Well last I checked, I am a girl," you winked and headed towards the door, his gaze falling to your ass only once before getting himself together and following you.

"Shoulda known," he tsked once he caught up, "matches your bathing suit and everythin'."

Your stomach flipped and you felt your cheeks grow hot once again but you just laughed him off and approached the first hole. The course was packed with couples, no doubt taking advantage of the deal, so it was slow going. By the fifth hole, Joel grew impatient and plopped down on a bench.

"Giving up so soon?" you teased, and he huffed.

"I ain't a quitter, just waitin' for some of these people to play through. Sick of standin' around."

"You sure it's not because I'm beating you by six?" you grinned as you sat down next to him.

"I'm lettin' you win, darlin'. Tryin' to mend your poor, broken heart," he said, rolling his head to the side with a smirk.

"Eh, I don't think we were together long enough to say he broke my heart, but it still sucks," you sighed, playing with your golf ball in the palm of your hand.

Joel eyed you for a moment, trying to choose his next words carefully. "You ready to talk 'bout it, or-"

"I thought he was nice, y'know? Like, okay, he could be a little pushy sometimes, but I really thought he was just encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone."

Joel frowned and shifted his weight on the bench. "What'dya mean?"

"Like, professionally. He was encouraging me to go back to school so I could get a better job, but I like my job. And other things, too. The ferris wheel," you said, rolling your eyes, "told me I should face my fears and all that."

"You're better off without him," Joel said without even thinking. You laughed and glanced up at him through your lashes.

"You think?"

"'Course. You don't need someone to tell you how to live your life. If you like your job, then why change it? If you're afraid of heights, who cares? Seemed to me like he was tryin' to fix you, and from where I'm sittin', you're-" he cut himself off and looked down at his hands, chewing on the inside of his lip to keep himself from finishing his sentence.

You stared at him for a moment, watching something flicker across his face. "I'm... what?" you asked gently.

He shrugged and took a deep breath. You're perfect, he wanted to say, but instead he went with "you don't need fixin'."

You smiled shyly and poked him in the ribs, making him chuckle.

"Thank you, Joel. You managed to save me from wasting the last day of vacation moping around in bed."

He let you drag him up from the bench so you could continue playing the course, but your conversation kept replaying in his head, distracting him. Even though you weren't a fan of his job, you never once pressured him to find a different one. You accepted him for who he was and it bothered him that Charlie couldn't do the same for you.

Joel watched you with a smile as you bent your head and lined up your putter with your golf ball. A little crease formed between your eyebrows as you focused on the windmill eclipsing the sixth hole, trying to time it just right. How could anybody want to change you? You were so adorable and sweet and you deserved someone who would worship the ground you walked on.

A foolish thought popped into his head and he opened his mouth, about to ask you a question that could possibly change everything.

"What if-"

He cut himself off when you tapped the ball down the turf, both of you watching and holding your breath when your hot pink golf ball managed to avoid the blades of the windmill and dropped into the little plastic cup with a soft clink.

"Holy shit!" you exclaimed, garnering a few odd looks in your direction, but neither of you cared. You dropped your golf club and jumped into his waiting arms, letting Joel spin you around as you both laughed and he told you what a great job you did, deciding it was best he never finished his question, anyway.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #str fic #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #pornstar!joel #pornstar!au #roommates #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[lithiumfae]

sexy habits they have.

you can read my new remus fic here and my snape fic here.

sirius black:

nods his head while looking down at your lips when you’re explaining something to him.

when you’re laying down with him he hums while listening to you talk, one of his fingers stroking your thigh.

if you’re sitting in front of him but you’re not close enough to his liking he will hook his foot around one of the legs of the chair and drag you towards him.

he always calls you by your full name, of course he sometimes uses nicknames or pet names but he prefers saying your name properly.

if he’s trying to show you something but you’re not paying attention he will grab the back of your head and make you look at him. gently of course.

says “oh?” when you tell him about something that’s upsetting you. it’s hot because he crouches down a little to look at you in the eyes, he then repeats “oh?”

he likes to stare at you while you’re doing your hair, head resting on his hand and a smirk on his face. you don’t know what’s going through his head.

if you braid your hair he will grab one of the braids and hold it between his fingers and look at it while you talk.

“so smart, my girl.”

remus lupin:

(sorry for the spicy gift i just HAD to add it, remus is my weakness)

he always notices when you add something new to your hair. it could be a new headband, new hair clips or anything like that.

when he is really interested in what you’re saying he will rest his arm behind your head on the sofa, his brows furrowed.

he is the type to brace himself against the doorframe.

he blinks a little slower when he is trying to show you he cares about what you’re telling him.

acts of service. acts of service. acts of service!!!!!!!!!

he never lets you cook.

always offers to help brush your hair and he will sometimes pretends your brush got stuck in your hair just so he can pull it a little, you know he’s doing it on purpose because you hear him giggle every time.

when you’re sitting in the common room he likes to sneak behind you and sit on the back rest of the couch so you’re left in between his open legs.

“you smell just as pretty as you look.”.

peter pettigrew:

although he hates PDA he always makes sure to be touching some part of your body if you’re sitting next to each other, it can be your shoulder, your pinky, etc.

without thinking he rolls his sleeves and sighs when something is on his mind.

sometimes he lets you talk and talk for what feels like hours until he shuts you up by planting a fat kiss on your lips, he is too polite to tell you to shut up.

being around the other three can be quite overwhelming for anyone even peter so at the end of the day when he sneaks into your room he sits down on your bed and once again lets a sigh escape his mouth while stretching his neck side to side, his eyes closed.

sometimes he just stares at you without saying anything, if it was anyone else looking at you like that you’d think he was angry but he couldn’t be angry or annoyed because soon enough he whispers “come give me a kiss, yeah?”

contrary to his reputation as the skittish more weak willed member of the marauders he tends to be quite assertive when talking to you. he seems to always know what he wants.

staring is a peter thing. in the middle of making out he will pull back and grab your face not letting you move just to… stare at you?

“you’re not going anywhere right? stay with me always yeah?”

James Potter:

oh the antics. he waits for you right outside the great hall to spin you around and drop you (just to catch you before you fall) and kiss you in front of everyone. don’t deny it, it gives you an ego boost.

it is james potter after all.

he likes to show off his strength even if you claim it gives you second hand embarrassment.

he puts your hands on his face because he can’t seem to get enough of your touch. he would live under your skin if he could.

jealousy. he gets jealous very easily. you were polite to snape? he refuses to look at you all throughout dinner. you touched hands with the nice hufflepuff boy? he doesn’t want to hold your hand for at least the next two days. oh and when he is jealous he pouts.

he thinks of himself as a human chair. in the confines of his room the only place he’ll let you sit on is his lap.

he tends to gasp a lot when you’re both making out. HE IS NOISY!!!!!!

“i would marry you right now if child marriage wasn’t against the law, i swear.”

#harry potter #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders headcanon #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #peter pettigrew x reader #james potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction

[syrupfog]

Zoro hates it here. 

“Tough shit,” says Nami. “You have to suffer through the evening to meet your fucking FIANCÉ.” 

Zoro scowls. He’s never met the man. They’ve been engaged since he was young enough to still fight with bamboo swords. “It’s not like I’m going to marry him.” 

“I keep saying a political marriage would really help your image,” Nami lectures, “but regardless, this is PROTOCOL. Your parents would be ashamed of you trying to skip out on this.” 

“My parents died when I was six, and you never met them.” 

“Yet I know better. Now come on.”

It’s a lavish ballroom that Zoro never uses, and he’s in clothes he never wears. He’s itchy. Standing next to his throne, as is PROTOCOL, thanks Nami, he watches the procession as they enter. 

Their king is tall and clearly pompous. His outfit gaudy. His children come behind him.

Zoro’s people, his most trusted, are fanned throughout the room, but the king and his children stand a head above everyone. Zoro counts one daughter and three sons, each of them standing equally proud and in equally flashy clothes. 

No, wait. 

Is that a fourth son or a servant?

He’s shorter than the others, thinner, almost sickly in comparison. But he’s wearing the royal finery. His head is bowed, in contrast to theirs. A cousin maybe? Why is he here? 

The king marches directly up to Zoro and does not bow, which he SHOULD do on Shimotsuki soil.

He stands straight, and says, “Crown Prince Roronoa, I present to you my children; Reiju, Ichiji, Niji, Yonji, and Sanji.” 

The— the sickly pale one? HE’s the one Zoro’s been promised to? 

Sanji keeps his head down, but unlike his siblings he does a slight bow upon introduction.

Zoro scowls until Nami kicks him. Then he bows back, EVER so slightly, and gestures to the room at large. “Please enjoy the evening,” he says. “You’ve come a long way.” He can feel Nami breathing down his neck. “Let me personally escort Prince Sanji, so we have time to… talk.”

He holds out his arm and Sanji, obligingly, slips his hand into the crook of Zoro’s elbow. He hears snickering behind him as he leads Sanji away.” 

The crowd parts around them, and Zoro grinds his teeth. He’d really prefer not to break up with someone he’s never even met.

Still, such things must be done. Leading Sanji out onto the balcony, in the cool night air, Zoro lets his arm fall and then turns to him. “So,” he hedges. “Our parents betrothed us.” 

Sanji inclines his head. “Yes, sire,” he says, staring resolutely at the floor.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m my own person now, and I don’t particularly feel like getting married to someone I’ve never met.” 

At that, Sanji’s eyes shoot up, wide and searching. 

“So I release you from this bond,” Zoro says. “Or whatever it was Nami says I should say.”

“You—“ Sanji stutters. “N-no, wait.” 

Zoro crosses his arms. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me,” he says. “I have no interest in marrying someone I’ve never met.” 

“Y-you’re meeting me NOW,” Sanji cries. “You can get to know me! Give me a chance.”

He looks like he would collapse in a strong wind, already standing with one arm braced against the railing. Zoro is a warrior, he needs someone who can challenge him, not… whatever this is. “I’ve made up my mind,” he says. “Sorry you had to come all the way here.”

Sanji starts tugging on his hair. “No,” he says again. “You can’t do this! You— I’ll—“ 

“What?” Zoro asks. “You’ll tell daddy on me?” 

Breathing heavily, Sanji looks at him with wild eyes. “Please,” he says. “I’ll— do anything. You won’t know I’m here. Just don’t—“

Then, in what seems like a snap decision, he turns around and takes off running. 

Zoro follows, languidly, watching him race back through the ballroom. He figures he’ll run to his father and start telling him what a monster Zoro is, but instead Sanji takes the first door out.

Shit. Zoro speeds up. That’s the door to the rest of the castle, not the way out or the way to his family. What the hell? 

He keeps his pace slow enough to not alert TOO many in the ballroom (though he sees the thunderous look Nami throws his way), but as soon as he’s through the door Sanji left through, he also takes off at a run, seeing Sanji at the end of the hallway. 

The castle is enough of a maze for Zoro on a good day, he’s certain that if he slows down for even a second he’ll lose the prince somewhere in his own halls.

The one point in his favor is that Sanji does seem to truly be sickly, even at a run he’s not particularly fast. It takes three turns and a set of stairs before Zoro catches him running into an open door that he KNOWS doesn’t have an exit.

He follows Sanji in and slams the door behind him. It’s a bedroom, and Zoro knows immediately which one, namely because it’s in use. 

“Hey Luffy,” Zoro says. Nami had banned Luffy from attending, to prevent “incidents”. 

Luffy waves. He’s reclining on his bed with a turkey stick.

“You see a prince come in here?” Zoro asks. “Scrawny, pale, can’t take no for an answer?” 

Luffy laughs through his teeth. “I don’t know about any of that,” he says. “But there’s a guy in a fancy outfit in my wardrobe.” 

Aha. 

Zoro rounds on the wardrobe.

One hand on each knob, he pulls it open with a flourish. 

Sanji is there, curled with his knees to his chest, staring up at Zoro with watery eyes. 

“Asylum!” He yelps. “I claim asylum!” 

Zoro blinks. “You that ashamed of getting dumped?” He asks. 

Sanji grits his teeth.

“Grant me asylum,” he says, voice firmer. “Or you’re going to be at war with Germa by sunset for killing their prince.” 

“I’m not fucking killing you, I’m just—“ 

“I will throw myself out that window before I have to go back there.” 

Luffy whistles. “I like him,” he says.

“You’re being dramatic,” Zoro growls. 

“I’m a dead man if I go back there,” Sanji says. “If you’re going to take away the only chance of freedom I’ve ever had, the least you can do is grant asylum. I’ll live a beggar on your streets before I chance returning.”

He’s shaking, but Zoro sees determination in his eyes that he respects. “What’s so bad about it?” He asks. “Why do you think here would be better?” 

Sanji’s hands flex around a fallen coat. “I like to think you won’t keep me in a windowless dungeon for a decade,” he says.

“I’d imagine you may even allow me more than one meal a day.” 

Zoro stares at him, feeling uncomprehending. That can’t be right. 

“Sounds like you should marry him,” Luffy says from the bed. “That’s not a great life.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” Zoro asks. He’s looming over Sanji. “As in, what did you do to deserve that?” 

Sanji blinks, then looks down, curling in on himself. “I was born of my mother’s blood,” he says. “He sees her in my eyes and he hates me for it.” 

There’s a strength in him. To have lived this long. Zoro sees that and something in him gives way. He doesn’t want it to, he doesn’t want this veritable stranger to have his respect, but— 

“Luffy,” he says. “Escort the Vinsmokes out of here.” 

Luffy gives a crooked salute that in no way resembles the way he should refer to the crown prince. “On it, boss.”

Sanji’s grip tightens around the clothes. “Please,” he chokes out, desperation rising. “Please, you won’t even— you don’t have to even officially accept my plea for asylum, if you just turn the other way so I can—“ 

“Shut up,” Zoro says, taking a step back and rubbing his face.

“Fucking hell of course I wasn’t referring to you.” Luffy’s already out the door or he’d make Luffy clarify. “He’s kicking all of THEM out, you’re obviously staying here.” 

“Oh…” Sanji trails off. “Th-thank you. I— I’ll take whatever position you deem acceptable. I’m an excellent chef, I can work in your kitchens! You’ll never know—“ 

Zoro, tired of this, reaches down and pulls Sanji out of the wardrobe. Suddenly upright, Sanji stumbles into his arms with a yelp. 

“Slow down,” Zoro grouses. “You wore me down. I’ll fucking marry you.”

“You’ll— what?” Sanji, whose hands are on Zoro’s shoulders and whose face is so very close to Zoro’s own, blinks. “WHY?” 

“Because your family seems like a fucking nightmare so I need to keep an eye on you,” Zoro says. He doesn’t say, and you’re strong. You survive.

He doesn’t say, your will to escape and to live makes me want to do everything to protect you. 

He doesn’t say that because that would make him sound idiotic and like Sanji needs saving. He’s clearly doing that on his own. 

Zoro’s just going to help him along.

He takes a step back and steadies Sanji. There’s the faint sound of shouting in the distance. Zoro grabs Sanji’s hand. “Luffy should be done soon,” he says. 

“Uh,” says Sanji. “Is he going to be okay…?” 

“Oh yeah, he’ll be fine.” 

Zoro grabs Sanji’s hand. He squeezes it.

He says, “You seem like the type to care about wedding planning.” 

Sanji seems dazed. “Uh,” he says, wavering. “I have plans.” 

“Good. I don’t give a fuck. You can talk to Nami about them. Just tell me where to go and what to wear.” 

Sanji fishmouths at him. 

The door opens.

Luffy steps in. His shirt is a little torn and there’s leaves in his hair. “Vine Smackers are gone,” he says, giving his crooked salute to Zoro. Then he looks at Sanji. “You need me to beat up your family too?” 

“Luffy you dumbass,” Zoro says. “That WAS his family.”

“I don’t have a family,” Sanji corrects, voice small but gaining confidence. “I-if you’re willing to marry someone without a family, that is.” 

Zoro shrugs. “Suits me perfectly, actually. I didn’t want to be connected to that shitty country anyway.” 

Sanji laughs. “Me neither.”

“You’re both weird,” Luffy says. “I’m going to raid what’s left of the dinner that I assume isn’t going to happen now.” 

Then he’s gone again. 

Zoro’s still holding Sanji’s hand. 

Nami’s going to murder him. 

He raises up the hand and kisses Sanji’s knuckles. That sounds like a protocol thing, right? No one can make fun of him. 

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll introduce you to… everyone.” 

He pulls Sanji out of the room, gets lost in the hallways, then finds the ballroom again. 

Time to introduce his fiancé. 

He’s strong. Zoro will help him be strong.

#zosan #my writing

[worksby-d]

Wrong Donut

Pairing: Andy Barber x pregnant!Reader

Summary: You can't get your favorite donut with your coffee, so Andy lets you cry to him about it over the phone 😖 (Idea from a lovely anon).

Warnings: None. Just soft and silly 🤭

Word count: ~800

∘◦❀◦∘

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. Repeating the words in your head only makes it worse really. 

Pulling up to the drive thru window, you’re thankful you have your sunglasses on so the teenager working doesn’t have to see that he inadvertently ruined a pregnant woman's day by telling you that they’re out of your favorite donut.

The short drive back to work is spent blinking tears away so you can see. You think–hope–it does the trick to ward them off completely.

It feels like you’re in the clear until you sit down at your desk to drink your coffee and, reluctantly, the donut the guy recommended to you instead of your usual. You only said yes to it because any more words out of your mouth would have given away the sob you were holding back.

You break down when you open the paper bag and catch a glimpse of it. Not the same.

“Fuck,” you curse at yourself for being so upset, pushing the bag away. 

Wiping some tears off your cheeks with your sweater, you grab your phone and fast walk down the hall to a restroom so no one can see you. 

The only way you know how to cope lately is calling Andy and hoping he has time to let you vent. The poor guy. You suspect one of these days he’ll just stop taking your calls, but you hope it's not today. 

It takes a few deep breaths before you can get yourself to dial his number.

On his end, he sees his phone light up and he knows the drill since you're only voice calling and not video calling like you usually prefer with him. 

“Hi, honey,” he answers carefully, bracing himself. 

“Hi,” you answer back, ready to lose it again from just hearing his voice. 

He can hear the frown on your face. 

“What's wrong?” 

“I got the wrong donut,” you sniffle. 

That's a new one, he thinks to himself. “What?” 

“I went to get my coffee and donut, but I had to go during lunch because I was running late this morning,” you recount. Tears fill your eyes again. “But because it was later in the day and they were busy, they didn't have the donut I wanted. I had to get a different one. And it's just not... right.”

He tries his best not to laugh, he really does. 

“I'm sorry that happened.” You can hear the tinge of amusement in his voice, but he's also being genuine. “It’s just a donut though, baby…” 

“I know,” you sob – Loud enough for him to hold his phone away from his ear for a second. “I think that's why I'm crying. I know it's stupid.” 

He can't help but laugh now. “It's not stupid,” he assures. “You’re just emotional.” 

He just listens to the residual crying on your end until it sounds like you're ready to talk again. 

“Where are you, by the way?” 

“Hiding in the bathroom.” 

He smiles hearing you laugh a little. 

“Did you eat?” He asks. Stupid question. He bites his lip. “I know it wasn't the you-know-what that you wanted, but you have to eat.” 

You roll your eyes at the way he censors the word. 

“Not yet…” You sigh, fixing your smudged makeup while you finish talking to him. Or maybe not. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Distract me while I do?”

He can't say no to you. “Of course.” 

∘◦❀◦∘

When you get home from work a couple hours later, you’ve forgotten all about your mid-day crisis. It was just like all of the other minute things that have made you cry over the past couple weeks. 

You don’t question that you got home before Andy. Every evening is a little different depending on how busy each of you are. Besides, you probably did hold him up by crying to him during your lunch break anyway. So you just go ahead and get everything out that you need for dinner while you wait for him.

Hearing the door open, you call out to let him know you’re in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” you beam at him. 

He’s relieved to see you smiling as he crosses the room to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Hey, sweetie.”

Your eyes become focused on a paper bag in his hand though, giving him a look when he sets it on the counter in front of you. 

“What’s that?” 

“For you,” he winks. 

You’re skeptical, grabbing the bag and opening it slowly. You let out a short laugh catching sight of the donut that you wanted so badly earlier. 

“My donut?” You pout, looking back at him. “You found one?”

“Oh God, don’t cry,” he chuckles seeing the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms. “That was supposed to do the opposite.”

“I can’t help it,” you sniffle, closing your eyes and pressing your face into his neck to keep yourself from crying. “Thanks.”

“It was a fresh batch. I'll go back and buy them all for you...”

He says it like he's joking, but you don't think he is. That's exactly something he would do for you.

“No, it's okay,” you laugh, holding your arms around him tighter as if to keep him from doing so. “Don't want anyone else going through what I did.”

∘◦❀◦∘

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #andy barber imagine #requested #a great mentor series

[bvckleyydiaz]

smut below the cut. mdni, 18+. you know the drill.

So, I know that I promised you guys this scenario ages ago, but work got in the way and… yeah. C’est la vie. Anyway, back to our original thirsting.

This shit is filthy. Enjoy it, you heathens.

You and Aaron had been dating a while at this point, about a year roughly. I feel like after Haley, he wouldn’t immediately jump into sex with a new partner. I feel like it would take some time to really let him find his groove in this relationship, adjust to it, and almost… let the dust settle, so to speak.

By this point in your relationship, you two have had sex a handful of times. You guys don’t breed like jackrabbits (we don’t need to mention Aaron’s breeding kink), but he definitely satisfies your needs. Now, don’t get you wrong, sex with Aaron is fucking amazing. Your man is very generous lover; he even has a rule of a two-orgasm minimum. Aaron will not let you leave the bed before he makes you cum a second time, sometimes a third. However, as much as you love Aaron, you have to admit that he falls into a bit of a pattern when it comes to sex.

When you and Aaron are getting hot and heavy, he is always careful about the way he touches you. You’re his baby, so he would never want to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. He is also hyperaware of the fact that he is much bigger than you. I mean, the man is six-two and two-fifty easy. He treats you delicately when he makes love to you, caresses you gently, whispers praises in your ear, and worships every inch of your body like it’s sacred.

You love that Aaron does that for you because it makes you feel beautiful, loved, wanted when he does that. The thing is, he’s this way every time you guys have sex. He is so careful about the way he touches you that it makes you feel like he thinks you can’t handle anything more than that. That is not the case at all.

You love rough sex. Before Aaron, you always made it clear to your partners that they don’t need to be gentle with you in the bedroom, that you prefer it if they weren’t. You lost count of how many times you’ve been spanked, choked, or tied down. And to be honest, you miss the thrill you got from those past experiences. You know that Aaron can’t fix the problem if he doesn’t know there is one, but for some reason, it’s hard to express your kinkier desires to him. He’s different.

So, one random night after a few too many sips of wine, you call Penelope to vent about your current situation. You knew that she would be the best person out of your friends to go to because she’s not afraid to talk about sex. She’s always been very forthcoming with her sexuality. She asks you how you and Aaron are doing, and you tell her that you guys are great, just that you need some advice. You tell her about the conflict that you’re having and ask her what the best way would be to tell Aaron that you want him to rough you up a little bit.

“I just wish that he wouldn’t treat me like I’m made of glass, you know,” you tell her. “I mean, don’t be afraid to slap me and call me cock-hungry whore every once and a while.”

You are so immersed in your conversation with Penelope—which you have on speaker because you were alone and weren’t expecting Aaron back until later—that you didn’t hear Aaron coming home until it was too late. You were in the midst of detailing the things that you would want your boyfriend to do to you, and suddenly, your phone was taken out of your hand. You look up in surprise to see a stony-faced Aaron holding your phone.

“She’ll have to call you back, Garcia,” is all he says before he hangs up.

You give a sheepish smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.” He leans down, bracing his large hands on either side of your head, and he says to you while holding your gaze steady, “Looks like we need to have a talk, little one.”

#e posts #e writes #e's scenarios #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut

[a-twistedheartslonging]

IM LOVING UR NONHUMAN AU.

Do you think Crowley would be protective of us? Maybe fend off the beasties that try to court us?

That's a cute thought.

Realistically, Crowley is a dick that often leaves the protagonist to fend for their self and pushes them to take care of dangerous stuff that they really shouldn't have to.

But on the other hand…hehe birb dad.

One of the reasons he avoids us is because of the whole us “wanting a way home thing.”

Imagine his surprise when you tell him you would rather stay. Maybe you don't have a family, maybe the family you have is horrible, or maybe it's because our world is a polluted mess with a cruddy economy. Regardless it means he doesn't have to (pretend) to put in the work of sending you home. 

Well, as long as there's a place for you to stay that is. He is sort of your guardian and it would be in the best interest of himself and the entire school if you stayed.

Now a thing I like to think about…this man is likely lonely. I mean, a lot of people don't like the guy. (for good reason) The students and teachers are tired of his shit, though he and Trien seem to be homies and have tea together, the guy’s cat still hates him. Crowley also doesn't have a mate or any hatchlings waiting at home for him.

Combine the guilt trip of having nowhere else to go, add his loneliness, and then butter the guy up. I would say you have a good chance of getting him attached.

Imagine he sees you heading his way and is about to screw off cuz he doesn't want to deal with whatever thing you need to get fixed or have to complain about, you catch the sleeve of his coat before he can, and so he braces himself. But instead of asking him for something or scolding him you simply ask him about his day and how he's doing.

Birdman is shook.

Bit by bit the tasks and chores he gives you are ones where you'll be around him or he’ll randomly pop in to check in on you while doing them. Soon you end up being the preferred person for making and bringing him his tea. He pretends to nap on his office couch while you do his paperwork. May even ask you to help him file his claws on occasion. If it wasn't so dire for you to take care of things at the school he would be half tempted to bring you along on one of his vacations. If you give him anything it's going on his desk and he will brag about it to anyone who enters his office.

His cheap ass isn't going to spoil you but he will bring you small gifts. Usually the random shiny thing and small souvenir from his trips away. You might start finding loose feathers around Ramshackle and more crows around who also bring small things.

He starts thinking up plans for you to stay on as official faculty of the school once graduating. Of course, it's only because you are super useful and not because he’ll miss you or anything…

It doesn't really hit him until after he sees one of the teachers getting all father figure-y with you and he gets jealous.

Displeased bird noises.

Even before he started to get attached to you he did keep an eye on you, your easy prey amongst beasts after all, but he does develop a habit of popping in more when a boy happens to show his interest in you…or anytime he thinks someone is trying to sneak in and swipe his unofficial dad role…he does a lot of that with Crewel and Trien in particular.

Still, even with his affection for you, he’s still very much…him and the boys know this. Not long till he finds the more well-off beasty boys in his office offering donations to the school in exchange for certain things. More info about you, making you a member of his dorm, ect. A few have learned that the best thing to butter him up with is to talk about what a kind and generous father figure he is and how lovely it would be for Crowley to give the perfect away on their wedding day.

As a result, he, and probably Grim, are going to nudge you toward certain preferred suitors.

You might end up seeing him and probably grim nudging you towards the more well-off suitors.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #ask #asks #dire crowley #twst crowley #twisted wonderland dire crowly #platonic #nonhuman au

[dystopicjumpsuit]

DJ MY LOVE!

May I request, from the cuddle prompts, of you feel so inspired:

- Feeling the rumble of their chest when they talk while cuddling

Or

- Needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do

With Tech! Haven't asked for him in a while and I think we could all use some Tech fluff right about now.

(If you get a bunch of asks for the same Clone or just feel a pull towards another clone, feel free to change it. 😘)

A/N: REBEL MY LOVE! Thank you for this! I’ve never written Tech before, and I was a bit intimidated, so I hope I’ve done justice to our boy. Also, you get two prompts for the price of one 🩵

Pairing: Tech x Reader (GN; reader is shorter than Tech but not otherwise described, aside from having a rough morning and a tendency to keep things bottled up)

Rating: T (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 789

Warnings and tags: fluff, cuddles, Star Wars swearing, adult language

Summary: You swear to the Maker, if ONE MORE THING goes wrong today, you’re going to lose your mind. Tech has an exceptional idea for how to help.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Dank farrik,” you muttered under your breath.

The kriffing durang fruit you’d planned on turning into muffins had gone off. It smelled like death itself, and you gagged as you tossed it into the trash compactor. With a sigh, you glanced at your chronometer and winced.

Late. Kark. 

You snatched up your cup of caf as your brain raced to think of an alternative breakfast that you could pull together in a hurry before your scheduled holocomm. Not that Omega or the Batch really needed you to cook breakfast for them, but Benduday morning muffins had become something of a tradition, and you really, really didn’t want to see the matching disappointment in Omega and Wrecker’s eyes when you told them they would need to fend for themselves that day.

Maybe Shep has some extra—

“MOTHERKRIFFER!” you exclaimed, cutting off your own train of thought as the lid on your mug popped loose and you doused yourself in hot caf.

A quiet rustle sounded from the front of the Marauder as Tech slid out from beneath the control console and sat up to watch you, setting aside his hydrospanner. With supreme effort, you managed to keep your eye from twitching as you braced yourself for a well-deserved lecture on your language.

“Is everything all right?” he asked instead.

“Peachy,” you grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe off your shirt in disgust.

He rose quietly and approached. “I do not believe you.”

“What gave it away?” you snapped, flinging the towel into the sink with a frankly unnecessary level of force.

“You are upset. Given the relatively minor nature of the incident, I deduce that something else is bothering you. Do you wish to discuss it?”

“Not really.”

“Astonishing,” he said dryly. 

“The kriff is that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

“Merely that I have observed that you often prefer not to discuss your struggles, though I hope none of us have ever made you feel as though you should not speak freely when something is troubling you.”

You blinked, too surprised to be offended at his earlier sarcasm. “You have?”

“Indeed.”

Well… shit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied. Tech made no response, but he didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Fine. It’s a bunch of tiny somethings that have all piled up on top of each other, and nothing is going the way I had planned, and I’m hungry, damn it, and now I have to think of something to cook for breakfast, except I have no kriffing caf left to make my brain work, and I have no other fruit to make muffins, so Wrecker and Omega are going to give me the tooka eyes, and I have a stupid holocomm that I’m expecting at literally any minute, and I don’t even want to talk to them, but I feel like I have to, and I swear to the Maker, if ONE more thing goes wrong, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind!”

You grabbed the towel and began to scrub the sink furiously, desperate to focus on something other than the conversation that you very much didn’t want to have. After a few seconds, though, you felt a weight on your shoulder. You turned to see Tech’s hand resting there, and for a moment you were so shocked that you stopped scrubbing. He was not usually one to initiate physical contact, and you had always tried to respect his boundaries.

“Tech?” you asked uncertainly.

“I have observed that you often seem to find comfort in Wrecker and Omega's hugs when you are upset. As Wrecker and Omega are not currently present, I would like to offer my own.”

“Are you sure?” you inquired, dumbfounded. “Aren't you busy with the repairs from Omega’s last flight lesson?”

“It can wait,” he replied. “Unless you would prefer not—”

His sentence cut off abruptly as you crashed into him, burying your face against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms closed around your shoulders, and he held your head in one hand. You slumped against him, turning your head so you could breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“You are welcome,” he replied, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your ear as you rested your cheek against his chest. “I do not wish you to feel as though you must face all your struggles alone. Even the tiny ones.”

Just then, your comlink chimed with the dreaded holocomm.

“Do you wish to answer that?” he asked.

“Not really,” you admitted, “but I probably should.”

“May I propose an alternative course of action?”

“Propose away,” you replied.

“Remain with me, like this, and forget the holocomm,” he replied.

“You know what?” you asked. “That's an exceptional proposition. I accept.”

---

Want to request a ficlet? Check out this list of prompts!

More Bad Batch fics: Hunter fluff; Hunter spice; Crosshair hurt comfort; Crosshair fluff

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

@dangraccoon

#tbb tech #tech x reader #the bad batch #bad batch fic #tech fluff #dystopicjumpsuit writes

[mochalate]

[3] new notification!

msby!atsumuxreader || w/c: 1.1k + 1 min of video (yes, video.) chocolate chip cookies are the way to a guy's heart. (everyone knows that!) a/n: wow I thought I wouldn't post anything this week, but one really good chocolate cake later, I felt alive. Perhaps Atsumu and I are more similar than I thought. 🔔Please use full screen for the video!

[<-chapter 2][chapter 4->] ||[start from intro][masterlist]

Back when you were still at university, you had a part time job at the campus gym. Legally, you weren’t allowed to call yourself a nutritionist at that point, but that’s what you did. It was never anything complicated— the hardest thing had been managing expectations. 

No, you won’t have noticeable muscle definition in a month. 

Yes, you’ll need quite a bit longer than a week to lose ten kilos.

That will give you results, but perhaps a more sustainable plan?

So yes, expectations. You’re in a career chock-full of them. You’re good at managing them. Even when it’s hard.

Or so you’d thought.

Can I keep starin’? 

(Could it really be that easy?)

With four words, Atsumu Miya had ripped open the top of that flimsy cardboard box you’d oh-so-carefully stuffed your expectations in, and now you were struggling to (convince yourself to) put them back in. For the last few hours, you’ve been fiddling with that metaphorical scotch-tape, not quite daring to believe he could be interested in you— and yet unable to let go of that fantasy.

Was it a fantasy? 

You can still picture his flushed-red face, the anticipation and anxiety in his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of look you expected from a flirty joke.

Or…

It's when Osamu has to stop you from trying to grab the piping hot handle of a cast iron pan for the second time that you realise you need to come back to your senses.

“Osamu,” you ask, timidly. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Atsumu.”

Osamu turns down the flame on the burner, and looks at you. His face is neutral— some people went as far as calling those droopy grey eyes of his ‘expressionless’, but you preferred to think of them as steady. Osamu always said it like it was. 

He’s going to give you the reality check you so obviously need.

“How stupid am I for thinking I have a chance with Atsumu?”

You brace yourself for a scathing reply. Perhaps, ‘Next time, I won’t stop ya from burning yourself.’ Or maybe, “That oaf? Sorry, the only thing he’s attracted to is balls. Volleyballs, that is.”

What he does instead, is sigh heavily, and a little exasperatedly. 

“Did ya two idiots finally figure it out?”

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You heard me,” Osamu says, turning up the flame once more. He stirs the simmering broth as he speaks. “He’s been actin’ stupid all week. And you’ve been actin’ stupid around him for a while.”

Oh. Oh.

There’s no way you’re ever putting those expectations away ever again, because that stupid box is all soggy at the bottom now. Soggy, because the raging mix of relief and happiness swirling around in your chest— the weight lifted off your shoulders because you don’t have to pretend anymore—  is making you tear up. 

Osamu hears you sniffle. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he says, tapping off the broth and setting the spoon beside the stove, “you know he isn’t worth cryin' over.” There’s a cheeky grin on his face, as he brings his large hands up to your face, wiping away the tears. “Want me to beat him up for ya?”

(You think he really might be your best friend.)

“You’re just looking for an excuse to!” You say, pulling his hands away as you laugh. 

He holds them up in mock defence. “Hey, two birds and all. Are you going call him?”

You’re already scrambling inside your purse. “I… think I forgot my phone at work.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I take it back, yer perfect for each other.”

“Hey!” You say it indignantly, but his words make you feel warm. Perfect for each other. “Can I borrow your phone? Would that be weird?”

“He’d make it weird,” Osamu scoffs. “Just go over.”

“I— I should bring him something.”

He makes an amused expression. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what.”

“Are you asking me for help?”

You make your best puppy face. “Please?”

Osamu sighs. “Well, he’s been complainin’ about those raisin bran cookies for weeks now…”

“I think it would be best if you don’t say anything. Just let it blow over,” the publicist says. She’s using the speakerphone, and her voice sounds far away. Atsumu can hear the clack of keyboard keys in the background. “I mean it, Miya. Log out of everything. No, uninstall everything.”

“Don’t ya trust me even a little bit?” Atsumu asks. He tries to sound teasing, but his heart isn’t in it.

“No,” she says bluntly. The call goes blank.

Atsumu collapses back on to his bed, legs hanging over the edge. He holds his phone up over his face, staring at the ‘call ended’ until the screen turns itself off, and then sighs heavily.

It’s not that he’s worried. She was right, it would blow over. But it would happen again. And he knows that each time, it would chip off a little piece of you; and eventually leave your edges jagged and rough enough to cut.

You’d resent him for it.

Atsumu unlocks his phone. It’s easy enough to find those pictures of you and Osamu again.

You look so happy.

He doesn’t think he was being delusional earlier, he knows there was something more than plain embarrassment in your eyes when you’d looked at him; and yet, he can’t shake the thought that he’s being selfish. 

The photo is cropped awkwardly, and he knows you and Osamu are close, but he can’t help but feel disheartened, and then hate himself for feeling like that. Were you two actually seeing each other? Was he meddling in his brother’s happiness, your happiness? What did he have to offer that his brother didn’t, save for the scrutiny of strangers?

The phone buzzes.

His eyes flick up to the notification bar. It’s a DM request from one of his new-found confidantes.

(Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do.)

In that brief moment, Atsumu understands his mother, and her panic at the state of the house when guests were imminent. He even understands, as he turns a couple of the trophies he has on display a few degrees to the left, why she would go around adjusting her many throw pillows in those last few seconds. That time seemed to stretch endlessly.

And then the doorbell rings, and time seems to somehow come to a stop and rush forward at the same time.

Atsumu stumbles on the carpet as he rushes to open the door.

And there you are.

“Hey, Atsumu,” you say, fiddling with the lid of the plastic container in your hands, “can we talk?”

(Wow, he thinks for some reason. I think those are cookies.)

Osamu walked her over because the publicist was calling around to find her, when she couldn't get a hold of reader on her number. He was worried about her going alone. What a prince. Divider @/cafekitsune Tweet images edited from here and Shokubutsu Zukan (by Tsutsumi Kakeru). Had a hard time finding the source for that image lol, it's been used in SO many fic headers. Each time I reverse image searched, If found a slightly less cropped version until it ended as the full page. and then i had to google translate this russian pirated manga site. next chapter will be the last + I will post a little bonus from the osamu POV. :)

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #my fic

[krypticcafe]

Happy Super Late Valentines </3

rating: PG-13/teen

pairing: harry warden/the miner x gn!reader

warning(s): reader had a boyfriend, brief mention of cheating, small mentions of blood, violence, and gore, and harry being scary, for j u s t a bit.

synopsis: you had a shitty valentines day, and harry comes to pick up the leftovers.

a/n: okay, I haven't written fanfic in years, so please excuse me if this comes off as an uber corny dumpster fire. I'm just trying to have fun :'))))

So what if it's Valentine's Day?

So what if you wanted to spend a peaceful time with your boyfriend at home with some baked cookies?

So what if you accidentally burnt those cookies?

So what if you were so paranoid that it felt like someone was watching you the entire time?

So what if your boyfriend pushed asked you to go with him and his friends in some spooky abandoned mineshaft?

So what if you were surrounded by couples making out in a cramped, dark, and cold nooks and crannies and one of them happened to be your best friend and your now ex-boyfriend?

So what if you lashed out, dumped him, stormed out of the cave only to get more lost due to the heat of your anger?

It's fine. It's whatever. Could be worse.

Or at least that's what you told yourself to cope with the shredding of your heart and the burning tears.

Oooooh, but that bastard! The audacity to cheat on you, with her of all people! And he was such an idiot to do so after inviting you to come! Did he not think for a fraction of a second that he'd get caught? Or did all the blood in his brain just go to his dic-

God, what were you thinking, coming here with those guys, giving him the time of day?

Looking back on things, you realized you dodged not a bullet, but a whole missile. But did it reslly have to be on Valentines Day of all days? The world really is just that cruel.

And it was about to get even more cruel.

Screams, maybe half a dozen of them, echoed and bounced off the walls of the cave, finding their way to you. At first, you assumed the group was messing with each other. Either way, you could care less.

Then they started growing more frequent and louder, and you scowled.

'In here after that fiasco? Really? Christ, I'm never going out with any of them ever aga-'

Then you heard a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly, you started to prefer the possibility of what you originally thought they were doing.

Your head whipped to the tunnel left of you as you heard a scream far too familiar, and your body began to curl in on itself as you sat in a ball in the corner.

Footsteps began beating from the same corridor where the scream originated.

Anticipating the worst, you wiped the blur from your eyes, took a deep breath, and braced your hand over a nearby stone that you deemed good enough to buy you some time.

The footsteps grew louder, but remained at a painstakingly steady pace, as if to tease your demise. There was a loud thunk! before the screech of metal scraping rock pierced your ears. You were half expecting to see the grim reaper at this point.

Instead, you were greeted with someone else who might as well be the same person. They were tall, broad, and clad in nothing but a full set of miner's gear. Not a single speck of skin peeked past any part of their clothing, and their mask even managed to hide their eyes behind the dark lens. With what little brightness there was provided by the dim cave lights, you just barely noticed the glistening of the blood on their uniform and the way it dripped down the tip of their pickaxe.

You recognized him as the man from the town's local urban legend. It always seemed cheesy and way too cliche to you but here you were, face to face with the man, the myth himself. Would he make you another one of his victims tonight? Would your death become just another story told at the campfire? The thought made your stomach turn.

The two of you stayed in silence, your hand still gripping the stone while you stared at the miner, searching for any movement that suggesting that you'd be the next one to eat metal. But all you could see was the way his chest heaved, rising and falling from what you understood as the cause of all those screams from earlier.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Clank!

To your surprise, he set down his pickaxe and approached you, kneeling down to your curled form. His head tilted slightly, as if to get a better look at you. A part of you wished you could see his eyes, wondered where he stared, why he stared. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you froze like a deer in headlights, squeezing your eyes shut when he lifted a hand and-

... wiped a tear on your cheek.

You didn't even remember the stone until he pried it from your hand and interlaced your fingers with his, pulling you up with him and into his embrace as he lightly petted your head.

Was he... comforting you?

It would've worked well if uh, he didn't reek of blood and dust.

Staying still as if your life depended on it (it probably did), you let him do as he pleased.

He pulled away from you but kept a gentle grip on your hand, nodding his head in the direction of the tunnels. You couldn't be bothered to question anything anymore, shock was the only thing that kept the fatigue from catching up.

He led you down countless tunnels and caverns, passing by bodies mangled beyond recognition, except for one. You were pretty sure that one was the cretin.

The entire time, the hold his hand had on yours was nothing short of soft and comforting, it almost warmed your heart. Almost.

Eventually, you found where he was taking you, back to the entrance of the mineshaft. He let go of your hand and urged you to the opening. Hesitantly stepping forward, you paused and looked back. He still stood there, though less menacing than he was before despite all the blood and dirt caked on him.

"I- uh... thank you."

Your voice was shaky from processing the events of the past few hours and you had no requirement to thank him, but you felt like you'd regret it if you didn't. The sentiment came across, and he nodded, reaching up again to trace a thumb on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pinch. You watched as he turned and left back into the abyss of the mines, disappearing into the cavern.

It was still dark outside, but you knew the way back from here. You were no longer shaking, nor seething, and the walk back home was oddly peaceful for it being so late in the night.

So what if you might want to see him again?

Bonus

The next morning, you woke up with your eyes feeling raw and your feet sore, but work calls and you had to get up nonetheless.

Nursing a cup of coffee, you checked your door for any mail, instead finding a bright red, heart-shaped box at your doorstep. Fortunately, it didn't contain any beating human heart as the urban legends told, but interestingly enough, a single wild rose and a card.

"Happy Valentines, won't you be mine? - Harry"

#x reader #harry warden #harry warden x reader #my bloody valentine #harry warden x you #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers

[drchucktingle]

Hi there Dr. Tingle,

I read Camp Damascus a few days ago, and wow. It’s still percolating through my brain. There’s so much to praise about it that I don’t really know where to start, so I’ll go with what it’s done for me personally - due to various mental issues, I have been unable to focus for long enough to read a book in several years. I managed Camp Damascus in two sittings. Well, one sitting and one lying down in the wee small hours illuminated only by the light of my phone screen. Was there much you ended up editing out that you would have liked to include but didn’t work out for whatever reason? I was somewhat bracing myself for Isaiah to come back like a bad smell. Would he have been one of the men back at the house when Rose’s mother warned her away?

SPOILERS FOR CAMP DAMASCUS

considered making more of a 'wrap up' at the end as i knew this is what audience would probably prefer, but artistically speaking decided to stick with original idea which is that book is not so much about rose but about roses agency which is represented by a symbol in the text. it is about being held in a perpetual childhood and then wrestling that back and any sort of LITERAL character things are important but secondary. so i decided to give the story to this symbol and honor that trot.

so reason book ends exactly where it does is because if you read the last sentence and the first sentence back to back you can learn what that symbol is and it will reveal what the story is about at its core.

thank you for your kind works i am glad you enjoyed buckaroo. LOVE IS REAL

#camp damascus #spoilers #love is real #queer horror

[ghostbxne]

a bit self-indulgent edward nashton headcanons bc im going insane and i have to share my though with the world

- he guessed the joker’s riddle wrong. joker didn’t mean to call himself his „friend”, he literally introduced himself as „ the joker” - the card. the less you have the more one is worth (jokers in a deck of cards) (but maybe im overthinking this lol)

- his teeth are not taken care of. the orphanage did not provide proper dental care for the children, so his teeth are crooked and he has a few cavities. he would like to get braces but still can’t afford it

tw: self harm mention in the next one

- he self harms (honestly thats canon, in the year one comic we see him as a child and his hands with very prominent bite marks). he also punches walls (implied in the batman movie when he slaps a wall in his cell in the asylum)

- he stims (in the year one comic he thinks to himself „stop chewing on your glasses, edward”) and is autistic (literally gets called „rain man” in the year one comic) but undiagnosed due to his financial situation and fear of any doctors (my personal headcanon, but also implied considering how the medical staff at the orphanage treated kids)

- cannot cook to save his life. he buys pre-made food or makes really bad watery soups so he can put them in cups and drink them while working

- usually keeps his nails a little longer. he picks at his skin a lot so it annoys him when his nails are very short

- has ocd (implied in the year one comic (intrusive thoughts) and in the movie (compulsive writing))

- has anxiety (pretty much canon)

- doesn’t really listen to music, he prefers podcasts (canonically listens to a motivational podcast in year one) and audiobooks

- usually wears a few layers of clothing. he’s usually cold and also insecure about his body. (i love his year one cardigan)

- really likes animals, especially dogs. he likes how they don’t leave their owners and are always on their side. would like to have a dog but can’t (obvious reasons)

- has very big trouble managing his emotions (canon) and gets incredibly upset when something doesn’t go his way, even the small things

tw: animal abuse mentioned in the next one

- has a fear of water and drowning (might be from that one time when the guy at the orphanage forced him to drown a rat)

- doesn’t really know how to take care of himself due to childhood neglect

- has nightmares every night. after seeing the batman in real life they stopped for a while (he’d just have no dreams at all and occasionally a very distorted fever dream, but still not a nightmare), but he still kept repeatedly waking up in the middle of the night

alright thats it for now, i might edit the post and add more later or idk😭

#danonation #edward nashton #the batman 2022 #paul dano #the riddler #riddlebat #dano riddler #the batman #edward nashton headcanon #headcanons #edward nashton headcanons #riddler: year one #riddler 2022 #dano edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x reader

[sugar-grigri]

I think I remember you making references to Fire Punch in a few analysis post so I assume you've read that one, but have you read Goodbye Eri, and if so do you have any particular thoughts you want to share on it? It might be my favorite, although it's hard to rank Fujimoto's works because there's something different I like about all of them.

Hi Yuta! or is it Fujimoto?

2022, Goodbye Eri is released and I'm in for a huge slap in the face! I've finally got the chance to talk about it, so thank you!

It's hard to come after the war after this one-shot has been the subject of so much analysis, interpretation and criticism. But I think it's a work that's deliberately designed to be a trap, and the first mistake would be to try absolutely hard to determine whether Goodbye Eri is true or false. 

Trying to detect the true and the false is futile, not that it's really impossible, but arguments could be several pages long and the theories put forward would remain mere hypotheses because no explicit confirmation is given. Quite simply because this is not the aim of the work, nor a satisfactory way of reading it. 

For example, when Yuta's father seems to be getting angry with Eri, we understand from Eri's "And Cut!!!" that it was all a set-up. So, as a good reader, we can only assume that what follows is pure reality. However, the father, now an actor, if he should play his line differently.

As another illustration, when Eri is close to death and Yuta are talking, there are a few hints that they might have a relationship, but this is denied by Yuta himself, in a discussion with Eri's friend. 

The film plays with this to such an extent that all sorts of theories are possible. It could just as easily be interpreted as there being only two films (on Yuta's mother and then on Eri's death), two films but in different ways: one about Yuta's mother and a second film about Eri, as a vampire, with the end scene played by Yuta's father and by Eri before her death.

This explains why, even after Eri's death, Yuta continues to film because the film isn't actually finished yet, the editing being there to reverse the scenes played chronologically, to make it look as if Eri was still alive, and so on. ..

As you can see, it all makes sense, and our preference is purely personal because they all work. But I'm not going to play that game, because it only shows me one thing, and that's that the plot surrounding Eri is deliberately obscure. 

I've seen a lot of people describe Goodbye Eri as a work about dealing with death - the way we want to remember those we've lost, etc... It's about mourning, symbolically saying goodbye, hence the title. Which is true! But it goes further than that.

Eri's plot is deliberately obscure because the right way to appropriate the work is not through her. She's the character we know least about. Physically alone, we learn that she wore glasses and braces. Mentally, she was more annoying than she seemed in the movie. Eri is a mirage in which we won't find answers, so we have to learn to say goodbye.

The only reliable information given in this OS is that everything is filmed by Yuta's phone. And in reality, you know Yuta better than Eri, so it's him you should turn to...

Hi Yuta!

Yuta is almost never shown in this OS, as he is always filming. And when he is shown accurately, it's when he's inspired by other films by watching them with Eri, in other words, he's continuing to work on his own film by watching others. 

Yuta's first film began as a result of his mother's narcissistic desire, as he was celebrating his birthday, discovering his gift, a smartphone, all of which was directly taken over by his mother, who asked him to film her until she died.

By keeping only the good sides of his mother, ignoring all the abusive parts of her, Yuta does not follow his parent's wishes, he does it for himself, showing what he himself wants to retain from his childhood, his story, in order to move forward properly.

But as everything is filmed, it gives the impression that the videos have been passively lined up without any sorting, without any choice. Yuta takes his revenge because he refuses to film his mother until the day she dies, stopping before then, preferring an explosion to conclude his film. It's brutal because it's as if Yuta's tastes, his little touch of fantasy, are suddenly surfacing, while the rest of the film is just as personal, just as him. So when his film is mocked, it's a work so personal that Yuta wants to die. 

It's not insignificant that it's Eri who intervenes, whose only certainty was that she loved not only the films but also Yuta's, simply because she saw not only Yuta's mother in this film but also him, whom she considered to be the best character. She wasn't revolted by the ending, because she was aware of Yuta's touch throughout the film. The same ambiguity then resurfaces, we don't know if Eri is in love with Yuta, she corrects him to say that it's these films, the two are so linked, that liking Yuta's films is tantamount to liking the teenager. 

Yuta follows Eri's desire to produce a film that is above all personal to him, to the point that when Eri sees her last moments narrated by him, she sees Yuta more than herself, because she is seen through someone else's eyes. 

For me, there aren't two or three films, but just one from start to finish. Because you see, we've said goodbye to Eri, we've got out of her tricky story to reflect on Yuta, but we still haven't stepped back enough. Because you know who made the film, and it's not Yuta, it's Fujimoto. So, third stage :

let's salute Fujimoto. 

The film we've just seen in this OS deals with a number of overlapping themes, the way in which a loved one is portrayed, the relationship with others, death, creation, but above all, the extent to which a work is personal. Goodbye Eri is a pretext for Fujimoto to show us the extent to which even the cutting is the fruit of reflection, is already a message.

In this OS, all the boxes are in the video format of a smartphone, each moving, static shot depends on Yuta, just as each shot is in the third row, drawn by someone.

People make the mistake, like the first audience of Yuta's film about his mother, of relating to works as linear stories to be trusted, even if they film his mother every day, Yuta's editing is his way of counting a story, it is certainly not the truth in all its neutrality. It's only at the moment of the explosion, which expresses the most of Yuta's personality, that people get upset.

This offbeat, absurd explosion is something that Fujimoto punctuates in his works, yet they are both thought out and personal to him. But they are often mocked as a way of poking fun at his work. What Fujimoto is saying is that the work doesn't become brutally personal for the controversial, offbeat moments, just the way he depicts a scene from life is personal. 

People believed this version of the author's mother, otherwise they wouldn't be outraged by this disgraceful way of portraying this nice woman at the end, so in itself, Yuta's film worked. But all this is just a pretext for Fujimoto to point out that he is the author of all his other works, CSM, Fire Punch, Look Back, Just Listen to the Song... They are just like another film made in response to the positive or negative reactions of the others.

Fujimoto likes to trace the common ground between these works, which respond to each other. Each one, placed side by side, is an attempt by Fujimoto to upset his audience a little more, a second or third try.

The mistake is to separate the author's touch from his work, just as we are tempted to focus more on Eri than Yuta. Just as Fujimoto reminds us through this OS, who writes, draws Goodbye Eri. The first part of CSM was turned upside down by the fact that Makima was a demon from the start, abusive to the point of being the antagonist.

A violent and abusive maternal relationship. The design of the mother is also a bit similar. Mentions of the breasts, something that also went down quite a bit and left its mark on a lot of readers because it was so out of sync. The emphasis on cats... A rejected boy. A work focused on female characters.

Goodbye Eri is a work in which Fujimoto makes fun of himself, his works and the things that bring them together. Yes, there will be an explosion if the author so decides. Yes, Eri can live again, be a vampire, if the author so decides, but what's to stop him making his characters die, and then bringing them back to life a few pages later? 

The characters' plots are the authors' playgrounds, whether you like it or not. You can't detach works from their authors, or read works as unrelated things because they were written by the same person. Talking about death, life, mourning, love, with a touch of fantasy is what Fujimoto does in each of them. 

So if you're lost, remember that what you're reading isn't in the title but in the author. 

#goodbye eri #sayonara eri #fujimoto tatsuki #eri #yuta #makima #csm #chainsaw man #fire punch #look back #one shot #analysis #my thoughts #credit to Reddit for the last image @/blackfish171

[doll-elvis]

PRISCILLA (2023)

~ my thoughts as an elvis fan

(credit to @urpinkstargirl for the photo)

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD:

so I saw it last night and I’ve been stewing on it ever since as I wanted to be 100% sure in myself before saying this publicly

**brace yourselves**

After just one viewing… I feel confident in saying that I preferred this film over “Elvis” 2022 🤧. It was just so immersive and so deeply intimate that I walked away from the theater feeling like I had just lived a life with Elvis, and experienced all the ugly and wonderful things that came with it

I am seeing it again tonight and possibly tomorrow just to recapture that feeling (which made me cry… three times…)

And although I’m not the biggest fan of Sofia Coppola, there is simply no denying that she has perfected showing “girlhood” in film, and making the most unique experiences, like being Marie Antoinette and being Priscilla Presley, somehow universal to everybody. I haven’t felt being “14” since I was 14, which was a whole 5 years ago, but WHEW… I most definitely felt 14 again when watching Priscilla navigate life in Germany

Also- we all saw how Austin Butler was completely cheated out of an Oscar and so I’m begging that we do not do that again. Give the Oscar to Cailee Spaeny (who played Priscilla) right now 😤 There are no words besides “immaculate” to describe her performance. Her future is so bright as an actress, I just cannot wait to follow her career + she just seems like the sweetest person ever??

And I know it might seem insane to say that I preferred “Priscilla” over “Elvis” and some of y’all might crucify me for that take but my preference solely comes down to the fact that I appreciate Priscilla’s perspective much more so than the Colonel’s, who to me, has always been the least interesting aspect of Elvis’ story

My biggest gripe with having the Colonel narrative/tell Elvis’ life in the 2022 film is the fact that it made the film feel rather impersonal to Elvis as I don’t think the script or the storytelling ever fully allowed for Austin Butler to explore what he was like beyond the stage

And personally speaking, I have a much deeper love for Elvis the person as opposed to Elvis the performer, and I think that “Priscilla” showed the human side of him far more than “Elvis” ever did (like y’all we actually get to hear and see him reading his philosophy books in this!!!)

But before I get into what was actually depicted in film, and all my praises, I thought I would briefly state what I thought could have been done better. Don’t get me wrong, this movie was beyond amazing, however, it was definitely not without its’ faults:

1. If you have seen a lot of reviewers talk negatively about the pacing in this film- just know that they are unfortunately, completely right in that assessment. The whole timeline of Germany felt literally five minutes long, and the 70s also, felt maybe 10 minutes long which just made both the beginning and end feel rather rushed. Also there were at least 5 scenes that just faded to black before going onto the next one, and some very abrupt cuts in scenes which felt a bit awkward

2. Because this is a biopic, and because it’s based on a real life, there is no climax like you would be accustomed to normally in a film and so I think that the average viewer, like someone who may not really care about Priscilla or Elvis, will probably walk away from the film feeling unsatisfied- possibly bored. I saw it with my mom and my sister, and my mom was asleep in like 45 minutes 😭. The movie definitely got repetitive at some points but I acknowledge the fact that life is repetitive, especially for Priscilla in the 60s while Elvis was off making movies

3. While Priscilla (played by Cailee Spaeny) aged realistically and seamlessly, Elvis (played by Jacob Elordi) was essentially the same person (physically) for 95% percent of the film. For some reason, his hair was already dyed black in the Germany scenes, although we know it was brown at that time, and so there was no real transformation for him until Lisa Marie is born. The height of the actor was definitely jarring at first but eventually I got used to it…however…I damn near busted out laughing when they showed him in the Comeback special outfit 💀 His performance was nothing but incredible (ESPECIALLY THE VOICE) and so I learned to get over the physical disparities rather quickly

4. The ending of this film, particularly the song, was overwhelmingly sad and impactful but I was really disappointed that we didn’t get to see Priscilla’s and Elvis’ relationship after the divorce. This film ends with Priscilla leaving Graceland, starting her “new life”, which didn’t make much sense to me considering this movie was adapted from her book, which very much explores that part of her life, especially with Elvis

I would have really love to seen moments like this from Priscilla’s perspective ⬇️

excerpt from “Priscilla, Elvis and me” (avoid this book)

5. NO CIRCLE G RANCH!!! It is borderline criminal to make a film about Priscilla and Elvis and to not include their time spent at Circle G ranch ** which Priscilla has always said were their happiest times together **. I assume that this was likely an issue because of the budget and the fact that they only had 30 days to film but god… I would have really appreciated some of the domestic bliss that Priscilla and Elvis shared while living in the trailer on the ranch. There were many happy moments/sequences (y’all are going to die when you see the rollerblading/go cart scenes) in this movie, but I think their gradual separation/withdrawal from one another (post marriage) would have hit harder if we saw how happy they were together during their ranch phase

6. For those who have read “Elvis and Me”, we all know about the famed LSD scene that takes place and unfortunately, Coppola heavily missed the mark on it. We don’t see Lamar Fike making out with a tree, we don’t see Jerry Schilling in a closet- instead we see Priscilla and Elvis just kind of rolling around, laughing amongst themselves while the room around them turns different colors

There were definitely many key moments/stories like that missing from the film, and I honestly wish that the movie was an hour longer so that we could have seen the book more fully fleshed out

Lastly, here’s just a general synopsis of the scenes in Germany… I was going to do the whole movie but I don’t have the stamina to type it all out 😭. If y’all want to know something specific please feel free to comment below and I will let you know <3!!

After the beginning credits are shown, the film starts with Currie Grant (who was renamed as Terry West) approaching Priscilla in a diner, inviting her to a party at Elvis’ house. After talking with her parents and assuring them that Priscilla will be looked after by him and his wife, it cuts to her in the back of a car, on her way to meet Elvis. The scene is exactly like how it is in the book, Elvis asks her how old she is, he remarks that she is “just a baby” and so on- Elvis then plays “a Whole lotta shakin” at the piano and that is one of three musical performances we see from him

Priscilla is then re-invited by Currie aka Terry via Elvis to comeback to the house again. Elvis invites Priscilla up to his room, she looks around and sees letters from Anita Wood, and a poster of Bridgette Bardot just like in the book. After Elvis talks about Gladys and how he is still reeling over her death, and how lonely he has felt since then, they share their first kiss to the song “Crimson and Clovers”

There are some scenes of Priscilla at school and some scenes of her sort of convincing her parents to let her continue to see Elvis. And they do agree, but just like in the book, they want to meet him first. Elvis is questioned by Priscilla’s father on why he wants to be with her to which Elvis replies that she is very mature for her age and that he likes talking to her since she is from home aka the United States. He then assures Priscilla’s father that she will be taken care of. After that we see them going to the movies where Elvis expresses how much he wants to be a serious actor, and then they share another kiss on the car ride home. It then cuts to Christmas time where we see Elvis giving Priscilla a watch and then BOOM- Elvis and her are on the way to the airport where they say their final goodbyes as he leaves for the United States

The film really does follow closely to the book (at least from 59’ when they meet to 69’- again the 70s were really rushed) and so I really recommended to read that prior to watching the movie

As for the more sensitive scenes-

There is no explicit sex, no graphic nudity, and no scene where Elvis forces himself upon Priscilla. He does say “this is how a real man makes love to his woman” but all he does is kiss her before she pushes him off. There is a rather long “polaroid-taking” sequence where it shows all the outfits that Elvis would Priscilla dress up in but other than that, we only see Elvis and Priscilla make out

And it did show when Elvis accidentally hit Priscilla in the eye during the pillow fight scene in her book, along with the scene of him throwing a chair in her general direction after she expressed she didn’t like a demo of one his songs, and the scene where he grabs all her clothes from the closet and tells her that she should go visit her parents. I don’t think that the scenes made Elvis look abusive: Coppola was surprisingly nuanced in showing that he had reasons for his sometimes bad temperament i.e the pills he took along with the fact that he was frustrated with his film career

It also shows Elvis’ infidelities but really only through movie magazines that Priscilla sees. So it’s never explicitly shown, I would say it’s more hinted at than anything

And there are two scenes of Priscilla with Mike Stone but again, nothing that is explicitly shown, it’s just hinted at

Finally, to finish this up, this is what I wrote on my Instagram account which I very much stand by ⬇️

Just please give this movie a chance y’all, it was so beautiful and so sensitively done… I cannot wait to watch it again <3

#I was not prepared for this movie #cailee and jacob completely floored me #I’m sorry I ever doubted y’all #give everyone an award #wow #priscilla presley #priscilla movie #priscilla 2023 #elvis and priscilla #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis fans #elvis fandom #sofia Coppola #cailee spaeny #jacob elordi #Spotify

[leggerefiore]

for a request what about various villains reacting to a subordinate of theirs (could be an admin or maybe just a grunt or something) having a crush on their s/o? (I love your writing!)

cw: jealousy, misunderstandings

characters: Cyrus, Maxie, Archie, Guzma

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Saturn had appeared to be in a strange mood lately. Cyrus usually would not pay attention to such things, but whatever had happened to the commander was clearly leaking into his job. Something lingered on his mind and slowed his movements while working in the lab or delivering paperwork to him. Entering the break room area, he caught Saturn typing away on his phone. His mind really was elsewhere. Eyes glanced at the screen to see a text discussion unfolding. The name of the recipient was something too affectionate for his tastes. The commander jumped when he noticed Cyrus standing behind him. His phone was hidden away in his pocket as he turned to face his boss. Cyrus cleared his throat. “… You have seemed distracted lately,” he was not sure how else to phrase it, “I am not going to dictate your private affairs, but I ask that they not affect your work performance.”

☄️ Saturn nervously fidgeted with his shirt's collar. His gaze was averted from the intense one of his boss. Swallowing dryly, he spoke in reply, “I apologise, Master Cyrus. I… I understand this is most important. A friend from my past suddenly got in touch again.” A dusting of colour spread across his cheeks. The words would have meant nothing otherwise to the Galactic Boss, yet they felt strange when he recalled what his partner had told him recently. They had seemed as enamoured with their phone just as Saturn had. He did not mind – He had been busy as of late. It was good they had stopped themselves from being lonely without him around. Coincidences did happen, but Cyrus could not believe in such a thing.

☄️ Your name left his lips unconsciously. Saturn's eyes blew up large. His surprise was more than written across his face. “… D-Do you know them, too?” he was in disbelief about the luck of his boss also knowing his friend. Saturn's heart raced. It was highly inappropriate to engage his boss in information about you. Even if he wanted to grow closer to you and eventually start a relationship. Really, how did Cyrus know you – It made no sense! He braced himself. Though this might tank his ranking in his boss's mind, he truly needed help. “Ah, can I ask where you think a good place to confess something to them would be?”

☄️ Cyrus went dead still. Saturn seemed impossibly small before him. Their eyes did not meet. His words were caught in his throat. His nervous demeanour, the name of the person in his phone, confessing something… His fist clenched. Feelings, writhing and painful, hit him all at once. Saturn was an important asset to him. Whatever he wanted to do could not be acted upon. Still, however, he wanted to stop this immediately before it became anything bigger than it needed to. His posture was straightened. “… They are my significant other,” the words left him far easier than they usually did, “What do you need to confess to them? I can pass it along, if you would prefer.” Saturn went into shock, preceding that.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 The Magma Leader was guilty of micromanaging. Very guilty. He had a certain obsession with orderliness and perfectionism that might drive most mad. Tabitha was one who could handle the pressure and crunch. His determination and dedication were plain to see. Maxie appreciated that. But, lately, something had seemed odd. The usual output he expected from him was not met. His behaviour was odd, too. Distant and unreachable. Maxie had sought to address it, which is why he had asked for Tabitha to come to his office. “… Is everything alright with you?” The question felt strange to ask, “I've noticed that your output has changed recently.”

🪨 Tabitha shifted uncomfortably. Part of him had expected the question to come, yet another wished it had not. He had been distracted lately. His mind simply worked against him. This strange person had been encountered by him many times on his way back to the Magma Hideout. He worried about their intentions since they hung outside rather frequently. Yet, something had begun to change the more they talked. It continued on and on. His heart raced. He was not sure on how to handle this. “I'm fine,” he began, then thought over his words again, “Well, it is not anything that is related to Team Magma if that's your concern.”

🪨 Then, Maxie's phone began to ring. He grew slightly flustered by it and quickly pressed to reject the call. A name was mumbled. Tabitha's attention was piqued. That name… He knew that name. Was it a coincidence? That was not a grunt's name as far as he was aware. “… You know, I have an acquaintance by that name,” Tabitha inquired, “I plan on meeting them later today, actually. Is it alright if I leave around four?” Maxie blinked at him. His eyes landed back on his phone. “… Please, it's… important to me. I wish to discuss something about our relationship.”

🪨 Maxie pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Why was this happening? You had just sent him a text saying that you were meeting up with a friend today. He was not an idiot, and it was plain what was happening. Tabitha clearly did not have a clue himself. The admin was not the type to profess his love for his boss's partner to his face. Whatever upset and anger he felt was pushed down. There was no need for that. “… Hmmrph, yes, that was my significant other who called,” Maxie hoped he would pick up on this without having to say it, “Actually, they just texted me that they would be something this evening, too. How interesting.” Tabitha's eyes shot wide. Words were not spoken. He then politely excused himself.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 The Aqua Leader would not claim to be the smartest guy. Not at all. But he could tell when things were off among his crew. Shelly was acting strange. The words to describe what was different were hard to find, but he could tell. Normally, he probably would have left it alone. There were times when she acted a little off but seemed to snap back out of it before he realised it. This time, it lingered. He caught her just as she was about to head out of the hideout. Her Aqua uniform was done away in favour of normal clothing. Her phone was quickly tucked away into her pocket. “Going somewhere?” he tilted his head, “No, wait, that doesn't matter – Are you feelin' okay? You have been kind of odd lately.”

💧 Shelly barely reacted to his words. She was more than used to whatever came from Archie. Though, it was a bit astonishing that he had noticed even such a subtle thing. His care for the members of Team Aqua was something. It was a reason why she had decided to believe in him and his dream. “Lately, I've noticed that there's a person on the beach near here,” she decided that telling him a bit of the truth would not hurt, “They seemed lonely at first, so I ended up talking to them.” Archie nodded along, listening to her words carefully. She had unconsciously begun to twirl a strand of hair around her finger as she spoke. “Hmm…” she closed her eyes, “I don't know, really. I made plans to go out and meet them at the department store to hang out.” Something about that felt familiar to Archie, but he could not recall why.

💧 Then it hit him. Your name left his lips. Shelly shot him an incredulous look. It was plain to see that she had not expected that name to leave his mouth. “Oh, did you chat with them, too?” she asked. They had been hanging out nearby. Archie probably had a common moment of friendliness and talked with them. But, she felt his shocked expression to be odd. It made her truly wonder what his connection to them could be. “… Hey, did they happen to say anything about me?” she asked, genuinely curious about the topic, “You know… They are kind of cute. They didn't mention a partner or anything, did they?” Shelly hated the slight insecurity that pierced her when it came to them. Offence suddenly washed over her when Archie began laughing so hard that he clutched his stomach.

💧 He felt a bit bad. It was fairly obvious what Shelly's feelings were here, but he did not think that he almost had the heart to tell her the truth. Granted, it might save her embarrassment from being in public, at least. “… Well, they did mention you a little,” that was the truth. Archie had been happy to hear that you befriended an admin of his. You getting along with his crew was great, after all. Apparently, a little too well. He could not get upset or angry. These things did happen, sometimes. “As for them havin' a partner,” Archie scratched the side of his beard, “Yeah, they do. It's me.” Shelly's expression became something scary. “They were waiting on me to finish so we could go on a date,” he continued, “Are you alright?” She nearly walked herself into the nearby body of water, but Archie grabbed her.

🕶Guzma💀

□ The Team Skull Boss would not really admit that he liked to get into his members' business too much. They all had their own issues that brought them all together here, after all. If they did not want to talk, it was fine. One that he usually did try to step in or just had a silent understanding with was Plumeria. The two just seemed to get each other. That was why they even had come together to manage Team Skull. He felt odd seeing her quiet or lost in her own world. It did not really fit her. He caught her sipping on a Tapu Cocoa with a distant look in her eyes at one of the tables in Po town. He sighed as he sat down across from her. “Something up?” Guzma could not read her mind in the end, he guessed.

□ Plumeria's gaze drifted to him as she gave a non-committal shrug at first. Then, she took another sip. Guzma honestly felt a bit awkward. She let out a sigh when he did not leave soon after. Really, the pink haired woman had been hoping to avoid this. These feelings… She wished they would just leave. Like Guzma. She was above this. He remained like they remained. Like a toxic sludge in her veins. “I'm fine, Guzma,” she spoke, hoping to appease him. His arms just crossed. He could see right through her, after all.

□ Guzma's partner… Why did they catch her eye like that? She was not stupid. They were obviously completely enamoured by Guzma. The two were almost inseparable whenever they were together. Though, the moments when she caught sight of them alone made her stomach twist and turn. A bright smile at her while the moon caught them under its light. She felt horrible. Guzma needed something nice. You were just that. The Skull Boss still gazed at her. “… Your partner is hot,” she had no idea where she was going with this. He only cocked a brow up at her words. Her return to complete silence afterwards hit him hard. His mouth fell open, and his eyes shot wide.

□ “Oh, oh – OH,” Guzma realised. He could not even be upset at her. It was clear she disliked it. He got it, though. Out of anyone, he got it. His partner was great. He felt his hand tangle in his hair to scratch at his head. You were nice to his group. Your kindness naturally was an appealing trait to everyone. It was not a common thing they were greeted by. Plumeria's grip on her mug almost seemed strong enough to break it. “Nah, hey, it's okay,” he reassured her, “It's nothing big.” She was not comforted by his words still. Guzma felt bewildered on what to do. A crush on you… Well, he was not going to just let her date you, but he was not going to get snappy at her. Plumeria placed the mug down after a few more moments and strolled away. This would probably come up again later.

#pokemon x reader #cyrus x reader #archie x reader #maxie x reader #guzma x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader #pokemon archie x reader #pokemon maxie x reader #pokemon guzma x reader #pokemon/reader #cyrus/reader #maxie/reader #archie/reader #guzma/reader

[boozye]

Ask me again.

Satan x Asexual reader (pronouns you/yours, no gender specified)

Comfort? IDEK

Established relationship

Word count: 971

Cover art by me (recycled)

Someone needs reassurance from societal pressure and expectations! (you, you fucking do ((me actually)))

Guess who spent 2 hours writing nonstop instead of sleeping? Here, have the fruits of my insomnia. Not proofread, didn't bother checking punctuation, good luck soldier.

________________________________

Oh it was one of those days, wasn't it? When your confidence wavered. You've been through this before. You knew what you needed. But would this be the last straw for him?

In vain you attempted to carry on as if nothing was amiss within you. But he noticed. Of course he noticed. He's arguably the most observant person there's ever been, of you at least. Yet so tactful about it.

You tried to hold his hand as usual. Let him touch you affectionately without tensing up. Be close to his face and his body without hesitation. But you couldn't really help it. And who knows how many other signs you weren't even aware of he had picked up already.

Was this more aggravating to him than if you just asked for what you needed? The thoughts swarmed your mind. Again. Again their buzz overtook reason. You had been doing so well too... So you just started preparing, mentally, for what you had to say.

Meanwhile, Satan was figuring things out at his own pace. Were you growing scared? Of him? Well he could see why. His temper still got the best of him sometimes. And he knew that what to him and other demons was just a mild grumpy spell, to a regular human could be rather violent or scary.

Yet whenever he talked about it, you reassured him that no, you weren't afraid of him. You held him so lovingly and told him. Told him that you knew he'd never hurt you or try to again.

His thoughts were interrupted by you, in the flesh, of all things. You sat by him in the library and looked him in the eyes. Your expression wasn't upset but he could see you were going to say something important.

"Can we walk back home? Whenever is okay. I'll just hang around here until you are done."

A calculated request, he deduced. But you were asking for him in a way. It was a relief. He sighed with a soft smile and answered:

"Sure, I couldn't focus on what I was reading much today anyways. Let's just go."

With that, you calmly picked up your bags and left the building.

Your walk started out casual enough. Barely anyone on the streets at this hour, something you both prefer. But Satan saw you were bracing yourself to say something.

"Satan," you sighed "do you remember what I said when we started dating?"

He blushed very faintly. "You said you were really happy and you hugged me so hard... And then you grabbed my face and kissed m-"

You gaped for a second in surprise before interrupting him. "Nooo, not that."

He looked back at you, expecting to hear what you meant. You cleared your throat and elaborated.

"When I asked if you were really okay with me being asexual?"

He looked back at you a little puzzled "I believe I said that I was perfectly fine with that?"

You nodded, "yes, well, right after that."

He aimed his gaze down trying to remember. The bliss of the moment might have made him dismiss anything he didn't immediately figure out.

In the meantime, outside his head, the words itched in your throat, you planned to just remind him, but this conversation was turning excruciating for you. Just as he remembered, your voice next to him echoed his memory:

"Can I ask again in the future?"

He looked at you with a mixture of realization and curiosity. You continued.

"You told me that I could, Satan. So..."

You took a few seconds to still your resolve.

"Are you okay with it?"

There it was, the prickle in his expression. You didn't want to see it. You knew this question could be bothersome. But you needed this.

"Y/N, of course I am! Did I overstep your boundaries in any way? Please tell me so I don't repeat it again. I apologize, I truly didn't mean to..."

He trails off. But you are already raising your hand and trying to wave his concern away. Ashamed, you reply.

"No, no Satan. Listen. I just needed to ask again. You didn't overstep or anything. I like touching you, and being touched by you as well."

He nods, but stays silent for you to continue.

"But, well... I just didn't want to raise your expectations with that sort of contact. It's happened before with other people and it hasn't ended well."

He sighs and rolls his eyes. "Humans are so fickle."

You look at him wideyed, clearly hurt.

"Wait, not you, I didn't mean you!" He drags his hand down his face "Sorry, sorry" before continuing, he gathers his thoughts, "what I mean is that that is not something you have to worry about with me."

"Was it wrong of me to ask?"

He looks forward, wideyed with full realization. Then he stops walking and faces you with his entire posture as you stop a couple steps after him. He puts a hand on your shoulder and solemnly says " Y/N, never feel bad for needing reassurance. It is not wrong. How many times have you reassured me? That you aren't afraid of me? I didn't realize at the time that was what your question meant. But yes, you can ask me again. As many times as you want. It won't only not bother me, I will tell you that I love you every time and mean it. I love you."

You put your hand on his, getting misty eyed. Before your tears take over, you lean forward and kiss him briefly. Then you part from his lips and hug him, squeezing as hard as you can. He hugs back, pats your head, then chuckles and leans back, lifting your feet from the floor briefly, making you chuckle as well.

#obey me asexual mc #i feel lonely using this tag hahaaa... #reader x satan #mc x satan #obey me satan #:'''^) made myself fucking sad #boozye writ