#That is what this man inspires in me on an almost daily basis

[poisonjaffas]

My father's continued weaponised incompetence makes me so angry I could scream like how tf do u not know where the washing liquid is in ur own fuckin home and then he says he'll make dinner and proceeds to do everything in the most awkward way possible and when we tell him how to do it in a more efficient way he's like hm no I'll stick with what I'm doing I am infuriated

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star Part 1: Kiss Me at Coachella✨

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I do not know what came over me, but this was heavily inspired after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” Coachella performance. This one shot took over my whole Saturday and Sunday! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me with a title and the mood board and for being my beta! 🩷 This is both in Joel and reader’s POV. Comments and reblogs make my day. Enjoy, lovelies!

Summary: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.

Word Count: 8.1k

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Fluff, flirting, pining, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, cute pet names, unprotected p in v, switching POVs, reader is a singer, Joel is a bodyguard, reader has long hair, large age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The warm sun glows against your glittering skin, the music pumping like sugary coffee running through your veins. The crowd chants along with you, singing every lyric you do while they hold their phones and snap videos while you twirl around to the rhythm of the upbeat song. You flash them big smiles, pose for the camera, sway your hips while your dancers match your cute little moves. You’re exhausted, almost done with your set at Coachella, but the flaming energy of the crowd keeps you going. 

   You spin around, pop your hip out and wave flirtatiously to Joel at the end of the stairs on the side stage. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself while he tries to act professional. That’s what bodyguards do, right? Stay professional? And he did, he really did, but you liked to tease him just a bit sometimes, get him all riled up if you could. 

   You see the smug smirk he tries to hide behind that patchy, greying scruff, watch the way those gorgeous honey flecked eyes scan your body. He can try to be coy all he wants, but you’ll call him on his bluff. The man is attracted to you, just like you are to him. But you can’t help it, he’s drop dead gorgeous. The way his grey threaded dark curls catch the sun rays, his ripped muscles cling to the flannels and tight t-shirts he wears on a daily basis, his corded veins spiral down his tanned arms, the way he towers over you every time he stands next to you, his deep Southern drawl that sends you into heat every time he graces you with that thick honey-like voice, and the way he’s so protective over you. But you also can’t forget that he's twice your age, which makes him even hotter. 

   You shouldn’t want it, want him, but you do. God, you do. At night when you’re in between your silky sheets with your fingers rubbing between your legs, you’re thinking of him. Those big, meaty hands, that rough tongue, his deep, gravelly voice that must sound so sweet filled with dirty words. You can’t help yourself, you want Joel Miller, your bodyguard. 

   He watches you strut the lit up stage, the sparkles on your pink dress catching the flecks of his wandering eyes. He thinks you look so gorgeous twirling around in that short tease of a dress. Every time you bend over or spin around, he can see those skimpy short shorts that barely cover the globes of your ass. You like the attention though, love to tease the crowd just like you’re teasing him now. 

   He sees the discrete winks you throw his way on the stage, the way you lick those plump, glossy lips that seem to call directly to him. You’re trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows you too well. You may be flirting with the starving crowd who begs for more, but you’re also flirting with him. And he can’t help but get drawn into those beautiful eyes of yours that glisten in the sunlight, can’t help the way his cock is straining against the zipper of his denim jeans right now, precum spilling over the tip thinking about thrusting between those pretty legs of yours. He wants you so fucking badly, and you have no idea.

   You twirl your curls flirtatiously around your finger, flipping your hair behind your shoulders while he watches from the corner of the stage, pretending like that’s his hand wrapped around your flowing locks. Another wink his way and he’s mush against the edge of the stage. Maybe you are trying to get a reaction out of him, you just love to tease him, but he loves it just the same. You’re nothing but a little troublemaker.

   He thinks about you all the time on those lonely nights on long tours, when he’s under his pristine sheets that graze against his hardening cock. He whispers your name under his breath when he’s stroking himself, pretending his hand is yours gliding over him, spreading precum with your soft hands, your pretty mouth. And when he cums he thinks of your glittering eyes, imagines you encouraging him on while he spills hot ropes of cum all over his soft tummy. 

   He may feel a little guilty after doing that, those dirty thoughts that swirl in his head night after night, but there’s no way in hell he feels bad about doing it. He’d have you every day if it was up to him. Oh, yes. He’d ravage your body till you had nothing left to give but your own breath that blows gently against his hungry lips. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t. Either way he’s completely fucked. 

   The end of your routine is drawing close, the last number halfway over while the sun kisses your tanned skin. He knows you’re tired, can see it in the sweat that glistens like diamonds down your dainty arms. He’d go and scoop you up in his arms, let you wrap your own around his neck while he carried you to safety, away from prying vultures in the crowd, but he knows paparazzi would snap those pictures in a heartbeat and cause a scene in the tabloids. The pop princess and bodyguard have a scandalous affair at Coachella together. He scoffs at the thought. Fucking idiots starving for a shiny penny to add to their useless names. 

   The moment you sing your last line, you wave to the crowd and blow kisses to the rowdy audience. “Thank you, Coachella! See you next year!” They chant your name, begging for one more song, but your time is up. So you exit the stage all smiles with glitter falling to the ground, keeping your glow until you get to the edge of the stage. 

   Joel’s right there waiting for you, a water bottle and small towel in hand, just like he always does. He looks so good in his tight black t-shirt, sleeves pulling at his bulging biceps while his dark jeans hug his meaty thighs tightly. He always looks so good that you feel dizzy when he takes your hand and helps you down the stairs and off the buzzing stage. 

   Your breath catches in your throat when he closes his thick, calloused fingers over yours, his honey eyes bright and alert when he hands you the water bottle and dabs your sweaty forehead with the soft towel. You could melt into a puddle right here and now the way he’s looking at you all protective and warm-like. 

   “You really gave them a show today, darlin’,” he drawls as his dark flecks of warmth serenade you with attention.

   “Yeah, you think so?” 

   “Mhm,” he hums, staying attentive to you while he watches you take a sip of water. 

   “Did I give you a show, too?” you ask all flirtatiously, batting your long eyelashes up at him as you slide your tongue slowly over your glossy lips, licking off a droplet of water. 

   His cheeks grow red, eyebrows fusing together as he shakes his head and runs a large hand slowly through those messy curls you so want to run your own fingers through. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s jus’ get you back to the trailer.” He grabs your elbow and drags you through the winding backstage area, dodging cords and other performers that stand in your way.

   You follow next to him, quick to stay on his trail while fans scream from the right behind barricades when they see you. Joel pushes you to the left, lingering his large hands on you just a few seconds too long while he works to keep you safe. You know it’s his job, but it turns you on at the sight of him watching out for you, keeping a hand firmly on your arm, making sure no one else touches you but him. 

   Maybe it’s a lovesick fantasy, a fever dream that you and Joel could be more than this. More than just a bodyguard who’s just doing his job to watch out for you. You feel it, that sexual chemistry when you’re near each other, even in a large crowd that won’t stop screaming your name, demanding pictures and autographs while he pushes them away from your reach. You feel it in his heated stare, the brush of his calloused fingertips on your tanned skin, the devilish smirk he gives you when you tease him or say something you shouldn’t. You know he feels it, too. He has to. He’s just as delusional and lovesick as you. You see it in the glow of those amber eyes. He knows.

   “So, you have a free night tonight, huh?” you ask as you keep your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

   “Sure, if you call keepin’ you out of trouble free time,” he chuckles, his brown eyes gazing back toward you, just enough to paint streaks of dark pink over your already blush caked cheeks. 

   “Me, trouble? Never,” you tease while you flash him a bright smile. 

   “Oh, you’re trouble alright. But you’re not the one I’m worried about. These Coachella fans can get pretty intense. I’d jus’ feel better if I was watchin’ out for you is all.”

   “You don’t want a night off though?”

   He looks back toward you and knits his eyebrows together, concern lathered all in those brown doe eyes of his. It makes you weak in the knees. “I’m alright. Besides, you’re not bad company to have.” He nudges you with his elbow and winks your way, completely knocking the breath from you. 

   Did Joel Miller just say you were good company? A quiet, reserved guy like him likes your company? The one that would rather grab a drink at the bar alone and sit in silence with a good book while no one bothers him? Guess you did have an affect on him afterall. 

   “Not bad company?” you giggle as you push against his shoulder. 

   “Not bad at all, darlin’. You’re jus’ the kind I need,” he says with a hidden smirk under that salt-and-pepper scruff you want to drag your fingers through. Yeah, you’re just what he needs.

   Suddenly, a screaming fan comes from your left, some psycho that escaped through the wrought iron fence who stomps your way. He charges over to you, calling your name as his spindly fingers close over your arm, his other hand clawing at your pink sparkly dress. “Let me take a picture, please! I love you, I drove hours just to see you sing. Please!”

   Joel rips the guy's hands off your body, pinning his hands behind his back against a caged off area while you fight to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest watching Joel being so protective, possessive over you while the fan begs for mercy against Joel’s tight grip. 

   “Keep your fuckin’ filthy hands off of her! She’s not a toy you can just grab and demand things from. She didn’t give you permission, didn’t ask for you to claw at her dress. So I suggest you walk back out to the general admission area and stay the fuck away from her. Understood?!” His voice sounds like crackling thunder, that deep rugged breath towering over the cowering fan as he makes red marks over the fan’s useless wrists. Joel was just doing his job, one he was damn good at. But he made it look so sexy. 

   You stare in amazement, blinking through your thick lashes while you watch Joel shove the crazed fan through the fence, warning him to keep his distance or else he’ll wish he never stepped foot into the music festival. You gawk at him, watching the way his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt, watching the scowl across his mouth darken his menacing eyes. He’s a dominant wolf protecting his pack, and his pack is you. 

   You watch his flared nostrils and harsh eyes soften when he turns and looks at you, one of his large hands coming to clasp around your wrist while he assesses your wide-eyed features. “You okay?”

   You nod your head slowly, keeping your gaze on him as he makes sure you’re alright. “Really, I’m fine, Joel. Thank you.”

   Before he can manage a reply back to you, blinding cameras start flashing before your eyes, paparazzi swarming you as they just assessed the scene. They throw questions at you, screaming your name while you try to drown out their echoing voices. 

   You stick like glue to Joel’s side, latching your arms around his strong torso while you hide your face in his t-shirt beneath his shoulder. Joel wraps a protective arm around your back and guides you to safety. 

   “Get back! She ain’t answerin’ questions right now, she jus’ got off the stage. Leave her alone!” His deep voice hounds them, barking strict orders for them to stay back. 

   You’re so thankful for Joel right now, your knight in shining armor steering you to safety. The blinding lights start to slowly fade away, the reaching hands and firm demands slipping away once you enter the safe vicinity of your tour trailer. 

   Joel unfolds you from his safe grasp, turns you around and places one hand gently under your chin as if to say it’s okay, baby girl. They’re gone. He scans your frightened eyes, but you melt into a relaxed state when he looks at you with those concerned honey eyes that swallow you whole. 

   “You sure you’re alright?” he asks with eyebrows furrowed together in a panicked state. 

   “I am now. Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero,” you smile as he lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head. 

   “Jus’ doin’ my job, sweetheart. Can’t help it that everyone wants a piece of you. Gotta protect the shining star,” he winks, nearly sending you over the edge of the steps to your trailer. 

   “Well, you’re pretty great at your job, Miller. Best bodyguard ever,” you flirt as you poke him playfully in the chest. 

   “Alright, little pop star. Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll be out here, be sure to fight off any more paparazzi parasites,” he smiles while he watches you twist the handle and enter your safe haven. 

   “Joel?” you call before you close the door. 

   “Hmm?” he asks as he twists around and faces you with gentle brown eyes. 

   “Go easy on them.”

   He just rolls his eyes and shakes his tousled curls off his sweaty forehead. “Sure thing, darlin’. Alright now, go on. Get in there,” he instructs as he nods to your room. 

   You huff out and slump your shoulders, pretending like it’s the biggest chore in the world. He ticks his jaw and raises an eyebrow at you that tells you he’s not messing around, so you fully oblige his request. “Alright, alright. I’m going,” you sigh. 

   “Attagirl,” he chuckles. 

   Your cheeks burn red as he leaves you with the hottest word before you close the door with a jolt. Attagirl. The word rushes through you, straight to your core where you feel a bit of slick build against your sticky lace. How can a man get you turned on with just one word? Well, it’s Joel Miller, and the man can make you wet with the wink of those pretty brown eyes, but Attagirl was next level. It was borderline porn to your ears. 

   When you hear the click of the door close you take a second to breathe, leaning up against the sealed door while you flick the lights on and try to calm your racing nerves. You assess your pristine room, taking in the white walls hung with pink fairy lights. The glow from your vanity mirror lights up the little corner where your sparkly makeup sits neatly together. The pink velvet sectional sits up against the middle of the wall where a picture of Marilyn Monroe hangs right above that. Soft pink colors cover the room, and you feel suddenly at ease in the protection of your trailer. 

   You meander toward the vanity mirror, assessing your perfect makeup that still stays intact on your glowing face. The sparkling pink eyeshadow mixes in with the sharp wings of black eyeliner that frames your soft eyes. Shimmery pink lip gloss coats your plump lips, and the blush stands out against your tanned skin. Your spiral curls flow gently over your shoulders, and your sparkly dress hugs all your curves in the right places. 

   You suddenly want to be free of your costume, wanting to throw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. When you turn your back to the mirror and try to unzip your dress, it gets stuck just a couple inches from the top. 

   “Oh, come on. Work with me.” You fight the zipper again, tugging with all your might until you grit your teeth together and curse under your breath. This is not what you need right now. You want out of this dress, out of these high heels, out of these smothering tights. 

   You stomp your heel into the plush carpet, folding your arms across your cleavage as you decipher just what to do. Lacy, your assistant, is tied up in important meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near your little trailer. Your makeup artist is busy helping other performers, so you have no other options. Joel is the only one…

   You gulp, take a long look at your flushed cheeks just thinking of having Joel Miller unzip your dress. It’s harmless, really, but not if he’s doing it. That would only lead to one thing. Giving into pure desire, temptation, need. 

   “Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, “if a show is what he wants, then a show is what he’ll get.”

   You tiptoe to the door, hovering your hand over the handle as you take a deep breath and breathe in and out slowly. It’s just a zipper, only a zipper. He could always say no, leave you stranded while you’re stuck in your dress the entire evening. He wouldn’t do that though, leave you helpless while you fight to rip the tight dress off your body. He just wouldn’t allow that. No way. 

   You take one more deep breath and open the door slowly, slipping your head out as you see Joel standing at the bottom of your trailer steps. You clear your throat and watch him turn his head quickly in your direction, leaving his guard wide open as he assesses your distressed face. “Umm, Joel. Can you do me a favor?”

   His eyebrows knit together while his eyes glaze over your body. “What is it, darlin’?” His doe eyes lean into yours, and you can barely muster up any words while he looks at you like that, all caring and deep. 

   “Well, my zipper got stuck in the back, and I can’t get it down. Do you think you can help?” you ask shyly, your eyes looking up nervously through your long lashes. 

   “Uhh, where’s Lacy? I can go grab her, let her help ya out.”

   “No!” You reach out an arm and grab his wrist tightly, watching his brown eyes widen at your sudden contact on his tanned skin. 

   “No?” he asks confused, his breath picking up underneath his dark t-shirt. 

   “I mean, she’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near the trailer. And I’m awfully uncomfortable in this tight dress. Do you think you can just come in really quick and help?”

   He gulps down a breath, his heartbeat picking up incredibly fast while he looks into your gorgeous eyes. How can he say no to that? He can’t, so he won’t. He rakes a hand slowly through his greying scruff and nods your way. 

   “‘Course I’ll help, sweetheart. C’mon then.” He places a hand gently on your lower back and leads you into the glowing lights of the trailer, letting the door close with a bang as he guides you to the middle of the room. 

   “Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely as you oblige and turn your back toward him. 

   He looks at your undone zipper, sees where it’s stuck in the pink fabric of the dress. Of course he’d be the only one around to help you, of all things a fucking stuck zipper on you. He has no resistance when it comes to you, he just can’t say no to that pretty face of yours. 

   “Zipper’s jus’ caught in the fabric. Should just take a little tugging,” he says with gritted teeth, pulling on the zipper while he holds the silky fabric tight with his other hand. 

   After a few seconds of fighting the dress, he gets it free of the catching fabric. He slowly unzips the back of your sparkling dress, going ever so slowly as if not to make a single sound. The only sounds he hears are your quick breaths, the beating of his own racing heart, and the noise of tugging you free of the suffocating, tight dress. 

   He watches it stop at the end of your curvy hips, catching the way your skin seems to shimmer as your flawless skin comes into his line of vision. He sees the way the dress falls open in the back, your skin begging to be touched, to be stroked as it beckons him closer and closer until he’s hovering above your hot skin. 

   He knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t hover over the glow of your exposed skin, but it’s almost sinful not to touch you when the glitter of your undertones calls directly to him. He gives in, stealing just a touch as he rubs his fingers slowly down your spine. 

   You squirm beneath his touch, tingling sensations running wildly down your skin with each touch he takes from you. You ravish in it, holding your breath while he takes his time dipping across the curve of your back. 

   He leans into you, ghosting his lips across your neckline while he breathes you in deep. He smells the vanilla scent of your perfume, lilac breezing through your soft curls, and can even smell the cherry flavor of your glittery lip gloss. You must taste so good, he can already feel your soft lips against his while he takes his other hand and moves your curls over the left side of your shoulder. 

   You turn your head back gradually, exposing the veins in your slender neck while it gives him access to dip his lips against the curve of your neck. “Joel,” you whisper out, your insides shaking as the hand on your back sinks down to the curve of your hip. 

   He can’t respond, too lost in your delicious scent while his hand dances against the silk of your tempting skin. He’s a bad man, putting himself in this vulnerable position where he’s alone with you, with your zipper completely down and your dress barely holding itself against your perfect body. 

   He should go back outside, stay away from your midnight eyes, your luscious locks, your sweet smelling perfume, but he can’t. He just can’t. He’d rather die than to leave you alone now, untouched, not taken care of. He’s your bodyguard, he’s paid to take care of you. So he will, in every way that he can. He’ll have his way with you. If your zipper can be fixed then who's to say that ache between your legs can’t, too? 

   He spins you around, your chest pressed flush against his while he slowly backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his strong arms while he breathes in your sweet vanilla scent that drives him wild. He sees the cleavage practically spilling from the top of your undone dress, wants to fucking rip it to shreds until there’s nothing left but your glowing skin under the tips of his pressing fingers. 

   He takes a hand and pushes back a strand of curls behind your ear, lingering his thick fingers along your jawline while you breathe in the woodsy mahogany smell, his expensive cologne that you could lather yourself in just to smell like him. He’s so close that he could lean down and press his lips to yours, so close that you could twist your fingers through those lush curls that you so desperately want to meld your fingers to. 

   You’ve never been this close to him before, to where you can see just how pretty and clear his brown flecked eyes are. You’re driving yourself into dangerous territory, but you don’t care. No one’s here to stop you from making any mistakes, and Joel is not a mistake.

   He hovers over you, dragging his lips against your jawline and stopping at the shell of your ear, lingering there while his meaty hands dig into the curve of your hips. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t,” he says with gritted teeth, painfully dragging out the words while he tickles the shell of your ear with his plush lips. 

   “Why not?” you whine pathetically as you place a hand under his shirt, making him jump while you graze over the happy trail that leads underneath his jeans. It makes a deep groan slip from his throat. 

   “I’m twice your age. You jus’ turned twenty-five, I’m pushing forty-five. I’m your bodyguard. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t give in to a pretty thing like you,” he murmurs as he feels his cock hardening beneath the denim of his jeans. 

   “I don’t care that you’re older or that you’re my bodyguard,” you mumble as your fingers tug the leather belt free from his jeans. 

   He groans, licking the edge of your ear while he fights to find an ounce of control in his desperate body. He finds none. “We shouldn’t, darlin’. It’d be irresponsible on my part. What if the paparazzi found out? They’d turn the headlines into a hell of a mess. Hell, your publicist would kill me,” he says defeatedly while his hands stay glued to your hips. 

   “I don’t care what my publicist says, I don’t care about the paparazzi. I know what I want, Joel. I know you want it, too. Just as much as I do.”

   He groans against you, doing his best to resist you, but he can’t. He’s a weak man for you, and he’ll give in with the snap of your fingers. He’s got no fight left in him, he’s all yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You want this? Want me?”

   You grip tighter to his jeans, dragging his hips flush against yours as you feel the swell of his cock through the denim. He’s so fucking big, and you haven’t even seen him yet. “Yes, Joel. Please. Want you, only you,” you stifle out a moan as his lips trail against your neck, gently nipping and sucking against your sensitive areas while his hands ghost over the curve of your breasts. 

   “God, I can’t say no to you, gorgeous. You don’t even know what you do to me every time I see you up on that stage, singin’ with that angelic voice of yours, dancin’ around all flirtatiously while you make me so fuckin’ hard beneath my jeans.”

   You groan at his filthy words, letting him spread your legs while one of his parts your legs wider. One hand trailing up your inner thigh while his other slowly pulls against the top of your pink dress. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this for so long, how much I’ve wanted to press my face between those thick thighs of yours,” he groans as he trails his lips against the cleavage of your dress. 

   “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted you to,” you pant out as he tugs at the hem of your dress. 

   “Yeah, s’that right?” he teases, dragging his teeth lower down your breasts. 

   “Mhm. Joel, fuck. Taste me, touch me, fuck me,” you beg as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

   “Fuck you, hmm? That what you want?” he teases while he slowly pulls your dress free, hearing it drop to the floor when all you’re left in is your shorts and tights. 

   “Yes, please. Want you, need you to touch me. Do it, Joel. Please,” you whine, twisting your fingers around the curls around the base of his neck.

   He chuckles out, sucking in a breath as he fully obliges your request. “Alright, pretty pop star. If that’s what you want, how can I say no to you?”

   He leaves you with no warning, cupping one breast in his large palm while he sucks on your other one, running his tongue in circles until your nipples are pebbled and swollen beneath his tongue, his mouth, his hands. He does the same to the other one, languidly sliding his tongue over the pebbled bud while he massages your breasts with his calloused fingers. 

   He bathes in your moans, making certain to get you all worked up where he knows you’re already soaking beneath your panties. That’s where he wants you wet, begging for him to touch you. 

   “Joel,” you whine, feeling his fingers fall free from your pebbled breasts. 

   “I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry, gonna take care of my girl.”

   Before you can speak, he cups your face and sinks his plush lips against the gloss of yours, melding his mouth to yours while he tastes the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. You part your lips for him, inviting him in as you feel him lick feverishly into your mouth. Your tongues dance together in unison, allowing him to tangle his with yours while he revels in your pretty moans against his hungry mouth. He’s starving for you, absolutely famished while he takes and takes from you, letting his tongue explore the entirety of your open mouth. If you taste this good, just think how absolutely divine you must be between your legs.

   His hands roam down to your shorts, slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging them free of your skin. You step out of your high heels, kick the pink shorts aside and allow his mouth to break free of yours. You pant tirelessly, watching him kneel between your legs as he starts to run his fingers up and down your thighs. 

   He looks up at you, his eyes becoming dark pits that consume him whole. He’s feral for you, and he won’t stop till he has every last drop from you. “You have another pair of these?” he asks, nodding to your tights. 

   “I’ve got a million pairs,” you say out of breath. 

   He smirks up at you before he tears into the flesh of your tights, ripping them to shreds while one of his large hands meets the lace of your panties. “What about these, hmm? Gonna miss these?”

   You shake your head, unable to get a word out as you swallow a whine in the back of your throat. “No?” he asks all deep and gravelly while his thumb traces against the edge of your lace, sliding down to put some pressure between your drenched lips. 

   You throw your head back and whine, begging him to continue on. “No, Joel. Just take them off, please. Need you,” you breathe out desperately. 

   “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He takes no time, ripping into the seam of your panties as you watch him split them in half, throwing them in a pile on the floor while his eyes blow wide when he takes in the bare sight of you. 

   He groans to himself, dragging a finger through your wet arousal, parting you in the middle as he hears the sloshing sounds come from his thumb spreading the wetness all across your dripping core. He inhales you, reveling in the pretty noises you make while he takes his time exploring you, gathering the slick on his calloused fingers as he burns the sight of your messy pussy in the back of his brain. 

   “Shit, baby. Already so fuckin’ wet for me. This what I do to you, hmm? You always this wet around me?”

   “Mhm,” you moan, feeling his fingers pull you apart as more slick pools between your thighs. 

   “All this for me, goddamn. Ain’t I jus’ the luckiest man alive.” He licks a thick stripe up your core, dragging his tongue to lap up the slick that spills from your insides, making you pant out with need as he makes you come undone. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take real good care of this pretty pink pussy. Just sit back, relax, and let me do all the work.”

   He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, he just dives right in. He takes the flat of his tongue and strokes your folds, working you up and down while he soaks in the sweet taste of you. He hooks one of your pliant legs over his shoulder while you fight to not break already. 

   He drags his nose through the curls above your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth while he breathes in the sensational musk of your pussy, drinking down your sticky arousal that makes his taste buds come to life. He’s never tasted a pussy this sweet before in his life, never quite experienced the high of such an intoxicating body before. He’s wanted you for so long now, and he never even imagined it’d be this good before. 

   “Joel,” you moan above him, wrapping your delicate fingers through his messy curls, driving out a deep groan from him by the way you cling to him. He loves the feel of you in his hair, pulling and tugging while you bite your lower lip and moan his name over and over again. It’s like an addictive drug he’s prescribed to, and he needs more, wants more of you. 

   He slips two digits into your drenched hole, filling you so full while his thick fingers curl and hit that spongy area that makes you see bright lights flash before your eyes. He revels in your moans, eliciting more with every touch and curl of his fingers, with every feverish lick to your messy center. 

   “Yeah? You like that, baby? Feel good?” Joel purrs while he watches you fall apart beneath his fingers. 

   “So good, Joel. Want you to - ahhh,” you whine as he pulls your aching bundle of nerves back into his warm mouth, releasing it with a pop as more slick covers his knuckles. 

   “Mmm, s’that right, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? C’mon baby girl, go on and soak me,” he purrs. 

   You feel the white hot sensation taking over, feel his long fingers curl up to hit that spot again and again while he pulls your aching clit back into his mouth. And it feels so fucking good that you just can’t hold on any longer. “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m coming,” you whine as you release your pent up energy, soaking his knuckles while he works you nice and slow, licking at your core as the slick builds on his tongue, drinking you down till he soothes that aching need in his throat. 

   You come down slowly, feeling your body go through the tingling sensations that make you feel so alive. You’ve never had it this good before, not before Joel. He’s going to be the end of your demise. 

   You look down at him between your legs, fingers still curled inside your core while he slowly drags them out of you with a groan from your lips. He pops the digits into his mouth, sucking the sweet release while he moans your name. He looks fucking wrecked, his hair all tousled and messy, wide eyes blown out to black pits that want to devour you whole. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s not done with you, and he’s not. Oh no, he’s just getting started. 

   “Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, sliding his calloused fingers up to your hips while he unhooks your leg from his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Now, c’mere.”

   He throws you over his shoulder, a surprised gasp coming from your lips as he takes you over to the velvet couch. He drops you on your hands and knees, not giving you a moment to breathe while he situates himself behind you and spreads your legs wide. 

   He takes a few seconds to admire your glistening core, sitting back on his heels as he rakes a hand slowly over his greying scruff, taking in the absolute beauty that sits before him. He’s never seen a sight like this that he goes head over heels for, sliding his tongue between his teeth as he whispers how fucking perfect you are.

   He groans your name, dragging his thumb up and down your sticky folds while one hand spreads your cheeks wide. He says your name repeatedly, taking in the sight of you in front of him. He thinks you’re so fucking pretty, all messy and dripping just for him. He wants to just slip your scent, your taste into his own cologne, mix the two together until he can only smell you on his body. 

   He licks at your core, spreading you wide while he devours you whole. He pulls at your glistening clit, languidly circling the swollen bud that calls sinfully to him. He wants to give you all the orgasms, drink you down till you have nothing left to give, curl his fingers inside your heated core, work you over till the only thing you can say is his name through your pretty moans. 

   He thrives in the musk of you, the taste of your cherry lips, the sweet saltiness of your warm cum. If he could give it a name, he’d call you his special jasmine flower, known to be the sweetest, most fragrant flower in the world. That’s what you are to him. The rarest flower that ever came into his reach, his life. 

   He licks against your slick folds, working his fingers in and out of your delicious cunt, slurping on your sensitive mound while he drowns it in his own drool, lusting after you until you writhe beneath him and give him another mind blowing orgasm. 

   “Joel, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cry, spilling yourself all over his digits and inside his heated mouth. He can’t reply, too busy drinking you down as he groans good girl through the taste of you on his large tongue. 

   He swallows all the slick between your thighs, holding you up together while your legs shake uncontrollably. You may have fallen apart on his tongue twice, but he still wants more. He’s greedy like that when something belongs to him. You’re his as far as he’s concerned now, and he always takes care of what’s his. 

   “Joel, wanna… wanna…” you stutter tirelessly, out of breath from the insane orgasm he pulled from your body. 

   “What do ya need, sweetheart? Use your words,” he coaxes, placing a hand gently at the small of your back as he strokes small circles into the heat of your skin.

   “Your cock. Let me suck your cock, make you feel good, too,” you whine out, grinding your teeth together as he gently blows on your aching core. 

   “Not this time, baby. Later. Gotta take care of you first. This time I wanna have my way with you, want your cum dripping down my tongue, making my cock all messy from your sweet release. Wanna bottle you up and make you my own personal brand of whiskey,” he growls as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and frantically slides his jeans and boxers over his feet, disposing the sweaty material on the ground. 

   He hisses as he spreads the precum over his shaft, pumping himself a couple times before he grabs your hips and scoots you back, stifling a moan from your mouth as he plunges his massive cock into your throbbing pussy. 

   “Oh, shit. Joel,” you whine, filling the room with your sweet incantations while he fills you so full of him. 

   “Yeah? You like that, dirty girl? Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, pulling your hair back as your head snaps up, his mouth meeting yours as he licks feverishly inside, swallowing your moans while he continues his frantic thrusts into your weeping pussy. 

   He pulls out from you, throwing you on your back while he hooks your legs over his shoulders, rutting back inside you as his cock gets covered in your sticky slick. You throw your arms around his neck while he finds your mouth again, licking inside, moaning your name on the tip of his tongue as he speeds up his thrusts inside you. 

   The sounds are obscene, the wet smacking noises of his hard cock drilling inside your drenched pussy reverberating off the glow of the pristine walls. He releases his mouth from yours, leaning back to take in the gorgeous view that’s you. You’re splayed all over the couch, your perky breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of his cock, your eyes all glossed over and fucked out while he takes you nice and slow. He thinks you’re a vision, a full on masterpiece that deserves to be displayed in an art gallery, your mouth making that pretty O shape while you chant his name angelically. 

   “Know you’re close, baby. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” he moans through the grit of his teeth. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna… fuck,” you whine as you feel that all too familiar white hot sensation rush through your entire body. 

   “Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ girl. Go on now, soak this cock,” he coaxes. 

   He watches you fall apart beneath him, beautiful, glossy eyes rolling back as you drag your manicured nails down his back, giving him the prettiest moans as you clench around him and release your cum all down his quivering cock. 

   “Good girl,” he praises, talking you through your intense orgasm as he quickens the strokes inside you, reaching heights you never could without him, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. It feels so fucking good, and you just gave him the best three orgasms of your life. You’re exhausted, but you need him to finish. You need him inside you. 

   Sweat drips off his forehead, ending in his tousled curls as he bares his teeth, barely able to hold on any longer. “Baby, I’m about to cum. I can’t hold on much longer. Where do you want me, sweetheart? Where do you want me to spill?”

   “Inside Joel, paint me white inside. Cum inside my pussy, please,” you beg. 

   He moans as he calls your name, giving you a couple more thrusts before he paints the insides of your thighs white with hot ropes of cum, throwing his head back as he revels in the ecstasy of filling you up with his seed, claiming you as his own. 

   He pulls out and twists you around, collapsing on his back against the velvet couch while you fall into his chest, his meaty hands holding you tight around the waist while you both come down from your intense orgasmic high. The room smells like sex and sweat, hints of vanilla and cherry flavored lips lingering around the room. It smells like heaven, Joel’s heaven. 

   Through the sounds of rushed breaths and tired bodies, he reaches up and hooks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingers against your jawline while he assesses the beautiful starlights in your eyes. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now you’re all his. 

   You look at him just the same, memorizing the flecks of dark honey that make up his bright eyes, dragging your fingertips through his salt-and-pepper scruff, letting your other hand glide through his messy tousled curls. He may be your bodyguard who works for you, but now he’s so much more than that. He’s yours, and you’ll never let him go now. 

   “Still think this was a bad idea?” you ask with a raised brow, challenging him to say anything but yes. 

   “Too late for asking me that, sweetheart. I changed my mind. You’re jus’ what I needed,” he smiles, the flecks of his eyes shimmering amber as your own eyes sparkle with bliss. 

   “Glad you came around,” you giggle as he drags his fingers up and down your jawline softly. 

   “All ‘cause of a fuckin’ broken zipper. You know I can’t stop now, sweetheart? One taste of you and now I’m hooked. Afraid I can’t let you go now.”

   You lean into his chest, giving him your best dreamy smile as you trace the ends of a tousled greying curl. “Then don’t. Be mine, Joel.”

   “I’m all yours, sweetheart. All yours,” he whispers before he cups your face and brings your head down, meeting the plush of his lips as he kisses you nice and slow. 

   You melt into him, parting your lips so he can slot his way in, tangling his tongue with yours as you taste yourself in his mouth. You stay like that for minutes, getting lost in his soft touch, his musk, his dreamy eyes. You never want to leave this trailer, never want to be parted from Joel. The only question is, how will you ever be able to keep your hands off him in public? 

   You lean your head into the crevice of his neck, nestling up to his soft scruff that smells like him. You sigh and tangle your fingers with his while he holds you close to his side. “Guess we won’t see any more performances tonight?” 

   “I don’t know, baby,” he chuckles underneath you. “Think we need a shower and some food. Maybe take you for round two afterwards. But it’s up to you. We can either stay here or go watch more of the sets tonight. Whatever you want.”

   You think it over, but ultimately decide on his first offer. “Mmm, I think I’ll go with the first pick. Rather be here with you, in your arms, where it feels right.”

   He sighs, lingering a soft kiss on your cheek as he pushes back a falling curl. “Okay, beautiful. That’s what we’ll do then. You want pepperoni pizza? That’s your favorite, right?”

   “Mhm,” you nod. “Sounds perfect.”

   He chuckles, the chocolate flecks glistening in his pretty eyes. He looks so dreamy, almost unreal that he's underneath you, his skin glowing from the sight of you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Can’t believe this is actually happening.”

   “I feel the same, Joel. Thought you might’ve caught on sooner with all the flirting I’ve been doing, especially up on stage. I might love getting a crowd pumped up, but there’s nothing more I love than making you blush at the side of the stage.”

   He tips his head back and laughs, his voice all deep and gravelly as he flicks his eyes back to you. “Oh, I caught on, darlin’. Figured you were tryin’ to get a reaction out of me, and you did. Now look at us,” he teases, cupping your chin with the palm of his large hand, causing tingles to run down your spine. 

   “Yeah, just look at us. A pop star and a bodyguard getting off on each other. Thought it’d only happen in my dreams,” you sigh, propping yourself up with your elbow on his sweat covered broad chest. 

   “Well, baby, it’s real. It happened. Reckon you’re mine now, yeah?”

   Your eyes perk up, a huge smile glistening across your shiny lips as you nod your head. “I’m all yours, Joel. As long as you’ll have me.”

   “Baby, I ain’t ever gonna let you go now. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna spend my days protectin’ and lovin’ this pretty pop star. That’s what you are, baby. You’re my shining star.”

   “And you’re my knight in shining bodyguard,” you giggle. 

   “Mhm, sure am, doll. And I don’t plan on ever lettin’ you go.”

   You fold back into his chest, pressing your lips hungrily against his. Eventually he carries you to the shower, helps wash off all the sweat and slick from earlier, until he takes you to your bed and makes love to you all over again. And it continues throughout the whole night, until both of you are passed out in each other's arms. 

   This is where you belong, in the arms of your fierce protector, your handsome bodyguard that you’re head over heels for. Your favorite brown eyed keeper. 

Tags: @laramc-02 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @burntheedges @vivian-pascal

@littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @msjarvis @akah565 @milla-frenchy

@aurorawritestoescape @alltheirdamn

[604to647]

Dodge

2.9K / Vigilante AU Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier Pena does in New York City what he could not in Columbia.

Warnings: AU set after canon events of Season 3. Maybe a wee bit dark but wasn’t Narcos hella dark sometimes? Mention of violence and weapons. Implied ambiguous powers. Established relationship, brief allusion to smut (1). No nicknames in this one! (So weird for me 😂)

A/N: Vigilante AU is the brainchild of the brilliant @almostfoxglove, who inspires constantly with her beautiful moodboards.  Here’s the one for Vigilante!Javi and it’s the entire reason this fic exists - thank you, Freya my dearest 😘😘

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘

⬇️ Barely edited and mainly just vibes 🫣

Dodged a bullet.  It was just a saying.

Or was it?

For a very long time, Javier thought he was just a very lucky man. 

Though he did not realize it at the time, for the entirety of his career Javier had held his proverbial breath waiting for that luck to run out - but it never did.  When he thinks back to all the Medellin fire fights he’s been caught in, his involvement with Los Pepes (that he’s still not sure he regrets completely), the tense relationship he struck up with Don Berna, and all the times Escobar’s scheming and machinations could have easily rendered him collateral damage, he can’t help but marvel at how many actual and metaphorical bullets he’s dodged.

And if he was to renumerate on it further, he might even count his political tangling with Stechner, his role in Elisa’s escape, and (if he was really honest about it) his almost marriage to Lorraine, as near misses.

While not unscathed and usually worst for the wear, Javier Pena has always landed on his feet.

He had never questioned it before.

But now he decides to test it.

When he miraculously evades any major consequences for his “alleged” partnership with Los Pepes, dodging the treason charges that Judy Moncada had almost gleefully laid at his doorstep before her exile, Javier cannot ignore the brushing feathers of some higher power looking out for him.  By the time his deposition in the matter some how lands him a promotion as the DEA's US attaché to Columbia in charge of the fight against the Cali cartel, Javier is certain of its presence.

He heads the Cali operation with a boldness and confidence that pushes the limits of the diplomatic courtesy extended by his Columbian hosts.  Running missions and chasing leads that leave no slack on the legal reins handed to him by the US government.  He’s brash, brave, and reckless – ferocious in his pursuit of justice, almost daring the wings of Lady Luck who rides into battle with him to fail them both.

The way Agent Pena works is not without frustration or devastation; he wins some, he loses more - but at the end of it all, he remains standing.

Javier is almost afraid to put a name to it.  To call it luck seems almost derivative of this protection that he’s inexplicably been afforded.  Enhanced self preservation?  An uncanny ability to evade major bodily harm or danger to his person and livelihood?  It doesn’t matter - after Cali Javier knows that he is someone’s god’s favourite.

The price of this so-called gift appears to be guilt.  Guilt that he was unable to extend this unmerited favour, that he could not invite others to join him under its umbrella of safety.  That he wielded no additional power to protect those that needed protecting was a source of deep shame and anguish that Javier wrestles with on a daily basis.

While he remained relatively intact, Javier could not say the same for the more deserving fellow officers with whom he had the honour of serving alongside: brave Columbian policemen, incorruptible members of Search Bloc, his friends. Carrillo.

What was the point?  Why him?  Avoiding the direst of consequences for only himself, but unable to prevent the same suffering for others feels like a curse at times.

The months after the downfall of the Cali cartel that Javier spends at Chucho’s ranch is supposed to bring him peace in working the land, being with family.  But he cannot find peace.  Not when there had been so many causalities and lives destroyed back in Columbia, and he had learned from Stechner, of all people, that it had all been for naught.

Agent Pena had played fair and abided by Uncle Sam’s rules, and it hadn’t mattered at all.  Unseen political powers were playing a different global game and with their long reaching arms of corruption, swept all of Javier and the DEA’s strategically placed game pieces off the board before the game had even started.  And the worst part is, they had let him continue and go through the motions of putting the Rodriguez brothers behind bars, letting him think he had actually accomplished something when in reality, he had only played the role of clueless puppet in the ruin of innocent lives.  It made Javier sick, and he left the DEA jaded and cynical.

How could he be at peace when those that made the rules didn’t have to play by them, and through hubris and indifference allowed the destructive cycle of the drug trade to rage on endlessly?

But Javier didn’t have to play by the rules, did he?  He had something on his side that allowed him to push the boundaries of the rigged game - but he couldn’t push if he didn’t play.

So, to Chucho’s disappointment, Javier leaves for New York City to seek out his old boss; not for the first time, bureaucratic politics works in his favour and Messina hands Special Agent Pena a new title: Head of the DEA’s NYC field office. 

Javier will never know what strings Messina pulled to get him back in, but he never had any doubt of her success - confident now that when it really matters, fortune will favour Javier Pena.  He’s back to doing what he needs to: hunting down the remnants of the Cali mafia that had entrenched themselves in New York City and carrying out the government’s stated directive against all drugs - marijuana, heroin, steroids.  It’s not easy work by any means, but somehow, he feels at more at home weeding out stateside trafficking networks and shutting down home grown labs in the five boroughs than he did those months he spent in Laredo.

By day, Agent Pena hunts the scourge of the city with the aid of his team of talented agents, all eager to make a difference and brimming with strong moral fibre.  He can’t quite bring himself to destroy their faith in the system that he now knows actively works against them and their efforts.  He allows them to fight the good fight so that they can go home and sleep at night in a way that Javier almost doesn’t remember anymore.  Wiretaps, stakeouts, informant deals, raids and busts – all done by the book, slow going and above board. 

By night, Javier hunts alone.  Armed with the intel collected via those same formal and official channels of his government day job, he sets out to informally and unofficially deal with cartel and drug trade players under the cover of dark.  Hats off to you, Uncle Sam.

The judgment and retribution Javier dispenses is fearsome and precise.  Choosing targets that he knows will inflict immeasurable damage during the time it will take the DEA to bring them to justice (if ever), he methodically crosses off the names on a too-long list one by one.

They never know he’s coming for them until it’s too late.  They don’t know that this vigilante leverages intel painstakingly gathered and vetted by DEA resources in the only way it will ever be truly effective; that he’s more than acquainted with their whereabouts and routine movements.  Their executioner has memorized all of their weaknesses and vulnerabilities before they even know they’re on his chopping block.  They don’t know that the masked avenger stalks through the night and scales building without fear or hesitation, imbued with a confidence that can only come with doing the right thing, and something else that all but guarantees his success.

The investigative and strategic mind that serves Javier as an officer of the law remains his most trusted weapon when he’s off the clock.  He tirelessly pours over surveillance data, building and city plans – identifying single point entrances and exits, quick escape routes, and areas where there will be no witnesses… or civilian casualties.  Never again will Javier Pena allow the pursuit of a criminal to hurt another innocent.

He finds that he’s partial to knives and blades, avoiding firearms completely for his nighttime pursuits.  From Javier’s experience, guns are too easy traced unless he were to engage with the illegal arms trade, and there are some lines he’s still unwilling to cross.  Guns are the weapons of the loud and arrogant, the sometimes ignorant – knives obey only skill and discretion.

But his preference is to use his hands.  Every time Javier feels the crush of bones or the splitting of flesh beneath his fists, his chest fills with pride and accomplishment.  The splattering of blood and the swollen, mangled bodies of his targets after he’s through with them become like therapeutic art; his hands are his chosen instrument and he paints his canvas for the evening with bloodshed and barbarism, expressing his bottled-up fury at his past failures and the grief he still keeps buried deep for those he’s lost.

Even the squelching of the red sticky liquid that pools out from where his blades land true and the gurgling of blood-filled mouths become welcomed melodies to his ears.  The final desperate gasping for air and the crunch of shattering bones act as the percussion section of a violent orchestra – one that Javier that conducts with the passion of a musician who’s finally found his muse.

He almost likes it when they fight back – giving him permission to discard any restraint he might have been exercising over his savagery in the name of efficiency.  With every blow he lands and every vital organ he guts, Javier feels like he’s fighting for them all: Carrillo, President Gaviria, Helena, Christina, sweet little Olivia’s mother, freaking Puff the cat.  Fighting for them now like he should have fought for them back in Columbia.

His actions do not go wholly unnoticed.  The DEA picks up chatter about a masked vigilante who seems to only target drug lords and narcotics organizations, one who seemingly appears out of nowhere to strike deadly and crippling blows to the cartels before disappearing without a trace.  It sounds like something straight out of a comic book.  A few news outlets run a couple of pieces on him, but the NYPD and federal agencies are all too overwhelmed by this War on Drugs™ that Javier knows they’ll never win, to look a gift horse in the mouth.  For now, the hunter does not become the hunted.  Once again, luck favours Javier Pena.

Though he is satisfied with his ongoing results, Javier is nowhere near immortal or indestructible.  He bleeds and bruises, his ribs crack and his knuckles split.  He’s constantly dog-tired and concussed, every part of him is scraped and achy, but he heals.  He’s alive. 

Each poorly set bone break and new scar carved onto Javier’s body is worn with pride – collected like trophies that fuel the fire of his resolve and righteousness. 

He doesn’t feel the guilt anymore.

The only time self reproach creeps up on him is when Javi lies to you.  He feels the low stir of something uncomfortable in his chest when he claims to be going on a DEA nighttime raid and your sweet response is to tell him to be careful and wish him back to you soon.  It feels even worse when he slips out of your warm, safe bed while you remain unaware and asleep like an innocent angel, and it surges hot and shameful when he slips back under the covers while it’s still dark and you welcome him, soft and inviting, oblivious to the violence and brutality that now clings to his naked skin.

He should leave you be, let the goodness you radiant remain unsullied by his darkness, but he can’t.  He fell for you hard and fast, head over heels since the day he saw you buying a hotdog from the vendor outside the DEA’s downtown office.  Chain-smoking away the stress induced by the bureaucratic red tape he had waiting for him upstairs, Javi watched in slow motion as a mugger took advantage of your attempts to balance your belongings with your lunch – violently grabbing your purse off your arm.  His fists clenched instinctively and he was about to leap into action when you rendered him unnecessary - karate chopping the perp with your briefcase without a drop of mustard falling from your hotdog.  He’s amazed, amused, tickled – a litany of light and joyous emotions Javi had forgotten were possible.  He comes over to ensure the would-be mugger doesn’t retaliate and asks if you’re okay; he swears the smile you give him is more dangerous than Escobar himself ever was.

You’re the most perfect thing in Javi’s life and the only thing he has just for himself.  You play no role in his quest to snuff out the insidiousness that sinks its teeth deeper and deeper into this city everyday, and unlike the women of his past, you aren’t an atonement for his previous complacency and deep seeded regrets.  You just let him be – and he’s just Javi to you, not Agent Pena or even Javier.  Just Javi with whom you happily wile away hours talking about nothing and everything, who holds you when you cry to sappy movies, who you convince to try every ramen joint on the island of Manhattan, who pulls the most stomach caving, soul shaking orgasms from you.  In return, you give him a new peace – one where his nightmares end with soft and loving arms hugging him awake, where the confessions of his past misdeeds and failures in Columbia aren’t met with pity or judgment but with compassion and tenderness; a peace that seems to know no end - entangling and weaving its delicate and ever-growing tendrils with something that reminds Javi of hope.  You give him a peace he didn’t know was possible for someone like him, and one that he’s not sure he deserves.  Javi loves you.  But he lies to you.

He thinks, no, he knows, that one day it will all come to a head - the people he hunts as DEA, the vigilante justice he dispenses at night, and the life he’s come to treasure in the home he’s built with you.  And when that time inevitably comes, Javi hopes – prays - that whatever grace has deigned to keep him from succumbing to fates suffered by many better men than he, will once again come to his aid and prevent him from losing what’s truly important, what makes his life worth living.

That time might be tonight.

The evening has been wonderfully typical, bellies full, you and Javi are on your way to try a new ice cream place for dessert when you hear two gunshots ring out.  Then more shots in rapid succession as sirens approach.  Javi pushes you down behind some parked cars - finding a safe line a sight from which he assesses the situation to ensure that the two of you are a safe distance away before properly reading the scene. 

With some weariness, Javi realizes he’s played a role in what’s happening in front of him.  Two nights ago, he took out the numbers man and head of security for the remnant of one of Pacho’s old distribution networks.  It seems a local gang has decided to take advantage of the sudden power vacuum and take the territory by force.  But with the NYPD now arrived on scene, the rival gangs unite against their common enemy, and Javi counts four, five, police officers currently being pinned down behind their patrol cars by round after round of gunfire.

He should help.  But he doesn’t have a firearm on him and his DEA badge alone isn’t going to do any good.  He could pretend he’s a citizen, but that would never fly – for all the same reasons he wears a mask during his nightly crusades, Javi knows he would be identified sooner or later, and without some flexibility to do what’s needed, he would likely find himself pinned under a hail of bullets like his brothers in blue.

And you.  How could he leave you?  You must be so scared right now.  He looks over to you and to his shock, not only do you look calm and determined, you’re holding out the black cashmere scarf that you’ve unwound from your neck, offering it to him in your open hands.

Javi looks at down the scarf, then up at you – confused, stunned.

Pushing your scarf towards him, you give your brave boyfriend a wise and reassuring smile, “Take it, Javi.  You need to cover your face, don’t you?”

It takes Javi more time than the situation affords him to comprehend what you’re saying.  How long have you known?  His world is simultaneously eerily still yet wildly spinning, with you at its calm centre.  Wordlessly, Javi takes your scarf and wraps it swiftly around his head until only his eyes remain exposed, securing the ends with a tight knot against the back of his head so his makeshift mask doesn’t slip.

Your eyes now wide and worried, you nonetheless press a confident kiss to Javi’s lips through the luxurious fabric, “I’ll be fine, I promise.  Go and be careful, my love.”

Feeling Javi return your affections and the air of something like ‘thank you’ puff through the soft wool against your lips, you hold steady the look of adoration and devotion in his chocolate brown eyes with one of your own before you see them turn towards the ongoing cacophony of bullets with a steely resolve. 

Holding your breath, you watch your Javi slip into the night.  “Come back to me,” you whisper, unaware that you’ve already been gifted the promise of his safe return. 

[b-00-biez]

"Slashers with an s/o who's distant when she's sad"

Characters: Brahms Heelshire, Jason Vorhees, RZ Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair and Vincent Sinclair

Warning:A little bit of smut in Bo's

Brahms Heelshire:

He doesnt actually know what to do

But he is trying :c

He threw tantrums but nothing would get you out of your room, not even when he almost ALMOST destroyed half of the house

But once he saw that it was that serious he stopped

He made you your favorite sandwich but you locked your door and you are ignoring him.

Don't lock the wall child out :c He just wants to make you feel better

"Y/n please come out..I miss you"

When you're ready to talk he would hug you so tight your sadness would squeeze out of you.

Since you were ignoring him and he missed you you're going to cuddle for hours not that you would complain

When you're early in the relationship he tries to do the things that could cheer you up

Jason Vorhees

Also doesnt know what to do honestly

He could kill the person who made you sad but you wouldn't talk to him

So he asks his late mom for guidance

Flowers, a suit he somehow stole from a camper and something he thinks a girl would like:

Like a condom he mistook for a chocolate and a little handbag

When he's all ready to cheer you up he slides a note under your door knocked

"Y/n please come out, I have a surprise for you that could make you feel better"

You were reluctantly but nonetheless you want to see your boyfriend

And he's so cute🤗💕

The suit barely fits him and theres a bouquet of flowers he found in the woods and

a condom and a handbag

It made you giggle but it made him smile under his mask

RZ Michael Myers

Michael is really bad at cheering people up

He actually thinks you hate him when you're distant like this.

But he tries to win you over again although you dont actually hate him

He would give you a little of his food during dinner, He tries to make cute masks for you and he often checks up on you 🥺

You have to explain to him that you're not mad or hating on him. You were just sad and it was a habit.

Omg dont scare him like that :c you gave him a mini heart attack

When he feels like you're sad about something he persuades you to talk to him

Yeah he's not really going to talk back but he's a good listener

He gives comforting pats and would honestly kill whoever made you sad.

No one makes his baby sad, NU UH 😤

Bo Sinclair

I'm sorry but this man only knows like make up sex

If you're mad at him he'd fuck the hell out of you until you feel like jelly

But this time it was different

You explained to him that you don't want to do anything sexual right now

Acts like he doesn't give a fuck but deep inside he's worried. He is concerned about you.

You would observe that he's more open and more affectionate with you

Not anything sexual no He gives you long hugs and sweet kisses that you have never seen him do on a daily basis

You even get to see a soft smile if that's what you wanted

He would do anything for you that he doesnt do ever

Like cooking

Yeah he's a bad cook but gosh darn it he's trying

He tries to make you laugh. He would do anything to see your bright smile🥺

"That's it darlin, I love your smile"

Vincent Sinclair

He's observant of you

He starts to get worried when you don't visit him in the basement more often than you did

But once he was done with work for the day he knocks on your door

You see a little envelope with some doodles on it

"Hello love, I'm worried about you. Please go down to the basement and tell me all your problems. I won't force you"

After some thinking you went to the basement and god it was the most romantic thing you've ever seen

He hung fairy lights with the help of his brothers and displayed all the artwork inspired by you that he was keeping as a surprise

He welcomed you and held your hand not letting go

He also hung a hammock for you two to cuddle in when you're sad like this again.

He would bake cookies and other sweet treats you like

[mdanon027]

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Masterlist

Summary | Three times Spencer Spencer Reid seeks for physical affection (Inspired by some of the Prompts from the list seeking out physical affection by @creativepromptsforwriting )

Word Count | 3095.

Warnings | I don’t think there’s any warning, if you found something triggering, please let me know.

Side Note: I don’t own any of Criminal Minds characters, words, or narrative. This is only a reinterpretation and fiction based on the Criminal Minds Universe they continue to develop. Also no repost is allowed. If you ever see this on another website, please let me know.

1. acting like they're cold to have an excuse to cuddle or share clothes or blankets

After a long case, the team was exhausted. The flight back to Quantico will take at least 8 hours, so they decided to travel back immediately after they ended the work. 

The flight was at night time. Close to the winter season, the weather is changing. So what better opportunity to get close to the person he was enchanted with, than get warm while getting close on the big couch of the plane? 

“Why are you so cold?” JJ asked Y/N.

“I really don't know, probably the warm weather before getting to the plane and the air conditioner here it's giving me chills.” She said while warming her arms.

“Did you know the average temperature in planes is about 22 to 24 degrees? That's because while we are flying the temperature outside is about -60 degrees…” He started to talk, until she interrupted him.

“So… I should be grateful?” She asked him while getting on the seats.

“They leave the temperature that way to have the average one on land, it is supposed to make you comfortable.” He said while passing her his own sweater.

“I was planning on saying no to your sweater, but I'm going to say yes because I'm really cold.” She told him while putting the sweater on.

They took their seats, and the flight began.

“Go Pretty Boy, it's the perfect time for a snuggle.” Said Derek passing by with a coffee, giving him a smirk.

“I don't know what you mean.” He decided to play it cool. 

“Don't play dumb.” Rossi told him from his seat.

“What are you talking about?” He knew perfectly what they were talking about, but he knew that if he admitted it, the teasing would have no end. 

“Leave him alone, if Reid doesnt what to make another move, then he won't.” Hotch said.

“Another move?” He asks now, curious.

“I mean, giving up your sweater even when you never ever take it off on a daily basis? For me it was a move.” Now Hotch was profiling him. 

“You are joining them?” He couldn't believe that the man was joining the fun.

“It's not that I'm joining, but if you want to make a move, you should start doing something.” Ended Hotch getting back to his report while smiling. 

After two hours of flight, everyone already had a quick dinner and some of them were almost ready to fall asleep. But Y/N was still cold, so he finally decided to use his knowledge to his advantage. 

“You may not say anything, but I can see you are getting colder, we can share the blanket.” He said while looking at her while she trembled.

“I think it’s a great idea.” She stood up from her seat and got close to him on the couch.

Spencer makes a space for her, and covers her up with the blanket.

“High stress levels can cause flu-like symptoms, such as fever, cold, nausea, and body aches. There's a high possibility you are about to get sick.” He said while looking down at her.

“Probably. This case was a mess, thankfully we resolved it.” She said while shivering.

“Layering clothes to get warm could prevent the colds. But right now, the clothes are limited, I can give you a hug, if you want to.” He said while feeling his face getting warm. He took the chance to have her in his arms. At that moment he could hear some laughs from the seats, apparently the interaction wasn’t as private as he thought.  He looked around to see his teammates giving him thumps ups while Emily said “Nice one!”.

He wasn’t sure on how to act properly on how to start a romantic “relationship ”. The few times he had experienced, were either brief and the closest he had, ended up in a tragedy. 

Thankfully he was learning to live with it, with a new hope of finding someone to spend his life with. But he was wheeling to take a try.

2. fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair

He was an expert talking for audiences. He usually did not get nervous about it, after conferences, seminars or even giving classes at college, it was easy peasy. 

But it was the first time Y/N was going to talk to an audience giving a class of her expertise. 

She was good at talking to the press when needed, or even to groups to calm the masses in times of fear. But it was different to try to explain situations to people in dangerous situations than teaching young people how to act as a mediator in dangerous situations. 

She knew how to react, but one thing was doing it and another different to explain it.

Rossi invited Hotch and Y/N to give a lecture on how to act on situations that involve firearms and detonation objects. The team knew she was one of the best ones in that field, with no mistake shots, amazing disarmament skills and extraordinary knowledge on bombs (just like Derek teached  her on her Academy days).

They spend several late nights together (sometimes with the other members joining) practicing her lecture. It had anything and everything that could possibly happen, and she was ready for any possible question. 

All the team was there to support her. 

“I’m nervous.” Y/N said while fixing her hair looking through the window reflection.

“Garcia is inside getting ready with your slides. Take a deep breath, you're going to do great.” Hotch told her.

“Yeah, you practiced a lot and if anything happens, you just need to talk about the heroic job you do every day.” Said Rossi, while getting close to the door of the exhibition room. “Hotch and I are going to start, and then you will proceed.”

“A brief introduction and you will continue.” Said Hotch, entering the room.

“You will be doing fine! If anything happens, we are going to be inside, just look for us if you get really nervous.” Said Emily, while Derek and JJ get inside the room.

“You are going to do just fine, just like we practice, remember it's more a talk than a class. They want to know how it's going to be in their future work field.” Spencer told her while opening the door for her.

“You are right, in that room we are the only ones that know how things actually work.” She took a deep breath.

“Let me fix the final details from your hair.” Spencer told her before Rossi and Hotch started to talk. “All done. You can do it. If you get nervous, just look for me and start talking to me.” He winked, while getting to his seat.

Rossi and Hotch started the talk with certain facts and background about de BAU, and proceeded to let Y/N start explaining.

At one point of the lecture she got so passionate about it, that she started to pass her fingers through her hair thanks to the constant hair interrupting her view. While brushing it, she didn’t notice it was beginning to get disheveled. For sure her attendants didn’t care about it, they were deep into the information the expert was giving them for their future work field.

By the end of the lecture, the students were ecstatic with the knowledge they received, even asking for her contact info for future references related to their courses, some of them asking their professor if they could invite Y/N again in the future. 

Rossi was right to invite her.

The first one to arrive was Spencer.

“Let me fix your hair.” He said while brushing his fingers through her hair.

“Again?” She said surprised.

“It's kind of untidy over here.” He continued,

“Was like this all the time?” She said with little worry in her voice.

“For about more than half of your presentation.” He answered.

“Really? Why didn't you tell me something?” She asked him.

“That could be distracting for you.”He finished fixing her hair. “All done!”

“You could make me a sign.” Y/N told him.

“You didn't even look at us, and your hair gets that way when you start to talk really excited about the things that fascinates you, it always blocks your vision and you start to adjust your hair.” Spencer commented on that fact.

“Why haven't you ever told me that?” Now she was curious.

“Because you look cute that way.” He answered her. “Now come here, let me congratulate you.” He proceeds to give her a hugh, she is back into his arms. “You did marvelous over there! A natural instructor.”

“Thanks for helping me rehearse over 20 times.” She couldn't express how grateful she was with him.

“Actually, it was 34 times.” All he could hear was her laugh. “Not that I was counting.” He was in fact counting. She just smiled looking up at him.

The next one to approach was the team.

“Come here.” Penelope said while hugging her really tight. “You did amazing, my friend!.”

“You think so?”

“Yes! The presentation was amazing, really to the point and with the details that needed to be exposed.” Said Emily while joining the hug.

“Of course Y/LN.” Said Hotch while giving her a smile. 

“You were outstanding, I made a good decision to bring you with me today.” Said Rossi. “Whenever you want to come back and give another class, we can arrange you a spot.”

“And not forgetting that I teached you the basics back in your days.” Said Derek giving her a big hug. 

“You should give a class together.” Said JJ, getting close to congratulate her dear friend.

“Thank you, every single one of you for helping me get prepared for this.” Y/N with a big smile on her face. “Especially Spencer, thanks for listening to my lecture 34 times.” She said while giving him a hug.

“This deserves a celebration! Dinner at my house tonight!” Said Rossi from behind.

Everyone started to walk away, to finally celebrate another accomplishment that one of their teammates got.

3. reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it

Spencer knew the basics of dancing. Really the basics, it took him time, but Derek and Penelope helped him during their free times. 

You may ask, why?

Rossi was doing his annual Christmas Celebration, only with the BAU team. It wasn’t a big deal of a party, but for sure a ball in small proportions. An attempt of dancing was another opportunity to be close (at least even more close than what they already are) to Y/N, and he was taking a chance. The team kept teasing him, but later he realized they were just trying to help him to get with her, and he was willing to take their support.

“Pretty Boy, it’s time.” Said Derek.

“I don’t know, we only took a few lessons.” Said Spencer unsure.

“Believe me, you will want to hold her close for a while.” Said Penelope.

“What do you mean?”

“You will know soon.” Ended Derek.

From afar, he could see Y/N and Emily talking, they were really into the conversation while JJ and Will made comments, they were really into it.

The music started to sound in the background and Rossi, as the extra person he was, made an invitation so they could start to dance while the turntable was in the works of preparation. 

Derek and Penelope were the ones who opened the dance floor, following behind Hotch and Beth, and JJ with Will.

Hotch gave him a look and a nod pointing to Y/N’s table. It was time.

He built up courage, got closer to the table and reached his hand so she could take it. Without hesitation, she took it. He started to walk to the dance floor.

He held her close. Was like a dream. And they started to dance.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” She said to him, in a low voice.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me.” Spencer told her.

“Well, I know a lot about you, but this one specifically wasn’t in my radar.” She ended.

They kept slow dancing for several songs, making small conversations between some comfortable silence moments. It wasn’t weird, they could almost talk through their eyes.

Until she decided to talk again.

“I’m probably leaving.” She said really low and slow.

“What do you mean? You can’t leave.” He wasn't expecting this type of news.

“It’s only for a time.” She wasn't looking at him.

“Why?” He was confused, wasn’t she happy with the team?

“Emily recommended me to the Interpol for a special training. Apparently one of the asistans from the lecture I gave, it’s interested in me teaching their team on explosive objects. Derek also sent a letter, endorsing my knowledge in the topic.” She finished.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” He really wanted to know, they were supposed to be close.

“I didn’t knew. They just told me this morning. I’m still thinking about it. Hotch and Rossi already knew, and are encouraging me to take it. But first I wanted to ask you, what did you think about ir.” Oh, that was it.

“Is my opinion that important?” Maybe they were more than close friends. 

“You are the closest friend I have, in my personal and professional life. Most of the time, you are my teammate.” She spoke. 

The next few songs were danced in silence, she kept her head close to his body listening to his heartbeat. What could he tell her? It was a great chance for her. He wasn't going to stop her professional growth.

“You should take it.” He finally spoke his mind.

“Really?” She finally looked at him.

“You are amazing at doing your work. It would be a waste of your talent not taking this opportunity.” It was the truth. 

“But it's a long time, and I'm going to be away from home and alone, and without you.” It sounded like she wouldn't take the chance of being far away trying new things.

“It's only two months, even though I’m not a big fan of technology, we can video call each other whenever you want. You already know I have a non average sleep schedule or even we can message all day.” 

He promised, now they were close, he took one more chance to hold her back in his arms as close as possible for the time they had before her departure.

+1 turning their cheek to get the other one to give them a peck

After being gone for more than two months, thanks to the fact that she was required for a special task outside the country (by Emily's and Derek's recommendation), she was finally back with the team.

He was waiting, with her favorite coffee, pastry and a flower plushie (he knew she was allergic to them, or at least the ones of this season). 

They talked every single day since she was gone. He knew all the things she did overseas. But he wanted to know about them again, even if he repeated them in his thoughts every time after they ended talking, he needed  to see her face in real life while talking and to get lost in her eyes. 

He couldn’t explain how he felt about her. She was more than a colleague, more than a teammate, more than a friend and he believed more than her soulmate. 

During this time afar, he realized what truly was to care for a person, even when they were not physically together. It was the same feeling he had for his mother, there was no day he didn’t speak to her, and the same thing happened with Y/N. 

While growing up, he was used to either getting ignored or being made fun of.

But she always listened to every single fact he had to say, when he talked fast about something he is passionate about, or only listened and talked to him about his thoughts.

For sure he was in love with her.

She arrived at the office, while everyone was there to welcome her back. She passed by a line of hugs and warm words. She was missed in the team.

After all the greetings,she started to look for him, she was wearing one of his sweaters he lent her for the trip, and proceeded to give him a hug. He had never received a hug as tight as the one he was experiencing. 

“I missed you so much, Spencer.” She said with an almost inaudible voice while burying her face in his sweater while catching his scent.

“I missed you even more.” He told her, while topping her head.

“Even if we talked every single day I was gone?” She looked directly into his eyes.

“It’s not the same, a screen can’t take a chance than talking to your pretty face.” He was smiling.

“Oh, Spencer.” She whispered close to his cheek ready to give him a peck, she was the only one allowed to do it.

It was now or never.

He turned around.

It was a small peck. And he looked delighted.

“I'm so sorry Spencer.” She said, astonished. While looking at him with those beautiful startled eyes.

“I'm not.” He said back, getting another peck from her. This time she was also smiling, but stayed silent. “If you want me to stop, please tell me something,”

She shut him down with a proper kiss. 

“The kid finally did it.” Rossi muttered to Hotch.

“He took his time.” He said while smiling. Everyone knew they eventually ended up together.

From the other side of the room, their teammates were giggling at the young ones.

“Well, it’s sad I have to break it to you, but we have a case. To the round table.” Said Hotch from his office, getting close to Spencer while giving him a palm to his back.

“Oh, come on Hotch, let the love birds have a little more time.” Said Derek getting close to Spencer and giving a small side hug to the both of them.

“Come on, we have work to do.” Spencer said, giving her a last small kiss, and started to hold her hand while starting walking. “You are never ever leaving my side, ok?”

“Ok.” She couldn't believe it. She was amazed with what just happened. 

There was no better welcome back.

Back in his arms. 

Autor’s Note: Hello Again! As I told you before, I'm in my Criminal Minds Era, so this is the second time Im writting about this!I wanted to post if before my +10 hours flight to my Holiday Vacation! Its probably the last thing I'm writting/posting this year related to an original work. I was feeling inspired this days. I hope you like it!

If any of the authors I read ever read this, to let you know I always go as anon (thanks that this is my side blog) and I always sign as -MD💜 or -MDanon027💜 (@mdanon027). Thanks for the inspiration!

Also, please be honest if you like it or nah. Any comment will help for future personal writing skills. And if you see any misspelling, I’m sorry, I already reread it several times, and English it’s not my first language. Please don’t mind on telling me to correct anything.

[soobnny]

i hate that man — kim seungmin.

trope. enemies to lovers. college au. fluff. seungmin being a menace.

synopsis. the four times you think you hate seungmin, and the one time you think that might not have been true after all

word count. 5.5k words

warnings. a joke about jumping out the window, crying over a failed test exam, curse words

author’s note. inspired by that tiktok audio!! u know which one i’m talking about. credits to a dialogue i got from here (ur thoughts n feedbacks r always appreciated)

one.

Kim Seungmin is not your favorite person.

He is infuriating in the way he enjoys invading your personal space, always hovering around and blabbering his mouth nonstop every chance he gets. It doesn’t help his case (not that he wants to defend it in the first place) that he finds joy in hiding your things from you. You’d be damned if you left your notebook, even a pen, on your desk unattended. You already know the culprit is seated directly behind you, and the only thing you can do is ignore him in hopes that he returns it to you unscathed.

It’s much easier to not understand the reasons for why he annoys you. You would hate to find the truth behind his actions for the fear that he did it simply because he wanted to. This would only mean there was nothing to resolve to get him to stop.

Or worse, that he hates you. You admit with shame that you thought you’d actually get along quite well with Seungmin when you first met him. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, playful banter and soft smiles directed to each other and the hopes of meeting each other again. It was honestly like a fairytale — until it wasn’t.

And you’ve tried before, to find out. You’ve made sufficient efforts in scouring for answers as to why he was that way with you, going as far as to asking Hwang Hyunjin (as embarrassing as that turned out to be). But, you had come out of all that empty-handed. So, you leave the unknown unknown and since then decided to just endure it. But it still has you wondering from time to time, had you burned down an orphanage in your past life to deserve this? Had you done something so sinister to be plagued by the presence of Kim Seungmin on a daily basis?

So, while you don’t necessarily hate the boy, you’d go as far as to say he was probably your least favorite person. And that notion weighs heavy considering you know resident menace Choi Beomgyu.

Still, Choi Beomgyu had nothing on Kim Seungmin so he’d have to accept being second to the last on your self-proclaimed list.

Speaking of the devil.

Seungmin parades into your classroom like he owns the place, laughing aloud side by side his friends. You simply drown out his obnoxiousness, the way you always do, though it never works considering it’s apparently his top priority to get on your nerves.

“Another Mcdonalds takeout?” He inquires, picking up the discarded paper bag on your desk to look inside. “You really should stop eating this junk so early in the morning.”

“Wow, keep saying things like that and I’ll start to believe you’re starting to care about me.” You abruptly grab the bag from his hands, moving to the back of your classroom to throw your trash properly before the professor walks in.

“Don’t be silly.” He simply laughs, taking his seat on your desk. “What do you even order?”

“Food, obviously.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What food specifically?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Can’t I ask a simple question?”

You know he won’t leave you alone if you don’t answer him. And you hate that you know that. So, with a begrudging sigh, you answer the boy. “Just nuggets and a Big Mac, now get off my desk.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He’s being sarcastic, evident in how it’s obnoxiously dripping down his tone, but you can’t find it in you to care. As long as he’s out of your hair for a few minutes.

And you almost think the Gods have answered your prayers when you don’t come across him for the rest of the day. Something about that tells you there is a silver lining for the day, even if it is only ever a little line. You would hate to be blessed with his presence atop the Chemistry test you had at 7pm.

It’s one of the few advantages to signing up for night classes. The college halls were usually dead this hour, save for a few students on their way to the library after having their fifth cup of coffee for the day. And the lack of Kim Seungmin. It’s one sacrifice, giving up hours of your night, but honestly it really isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Especially when your professor always ends early in consideration of those who still had to commute back home — they had to catch the last train somehow.

To replace Seungmin, you had Yang Jeongin in your class, but he usually kept to himself more. He was a lot more civilized than his friend, and you’ve been hoping this would’ve at least rubbed off on Seungmin.

“You ready for the test?” Jeongin asks after you had taken your seat next to him. The first thing you discern is the lack of textbooks and notes on his desk compared to everyone else’s pathetic attempt to review last minute. It seems he’s given up like you did.

“Absolutely the fuck not. I haven’t even eaten dinner yet so this is going to be a disaster.” You laugh, dropping your bag down on the ground just as your professor walks in. Jeongin is on his phone for the rest of the free time you have left before test papers and answer sheets were distributed.

It’s a horrible hour and a half, and the difficulty of the test makes you want to fall to your knees and weep. The lack of dinner in your stomach doesn’t exactly help your case as by the last few minutes of the test, you couldn’t care less about why you use ammonium oxalate to precipitate Calcium and Magnesium. The only thing in your head is a picture of your go-to Mcdonalds order as you pass your paper.

A jumpscare greets you on your way out in the form of Kim Seungmin who is holding a Mcdonalds paper bag in his hands, the same one you had just been daydreaming about.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” The sight of the boy spikes up your blood pressure, and you have to pause in your step to catch your breath after not having dinner, suffering through a long test, and seeing Seungmin all within the span of a few hours.

Though, what he does next surprises you.

“I ordered too much for Innie so you can have this, I guess.” He mumbles, shoving the brown paper bag in your direction. It scorches your fingers as you reached to grab it before it can fall to the ground.

It was a strange sight for Seungmin to be giving you something without asking. Strange and funny for it had occurred to you that if someone were to tell you Seungmin would be your stomach’s knight in shining armor, you wouldn’t have been able to believe yourself.

“Oh, thanks? You didn’t… poison this, did you?”

“How little do you think of me?” He simply walks away before you can reply to him again.

You scrunch your nose in confusion, leaning down to look into the contents of the Mcdonalds paper bag he had just given you.

Nuggets and a Big Mac.

Was this also Jeongin’s go-to order?

When you look back up, said boy greets you with french fries stuffed in his mouth. There’s a hint of a smirk that’s barely visible from his puffed out cheeks.

“You know, you can be really stupid.” Jeongin giggles to himself, patting down your head and messing with your hair a little before waving you goodbye. “Bye (name)!”

You simply stare at their retreating figures, head tilted as you try to drink in what Jeongin had just told you.

Stupid about what? The test?

two.

What is the connotation of a very thrilled Kim Seungmin walking into the campus library as you’re struggling with your part for your joint project?

You’re almost convinced something significant had happened for him to walk in with a shit-eating grin on his face, but you know better than that now. So, you simply ignore him, turning back to your laptop as Felix and Hyunjin greet the boy. He’s late, but knowing him, he’s probably finished his part of the project. You hate to acknowledge his competence, but you have to give credit where credit is due.

You could obviously ask for help, but you’d run through the streets naked first before ever asking the boy to help you. You refuse to be subjected to his taunting more than you already were. Besides, you don’t need help from someone like Seungmin. He’d probably be so arrogant about how you needed his help.

Rubbing your eyes for a split second, you go back to furiously typing at your laptop — so aggressively that Yeji has to pull you back for a bit in fear that you’d destroy your keyboard.

The five of you work on the project diligently, finishing the monstrosity of your synthesis paper for Life Science at almost one in the morning.

When everyone moves to leave, you stay behind, telling them you still had a few deadlines to catch up on, namely a Statistics paper and a book review for your English Literary class. While it wasn’t exactly due yet, it doesn’t hurt to start them when the pump of coffee is already in your system.

“See you guys tomorrow!” You say in a hushed tone, waving at the group before moving your attention back on your laptop.

And maybe it’s the sleep deprivation getting to you but you don’t notice Seungmin still situated at the opposite end of your table.

He doesn’t say anything either. He knows you’re running 50% coffee and 50% restlessness, so he simply sits back in his chair with a book in hand.

He could use the time to annotate anyway.

When Seungmin glances back at you thirty minutes later, he can only watch in amusement when he finds you close to passing out on the wooden table of the library. Your eyelids are starting to droop, and even though it seems you’re trying your hardest to fight it, you find that your sleeved arm is far too comfortable to refuse.

He immediately puts down his book, moving across the table to wake you up. It seems the appropriate time to tell you to go home and get some rest.

When you don’t respond to the gentle shake of your shoulder, he choose the next best thing to wake you up. With a text book in hand, he drops it on the space right beside your head, creating a loud enough sound to jolt you in your sleep.

“Come on. We’re going home. You’re a lost cause, anyway.”

“Fuck you.” You grumble sleepily, sitting up and squinting at your laptop before shutting it down so you can start packing up.

“I’m flattered, really, but no thanks.”

You scoff, and he simply smirks in response as he helps you put your things back in your bag.

“Why are you still here anyway?” It’s a question you’ve been meaning to ask him since you finally noticed him an hour back, but you chose to bite down on your tongue and stay silent instead.

He shrugs. “Had to annotate this book, and I’m already at the library so I might as well.”

“Okay, whatever.” You move to grab a pen that had fallen on the ground carelessly, and in the process, you feel your head collide with Seungmin’s hand instead of the harsher corner of the table.

You see red almost immediately. You hate to admit the small gesture has butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls his hand back, so you don’t make a big deal out of it.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

You hum, thinking of how you were gonna get back to your dorm. It was probably still dark outside, and you weren’t exactly willing to put yourself in danger over finishing up a few schoolworks at the library.

“You can go ahead. I’ll just text Ode to see if he’s still awake.”

“Why?” He quips, pausing to stand next to you outside the doors of the building when you stop walking.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“There is a chance, yes. But I might not.” Seungmin smirks, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t wanna walk alone in the dark.”

If Seungmin wants to laugh and poke fun, it seems he’s doing a good job at holding back. “Don’t disturb his sleep. I’ll walk you back instead.”

“Wow, you’re actually being nice to me for once.” You say jokingly.

“I won’t make a habit out of it. Besides, I was the last person seen with you and I don’t wanna be responsible if you go missing.”

There goes being nice.

This is how you end up walking home with Kim Seungmin. You don’t remember much about the walk home, just the proximity from where he’s walking next to you and the warmth radiating from him in contrast to the cold night. He has his hands in his pockets the whole way home, and it’s the little details like what seems to be the first genuine smile you see from him that you remember the most.

When you reach your dorm, he simply stares at you in a way you’re not used to before bowing and turning around his step to start walking back to his own dorm.

three.

A month later, Chan from your university’s basketball team decides to host a party at his house.

Being friends with half of his friends had its perks in that he enthusiastically invites you when you walk past him by your department’s hallways. And while you had every intent to decline his offer, Ryujin had already accepted for you and told him he’d be seeing you both there.

And by 8pm, you find yourselves inside his packed house, trying to navigate your way through drunken college kids. The entire first floor reeked of alcohol and sweat which wasn’t a great combination by all means.

The music is loud from Chan’s speakers, and you immediately want to go home and jump into the comforting sheets of your bed to sleep the night away. Ryujin doesn’t let you flee as she leads you to the kitchen where she tells you of where Chan hides his secret stash of snacks and ice cream. Another silver lining.

You spend an hour chatting and laughing on the kitchen counter with Ryujin, a spoonful of ice cream in your mouths as you make fun of multiple people’s dancing — not that any of you could do any better. Actually, scratch that, Ryujin could probably take them all on. You continuously ask if it was okay for you to be stealing these expensive tubs of ice cream and Ryujin just tells you she’s done it before, and that Bang Chan could most definitely afford some more if he wanted to. So, you continue to eat the ice cream without guilt.

Well, until Chan catches the pair of you, and you apologize profusely. He just laughs it off, looking at the two of you fondly before feigning a scolding. Turns out, he simply wanted you two to join him and his friends in a round of truth or dare upstairs.

Another thing to add and check off your non-existent bucket list. To be deemed sociable enough to be included in an exclusive circle of friend’s truth or dare despite only knowing around 4 people there. You think it might just be Ryujin’s doing, but you happily tag along to escape the mass of people downstairs.

When you make it upstairs, you’re surprised to see you know a lot more people than you thought you would. Yeji was there, seated beside who you think is Karina. Jeongin is with his friends, Seungmin included. Some of them you know, and some you just learned to be Jisung, Changbin, and Minho. The rest don’t really matter to you as you prop yourselves down in the circle.

And then a round of the game starts, and you start to question the things in this world that perplexed you. You used to think it were simple things — wet doorknobs, tuna fish, cramps, back pains. But after tonight, you might have to start modifying your own list. You can start with someone’s attempt to rap freestyle, the sight of a shirtless Han Jisung whom you’ve barely exchanged a word with but now have seen him half naked, the sudden knowledge of who was wearing a Spongebob themed underwear, someone (you believe was Minho?) roleplaying a scene from Zootopia. The list is endless.

Who knew a game of truth or dare could be this chaotic? Though, you probably should’ve known that especially being thrown into a group of such dynamic people.

Before you know it, the bottle lands on you and you’ve never wanted to wipe the smirk on Jeongin’s face so much than right now because you know he’s probably planning something that has to do with Kim Seungmin.

You think you can keep your anxiety at bay, that is until he starts whispering with Felix and Hyunjin and you swear that if someone opened the window right now, there’s a high chance you would make a run for it and jump and simply hope for the best.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t anything crazy! You can stop chewing on your nails.” You flush in embarrassment when the group laughs, and Ryujin runs a comforting hand down your back to make sure the attention isn’t too overwhelming for you.

“I dare you to hug Seungmin.”

“Excuse me?” You ask him to repeat his dare to you as if you hadn’t heard him. But you did. Loud and clear in fact.

The smirk on his face only grows. “I said, hug Seungmin.”

Okay, you know what, that should be simple. You sigh out in response before getting up from your seat to make your way towards where Seungmin’s situated, thankful he didn’t let you do anything as embarrassing as the others.

However, the closer you make towards where Seungmin is, wearing a top that accentuated his broad shoulders way too perfectly, and sporting a smug grin on his face, you start to think this might be the most difficult one of the night yet.

Seungmin stands in compliance to your dare, and you feel all eyes in the circle shift to the pair of you, as if anticipating it more than you.

His eyes survey you, as if to question if you were really gonna do it. And to egg you on further, he decides to open his arms wide which earns a few howls and whistles from the room. God, you hate him. You really really hate him.

And then you do it, just to get it over with, and Seungmin’s expression switches to a more taken back one. He didn’t expect you to actually push through with the dare. The longer the hug lasts, the more a ghost of a smile threatens to spill from his lips.

You have your arms wrapped around the entirety of his body, and his own resting just around your waist, and he’s crouched down a little so he can match your height better without you having to tiptoe so much.

When he presses you closer, the whole room erupts in cheers; vomiting air, nudging each other, and whistling.

Seungmin allows himself a quick glance at you, but there isn’t much to see when your face is pressed firmly against his chest. Perhaps to try and hide from the embarrassment of your friends shouting “get a room” even if you were just hugging.

He feels so warm in the air conditioned room, and it seems he didn’t have much to drink tonight when he smells more like fresh laundry and the perfume he always wears. This feels nice actually. But you would never tell him that. In fact, you have every intention of taking that observation to your grave.

When you finally notice the glances of friends and acquaintances alike around you, you pull back from the hug and immediately make your way back to your seat without another word.

You make a vow to yourself to get back at Jeongin for humiliating you like that — however, there’s a persistent voice in your head telling you that maybe you hadn’t minded that hug one bit the way you let on.

You ignore it.

four.

The sound of a shutter going off and a flash of light greets you immediately upon entering your classroom another month later.

It seems Seungmin’s found an upgraded way to annoy you (as if hiding your things wasn’t enough). With a new phone gifted to him on his birthday, he seems insistent on catching you when you’re unprepared. It makes you frustrated — as if he wasn’t enough of an irritant.

You should be used to Seungmin doing stupid things all the time, but even after months, you find that it really is a difficult task to endure. Why is he so intent on irritating you? You’re starting to seek for the answers you told yourself to stay unknown. How could you keep letting him be without knowing why he enjoys getting a rise out of you so much?

To add insult to injury, his loud voice greets you a good morning as he waves his phone around at you. You hope it falls and shatters.

Too far?

“What? Are you camera shy?” He smirks mischievously, turning to focus his camera back on you.

“At what point do you become mature?”

“Hm, not for a long time, I don’t think.” You have to remind yourself he’s provoking you for the sake of it, and you really shouldn’t be as affected as you feel right now. So, you breathe in sharply through your nose and just let him be.

When class ends, you’re quick to rant to Ryujin about Seungmin’s new discovery at getting a kick out of you.

“He won’t stop taking fucking pictures of me.” You mutter indignantly, putting all your frustration into your words.

“You know, they say you only take photos of things if you have love for the subject.”

“What are you trying to imply?”

“Just that there must be a reason why he’s so intent on having your face litter the memory of his new phone.” Ryujin smirks when your face starts to flush red at the realization of what she’s suggesting.

“Oh, shut up.” Your words don’t come out as intimidating as you want it to, and you spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

You confront Seungmin the next day, just so you can stop thinking about it. “Why are you taking so much photos of me?”

You’re already expecting that smirk on his face, and a feigned confusion. But, to your surprise, he looks genuinely surprised at your question. You’d go as far as saying he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

You’ve unknowingly caught his tongue, but he catches himself before you can catch on. With a half-assed smirk on his face, he says the best excuse that comes in his mind.

“Just so I have multiple material to use when I need to blackmail you.”

You’re appalled, and frustrated at yourself for thinking what Ryujin was hinting at might be true. You don’t even know why you were hoping in the first place. You don’t like the boy, right?

Your lips press into a straight line, and you swear your blood vessels might burst if you stare at him any longer so you storm back to your seat and ignore him for the rest of the day.

five.

There comes a point in the semester when all you’ll know is the quivering of your knees and the bloodshot red of your eyes from crying too much.

For you, it’s the result of a failed test score on a subject you studied really hard for.

You draw your knees up to press your face against them, finding solace in the quiet of the night outside. It’s early enough that you aren’t scared to walk home alone just yet.

You hear footsteps around you, but you simply drown them out in favor of focusing on washing out your frustration over yourself and that stupid test. Though, it proves a more difficult task when someone slides into the seat next to yours. When you look up, you see Seungmin staring at you. And he’s looking at you with an expression you don’t quite recognize, but equally don’t have the energy to try and deduce.

“Seungmin, I’m not really in the mood—“ He shuts you up with a handkerchief shoved in front of your face. “Why are you offering me a handkerchief?”

“Because you’re crying and seeing your stupid tears makes me upset. So wipe them away.” You stare at the handkerchief before studying his features for any hint of malice, but you see nothing but honest concern. You can’t help but feel a little touched at the uncharacteristic gesture.

“Thanks.” He hums, smiling gently down at you, and you think you’ve never seen him look this small before.

When you take the handkerchief from him, you make sure to return what looks like a trial of a smile amidst your scornful face and Seungmin is genuinely shocked you’d actually direct the closest thing to a smile at him — as if he had expected you to brush off his own and reject it.

When he shifts a little closer to where you’re seated, you surprisingly don’t feel repulsed at the distance and the way his shoulders brush against yours.

“Is it something you wanna talk about?”

The cold and quiet atmosphere of the night and the way Seungmin is looking down at you encourages you to speak, the way you never thought you would with the boy.

“Not really. Just… I’m so stupid for failing that test. And, and maybe if I studied harder than I would’ve at least gotten a more decent score.” You sigh, playing with the handkerchief as you look down in humiliation.

Seungmin scrunches his face. “It’s not your fault. We win some, we lose some. What matters is that we keep going despite the losses.”

He doesn’t snap back at you with a snarky remark like he usually would. Instead, he gives genuinely useful advice, and you think your ears could be deceiving you if he wasn’t seated directly next to you.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you to say something like that.” You laugh a little, and you miss the way the tip of his ears heat in red at being able to solicit a laugh from you.

“You wound me.”

You don’t know what takes over you, but you find yourself leaning your head against his shoulder. For now, you’ll blame it on the exhaustion from crying so much earlier.

Your head against his body feels nice and comforting and warm against the biting air from the night, but you can feel him physically tense up at the contact and you almost pull your head back immediately if he hadn’t rested his head against yours.

The compromising position has Kim Seungmin in contemplation over something that’s been such a great concern in his life for the past few months, almost a year even. It had started when he met you, the first time he ever saw you and heard your voice, and the day he decided he’d spend every second thereafter trying to get your attention.

He mirrors the way you interact with your friends, and yet somewhere along the line, it had been misinterpreted into something it wasn’t and he had to live in pretense of irritating you when all he’s ever wanted was your attention. But, he thought, if this was the only way then he’d have to keep the facade up.

Besides, a little attention (even if it was with hatred) is better than none.

When Seungmin grows uncharacteristically quiet, you start to wonder what he could be thinking about and why there’s a small scrunch in his face as if he was deep in thought.

You never used to wonder what he could be thinking about. What’s changed?

“Seungmin?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you enjoy irritating me so much? Do you hate me?”

Seungmin peels his head from yours, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face. 

“Hate you?” He feels nauseous that you could even think that, and he’s shaking his head quickly, compromising feelings he’s kept hidden for quite a while now. He’s so confounded by your statement that he gets up from his seat on the bench for a second to stare at you before calming down and returning back to his spot. “I don’t hate you. I— I could never hate you.”

You look at him, and you’re surprised to see that he’s genuinely astonished and a little upset at what you had just tried to imply.

“Then why?” You swallow down a lump in your throat, asking him in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from you. This was the perfect opportunity to ask him why, being handed to you straight on your lap, so you bite the bullet and ask.

“I actually thought we’d get along quite well when we met. And then you just started to… I don’t know.” His eyes are soft as he listens to you, lips slightly parted as if trying to think of the perfect explanation to clear your misinterpretations.

When you finish, Seungmin closes his eyes to recollect his thoughts. For a second, you think he might be coming up with an excuse to save himself but the earnest way in which he looks at you the moment he opens his eyes again quiets the voice in your head.

“I just wanted your attention.” His face visibly cringes at the sudden confession. Seungmin feels like he’s floating, looking down at his physical body that’s trying to explain himself without embarrassing himself further.

“You… what?” You blink.

He sighs out, wiping the sweat that’s gathered from his palms down his pants before tilting his head back as if trying to ask strengths from the Gods so he can admit to you whatever he’s been hiding. And then, he looks back at you and he finally confesses what he’s been keeping from you for months.

“I thought that maybe if I acted the way you did with your friends then there’d be a higher chance we’d get along. But then you misinterpreted it as hatred, and I’ve had to pretend I enjoy irritating you when all I really want to do is hold your hand.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as if afraid of your response, but all you can do is stare at him with your mouth parted.

This definitely wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“But… but it really felt like you hated me. Like— when you’d make fun of me for my food choices or that time in the library when you stayed behind to taunt me for being a lost cause.”

“You have me all wrong, (Name). When I asked you what you liked, it was an excuse so I could get it for you. Do you really think I’d accidentally buy too much dinner for Jeongin, and have the excess be exactly your favorites? And… and that night at the library. I stayed behind because I know you’re afraid to walk home late. So you would be less afraid if I walked you home.”

You meet his eyes, breath catching in your throat when you gauge the level of genuineness in his eyes.

“You— You hugged me as a dare in Chan’s party and sometimes that’s all I think about.” Seungmin falls silent after that, simply letting out a breath he feels he’s been holding for too long.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a lot to take in.” He fiddles with the ends of the sweater he’s wearing, making sure to avoid eye contact.

“Seungmin.” The simple sound of his name from your lips has him looking at you despite trying his best not to. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. It must be a lot to take in.”

“I thought you hated me for months and now, you’re telling me the exact opposite.” Your voice gradually quiets down, and Seungmin finds comfort when you scoot in your seat closer. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Would it hurt to start over?” You’re greeted with his softening stare, and he bites his lips in anticipation for your response.

“I think… I think I’d like that.”

Seungmin immediately smiles, the kind of smile that’s difficult to hide even in the inky night, even if he tried.

You find yourself mirroring his own smile.

The thought of finding out the truth behind Seungmin’s actions has always scared you, but now you know you should’ve never been afraid.

Somehow, things are already starting to change, with an outstretched hand in your direction. You find yourself taking it in yours with ease.

“Hi, I’m Seungmin. It’s nice to meet you.”

[caustinen]

Omg I’m actually so in love with your Hollywood au 😭😭 do you have any headcanons for them? Like how they started dating, or what they do on a daily basis, general domestic things!!

Hi!! Sorry I took so long to reply but your ask sent me SPIRALLING — this whole au was such a random quick thing and I never expected it to go anywhere, but thinking of a response to this I got so into it I might actually manage to write something!

Just the first meeting hc got so ridiculously long that I’ll respond to the domestic hc’s (I HAVE SO MANY) on a separate post and tag you! Thank you for the inspiration luv 💘

HOLLYWOOD AU! First meeting:

Their first impressions are not very good… John hasn’t made it big yet but he’s definitely getting some attention so he decides to relocate to Hollywood and find a good PR-team around himself despite having always thought that the marketing/branding side of his profession is capitalistic nonsense — and while he has changed his attitude to the exctent of ”if you can’t beat them join them”, he’d still expect all the suits to be cold business men who don’t care about the art of it all.

Gale on the other hand expects all actor clients to be self-obsessed nepo pricks; he’s been climbing in the industry steadily for years and enjoys the challenge of bringing the best versions of people out and finding them their best options (he takes pride in being very good at what he does) but since initially he ended up in the industry through his love for film, he’s also often annoyed by the up-and-coming stars who only care for the fame.

Loud, relaxed and seemingly no-care-in-the-world John fits this prejudice perfectly, as does John’s expectation for an uptight, borderline rude PR-executive in a suit — at the end of the meeting he chooses a much more laid-back seeming guy called Brady to represent him, and Gale is relieved he’s not stuck with him, he really is, despite the teasing, annoying smile of that bastard refusing to leave his mind for the rest of the day.

Their second meeting is somehow WORSE, in a week or so a meeting runs long so Brady invites John to after-work drinks. Gale looks so different out of his suit (now in a white t-shirt and black pants that hug his waist tightly, hair mussled and curlier after a long day of running his hands through it) that Bucky is absolutely blinded for a second and goes to introduce himself flirtily. Gale stares at him for a bit before informing him they met last week and while John is able to laugh it off with the others, this doesn’t exactly help with Gale’s image of him (why can’t i get that smirk off my mind when he couldn’t even bother to note me??)

It doesn’t help that Bucky gets very drunk and keeps seeking his company, not caring he’s only receiving grunts as reply to his stories told draped over the blonde’s shoulders as Gale sips on his non-alcoholic beer (he also shares the Buck story and starts calling him Buck like in the show), and whatever progress John might’ve done to make him almost smile a couple of times is undone immediately as he flirts with everyone else just as much when he leaves Gale’s side, cementing him in Gale’s mind as a playboy who’s gotten a bit too into his own head with his modest success lately and decides to forget all about him.

After that they run each other a couple of times at the office and social gatherings, and things are civil enough, they chat briefly each time but there’s some strange tension between them that makes Gale uneasy and John confused and a bit frustrated because he usually gets along with everyone but this man just seems to be immune to his usual charm; he can’t understand why the man is seems so cold and barely ever speaks up, that sweet smile he rarely sees him show others is completely wasted on him in his opinion.

They only properly meet again at a premier of John’s new movie a couple of months down the road, the first one under Gale’s firm, and end up in the backroom between the red carpet and John walking into the theater post-film (Brady is busy with organizing everything) and it’s TENSE, they’ve never been in a room by just the two of them and John is obviously nervous wreck which makes him antsy and Gale isn’t making any effort to make small-talk to ease his nerves (he’s not a natural at that okay, and esp with John he doesn’t know what to say)

Only when John is basically doubled over on the couch groaning into his hands as the film approaches its end Gale is forced to interfere. ”Why are you so upset?” ”They’re gonna hate it.” Gale is thrown off, never expecting to see this vulerable side underneath all that loud confidence. ”They’re not gonna hate it.” John scoffs. ”And how would you know?” Gale frowns, annoyed. ”Listen, it’s not Casablanca but you had to know that walking into the project, and you give it enough life to keep the tension up ’till the end. This is your best work since Thorpe Abbotts so just sit back and relax.”

John stares at him, mouth open, despair forgotten for a while. ”You know my work?” he asks, blindsighted, and Gale blushes and turns away. ”Maybe. I go to most films they show in my local theatre so don’t make too much of it.” John doesn’t have time to digest the words properly before he’s ushered to take the applause of the crowd, but it stays with him.

Things shift after that. John starts to pay attention to what Gale says, and realizes while he might speak rarely, when he does it’s always meaningful and thought-out. When Brady wants to make him do some new audition tapes he asks him to bring some of his collegues for second opinions, and he’s satisfied to see Gale roll up to the little studio they’ve rented one afternoon.

Wanting to impress Gale apparently works wonders because he feels like he reaches a new level with scene they’re working with, and the feedback reflects this. Even Gale gives him an approving nod, which somehow sends butterflies down his insides.

He turns his show-off when they go for drinks as a group next time to actually have a conversation with the blonde, and it turns out Gale is OBSESSED with old hollywood — whenever things were bad in his childhood home (often) he’d hide himself into the world of fiction of all kinds, and he’s seen an obscene number of films and loves learning trivia about it too, film star biographies are his favorite genre of books. He used to go to his little local movie theatre so much he was eventually offered a job there and could help with picking the movies, but his brief dreams of being an actor were never realized as he knew he needed a less pecarious job to give himself the stability his childhood home didn’t offer.

Learning these pieces of information draws John even more facinated with him, and Gale seems to be laughing at more and more of his jokes too. Once Gale lets his guard down he has also started to see John underneath the bravado, and makes mental notes to check out the books he recommends and he might even lightly flirt back these days, secretly enjoying the those dark, observant eyes fixed on him and squeezing into a surprised smile.

All in all, it’s been going better for a while until a faithful day, when they’re doing another auditiong tape. Bucky’s been rejected from a film he really wanted earlier that day, and his previous film has gotten some lukrwarm reviews upon getting into streaming services, so he’s in a shitty mood, and the unimpressed faces Gale keeps making annoy him to no end.

They call it a day and they agree to meet at a bar closeby to start the weekend and get everyone’s spirits up. The beer only serves to make Bucky more upset tho, espescially when he sees Gale hitting it up with someone who walks up to him, laughing at his stuff and looking relaxed in a way he never quite does with him. A bit drunk and a lot angry he follows him to the bathroom, Gale noticing him as he walks in with the same swing of the door. He turns around and greets him, the smile from talking to that whatever dude still lingering on his lips being John’s final straw.

”Oh, so you can be happy? Thought it was fucking impossible to achieve.” Gale’s smile immediately drops and his posture shifts, arms crossing over his chest. ”What are you talking about?” ”You’re always making those faces no matter what I do. You’ll ruin your pretty face with all that frowning.” ”What on earth are you-” ”When I try to talk with you. Or when I do a scene and you’re supposed to help but you just keep looking at me like I’m an idiot. I don’r get it.”

Gale starts to get upset too now, something John has never seen before, his calmness finally breaking. ”What do you want me to say?!” ”I don’t know, be fucking supportive for once?!” ”I am being supportive by being honest! Do you think that was the best you can do?” It surprises John, but he’s already too worked up to back down. ”Well what if it is?” They’ve gotten closer to each other in the empty men’s room, and Gale’s hands are no longer crossed, he’s pointing at John’s chest and staring him down. ”You have so much goddman potential, John Egan, and it’s killing me to see you waste it like that. Reach for something bigger. Get more complex charachters, more nunaced scripts. If it takes you hating me to hear that then so be it.” John scoffs despite the blush trying to creep to his cheeks. ”Well since you know fucking everything maybe you should help me find those roles.” ”I’m not your agent, or your publicist, or your mom, or your boyfriend, I don’t see how it’s any of my-” They’re practically yelling at each other, and without thinking John takes the wrist of Gale’s hand poking his chest to his and pushes it down so they’re chest to chest, noses almost touching, so close they’ve gotten. ”Maybe you could just help me out if you didn’t hate me so much.” John isn’t yelling anymore, and all of Gale’s nerves are on fire, he can feel John’s breath on his cheeks, his own pulse pounding in his chest. ”I don’t hate-” And that’s as far as he gets before John crashes their lips together, the small movement inevidable as the sun coming up each morning.

Gale makes a muffled sound into the kiss and goes to grab his shirt, pulling him closer as John reaches to cup the back of his head. The kiss is just as messy and teethy and perfect as the months of growing tension between them has promised. Gale wants to climb him and bite him and drag him down the floor, his own desire punching air out of him as John stumbles until his back hits the wall, his big hand protecting his head from the hard impact. They are lost in it until their lips are swollen and bruised and they’re both more than half-hard after being pressed so tightly together, and Gale bites his abused lips to silence a moan trying to escape him as John dips down to suck and lick on his sweaty neck, his own hand tangling in his curls and pulling and feeling victorious as John makes a choked sound. He pulls until their eyes meet again, and he’s sure his own pupils are as big as John’s as they stare at each other for a moment, both of them trying to catch their breath like they just ran a marathon. ”You drive me fucking insane,” Gale grits at him, and John laughs a short sound. ”I drive you insane?! You’re the one prancing around… Being all, you know, intelligent and sexy with your James Dean features and Paul Newman eyes.” Gale stares at him for a little bit, mouth open, before pulling him into another kiss.

They go back to Gale’s eventually (Gale comes back to himself enough to realize he does not want to be caught with all his collegues on the other side of the bathroom wall) and they make out for a while more, little less heated but just as passionate, but when it’s getting more intense again John has a moment of clarity and pulls away. He’s drunk and tired and overwhelmed and he doesn’t want this to be just a hook-up. Gale understands but asks John to stay the night anyway and he ends up sleeping on his coach that night. It’s a bit awkward in the morning because neither of them really knows what to say and John’s just about to leave, thinking this was a mistake after all, when Gale suggest they’d watch a movie, and the nervous hope in his face grips John’s heart enough to realize there’s no walking away from what he’s started to feel for this man. They watch a film, and another, and by the third the funny commentary both of them make has shifted into the movie playing in the background as they make out, Gale in John’s lap, and it feels right.

John ends up staying the whole weekend, they just watch films and make dinner together and get to know each other. John is scared he’ll overstay his welcome but Gale makes it feel natural, and the exciting newness of it all is addicting, and perhaps exactly because they’ve had to overcome so many of their own prejudices about the other everything feels more vibrant and exciting. Seeing Gale relaxed and smiely and silly and nervous as he rolls his eyes at him when he sings along to the radio as they cook makes his heart miss a beat. He’s completely prepared to not go further than kissing for now but after a delicious, footsie heavy dinner on Sunday evening at Gale’s kitchen they finally end up in bed, and it feels just right that their first time together is slow and searching and absolutely perfect, and they get the final confirmation that their chemistry seems to be working out pretty fucking well.

After that weekend, John never accepts a role without running it by Gale first (they often read them together naked in bed on the weekends, making each other giggle while dramatically imaging the scenes while leaning into each other amongst the fluffy pillows), and within a year he’s a rising star and his name is on everyone’s lips, but he’s only got one pair of lips in mind.

It isn’t just smooth sailing after that either, navigating a relationship and his career and the publicy, but as slow as their love might have started it’s all the more steady for it, and it never stops growing.

SORRY THIS GOT SO INTENSE!!! Literally all of this came to me as I thought how to respond to your ask so thank you for being a major motivation 🖤

[billiousserpent]

This is my interpretation of Keegan P. Russ luvlies!!

Man I've seen people talk about how they were disappointed when they saw his face so I draw him in my style instead. Literally had to trace his facial features so y'all can see what I see 😘

Let's talk about his face— Okay, some may say that I might've draw him a little older than how he old he actually is(?) But that's just how I view him as. Let's be real here this man is almost in his forties, fucking tired from his job, too. The fuck y'all expect? A role model 😭??

Though from how I draw him, he may look a little similar towards Blooms, can you blame me? I traced it and had to at least give Brian some credits for the character. (Ngl he has a big ass forehead, I love it.)

Hair? I like to think that he may, or may not get it buzzed, but either way, I like it. In my opinion, this man has very thick silky hair yet often keeps it trimmed due to his job requirements. Man barely gets contact with ANY necessary products for his body nor hair in a normal daily basis

Little plus— I think he would have a pretty jawline, but I can't say it's the most visible, though. But you can still feel it whenever you caress his handsome face. I have a feeling his facial hair also grows fast, so he shaves it almost every(?) morning to keep it neat. Sometimes would forget it, though. You know what's his reminder? The amount to discomfort he feels once he puts his mask on, man can't even complain shit cus he knew it's his fault for forgetting (poor bebe) I also wanted to add his tattoos, but still don't know how to unfortunately :(( Think it's more of tentacles and as for his leg, i can say there's a cobweb design but can't really see the rest.

Also this is how I would see him if he hasn't buzzed his hair yet 👇👇👇

I'd also like to address that the HCs are from a friend of mine! I have spoken to one of the artist where my friend got the inspiration from, and wanted to give credits to them!

Credits to: @moosch !!

You should check out their content about this man (or about the Ghosts), too! To me (+ my friend) their HCs of him are very accurate!!

[dandelionprints]

More Than Enough

(Tommy Shelby One Shot)

As some of you will know if you’ve seen any of my posts, I’ve not had any motivation to write and have really felt my inspiration dwindling on a daily basis. I had a little bit of that motivation come back to me this evening so I thought I’d use it to write this short one shot. It was quite hard to write as I feel like my self belief is at a low right now so I was questioning myself a lot when writing it but fuck it, I’ve finally completed a WIP after weeks of not writing, I hope you enjoy!

Day had slowly turned into night in what had felt like only a matter of minutes in your bedroom, the only light now coming from the fireplace and a lamp that was lit on your desk. The comfort of the fire warmed you as the air grew cold.

Piles of invitations were laid upon the wooden surface with various addresses to the wealthiest people within England and Scotland. This charity ball had better get you a lot of fucking money after all the time you’d put into it, not to mention the cramp that was now very apparent in your fingers.

“Come to bed love, it’s getting late”, Tommy whispered against your shoulder before moving the strap of your nightie to the side and gently laying a kiss on your bare skin.

“I will my love, I’ve just got a few…”, you began, getting cut off swiftly by an exasperated sigh from your husband that caught you off guard.

“Y/N, you’ve been at this for hours, you need to get some rest. I would also like to spend some time with my wife. Please, come to bed”

You turned to look at him standing there in just his boxer shorts, a look of pleading in his expression. Those eyes of blue almost boring right through you, making you melt like they had the first day you’d made contact with them.

You sighed feeling guilty, “I know, Tom. But if I don’t do it then who the fuck will? They’re meant to be delivered to everyone tomorrow and I feel like if they’re not perfect then I’ll be judged even more than I already am”

A wave of insecurity swept over you unexpectedly. Fuck you hated that feeling, never feeling like the life you’d married into was something you deserved. The money, the big house, the handsome gangster husband. None of it.

“Who do you think is judging you, the people invited?”, his eyebrow raised as he took a step toward you, kneeling at your side, “don’t take any notice of what they say, they’re all twats in expensive suits”

You nodded your head and averted his gaze, instead choosing to pick a spot on the floor to focus on.

“I know what they say, Tom. ‘What’s a girl like that doing with a man like him? A former peasant girl who used to have to beg for scraps on the street? She’s probably only with him for the money! Oh, and the maids too, they do everything for her’”

“Who have you heard say that? You tell me and I’ll send Arthur round to have a chat with them, no one talks about my wife like that!”

He stood with his fists balled at his sides, his knuckles white from the tension. Grabbing his arm you pulled yourself up and squeezed him gently, his muscles tight under your grip.

“No! Please don’t, it’s not a big deal”, you used your free hand to bring his face towards yours, “All I’m saying is I’m well aware that they don’t think highly of me. I just want to show them I’m no longer that peasant girl who had to beg for food and money, that I’m capable of organising a charity event and doing as much for it on my own as I can without the help of staff or other influences. I want them to know I work hard, Tom”

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time you’d been speaking, too fixated on every word you were saying. He brought his hands up to either side of your face and cupped your cheeks.

“You work harder than any of those fuckers that are invited, the only reason they’re on the guest list is cause they have money, and lots of it. They don’t have a clue what shit you went through to end up on the streets or how we met, which if I remember rightly wasn’t when you were still having to sleep in the gutters. They don’t know fuck all about anything, none of them do”, he said, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

Bringing your hands up you held onto either one of his wrists, your thumb on the back of his hand.

“I know love, I just want to show I’m enough. Enough to be deserving of this life we’ve built. Enough to be with you when there are so many other beautiful women out there who would drop their knickers for you with just a snap of your fingers”

He chuckled then before his expression turned soft, moving his face closer to yours, hands still cupping your cheeks.

“Darling, you’re more than enough. You always have been”

His lips connected with yours in a soft swoop, holding themselves there for a while before curving up into a smile.

You smiled back feeling a rush of warmth in your chest, the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach making themselves known.

“Now c’mon, bed”

This time you didn’t have a choice in the matter as he swiftly swept you up into his arms and carried you towards the bed. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, the signature smell of whiskey and cigarettes moving to your nose.

Placing you down onto the bed he knelt over you and kissed you again, this time with more passion.

“I think it’s time I show you just how wrong those people are, how it’s really me who is unworthy to be with you, Mrs. Shelby”

The firelight continued to flicker, casting shadows around the room, the plans of finishing the invitations now well and truly gone.

Right here in this very moment, in your big expensive house, on the expensive Egyptian cotton bedding beneath you on your expensive four poster bed, the only thing that mattered was that the love of your life truly believed that you had always been enough, no matter what.

————

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik

[haminjago]

The way you draw Toshi is just divine 🥺💛 What's your favorite thing about All Might?

AWW thank you! And to be honest there is a lot lol but I think the biggest thing is just how much I feel like I can relate to him in some ways? He's so selfless to the point where it's almost dangerous, and the whole notion of him believing that he didn't have any worth or ability to assist his students anymore after losing his quirk really struck a chord with me? Overall I just think his character is fascinating and one of my favorite tropes is the character that gives themselves so much to the point where theres nothing left. Also the whole concept of him having to mask how he really feels on a daily basis is also just hitting home in some ways. I just see a lot of myself in him and I love the way he's written so much...I find him to be such a tragic but inspiring character at the same time, and everyday I thank Horikoshi for letting him get to be the old(er) man he is at the end of the manga

I also just like old men and and hes a dork and pretty and blonde and funny and hes my husband thats all ty

[rippeanuts1950-2000]

i hate u i love u

Prev|Next

Chapter 3)

He never flirted with her first.

Oh sure, Corey flirted with her on a daily basis but that was when she was winning an argument, not because she was just minding her own business. What is his deal? Is he trying to get her to let her guard down? Well tough luck, he lost that privilege three years ago.

These are the thoughts running through Laney’s head as she does stock check in the back. Remind her again why she took this job? It is a miracle enough that she got hired, considering her history with Corey but a part of her wonders why she still took it even though she doesn’t hang out with Corey anymore.

Mostly she knows it was for nostalgia. This shop was where she got her first bass. She remembers how six year old her held Corey’s hand as they tried to find the perfect instrument for her. Mr Riffin was so patient with them, especially Corey because he kept pointing out instruments that he thought looked cool to Laney.

(“We have to find you the coolest instrument, Lanes.” He had said. “Why Core?” Laney had asked. “Because you’re the coolest person I know!” Corey had answered. She’s pretty sure that after that moment she gained her crush on Corey.)

Laney shakes her head of the memory. It’s weird to think about it, the time before Grojband. Before they stopped being friends. The inner child in her misses it.

Whatever, what’s done is done. 

Speaking of things being done, she’s almost done noting down stock which means she’s gonna have to face Corey again. Sometimes she wonders what would happen if she quit.

*****

“That was fast.” Corey says when she steps out to the front. “We don’t have much stuff in the back.” Laney responds, refusing to look at him. “Did you finish what I asked you to do?” Corey nervously scratches the back of his neck. “So the funny thing is, I didn’t do that. Instead I wrote more lyrics to my song.” He answers. Laney scoffs. Well at least he didn’t try to lie to her.

“So the one time I need you to NOT write lyrics, you end up writing lyrics.” She snaps. Corey throws his hands up in a “so sue me” kind of way. “The words started flowing and my inspiration was going wild!” He argues. For some reason, his words make Laney want to yell at him more. “But you couldn’t have that when I was still part of the band?” She says bitterly. Honestly this sort of thing shouldn’t affect her as much as it does. But the fact that he started taking writing lyrics seriously and actually stopped relying on the diary after she left has always left a bad taste in her mouth.

Corey glares at her. “Oh this again? For the last time, I didn’t have inspiration back then! I was thirteen, stupid, and wanted our band to get big so that I could share our music with the world!” He exclaims. 

Laney slams her hands down on the register counter. “And what changed? Cause last I checked you did have inspiration from Trina’s diary entries. How do you have inspiration now all of a sudden?” She’s screaming at Corey at this point but honestly she doesn’t care. “I just do okay!” Corey says, crossing his arms. “Oh my god, could you give me an actual reason instead of that? You do this everytime I ask!” She snaps. Corey stomps over to the register, looking ready to yell at her like a mad man. Good, cause Laney will yell right back. “Did it ever occur to you that you leaving might have been my inspiration? Now that I don’t have you breathing down my neck about lyrics every five seconds, I know how to write lyrics without the diary.” He answers, and even though he’s not yelling Laney can sense the anger in his voice.

Laney shoves him away from her. At some point since he got over to the cash register he had somehow managed to get in her face. “I only lectured you so much about lyrics because you never tried hard enough to write GOOD lyrics on your own and you ALWAYS relied on Trina’s diary. And then like two minutes before we had to perform, you always made us drop everything to steal the stupid diary despite the fact I always told you to do it ahead of time. If anything, I was the reason we got anything done.” She growls, jabbing a finger against his chest. Corey scowls. “You held us back!” He yells. Laney freezes.

Did he just?

Oh this dumbass.

“I held the band back? Riffin, that is the biggest load of bull shit that has ever come out of your mouth. I’m the reason why Grojband fucking exists. I was the one who told you we should start a band. I was the one who asked Kin and Kon to join because you were scared they would say no despite the fact that we had been taking music classes with them since we were seven. I was the one who booked us our first gig. I was the one who helped you come up with the name! What did you do? Write bad lyrics and criticize me when I had valid objections. Held the band back, my ass. If anything, that was you!” Laney screams. Thank god Mr Riffin wasn’t in the shop that moment, she would have been fired for sure.

“Lanes, I-” Corey tries to say something but Laney cuts him off. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear it. And you lost the right to call me Lanes three years ago.” She says, ducking down and pulling her headphones and her lyrics folder out her backpack. She crams the headphones over her head, turns on Paramore, and pulls out the lyrics for i hate u, i love u. It’s been way too long since she last worked on it.

Out of the corner of her eye Laney can see Corey watching her as she writes, an apologetic look on his face. He sees her looking at him apparently, because after a few seconds of subtly glancing at him, he mouths “I’m sorry.” at her.

Whatever, what’s done is done and she’s gonna make sure the Newmans win the Battle Of The Bands.

*****

“What did you do?”

Corey glances haphazardly at Kin who is currently trying to play god with fusing genes or something at his little office space in Corey’s garage. Honestly Corey’s not even sure he cares to know what he’s doing after how he acted yesterday. “A lot of things.” Corey mumbles, rolling over on the couch. Kon, who is chilling on the floor in front of the couch eating cheese and chips for some reason, hands him a bag of chips. “Did Laney reject the Battle Of The Bands bet?” He asks. Corey takes the bag unceremoniously. “Nope, she said yes.” Corey says.

Kin lifts up his goggles and swivels his chair towards him. “How'd you mess up with her this time?” He asks, pulling out a notepad and a pen, ready to take notes on his friend’s issue. Sometimes Corey thinks Kin is convinced he’s a mad scientist/licensed therapist. Only one of those things is true. Unfortunately for Corey, he can not afford a real therapist so Kin is all he’s got.

“Let’s see, not only did I flirt with her unprompted, the next thing I did after flirting with her was get into an argument with her. And what does my brilliant brain decide to say when I’m losing the argument? That she held the band back.” Corey lists off. Kon starts gagging on a piece of cheese he had been eating while Kin’s pen explodes because he’s gripping it too tightly. 

“YOU TOLD HER WHAT?!?” The twins scream at him. Kin grabs Corey by the shoulders and starts shaking him. “Corey, you idiot! Laney was the original heart and soul of Grojband! Without her we almost fell apart, don’t you remember?” Kin rants. If Corey wasn’t being manhandled by him, he would have yelled at Kin.

Of course he remembers, he almost broke the band up because of it. Making music without Lanes sucked. He never thought he would miss her constant reminders to start writing lyrics soon or they were gonna be in deep trouble, but he did. Kin and Kon were great but he had known Laney since they were in kindergarten. She was the first person to believe in him outside of his dad and Trina(back when she was Katrina and not Trina). If it hadn’t been for Kin and Kon telling him that they should at least try and make music without Lanes did he realize that breaking the band up was a stupid idea. Now the band is as strong as it was before, just missing a bass player. Both in reality and in their hearts.

“I know, it was stupid and dumb and I regret every word I said. Except for the flirting, that I stand by.” Corey says, once Kin has stopped shaking him. Kon groans. “Corey, that’s not the point. You still said it and that probably lowered her opinion of us, again.” He says, shaking his head in disappointment. “If you love her, why do you act like this?”

Corey opens his mouth to argue but then closes it. “I…I don’t know.” He admits. This snaps Kin back from his quiet ramblings about blue haired idiots. He picks up his notepad and gets a new pen from out of his pocket. “Let’s dig deeper into that, shall we? Now I understand you and Miss Penn had been friends for years before the incident in 9th grade.” He says, tapping the pen on his pad. “Yes, Kin, we were. Why are you acting like this is something you don’t know?” Corey grouses.

“Restating it allows me to understand your mind a bit more which will make it easier for me to excavate it. Anyway, before the incident in 9th grade did you realize your feelings about Ms Penn?” Kin asks, waving Corey off. “No, it wasn’t until after she left did I even start to think about feeling that way towards her.” Corey says, picking at his nails. He really needs to repaint them. “Good, good. So when she left the band and stopped being your best friend, did it feel like a break up?” Kin continues. “Dude, you know he felt like it was a break up. We had to drag Corey out of his room because of how bad it got.” Kon cuts in. “Ugh, Kon you just ruined my dramatic ‘this is why you act this way’ speech! Thanks a lot.” Kin replies tersely.

“Your what now?” Corey tries to ask before Kin shushes him. “What I was going to ask after the break up question was going to be some questions about the Ewmans and how you felt after she made friends with them. But since that’s ruined, I’ll just get straight to the point. Corey, you subconsciously want Laney to hurt the way you did when she stopped being your best friend. In order to do that you hurt her verbally in hopes that she’ll feel the way you felt back then.” Kin explains. 

Corey blinks. That explains so much. “So how do I stop acting like this?” He asks. Kin shrugs. “I don’t know, unfortunately. I could figure it out by doing some brain scans. And possibly going into your mind and switching around a few things.” He suggests. Corey immediately shields his head. “No we’re not doing that!” He exclaims.

“Calm down, it was just a suggestion.” Kin says, as if Corey’s reaction is unjustified. Corey lets out a sigh. “Kon, what do you think I should do?” He asks. Kon raises an eyebrow. “I think it’s pretty obvious. Stop being a dick and stop flirting with her when she’s clearly not into you anymore.” He says. “But flirting with her is so fun!” Corey whines. “Well stop doing it because you always do it after you’ve been a dick to her.” Kon says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not rocket science, Corey.”

“So I should just leave her be until the Battle Of The Bands?” Corey asks. “I mean that wasn’t what I was suggesting but that does kind of sound somewhat of a good idea.” Kon says. “He’s right, it’ll probably make Laney feel better about having to leave the Ewmans for a month to hang out with us. Which will increase the odds of her joining us permanently.” Kin says, scribbling down some complicated math equation that apparently connects with Laney. “And that’s what I want to happen.” Corey murmurs. Kin and Kon pat him on the back. “That’s what we all want to happen buddy.” Kin says quietly. “So don’t mess it up for us.” Kon teases.

Corey grins. “I’ll do my best. Now let’s get practicing, we can’t get Laney back if we’re not good enough. ”

WE ARE SO BACK! So sorry about how late this is and that it’s short and probably not my best work. I’ve started writing the next chapter so hopefully the next wait won’t be so long. Let me know what you think and as always my asks open if you’re confused about something! I’ll see you next time, bye for now!

[vivalarevolution]

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓖𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓐𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓐𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

Jake Sully x Human/Avatar Reader

Request: „Hi could I request some human jake sully x reader? It could be like at the bar scene or somewhere else, thanks‟

A/N: A request from anon. Sorry for writing this request for so long, I had no inspiration for it before. I modified the idea slightly but I hope it will still be good and pleasant to read. English is not a language that I use on a daily basis, mistakes may or will appear. 

The work also contains smut, so minors do not interact.

In one moment she watched as two men were at each other's throats, only to be sitting on one of them's lap in the other moment, consumed by the sexual tension that finally broke, now taking its toll.

She still didn't know how it happened.

But she didn't want to think about that now. Not when the stranger's hands caressed her skin so deliciously, not when his lips taste so addictively of hers, not when her body was heated with desire, almost burning.

-So good - she whispered, arching her back as he began to mark her neck with wet kisses.

The man merely hummed under his breath as he continued his assault, reveling in the awareness of her dissolving in his arms.

Soon after, her own hands began to travel from his muscular shoulders, slowly moving down to his pants. She couldn't help herself, and she couldn't wait any longer. She had to have him inside her.

Under her hand she could feel the outline of his member and it made her involuntarily moan. Or maybe it was the brunette's fingers, which unexpectedly found themselves under the material of her dress, caressing her femininity hidden behind the material of thin underwear.

-So wet - he murmured directly into her ear, kissing its lobe.

-Don't tease me - she replied, ignoring him completely, moving her hips desperately for more friction.

The man laughed softly under his breath but complied with her request without objection, pushing aside the wet material of her panties to enter her tight and hot center with two fingers in the next moment.

He stared at her face, which took on a grimace of pleasure. Her mouth was parted and her eyes shut tightly as her loins moved lazily left and right, trying to catch the sweet release that lurked just around the corner.

-You're squeezing me so tight, princess. Let go - he purred in her ear, and the woman surprisingly did what the brunette asked her to do - Just like that, nice and slow. You doing so well for me sweetheart.

She didn't know what had the greater effect on her, his skilled fingers or maybe the words spoken in a low warm voice that reminded her of the fire.

-I need you - she confessed after a moment, looking exhausted even though they had only just begun.

-Where do you need me, baby? - he asked, staring into her hazy eyes.

-Inside me - she said on the verge of patience, grabbing his shoulders hard in an act of desperation - I need you now. I need you inside of me, deep inside of me.

The man stared at her, feeling only now the tension flowing from her, her eyes said it all. Rolling up the material of her dress so that it lay over her round hips, he gripped between his fingers the firm skin that was oozing from between his palms and pulled her closer so that her womanhood could rub against his manhood with every slightest movement she made.

-I thought you wanted me inside you? - he asked maliciously, seeing that she was too engrossed in the electrifying feeling of the friction of his pants to remember her earlier demands.

Woman looked at him through closed eyelids. Her lips were parted from the way she was panting, and a faint glow of pink appeared on her cheeks.

-And I thought you'd finally take control - she remarked, looking down at him - And yet your mouth won't close and you don't do anything.

Instead of being annoyed brunet just smirked. Her demanding tone and the way she was ordering him around only turned him on more.

Grabbing the top of her clothes, he let her ample breasts spill out. His hands immediately began to massage them, thumbs rubbing her pebbly nipples, causing her to moan again, trying to hide her face in the crook of his neck, but the man wouldn't let her. Gripping her hips, he pulled her impossibly closer, then one of his hands slid down to her firm bum to stop at the line of her underwear, which he brushed away.

-Be a good girl and fill yourself up with me - he said, patting her asscheeck.

Without a word, the young woman reached for his zipper, lifting herself slightly to have better access to his manhood, which, once released, slammed against her clitoris, sending waves of shock towards her.

Man watched as she guided his member to her wet center, after a while putting it slowly inside.

They both breathed a sigh of relief, finally feeling each other.

She had never felt so full and stretched while the man tried not to clench his hands tightly around her body with how much he wanted to use her, feeling her tight, hot canal.

However, his resolve flew out the window the moment she began to move her loins lazily, moaning pornographically into his ear. Then his composure disappeared, giving way to instincts. He directed her as he wanted, setting the pace and frequency of movements himself.

Room was filled with the sounds of moans, grunts, growls, skin slaps and dirty words that only added spice to the whole situation, leading them straight into the arms of a sweet release that hit them hard and unexpectedly.

Nothing mattered at that moment, not the consequences, not the future effects. Their breaths were ragged and their hearts pounded against their chests like hammers.

-My name is Y/n - the woman said after a moment - I believe we were too busy with other activities to introduce ourselves.

She was right. They were so busy with the desire coursing through their veins that they didn't realize they didn't even know each other names.

-Jake Sully - he introduced himself with a boyish smile on his lips.

-Nice to meet you Jake Sully - she replied smiling, laughing gently after few seconds.

She wasn't sure why she had told him her name, it wasn't like they would ever see each other again after this night.

Or at least that's what she thought until she saw him on another planet so far from home.

[sl-newsie]

The Secret Ingredient (Willy Wonka (2023) x Fickelgruber Daughter) Chapter 2: Pleased To Meet You

Previous: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/747510006135554048/the-secret-ingredient-willy-wonka-2023-x?source=share

“Are you alright, Ms. Charlotte?” Lottie asks as she brings over my breakfast tray. “You seem distracted.”

She’s right. Ever since yesterday my mind’s been in a fog. I can’t stop thinking about the man in the top hat. It’s like I’ve got a nagging feeling in the back of my head that’s itching to know who he is.

“Sorry, Lottie. I usually don’t take so much interest in newcomers, but there was something different about that man yesterday. I hope father doesn’t go too hard on him.”

“I very much plan to!” The man in question announces. “That Wonka fellow is going to wish he’d never set foot in this town!”

My head perks up. “Wonka?” Now I have a name to match the face. “But why? He won’t hurt anyone.”

Father scoffs. “He will hurt our business! Besides, he’s-” he shutters. “P- P-”

I raise a brow. “Poor?”

He leans over and gags. “Yes! That! But don’t worry, dear. We are going to run him out and he will no longer be a threat.”

I feel my temper start to churn and I gawk at his arrogance. “There’s more to life than competition, dad. He wants to sell chocolate, that’s all. Isn’t encouraging his dream worth a few coins?”

But it’s no use. Once again my words wash over father and he walks off to join Prodnose and Slugworth for their morning meeting. Guess I’ll go back to my usual reading and study sessions? Unless…

“Say, Lottie,” I think out loud. “I might be willing to take up that offer from yesterday. You’d still be inclined to sneak me out tonight for a bit, would you?”

The maid’s eyes widen and she gets a funny smile. “Yes! I knew it! I knew there was something funny about you yesterday!”

I frown. “What’s that mean?”

She giggles. “Oh, you know. See a cute boy, can’t stop thinking about him…” She trails off suggestively.

“Excuse me?” I gawk. “What’s wrong with wanting to meet someone new? This man might be the adventure I’ve been looking for!”

The day drags on unbelievably slow. The whole time I’m stuck in mind-numbing private lessons about finance and lady etiquette. The only enjoyable session I have is my lecture on chocolate chemistry.

“Mr. Snickers, just how many cocoa beans can be churned into chocolate? Wouldn’t it be the more beans there are the richer the chocolate is?”

My teacher gets a certain gleam in his eye that always happens when I spark an idea. “One would think, Ms. Fickelgruber. But there is also a rumor that there could be a secret ingredient we may never be able to measure.”

A secret ingredient…

Mr. Snickers is by far one of my favorite people. Sometimes I wish he was my adoptive father. He’s no doubt much more caring than my real one. Sadly he has no wife or kids of his own so he’s devoted his life to teaching. His lessons both inspire imagination and moxy, which are things my life craves on a daily basis.

“I’ll leave off with that note,” Mr. Snickers says as he packs up his briefcase. “Remember your assignment is to compare the different cocoa bean to sugar ratios from the major chocolate corporations.”

Just then Lottie appears with his weekly check in hand. They both exchange shy smiles and my hypothesis thickens. For weeks I’ve been seeing their feelings blossom and it only drives my curiosity behind the idea of love. Obviously they take a fancy to each other so why ignore it? But perhaps it’s not as simple.

I catch a quick peek at the window. It’s dark now, meaning it’s almost time for father to retire to bed. My moment of opportunity approaches. It’s best to wear something less conspicuous so as to not draw attention from the constables. For this evening’s confidential gallivant I choose a plain light pink dress with brown boots. I’m actually surprised these are still in my closet. I haven’t worn anything this “poor” in years. But unlike father I prefer a touch of modesty.

Deep breath. Take a look outside… All dark. Father’s gone to bed. Time to move-

Thump. Thump.

What in Heaven? There’s footsteps on the ceiling- Wait a minute. Is that…? It is! The chocolate man and a little girl are floating on the roof! Carrying… balloons? There’s no way I can walk away from this now!

I do little to hide my excitement and take off running down the staircase.

Lottie spots me and starts following. “Where are you going?”

My smile widens. “I’m meeting destiny, Lottie!”

She grips her long skirt and chases after me. “Wait for me! I need to sneak you out, remember?”

Right. That part.

“Quick, get in here.” Lottie beckons to the dumbwaiter and I climb inside. “Once you’re downstairs, take the door on the right. It should lead you to the back alley. Good luck!”

She gives me one final wave and I’m lowered into the cellar. Down here all there is are extra ingredients and old trunks full of countless forgotten things. I follow Lottie’s instructions and step out into the brick alley. It’s so dark not a single shadow is cast. The perfect environment for a quick sneak-out.

If my intuition is correct, the wind would have blown the two balloonists towards West End Street. Thankfully there’s little foot traffic so I have the courtesy to search the skies without bumping into anyone. Since father hardly lets me leave I need to stay focused and not get lost. I shall use landmarks. Like this fountain-

“Don’t sell chocolate here ever again!”

The police chief’s familiar voice heightens my attention and I see him holding a man’s head under the cold water. Wait! Why is he dunking him?

“Stop!” I sprint over and now see it’s the Wonka man that’s being held under. “Chief, he’s done nothing wrong!”

“On the contrary, miss. He sold chocolate without a license.”

After a few seconds too long I start to fear for his vitals. “Let him breathe!”

The chief realizes he’s still holding Wonka under. “Oh. Right.”

He lets go and the poor man rises gasping for breath, sopping wet. Same overcoat, same worn out boots. I notice a top hat on the ground and pick it up to offer him. But Wonka’s still clearing the water from his eyes and he doesn’t see. 

“There’s your warning, Wonka,” the chief pats him on the back and starts walking away. “Have a good evening, miss.”

Wonka wipes the wet hair away from his face and now I can see just how cute he is, even if he is wet. But not just cute. There’s an intriguing look about him that makes me feel nostalgic and want to explore the wildest ideas my mind can conjure.

“It is you!” I gasp. “The strange man with the magic chocolate!” 

The man himself does a mock bow and tilts his head. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

I shake my head. “No. In fact, I was hoping I might find you to meet you properly.”

Wonka’s eyes twinkle. “Really?”

“Yes I want to meet the man who made everyone happy with his chocolate. You see, normally the chocolate around here isn’t as enchanting as others make it out to be. But your chocolate really seemed to spark something in people yesterday.” I bite my lip and hold up his hat again as a kind of peace offering. “I’m sorry you got kicked out. I tried to stop them.”

“Thank you!” The man grins and places the hat on his head. “Well, since you have done me a service it’s only fair that you get to taste the marvelous chocolate you seem to admire. Here, try one!” 

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a chocolate the size of a strawberry. No charge? Father would go ballistic over free samples. It’s not that I’m not touched by his gesture but chocolate has sadly started to become more ordinary than it should.

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it, really. It’s just… I’m personally not a big fan of chocolate…”

“Come again?” Wonka suddenly gets a serious expression. “I don’t trust people who don’t like chocolate.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t not like chocolate, it’s just that chocolate’s been a bigger part of my life than I’d care to admit.”

The man seems amused by my answer and tips his hat.

“I like you! Oh, where are my manners? Name’s Wonka, Willy Wonka! At your service! Miss…?”

A name. He wants my name.

I bite my lip again as I banter with my internal struggle. 

“It’s Charlotte.”

Willy gives me a lopsided grin. “Usually there’s a second part, right?”

I nervously laugh half-heartedly. “Yes, but for me people usually judge me differently when they hear the second part.”

The top-hatted man steps closer and wiggles his eyebrows. “Promise I won’t.”

I arch an eyebrow to show my doubts.

“I promise! And-” He holds up a pinkie. “I’ll pinkie promise!”

His childlike demeanor is too adorable to ignore despite my brain tugging at me to say no.

“Charlotte Fickelgruber,” I speak quickly and tense up, waiting for him to scoff or lose interest. But instead Willy’s surprise is actually polite.

“Really? I didn’t know Fickelgruber had a daughter.”

“Not many do,” I mutter. “Aside from being next in line for his chocolate empire I really don’t have much purpose.”

“Why say that?” Willy asks. “You’re part of one of the biggest chocolate industries ever!”

“Yes, and you’ve personally witnessed how cruel my father can be.”

We start a slow walking pace down the dimly-lit cobblestone street. Now I notice Willy’s still using a cane.

“Why the cane? You're not crippled.”

“It adds character!” he smiles. “You’d be surprised how many uses it can have.”

I peer over at him with curious eyes. “What’s your story? You’re obviously not from here.”

Wonka grins. “That obvious, huh? You’re right. I’ve just come from sailing 7 years at sea.”

My eyes widen. “Sailing? That sounds fun! What’s it like? Are there sea monsters and mermaids? I’ve only ever read about what the outside world is like.”

The man chuckles at my response. “I never spotted one of those, though that doesn’t mean they could be real. Do you read much?”

“Yes. Books are what take me away from here.”

“I know someone who thinks the exact same thing,” Willy points at me as if he’s a salesman addressing a lucky customer. “Well, this is me.”

We’ve stopped at what looks like a dingy hotel. Hm. For being such a colorful character Wonka certainly picked a dodgy place to stay.

“Will you be back at the Galeries Gourmet tomorrow?” I ask anxiously. “People adore your chocolate so you’re bound to make a big profit.”

Willy takes off his hat and twirls it open his finger. “Sadly I’m afraid my business deals will have to be done under the table from now on. Or better yet, under the city.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that since I’m not allowed to sell chocolate in the Galeries Gourmet without a license then I’m selling it elsewhere.”

An uneasy feeling starts to churn in my stomach. Illegal chocolate? What has this world come to?

“Don’t worry.” He must have noticed my concern. “I made some new friends who have helped me come up with a plan. By tomorrow Wonka chocolate will be sold throughout the city for one sovereign apiece, unbeknownst to the police.”

I stifle a laugh. “You only charge one sovereign? No wonder father and the others are upset. That’s way too affordable for their standards.”

Willy just shrugs. “Chocolate shouldn’t be deprived from anyone.” He dramatically looks around to see if anyone’s watching and leans in to whisper: “If you wanna see us in action, stop by the bridge tomorrow.”

My breath catches. “B- But I’m… me.”

“Yes. You are you. What’s wrong with that?” he asks.

“I’m the daughter of one of the men who are trying to run you out of town.”

“So? You’re not your father, Charlotte. Seems to me like you want to change the world with chocolate as much as I do.”

“Psst!”

We both look up to see a girl’s face peeking out of the top window. She’s the one Willy was flying with earlier!

“Willy! Come on! I’ve got the milk, now get up here so we can make the chocolate!”

“Right!” Willy turns back to me and tips his hat as he starts sneaking off to the back stairs. “Sorry to rush Charlotte but duty calls! See you tomorrow!”

And tomorrow can’t come soon enough!

[bluestar22x]

One Night

Joel x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, age gap – reader is 38)

Word Count: 2621

A/N: Told myself I wasn’t going to write a TLOU fic, but here I am. The inspiration struck and wouldn’t let me go. Maybe I’ve been reading too many smut fics lately. ha I just keep thinking about that wife they considered giving Joel in the 2nd game (who I really hope they include in the show). Anyway, this is my first try at second person point of view ever, usually I’m a third person kind of writer, but I wanted to experiment and try out the favored pov for these types of fics. Everything about this story was experimental so be kind.

The first time you met Joel Miller you had pointed a gun at him, demanding he and his teenage charge stop in their tracks, not knowing he was Tommy’s older brother until he stated his name and a fellow patrol member had ridden up beside you, confirming that he was indeed who he said he was.

You had apologized to him and greeted Ellie in a friendly manner before helping a few other patrol members escort them the rest of the way to Jackson. You had time to witness the brothers’ joyful reunion in the town square before you had to ride back out, but it wasn’t the last you saw of him that day, and it was far from the last you saw of him after.

Jackson was a small town, very small, but it felt minuscule after Joel moved there permanently. It was like he was everywhere. You passed him by on a daily basis, often more than once, and every shop you visited seemed to be one favored by him as well.

And when he joined the patrol, he often ended up on the same shift as you, riding at the back of the pack where you usually liked to be as well.

He wasn’t much of a talker, but neither were you. The patrol would often end up at the Tipsy Bison after their shift was over, chatting away about how the day had gone, if they had run into any infected or suspicious strangers, and what they were going to do the next day, while you and Joel would just sit at the bar and listen. Sometimes you would pipe in for a moment, especially if they were deciding which area they needed to clear of infected more often, but for the most part you and Joel were observers, sipping away at your beer contently.

Though you hardly talked, time did help you get to know one another, and after a few months you felt you had some idea of who Joel was, especially after seeing him with Ellie and Tommy several times at the town cafeteria. They were the only two people in town he’d hold long conversations with, and you couldn’t help but eavesdrop sometimes.

Like most of the people in Jackson it was clear to you that Joel had gone through a lot of hardship, and you knew from the town gossip the worst of it had been when he lost his daughter on outbreak night, the same night that had claimed your parents and turned your older sister into your only guardian. You knew Ellie meant as much to him as his first daughter once had, and that Tommy and his newborn son meant a lot to him too. He was family orientated. More concerned with keeping them safe than making friends in town or looking for a romantic companion.

And you were fine with that. You were content with being his patrol buddy, his drinking buddy. An accidental friend. You were.

But sometimes you couldn’t help but stare at him when he wasn’t looking. At his strong jaw and even stronger nose. At his broad shoulders and thick, graying hair. And sometimes you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to tug on that hair and to kiss those handsome features.

You’d quickly shake yourself out of the thought, silently scolding yourself for letting lust get the better of you, especially lust for a man nearly twenty years older than you, but it was only a matter of days before you’d find yourself thinking about it once again.

You never expected something to come from it. But then one night, almost six months after he and Ellie joined the town, something did.

It had started out like the typical post-patrol night at the Tipsy Bison, with the both of you seated on your usual stools, but unlike the other nights, you ended up dancing by the jukebox in the corner of the room with several other couples. You couldn’t remember the exact details about how it had transpired, but you remembered Tommy and Maria showing up for date night, their first since their baby’s arrival, and them somehow convincing you both to join them on the floor, despite neither of you being the type.

The song had been upbeat at the time, so everyone had space between them, but when it ended, it was replaced by a slow one. You had expected Joel to return to his seat, but instead he offered you an outstretched hand and a dance. You accepted it, feeling a little giddy inside when you slid your hand into his. He had pulled you close, pressing a free hand against the bottom of your back, making your heart skip a beat, and asked if that was alright.

Of course it is, you thought, but you had answered with a simple nod instead, always one fighting to remain composed.

The two of you swayed to the steady beat for the entire duration of the unfamiliar song, cheek to cheek, no words spoken. True to your characters. He kept you at a respectful distance, but not so distant that it wasn’t intimate. You could still feel the heat radiating off his body, still smell the beer on his breath, and still smell a tinge of Jackson’s handmade soap on his skin intermingled with the scent of the horse he’d ridden all day.

When it was over, he offered to walk you home since it was on the way to his place anyway, and you accepted, not wanting to part from him so soon after being so close to him.

You wouldn’t have dared hope it would lead to more, but it did to your surprise. You were both at the bottom of your steps when he’d pulled you in for a kiss, so sudden it caught you off guard. He’d apologized for it, but you were having none of it, already kissing him back, deepening it, desperate for more.

Six months. Six months of longing for him. You didn’t want to wait anymore.

And without words, he took your offer, climbing the steps with you into your house, and following you up the stairs, letting you lead.

When you reached the bedroom he barely had time to get through the doorway before your hands were at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and over his head. He raised his arms up to help you do it then returned the favor, pulling your shirt off as well.

Your lips clashed together again as soon as it was discarded on the floor, and his need for you became as clear as your own for him.

How long had he felt the same?

He turned you so your ass was rubbing against the front of his dark blue jeans, and you could feel how it was already beginning to stretch tight from his anticipation.

He planted his lips between your shoulder blades, licking and sucking down the length of your spine until his hands found the clasp of your bra and removed it with efficiency. The support of the fabric disappeared, but was swiftly replaced with his rough hands, kneading you gently, pulling you back against his bare chest. Your first moan of the night escaped your lips as he ran his fingers over the buds of your breasts and nibbled on the edge of your jaw.

You threw your head back at it and closed your eyes, letting yourself fully enjoy the stimulation until he was hard enough to easily feel through the fabric between you. Then you pivoted to reach for the button of his jeans, anxious to free him. He helped you remove the rest of his clothing and you were able to study him in full glory for several seconds, your arousal at the sight making you bit your lip. Seeing your reaction, he bridged the gap between you, reaching out to remove your jeans and underwear.

Without any barriers, you came together again, kissing roughly, his hands going to your face, and yours going to his arms, gripping his flexing biceps tightly. You found every bit of him sexy, but there was something about those muscles twitching under your fingertips that made the flame in you burn so hot you could barely think anymore.

You became desperate, dragging him to your bed by the wrist, pulling him down on top of your body as you fell back on it so quickly you bounced. For a moment you were completely skin to skin, and you whined, wanting to get even closer to him. Wanting him inside you.

But instead he took a little time to suck at your neck and caress you, dragging a hand down the curve of your side firmly, then over your hip, and then back down into the v between your legs.

You gasped as he began to massage you there with his fingertips and dug the nails of your hand that was splayed on the small of his back into his flesh. Your other hand swept through his hair and grabbed a fistful, tugging on it just like you had daydreamed of doing many times before.

When your actions had him groaning and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, then skimming his teeth along your throat, you silently thanked a higher power that he hadn’t had his bi-monthly haircut yet. It was so much easier to hold onto his hair when it was long enough to be curly.

He continued to rub his fingers over your most sensitive bits as he met your mouth again, and soon he had you quivering from the tension built up in muscles you’d forgotten you had and the fire in your belly that grew into near unbearable heat. It was all too much.

“Please Joel,” you panted in his ear when you began to feel your climax nearing. “I want you. I need you now.” You didn’t want to let go without him right there with you. Not tonight. Not your first time with him.

He grunted and obligingly scooped you up with both of his impressive hands, lifting you up onto your knees, and adjusting himself so he could pull you on top of his lap. It could have easily been a clumsy action, but he made it look easy, though admittingly you weren’t difficult to physically manipulate by that point, already near jelly in his warm embrace.

You moaned into his mouth when he pushed himself inside you, the intense feeling of him stretching and filling your cavern up overwhelming you. It burned, but in a good way. A very, very good way. You began riding him almost immediately, and he chuckled softly at your impatience before joining in the movement, closing his eyes at the same time you closed yours.

Your united motion started out fairly rhythmic and slow at the start, both of you wanting to feel every bit of each other as he stroked you from inside, but it wasn’t enough for long. It wasn’t going to bring either of your over the edge, and you both wanted it badly.

He began alternating bucks of his hips with his typical thrusts at random moments, making it hard to predict and keep in sync with him, but that was alright. The unpredictability of it was only making the tension in you coil up faster. Was only making the heat in your center bloom out faster. You were finding it harder to suck in deep breaths, getting them knocked out of you several times.

Your moans and his grunts intermingled beautifully as you repeatedly clashed into each other, both at your hips and at your open mouths. The sound of it had the both of you seeking to cover each other’s skin as much as possible with your hands, and everything within reach was in game. You found his ass and gave it a squeeze and his body stuttered. You smirked at that, proud of causing him to faulter. You liked that you could trip him up. He peered at you with lust filled dark eyes and let the sides of his mouth curl slightly upward. He liked that you could do it too.

Eventually you both became near frantic, his pumping actions becoming unrelenting. So close, you thought as you panted loudly in his ear, straining to get there. You felt yourself finally clench down on him as you reached your peak and you parted your lips from his to cry out loudly at it, at the way something inside you pulsed, the invisible coils within you unravelling. You melted on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder as you rode it out and he pressed himself into you as far as he could go.

He almost didn’t pull out in time, but he did, releasing the loudest and longest groan you could ever recall hearing as he spilled onto your thighs. He pressed his forehead against your chest, over your pounding heart, and you cradled the back of his head as he shook. You took unbound pleasure in seeing him fall apart like that, knowing that you were the cause of it, and you loved the intimacy of him having collapsed against you for support. You soaked in everything you could, trying to sear the memory of it in your brain.

When he was able to, he stood, making his way to the bathroom attached to your room and returning with a wet towel to clean you up. You let him, heart fluttering at the thoughtfulness of it. Most men in your life had left you to take care of that yourself.

After he’d discarded the towel, you thought he might leave, but he surprised you, instead returning to your bed and slipping under the sheets with you.

He kissed you briefly, without any other intent but innocent affection, and you kissed him back, grinning.

“That felt amazing,” you told him.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted gruffly.

You blinked at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, you hide it well.”

He chuckled lightly. “And you don’t?”

“Did I?”

He nodded as you molded yourself into his side and laid your head on his chest. What fools you both had been. Having wasted so much time dancing around each other, not knowing you both wanted the same thing. You were lucky that the world had allotted you both enough time to figure it out.

“Better late than never,” you decided.

He grunted in agreement.

“Will you stay the night?” you inquired hopefully.

“Only if you want me to.”

“I would,” you told him with absolute certainty. “And I would prefer this not to be our only night together.” It was a bold request, but you wanted it desperately enough to make it anyway.

He smiled down at you warmly. “Is that so?”

You hummed a yes as you shut your eyes, letting yourself focus on the sound of his steady heartbeat underneath your ear.

“I couldn’t deny you of having more than one night even if I wanted to darlin,” Joel had said, tracing your free arm absently with his fingertips. “Every time I turn around it seems like you are always right there.” He caresses your face and continues, “Couldn’t deny a face like yours forever. Especially when you mean something to me.”

“I do?”

He nodded. “You are the best patrol partner I could ask for, but you are more than that. I don’t think I have the words to explain tonight.”

“That’s okay,” you had assured him, knowingly, having been cut from a similar cloth. “I feel the same.”

Main Masterlist

[artsy-book]

3, 8 and 24 for the ask game? :D

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

okay one of them would have to be The Last Mimzy!! watched that movie on almost a daily basis when i was little and i could still do that now! that movie is so important to me :)

i think the second one would have to be The Last Unicorn! loved the animation in that movie growing up and i think i could literally watch that movie on loop for hours just admiring it!

and i think the third movie would have to be Spider-Man: Into The Spider Verse! the excitement i felt waiting to watch that movie and the joy and excitement that ran through me as i watched it for the first time are something i dont think i will ever forget!! the animation in that movie always leaves me feeling so inspired ^-^

8. any reacquiring dreams?

i cant think of any reacquiring dreams at the moment? when i was little (probably after watching a tornado movie tbh) i did have various dreams about being caught in some form of a tornado storm. and once had a dream that a t-rex was somehow running around in my house and i was hiding under my brothers bed as it went past his room and went upstairs. i have had some wacky dreams man lmao

24. what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

one thing i am really proud of myself for is starting to like myself. for quite some time growing up i didnt really like the way i looked and i am so proud that i have been able to grow an appreciation for the parts of me that i previously didnt like. there are still things about myself that i dont like but i am so proud of the progress ive made and continue to make <33

ask game ^-^

[donnerpartyofone]

ACK I almost stepped on Jesus on my way home from church! Good thing I missed! Actually if I were writing a movie about persecuted Christians where someone tries to make them trample the cross and stuff, I'd have them say "Sure man, I'll trample the cross, I'll shit on the Bible. You think my God is trapped in there? That I step on him like a bug and he dies? Let's try it and find out!" as per the great thing they discuss in STIGMATA. STIGMATA is the one where Patricia Arquette stars as a sexy raver chick who gets possessed and then sexy priest Gabriel Byrne has to solve a religious mystery with her that changes the world. It's the best movie and you should definitely watch it.

LOVE the tag line on poster #2. Anyway one of the priests who is a main reason I've been going to this great church for a year gave a homily this morning about a piece of scripture I'd heard before, but not in this way. Jesus encounters a cripple at a healing spring in Bethesda and asks him, "Do you want to be made well?", and instead of saying "OH MY GOD YES OF COURSE MAKE ME WELL IMMEDIATELY," the guy starts complaining evasively about how he can never get into the water because everyone else is faster than him. Jesus heals the guy anyway and says "Pick up your mat and walk," and then the guy instantly gets in trouble with the authorities for carrying his mat around on the sabbath, and by extension Jesus is in trouble for working on the sabbath. The Bible usually sounds pretty antique to put it mildly, and therefore kind of alien and artificial, but when I heard that story today suddenly it was like "Oh shit, people really act like this right now. All the time." Somebody asks you what you want and you don't know how to say "I WANT THIS EXACT THING AND I'M READY TO GET IT," you might not even know precisely what you want, or you're just so used to making excuses and being passive aggressive and protecting yourself from disappointment and trying not to be inappropriate that you have no ability to be direct or speak from a place of self-knowledge. And then on the part of the Pharisees, they're so concerned with the litigation of their religion that they can't even see the miraculous evidence of God appearing right before their eyes, they're too blinded by their obsession with technicalities and the pre-fabricated template for divinity to notice that what they would ultimately want is happening now. It doesn't appear in the way they expect it to, so they don't even see it. Modern people are exactly like this. You encounter all these behaviors on a daily basis if you interact with other people at all.

I love this priest and at least one other guy who is really surprising and inspired, enough that I've been going there for a year of my life. But I sometimes feel like I'm leading them on. I love gay people and abortions too much to formally convert, among other reasons. But I also realize that religion is about emotion. You're supposed to love God more even than you concern yourself with his factuality. For me religion is a bit too much of an intellectual exercise. I'm curious about the mechanics of belief, how it rewards people, what kinds of changes it manifests, what it is as a psychological phenomenon. And more abstractly I'm interested in how people seek encounters with the numinous, how they explore deeper meaning through the lens of symbol and allegory. I'm interested in the collective unconscious. Almost my whole life is more of an intellectual exercise than an emotional one, maybe I'm fundamentally not wired to be a religious person. But I do love this church and I love the people in it, and I think it's a net positive for us to get to know a kind of person/people who you don't normally encounter, and get the chance to be kind and curious toward them. Everyone is always welcoming to me even if it seems like they wouldn't like me personally and I find that moving, I embrace the chance to return the favor. I embrace them even though I know they will never watch STIGMATA with me.