#fully just ran to the back porch

[princecroutons]

not even 30 minutes after the clock struck midnight and mimi started yowling at the back porch at something, and when I looked I saw two big ol eyes and went oh! another long haired orange cat at our door? what a coincidence! quelle surprise !!! that surely is not my son who is in my room with no ability to open the window enough to get out and has been suspiciously quiet for some time now!!!!!!!

[joelmillermylove]

The familiar stranger Pt.1

dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel Miller your dads best friend can’t control himself around you anymore, he makes a move and things heat up. Warning: Smutty themes, age gap (reader in her mid 20s, Joel in his late 40s). Forbidden love, sexual tension. Word count: 2,915 A/N: I’m so proud of this one🥹 Hope everyone loves it as much as I do!

→ Part Two

The summer heat was relentless, pressing down on you with an almost physical weight as you sat on the front porch of your father’s house, the squeak of the rocking chair the only sound in the heavy air. The air conditioner hummed softly inside, but out here, it was still and quiet, save for the occasional call of a bird in the distance.

You lifted the bottle of cold beer to your lips, savoring the brief relief from the heat as the cool glass pressed against your skin. It was a Saturday afternoon like any other, lazy and unhurried, until the sound of tires crunching on the gravel drive pulled your attention. A familiar beat-up truck came into view, dust kicking up as it rolled to a stop.

Joel.

He stepped out of the truck with a heavy grunt, his broad shoulders tensed as if already bracing for whatever task your father had roped him into this time. His plaid shirt clung to him in the heat, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the strong forearms you couldn’t help but notice. It was impossible not to. Joel Miller wasn’t the kind of man who blended into the background—he took up space, his presence commanding without even trying.

For as long as you could remember, Joel had been a constant in your life. He was your father’s best friend, the one who helped out around the house when your dad needed an extra hand, the one who was there for every barbecue, every fishing trip, every birthday. He had always been there—solid, reliable, a fixture in your world.

And yet, lately, something had shifted.

It wasn’t him, not exactly. Joel was the same as ever—gruff, quiet, protective in that silent way of his. But you had changed. You weren’t the little girl he used to tease about your pigtails and scraped knees. You weren’t the teenager who had asked him to teach you how to change a tire just so you could feel like you knew something about the world.

You were an adult now, and the way you looked at Joel had shifted into something you didn’t fully understand. Something you weren’t entirely comfortable with.

He looked up, his eyes catching yours as he slammed the truck door shut. There was a moment, a beat too long where neither of you looked away, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze, something that made your skin prickle with an awareness you hadn’t asked for.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice that familiar low rumble that always seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest. “Your dad home?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat to push past the tightness. “Ran into town for a few things. Should be back in a bit.”

Joel nodded, glancing around before stepping onto the porch. He moved with the kind of ease that came with years of knowing exactly where everything was—your father’s house was as much his as it was your family’s, it seemed. He dropped into the chair beside yours with a groan, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Silence settled between you, comfortable but heavy in a way it hadn’t been before. You tried to focus on anything else—the way the sun filtered through the trees, the faint rustle of the breeze—but your eyes kept drifting back to Joel. To the lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his hand rested on his thigh, strong and steady.

“How’s work?” you asked, if only to break the silence that felt like it might swallow you whole.

He shrugged, taking a swig of his own beer. “Busy. Always busy.”

You nodded, not really sure what else to say. Joel wasn’t one for small talk, and in truth, you weren’t either. But something in the air felt thick, weighted, like there was something unsaid hovering just beneath the surface. Something that had been building for weeks now, maybe longer.

“You been alright?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer, more careful than you were used to hearing from him.

You blinked, taken off guard by the question. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He turned his head, looking at you fully now, and there was that same intensity in his gaze that made your pulse quicken. “Dunno. You just seem…different lately.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. Because you were different, weren’t you? You couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, the lines had started to blur. The way you looked at Joel wasn’t the way a daughter looked at her father’s best friend anymore. And that scared you, more than you wanted to admit.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, but even to your ears, it sounded weak.

Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, setting his beer down on the porch railing. “Good,” he muttered, almost as if to himself. “That’s good.”

The silence stretched out again, and this time it was unbearable. You stood, needing to move, to get away from the sudden weight of the moment.

“I should go inside, see if Dad needs help when he gets back,” you said, more of an excuse than anything else.

Joel’s hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a shock through you all the same. You froze, looking down at his hand, then back up at his face.

“Wait,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur that thrummed through the air between you.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. The world seemed to narrow to just this—just the space between you, the heat of his touch, the way his eyes searched yours as if looking for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved. But in that stillness, in that silence, something shifted. Something irrevocable.

Joel’s fingers lingered on your wrist just a second too long before he pulled away. It was subtle, but it was enough to leave you reeling, the warmth of his touch burning into your skin as if it had branded you. You stood there, frozen, caught between a hundred different feelings that made no sense, each one pulling you in a different direction.

You wanted to ask him what that meant—what that touch meant. But you didn’t trust yourself to say the right thing. You didn’t trust your voice not to tremble. So instead, you muttered something about needing to grab a glass of water and hurried into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind you.

Inside, the cool air did little to calm the storm raging in your chest. You leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to catch your breath. The beat of your heart was loud, too loud, and your thoughts were a mess—Joel’s touch, the way he had looked at you, the weight of the moment that had passed between you like a live wire.

What the hell was that?

You didn’t want to think about it. But how could you not? There had always been something about Joel—something you couldn’t quite put into words. He wasn’t just your father’s best friend anymore, not to you. He hadn’t been for a long time.

You ran the tap and splashed cold water on your face, hoping it might snap you out of the thoughts swirling in your head. The water dripped down your neck, cool but not nearly enough to shake the feeling that had settled deep inside you.

Joel was still outside. You could see him through the window, his elbows resting on his knees as he sat on the porch, his head bent forward. From here, he looked tired—more tired than you were used to seeing him. He always had that quiet strength, that sense of reliability, but today, it felt like there was a heaviness in him you hadn’t noticed before.

You sighed and turned away from the window, trying to distance yourself from the pull you felt toward him. But it was impossible to ignore.

Just as you were about to retreat to your room, you heard the front door creak open behind you. You didn’t turn around right away, didn’t want to face him, not after what had just happened. But his voice reached you before anything else did, low and soft.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

You nodded quickly, pretending to busy yourself with drying your hands. “Yeah, just needed a minute.”

A long pause filled the space between you before Joel’s footsteps sounded softly against the kitchen floor. You felt him before you saw him, the presence of him behind you like a magnetic force you couldn’t escape. He didn’t say anything right away, and that only made the tension thicker.

When you finally turned to face him, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your throat go dry. His hands were in his pockets, but his body was tense, as if he was holding himself back.

“You seem… off,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I—”

“No.” You cut him off too quickly, shaking your head. “No, you didn’t do anything.”

His brow furrowed slightly, unconvinced. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you lied, though you weren’t sure of anything anymore. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue because you knew that both of you were aware of what was left unsaid.

Joel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again. “You know, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

Your breath hitched at the closeness of him, the gentleness of his tone. The Joel you knew wasn’t this soft, wasn’t this careful. And it was that softness, that care, that made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I—” You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “It’s nothing, Joel. Really.”

But he didn’t back off. His eyes searched yours, his brow still furrowed in concern, but there was something else there, something that made your stomach twist in a way that both terrified and thrilled you. You’d never seen him look at you like that before. And it made it impossible to breathe.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Damn it, kid,” he muttered, and for the first time, there was something raw in his voice—something that made your chest tighten.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” you blurted, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I’m not.”

Joel’s eyes snapped to yours, and the tension in the room shifted again. This time, it was darker, more dangerous. He didn’t move, but the way he looked at you now wasn’t the way a man looked at someone he thought of as a kid. It was the way a man looked at something he knew he shouldn’t want.

But the worst part was that you wanted him to look at you that way. You’d wanted it for longer than you cared to admit, and now that it was happening, you didn’t know how to handle it.

“I know that,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Trust me, I know.”

He stepped closer and your pulse quickened. He wasn’t touching you yet, but the space between you was chargerd, like a live wire about to spark. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering in a way that sent heat coursing through your body, pooling low in your belly.

“This isn’t….” His voice was rough, as if the words were difficult to push out. “This isn’t a good idea”.

But he didn’t stop moving towards you and you didn’t back away, You should have. You knew you should have.

This was Joel, your dads best friend. There were lines you weren’t supposed to cross. But the way he was looking at you, the way his breath hitched when he got closer, it made it impossible to think clearly.

“I know” you whispered, but your body betrayed you, leaning toward him, drawn in like you were powerless to stop it. 

His hand came up, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brushed your arm, trailing a path of heat as he slid them up towards your shoulder. The touch was light, barley there, but it was enough to make you shiver, your breath catching in your throat.

“Damn it” he muttered and before you could react he closed the distance between you his body pressing against yours, pinning you against the counter. His hand gripped your was it, firm and possessive, like he had been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.

The sudden closeness stole the air from your lungs and for a moment neither of you moved. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and ragged as it ghosted over your lips. Your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it, feel it, the way your chest rose and fell with every shallow breath.

“You’re so beautiful” he murmured, his grip on you tightened, his hand sliding around to the small of your back, pulling you even closer.

All you could do was stand there, caught in the heat of the moment, in the way his body felt pressed against yours, in the way your body ached for more.

Slowly you lifted your hands to his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, smelling his intoxicating cologne. His breath hitched at your touch and that small sound, that tiny moment of weakness made your pulse race. You wanted more, needed more.

“Joel…” you whispered again, but this time it wasn’t a warning. it was a plea. 

His eyes darkened, is jaw clenched tight as he stared down at you, like he was on the verge of something dangerous, something he couldn’t take back. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch gentle despite the storm of emotions raging between you.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into darlin” he said voice hoarse, almost broken. But his eyes flicked to your lips and you could feel the tension rising, the air between you crackling with need.

“I know what exactly what im doing Joel” you breathed, your fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

That was all it took.

With a loud growl, Joels mouth crashed against yours and it was like a dam breaking. This kiss was hungry, desperate, as if both of you had been holding back for too long and couldn’t bear it anymore. His hands roamed over your body, rough and urgent, as if he needed to feel every inch of you beneath his touch.

You gasped into his mouth, your hands sliding up to wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer, deeper. His tongue parted your lips, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as he kissed you like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough,

Every touch, every kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you and you arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the heat and weight of him. His hands slid under your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“You feel so damn good sweetheart” he groaned against your lips, his voice rough and desperate as he kissed his way down your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp.

Your head tilted back, giving him more access as he moved lower, his mouth hot against the sensitive skin of your neck. Every brush of his lips, every scrape of his teeth made you dizzy, made you ache for more.

But just as quickly as it had started, Joel pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with wild, dark eyes.

“Wait…” his voice strained, his forehead resting against yours again as he struggled to catch his breath. “We shouldn’t do this” 

You were both breathless, your bodies still pressed together, the heat between you palpable, overwhelming.

“I don’t care” you whispered, your hands still clutching his shirt, unwilling to let him go.

“Fuck” he says under his breath, his fingers digging into your waist was like he was fighting a battle with himself, torn between what he knew was right and what his body wanted.

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to give in. His lips hovered dangerously close to yours again, his breath hot against your skin. But then, with groan of frustration, he pulled away, stepping back as if putting distance between you was the only way to keep himself from losing control completely.

“I can’t” he said, voice tight, like it hurt to say the words. “Not like this”

You stood there, chest heaving, heart racing, the taste of him still on your lips, your body aching from the sudden loss of contact.

And then, without another word, Joel turned and walked out, leaving you alone in the kitchen, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

You leaned against the counter, your head spinning, your body still humming with the memory of his touch. 

Things had gone too far. There was no going back now and that was okay with you.

[devildomwriter]

I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas | Solomon x Reader

.8k words | GN! Reader | Fluff, humor | CW: slightly suggestive, Solomon is sick of getting interrupted

Every window in the old brick home was decorated with a wreath. Red bows wrapped neatly around the porch, snow covered the roof and the tops of every bush. It was truly the example of what you expect a hallmark movie Christmas home to look like.

You stood there looking at the home with Solomon by your side.

He sighed and so did you as you thought of what to say shining outside the home.

“This is great…” you start and Solomon gives you a dumbfounded look.

“Really—“

“You know what would make it better?”

He sighed, “I can take a guess…”

“If we weren’t trapped inside a snow globe!” You exclaimed in exasperation.

Solomon shook his head, defeated. “I didn’t know it was enchanted…”

“How? How did you not know it was enchanted? You’re literally the strongest sorcerer on earth, ever! How could you not tell?”

Solomon stayed quiet and it dawned on you. You facepalmed as he looked away guiltily.

“You did know…” you concluded and he pouted.

“Well, how else was I supposed to get you away from those brothers?” He confessed and you groaned.

“Teleporting?”

He shook his head, “they’d follow us like last time.”

You recalled teleporting to watch the tree lighting in New York and how you’d nearly toppled the tree on live TV when the brothers made a fuss trying to find you in the crowd. Beelzebub may or may not have eaten someone’s microphone and it quickly escalated. Crowds panicked pretty quickly, you and the angels had a lot of footage to fake and memories to falsely implant to get that one covered up. You and Solomon were the only two humans who knew how the NY Tree lighting really went that year.

You shook your head in acceptance, “Yeah…this is probably the only way.”

“Good I’m glad you’ve acknowledged it!” He said with a smile that hid how annoyed he was with the brothers interrupting your time together with him.

“I furnished the inside, why don’t I show you around?” He offered and you decided to just go with it at this point because out of all the magic-related incidents you’ve been through this was far from concerning.

Although he more or less tricked you here this was exactly what you needed you’d just have to scold him later about asking you first next time.

When Solomon invited you inside you were surprised to see it was a fully functioning house. It too was decorated just as elaborately as the outside and you couldn’t help looking around in awe.

You smiled at your boyfriend and his heart fluttered, excited he could finally be alone with you and that you’d even smile at him after trapped you both in a snow globe.

Solomon gestured to the stairs to lead you up to the second floor and you raced him up laughing like kids without any worries.

You looked through every room and the master bath which had a tub big enough for two with functioning pipes. You looked at Solomon who failed to hide his hopes with a cheery smile and you laughed.

“Oooh, I see. You chose this house for a reason, didn’t you?” You asked playfully, sitting on the side of the tub.

“Well…I designed it actually,” he confessed and gave you a smirk.

“Really? You should get into home design,” you decided to tease him and walked right past him. He stood there shocked a moment but ran after you as you found the master bedroom.

“Hey wait a minute, where are you going?” He asked as he walked after you quickly.

He found you sitting at the end of the king-sized bed.

“This must be the best napping spot in the world,” you continued to tease and he gave you a curious look, becoming uncertain if you were messing with him. After all, if anyone really needed a nap that season it was you.

Solomon decided to go with you and sat on the bed with you. He fluffed the pillow for you and you watched him, surprised he wasn’t going to protest.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and when Solomon turned back around to see you he froze, finding you undressing in front of him.

A wicked grin crossed his face and he came up behind you, “allow me,” he whispered in your ear and raised your sweater off over your head.

He kissed your ears and you laughed when suddenly everything around you seemed to fall apart.

Solomon quickly formed a protective bubble of magic around you as the world around you quaked.

It quickly dawned on you both what was happening as you heard Mammon’s voice.

“Check out this snow globe, think it’d sell? It’s pretty fancy, huh?”

“No way! That could totally be ___’s that house looks just like something they’d like!”

“Yeah, Mammon, don’t be a scumbag lol.”

You and Solomon held each other frozen as you took in the situation. Solomon sighed and bitterly commented, “I’m going to kill them one of these days…”

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 14 – The One Where They Call It Chaotic but We Call it Predictable

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Yes, I am fully aware my entries have been sparse of late, and, no, I am not planning to stop my general Lukola ramblings any time soon. In fact, once I run out of material, I’ll probably dabble with fan fiction because, meh, why the hell not? Any ways, the reason for my slight absence is that I’ve had a special guest staying at my house – one by the name of “Dad.” Yes, that dapper gentleman has been roosting on my porch for the past few weeks (because that’s the only place I allow him to smoke), drinking an ungodly amount of Coca-Cola and holding my shih tzu like she’s a human baby. He did pry himself away long enough to be my date to see “Wicked” (he loved it, by the way). Oh, and he was obliged to my incessant babblings about Lukola. In fact, he even opened my mind to a few theories of his own and made me laugh hysterically at his reaction to the Jakolas.

It has always been my intention to delve into a certain section of our timeline – the part where Luke seemingly ran off into the Summertime Sunset with his friend group, which included Antonia. That period in time is the cavity of my Lukola table puzzle. The left side isn’t connecting to the right side because there’s this gaping hole in the center called Hot Boy Fucking Summer! Before June 12, things made sense to me. Even with the muck we find ourselves in now, just about everything after July 30 has made sense to me. So, of course, Hot Boy Summer was a topic of discussion with my dad. Actually, it was an “all afternoon” one.

I originally presented the Before, During, and After of Hot Boy Summer in chronological order to my dad only to get blasted with, “Stop doing that shit!” after I mentioned “Bless the Telephone.” His gripe was that – like the Claddagh ring – I had failed to disclose to him information that may alter his opinion about the event for which we were theorizing. Specifically, if I knew that the Claddagh ring preceded June 12 and I knew Nicola’s aptly named “Chaos Week” followed July 30, then disclosing those details to him before asking him to theorize about what happened in between those two dates (i.e., Hot Boy Summer) was necessary and even critical to his final opinion.

I don’t believe there is much explaining to do on the front-end of Hot Boy Summer – at least not to my well-versed Lukolas. We presumably all watched the same World Tour (including that trip over to Galway so Luke could meet Nicola’s mother) and I’ve already discussed the Claddagh ring in Entry 6 of my blog. That leaves us with the tail-end of Luke’s summertime jaunt, which steers us into Chaos Week. For those of you who thought I was going to discuss Hot Boy Summer in this entry, I’m sorry – this one is dedicated to that erratic period of Nicola blowing her war horn, beckoning all Lukolas within a worldwide radius of London to commence at her feet. And, commence we did!

Have you ever heard of “chaos theory?” Broadly speaking, it’s the idea that small changes can result in major changes over time – like cause and effect. That’s kind of how I’ve looked back at Chaos Week. We’d spent most of the summer on one bummer of a vacation, with Luke and Nicola (presumably) spending time apart from one another. Sure, we’d had few fireworks explode here and there with pap pictures, and we saw JVN enter the ring as the fan favorite best friend but, on the surface, Hot Boy Summer was, well, rather static. It had carried on with a monotonous “blip…blip…blip…” until suddenly our radar detected a quiet but distinct “blip-blip,” which didn’t register in any of our minds until we had a torpedo coming straight for us!

I don’t believe we can attribute Chaos Week solely to Nicola. Yes, yes, I know, Nicola’s online presence in early to mid-August was chaotic, hence the name “Chaos Week.” But, I do not believe Nicola started Chaos Week. She sure as shit drove it home but, in my opinion, it wasn’t her actions that set everything in motion. Nicola wasn’t the “blip-blip;” she was the torpedo.

So, what was the “blip-blip?”

Luke returning to London – alone – on August 2, of course.

The friend group, which had included Antonia, was nowhere in sight.

Hot Boy Summer had come to an end (I imagine this to be the reason Nicola started blowing her war horn).

In my opinion, Luke’s return set everything else into motion. He was that second pendulum that caused the first one to spiral out of control.

But, we ate that shit up, didn’t we? Yeah, we sure did, and we loved every day of Chaos Week. What’s funny to me is that everyone remembers bits and pieces of Chaos Week, but they never seem to get it in the right order (how chaotic, right?). This happened, then that happened. No, no, that happened first. No, this happened first. The only way to really look at Chaos Week is to give order to the disorder. And, we’re going to do that via a very generic captain’s log, so…

Welcome aboard!

Mission: Chaos Week

Origin: Somewhere in Mayfair.

Destination: Happily Ever After.

Time of Departure: Fuck, I don’t know. When did you board this ship?

Expected Time of Arrival: Hopefully before we all wither up and die.

Log Entries:

August 2. Luke returned to London alone. Yeah, yeah, I know, I already told you that, but I had to add this:

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August 4. Nicola decided to wake us all up from our somber summer with a plate of French toast. Umm, okay, that’s fucking random. I’m going back to bed – but wait, didn’t Luke say brunch was his “fav meal of the day?” Yeah, I swear I have that polaroid around here somewhere.

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August 7. Luke – after being absent on social media for what seemed like a lifetime – suddenly popped into his Instagram stories to post some delightfully cute Bridgerton Bloopers. The entire fandom rejoiced at Luke’s return to social media! And, let’s be honest, we only cared about the bloopers with Luke and Nicola. Hmm, Luke always has this intriguing, yet subtle way of surprising us. Did you hear that?

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August 7. Shortly after Luke posted his Bridgerton Bloopers, Nicola swooped in and dropped a very loud Wordle anvil on her Instagram stories. <clang!> Was she clocking people for making fake social media accounts using her name? Did she really solve the Wordle in two? Actually, most of us ignored that part of the post entirely and went straight to Mr. Google to ask, “What does ‘anvil’ mean? Okay, how about in the Urban Dictionary?” You know you did, too! In all seriousness, though, when this first dropped, I considered whether she was directing the “anvil” at Luke. After all, let’s face it, Nicola was the one who promoted Bridgerton post-Papsmear while Luke disappeared from the limelight. It’s only natural that she might be a bit peeved at him suddenly promoting Bridgerton. However, in hindsight, I believe this to be nothing more than Nicola calling out the person making fake social media accounts under her name. During this time, there seemed to be an influx of fake social media accounts using Nicola and Luke’s names (Luke would address this same topic on his Instagram stories on August 24). And, as fun as it would be to theorize that the “anvil” was directed at someone (other than Luke, of course), it was, in fact, the Wordle for August 6. That said, I do believe that “Wordle” has become synonymous with “Luke” at this point. So, I’ll give you that.

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August 8. JVN reposted their “[w]hen you catch someone trying to sneak a pic but you were born for these moments” to his Instagram grid. Did you think JVN wasn’t going to be included in Chaos Week?! They produced some of their best shit during this time! Any ways, Nicola liked this grid post, which confirmed my belief that Antonia played some part in the Italy pap pictures (for a full explanation on this, read “Entry 11 – The One About the Heart of the Ocean”). Thanks for the recap, JVN, although most Lukolas probably didn’t need to a reminder as to why they disliked Antonia.

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August 9. Nicola posted the Scrabble board to her Instagram stories. Whoa, hold up, Jakolas! Yeah, we know Jake played Scrabble with Nicola and – guess what – we Lukolas don’t care. I mean, I’ll even throw the Jakolas a small scrap of meat and say that Jake could (emphasis on could) have helpedNicola with the Scrabble board. Why am I being so charitable? Because that just makes me more confident Jake has always supported Lukola. You will not convince me (or probably any Lukola) that this Scrabble board was directed at anyone else but Antonia. In my opinion, there are only two things in this picture that matter – the central word “HEYA,” or “HEY A,” and the Guinness coaster. In fact, if I had been playing on the opposite side of this Scrabble board, I would have challenged this word. That alone says exactly what it needs to say. This is not to dissuade you from theorizing on every other word on that board, though. I’m simply saying I do not need any other evidence to persuade myself into believing the board was directed at Antonia. Now, if you want to take the two corner words and speculate that Nicola was having “SEX” with “DAD,” go right ahead – I won’t argue with you.

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August 10. Nicola posted to her Instagram grid the now-deleted birthday greeting to her friend, Camilla. The caption read, “…Remember the time paparazzi took a picture of us and to protect me you grabbed my face?” If that’s not an indirect jab at Luke’s friend group, I’m not sure what it is because it sure as hell doesn’t scream, “Happy Birthday,” to me.

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August 11. Nicola decided to get out her blow torch and light every beacon fire she could find starting in Bowral and ending in London by posting the “Drink Your Milk” shirt to her Instagram stories. You could practically hear her rallying every last Lukola still standing: “Rise, Lukolas, rise!” In fact, I think some even rose from the dead that day! What was the crisis? Well, only that the “Drink Your Milk” shirt was exactly like the one Luke was seen wearing on or about June 22. Now, now, this was a charity promoted by Jonathan Bailey so it’s entirely possible Nicola was gifted her own shirt. But, guess what? The Lukolas didn’t give a shit! They deep dived into reflections on sunglasses and creases in t-shirt sleeves! And, no, I’m not speculating on that hot mess (if you’re interested in learning more, I promise you there’s plenty of TikToks for that). In truth, it never mattered to me whether the shirt belonged to Luke or not. What mattered was the perception that it was Luke’s shirt. It blew up the Internet and I would stand by my belief that, if the fandom’s perception of something was detrimentally incorrect, Nicola (or Luke) would have corrected it. Nicola did not correct this. And, no, Jakolas, don’t even talk to me about that scrap of green blanket in that picture. I don’t care if Jake played Scrabble with (presumably) Nicola at some point over the summer while sitting outside on a goddamn green blanket. The “Drink Your Milk” post was not a secret coded message to Jake. I would stand on a hill and argue that all afternoon. Why? Because – again – Nicola did not correct the “Luke’s shirt” narrative. She let the fandom run with it. In fact, we all got our own blow torches that day. Mine’s turquoise and engraved with my initials.

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August 12. JVN posted a “Special announcement” to their Instagram grid. Right about now, you might be, like, “What the fuck does this have to do with Chaos Week?” I told you, JVN has this way of slipping shit into to their posts that make you do a double take – usually a day later while you’re daydreaming during your drive to the office. This was one of those posts. The announcement was: “I’ve been waiting for this announcement until after the Paris Olympics had finished, as to not take away from the incredible success of USA Gymnastics…@teamusa has been following my journey and growth as a gymnast and showed up at my house to personally invite me to train to be a potential member of their 2028 team. While I hate taking a slot away from 2028 potentials like @simonebiles & @stephen_nedoroscik (as it appears quite obvious I’ll make whichever team I attempt to)…” What made this post stick out is that it is, in fact, bullshit. As in, it is a completely made-up story. Team USA did not visit JVN at their house; they’re not joining the USA gymnastics team. It’s not even that funny, to be honest. So, what was the point of it? It’s confusing as fuck when you read it at face value; however, when you drop it into the Lukola timeline, I’m convinced it alludes to something bigger. On August 11, we had Nicola posting the “Drink Your Milk” shirt – which sent the fandom into believing Nicola was wearing Luke’s shirt and that Luke’s reflection was in her sunglasses. On August 13, the day after this post, a torpedo was launched at us (warning, warning, anyone got a phone I can use?). When you look at this post as the middle piece connecting Nicola’s August 11 and August 13 posts, I believe it tells a story. Let me rewrite it for you but imagine it now coming from Nicola’s perspective: “I’ve been waiting for this announcement until after the Paris Olympics Hot Boy Summer had finished, as to not take away from the incredible success of USA Gymnastics Luke’s friend group, which included Antonia…Luke @teamusa has been following my journey and growth as a gymnast and showed up at my house to personally invite me to train to be a potential member of their 2028 team [choose your own adventure on this one]. While I hate taking a slot away from 2028 potentials like @simonebiles Antonia & @stephen_nedoroscik Rory (as it appears quite obvious I’ll make whichever team [“girlfriend” or best friend] I attempt to)…” Huh, at the very least, this post is starting to get the side-eye from you, isn’t it?

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August 13. Oh, my God! My hair is on fucking fire!!! Nicola dumped “Bless the [Goddamn] Telephone” on her Instagram stories. Whose voice is nice to hear again? What is she trying to say?! Maybe nothing. No, it’s something. “It’s nice, the way you say my name; not very fast or slow, just soft and low; the same as when you tell me how you feel; I feel the same way, too; I’m very much in love with you. I’m very much in love with you.” I don’t need to elaborate any further on this post. It speaks for itself. Chaos Week had officially launched its massive torpedo (full of firecrackers and pinata candy) and the entire Lukola fandom was hysterical – in the best way possible. However, I will interrupt this happy moment with – Jakolas, please don’t start trying to link this song to Jake because Jack Rooke used it in an episode of “Big Boys.” Yes, we are aware Jake played a minor role in that show as a love interest to the main character, Jack. Again, Nicola did not shut down the fandom’s perception that the song was for Luke. Sorry, not sorry, Jakolas. If any part of Chaos Week was for Jake, I believe Nicola would have shut the entire thing down after realizing the fandom was associating everything with Luke.

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August 15. After giving the fandom 48 hours to process “Bless the Telephone,” Nicola posted to her Instagram grid, “Very demure, very mindful.” In my opinion, Nicola was acknowledging that her recent posts (ahem, “Bless the Telephone”) were intentional, and she was aware of how they were being taken by the fandom (ahem, that they were for Luke).

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August 15. JVN posted to their TikTok account “Slick Back Bun.” Hands down a fan favorite moment with JVN. “Sometimes I just need a very demure slick back bun…I don’t do my slick back bun like all the other girls. Here I’ll show you how to do it…I’m just going to take the hair and twist it around itself, so I just have a little cinnamon roll bun…” Do I need to elaborate on this one? Seriously, do I? Slick back bun – Antonia – yeah, okay, got it, we’re still going knives out on Antonia. If you haven’t watched this, it is still on JVN’s TikTok and Instagram grid. It was clever how “demure” JVN and Nicola were being that day.

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August 16. Nicola posted another song to her Instagram stories. This time it was Clairo’s “Juna.” It was not just a sweet, romantic song; it was full on sexy. “You make me wanna try on feminine; you make me wanna go buy a new dress; you make me wanna slip off a new dress…With you, there’s no pretending.” Alright, alright, enough! Wait – no, no – come back! I didn’t mean it! Please, please bring back your music to Instagram, Nicola!

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At this point, in my opinion, Chaos Week ended; however, I’m going to reference one more log entry mainly because, if I don’t, it will get overlooked in the small gap between Chaos Week and when the Jakolas enter the picture on August 25 (see “Entry 8 – The One About the Adjacent of Convenience” for that side show).

August 22. Nicola posted the picture of Luke and herself from Bridgerton Season 3 to her Instagram grid. And, no, I do not consider this to be a “Polin” picture. The picture appeared to be an alternative version of the polaroid Nicola carried with her throughout the World Tour. She captioned the post, “I thought I’d already shared this but I hadn’t so here you go now it’s all yours.” She also shared this in her stories and captioned that “with the lovliest pal a gal could have” and tagged Luke’s crotch. The story would disappear after 24 hours, but the post itself is still on Nicola’s Instagram grid. This post can be taken in several ways, depending on your mood. Was she friendzoning Luke because she used the word “pal” in her Instagram story? No, I don’t think she was. The “lov[e]liest pal?” That’s about as confusing as their “unique relationship.” Was she telling the fandom to support Luke because she supported Luke (i.e., stop hating on him)? Yeah, probably. Was she telling the fandom that she thought she’d already made it very clear that everything she had been posting was about Luke? Yes, I believe this to be the most reasonable answer, especially when you consider her previous posts. The reality is, that man fills a hefty chunk of her Instagram grid – and not dressed like Colin Bridgerton. But, I also believe that this post may have been a preemptive strike against the narrative that would surface three days later on August 25. It’s entirely possible Nicola knew that the pap pictures of Jake at the festival would be released by DeuxMoi (after all, it took DeuxMois over a week to release them), and Nicola was reminding fans that her narrative involved Luke. Note, that Nicola would repeat this in October when she and Luke simultaneously posted their “Polin” picture to their Instagram stories, which was followed a few days later by DeuxMoi dropping pap pictures of Nicola and Jake.

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Oh, a few honorable mentions post-August 22: (a) Nicola posted a picture from her Stylist Magazine photoshoot – the one from the back seat of a car (i.e., the “modern day carriage”) on August 23; (b) Luke posted about how he only had an Instagram account on August 24; and (c) JVN posted his “two finger” hair straightening demo on TikTok on August 25 (yes, I only listed these honorable mentions to get to JVN’s “two finger” demo because that was some laugh-out-loud funny shit – and it’s literally on the heels of Nicola’s “modern day carriage”).

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August 25. What in the hot fucking kittens is that? Well, thank God, it’s not an iceberg this time. Whoa, they didn’t just pull that Non-Player Character from that group of guys and name a ship after him, did they? Hahaha, dumbasses. Oh, shit! It’s coming straight for us!

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End Log.

Well, how was Chaos Week? Did you have a good time? I’m honestly friggin’ exhausted. Seriously, even just writing all that down was exhausting. Like, my brain is fried. Oh, yeah, feel free to ignore that part at the end of our log. That shit happens every time the Lukolas are given a bit of fun. You’ll get used to it.

I took you on this excursion through Chaos Week today because I believe it is important to develop an opinion about what happened before and after Hot Boy Summer, especially if we’re going to theorize on it at a later point. And, as I mentioned earlier, the before played out in front of our eyes and the after, well, if we have the information available, why not peek in its direction? It’s almost like reading a book from back to front.

There are three things that happened during Chaos Week that have kept my feet firmly planted on the USS Lukola. One, Nicola wearing the “Drink Your Milk” shirt, alluding to the still uncorrected perception that it was Luke’s shirt. Two, “Bless the Telephone.” We started Hot Boy Summer with The Frames singing, “I’m gonna wait for you…” and ended it with Labi Siffre answering, “It’s nice to hear your voice again…” And, three, Nicola posting “Very demure, very mindful,” confirming – in my opinion – that she was very conscious of what her posts were telling the fandom – i.e., that they were for Luke.

But, as I was sitting here typing out my thoughts about Chaos Week, I found myself – oh, no, word vomit! – annoyed.

Yes, annoyed.

It’s not Chaos Week itself that has left me feeling annoyed. That was one hell of a “Bridgerton Ride.” It’s that Chaos Week set in motion this predictable pattern which solidified my opinion that “Lukolas can’t have nice things.” Seriously, we can’t have nice things because something always comes in and fucks it up.

You know how I mentioned at the beginning of this post that Luke’s return to London was the “blip-blip” that led to Chaos Week? Luke was the “cause” and Chaos Week was the “effect.” Well, Chaos Week was the “blip-blip” that led to the current state of the fandom. We now have three ships – the Lukola, the Jakola, and the Lutonia – sailing the Fandom Sea, and every time the Lukola finds itself flying high, it gets hijacked by one or both of those motherfucking side ships.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Somewhere in this hot mess, the chaos that originated from Nicola’s August social media spree found order! In fact, we’ve fallen into such a predictable pattern of events that the ebb and flow of the sideshow antics barely “blip” our radar these days. When bullshit starts bullshitting, I just breathe a deep sigh of unadulterated annoyance and think, “I’m so over this shit.” Honestly, I’m getting the vibe that many of us are over this shit. We’re not playing Scrabble anymore. We’re playing that never-ending game of Risk.

Sometimes I wonder if the fandom would have been better off if Chaos Week had never happened. That Pandora’s Box had never been opened and that the fandom had simply allowed the USS Lukola to sail off into the sunset. But, then I think about the people I have met along the way. The Ones that have made me laugh until my stomach hurts. The Ones with whom I’ve gone so far down a rabbit hole we’ve come out on the other side as different people. The Ones that I’ve rescued from the riptide. And, the Ones that have stopped me from rowing my dinghy to shore (because, yes, I’ve had rough days, too). You all know who you are.

So, I find myself putting up with the day-to-day humdrum of the Life of a Lukola, chatting with the people I now consider my friends, and waiting.

Waiting for something different to happen. A disruption to the current cycle. A new kind of chaos – preferably, the kind that mortally wounds the Jakola and Lutonia love triangles and finally allows the Lukolas to have (and keep) nice things.

But, in the meantime, I am still sitting here – listening for that quiet but distinct sound – but also contemplating knocking the Risk board off the table.

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[hedwig221b]

WIP Whenever

Requested by the loveliest @emmmna, here's a small bite of my sterek twilight au

Derek’s smile was light. He reached out, thoughtlessly it seemed, and pulled the string of Stiles hoodie from where it was caught under his shirt. He worried it between his fingers, then looked up.

“What?” Stiles asked with a tentative smile.

“Promise me you won’t go into the woods alone.”

Derek’s quiet and serious tone made the jokes stick in Stiles’ throat.

“Are there… other creatures?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah,” said Derek, and, just like that, the smirk was back in place. “Like, twenty mountain lions.”

“Oh, come on…” Stiles groaned.

“What did you think I was going to say? Vampires?” Derek snorted. “Beacon Hills is our territory, baby.”

“Dang it,” Stiles pursed his nose, trying to hide how much ‘baby’ affected him (very much). “There goes my dream of someone sucking my—”

Suddenly, Derek tensed. His head swiveled up, his gaze zeroing in on the road behind Stiles’ shoulder. Alarmed and mentally preparing for his dad’s interrogation, Stiles followed Derek’s gaze but saw nothing and no one.

He frowned. “Wha—”

“I gotta go,” Derek said, more annoyed than afraid. He smiled apologetically at Stiles and hopped off the porch. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay?”

Derek hesitated, staring at him with an almost pained expression.

“Fuck it,” he cursed, then flew up the porch.

Stiles froze in place, fully expecting to be kissed right this fucking second.

Hot hands cupped his neck, sending shockwaves down into his heart. Stiles stared at Derek, his eyes wide and his soul trembling in anticipation.

But Derek didn’t kiss him.

He rubbed Stiles' neck in firm, deliberate moves. If he had put just a tiny amount of his strength into the touch, he would’ve choked Stiles. Thumbs swiped over the sharp line of his jaw, then down, caressing his wildly beating veins. The heels of Derek’s palms pushed into Stiles’ clavicles and at the same time pinned him to place.

The heat filled Stiles’ cheeks, his whole face and neck. Standing in front of the predator, whose existence he couldn’t even dream about, between fight and flight, he couldn’t help but fawn.

No one held him like this. No one cared to. And if someone did, there was a big chance that Stiles would’ve fought out of the hold, swept by panic and anger.

Now, he wanted nothing more than to bare his neck.

Derek’s hands shook when he released Stiles. He swallowed thickly, then glanced at the road, cursed under his breath, and ran off the porch. This time, he didn’t return, instead jumping into his car straight away. He drove off with a squeal of the tires and disappeared around the corner.

Stiles cleared his throat, finding it coated in desert sand. He lifted his hand to rub his flaming neck, froze it halfway, clenched it into a fist, and lowered it. He didn’t want to ruin… whatever it was.

[divider source]

Tagging gently 💛 @endwersed @patolemus @renmackree @salty-fryingpan @gege-wondering-around @dear-massacre @demonicfaerie @teencopandthesourwolf @eevylynn

[joelsrose]

Burning Desire

warnings: 18+ content !!!!! dirty talk, handjob, m! receiving oral - eeeeek I don’t write smut that often bc I’m not sure if I’m the best at it so if you enjoy pls let me know!!!

my masterlist

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It was hot—too hot in Jackson. The type of heat that clung to the air like a second skin, so heavy and unrelenting that even the faintest whisper of wind brought no relief. It was the kind of hot that seeped into the walls, turning your home into a suffocating box, the kind that made sweat gather in the crook of your neck and slide down your spine.

“Fuck this,” you muttered, wrestling with the old fan. Its blades gave a weak, uneven groan, the sound of a machine long past its prime. It sputtered for a moment before giving up entirely, leaving you alone to suffer in the still, sweltering air.

The ventilation system had been out for three days now. At first, you told yourself it was fine, no big deal. You’d lived through worse before you came to Jackson.

By the second day, you were over it. The sweat, the restless nights, the way the heat sucked the energy from your bones. You’d tried everything—propping open the windows, draping wet cloths over your forehead—but nothing seemed to help. The thought of another day like this was enough to make you want to scream.

You sighed, swiping at the bead of sweat that clung stubbornly to your forehead. The thick, humid air inside your house had grown unbearable, pushing you out the door and into the blistering sun. The heat wrapped around you like a smothering blanket, the kind that didn’t just sit on your skin but burrowed deep into your bones, pounding relentlessly on every inch of exposed flesh.

You made your way down the dirt path to Tommy’s house, your irritation building with each sluggish step. By the time you reached their porch, you were half-ready to tear the door off its hinges. Before you could knock, Maria opened it, greeting you with a sly smile.

“Well, hello there,” she said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Not now, Maria,” you muttered, brushing past her playful tone. “Where’s your husband?”

Maria chuckled knowingly, folding her arms. “Your ventilation still down? I told you, you could stay here.”

“And listen to you guys have sex every night? No, thanks.” You shot her a dry look before stepping inside and calling out, “Tommy!”

The sound of boots against wood echoed from another room, followed by a gruff, familiar voice. “Christ, what’s goin’ on here?” Tommy appeared in the doorway, brows raised, his eyes sweeping over you. “And why do you look like you just ran through a damn sprinkler?”

You glared at him, swiping at the sweat-soaked neckline of your shirt. “Because it’s a hundred degrees in my house, Tommy. And because someone”—your tone sharpened, the implication clear—“hasn’t come by to fix it.”

Tommy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression one of mild exasperation. “Alright, alright. Let me grab my tools before you melt all over Maria’s floor.”

“Baby,” Maria interjected, her voice lilting with amusement. “You got that thing?”

Tommy froze for half a second, his hand moving from his neck to scratch the edge of his jaw. “Oh… fuck,” he murmured under his breath, his posture stiffening in that telltale way that said something had slipped his mind.

Your brows shot up, arms crossing as you stared him down. “Tommy, I swear to God,” you started, your tone sharp and cracking with heat-induced frustration, “I’m not even being dramatic right now, but if this thing isn’t fixed by the end of the day, I legitimately might shoot someone.”

Tommy chuckled, low and easy, as though the idea of you snapping didn’t rattle him in the slightest. “Well, we can’t have that,” he drawled, his hands settling on his hips in that casually smug way that always made you want to throttle him. “Alright, I’ll send Joel over this afternoon. He’s free.”

He was already moving toward the front door before the words fully registered. “Wait—what?” you blurted, following after him. “Joel?”

“Yeah, Joel. You’ve met him, right?” Tommy glanced back over his shoulder, his tone as nonchalant as if he’d just told you the weather. “Big guy, mean face?”

You had, in fact, met Joel. A handful of times since he’d arrived last month. To be honest, you were still trying to figure him out. He was brusque, gruff, and always seemed to have this permanent scowl etched into his features. To this day, you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that he and Tommy were brothers. They were so different—Tommy with his easy charm and constant smirk, Joel with his sharp eyes and the kind of silence that always felt a little heavy, like it might snap at any moment. Then again, you didn’t know Joel. Not the way you knew Tommy.

“Fine,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back toward the porch. “As long as it’s fixed.”

You didn’t wait for a response, stepping back into the searing heat. Behind you, Maria’s voice rang out in mock cheer, “Nice to see you too!”

Without turning, you threw a hand in the air, flipping her off as you walked away. Her laugh followed you, light and teasing, and somehow, despite the heat, it managed to make you smile.

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You lay sprawled on the bench of your front porch, eyes closed against the bright glare of the sun, lazily fanning yourself. The heat inside your house had been unbearable, so you’d come outside, hoping for even the slightest breeze to ease your suffering. But the air was still, and the heat clung to you no matter where you went.

You’d resorted to wearing your tiniest pair of shorts and a worn-out singlet, an outfit you wouldn’t dream of being seen in beyond the safety of your porch. But right now, the mere thought of adding another layer felt like cruel and unusual punishment.

The creak of the gate and the sound of heavy boots on the porch’s wooden planks barely registered in your haze. Then came a cough—a quiet, gravelly sound that snapped your eyes open.

Standing there, broad shoulders framed by the relentless sun, was Joel. You blinked, suddenly unsure if it was the heat making you lightheaded or… something else. Had he always been this handsome? The sharp set of his jaw, the flecks of silver in his beard that caught the light, the way his shirt stretched over arms that looked like they could build or break anything in their path. You’d noticed him before, sure, but not like this—not when he was standing so close, with his presence so solid and consuming.

“Uh… Tommy sent me over,” Joel said, his low voice breaking through your trance. He stood there awkwardly, one hand resting on his hip, the other rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze swept over you briefly before landing somewhere just past your shoulder, as though he was deliberately trying not to look at you too closely.

“Oh. Right. Shit, sorry.” You scrambled to sit up, brushing at your shorts like that would somehow make this less mortifying. For some reason—maybe the heat, maybe pure instinct—you extended your hand toward him. A handshake. Really? What were you, a fucking realtor?

Joel’s brows knit together in confusion, but he took your hand anyway, his grip firm but hesitant. His rough, calloused palm dwarfed yours, his skin warm and textured in a way that made your stomach flip. You prayed he couldn’t feel how clammy your own hand was, though judging by the flicker of something on his face—amusement, maybe?—he definitely noticed.

“Uh,” you stammered, withdrawing your hand too quickly, as though it had been burned. “Thanks for coming over.”

Joel gave a slow nod, his gaze finally meeting yours. “No problem,” he said simply.

You cleared your throat, trying to swallow the warmth rising in your face—not from the sun but from the way Joel’s presence seemed to pull at something inside you. “Well… follow me,” you murmured, stepping past him to open the door, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a curt nod, his boots echoing softly against the wooden planks as he followed you inside. The air in the house was stifling, thick and oppressive, but Joel didn’t seem fazed. You led him through the narrow hallway toward the ventilation system, your fingers brushing over the walls for balance as you fought to ignore the weight of his gaze lingering on your back.

“This way,” you said, your voice tighter than you meant it to be.

When you reached the corner where the old, battered system sat, Joel was all business. He crouched down without a word, his hands moving with practiced precision as he inspected the unit. His brow furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he adjusted a panel.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying not to stare too openly, but it was impossible not to notice the way the sweat on his neck glistened in the dim light, or the way his broad shoulders filled the space.

“Been runnin’ this thing into the ground, haven’t you?” Joel muttered, mostly to himself as he fiddled with the system. His tone was dry, almost amused, as though the sorry state of your ventilation wasn’t exactly surprising.

You shrugged, “I’m just a girl.”

At that, he paused, turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and mild amusement.

It was distracting—how good he looked like this. The sun streaming through the window seemed to catch every rough-hewn line of his face, the sweat on his brow glinting faintly in the light. And then there was his shirt, the hem riding up as he reached for something in the toolbox, exposing a sliver of tan, muscular skin that made your stomach flip in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away as you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to play it cool. “So, uh…” you started, your voice coming out too soft. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “How’d you know how to do all this?”

Joel sighed, the sound low and almost weary, as though the answer wasn’t worth much to him. “Was in construction. Worked with Tommy.”

“Really?” you said, tilting your head as you watched him. “Guess that explains the whole ‘fix anything, grumble about it later’ vibe you’ve got going on.”

Joel paused for a moment, glancing at you over his shoulder. His brows furrowed, lips tugged into the faintest frown. “What the hell’re you talkin’ about?” he said, his voice low and gravelly, laced with genuine confusion.

Your face burned. You waved a hand in the air, trying to dismiss the awkwardness. “Nothing. Uh, I’ll be back,” you muttered, spinning on your heel before he could say anything else.

You escaped to the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to compose yourself. “Get it together, girl,” you muttered under your breath, taking a few deep, steadying breaths.

Spotting a pitcher of water on the counter, you grabbed a glass. Offer him water. Be normal. That’s not weird, you told yourself. Glass in hand, you walked back toward him, your heart thudding unreasonably loud in your chest.

“I got some water—” you started, but before you could finish your sentence, your foot caught on something—probably that damn rug you hadn’t straightened out. The glass slipped from your hand as you pitched forward, stumbling with an embarrassingly loud yelp.

The next few seconds blurred together. Joel turned just as you fell, his hands moving quickly to catch you. The glass hit the floor with a clatter, shattering everywhere.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, his strong hands steadying you, one gripping your arm and the other braced on your waist. His eyes scanned you, his voice gruff but laced with concern. “You alright?”

You blinked up at him, your face inches from his. His hand was warm and solid on your waist, and the way he looked at you—stern, steady—made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the fall. “Yeah,” you breathed, your voice a little too shaky. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… clumsy.”

Joel’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “That much’s obvious,” he said, his tone dry as he helped you straighten up. “Maybe let me get my own water next time.”

After what felt like forever, Joel finally let go, his hands dropping from your waist. You stumbled back, the heat of his touch lingering on your skin as you scrambled to the ground, muttering under your breath, “Fuck,” more to yourself than anyone else.

Your eyes darted to the shards of glass scattered across the floor. You reached out quickly, eager to clean up the mess and avoid any more embarrassment. But as your hand shot forward, Joel crouched down at the same time, his larger hand moving to grab the same piece of glass.

And that’s when it happened.

Your hand missed the glass entirely and landed firmly… on him. Right there.

Time froze, the air between you suddenly too thick to breathe, the moment stretching unbearably as you both registered what had just happened. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, panic and mortification washing over you in waves. But that wasn’t what truly hit you, what really sent your mind reeling. No, it was something else entirely.

He was hard.

Rock solid beneath your touch.

You gasped, your breath catching as your gaze snapped up to meet his. His expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched tight, and his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. The tension between you was electric, crackling with something neither of you wanted to name.

Your shock quickly morphed into something deeper, a slow, smoldering heat coiling low in your stomach. Your lips parted, but no words came, your mind too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Joel cleared his throat abruptly, breaking the charged silence. He stood in one swift motion, his voice gruff and uneven as he muttered, “I’m gonna… get some water.”

You stayed there for a beat, still kneeling on the floor, the cool shards of glass forgotten in your hands. The room felt stifling, the tension from moments ago lingering in the air like smoke. But then you heard the faint clink of a glass in the kitchen, and before you could second-guess yourself, you stood and followed him.

When you stepped into the doorway, Joel’s back was to you, his broad shoulders pulling taut under the fabric of his shirt as he raised a glass of water to his lips. His head tilted back, exposing the thick column of his neck, and you felt that heat inside you flare, spreading through your limbs like wildfire.

He turned then, lowering the glass, his gaze meeting yours. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the flicker in his eyes betrayed him. He didn’t say a word—didn’t have to. The charged silence between you said enough.

Your breath caught in your throat, and before you could think it through, you stepped forward. The air shifted as you sank to your knees in front of him, your fingers trembling as they reached for his belt. His breath hitched audibly, his body stiffening as he looked down at you.

“What are you doin’?” His voice was low, strained, but there was no mistaking the way his hands hovered at his sides, unsure whether to stop you—or help you.

You didn’t answer, your hands moving instinctively, your gaze locked on his as you worked the leather strap loose.

You yanked his jeans down in one swift motion, the fabric pooling around his ankles. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as you knelt before him.

Just as your fingers moved to the waistband of his boxers, Joel’s hand shot out, gripping a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back, forcing your gaze up to meet his. The movement was firm, commanding, his expression shadowed and intense.

“The fuck are you doin’?” he growled.

You smiled up at him, unbothered, as though this were the simplest thing in the world. “Helping you,” you said, your voice soft but sure.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his jaw tight, his breath ragged. “Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath, his grip loosening slightly, his eyes darkening. “You’re dirty, y’know that?”

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmured, releasing you.

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down in one smooth motion. His length sprang free, slapping against his abdomen, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet room. The sight of him made your breath hitch, heat pooling low in your stomach as your eyes traced every inch of him.

“Shit,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, your lips parting as your mouth watered at the sight.

Joel’s hand found your hair again, his grip firmer this time, guiding your gaze back to his face. “You gonna just stare, or you gonna show me what that smart mouth can do?” he drawled, his voice thick with tension.

You smiled as you began to lean into him.

“Wait,” Joel said, his voice rough and strained, stopping you just before your lips could meet his tip. You froze, looking up at him, the hunger in your eyes mirrored in his.

“Wanna taste you first,” he murmured, his words slow and deliberate, like a promise. “Before you’re all full of me.”

The heat in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core, leaving you breathless. Before you could even process what he meant, his hand tightened in your hair, pulling you to your feet with an almost desperate force.

His lips crashed against yours, feverish and unrelenting, his kiss filled with a raw, unspoken need. A muffled “mhmm” escaped your lips as your body melted against his, your hands bracing against his chest.

But your hand didn’t stay there for long. It slid back down, wrapping around his length as you began stroking him, slow and deliberate at first, before picking up the pace. The weight of him in your palm only made the ache inside you worse, and the quiet, guttural noise Joel let out against your lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice deep and reverent, his forehead pressing to yours for a brief second. “Alright,” he said, his tone commanding now, his hands moving to your shoulders. “Back down.”

You didn’t hesitate, sinking to your knees once more, the hunger in his eyes making your pulse race.

Your mouth enveloped him slowly, your tongue working along his cock, tasting the salt of his skin. Joel’s breath hitched sharply, his hand moving to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his other hand gripped the edge of the kitchen counter for balance.

“Fuckkk, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, his head tilting back slightly as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

Then his gaze snapped back down to you, and the sight of you looking up at him—lips wrapped around him, eyes wide and full of intent—made his jaw tighten. “Shit, you’re good at that,” he groaned, his tone full of awe and desperation.

You kept your pace steady, bobbing your head as your hands worked to cover the rest of him, your fingers curling around his base.

The heat in the room felt almost unbearable now, the sweat on your skin mingling with the faint stickiness of the floor beneath your knees. It hurt—your knees digging into the hardwood—but it didn’t matter. The sound of his breathing, the way his fingers tightened in your hair, made every discomfort worth it.

Joel’s free hand reached down, his thumb brushing a bead of sweat from your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the tension in his body. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice rough and uneven.

You hummed in response, the vibration pulling a deep groan from him, his hips bucking slightly despite his effort to stay in control.

Joel’s hand tightened in your hair, gathering it into a makeshift grip as he began to move, his hips thrusting into your mouth with a newfound urgency. The pace was hard and fast, his rhythm rough, but the desperation in his movements only fueled the heat pooling in your core.

Your fingers clutched at his thighs, trying to ground yourself against the intensity of it all. The muscles under your hands were taut, flexing with every drive of his hips, and the sheer force of him overwhelmed you, pushing you closer to the edge of control. You gagged around him, your throat tightening as he hit the back of it, but instead of pulling away, you let out a muffled moan, spurring him on further.

“So fucking good for me,” Joel groaned, his voice raw and strained as he looked down at you. His hand stayed firm in your hair, guiding you as he took what he needed, his eyes burning with a mix of hunger and awe. “On the floor, like this… Jesus Christ.”

You freed one hand from his thigh, letting it slide down to cup his balls, your fingers massaging gently as you continued your rhythm. Joel’s breathing grew heavier, a sharp inhale escaping his lips as his head tipped back slightly.

“Shit, darlin’,” he groaned, his voice rough and strained, every word drenched in desperation. “Not gonna… not gonna last much longer.”

Abruptly, Joel pulled himself out, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and hungry “Where d’you want me, baby?” Joel asked again, his voice slower this time, almost a drawl, but it didn’t lack intensity.

His free hand brushed the side of your face, rough fingers tracing over your cheek like he had all the time in the world—though the look in his eyes told you he was on the brink of losing control.

You licked your lips, the salty taste of him still on your tongue, and let the words tumble out before you could second-guess yourself. “In my mouth,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, thick with arousal. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” Joel breathed, his jaw tightening as his hips jerked forward instinctively. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You nodded eagerly, your breath hitching as the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. The hunger between you was almost unbearable now, the air charged with a raw, unspoken need.

“Fuck,” Joel grunted, his voice strained as though he was barely holding himself together. His grip on your hair tightened, and his other hand braced against the counter for support. “Okay, baby. Go ahead.”

Without giving you time to respond, he thrust back into your mouth, his movements rougher now, his pace relentless.

His head tilted back, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest as he buried himself in the warmth of you, his hand tightening in your hair to hold you steady. You let him take control, your hands gripping his thighs for support as you worked in time with him, your mouth and tongue doing everything you could to draw him closer to the edge.

Joel’s breathing turned ragged, his body trembling slightly as he braced himself against the counter. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice breaking. “So damn perfect. Can’t—fuck—can’t hold it much longer.”

His grip faltered for just a moment, his movements growing erratic as he chased his release. And then he was spilling into you, a string of low curses falling from his lips as he held you against him, his cum sitting heavy and warm in your mouth.

“Open your mouth,” Joel commanded, his voice rough and steady, his hand tightening in your hair to hold you in place. His tone left no room for hesitation, and you complied instantly, parting your lips and tilting your head slightly so he could see himself on painted all over your tongue.

“Shit,” Joel murmured, his eyes darkening as he looked down at you, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths.

“Now swallow,” Joel commanded, his voice rough and full of authority, his grip on your hair firm as he watched you.

You swallowed instinctively, your throat working around the command as the taste of him lingered on your tongue. Your panties dampened at the sound of his deep groan and the way his chest heaved as he took in the sight of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice gravelly, a low growl rumbling from his throat as his hand moved to your face. His thumb wiped away a bead of his cum from the corner of your lip.

Without another word, Joel reached down, pulling his pants back up with a practiced ease, as if nothing had happened. His movements were calm, deliberate, his face unreadable as he fastened his belt.

You stayed on your knees, still dazed, your mind spinning from everything that had just transpired. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the heat coursing through your body, leaving you breathless and utterly unmoored.

Joel glanced down at you, his expression softening for the briefest moment before he leaned down, his rough hands sliding beneath your arms to help you up.

Once you were on your feet, he straightened, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. “Now,” he muttered, his voice gruff, “let’s fix this damn thing.”

And just like that, he turned, moving back toward the broken ventilation system as if nothing had happened, leaving you standing in your kitchen, stunned.

Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, your body still trembling, still achingly hot—for an entirely different reason now.

[skzdarlings]

mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

-

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door.  Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car.  They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate. 

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say.  “So wholesome.  So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean.  Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times.  He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone.  He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct.  Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent.  You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy.  Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection.  You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died.  Foolish.  He is not here for you but your name.  He does not care how you feel.  He does not care if you want him.  He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone.  He backed you into the wall and kissed you.  An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye.  Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run.  Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars.  Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort.  You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats.  It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike.  It is a pretty but flimsy thing.  Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets. 

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away. 

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane.  It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory.  Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world.  The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes.  Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns.  It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town. 

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house.  If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror. 

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes.  You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer.  You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard.  You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.  

You park your bike against the side of the house.  You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.    

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door.  While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous.  You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done.  You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late. 

No answer comes.  You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole.  Is he ignoring you?  No.  The windows are shut, the blinds closed.  He cannot even see you.

You take a step back.  Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light.  The house is small, a single story.  There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection.  Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself.  What were you even thinking?  Silly girl.  Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you.  He has a life of his own.  He probably doesn’t even think about you.  You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic.  Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day.  They finally become too much to bear.  You sit down on the steps and cry. 

Some time passes.  You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes.  You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. 

You are not sure what to do now.  You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you.  You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.   

You sigh.  You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you.  Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know.  You met doing volunteer work, in fact.  You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps.  You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine.  It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow.  You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop. 

The driver door flies open.  He jumps out, cursing.  Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability.  His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed.  He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.  

He is beautiful as ever.  Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again.  He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl.  When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now.  Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck.  He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way.  He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside.  He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him.  You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say. 

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood.  He curses louder this time. 

There is a small light on the side of the house.  You step towards it at the same time. 

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you.  His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion.  He stares intently at you. 

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring. 

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say.  “I wanted to see you.  I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side.  He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense. 

“Right,” you say.  You feel a catch in the back of your throat.  Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him.  More of a fool, that is.  You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices. 

I missed you so much, you think.  I think about you every day.  Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic.  Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness.  Minho is not a man like that, though.  He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone.  You know that, but the words catch nonetheless. 

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.  “I probably shouldn’t have come here.  It’s been months since we last spoke.  I know we’re not really friends anymore.  I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says. 

You look at him.  His expression has not softened.  It is still that same scrutinizing stare.  His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying. 

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed.  Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you.  He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck. 

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back. 

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you.  A small touch from him means more than anything. 

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly.  He is still frowning.  “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say.  When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that.  Emotionally, I mean.  I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly.  “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore.  You know what they’re like.” 

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike.  You feel embarrassed, remembering too. 

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts.  You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house.  He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him. 

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted.  He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down.  They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy.   You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him.  His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall. 

You were in denial about your parents being bad people.  You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart.  They were just set in their ways.  They wanted a good life for you.  You told Minho to just give them time.  He let you go.  They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day. 

Minho takes a breath.  He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive.  You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head. 

“You look cold,” he says frankly.  “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps.  He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing.  You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door. 

He says nothing, just nods at you.  You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots.  He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats.  When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark. 

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do.  You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship.  You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance.  He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive.  You wanted to keep everything. 

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want.  You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.   

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him. 

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then.  Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze. 

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind.  He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.   

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.” 

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply.  Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it.  Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him. 

He swallows, his throat bobbing.  He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.   

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall. 

Your heart sinks.  It is your turn to swallow. 

“You know about that?” you ask. 

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle.  He looks at you incredulously. 

“Of course I know,” he says.  “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks.  Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.”  He huffs, shaking his head.  “It’s fine,” he says.  “You should be with someone like that.  He’ll give you the house.  The car.  I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling.  You lift your chin and look him in the eye.  “You’re right, my parents do love him.  But I don’t.  He’s shallow and unkind.  And you—”  Your voice catches.  “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that.  You are everything.  And I… I love you.  I always have.”  You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze.  “I know it’s been a while,” you say.  “I don’t expect you to have waited for me.  I just—”

He laughs again.  It is still dry, but not so sharp.  You glance at him. 

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s like you don’t even know me.  I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl. 

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously. 

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him.  He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you. 

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit.  “But I know I want to figure it out.  With you.  And no one else.” 

He smiles and it makes you smile.  Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands. 

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back.  “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you.  He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip.  It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body. 

It is more effective than any word.  He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness.   You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit.  You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. 

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses.  “Torturing me for so long.  I wanted to kill that man.  But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say.  “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.”  That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again.  “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation. 

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head.  You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in. 

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say.  “Just make me forget him.” 

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time.  Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms.  You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it.  Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does. 

Then he gets very serious.  Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body.  Your thighs press together. 

He presses his forehead to yours.  You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down.  The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you.  You shiver, gazing back at him.  His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside.  His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress.  He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side. 

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards.  You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs.  You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.   

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it. 

“You are,” he says.  He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair.  “You are.” 

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you.  He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name.  You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady. 

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue.  It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep.  It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.   

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing.  He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp.  It makes your head spin.   He speaks like that now.    

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth.  When you moan, he moans back.  “I make you sigh,” he says.  “I make your pussy wet.  I make you come.  Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed.  “You, Minho.” 

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs.  They are still quivering from your orgasm.  He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt.  He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you.  He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits.  You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you.  You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his.  He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you. 

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth.   “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him.  You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other.  Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites.  There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him. 

“Yes,” you say.  “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over.  He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss. 

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more.  When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately. 

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home. 

[devoutekuna]

Getting left alone with their child

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

His daughter loves food but is always restricted since she could eat the whole pantry if she had the opportunity, but when you weren't home she always went for the special food she was always refused. "Help me daddy" reaching for the special packet she was banned from touching. "No your mother said you can't eat it." Normally he always disregarded anything you said that wasn't much importance to him but on the few occasions he actually listened it was always so heartwarming. "But mummy's not here!" Fingertips practically touching the small box before giving up. "So what, listen to your mother" he was always defending you, see, if anyone else would disobey his orders he kill them but since she was his only kid he'd give her exemption.

Nanami-

You can trust this man with anything, just not with 3 kids running around his house. Yuki had invited some of his friends round to his house, despite not asking his father, only you, but you were away. "No!" Failing to catch the boy as he ran straight into the glass door, running towards his friends who were outside trying to sail a boat. "Yuji.." sighing as he saw his son try to escape his grasp, it didn't look like there was anything wrong with him other than the blood vessels rushing to his nose. "Let me go, I'm fine!" "No you're not" he probably was fine since his body was so used to running into things, placing an icepack on his nose, making sure he held it. Another sound came towards him as another child ran into the glass. "Mr yuji's dad!" Jumping up and down on the porch as the little girl pointed towards the urchin looking kid in the kiddy pool. Sighing in defeat, he didn't understand why he decided to get in, though the girl, nobara was looking guilty like she had pushed Megumi in.

Somehow after all of that he kept them all safe, having to change Megumi's clothes and keep his son from running back into glass. Sat on the armchair with kids piled on top of him, Megumi using his body as a chair with nobara and yuji laid out on top of him.

Geto-

Normally he wouldn't mind being cooped up in the house, but his daughter was a handful, she recently got into arts and crafts, and he hated how messy she was with it. Always getting glue and paint all around his house. "Daddy look!" Following her throughout the house to her bedroom, only to notice the paint smeared all over his doors as he walked. "What have you done?" Maybe he shouldn't have allowed her near the paint. "Isn't it pretty daddy?" The few family pictures he had of you three were smeared in paint, pink dots aligning your forehead. "Mummy is wearing a flower crown!" Fortunately he always had a protective cover over the pictures so it wasn't that bad, but he was still annoyed as he'd have to buy a new frame.

Gojo-

Anyone would call it stupid to leave the guy alone, despite being a fully grown man. "You want a new nappy or something?" He was clueless when it came to children, normally he watched you so most of the work, helping out whenever he needed to, he knew how to change a nappy and stuff like that but he wasn't familiar with his son's cries, so he didn't know If he was hungry, cold or hot, and so on. Sat down with his offspring laid out on his lap, "Are you hungry?" Grabbing a nearby milk bottle, poking it towards his lips only for her to refuse it and shake her heads. Leaving him puzzled. "Then what do you want?" Normally he was a picky child, only drinking milk straight from you, plus he always had to see your face or have a comfort item around or else he wouldn't drink it. "You want your mummy?" Teasing the kid.

Toji-

Despite having a pet worm roaming around your apartment you hated insects. It was common knowledge in your family, so whenever you left for work. Your daughter always got up to the worst stuff, first off she loved that purple worm her father's had, always trying to pet it, even trying to sneak it into her bedroom. So when you weren't home, she quickly took one of your containers and stuffed it with your plant soil, she was going to "make her own" worm. It sounded really stupid but she was determined. "Daddy, what do worms eat?" Sat on the living room floor with soil spread out in a bag. "I don't know" he was tired of his daughter's questions,. "But you have Mr worm" pointing to the slimy thing that went around your place. "Who's Mr worm?" Sitting on the floor next to her now. "The thing mummy hates." Sighing in defeat, she was so attached to the worm, maybe he should get her a pet or something.

[safination]

Mother Of Mine

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x Reader, Velvette & Mom!Reader CW: Alastor, foul language, talks of murder, (Hopefully not, but possibly) OOC

Requested by: @thill20712 My inbox is still currently open. Feel free to keep requesting.So I just did a headcanon format for this. It was pretty fun. Listen, is this my best work? No, but that’s fine because it was actually very entertaining for me, and that’s all that matters. Tbh, I would actually like to turn this into a series but undergrad studies are killing me rn, so maybe in the future. I can like already see so much fun shit around this concept. Imagine the family dinners, or like Alastor going to an Overlord meeting and just unknowingly being slightly less of a chaotic shitlord to Velvette because there’s something faintly familiar or like Vel and Al just both doting on you.

Your husband died.

Everyone found out what Alastor had been doing. The city had no compassion for a monster’s grieving widow. Ha! Alastor would have a kick of your current situation, that’s for sure. It should have been you and him running for your life as the city chases you out of his mother’s home.

That’s how it should have been.

There wasn’t even time to gather all your belongings before those who wanted revenge go to fulfill their goal. Just a measly change of clothes, some emergency money, and documents. Photos never made it to the list. It’s funny how a single piece of film could pack the most weight.

As your ran for your life, cold and frightened, you heard muffled wailings.

And they called Alastor cruel. Who would leave a baby inside a dumpster? You thought about it . . . . Just for a second. The baby’s shrill cries were getting on your nerves, and there’s no way it will survive the night. And an orphanage is no place for a child to grow—you know that much.

So . . . why not? You could just end it’s suffering—Right here, right now.

Compassion isn’t your strongest trait. It’s why you never said anything about all those people who fell under Alastor’s pursuit of self-righteous justice. Who were you to care for someone you don’t know?

You don’t hate children, far from it, actually. Children are the light of this world, and they were the path to bring a better future into this world.  Such pure creature shouldn’t be stained by you. Especially, because you’re not sure if you could ever fully love a child the way it needs to love. Children deserved care, and you refused to bring a child into this world without the assurance that it would be loved.

It was an easy decision that Alastor wholeheartedly supported.

The world took away the very few things you truly loved. Maybe, you could return it ten-fold. . . but you’ve been cold and frightened before, just like this baby. Actually, you’re cold and frightened, right now. Also, just like this baby. Two cold and frightened souls.

So, with the clothes on your back, and no home to call, maybe¸ you’ll find warmth and safety together.

There’s always the option to give it—no, the child, just for a night. Drop the baby off on a porch of some nice couple’s home.

Tomorrow, you’ll give this baby girl away.

• Tomorrow never came

People keep assuming this baby girl is your daughter. You don’t bother correction them. Why should you? It’s not like you’re eager to say that you skipped state lines because of your dead, murderous husband, and basically kidnapped her.

It’s easier to let people assume.

And you can’t keep calling the baby, ‘that baby’. She needs a name eventually, and Alastor always spoke fondly about his mother.

Tomorrow never did come, and tomorrow never will come. Despite this, the sands of time trickled down.

The baby turned into a girl and the girl also grew. Part of your misses the days when she would raid your closet, and dress you up like a doll with a sharp tongue and a demanding attitude. Gone are the days when you’d be sleeping on the same bed, and gone are the days when you would tell her about Alastor.

You would tell her about the flowers, and how Alastor drove around the city, with you right next to him. The sun went down, the moon rose high into the night, and that sun eventually appeared once more. Yet, neither of you were ready to leave each other’s presence.

That girl grew, and took up a weird hobby of wanting to be called, ‘Vel’:

Vel walks into the room, her nose high in the air as she sharpens her tongue against you. “Mother, you cannot walk around looking like this!” she tells you. “The colors look absolutely atrocious. I will burn that shoes the next time I see it on your feet.”

Daughters can be quite judgmental. Maybe, you really should have left her in that dumpster.

“I’ll change my shoes if you stop calling yourself, ‘Vel’,” you tell her, smiling. “I gave you such a nice name, and it makes me sad that you aren’t using it!”

“It’s a stage name,” she says, rolling her eyes at you. So judgmental, that girl. “It’s what I’m going to be called when I finally get out of here, and such a drabby, old name like mine won’t get men anywhere.”

“Well, Vel, I got a call.” You tap your fingers across your knee, staring her down. “Apparently, Mister Joseph doesn’t appreciate being called a, ‘Pathetic and blind fool who goes to work looking like dog poop’.”

“I did not say fool or poop,” she says. “And that old fucker knows it.”

“What I want to know now is—Why?” You stroke your forehead. “What was he wearing too much brown?”

“No.” Vel crosses her arms. “Because my mother was called, ‘an unmarried whore, and who knows where that child come from?’”

“I am married!” You press a kiss on her forehead, chuckling. “It’s just not my fault my husband died not was it my fault your parents didn’t want you.”

Vel rolls he eyes, and sticks out her tongue.

You flicker her nose, and stick out your own tongue.

But time goes on, and as they do. All came to dust and all return to dust.

Of course, you’d end up in hell. It would be a shame that Alastor would never get to meet your daughter. It eventually all blurred into one. And if you didn’t give a flying fuck about others on Earth, why would you give any more fucks to care in Hell of all places?

Building kept growing higher and higher. Bright lights and television shaped morons came into picture. If you could find Alastor, surely, you would have a laughed together. Radio will always be superior. So, you kept your distance from that part of town.

More years kept passing. Alastor was nowhere to be found.

When enough time passes, things tend to loop. Like how you’re hearing cold and scared cries from an alley way. Something posses you to step into the alley. Piss and death and a sweet perfume all assault your nose. You keep walking and . . . somehow, your daughter ended up with you in hell.

Daughter really can be so cruel to their mothers.

Maybe, you actually should have left her in that dumpster. You were destined for Hell, and it seems you dragged your daughter down with you. If you did leave her, surely, Heaven wouldn’t turn away such a new soul.

You squat next to your sobbing daughter in this random corner in hell, and watch her tears with a small smile. “This is exactly how I found you all those years ago,” you tell her. “Although, you were much cuter.”

Her head snaps up, and through her tears, she glares at you. “Mother.”

“Yes, dear?

“Mother,” she says again, and fat tears streams out of her face. “What the fuck are you wearing? It’s soooo ugly!”

“I’m going to leave you here.” You blow a strand off your face, and lean against the wall, next to her.

It’s a lie and you both know it. If you cold leave her, cold and frightened next to a dumpster . . . Well, you would have done it a long time ago.

“Why are you even in Hell? Actually—Don’t answer that,” she says, that same sharp tongue somehow even sharper. “You were a nasty bitch in life. It’s no wonder you’re here.”

“Language.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Vel slumps on you, curling around your shoulder. There’s a scowl on her face even as she settles her body next to you. “You really are nasty. How come I’m only seeing you now! I’m sure even a recluse like you should have heard of me.”

“What am I doing here?” you parrot, matching her scowl. Actually, she got that scowl on you. That’s your scowl on her face. “What are you doing here? I raised you to be a good person worthy of Heaven!”

You pat her hair a bit, glad that she couldn’t see your face. Did you really drag her down to hell with you? Was it a mistake to love when your very love condemned her?

“That’s bullshit,” Vel says. “The decisions I made are my own. I’m here because it’s what I decided to do.”

You flicker her nose and laugh when her scowl deepens. “Please, please! Tell me you’re still not going by ‘Vel’.”

“It’s ‘Velvette’ now, actually.”

“That sounds like a stripper name,” you say, barking out a laugh. “I gave you a nice and proper name! Your name came from—”

“Mother! No one goes by their real names here!”

So that’s how you, sadly, found your daughter in Hell. Daughter, yes. Husband, no.

Oh, where is your Alastor?

Clothes are thrown everywhere. Your daughter has an eye for fashion and surely, you’re capable of remembering anything she’s tried to tell you. And granted, Velvette did tell you quite a lot of things about clothes . . . a bit too much.

Maybe you should call her, but you wouldn’t want to inconvenience her, especially since she has that show coming up. She’s worked so hard, and you’ve learned to accept that she works in such a noisy and bright place. And you have thought about those co-workers of hers, but that’s not important right now.

The door bangs open and Velvette stands there irked. “I’ve been knocking.”

You grab her and ask her about the clothes. “What do you think?”

“You know what I think about your clothes,” she says. “You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“Is that the thing that keeps ringing?”

“Mother!” Velvette says, irked. “Answer my calls, and put that down! Neon is never a good color on you.”

“Then help me then!”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know where you’re going.”

You pause to think, dropping the clothe around your arms. “I . . . I found my husband,” you say. “We’re going on a date.”

 “Are you sure about this?” she says, slowly . . . carefully. “It’s been so long. What if he’s just trying to get your soul? If you finally tell me his name, I can take a look at him. I mean, there could be other –”

“No, there’s no one else,” you say with a small giggle. It’s like you’re back to being a love sick-teenager. “There will be no one else. I’ll chain him to my basement if I have to.”

 “You keep that shit to yourself.” Velvette sinks on the couch. “I don’t want to hear about this.”

“Oh sure, but when it comes to those little co-workers of yours, suddenly, every detail –”

“Mother!”

Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t leave her in the dumpster because with a snap of her fingers, you look beautiful.

Velvette crosses her legs. “I’ve never seen you this happy.”

“That’s not true.” You approach her, and press a kiss on her forehead. “I’ve had my happiest moments because of you. Maybe, you just weren’t watching.”

Apparently, Alastor and Velvette are familiar with each other. Unfortunately, they aren’t on very friendly terms. Actually, your house would say that they were on very hostile terms. It would be a drag to have to find a new house, but luckily, your daughter is an Overlord, and it seems your husband is also an Overlord.

Those two things overlapped, and when Velvette opened the door to see Alastor at your door. Well, the house couldn’t withstand their argument. Thing settle down, eventually.

Velvette is off showing her frustration on your poor neighbors.

Alastor stands proudly next to you, a constant and intimidating smile on his face despite the dirt and tears on his clothes. He watches Velvette curse and shout into the air. “Ours?”

“No, not at all,” you say, smiling as you watch your daughter. “Mine.”

Velvette stomps back, clothes also as dirty and torn. “I would rather skin myself than share the same blood with this tacky, old joke,” she says, hissing at him. “You’re not wanted here. It takes another level of pathetic to be shot while trying to hide a dead body.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch, and there’s that long, tried look on his face.

Maybe, hell isn’t so bad. You’ve got your daughter, and you’ve got your husband. A happy, little, chaotic family.

[pulisicsgirl]

favorite t-shirt - christian pulisic

summary: after an afternoon spent together, the rain forces Christian and Y/N into a startlingly domestic evening, and he’s not quite sure how to handle himself

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings/tags: established relationship, new relationship, Christian being the nervous little introvert that he is, tooth-rotting fluff

requested: no

song inspo: “Favorite T-Shirt” by Jake Scott

notes: happy fic-versary!!! Exactly one year ago today, I posted my first fic on this account so I wanted to do just a little something for it. I haven’t written for Christian in a bit but I figure it was only right to go back to my roots with a lilte fluffy piece for him to celebrate the occasion!! ☺️ This is an idea I’ve had for quite some time, so I hope I did it justice! Feedback is always appreciated!! Also, I don’t know what kind of car Christian has, but for the sake of the fic, please pretend it’s some sort of SUV

“You ready?” Christian, looked over at you, eyebrows drawn upward in anticipation of your answer. He leaned slightly into the center console of his car, leaning closer to you as a grin of child-like glee washes over his features. The little crinkles by his eyes made your heart flutter in your chest.

You only nodded in return, lips pursed as you tried (in vain) to hold back your smile. You rested your hand on the handle of the car door, watching as Christian did the same, not breaking eye contact with you as he did so.

“Three…” he began counting, and your heart leapt at the silliness of it all.

“Two..” he continued, and you wiggled in your seat as you prepared yourself to jump out of the car.

“One! Make a run for it!” he shouted, flinging the car door open and leaping from his seat. You followed suit, stepping out into the torrential downpour of rain. It was the kind of rain that made it difficult to see anything more than 20 feet in front of you, and you felt the fabric of your shirt become soaked immediately as the raindrops hit it.

You giggled at the fact that, rather than sprinting to the front door to preserve his own clothes, Christian was waiting for you as you rounded the front of the car, his hand outstretched for you to take. You quickly did so, and the two of you ran up the winding sidewalk toward the front door of his home.

However, you hadn’t accounted for the rain-slicked concrete, and as the two of you rounded the sharp corner, your shoe slid, losing traction and sent you flying to the ground. Thankfully, your momentum carried you into the grass, your landing soft as you hit the ground.

A hearty laugh broke from your lips, the kind that shook your whole body. You only found humor in the fall, no longer able to hold in the glee that seemed to be filling up your entire body after the perfect day you’d had.

Though Christian’s mind had filled with worry as soon as he felt your hand slip from his, he was relieved as he saw you laughing from your spot in the grass.

Ever the sensible one, Christian slipped your phone from your pocket (since you had decided to leave everything else in the car to save it from the rain) and tossed it, along with his phone, wallet, and keys under the shelter of the front porch and ran back out to help you to your feet.

When you had calmed your laughter, you opened your eyes, looking above you to see Christian standing over your body. He had a foot on either side of you as he stared down at you incredulously, an amused smile on his face. He held his hand out for you to take, helping you to your feet.

As you stood before him, Christian pulls your hands, that were still in his, up and over his shoulders so that you would wrap them around his neck. He dropped his arms to wrap them around your waist, pulling your body fully into his as the rain continued to pour around you.

The two of you couldn’t stop smiling as you just stood there, soaked, a bit cold, and taking each other in. You admired his features, and he only seemed more beautiful with the raindrops falling down his cheeks. You reached a hand up to the top of his head, running your fingers through his curls that had grown more prominent as the rain wetted them.

You couldn’t help yourself from cradling his jaw in both of your hands, pulling his face toward you as you connected your lips in a gentle kiss, feeling the cold raindrops splashing on your cheeks as you pressed yourself even closer to him.

Kissing him felt like a breath of fresh air.

The kiss was only broken a shiver ran its way up your spine, the cold rain chilling your bones.

Christian grinned down at you. “Come on,” he spoke, kissing both of your cheeks, your nose, and then your forehead before grabbing your hand. “Let’s get inside.”

The two of you ran to his front door, seeking the warmth of the indoors, and you stumbled quickly to his bathroom. You pulled two towels out of a cabinet, handing one to him as you both attempted to soak up some of the water that had seeped into your clothes.

As you were attempting to squeeze the water out of your hair, Christian mumbled something about getting a change of clothes and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

The day had been nothing short of perfect. Christian had let you know the week prior that he had a day off and wanted to take you on a picnic— nothing extravagant, just the two of you, in a scenic area he had discovered not long after moving to Milan, spending time together and getting to catch up. Your relationship with him was fairly new, and Christian jumped at every opportunity he had to just spend some quiet time with you, talking and getting to know you better.

The whole plan had been perfect— that is, until it started sprinkling when you were about 15 minutes from your destination. Christian sighed, swearing up and down that he had double- and triple-checked the forecast for rain. Your reassurance to him that it would probably pass quickly proved to be false when, as Christian parked the car, the rain had only increased in its intensity.

Christian’s sigh of disappointment was unmistakable— his shoulders were slumped as he mumbled an apology for “driving you all the way out here for nothing” and he reached his hand up to the gear shift to drive away.

But you had stopped him with a hand on his bicep, instead crawling over the seats into his trunk. The sound of the rain grew significantly louder when you pulled the handle and opened the door to the trunk, gesturing for Christian to join you as you laid out the blankets that he had packed for the two of you

The next few hours were spent feeding each other bits of the food he had packed, talking about everything from your family, to his transfer over the summer and how he was adjusting, to the ideas you had recently had for new decorations in your apartment. The sound of rain and occasional thunder accompanied your conversation in the background the entire time. It was truly the perfect afternoon with him.

It all left a funny feeling of warmth in your chest, despite the cold, wet clothes you were peeling off of your body now. When you had stripped down to only your underwear, you heard a knock on the door of the bathroom.

You opened it, peeking around the side of the door so that your half-naked body was still shielded from sight, and found Christian standing there in only a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He had clearly run the towel through his hair, the ends sticking up on various directions. Your tummy couldn’t help but flutter at the sight of him.

He held his hands up to you, holding a neatly folded stack of clothes and quietly muttered “these are for you.”

You took them from him, noting the plaid fabric resting on top of the stack.

“I didn’t have anything else, so I figured you could wear a pair of my boxers until your clothes are dry.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, knowing your cheeks sported the same pink blush that Christian’s currently did.

“Thank you.”

“Um, you can just.. toss your clothes in the washer with mine if you want. I’ll be down in the kitchen.”

With a nod, you retreated back into the bathroom, heart fluttering at how nervous you clearly made him.

You peeled the rest of your clothes from your body, replacing them with the items Christian had left for you. The fabric smelled faintly of him, and you had lost yourself for a moment, with the t-shirt bunched up in your hands, pressed to your nose, as you inhaled the intoxicating scent. It smelled like home.

Minutes later, after tossing your rain-drenched clothes in the washer and starting the load, you found yourself wandering down the hallways of Christian’s home, admiring the picture of his friends and family that lined the walls as you passed.

When you finally entered the kitchen, you found Christian leaning with his back against the countertop, staring at something on his phone screen. He had put on a t-shirt as well, you noticed, and couldn’t help self-indulgently thinking that you would have liked it much better if he hadn’t.

He perked up, looking at you when he heard your soft footsteps entering the room and you watched as he went slightly slack-jawed at the sight of you.

In his mind, his thoughts were running wild. This was the first time Christian had ever seen you in his clothes, and he already knew he’d jump at the opportunity to have you wear them more often in the future. His tummy did a little flip at the sight of the waistband of his sweatpants that you had rolled up a few times so they wouldn’t cover your feet.

He decided in that moment that the one you were wearing would forever be his favorite t-shirt.

He did his best to pull himself together, but he knew immediately by the slight smirk on your face that you had clocked onto his reaction.

“I-I was, uh… I was thinking we could order food or something while we wait for our clothes to dry, and then I can take you home if you want,” he did his best to speak casually, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes kept scanning your body wearing his clothes.

He wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was some weird possessive side of him that was causing him to react this way, but he knew then and there was the most beautiful you had ever looked.

You just hummed a soft, “okay,” as you walked toward him, taking the phone from his hands and placing it on the counter before you tucked yourself under his chin. As he wrapped his arms around your torso, you titled your chin up, placing the softest of kisses at the base of his neck, and Christian prayed that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

“O-Or if you don’t want me to take you home tonight, you’re welcome to stay here, too,” he added, speaking a bit hurriedly, because he didn’t want you to feel like he was kicking you out, either.

“Okay,” you repeated softly.

Okay you’ll stay, or okay you want me to take you home?

Christian couldn’t get his mind or his heart to settle as he overthought every little thing. Your relationship being fairly new, this was the most intimate and domestic scenario the two of you had found yourselves in so far, and he was terrified of overdoing it. Yet he had asked you to spend the night at his (for the first time ever) before he could even think twice about it.

You could practically feel the way his thoughts were running wild from the stiffness in his arms as he held you. So you did what Christian so often did for you when you were stressed.

You noticed weeks ago that, though Christian wasn’t huge on PDA, in the little private moments, he showed affection through touch a lot. Frequently, when you would express to him that you were nervous or stressed, he would seek out some form of skin-to-skin contact to help settle you—often it took the form of him slipping his hand under the hem of your shirt to trace small shapes and patters on the skin of your back.

So, as you felt his racing heart beneath your cheek, you slipped your fingers under his shirt, flattening your palms over his stomach, feeling the ridges of his muscles beneath your hands. Christian’s breath caught in his throat as you did this, causing his chest and stomach to shiver with the shaky breath.

Try as you might, you couldn’t hide the small giggle that escaped your lips, finding Christian’s nervousness incredibly endearing.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, pressing another short kiss to his jaw to show him you were just playing.

That small gesture (along with your touch under his shirt) did wonders to settle his heart.

He had nothing to worry about, he knew that. It was just you and him, and nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

He was only able to respond with a smile, tightening his arms around you a little more, keeping you pressed as close as possible. He repeated his actions from your embrace in the rain, kissing each cheek, your nose, and then your forehead before he dropped his head down to press his nose into yours.

You let out a soft hum as he gently brushed his lips over yours, leaving you longing for more. Unsatisfied with the barely-there touch, you kissed him firmly, holding his face to yours by the back of his neck, tugging lightly at the short hairs on his nape.

The kiss was broken by both of you grinning wide, unable to contain the joy you felt that seemed to be spilling over.

“I love you,” you whispered. It wasn’t the first time you had said it, but it still made Christian’s tummy flip all the same.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, just as softly.

And despite the rain that had seemingly ruined his plans for your date, Christian felt that the day couldn’t have been more perfect.

It was perfect because he had spent it with you. And that alone was enough.

“So, what was that you were saying about ordering food?” you broke the brief silence, and Christian couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter.

That’s my girl.

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @captainpulisic

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

@twilighttowayvision wanted a possessive and protective Vess, so here we are ladies and gentlemen. My offering.

Snogging inner demons

Vess is a quiet kind of possessive. He doesn’t use nor need to use his voice to get the point around. Even if he’s just like the rest of the boys and prefers to keep the circle of people aware of his personal life to the minimum, he has ways of making sure that everyone is more than aware that you are off the market.

His protectiveness stems from the shared fact that now that he had let you in. Let you see the darkest, loneliest, still aching parts of him. Now that you have chosen to love him with all of the broken parts, he doesn’t want you to go. Can’t imagine a world where you aren’t the one he gets to wake up to or one he gets to turn to when his head gets so loud it’s driving him mad.

So Vess doesn’t feel a pang of jealousy when his eyes fall on you. A backstage pass around your neck as you beam at everyone with the same enthusiasm as you always do. Even if sharing your light with others makes him feel a tad annoyed at times. Vess would never forget how you two had dragged yourselves out of your apartment close to 9 pm to go to the store for snacks and well… protection. Cause wrap it before you tap it, kids. And he stood there, condoms behind his back while you nodded at the story the elderly lady, who had just scanned your porches, talked about her grandson’s birthday party that was coming up. Your full attention on her as she ran through the list of possible gifts and how she didn’t understand kids these days.

So Vess takes his time, finishing the conversation he was having with the band’s manager before he walks right up to you. He doesn’t say anything as he stands behind you. One of his hands slithering up your hip as he pulls you back into him. The story one of the guys was telling dies down and from the way all of them are looking up, you know that Vess, even with his mask on, can send a pretty clear message. And no one even has a second thought about it. They wrap it up almost immediately, as you manage to spear them one more smile before they hurry away.

“You give me Dracula vibes at times”, you snicker, turning to face your lover, “Or even better, you remember the way Professor Snape flows into the classroom?”, another giggle slips past your lips and you can see the corner of Vessel’s lips curving upwards. “But did you see any windows closing? Or candles that stopped burning?”, he tilts his head to the side. “We don’t have these here so not a fair comparison”, you let your hands fall to his bare chest, carefully of the pain that’s still drying there.

“Sometimes I want to lock you up so you would only shine on me”, Vess carefully brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Bad idea, III might just cry for the rest of his life”, you shake your head and this is enough to make Vess let out a low chuckle. “True, the boys love you”, he looks over your shoulder for a moment, before lacing his fingers through yours, “Come”, he mutters before pulling you towards a more secluded corner.

“You have a show in thirty minutes, Vess”, you warn him, not sure where his mind is going. “Plenty of time for what I want”, he mutters, pushing you in front of him, your body fully hidden by his frame. His lean fingers caress the side of your face before he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. The light and gentle pecks make you almost frown because this was not what you were thinking he had dragged you away for. But then his hand is on your neck as he turns your face to the side, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down to your shoulder. “Vess”, you hiss, yet your hands still pull him in by his hips. Soft touches turn into more intentional nibbling and soon you are more than aware as to what he’s doing. As he bites and bruises your neck. “Not a possessive boyfriend my ass”, you huff and it’s enough to make him halt, pulling a laugh that you can feel against your skin. He raises back up, fixing his mask, “Felt like marking the territory tonight”, he says so casually that you can’t help but hit his chest playfully. “Was this necessary? Here, with all the people?”, you point to your neck, which you sure is nice and purple now. Vess brushing his finger over your lips, “You got black paint on your face”, he smirks, “Everyone can already tell that you’ve been misbehaving”. You roll your eyes, “You are in trouble”, pointing a finger you, put the front camera on, whipping your face. Vess scowls, pushing your hand away, “Don’t wipe away my kisses”, you crock your head to the side, “Well, don’t kiss me like a manic then. It looks like I snogged my inner demon”, “Well, maybe you did”, he leans in pressing his lips to yours one more, this time in a way gentler way, “Here, no evidence”, smirking to himself he reaches for your hand once more, stepping back into the hustle of the pre-show.

[songbirdmunson]

Mr. Munson (part one)

older!eddie x fem!reader smut

word-count: 689

minors please do not read! @eddiemunsons-missingnipple thank you for letting me use your older!eddie edit for the header! DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU’RE 18 OR ABOVE! Thank you for all your support! Reblogs/interaction are very much appreciated I hope you guys enjoyed this!

Being spread out and vulnerable for your older neighbor wasn’t something you would’ve ever expected to happen, yet here you were. The older man above you smirked as you squirmed beneath him, moaning softly as he ran his rough hands over your body. 

He had a bit of a reputation from years ago, apparently he was a suspect in a murder, although he didn’t actually do it. The town still hated him, but you were drawn to him. He was mysterious and possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen. 

Right now, he looked like he wanted to eat you alive, leaning down to suck a dark spot onto your neck, grinding his hips down against yours, causing the roughness of his jeans to rub right against your bare clit. You shivered from all the sensations running through your body. “Feel good baby?” He whispers into your ear softly, his words contradicting his rough actions. 

You nod softly, letting him spread your legs for you, the wetness from you pooling down onto the bed beneath your ass. He sits up, staring down at where you needed him the most, with a dark look in his eyes. “Such a pretty pussy, it’s all for me yeah? Just for me?” You moaned loudly, his pointer finger circling against your clit, rubbing faster and faster as he awaited your response.

“I-it’s all yours Eddie! Fuck, please need you.” He laughed watching you struggle to lift your hips up, searching for something more than just his finger. He pulls you up by your neck, making you sit up on your elbows to look up at him. “That’s a good girl, I’m glad you know who owns you. Now, you’re gonna behave and watch me take my cock out, and if you don’t, you’ll get to watch me get off while you get nothing. Understand?” 

You swallow, pouting up at him, you wanted to retaliate but you knew he was serious. “Yes sir.” You whispered, watching him sliding his belt off through the loops. You’ve never seen him before but just the bulge that had been hiding away for the past hour was enough to tell you that he’s big. He pulls off his pants and boxers in one swift motion, watching as you look down at him and bite your lip. 

He was perfect, long enough that you knew you’d be feeling him all the way in your guts. There was no doubt in your mind that for at least the next week you wouldn’t be able to walk. “Beg me for it.” He growls out, pumping himself in front of your face. Your mouth watering as pre-cum slides down the head of his cock. “P-please Mr. Munson.” You whine, jutting your lip out and batting your eyelashes at him the best you could. 

Suddenly Eddie stopped stroking himself, pulling back and looking down at you confused. “Where are you at?” He says, you sit up confused and look around. “W-what are you talking about Eddie?” Suddenly, a hand is waving in front of your face, snapping you out of whatever trance you were in. “Sweetheart? You okay?” Your face falls as you look at Eddie, standing in front of you at your front door fully clothed.

“You don’t look so great, maybe you should lay down.” He says, a knowing smirk breaking out over his face. The wrinkles by his eyes crinkling. You nervously look away from him, realizing that none of it had even happened at all, Eddie had been standing here for the past few minutes watching you daydream about fucking him. You’d never be able to show your face to him again.

He goes to walk down the stairs of your porch before turning back around looking up at you, “Oh and sweetheart, you talk when you zone out.” Your eyes widen even more as you go to shut the door quickly, but not before you hear him mock you in a high pitched voice, “Please, Mr. Munson.” He laughed, walking back to his own house with a hard on, and a smirk plastered on his beautiful face. 

[overrboarrd]

sanctuary [1]: initium novum

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clarke [oc]

warnings: bodily injury, slight cussing, mentions of a hospital

word count: 3.3k

a/n: we made it to chapter one! just a smooth little chapter to kick things off. pls forgive any medical errors in this chapter, i did research to the best of my ability. but anyways, i hope yall like it! happy reading <3

The mid-morning sun cast a golden hue over the winding suburban streets as Azure maneuvered her car down the narrow lane, the weight of her life packed in boxes behind her. The soft hum of the engine barely registered over the pounding in her chest as she approached her new house in Pensacola. 

She hadn’t told many people she was moving. And only her parents and her best friend, Jade, knew why. It wasn’t as if she could explain it easily. She didn’t even know if it was the right decision. All she knew was that the three years since her husband’s death had felt like drowning, and she was desperate for air. So she had left the life they had built together—left the house that was filled with echoes of their love, the memories of his laugh, the phantom touch of his hand on her skin—and driven away.

A new start. That’s what she needed. No ghosts here.

Her house was tucked in the back of a quiet neighborhood, isolated enough to provide peace but not so far removed that she’d feel entirely alone. As she pulled into the driveway, Azure cut the engine and sat for a moment, taking in the sight before her. The house was modest, a one-story home with a decently-sized porch and a yard that needed a little attention, but it was hers. Or it would be once she stepped out of the car and claimed it.

She didn’t move.

Not yet.

Instead, she let her gaze drift to the rearview mirror to look across the street, where another house stood. It was slightly larger than hers, and there were a couple of cars parked in front of it. Two men, tall, tattooed and muscular, stood on the front lawn, laughing over something while a little girl, no more than five years old, ran in circles all over the grass. A woman stood not too far from them, with a contagiously warm smile and beautiful deep brown complexion. 

Azure smiled faintly. She had always loved children. Being a pediatric nurse had brought her comfort over the years, a way to focus on helping others instead of drowning in her own grief. Maybe in this new place, she could find some semblance of herself again.

 A sudden vibration pulled her from her thoughts. Her phone screen lit up with a slightly graying man holding the 2-year-old version of herself, the name ‘Pops’ with a blue heart emoji sat at the top of the screen. Azure smiled, pressing the answer button.

“What’s goin’ on Tink?” Her father’s deep voice came through the line, warm and reassuring. “You all settled in yet?”

“Hey Pops,” she said, leaning back in the seat and closing her eyes for a moment, chuckling softly at the sound of her nickname before exhaling slowly. “Almost. I checked out of the hotel earlier this morning and grabbed most of my stuff from the storage place. I’m sitting in my car trying to muster the energy to take all these boxes.”

“Y’know, I would’ve been down there in a heartbeat to help if it wasn’t for this damn knee.” Her father’s voice was filled with regret, though she could hear the slight humor behind it. Eric had always been a man of action, being an Air Force veteran, and being stuck in recovery after knee surgery was a particular kind of torture for him.

“I know,” Azure said, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s okay. I got this. You need to focus on getting better.”

“Well, I’ve got a new knee now, so I’m basically a bionic man,” he joked. “Once I’m fully up and runnin’, you won’t be able to keep me away.”

In the background, she could hear her mom, Anne, laughing.

“Bionic man? Chile, please,” her mom’s voice chimed in. “You’re more like the Tin Man from The Wiz, creaky joints and all. Next thing you know, you’ll need a can of oil just to get out the damn bed.”

“A ki-ki,” her dad replied, mockingly. “I might be old, but m’still quicker than you give me credit for.”

Azure laughed softly, the sound easing the tension in her chest. She could always count on her parents to make her feel better, no matter how much weight she was carrying. And right now, it felt like a mountain.

“How’s Ma doing?” Azure asked, knowing her mom could hear her.

“Surviving this old man, baby.” Anne called from the background, teasing as always. “Barely.”

“Be nice to him now,” Azure said, smiling as she imagined her mom giving her dad a playful shove. “You know you’d be lost without him.”

“Lost? I’d be free,” her mom shot back, chuckling.

“Sure you would,” her dad said dryly. “Anyway, you all settled in then?“

“Yeah, everything’s here. Might go out and grab a few more things later on.” Azure replied, leaning her head against the headrest, watching a couple of kids riding their bikes down the street. The neighborhood was peaceful, quiet. It was almost surreal how different it felt from her old life. “It’s a nice area, though. Feels... safe.”

Eric paused on the line, and Azure could sense what was coming next.

“You sure you’re okay? I mean... all this moving, leaving your job, your friends—it’s a big change. You don’t have to do it all alone, y’know?”

She bit her lip, grateful for his concern but also not wanting to get into the emotions she had been avoiding since making the decision to move. “I’m okay Pops. Really. It’s just... time. Time for something new. I think I need this.”

“I get it,” he said softly. “And you know your momma and I are just a phone call away if you ever need anything.”

“I know.” Azure’s voice caught slightly, but she cleared her throat. “I’ll call you guys later. Give Ma a hug for me.”

“I will. We love you baby .”

“Love y’all too.”

She ended the call and placed her phone in her lap, staring at the house again. Her new life, or at least the next chapter of it, was waiting behind that door. She just wasn’t quite ready to face it yet.

A gust of warm wind brushed against her face as she stepped out of the car, stretching her arms before looking up and down the street. Large trees lined the sidewalk and a variety of plants scattered across front lawns. It was so different from the city bustle she was used to. Azure tugged at the hem of her tank top, adjusting her sunglasses atop her head before taking a deep breath and heading towards the open trunk of her car. She began to place a few of the boxes on the ground, stacking them high enough to where she could carry them. She did her best to try to push the button that would close the trunk, before hearing a bit of commotion coming from across the street. 

“Go over there, you see her struggling!”

“Ow! Damn!”

“A’ight, a’ight! We goin’!” 

“Stop cussing in front of Audrey, Jey!” 

“Mmcht, that’s not even a bad word!”

Just as she managed to finally close her trunk, two men emerged from across the street with nervous yet easy-going smiles. They were dressed casually, both in basketball shorts and t-shirts, clearly enjoying the holiday weekend. The man, with two long cornrows and a wide grin, waved cheerfully. "You must be the new neighbor."

Azure forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt before setting the boxes on the concrete. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Jimmy,” he said, extending his hand. “And this is my brother, Jey.” The other brother, with a freshly shaped up mullet, and his twin from what she saw, gave her a small wave before continuing to soothe the side of his arm. “We live across the street... well, technically, our cousin lives there.”

 “As much as we over there that might as well be our house too.” Jey adds. “We just watching our lil’ cousin while he’s on call today.” 

Azure’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion.

“Firefighter.” 

“Yeah, you’ll see him runnin’ up and down the street with his shirt off, flexin’ his muscles eventually,” Jimmy joked, nudging Jey, who laughed along.

“Aye, speak for yourself,” Jey teased. “Uce is way too serious now for all that.” Before Azure could respond, Jimmy leaned against her car with an easy smile. “Need help with your boxes? My wife saw you strugglin’ over here.” He nodded his head towards the front yard where the woman and little girl continued to play. “We could help unload your stuff, we got some muscle.” He continued, slapping Jey’s arm in the same reddened spot Naomi had smacked him in earlier. 

Azure blinked, taken aback by their sudden friendliness. “Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“Nah, we insist,” Jey said, waving off her protest and playfully raising his hand at his brother. “We already out here, and you look like you got a lot of boxes.”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, looks like you in for a long weekend. Plus you'll get to meet more people if you not buried under a mountain of cardboard.”

Azure laughed softly, the sound surprising even herself. It had been so long since she’d laughed with anyone besides her family, and for a moment, the tightness in her chest loosened. “Okay, fine. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate the help.”

Jey clapped his hands before rubbing them together. “Yessir! Let’s get to it!”

She watched as Jimmy jogged across the street to say something to his wife before returning next to Azure’s car trunk. The twins grabbed the heaviest boxes and followed behind her as she unlocked her front door, holding it open as they stepped through. 

“You can just sit them down in here.” She pointed to the bare living room floor. 

They obliged, and the trio spent the next thirty minutes carrying Azure’s things into the house. As they hauled the last box inside, Azure took a moment and looked around. Her new home was still bare, with unpacked boxes scattered everywhere, but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Thanks so much, you guys,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Jimmy replied. “We know how it is, moving to a new place and all. Speakin’ of which—” He exchanged a glance with Jey, who smiled before turning back to Azure. “We’re havin’ a uh, small get together for Labor Day in a few days, before the kids gotta go back to school. You should come. Meet some more folks.”

“Yeah,” Jey added. “And I’m grilling. Best steaks you’ll ever have in your entire life.”

Azure hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll think about it. I’ve got a lot to get through with the move, but I’ll see if I can make it.”

“No pressure,” Jimmy said with a grin. “Just good food, good people, maybe a couple of bad jokes from baby bro here.”

“Nah, that’s all you, Uce,” Jey chimed in, shaking his head, laughing. “The rest of us are hilarious.”

Azure laughed, feeling some of the earlier tension in her chest loosen. It had been a long time since she’d been around anyone who didn’t know her story, her loss. The weight of it usually hung in the air, but with these two, it was easy—light.

“Thanks for the invite. I’ll try to stop by,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“No problem,” Jey replied. “And seriously, if you need help, just holla at ya uce!”

They exchanged goodbyes, and as Jimmy and Jey headed back across the street, Azure found herself watching them. The little girl, Audrey, ran to greet them, her small arms wrapped around Jimmy’s leg. Azure smiled again, the sight tugging at something deep inside her. She missed that kind of innocence, the unguarded joy children had.

She sighed, stepping back inside her house, the quiet suddenly pressing in around her again.

The move had been a good distraction, but the moment the door closed, the familiar pang of loss crept in. The weight she carried was never truly gone, even in new surroundings. She could feel it in the silence of the empty house.

But maybe this new place, this new life, could be different.

Maybe.

She removed her sunglasses from her head before putting her curly hair in a low bun, thinking of the cookout invitation. The idea of meeting new people was intimidating, but also strangely comforting.

She exhaled slowly. It was time to unpack, in more ways than one.

The emergency room was buzzing with activity, the usual rush of nurses, doctors, and paramedics filling the air with an almost palpable energy. The sterile smell of antiseptic hung in the air, a constant reminder that Azure was in a place of healing, yet one brimming with urgency. Azure stood beside Bianca, the lead nurse who was guiding her through her first few weeks at the hospital. Though she had worked at other medical facilities, Central Pensacola Children’s Hospital felt different. Everything was new—new routines, new people, and new expectations. The weight of her personal loss was something she carried, but the chaos of the ER was an easy distraction. She’d been a pediatric nurse for nearly five years, and while each day brought its own challenges, today felt different—more charged, somehow. Maybe it was the change of scenery, or maybe it was the lingering weight from the night before. Either way, she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that had settled deep in her chest.

She glanced at her watch, noting that it had only been three hours into her shift, but it already felt like a long day. Just as Azure was about to take a breather, the familiar sound of an ambulance pulling up to the emergency entrance flooded her ears. Instinctively she straightened, refocusing her attention. Moments later, the doors swung open, and a team of paramedics rushed in, wheeling a stretcher with a little boy whose cries echoed through the hallway.

Azure felt something shift in the air as another man entered the room. His presence was powerful—he carried himself with a quiet, commanding energy, but understated—like a steady flame that didn’t need to burn brightly to be felt. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with long dark hair that was pulled back yet slightly tousled.

Bianca nudged Azure forward as they moved towards the patient. "That’s our guy," Bianca muttered softly, not bothering to hide the slight admiration in her voice. "Roman Reigns. One of the best firefighters in the city. Always brings them in safe."

Azure took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand, but as she approached the gurney, her eyes inadvertently met Roman’s.

Roman’s gaze lingered on her for just a moment longer than she’d expected before he shifted back to the child. "Possible broken arm. Fell off the jungle gym at the park," Roman explained, his voice deep and steady. He had done this countless times, and yet there was something almost gentle in the way he spoke about the boy’s injury. "He’s been in a lot of pain, but he’s stable."

Azure nodded, moving to the boy’s side. "Hey there, little man." she said softly to the boy, who looked up at her with watery eyes. "We’re gonna get you all fixed up, okay?"

The boy gave a small, hesitant nod, still clutching his arm. Azure reached out carefully, making sure not to touch the injured area, and offered him a reassuring smile. Definitely a broken arm. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to send the boy into a fit of tears. Meanwhile, she could feel Roman’s eyes on her, watching her interact with the patient. It was strange—the way she felt under his gaze—not uncomfortable, just very noticeable.

As she stepped aside to let Bianca take over, Roman moved closer to Azure, close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of him. His voice was low when he spoke, almost like a murmur just for her. "You’re new here."

It wasn’t a question, just an observation. Azure glanced up at him, her heart skipping inexplicably. "Yeah," she replied, doing her best to keep her voice even. "Just started a couple weeks ago."

Roman nodded slowly, his eyes studying her for a moment longer before he shifted his attention back to the boy. "You did good with him," he said, his tone softer, almost approving. And then, as quickly as it began, the moment passed. He gave a short nod toward Bianca, who was now checking the boy’s vitals, and walked away from the gurney.

Azure busied herself with the task at hand, helping the little boy get settled in the examination room. But even as she worked, she was acutely aware of the man outside. She didn’t know why, but something about him tugged at her, a pull she couldn’t quite explain.

Minutes later, as she stepped out into the hallway to grab a few supplies, she found herself face to face with him. He was just leaving, handing off paperwork to the desk.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Everything okay with the kid?”

Azure nodded, suddenly feeling an odd flutter in her chest. “Yeah, just a broken arm. He’s a little scared, but he’ll be fine.”

Roman nodded, glancing back towards the room briefly. “Glad to hear it.” He paused, as if considering whether or not to say more. 

He opted against it, and as he walked away, Azure found herself standing there, staring after him for a moment before heading back to find Bianca. She didn’t know him—didn’t know anything about him—but something about the way he’d looked at her, the way he carried himself with a mix of strength and humility. She shook her head, pushing away the strange feeling that had taken root in her chest, but the pull lingered, deep in the back of her mind, refusing to let her go.

Bianca approached her as the boy was wheeled to X-ray, giving Azure a sly smile. "You’ve got good instincts," she said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "And good job keeping him calm. You're doing great, girl."

Azure smiled, appreciating the praise. "Thanks, Bianca."

Just as they began to walk back to the station, Dr. Rollins, the lead pediatric doctor, approached them. He gave Bianca a brief nod before turning his attention to Azure. "Nice work today, Azure. I know things have been pretty fast-paced the past couple of weeks, but you’ve handled it well."

"Thank you, Dr. Rollins," Azure replied, her voice steady, though her mind was still on Roman’s fleeting but intense presence.

Bianca nudged her again, playfully this time. "Looks like you’ve caught some attention already," she teased as they walked toward the nurse’s station.

Azure gave a light laugh, shaking her head. "It’s nothing like that."

"Mhm, sure," Bianca grinned knowingly. "But, hey, I’m just saying… Dr. Rollins's not the easiest person to impress. If he noticed you, it’s something."

Azure forced a smile but didn’t respond. As they walked away from the trauma bay, Azure couldn't shake the anxious feeling of this new beginning.

———

Dear Brother, I hope this letter finds you well as always,  I know it’s been a while, I’ve been real busy lately. I met someone recently, and I don’t know what it is, but… there’s just something that I can’t shake. There’s this… feeling, maybe a good feeling? I don’t know. It's throwing me off. Haven’t felt it before. It’s hard to explain, but it’s not something I can just brush off. I’m not sure where this will go, but I’ll write to you once I know more. I miss you. I think about you often, especially when things get tough. It feels strange sometimes, like I’m starting this new chapter on my own, but knowing you’re out there somewhere, helps me feel less alone. I love you, I’ll make time to write to you sooner. I promise.

[twilightsagasworld]

Paul x Reader

Imagine

Requested by @littlemissvenom0

It disgusted you to a deep degree, and Leah had warned you long before you started dating that Paul was a loose guy, never being able to fully commit to something.

It wasn’t that your relationship even felt real. Paul was incredibly distant and avoided doing anything that put you two in the same space for too long. Like he was some royal who couldn’t even entertain the idea of mingling with poverty.

You were again reminded of this when you and Leah hung out today. The weather was cloudy and the remnants of earlier rain was still around, making everything wet. You and Leah were out in the forest near the river border of the tribal grounds.

“I don’t understand why you just don’t break up with him, (y/n). You guys haven’t even acted like a real couple for months”

You sighed while rolling up your vest sleeves, shifting your position on the damp clump of rocks you two were sat on. Distant laughter was in the background, coming from the Black residence.

Leah’s head turned to you, waiting patiently as you puffed your cheeks before letting the air go.

“Yeah, I know, I know… “ you took a pause, tossing a pebble down to the river below you, “I geuss I just hope he’ll come around before I do decide to break it off”

Leah rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe you’re holding on to some slim piece of hope that he’ll maybe turn into some prince charming or whatever, its not”

You frown slightly, “You obviously don't think I should''. Your cousin gives you an exasperated expression, “All I see is him flirting with every girl within a few feet of him, while you stay back all embarrassed all the time, it's getting frustrating and I keep having to listen to him think about it everyday. You have to do something about it”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to her talk. Truth be told you knew your relationship with Paul could only go one of two ways, either you break up with him, or he miraculously turns from his ways and realises how much he actually loves you, if he even does love you.

“You’re right Leah” you stand up, pulling your cousin up with you. “I think it’s time I have a serious talk with him”. You two make your way to the Black residence in a matter of minutes, just as the rain comes pouring down around you.

You and Leah made it just in time to see Paul getting it on with a brunette you absolutely didn’t think you’d see again. “Isnt that Jessica?!” You hear Leah from a few feet behind you. You couldn’t believe it, Paul knew you didn’t like Jessica at all, she was as pretentious and bratty as they come and seeing Paul make put with her under Billy’s porch roof just triggered something in you.

Your breathing got heavy, a heat like you’ve never felt before started spreading though your veins, Leah’s eyes got wide and she called for Sam who came rushing out of the cabin, Quil and Embry on his tail.

“Hey! (Y/n), calm down!”

Sam was standing a bit back. You couldn’t focus on him right now, steam was pouring off your skin and you winced and yelped as you felt your skin and bones move inside you. Leah rushed away from you just in time as you recklessly shifted into a medium sized salt and pepper toned wolf. You stumbled as you threw yourself off balance and landed disgracefully in the muddy grass. No one moved, Paul had already started making his way down when Embry held him back.

You didn’t wait to see or hear what was going on as you stumbled and ran into the forest, Leah’s hollering voice yelling for you to wait and come back.

•••

“ I thought she didn’t have the wolf gene in her?!”

“ I know, im pretty sure everyone here thought so”

The wolf pack, along with Billy Black all crowded Billy’s small living room. The rain was still going hard and you had left the grounds 10 minutes earlier. Sam and Billy were in a heated talk.

Paul threw his hands up,and pushed himself out of the chair, “I’m going after her-“ Leah grabs Paul’s arm, “No way! You think she wants to look at your ugly face right now? You’re the reason she turned !”

Paul got in Leah’s face, but she wasn’t intimidated, “What did you just say?!”

“Enough!”

Sam’s authoritarian voice broke them apart and a silence filled the room, albeit tense. Billy cleared his throat and spoke to Sam, “I think you should be the one to go look for (y/n), she trusts you, and you’re the only one who could handle another accident”

Paul huffed and stormed out, no one bothered to stop him.

•••

“(Y/n)!”

Sam had been searching the woods for hours, but it was futile, he didn’t think she’d have gone so far from the reservation.

Sam shifted into his wolf form as a last attempt to find her.

He stood still in the dark forest. Listening.

Help

His ears twitched to the front.

Paul

Help

Its so cold

Sam didn’t hesitate now as he ran forward towards the mountains. Wherever (y/n) was, she was in trouble.

It wasn’t long before he reached the base of a mountain, rain falling hard around him and mud splattered through his wet fur. He stuck his nose to the ground as he took a deep sniff, letting the aromas and smell of the forest drift through his senses until he latched onto a sweeter scent, perfume. He followed the scent, leading closer and closer to a rushing river where he finally found her.

(Y/n) was back human now, and unfortunately in the nude as far as Sam could tell. But he acted quickly, coming to his senses as he rushed to (y/n), laying half in the river and on the riverbank. As gently as he possibly could while in his wolf form, Sam pulled her completely put of the river. Her body had turned from a tanned olive to pale and sickly. He brushed past the fact that she was bare and pawed at her to wake her up. Moments later her eyes fluttered open slowly, she looked sluggishly up at him and struggled to push herself up as best she could. Sam laid flat to allow (y/n) to slide herself onto his back.

•••

Leah rushed out of Billy’s house as soon as she heard Sam’s thoughts. The rest of the pack behind her.

They all gathered outside as Sam came jogging through the treeline, still in wolf form. A pale body hung onto him and he came to a still infront of the group. Paul ran forward and scooped (y/n) from Sam’s back, pulling her protectively into his body as he and Leah entered Billy’s place.

Billy motioned for them to take (y/n) into Jacobs old bedroom as he rolled to a linin closet and took out heavy blankets to give to Leah. “Thanks Billy” Leah took the pile and pushed Paul out of the bedroom, he looked offended but didn’t push it and went back into Billy’s living room where only Sam was waiting, now human and dressed in jean shorts.

Billy sighed, “Leave her be for now, go home” Sam nodded and moved to leave, Paul stayed sat, Billy stared pointedly, “You too, Paul”. Paul stayed put, leg twitching, “No way, not until she wakes up, I have to see her open her eyes Billy”. Not wanting to make a scene Billy let Paul be.

•••

(Y/n) didn’t wake up that night, or the next day.

It took a week for her complexion to return.

And when she did wake up, Paul was by her side, tear uncharacteristically streaming down his face as he grabbed her hands and kissed them.

(Y/n) frowned, “Paul?… where am I?”

“You’re at Billy’s place, you were asleep for a week, I thought… “ Pauled rubbed his eyes, “Forget it, how do you feel?” He let go of her hands as she sat up, she popped her back, no longer bare as Leah had gone to fetch clothes for her.

Paul stepped back, guilt covering his face. “Whats that look for Paul?”. (Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, sluggish and confused.

“Im so so so sorry (y/n)…”

Her eyes went wide. This was a Paul she had never seen before. She kept quiet.

“I screwed up by doing what I did, but it was because I was scared”

“Scared?” She gave him an umimpressed look.

He nodded, “Believe it or not, I thought I could push you away because I was scared of what I was feeling for you, I never expected it to happen with you”

She frowned, standing up slowly and steadily, “What? What didn’t you expect Paul?”

His words froze her in her place.

“I imprinted on you (y/n)”

And apparently that was all it took for her to collapse back on the bed, tears coming to the front.

She struggled to find the words, but Paul seemed to hear what she was thinking.

Paul spent the better half of the night explaining to (y/n) what happened, why it happened and why he did what he did. He got a scorching red hand print on his cheek by the end of it, along with a heavy scolding. But not forgiveness. (Y/n) explained that she couldn’t forgive him right off the bat, although his intentions were understandable, he did wrong by her and to her by what he did with all those women, especially Jessica.

She needed time.

And Paul gave her that, without a word against it.

•••

It took (y/n) 3 months to fully forgive Paul.

Another 4 months to agree on dating.

And all the while Paul was respectful of (y/n)’s wishes and compromises.

Leah gave him an earful telepathically and verbally almost every chance she got.

But by the end of the year, they were happier than they were before. Although their relationship was far from perfect, and they argued still, they were happy. Paul no longer went out of his way to apite her and make her jealous and (y/n) put her foot down alot more.

Leah held a grudge against Paul a bit longer but eventually gave in.

Sam and the pack helped (y/n) integrate into the wolf pack and train her.

For now, all was well.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Thank you dear reader.

And thank you to littlemissvenom0 for requesting this.

[ravennaortiz]

What do you want for Christmas for jax teller please and thank you ☃️🎄

Hello! Please enjoy! As always 18+

The List

Jax sat at his kitchen table. Sipping his coffee and going over the list he had kept on him the last month. He had completed everything on it except for one thing. Tapping the pen on the table his eyes were glued to the one request. It was the first one on the list. He knew without a doubt it was your top want for the Christmas. He wanted to give you everything but this? This would require a level of emotional intelligence, forgiveness and understanding that he was not sure he had the capacity to achieve.

Jax sighed as he sat back in his chair. Icy blue gaze flickering over to your house next door. He could see you on your porch reading. Hand casually rubbing the baby bump as you swung back and forth in your outdoor reading area he had built with Chibs last week. His heart ached for the family he would never have. A small part of him had hoped maybe he could convince you to be his eventually. Your love though for another man ran to deep. You had been gentle to Jax. Never blaming him or spewing hate for how this had all played out. In fact you had helped him navigate the funeral of his mom, kept him fed when the court gave Wendy custody of both boys and fled the state.

Which is why at Thanksgiving at Chibs house he had asked what you wanted for Christmas.  You had tried to dodge the question but he had cornered you. Jax remembered that day well. The anger and jealousy that passed through him with the first thing out of your mouth. The way he had shut it down harshly. The way you had looked away, tears shining in your eyes. The nervous giggle, the way you put your hands protectively around your belly as you shrunk back. You had then rambled on a list of to dos. Finish the nursery, reading area, help moving some stuff around, converting a room to a plant room etc.

Jax pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled for a moment before landing on a contact. “Chibs call a meeting. Got a Christmas gift I need help with” he stated before hanging up. His gaze going back to you. You would always be the one who got away. If he was being honest it was probably for the best.

Christmas Eve

You were just getting ready to head upstairs to bed when your doorbell went off. Glancing at the clock you saw it was 11pm. Frowning you moved to look through the peephole wondering who would be visiting at this hour on Christmas Eve no less. Your eyes fell on the blonde locks of Jax and your heart dropped. Yanking the door open, tears already spilling as you expected the worse ,you realized there was someone behind him.

“Merry Christmas Darlin” stated Jax as he stepped off to the side so you could see the figure fully.

You didn’t even let the man get a word out before you were wrapped around him. Full body sobs as you squeezed him tightly as he kissed your forehead and soothed you. Once you were calmed some you turned to Jax. “Thank you” you murmured your eyes meeting his, you caught a flash of sadness and longing that he quickly hid like always.  

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[jexnkookie]

BTS: In the Secret (Idol! Jungkook x Reader) [Intro + Chapter 1]

Summary: Big Hit announces a new season of In the Soop with a twist; one lucky Army is going to join the members for an entire summer of filming, picked by a random poll. You were selected, and ready to have an amazing summer. But what happens when you win something else that's a bit more complicated; the heart of the group's maknae?

Rating: M (18+)

Chapter Warnings: None. Story Masterlist

Dear ARMY,

Congratulations! You’ve been selected to join BTS for the filming of their new, upcoming season of BTS: In the Soop. On behalf of the Big Hit staff, and the members of BTS, we are excited to have you join us this summer! Thank you for your patience as we went through our fan selection poll.

This summer will include games, cooking, and relaxation.An outdoor pool, fully renovated accommodations, gaming room, gym, volleyball and basketball courts will be provided. Your room will be of your choosing in one of the homes on the property, which you will organize with the members. While In the Soop is usually filmed for only a week, this season will be filmed over the duration of the summer, from June 1st until September 1st. To thank you for your time, you will be compensated.

All other details about packing, travel, contacts and more will be included in the other attached documents. We look forward to meeting you this summer, and please be on the watch for contact from the Big Hit staff regarding times and locations.

Thank you,

Big Hit/HYBE

The soft, warm breeze rustled the green leaves as you unpacked your items from the back of the car. After a car ride that was seemingly never ending, you finally arrived on the property and the Big Hit staff were kind in telling you that the members of BTS weren’t far behind, set to arrive soon.

The realization hit you, while standing on the porch next to the pool, that this was your home for the summer. The property was beautiful, and exactly as relaxing as the staff had promised it would be. You giggled to yourself, wondering just how relaxing the summer will actually be once the boys got here. Thinking of all the things you could do together, you grew more excited and even more restless for their arrival.

To kill the time, you decided to explore the main house, leaving your unpacked bags by the front door. You peeked around the kitchen, looking over the fully stocked cabinets and refrigerator. You laughed to yourself as you took note of the secretively stashed alcohol collection, and wondered which member requested a hibernation’s worth of wine and whiskey stockpile.

Afterwards, you went upstairs to look through the book titles, undoubtedly a Kim Namjoon request. Then you made your way back downstairs, into the living room, where you sat on the couch and looked at what games and consoles were available. Your thoughts immediately went to playing games on rainy days, and how funny it would be to actually win against any of them. You grew more and more impatient, anxiously waiting to meet them when the sound of a car door shut outside, followed by a myriad of excitable men’s voices. One in particular stood above the rest to ask,

“She’s already here, right? In the main house?”

You stood up to greet the boys at the door, when you were greeted by an overgrown pup looking up at you with a wagging tail and raised ears.

“Hi, baby!” You giggled, recognizing Bam. Your higher, baby voice used to talk to the puppy made him very happy, earning you a playful, downward pose. “You’re so cute!”

This sparked a big jump from the puppy, knocking you down instantly. You laughed as Bam attacked your face frenziedly, seemingly trying to get as many kisses in before he would inevitably be moved.

“Jungkook-ssi!” Jimin shouted, giggling at the sight. “Bam already found a new friend!”

The members all looked up at the main house to see Bam’s tail wagging, but blocking your face. They collectively ran up to greet you, just as excited as the pup. Jungkook’s ears were red with embarrassment while he ran to collect his dog from you.

“Jungkook, you need to get your dog.” Namjoon chuckled, watching the youngest member grab Bam and move him off of you. Namjoon then reached over to grab your hand, helping you up.

“I’m sorry about that.” Namjoon said, shaking his head and blushing at the overwhelming greeting. “I’m Kim Namjoon.”

“It’s ok! I definitely didn’t mind, he’s so cute.” You laughed before giving Namjoon a quick thank you for helping you up. “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon said warmly. “When the staff told us about this, we got really excited. Thank you for being here.”

“Of course. I’m excited, too.” You admitted, earning a Namjoon smile and exposed dimples.

“Let me introduce everyone.” Namjoon said, going member to member before landing with on the maknae, who had finally gotten Bam to settle. “And this is Jungkook.”

Jungkook looked at you properly for the first time since arriving, and his eyes somehow grew even bigger. He stood and mumbled a quick hi before taking a quick bow and rising to meet your face again. Jungkook felt something in his chest, as though a weight he didn’t know he was carrying had been lifted, making him feel lighter. He hadn’t expected you to be…

“… So pretty.” He whispered to himself, but the other members heard. You blushed profusely, feeling your face heat up under the gaze of the maknae and the others. Jungkook’s eyes flashed with panic, clearly showing he had unintentionally said that out loud.

“Great. We’ve been here 10 minutes and we’ve already scared her.” Yoongi joked, shaking his head with a smirk at the clearly fumbling maknae. “Can we decide on bedrooms, so she knows where to hide from us?”

Everyone decided to sit in the living room together, to decide over who sleeps in which building. You sat on the couch between Hoseok and Jimin, and you couldn’t help but compliment Hobi’s nail art. He smiled wide and showed you the design on his thumb, and you took a closer look at the work. While you were talking, Jungkook sat in the chair on the opposite side, trying to play off stealing glances of you. He felt as though he had the wind knocked out of his lungs in the best possibly way, and struggled to compare it to anything he’d experienced before.

“Y/N, are you a night owl or a morning person?” Namjoon asked, going over the rooms with Yoongi.

“I’m definitely more of a night owl.” You nodded. “But I can do mornings, too. I’m flexible.”

“How do you feel about sharing a guest house with Jimin and Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, looking around at the room. “They might be the best options.”

“That’s fine with me!” You responded, looking over at Jimin who was giving you a crescent moon smile.

Jimin walked next to you to your guest house, as Jungkook and Bam followed closely behind. You settled into your rooms, and Jungkook made sure to snatch the room closest to yours, brushing off a look from Jimin. (“I… I just like this one.”)

Soon, it was dinner time. Yoongi had made a delicious spread of food, and poured wine from the “hibernation stash”, chuckling at your name for it. You sat with all the members around the table, eating and drinking. Sitting between Jin and Namjoon, you were lost in a silly conversation.

“So, you wanted to be a dancer?” Yoongi pried gently, pouring more wine for himself. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? Money.” You laughed softly to yourself. “It didn’t seem like it was going to work for me, and I got to the point where I just wanted to make a life for myself. So I went to university instead, and started working.”

“It’s not too late to try again.” Jimin encouraged. “It’s not like you’re ‘too old’, you’re a year younger than Jungkookie.”

You smiled, shrugged and just responded with a gentle, “Maybe one day.”

Hoseok, who usually would be tuned into a conversation revolving around dance, was too focused on watching the maknae. Hobi knew Jungkook like the back of his hand, having been around the youngest member for many years. He couldn’t think of a time when he had seen that expression on the member’s face. Jungkook’s eyes were soft as he listened, seemingly hanging onto every word you said as though memorizing the details you shared about yourself. His lips were slightly turned upwards as you spoke, warmly encouraging you to continue.

“Hey.” Hoseok called for Jungkook after dinner, motioning the maknae to follow him to the porch by the pool where they can be alone.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder to you in the kitchen, helping to clean up the mess despite the members telling you it wasn’t necessary. He then walked over to Hobi, leaving everyone else inside.

“What’s up?” Jungkook asked with a sense of casualness that could’ve made Hobi laugh.

“Aish, Jungkook-ssi.” Hobi shook his head with a big smile. “You were so cute in there, are you going to talk to her?”

“What?” Jungkook asked, his voice a bit panicked, as though he were a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“Y/N. You like her, I can tell.” Hobi giggled, making Jungkook look away. “It’s so obvious. But listen, don’t come on too strong and try to rush it. You have the whole summer.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jungkook responded, his cheeks heating up. Hobi rolled his eyes playfully as the maknae scurried off back into the kitchen to help finish the last bit of cleaning, and not-so-subtly stay nearby you.

New Chapter: x