#i fucking loathe ads will all my being

[fantasiac]

and you can guarantee that the ads they would put in would have little to no quality control, letting random people send in the most mind-rotting, disgusting, dangerous ads on the whole damn planet, ads that genuinely hurt the product as more people would avoid it because of the evil marketing, and they'd definitely be targeted towards children as "video games are for children" so it'd be awful shit like this;

imagine having a life-changing experience watching Arthur Morgan die at the hands of the people he loved his whole life, only for it to be interrupted by ads for games that don't even exist, or something that dances around age restriction.

and you can be certain that adblockers just wouldn't work, so I can't even run to UBlock Origin after nearly having a seizure bc of a cool Live Wallpaper App (THAT STILL HASN'T BEEN TAKEN DOWN DESPITE ME REPORTING IT)

[heirofnight]

between you & i

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: reader departs on a solo intel mission after ignoring azriel's warnings of danger. reader ends up captured, and guess who ends up coming to her rescue? you guessed it, a pissed off az. enemies to lovers. reader and az do not like each other. yum.

warnings: talk of injuries, being captured, abuse, minor self-deprecation.

you currently found yourself in a bit of a ... precarious situation. to say the least.

your sweat-dampened hair was matted to the sides of your cheeks, your forehead.

holy gods, was it fucking hot in here.

you pressed the back of your head against the stone wall behind you, hoping that the cool brick would offer some reprieve against the sweltering heat.

oh yeah, by the way, the stone wall that you were sat against belonged to a cell. a cell that you were definitely, undoubtedly, locked inside of.

your wrists were bound in chains, your arms bunched behind you haphazardly. this really, really fucking sucked. rhysand would be so pissed.

you huffed out a breath, eyes cast towards the ceiling that was covered in vines, weeds, and moss. you zoned out, reflecting on the happenings that consequently landed you here.

"are you absolutely sure that you'd rather travel alone, y/n?," rhysand had questioned you the evening prior, expression littered with apprehension and hesitation.

you'd rolled your eyes at his protective concern, a smirk playing on your lips.

"rhys, it's a singular little mission to the autumn court," you'd countered, "i'll be back in what - two, three days?," you'd continued, flicking strands of hair over your shoulders. you were hardly concerned - after all, you'd collected intel for rhysand countless times, and you'd always walked away unscathed.

you were a scholar, and this was a huge part of your job within the night court - the chance of running into trouble was slim-to-none. your task involved meeting eris within the outskirts of his territory, collecting confidential information on the inner-political developments occurring within the crisp autumn court for rhys. easy, peasy.

something you could have done blindfolded, hands tied.

which, now, considering your current circumstances, that part had literally come to fruition.

azriel had stood in utter stoicism next to the head of rhys' polished mahogany desk, brows cinched together, eyes hard.

"no, it's unwise," he'd uttered, voice cold and deep - the first words he'd spoken since you'd arrived for your mission debrief.

you and azriel were - well, complicated. while you didn't absolutely loathe each other, there was this very prominent undertone of thick, suffocating tension that had formed a barrier between the both of you. you'd both opted to tread lightly each other - civil when necessary, silent and aloof otherwise.

he'd never really seemed to give much of a shit about you, so this outburst was unlike him.

his words caused you to sit up infinitesimally straighter, eyes locked on his strong frame from across the room.

"and why's that?," you'd questioned, voice sounding bored, dismissive of his opinion.

"too much unrest across his lands as of late," he offered, shifting within his boots just slightly, "we aren't entirely sure who, or what, is patrolling that area. it's dangerous, i should accompany you," he'd finished, sounding as though he'd already made his mind up.

you'd scoffed at the suggestion, standing with the intention of taking your leave before azriel was able to convince rhys any differently.

"no, thank you, shadowsinger," you'd waved a hand in dismissal, waltzing towards the large, wooden double doors of the office.

"i don't need to be coddled, i think i can manage on my own just fine," you'd added, back turned to the two males.

it was azriel's turn to scoff in exasperation, and although you couldn't see him, you could hear his wings rustle in irritation. the thought made you smirk to yourself, reveling in the idea of getting a rise out of the normally impassive spy.

"now, y/n,-," rhys began, his voice laced with consideration.

"i'll see the both of you in a few days," you'd cut him off, letting the door shut behind you with a resounding thud, the sound echoing down the stone halls.

and that was that. you'd decided to depart first thing this morning, hoping to avoid either one of the busybody males just in case rhys had commanded azriel to travel with you, after all.

you rolled your eyes, shuffling slightly against the cell floor as you thought of the verbal lashing you'd receive once you got back to velaris.

azriel would probably be present while rhysand berated you for this catastrophic mistake, and if you thought hard enough, you could just picture the smug smirk that would more than likely be adorning his polished features. az would be enjoying the fact that he was correct, sunbathing himself in your downfall, your failure.

the thought filled you with so much rage, so much embarrassment. it caused your skin to flush and grow even hotter, which was a feat in itself since you didn't think it was possible for the stifling heat to get worse.

you'd been captured by a lone group of autumn court rebels, who'd just happened to be traveling along the exact same path you'd taken to meet eris. you weren't sure what their plans were for you - a night court female. they knew who you were, they knew you were employed with rhys. if you had to guess, they were holding you hostage to use as some sort of bargaining chip.

regardless, it'd been twelve hours since you'd been tossed into this cell. you had not the slightest clue where you even were in relation to the court itself. you'd been blindfolded and jostled about, and your sense of direction had been destroyed in the process.

you were so, so thirsty. your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry enough that it felt like you'd ingested hot coals each time you struggled to swallow.

you were nervous, yes. on edge. your feathers were ruffled. but you knew eris would report your absence to rhysand. it was only a matter of time before someone found you. and when they did, you'd be reprimanded endlessly. you'd probably never hear the end of it - never be allowed to depart on solo missions again. you'd probably be stuck with azriel, that self-righteous, arrogant -

your thoughts came to a screeching halt once you noticed that the cell had become dark. it was mid-afternoon, and barred holes in the wall had been allowing the afternoon light to filter into the small space. which honestly, with this heat, felt like an additional form of torture.

but now, a chill filled the darkened air. no light filtered through - not even a pin-prick of luminance could be accounted for. you couldn't see inches ahead of you. your spine straightened, your head perked up. and before you could make heads or tails of the odd infiltrating darkness, it had dissipated entirely.

you blinked several times, weary, exhausted eyes struggling to acclimate to the warm light.

but once you'd righted yourself, you saw it. saw him.

azriel stood before you, half of his body swathed in swirling shadows. his arms were folded across his chest, eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in the sight of you - battered, bruised, filthy, restrained. his wings rustled several times before pulling tightly into his back, clearly agitated.

his jaw ticked in anger, and he dropped his head to avert his gaze to the cell floor at his feet. his muscles flexed with tension, and he was pissed.

and while you assumed the anger was directed at you, at your stupidity, azriel was biting back the urge to level the entire autumn court for what those males had done to you.

you swallowed hard, throat burning from the action. you opted to not speak, fully understanding how monumental this fuck-up was. you hadn't even departed velaris with a weapon strapped to your body, completely void of protection. so, so stupid.

"how could you be so foolish," azriel sneered, his arms dropping to his sides, clenched fists flexing. his voice was so low, so cold, you'd finally understood how he was able to intimidate his victims to the point of broken resolve.

you looked down, ashamed, embarrassed.

"i didn't-," you started, voice hoarse.

azriel huffed angrily at the sound of it.

"no, you didn't," he cut you off, stepping towards you with a leveled thump of his boots. "you didn't," he continued, tone laced with contempt.

"you didn't think. you didn't consider how dangerous-," he paused, having to take a deep, steady breath to compose himself.

you continued staring at the floor, anywhere but him. you definitely didn't dare look at his face, his eyes as they bore into you.

"look at me," he commanded, voice growing harsh.

you averted your gaze from the floor, choosing to stare at the bright, barred window that was cut into the upper left wall instead.

"y/n," he growled, stooping down to your level to grab your chin between his thumb and pointer fingers. his grip wasn't harsh - probably due to him being careful of exacerbating any potential injuries - but it was demanding. "look at me," he repeated.

you caved, meeting his hard hazel eyes with hesitation. you tried your damndest to look as unfazed and unwavering as possible - as though being captured and beaten hadn't taken a toll on you. but when you met his familiar face, took in his features and realized you were being saved, you faltered. relief flooded your veins, overflowing until it reached your softening eyes.

unshed tears began to well up, and you used every ounce of willpower that you had left to not allow them to fall.

azriel's expression became tender as he took you in, as he studied your expression. he saw your bruises and scrapes up close now, and he dropped his head once more, shoulders drooping slightly.

"you could have gotten yourself killed," he croaked, anger still lacing his words.

"so, what," you deadpanned, voice rasping, "then you would have been right, about me - about this mission. about how foolishly incapable i am," you said solemnly, jerking your chin from his unfaltering grip.

he snapped his head upward, meeting your eyes immediately. his brows cinched, and you momentarily observed the splattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose - you'd never noticed them before, had never been this close to him.

he blinked once, twice - his long, thick lashes whispering across his skin as he did so.

"that's what you think this is about?," he questioned, voice breathless in disbelief.

you scoffed weakly, pushing yourself up further against the damp wall behind you.

"please, azriel. you've never been subtle about how incompetent you find me," your voice coated in disdain.

he let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he absorbed your words.

"no, y/n," he grunted, his hands moving forward to begin working at the cuffs around your wrists. you'd both needed to get the hell out of here, urgently. it had been hours since you'd last seen your captors, and you were both painfully aware of the likelihood that they'd return.

could azriel singlehandedly fight off an entire hoard of rebels? absolutely. did he want to dismember and mutilate the males that did this to you? abso-fucking-lutely. but more than that, he wanted to get you home, safe, and with madra.

you hissed as he began to work his deft hands around the harsh chains. they'd been pulled so tightly to your skin, that you'd already come to terms with the possibility of losing circulation to the limbs.

his eyes flickered up to your face at the sound of your discomfort, and he winced at the realization of causing you further pain.

"i've never thought that you were incompetent," he continued as he worked, using his words to distract you from the pain he was inflicting, "hotheaded? yes, confident to a fault? sometimes," he continued, and you scoffed at his jabs.

"azriel, just shut the fu-," you blurted, his words bristling your already raw skin.

"but," he cut you off, continuing on with his tangent, "you are also strong, brave - obviously. loyal to your court, to rhys," he went on, pausing for a moment, "and i've always admired you," he finished, voice lowering.

you went silent, considering his words. you became painfully aware of his close proximity, of his hands against your swollen wrists as he fought to free you.

his eyes flitted to your softening expression, gauging your reaction to his words.

and internally, you were realizing for the first time, that maybe you and azriel were more alike than you'd initially thought.

he finally freed your hands, and you groaned at the relief, at the blood rushing down to the stiff limbs.

he helped you gently, bringing your arms back to the front of your exhausted frame. you closed your eyes for a moment, taking deep, even breaths at the feeling of being free, being saved. by azriel.

"how did you know where to find me?," you croaked, peeking one eye open to look up at the male before you. he was crouched closer to you now, poised to catch you if you careened over.

"eris relayed the information to rhys - the general whereabouts of your planned meeting location," he began, eyes flicking over your entire body to scan for any other injuries.

"and rhysand sent you to track me down?," you questioned, assuming that it was a command from his high lord - a decision he didn't make.

"i didn't give him the chance to," he offered, swallowing thickly, "i was at autumn's border before eris finished his report," he cleared his throat, cheeks tinting the slightest shade of pink.

there was a slight pause.

"he didn't have a choice," he spoke, voice deep and gravelly. he met your eyes with that last statement, as if to make a point.

you sat up slightly, reeling with the words azriel had spoken. they blanketed the both of you, sitting heavy against your chest.

azriel had chosen to track you down, to save you? not only that, but it seemed like it was almost second nature for him. to seek you out, to rescue you.

you opened and closed your mouth several times, looking for the right words. nothing you'd come up with was good enough.

"let's get you home," he said softly, reaching under your limp frame to hoist you into his strong arms. you whined quietly, your body rebuking the movement.

"i know," he soothed, bracing you against his chest.

and then you were both wrapped in endless shadows and night.

cradled against your tall, strong salvation.

things had irrevocably changed between you and azriel after that. you'd both known it.

and sure enough, from that day onward, he was your chosen partner on every mission you'd decide to embark on. and azriel had insisted the same.

choosing each other, time and time again.

and sometimes, when you'd both inevitably need to stop for the evening - finding reprieve in a shoddy inn after a grueling travel day, azriel would request a room with just one bed.

and what happened under the covers on those evenings - when your body would melt into his, his forehead pressed against yours, explorative hands learning each other -

well, that was just between the both of you.

a/n: another one shot that just demanded to be written immediately. brought on by scrolling on tiktok lmao. hope u loved it! let me know your thoughts <3

[n0cturnalp1g]

Tale As Old as Time

Summary: Prince Daemon Targaryen hated everyone and anyone that has the name Hightower in it. But there was an exception to it, the oldest sister of Alicent and Gwayne Hightower, the Wretched Hightower as she was infamously known for. But Daemon was on a mission to ensure she will be called by any other name–even if it means putting his own as a result. Characters: Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader!Hightower. Otto Hightower. Alicent Hightower. Viserys Targaryen. Word Count: 1,360 Chapter Warnings: Not Edited. Slight Profanities. Otto being Otto. Author's Note: Enemies to Lovers anyone?

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prince Daemon Targaryen knew how much of a cunt Otto Hightower was. It goes for Alicent and Gwayne too. But somehow, such disdain and loathing cannot be said about you. His exception as he fondly calls you.

You were known as the Wretched Hightower that did not stay long in Oldtown for causing far too much destruction and the only way for your father to ever control you was if you were close to him–or rather have the Kingsguard and even the City Watch constantly under surveillance of you.

Hence, this was the very reason why Daemon was so fond of you. How even his most skilled City Watch or even the Kingsguard themselves was no match to your resourcefulness and how easy it was to evade each and every single one of them at night as you spent your nights in Fleabottom, away from the constant control of the Keep.

“Here you are again, it seems.”

Daemon looked at you, defiance all too evident in your eyes as you looked right at him. One too many run-ins with each other, the surprise has finally worn off your face every single time he catches you strolling around. But never once did the dagger in your grasp ease away in the numerous instances of seeing you.

“I’m sure at this point you are just following me, Your Grace.” You spoke, no sense of decorum or politeness unlike your sister. You were very much a woman with a mind of your own not controlled by your father.

“I am simply doing my job. Somehow, my patrolling the safety of King’s Landing also has an additional responsibility of making sure the Wretched Hightower does not cause a scene.”

At the mention of the moniker, your eyes darken and your knuckles turned white as your grip on your dagger tightened. If he pushes you further, there might even be a chance you might make use of it–on him more specifically.

“I apologize for adding to your responsibilities, Lord of Flea Bottom.” You curtsied mockingly in front of him to earn a huge grin on his mouth. He loved this, you play as hard as he does, every single time, you will not let anyone else win if you had a chance. Never one to allow anyone else to have the last word.

But the Rogue Prince wasn’t known for his patience, more known for his pettiness.

With a nod, he moved quicker than you anticipated and you were lifted into his arms before moving until you were now on his shoulder. An annoyed scream escaped your lips, your dagger was taken before you could make use of it.

“Let go of me you stupid fucking lizard!”

“My, does your father not teach you manners, or respect?” He teased as he began his journey back to the Keep, anticipating what that Cunt Otto would do now. “I could even cite you for attempted regicide.”

“I don’t give a damn about your laws, Targaryen! Let go of me!” You continued to scream, your fist hitting his armored back. He was genuinely surprised by how unmoved you were by the metal he wore–but then again anger and spite was the best remedy for pain but he was all the more certain you will be feeling the damage was all was said and done.

“I’m sure your father would love to hear you and your opinions of the law in the Seven realms.” He chuckled, ignoring the eyes that had now come glued to all of them.

He ensured even in your already embarrassing state, you were decent. The hand holding onto your dagger also ensured your skirt did not show more than you intended to.

“Make sure you rest well, the next time I see you I’ll make sure to slit your throat and bathe in your blood.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Daemon continued to point out with a wicked grin as he walked further away from the chaos of Fleabottom. “I can only hope you still have that fire when we return to the Keep, Lady Hightower.”

Daemon only knew what your father would think of this situation, more so when he was once again responsible for taking you back without harm on a single hair on your pretty little head.

“You continue to bring shame upon the family name, you insolent brat!”

You have been so used to your father’s scolding, but the only difference with this time was the fact that he wasn’t alone. Daemon Targaryen had made a spectacle out of you, bringing you into the throne room in front where your father, the King’s Hand stood, arms crossed and veins on the brink of popping.

In the throne room also resided a few key figures in the parading embarrassment that was Daemon’s own making.

The King himself, amused as much as he was tired of your antics sat on the throne, the grin openly evident on his face but no one was to question him for his emotions for he was afterall the King.

Your younger sister and the King’s wife, Alicent, was also present. Ever the lapdog of your father was also disappointed in you as you strived for your own freedom–something she did not have since agreeing to marry the King.

Then there was the man that was responsible for your predicament. Prince Daemon Targaryen. A smirk all the more evident on his face, victorious for one upping you in this imaginary war you somehow waged with the Rogue Prince since your nightly escape.

“Are you done, father?” You inquired.

“This is the reason why I should have married you to that Lord in the south!” Otto continued, voice growing louder now.  “I can’t control you, your Uncle could not control you, your husband might control you as he should!”

You scoffed. You knew as much as he did that there was no Lord in the south. His first plan of many was for you to marry the King the first moment that the late Queen was burned in the Hill of Rhaenys. But as Wretched as you were known in the realm, you still had common decency. You will never marry a mourning man who lost his wife and child for the sake of a better standing for the family. The same could not be said about your younger sister, now married and now carrying her second child with the King.

“I’d rather be a Septa than marry a man that will never keep up with me, Lord Hand.” You spat.

You glared at the chuckle that escaped the Rogue Prince’s lips.

“I think there will be a much better way to handle this dispute, Lord Hand.” King Viserys pointed out, the fun of the situation now gone and it left nothing more than a family dispute that he should not be a part of.

“Nothing could control her, no Kingsguard nor City Watch can tame her, and I am having second thoughts of throwing her into sept instead.”

You rolled your eyes. He never truly cared about you, your brother, or your sister. It was always like this with him. If he finds no use out of you, he will throw you out like a used toy. It was a cycle that you were all the more familiar with. Lived through it for years, long before either Alicent or Gwayne was born.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.” Daemon began.

All heads turned to the man, your heart lurched from your chest as if already having an idea of what he had in mind. The games this bastard was playing.

“I am in need of a new wife…as you may all know Lady Rhea Royce has recently passed and our union did not bless us with any children.” He continued as the grin on his lips grew wider, all the more seeing his brother, the King convinced with the idea.

“No!” For once you and your father was in agreement with something, who would have ever thought it would be to oppose a man you had both equally despised–but for reasons far different from one another. 

[lovelytsunoda]

you've got me under your spell | eddie brock and venom

summary: the then's and now's of halloween in the brock household

pairing: eddie brock x wife!reader (and their son!) x venom

warnings: i've turned eddie brock from a swagless loser to a dilf, venom is loaned to a child as a halloween costume, venom is almost like a second child tbh, implied smut, brief mentions of mental illness and pregnancy-related mental health issues. not to spoil anything at the end but the final section is pretty fucking funny if i do say so myself.

author's note: i have a very delayed last minute addition to my halloween fics for 2024! after flying through all three venom movies in about two days (as someone who doesn't watch marvel movies, might i add), i am pleased (and a little concerned) to annoucne that eddie brock is now my favourite marvel character.

yes, dylan brock is a canon character in the venom comics (or so i have been told) but all this dylan had in common with the canon version is his name.

2010.

she watched fondly from the doorway as eddie picked up the infant, who was currently trying to crawl towards the white pumpkin in the bay window. dylan laughed in his father's arms as eddie spun around before cradling the infant against his chest. he caught his wife's eyes from the doorway, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked down at dylan.

"hey kiddo, i think mommy's looking at us."

dylan smiled, wide and toothless, letting out the baby equivalent of a cheer as he looked over at his mother.

"are you guys ready to make the rounds? i promised mrs. chen some baby time." y/n laughed, reaching out to hold her son's small hand in hers.

the streets outside were lit up with fog machines and smiling skeletons, filled with the sounds of kids milling about. it was baby brock's first halloween, and he was dressed appropriately for it in his little pumpkin costume. after attempting to suck on y/n's finger, dylan dropped her hand and busied himself with attempting to trace the tattoos visible on eddie's forearm.

eddie beamed, kissing his wife softly before answering. "we're ready if you are. lead the way, mamas."

y/n had never pictured herself as a mother. in her twenties, when it seemed like settling down was the only thing people her age wanted to do, she was paralyzed with fear, insecurity and a little bit of self-loathing. being inside of her head was a nightmare, and she wasn't even sure she'd make it to thirty.

things had started to change when she met eddie brock.

slowly, she came alive again. she started to want things that she had thought were out of reach. she wanted to get married, have that house and that family and the white picket fence. to know that everything she had done had added up to this moment, and that everything had been worth it.

but she hated being pregnant. for her, growing another human being had been an arduous, terrifying experience. the eight hours of labour she had gone through on the day dylan was born was enough for her to decide that she didn't want more kids, and that she could still have the family she dreamed of with only one child.

she kissed dylan's forehead softly, brushing back his thin baby hair before tucking the small pumpkin hat onto his little head, and over his small ears.

the couple walked down the front steps of their bungalow, one of eddies arms around his wife, and the other holding his son (which was quite the feat, considering that the infant so desperately wanted out of his father's arms. dylan was an active baby, but he was allowed to crawl down the residential street, he would do so at such a pace that the brocks would never get him back.)

at every house they went to there was someone to coo over the littlest brock. eventually, eddie had to drop that arm around his wife so that he could use both hands to hold his son. dylan smiled that wide, gummy smile and laughed and babbled at all of the people that they passed, y/n clutching an almost-full orange bag of candy (she was convinced that some of their neighbours gave out extra candy to the couple, simply to reward them with the hit of caffeine found in chocolate that the new parents would so crave).

as they walked towards mrs. chen's house, dylan finally settled in his fathers arms, eddie looked over at his wife with nothing but reverence and love in his eyes. even carrying a little bit of extra weight around her hips and stomach, her breasts a little fuller and her arms a little chubbier, she was as radiant as she was the day that they got married. he would do anything for her, for his son. his little family.

"eddie, darling." she laughed, turning to face him. "you're staring."

eddie blushed, the rose in his cheeks barely visible in the dark. "uh, no i'm not."

"yes you are." she giggled. "i love you, eddie brock."

"i love you more." eddie beamed, leaning over to kiss her. "i think the little guy is worn out." he spoke softly, nodding towards the baby in his arms. "he's asleep."

"awe." y/n cooed, gently stroking her son's arm with her pointer finger. the sight of eddie holding their son in his arms would never grow old. she was starting a folder of pictures on her laptop of this very thing, as she knew dylan would soon be too big for his father to hold. "he's just like his father. he can go to sleep any time, any where and in any condition."

eddie laughed. "i feel like there was an insult buried in there somewhere."

"i still married you, didn't i?"

2024.

"dylan, if you want to get to eric's on time, you've gotta get going now! his mom's on the way!"

y/n knocked on her son's door, waiting until she heard the disgruntled teenage groan from the other side. satisfied that dylan had been served enough warning, she headed back out into the living room.

she had put eddie in charge of moving the halloween candy from the massive carboard costco boxes to the festive plastic bowls, and he was doing a surprisingly okay job at it.

their life had changed drastically in the years since her husband had begun to share his body with a symbiote. the symbiote had once given dylan nightmares, and she had fielded one too many concerned calls from the school after he had gone around and told all of the other kids that his father was an alien and would eat anybody who was mean to him (although, once eddie and venom had bonded, venom was steadfast in his commitment to eating any bullies that dylan may face) it had taken time, and a lot of home repairs to get used to, but alas, venom now felt like one of the family.

well, more like the cousin you don't want any of your friends to meet. or the alien that your husband is in a strangely homeorotic relationship with.

"i thought venom would have eaten half of those by now." she remarked, leaning over the back of the sofa to rest her head on her husband's shoulder, hands on his chest.

"i made him promise to behave today. i don't want him scaring the little kids." eddie shrugged, turning his had to kiss his wife softly.

"what did you have to give him?"

eddie paused, waiting a beat in order to formulate an answer that wouldn't send his wife into a spiral. in the distance, he heard dylan's bedroom door open and close, and then the fourteen-year-old came bounding into the living room.

"eric's mom is like five minutes away. is it okay if i wait outside?"

keeping her hands on eddie shoulders, y/n straightened, looking over at her son. "no costume?'

she didn't miss the way that eddie's muscles tensed up under her hands, or the way dylan's pinkie finger twitched. neither of them said a word, and when her eyes zeroed in on the full boxes of nestle chocolates, she got her answer.

"edward brock, please tell me that you did not lend your symbiote to our son as a halloween costume!"

dylan's shoulder rippled black over the top of his hunter-green sweatshirt, venom's inky head materializing next to a defeated looking dylan.

"okay, we won't tell you." the symbiote said , turning to face eddie. "you told me that this was okay with mrs. b."

eddie got up from the couch, pointing a finger at the symbiote. "i said no such thing. i said we were never supposed to tell y/n under any circumstances."

"mom, it's only for the night. you let dad have venom year-round!" dylan protested, stuffing his hands in his sweater pockets. "how is this any different?"

y/n stopped and counted to twenty, eyes closed before she breathed deeply and opened them again.

"that's because your father is the one who brought venom into this house in the first place, and i didn't get a say in the matter. also, your father is an adult, and venom actually listens to him."

"i listen to nobody!"

eddie coughed. "actually, he doesn't listen to me at all. he does what he wants half of the time."

"not the point, eddie! hosting venom almost killed you."

"actually- "

"not now vee!" eddie and y/n shouted together.

eddie reached for his wife's hand, knowing that she needed something to ground her, something tangible that she could hold on to. his hand was warm and calloused, comforting. she ran her thumb over eddie's knuckles as he stepped closer, dropping his voice in the hopes that dylan and venom wouldn't be able to eavesdrop.

"y/n, you know that i wouldn't let dylan take venom out if i didn't think he could handle it. its just one night."

"eddie, venom eats people. i don't want to get calls from parents stating that their sons hung out with my son, and then they came back headless."

"he has sworn to be on his best behavior tonight." eddie insisted. "and besides, when was the last time we had a night that was just the two of us? no dylan, no venom."

she paused, trying to think, the calm was starting to ease back into her body, the initial panic subsiding. her husband was right, she knew. while nights without dylan had become more common the older he got, with the boy staying over at friend's houses or going out late with his buddies, having a husband who hosted an alien sometimes put a damper on date night.

for the past five years, she had felt like she was in a never-ending threesome. don't get her wrong, the sex was absolutely phenomenal, but she missed her husband. she missed the days when it was just the two of them, curled up in bed on a sunday afternoon, with reruns of a bad sitcom playing in the background as they made love without a care in the world.

she realized that she was excited at the idea of having sex with her husband without an alien tentacle trying to slip into her ass (which felt absolutely incredible, by the way. after the first time venom did that, she downloaded all the monsterfucking books she could find on kindle unlimited. trying to explain the plot of ice planet barbarians to eddie had been quite the spectacle).

a honk in the front driveway snapped her out of her thoughts. dylan was looking at her expectantly, venom's head still hovering in the air next to him. if it were possible for symbiotes to give puppy dog eyes, she was sure that venom would be doing so. she looked at eddie, and then back at dylan, weighing her options.

"fine. dylan, you can take venom with you."

venom and dylan gave a cheer, the teen high-fiving one of venom's slinky tentacles.

"i promise not to eat any of the children, mrs. b. only gourmet chocolate. dylan says tonight is the best night for it."

"go on." y/n laughed. "don't keep eric waiting. and be careful!"

eddie and y/n stood by the front window, eddie's hand in her back pocket as they watched dylan run down the driveway and jump into the back of eric's mom's nissan. he had grown up so fast. it felt like just yesterday he was an infant in a pumpkin costume, cradled in eddie's strong arms. now he was almost as tall as his father.

y/n let out a small yelp as she felt herself become weightless, her husband's strong, beefy arms wrapped around her thighs.

"baby, be careful! you aren't as strong without venom! i don't want you to hurt your back!"

"i'll be fine! we have a heating pad for a reason!"

the headed down the hallway in a cloud of giggles, eddie kicking the bedroom door closed behind them with a cheeky grin on his face.

oh yeah, they were going to enjoy every second of having the house to themselves.

____

it was nearing midnight when dylan brock came home, shocked to find his father in the living room, sitting on the sofa in the dark and wincing every time he moved.

"dad? what are you doing? where's mom?"

eddie groaned, trying not to move too much. the heating pad rested against his lower back, and any movement sent a sharp pain up his spine. "she's asleep. tired out."

dylan made a face, dropping his backpack next to the couch. "god damn it, dad! i don't need to know that!"

eddie chuckled. "not like that." well, sort of like that. "this week has been hard on her. between you, me and venom, she's got her hands full."

"what's the heating pad for?" dylan crossed his arms over his chest, staring his father down.

"i hurt my back. it's nothing, not important."

"oh my god! you hurt your back banging mom!"

"dylan, keep your voice down! your mother is sleeping!" eddie scolded, screwing his eyes shut. "and she doesn't know. there is nothing less sexy than pinching something in your back while-"

"stop. please. i don't want to know."

"anyways, i waited until she fell asleep to put some muscle spray on it, and that didn't help, so here i am with the heating pad. how was your night?"

"it was good. venom's fun. we went trick-or-treating around eric's neigbourhood, where all the fancy houses are. also, i think i know what possum brain tastes like." dylan scrunched up his face. "venom decided he'd eaten enough snickers bars."

"snickers are for the weak." venom grunted. "real men eat brains."

eddie laughed. "now you know what the inside of my head is like. at least venom didn't try to eat any people. i wish i never knew what grey matter tasted like."

dylan extended his hand. "it's been fun, but i think he wants his host back."

eddie took dylan's hand in his, inhaling as he felt venom fill his veins once more, the familiar voice he'd come to tolerate returning to the back of his mind. slowly, the stinging pain in his lower back started to subside, the symbiote healing him from the inside out.

"thanks buddy. i needed that." he sighed. "and thanks for looking after dylan."

"no problem, eddie. you know, you'd get hurt less around the house if you stopped doing silly things when i'm not here."

"hey dylan, do you want the symbiote back?"

dylan laughed, heading to his room. "not a chance, dad. you're the only person in the world who could handle him."

[draconic-desire]

Ad Experimentum

Yandere Dr. Ratio x Reader

Veritas catches you reading one of your dirty books.

Warnings: Implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, NSFW scenes being read aloud, Dr. Ratio being a dick as always

Within the confines of Veritas’s home, you feel like a mouse in a maze, reduced to a caged animal, always under scrutiny and experimentation.

Escape is impossible. Dr. Ratio has ensured that you’re never out of his reach, even though he acts as if you are the burden and he didn’t kidnap you and imprison you in his home. Sometimes you wonder why he even keeps you; surely he has better things to do than to quip at your inadequacy or lack of genius. But alas, the pretentious prick seems keen on pushing every one of your buttons to see how you tick. You might even call it intimacy if he wasn’t so clinical and judgmental about it all.

Because physical escape is impossible, you’ve turned to escaping within the confines of your own mind.

Books provided the perfect retreat. You’ve since abandoned any non-fiction to focus on fantasy, to worlds that effortlessly whisk you away. Novels that depict true, romantic love, not the twisted ownership you’ve grown used to. Like you’re some pet to be controlled and prodded at, like Pavlov’s dog, waiting and drooling for its master’s hand at the ring of a bell.

So, in your hopes to feel something real, you’ve started to delve into stories that are a bit…spicier.

With the latest read in your hand, your eyes skim hungrily over the pages as the tension between the protagonists builds. The lovers begin to undress each other, the one spreading his partner’s pussy as she grinds into his hand—

Veritas effortlessly plucks the book from your hands, earning a cry of protest. You try to snatch it back, but, with the help of his towering height, he dangles it just out of reach. “What in the heavens is this?”

The way he holds the book between his thumb and pointer finger, as if merely touching it would taint his self-proclaimed perfect set of knowledge, was almost comedic. You would laugh if he wasn’t such a condescending asshole.

Instead, you scowl. “Give it back.”

He merely hums and turns the novel in his hands, inspecting the cover. Licking his thumb, he flips to your bookmarked page and begins reading aloud. “My hand caressed her core as I speared her with two, thick fingers. She moaned and arched into my palm in response, causing my cock to twitch in anticipation. God, I wanted to taste her arousal. Her pussy was perfect, so wet and tight and ready for me to claim, to fuck.”

Embarrassment rages across your cheeks like a burn. You fling yourself at him, pounding your fists against his chest when he lifts the book out of your reach easily. “Stop, just stop.”

Amused, Dr. Ratio continues to narrate the scene in painstaking detail. “I lowered my head, letting my tongue swirl around her clit and rendering her voice to nothing but pitiful mewls. She tasted like heaven, like my own personal feast. I buried my tongue in her, then, and held her hips as she bucked into my mouth, begging for release—”

“I will do anything,” you beg, face in your palms, “just please stop.”

Finally, mercifully, Veritas closes the book and lowers it down enough for you to snatch it back. You cradle it against your chest, heart pounding and palms sweaty with a chaotic blend of shame, anger, and relief that it was over.

“This is what you indulge in while I’m working? Though you are hardly an intellectual exception, I believed you to be above this brain-rotting nonsense, (Y/n).”

In spite of your embarrassment, you boldly meet his golden eyes. “And what do you care? I enjoy it, and it’s not meant for you. Go stick your nose in a dictionary for all I care.”

“At least I’d be learning something,” he sneers in return, looking down his nose at you. He sniffs, tilting his chin up. “What do those books have that I can’t offer you?”

You still, observing his features. Now that the fun of teasing you has worn off, his eyes flare with loathing. With a jolt, you realize it is not aimed at you but at…the book?

Wordlessly, you glance between Dr. Ratio and your novel. Then, a stilted laugh escapes your lips. “Wait.. Are you seriously jealous of a book?”

“Don’t be preposterous,” he scoffs, though you notice his white-knuckled grip against the back of the armchair you were previously lounging in. “I would never stoop so low as to associate myself with that plebeian filth. I simply wanted to ascertain your reaction to it being read aloud.”

You resist the desperate urge to roll your eyes. “Fine, then. Please leave me to my uneducated filth.” You spin around, intent on finding a new place to finish your reading.

“Not so fast.” Veritas is on you quicker than a cobra, large hands gripping both your shoulders. “Perhaps all is not lost. We may yet transform this circumstance into an educational opportunity for you.”

A chill runs down your spine at the heavy touch, and a sudden sense of foreboding warns you to run. You’re all too aware you’re the mouse being fed to the snake in this moment.

Veritas spins you to face him, eyes slowly trailing down your form, as if taking you in with a new perspective. “I believe an experiment is due.”

You go rigid. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re so intent on reading about all those fantasies in your books, let’s go ahead and put them to the test, shall we?”

At his clear implication, you yelp and make a run for it. In that moment Veritas strikes, fisting your hair with one hand and cupping your chin with the other as he presses your body flush against his own. You can already feel his hard desire digging into your back.

“Here’s my hypothesis,” he purrs in your ear. “I predict that by the end of tonight, you too will be begging for my cum, whether you want to or not.”

His theory, as always, was proven to be correct.

[vixstarria]

Intimacy

Hello friends, have some soft Act 2 Astarion.  

Astarion’s struggle with sex and intimacy. Connected with my other fics but is a standalone, per usual. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, soft Astarion 

Hurt/comfort, some fluff if you squint, love, angst, mutual pining, Act 2 spoilers, some fairly softcore smut 

Approximately 1,600 words. 

AO3

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he told you. You’d replayed that conversation over and over countless times in your mind, since.  

You had no idea what you were doing either. Oh, navigating an ordinary relationship was simple enough, and you’d had your fair share of those – even if they’d all ended in disappointment at best, so far. Being with someone who’d just escaped 200 years of abuse, however... That was something new.  

“I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex.” 

Well that was a fuck-up. He was walking sex. ...Most likely due to sheer force of habit, so necessary for survival over all those years, but still.  

“I love you.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...  

You were in over your head too. Completely. Hopelessly. In love with this catastrophe of a man.  

What were you to do with him now?  

Wait for him to take the lead in every physical interaction? It wasn’t in your nature to be so passive. He knew this. And you were sure he would love to be treated like spurned glass all of a sudden.  

Continue as you were? Even though now all you could think about was whether a touch might bring up a repulsive memory? Assume that you could singlehandedly overwrite centuries of disgust and loathing, overnight? How presumptuous and overbearing that would have been. 

Communicate? Ask? Listen? Sure. Absolutely. You did. Or tried, anyway. You were about as good at talking about these things as he was. And you didn’t really trust him to be completely honest at this point. Whether with you or his own self.  

And so you explored. Slowly, cautiously and attentively.

 

The most innocent touches seemed to bring him an inordinate amount of joy. You weren’t surprised.  

Passing him a vial of poison for his weapons and letting your fingers brush and caress one another’s, briefly. Wordlessly running a stray hand along his waist and planting a quick kiss under his ear while you walked past him as he stood talking with someone. Lingering with your foreheads or noses touching lightly after a kiss.

 

He leaped at any opportunity to massage your sore muscles or help you apply a salve, and you let him. It seemed he wanted to take care of you, and was working out all the ways how.  

He still pleasured you in different ways, at times.  

“You don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he said. 

He just chose to keep his own pants on, now. You weren’t sure about his motivations. Could it be guilt? Or a misguided sense of self-worth? Did he still think this is all he was good for? Or, maybe you were completely overthinking it, and he was still just desperately horny, even if taking a step back. He was more present than before though, you could tell that much. 

You considered his reactions to other forms of touch, careful not to make your observation obvious. 

He hated being scratched. The entire area of his back covered in scars was off-limits for anything but embraces. He enjoyed playful bites, both giving and receiving. And more than anything, he loved holding you close, feeling as much of your body at once as possible, basking in its warmth.  

In turn, you were more than happy to wrap yourself around him when you could. 

“Why do you even like this?” he asked, apprehensive about it at first. “You don’t need to pretend for my sake. I can’t give you any warmth.” 

“I can give you mine,” you said, simply. “Besides, you obviously don’t remember what it’s like to lie in a puddle of sweat with someone who runs hot. This is a nice change.” you added after a moment of contemplation.  

You meant what you said, but you were dying to drag him into a hot bath, just to know what it would feel like for him to be warmed through. Maybe you’d get the chance once you got to Baldur’s Gate.

 

There happened to be a private room available at Last Light Inn that night. The group unanimously agreed that you and Astarion would take it, while the rest of your companions bunked in the common. 

“For Shar’s sake, piss off, none of us want to see or hear you two,” were the exact words of their blessing, delivered by Shadowheart. Karlach sanctified it by throwing a (deftly dodged) half-eaten apple at Astarion’s head.  

“Especially not hear!”

 

“I know this may come as a shock, but I’m actually not too fond of beds,” he said. 

“New memories, Astarion,” you shook your head. “Beds are non-negotiable. I wasn’t too fond of rutting in the dirt either.” 

“I’ll never grow tired of how poetic you are,” he smiled, unceremoniously throwing his gear on the floor. “New memories, you say?” 

A while later, you were straddling Astarion’s hips as he sat shirtless on the edge of the bed. 

“You know, you never did tell me what you like,” you sighed, your fingers in his hair as he kissed your neck.   

“Oh, what does anyone like? It’s all the same in the end,” he said, running his hands along your thighs. 

“That’s not true,” you murmured in his ear. “I can show you some things that are pretty unique to you right now,” you said and ran the tip of your tongue along the lower inner edge of his ear, making him shudder and let out a small moan.  

“You little devil, when did you figure that out?” he breathed.  

“When I happened to brush your ear a while back, like this,” you giggled, repeating the hand movement on his other ear, making him catch his breath slightly again, “and you just about started purring.” 

He just chuckled in response. 

“So what other secrets are you hiding?” you purred, kissing around his ear. “I might just need to kiss and caress every inch of your body to find out.” 

"Sounds like a terrible chore,” he said, falling back onto the bed and pulling you with him. “You don’t want to do that.” 

“Shut up and let me cherish you.” 

You kissed down along one side his neck, slowly, taking your time, pausing to lightly lick or nibble on any spot that made him hitch his breath. He was putty in your hands by the time you reached his collarbone. 

“Just don’t go any lower,” he said breathlessly. 

You hummed your agreement. You couldn’t handle going any lower yourself – you were completely intoxicated with the scent of his skin and the sound of his sighs of pleasure, if you went any lower, you would keep going, and you didn’t think it was a day for that yet.  

You continued up the other side of his neck instead.  

You hesitated for a moment before your lips reached the bite marks left by Cazador, but Astarion made no indication that he didn’t want you to keep going, and so you continued. He let out a soft whimper as your lips brushed the scars. 

“No?” you pulled back slightly, your hot breath still on his skin. He was lying with his eyes shut, head thrown back, neck completely exposed to you. 

“Yes...” he whispered, hoarsely. “Very yes... Softly...” 

You continued, lingering with your lips on the scars, as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, snapping them against his own and grinding you against an unmistakable erection. 

“I want you to make those marks your own... Yours and no one else’s...” he rasped. 

This is probably a mistake, you thought, but you could barely help yourself as you moaned into his neck and ran your tongue over the scars, making him growl and grind you into himself harder. The friction, the knowledge that he wanted it too was driving you mad.  

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop that,” you begged. 

“Go ahead,” he groaned. 

“Not without you.” 

Something in the energy changed then, and you lifted yourself off him, sitting up. Astarion stayed on his back a moment longer, before exhaling and also raising himself into a sitting position. You were still on his lap, facing him.  

“Listen,” he took your face in both hands, looking into your eyes intensely. “I want you so fucking bad, it hurts. I want to tear your clothes off and ravage you until you’re speaking in tongues. I do.” His voice was hoarse. He paused, before continuing. “But even more than that, I want to remember this, remember you, and not have any of the dirt from my past mixed into it. It’s difficult enough to keep it at bay as it is.” His eyes teared up at that. “And right now, for now, this is the only way I know how to do that.”  

“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang from your eyes. 

“No, you sweet idiot, you haven’t done anything wrong. I love you.” He gathered you in his arms, kissing away your tears as his own started to roll down. He sighed. “Great, now no one is coming, and everyone is crying.” 

You both burst out laughing as soon as those words were out of his mouth.  

You held each other a while longer, him stroking your back, before you broke the silence. 

“So the bite scars are pretty erogenous then?” 

“Extremely. Use that knowledge at your own risk and peril, darling.” 

He lifted your chin for a kiss. 

“Shall we go piss everyone off for a while, maybe steal Lae’zel’s boots, then come back here for more ‘memories’?” he asked.  

“Sounds childish and dangerous. I’m in.” 

You needed to clear your head too.  

Maybe tomorrow would be the day one of you would get closer to knowing what it was you were doing, and tell the other. Until then, at least you were in it together. 

~~~~~ 

The “I love you” is not canon for Act 2, but it is my headcanon, damnit.  

Like what you just read? Huzzah, there’s more! - Series master list

Next in series - Communication

AO3

[rowretro]

𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕪

𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙍𝙄𝙆𝙄 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙐 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙆 𝙃𝙀'𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𓆩♡𓆪 ☽⋆˚｡⋆˚.

���warnings: yandere themes, kissing, making out ish, a lot of fluff after they makeup<3

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀⋆୨୧⋆❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

Why would y/n care if the man who hurt her, kidnapped her, forced her to live with him in his home to go see other women? she hates him after all doesn't she? she wishes she does, but she just can't. He's so sweet to her despite the fact he abducted her purely because he loves her, he stopped his obsessive killing of men who even look in her direction, and now he even trusts her enough to leave, just the bedroom door unlocked. He literally killed for her, of course he'd die for her.

Y/n hates that she thinks he'd do such a thing, she received a picture from a friend on her snap, of Riki walking alongside another woman. They looked so close... she was flirtatious with him, arm around his shoulders, and he smiled at her. The woman being someone she loathed, a bitch who has beaten many girls almost to death, and tried to use y/ns personal life against her. Basically a bitch. To say she was mad was an understatement. The man who abducted her, killed for her, and treated her like a princess, forcing her to be his is with another fucking woman?!

She flinched a little as the door suddenly shut, interrupting her out of her thoughts. "baby im home~" he called. Y/n glared at the wall, waiting for him to enter the bedroom. "Why didn't you come to the door pretty girl?" he asked as Y/n frowned. "Am i pretty girl? or is she?!" y/n asked, as Riki sat opposite her on their bed. "who exactly is her?" he asked, a little confused "the side-chick that had her grubby hands all over you. im sorry, you drag me here claiming that you love me, killed a classmate that confessed to me, and used his many crimes as an excuse, only for you to cheat with a basic bitch who does nothing but whores around spending mommy's money and using daddy's name to defend her crimes?!" she lets out, clearly upset.

However riki just smiled, his eyes staring at her endearingly "my sweetheart is jealous~" he cooed as he tried to reach for her, mad y/n slapped his hands away. "ok ok cool cool... that bitch has been getting on my nerves lately... she filmed you getting dressed so I had to play the part to show her her place... don't worry I haven't killed her... yet..." he smirks, turning on the news. There she was, the girl's photo, somewhat blurred, being exposed for her many offences that she coverred up. "As for the video, deleted forever..." he added as y/n just sat there, unsure of what to do.

A few hours of silence pass, Riki was watching TV, as y/n finished up a few tiny chores. Seeing him, she heaved a quiet sigh, and slipped in the seat beside him. "Im cold" she said staring at him as he looked her up and down "Of course you are, it's autumn and you're wearing a thin-strapped croptop- and the material of those jeans are way too thin." he complained as Y/n frowned. "I said Im cold!" she whined as Riki snickerred. "you have to pay me first." he said as she bit her lip.

She leaned in, catching his soft, plush, perfect lips in a loving kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, as they let their tongues collide, one of his hands rested at her head, as she placed her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss as much as she could. As she pulls away, she leaves a few soft kisses down his jawline to his neck, and sinks into his warm embrace. "Dont you dare cheat on me... I'll cry." She mumbled as she snuggled against him. "God you must think im insane if im ever willing enough to cheat on you. do you know how long ive waited for you?!" Riki asked.

He unzipped his hoodie, wrapping it around her a little, as he yanked a soft blanket to wrap around them "What do you wanna watch?" he asked "I know i've watched it a lot but... Let's watch so not worth it and order some nice food hmm?" Y/n suggests as he kisses her nose "Anything for you my lifeline~" he smiled, pulling out his phone to order food.

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀⋆୨୧⋆❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

a/n: yeah i don't even know about this... hope u enjoyed it tho<3

[kaleldobrev]

The One Bed, Two People Problem (2) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (2x), Age Gap (15 years), Sexual tension, Slightly vulnerable Dean, Self-Loathing Dean & Implied sexual fantasies (very minor)

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⇠ Go Back & Read Chapter 1

"One room please," Dean said, as he plopped down his credit card onto the desk in front of the motel worker: a big grin on his face.

The worker looked at him tiredly and picked up the card. Looking at the name on the card, he looked at Dean, who maintained the same smile. "John Paul Jones?" He asked, his voice matching the tiredness in his eyes. "Like the dude from Led Zeppelin?"

"I get that a lot," Dean stated, trying to sound convincing, despite the motel worker probably not needing to be as he looked tired enough as it is. The worker nodded and started putting Dean's information into the computer; Dean swayed back and forth on his heels, looking around the motel lobby, not enjoying the awkward silence that was between the two. "It's a good thing I'm a Zepp fan," he added, a bit of humor in his voice, as he attempted to make awkward small talk with the man.

"Huh uh," the worker mumbled, not seeming interested in having any sort of conversation with Dean, as he was trying his best to concentrate on what he was doing, as the lack of sleep and pulling all-nighters the last couple of nights was starting to catch up to him in this moment.

Dean started to get slightly nervous, as the worker seemed to be taking a little bit more time than usual to be placing the information into the computer. "Is there a problem with the card?" Dean asked, after the motel worker started making a face that looked similar to confusion.

The worker shook his head. "Nah man. Just tired. It's my third night shift in a row and it's been a killer. Can barely keep my fucking eyes open. But I'm thankful to be doing anything at least. You're the first person I've seen in days, since the regulars haven't even come by." Dean decided not to ask about who or what the regulars were, but he would be lying if he wasn't the least bit curious.

"Surprising," Dean said. "Thought you'd get more on-going business being right on the highway like this. I mean, I've been to Tulsa a few times, and it's always pretty lively, even this time of night."

The man scoffed, almost chuckling at his words. "People don't like motels like they used to. They rather stay at the Holiday Inn down the street. Apparently, motels give people the creeps now," he said, rolling his eyes. "Too much shadiness I guess for people."

"I've stayed at more motels than I can count, and uh, they basically feel like home to me. They've never once given me the creeps," Dean told him, partially telling the truth, as he has stayed at plenty of motels over the years that have had questionable stains and clientele more times than he could count.

The worker nodded, handing Dean back his card. "Alright, we have one room available with a queen," he said.

Dean gave him a semi-puzzled look, unsure how true that really was, as the worker just said that he was the only person he's seen in a few days, and the parking lot was essentially empty besides his and who he assumed to be this man's car. "Nothing with two beds?" Dean asked. He didn't mind sharing a bed with you, but he wanted to get two to be safe, as he was afraid that he'd somehow hurt you in the middle night if he had one of his PTSD style nightmares he occasionally got, more often than he'd like to admit.

"Look, I have one room left. And that one room has one bed that you're either going to have to share with your guest, or one of you is sleeping on the floor," his voice had no hint of tiredness anymore.

"One bed it is," Dean said, his lips forming into a fake smile.

"And you're in room three," the worker smiled, handing Dean the room key.

After getting off the phone with your boyfriend, you hit your head repeatedly against the headrest, frustrated that you had let him get to you again. He was hours away, and yet, he had managed to re-anger you, which was something that you were close to getting rid of during your nice and peaceful drive here.

In addition to your re-anger, you were minutes away from meeting someone new, and there was a part of you that felt bad for Dean, because being angry and mean was the last thing you wanted as your first impression. "Okay, you got this," you whispered to yourself, taking a few breaths before exiting your truck.

Walking out of the motel lobby, Dean started thinking of ways in which he was going to break the cliche news to you, as a one bed for two strangers seemed like something that came straight out of a chick flick or romance novel. "So bad news, we have to share a bed because for some reason despite the motel parking lot being empty as fuck, there was only one room that had a single bed in it," he thought to himself, cocking his head, thinking how saying that to you might work. Then again, he didn't want you thinking that he got a room with a single bed on purpose because you were a chick, and hoping to get lucky. Then again, he certainly wasn't against it...Then again, Sam told him that you had a boyfriend and you were off-limits.

As he started walking toward the room to put his stuff inside and examine the room, he looked at the parking lot, and noticed another vehicle had pulled into the lot since he had come into the motel; and it was parked a few spaces away from Baby. It was a Generation Seven, F150, in a brownish beige color that looked to be in brand new condition.

And that's when he saw you, or at least he hoped it was you, pulling out a large duffel back from the truck bed, that seemed to be a little beat up.

He started walking toward you, making a mental note to introduce himself just far enough way, because he wasn't sure how quick to the draw you were.

You sighed, grabbing your duffel, and slung it over your shoulder, as you were mentally preparing yourself to meet someone new. But you were tired, angry, and a little bit hungry; and all you really wanted to do right now was take a scolding hot shower and hit the pillow face first, instead of making awkward small talk.

"Hey, you must be Y/N," you heard a male voice say from a few feet away from you. Closing your truck bed, you noticed a blonde-haired man, who appeared to be a little over six feet tall, wearing a flannel and denim jacket similar to you, walking in your direction. This must be Dean, you thought.

"And you must be Dean," you said, when he was just a few feet in front of you. As he stood there, he leaned his arm on your truck bed, and stared at you with a smile that could easily melt the iciness that was inside your heart; you hoped that you weren't blushing. You're here to do a job, and you have a boyfriend, you told yourself.

"Nice truck," he complimented, as he patted the side. "Gen seven?" He questioned, but his tone insinuated that he already knew the model; he just wanted to see if you knew. And of course you did, as this truck was one that you had practically re-built over the course of a single summer without barely any help.

You nodded, and smiled at him, practically grinning from ear to ear; your smile was breathtaking. "He sure is. I practically re-built him over the course of a single summer before I started hunting. You should have seen the shape he was in; the whole body was practically rust," you explained.

Dean listened to the way you spoke about your truck, and he admired it, as it was similar to the way he would speak about Baby. But the way you spoke about the truck was not the only thing he was admiring; he was admiring the way the denim jacket you were wearing was slightly falling off your shoulders because of how big it was, as if you had borrowed it from someone Sam's size. Even though it was still slightly dark out, and the harsh yellow lighting was doing nobody any favors, you still somehow looked absolutely gorgeous in this lighting. Your skin looked so smooth, except for a few scars that he noticed in several places. He couldn't help but wonder the stories behind them. You're here to do a job, he reminded himself.

"That's pretty impressive that you re-built him without any help. Not a lot of people can do that," he said, trying his best to pay you a compliment. "Especially since you taught yourself."

"Yeah. My dad knows some stuff about cars, but he's no expert or anything. My best friend was the one who..." your voice trailed off, and you slightly had a blank stare on your face, as if you were reminiscing about something.

"I've re-built Baby more times than I could possibly count," he said, pointing at her for a moment before turning back to you. Your blank stare finally fading.

"When Sam told me, I honestly didn't believe him. You must be really good with your hands," you said, with a slight hint of...was that...flirting? Were you flirting with me? Dean thought. No, there's no way.

He chuckled a little. "I'd like to think so." I'd do anything to put my hands all over you....he thought. "Oh, um, since I got here first," he began, attempting to change the subject before his brain started to create some fantasies. "I was able to get us a room. But, there's only one bed, so we either have to share, or one of us is going to have to sleep on the floor."

You felt your heart starting to race a bit faster now, and your throat was beginning to get a tad dry. Were you actually nervous about the possibility of sharing a bed with the eldest Winchester?

"I don't mind sharing a bed as long as you don't," you said. But as soon as you said those words, your brain was starting to create a moral dilemma. You have a boyfriend, this counts as cheating, you thought. No, it doesn't count as cheating, I don't plan on sleeping with him as much as I'd like to.

"I don't mind. But uh...just a heads up, I get um...nightmares," he said, sounding hesitant.

"It's okay, I get them too," you reassured. "Want to head inside then and see if we can get a few hours before we go to the station tomorrow?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds good to me," he smiled.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 3

Tag List: @madzzz0797 ⋆ @dumb-fawkin-bitch ⋆ @nancymcl ⋆ @deanbrainrotwritings ⋆ @roseblue373 ⋆ @jackles010378 ⋆ @deansbbyx ⋆ @uncle-eggy ⋆ @queenie32 ⋆ @jzackles ⋆ @shy-taylorsversion ⋆ @ladysparkles78 ⋆ @zepskies ⋆ @samslvrgirl ⋆ @stoneyggirl2 ⋆ @deans-spinster-witch ⋆ @littletomboy2 ⋆ @foxyjwls007 ⋆ @10ava01 ⋆ @peachhiz

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[victimsofyaoipoll]

Finals

Propaganda Under Cut

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime

[diejager]

...i mean i have plenty of dark ideas with makarov but i mean... i kinda want to know on your thoughts with makarov and a reader who's equally dark/cunning. match made in hell basically

котёнок (A/n):I read a bit about him, but I can’t say that my portrayal of him is faithful to the game.

A fucking match made in hell. He doesn’t love easily, nor does he devote himself to someone as much as he did with Zakhaev often, but once he does give you this deluded level of love and devotion, it’s yours until he dies. In his mind, anything goes, shooting his only friend, bombing civilian areas to kill off one enemy, or trafficking as a source of money. Vladimir Makarov had no limit when it came to what he believes in.

He might be unpredictable with his acts and strict with his decisions, but that - by no means - meant that he didn’t like to play games, despite everything that went on in his life, Makarov loved games. He liked playing with his enemy, making it seem like they were ahead of him, only to disappear, being ten feet ahead. But then you appear, foiling his plans left and right, seeming to play right into his hands, moving as he predicted, only to outplay him, smirking his way as you strut away. He was mesmerized, the sight of the woman who had tricked the devil, clad in black and smile as sinfully cunning as his.

Makarov called you his котёнок —his kitten. He watched you in admiration, hungering for any moment with or against you, a gem in the corrupted world he lived in. He loathed that you weren’t working with him, standing beside him with that beautifully, cruel sneer you gave anyone who disappointed you. You didn’t follow the good or evil side, uncaring of who worked for the betterment of the world - he’d seen and heard you fucking up the 141’s attempts as you did with his - you only followed the wining side, the one who had the money to show and the hand to control it.

For months, he tried his luck, sending messages to you in many way, both nefarious and quiet, anything to contact you, anything to have you on his side; and when he had you working with him, striding to him in all your confident glory, he couldn’t be any prouder. Makarov had another asset up his sleeve, one more important than others, he cherished you, he devoted his time to you and he love you in his own twisted way.

If his котёнок wanted to play, he would play. He would back you up in every decision you mad, the jobs you took, the deals you signed. If you wanted to burn down the world, he would do it with you; if you wanted to bomb a public building, he would provide you the explosives; and if you wanted a hand in rebuilding the world in your image, he would help you, lead the men that worked under him and push your ideals.

Makarov didn’t just love you, he was obsessed, addicted —he was devoted to your being, cunning and devious. He might pull a few strings in the dark, but you were a danger on your own, giving your rivals and enemy a run for their money, and he loved that. You controlled the room when you sat down, your nails cackling on the table eerily as you stare down the people across from you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, a stoic mien before cowering men.

He would sometimes stand behind you, acting as the looming shadow that added to your scary image, or he’d take up the seat beside yours, head tilted up with his arms crossed, the image of a confident tyrant, poised and powerful. You were a dark pleasure, sly and opportunistic, and he, a wicked and cunning man, portraying his ideology through his spread of terror.

“My sweet, sweet kitten,” he whispered in Russian, pressing his lips to yours, kiss feverish and rough, all teeth and domination. “Tell me, what is it you want?”

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[purple-writer8]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - ACOTAR

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister (Reader)

“I cry a lot but I am so productive. It’s an art.”

warnings: toxic man implied, abused eris, emotionally unavailable eris, depressed reader, broken up mates, angst

968 words

Masterlist :)

"Yes, I went to Day and reported the findings to Helion. Then to Thesan." You reported to your High Lord and Lady. Rhysand looked more than pleased, and Feyre could only gape at you in awe. 

"You did all that in a day?" She asked in shock, admiration gleaming in her eyes for you. You nodded, a tired smile adorning your face, "and the ball is all set for tonight." 

Feyre gaped along with her mate, they could hardly believe it. "You are a blessing, a real fucking blessing. Thank you, so much... you will get more than a hefty bonus in your next payment." Rhysand grinned, dark talons caressing your mind in a soothing way. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, then asked, "why do you two always act like I'm some kind of miracle fae?" 

They glanced at each other, then back at you, and then pity overtook both their stares. You know why. You were supposed to be heartbroken, as you had just ended your betrothal to Eris Vanserra. The two of you were mates, but the abuse he had suffered from his father and the toxic familiar dynamics he had grown up in, made him less than emotionally unavailable. 

He was unable to communicate what he felt, all he could do was share his feelings through your bond. But that was not enough, not when he had commitment issues and acted like an ass to your family. The bond was strong, but your self-respect was stronger.  Especially when you knew what you were worth, being the Night Court's High Lord's sister and Princess of Velaris. 

"What happened with Eris... at the last ball... it was bad..." Feyre trailed, not wanting to exactly mention what had happened. It was fucking painful for you, you had broken your engagement in front of everyone. "And I saw you crying last night... and this morning before your mission..." she added. 

"I cry a lot, but I am still very productive. I can do my work with a broken heart." You replied with a simple shrug, much to Rhysand's dismay. You had always been like that, had always hidden your feelings and done your work even when you were breaking down.

“You’re a real tough kid.” He said softly, violet eyes eyeing you closely, “you complete all your missions seamlessly. You are an example to follow.” 

You chuckled dryly, “yeah, yeah, I am the best. Can I go get ready for tonight? I got the most beautiful dress and I want to try it on.” With that, the couple simply nodded and excused you. 

They were right to be impressed. You wanted to die, and yet— you were ready to shine that night, like every other night. 

Ready to show everyone lies. 

-

The ball in the House of Wind went off without a problem, and like every other night-- you were the center of attention. The gown you wore was magnificent, the light reflected off you in a majestic manner, almost as if you wore liquid starlight in your frame. You stood at the side of the bar with Azriel, watching as everyone arrived, sipping on a tall glass of champagne. You knew Eris was coming, you needed to drink before seeing him. 

"You look pretty," the shadowsinger said in a stoic manner, hazel eyes traveling up and down your frame swiftly. You smirked into your glass, "as do you." 

"Have you spoken to him?" He asked, and you knew he referred to Eris. Azriel cared, and he showed it, having known you since the moment you had been born-- he was protective of you. Especially because he loathed Eris with all his being. 

"Please, he avoids me like I am faebane," you snorted, the alcohol working its magic on you already. And you were grateful for it, because you almost choked when your eyes met the red - haired male that had once promised he would love you for his whole life. What a short life. 

You felt Azriel's eyes on you, his shadows coiling around your ankles in support as you watched Eris strut into the ball as if he owned it. He commanded the room, but that was normal. He was a magnetic force of a male. You looked at Azriel, seeking shelter in his hazel eyes-- the mating bond was tugging you to Eris, his presence was like a fire roaring inside your heart. 

You were about to break down, so you hit the dance floor. Dragging your sister-in-law from her seat next to your brother, you danced and danced. Feyre and you were always a force to be reckoned with when you partied together, and that night was no exception. You both were grinning as you danced, twirling about the Hall as if you were made of starlight. 

The crowd of fae chanted and cheered for you, and you could feel the pieces of your heart shattering on the floor. It was always like that. You were miserable, and no one even knew. You laughed as you danced with Feyre, as if you couldn't feel your mate's heartbreak from across the room. "Eris looks like he wants to die," Feyre whispered as if she could read your mind. 

"Yeah, but if I try to talk to him, he avoids me like I have fae plague," you snickered, your eyes finding the heir of Autumn. As soon as your eyes found his, they were looking away from you, as if he hadn't been watching you dance. You wanted to die, but instead you twirled and grinned as if you were having the time of your life. 

"Then let me talk to him," the High Lady offered, and you stopped your dancing, giving her a stern look. 

"I can handle my shit, Feyre." 

-

Author’s note:

This will probably have a part two because i love eris and i want him to be happy. Also ttpd has me in my feels soooooo probs a lot of angst coming ehfuhihoiqhioghhrueiuifio3iij4rijj

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

[randombush3]

Kinda miss Fleur and Alexia bickering 🫣 can I get a request a one short of them getting into a fight

sorry I took ages to do it - I've been trying to think of a scenario. I imagine that the dutch players have had a very miserable international window lol

[...]

I slam the door behind me. 

There are few things in life that cause me absolute devastation, but this week has been one of them. I’m tired, I’m angry, and, what’s worse, I’m resenting the fact that Alexia’s apartment is bright and happy. 

She smiles as she emerges from the bathroom, perhaps not hearing how I entered as I used my own key. 

I take it as smugness. (I want it to be smug.) 

“Hola, mi amor,” she says with caution, heading over to greet me after not seeing much of each other for the best part of a week. She must sense the tension because her smile dampens, victorious glow from winning fucking everything fading away. 

“Hey,” I mutter, tone clipped and curt and dripping with resentment. Alexia approaches, concern beginning to make her frown, reaching out gently to touch my arm. 

I jerk it away from her. 

For the briefest of moments, I feel a long-dead emotion: hatred. I loathe Spain’s success, am jealous of it, and it is not fair that it comes at my expense. Not when we are together, not when we are no longer enemies. 

It was easy to play against Alexia when I was her rival. I could tackle her freely and let my teammates foul her when she was too good to beat, able to watch on without remorse. Seeing her hit the grass brought about a vindictive, satisfied feeling, and I relished in it. 

Being her girlfriend is a lot harder, and it has been a while since I have had to play on a different team to her. It has been a while since we lost to Spain, but, just like they did in August, they have crushed our dreams once more. 

My dreams. 

The Olympics are more special to me than any other tournament, and will continue to be until the games are no longer valued in women’s football. They are my family’s history, the gateway into my relationship with my mum, and they are now out of my reach. 

I huff out a breath, struggling to contain my emotions. “We lost twice so we won’t be going.” I tell her what she already knows but she does not rub it in. “Jaimie is going to qualify.”

Alexia looks at me, piercing eyes seeing through the floodgates I have shut. She must realise that I have cried on the plane – maybe even that I hadn’t stopped crying since we played Germany, only reining it all in as I made my way up the stairs to her place.

“What do you want, Alexia?” I snap as she attempts to touch me again, blinking myself back into reality and hoping I don’t start to cry. 

Clearly, my wounds have not been nursed enough. 

Alexia recoils, hurt flashing across her features before she schools them into something harder. Her jaw clenches. Maybe she thinks I am being immature. “What’s wrong with you, Fleur?” she asks, her voice tinged with frustration. “I know you're upset….”

“Oh, like you care,” I retort, bristling at her words. “You seemed happy to run around with Jenni, celebrating your socks off!” 

Her eyes narrow, patience wearing thin. “Excuse me?” She doesn’t sound convinced that I am the real Fleur de Voss, looking me up and down to check I haven’t been replaced with someone else. 

“You clearly have let it get to you. Have you forgotten what it’s like to lose?” 

“Oh, of course,” she scoffs, “because that has never happened to me before. I was inconsolable after we lost the Champions League final; I didn’t come out of my room for–”

“Please, spare me the sob story.” I roll my eyes. “You’re on top of the world right now, Ale. Spain wins everything and you keep adding to your list of victories, crushing anyone who dares to get in your way. And the worst part is, you don’t even play! You don’t even play, and you act like you have done it single-handedly, with the biggest grin on your face–” 

“Do you think I enjoy seeing you in pain?” She trembles with anger. She shouts, and she hasn’t meant to be the first to do that because she instantly steps back in regret. I may have flinched at the shock of her volume, but now I square my shoulders, daring her to fix my heartbreak. “Do you think it didn’t take all my willpower to not go over to you, to not comfort you, or hug you, or try to make you feel better? Do you think I wasn’t trying to get to you as soon as I could? Or that, in Sevilla, I didn’t look at flights to Germany so that you wouldn’t have to spend the night alone?” She steps towards me. “I know how much going to Paris meant to you, to your family. Believe me, I heard what your mother said to you – even if my English isn’t that good.” 

“Your English is fine,” I mutter, instinctively destroying her stupid insecurity. 

“Fleur, how could you think I take pleasure in your losses? You know me better than that.” 

I shake my head, unable to quell the storm of emotions raging inside of me. “I feel like I don’t know anything right now,” I admit, hardly audible. 

I was going to the Olympics. I was sure of it. 

Jaimie and I were going together, and, although Mum competed for a different flag, we were going to follow in her footsteps; continuing her legacy because she promised me I would be good enough to do that. She promised us both, time and time again. 

She may have left us, but she was the one who wrangled me a spot in the Australian youth teams. She started my international career for me, and I was going to repay her by showing her it was worth it. 

What is it worth now?

“All I know is that I’m tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending everything’s okay.” 

Suddenly, this is about more than just losing the Nations League and not qualifying for the Olympics. This is the fallout of the Ballon d’Or, and we both know it. Alexia seems to have seen this coming. 

“I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me,” she begins, though guilt courses through me because I know it would have been asking the impossible of her, “but I’m here now.”

[potchi-fics]

8 ball

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Bada and Y/n, for some reason, hate each others guts-- the two try and beat one another whenever they're in the same room. but what happens when the tension transforms into... something else? NOTE: there may be suggestive themes, or even full on nsfw🔞🔞.. i just wanted to give you all a heads up

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Y/n, one of the it girls on the campus. she has everything: money, money, good looks.. everything. one thing about her is she's not the innocent girl you think she looks. oh, no, she's a woman who will do anything to get her way, no matter what.

Bada, like Y/n, one of the it girls. she, too, has everything Y/n has. but she's a player-- she doesn't, or rather, won't care about your feelings. she oozes fuck girl energy.

and they both hate loathe each other.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Y/n and her friends are playing billiards, talking to one another happily, discussing about their stressing college life when Noze changes the topic to Y/n.

"so Y/n," dragging out the first word, "any updates on your love life?"

"please," Aiki snorts, "Y/n? love life? don't even bother-- ah shit!" by the looks of it, the cue ball fell in the corner pocket.

Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, "you're talking as if i'm not here, eh? and besides, i just haven't found my match." she pouts.

"oh, trust me," Monika quips remarks, "you have. by the way, you suck at this, Aiki."

the three only shared knowing looks while Y/n looks at them in confusion. she was about to ask what she meant when they hear a set of people take their place beside them.

Y/n face distorts into annoyance, only crossing her legs and staring at the other table.

"miss me?"

Bada.

She scoffs, "as if."

Bada confidently strolls to her, ignoring the group. "oh c'mon, i know you do."

"talking nonsense, baby," the petname only making Bada smirk, "you're self-projecting onto me.. you're being so obvious, Bada." Y/n's honey like voice tease her.

their moment gets ruined as they hear Chocol's voice from the other table. Bada winks at Y/n, and she gave her a flying kiss as a reply. Y/n looks back at her friends and they all stare with their eye brows raised.

"what?"

"nothing.." Monika answered.

Y/n grumbles. "what is it? tell me? and why does Bada have to choose a table beside us? there's like, plenty other tables."

Aiki and Noze shakes their head at her, "stop grumbling, you look like a baby. let's play!"

minutes pass by and her were all enjoying their stay; making jabs at each other whenever a shot doesn't work out. what Y/n doesn't notice is Bada throwing looks at her every 5 minutes.

"dude, stop staring at her." Haechi pokes fun at her, "we know you're in love and all, but seriously, play."

"i'm not in love with her," Bada denies. "stop saying that."

her friends only hums, resulting another comment from her.

"i'm being for real right now," Bada throws up a middle finger, "it's just so fun annoying her."

Chocol mumbles out, "yeah, that's how my grandpa and grandma met."

"oh, fuck off, Chocs." Bada groans while Haechi laughs her ass off.

a moment later and a woman walks in the place, she marches to where Bada's table is.

"oh! Redlic?" Chocs seem surprised.

Redlic clings to Bada, not even batting an eye to Chocol-- making Haechi and Chocol roll their eyes secretly.

"i missed you, baby." Redlic states, hugging Bada tighter.

Bada separates herself from her, "stop calling me that. you know i hate being called those."

"but if it's Y/n, you don't complain.."

"real, real."

hushed whispers from Bada's friends made her roll her eyes.

going back to Y/n and she is fuming. she hates that that woman keeps clinging to Bada. her stare was so intense that it looks like she's burning holes at the back of their head.

"relax, no one's gonna take your baby away from you," Aiki prods, "why so angry?"

she only roll her eyes and clicks her tongue, trying to focus her attention on the pool. "i'm not."

"enemies to lovers, 'm betting twenty-five dollars on that." Aiki added.

you did try to play, but you see that woman clinging to Bada in the corner of your eye, distracting you.

Noze stares at you in amusement, "how come you're still great at this even though you're distracted?"

"'cus sixty-five percent of her life revolves around this place," Monika remarks.

"then money, grades, coffee, and lastly.." Noze side eyes the other table, "Bada."

hitting the cue ball rather harshly, "you guys are crazy." she rubs the chalk cube against the tip of her cue, "my life does not revolve around her."

"it kinda does."

she only rolled her eyes for the millionth time today. before being able to strike the eight ball, Chocol comes over.

"hey, y/n," she raises her eyebrows at Chocol, "you wanna play against Redlic? the woman beside Bada. there's a bet going on right now, and you know.."

guess now you know her name.

"absolutely," Aiki answered for her.

Chocol nods her head and goes back.

Y/n hits Aiki's shoulder, "you didn't even give me time to think?"

"c'mon, don't you wanna beat Redlic?" her friend whines, "also, i wanna join the bet, so let's go."

Aiki drags them all to where a crowd is forming. she clicks her tongue once more, seeing how Redlic arm's wrapped around Bada's.

"you're the one playing against me?" Redlic cockily questioned.

Y/n simply nods, "yep."

"prepare to lose."

all Y/n could think was, is that all she can do?

Y/n shrugs, "we're wastin' everybody's time here, considering i'm only practicing."

Aiki shouts, "that's my chicken."

"that's right, i raised you like that!" Monika throws out.

and she sees Noze laughing and filming the whole thing. she also sees Redlic's face morph into irritation.

"you go first, i insist." Y/n comments, staring at Bada deviously at the end of her sentence.

Redlic is doing surprisingly well, knocking every ball she hits down the pockets. not forgetting to take shots at Y/n who only smiled and whistled. but on her third to the last ball, she missed.

"aww," she coos, her eyes drifting to Bada as she fixes the table. "that sucks."

Y/n winks at Bada, getting a smirk in response.

now, it was her time to show off. with every hit, every ball-- she mesmerised everybody watching, even Bada. with every ball that she puts in, fuels Bada.

down with the last ball-- the eight ball. she positions herself and fortunately, it was in directly in front of Bada. she bends over, not even caring that other people were seeing them. all she cares, right now, is to make Bada lose herself.

Bada's teeth sinks into her lower lip, her eyes roaming Y/n's body. she was so busy gawking at her that she doesn't hear the crowd exclaiming as Y/n won. hell, she doesn't even notice Redlic storming out of the place.

the crowd disperse but Y/n turns around to face her. she sees Y/n sit on the pool table, beckoning her over.

"enjoyed my show?" she let Bada go between her legs.

Bada puts her hands on the girl's hips, putting her face dangerously close to Y/n. "mhm.."

the air around them suddenly becomes thick, tension building up rapidly. Y/n's fingers massages Bada's nape and her thumb swiping Bada's lower lip.

her eyes lowers down to Y/n lips, "i loved it." she whispers.

"i can tell, baby."

slowly, Y/n pulls Bada towards her, and Bada lets her. just when their lips are about to touch, Y/n pulls back. Bada tries to chase her lips but she stops her.

"not yet," she murmured.

Bada breathed, "baby, why?"

"'cus i want to torture you." she kisses Bada's neck before pushing her away gently and walking to where her friends are.

Bada stares at you stunned as you saunter back to where your friends are because that's the first time that has happened to her.

"better luck next time, boss." Chocol pats her back.

Haechi snickers, "looks like you're the one who's gonna do the chasing."

deep down, she's more than okay with that.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

OPS OPSS🤚 no nsfw yet hehe hope you all enjoy

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[omegalomania]

face in my hands. listen to me. no just. just listen. like. i think on the whole fandom tends to heavily mythologize what certain songs are "about" despite this never being solidly confirmed to be the case and fob (pete in particular) generally try not to say without question What Songs Are About because they want people to take whatever meaning they can from it. but from now on we are enemies is one of the exceptions to this rule to a very limited extent and by that i mean that on two separate occasions, during the hiatus, patrick and pete shared a little bit of what the song was about on twitter, independent of one another.

if you haven't seen the film amadeus it's about a rivalry between two historical composers, wolfgang amadeus mozart and antonio salieri. salieri loathes mozart and finds him supremely childish and annoying...but also irritatingly brilliant beyond words. salieri obsesses over wanting to see mozart fail and even plans on killing him, but they do eventually form a friendship. then mozart gets sick and dies. salieri essentially breaks and loses his mind and years down the line will claim that he murdered him.

the name of the song, "from now on we are enemies," is a direct quote from the film. but it's not talking about mozart. it's a furious diatribe that salieri flings at god himself. he's so wildly and deliriously envious of mozart that he feels like this is divine punishment and so he declares god his mortal enemy for bestowing mozart with such brilliance. from now on we are enemies, you and i.

this is, i should note, one of the last songs fall out boy wrote before the hiatus. this and "alpha dog" were considered "new" for the believers never die greatest hits compendium, but alpha dog was technically debuted before folie released, on the welcome to the new administration mixtape. then fall out boy went on hiatus and there was no guarantee of return.

like i dont know what to say about this song that hasnt already been said. its fucking deranged as all get out ill tell you that much. its fucking unhinged that this song, this song with this central thesis statement, is one of the last songs you wrote together as a band before going your separate ways without any guarantee that you would reform again. and it's THIS. IT'S THIS SONG. a song that laments about whether anyone will remember you when you're gone (reminds me of flu game, reminds me of so much (for) stardust the title track, reminds me of .... so many of the themes inherent to their eighth studio album. actually.), and a song that practically lays out its inspiration for all to see. for a band that seldom if ever discloses with actual intent the Meaning behind their songs, this is a song that discusses a HIGHLY FRAUGHT ARTISTIC RELATIONSHIP and it's hard, it's real damn hard, to see anything but what is clearly all on display. composer but never composed (patrick has always considered himself a composer first and foremost). singing the symphonies of the overdosed (pete played a song that was named after the drug he tried to overdose on with his band mere nights earlier). i'm just a man on a balcony singing no one will ever remember me (again there's the fear and dread about the legacy you leave behind just before the band goes their separate ways).

can't fucking lay out the sheer psychological damage this does to my soul just thinking about this. they played MISS MISSING YOU the night before. just, you know, one of the other Songs that's so hard to disentangle from the hiatus because of the way it was written (patrick wrote the music while making soul punk, felt like it wasn't for him, and set it aside...despite there being, again, NO guarantee that the band would ever reform at this point, and then the song was only completed once fall out boy decided to come back, with joe and andy adding instrumentation and pete adding the lyrics) and whose music video features patrick and pete literally KILLING EACH OTHER. from now on we are enemies. i need to walk into the ocean. i need to lie down. im inconsolable.

[crowandmousewritingco]

Give Me a Shot to Remember Pt1

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!reader

Words: 2.9k

Rating: M (18 + very smutty)

Warnings: hate sex (sorta noncon but evolves to concentual [this one on the darker side folks]), misunderstandings, QZ Joel, drinking, swearing, choking, fingering (reader receiving), degradation, face slapping, face fucking, gagging, riding, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys!), fucking your emotions out, creampie, and cock warming,

Summary: You hated Joel Miller, and you never wanted to see him again. But it seemed like fate had other ideas.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This is my entry for @sp00kymulderr's MCR challenge, and got the song The Sharpest Lives. I'm honestly excited for this one! It went in directions I wasn't expecting. That being said, this is a darker 18+ fic so MDNI. If you click the "Keep Reading," You know what you're getting yourself into. Also this is my first time writing for Joel so I hope I did him justice.

You hated Joel Miller. That fucker had messed up your life in unforeseen ways. So when you saw him in the bar in the QZ that night after years of loathing and silence sent you in a spiral. So ya you went on a bender. Anything that had alcohol and was in your vicinity went down your throat with the familiar sting of forgetfulness. That was until the bartender cut you off and you threatened his mother and his entire line. Luckily you were good friends with him and only sent you away with a slap on the wrist telling you to try again tomorrow. 

So you stumbled down the road back to your shitty apartment in this shitty town. To add even more insult to injury the heavens decided to dump the entirety of its rain contents right on you. “Son of a bitch!” you yelled up at the clouds, but of course they didn’t care. No one gave any shits about you. You were sopping wet by the time you threw open the door of the complex. 

You groaned and stumbled up the stairs, your shoes squishing with every step. Ugh and you just got these too. Another week of rations down the drain. All you wanted now was a bath and a good night's sleep. The reward of cleanliness was the pull you needed to make it up the stairs. The hallway felt way longer than what it actually was as you trudged across the worn wood. Finally you reached your door though it took a couple of tries to actually open the damn thing and you slipped inside giving no mind that it was weird your door was unlocked. You religiously checked it every time you left your apartment. 

To your alcohol ridden mind it didn’t matter. What mattered was dry clothes and sleep. You stumbled into the space and kicked your shoes off with a thud and shed what close you could before you fell face first into the couch. It didn’t take you long before you were passed out unaware of what the world would throw at you next. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joel Miller had witnessed a plethora of events in his life. Some good, but most of them left some sort of imprint in his aged mind. After burning bodies all day, he just wanted to rot on his couch with a beer in his hand. With some extra ration cards he got from his trading, he got himself a six pack which he carried back up to his apartment. 

What he wasn’t expecting was his apartment door to be half open. Quietly he set the pack of beer on the ground and pulled the gun from the back of his pants. Carefully he held it in front of him as he pushed the door fully open with a creak. It was soon apparent that nothing was messed up so nothing was stolen. 

After another quick glance around the room his eyes landed on your half naked body and he swiveled his gun to aim it at your sleeping form. Tiptoeing closer to the couch not letting his gun move away from you. When he was close enough he nudged you with the barrel of his gun though all it did was make your arm fall. 

He tried again adding a bit more force behind the shove and that caused a snort to escape from you. Joel scooted back as you waved your hand besides you mumbling what he could only assume was a swear word at his expense. Again he shoved you with the barrel not caring about the amount of force he was using against you. Finally that seemed to get the stranger awake. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t very happy at the sudden interruption of your peaceful sleep. “Hey get up,” You heard the stranger bark at you and you sat up quickly though wincing as everything was way too bright and way too loud. 

“Jesus fuck man chill out. I was sleeping.” It took you a moment to realize the situation. “Wait what the fuck are you doing in my apartment,” You grumpled as you grabbed you head. 

“Your apartment? Try again.” The voice repeated with an edge of annoyance. 

This made you look up and through your blurry vision you took in the man before you. It took you a minute through your hungover idled brain to realize who you were looking at. But when it hit you, growled and quickly stood up despite all the warnings from your body. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Joel?” You practically yelled and pulled out the pocket knife from your pocket. 

“Like I said yer in my apartment.” He replied, setting the gun on the coffee table. 

“I’m not–” You paused and turned to take in your surroundings. Most of the QZ apartments looked identical, but the burns on the carpet and this sofa were not yours. It was missing everything that made your space what it was. The objects that reminded you of your best friends were missing from the shelves replaced with an old radio. When you realized that you were in the wrong apartment you cursed yourself and rubbed your eyes. 

“Fucking hell,” You growled. You did not want to have this conversation right now. “I’ll leave.” You tried to plow through Joel, but the man stood his ground not letting you move an inch. 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” You punctuated through clenched teeth. 

“I think we need to have a talk,” The older man added. 

You scoffed and ran your tongue over your teeth in annoyance. “Oh we have to have a conversation now. Well you weren’t feeling chatty when you decided to leave me some blonde bimbo bitch.” You panted as your anger surged through your veins. “Four years Joel we dated. Four!” 

Joel scowled as he stared at you baring down at you with war worn eyes, but he didn’t say a word. You clenched your jaw so hard you thought your teeth might chip. 

“So you really won’t say anything after all this time? Then let me through but for fuck sake explain yourself.” 

“The fuck do you mean? You knew I had to.” He growled through his clenched teeth. 

You scoffed. “Had to? The fuck does that mean? You didn’t have to cheat on me.” 

“Cheat? Where did you hear that?” Joel scoffed. 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “Oh you know everyone who saw you making out with Chelssey underneath the bleachers. Jesus, I'm just back in highschool.” 

“Chelssey fucking hell I never did that.” He threw up his hands in annoyance. 

“Oh good we’re lying now. I don’t have time for this.” You try again to push your way past him, but once again he was as stubborn as an ox and you push past him again, sending you back to your corner.  

“Joel now fucking what? Do you have pictures of her sucking you off? Fuck do you want with me?” 

“I want to explain what happened.” 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I don’t see you talking.” 

Joel was quiet for a long time and you weren’t sure you would get answers again, but finally after a deep breath he explained. “She was pregnant.” 

“Okay,” You said with no emotions. “Forget the condom during a risky quicky in the locker room?” 

“Jesus just listen. No it wasn’t me.” He sighed again. “It was my brother.” 

You quirked your eyebrow. “Tommy? The fuck happened?” 

“He was the captain of the football team and she was the head cheerleader. What do you think happened?” He rubbed his eyes. He looked older than he ever had been at that moment.

“Okay so what, you decided to leave us behind to help her?” You rolled your eyes. 

“I didn’t leave us behind. You weren’t waiting at that bus stop.” Joel was silent for a long moment. “I thought you gave up on us.” 

You rubbed your eyes, this stressful reunion making your hangover ten times worse. You would give anything to be anywhere but this room. “How could I not? Everyone was telling me you were cheating. I didn’t think you cared anymore. Ugh fucking hell I can’t with you.” Your temples started to throb in time with your heartbeat. 

“What do ya want me to do then? Since it’s clear you ain’t believing me,” Joel growled. 

You scoffed. “Why don’t you blow me then huh? Put that lying mouth to use then.” 

  With a low growl Joel stroad forward covering the small apartment in only a step. His well worn hand grasped your neck and squeezed. The sudden movement scared you, but also was a rush you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“So that’s what ya want? Even after all the time and hate you still want me to fill that hole with my cock.” Joel crooned as he squeezed tighter. Stars danced in your eyes and the lack of blood flow sent a sense of euphoria over your body. 

“Fuck…You” You punctuated but you felt yourself growing more and more needy by the second. 

Taking his hand off of your throat and slid down your body gripping your bare waist. The rush of blood back to your head was sudden but enjoyable nonetheless. Joel deftly shoved his hand down your underwear running his finger up and down your slit. “Yer body is telling me other things, baby.” With those words his thick fingers found your dripping hole and without warning, shoved two inside of you. 

The moan that escaped your throat was unholy and loud enough for the whole QZ to hear your pleasure. Joel couldn’t help but smile as he finger fucked you with reckless abandon. “Just like that you slut. Despite everything you still missed how I made you feel.” 

“Fuck!” You moaned as he punished the spots you loved the best as if he never forgot what made you scream the most. It wasn’t long before an orgasm ripped through you causing your legs to lose their steadiness. Joel’s grip on your waist was the only thing keeping you upright. Though Joel didn’t stop there. He kept his punishing pace as soft pleads of stop escaped your blubbering lips. 

“You used to love when I did this shit to you. I can see nothin’s changed.” Joel chuckled darkly. Finally he pulled his fingers out of you and gave your hole a quick slap causing you to jump. You pout looking up at him. 

Joel lightly slapped your cheeks a few times. “Don’t give me that shit.” Swiftly he undid his belt and pulled his underwear down just enough for his cock to pop out. Your attention quickly snapped to the dick that you had spent nights riding and sucking. Joel gave his cock a few strokes with his large hand. 

“Even after all this time you still miss my cock there darlin’?” Joel teased and you quickly snapped your gaze away. “Even after you accused me of cheatin’?” 

“Absolutely not!” You argued. 

Joel stared at you as he stroked his cock. He lumbered forward slowly, a dichotomy from his aggressive behavior earlier. The stomping of boots made you turn your attention back to him. Joel didn’t stop marching forward and you had to back up to keep him from running into you. Quickly your knees hit the mattress causing you to fall back against the bed. 

That still didn’t stop Joel. Just as slow as his movements he climbed on the bed making sure he was straddling your shoulders. With one of his big hands he grabbed the back of your head, knotting his fingers in your locks before guiding his cock to your lips. Precum smeared on your lips and the salty taste hit your tongue with past familiarity. 

“Maybe this will get you to shut yer mouth,” He growled and pushed his cock into your mouth. The stretch burned your jaw as Joel slid further into your mouth hitting the back of your throat. Tears burned your eyes as you tried to keep yourself from gagging. Joel moaned as he took in your tear stained cheeks. Without a second chance for you to recover he thrusted into your mouth using you like his own personal toy. 

The slap of skin and the grunts emanating from Joel filled the apartment. Your senses were full of Joel. His musk, his touch, his sounds. Everything was Joel and you couldn’t escape it. And you found yourself not wanting anything else. Something shook loose in your brain as you watched the man above you take what he wanted. Your anger still seethed inside of your soul. 

All of the years spent hating this man all for it to sizzle when you thought about it harder. Rumors had a tendency to run rampant across a high school. Maybe there was a modicum of truth in his statement. But if he was telling you the truth then what? Would you pick up where you left off and live happily in this fucked up world. Or would this finally be the end, a catharsis of sorts. 

Your mind still reeled as you felt Joel pull out of your mouth leaving a trail of drool connecting you to his cock. He scooted back on the bed giving you a chance to breathe. “You know I wanna cum in that pretty hole of yours.” 

“Then do it but first.” You sat up and kneeled on the mattress so you could look him in the eyes. Joel stayed quiet as he took your form in. He gave a small nod. 

“Kiss me and I’ll surrender,” You whispered, not taking your gaze off of his world damaged eyes. Your resolution was broken by the man you loved and hated for a decade. The memory of your anger shadowed by the care that still lingered in your soul. 

Joel searched your look for meaning, breaking down any movement trying to understand you. You were so angry not long ago, but he saw the change of attitude in your eyes and understood the look of peace. With no words exchanged he kissed you letting the both of you let go of what anger and frustration led you to this moment. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck burying your fingers in these salt and pepper curls, and pressed your heated body into his flannel. The familiar nights spent with tv shows abandoned and heated kisses exchanged on the couch late at night came rushing back to your memory spurring on your need. 

“Please Joel,” You whimpered into the kiss. 

Joel moaned and rolled over to sit down on the mattress. He slid out of his jeans and boxers putting his muscular thighs on display. You licked your lips at the scene and carefully maneuvered yourself onto his lap. Bracing your arms on his broad shoulders you let yourself rock your hips against his cock, moaning with each shock of pleasure as his length hit all the sensitive bits. 

Using his large hands Joel grabbed your ass and lifted you enough for you to pull your underwear aside. With your other hand you guided his large cock against your hole and slid down with a loud moan. Your body remembering what it felt like to be filled by him, to not know anything besides the cock that made you tremble. 

“Fuck,” You threw back your head as you started to ride him slowly, using your legs to bounce you up and down on his cock. You kept your pace steady as you enjoyed every moment Joel was inside of you. He hit your spots like he never forgot what made you sing. Every thrust sent jolts of pleasure throughout your body, and you could keep going like this for as long as the world would allow you.  

But the pace wasn’t enough for Joel. He grasped your hips and started to bounce you faster. He pressed his mouth to your ear and growled. “I’ve waited way too long to have you again. Yer gonna come on my cock like a good whore.” 

His words made you shiver as you let him pound your hole like a hungry beast. You gripped onto him and let him take you. But this time it was different. The love you shared with him once bubbled back to the surface versus the anger filled lust that started this whole affair. You pressed your face into his shoulder as you felt the building fire in your stomach. 

“Fuck I’m gonna~” You moaned as he cock pounded into that spot you could never reach. All you needed was an affirmative moan from Joel to send you over the edge. You moaned loudly as you shook from your high. Legs shaking you felt Joel twitch inside of you and with a grunt you felt his seed fill you up. Spurt after spurt coated your walls and you felt a steady trail drip down the inside of your thigh. 

Both of you stayed connected for a long, breaths syncing up with each second you stayed together. Joel gently laid the two of you down in his bed, bringing the comforter over you heated bodies. Neither of you said a word. You didn’t have to. You knew what the other was thinking and you let yourself stay in the comfortable silence. Sleep soon found you as you fell asleep with Joel still inside of you.

```````

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges @carusolikey @thebeldroramscal @morallyinept

@lady-bess

@pedrostories

[evispunk]

cardigan - jj maybank

summary: JJ’s feud with the reader builds to it’s breaking point, causing her to push JJ off of the HMS Pogue. Little does she know, JJ all but hates her.

warnings: bad writing, unedited work, slapping, pushing, arguing, cringe.

wc: 1,852

a/n: this is my first one-shot. like, ever… i’m so nervous to post this. ps in the middle of writing this i ate an artichoke

kie: are u on ur way yet??? john b is threatening to leave the dock in 30 seconds

you: he is such a drama queen i’ll be there in like 2 minutes swear

kie: kk hurry

With little to no more haste than you were walking with before Kiara’s text, you continued on your path to the dock behind the Château. There waiting for you was none other than your favorite people – not including JJ – on the HMS Pogue. John B whooped as you stepped into the boat and set your bag down. Taking a beer from the cooler and cracking it open, you watch as the boat departs from the dock.

“Can’t believe we waited that long for you of all people to come.” JJ scoffed, looking towards the front of the boat while you sat across from him.

“‘That long’? You hardly waited an extra five minutes for me and that was only because I had to fix the mess your ass left behind in my room. Thanks for breaking my vase, dickhead.” you retorted, sick of the attitude he had given you since you started hanging out with the Pogues. JJ had only known you for a little over three months, but he decided his hate for you on night one. You rolled your eyes as he ignored you, yanking his muscle tee off of his fit frame and throwing it on the floor. 

You hated to admit it amidst your loathing of the blond boy, but he wasn’t unattractive. He certainly grabbed the attention of many girls – Kook, Touron, and Pogue. His abs and salty blond hair made it a little harder for you to hate him, but not enough for you to tolerate his bad manners and rude remarks.

“Hey, Pope.” you called out to the teenage boy next to JJ.  “Are you all ready for your scholarship interview? Congrats, by the way.”

“Thanks, but I’m not even close to being prepared. It’s still a few weeks away, but I could use some more time to mull it over. My, like, whole entire life kind of depends on it.” he answered, clearly stressed about the entire situation. You knew how big of a deal this was to him, even if you yourself didn’t care about school much.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I know you’ll do great, you still got time.” you smiled at him, and he returned it sincerely. Out of the corner of your eye, you see JJ mock you from across the boat. “What? What did I do to upset you this time, King Maybank?”

“Do you actually just flirt with everything that walks? I mean, are you really that desperate? Hey, if you are, you could’ve just asked. No shame in-”

“Watch your fucking mouth, blondie. Before I teach you how.” you snarled, and he jokingly threw his hands up in defense with a knowing smile.

“JJ, cut it out.” John B added from the wheel, looking at him with the face of a friend that is trying not to upset him, but really means what he’s saying. You could only hope that he got the hint.

“Just saying, a girl who’s getting it doesn’t act like such a priss.” JJ smirked, knowing he was beginning to get underneath your skin. It wasn’t solely the things he was saying, but also that you had no idea why he was saying them. You had given him no reason to hate you, whatsoever. “You should really smile more, then maybe-” he began, but the moment you heard the words coming out of his mouth, only one thing came to mind that seemed like the right thing to do. You slapped him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey!” Kiara jumped in, but you had already pounced on him and began hitting at him wherever you could. Unfortunately, you weren’t stronger than a built sixteen-year-old, and he easily blocked all of your attempts. You could hear the voices of the rest of the Pogues and their attempts to calm you down so you two would stop fighting, but you had taken too much of his bullshit to stop trying now.

“I told you to watch your fucking mouth!” you huffed out between attempted hits, and he grunted in return.

“I would watch my mouth if you would stop being such a fucking bitch!” JJ argued back, and finally, you were pulled off of him while he was hoisted to the ground by Pope.

“Chill the fuck out!” John B ordered from behind you, still holding your arms back to make sure you wouldn’t literally jump at the chance to try to maul the blond boy again. “Truce? Just for today?”

JJ turned his head and spit out into the ocean, looking back with a nod.

“Yeah, truce.” he said, voice low and eyes trained to the ground. His face betrayed him – anyone with a pair of working eyes could see just how angry and irritated he was. John B called out your name, awaiting your answer.

“Fine. Just for today.” you reluctantly agreed, feeling JB’s grip on you loosen, and seeing Pope do the same.

“Shake on it.” he said, backing away from JJ. He extended his hand out to you, and you slowly raised your hand to meet his. However, in that split second, you thought of a much better way to get him back. Taking a few quick steps forward, you placed both of your hands on his bare chest and used all of your leftover strength to push him off of the boat. Pope’s eyes met yours as you let out a deep, proud breath. “I could be mad at you, but honestly, he deserved that.”

JJ’s head emerged from the ocean, and he spit out the salt water that had made it into his unsuspecting mouth. 

“What the fuck happened to the truce?” he yelled, wiping his hair back and treading the water.

Later that night at the Château after everyone showered off and calmed down, you and JJ had actually been getting along. Well, not what anyone else would call getting along, but you weren’t fighting or blatantly throwing insults at each other, so it was a win for the Pogues. Kiara passed the blunt to you, and you took a puff, letting the weed make it’s way into your body. You really needed this after today.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on JJ for longer than they should’ve been. He was wearing his worn out blue shirt – the one with a few tiny holes and a pocket on his chest – and cargo shorts. His once wet hair was now dry and fluffy, and he was smiling in his conversation with John B and Pope.

“I don’t think he really hates you,” Kiara said quietly into your ear, leaning in so only you could hear her. The boys were distracted talking, so chances they would notice were low anyway.

“W- what?’ you stuttered with a cough as you blew out smoke, having been caught gawking at your sworn enemy.

“Don’t worry, nobody else saw you drooling over him.” she said with a knowing smile, taking the blunt from your hand. “But I don’t think he actually hates you. I think it’s something else.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. That’s not hate.” she explained. And maybe it was the marijuana in your bloodstream, or the fact that you hoped a little too much than you should’ve for her to be right, but you believed her. What you were going to do with this information, you didn’t know yet. But just looking at him with something other than hate for once was enough right now.

A few hours later, the Château was dark, and the living room was empty, save for you and JJ. John B was sleeping in his room with Pope, and Kiara had slyly taken the remaining bedroom and told JJ that no boys were allowed. Meaning that you and JJ had to share the couch.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor.” you said, quietly. He scoffed in return, and you grabbed a pillow and laid down on the floor. There was only one blanket, so you left it on the couch for JJ. You didn’t want to give him yet another reason to be an asshole to you.

“You don’t want the blanket?” he asked, no lingering tone of resentment in his voice. Just simple, genuine curiosity.

“Oh, no. You can have it, it’s fine. It’s pretty hot out anyways.” you replied, and he nodded, albeit a little confused. Sure, it was hot outside. But there were fans inside. Laying down on the cold hardwood, you held back a shiver, and tried your best to drift off to sleep as JJ shifted on the couch.

After what felt like a few hours, you had been in and out of sleep, shivering and teeth chattering on the floor. Right about now, you were regretting being so nice to the blond-haired boy as you were only in a tank top and linen pajama pants – so you were actively freezing your tits off.

“Okay, seriously, just get over here. Your teeth are chattering so loud that it’s keeping me awake.”

“Oh, I’m oka-” he cut you off, sternly saying your name and opening up the blanket in welcome. “Well, if you insist.” you said, scrambling to get up from the cold floor as fast as possible and scooting in next to JJ. Immediately, his body heat warmed you up, and you could feel your shivering begin to stop.

“Holy shit, you’re freezing. Why didn’t you say anything?” he whispered, wrapping the blanket over you and resting his arm on your waist.

“I didn’t want to make you to be mad at me.”

“Mad? That you’re getting hypothermia?” he said and you laughed, scotting back into him for more warmth. His arm slowly traveled around you even more, waiting for you to stop him, but you never did. “I could never be mad at you.” he whispered a few minutes later, albeit thinking you were asleep at the way your breathing had become a steady pattern, and you weren’t stiff from the cold anymore. His lips softly met the top of your head, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” you said, barely loud enough to count as actual speech. You could feel his heart skip a beat from behind you too, and it was relieving to know he heard you. Would you say anything about this in the morning? Knowing yourself, no, you wouldn’t. But, for at least the next little while, it was enough to know he didn’t actually loathe you, and you could continue to look at that boy with something other than hate in your heart.