#i suppose it's fun for her to constantly get cheated on and never know if the relationship is solid at almost 40 years old

[jackinalex]

I know it’s probably been said a million times but if I was Lisa I definitely would not be okay with my husband kissing on and being all over his best friend even if it is just for fan service because sometimes it looks like the opposite they are all over each other bc they want to be 😂

I don't get it, either! Maybe if I was also friends with the dude and was super close to him and very secure in my relationship. Still...it's kinda odd.

[goldfades]

★ 'cause she's watching him with those eyes / and she's loving him with that body, i just know it / and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night / you know, i wish that i had jessie's girl / i wish that i had jessie's girl / where can i find a woman like that? ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 18k (a lot more than i expected...)

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | a college student navigates her complicated feelings for her charming yet infuriating neighbor, joe burrow, while dating the seemingly perfect linebacker. after a series of missteps, flirtatious teasing, and an unexpected kiss, she finds herself caught in a whirlwind of tension, confusion, and unexpected sparks, all while trying to avoid the loud, chaotic presence of joe and his ever-constant parade of girls.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | unedited (sorry... i got lazy), NSFW (with lots... and lots... AND LOTS of plot), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it, kids) praise, teasing, lots of kissing/foreplay, p in v, uhhh.. descriptions of big dick joe??? enemies to lovers, roommates, mentions of drinking/alcohol, cheating (not on reader), joe being an asshole, cocky joe, lots of fighting, heated arguments.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this has been in my drafts for a good 2 months and finally decided to finish it up on the sunday before american thanksgiving! so... yaya! please let me know your thoughts!

The muffled sound of Ja’Marr Chase’s bass-heavy playlist seeps through the thin walls of your apartment, rattling the picture frames you swore you hung up straight last week. The tiny LSU apartment complex, with its peeling beige paint and eternally broken elevator, has its charms—like the way the front door doesn’t lock unless you kick it just right or how the air conditioner only works when it’s below 70 degrees outside.

But Joe Burrow? He’s not one of those charms.

No, Joe Burrow is the bane of your existence, the human equivalent of a pothole on a road you have to take every day. His name alone makes your best friend, Ella, roll her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck in the back of her head. “Just ignore him,” she says every time you come storming through the door, ranting about whatever fresh annoyance he’s cooked up that day. “He only bothers you because you’re fun to mess with.”

Right. Like that’s supposed to make it better.

Living next door to Joe and Ja’Marr was tolerable at first. Sure, they were loud, occasionally messy, and probably violating a dozen lease terms, but it wasn’t personal. Then, you had one small misunderstanding—okay, so maybe you yelled at Joe for leaving his bike in front of your door after you tripped over it—and now it’s like he’s made it his life’s mission to drive you insane.

Sometimes, it’s harmless: an obnoxious smirk when you cross paths on the way to class or his sarcastic comments about how you always seem to be spilling coffee on your shirt. Other times, it’s borderline infuriating: stealing your parking spot, taking the last box of cinnamon rolls at the grocery store, or claiming the shared apartment complex grill for “official game day business” every single Saturday.

Still, there’s something annoyingly magnetic about him, even when you want to wring his neck. The way his eyes crinkle when he’s laughing at his own jokes. The stupid mop of curls he somehow manages to pull off. The effortless confidence that borders on cocky, though you’d never say it out loud because that’s exactly the kind of thing that would go straight to his head.

Ella always jokes that you two are like an old married couple, constantly bickering but secretly loving it. You disagree. Mostly because Joe already has enough people falling at his feet—like the swarm of girls in purple-and-gold jerseys who show up at the apartment complex every other week, giggling like they’re auditioning for a reality show.

You sigh, brushing a stray crumb off the countertop as Ella flops onto the couch behind you, textbook in hand. And if his stupid grin when he sees you on your balcony later tonight is any indication, he’s already got something planned.

You just don’t know it yet.

The parking lot outside your apartment complex is a war zone at 11 p.m., with far too many cars crammed into a space that was clearly designed with only half the residents in mind. You circle the lot for the third time, your headlights cutting through the dark like a searchlight on some hopeless mission. After eight grueling hours at the campus library helping undergrads figure out why their printers are possessed, your brain feels like oatmeal, and all you want is to collapse into your bed.

But, of course, tonight isn’t going to be that simple.

Because there he is. Joe freaking Burrow.

He’s in his Jeep—windows down, music playing softly, and, naturally, there’s a blonde perched in the passenger seat laughing at something he said. Of course, he found the last available spot. Except—it’s not his spot, because you saw it first. Your blinker’s been on since the beginning of time (or at least the last 30 seconds), and you refuse to back down now.

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as he slowly starts to reverse into the spot, like he hasn’t noticed your very obvious claim to it. Heart pounding with a mix of exhaustion and indignation, you tap your horn. Just once. Polite, but firm. He stops, glances in his rearview mirror, and then—of course—he smirks.

Oh, hell no.

You roll down your window and lean out. “Hey, Burrow! I was waiting for that spot.”

He leans his elbow casually against the window frame, his curls catching the faint glow of the streetlight. “Were you? Didn’t see your name on it.” His voice is slow, lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world to be a pain in your ass.

You glare at him, barely suppressing the urge to snap. “I was here first.”

“And I started reversing first,” he counters, raising an eyebrow like it’s a debate class and not a parking lot at nearly midnight. The blonde giggles beside him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Just let me have it. You look like you could use the exercise.”

Oh, he’s done it now.

“Excuse me?” Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you’re too far gone to care. “I’ve been on my feet for eight hours dealing with entitled freshmen, and if you think I’m about to let you—”

“Alright, alright,” Joe interrupts, hands raised in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m not trying to ruin your night.” He throws the Jeep into drive, and with a dramatic sigh, he pulls away, leaving the spot open for you. But not without one last parting comment. “Don’t scratch the paint when you park. Oh, wait—you’re really close to that pole—”

You park with excessive precision, throwing your car into park before leaning out the window to call after him. “I didn’t ask for your help, Joe!”

His laugh echoes across the parking lot, carefree and infuriating. You slam your door shut a little harder than necessary, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you trudge toward the building. Finally, peace.

Or so you think.

Because just as you reach the elevator, its ding announcing its arrival, you hear the telltale sound of sneakers scuffing against concrete and—because your luck is absolute trash—Joe freaking Burrow strolls in behind you, Blonde Giggles McGee still glued to his side.

“Hey, neighbor,” he says casually, stepping into the elevator with you like he didn’t just steal and relinquish a parking spot out of sheer pettiness. The blonde gives you a wide, vaguely clueless smile, her gum snapping between her teeth.

You press the button for the third floor with a pointed jab and cross your arms, leaning against the elevator wall as Joe and his date take their sweet time figuring out which floor they’re going to. The door finally slides shut, and the tension in the small space is unbearable.

“So,” the blonde says brightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “you guys, like, live here? That’s so fun! Like, neighbors and stuff. Wow.”

Your lips press into a tight smile, trying to avoid eye contact with Joe, who you can feel grinning at you like this is the highlight of his week. “Yep. Fun,” you reply curtly, forcing the word out like it’s laced with acid.

Joe’s shoulders shake slightly, and you realize he’s laughing. He glances at you, and there’s that damn smirk again, like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it. “She’s real talkative tonight,” he says, tilting his head toward you. “Usually, she’s got more to say.”

You turn to him with a withering glare. “Don’t you have something else to do, Burrow?”

Before he can reply, the elevator lurches slightly as it comes to a stop on your floor. You step out quickly, muttering a polite “Good night” that is entirely devoid of warmth. Joe follows, his pace annoyingly casual as he throws one last look over his shoulder.

“See you around, neighbor,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You don’t look back.

The smell of cheap ramen hits you the moment you open the door to your apartment. It’s comforting, in a way—familiar, like Ella’s answer to every late-night craving or bad day. She’s in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove, barefoot and wearing the oversized LSU sweatshirt you’d bought together during freshman year.

“You’re late,” she says without looking up, her voice light with mock reproach. “Was the library on fire, or did you stop to fight Burrow in the parking lot again?”

You kick off your shoes with a sigh, tossing your bag onto the couch. “Option B. Obviously.”

That gets her attention. She turns, spoon in hand, eyebrows raised. “Seriously? It’s, like, midnight. You two are going to give each other aneurysms before graduation.”

You slump into one of the kitchen chairs, letting your forehead hit the table dramatically. “He stole my parking spot. Had the audacity to smirk about it, too. And then—get this—I got stuck in the elevator with him and some girl who wouldn’t stop talking about how ‘fun’ it is to have neighbors.” You lift your head to glare at Ella, who is now struggling to hold back a laugh. “I’m cursed. That man is my curse.”

Ella snorts, pouring the ramen into two mismatched bowls. “He’s not your curse. He’s just a guy with too much charm and not enough common sense. And clearly, you’re living rent-free in his head, which, honestly, is kind of impressive considering he’s got a playbook in there.”

You accept the bowl she slides across the table, your stomach growling despite your lingering irritation. “I don’t want to live in his head. I want him to stop being so… so Joe all the time.”

Ella sits across from you, propping her chin in her hand with a sly grin. “Are you sure? You seem to spend a lot of time talking about him.”

You glare at her over a mouthful of noodles. “Don’t start.”

But she’s already started, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, it’s giving sexual tension.”

You nearly choke, coughing as you wave her off. “Nope. Absolutely not. There’s no tension. Only irritation. And rage. And an overwhelming desire to see him move to a different apartment complex.”

Ella laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Whatever you say, babe. But for the record, I think you secretly enjoy it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can form a retort, there’s a knock at the door. Both of you freeze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You expecting someone?” Ella whispers, her tone suddenly conspiratorial.

“No,” you whisper back, your heart sinking as a horrible suspicion creeps over you.

Ella gestures for you to check, and with a deep, resigned breath, you shuffle to the door, bowl still in hand. You crack it open just enough to see who’s on the other side, and—because the universe apparently hates you—there he is. Joe Burrow, in all his smug, infuriating glory, holding a box of cinnamon rolls.

“Hey, neighbor,” he says, his grin infuriatingly wide. “Figured I owed you something for stealing your spot.”

You stare at him, speechless, for a moment. Then, finally, you manage, “It’s 11:30 at night.”

He shrugs, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable time for a peace offering. “Better late than never, right?”

From behind you, Ella’s voice rings out, barely containing her amusement. “Is that Joe? Invite him in!”

You turn to glare at her, silently vowing revenge, but when you look back at Joe, he’s already stepping inside like he owns the place.

“Nice place,” he says, glancing around before holding up the box. “So… cinnamon roll?”

You sigh, shutting the door behind him. It’s going to be a long night.

Joe leans casually against the counter, still holding the box of cinnamon rolls like he’s been invited to stay for a late-night hangout. You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms. “So, what’s this about, really? Cinnamon rolls aren’t exactly your style.”

“Wow, judgmental much?” he says with a mock-wounded expression. “What if I just wanted to be neighborly?”

Ella snickers softly behind you, spooning up her ramen as she watches the exchange like it’s prime-time TV.

Joe grins, ignoring your skepticism. “Actually,” he says, setting the box on the counter with a little too much flourish, “I’m out of sugar. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

You blink at him, incredulous. “Sugar? You came over at almost midnight to borrow sugar?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the “p” for emphasis, completely unbothered by your glare.

Ella, ever the peacemaker—or enabler, depending on the situation—sets her bowl down and gets up to rummage through the cabinets. “We’ve got some,” she says reluctantly, pulling out a small bag. She walks over and places it in Joe’s outstretched hand, but not without narrowing her eyes at him. “You better bring this back, Burrow. Or at least repay us with something better than cinnamon rolls.”

“Noted,” he says with a charming smile, tucking the bag under his arm. He turns to you, his grin softening into something almost teasing. “Thanks, neighbor. You’re a real lifesaver.”

You don’t bother replying, instead stepping aside so he can leave. He makes his way to the door, pausing for a moment. “Oh, and don’t forget to check your parking job in the morning,” he says with a wink before slipping out into the hallway.

The second the door clicks shut, you groan, slumping against the counter. Ella bursts into laughter, practically doubling over as she grabs her bowl again. “You two are ridiculous,” she says between bites.

“I’m moving out,” you mutter, dragging yourself to the couch. “I don’t care if it’s to a cardboard box in the quad. It’ll be quieter than this.”

You think that’s the end of it—Joe’s random sugar-borrowing adventure, Ella’s endless teasing—but of course, you’re wrong. Because a few hours later, just as you’re finally starting to drift off in the tiny bedroom you call your sanctuary, you hear it.

A muffled giggle. A low, rumbling voice you’d recognize anywhere. Then, unmistakably, the rhythmic creak of a bed frame against the wall.

Your eyes snap open, and for a moment, you pray you’re imagining things. Maybe it’s a nightmare—a cruel joke your overtired brain is playing on you. But then you hear it again, louder this time, followed by a very enthusiastic “Oh my God, Joey!”

You groan, grabbing your pillow and pressing it over your ears.

From the other side of the wall, Ella’s muffled voice reaches you through the darkness. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” you hiss, your voice barely audible through the pillow. “It’s him.”

She snorts, and you can hear her shifting in her bed. “Well, at least he’s getting good use out of that sugar.”

You let out a strangled laugh, torn between exhaustion and disbelief. “I swear, if this goes on all night—”

As if on cue, there’s another creak, louder this time, followed by more giggling and exaggerated moaning.

Ella sighs. “Thin walls, huh?”

“Apparently,” you mutter, rolling onto your side and glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended you.

The noises continue—giggles, muffled moans, the occasional thud that makes you wince. You bury your face in your pillow, silently cursing Joe Burrow and his audacity.

It’s going to be a very, very long night.

The next morning comes too soon. Despite the symphony of creaks, giggles, and thuds that plagued the night, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, bleary-eyed and cranky. The coffee pot sputters as you pour yourself a life-saving cup, muttering curses at your neighbor under your breath. Ella, still in her pajamas, watches you from the couch with an amused smirk.

“You look alive,” she teases, spooning cereal into her mouth. “Barely.”

“I hate him,” you say flatly, taking a long sip of coffee.

“Sure you do,” she singsongs.

You don’t dignify her with a response, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

As luck—or fate—would have it, the universe isn’t done with you yet. Because just as you’re locking your apartment door, you hear the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking down the hallway.

You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret it.

There she is. Last night’s Blonde of the Hour, strutting toward the elevator with a walk of shame so confident it might as well be a victory lap. She’s wearing Joe’s oversized LSU hoodie, paired with last night’s skirt and heels. Her hair is tousled, but she doesn’t seem to care.

And because the universe apparently has a sense of humor, she notices you at the same time you notice her.

“Morning!” she chirps, her voice way too chipper for someone who clearly didn’t sleep much.

You press your lips together to keep from laughing, nodding in acknowledgment. “Morning.”

The two of you step into the elevator together, the silence stretching awkwardly between you. You steal a glance at her from the corner of your eye, wondering if she has any idea that her night of “fun” ruined yours. But then she sighs and adjusts the sleeves of Joe’s hoodie, completely unbothered, and you realize she probably doesn’t care.

The doors slide open to the lobby, and you step out first, your pace brisk as you make a beeline for the exit. But as you push through the glass doors into the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collide with none other than Joe Burrow himself.

He’s leaning against his car, coffee cup in hand, looking far too put together for someone who should be as tired as you. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, then flick over to the blonde trailing behind.

“Morning, neighbor,” he says, his voice laced with amusement.

“Morning,” you reply dryly, brushing past him toward your car.

But of course, he can’t just let it go. “Sleep well?”

You stop dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. His smirk is infuriatingly smug, and you can’t tell if he’s genuinely clueless or just messing with you.

“Thin walls,” you say pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

His smirk falters for half a second before he recovers, lifting his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Noted.”

The blonde, oblivious to the tension, giggles. “Joe, you didn’t tell me your neighbors were so fun!”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead unlocking your car with more force than necessary. “Oh, we’re a blast,” you mutter under your breath, sliding into the driver’s seat.

As you pull out of the parking lot, you catch a glimpse of Joe in your rearview mirror, still leaning against his car, watching you leave. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—amusement, maybe, or curiosity—but you don’t have the energy to figure it out.

Later that afternoon, when you’re back in your apartment trying to catch up on work, Ella pops her head into the living room with a mischievous grin.

“Guess who I ran into at the coffee shop?”

You glance up warily. “Who?”

“Joe,” she says, plopping down on the couch. “He said he’s planning a little ‘building mixer’ this weekend. Invited everyone on the floor. Including us.”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to some Burrow-hosted mixer.”

“Oh, come on,” Ella says, nudging you with her foot. “It could be fun. Free food, free drinks… awkward encounters with your mortal enemy…”

You glare at her, but she just laughs. “You’re going,” she says firmly. “I already RSVP’d for us.”

And just like that, you realize your week is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Saturday night rolls around faster than you’d like, and with it comes the so-called “mixer” that Joe Burrow somehow convinced Ella you had to attend. You’d held onto the slim hope that it would be a small, quiet gathering of your neighbors in the building, with maybe some snacks, polite small talk, and an early exit for you.

Instead, you step off the elevator into what can only be described as chaos. The hallway is packed with people, the distant thrum of music vibrating through the walls. Someone’s yelling about finding the keg, and the faint scent of spilled beer and cologne wafts toward you.

“This is not a mixer,” you mutter to Ella as you both navigate your way through the crowd.

Ella, of course, looks thrilled. She’s dolled up in a crop top and high-waisted jeans, her hair and makeup perfectly done. “Relax,” she says, looping her arm through yours. “It’s just a party. Have a drink, let loose. Who knows? You might even have fun.”

You highly doubt that, but before you can argue, she spots Ja’Marr Chase leaning against the doorway to Joe’s apartment and perks up immediately. “I’ll catch up with you later!” she says, already untangling herself from your arm and heading toward him.

“Ella!” you call after her, but she’s too busy tossing a flirty smile Ja’Marr’s way to notice.

Great. Now you’re alone in the middle of a party that feels like half of LSU showed up to, surrounded by strangers and sticky floors. You push your way toward the kitchen, hoping to grab a drink and then find a corner to blend into until Ella decides it’s time to leave.

But, because the universe apparently loves messing with you, you hear his voice before you see him.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up.”

You groan internally and turn to see Joe leaning against the counter, a Solo cup in hand and that ever-present smirk on his face. He’s dressed casually in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, but somehow still manages to look like he owns the place—which, technically, he does.

“I’m only here because Ella dragged me,” you say, crossing your arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Joe chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Come on, admit it. You’re having the time of your life.”

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan. “Sticky floors and loud music are exactly my idea of fun.”

He grins, clearly enjoying your irritation. “You know, if you wanted to hang out with me so badly, you could’ve just asked. No need to pretend Ella dragged you here.”

“I—” You stop yourself, realizing there’s no point in arguing. It’s exactly what he wants. Instead, you grab a bottle of water from the counter and turn to leave.

“Hey, hold up,” he says, stepping in front of you. “You’re not just gonna drink water all night, are you?”

“Yes, Joe, I am,” you say, trying to sidestep him, but he moves to block you.

“At least let me get you a real drink,” he says, gesturing toward the makeshift bar someone set up on the other side of the room. “I make a mean rum and Coke.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, stepping aside, but not before adding, “But you’re missing out. My bartending skills are unmatched.”

You roll your eyes and head toward the living room, finding a spot near the wall where you can observe without being dragged into the chaos. You sip your water and watch as Joe works the room, effortlessly charming everyone he talks to.

About an hour later, you’re starting to regret not leaving when Ella abandoned you. You’ve been stuck making awkward small talk with strangers, and the music is only getting louder.

Then Ella appears out of nowhere, grabbing your arm with a giggle. “Come with me,” she says, pulling you toward the corner where Joe and some of his teammates are lounging on a worn-out sectional.

“Why?” you ask, resisting her tug.

“Because Ja’Marr wants to introduce me to his friends, and I don’t want to go alone!”

You sigh, reluctantly following her over. Ja’Marr greets Ella with a grin, and she practically melts under his attention. You, on the other hand, find yourself stuck sitting next to Joe, who looks far too pleased about the arrangement.

“Miss me already?” he asks, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.

“Not even a little,” you reply, glaring at him.

He chuckles, clearly unbothered. “You’re really bad at hiding how much you enjoy my company, you know that?”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, one of his teammates interrupts. “Yo, Burrow, who’s this?”

“This,” Joe says, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, “is my lovely neighbor.”

“Neighbor, huh?” the guy says, raising an eyebrow. “You two seem… close.”

You snort. “Not even remotely.”

Joe grins, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind you. “Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just shy.”

You shoot him a withering look, but he only laughs, clearly enjoying himself.

As the night drags on, Joe makes it his personal mission to annoy you. Every time you try to leave, he finds a way to pull you back into the conversation, teasing you relentlessly. His teammates, to their credit, seem amused by the dynamic, occasionally chiming in with their own jokes.

By the time Ella finally decides she’s ready to leave, you’re exhausted—physically and emotionally. You practically sprint for the door, eager to escape Joe’s smirk and the endless teasing.

As you step into the hallway, he calls after you, “See you around, neighbor!”

You don’t bother responding, instead dragging Ella toward the elevator. But as you press the button for your floor, you can’t help but feel like you haven’t seen the last of Joe Burrow tonight—or any night, for that matter.

The next week at LSU passes like any other, but somehow, Joe Burrow has managed to worm his way into your daily routine. It starts small—running into him at the mailboxes, hearing his muffled laughter through the thin walls at ungodly hours, and the occasional “good morning, neighbor!” shouted across the courtyard when you’re clearly not in the mood.

It’s maddening, really, the way he seems to delight in being everywhere you don’t want him to be. And yet, despite your annoyance, you can’t deny that his presence makes life just a little more… interesting.

FRIDAY NIGHT

Ella bursts through the apartment door, her face lit up with excitement. You’re sprawled on the couch, flipping through lecture notes and wishing the week would end already.

“Guess what!” she exclaims, tossing her bag onto the counter.

“Let me guess,” you say dryly. “Ja’Marr invited you to another party?”

“Close,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Ja’Marr and Joe are throwing a tailgate tomorrow before the game, and we’re invited.”

You groan, already dreading the idea of spending yet another afternoon dodging Joe’s incessant teasing. “I’m busy,” you lie.

“You’re coming,” Ella insists, plopping down next to you. “It’s practically a campus tradition, and besides, you could use a little fun.”

“Fun,” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling being forced to socialize with half of LSU now?”

Ella rolls her eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Food, drinks, and—” she grins mischievously—“a chance to hang out with your favorite quarterback.”

You glare at her. “Joe Burrow is not my favorite anything.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing you. “Wear something cute. We’re leaving at noon.”

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

The tailgate is, unsurprisingly, a spectacle. Rows of tents stretch across the field, decked out in purple and gold, with grills smoking and music blasting. Students and alumni alike mill about, laughing and chatting as they gear up for the game.

You follow Ella through the crowd, clutching a plastic cup of soda and trying to blend in. She, of course, makes a beeline for Ja’Marr, who’s manning the grill with an ease that suggests he’s done this a thousand times.

And where there’s Ja’Marr, there’s Joe.

He spots you almost immediately, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he waves you over. “Hey, neighbor! Glad you could make it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, but he’s already stepping closer, his easy confidence making it impossible to ignore him.

“What, no hug?” he teases, holding his arms out dramatically.

“Not in this lifetime,” you reply, sidestepping him.

Ella, now fully engrossed in a conversation with Ja’Marr, leaves you to fend for yourself. You glance around, debating whether to make a run for it, but Joe blocks your path, clearly amused by your discomfort.

“You’re really bad at this whole socializing thing, aren’t you?” he says, leaning casually against the nearest table.

“Maybe I just don’t enjoy your company,” you retort, taking a sip of your drink.

He grins. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.”

Before you can respond, one of his teammates calls his name, distracting him long enough for you to slip away. You find a quieter spot near the edge of the field, letting the noise of the crowd fade into the background.

But, of course, Joe finds you again.

“Thought you’d try to escape, huh?” he says, appearing at your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I wasn’t escaping,” you lie, crossing your arms.

“Sure you weren’t.” He pauses, glancing at the crowd. “Not a fan of tailgates?”

“Not a fan of crowds,” you admit.

He nods, surprisingly serious for once. “Fair enough. They’re not for everyone.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by the genuine tone in his voice. It’s a rare moment of sincerity from someone who seems to live for getting under your skin.

And then, just as quickly, the moment passes.

“Still,” he says, his smirk returning, “you’ve got to admit, the food’s pretty good. Ja’Marr’s burgers? Best on campus.”

The party stretched well into the night, turning the once-bustling tailgate into a dimly lit, hazy scene of music, laughter, and scattered conversations. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated these kinds of events. The air was warm, the smell of grilled food and spilled beer thick, but for once, you weren’t faking a smile just to survive.

Instead, you were leaning against a folding chair near the makeshift DJ booth, chatting with a guy named Wes. He was a linebacker for LSU, though, by his own admission, mostly a benchwarmer. Shy, soft-spoken, and refreshingly normal, Wes wasn’t at all what you expected to find at a party like this.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to Mike’s cage?” he asked, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music.

You laughed. “I don’t know, it just never seemed like a big deal to me. It’s a tiger.”

His eyes widened in mock offense. “It’s not just a tiger. It’s our tiger.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I’ll check it out sometime,” you said, grinning at his enthusiasm.

From the corner of your eye, you caught movement, and instinctively, you glanced over. There, leaning against the bar table, was Joe.

His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed on you and Wes.

The sight of his uncharacteristically cold expression sent a jolt through you. Was he annoyed? No, that didn’t make sense. He didn’t care about you, not really.

Wes was saying something about the tiger habitat, but your attention flickered back to Joe. His knuckles whitened around the edge of his red Solo cup, and he seemed to be muttering something to Ja’Marr, who only shrugged in response.

“Everything okay?” Wes asked, his brow furrowed as he followed your gaze.

You blinked, forcing yourself to refocus. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”

Joe, however, was impossible to ignore. At one point, he stormed past your little corner of the party, brushing close enough that you could feel the heat of his arm against yours.

Wes had just finished telling a story about his first LSU practice, his nervous laughter making you smile, when Joe’s voice cut through the conversation like a jagged knife.

“Nice to see you making friends,” he said, his tone just sharp enough to raise the hairs on your neck.

You turned to find Joe standing a few feet away, his trademark smirk forced and strained. He wasn’t looking at you but at Wes, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, Burrow,” Wes said, his voice even but noticeably quieter.

Joe stepped closer, ignoring you entirely as he clapped Wes on the shoulder. “Wesley Evans, right? Linebacker extraordinaire.” His words were light, almost teasing, but there was a strange undertone to them.

“Uh, yeah,” Wes said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though ‘extraordinaire’ might be a bit of a stretch.”

Joe chuckled, his laugh cold. “Oh, come on. Don’t sell yourself short. I mean, someone’s got to keep the bench warm, right?”

The group went silent.

You froze, your stomach dropping as the words settled over the conversation like a wet blanket. Wes’s easygoing demeanor faltered for just a moment—just long enough for you to catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

But he recovered quickly, letting out a forced laugh. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta do it.”

“Joe,” Ja’Marr said sharply, stepping forward. “That was uncalled for.”

Joe raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering. “What? I was just joking.”

“No, you weren’t,” Ja’Marr said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at Joe, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and confusion. What was his problem? You’d seen him tease people before, but this was something else. This was cruel.

Joe’s eyes finally flicked to yours, and for a brief second, something like regret flashed across his face. But just as quickly, he turned away, muttering, “Whatever,” before stalking off into the crowd.

The group stood in awkward silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said softly, turning to Wes.

He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”

But you could see the way his shoulders sagged, the way his fingers tightened around the edge of his cup.

Ja’Marr sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not usually like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, still staring at the spot where Joe had disappeared.

Ja’Marr shot you a look but said nothing. The group eventually dispersed, the easy energy of the night soured by the encounter.

And as you followed Ella home later, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your head, trying to piece together why Joe Burrow seemed so determined to ruin the night—not just for you, but for Wes, too.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the faint buzz of crickets and distant party music filling the air as you and Ella navigated the dimly lit sidewalks. The night had been long, and your head was still spinning from Joe’s earlier outburst. You’d always known him to be annoying, maybe even a little infuriating, but tonight was different. There was a sharpness to him, an edge that left you unsettled.

Ella broke the silence first, her voice soft. “What do you think that was about? With Joe, I mean.”

You shrugged, kicking a loose pebble down the pavement. “Who knows? Maybe he ran out of people to torture and decided to branch out.”

Ella laughed lightly but didn’t press further. By the time you reached your apartment complex, the cool night air had started to seep into your skin, making you shiver. All you could think about was collapsing into bed and forgetting this day ever happened.

But, of course, Joe Burrow had other plans.

There he was, right in front of your door, pressed up against yet another blonde, her manicured nails tangled in his hair as they made out like the world was ending.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Ella nearly bumping into you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath.

At the sound of your voice, Joe broke away from his hookup, turning to face you with a smirk that was equal parts shameless and infuriating.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite neighbor,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Wes not invite you over for a post-party study session?”

Your jaw tightened. “Get out of the way, Burrow.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “What’s the rush? You don’t want to hang out? I can introduce you to…uh…” He glanced at the girl beside him, snapping his fingers as if trying to remember her name.

The blonde giggled, clearly unbothered. “Stephanie,” she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Right. Stephanie,” Joe said, his grin widening.

Ella groaned softly beside you, crossing her arms. “Joe, move. We’re tired.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, stepping aside but not before leaning casually against the doorframe, effectively blocking your path again. “But seriously, where’s Wes? Thought you two were hitting it off. Or is he back on the bench already?”

“Are you serious right now?” you snapped, finally losing the last shred of patience you had left.

Joe straightened up, clearly surprised by the sudden bite in your tone. “What? I’m just messing around.”

“No, you’re being a jerk,” you shot back. “First, you humiliate Wes at the party, and now you’re standing here, rubbing it in like it’s some kind of joke. What’s your problem?”

Stephanie shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between you and Joe. “Uh, maybe we should—”

“Not now,” Joe cut her off, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it. He didn’t even look at her, his eyes locked on yours.

Stephanie’s mouth fell open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Just go,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm.

For a moment, the three of you stood frozen, the tension hanging thick in the air. Then, with an indignant huff, Stephanie grabbed her purse and stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the pavement.

Ella’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply before turning back to you. “Happy now?”

“No,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re still here.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re acting like I committed some crime. I was just joking, okay? It’s not my fault you can’t take a little teasing.”

“Teasing?” you repeated, incredulous. “Joe, you embarrassed Wes in front of everyone tonight. And for what? To make yourself feel better? To prove you’re the big man on campus?”

His jaw clenched, the cocky facade cracking ever so slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then enlighten me,” you challenged, taking a step closer. “Why do you always have to be such an ass?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the ground. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tense. “Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention.”

Your breath caught, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his door slamming echoing through the quiet hallway.

Ella let out a low whistle. “Well, that was…something.”

You stared after him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something.”

“Did he just…?” Ella’s voice was barely a whisper beside you.

You swallowed hard, not trusting yourself to speak. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t like Joe to be vulnerable—hell, he practically lived to get under your skin. And yet, there it was, hanging in the air: the truth you never asked for, wrapped up in all his stupid teasing and annoying antics.

“Forget it,” you finally muttered, fumbling with your keys as you moved to unlock the door. “He’s just trying to mess with me.”

“Uh-huh,” Ella said slowly, following you inside. “Because, you know, the guy who just ditched a hot blonde to argue with you at midnight clearly doesn’t care.”

You shot her a glare, unwilling to entertain the idea. “I’m going to bed.”

Ella raised her hands in surrender, smirking knowingly as she headed for her room. “Okay, but don’t act surprised when he shows up tomorrow. He’s not exactly the type to let things go.”

“Goodnight, Ella,” you said firmly, shutting your bedroom door behind you.

But as you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t get his words out of your head. Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention. Was he serious? Or was this just another game to him, a way to throw you off-balance and make you question everything?

With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over, punching your pillow as if it was somehow Joe’s fault that you couldn’t sleep. Whatever his deal was, you weren’t going to let him get under your skin any more than he already had.

But deep down, you knew it was too late. Because whether you liked it or not, Joe Burrow had already wormed his way into your thoughts—and no amount of denial was going to change that.

The next morning, you woke up to a series of loud knocks on your door, far too early for any sane person to be awake. Groaning, you pulled the covers over your head, but the knocking continued, persistent and unrelenting.

“Go away!” you yelled, but the noise didn’t stop.

With a huff, you threw off the blankets and stumbled out of bed, yanking open the door with every intention of giving whoever it was a piece of your mind.

But, of course, it was Joe.

He stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadn’t just woken you up at the crack of dawn, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Morning, neighbor.”

You stared at him, too stunned and too tired to muster a response.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he said, his tone annoyingly chipper.

“I wasn’t,” you snapped, rubbing your eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

His smile widened, and he held up a to-go coffee cup, the LSU logo bright against the paper sleeve. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

You blinked at the cup, then at him, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, still holding it out. “Just coffee. Truce?”

You hesitated, the words from last night still lingering between you. But, against your better judgment, you reached for the cup, your fingers brushing his for a brief second. “Fine. Truce. For now.”

His eyes gleamed, like he’d just won some kind of invisible battle. “I’ll take it.” He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way—I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the doorway with a coffee cup in hand and the distinct feeling that, somehow, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Things between you and Wes have been going really well. You’ve been texting each other daily since that first meeting in the quad, and his messages always seem to bring a smile to your face. Some days, you talk about classes and the usual college chaos—complaining about professors who seem to thrive on assigning last-minute papers, laughing over campus gossip, or sharing music recommendations.

Other days, the conversations drift into deeper topics: family, future dreams, and the things you never thought you’d share with someone you’d barely known a few weeks ago. It's easy, effortless, and you feel like you've known him forever. There's a connection that grows stronger with each passing day, his texts becoming a constant you look forward to amid the swirl of college life.

When game days roll around, you make sure to watch, even if football has never been your thing. You learn enough of the basics to text him encouragement before each game and tease him when his team makes a stupid play. And every single time he wins, you get a photo of him in his jersey, sweaty and glowing with victory, his smile so wide you can feel it through the screen.

One crisp Saturday evening after a particularly big game—a win that had the entire stadium roaring and chanting for more—your phone buzzes. It’s Wes, as expected, but this time the message is different.

Wes: Big win tonight. You should come out to celebrate—party at the house. It'll be fun, promise.

You hesitate for a moment. Frat parties aren’t usually your scene, but the idea of seeing Wes in person after weeks of building up this text-based connection makes your heart beat a little faster. It feels like the right time to finally break out of the comfort of your phone screen. You don’t want to overthink it, so you respond quickly.

You: Okay, I’ll come! What time? Wes: Perfect. Starts at 9, but I’ll be there around 10. Meet me out front? I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.

You can’t help but laugh at that—his protective side has become more apparent lately, and you find it kind of endearing. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of anticipation. You try on half your wardrobe, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness that makes your stomach flutter. After way too much deliberation, you settle on something that’s cute but comfortable—a black crop top, jeans that fit just right, and your favorite sneakers. Casual, but you don’t want to come off like you’re trying too hard.

The party was in full swing by the time you and Wes went in, the familiar buzz of laughter and music filling the air. His arm rested loosely around your shoulders as you made your way through the packed house, a red solo cup already in his hand. It was a typical LSU post-game celebration—teammates hyped up from their win, students eager for a reason to cut loose, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.

Wes, ever the golden retriever type, was all smiles as he greeted his teammates. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as you plastered on your own smile. Wes was great—sweet, thoughtful, and good-looking to boot—but there was something missing. Conversations with him always felt a little too polished, like he was sticking to a script.

Still, you weren’t going to let your wandering thoughts ruin the night. As he led you toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen, you decided to let loose a little, leaning into his world for the evening.

You were two drinks in when you felt it—a shift in the air that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Glancing across the room, your eyes locked with Joe’s. He was leaning casually against the wall, his cup dangling from his fingers as he laughed at something Ja’Marr said. But his focus wasn’t on his teammate—it was on you.

That look.

You’d seen it before, the one that screamed I’m up to something. Your stomach twisted as his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

“What’s wrong?” Wes asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

Wes didn’t notice your distraction, too busy rambling about the game. You nodded along, but your attention kept drifting back to Joe. He was still watching, and now he was moving.

Straight toward you.

“Wesley,” Joe said, his voice louder than necessary as he clapped a hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Man of the hour! Hell of a game tonight.”

Wes beamed, his chest puffing out a little. “Thanks, Burrow. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Joe said smoothly, his grin sharpening. “You’re really making a name for yourself out there.” He paused, his tone dipping just enough to make the compliment feel off. “You’ve got a solid five minutes of playing time this season, right?”

Wes laughed, missing the sarcasm entirely. “Yeah, Coach says I’m improving every week.”

Joe nodded, his expression the picture of sincerity. “No doubt. You’re an inspiration, man. Really showing the bench how it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to step in. Wes didn’t deserve to be Joe’s verbal punching bag, even if he was too oblivious to notice.

Then Joe shifted his focus.

“And this,” he said, gesturing toward you with his cup, “is the girl everyone’s been talking about?”

You stiffened, already bracing yourself.

“She’s great, right?” Wes said proudly, tightening his arm around your waist.

“Absolutely,” Joe said, his eyes locking on yours. “Smart, pretty, patient.” His lips twitched as he added, “Definitely one of a kind.”

The room felt hotter, smaller. You knew what he was doing, and you refused to let him win.

“Wow, Joe,” you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “That’s almost a compliment. Are you feeling okay?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “What can I say? I’m a generous guy.”

Wes chuckled awkwardly, clearly missing the tension simmering between the two of you. But the people around you weren’t as oblivious. Conversations around the kitchen began to quiet, heads subtly turning in your direction.

Joe leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Though I gotta say, Wes, you’ve got your hands full. She seems like the type to keep you on your toes. Always ready with a snappy comeback.”

You took a step forward, your jaw tightening. “Maybe because some people deserve it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re talking about me,” Joe said, his smirk widening. “But hey, you’ve got to admit, I keep things interesting.”

“Interesting?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You mean infuriating.”

By now, you were toe-to-toe, the space between you charged with unspoken words and something else you refused to acknowledge.

Joe’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he smiled again, softer this time. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you were certain everyone in the room could see the way your cheeks flushed, the way your chest rose and fell faster than it should have.

Joe straightened, patting Wes on the back. “You’ve got a good one here, man. Don’t screw it up.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd with that stupid smirk still on his face.

Wes turned to you, oblivious as ever. “Man, Joe’s great, isn’t he?”

You didn’t answer, too busy trying to calm the storm raging inside you. Because as much as you hated to admit it, Joe Burrow had just gotten under your skin again. And this time, you weren’t sure you could shake him off.

The days blur together after the party, each one bleeding into the next with a heavy quiet you can’t shake. Joe hasn’t teased you, hasn’t made any more snide comments in passing. It’s almost like he’s disappeared entirely, and the silence he’s left behind feels suffocating.

But it's not the kind of peace you wanted—it's the kind that echoes, that bounces around inside your skull, replaying the things he said over and over again until you can’t ignore them anymore. You try to focus on Wes, try to let his easygoing, good-natured attitude soothe the irritation that keeps curling under your skin, but the more you think about Joe’s words, the more they fester. Suddenly, everything about Wes feels too soft, too careful. He’s kind, yes, but there's a blandness to it, a safe predictability that only makes you itch for something sharper.

Then, days later, you find yourself in the apartment lobby, bundled up against the late autumn chill, glaring at a maintenance form on the wall. The hot water’s been out for days, and you’re halfway through filling out a complaint when you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is—the shift in the air is enough.

"Wow, fancy meeting you here," comes Joe’s voice, smooth and mocking, with just enough bite to make your spine stiffen. You don’t turn around, don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you keep writing, the pen pressing hard enough against the paper that it almost tears.

"Cold water bothering you too?" he continues when you don’t respond, his tone amused. You can feel him looming behind you, a little too close, and you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stay calm.

"Just trying to get it fixed," you reply curtly, finally turning around and catching the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. You’re not in the mood for whatever game he’s about to play, but of course, he’s not about to let you off that easy. His gaze slides from the form in your hand back up to your face, one eyebrow quirking up in that infuriating way that always makes you want to wipe the smugness off his face.

"Surprised you’re handling it yourself," Joe drawls, his eyes bright with something almost like delight. "Thought you'd get your little boyfriend to do it for you."

Your fingers tighten around the pen, and you force yourself to take a breath, ignoring the way your pulse quickens. "Not everything revolves around Wes," you shoot back, but your voice wavers just enough to make Joe’s smirk widen. His eyes flick over your face, and you hate the way he seems to read every expression, every crack in the mask you’re struggling to hold up.

"Really?" he says, the word heavy with skepticism. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall like he’s settling in for a show. "Could’ve fooled me. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, huh? I bet you’re the perfect, supportive girlfriend." His voice drips with sarcasm, and something inside you snaps.

"Shut up, Joe," you hiss, your voice low and dangerous. You turn back to the form, determined to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. In fact, he leans in closer, his breath warm on your ear.

"Why?" he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting, like he’s got all the time in the world. "Hit a nerve?"

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because the truth is, he did hit a nerve. And he knows it.

"Come on," he pushes, a note of genuine curiosity in his tone now. "Don’t you ever get tired of it? Playing nice, doing everything right, sticking with someone who’s… I dunno, safe?"

You spin around, eyes blazing, and Joe’s face lights up with triumph. "You don’t know anything about him," you snap, but there’s a waver in your voice that makes Joe’s eyes narrow with interest. "Wes is kind, and he’s decent, and he actually cares about people, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you."

Joe’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, it only grows wider, almost wolfish, and you hate that it sends a thrill through you, a charge that leaves your heart racing. "Yeah," he says, his tone almost pitying, "he’s safe. Boring. He’s exactly the kind of guy who’d never get in your way, never challenge you, never push back. And you’re happy with that? Really?"

You glare at him, your blood boiling, but you can’t look away. Because some part of you—the part you’ve been trying to silence for days—knows he’s right, and it makes you want to scream. "What the hell is your problem, Joe?" you demand, your voice shaking with anger. "Why do you even care? What does it matter to you if I’m with him or not?"

For a moment, something flickers in Joe’s eyes, something you can’t quite read, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by that infuriating smirk. "I don’t care," he says, too quickly, his voice a little too smooth. "I just think it’s funny, that’s all. Watching you pretend like he’s enough for you."

You step closer without realizing it, your fists clenched at your sides. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," you insist, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. Joe’s gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you feel a jolt of something hot and dangerous twist in your stomach.

"Don’t I?" he murmurs, and suddenly, you’re standing toe-to-toe, your breath mingling with his, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. He’s so close, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his smirk softens just enough to be dangerous.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

There’s a beat, a moment suspended in time where it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air. Then, suddenly, Joe’s expression shifts, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he leans back, breaking the spell. He claps you on the shoulder, his touch light but lingering.

"Good talk," he says, his tone infuriatingly cheerful as he pushes past you towards the elevator, leaving you standing there, breathless and rattled.

"Have fun with Wes," he throws over his shoulder, and the door slides shut behind him before you can find the words to reply. You’re left staring at the closed elevator doors, your chest heaving and your hands still trembling around the pen, the echoes of Joe’s taunting voice ricocheting in your mind.

And for the first time in days, the silence feels even louder.

The days drag by, and every one of them feels heavier, weighed down by Joe's words. They hang over you, echoing whenever you try to ignore them, seeping into your thoughts when you're with Wes. The way he holds your hand, the way he smiles politely at your jokes, the way he never raises his voice or teases you too hard—it’s all safe. It’s what you thought you wanted. But now, thanks to Joe, it’s all starting to feel empty, like a shell with nothing inside.

As if to make matters worse, Joe's been louder, more present, and more irritating than ever. He’s upped his game, bringing a new girl home almost every night, the kind who giggle just a little too loud in the stairwell, whose heels click sharply against the tile floors, waking you and Ella up in the middle of the night. You hear them laughing through the paper-thin walls, their voices carrying long after you wish they’d shut up. Ella throws a pillow at the wall one night, groaning in frustration, but you just lie there, staring up at the dark ceiling, the annoyance mixing with something else—something you refuse to name.

And then Wes’s birthday sneaks up on you, like a storm you’d been pretending not to see on the horizon. Everyone's talking about it—the party of the semester, hosted at his parents’ mansion on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. You know it’s a big deal. Wes’s parents are the kind who throw events instead of parties, the kind where everyone’s wearing their best, and you’d feel out of place if you weren’t on Wes’s arm. You spend way too long picking out your dress, ignoring Ella’s teasing smile as you change twice and then settle on something classy, something you think Wes’s parents will approve of.

The mansion is even more extravagant than you expected. Tall, stately, and glowing with warm light spilling from every window. A string quartet plays softly near the entrance, and there’s enough champagne to drown in. It’s a perfect picture of Southern elegance, the kind of party where everyone’s on their best behavior and no one dares spill a drink on the white marble floors.

You’re almost able to relax, standing with Wes as he introduces you to old friends and relatives, his arm around your waist like you’re some kind of prize. But then, from across the room, you catch sight of someone familiar stepping through the grand double doors, and the air goes still.

Joe. And he’s not alone.

On his arm is a girl who looks like she’s stepped straight out of a beauty magazine—perfect curls cascading down her back, a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and a pageant smile that could light up the whole room. She’s everything you’re not: polished, pristine, and undeniably beautiful. And Joe’s leaning in close to her, whispering something that makes her laugh, the sound light and carefree, echoing above the music.

Your heart sinks. You should have known he’d be here. You should have known he’d show up with someone like her.

The moment he walks in, it’s like the temperature drops. You feel him scan the room, his gaze sliding over the crowd until it lands on you. There’s a flicker of recognition, a half-smile that tugs at his lips, and for a second, you swear he’s going to make a beeline for you, but then he turns to his date, all easy charm and confidence.

You look away quickly, swallowing down the hot, bitter twinge of jealousy that rises in your chest. Beside you, Wes is oblivious, laughing with some cousin or another, completely unaware of the storm that’s building in your mind.

The party moves on, but you can't shake the weight in your chest. Every time you turn around, Joe is there—always in your peripheral, laughing with his date or effortlessly sliding into conversations with people he’s never met, commanding attention without even trying. And it’s driving you mad. You hate that he’s here, hate the way his presence seems to seep into every corner of the room, hate that you can’t stop looking for him, even when you don’t mean to.

Wes’s parents announce dinner, and you find yourself at a long table, perfectly set with silverware that you don’t even know how to use properly. Wes is on your left, chatting away, and you force yourself to smile and nod at the right moments, though your gaze keeps drifting over his shoulder. Joe is at the far end of the table, but his eyes meet yours—bright and full of something that feels like a challenge. He raises his glass in your direction, and you don’t miss the way his date practically glows under his attention, leaning into his side.

You grit your teeth, focusing on Wes, who’s completely unaware of the way your stomach is twisting. He’s sweet, attentive, a perfect gentleman, and you wish you could ignore the itch under your skin, the restlessness that grows with each passing minute. But it’s there, burning hotter every time you catch sight of Joe, laughing too loud or leaning in too close to whisper in his date's ear.

By the time dessert is served, you’re practically vibrating with frustration, and Wes’s voice is starting to blur into the background. He’s telling some long-winded story about his summer at the family lake house, but all you can think about is how easy it would be to just walk over to the other end of the table and—

“Hey, you alright?” Wes’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you force yourself to focus on him, pasting on a smile that feels hollow.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, reaching for your glass of champagne and taking a sip that burns all the way down. He seems satisfied, squeezing your hand gently under the table, but his touch feels distant, almost suffocating.

And when you glance back at Joe, he’s watching you, his smile sharper than you remember. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your skin prickle, like he’s waiting for something, like he knows exactly what kind of game he’s playing. His date is still chattering away, oblivious to the way his gaze keeps flicking back to you, like a tether he can’t quite cut loose.

You look away, your face heating, and try to drown out the feeling with another sip of champagne. But it's no use. The night has only just begun, and you already know—it’s going to be a long one.

You escape upstairs, the noise of the party fading as you climb the grand, spiraling staircase. It’s quieter up here, with the muted sound of conversation and laughter drifting up from below, and you can finally breathe a little easier. You’re not even sure what you’re doing—just that you need a break from the suffocating conversation, the polished smiles, and the feeling of being watched. Wes is deep in conversation with a teammate, and it was easy enough to slip away unnoticed. You tell yourself you're only going to the bathroom, but you don’t even bother finding one. You just wander down the hall, hoping to collect yourself, to calm the thudding in your chest.

But then, of course, you see him.

Joe, leaning lazily against the wall at the end of the hallway, like he’s been waiting for you. There’s no sign of his date—she’s probably downstairs, lost in the crowd—but Joe’s here, and he looks too damn comfortable, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He gives you that infuriating half-smirk the second your eyes meet, like he’s been expecting you. Like he knows you’re going to stop.

“Lost?” he drawls, his voice a low, lazy tease, and you freeze, every muscle in your body going tense.

“No,” you snap, hating the way your heart skips when he pushes off the wall, taking a step closer. “Just getting some air.”

“From Wes?” he asks, eyebrows raising, and you can hear the taunt in his tone, the way he draws out the name like it’s a joke. “Or from this whole perfect little party of his?”

“None of your business,” you shoot back, but he’s closer now, and you hate how your breath catches, how the air between you feels thick and electric. He’s looking at you like he’s stripping away all the layers you’ve put up—the polite smiles, the careful charm—and seeing straight through to the part of you that’s restless and hungry for a fight.

“You know, I can’t tell if you’re actually enjoying yourself,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost intimate. “Or if you’re just playing the role of ‘good girlfriend’ to make everyone happy.”

“Shut up, Joe,” you warn, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be, and he notices. Of course he notices. He takes another step, and suddenly he’s way too close, the heat of him radiating into the space between you, making it harder to breathe.

“Or is it that Wes is just…too boring for you?” he presses, and something snaps. You step forward, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back a step, anger flaring white-hot in your chest.

“Why do you care?” you demand, your voice rising. “Why do you always have to ruin everything? You can’t stand seeing me happy, can you? You always have to get in the way—”

“Oh, please,” he cuts you off, his voice sharp with irritation. “Don’t act like I’m the one ruining things. You’re the one who can’t stop looking at me. You’re the one who’s pretending this perfect little relationship is enough for you.”

You don’t even think. You just react, stepping closer, your chest heaving with the force of your anger, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “You don’t know anything about me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you before you can stop them. “You don’t know what I want or what I need, so stop pretending like you have me all figured out!”

He’s laughing now, a low, mocking sound that sets your teeth on edge, and you want to hit him, to scream, to do something to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. But then he’s had enough. Suddenly, he moves, quick as a flash, and before you can even blink, he’s grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up as if you weigh nothing, throwing you over his shoulder in one swift, effortless motion.

“Put me down!” you shout, struggling against him, but he just tightens his grip, carrying you down the hall like you’re some kind of rag doll. Your fists beat uselessly against his back, and you’re half-cursing, half-panicking as he ignores you, kicking open the nearest door and stepping inside.

The door slams shut behind him, and you barely register the darkened room—a guest bedroom, dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the curtains—before he’s setting you down, pressing you up against the wall with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. You’re too stunned to move, your back hitting the cold plaster, and suddenly his body is pinning you there, his hands on either side of your face, caging you in.

“Finally shut you up,” he mutters, his voice rough, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the way his breath brushes your cheek, hot and fast. His eyes are dark, burning with something you’ve never seen before, and the space between you feels like it’s crackling, alive with an energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse race.

“Why do you have to be such a—” you start, but he cuts you off, leaning in closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his chest pressing against yours. His mouth is inches from yours, his lips twisting into a wicked smile.

“Go on,” he taunts, his voice low and dangerous. “Say it. Tell me what you really think.”

You’re breathing hard, your anger warring with something hotter, something that’s been building between you for months, and you can’t stop yourself. “You’re an asshole,” you spit, your hands coming up to shove at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He just leans in, his nose brushing against yours, the air between you thick and suffocating.

“And you,” he says softly, his voice almost gentle, “are a liar.”

You don’t know who moves first—whether it’s him closing the distance or you surging up to meet him—but suddenly his mouth is on yours, hard and desperate, and you’re kissing him back like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. The kiss is furious, full of all the things you can’t say, all the frustration and the longing and the anger that’s been building up for so long it feels like it’s going to explode. His hands are in your hair, his grip almost painful, and you’re clinging to him, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth as he presses you harder against the wall.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers against your lips, his breath ragged, and you shake your head, too far gone to think, to lie, to do anything but pull him closer, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Shut up,” you breathe, and he laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he kisses you again, deeper this time, slower, like he’s savoring the taste of your surrender. The room feels too small, the air too thick, and you know you should stop, you know this is wrong, but you can’t, not when his hands are sliding down your sides, not when his body is pressing into yours, not when he’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

And then, suddenly, it’s too much. You push him away, your breath coming in short, harsh gasps, and he lets you go, stepping back with a grin that’s all arrogance and triumph. Your lips feel swollen, your face flushed, and you hate that you can’t stop looking at him, that you want more even though you know you shouldn’t.

“See?” he says softly, his voice maddeningly smug. “I do know you.”

The words barely have time to leave his mouth before you’re on him again, shoving him away from you, your hands hitting his chest with more force than you intend. He stumbles back a step, a flash of surprise crossing his face before his eyes harden, that infuriating grin vanishing. You’re both breathing hard, the air between you heavy with everything unspoken, with all the sharp words that have been building up since the day you met.

“You don’t know anything!” you snap, your voice cracking, and he just laughs, a short, humorless sound that makes your blood boil.

“You keep saying that,” he shoots back, his voice low and dangerous, “but here you are. Every time, it’s the same thing. You want me to stop? Then say it. Tell me to leave.”

You open your mouth to say exactly that, to tell him to go to hell and stay out of your life, but the words won’t come. They catch in your throat, tangled up with the truth you can’t face, and he sees it. He always sees it. His gaze softens, something like understanding flickering in those dark eyes, and it pisses you off more than anything.

“See?” he murmurs, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “You can’t. Because you don’t want me to.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, but it’s too late—he’s already crowding into your space, his hand curling around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to his. You hate him for the way he’s looking at you, like he’s unraveling you with a single glance, like he knows exactly how to break you down, and before you can stop yourself, you’re surging up, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him again, harder this time, angrier.

His arms come around you instantly, pulling you closer, and you hate that it feels good, that it feels right, even as you’re pushing against him, your nails digging into his shoulders. It’s a mess of teeth and tongues, the kiss desperate and furious, and you’re drowning in it, in the heat of him, in the way his fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

Then the door swings open, and you both jerk apart, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven pants. You barely have time to process what’s happening before you see Ja’Marr standing there, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. He looks at you, then at Joe, and lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Really, Joe?” he says, his voice laced with disappointment. “In the middle of Wes’s birthday party? Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Calm down,” Joe says coolly, like he’s not the least bit bothered, his gaze still fixed on you, as if daring you to run. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah,” Ja’Marr scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Talking, right. Because making out with your teammate’s girl is totally a normal conversation.”

You feel your cheeks burn, and you step back, smoothing down your clothes like you can erase what just happened. “This—this was nothing,” you stammer, trying to ignore the way Joe’s lips curl into a smirk at your flustered tone. “We’re done here.”

Joe just gives you a lazy, almost triumphant smile, like he’s won some unspoken battle, and turns to Ja’Marr with a shrug. “She’s got a mind of her own, you know,” he says, and you want to punch him, to scream, but Ja’Marr just shakes his head, looking equal parts disappointed and resigned.

“Whatever,” Ja’Marr mutters, grabbing Joe’s arm and pulling him out into the hallway. “You need to get your act together. Wes is going to notice if you keep pulling this crap.”

Joe’s eyes flick to you one last time, something unreadable in his expression, before he lets Ja’Marr drag him away. The door clicks shut behind them, and you’re left alone in the darkened room, your heart racing and your thoughts spinning out of control. You know you should follow them, that you should go back downstairs and pretend like nothing happened, but your knees feel weak, and it takes you a long moment to gather yourself, to steady your breathing.

By the time you make your way back down to the party, your face feels numb, and you’ve forced on the brightest smile you can muster. Joe is already back in the thick of things, his arm slung casually around his date’s waist, laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You want to be angry, to hate him for making it look so easy, but then Wes catches sight of you, his eyes lighting up as he excuses himself from his conversation.

“Hey, there you are!” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. You try to smile, but it feels fake, like your skin doesn’t fit right anymore. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“Just needed a minute,” you say, your voice sounding hollow even to your own ears. You’re about to say something else, anything to fill the awkward silence, when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye.

Joe’s watching you, his gaze flicking from your face to your mouth, and that’s when you realize—his lips are still stained with the faintest trace of your lipstick, a dark, telltale smear at the corner of his mouth.

Wes follows your gaze, and his smile falters, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Joe, what’s on your—”

But Joe cuts in smoothly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin widening as if he finds the whole thing hilarious. “Guess I got a little carried away,” he says, his voice dripping with mock innocence, and you feel the ground sway beneath you as Wes’s arm tightens around your shoulders, his confusion shifting to suspicion.

“What’s he talking about?” Wes asks, his eyes narrowing, and you open your mouth to respond, to deny, to do something—but nothing comes out. Your voice has abandoned you, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Joe’s smirk deepens and he lifts his drink in a mocking toast, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Good party,” Joe says casually, his tone almost friendly. “Really enjoyed myself.”

You don’t remember what happens next—just the blur of faces, the noise of the party swelling around you, and the hollow ache settling deep in your chest as Joe turns away, laughing with someone else, like he hasn’t just blown everything to pieces.

Wes's smile is strained when he pulls you aside, away from the music and the crowd. There’s a tightness around his eyes you haven’t seen before, something almost defeated, and for the first time that night, you feel a genuine pang of guilt. This is the part you were dreading—the confrontation, the disappointment in his eyes. But instead of yelling, instead of demanding an explanation, he just looks... tired.

“Hey,” he starts softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t wanna make a scene, okay? But I think... I think maybe you should go.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die in your throat. There’s no anger in his voice, just resignation, like he already knows the answer before you can even try to lie. You can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.

“Wes, I—” you begin, but he holds up a hand, a weak, defeated smile pulling at his lips.

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, and there’s something achingly kind in his voice, which somehow makes it hurt more. “I think we both know this... isn’t what you want. Not really.”

You feel relief flood your chest so suddenly that it’s almost nauseating, and that’s how you know he’s right. Because instead of being devastated, instead of scrambling to explain yourself, you just feel lighter. Like a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying has finally been lifted.

You reach out to touch his arm, but he steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t,” he says quietly, and you let your hand drop, nodding numbly. There’s nothing left to say. You don’t try to apologize; you don’t try to make excuses. You just turn and leave, the buzz of the party fading behind you as you slip out the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a slap.

The walk back to the apartment feels like a blur, your mind whirling with everything that just happened, everything you don’t want to think about. You don’t know if it’s the relief of being free from something you never truly wanted, or the shame of how it all went down, but by the time you reach your building, your hands are trembling and your breath is hitching.

You let yourself into the apartment, your eyes already burning with unshed tears, and you find Ella curled up on the couch, half-asleep in front of the TV. The moment she sees your face, though, she sits up, worry creasing her brow.

“Whoa, what happened?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep, but you don’t even know where to begin.

“Everything,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and then it all spills out. You tell her everything—about Joe, about the kiss, about Wes’s sad, tired smile and the way he let you go without a fight. You’re talking so fast you’re stumbling over your words, your emotions a chaotic tangle of regret and relief and frustration, and by the time you’re finished, you feel completely wrung out.

Ella listens without interrupting, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief to sympathy as you pour your heart out. When you finally go quiet, she just sighs and pulls you into a hug, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and you don’t realize how much you needed to hear that until the tears start falling. She doesn’t tell you that you screwed up, she doesn’t lecture you about Joe, she just holds you while you cry, rubbing soothing circles on your back until the tears run dry.

By the time you pull away, your throat is raw, and you’re exhausted. Ella doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look that says she understands, that she’s on your side no matter what, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

But then, just as you’re wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself, you hear it—a loud burst of laughter echoing through the thin wall you share with Joe’s apartment. It’s followed by the high-pitched giggle of a girl, and your stomach twists. Of course. Of course.

Ella catches the look on your face and scowls. “He’s such an ass,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You want me to go bang on the wall and tell them to shut up?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s... it’s fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

You don’t even believe yourself, but you can’t deal with Joe right now, not after everything. So you go to your room, shut the door, and try to block out the noise. You tell yourself you don’t care. You tell yourself it’s over. But sleep doesn’t come easily, and all you can hear is Joe’s voice in your head, his mocking words echoing long after the sounds from next door have finally gone quiet.

Over the next few days, you try to fall back into a routine, but everything feels off-kilter. Wes doesn’t text you, and you don’t reach out, letting the silence stretch between you until it feels like a mutual understanding—something that was always going to happen. Ella hovers, supportive but careful not to push, and you appreciate that. You just need space, time to sort through everything.

Joe, however, is a different story.

You barely see him around the complex, but when you do, it’s impossible to ignore him. He’s still bringing home girls—more than ever, it seems—and they’re always loud, obnoxiously so, like he’s doing it on purpose, like he’s rubbing it in your face. And maybe he is. Maybe this is his way of proving a point, of showing you that he doesn’t care, that he never cared, and the worst part is... you don’t know if you care either. Or maybe you care too much.

One night, after a particularly sleepless stretch of listening to laughter and footsteps pounding through the walls, Ella finds you staring blankly at the ceiling, dark circles smudged beneath your eyes.

“He’s doing this on purpose, you know,” she says bluntly, her tone halfway between irritation and pity. “He’s trying to get to you.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, rolling over to face the wall. “It’s working.”

Wes’s birthday party fades into memory, and a few weeks pass. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care when you don’t have to face the fallout. You focus on classes, avoid places where you might run into Joe, and try to ignore the way your heart sinks every time you hear his voice next door.

Then, one Friday night, there’s a knock on your door. You’re half expecting Ella’s latest Tinder date or a package, but instead, you find Joe leaning against the doorframe, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. There’s something almost hesitant about the way he looks at you, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it catches you off guard.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you hate how defensive you sound, how you can’t help but put a wall between you.

Joe’s eyes flicker, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing down the hallway before he looks back at you. “Can we talk?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s asking because he wants to or because he thinks he has to. “Please?”

You hesitate, every part of you screaming to slam the door in his face, to tell him to go to hell. “Talk?” you echo, as though the very idea is laughable. “What’s there to talk about, Joe?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his hands still deep in his pockets. “I just—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. For once, he doesn’t look cocky or composed. He looks tired. “I screwed up, okay? I know that. And I just… I want to make things right.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Now you care about making things right? Weeks later? Where was this when you were busy humiliating me in front of everyone at Wes’s party?”

Joe flinches, and the sight of it sends a small, mean thrill through you. You want him to feel every ounce of the anger and hurt that’s been simmering inside you since that night.

“I was drunk,” he mutters, like it’s an excuse. “You know I didn’t mean half the shit I said.”

“Oh, so you only mean half of it?” Your voice rises despite yourself, and you take a step closer. “Which half, Joe? The part where you said Wes was too good for me? Or the part where you implied I’m some kind of charity case?”

Joe groans, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s not what I meant! You’re twisting it—”

“I’m twisting it?” Your laugh is sharp, humorless. “No, Joe. I’m finally calling you out on your crap. You think you can just waltz in here, throw out a half-assed apology, and I’m supposed to forget how you treated me? Newsflash: I’m done being your punching bag.”

“Punching bag?” His voice spikes, and you can see his patience starting to fray. “Are you kidding me? You think I don’t care about you? That I’d say that stuff to hurt you on purpose?”

“Then why did you say it?” you snap, stepping closer until you’re almost toe to toe. “Why, Joe? If you care so much, why do you always find a way to make me feel like I’m not enough?”

He stares at you, his jaw tightening, his chest rising and falling as he tries to keep his temper in check. But then he snaps, his voice loud enough to make you flinch. “Because you drive me crazy, alright? You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s like I can’t think straight when I’m around you!”

You’re stunned into silence, your heart pounding in your chest. The air between you crackles with something electric, something you can’t name but can feel in every nerve of your body.

Joe’s eyes are blazing, his chest heaving as he takes a step closer. “You think I wanted this? That I wanted to feel like this about you? I didn’t, okay? But I do. And it scares the hell out of me.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. “Joe…”

He shakes his head, his voice softening just a fraction. “I’m sorry, alright? For all of it. I just—I didn’t know how to deal with this, with you.”

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone. Joe’s hands are on your arms, his grip firm but not rough, and you’re looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

Joe doesn’t step back. He doesn’t let the anger rise again. He stays close, his hands still resting on your arms, his grip grounding and firm. His gaze softens, something vulnerable breaking through the tension in his voice.

“You think I like being the guy who gets under your skin?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s no bite to it now. Only honesty. “You think I enjoy pissing you off just for fun?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift, the rawness in his tone. “Don’t you?”

Joe lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “No. That’s just the only way you ever seem to notice me.” His words hit like a punch to the gut, and your breath hitches. “If I’m not in your face, annoying the hell out of you, it’s like I don’t even exist to you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. He’s too quick, too honest, and you don’t have a defense ready for the truth.

“That’s why I invite them over,” he continues, and there’s no cockiness in the admission. Just exhaustion. “Those girls, the loud music, the stupid games—it’s not because I want them. It’s because I’m trying to get you to see me. To pay attention. Even if it’s just so you can yell at me.”

Your stomach twists, a lump forming in your throat. You want to stay mad, to cling to your anger like a shield, but it’s slipping through your fingers. Joe doesn’t stop; he steps closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“I don’t know how else to get through to you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of pretending like I don’t care when I do. So much more than I should.”

Your breath catches, and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. Joe watches you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, his hesitation palpable. And then, before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

It’s not rough or demanding like you might have expected. It’s soft, tentative, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. His hands slide from your arms to your waist, anchoring you gently, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds back.

For a moment, you freeze, torn between the urge to push him away and the overwhelming need to lean into him. But then your walls crack, and you kiss him back, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Joe pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing is unsteady, his expression a mix of relief and something deeper. Without a word, he steps forward, his hands tightening around your waist as he gently pushes you through the door.

You don’t resist. You can’t.

He closes the door behind him with a quiet click, then sweeps you off your feet in one swift, effortless motion. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you down the hall toward your bedroom.

“Joe…” you begin, but he silences you with a look—a look so tender, so unlike the Joe you thought you knew, that your words die on your lips.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, the anger and frustration from moments ago have evaporated, replaced by something else entirely. Something that hums between you like a live wire.

He hovers over you, his weight supported by his arms on either side of your head. His eyes search yours, silently asking for permission, for understanding. And when you nod, so small and uncertain, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time deeper, more sure of himself.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging gently as he trails his lips down your jaw, your neck, every touch making your pulse race. He’s careful, almost reverent, as if afraid to break the fragile moment you’re sharing.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—Joe Burrow isn’t the selfish, cocky guy you thought he was. Maybe, behind all the bravado, he’s just a boy who wanted you to see him. And now, you finally do.

Joe’s lips trail along the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, electric path in their wake. He takes his time, his breath hot against your skin, and every deliberate touch makes your pulse thunder louder in your ears.

His hands glide over your waist, fingers pressing lightly, almost teasing as they trace the hem of your shirt. You feel his smile against your neck when you squirm slightly beneath him, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “No more yelling? No smart remarks?”

You swallow hard, trying to find some semblance of control, but the way his hands move, the way his lips hover so close yet don’t quite touch, leaves you breathless. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say to you right now,” you shoot back, though your voice wavers.

Joe chuckles, lifting his head to look at you, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” he says, his thumb brushing over the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. “You’ve always got something to say to me. Even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off.”

You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted, your resolve crumbling as he dips his head again, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I like it when you get all fired up,” he whispers, his tone teasing. “But I think I like this quiet side of you even more.”

You huff, trying to ignore the way your body betrays you, leaning into him despite yourself. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Joe smirks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slides under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and you shiver at the contact. “Maybe,” he admits, his tone smug, “but you’re still here, aren’t you?”

You want to retort, to wipe that cocky grin off his face, but before you can, he shifts his weight, his lips capturing yours again. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, and you feel the teasing edge in his movements as he kisses you until you forget whatever comeback you had planned.

His fingers inch higher, tracing light patterns on your stomach, deliberately avoiding the places where you want him most. It’s infuriating, how easily he has you unraveling, and when he pulls back just enough to smirk down at you, you let out an exasperated groan.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, tugging at his shirt in frustration.

Joe leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips curling into a playful grin. “But you’re not telling me to stop.”

He shifts again, his hands sliding up to frame your face as he kisses you once more. His lips are soft but insistent, drawing you in until all you can focus on is him—his weight pressing you into the mattress, the warmth of his skin, the way his touch sets every nerve in your body alight.

“Say the word,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but laced with a challenge. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. But the word never comes. Instead, you pull him down again, your fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him with all the pent-up frustration, anger, and longing that’s been building between you for weeks.

Joe groans softly, his hands sliding down your sides, his teasing touch giving way to something more intentional. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone smug but laced with something warmer, something that makes your stomach flip.

Joe's lips find yours again, the kiss deepening as his teasing facade begins to slip. His hands roam your body with more purpose now, fingertips pressing into your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He nips lightly at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Still hate me?” he whispers, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. He moves back slowly, before pulling off your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours.

You bite back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you pull him closer, your nails grazing the back of his neck, and the quiet groan he lets out is enough to make your pulse race.

The leggings are long forgotten now, leaving you exposed in your underwear. Joe chuckles softly, his breath fanning against your lips as he trails kisses along your jaw, then lower, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue follows, soothing the faint sting, and the combination has your hands fisting in his shirt.

“You’re not as tough as you act, you know,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. His hands slide beneath your shirt, his palms warm against your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up slowly. “I think you like this way more than you’re letting on.”

“You talk too much,” you manage to gasp, but your retort loses its bite when his thumb grazes just beneath your ribs, sending a rush of heat through your body.

Joe pulls back just enough to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He takes a moment to look at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with something you can’t quite name, and for a second, the teasing smirk is gone, replaced by something softer.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard.

Your breath hitches, and you feel your cheeks flush under his gaze. Before you can overthink it, his lips are on you again, softer this time but no less insistent. His hands trace slow, deliberate patterns along your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath the band of your bra, and you arch into his touch without meaning to.

Joe grins against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. “That’s more like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing lower as he presses kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and then to the edge of the fabric.

He pauses, glancing up at you as his fingers toy with the clasp, his expression both playful and questioning. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says again, his tone softer now, without the usual cockiness.

But stopping is the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, you pull him down to you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that answers his unspoken question.

Joe groans against your mouth, his hands moving to unclasp your bra with surprising ease, and you feel the shift in his demeanor as his teasing gives way to something more raw, more urgent. His lips trail lower, leaving a path of heat in their wake, and every deliberate touch has your body humming with anticipation.

“Still hate me?” he asks again, his voice rough and teasing, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks up at you.

You reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. “Shut up, Joe,” you whisper, your voice breathless but firm, and for once, he listens.

Joe's smirk returns, but it’s softer now, laced with something warmer than his usual arrogance. He lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and full of disbelief, as if he can’t quite believe where the night has led. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he lets his lips and hands do the talking, his touch reverent but still filled with that undeniable fire that seems to burn between you.

He slowly pulls away, looking up at you with a small smirk before he gets up. Before you could start questioning him, he takes off his shirt and sweats swiftly, your eyes widening at his body.

Joe’s smirk deepens as he catches the way your eyes widen, lingering on his toned frame. His confidence seems to grow with every second you stay silent, your gaze betraying the sharp tongue you usually use to deflect him. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to drink him in.

“You’re staring,” he teases, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes burn with something more primal. “I knew you liked looking at me, but this is a new level.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat rushing to your cheeks gives you away. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, trying to sound dismissive, but your voice wavers slightly, betraying the effect he has on you.

Joe chuckles, leaning down to brace his hands on either side of you, his face inches from yours. “Too late for that,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “You’ve already done it for me.”

Before you can fire back, he trails his hand down your side, fingers skimming over your waist and hip with maddening slowness. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another to the swell of your chest, each one softer than the last, as if he’s savoring the way you shiver beneath his touch.

You can feel his hardened bulge against your stomach, and you're just about done with his teasing. You need him, now. “Joe,” you whined as he pulls back with a smirk.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he says, his voice low and raw. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Before you can reply, his lips are on yours again, his kiss stealing whatever snarky comeback you might have had. His hands move with purpose, sliding over every inch of bare skin, and the slow, deliberate way he touches you has your body aching for more.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against your lips, the words a quiet challenge. But you don’t. You can’t.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with all the frustration and longing you’ve been holding back for weeks. Joe groans, the sound vibrating against your lips as his teasing slips away entirely, replaced by something deeper, more desperate.

“God, you’re impossible,” he mutters, his voice laced with both exasperation and awe. But his actions betray the truth—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He finally pulls away, breathless as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with adoration and lust. “I'm gonna fuck you, alright?” he mutters before leaning closer. “And for all those times you pissed me off, and annoyed me, I'll forget about all of that if I can just... hear you.”

You're caught off by the request and you almost think he's joking, but you're mistaken. He's dead serious. All you could was nod slowly in response and Joe leans away, pleased.

Joe’s control starts to slip, and it’s evident in the way his kisses grow hungrier, more urgent. His hands tremble slightly as they trail over your body, mapping out every curve like he’s afraid this moment will disappear. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his breathing uneven.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispers, his voice raw, the cocky edge completely gone. “You’ve been driving me insane for months.”

Then finally, he slowly peels off his briefs, and his large, hardened cock falls out.

Joe lets out a small groan as his head falls back, relief in his expression. His pink tip is already leaking with pre-cum. You practically faint at the sight, you couldn't help but let out a whimper. His hands find his cock before he slowly begins to pump it, his eyes finding yours again.

He spreads your legs open before leaning in, his lips finding yours as his hands lead his cock to your cunt. His forehead falls against yours as he slowly begins to insert himself, a heavenly groan leaving his lips at the feeling of your warm, tight walls.

You felt like you were being split in half, in the best way possible. You can't even describe how good his cock felt, he wasn't even a quarter inside of you, but you still felt like you were filled to the brim.

“O-oh, fuck, Joey,” you moaned as your swollen lips form an O, your head falling back onto the plush pillows. Now you understood why the girls in his apartment were so loud—they definitely weren't exaggerating.

His hands grip your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if he wasn't inside of you already. His lips crash against yours again, the kiss filled with desperation, like he’s trying to pour every suppressed emotion into it. It’s intoxicating, the way his need for you feels almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clutching at his shoulders, wanting to be as close as possible.

He bottoms you out slowly, and he tries to give you a second to adjust—he really, really tried. He just couldn't. He slowly started thrusting in and out of you, and before you could even process the change in speed, he was rocking his hips against yours like the world depended on it.

The bed was creaking loudly underneath the two of you, the only sounds that could be heard was your loud moans, his grunts of pleasure, and the sound of skin against skin.

His cock was dizzying, to say the least. It hit all the spots you swore nobody had ever reached, making you question all your previous partners. You couldn't even form a singular thought about anything else except for Joe's huge cock and the way he was making you feel.

“Joe!” You manage to gasp as he begins to pound into you impossibly harder, but he cuts you off with another kiss, groaning softly against your lips.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice husky and edged with desperation. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you gasp as his hands spread your legs wider, pinning you to the mattress.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, his kisses growing more frantic, more needy. His hands are everywhere, exploring, worshipping, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. The way he touches you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, leaves you utterly undone.

His words make your head spin, and you can’t find a response. You're too caught up in the way he was pounding into you, like a fucking animal.

But Joe doesn’t seem to care; he’s too caught up in you, his hips moving faster and faster until you're practically crying out loud. His hands roam your body as if he’s memorizing every curve, every inch of skin. There’s no pretense now, no games—just raw, unfiltered desire.

You begin to feel the knot in your stomach begin to form, tight and persistent. You begin to grip his shoulders even tighter, your head falling back into the pillow as you moaned.

“O-oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum, please.” You began rambling as your legs wrapped around his waist, his hips not faltering one bit—if anything, he began going faster.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He grunted out, his own impending orgasm. “Cum for me, baby.”

That was all you needed. The knot in your stomach snapped violently, your whole body spasming as you cried out in utter pleasure. The orgasm washed over you perfectly as Joe's hips began to falter, and a few moments later, his cum spilled into you.

You both lie there, tangled in the sheets, your breathing ragged and your hearts racing as the room settles into a heavy, satisfied silence. Joe’s arm is draped lazily across your stomach, his fingers tracing light, absentminded patterns on your skin. The intimacy feels different now—softer, quieter, as if the storm that had built between you for so long had finally passed.

He exhales deeply, his chest still rising and falling against your side. “Well,” he says, his voice low and hoarse, “that was... long overdue.”

You glance over at him, your lips twitching into a faint smile despite yourself. “You think?” you reply dryly, the lingering warmth of the moment making it hard to muster the sharp edge your tone usually carries with him.

Joe turns his head to look at you, his hair mussed and sticking out in every direction, his cheeks still flushed. There’s that cocky grin of his, but it’s softer now, tinged with something you don’t think you’ve seen before—contentment, maybe. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling lightly. “So overdue I’m almost mad at us for waiting this long.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. His grin widens as he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over you. His gaze flicks across your face, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. “But hey,” he says, his voice taking on a playful tone, “now that I’ve finally got you right where I want you, I think it’s time to make this official.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you tilt your head at him. “Official?”

Joe nods solemnly, though the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. “Yup. A real date. No fighting, no yelling, no storming off. Just you, me, and a public setting where we try very hard not to tear each other’s clothes off.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Oh, is that so?”

“That’s so,” he replies with a grin, catching your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his gaze softening. “Come on, let me take you out. I’ll even behave. Swear.”

You arch a skeptical brow, though the warmth in your chest betrays you. “Behave? You? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Joe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Guess you’ll just have to say yes and find out,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but undeniably sincere.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Fine,” you say, trying to sound reluctant but failing miserably. “One date. But if you embarrass me, it’s the last one.”

Joe’s grin is blinding as he flops back down beside you, pulling you against his chest. “Deal,” he says, his voice full of triumph. “You won’t regret it. Best date of your life, guaranteed.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he counters, his tone smug as his hand tightens around yours.

Maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[acidinbubbles]

🎀Homewrecker🎀

Eren Yeager x Homewrecker! Fem reader

WC:2k +

Synopsis: You didn’t have to be Eren’s girlfriend right? Just his favorite.

Contains: oral (m and f receiving), praise, degradation, hair pulling, drinking, unprotected sex, and probably more!

Notes: I haven’t written in a while so please be nice. Not proof read. Request and submissions are open!

Finals week was finally over, it’s like everyone could finally breathe after that. So of course your sorority threw the biggest party of the year. You were wearing a skin tight black bodysuit with black gogo boots. It was definitely giving body. You, Ymir, and Historia were taking shots in the kitchen. “Wow y/n are you sure you’re not down for a threesome?” Ymir joked, “Very funny, but you two are not in my league.” You all laughed at the flirtatious jokes you guys were throwing back and forth. Historia poured more shots “To y/n, who better get it in tonight.” Historia cheered before you all downed your shots. “Eren is looking really good tonight.” you said with a smirk. And he did look really good, but in your drunken state. You almost forgot he had a girlfriend, she didn’t go to the same college let alone live in the same state. But he did have a girlfriend. Luckily you had no morals, you wanted him so badly and you were determined to have him. You didn’t have to be his girlfriend, you just wanted to be his favorite secret. A low voice spoke from behind you “Good luck with that.” It was Armin sneaking behind you to grab a bottle of vodka. “Eren is loyal, he loves Mikasa. He would never cheat on her, especially with a girl like you.” Did you hear him correctly? You quickly spun around getting in his face “What’s that supposed to mean Arlert?” Ymir and Historia were standing behind you giggling, invested in the drama. Armin quickly got flustered realizing how badly he phrased that “I didn’t mean it like that! Eren only likes sophisticated women, and you can’t deny the fact that you’re a bit wild y/n.”. You didn’t know if you should be offended or not but you chose the high road, kinda. “Whatever Armin, you’ll see.” And you were in the right for thinking that, because little did you know Eren was struggling.

Eren's relationship with Mikasa had been going downhill for a while. She had been so busy with college they had barely been talking to each other, and when they did she was constantly accusing Eren of cheating. When Eren had been painfully loyal to her, do you know how many girls lust after Eren? And he says no to every single one. But truth be told he was getting tired of Mikasa. Not to mention she never did anything sexual over the phone because she thought it wasn’t “ladylike”. So not only was she just being a bitch she was leaving Eren sexually frustrated. He was hitting rock bottom with her, so here he was at the party trying to drink and distract himself from his failing relationship. Until you approached him with two shot glasses in hand. “You look so sad, do you want a shot?” You said with a smile, Eren had heard about you. You were hot, amazing in bed, smart, and fun. You honestly sounded exactly like what he needed right now. Your bodysuit was doing your body wonders, Eren was looking you up and down, the bodysuit outlined your curves perfectly. But he couldn’t do it to Mikasa as much as he wanted to, but you could be friends. Right?

Eren took the shot from you “Yeah something like that.” he said with a small smile. God, you were going feral for him, his hair was tied back messily, the gray sweats and tight shirt combo had you clenching your legs together. “Well cheers to new friends!” you cheered your shot glasses and tapped them with Eren before you both took your shots. Historia came running from the kitchen “Hey y/n we’re gonna play truth or dare with the rest of the group wanna come?”. You turned to Eren “Only if my newly found friend comes.” Eren looked at you before sighing, “I guess it could be fun.” Historia squealed “alright we’ll wait for you up stairs.” Historia ran upstairs. You grabbed Eren’s hand and led him upstairs.

You’re now sitting in a circle with Ymir, Historia, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Annie, Hitch, and Armin. And of course you and Eren. Ymir spun the bottle first and landed on Jean “Jean truth or dare?” Jean pondered for a minute “Truth.” Ymir thought for a moment before speaking, “Fuck marry kill, Sasha, Hitch, andddd y/n.” Jean scoffed “Well that's easy definitely fucking y/n” he shot you a wink, you smiled. “Marrying Hitch.” Hitch groaned in disgust. “And killing Sasha.” Sasha laughed, “That’s fair.” Jean spun the bottle and it landed on Armin “Armin truth or dare?” “Dare” Jean chuckled “Kiss the person on your right.”. Armin’s face became red, the person on his right was Annie, and everyone knew Armin had a crush on Annie. So he shyly scooted over and gave Annie a small peck. Before sliding back to his spot.

A couple more rounds went by before the bottle finally landed on you, Historia asked you “Truth or dare y/n?”. You smiled at her “Dare.”. “Kiss the hottest guy in the room.” Well that was easy, you turned to Eren. You saddled on top of Eren’s lap and for some reason he couldn’t push you off. Maybe because sense you first talked to him he hasn’t thought of Mikasa once, maybe because of you how you were deliciously rubbing against his dick, or maybe it’s because of how fucking amazing you’ve looked all night. Regardless of the answer he couldn’t turn you down, so when you snaked his neck in your arms and pulled him in he didn’t fight it. He put his hands on your hips pulling you closer. He knows it’s wrong and he can feel the pang of guilt in his chest, but it disappears as soon as your lips connect. Everyone gasps, the kiss is deep and messy. His lips are so soft and tender, your tongue slips into his mouth. He tastes so good, the kiss consumes you, you almost forget about the room full of people. That is until Armin coughs, you both break from the trance as you slowly begin to slide from his lap.

Armin gets up, “I think we should call it here” he says. He storms out the room clearly upset about the exchange that just occurred. Eren gets up and attempts to chase after him but you grab his hand looking up at him, giving him doe eyes. He stays, hypnotized by you. You get up and whisper in his ear “Follow me”. You lead Eren towards your room. The party was held in your sorority after all. You entered your room locking the door behind you. When Eren heard the door lock he should’ve left immediately, it’s not too late to fix things with her. But he doesn't, instead he sits on the bed. When you sit on his lap and push him down on the bed, he should throw you off and leave. But he doesn’t. When you start kissing his neck and feeling his abs under his shirt, he should run. But the way your soft lips kiss his neck, your dainty hands playing with the waistband of his sweats. He can’t, he feels the guilt in his chest, but the way you're slowly making your hands and lips closer to his painfully hard dick. Makes the pros outway the cons.

You pull his dick out of his sweats and for a moment, Eren sits up finally ready to put this to an end. “Hey y/n I don’t think I ca-” he stops as soon as he feels your lips kissing his angry pink tip. “It’s okay baby, just let me take care of you.” You start sucking on his tip aggressively, Eren hadn’t had anyone but himself touch his dick for at least 5 months. He was groaning and moaning like a teenage boy, also as eager as one. He grabbed you by your hair and started fucking into your throat. The new found pace had you clenching your legs together and moaning on his cock. “Fuckk just like that y/n.” You used your hand to massage his heavy balls, his dick was repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. There was spit everywhere but you didn’t mind. You’ve had a thing for Eren since you first saw him and you were finally getting what you wanted. Eren's pace grew quicker and sloppier signaling to you he was about to cum, you tapped his thigh. A sign for him to let up, you came off his dick with a pop before standing, you started to remove your shoes and unzip your bodysuit. You didn’t want him to cum just yet. You climbed back on top of him rubbing your clothed pussy on his dick, “I can’t put it in y/n, I just can’t” you pouted. You started rubbing his abs and chest “Please baby just feel how wet my pussy is for you.” . You grabbed his hand and put it in your panties right between your folds and you were right you were dripping. Eren groaned he wanted you so badly but he couldn’t, but maybe he could still help you.

“Come here princess, come ride my face.” you gave in immediately crawling over his body till your cunt was hovering over his mouth. He tore a hole in your panties, you gasped. He pulled you down by your hips and dragged his tongue against your folds, you let a loud moan come from you as shocks went through your body. “Fuck this pretty pussy taste so good.” he growled into your cunt as he spit on your clit lapping it up. He was grabbing your ass pushing you more on his tongue, like was trying to consume you. Choked out gasp comes from your lips when he starts sucking and flicking his tongue on your clit. “Eren” becomes a mantra, his name rolls off your tongue every time he circles your clit. You start shaking and writhing on his tongue pulling his hair “Fuck Eren i- i’m close.” his tongue starts flicking even faster as he buries his face deep in your folds. You grip his hair hard, dropping all your weight on him while arching your back, you cum and you cum hard. Your hips jerk against him as your juices drip down his chin. Eren never faulted though, lapping it all up. If it wasn’t for the booming music downstairs everyone would know, it was Eren who was making you feel this good.

You removed yourself from his mouth sitting by his side playing with hair while staring at his swollen. “ Baby I'm dying to have you inside me.” Eren groaned “I can’t y/n.”. The idea came into your head, if he could eat your pussy and let you suck him off, why would he oppose this? “What if it’s just the tip?” Eren looked at you concentrating hard like he’s fighting a war with himself, and you can tell he’s losing. “Just the tip?” you smiled “Yes I swear.” he contemplated for another moment before agreeing. You quickly got on all fours feeling Eren line up behind you. “Just the tip” he says but to be honest it sounds like he’s talking to himself more than you. He puts the tip in and god, it’s almost enough to make you cum again, “Fuck your pussy is so fucking tight.” You start rocking your hips back on his dick, and he tries to hold your hips in place but it doesn’t make much of a difference since he’s rutting into you as well. “Fuck it.” is all he says before thrusting into fully, you let out a silent scream moan from the burn. Not only was dick fucking huge it was thick as well, stretching you out so good. “Just like that baby” you rock your hips to meet every single one of his thrust, your mind begins to fog as he hits your spot every time he slides in and out of you. “Fuck y/n I think this is the best pussy i’ve ever fucking had.” you moan hard at that. The fact he thinks you're better than his bitch girlfriend has you tightening around his cock. “No girl wil- will ever make you feel as good as I can baby.” Eren starts fucking you at a animalstic speed. Pulling your hips back every time he slams into you, the oxygen from your lungs starts to disappear the way he drills into you. You grip the bed sheets under you when one of his hands goes from your waist into your hair. Pulling it so your back is arched slightly “You like that hm? Fucking slut.” He drops you back down just in time for your orgasm to start raging through you like a vicious storm. Eren slams into you one more time before the coil snaps you let out a scream of his name along with a screaming moan. “Fuck princess im gonna cum.” As Eren was wildly chasing after his release it was like a knot was untying inside you, like an explosion of ecstasy was about to explode and it did. Your juices gushed from you all over Eren’s abdomen, you cunt sucking his dick in. Deliciously tightening around you “Fuck that was hot.” was all Eren could say before painting your insides, emptying 5 months worth of cum into your spent cunt. He rode out his orgasm, filling you to the brim before slowly pulling out and laying beside you.

You both laid together gasping for air. Instead of the intense guilt Eren should be feeling, all he felt was bliss he didn’t want to leave so he didn’t. He laid by your side holding you and kissing your forehead. It didn’t matter that he had 3 missed calls from Mikasa, it mattered that he was here with you, in your bed, with someone who actually cared. Eren might have made a mistake but he’s not gonna let it go to waste. Little did Eren know he was going to be yours, you decided that when he fell asleep and you shut off his phone while Mikasa was calling him at 4 in the morning. Sleeping in your bed, cuddling with you, not her.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed let me know if you want a part 2 on Mikasa finding out;)

[dearsnow]

OUT OF TOUCH (1)

- you lost contact with the boy next door, and you believe your life is better for it. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, ⚠️ adult topics mentioned, part of the series “out of touch”)

OUT OF TOUCH: It’s been twenty years since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw, and, suddenly, you realize he’s finally grown up.

word count: 1,003

a/n - aaaaaa my top gun obsession as of late is currently taking up everything in my brain 🥹 now that i’m out for the summer, i really am going to try to finish what i started. come along for the journey, if you dare <3

You were never “together” together with him. You used to wish you were, praying desperately to every fallen eyelash and coin in a fountain and 11:11, but nothing could make Bradley Bradshaw, the only thing your teenage self wanted, settle down.

Instead, you followed him like a lost puppy, and he reveled in your affection. He was fifteen years old, just barely starting to grow his hair out, and you were fourteen. He was also your neighbor, something you could not get out of your giddy head every time you caught a glimpse of him riding his bike outside your window. You supposed it was a thing of proximity; you fell for the only boy you had ever really talked to, and he wanted a warm body.

It was an innocent crush. You liked the way he moved his (frankly horribly styled, which you only realized later) hair out of his brown eyes, and he liked that you liked him. So you went out on “dates”, and you had a fun time, and he inevitably left you to fend for yourself when his friends came around. It took two months of this for you to finally realize that it just wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as you pulled yourself off of your metaphorical knees, he was attached to another girl. A blonde named Rebecca with curves that were certainly not age-appropriate, even at seventeen. You hated her, for a time, but looking back on it, she had the same lovesick look in her eyes that you did. He had that effect on everyone.

When Bradley left, you didn’t even miss him.

You’re thirty-four now, with a brand-new sparkle in your eye. Things are perfect. You just accepted a new job in sunny San Diego to be closer to your long-term boyfriend, and really, life couldn’t be better.

After high school, you moved halfway across the country to attend your dream college, where you met Derick. He’s a nice guy. He brings you flowers, knows your drink order by heart, and, most importantly, he isn’t afraid of commitment. He has a big, shiny ring tucked in the back of his sock drawer, and you won’t ever tell him you know where it is.

Even your job is amazing, which is something people rarely get to say. You got the opportunity to own and manage a cafe quietly nestled into the cozier part of the California coast, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. Its proximity to a naval base is also a great thing, as uniformed men line up in droves for an early morning coffee or the odd pastry on their cheat days.

You’re hardworking, and finally, finally, it’s starting to pay off. You smile to yourself as you pull the morning’s cash profit out of the cash register and divide it into folded envelopes. Nothing, you think, could ever go wrong.

Bradley’s life is great, too. That’s what he’d like to think, at least. He has friends. He loves his job. He loves the freedom of hooking up where he wants when he wants, without anyone trying to tie him down. He likes condoms and birth control, too, which are very important to his lifestyle. But when he looks at couples, rings around fingers and hands tucked into back pockets, something inside of him gives a little.

He’s never been one to stay in one place. He moved around a lot as a kid, and some essential part of that stuck with him. His job doesn’t make it easier, either–he’s constantly on the move. Now, though, he’s living in San Diego semi-permanently, and his roots are beginning to dig into the sand. And the whole time, he’s stayed depressingly single.

Women want him. There’s no doubt about it. He’s young enough, at thirty-five, for the twenty-something’s to chat him up, but old enough for the forty-somethings to not feel creepy talking to him. He’s fit, smooth, confident, and if he wants to take it that far, very good in bed. Despite all of that, he’s never found anyone that could truly tie him down. He’s getting a little tired of it at this point.

“Lord, she’s the hottest thing I’ve seen all week.” Fanboy moans into his palms. There’s a croissant on a napkin in front of him that he hasn’t even touched.

Hangman grins from behind him. “You gotta get us there so we can take a shot. As a humble man, I can firmly say that she won’t even think about her boyfriend when I walk through the door.”

The daggers are going on about their new crush of the week. Apparently, Fanboy had spotted what he describes as a “cuteness off the charts” cafe owner on his quest for a new dessert spot. There’s only one thing that deterred him from sweeping her off of her feet: she has a boyfriend, one that she’s evidently quite serious about.

Rooster isn’t into taken women. It’s too much hassle, and he doesn’t like getting in the way of a relationship. He’s made that mistake in the past, and gotten a black eye to show for it. A bit of him is curious, but he won’t take that bait.

“I want to go back. Maybe… maybe I can say the croissant was so good that I had to get another. Guys, you need to go with me. It’s serious serious.” Rooster can firmly say that he’s never seen Fanboy so worked up about a girl before. Who in the world could make his friend geek out like this?

Phoenix chimes in from her spot behind Rooster. “I don’t condone messing around with girls with boyfriends, but I’ve gotta see her for myself.”

Fanboy stands, determination written on his face, as he takes a bite of the croissant. “Let’s go. And you guys better not steal my thunder.”

Rooster rolls his eyes, but follows behind his very smitten friend. He’s in for an interesting (if not somewhat funny) afternoon.

NEXT

Taglist: @m1dnightsnackz @itsarabellebabes

[gilgaladswife]

Addicted to You

Tom Ryder xF!Reader

Everyone warned you about him. They told you he is a real asshole and that someday he would break your heart. As you watch frozen in place, Tom kissing another woman on his lap, you realize you should have listen to them.

Today was your first anniversary together and he has a break from filming so you wanted to surprise him. And to celebrate the way you always do. It seems he had other plans. You leave his penthouse heartbroken, closing the door loudly, going straight to Colt’s appartement. He and Judy are your best friends.

When he opens the door and sees your tears, he immediately knows what happened. He knows Tom and how he is. That doesn’t stop Colt from wanting to kill him for breaking your heart. You enter inside completely devastated. What are you going to do? You are supposed to be working on the same set as him tomorrow. That was your other surprise, you are now his hair and makeup stylist.

-What am I going to do Colt? you say after telling him everything.

-It has always been a dream for you to work on a movie set right?

You nod.

-Well don’t let this bastard stop you. You’re going to work with me. I know Jody will agree. says Colt smiling.

You think it’s a good idea. For now, the less you will see Tom the better it will be. And Colt is such an angel, you will have fun working with him.

The next day, Colt tells Jody about the situation and as expected, she immediately agrees. You are nervous about crossing paths with Tom on set but also excited to work with your best friend. You didn’t tell Colt but last night you texted Tom to tell him you’re breaking up then you blocked his number.

The morning goes well, you are constantly busy since Colt is the stunt double and has to look perfect. You love the job, your talents are useful and it’s something you’ve achieved by yourself. Without Tom’s help. You know he would have helped and say it’s because of him that you’re here.

After lunch, the inevitable happens. You are walking back to Colt’s trailer when you see Tom. Alone. He seems preoccupied. Your first instinct is to ask him what’s wrong, but you remember he has cheated on you. So you continue your walk and as you look one last time in his direction, you catch him staring at you. Fuck.

Later, once the day is done, you’re leaving with Colt, laughing at something he said when Tom intercepts you both. Your smile disappears and Colt puts an arm around your shoulder protectively. Tom notices and you know it pisses him off. Good. He was always very possessive.

-What do you want Ryder? ask Colt drily.

-I need to speak with Y/N. says Tom.

-She doesn’t want to talk to you so get lost. Don’t you have more important things to do?

-No. Y/N please baby I need to talk to you. says Tom looking at you with his blue eyes.

You have never in your life heard Tom Ryder begs. That’s why you’re tempted to accept but Colt decides for you. Maybe it’s for the best. You feel like crying again and it would be easy to just fall back into the asshole’s arms.

-She won’t talk to you ever again. Forget her. Let’s go Y/N. says Colt pulling you with him.

You leave a angry and sad Tom Ryder standing there. On your way back home, a hour later, you think about him. He seemed distressed, but you cannot trust him anymore. Even if your heart aches for him. Tom can really be an ass sometimes but never as he been bad with you. Until yesterday.

When you arrive at your apartment it’s raining hard. Someone is waiting for you at your door steps. Tom. How did he got here so fast? He sees you and comes closer. He is soaked.

-What are you doing here Tom? What did you not understood in I don’t want to talk you to again? you say angry and sad.

-I know you don’t want to see me but please let me explain. It wasn’t what it looked like. says Tom desperate.

-Oh really? Well you seemed to enjoy the kiss for someone who pretends it wasn’t what it looked like. I loved you asshole and you cheated on me!

-I didn’t kiss her! She kissed me! It was my ex. I told her that I was with you and don’t love her. She kissed me in despair and you left before you could see me pushing her off me. I swear baby I love you. And only you. You are the most important person in my life and I don’t want to lose you. Please you have to believe me.

Because of the rain you didn’t realize you were crying. He really sounds sincere. And even if you should be mad and not forgive him, you still love him with all of your heart. Tom might be a world class asshole, but to you he is more than that. He is a man who just want to be love for who he is, not just because of his fame.

Tom approaches you and swipe away your tears tenderly before kissing slowly as he sees you’re not pulling away. In fact, you cling to him and kiss him back immediately. After a while of making out, you’re out of breath and start to feel cold, your clothes being completely soaked.

-Let’s get you inside. I know a good way to get you warm. says Tom with a smirk.

You laugh and feel warm inside your belly. You know what he means and you are not against his suggestion. After all, they say make up sex is the best right?

-Can’t wait to see what you’ve got Ryder. you say teasingly and happy as you lead him inside your apartment.

The next morning, as you lay naked in your bed in his arms, you realize how addicted you are to Tom and that you will always love him no matter what. And you know it’s the same for him.

Another Tom fic :) this one is a bit different I was feeling a bit sad 🥹

Tags: @tangerineboss @pretty-little-mind33

[buckysgrace]

4. Burnin’ For You

Billy Hargrove x fem!OC/Tommy Hagan x Fem!OC

Now That We Don't Talk

CW: Cheating, stepcest, blowjobs

Kim

Nora was attached to her hip. She was always around Kim, following her around like a little duckling. She had thought once Nora got old enough she’d be a little more attached to Tommy, but the connection never came. Then again, Tommy hadn’t been thrilled about having kids either. He had suggested taking other measures at first, but she hadn’t been able to go through with it.

Things never really got easier after the wedding. In fact, her dreams of having some perfect fairytale ever after had vastly diminished. Her and Tommy’s connection just wasn’t there. Or somewhere along the lines it had died. She wasn’t quite sure what the correct answer was.

Perhaps it was his family. She felt bad to admit that they were overbearing, constantly meddling in whatever they could get their fingers onto. It had started with her wedding, then slowly grown into Nora’s birthday themes. Then the outfits she wore, the way she should do her hair. She didn’t like trying to fit in with them.

“Who’s this?” She hummed as she looked over Nora’s shoulder, glancing at the paper she was scribbling furiously on. She thought she was pretty good for being so little. 

“Dat uncwe Biwwy!” Nora proclaimed as she turned towards her, little lips curled into a bright smile. Kim felt her heart race out of nerves, slightly worried before she quickly shook her thoughts away. Everything was fine. He hadn’t brought it up, so she wouldn’t either.

“Looks very pretty,” She complimented, “Do you want to go give it to him?” She asked softly, figuring that Nora might as well get some fun out of it. They shouldn’t all be suffering. 

“Yeah!” She giggled as she continued to scribble in the sun, “I dweam of dolphins.” She hummed softly, making Kim raise her eyebrows in confusion. She didn’t know that Nora was even aware of what dolphins were. 

“You did?” She asked curiously as Nora snuggled up to her side, wrinkling her nose up as she tried to recall if she had ever brought dolphins up before. 

“Yeah, dey were biting my toes.” She replied as she pressed her lips together, looking down as she wiggled her toes back and forth. The socks had long been discarded, which was nothing unusual. She preferred to be barefoot anyways. 

“Well that’s not very nice at all.” Kim added as she thought about her daughter’s dream, shaking her head softly. Addi would tell her that it meant something, but Kim couldn’t tell what it would be. 

“Dey just hungry, mama.” Nora sighed as she shook her head, looking like she couldn’t believe what her mother had said. She hummed underneath her breath, beginning to finish the sun up on the corner of her page. It matched Billy’s hair. 

“Oh, I see,” She laughed softly, “Maybe you should’ve gotten them some fish instead.” She suggested a second later, trying not to let her nerves grow as she thought about Billy once again. 

“Uh, dey wike mellows.” Nora sassed back, smiling brightly as she pointed at the little shapes she had surrounding Billy. Kim squinted to look at it. 

“Marshmallows?” She clarified softly, ensuring that she understood her correctly. Occasionally she’d say something and Kim would guess it completely wrong.

“Mhm.” She continued to work, concentrating as she pressed her little lips together. She had created a habit of doing that. It was cute. 

Kim stood up again, working on placing the rest of the groceries away from their visit to the store that morning. Billy hadn’t gotten up for breakfast and apparently wouldn’t be joining them for lunch either. She supposed it was a good thing. She still had a hard time seeing him. 

She hadn’t realized how difficult her life would be without him at the time. But it was horrible. It continued to be. She missed him deeply, like a part of herself had broken off and died. Part of herself was gone; the part that had loved him. 

“Morning.” Billy grumbled as he walked into the kitchen, even though it was well into the afternoon. His hair was messy, the right side of his face red from where he had been sleeping. His chest was bare, his pants loose and hanging off of his hips. She glanced at him for just a second, not letting herself watch too closely. 

“Hewe!” Nora proclaimed, nearly hopping out of her seat as she held the picture high in the air. Kim paused as she finished unloading the boxes of cereal, watching the way he gently took it from her fingers. 

“What’s this?” He hummed, voice raspy as he examined it. His expression softened, lips curling into a gentle smile as Nora turned bashful. 

“She drew you,” She spoke softly, twisting her hair around her fingers, “She likes to draw.” She added a second later, heart hammering 

“Of course she does,” He met her eye, smiling in such a way that she was sure her heart momentarily stopped, “Thank you. I love it.” She hated how he pretended to know her. He didn’t know her. If he did, he wouldn’t have left her for so long. 

“Welcome!” Nora grinned happily as she bounced on the tips of her toes, “Why I no see you before?” She asked curiously, apparently warming up to him a little more. Kim gulped, taken aback by her question. 

“Uh,” He paused for a moment, “I lived far away.” He clarified as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was unsure of his answer. Kim glanced away, busying herself with the groceries once again. 

“Why?” She continued on, dangling her feet in the air as she moved to the side of her chair. Billy joined her, still admiring the picture. 

“Because I like the ocean?” He questioned himself, blinking roughly as he chewed on his bottom lip. 

“Dolphins eat my toes.” Nora replied unphased as she stared him down. He blanched, looking as if he had almost been smacked as her words settled over him. 

“Okay,” Kim laughed as she motioned Nora towards her, “How about we go check the garden while uncle Billy gets something to eat, alright?” She suggested, holding her hand out as the toddler slowly slid out of her chair. 

“Sounds good,” Nora hummed as she took her hand, leading her out, “No dolphins?” She asked curiously, making Kim laugh in agreement. 

“No dolphins.” She promised, sliding the door open to create some more distance between her and Billy. She was beginning to fear that nothing would be able to hide her bitter feelings. 

Nora held onto the basket as Kim picked the vegetables, rambling off about what games she had planned for everyone to play later. Kim still wasn’t the biggest fan of vegetables, but she wanted her daughter to like different things. 

“What do you do?” Billy asked a little later, taking her by surprise while she worked on scrubbing some of the tomatoes clean. His hair was styled better, his skin smooth and features relaxed. At least he was looking more like himself. 

“Take care of Nora.” She inhaled deeply as she turned away, distracting herself with a piece of dirt that refused to come off of the red skin. She couldn’t look at him for too long, not even when she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. 

“What else do you do?” He clarified, raising his eyebrows as she remained quiet, “When did you graduate?” He leaned against the side of the counter, right in her way as she put her vegetables to the side to dry. 

“I never went to college,” She said gently, “Trying to find someone to watch her was too hard.” She explained, glancing towards the floor to ensure that Nora was still playing with her baby dolls. 

“You couldn’t find anyone?” He questioned slowly, looking in disbelief as she met his blue eyes. Her heart thumped roughly against the crook of her neck, her nerves pulsing through her body as a warmth spread through her body. She hated how handsome he was. How he still made her feel gushy on the inside. 

“Not anyone that I trusted.” She specified as she washed her hands clean. She turned away from him again, moving to dry her hands as he followed her about. She breathed in deeply, wishing that he’d just stop. 

“So you do nothing but watch her all day long?” He asked, his tone a little sharp as she turned towards him in confusion. He looked baffled, like he had a right to not understand. 

“I’m not mad about it,” She replied as she furrowed her eyebrows together, “I love seeing my little squishy all day long.” She grinned as she lifted Nora up, giving her chubby cheek a few quick kisses.

“Tommy doesn’t seem very active.” He added as Nora giggled in her arms, her two favorite baby dolls hanging from her arms. She frowned at his words. It was partially true, but her and Tommy had picked this life. Not Billy. He didn’t leave her a choice. 

“Billy.” She stated softly, sighing deeply as a sick feeling washed over her. He looked as if he might argue for a second before he suddenly dropped it. She didn’t want to talk about this. Nora needed to nap anyway. 

“Sorry,” He held up his hands in mock innocence, “Just trying to figure out what happened.” he shrugged as he followed behind her, making her sigh deeply as she turned towards him again. 

“Nothing happened,” She defended herself, feeling her face flush as Tommy’s argument came forth again. He was always bringing up that something had changed between the two of them. She wasn’t sure if there had ever really been something there, “Nora just keeps us on our toes.” She gave her a little bounce, smiling as she carried her towards her room. 

“Right.” He stated, still following behind. She wished he had something else to do. Maybe he could go visit their parents, his friends. He could go see anyone else. She didn’t want to be reminded of her own hurt. 

“No kids for you?” She sighed deeply, watching the way he lazily rested against the doorway. The answer slightly scared her, the same way him mentioning a girlfriend had terrified her. She didn’t want him to be tied down to anyone else. It was wrong of her. She had no right to be so possessive, especially when he didn’t care for her in the same way. He’d proved that time and time again. 

“None that I know of,” He chuckled, cocking an eyebrow at her reaction. She blinked in surprise, a little horrified at the thought, “That was a joke, Kim.” He said dryly, walking in the room and taking in the little decorations. 

“Right,” She shook her head quickly, “She needs to sleep.” She replied as she rocked Nora in the chair, trying to keep her still as she kept wiggling around. He smirked at her.

“I’m distracting, I know,” He replied cockily, “I get the hint.” He shrugged as he turned on his heel, carrying the picture Nora had drawn with him. She exhaled roughly, knowing in another life that things would be different. 

She busied herself once Nora was laid down, scrubbing through the kitchen and living room before she started on the laundry. Billy stayed out of her hair, making her feel glad but guilt ridden at the same time. She didn’t want to be rude. But she feared she’d easily fall for him once again. 

She stumbled through the hall, her fingers screaming from the way the heavy basket was digging into her fingers. She blew her hair out of her face, struggling for a second as she tried to pull the door open with her foot. She stumbled back, nearly toppling over before she was balanced once again. 

“Sorry,” Billy mumbled as he took another step to the side, only to end up face to face with her again, “Here.” He said as he gripped her shoulders, holding onto her as he pushed her to one side and he moved to the other.

Her eyes stayed glued to his, unable to look away as they slowly turned so they were no longer blocking one another. She felt her heart beating roughly inside of her chest, leaving butterflies in her stomach as his lips curled into a hint of a smile. 

“It’s okay,” She replied hoarsely, then cleared her throat as she tucked her hair behind her ear, “Sorry. Dry throat.” She struggled for a second before she dropped the basket gently on the floor. She kicked it forward, pushing it into the laundry room. 

She turned as she looked towards where Billy was lingering, his eyes inquisitive as he met her gaze. She was silent for a moment, wondering if he had been lonely after all this time. She wished he would’ve called. She would’ve let him back in a long time ago. 

Her mind felt foggy as she leaned forward, her body moving on its own as she crashed her lips against Billy’s. They were just as smooth and warm as she remembered, creating a familiar buzz between their bodies.

He stalled for a second, out of surprise before he moved his hands to her waist. His lips became hot, fiery as he licked and prodded her mouth with his tongue. She moaned against him, opening her mouth wider as she craved the feeling of him. It had been so long.

The lust nearly burst through her body as she fell to her knees a little too harshly, wincing as jolts of pain traveled up her body. She ignored it all, however. Any pain was worth being able to feel more of him.

“Kim,” He exhaled deeply, blue eyes filled with passion as he stared down at the way she was struggling to pull his belt off, “You sure about this?” He asked raspily, tongue flicking out against his lips in a way that made her insides burn in pleasure. She had never been so sure about something before.

She giggled as she pulled his briefs down, his cock plopping out and nearly hitting against her cheek from how close she was. She breathed in deeply, taking a whiff of his musk before she wrapped her dainty fingers around his thick girth.

She admired his tan skin, the soft blonde hair at the base of his cock as she gave him a slow stroke. The groan that fell from his tongue made her insides twist in pleasure, her clit throb in lust. She wanted him so badly.

It’d been some time since she’d done something like this with Tommy. But she paid that no mind, not when Billy was looking at her so intensely. She had missed the eye contact, had missed him. 

She dragged her tongue along the tip of his cock, licking away the precum from his slit as the taste of him hit her. God, she was a mess. She had never wanted something so badly. She’d always need him.

He pulled her hair back with his fingers, grunting lowly as she relaxed her jaw and slid his cock further into her mouth. She swirled her tongue across his girth, enjoying the way his cock curved and all of his ridges and veins. It felt so familiar. 

She bobbed her head along his long length, drool forming at the corner of her lips as he lazily dragged her along the curve of him as he rutted his hips forward. She blinked harshly, eyebrows tightening as she moved her hands to his balls. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” He groaned as he tossed his head back, lips parted as he pushed more of her hair out of her face, “You look so good with your brother’s cock in your mouth.” He teased, his words dropping straight to her cunt.

She moaned as his words made her body fill with electricity, her mind foggy as she hummed along his cock. She squeezed at his balls, rolling them against her palms as she began to drool from her mouth. He’d always liked it sloppy anyways. 

His cock hit the back of her throat, making her eyes water and brows furrow together tightly. Her lips burned around his girth, her saliva coating his warm skin as she roughly moved her mouth along the length of his dick. 

“Fuck,” He hissed as he tangled his fingers through her hair, squeezing tightly as he began to grind his hips up into her eager mouth. She gagged roughly, fingertips digging into his thighs as his cock twitched against her tongue, “That’s it, Kim.” 

She met his eyes once again, savoring his praise as the pleasure became etched across his features. He grunted as he continued to tug on her hair, pulling her closer as she gagged around him. Spit fell onto her chest, onto her floor as she shifted herself back.

She fought to fill her lungs with fresh air, moving her hand up and down the length of his cock quickly as he rutted his hips forward with her motions. She moaned as he began to grunt, making her desperate to hear more of him. 

“Cum on my face, Billy,” She rasped as she stroked his cock harshly in her hand, “Please, please, please.” She tapped his tip against her lips, giving his cock a brief kiss as his movements became more and more uneven.

“Christ,” He cursed, sighing deeply as he teetered forward towards her, “Fuck! Fuck!” He hissed between his teeth, thick ropes of cum falling free and landing against her skin. His spunk coated her cheeks, her chin and her forehead. It was filthy, so messy and dirty. But she loved it all. 

He groaned as she continued to move her hand along his dick slowly, squeezing before she leaned forward to lick away any excess cum from him. He groaned as he lightly touched her face, tilting her chin up towards him.

He held eye contact with her, not breaking it as he smeared his cum across her skin and into her parted lips. She moaned as she greedily licked it away, desperately needing the taste of him. She sucked his thumb clean after, not caring how it made her look.

She was in so much trouble. 

Tags: @cassandracorvo @jessicar401 @mrprettywhenhecries

[boyfhee]

⌕ TAKE TWO ━━ 23 : leaving for good

PRECIS. while riki constantly assured you that him being an idol under a different label wouldn't be an issue in your relationship, you start getting second thoughts when fans start shipping him with his co-mc at music bank.

w : angst but r we surprised ( 2.03k )

note : haha guys enjoy !!!!

“are you breaking up with me?” riki’s words are laced with confusion and disbelief. you both were getting better, you talked— sure, a few loose ends were left untouched. there were questions yet to be answered, but nothing quite led his assumptions to this conclusion, even in the worst scenarios. “answer me, yn,” 

“you asked if i could give you another chance and i did that. now, i don’t think i have any more chances to spare,” and what else were you supposed to say? that you feel guilty for hiding the truth, or that you can’t even bring yourself to give him the actual reason why you’re breaking up? the only reason why you wanted to have the first say in whatever you both were to discuss was because you didn’t trust yourself. “i think we’re better off without each other,” 

because you came here to tell him everything and perhaps, make him feel less guilty about himself and his actions, but now you don’t know where all the determination went the moment riki took the lead. 

“this doesn’t make sense,” you hear him murmur under his breath, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “is it because i didn’t explain things to you sooner?”

“it’s not about you,”

“we can make amends,” and it pains you to see hope in his eyes. 

“riki, this isn’t about you and no, we can’t ma—”

he takes a sharp breath. “well, then tell me what it’s abo—”

“i kissed jungwon,” a pause, a short session of silence follows. you don’t quite understand the depth of your words until you’ve already said it. “i don’t know how or why it happened. we were just talking, he confessed, and i kissed him. i can’t even sort out my own feelings and this is unfair to you.” and you’re just waiting for him to say something before you lose composure.“we should break up,” 

you did plan on telling him, really, in all honesty. that was the plan, the reason why you decided to meet him again, but once again, when have plans ever worked in your favour? he deserved to know the whole story, just not like this, not when you both are in the middle of a probable breakup with your relationship hanging by a string. this discussion wasn’t even planned because you thought riki wouldn’t question your decisions or the break up. in fact, you expected him to anticipate the same. you didn’t want to keep things from him, not after what happened, you just didn’t know how to put everything in words until it fell off your mouth like wind in jet streams. 

but you are here either way, sitting in front of him, fiddling with your fingers, mind blank, silence stinging like poisoned darts. you’re not expecting anything, not after what you’ve done, but you want him to say something— anything. you want him to yell at you, call you a cheating lying bitch, curse you out, anything but silence. yet still, riki keeps his mouth shut. his eyes widened for a brief second, you guess that he wants to speak, but words never leave his mouth, and when they do, you feel like the ground has shifted below your feet. 

“i had feelings for miya,” it takes you a second to realise that you both were finally playing the truth game, stripping each other off the facades. “it doesn’t make sense. she was annoying, she wanted to hang out all the time. she was demanding. but, i started liking those demands, y’know? it was fun, i liked having someone to hang out with while you weren’t there, made me feel less lonely, to put it straight. and then things escalated, i wanted to see her more. maybe that’s why i got mad whenever you’d bring her up. i was scared you’d find out, but now that i know the kind of person she is, i’ve lost a friend, and i’m close to losing you,” 

now, the silence is on your side. 

you’re not holding back any tears, your hands aren’t shaking, you’re not in disbelief or feeling utter betrayal. you’re not heartbroken to the point from where, there’s no recovery. if anything, you’ve come to terms with reality. despite the fear and insecurities, a part of you has always been aware of whatever was going on between him and miya. romantic or not, it didn’t matter. you simply knew she was one of his very first priorities, probably even before you. right now, it’s not his words that hurt you the most, but rather, they make you question the very basis of your relationship. how many times did he ignore you for her? was there a time when you weren’t his first priority? 

how many times did riki say i love you to you and it was meant for someone else? 

“would i have dated her if you had never found out? probably, and that makes the two of us equal,” and his words now give you the answers to your questions, sort of. 

probably more than you can count on your fingers. 

“no, it does not,” you argue back, voice a little louder, turning heads in your direction as you pause before speaking at a much lower amplitude. “i kissed jungwon,” 

but, he never cheated on you, did he? 

“it was a mistake,” riki says softly, lips pressed together between words. “you were scared, you were having a hard time, and people tend to accept every ounce of affection in hard times. you’re owing up to your mistakes, i did the same. i think we’ll be fine,” at this point, it’s not you who he’s trying to convince, but himself. his heart that is beating at an enormous rate, every pump of blood that feels like a knife twisting in his chest, every breath that threatens to collapse his lungs, he’s telling his mind that the pain will be over, that there’s still a chance. 

but riki doesn’t know where he stands, where you both stand. the damage was done, he is aware of all the tears and night it had cost. your decision is probably right, breaking up would be the best. sunghoon has been telling him to take some time off, he’s exhausted, he needs a break, but is it really easy to drop your first love and pretend nothing ever happened? to ignore everything you two had, to forget all the firsts and all the promises about being each other lasts, to discard the polaroids in his dorms that take him back to the moment they were taken, is it really as simple as it sounds, or is moving on a luxury only for people in movies and novels? 

“can you just get mad at me? i don’t know, curse me out, yell at me, say you never want to see me again,” you’re knee-deep in desperation. your veins are no longer carrying blood, it’s the guilt oozing out of your heart. “please, make this easy for me,” 

and even at this point, even when you’re the villain in your own story, when the pain he’s feeling is probably multiple folds severe than yours, when the scars you gave him in return are much deeper than the cuts he left you, you’re still begging him for mercy, to let you go because it makes things easier for you. 

“is it necessary?” his voice is tender, sadness pooling in his eyes. “we came clean. so, what’s the point of hurting ourselves, yn?” 

“and if we get back together, can i count on you?” it’s not a question for him. more or less, they’re the words you’ve been asking yourself over and over again, and when you can't find the answers, you direct them to him. “what are the chances that this will not happen again? how sure are you about your feelings for me? how are you sure that what you’re feeling is for me and not for someone else? what are the chances that you will not fall for someone else while claiming to be in love with me, and what are the chances that i won’t kiss jungwon again?” 

loving was never supposed to be easy. you were young, you kissed under the street lights, you held hands on your way back home, you drank from the same cup, that was love for you and riki when you started dating, where the thoughts about breakups and moving on didn’t even cross your minds. but you grow, the problems you face are no longer about not being able to text and bid a sweet goodnight, and most importantly, sometimes the solution isn’t to kiss and make up. 

if you’re being honest, loving was never for you. you had your own demons, he had his own issues. ‘tell me your problems and i’ll make them mine,’ only sounds good in fiction. in real life, when you’re sitting in front of the love of your life while talking about breaking up, nothing haunts you more than what has been caving inside your mind. at that moment, every single weakness surfaces and suddenly, you no longer think about how the other person is feeling. you kissed jungwon because you were in pain, you didn’t think about the effect it would have on riki or jungwon himself. riki turned to miya because you were absent, not knowing the depths of his actions and the harm it could potentially cause. 

so, at the end of the day, loving was never meant for the two of you, at least not now. the only thing written in your fates was leaving for good.   

“you’re right, we could get back and pretend none of this ever happened. but, riki, i can’t even look you in the eyes,” it’s true, to some extent, yes. you’re sitting here, you’re talking, you’re still in love, not sure with whom, it isn’t any different for him either. forgetting everything that happened would be easier, but you’re not sure how long you two will last. “ask yourself again, do you want this relationship because you still love me, or do you want it because you want to save yourself from heartbreak?” 

“we’re breaking up for good, aren’t we?” you notice the corner of his lips perk up, an ironic smile settling on his face, because who even breaks up for good? all those movies about leaving because you love the person and want them to be happy never made sense to riki. 

what’s so happy about breakups, anyway? 

“it’s the best for us,” you nod, after all, it’s the best for you two, right?  

and yet, it’s not in the best interest of you two. he wants to stay, you want to leave, the ‘good’ part of breakup, he doesn’t see it. riki never understood the hypothesis behind the good breakups and the breakups that happened while two people were still in love. you don’t throw away a cake even when you’re hungry, he thinks it’s the same logic. to leave the person you love the most for ‘better’, to spend days and nights and afternoons thinking about them and torturing yourself over and over, to drown in endless yearning and the lingering memories— he’d rather have it the other way. 

if you’re the sun, riki wants you to burn him, if you're the moon, he wants you to freeze him cold. love, for riki, is not something that puts him to bed but rather, it’s something that takes away his sleep every night. so, leaving for good doesn’t make sense to him, for he simply wants you back, in any way, any form. even if you return to him as a ghost, it’s fine, he wants you to haunt him forever. 

a theatrical confession, he doesn’t say it out loud. it would be stupid, but you seem to know what he’s thinking, the tears brimming your eyes tell him that. 

“this is probably going to sound stupid, but i want to ask you just one question,” you hold your breathe. “in future, if you find yourself in a position to fall in love again,”

“will you fall for me?”  

PREV | NEXT | MASTERLIST

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Alana Bloom

she kissed will graham in s1 and dated hannibal in s2 so you can imagine how bad the fandom is to her. fun fact she's in a canon lesbian relationship now tho <3

The show literally does the yaoi treatment of victimisation for the benefit of the male leads to her. And then the fandom mistreats her

I'm not sure if this even counts but...Literally a victim of Yaoi along with several other characters in-series, but she got it almost the worst. The entire show is just people dying because the two male leads are OBSESSED with each other and can't be normal about anything. Alana Bloom, actual PhD of psychology and consultant to the FBI, got kissed by one guy, fucked and fed people-meant by the other, and pushed out a window by the murder husbands' forced-surrogate daughter. Like. Actual victim of several crimes caused by yaoi. She's probably one of the few examples of a Yaoi Victim overcoming and evolving past her yaoi-related trauma into a stronger person/character, though: She gets an entire character overhaul and a hot, millionairess for a wife. She kills a man with an eel. She becomes head of the BSHCI, effectively putting her in complete power over her jackass cannibal ex-bf. She does quite well. Unfortunately, the rest of her screen time is spent trying not to get killed in the ongoing fallout of Hannibal and Will's fucked up courtship, but hey. Can't have everything. I don't even know if I'm saying anything valid here: the fandom loves her, but I supposed her position outside of the Hannigram relationship relegates her to a non-subject in a lot of Hannigram-focused fanwork. She's an 'obstacle' to their relationship only in the sense that Will had a crush on her once that went nowhere and Hannibal started an actual relationship with her SPECIFICALLY to piss off Will. I guess she's also a more literal obstacle as Hannibal's jailer and Will's friend who's constantly pointing out to him that Morals exist and he should try having some of those, maybe.

Gwen

She stands in the way of Merthur, by far the most popular ship in the fandom. I haven’t seen it as much in recent years, but back in the days of fanfiction.net she got slut shamed so badly for having been romantically interested in three of the male characters over the course of the show, which is just... normal straight woman behavior, meanwhile Merlin crushed on pretty much every woman who even looked at him in the early seasons of the show and got no hate for that whatsoever. I barely even read Merthur fics (not because it’s m/m, just because certain aspects of their relationship don’t appeal to me) but the “Gwen is a slut” attitude was so pervasive across the fandom, even fics that weren’t explicitly anti-Gwen would “jokingly” call her a slut. I even saw a few fics demonizing her for having an affair with Lancelot despite the fact that SHE WAS ENCHANTED when that happened, and surprise surprise, Lancelot (who was also under the influence of magic) got none of that hate, and neither did Arthur, who got enchanted to fall in love with multiple women over the course of the show.

Canonically Arthur Pendragon's love interest and an important and interesting character in the show who's completely shoved aside and ignored in favour of the medieval bbc yaoi ship. At best they put her and Morgana in Lesbian Timeout (ie make them get together and then reduce them to wingwomen at best because god forbid we focus on the medieval bbc yuri). Justice for Gwen right now!

She is prince Arthur's love interest (eventually wife). Arthur is MADLY in love with her. He tells his tyrannical father he would give up his crown to be with her (she's a servant in the series). He forgives her cheating on him with Lancelot (!), which in the show is caused by an evil enchantment, but the characters never find out about it. He chooses her time and time again. His love for Gwen is literally never put into question. Many fans insist to this day that there was no chemistry between Gwen and Arthur compared to Arthur and Merlin. Arthur isn’t even particularly nice to Merlin most of the time! The funny thing is that Merlin himself ships these two so hard and does everything he can to help them get together!! Gwen & Arthur are adorable and too many fans were drunk on the yaoi fumes to see it. ARTHUR WAS A SIMP FOR GWEN.

[tenko-thinks]

Okay okay now the pregnancy prompt with the Hantengu clones please? 🍿👀

(Would Urogi's result in an egg 🤔 Bonus if Urogi's has wings too and starts flying after like two months or something lol)

MAMA ( NON GENDERED ) THE POPCORN PLEASE. These will be shorter bc there's four mfs on this post

The Hantengu clones with a pregnant s/o + Fathering hcs

Cws : pregnancy, labor and childbirth ( nondescript ) , karaku is . Like that , sekido has like some implied toxic behavior but what do u want from me

Sekido

Pregnancy with sekido... Godspeed ladies and others with the ability to get knocked up.

He notices the change in your demeanor almost immediately. You avoiding him and being skittish.

Of course it pisses him off, figuring you're hiding something from him. He'll grab you by the arm and yell "out with it! There's no way a mortal like you would be stupid enough to cheat right!?"

And when you say you're pregnant he thinks he might be wrong on that assumption until you tell him without a doubt that it's his. Then he's just... Stumped? Doesn't know how to process that information.

During the duration of the pregnancy he's skeptical. And keeps tabs on you constantly. The idea of a demon siring is so unheard of it's only natural that he'd worry about loyalty.

God awful when it comes to handling hormones and mood swings. He doesn't know how to soothe you and ends up frustrated with himself which leads to an explosion on the other clones. Never you. He knows stress could kill the child, after all. He's not daft.

Even if he grumbles, sekido is very willing and happy to massage your ankles and any other soreness from your body.

When labor comes knocking? Sekido is snapping at the other three constantly as they flounder around uselessly. Flailing with the midwife watching them like a group of crazy people.

It's too silent comparatively when you're screaming in agony and all he can do is hold your hand while Urogi and Karaku offer platitudes he can't.

A daughter. Small and so so frail compared to her father. Resting in his arms as you recover from the task of birth.

Sekido has never claimed to be a perfect man. And he will never claim to be a perfect father.

He snaps at the little girl often . And will often apologize by offering her gifts. Words have never been his strong suit.

He gets worse as she ages. Not towards her , but the idea of her getting older. Relying on him less.

Protective and stern dad. No boyfriends.

Karaku

"How much sex have you been having without me??"

Punch him in the mouth first of all. But he's a tease through and through. Especially if you're a monogamous sort.

He "accuses" you of cheating despite knowing well and good you almost certainly haven't. Especially when he hardly lets you leave your home. He just likes getting you defensive and huffy!!

He's honestly pretty surprised though! Demons aren't supposed to have kids! Boy is your womb built different!

Karaku pouts when your hormones make you anything else other than horny. It's the one he's best suited to handling!! And you're just gonna be a bitch because your brain chemicals are off kilter? Weak.

Despite being a brat he's actually rather attentive. Being a creature of pleasure, Karaku is the most adjusted to being around humans and interacting with them. So he knows how to placate you!

Likes to tease about silly cravings you have though. So long as he thinks you can handle it.

Labor? Karaku has left the building in order to scream into the wilderness give him 10 minutes. He wants to not overwhelm you while you're busy pushing something out of you.

When he returns he's ignoring sekido's glower in favor of returning to your side and helping you through the process.

And as his son is born all he can think about is how gorgeous you are. All exhausted. But so much stronger than so many slayers hes faced! He thinks at least.

Kara is a fun dad kind of guy. One who prioritizes play over discipline or academics. So those will fall to you for the most part. He's not incapable. Just... annoying?

You have come home to Karaku lodged in a half broken wall because he thought it a good idea to hand a three year old his uchiwa.

You know that meme of the mom scolding the kid , the dad stepping in and proceeding to get scolded? Yeah that's karaku.

Aizetsu

"It's sad, knowing you're lying to me."

Is his dead ass reaction, and bro just straight up starts to walk away. You have to grab him and insist several times you went to the doctor and confirmed it!! You even have the doctor's note!

Aizetsu still doesn't believe it until you start to show symptoms. Only then does he stop sulking about your cruel prank on him.

Holds your hair back as you suffer from morning sickness. What a champ. Even if he's grossed out.

He's the most attentive and empathetic of the clones!! The best at giving words of affirmation when you're crying over silly things. Or when he tells you he won't let you eat rocks.

Sometimes if you're lucky you can catch a glimpse of a smile when he's looking at your bump growing. He likes having his hand there. Assuring himself that it's real and not some dream.

Aizetsu speaks to your stomach often, telling your child about his day and asking questions. He has full on conversations with them!

To be honest... labor? Aizetsu will probably black out and/or faint throughout the entire process. Coming to when Karaku is shaking him about how cute his new daughter is.

And he nearly ( does ) break down at the revelation that he has a little girl.

When he holds her for the first time he whispers to her how he'll never let her suffer or even know sorrow. While you're unconscious.

He stays true to his word as well. Whenever his daughter fusses he's there in an instant. Calming her. Feeding her. Whatever it is she needs. You wake up quite often to the sight of Aizetsu cradling her against his chest while waiting for you to wake up.

She becomes a spoiled princess because of it. But he wouldn't have her any other way. After all, he wants her happy.

Urogi

At first, Urogi is perplexed. Head cocked n all.

Now, to have eggs would insinuate having a cloaca and being fertilized. And I'm assuming you to be human.

So really it's more awe in how you are able to carry his children in the first place.

But he's ecstatic! Beyond excited!

Of course he'll have to ask around for advice but he's doing the best he can!! Running errands for you, making sure you're comfortable, etc

His method of dealing with your hormones is to try and make you laugh. In any way he can. Jokes. Silly faces. Shock. So long as he can get you laughing!

Instinctively he makes a nest out of all of your blankets , pillows and towels. A place for you and his chicks to be safe! And warm!! Incubated!!

Insists that you birth in the nest! It's the best for the babies. Is what his instincts are telling him.

He wants to touch your bump, but with his talons he settles instead on resting his head on it. Listening for any movement and smiling in awe at how they move around.

Urogi handles labor surprisingly well. He's territorial of course, so the other three aren't allowed in. Only you, him and a midwife.

He cheers you on the entire time. Offering his arms to squeeze as to not harm you with talons. He'd much rather you not bleed out in the nest while giving birth. Especially because you got a vein with his claws.

Yet he hears two little cries. Apparently the first had been silent until her little sister had also escaped you.

And the first thing he noticed were the beautiful downy wings on their backs. Only paired with talon like feet. Much more human hands. Unlike his own.

He watched you hold them. Listening to the chittering chirping noises they made.

Oh what a day to be the clone of joy!

And he continues to think that when his two little girls are attempting ( in vain ) to flutter after him. Wings still far too downy to do any proper flying.

Preens them incessantly!! Hair and wings !! And he's elated to watch you do the same. Caring for them the same way he taught you to care for his!!

When the day they begin to fly at the age of three? He knows what anxiety is. Watching them clumsily flutter about like a hawk, and saving them any time they begin to falter.

It makes you laugh, how nervous he gets about something that used to absolutely drive him wild with excitement when they were born.

[jben073]

Grace Chasity and Bliklotep Headcanons!

Here are the Grace and Blinky headcanons that I made bc I misunderstood the last ask! Hope you all like these bc they were really fun to make!

- Grace has always had poor vision. She’s supposed to wear glasses but she has always hated how they felt on her face and hated the sensation of contact lenses even more so she just kind of suffered through not being able to see super great and accommodated herself whenever possible for most of her life. After coming into contact with Blinky/being under his influence, however, her vision becomes exceptionally sharp and developed.

She becomes abnormally aware of even the smallest movements or visual changes in her surroundings. One day she has the sudden realization that she can now see in the dark because Blinky needs his vessel to be able to see at all times so that he can watch at all times.

- Blinky likes to ‘passively’ possess Grace and essentially just (figuratively) sit in the back of her mind while Grace remains conscious and keeps (majority) control of her body. This is because he likes to watch things through her eyes/point of view. 

When he’s doing this, she tends to become a lot more still and quiet, and her irises are tinted purple like the people in WatcherWorld. Most often, he does this when Grace is witnessing something that he would find entertaining (usually arguments or violence). She’s like a front-row seat to the action for him!

- While Grace carries on with her day (at school in this case) during Blinky’s ‘passive’ influence, she will occasionally realize that she has been unconsciously doodling eyes all over her paper alongside the occasional Blinky ramble exposing her classmates’ secrets (which she promptly rips up and wishes she never saw in the first place.)

He will also sometimes push forward enough to very minorly take control and use Grace’s voice to speak for a moment. Typically it’s more of the same with him saying something ominous about knowing/seeing what someone has done and possibly taunting them about eventually being punished.

Her classmates are unphased because honestly, Grace is just kind of like that all of the time anyway.

- Blinky likes to mess with Grace by making her unintentionally cheat on tests. He knows that oddly, the things that get to her the most are the little things that challenge her specific morals rather than the blatant violence he might enact to mess with others. While writing tests, Blinky will flash images of the answer sheet in her mind before Grace is able to think of the answer on her own so that now it’s impossible for her to get the answers wrong and thus she is wracked with guilt for having an unfair advantage over her classmates.

- Blinky will constantly try to influence Grace into snooping through her friends' things or just generally invade others’ privacy. Often he does this by filling her head with all kinds of distrustful thoughts: telling her that they’re hiding things from her, that they're talking behind her back, that they stole something from her, that they’re going down the wrong path, etc. Anything to make her stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. If she’s kind of zoned out, he’ll sometimes subtly influence her into walking within earshot of private conversations so that she overhears things that she shouldn’t know.

Grace has now taken to holding her hands very tightly clasped behind her back while in others’ homes because it makes it easier to avoid the temptation to rifle through things that are none of her business.

- Blinky is a huge gossip (a bit of a lighthearted word for an eldritch god but it suits him!) and he specifically is the one who (very gleefully) directs Grace toward her victims. He’s always in her ear telling her about the sins of her peers and giving suggestions as to which “dirty dude” she should go after next.

- Oddly, I feel like Blinky has a little bit of a soft spot for Grace compared to the other humans that he’s encountered but that doesn’t mean he won’t mess with her. Because of this, Blinky tells Grace what people say about her behind her back. Part of this is because he wants to hurt her, but part of him also wants her to know so that she can stick up for herself and get revenge (plus there’s the added bonus of it being free entertainment for him!).

When he’s having a rare moment of empathy, he will simply inform her of the sins of the person who was saying nasty things about her and encourage her to use the Black Book on them without ever disclosing that they were saying anything about her.

- Grace is the most paranoid about Blinky out of all of the LIB. She’s not necessarily afraid of him, but she is constantly aware that he could be watching her, especially when she’s doing something that she thinks is wrong or sinful (even if it wouldn’t actually phase him at all) and she is afraid that he will use this information against her or tell others. 

He lets her continue to think this way because it gives him greater power over her but realistically, he would not want to betray her trust in this way and risk his most powerful asset becoming disobedient/disloyal to him.

One more silly one to end on!

- Blinky constantly wants to antagonize Bill when Grace sees him at church but she has set that as a hard ‘no’ boundary because she refuses to be disrespectful to ‘a good churchgoing Christian’ like Bill.

She’s nice to him at church!! She can’t lose that!

That's all I've got rn but this was very fun!

Anyone can feel free to send me asks about hcs :D I definitely have a bias toward Grace-related hcs (including stuff like this where it’s her dynamic with another character) bc my brain is rotted for her, but I’m willing to try others if someone wanted that :)

[fregisabunnyboo]

💜𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭💜

Yo, so uh, this has some kinky shiz in it, beware

——————✧◦♡◦✧——————

type: ✮just for funzies✮ genre: ✮smut✮ fandom: ✮ROTTMNT✮ character(s): ✮Runa O’Crest, Donatello Hamato, Raphael Hamto, Lenardo Hamato, Michangelo Hamato, April O’Neil✮ crossovers?: ✮none✮ tags: none! Just for fun!

TW// !!this is smut if you are comfortable with this, please leave!!

Summary: Donatello leaves during family movie night to take care of some “personal issues,” and gets busted.

——————✧◦♡◦✧——————

They had been planning this for weeks, literal weeks. The Jupiter Jim Movie marathon was about to begin. And Donatello was dreading it.

“Why so glum, hombre?” Leo said, wrapping an arm around his brother’s neck, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Donnie scowled at the talking with food in his mouth, “I’m not ‘glum,’ I’m simply tired.” He tried to play cool, knowing if he slipped up, this could be the end of him. 

“Don, you say that every time we have a family thing,” Leo frowned, pulling away. “Do you just not want to spend time with your family?”

Donnie quickly retracted his words, “No! No! It’s just-... Never mind. I’ll go help Mikey with the soda.” Donnie resisted the urge to spill everything right there onto Leo’s face, but he didn’t. He knew he could trust Leo, but Donnie also knew, no, he couldn’t trust Leo.

“Michael, I'm here to help.” Donnie announced, walking into the kitchen.

“Great! Could you hand me the thingy?” Mikey gestured to the soda flavoring on the counter. Donnie handed it to him and rested on the counter, his shell leaning on the rounded edge of the island.

Donnie was caught up in thought.

It’s about time he admitted something; he really liked Runa. A lot more than just a friend. A lot more than a girlfriend. He didn’t know what it was, but he absolutely loved every aspect of her. Runa’s hair, her eyes, the way she could get so heated over a video game. 

He smiled at the memory of Runa throwing down the controller and yelling, demanding a rematch and accusing Donnie of cheating.

He’d felt this way before, but never like this. His heart was constantly being torn every witch way and he hated it so much! Runa was not easy on his feelings, she always flirted with him and made him think she felt the same. Then, she’d turn around and express interest in other people. To say he was jealous was an understatement.

“Donnie?”

Donnie was great, but he couldn’t deny she deserved better than him. I mean, he’s getting jealous and they aren’t even dating!

“Donnie?”

What was he supposed to do? Admit his feelings and live forever in the friend-zone? Or keep a secret and carry this hate to everyone she dated?

“EARTH TO DONNIE, THE GIRLS ARE HERE.” Mikey cupped his hands and shouted into his ear.

“AH!” Donnie said, covering the side of his head where Mikey had shouted, “Okay, okay. I’ll grab the popcorn seasoning. Tell them I say ‘hi’ or whatever.”

Mikey looked at him, he’s been acting weird and now he wouldn’t even look at April or Runa? Orange frowned and swallowed the urge to ask about it, knowing he’ll never get an answer.

“Okay, I’ll be…sure to tell them.” Mikey said, debating on saying more.

By then, Donnie had already disappeared into the pantry. The girls walked into the Lair, holding extra pillows and blankets to make a fort.

“Hey, y’all!” April shouted happily behind the mountain of pillows, walking into the Lair. “We brought extra!”

Runa was holding the blankets, all neatly folded and stacked. She carried them in one hand, blanching them perfectly.

“And Runa brought the blankets for the walls of the fort,” April pointed out as they both walked over to the couch and started constructing the fort.

Raph started to help build the fort, making sure it was sturdy on each side. Leo helped set up the inside, making sure it was comfortable and big enough for everyone.

---💖---

After the movie got started, everyone got comfortable in their respective spots; April and Leo, accompanied by Mikey, under the tent, Raph sitting on the floor crisscrossed, with Runa and Donnie sitting on the couch a few feet apart.

He stole a few glaces to Runa, making him look back at his popcorn in shame.

Everything was going well, popcorn was warm, drinks were cool, jokes being made. So what was this uneasy feeling pulling at him? It just felt like everything was bothering him. It wasn’t a bad bother, just a uncomfortable one.

Donnie needed to leave, “I’m-I’m gonna go guys.” He chocked out hesitantly, smiling nervously.

“Alright, see ya,” was the general response. Except for Runa, “Where’re you going, Donnie?”

“Ah- You know, I just need a little break.” He lied.

“Oh, okay. See you in a few then.” Runa said, setting down her popcorn.

“SHUUUUSHHHH.” Leo said obnoxiously. Donnie rolled his eyes.

The purple turtle krept down the hallway and into his bed room, making sure to shut the door behind him. He went over the the small bed-side table and pulled out one of the drawers. He scooted some clothes to the side to reveal underwear.

Woman’s underwear.

He pulled them up by the lace hem and looked at them with a tired and slightly uneasy face. Donnie started to get undressed, taking off his large shirt first, then his pants.

Now he knew what the uncomfortable was. His dick, making a ruckus. The organ stood up tall, ready to be pleased. Sometimes, it had a mind of it’s own. Now, Donnie could feel the dusting of blush around his cheeks and nose, making a line across his features.

He pulled the undergarments to his snout, sniffing them. His thing twitched, awaiting the soon forceful hand that would stroke it to completion.

Donnie hated having to please himself like this. He knew it was wrong, gross, kinky and downright perverted; but he didn’t care anymore. It tasted so good.

Ever since he got a hold of her underwear, it’s been the only thing that could calm him down.

Runa had been the core problem, and now he was dealing with the after affects.

Why couldn’t she have just stayed all prissy? Why couldn’t they just go back to hating each other? Why’d she have to make him fantasize about her like this?

Almost all of the scent from the undies where gone, he could only really smell his breath. Donnie started to suckle on them after the pure stench alone stopped doing it for him. Damn, she tasted good.

Only to be actually tasting her, his tongue lapping up all the juices that flowed out of her, like water on a hot day. To hear her pant, and moan his name. To imagine her tied up and oh, so helpless.

To feel her tight pussy over his cock, creaming because she couldn’t handle him. To hear her scream to slow down.

The hand around his dick tightened, trying to get him to his climax as quickly as possible.

The things he wanted to do to her. Of course, he would never hurt her! Just tie her up and make her beg for him.

Donnie hadn’t even noticed himself growing louder, his once quite huffs now grew to loud groans as he flung his head back in pleasure, the image of Runa’s face flashed in his mind. He was so close! Damn, why did he have be able to go so long?

---💖---

“What’s taking Donnie so long?” Runa whispered out loud to herself.

“If you wanna see him so bad, just go check up on him.” Leo said with a sarcastic flaunt in his voice.

“Fine,” Runa huffed, getting up, “I will!”

Runa crept carefully down the halls, making it to Donnie’s room; soft moans and breathy groans were emanating from his room, bouncing off the walls and into her ears.

Runa blushed at the naughty thought that entered her head, shaking away the idea, she approached the door.

He’s probably working out, she thought, her face still red with embarrassment. She knocked on the door lightly, opening it slightly to peak in.

“Donnie?” She asked, opening the door slowly, only giving Donnie enough time to attempt to cover himself, underwear still on snout and a bewildered look on his face.

“What are you-...Oh, oh my...” was the only shocked expression Runa could muster out, gazing at his redden face, his exposed and twitching member, and her underwear and his snout!

“It-It’s not what it looks like!” He said quickly, trying to push his peaking dick back down, only to make it jump back up.

Runa could only stare at it, his thighs, covered in sweat and pre-cum. Her eyes made their way back up to his face.

“Then, what is it?” She asked, her personality snapping back into action.

Donnie was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? “Oh, yeah, I’ve actually been getting off to your underwear for the past few months”?

“I-.. Uh-...” He looked down at the floor, too embarrassed to say anything.

“Are those mine?” She hissed, surprisingly no disgust in her voice.

“Uh...” Donnie couldn’t lie, “Y-Yes...”

“And where you... eating them?”

“No, I was, uh, sucking on them...” That answer wasn’t any better.

“Give them back, I-I don’t want to give you access to these anymore.” Runa held out her hand expectantly, looking away. She stole glaces at Donnie as he slowly pulled himself away from the edge of his bed, taking the underwear out of his mouth and placed it in her hand.

The swift movement made only more awkward as their hands touch, making Donnie wince and Runa’s face heat more.

Donnie didn’t know if he should sit back down and continue or just stand there until she left.

“Runa...” Donnie started, holding his arm and looking down shamefully, “I-I don’t know what came over me. I just-... I didn’t mean to go that far.”

“What? Is that how you apologize for using my underwear as a cum rag?” Runa fumed, keeping it quite.

“Yes?” Donnie smiled nervously, “And I wasn’t using it as a cum rag, that’s disgraceful to someone so beautiful.”

The words struck her, a pang in her heart, the thought to do something impulsive. It all came too fast. Beautiful? Was he joking?

After a moment of processing, and reflecting, she finally opened her mouth.

“Are you serious?” She asked, genuinely intrigued now, “You think I’m beautiful?”

“M-More then beautiful,” Donnie hesitated, “I don’t know how to describe you, you’re so amazing.”

Runa blushed, out of all the times he choose to flirt...

Then, Runa got an idea. 

She stuffed the wet underwear into her back pocket and slowly started to descend to her knees, resting on them in front of Donnie.

“What are you doing?” He said quickly, following her with his eyes.

“Giving you want you want,” She purred, “May I?”

Donnie’s eyes widened before vigorously nodding, “Mhmm! Go ahead!”

“Don’t act so excited for me.” She smirked.

Donnie’s slightly annoyed expression came back to his features, “Just suck it.”

Runa hummed as she slid her hands to Donnie’s thighs, placing them firmly on his sides and squeezing, making his dick throb.

Runa licked the top of her mouth, trying to get the most saliva on her tongue as she could. She opened her mouth wide, letting Donnie see all the goodness he was about to feel. 

She slowly slide her mouth over the thick member, feeling every bit of it with her tongue. It was smooth and hot, being more thick on the tip then the base. The deep purple melded perfectly with the pastel pink of her tongue, making Donnie groan slightly.

Donnie looked at her at with the most fucked-up face she’d ever seen, he looked totally wasted. He was panting, beads of sweat forming on his face. Runa was getting him riled up, and she knew it. Runa started to moan, making Donnie wince and heave. 

Then, without warning, Donnie grabbed the back of Runa’s head and shoved it forward, making her gag. After she adjusted, he started continue to shove her face into his dick, making muffled moans. The slopping of the two organs together sounded like music to Donnie’s ears.

After a few minutes of face-fucking, he felt close, “Mmm, just a few more.. A-And I’ll be good, baby.” He panted.

Runa looked up, face full of saliva and pre-cum, “Mmm,” she said, Donnie’s hard cock still in her mouth. Suddenly, she took him all back in, sucking hard then dragging her teeth along the length of his cock.

Donnie didn’t even care about volume anymore; he moaned out loudly as he came, letting it get caught in her mouth as she swallowed some, letting the rest paint her face in a wondrous white.

Donnie bent down, grabbing the side of her mouth and spreading it open to see his seed sitting in her mouth. He moved his thumb from her mouth to her check, giving her a heated kiss, pulling away and leaving a string of cum and spit.

Runa laughed, her eyelids felt heavy and she felt tipsy, but still fully sober. She didn’t know how to describe it, but it was so intoxicating.

“Hmm,” Donnie hummed, sitting on the side of his bed, “I still seem to be aroused, despite cumming, heh, quite a lot.”

“Mmm, maybe you need more then just oral,” Runa smiled lazily, picking herself up and started to strip of her sweat pants. Donnie stared as she removed the pants. He could feel himself starting to get hard again.

As soon as she started to waddle over, Donnie felt his heart explode. He couldn’t take it, this was it, he finally getting what he wanted. Once she started to get comfortable sitting on his lap, and started rubbing his thighs, he stopped her.

“Runa,” He breathed, “Once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop, dear. I don’t want to hurt you. Soft shell turtles are naturally... more aggressive.”

Runa licked her lips, “Good, this’ll be more fun.”

Runa positioned herself on Donnie’s lap, grinding on his exposed dick with her covered pussy, making Donnie’s face go to that of uncomfortable. He grabbed Runa by the hips and flipped her over, now standing between her open legs.

Donnie looked at helpless she’d become. He chuckled deviously, “I’m gonna make you regret asking me to be rough.”

Runa saw the animistic lust in his eyes, knowing there’s no humanity left. Her face burst into flames, her tail flicking back and forth. She bit her lips as Donnie put a hand on her back and guided her up softly, making her sit on the edge of the bed. 

Donnie went and grabbed his battle shell, smirking, he looked back at her in her underwear and shirt. He pulled out what seemed to be a video recorder, and some kind of rope?

Runa’s stomach got heavy butterflies.

He set up the camera and stood behind it, pointing it at Runa.

“Okay, strip.” He commanded, licking his teeth behind the camera.

“Wha-?” Runa blushed, you could probably see all her freckles inder the thin layer or fur on her face.

“You heard me,” He huffed, slightly upset at the repetitive command, “Strip.”

She started to slowly take of her shirt, making sure get his attention with a sway of her hips. After the shirt was off, she reached for her bra, giggling her breasts. She moaned his name slightly, trying to keep herself quite in case he didn’t want her to say anything.

“Say it again.” He demanded.

Runa started to play with her breasts now, moaning his name with every touch. Donnie looked down at his dick, now wet with pre-cum again. He huffed and commanded her to get on all fours.

“Now take them off.”

Runa slowly slid down her panties, purple and laced, teasing. After they were off, she waved her hips back and forth, moaning. Donnie stopped the camera and grabbed the rope. It was a soft velvet, so it wouldn’t hurt her.

Donnie helped Runa back up, taking the time to admire her dripping pussy. He flipped her over onto some pillows, making sure she was comfortable before tying her up with the velvet rope.

Runa laughed a bit, “Damn, you really know what you want, darling.”

“Yeah, I want you begging for my cock.” He said smugly, stroking his member, getting the pre-cum under his tip and around the largest areas, making it slick. Runa squirmed at the sight, making her eyes well up with tears as she pleaded with Donnie.

“Please, Don,” She begged, “If you’re going to fuck me, ju-just do it already! I can’t watch you, please, I need you inside me, ah~!”

“Hush now, dear.” He quieted her with a small handkerchief, embroidered with his initials, “You have to watch first, make sure you can take all of me.”

“Donnie, ugh!” Runa struggled against the velvet, “I’m a rabbit! I’m built to be bread!” She cried.

Donnie chuckled, stroking his dick again, “If you say so, but if I rip your uterus in half, just say I warned you.”

“Ah~! Don’t say things like that!” Runa’s face got more red, he cupped it, now leaning over her and positioning himself near her entrance. He leaned down and kiss her, whispering a sweet “Are you ready, love?”

Runa nodded her head as he started to enter his tip into her, making her moan and wiggle.

“Stay still, and it won’t be so painful,” He warned.

Runa sat still and let him enter her more, almost immediately adjusting to his huge cock, that was almost double the original size. She moaned as he started to go all the way in, her pussy sucking him in, encouraging him to go deeper.

The words echoed in Donnie’s head, “built to be bread?” Tch, we’ll see.

Donnie got comfortable once more at started at a slow pace making her moan with every slap of skin. The way her thighs and tits bounced with every strong thrust made him groan. He watched her arms struggle to try and get free of the velvet, groping at the rope, trying to grab and scratch at something.

Donnie grabbed he thighs, pulling out to kiss and bite them, talking into them. “Mmm, who’s my beautiful princess?”

“I-I am, Donnie.” She huffed out, her face scrunching up and her eyes closed.

“Good girl,” He stopped kissing her legs and pondered the name, “Hmm, plane old Donnie doesn’t sound good enough. Call me ‘Daddy’, m’kay, love?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy.” Runa stuttered out.

“Good.” Donnie lined himself back up with her hole, taking it slow once again.

“Da-Daddy, please, rail me.” Runa begged.

“If you insist, princess.” Donnie started to go faster, the skin slapping together made the sounds of the moaning die down.

Donnie started going even faster, making Runa moan, almost scream, before Donnie put the handkerchief back in her mouth to muffle the noise as he continued to rail her. He gripped his sheets, instinctively biting Runa’s neck, pinning her down.

Donnie just let his instincts run wild in that moment, scratching at the sheets, biting and humping the life out of Runa. After the felt himself getting close, he finally released his teeth from Runa’s soft skin and pulled out, seeing Runa had already came at least 4 times.

Donnie smirked as he saw her cream pour out of her, he took out the handkerchief and looked at her lovingly. 

“Where do you want it, Love?” He asked, stroking her cheek.

Runa groaned, “I-In me, Daddy! Please, cum in me, ah~!”

Donnie looked away, nervously. He wanted so bad to just cum inside her and clam her as his own. Watch his seed flow out of her with a beautiful white stream.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to be responsible for getting her pregnant. He wasn’t ready to be a father.

“Darling,” He said calmly, “Are you on the pill?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Runa answered, still clearly drunk on love, “Just, put your dick in me already! Fill me up with your seed, mm~.”

“If you insist, Princess.” Donnie started to rail her again, making sure to hit her spot, making her wiggle.

After she screamed as he came inside her, he pulled out, now fully able to relax. He untied Runa as she rubbed her writs and panted. He watched his juices flow out of her, he felt like he had done a good job. A sense of affection and pride welled in him.

Donnie gazed at her, pulling her by her waist into him, kissing her forehead. He hugged her close to him and laid down, with Runa laying on his chest. Donnie started stroking her hair and rubbing her ears, humming a soft song.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Donnie asked.

“More then enjoyed, God, you’re so good.” Runa said happily, making a kiss noise at the tip of his nose.

“Thank you, baby.” Donnie smiled, catching his breath, “Does thins mean we’re dating now?”

“No, I think we’re married now.” Runa said.

Donnie laughed, oh, she was serious. “Well, I couldn’t imagine anyone else to be my wife.”

“Really?” Runa looked at him with earnest, “You really mean it?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Donnie smiled, “You’re the cutest badass this planet has ever seen.”

“Mmm, you make me so happy, Donnie.” Runa yawned.

“I’m glad, darling.”

---BONUS---

“Hey, Leo,” April nudged Leo, making him look over at her with a disgusted look for interrupting his hyper-fixation.

“What?” Leo snarled.

“Did you ever find out what that noise was?” April asked.

Leo’s face went red, “Well, lets just say Donnie was doing some stuff. And that stuff is Runa,” Leo snarked.

The rest of the family looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Turn up the volume, Mike,” Raph said, looking visibly uncomfortable.

They didn’t bother getting Runa or Donnie for breakfast the next morning.

[universaln0b0dy]

Zoé Lee (Mlb au)

[Note] Hey, hey! I wanted to start rewriting and designing miraculous for the fun of it. Please note that this is just for fun and giggles! I will try to keep the rewrite as close to the show as possible, at the same time I want to put as much of my ideas into it as I can. Also this is probably an angst au, because of my 3 am brainrot.

Zoé Lee:

Nice character, but I kinda dislike her in the show. She was added for what? I mean maybe as a better half for Chloe but she is just a replacement. If I handed Chloe character development nothing would change in the show. Zoe is lost potential and because I didn't have any idea what to do with og Zoe I renewed her completely. But enough of me yappin

Backstory:

Zoé hates her parents. Her mother is a cheating wench and a drama queen and her father a manipulative and corrupted politician. The only person in her family she likes is Chloe, her half sister.

If you read Chloe's rewrite you might already know that Zoe isn't the kid born out of wedlock, but Chloe. But out of a sense of protective ness she decides to claim that Andre isn't her father and moves to New York with her mother.

There she spends a lot of time trying to reach out to Chloe, but never receives an answer. Almost Zoe would have given up, if her mothers assistant hadn't personally delivered one last letter.

Zoé's personality, season 3-4

Manipulative and a good liar/pretender; Zoé has no trouble acting, in one minute she can be the nicest person you know before doing a 180 and constantly belittling you. She learned from the best after all!

Loving and Caring; A side one rarely gets to see. When her younger sister finally reaches out to her Zoé is ready to bring her home. But she isn't only nice to her sister, she has an open ear for those who her sister harms and becomes a sort of idol for Juleka and Marinette for different reasons.

Headstrong and Stubborn. If she plans on other throwing the government, she will overthrow the government. If she wants custody of her sister, she will get custody of her sister. She is very strong about what she wants and rarely backs down from achieving her dreams. This also makes her vulnerable to hawkmoths attacks.

Confident, encouraging but also judging, she will support crazy ideas, but she is also older than the main cast of miraculous, which also gives her the "wisdom" of being an adult. She doesn't have much screen time, but when she does you will also see her genuinely asking just what the fuck is happening, constantly.

Zoé as worker Bee:

No, Zoe won't become an actually present miraculous holder. The sole reason for it is that she doesn't want to be a super hero and that Chloe is the bee miraculous holder. That is why she also choose the name "Worker bee". She regards herself as someone while doing the work, not doing the work for herself but in order to ensure the survival of someone else.

Worker bee only shows up twice and outright rejects Lady bugs idea of becoming a hero more often.

That means Chloe is a constant bee miraculous holder! (Yay)

Drawing

Lol, girly is 18 but doesn't act like an adult. She only dresses this way because her mother hates it. Her hero costume unlike all the others doesn't have as many animal influences as the others do. The more often you will use your miraculous the more you mirror the animal you are supposed to represent but hey,

This was our drawting session, hope you enjoyed! And what should go next?

[teamchasezwrites]

Still of the Night

Word Count: 7,387

Characters: Drew McIntyre/OC

Genre: Angst and Fluff, Implied Cheating

Summary: She didn’t want to call him, but he as her only hope.

Inspired by: @theworldofotps “Call In The Night”

Author’s Note: Written for my friend, Melissa, who wanted a Drew McIntyre story. It faced about 3 rewrites at the beginning and still didn’t end like I wanted. Maybe inspired a different version of events in a revised story. We’ll see.

“Come on come on come on,” Melissa pleaded as her engine gave another sickly sputter and seemingly coughed. She let off the gas pedal allowing the car to slow even more than her already crawl. At the pace she was going her Granny – God rest her soul – would probably pass her.

With her walker.

The car seemed to settle at the slower speed. She gripped the wheel with both hands. Each hand stood at ten and two. Her back was ramrod straight as she stared out the windshield. The darkness of the late hour loomed around her. Trees lined either side of the gravel road. Their limbs bare having already shed their foliage by the late December hour. Snowflakes caught in the dim glare of her headlights and landed on her windshield.

If she weren’t scared, she’d be transfixed on the big fluffy flakes. The perfect, pristine shapes as they laid before her on the glass before the wiper squashed them away leaving behind a smear of water droplets.

Her breath came out in a white cloud against the chill in the cabin of the car. Her heat decided tonight of all nights was the night to stop working.

“Come on,” she whispered in the silence. The radio was cranked way down and had been for the last ten or so minutes once she realized she might be lost. How turning the radio down would help her see better to find the road she needed, she didn’t know. But who was she to argue with her brain?

Her eyes peered out the windshield while shifting quickly to the left and the right looking for the turn off. No break in the trees appeared. A look in the rearview mirror revealed a bleak nothingness. She wouldn’t put it past her bad luck to have somehow entered a black hole that caused her to slip in time.

Why she turned off the highway, she had no idea. She wasn’t good with directions on a good day; let alone on a night like this with a winter storm moving in. All she wanted was to beat the storm and thought she remembered the way Jason taken once.

Apparently she didn’t.

Maybe she was supposed to turn left at the previous intersection instead of right?

Or was she supposed to go through that intersection and turn at the next one?

She didn’t know. Guessing wasn’t going to help her. It’s not like she could turn around and go back. She didn’t even know how to get back to the main highway.

“Stupid stupid stupid,” she muttered.

The clock illuminated on the dash stared at her almost mockingly. It let her know if she’d just stuck it out on the highway – her usual way – she’d be home and in her pajamas by now.

Just another bad decision she made recently.

Melissa sighed and slowly let herself relax against the back of the seat. Her back nearly cried in relief. Her shift at the hospital ended up being a double and that was already coming off a double the day before. The money was too good to pass up and it’s not like being at home was all that fun.

Her car shuddered again and she tensed waiting for the inevitable. It never came. Her little Toyota Corolla continued on. Her jaw clenched in anger, her lips pursed. Jason was supposed to look at her car last month when she first noticed the issue.

Obviously he hadn’t gotten around to it.

She wanted to call the garage in town and schedule an appointment, but her boyfriend wouldn’t hear of it. He could diagnose and fix it himself.

He could.

He just never did.

It was an ongoing issue between them. The fact she constantly had to remind him to do things. She asked him to check out her car last month. He said he’d do it. He hadn’t. She’d ask him to change the laundry over to the dryer as she left for work. She’d come home twelve hours later to it still wet in the washer. Ask him to run to the store to pick up the items on the grocery list so she could fix dinner when she got home. He forgot.

Don’t forget dinner at my parents on Saturday.

Don’t forget to renew your driver’s license.

The last one caused her to snicker. Jason ended up getting pulled over for speeding. What could have been just a warning ended up being an infraction for not only speeding, but an expired license to boot.

Of course it was her fault. She didn’t remind him.

It wasn’t like she could renew the damn thing herself.

She sighed, blowing out another white cloud. It brought a small smile to her face as she remembered pretending to be smoking as a little girl when it was cold outside. She’d bring her fingers to her lips and blow – her breath coming out like a puff of smoke from a cigarette. She thought it was so cool.

Snowflakes started to swirl down around her faster. With a flick of her wrist, she turned the wipers up another notch. Tension coiled in her belly. She hated driving in the snow. She hated driving in the rain. Hell sometimes she just plum hated driving. Definitely wouldn’t mind being a passenger princess.

At one time she was.

Last December she wouldn’t be in her current position. With the threat of the storm coming, her ex would have been waiting at the hospital for her at the end of her shift to drive home.

Her fingers straightened on the wheel leaving her thumbs curled beneath the black leather. She flexed her fingers back and forth a couple times, before she wrapped them around the wheel once more. She glanced in the rearview mirror more so out of habit than to check what was behind her.

Still pitch black.

Glancing back out the windshield, a scream bubbled up in her throat and out. Standing in the middle of the road was the largest buck she’d ever seen. Her Pappy would have been ecstatic to have seen it through his scope. She however, was not happy to see it through her windshield.

He was large and majestic caught in her headlights with the snow swirling around.

She slammed on her brakes and her car started to fish tail on the slick road. Her eyes were wide as the deer’s. Her hands fought with the steering wheel to keep the car on the road and the back end behind her. The car slid toward the right, right for the trees. Thankfully her speed was already well below the speed limit and the car came to a stop before she made impact with anything. The engine ceased and the car shuddered beneath her like it was blowing out a ragged breath.

The deer leaped from the road and disappeared into the night. Completely unaffected by the chaos it caused.

‘Typical man,’ she thought. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Her eyes wide as she stared out into the night. Her hands still in a death grip on the wheel.

“I hope Santa demotes you!” Melissa yelled out as she caught her breath.

With her wits gathered, she let her foot off the brake expecting the car to move forward once again. It didn’t. She frowned and looked at the dash seeing the display lit up with a bunch of lights.

‘Achievement badges,’ she declared, her grin broadening at the muffled groan.

Melissa closed her eyes and blew out a breath trying to center herself. Placing her foot on the brake, she reached forward and turned the ignition key into the off position. The dash went dark. Counting to ten, she flicked her wrist.

Nothing.

“No no no,” she pleaded with her car. “Come on. Don’t do this to me.” She tried the ignition again, but the car didn’t start. Manically, she tried three more times to the same result.

Her car was officially dead.

Her car was dead and she was stranded in the dead of night.

A winter storm was upon her and she had no idea where she was.

“Damnit,” she groaned, leaning her head back on the head rest. She closed her eyes and took some breaths trying to calm the brewing hysterics.

With the freak out currently curbed, she reached across the center counsel of her car to her purse laying on the passenger seat. Even though it was the last item thrown inside, her phone was buried at the bottom.

The display lit up offering the only light for miles.

One bar greeted her and she gave a prayer of thanks.

Pulling up her recent calls, Melissa selected Jason’s name and tapped the speaker button. She didn’t want to risk losing service by putting the phone to her ear.

The phone connected and ringing broke the silence. She waited.

And waited.

The call rolled over to voicemail.

Melissa cursed.

She ended the call and tried again.

Voicemail.

Anger grew.

“On the damn phone all the damn time. Can’t even take a shit without it, but the one time I fucking need you…” she unleashed as she tried again to no avail.

The next call was to her daddy.

The call barely connected to ring once before she ended the call with a groan remembering her parents were out of state visiting her brother and sister-in-law and their rugrats.

She pulled up her contact list and went down the names summarily dismissing them one by one. She had friends and a lot of acquaintances but none she considered someone she could call in the dead of night while stranded on the side of some county road.

Except one.

She growled in frustration at the thought and tried to call Jason again. The phone nearly sailed through the windshield when the call kicked over to voicemail again.

Clutching the phone in her hand, she leaned back in the seat and stared. With the headlights cut, it was blackness all around. She couldn’t even see the snow falling any more. No stars twinkled in the sky offering her a guide like it did centuries ago. Then again, what could she do with North? That kind of information didn’t help. She needed left or right. Not head north…

Silence weighed heavy in the car. The outside chill started to seep into the interior of the car. The long sleeve white shirt and scrubs offered no resistance to the temperatures. Fear began to grow. The likelihood of anyone happening upon her before the morning was slim to none.

It was just her.

In the dark.

In the middle of nowhere.

Unbuckling, she leaned into the backseat to grab the coat she tossed in there after climbing into her car after her shift. It was just a lightweight quilted Columbia one. A far cry from her heavy insulated winter coat. She hated driving with a coat on, but especially her winter coat. It was big and bulky and restrictive. Since she only needed a coat to and from her car, she grabbed one she wore before the temperatures turned freezing.

She didn’t plan on being stuck on the side of the road.

With a few acrobatic movements, she had her arms threaded through the sleeves and it settled around her. Slightly out of breath, she told herself she needed to remove the clothes piled on the treadmill in her bedroom and start walking.

‘Maybe in the New Year,’ she thought. After all, who started new resolutions in December?

She definitely wasn’t going to make a goal to eat healthier. Not with Christmas coming up. Don’t even get her started on the terrible eating she’d been doing since Thanksgiving a couple weeks before.

‘Halloween,’ her mind nudged her.

Melissa made a face at the voice inside her head. Sure she imbibed in a few pieces of Halloween candy. She only had so much self control when faced with Reese Peanut Butter Cups.

Thinking about food only made her hungry. The last sustenance in her body was a quick swig of Dr Pepper and three bites of her ham sandwich before an emergency caused her to rush to the ER. She’d give anything to have Golden Arches sprout out from the ground. Her mouth watered at the thought of salty fries and a fountain coke from McDonalds.

Melissa pushed the thought of food away. She grabbed her phone to try her boyfriend again.

Nothing.

The wind kicked up and whistled as it traveled passed her car on either side as it continued down the road. She shivered once more peering out into the abyss.

She was all alone.

Her hands shook as fear started to engulf her. She could freeze to death before anyone would happen upon her. It’s not like there was a glowing light of a cottage in the distance. No headlights coming up behind here with an older gentleman on his way home to offer assistance. Temperatures would only continue to drop. Snow would continue to accumulate throughout the night. The weather forecasters were calling for at least six inches. More if the front dipped further south than originally called for.

“Fuck,” she breathed as her eyes grew wet with tears. “Come on Mel, think. You can’t die out here. You’ll miss the end of Yellowstone…”

Drawing her phone up again, she went back to her contacts. This time desperate.

It was on that scroll one name stood out. One name she wasn’t sure why was still in her contacts.

Drew.

Her ex-boyfriend.

She stared hard at his name. At one time a red asterisks accompanied it signaling him as her emergency contact. Not anymore.

She thumbed the screen and sent the contacts list rolling like the wheel on Wheel of Fortune. It moved slower and she stopped on the J’s where she tapped Jason again.

No answer.

The wind whistled as it swept down the road causing the car to rock slightly. She wiggled her toes in her white Skechers slips-ons. Shoes offered her feet great comfort when she was on them for twelve hours. However they left a lot to be desired for warmth.

“I should leave them a review,” Melissa muttered and stared at her phone. It was time to make the call.

Her thumb hovered over his name in hesitation. Clenching her eyes closed she tapped his name and held her breath.

The sound of a ringing phone echoed in the silence of the car. She couldn’t breathe as she counted the rings in her head.

One.

‘He’s not going to answer.’

Two.

‘He’s probably not even in town.’

Three.

‘He’s probably sleeping…’

Four.

Melissa’s heart sunk at the ring. It was going to kick over into voicemail in the next moment. Then she was truly on her own. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Tears filled her eyes causing Drew’s name to blur.

“Mel?”

A deep voice with a Scottish lilt filled the car. It was so unexpected, Melissa yelped and fumbled the phone causing it to fall from her hands. It landed on the floorboard at her feet. She groaned and she reached a hand down, searching blindly for the device. She’d give anything to be able to move her seat back but of course it wasn’t a manual level like her first car – a ’98 Pontiac Grand Am.

Damn she missed that car.

“Melissa?” Drew pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at the screen. The call was still connected. He sat up in bed, the blankets pooling at his waist. Reaching over, he flipped on the lamp on the bedside table, a soft yellowish light covered the room. He glanced at the clock next to the lamp and groaned at the late hour. He rubbed a hand over his face, scratching at his beard.

Muffled scuffling came through his phone and he frowned. His ex-girlfriend had yet to speak to him. At first thought, he assumed she called him accidentally but the days of butt dialing were over. The second thought…”Are you drunk?”

He’d rather have a butt dial. The last thing he wanted was a drunken Melissa cussing him out… or worse telling him how much she loved him.

The latter would cause him to hop in his truck now, boyfriend be damned.

If he were honest with himself, the former would too.

“Melissa… are you there?” He spoke louder into the phone hoping she’d hear him.

“Y-yeah,” she croaked. A cough came over the line then she spoke more clearly, “yeah.”

Her fingers finally brushed against her phone and she picked it up leaning back in her seat. “I…I shouldn’t have called,” she stuttered into the phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t want to interrupt…”

“Melissa!” Drew snapped.

“I’m s-sorry…” her eyes filled with tears.

Drew’s heart caught at the sound of her sniffling. In a flash he was throwing the covers back and swinging his feet to the floor. Goosebumps dotted his skin from the coolness of the room. He preferred his house set in the mid to late 60s during the winter months. Usually settling on a nice 67 degrees. Plenty of blankets on his bed to keep him warm. Though his preferred method was body heat, but he hadn’t shared his bed with someone since the woman on the phone.

“Mel wha’s wrong?” Drew grabbed a dirty pair of jeans from the top of the laundry basket. The denim sliding up his legs and over the black briefs he slept in.

Embarrassment set in and Melissa couldn’t find the words. She should hang up and try Jason again. If he didn’t answer, then a tow truck. Or maybe even 9-1-1. A howling sounded close by and a whimper escaped. Her hand slowly moved toward the buttons on the door, afraid to make sudden movements. A click sounded in the car affirming her doors were locked. It did little to settle her nerves.

“Melissa, baby, you’re killin’ me. You gah’a tell me wha’s wrong?” Drew pleaded. He pulled a hoodie over his bare chest. He left the bedroom, making his way downstairs.

Melissa’s eyes peered out the windshield before looking out the passenger window and finally the driver’s. Nothing but blackness greeted her. Anything could be there, looming. Circling. Waiting. Isn’t this exactly how horror movies started? Her hand clutched her phone; a lifeline. She wasn’t alone.

“Mel… where are ye?”

“I don’t know,” Melissa answered. The window howled again. This time she heard branches creaking. A new fear was unlocked. What if the wind knocked over a tree on her?

“Talk to me Sweetie. Wha’s wrong? Are ye hurt?” Drew coaxed as he sat on his couch pulling socks on his feet. The phone held between his cheek and shoulder.

“No. I tried to take a short cut home… and I don’t know. I took a wrong turn somewhere…”

“You’re lost?” Drew’s leg fell to the floor with a thud from his knee where he had it crossed to put on his boot. Irritation grew in his gut. She called him because she was lost? He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn’t Google Maps when she spoke again.

“There was a deer and now my car won’t start. It’s snowing so much. It’s so dark. I can’t see anything around. It’s just trees. There’s this howling…I don’t… I’m scared.”

The last words came out as a whisper and Drew’s heart clenched. He barely caught any of her babbling words but those final two – I’m scared – pierced his soul.

“Please Drew…”

Someone might as well have stuck a knife in his chest. A gapping wound would probably hurt less. Hell the staples he received after his Hell in a Cell match with Punk in October hurt less. He jammed his arms through the sleeves of his coat, trading off his phone to either hand.

“Mel –“

“I don’t have anyone else.”

The knife twisted at her soft words. “I’m comin’,” he told her. He grabbed his wallet from the kitchen counter, along with his keys. A curse flew from his mouth when he opened the door and saw all the snow on the ground. None of it had been there when he went to bed. Shutting the door against the whipping wind, he dug in the hall closet for his gloves. Once they were on his hands, he pulled a brown Carhartt toboggan down over his ears.

Keeping her on the phone and pressed to his ear, he walked through his kitchen toward the door to the garage relying on muscle memory in the darkness. “Can ye send me your location? Be the easiest to figure ou’ where you are.”

Melissa’s fingers shook with the cold. It took her a couple swipes to even get the call screen to move up so she could open her text messages. It took her a few minutes to tap out Drew’s name in the new message box. When she finally got it, it was a few more swipes until she was finally able to send her location. She nearly cried with relief when her phone swished signaling the message sent. “It’s sent.”

Drew’s phone pinged a nanosecond after Melissa confirmed the message delivery. “Give me a second.”

“Don’t hang up!” Melissa blurted quickly, sitting up straight in her seat.

“I’m not. I’m not,” Drew promised. The words pretty much solidified what he’d known. He wasn’t walking away from her without a fight. He didn’t care who he had to go through to get her back. “Just putting ya on speaker.”

He climbed into his truck in the garage, turning the engine over. The truck roared to life. He turned the radio down, not needing the distraction. The air knobs were turned all the way to the red. The vent turned all the way up. Air blew in the cab at an intense rate. Cold, but he paid it no attention.

He ripped off the glove of his right hand so he could work the screen of his phone. A few taps and scrolls later, he had Melissa on speaker and her location pulled up. He whistled softly. She was in the middle of nowhere. Nothing for miles. How on earth she ended up where she did, he had no idea.

Plugging the location into his GPS, he frowned at the time it was giving him to reach his destination.

Too long.

“It’s gonna take me about twenty minutes ta get ta ya, Lass” That wasn’t even factoring in the weather.

“Okay…”

Drew barely remembered to open the garage door before backing his truck out. The shakiness in her voice scrambled his brain. She needed him and he was too far away.

The tires crunched on the snow covering his driveway. At least a couple inches blanketed the land. The headlights cut through the dark night showing the snowflakes falling rapidly from the sky. The flakes were big and fat promising to cripple the area in another hour or two.

The road at the end of his driveway sat untouched. The plows haven’t been through. He wasn’t considered a main road, so he wasn’t sure when his road would be plowed. With as fast as the snow as falling, he was sure they were concentrating on the roads in town and the nearby interstate. His road would probably be touched in the morning.

Where he hoped to be stuck in his home. With Melissa.

“You still here?”

“I’m here.”

“Jus sit tight. I’ll be there soon. The roads haven’t been plowed yet.” The heat finally kicked on, blowing hot air in his face, quickly warming the cab of his pick up truck. He turned it down and turned the vent away from him. Synthetic heat blowing in his face always gave him a headache.

“Maybe you should go back home. I don’t want you to get into an accident. If they haven’t plowed yet.”

“Hush Lass…” Drew chided gently. He held his phone in right hand gripped between his thumb and pointer finger. The remaining three curled around the steering wheel. His other hand wrapped around the wheel, gripping tight. The road was slick beneath his wheels. He kept his pace steady.

The phone between them remained silent. The connection between them proving to be enough. His eyes flickered between the windshield and the map on his phone. His blue dot getting closer to Melissa’s. The lights of town disappeared behind him, casting him in darkness except for his headlights. He met no other vehicles on his trek. Everyone safely at home, tucked in their beds while a winter wonderland was created outside their windows.

Everyone except him.

And Melissa.

“How ya doin’?” Drew checked in.

“I’d kill for a cheeseburger right now.”

Drew chuckled, his lips twitching. “That’s my girl.”

The words rested heavy between them. She hadn’t been his girl in almost a year. Not since he put her at the end of his priorities. By the time he came up for air and realized his priorities were out of whack, she was long gone and his aunt – the woman he considered a surrogate mother after losing his own mother over a decade ago – passed away.

Before he would never consider asking for time off, but the atmosphere at work changed with Triple H at the helm. For the first time in his life, he made himself a priority. He took a leave of absence from work and headed home to Scotland. There he started mending relationships with his family and properly grieving his loss. It lifted his heart to be surrounded by family; sharing memories and laughs.

Now he was back in the States. Back at work. There was only one more line on his priority list. The one at the very top.

He was five minutes away.

The road was off the beaten path. Definitely one Drew never travelled. He wondered what Melissa was even doing out here. It wasn’t close to her place. Wasn’t even on the way. The roads were becoming slicker and he grew worried about the drive home. Snow continued to fall accumulating faster than predicted. He just gripped the wheel tighter and stayed steady on the gas.

Finally the headlights picked up a car on the side of the road. The backroad offered very little in terms of a shoulder. The car sat nose toward the tree line, showing the results from the dance with a deer. Most of the car still sat on the road, an issue for any vehicle that happened to be traveling by. At least an inch of snow covered the hood and the roof with it started to pile up on the windshield.

Not that there would be a lot of traffic at this time of night and in this weather.

Drew pulled his truck nearly alongside Melissa’s car. Keeping it running with the headlights shinning, he clicked on his flashers just in case of another traveler.

The cold slapped him in the face when he opened the door. The heat of the cabin quickly overtaken by the outside temperatures. He shut the door, trapping what little heat remained. His boots crunched on the snow. With a gloved hand he reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Drew’s lips twitched with a smile he tried his best to keep at bay. He stared down at her huddled in the driver’s seat in the flimsiest coat he ever saw. “This was a little drastic to get my attention, don’t ya think?”

“Well when you can make a statement, I say go for it.” Melissa grinned up at him.

“Let’s go,” Drew held out his hand expecting Melissa to take it.

“Oh no…” Melissa shook her head. “I probably just need a jump. My car’s been on the fritz for a few weeks now. It has to just be the battery. I can’t get the lights or.. Oh!” She shrieked as she was hauled from the car. She swatted at his hands where they held her waist. “Grabby hands…”

“I am not staying out here in this weather trying to figure out what’s wrong with your car, Lass. If we don’t start moving, we are going to be stuck out here.”

Melissa sighed, her shoulders deflated. She hoped Drew would be able to get her car running again and pointed in the right direction so she could get home. One look at his face, she saw the decision was final. She wasn’t going to be able to change his mind. “Fine. Just take me home.” She’d worry about explaining why her ex-boyfriend brought her home to Jason later. She just wanted out of the cold.

Gripping her upper arm, Drew led her toward his truck. When she slid through the snow in front of his truck and nearly took them both to the ground, he swung her up in his arms. In the shine of the headlights, he got a good look at her shoes. “Where are your boots?” He growled staring at the white slip-ons.

“Home. I thought I’d make it home before the snow hit.” Melissa shivered in his arms, even as warmth radiated through her at his hold. Her comment caused another growl from Drew. His chest vibrating with the sound as it moved up his throat. Then she was shivering for a totally different reason.

With her secured in his arms, Drew carefully made his way around the front of his truck to the passenger side door. It took a little maneuvering but he was able to get the door open where he deposited her in the seat. “Stay.”

“I’m not a dog.” Melissa couldn’t resist as she shifted in the seat to sit properly. The blast of the heat from the vent nearly brought tears to her eyes. She quickly raised her hands to the vents allowing the warm heat to envelope them. “Grab my purse please?”

With a grunt Drew shut the door and made his way back to Melissa’s car. The keys still hung in the ignition. Her purse lay on the passenger side seat. Her phone in the cup holder. Dropping both items in the purse he hit the lock on the door jam. The mechanism clicked as the locks turned. He gave a cursory look over the interior but didn’t see anything he thought Melissa would need.

He could see Melissa sitting in the passenger seat through the windshield. The wipers keeping the glass clear. Unbelievable she was sitting in his truck after all this time. His arms still burned where he held her in his arms. He climbed into the truck and the heat hit him full force. The air gushed from the vents, turned on high.

“I’m freezing,” Melissa answered his look when he dropped her purse on her lap. “My heat wasn’t working even before the engine gave out.”

Drew said nothing. He simply pulled his arms from his own jacket and passed it across the cab.

“What? No.” Melissa tried to shove the Carhartt back to Drew. “The heat is fine. I don’t need your coat. I’ll be fine.”

“Take it Lass,” Drew stated. He continued to hold his hand out with the coat, taking her shoves. He rolled his eyes and dropped the jacket in her lap. “I’m fine. You have it like a damn furnace in here.” The words weren’t a lie. The chill from being outside was gone. In actuality, he was reaching out to turn the vents away from him. The heat proving to be too much.

“Drew…” Melissa started. The coat was clutched in her hands. The material warm beneath her fingers. She fought to keep from raising it to her nose and breathing the woodsy scent.

“Please keep it,” Drew meet her eyes and felt a rush of victory when she nodded. He watched as she pulled the coat up around her like a blanket.

Drew pulled his seatbelt across his body. His eyes flickered in the rearview mirror showing complete darkness. He turned off his flashers and put the truck in drive. Easing on the gas, he moved them forward at a crawl. The road was completely covered in snow. Melissa’s tracks no longer visible.

“Thank you.” Melissa’s voice broke the quietness of the cab a few minutes later. She watched the snow falling in front of the headlights as Drew trudged down the road. Her body warm beneath the thick coat. She had it pulled to just below her chin. His cologne wafted in her nose, warming her from the inside out. This time, she tucked her chin and buried her nose in the coat. Her eyes closed as she breathed deep.

“What were you doing this far out anyway?” Drew fought from reaching over. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she buried her face in his coat. He shifted in his seat as his jeans grew tight. He wished he did have that 1967 Ford Melissa’s Pappy used to own. Teal in color with the all important bench seat. One where he could reach out and pull her across the seat to burrow up in his side. He could have one arm wrapped over her shoulders holding her to him. One hand on the wheel. The future ahead of him.

“Thought I remembered a shortcut home from work. Apparently I didn’t.”

Drew chuckled. “You’ll have to explain that to me later because I’m not sure how any of these roads are a shortcut.”

“Well I’m still directionally impaired. That hasn’t changed any.” Her heart stumbled and beat faster as she watched the smile grow on his face in the darkness of the cab.

Melissa must have fallen sleep. The next thing she knew they were pulling into a garage that was definitely not hers. First thing, she didn’t have a garage. She sat up right, Drew’s coat falling to her lap She glanced around, eyes wide. The garage door shut behind them. The wipers rubbed against a dry windshield, bouncing over the glass before the truck went silent beneath them when Drew shut it off.

“Where are we?” Melissa asked when Drew opened his door.

“Home.” Drew stated as he climbed from the truck and shut the door behind him not allowing Melissa to argue. She was ready when he opened the passenger door.

“What do you mean home?” Melissa said as he opened her door. “This is your home. Not mine. I don’t live here remember.”

“I remember,” Drew answered solemnly. He absolutely remembered Melissa no longer lived with him. Each time he came home to an empty house. Darkness would great him as he pulled into his driveway. The windows all darked. The only light coming from the outside light at his garage. Inside the silence was deafening. His movements would echo in the vacant house.

“Then what am I doing here?” Melissa asked. Muscle memory left her climbing from the truck and following Drew to the garage door that lead them into the mud room. It was also habit that had her kicking her shoes off leaving them next to random pairs of Drew’s.

“Fixing a mistake.” Drew turned away and hung his coat up on the hook next to the door. He kicked off his own boots, leaving them next to Melissa’s. He stared down at the scene. His dark brown Carhartt boots with their black soles and golden yellow laces. One sitting up right. One turned over on its side. Melissa’s white cloth sided Skechers with tieless shoelaces sat neatly beside them. Their shoes hadn’t been side by side in a long time.

“F-fixing a mistake? What does that mean?” Melissa watched as he didn’t answer, but walked from the room. She had no choice but to follow. “Stop,” she reached out grabbing his arm as he walked deeper into his house. “You can’t keep me here. You need to take me home, Drew.”

“No.”

Melissa stared at him bewildered. “No? What do you mean no?”

“Exactly what I mean Lass.” Drew knew he was going about this all wrong. But she was here in his house. Finally.

“You can’t just keep me here.” Melissa rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was too tired to get into an argument with Drew.

“Call your boyfriend then.” Drew’s jaw clenched at the thought. Discovering Melissa had a boyfriend caused him to carry on his one track mind of wrestling. Obviously her moving on that quickly after their break up meant their relationship wasn’t as serious as it was made out to be.

It wasn’t until he took a break from wrestling when he realized what the relationship meant to him and what he’d lost. Then the thought of Melissa’s boyfriend pissed him off. He didn’t know who it was, but he knew whoever the maggot was wouldn’t be good enough.

He watched as Melissa spun on her heel, marching back into the mudroom. He followed like there was an invisible tether keeping them together. His heart lodged in his throat when she pulled her phone out of her purse hanging from the hook with her jacket. Anger rose and he snatched the device from her hand.

“Wh-what are you doing!” Melissa’s voice rose as she turned around. She bumped into his body, he was so close to her. She lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her breath caught at the look on his face. Emotion swam in his blue eyes.

“Why did you call me?” Drew asked in a low voice as he crowded against her. “Why didn’t you call him?”

“I-I did…” Melissa answered. She was unable to look away. His eyes captivated her, drawing her in.

“Then where is he?” He pressed, taking a step closer to her. She took a step back and nearly tripped over his boots. He quickly reached out, wrapping his arms around her. Her phone tumbled from his hand to the floor. The device lay on the floor forgotten. He pulled her against him. Their bodies flush.

“He didn’t answer…” Melissa admitted in a whisper. Her body trembled pressed against him. A growing hunger swirled deep in her belly. With their height different he towered over her. Her head arched back, baring her neck.

“He didn’t answer,” Drew repeated, silently cursing the deviant. On a night like this, he couldn’t pick his girlfriend up from work. Instead leaving her to drive home with an unreliable car in terrible weather and not even having the decency to stay awake until she was home safely. Disgust for the man dripped off him. He was right. The man didn’t deserve Melissa.

He dipped his head down, watching as Melissa’s eyes widened. Her irises grew heavy with desire. He heard her breath catch. Her fingers grasped his hoodie pulling the material tight across his back. He wanted to rip the offending article of clothing from his body so he could feel her hands on his skin.

“I answered,” he breathed. His lips millimeters from hers. Their breath mixed together. The press of her body to his. The feel of her hands on him. The sweet scent of her perfume invading his senses… Desire curled inside him. His dick started to thicken in his jeans. He shifted minutely, pressing his desire to her belly.

“Drew…” Melissa whispered. Heat pooled at her center.

“I answered Mel,” his voice low. “I answered and without hesitation I came. I came when you needed me.”

Melissa nearly melted against him, giving in to her desire. With strength she didn’t know she had, she broke away from him. “Now. But you didn’t before. You weren’t there. You were never there.”

Drew’s eyes closed briefly at the pain in Melissa’s voice. Opening them, he met her gaze head on. “I know, Love. I had my priorities all mixed up. I placed the company above everything – my friends. My family. You...”

She watched as he moved closer to her. She didn’t know why she was allowing him to plead his case. She should have been demanding he take her home immediately. Should have been finding her phone and calling Jason. But she didn’t and she wasn’t.

“I didn’t realize I had given a bit much to wrestling. Didn’t realize while I was giving them everything, there wasn’t anything left to give to the people I loved. I was sacrificing you and my family for the job…” Drew confessed. He stopped in front of her. Not once did his eyes waver from hers. “I’m sorry…”

“You think you can just erase all the hurt with an apology?” Melissa fisted her palms in an attempt to stop herself from reaching out. The emotions swirling deep in his eyes called out to her. She could see the hurt and sadness. She could also read the resignation in them. As if he knew his actions had lost her to him forever.

“It’s all I got Lass,” he admitted. He raised his hand and brushed the short blonde hair from her face. Her skin soft beneath his fingers. Her eyes closed at his touch and she nuzzled his hand. He brought his other hand up and cupped her face with both hands. He tilted her face up and waited for her eyes to open.

When her eyes blinked open, he lowered his head. Her breath quickened. He brushed his lips softly against hers. A short whisper of a kiss. He pulled back slightly, his hands still on her cheeks. His thumbs caressing back and forth. “I know you’re not gonna jus forgive me. I know I have my work cu’ ou’ for me to earn your trust back. I know I don’ deserve a second chance, but I love you.”

Melissa’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened at Drew’s declaration. Her hands rose and pressed against his chest. Her fingers clinging to the hoodie. She stared in his eyes, unable to look away. His voice – soft and deep with his accent more pronounced – wrapped around her.

“The past couple months… it’s been eye openin’ for me. I can see everything I did wrong. The mistakes I made… I see it all now. The family I though’ I had wasn’t there. I was losing my real family by givin’ to an industry that wasn’t givin’ back. I started mendin’ that. After coming home from Scotland… this empty house without you here… I was comin’.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Melissa said weakly. Though try telling her body that piece of information. Her hands on his chest. Her lower half pressing against him. Her heart swooning over his accent...his words. Falling all over again.

“I don’t care,” Drew said matter-of-factly. The tips of his fingers slid into her hair. “I don’t care what boyfriend you have. I don’t care who is in my way when it comes to you. Nothin’ will stop me from getting’ to ya.”

Desire coursed through her at his words, pooling at her center. She knew Drew meant the words he said. He would do anything and everything to get her back. She shivered. The words almost made her want to test him. To brush him off right now. To make him work to get her back. To make him prove what he spoke was the truth.

“I won’t force ya to stay here,” Drew continued. He knew he had to say the words, but they stuck in his throat. Sour. “You want to go home, just say so.” It was the step in the right direction in order to win her back. Kidnapping her did have its advantages. It crossed his mind to take her upstairs to his bed and kiss every inch of her skin until she was begging for him to claim her. Then take her until she was shouting out in the silence of the house she was his until her voice was raw as they spilled over into ecstasy.

It was less than a split second. Melissa’s hands were moving up his chest. Her palms cupping his bearded cheeks – soft and silky at her touch. “What are you talking about? I am home.”

At the words, her lips touched his.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, so, I've been avoiding talking about the couch thing but I really need to talk about the couch thing.

The main about the couch thing is that it exists on two levels, it is not something we decided that was there, it's something Buck talks about, we see him talking about it with Eddie, we know Maddie knows about it, it's something that's important to Buck and he says so. But, like everything else in any piece of media, it also exists at a meta-level. So we have things that Buck is telling us and we have things the show is putting on the screen outside of Buck's view of it.

With what Buck says in that conversation about the couch, we can backtrack the couch thing and apply it to season 2, with Ali helping Buck pick the loft and probably decorating it too. But me and my delusional juice want to take the couch thing back to Abby, so stay with me for a minute.

When Abby leaves, Buck stays at her place for a while, so technically speaking Abby also came with a couch, so 3 girlfriends, 3 couches, but he doesn't count Abby into the situation for whatever reason he might have, maybe he's just thinking about the loft. But the thing is, if you wanna apply symbolism to couches and Buck's bad history with them applied to relationships, talking Abby's couch is important because they're on Abby's couch when she tells him she's leaving and never comes back, so Buck's first big heartbreak started on a couch.

But sure, let's just count Ali, what conversation do Buck and Ali have on the couch? The one where she tells him she's not comfortable with his job, which pretty much translates to she's not comfortable with who he is, ultimately ending the relationship, so yet another L for team couch.

And adding Taylor in, we see them on the couch talking about Taylor's past, but that's on Ali's couch, Ali's couch already has its own break of trust, we see them "discuss" the couch situation when Taylor moves in, we also see them talking about the cheating on the couch Taylor brought in and when they are discussing Jonah. Surprise Surprise, the thing that ultimately breaks Buck and Taylor's relationship started on a couch.

Something else about these conversations that ultimately lead to the relationship falling apart is that they never start with both of them on the couch. With Abby, Buck is kneeling in front of her then he sits, with Ali he's sitting down, she's standing up then she's the one kneeling and with Taylor they spend the duration with her on the couch and him on the chair. Abby is in her couch, Ali's stays with Buck and Taylor takes her couch back.

So we retroactively get to add the couch into all of Buck's canon romantic relationships before we get to the couch thing being established in season 6.

I'm gonna use the layout of the loft on a meta-level here, so bear with me.

The couch thing starts in Buck's kitchen, with Chris making fun of him for not having a couch and him telling Eddie "my last 2 couches came with girlfriends" and "maybe I don't want to pick the wrong couch again" and this is happening on the show, so this bit exists on Buck's view of the couch. But I think it's important on a meta-level this conversation is happening in the kitchen while Buck cooks, one because food is a love language in the show and two because cooking is something that Buck enjoys, so the kitchen is his "safe place" in a way.

The next time we hear about the couch thing is after the lighting when his mother decides to buy him a couch. This conversation happens in the "living room" a place in the loft where we pretty much never see Buck alone in, and the only time we see him somewhat happy while he's alone in it is at the end of 6x01 when he moves the chair to where the couch is supposed to be. So the space where the couch goes it's for other people (maybe there's some extra symbolism here with the couch being constantly picked by someone else too). So his choice about the couch got taken away in a space that's for guests, but he's okay with it because Buck craves his parents' attention too much to not let it happen.

But now he's really uncomfortable with the couch he has (is funny that even Oliver said the couch was uncomfortable so like, it was an uncomfortable couch lol) we see him unable to get comfortable enough to fall asleep in it, we see the frustration in his face after he ends up on the couch when Kameron falls asleep in his bed. He's not happy with the couch but this is still about how Buck perceives the couch.

Then we have the couch getting ruined when Kameron gives birth on it. Something that I think it's interesting on a meta-level is that Buck's mother says the couch is for guests but until the birth, Buck is the only one using the couch and considering the way that we don't really get the living room as a place that Buck himself hangs around in, it's a choice even more considering he didn't pick the couch. Again.

I think from a meta and Buck's personality POV you can take the birth scene and peel it off and find a hundred layers, but there is something about the way they had the kid Buck chose to help someone else have being born on the couch the mother who had Buck to help someone picked. The couch is for guests, the living room is for guests, everything about that scene points to temporary in Buck's life.

Then we have the couch thing being "resolved" (quotation marks because I don't think it is resolved in all levels) with Buck deciding to ask Natalia to go buy a couch with him. From Buck's POV, the couch thing is solved, he's not afraid to pick a couch, he's getting a couch, he's getting a girlfriend (he should get a therapist instead but who am I to say anything).

BUT I wanna dissect the scene where he asks Natalia to buy the couch. Because here's the thing, we don't see Buck on his balcony often, but the balcony is his inner conflict location. He's there after Maddie and Chim leave and is trying to get Eddie to reassure him he did the right thing and he's there with Maddie after Taylor chooses her career over him trying to figure out if he got love wrong, so to have Natalia sitting outside is a choice. To have him not invite her back in is also a choice.

Because the couch thing started in the kitchen, a place Buck is extremely comfortable in and it could've also ended there. To have Natalia sitting by the counter or at the kitchen table while the cleaners did whatever and have him join her there, would be basically the same scene but it would have a different effect. To have him get to the door and pull her back inside would've had a different effect. Because she would've been in his space, not sitting outside of it. She's literally outside and while he's asking her to do something important for him with him, he's not bringing her inside. Literally. And all of this happening in his inner conflict location in the loft? It's a choice and it makes me wonder if that was really the end of the couch of it all.

Because, like, he was never all the way in with Ali or Taylor, they were always kept at arm's length, even with how long Buck and Taylor stay together, you can feel he's not all the way in, so it says something that the couch girlfriends he counts are the girlfriends he wasn't sure of.

And the way I typed all this out and still haven't brought up Eddie lol. I think it says something on a meta-level that Buck fell asleep instantly on Eddie's couch, like, they were doing something, BUT if the thing about the couch is about choice, Buck didn't pick Eddie's couch either. And I kinda think that should be a factor here too. Because if we wanna discuss the couch as a metaphor for relationships, we need to think about the way none of Buck's relationships start with Buck. He is never the one that takes the initiative. He never picked the couch. Abby gets his number, Ali calls him, Taylor sends him a drink, kisses him, and shows up at his door, and Natalia asks him out and shows up at his door, so if the thing here is the lack of choice or Buck being the one to choose the couch for a change they can't just put him in Eddie's couch and call it a day. It's deeper than that. Buck needs to choose himself and something for himself first.

[thebeesareback]

Pride and Prejudice: a defence of Lydia Bennet

In Jane Austen's 1813 novel, Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth's younger sister Lydia is set up as Elizabeth's opposite. Their names, Lizzie and Lydia, sound similar, and they follow similar paths. Lizzie and Lydia meet their future husbands in the first part of the novel, then get married in the latter half.

There are, of course, some differences. Lydia marries Wickham, a charming but evil man; and Lizzie marries Darcy, a well meaning bloke with the charisma of a turnip. Jane and Bingley are also there. Everyone, with the exception of the insufferable Mrs Bennet, is absolutely horrified with Lydia when she elopes, and she seems utterly befuddled by their annoyance. This is why I think Lydia should have been better treated.

Let's start with Wickham. He enters towards the beginning of the book and befriends most of the Bennets. The book introduces him thus: "His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address". Throughout the first part of the novel, the audience discovers that he and Darcy do not like each other, although neither fully articulates why.

Lydia lives at home with her parents and her four sisters. She isn't very well educated: she "never had any governess", and seems to spend her time visiting people and shopping. I must admit that throughout the novel, as Lizzie goes off on endless walks and everyone moans about their finances, I wish they would get jobs to enrich themselves and give them something interesting to do. Yes, I know that wasn't the socially acceptable thing to do at the time, but still. So many walks. She doesn't even have headphones! I digress.

In the background of Lydia's home life, people regularly discuss what will happen when Mr Bennet dies. Either, all five daughters will have to get married, and they don't have large dowries; or they'll be provided for by Mr Collins, who does whatever Lady Catherine tells him. It's a constant source of stress, and something with Lydia must be aware of. Mrs Bennet is constantly trying to avoid the latter and get her daughters married off, and so there's a constant emphasis on finding wealthy husbands. Lydia knows that it's her only purpose.

In fact, of all the daughters, she seems to be the most aware of their predicament. Sure, Jane and Lizzie discuss it, but when Lizzie has two proposals - one from Mr Collins and one from Mr Darcy, she turns them both down. The audience is supposed to sympathise with Lizzie and understand why neither of these men are right for her, certainly, but if her only mission is to get married, she initially fails. Lydia has no qualms. When the regiment comes to town, full of eligible young men, Lydia sets to work.

It would be ridiculous to suggest that Lydia doesn't enjoy that sort of thing. She does! As a 21st century woman, I don't see a problem with her having fun and flirting. Nevertheless, Lizzie is horrified and speaks to their father about Lydia's behaviour. There's a nasty trap, you see: Lydia has to get married, but she can't be seen to *want* to get married. Lydia misses the nuance and that is considered embarrassing. There's something to be said for disliking women for their agency. Marriage should simply happen to Lydia, but she shouldn't seek it out or seem like she wants to be in control or have any choice. Lizzie rejects proposals and exercises her own agency, and her mother is absolutely infuriated.

Meanwhile, Wickham is secretly plotting. He believed he was cheated out of an inheritance by Darcy, and then tried to run off with Darcy's little sister. Georgiana Darcy also provides a clear contrast to Lydia: according to Caroline Bingley, "I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister". So, we have an intelligent and protected young lady who was groomed and seduced by Wickham. What chance did poor Lydia stand? More on that later.

Wickham is furious with Darcy. As the novel starts, he is in a militia and, as we later discover, spending more money than he earns. (I assume he's paid money? There's talk of "purchasing commissions", so maybe he doesn't. Any experts, please let me know!). It could easily be assumed that the only reason Wickham spends any time with Jane and Lizzie is because Darcy and Bingley like them. Sure - Darcy doesn't seem like he likes Lizzie, but Wickham knows Darcy and can probably figure him out.

Wickham is almost certainly aware of the fact that the Bennets are not very rich. He's a confidence trickster and also projecting wealth, so he knows exactly what to look for. If Lydia and Kitty buy bonnets they don't really like and then fix them up, it seems likely that Wickham is doing something similar. He sees through the falsehoods because he's constantly monitoring, constantly adjusting, constantly manipulating. So Wickham could get close to the Bennets because he buys into their projected lifestyle, or he could be doing it for the pleasure of their company - snarky, sarcastic Lizzie is a treat - or possibly it's because it'll piss off Darcy. I think the latter is the most likely.

There is someone else to consider, but she sucks so I'll keep this brief. Wickham could attempt to seduce Caroline Bingley. The Bingleys actually are rich, and it would certainly annoy Darcy. There are a few problems:

Caroline sucks

Darcy doesn't like Caroline, so he might not care if Wickham marries her

Caroline is clearly trying to seduce Darcy

Caroline might know what happened with Georgiana

Also, Caroline sucks.

So, Caroline. An option, but with some serious drawbacks.

At the end of the first half (ish) of the book, Wickham's militia moves off to Brighton. He's managed to convince Lizzie that Darcy is a bit of a knob (Darcy's personality helps), so mission accomplished. Except! Enter Lydia. Her friend's dad is Colonel Forster and he's going, too. After trying to convince Mr Bennet that they should all move to Brighton, Lydia compromises and heads off under the (lacking) care of the Forsters.

Thus, a disaster is set. We have one daft, headstrong teenager (don't forget, Lydia is 15), who has been told repeatedly that the only thing which matters is gaining male attention; and we have Wickham - smart, cunning, in need of money and ready to hurt anyone close to Darcy. We don't actually see Wickham and Lydia's courtship, but I would gather that, given their two personalities, it was more like grooming. Wickham allowed Lydia to imagine a glamorous life in which she outshines all of her older sisters. To read between the lines, I think it could be argued that Wickham deliberately targets Lydia because of her connection to Lizzie and therefore Darcy, because he only pays attention to her in Brighton. Before then, it made more sense for him to cosy up to Lizzie, which is exactly what he does. Additionally, in Brighton, no-one is really paying attention to Lydia, so it's much easier to get her to come away with him.

So the two elope. Kinda. Wickham says they will go to Scotland to get married, then they hide out in London in a house owned by, ouch, the former governess of Georgiana. Just to torture Darcy a little more. It's difficult to piece together exactly what happened and what the plan was, but I think Wickham left a breadcrumb trail for Darcy to find, knowing that Lizzie would probably reach out at some point.

Lydia's reputation would be ruined if people knew that she'd run away and lived with a man to whom she was not married, so Darcy, Mr Gardiner and Mr Bennet all have to scramble to cover things up and get them wed. They essentially have to bribe Wickham into it by promising to pay off his debts and getting him a new, better job. It's very stressful for Darcy, Gardiner and Bennet. Lydia doesn't see what she's done wrong. Wickham gets his inheritance at last.

We know that Wickham is manipulative, but let's just quickly run through everyone he fucks over.

Lizzie (lies to her about Darcy)

Georgiana (attempts to elope with her)

Various merchants and moneylenders in Meryton

Various merchants and moneylenders in Brighton

His militia

Mrs Bennet

Is it a surprise that daft, naive Lydia falls under his spell?

After the wedding, Lydia goes back to Meryton for a few weeks. She's so happy! She's the first of her sisters to get married; she believes she's got a wealthy husband; now her mother is thrilled; oh, and Wickham is charming and lovely and she adores him. Yes, there was a bit of a mess with how the marriage came about, but it's all sorted, and she did what her family wanted! She has a man!

All of this is why I come to Lydia's defence. The novel is written from Lizzie's perspective, and she judges her sister for her actions. I don't. I think that Lydia was ignored by her father, and with nothing else to occupy her time, sought validation elsewhere. She was manipulated by a man who had an agenda which stretched far past her imagination, and ended up doing the thing - getting married - which is exactly what her family and society wanted for her in the first place. She's not perfect. But I would argue that she's more of a victim than someone with genuinely malicious intentions, and should be treated with more kindness.

[retrosofa]

I finished the second season of Dead Like Me as well as the follow-up film. The second season was fine, not as good as the first but still alright. I feel like behind the scenes drama and lack of direction were to blame. Aside from George, the character development for the Reapers felt misguided.

Mason and Daisy were the worst offenders. The series premiere has Mason celebrating his sobriety, which doesn't actually change things? He spends the entire episode being the same selfish idiot he always is. At the end of it he goes back to drinking. He then remains a fuck-up the entire season, the only difference being that everyone is pretty sick of it. Things kind of turn around at the tail-end but overall, his character arc was not very thought out.

I don't know what the hell they were thinking with Daisy. She spends half of the season pursuing Catholicism after she's smitten by a dead women's crucifix. Daisy, who has been dead for over 60 years, apparently never stumbled upon a cross before. Sure. After her little religious stunt, she gets upset when one of her marks is murdered by an abusive lover. Daisy can't deal with the situation, leaves the soul behind for Roxy to take care, briefly mentions she used to have a sister (I suppose implying her sister was killed by an abusive man?), and then starts dating an abusive TV producer in the next episode?? What??! EXCUSE ME?

And then there's Roxy and Rube, both of whom barely get any screen time this season. Roxy becomes a cop, which ends up just becoming a convenient plot device a couple of times. She doesn't have any story arcs or anything of her own, which is a damn shame. Roxy gets more screen time this season but she still gets shafted for Mason and Daisy. I can't tell if it's because of racism or Jasmine Guy having scheduling conflicts. Whatever the reason, she deserved much more.

Rube is reduced to a secondary role. He has his own arc this season, which is extremely heartwarming. While I like the story line they wrote up for Rube, it does feel a bit out of left-field. It also felt like him and George barely had any meaningful scenes together.

A few interesting things happen this season which bring up more questions than answers. We see two different instances of a reaper killing someone. Roxy shoots one of Mason's reaps, which surprises even herself. Since the victim was scheduled to die, it was fine. However, later on Mason kills Daisy's boyfriend, Ray in "self-defense." His death wasn't scheduled and his soul turns into a graveling, which haunts Daisy. The Ray-graveling subplot raises a lot of questions that don't get any solid answers. You would think Ray turned into a graveling because his death wasn't scheduled but he causes an unscheduled death at one point and Daisy is able to pop the man's soul out without any issues. So maybe he turned into a graveling because he was a bad person? I don't know. Ray is ultimately "destroyed" when George reaps him. This is never explored upon or explained as it happens right before the last episode.

As always, George was a lot of fun to watch. She's not as sloppy as the last season. She's gotten more comfortable with her undead life but is still a bit rebellious. This time around she's smarter about her decisions. In the first season she was constantly searching for loopholes and ways of escaping her fate. This season, she's owning it. We also get to see her dabble in romance and have a few nice scenes with Delores.

The last episode takes place on Halloween and doesn't offer a real conclusion but works fine. Most of the loose ends are tied up. I feel like even if this show didn't get canceled, it wouldn't have had a definitive conclusion. Although I wish it would've gotten another season or two, I think the ending is fine. I didn't feel cheated or anything. Overall, the TV series was pretty solid.

As for the movie...

Not sure if I mentioned this before or not but when DLM got canceled back in the early 2000's, I pretty much lost all interest in it. Nobody else I knew watched it and I was getting more into anime around that time. Years later MGM released a follow-up movie, which I remember hearing about but never bothered to watch until now.

It's bad. Like really bad.

There are hundreds of reviews online that will back me up on this. There are many reasons why the movie is bad but the biggest one for me is that it doesn't feel like Dead Like Me. I suppose since it's a "movie", they wanted to do something a little different but it's just a whole other beast. It also dismisses a lot of key "rules" established in the TV series, which I suppose was an intentional choice? It's just weird.

I also don't understand why they even bothered... the show had been canceled for years, two of the key actors couldn't come back, and the film doesn't answer any of the burning questions from the TV show. It's almost completely a waste of time.

On the bright side, we see that Joy has gotten a better handle on things and has seemingly moved on. Reggie gets some proper closure. The movie ends with the implication that George will take over Rube's role, which is fitting I suppose.

Overall, I'd recommend the show but would advise avoiding the film unless you're absolutely curious.