#monologuing at me about how surely i don't want to do this for the rest of my life and how i should have bigger dreams and how the person

[mccleans]

tiptoeing on the edge of a panic attack at work

[eddiesxangel]

The Kissing Booth | E.M x G!N!Reader

Cw: flufffffff, mild angst on Eddie’s part. Smooching. Reader wears lipgloss. No use of pronouns.

Wc 1.4K

Eddie could not believe this was happening to him.

“Nope, nope, no way, man. Over my dead body-“

“What my boy means is he is grateful he is not being suspended and will graciously accept his punishment of volunteering at the school fair.” Wayne looks at his nephew with a glare in his eyes that Eddie hasn’t seen in a very long time.

“Great, then it’s settled,” Ms. Laughlin, the guidance councillor, smiles.

It was happening. Eddie was being served the most gruesome punishment, and all because he skipped P.E. of all classes.

Eddie Munson was being forced not only to participate in the school fair but to work the kissing booth, of all things.

How on earth would he survive this? Not only would he be the laughingstock of the school, but he would also have to endure the absolute embarrassment of having no one come up to his booth, and he would also have to be forced to participate in extracurricular activities.

“Just wait until Hellfire hears about this boy,” Wayne laughs as he drives him and Eddie back to the trailer.

All Eddie could do was roll his eyes; he could never show his face again.

“You’re not going to believe the rumour I heard today.” Nancy looks at you from over her shoulder. She is sat at your vanity.

“What?” You asked, intrigued, as you got dressed and got ready for tonight’s festivities.

“A little birdy told me that a certain someone is working the kissing booth tonight.” She smirks.

“Who?” You challenge her back.

“Who, what?” Robin walks into the bedroom from the bathroom.

“Nancy knows who is working one of the kissing booths tonight, but who’s telling me” you pout.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Robin smirks knowingly.

“Oh, not you, too! Come on, who is it!”

Robin and Nancy give one another a nod of the head before Nancy speaks.

“Eddie Munson.”

“Ha ha, very funny; you think I’m going to believe that? How gullible do you think I am?” You snort.

“No, it’s true! Shelly from the student council told me when we were working on the student paper! Instead of detention, this is his punishment, to help out at the fair tonight.” She wiggled her brows at you suggestively.

“Who else’s working it?” You try and ask casually.

Your friends knew about your crush on Eddie. It had been about a month since you confessed to one of your late-night sleepovers.

“Um, I’m not too sure what other guy, but I think Chrissy is working the girl's booth. Nancy shrugged.

“Cool…cool…” you turned to the closet, now faced with a sense of anxiety to find the perfect top.

Eddie was actually dying on the inside. Ten minutes until his “shift” at the booth, and he wanted to book it.

Running away would solve his problems, right? He would much rather be suspended than have to endure this humiliation. This was a cruel and unusual punishment.

He watched from the sidelines as Josh was at the booth currently. He was the senior star quarterback on the football team. Everyone wanted him. He could just see now the long line disbursing once he stood there.

"Hey man, you're up next in 5." Eddie was snapped out of his internal monologue when he felt a hand resting on his shoulder. He wasn't sure how long he had been there stewing with his own thoughts. "Don't worry, it's not all bad. Some customers are cute," Josh smirks.

Oh god. What if he actually had to kiss someone tonight? He hadn’t thought of that option. Like, what if some actually came up? What would he do? Are they expecting tongue?

“You have some gum or something?” He asked quickly before Josh left.

He smirked and tossed him a pack of icy mint.

“Thanks.”

Eddie peaked around the corner to where the booth was set up. The fair was set up on the school football field. There was a small sign that said be back in 5 and no lineup to be seen.

That made Eddie feel a bit better; no one was there. That took some humility out of it.

Before Eddie could back out and run, he felt another hard hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Munson, your time to shine.” Jeff and Gareth practically dragged Eddie to the booth, kicking and screaming.

“You’re the worst friends ever,” Eddie huffed as they backed away from the booth. Watching him so he won’t run away.

“You can't serve the time and shouldn’t do the crime.” Jeff laughed.

“That’s not-“ Eddie was cut off mid-sentence as he saw Robin and Nancy pushing you towards the booth just like he had been moments ago.

“Don’t make me do this,” you plead with your best friends.

“You have to do it,” “It’s now or never,” “He’s right there. Just have him your ticket and pucker your lisp. It’s not that hard,” Robin and Nancy whispered in your ear as they dragged you towards Eddie.

“You guys, please, I can’t!” You say a bit too loudly as you fight back your friends from pushing you up to the booth.

You can see the look on Eddie’s face as you are pushed up the step of the booth. He looks disappointed? Disgusted? You’re not too sure.

You let out an embarrassing squeal as you stumbled in front of Eddie. “Um hi”

Despite not being well-acquainted with Eddie, you couldn't help but notice him whenever he walked by. You only exchanged a few words in passing and learned about him through your friends. Although you never had the opportunity to spend time together, you found him to be irresistibly charming and incredibly good-looking. Whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the cafeteria, he never failed to bring a smile to your face with his silly antics and infectious laughter.

“Uh hey,” he spoke back, clearly uncomfortable.

“Busy night for you?” You ask, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Uh nope.”

“Good,” you smile; the thought of Eddie kissing anyone else made you want to vomit.

“Good?” He cocks a brow at you. “The thought of nobody wanting to come up to the freak of Hawkins High is good to you?”

“Oh I didn’t mean it like-“

“Why are you even here?”

“Oh- well- I um-"

“No, I get it. You’re just here on a dare, or you lost the bet, right? I really thought better of Nancy and Robin; I thought they were my friends… You know I heard you say you can’t do this. I understand the thought of kissing me is so terrible that-“

You couldn't help but cut off Eddei from his intrusive thoughts. You held his face with both hands and smushed your lips together. The thought of Eddie thinking that about you was far worse than the fear of kissing him.

It wasn't everything you had dreamed of. However, the kiss was still nice. You felt the eruption of butterflies fill your stomach as Eddie deepened this kiss himself. You kissed him until you could no longer breathe. Only then is when you pull away.

“Woah”

“I hope that was okay.” You shy away.

“Yeah.” Eddie sighed as he took you in.

As he gazed upon you, he was struck by how pretty you were, which he had overlooked until now. The sweet aroma of strawberries wafted from you as the strawberry lipgloss lingered on his lips, just below his nose.

“Um, here,” you jut out your hand with the crinkled ticket you hadn't yet paid with.

“Oh no, no, the house,” Eddie said without thinking and that made you giggle.

“Well, I really only bought a ticket for this, so I might as well cash it in.” you flirt.

“Ok, yeah, sure. Two for one.” Eddie took the ticket from your hand and brought it back to cup your cheek before kissing you again.

You could hear the giggles and cheers of your friends from behind you in the distance, but your main focus was on Eddie. His soft, plush lips. His minty taste, the way his soft hair tickled your cheeks.

“Ok, lovebirds, that’s enough.” the supervising teacher returned with an unimpressed huff.

You begrudgingly pulled away, but with a smile nonetheless.

“Can I get your number?” Eddie’s mouth was moving before his brain could catch up.

“Come find us later, lover boy.” Robin giggled while snatching your arm and pulled you away before you could answer.

“Dude!” Gareth clapped his hands, having witnessed the whole thing.

“Maybe we should sign up for this,” Jeff laughed. A little jealous of what he just witnessed.

After you, Eddie didn’t care if he got another customer for the rest of the night. Maybe this whole kissing booth thing wasn’t too bad after all.

[moonstruckme]

can i request poly!marauders x female reader where she gets burnt out easily and most people don't know this cause she like leaves or hides before they can see. So one day they were hanging out all day and she gets burnt out but they don't know what happened so they get all worried when she all of a sudden just looks so drained and tired and can barely smile or anything. Sorry if this doesn't make sense. This happens to me a lot with new friends and because I get so burnt out I sometimes even need other people to explain for me cause talking is even too much. Thank you so much if you do it!! ♡♡♡♡♡I love your fics so much♡♡♡♡

Thanks for requesting gorgeous, love you :)

cw: social burnout

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 948 words

“I just don’t see why they would change them,” James complains, sipping dissatisfiedly at his butterbeer. 

“You’re such a creature of habit,” Sirius sighs heavily, but you all know his boredom is for show. He only wants to rile James. 

“The old quidditch uniforms were just fine,” James is practically monologuing now, staring into the middle distance with a furrow between his brows. His elbow bumps your arm as he gestures helplessly. “Red and gold—those are the Gryffindor colors, red and gold. So why are the new uniforms bright red and yellow?” 

“Maybe so you’re more visible,” you suggest, and Remus’ lips twist amusedly as he leans across the table to sip at your butterbeer. Neither of you had much appetite after your long day of snacking at the quidditch match, so you’d agreed to split one. You’ll admit, you find the two straws poking out of your mug embarrassingly romantic. 

“We look tacky,” James grumbles, slumping a bit in his seat. You see Remus’ arm reach under the table, and you know he’s straining to rub his boyfriend’s thigh consolingly. “The gold was so much better.” 

“At least you can pull off a yellow like that,” Sirius points out. “Can’t say the same for Callaghan. He looked totally washed out.” 

This would be your time to chip in with a comment about how Sirius’ pallid countenance wouldn’t fare so well in the new colors either, but you find you don’t want to. There’s a persistent pressure at your temples. Once you acknowledge it, the rest is impossible to stop. Exhaustion seeps into you like a poison, all the way down to your bones, and you’re done. You’ve been around people—mostly your boyfriends, who you love very much, but people nonetheless—since you woke up this morning, and had talked and laughed and participated all day long, and now you’re done. You want to be home. 

“True, but even he looked better than you would have, Pads,” James voices the zinger for you, he and Remus trading entertained looks when Sirius starts spluttering about how he looks good in every color, thank you very much. 

“Alright, I can’t have any more of this.” Remus pushes the butterbeer towards you decisively. “All yours, dove.” 

You know you haven’t had anywhere near your fair share, but the idea of reaching over, of going through the effort of bringing the straw to your lips, is too much. “Thanks,” you say to him, “I’m good.” 

Remus’ brow creases. You feel horribly dramatic. 

“I’ll take it,” James says merrily, reaching for the mug before Sirius slaps his hand away. 

“Oi, it’s hers.” Sirius gives him a mean look, nudging the butterbeer back towards you. “You’re like a fucking vulture, Prongs. Darling, are you sure you don’t want what’s left? You know he’ll down it in one gulp.” 

“I’m sure.” You try to give him a smile, but even you can feel what a flimsy attempt it is. “Thanks anyway.” 

Sirius’ expression clouds over with concern, and you look at the table. 

“Hey.” James reaches for your hand, squeezing your fingers lightly between his. “What’s up, lovely?” 

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just tired.”

Sirius makes an incredulous sound, and you know what he wants to say even though he doesn’t. Yeah, I can see that. “Did something happen?” he asks instead. 

You frown, hating that you don’t have a more satisfying answer. “No.”  

“Dove,” Remus tries to get your attention from across the table. “Are you feeling sick?” 

“No. I’m fine.” 

“You don’t seem fine, honey.” James’ voice is soft, but you can hear the unease in it. “Are you sure you’re not sick?” He touches the back of his hand to your forehead, then lets it slip down to your cheek. “Maybe it was the butterbeer. Rem, are you feeling alright?” 

“I feel normal,” Remus says, seeming at a loss. 

“Hey.” There’s a hand on your leg, and you look up to see Sirius leaning towards you, giving you one of his stern looks. “What’s going on with you, huh? Talk to us.” 

“I’m fine, seriously.” You do your best to look it, sitting up from James’ shoulder, though your dull voice belies your words. “I’m just drained.” 

“Drained how?” he presses. 

“Just…done.” You shrug helplessly. “I’m sorry, I think I want to go home. I just need to be by myself for a little bit, is that okay?” 

“Of course,” Remus says, standing and grabbing his coat. “You don’t have to be sorry, dove. It was just a long day, is that it?” 

You nod, relieved. 

He shrugs on his own coat before grabbing yours, helping you into it when you slide out of the booth. “I understand. It’s been a lot of socializing for one day. You should have told us you were feeling tired, I could have gone home with you after the game.” 

“I didn’t know until it just happened,” you say, but you don’t have the energy to really argue. 

Remus doesn’t want to, either. He kisses the top of your head as he zips your coat, taking your hand in his. 

“We’ll get you home and you can hole up as long as you need,” Sirius promises, pulling on his gloves. “You introverts, so weak.” 

“She’s probably drained because of you,” James teases back. He wraps a protective arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his side. 

“That’s not how it works,” you say quietly, but James shushes you, dipping down to kiss the side of your head. 

“I know, angel, but if you say it is, he’ll be buying your butterbeers for the next week. The month, if you play it right.”

[minus-plus-zer0]

Stuck Inside From the Rain

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up (This was supposed to be short u-u)

You couldn't go home, not in this weather.

You had only planned to drop off a video game you borrowed from Bakugou, but the rain had hit so suddenly that there was no way you were going anywhere now.

What's worse, it was getting pretty dark out. At least Bakugou had a nice couch to sleep on...

"Oi!" Bakugou called out from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"

Bakugou had fetched some extra ingredients so he could make food for the both of you. You both sat down at his dinner table, with your grilled chicken and peppers in front of you.

"Thank you so, so much for doing this, bestie!" you said. "I think this is the first time we've eaten together in your new home."

"That's not my fault. I invited you over last week. But you were busy with Kirishima..."

You scoffed at how he chewed his food angrily. "He's just a friend, Bakugou. I actually totally forgot about that until now. Are you jealous?"

"Why would I be jealous of some guy with shitty hair?! He's got nothing on me!"

"Then don't bring him up?"

"Don't go blowing me off for Kirishima and then I won't bring him up! How about that?"

"I'll be sure to give you all the attention you want this time, okay?"

Bakugou looked frustrated, but a bit pleased. "You better."

True to your words, you ranted and raved to Bakugou about the food, as always. Bakugou knew that if there was one way to get you to focus on him, it was through his cooking. He looked cocky as you basically monologued to him about your 5-star Yelp review of his food. He offered you the rest to take home as leftovers, because unlike that traitorous rat Kirishima, he found himself to be a considerate and compassionate soul who would never let you starve.

You wanted to help with the dishes, but Bakugou wouldn't let you lift a finger to do chores. The guy was treating you like a guest he personally invited, but you felt a little bit like a burden who invaded his evening out of nowhere (even though you knew he wanted you here).

The night grew colder as it went on, and you could tell even Bakugou was starting to get affected. You attached yourself to his side to warm him up, holding onto him because you knew he hated the cold. He let himself get a little lost in that moment, which was easy to do since nobody was here except for you.

"You're such a koala," he said. "How long are you gonna steal my arm for?"

"Bakugou, if you keep complaining I'm gonna let go."

"Fine, fine! Just walk a little faster with me, I need to get something from the living room."

Bakugou wanted to watch a movie with you, but first he fetched an extra blanket, hoping to drape it over the two of you while you sat on the couch.

"You didn't get your own blanket?" you asked.

"This was all I had! Don't hog the stuff, alright?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a burden. I'm just cold..."

"You're not a burden. Just get over here so we can share it. Properly."

He drags the blanket around both of your shoulders, bringing you two hip-to-hip.

"It's like we're kids again, huh?" you laughed. "If you had extra pillows, I would've made us a pillow fort."

"I'm too big for that and you know it. It'd just fall over."

"You're no fun. Did anyone ever tell you that you act like such a grandpa?"

"You've probably told me that at least 5 times now, yeah."

You two watched a movie together, some old action flick from long ago. You rested your head on Bakugou's shoulder, and over time he ended up curling one of his arms around you. You're engrossed in the movie, you thought it wouldn't be your style but the movements are mesmerizing! However, Bakugou's glancing over at you repeatedly, gauging your reaction.

As the movie continued, the night grows even colder, and you're retreating into Bakugou's chest for any semblance of warmth. It's easy to do since his Quirk keeps his body working like an oven. Bakugou's tensing up now, stiff and janky in his movements.

You yawned for the 15th time this hour. "Bakugou... I'm sleeeeepy..."

Your heart rate slowed and your eyes felt heavy, and you almost dozed off to sleep with the sound of the rain rushing down outside. Bakugou looked distressed, knowing that you two might fall asleep together for the first time. But you didn't want him distressed, you wanted him happy, because he was your Bakugou, even if it wasn't official yet...

In your sleepy state, you gave him a tiny kiss him on the cheek and then curled up to sleep against him. You heard him swearing up a storm under his breath, and he really went through the entire curse word dictionary as if you couldn't hear him at all.

Then, he kissed you on the forehead right back.

"Night, dummy," he said, his voice very quiet.

[leafostuff]

Insecurities [Ft. Fromis_9 Jiheon]

Tags: Fluff, Monologue-ish, Girlfriend!Jiheon, Established relationship

Author Notes: no notes we ballin, random idea

=================================

Insecurities are something everyone deals with in their daily life, from looks to social life to achievements, everyone has their own stuff that they dont feel good about themselves

And you are not any different, yours however come from a different source then others: Baek Jiheon, your best friend since highschool, your personal sunshine and...your girlfriend.

Who knew that you would actually have the balls to ask out your best friends on the last day of your senior year, and who knew that she will actually say yes instead of putting you in the dreaded "friend zone".

Comparing yourself and Jiheon is like comparing the burning sun to the cold moon, like an elegant ballet dancer to a bouncy hip-hop dancer, like- OK OK you get, you both are completely different from each other

Jiheon is the sun, always talkative, very sweet, always excited to be with people (especially being with you), as your classmate she was one of the popular girls in school while also being one of the top students, while you...

Well...you were nothing like her, nothing compared to her.

You are not the smartest

(another refresh, probably for Like the 1000th time, adrenaline is an all time high as you were waiting for your college professor to finally send the scores to your computer science exam.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity the scores are finally updated and well...while 60 wasn't too bad, you ended up passing but...it wasn't far from failing.

It honestly sucked, especially since you were working extra hard to get a high score in this exam only to get a 60 which will definitely lower your avarage

A sigh comes from your mouth as you let your head rest on your table, hands on your temple trying to relax yourself from that abysmal score...)

Not the prettiest

{"Are you sure that is necessary Jiheon? I look so stupid in this" you say, the embarrassment is clearly felt from the other side of the isle

"Have i ever told you to do something that isn't?" You can think of a couple moments, a lot actually but it's not like you could ever say no when she gives you her pleading smile. "Now come here and let me see it".

You swipe , revealing yourself to your best friend, on your head now a headband of wolf ears, your cheeks now fully red from embarrassment, Jiheon covers her mouth and her eyes widen in surprise.

"What?" you ask in an annoyed, monotonous voice.

"oh n-nothing" she answers, now looking away however second by second she breaks down, first a giggle, then a small chuckle and in the end she cant contain herself any longer, now fully laughing, almost falling to the floor from how you look.

"SEE?! I TOLD YOU IT WAS STUPID" you respond, even more embarrassed than before as you now turn away from your best friend}

["ahhh finally, the weekend is here" Jiheon says, stretching herself while both of you getting out of your last class of the day, moving toward the exit as your best friend walking backward, facing you with a bright as usual smile

And not the most social person

"wow, I never thought you would be happy about going home from school" you reply, occasionally checking to see that she doesnt stumble into someone that she doesnt see.

"just because i enjoy studying doesn't mean i don't want the week to be over" she exclaims, doing a 180° turn to now face the same direction as you, now walking forward.

"Like seriously, who in the staff let Professor Park teach in the last class of the day, of the WEEK?" She asks rethorically

"maybe they want to make you enjoy the weekend even more?" You jokingly say which makes both of you laugh, as both you head toward your lockers a familiar group waits there.

"Oh, Yuna, Yujin, Sungho" Jiheon says, giving both the girls a quick hug, and a high five to Sungho as you could feel yourself getting nervous

"Were heading to the Arcade, Yujin THINKS she can beat me at Air Hockey" Sungho says, looking at Yujin with an excited look.

"im not saying i think i could beat you, i WILL" she corrected him before turning toward Jiheon again, "Wanna Join?" She asks

"Sure, sounds like fun" she answers, now turning herself toward you "you're' coming?" She asks, however as you were about to answer Yuna starts to speak over you

"Oh sorry, don't get me wrong but...he isn't really our friend, he is kind of like...your +1" Yuna says, not even turning to look as if you were invisible, you were now looking at your locker, trying to hide your embarrassment.]

Those moments always come to your mind whenever you look at yourself in the mirror after you take a shower, or at night when you lay on your bed, thinking about if you made the right decisions in your life to get where you are now.

However, as you look back at those moments in a clearer mind, you realise that with a person that loves you

(You suddenly feel a hand on your hair, lightly patting it, looking up and see its Jiheon, now in her sleeping attire as her smile beams at you.

"I know how hard you worked for it..." she says, before leaning downward as you can feel her lips giving your right cheek a quick peck before continuing to talk

"im proud of you" she adds, as you stand up she opens her arms, signaling you to come and hug her, with a happy face you happily oblige)

Cares about you

{"No no no you don't look stupid" she says, trying to calm her laughter.

"It's just that you look so...cute with those wolf ears" your cheeks turn rosy pink as Jiheon's hand finds itself on your shoulder, "I really mean it" you could feel your face turned from embarrassed to now happy, "Omg wait i have an idea"

She walks toward another box of costumes, pulling out a pair of fox ears, "We HAVE to take selfies with those" she grabs her phone with one hand while her other hand goes behind you back, letting herself side hug you

"Smileeee" she cheerfully says while raising her phone camera}

And lets you be the best version of youself

["I see" Jiheon says, her voice sounds disappointed her eyes tries to find yours that hide behind the locker door.

"Well, if my '+1' isn't coming..." she says to her friends as suddenly her hands grab yours, pulling you toward her before continuing to speak

"Then i am also not coming" Jiheon exclaims, you could see her face getting annoyed as she looks at them, but not before turning her gaze at you, now giving you a warm smile, her eyes giving you a look that says 'I got you']

You realise how those thoughts about yourself are not real, that even with those insecurities. And as you turn your gaze to Jiheon, your sunshine with her asleep while her right cheek lays on your chest while her arms wrap themselves around your waist, you can't help yourself but smile while thinking...

Maybe those insecurities never existed at all

=================================

As of today i am 20 years old so birthday fic i guess

Dedicated to @erospandemos

[payidaresque]

MAJOR TROP S2 FINALE SPOILERS BELOW (i'm too excited not to share my thought)

While some of the theories we made didn't prove to be true (honestly, i never believed they would) I LOVED THE FINALE SO MUCH. Cause i got everything i expected from it and more!!

Got an epic fight that didn't last 10 minutes but almost HALF OF THE EPISODE (THANK GOD)

he really didn't want to harm her at first, JUST as i expected here, he was just being defensive at first. And the rest just happened in the heat of battle (which of course doesn't justify everything sauron did but hey, what did u expect? he's evil after all)

And while i do believe he used his Halbrand form to manipulate her (again, very much expected knowing who he is), i also believe that what Sauron said here is true — the way he paused before saying it and the way he looked at her tells me that he was actually being sincere. what he would've gained from saying it, manipulation wise? Sauron is not stupid, surely he understands that Galadriel would not fall for it (and she didn't) which kinda brings me to a simple conclusion that he said it because he wanted to say it

also, this was both sexy and twisted of him omg????? totally Sauron move, i love it!! I did NOT expect that

as for "proving his love for her", i actually think he did, in his own way?

because he could end her right there and just take the ring (rip adar and brimby btw, you will be missed 😔), but he didn't? even more so, i believe that if Galadriel didn't attack him first there, he wouldn't attack her back. As fucked up as Sauron is, Galadriel is still on his mind

And goddamn it he meant what he said. And again, she knows who he is, she knows his tricks, so he wouldn't gain anything by saying it, which again means, that it is indeed his desire: not just to rule, but to rule with her. he'd make the whole world worship her (which, again, is basically his way of saying he loves her)

and again, why didn't he just kill her and take her ring? what was the need of standing and looking at her like that? why try to presuade her, when he has no problems with taking what he wants by force? the answer is: because she is Galadriel. Because they are connected to each other and he feels it with every fibre of his immortal being. His expression is not even angry her, or creepy, like a few minutes ago, he's just... gazing at her.

even more so, here

he actually got scared when she fell, he even tried to reach for her hand to stop her for falling (and before u say anything — no, i don't think it was because of the ring — he could retrieve it any other time from anyone else as no one else for him is a match for him but Galadriel — it's her he got scared for. I'm convinced of it)

As for the mataphorical "fall of Galadriel" — well i hoped for it, but i never believed it would actually happened because of how Galadriel is (Also, Brimby's monologue from 2x07 with her kinda killed all my hopes for it so). However, i think s3 has a lot to explore, so i'm leaving a little bit of hope there)

i have many other thougts i can't process right now and i might share them later, but overall, i think the episode was GREAT! Charlie and Morfydd did wonders once again, watching them on screen is such a treat. I love them both so much!! I also might make a separate post about Charlie's and Charles' Edwards scenes were phenomenal, and I will miss Brimby dearly because of Charles' breathtaking acting

To conclude: I, personally, is fed well enough for it to last for the upcooming 2 years. Oh, and also: l'oreal paris — because you're worth it. Oh, and one more thing: he used Halbrand form because he knows that Galadriel feels for him too, and her first reaction proved it (an ass move by the way).

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + one

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. granted, i'm a bit excited about this one, as it's a unique storyline, at least not as cliched as maybe 'ltye' or 'with me'. trope is essentially age gap x best friends brother x second chance romance x something else that'll be revealed by the end of this chapter and my own creative flairs.

the age gap between mariella and joe is four years, and nothing romantic happened between them until she was in her twenties. just putting that out there now. ari don't do that grooming shit.

their story will be told in a mixture of flashbacks and present day. how they ended up where they are now will eventually be revealed, but until then, it's expected that ya'll are confused.

words: 9k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: angst and fluff

if i tag anyone and you don't want to be tagged, please let me know!

taglist: @annfg8 @whatdoeseverybodywant @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @prettybitxhnica @shayaaaaaaa

Summer, 2003

“Ladies, next week officially starts the beginning of the rest of our lives. No longer will we be lowly 8th graders. No, we will be official high schoolers! Next week is a new beginning, a new era, a new decade of wonderful, fabulous, life changing—”

“Baby girl, do you want a hot dog or a burger?”

Mariella releases the loudest, most exaggerated sigh known to mankind that is possible for a 14-year-old. She turns from where she was pacing across the stones that line around her family’s pool. Sure enough, her 6’3 father stands before her with his spatula in hand, wearing his apron gifted to him for Father’s Day a couple years back. He’s using his free hand to shield his face from the blaring sun. 

“Daddy! I was in the middle of a monologue!”

Byron Holmes looks as disinterested as the tone of his voice. “Ella, you always talking. How am I supposed to know the difference?”

This time, it’s a dramatic gasp that's evoked instead of the previous one born from irritation. “I resent you saying that, father!”

“I’m sure you do, now do you want a hot dog or burger?”

Mariella might quite possibly be the most dramatic person to walk the earth, but the promise of one of her dad’s famous grilled burgers is too good to turn down. She can turn her strong feelings at being interrupted into a song at a later date and time.

Defeated, unable to overpower the desire for good food, she murmurs, “burger, please.”

“Thank you.” Byron Sr. shakes his head. Getting an answer from the prisoners is easier than getting one from his youngest sometimes. He then sets his gaze on her audience. “What about you girls?”

Promise Rose is the first to answer, that usual nervous smile on her face as she adjusts her thick rimmed glasses. “A hot dog, please, Mr. Holmes.”

Byron nods, committing her request to memory. He then turns to the other, already knowing what he’s in for. “Iris?”

Her hazel eyes that are obscured by the heavy set of eyeliner land on him with icy indifference. “I refuse to participate in the travesty and continued slaughter of the innocent just for the selfish pleasure and satisfaction of the greedy carnivorous species that occupies this stolen land.”

Byron releases a heavy sigh. It’s always something with this one. “Is that a yes or no, Iris?”

Iris lifts her chin, answering just as coldly, “I’ll just take the bread.”

Relieved and eager to be away from the only fourteen-year-old who could unnerve him, even with his twenty plus years as a prison warden, he walks away, mumbling to himself, “I swear something is wrong with that child….”

Returned to the previous topic at hand, Mariella plops down on the pool chaise across from her two best friends since third grade. “Now where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?”

“The inevitable extinction of mankind.”

“Surviving high school.”

Mariella rolls her eyes. It can so difficult sometimes to get her two polar opposite besties on the same page.

“We just have to make sure we do everything perfect.”

Promise Rose chews nervously on the corner of her lip and criss crosses her legs over each other. She looks between the two of them, anxiety growing by the second. “Ella is right. With BJ and Joe graduating this year, we’ve gotta make sure we elevate our social status or else we’re dead meat.”

Confused, Mariella asks, “what do you mean?” She then adds, “our social status is fine.”

Promise Rose looks over at an uninterested Iris. “Help here?”

“I refuse to subscribe to the patriarchy of social hierarchies.”

“Oh geez.” She should have known better. Iris refuses to get hip with anything if it’s not sticking a finger to the man. “Ella, it’s only because of your brother and Joe that we haven’t been bullied out of school. We are literally only semi-popular because of association. Without the guys, we’re nerds.”

Mariella would have preferred an actual dirty, jagged edge dagger be shoved into her chest. “We are not nerds!”

“Ella, you’re weird. I’m scared of everything. And Iris contemplates murder every hour on the hour.”

Iris shrugs, pushing her Kaleidoscope colored hair over her tanned shoulder. “Only on exceptionally bad days.”

“I rest my case.”

Mariella isn’t beyond consideration of alternative perspectives. She takes Promise Rose words to heart, trying her best to see it objectively.

She’s also not above admitting that having her brother and Joe look out for her over the years has only been beneficial. Even with them being out of middle school for almost four years now, their popularity has existed since damn near elementary school. Them and her twins sisters, Everly and Olivia, really. But especially Byron and Joe, mostly because of their standing as football players, two of the best on every team they’ve been on. Because of that, there’s not a soul in town who doesn’t know her as BJ’s little sister and Joe’s adopted little sister.

She’s always seen that as protecting her from guys messing with her but never associated it with social status.

And just as she’s undergoing a life changing realization, the creak of the side gate snatches her attention, revealing the two people who can clear all this up for her.

“BJ!”

Mariella untangles her legs from off the pool chair and jogs over to her brother and Joe.

“Damn, not even home for five minutes, and you already sweating me.”

Glaring, she shoves on his chest, muttering, “you’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Aye, watch your math. You too young to be cussing.”

She ignores him. With his 18th birthday right around the corner, Byron Jr., BJ as everyone calls him, has been on some weird power, superiority trip. 

Mariella redirects her focus to Joe, accepting his side hug. “Whassup, Ri.”

Mariella has a variety of nicknames. Her parents bounce back and forth between Mariella and Ella, mostly everyone else calls her Ella, but with Joe, she’s just Ri.

It’s kind of an unspoken rule that only he can call her that.

Joseph Anoa’i. 

Mariella can’t think of a time Joe wasn’t in her life. Not only does he and his equally large family live just a few doors down, he’s played football with BJ since they were six-years-old, before she was old enough to know what football even was. An almost quiet, level headed balance to her sometimes hot headed biological brother, Joe is Mariella’s big brother from another mother. Hes has always looked out for her just as much as BJ, if not more. 

He’s essentially been informally adopted by her family as BJ’s brother for life. 

“Hey, Joe.” Separating from him, she turns back toward the two of them. “Okay, I have a question, and it’s imperative you provide me with the raw, honest truth.”

Joe seems at least somewhat interested, but BJ is the one to make the smart comment. “Make it quick. I’m hungry. Practice was brutal.”

A brief brow lift from Joe is confirmation BJ isn’t exaggerating, so in a moment of rarity, Mariella bypasses all of the theatrics and skips right to the point. “Am I a nerd?”

Mariella expects contemplation, some level of astonishment that she could even fix her mouth to ask such a thing. Instead, she’s met with her brother shrugging with a simple, “of course, you are.”

Mouth ajar, hand to her chest, she asks, “what?”

“Come on, Ella, you know you’re kinda weird. Be talking to yourself and stuff.”

“It’s a sign of genius, thank you very much.”

“It’s a sign of weirdness.” She crosses her arms over her chest as a sign of unspoken protest. “If you wasn’t my little sister, I’d probably bully your nerdy ass.”

Completely done with the young man she once considered brother, Mariella looks over at Joe to see he’s on his phone. Probably texting his latest girlfriend of the week. Latisha, or something like that. He seems to cycle through girls faster than BJ. “Joe?”

He lifts his gaze from his phone, and Mariella readies to remind him of the initial question when he answers. “You’re just you, Ri. That’s all that matters.”

She’s not sure why she expected more. Joe can be of so few words at times. She just wishes this wasn’t one of those times. 

“While I do not agree with the expressed opinions, I appreciate the candor.” Chin lifted, she bids them farewell. “I will leave you be now.” Mariella can briefly overhear Joe saying something about Latisha, but it’s pushed away, outweighed by this new shocking piece of information.

In walking back over to her best friends and future members of her team when she’s a world famous singer, Mariella is unsurprised to find Promise Rose sitting on the edge of her seat while Iris simply glares at nothing and no one. 

Promise Rose is the first to speak, asking with all of the anxiety she carries on a daily basis. “Well?”

Mariella would love to lie to them, but these are her best friends. She could never do such a thing, even if the truth sucks more than the rumors of a pending B2K breakup. “You’re right.” Shoulders slumped, she groans loudly and throws herself back on the pool chair. “We’re dead meat.”

—-------

Present

You, you love it how I move you 

You love it how I touch you 

My one, when all is said and done 

You'll believe God is a woman

Watching her perform has always been an experience, a treat, a vision in some ways. The way she moves across the stage, so demanding, so in the moment, the eye contact and engagement with the crowd creating such an all-encompassing experience. 

On the stage, performing, is her element. It’s always been where she shines the most, and tonight is no different.

She’s up for a couple Grammys, already snagging two, as expected. He knows the ones she’s really anxious about are the coveted Album and Record of the Year. It’s something she’s always dreamed of achieving, and while there have been whispers that she’s a shoe in, Joe has known Mariella long enough to know that’s not enough.

It’ll only mean something to her when they’re in her hands.

And he’s confident they will be. She’s had yet another stellar, groundbreaking year, her album somehow doing better than her last. No one’s seeing numbers and sales like her. Her pen game is unmatched, not to mention her album is almost entirely written and produced by her, something unheard of these days.

She truly is an icon in the making. 

And the way she ends her performance with a standing ovation from some of music’s best is just more proof of how much she’s killing it.

Joe watches her walk backstage after nervously basking in such a response from people she’s looked up to her whole life.

She doesn’t return to her seat next to him, as expected. The final two categories are about to be announced, and he realizes it would be easier for her to remain backstage when her name is called. 

And the minute it is, he finds himself nodding with a small smile. He knew she could do it, knew that there was no way she could release such accomplished work and not leave with acknowledgment of such.

There’s an almost awkward but appropriate pause as the attendees stand and applaud, Mari suddenly rushing out from the back while holding her dress up. For a brief second, he thinks she’s gonna fall flat on her face. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She's a talented dancer, but the textbook definition of a klutz.

Always has been. 

But, she doesn’t. Thank God. He knows that’s something she would never let herself live down.

Seconds later, she’s at the mic, panicking, “oh my god!” Her breathing is uneven, and he can bet it’s because she was in the back wearing a hole in the floor with her nervous pacing. “I’m sorry, I was in the back having a panic attack.” That might not be entirely untrue. “And also, my dress is not dressing for some reason, so I’m just gonna awkwardly hold this up to avoid flashing anyone and getting sued by the FCC.” He shakes his head. Even with all the fame, she’s remained the same. “Okay, but seriously, this is insane? Ummm, thank you! I don’t— have no idea what to say. God is so good. My mama would kill me if I didn’t say that. Ooh, I want to thank my parents, of course! My big brother and two older sisters for always putting up with me singing and dancing all over the house.” Always isn’t an exaggeration. Joe can’t recall a time where he walked into the Holmes adobe and wasn’t met with or overheard Mariella working on some aspect of her craft, whether that was writing, creating beats, learning a new dance. She’s always been so focused on getting exactly where she is now.

She continues to thank her team, rushing through the litany of individuals she attributes to helping her stand where she does with the awards that she’s been awarded this night. And when he doesn’t hear his name included, he knows right away she’s in a relatively good mood, willing to play up their Oscar worthy performance.

“And lastly, to my amazing husband,” her eyes search the room, finally landing on him. “Joe, you are my best friend and my biggest supporter. I love you so much. Thank you for always being in my corner and putting up with all of my crackhead energy.” Her eyes are teary, but he has no doubt she’s pulling from the emotion at crossing off yet another box from so long ago versus feeling so moved by her inauthentic words. 

But again, he follows along with this song and dance they’ve mastered at this point, mouthing once again that he loves her too.

The music begins to play indicating that she’s maxed out her time, and he hears her quickly throw out, “I’m not on crack, by the way!” before she walks off the stage, ushered by Pharrell and Diane Warren.

Theres’s something both treasured and uncomfortable about those words leaving her mouth. They’re so freely used these days. By both of them. But the meaning and impact behind them is long gone, some place in the past where demons and skeletons lie, often tampered with but never fully addressed.

It now just leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

—-------

“I have a show on the 13th you need to be at.”

Joe is sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his tie, focused on the balcony doors across from him instead of to his right where she sits at her vanity, removing her jewelry. 

“What?” He doesn’t need to be looking at her to know she’s angled toward him, face turned up in disgust. “Of March?”

There’s no need for a wordy answer. “Yeah.”

“I can’t.” Mari has made it a goal of hers to stay on top of her calendar as she prepares to enter the next era of her career. With the Grammy’s now over, the end of this award season is upon her, and preparation for her next album is underway. It’s why she knows and communicates in the moment of the scheduling conflict. “I have a meeting with my label to start discussing my next album.”

Joe can’t deny the fact that he half-expected her to come up with some excuse, some reason as to why she yet again can’t do her part of this joint collab of theirs. “Can’t you move it?”

“Why should I have to move my stuff around for you?” Mari can count a variety of times where she’s done so before, but that was then. This is now. They’re miles away from where they once were, and she’s not willing to inconvenience herself for him.

Not anymore. 

Meanwhile, Joe doesn’t understand why everything that’s inherently so simple has to be made so fucking complex. It’s never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with her. “You can tell Jax if a date doesn’t work for you. I can’t do that shit with Paul.” And she knows that. Mariella is well aware of how the WWE works. Dates are set in stone months in advance, years in advance sometimes for PPV’s. She’s just being difficult for no damn reason.

As per usual. 

In a perfect world, Mariella would be celebrating right now, would be in attendance at the prestigious Grammy’s After-Party celebrating her major accomplishments. Instead, she sits in the room with a man who seems hellbent on stealing her joy in any way he can these days.

It makes her sick. 

She’s fully turned toward him, even as he refuses to look her way. Intentional, of course. He knows how big she is on eye contact. “I did that the last time I went to a taping, Joe. I’m not gonna keep doing it.”

He glances at her, and she instantly knows he’s not backing down, not willing to let this lie. She knows she’s in for another pow-wow. A signature finish for most outings these days. “But, I can show up for you?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like this isn’t as beneficial for you as it is for me.” One thing she won’t put up with is him acting like their arrangement isn’t just as great for his career as it is for hers. The press and fans of both of them eat up any type of public appearance, especially when he plays the role of the loving, supportive husband who wants to celebrate his wife’s big wins with her. “And you know how busy I am after award season.”

He knows that’s typically when she gets back in the kitchen to start cooking up her next album, where she locks herself in the studio for hours on end writing, producing, escaping.

“And WrestleMania season isn’t for me?”

Truth be told, she’d briefly forgotten about that, forgotten that the biggest night of his career is only two months away. A small part of her hates that. Hates how far they are from where they once were. There was once a time where she had every single event committed to memory, would bend over backwards to attend as many of his shows that she could.

Now, she couldn’t give two shits. 

The same way he feels about her.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” She turns back to the mirror to safely remove her diamonds. They’ll need to be returned tomorrow to the designer, and the last thing she wants is to drop or lose something because of his ass. “You got your little whores there anyway. What do you need me for?”

It’s a petty but truthful jab. Mariella knows good and well that her showing up to one of his tapings after he attended the Grammys with her will be ate up by their fans. It’s good press. Great, even. 

But the thought of sitting there, with the full, painful, embarrassing knowledge that the women behind the scenes, the women who are hidden behind NDA’s and WWE hush money, see her for the fraud she is. Know that Joe will end up fucking them when the night is over and returning home to her with the scent of their cheap perfume and not an ounce of regret.

It almost makes her stomach turn. 

He chuckles, and that’s what makes her gaze snap back onto him. She hates when he does this, when he makes it seem like shit is funny. There’s nothing comical about this tragedy. “Did I say something funny?”

“Forget it.” And now he’s dismissive, trying to shut down an argument that he started. “You don’t fucking listen anyway.”

“Are you serious right now?” Mari’s eyes go wide as she stands up, finally rid of six figure jewelry but basked in growing rage. “I don’t listen? Joe, you don’t listen! You never listen! You haven’t in years.”

Joe feeds off her energy, the quiet anger he’s usually well adept at concealing bubbling its way to the surface. No one’s ever been able to get him riled up like she does. “Naw, you not gon’ do that. Make it seem like this is on me. You do what you want and then expect me to just be okay with shit.”

“Wow. This is rich. Absolutely rich.” Mari can only laugh, because this part is funny. It’s hilarious. His lack of insight is astounding. “You are the most selfish bastard I have ever met.”

“Here it is.” He’s now standing as well, hulking body angled towards her, towering over her even with her designer heels. He motions with his hand for her to continue, to go on with the victim narrative she loves to clothe herself in. “Keep going. Tell me all this shit you already know about me, how awful I am—”

“Because you are!”

Something about the intensity in her voice sends him, makes him snap back easily. “And you’re a fucking saint?” His volume is also rising, which he hates. He never allows anyone to have access to that button, to know what to press and how to press it to get him this worked up. “You don’t never do shit wrong?”

Mariella feels her anger intensify as he turns to walk away from her. She’s hot on his heels, following him into the bathroom. “God, you always do this! You always put it back on me. It’s never your fault. Always mine!”

“And this is what I’m saying.” He has his big hands planted on the bathroom counter, looking at her through the large, mounted mirror. “You’re not even hearing what I’m saying. Always so fucking defensive. I’m not the one who don’t listen, Mari! You are!”

She can’t deny there have been a number of occasions where she’s jumped into defensive mode sooner than what’s necessary. Mariella isn’t above acknowledging that. But for him to make it seem like it’s not for a good reason, if not for his role is something she won’t stand for. “So what if I am defensive, huh? Who made me this way? You did, you bastard!”

“Just stop fucking’ talking, alright?” He’s pulling his suit jacket off, tone a mixture of defeat and exhaustion. Emotional or physical, she’s not sure. She knows she certainly feels both. “I don’t wanna hear this shit anymore.”

“And now here you go, always walking away, always taking the easy way out.” Because this is his MO. He loves to accuse and gaslight, and the minute she calls him out on his hypocrisy, he wants to shut everything down. It’s infuriating.

“Fine!” He slams his fists down on the same granite counter Mariella still remembers him once making out with her on, a starting point that ended with him carrying her to their once shared bed where he would make love to her throughout the night. Such a far away, almost unfamiliar time. “You want to sit here and continue yelling, be my fucking guest. I’m not saying shit though!”

“There you go again with more avoidance. God, you’re so predictable! Shit gets too hard, you shut down. You run away.”

“Don’t fucking act like you ever want to talk about shit with me—”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Joe. You don’t know what I want, okay? You don’t know anything about me anymore!”

“And whose fault is that, Mariella, huh? You don’t tell me shit! You never tell me shit!”

“Why should I? You don’t deserve to know shit about me anymore!” It’s more emotions than anything that fuels her to add on the accusatory, “It’s not like you care in the first damn place!” It also has to be the emotions that have her eyes watering, because it’s been forever and a day since an argument between them—and there have been plenty—has made her feel anything other than anger.

This is different.

This is sadness.

 Mariella watches as Joe punches the adjacent wall, the action taking her by surprise and making her jump back from said shock. “What do you want me to say, huh?” It’s been years since she’s seen him this upset. “No matter what I fucking say, what I fucking do, nothing’s ever right, so what’s the goddamn point!” With almost desperation, he shouts, “what the hell do you want from me!”

“I want you to love me again!” She snaps with a burst of visceral emotions. His anger simmers instantaneously. Joe knows that was the last thing she wanted to say, the deep down secret she’s worked hard to keep hidden and tucked away suddenly laid out in the open for all to see. The devastation on her face gives it away as she says more to herself than him in an equally devastated tone, “but that’s gone, isn't it? Everything we had…..everything we were…..is gone.”

An eerie silence settles over them. Joe closes his eyes and does his best to regulate his conflicting emotions. Everything is felt at once. So strong, so confusing, so pressing. That was the last thing he expected to hear from her, the same way the last thing he expected to feel at said words is longing. It’s so unfamiliar and confusing. She has so much power over him. To evoke such strong emotions with just a single sentence. To make him suddenly battle with the array of feelings he’s felt toward and about her at any given point in all of the many years they’ve known each other.

It’s just a fucking mess.

But then, the focus isn’t on his emotions anymore. It’s on the quiet sniffling he hears that makes him close his eyes. Joe instantly feels something different, something similar yet almost stronger than guilt.

She’s still standing at the doorway, but her hands are covering her face, failing to hide what is both visible and audible. 

Tears. 

She’s crying.

Something else unfamiliar settles over him, something almost nostalgic, that once upon a time uncomfortable plethora of emotions he’d find himself battling whenever he saw she was upset.

It never sat right with him to see her cry. 

His tone immediately shifts to something significantly calmer. “Mari….”

“I’m just tired, Joe. I’m so so…..tired.” And it’s with an almost whisper into the enclosed palm of her hands that she grabs the nail for the coffin. “And I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He’s dangerously still, rendered almost physically unable to move. The air around them is suddenly so much more noticeable, heavier, weightier, debilitating. 

She lifts her head, revealing a tear stained, distraught expression that makes him almost as equally distraught. “I don’t want to live like this anymore, Joe. I’m not happy. You’re not happy.” Each word leaving her mouth chips away his anger and replaces it with something unidentifiable. “It’s obvious you don’t love me anymore, and that’s—” Her throat catches as she forces herself to continue. “—that’s okay. Our careers are stable enough to where we don’t have to keep up this facade anymore.”

“Mariella—”

“I want a divorce.”

For some reason, there’s always been this belief system that any argument between them is just a part, a part that’s followed up with another one, then another, and then another. But, it never dawned on him that a single part could be the final part.

The final straw.

“Mariella, we—”

He’s stepping toward her, and she’s instantly stepping back, lifting her arms. She doesn’t want him near her, doesn’t want him touching her. It’s a sting, that’s for sure. 

“Don’t.” And he won’t. Won’t cross her boundaries even if everything in him is screaming to do so, to bypass her wishes that are being fueled by something temporary. Something that will fade by the time morning rolls around. “Just….don’t.”

She’s wiping at her eyes and mutters, “I need some air.”

He doesn’t like seeing her walk away in this manner, doesn’t like ending on this point. It’s one thing to leave off with the promise of another chapter, but it’s an entirely different thing to know that what could follow is the back cover without the anticipation for a sequel.

But, he says nothing. 

Does nothing.

He just lets her leave.

—-------

2007 

The phone ringing less than ten minutes after Joe plopped his big body in the bed was the last thing he expected and needed. Coach put them through hell today, and he’d completely forgotten about an assignment due the next day, so he’d forced himself to power through his physical exhaustion to get it submitted. 

Unlike a lot of his teammates, Joe does care about his academics as much as he cares about football. He recognizes it’s important to have something to fall back on. And as a senior, he’s really at the point where failure just isn’t an option.

He’s come too far now for that shit. 

When the phone rings a second time, he realizes it might be worth answering, even if everything in his body wants him to let it ring 18 times if that’s what it takes for the caller to get the message.

Not even bothering to check who it is, Joe grabs his cell and hits the green button. “Yeah?”

He’s met with soft sniffling followed up with a quiet, “it’s me.”

At that, Joe sits up in his bed, all attention on the person on the other end. “Ri?” He’s wide awake now. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to call so late—”

“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t care about that anymore, just wants to know what happened to make her phone him at such a time. To phone him crying, at that. That’s the part that makes him concerned.

He can’t remember the last time he’s seen or heard her do that.

He hears shuffling on the other end as she chokes out, “can you—can you come get me?”

It’s not even a question. “Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

—--

Joe nearly knocks down the damn mailbox in front of the frat house with how quickly he pulls up, his truck coming to an abrupt sudden stop. He’s barely got the truck shut off when he’s ripping the door open and jogging up the path to the house of entitled, elitist pricks who get off on the misery of others.

But, he’s more focused on Mariella who meets him halfway on the path of said house, arms wrapped around her body. 

He’s assessing her from head to toe, using the dim streetlight as a guide in the stark darkness of the night. “What happened?” Realizing she’s still hugging himself, Joe’s blood goes cold. “Did he touch you?” And when she doesn’t say anything right away, he’s trying to move past her, murder on his mind. “I’ll fucking kill him—”

“No.” Her hand is on his chest, restraining him as much as she can. The truth is that it would be nothing for him to carefully move her to the side and beat the living shit out of her asshole of a boyfriend who he’s never liked from day one. “He didn’t.”

Joe doesn’t put it past her to try to say what she thinks he wants to hear. “Ri, don’t lie to me.”

“I promise. He didn’t. We just—” and the emotion rises back up, making her pause as she pleads with him. “Can we just go? Please?”

Joe knows why she called him and not Byron. Because Joe nods and guides her to his truck without further protest. Byron would have beat Damien first and maybe or maybe not asked questions later for the mere fact that he made his baby sister cry. 

The ride back to his dorm is silent, and it’s not until they are sitting outside on the steps of Joe’s residence hall that he asks again, much calmer, still as curious, “what happened, Ri?”

It takes a few minutes for her to start talking, and while he does his best to be patient, it’s also really fucking hard to not just bypass the conversation and go straight back to the original plan of murder.

“We were—we were messing around.” Instantly, Joe’s anger suddenly shifts to disgust. While he recognizes his best friend’s little sister isn’t so little anymore, eighteen and a college freshman, she’ll always be that goofy, klutzy, theatrical kid who was always trying to hang out with him and Byron. So, hearing about her messing around is the last thing he wants, but he also doesn’t want to interrupt and allows her to continue. “He wanted to have sex, but I—I told him no.” And before the murder plan can be revived, she clarifies. “And he stopped, but then we started arguing, and he—he told me he was tired of waiting, but I said I’m not changing my mind and….and he broke up with me.”

In some strange sort of way, Joe is more relieved than anything, mostly at the fact that nothing physical happened. It sucks, and he hates seeing her upset, but it’s really a blessing in disguise. Even if she doesn’t see it yet.

Still, he’s sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Ri.”

She sniffles again, wiping at her eyes. “I really liked him and—and I thought he liked me.” 

Joe wants so badly to tell her that Damien never liked her. He liked that she was a virgin. 

Mariella had made the cardinal mistake of sharing with her ex that she was still a virgin, something the bastard, like Damien, thought he could change. When that didn’t happen and a breakup followed, that same asshole took it upon himself to share her virgin status with several friends, several teammates. And it’s become a bit of a contest almost among the basketball team, to see who can take it from her first.

It’s fucking disgusting and makes him sick, but it’s also the culture of college athletes. 

Some, at least. 

“He’s an idiot, Ri.” This is said both because it’s true but also because he just wants her to feel better, to not feel like she lost out on some prize. If anything, she dodged a bullet. 

“Maybe I’m the idiot.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “Cause I keep finding myself in the same situation.”

He’d like to call it an exaggeration, but Joe also knows that this has been an issue in almost all of her relationships for the past few years. Less an issue and more a deal breaker. Sex is something that’s deeply personal and important to her, and he’s happy she’s that way, that she isn’t just sleeping around with anyone. Especially since she seems to have a penchant for athletes. 

They can be the worst.

He would know.

“Athletes can be hoes, Ri. That has nothing to do with you.”

“You and B aren’t like that.” She then corrects with an ounce of her usual sense of humor. “I mean, you guys are hoes, but you’re nice hoes.”

He laughs. That’s a bit of the Mariella he’s used to. “True, but maybe we’re the exception.” He then takes a deep breath, speaking to her from the heart. “I’m not really sure, but what I do know is that Damien was an asshole who never deserved you in the first place. You’re better off without him.”

It’s the god’s honest truth. Ri is like his little sister, and it pained him to see her give someone like Damien the time of day, but he also respects that while he still sees her as a little kid, she isn’t. She’s a legal adult capable of making her own decisions, and he respects that.

“He had pretty eyes though.” Joe gives her a look, and for the first time, she actually, truly laughs. It’s music to his ears. “What? If I don’t laugh, I’ll just keep crying.” Her eyes light up with something other than sadness, and he watches her pull out her phone, suddenly typing away.

He doesn’t even need to ask. He’s seen this before. She’s inspired and is getting out the lyrics before they escape her. And a few minutes later, she reads to him what she’s come up with.

If I don't laugh, I'm gonna cry 

Don't wanna hear your name tonight 

I'm finally happy, not in the mood 

I don't wanna think about you

“I like it.” It’s the truth. He likes most of what she writes, outside of the shit that’s way too girly for his musical preference.

She offers him that brilliant smile, eyes twinkling with something similar to appreciation. Mariella grabs his bicep, laying her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Joe.”

He looks down at her. “I’ve always got your back, Mariella.” And that’s a promise. “Always.”

—-------

“Mariella, this is fucking ridiculous.” Joe pulls the phone away from his face to get a specific, accurate time. “It’s almost 3 o’clock in the damn morning. Get home now before something happens to your ass.”

He then quickly jabs the red end button. It’s an unkind voicemail message to leave, but also one of several he’s left over the past two hours. The first was a lot more understanding, almost apologetic. Now he’s just fucking annoyed, because she said she needed air. He figured she’d go sit outside, on the patio, maybe even sit poolside. 

Not for her to take off for a late night car ride without telling him anything. It’s something she used to do once upon a time, when they were both broke nobodies trying to keep the dream alive. 

Such a far off, distant memory. 

Joe wishes he didn’t care. Wishes he could head to bed and let her be in her feelings. He’s got an afternoon flight out to a taping and needs to be at the airport by 10am. At this rate, he’s not going to get any quality sleep, and that shit annoys him to no end because he likes to be well rested for work. Especially in his line of work. 

Sleep deprivation can make a wrestler more prone to unnecessary injuries. 

Still, he also knows that even if he were to try to get some sleep, he’d twist and turn the whole night. He’s never been able to sleep well until she was home and safe.

But, she’s not, and that shit just pisses him off all over again. He grabs his phone, ready for yet another call to go straight to voicemail when it lights up, generic ringtone filling the sizable kitchen. He doesn’t even bother checking the caller, just hits the green button and jumps right into questioning. 

“Where the hell are you?” At this point, he’ll go pick her up his damn self just to see her two feet planted in their LA mansion. “This isn’t—”

“I’m sorry—” Joe is the one who’s sorry because that certainly isn’t Mariella. Confused, he pulls the phone away from his ear again to see that it’s an unfamiliar local number. Bringing it back so he can ask who the hell this is, the caller beats him to it. “I’m looking for Joe Anoa’i.”

The woman’s voice is professional, but there’s also a hesitation there. A hint of emotionality almost. 

Frowning, he answers, gruffly, “This is Joe.” He’s quick with the follow up. “Who is this?”

“My name is Leslie Owens, and I’m an officer with the Los Angeles Police Department.” And just like that, Joe knows his entire world is about to be flipped upside down. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your wife has been involved in a car accident….”

—-------

2013 

“Just a couple more steps….”

“Ri, this is stupid. I’m gonna open my eyes.”

He can hear her dramatic gasp as she squeezes his hand. “Don’t you dare ruin this moment for us, sir!”

“The moment’s gonna be really ruined if your accident prone ass makes me fall down these damn steps.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m only accident prone when it comes to myself. Not others.” She sounds so proud of this fact too. “Thank you very much.”

She makes him smile, but that’s a given. There’s always an immense amount of joy and contentment when he’s around her. Her positivity, while excessive at times, is calming. Always has been. 

He’s happy when he’s at least done with the steps and on a leveled surface. Recovery from face planting on pavement has to be easier than a tumble down three flights of steps.

That reminds him. “This place doesn’t have an elevator?”

She’s quick with the answer followed by the jangling of keys. “Naw. That was the other place, but it was out of our budget.”

He says nothing. It seems like a lot is out of their budget these days.

Joe can hear her insert the key as well as the turn of the door knob and subsequent creaking of a door. She’s pulling him forward and he naturally steps over the mantle that she surely would have let him trip over because of her obliviousness in the moment. 

It’s when she drops his hand that he knows the end of this unnecessary dramatic introduction to seeing the apartment for the first time is nearing an end. 

“And…..open!”

Joe doesn’t need to be told twice.

The first thing he sees is her beautiful smile as she stands before him with her arms stretched up and in a ‘v.’ “Welcome to our first place together as husband and wife!”

Looking around, it’s clear as day that Mariella is probably the nicest thing in his line of vision. It’s not a bad looking apartment, at all, just plain and clearly in need of some modernizing updates/renovations. 

He can tell she’s tried to make it a little more homey with the rug and curtains, as well as family photos, but it’s still a far cry from the kind of place he’d love for them to call home.

“It’s….something.”

Mariella rolls her eyes. “I mean, it’s not the Hilton, but it’s ours, and that’s all that matters.” She moves over to him, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands plant on her hips, holding her to him. “Sure, the balcony is basically a ledge, and our view is of a park, so it gets loud sometimes, and I may or may not have witnessed a crime the other day……hope he’s alright.” Her brows cave together in brief confusion before she shrugs and back to smiling like they just won a million dollars. “But that’s besides the point because every couple has their struggle origin story. This is just ours for now.”

He’ll be happy when they’re out of this chapter of said story. This is one of those times he somewhat wishes he waited to marry her until they were both in better financial places. More him than her. She deserves so much better than this. She deserves the world, and he’s going to give it to her one day. 

He just prays that day is sooner rather than later.

“Hey.” He looks down and refocuses his attention on her. “As long as I have you….I’m good.” She moves to lay her head against his chest, murmuring, “I love you, and you love me. That’s all I’ll ever need.” And in true Ri fashion, she gasps and pulls away, looking up with almost childlike excitement. “I almost forgot!”

In many years of knowing Mariella, Joe has learned it’s always best to just let her do her thing and see what happens versus trying to navigate the eccentric workings of her chaotic mind.

So he watches silently as she rushes over to the counter to dig through her purse and pulls out her phone. She does that rapid tapping and sliding of her fingers that she does when in a self assigned rush. Less than a minute later, he’s hit with an all too familiar opening piano followed by even more familiar lyrics.

It's undeniable

That we should be together

It's unbelievable

How I used to say, that I'd fall never

Joe smiles as she moves her way back over to him, reaching for his hand. “Our wedding first dance song to christen our first place together. We have to dance. It’s literally in the marriage rule book.”

He chuckles. “Oh, really?” 

“Duh.” She gasps and bites down on her bottom lip when he quickly yanks her toward him. Joe’s hand is on the small of her back as hers move up his check, locking behind his neck. “See….not so bad after all?”

He dances with her, but his attention is focused less on the music, even the dancing and just her. “Anything’s better if you’re there.” She beams up at him and giggles as he spins her so that her back lands against his chin. His head dips into her neck, as she places her hands on his forearms.

He’s taking her in, enjoying this moment with her when she says leadingly, “you know there’s another first we haven’t done yet to christen our place…..”

Joe makes a sound and presses a kiss to the side of her neck. “Hmm. And what is that?”

He can only imagine the way her cheeks must be tinged red as she answers almost as if she doesn’t want anyone to overhear. “That thing you’re really good at.” He smiles against her skin and holds her tighter. “I especially like when you do that one thing with your tongue and—Joe!” Too much talk, not enough clothes being taken off. He doesn’t hesitate to lift her over his shoulder, eager to show her just how much he also likes to do that ‘one thing’ with his tongue.

—-------

Present 

Two weeks.

Two weeks since he’s seen her big, beautiful smile.

Two weeks since he’s heard that infectious laugh.

Two weeks since he’s heard her voice.

Two weeks since the night that changed everything, the night that some idiot decided to drive drunk and crashed into her vehicle head on. 

Two weeks since she was airlifted to a Level 1 trauma center where her injuries were so severe that they immediately took her into surgery that saved her life in one way but couldn’t in another.

Because she has yet to wake up from the initial accident. 

Because it’s been two weeks since Mariella slipped into a coma. 

It’s been two weeks of that cruel waiting game, that slight smudge of hope that rises where the doctor comes in with just as much desire it’ll be a different prognosis only for the same thing to leave his mouth every time with that same disappointed expression.

“We just have to continue to wait.”

Joe isn’t sure he’s ever hated a saying more than he now hates that one.

Just like her mom and other family members, he's been at the hospital every day, just sitting for hours at her bedside, holding her hand that’s much colder than he’s used to. Than it should be. 

The room is silent, a type of silence he’s unused to. There’s never silence when Mariella is around. She’s always talking, always smiling, always laughing.

But not anymore.

Now she just lays there, unconscious, Joe praying more than he ever has in his entire life that he gets to see her pretty eyes yet again, hear her beautiful voice scream at him, sing to him, laugh at him, anything.

He just needs her.

The love and support from her fans has been astounding yet expected. She’s America’s Sweetheart. Music’s new queen. Everyone loves her. She’s received an endless amount of support, kind words, prayers, and well wishes from both fellow artists and fans. Though the fans seemed to have done the most. Even holding several vigils outside the hospital. And though he’s still pissed that piece of information got leaked, he knows she would be so moved by the love. 

Joe wasn’t entirely in agreement with sharing Mariella’s coma status with the world, but it was the decision that was eventually settled on by Iris, her manager, and the rest of her team with the family’s eventual blessing.

The specifics regarding her injuries, however, have remained confidential, and for that, he’s grateful.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed yet again, taking over the shift from April, Mariella’s mom, whose devastated expression hasn’t changed from the minute he had to tell her and the rest of her family what happened to now, as they all wait with all of the hopes and prayers in the world for the prognosis to change.

“This is the longest I’ve ever gone without hearing your voice.” Just saying it aloud feels strange, wrong even. That he gets to sit here and talk while she lays there, plugged up to a million machines, deprived of even that basic right. “I never knew I could miss something so much until now.”

And it’s the truth. 

Realizing his NFL dreams weren’t going to become a reality was devastating, but this….this is another level of hell.

“You said…you said you want me to love you again, but….but I can’t do that, Ri.” His hand is over hers, thumb rubbing the skin that’s not covered by the IV and large bandage. “I can’t do it again because I never stopped loving you in the first place.”

It’s a disgusting, pathetic feeling. To know that the words he should have said to her when everything first started falling apart can only leave his mouth after something like this occurs. After he’s so brutally reminded of the fragility of life and the importance of telling people how you feel when they’re still around.

There’s so much he needs to tell her, so much he needs to clear up, so much he needs her to tell him.

She deserves clarification.

He deserves answers.

Joe just prays he gets the chance for that to happen. 

It’s nearly seconds after that thought crosses his mind that he feels movement under his hand. His eyes snap up to see the one thing he’s prayed for every day for the past two weeks, the one thing he deep down was scared he would never see.

Mari’s brown eyes. Glossed and confused as all the outdoors, he sees them darting all around the room and feels her trying to move her hand. 

He’s not sure he’s even breathing anymore. “Ri?” It’s as she continues to blink and try to move her head that he realizes this isn’t some cruel hallucination. She’s awake.

Mariella is awake.

When the shock wears off, he all but runs to the door, ripping it open as he calls for the doctor, the nurse, any medical professional available to tend to her. 

Joe is right on the doctor’s heels as he moves quickly to her bedside, digging for something out of his white coat pocket. Joe moves to the other side of her bed, closely observing any and all interactions of both. 

“Mariella, I’m Dr. Reynolds, and I’ve been overseeing your care here.” Joe then looks back at his wife who seems more awake by the second but still with her mouth turned downward, like she’s lost at what’s happening. 

Mariella squints when the doctor shines the light in her eyes, wincing almost, and Joe has to catch himself from telling the doctor to be careful. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Dr. Reynolds asks, and Joe watches closely as she looks at him with the same level of confusion. “Can you tell me what year it is?”

His stomach drops when she shakes her head no.

“You were in a car accident.” The doctor’s voice takes on a different tone, something not as optimistic, more….ominous. “Can you give me your full name?”

Again, a slow shake of the head to answer no.

Joe goes to ask the doctor what’s going on, if this is some side effect that people can have when waking up from a coma, but the man is pointing in Joe’s direction as he asks a final question. “Do you know who this is?”

And it’s then, as she shakes her head ‘no’ yet again that Joe realizes what’s happening. A new kind of ruination overcomes him, making his throat suddenly feel almost as heavy as his heart.

It’s a heartbreaking realization that he has to say aloud because it feels almost too unreal to be true. 

“Her memories are gone….”

[darby-rowe]

༊*·˚ princely.

coriolanus snow x dark!fem!reader

word count 1.5k cw dark themes, NONCON SOMNOPHILIA, dead dove do not eat, reader has a gross internal monologue, handjob, coriolanus is unaware of his assault, not proofread notes hey! i don't condone anything described in this fic irl! what the reader does here is gross and is literally assault. PLEASE HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS BECAUSE SHIT GETS WEIRD! got it? good. then pls enjoy ♡ wanna give a quick thanks to my mutual @shellxrls for inspiring me to write more dark content, and for encouraging me to post this. if it wasn't for her, this fic would have never seen the light of day.

Your fingernails grip so hard into the blanket you fear you may rip the soft fleece from its stitches. Staring down at the beautiful boy sleeping next to you in your bed, looking so utterly soft and peaceful. You watch his chest rise up and down slowly with each breath he takes, studying how his muscles move beneath his skin. His soft blonde curls sprawl delicately across his face. You didn’t even know it was possible to look so princely while you slept, but Coriolanus Snow was living proof.

You had previously allowed Coriolanus to stay at your apartment for a few days while his place went under renovations, courtesy of his newfound inheritance of the Pinths’ fortune. He was your best friend after all, so who were you to deny him hospitality?

But on the first night of him sleeping in your bed, you find yourself questioning every aspect of your moral compass now that you had him beside you looking so vulnerable. Your fingers twitch. The temptation is nearly killing you. He’s most likely deep within some kind of dream, so…

Before your mind comprehends what you’re doing, your hand is on his smooth, toned chest, feeling him breathe underneath your touch. You want to pull your hand away, to stop before you start, but your hand feels as if it’s stuck to his smooth skin. What’s happening? Why aren’t you stopping yourself? Oh god, Coryo looks so hot when he sleeps. Is he dreaming? Is he dreaming about you? If he’s dreaming about you, then surely that means he’s into you, so he wouldn’t mind if you were to just—

Before you could realize what you’re doing, your hand is moving further down south Coriolanus’s torso, heeding every single physical and verbal cue that could indicate he’s waking up. You bite down hard on your lip — almost a bit too hard — as your hand approaches closer and closer to the waistband of his boxers. So crisply pristine, a pearly white color, almost too perfect. Did he not have a single pair of ruined underwear? Surely he must have a pair in the hamper with his cum stains painting the front. Maybe even multiple pairs. Yeah, multiple pairs of ruined underwear caused by Coriolanus’s physiology. The thought makes your pussy throb, and you look down as you thumb the waistband of his boxers.

But you decide to not venture towards the promised land just yet. Instead, you ghost your fingertips over the print of Coriolanus’s large cock. You have to swallow hard as your mouth waters, frantically flicking your eyes back and forth from his face to your hands. You think to yourself, is it too late to turn back? Could you still save yourself from the horrifying embarrassment of getting caught touching your friend in his sleep?

A small groan escapes his throat, and at the speed of light you retract your hand and wait for further instruction. Coriolanus does not open his eyes, but you still wait a few moments before putting your hand back.

Oh, Coryo. Oh sweet, princely, beautiful Coryo — if only he could see how pretty he looks right now resting his soft curls on your pillows, then maybe he’ll understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. Just can’t help myself, you think.

You really begin to think about the circumstances. You’re a hot girl. You’re insanely hot with a sharp tongue and even sharper brain. You have ambitions, goals, and fully thought out plans for the future. You’re perfect girlfriend and wife material. Would Coriolanus really be bothered by someone like you touching him in his sleep? In fact, he would probably be grateful.

Ugh, no! What? Stop thinking like that. You’re so full of yourself you’re choking on your own ego. You’re a violator. A venomous pervert. A venomous, conniving, irresistibly hot pervert.

You sigh to yourself. Your brain just keeps thinking in circles and in circles and in circles and in circles. You can’t be doing this. Just a little won’t hurt? This is as far as you’ll go. He won’t even mind at all because you notice the way he looks at you like you’re a lamb for the slaughter. This isn’t right. You can’t be doing this. Just a little won’t hurt?

The room temperature rises. A lining of sweat appears on your hairline as you continue to lightly ghost your fingers over the print of Coriolanus’s hardening cock. He’s starting to make noises more frequently. He must be dreaming now.

You dare to whisper, see if maybe your voice will bleed into his dreams. You’re dying to know how he’ll react. Ever so softly, his name escapes your lips like a delicate puff of smoke from inhaling a cigarette.

“Coryo,”

You wait.

You wait for a moan, a sigh, a physical response.

Nothing.

You say a silent prayer to yourself before leaning in closer, attempting to manipulate his dreams once more.

“Coryo, I’m here,”

You perk up as a tiny moan escapes Coriolanus’s mouth, and even more exciting, his cock twitches beneath your fingertips.

This was your sign to keep going.

Carefully, you retract your hand and drool a generous amount of saliva onto your fingers and in the palm of your hand before slipping your hand underneath the waistband of his boxers. And as your fingers made contact with his hardening cock, you shiver.

Your entire body flares up with goosebumps and your pussy throbs and aches almost instantly. You have to take a moment to yourself before you begin stroking him, to just hold his shaft within your perverted, filthy hand. Your heart is beating so fast that you’re afraid you might pass out before you can indulge in the fun.

Your hand trembles as you begin to stroke him, keeping a light yet generous grip as you pump his cock up and down. He’s beginning to moan more loud than before, and more frequently. You think to yourself about how you could cum right then and there just from feeling his dick and listening to him moan.

It’s dark in your bedroom, but your eyes adjusted a while ago, giving you a fair view of Coriolanus’s cock in your hand. You swipe your thumb across his slit, and for a moment you stop as a sharp gasp emits from the sleeping boy. But when he shows no sign of waking up, you continue.

“So big…” you whisper to yourself, voice barely audible. You feel his cock begin to leak with pre-cum and you slick up his shaft with his own bodily juices, making your hand pump his cock more smoothly as you pick up the pace.

You wonder to yourself if you could even get away with straddling his hips to sit down on his dick, slowly impaling yourself as your tight pussy envelops him in his sleep. How would he react? You can picture it now: you, stripped of your panties and nightgown, tits bouncing up and down as you ride his cock. Eventually, he’ll stir awake to the image of your hot body on top of him, moaning and whimpering sweetly. And he won’t fight back, oh no. Because you’ve seen the way he looks at you — you don’t think he knows how you study the way he licks his lips as he eyes you up and down. Your pussy is on his mind 24/7. He’s obsessed with you. You’re surprised he hasn’t tried to touch you in your sleep. You’d welcome the sentiment, though, as your eyes would slowly flutter open to the sight of Coriolanus pounding his cock into you. You wouldn’t tell him to stop.

Would he tell you to stop?

You’d like to think so. But you can’t afford to think of alternate versions of this night as your hand is now thoroughly pumping his cock in a proper handjob. Coriolanus mewls and twitches in his sleep, and your mind can’t begin to comprehend how hot he looks completely at your mercy.

“Pretty, so pretty,” you whisper. “Don’t even know I’m fisting your fucking cock, yeah? Wish this was my pussy? Wish I was fucking you in your sleep instead of giving you this lousy handjob?”

You don’t know what comes over you as you lean down to kiss his sleeping lips, and before you know it, he’s lazily grunting as he spills his cum all over your hand.

And you’re so turned on you feel more as if you have to pee more than anything. Your pussy pulsates as you feel his cock throb underneath your hand, and you have to practically force yourself to pull your hand away and lay back down.

Mere seconds after his orgasm, you feel and hear Coriolanus stir and wake up. He mumbles a curse word under his breath as he assesses his sticky situation.

You just lay there, with your hand still covered in his cum, as a deep, dark dread fills your chest. Someone pours liquid lead into your heart as reality settles back in for you.

What have I done?

darby-rowe, 2024. do not plagiarize my content, nor distribute my content onto any other website like AO3, etc. my writing is exclusive to tumblr only.

[egoistars]

FUNNY VALENTINE wriothesley

your boyfriend doesn't seem to love you anymore, so what do you do? complain to neuvillette of course!

warnings: kissing, u being dramatic, neuvillette being done with ur shit, u and wriothesley being super gross and in love

you defeatedly slump into a chair in neuvillette's office and sigh for the fifteenth time in the past few minutes. the hydro dragon slides both his hands down his face, much like how he's seen the people of fontaine do when they were in distress.

"(name), if you don't tell me what's wrong i can't help you." in the several hundred years he's lived, neuvillette doesn't think he's spoken those words more than he has now. as he raises a delicate, white teacup to his lips, you burst into tears, violently twisting your head away from him.

"please, don't drink that in front of me," you cry, shoving your face into an overly expensive pillow on his couch. "that duke wriothesley would always drink tea and i cant stand to see it anymore! i will die parched if i have to!"

"if you're implying wriothesley doesn't love you anymore, you are surely mistaken. i'm not too familiar with human emotions, why don't you pay furina a visit? i'm sure she can understand you better."

at the sound of furina's name, you feel your body run cold. the image of your friend laughing until her face flushing crimson red dashes across your mind like an arrow, shooting you in the chest as you bleed out in an impending doom. you love her, truly, but she would never take you seriously in a situation like this.

"hmm, if you don't want to talk to furina, how about i call wriothesley and have you talk to him yourself? he is your partner, he'd be more than happy to talk through this issue with you."

"no! he's the problem! why would i want to talk to the problem? he doesn't love me anymore, neuvillette. he usually kissed my forehead twice before he leaves for work, but today," you pause for a moment, placing a hand on your chest to soothe the agonizing ache of your heart. "he only gave me one."

neuvillette promptly kicks you out.

"now what's this i hear about you crying to the iudex of fontaine about a broken heart?"

normally, the sound of wriothesley's smooth yet slightly mischievous voice would send you sprinting toward him. today however, you were distraught and feeling slightly petty. the only thing that can satisfy your heartbreak was him on his knees, sobbing with a gross trail of snot running down his nose, begging for your forgiveness.

you quickly learn that in the end, wriothesley always wins. with your back faced toward him, he wraps his muscular arms around you in a warm embrace, the fur of his uniform tickling your neck. grumbling unintelligible words, you dejectedly turn to face him but can't hide the thumping of your chest behind narrowed eyes and pouts. wriothesley laughs at you, pressing a kiss on your forehead, one on your left cheek, and one on your rights.

"i'm sorry for forgetting our routine, you petty minx? i ever do something as horrendous as that again, tell me and i'll make it up to you with as many kisses as you want, yeah? if that's not enough, i'll apologize with tears and jump into the primordial sea in your honor."

as the finale of this vomit-inducing opera, he follows the monologue by pressing a loving kiss to your waiting lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.

"yeah you better keep your fucking promise," you threaten. the two of you know you don't intend to be mean by the way you melt into his touch. "i ordered your favorite today so you don't make me regret that."

maybe your boyfriend does love you after all.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you write something with caddie reader and Rafe going to the country club and booking her as caddie? thankss

Pardon my terrible golf knowledge...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The written duty of a caddie-girl is to carry the golf bag for the golfer. Although it sounds like an easy job, you are required to have a little golf knowledge…and let your mini skirt do the rest as people who golf at the country club are mostly men.

They won’t mind if you give them the wrong club as long as you giggle when you make a mistake or wear a short enough skirt. It’s pretty degrading and objectifying for women, but rich men give nice tips.

‘’I’m so sorry, Jeff. My alarm didn’t go off and my car wouldn’t start,’’ you explained in a rush to your boss, out of breath from running to the country club. ‘’It won’t happen again, I promise.’’

‘’You’re an hour late, Miss. Y/L/N. Your 9am client is waiting.’’ Jeff raised his eyes from his computer screen, looking at you with disappointment.

Shit. You didn’t think you would have a client so early in the morning.

‘’He specifically requested you for caddie, so save your apologies and excuses for him.’’

It must be Mr. Barclay. You’ve seen him sitting at the country club’s bar two days ago, drinking an old fashioned with a fellow club member. He always requested you as caddie. He said you reminded him of his granddaughter. You didn’t know if you should be flattered or disgusted.

You quickly dropped your personal stuff in your locker and headed to the golf course while rehearsing your apology monologue. It wasn’t in your habits to be late. Hopefully Mr. Barclay will be understanding.

When you got to the course, you searched for a silver fox, but instead you found a tall young man with a snapback and white glove in his right hand.

‘’There you are!’’ he said in exasperation, slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and walking to you.

‘’Rafe?’’

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘’It’s Mr. Cameron for you,’’ he corrected with a shit-eating grin on his stupidly handsome face.

‘’You’re my 9am client?’’

Rafe hummed, his eyes scanning your body and smiling smugly when he saw your small skirt and tight polo. It hugged your curves in all the right places. ‘’Bet you were expecting some rich daddy, uh? I’m sorry to disappoint you.’’ He leaned closer, speaking the next words low enough so only you would hear them. ‘’If you want, you can call me Daddy Rafe.’’

You choked on air. Today was going to be a long day.

‘’Driver, please?’’ Rafe requested, when you arrived at the teeing ground.

You fished the right club from the bag and handed it to Rafe. ‘’Here.’’

‘’Thanks, babydoll.’’ He took the club and moved up to line it with the ball, and swung, his muscles flexing.

You both watched as it flew over a hundred yards in the air. Not bad.

‘’Where’s Topper?’’ you asked. ‘’You usually play with him.’’

‘’Not today. I had other plans.’’ Rafe gave you the club back. ‘’Shall we go find the ball?’’

You spent the next two hours walking along the steep cliffs and hills of the country club's golf course, watching Rafe swinging golf balls and showing off. Unfortunately, you didn’t care much for the sport. You were more interested in staring at Rafe’s muscles flexing and admiring how great his ass looked in those dress shorts.

‘’Want to have a try?’’

‘’Are you sure? I’ve never played golf before.’’

‘’You can do the next tee. I’ll show you how.’’

‘’Golf is more technical than it looks. You don't just swing the ball and hope for the best. There's a lot of factors to think about — the stance, posture, ball placement, and rotation all have to be considered for the perfect swing.’’

‘’First, the grip. Put your left hand at the top of the club and your right hand below the left,’’ Rafe instructed.’’

‘’Good. Now, the position.’’ He situated himself behind you and you tried not to shiver as his hands slowly traveled down your arms until they positioned themselves to cover your own, grasping gently. You could feel goosebumps rise all over your body as you felt his steady breathing on your neck, looking over your shoulder with ease. ‘’Place your feet shoulder width apart and the ball should be inside the line of the big toe of your front foot.’’ He pushed your right heel out with his own foot. ‘’And you gotta bend your upper body from the knees and the knees slightly.’’

So many instructions.

You leaned forward a little while keeping your feet in the right place. ‘’Like that?’’ you asked, not sure if you were positioned correctly.

‘’Bend a bit more.’’ Rafe stepped back with a mischievous smirk, his warmth leaving your back. ‘’More. More.’’ You had a feeling that the position was wrong, but did as told. ‘’Perfect.’’ He swiped his tongue over his lips and hummed, admiring the perfect view of your ass.

‘’And now I swing?’’

‘’Not yet,’’ he said. ‘’I’m enjoying the view.’’

You straightened up immediately, catching what he was doing. ‘’Rafe!’’ you hissed with a glare over your shoulder.

He was laughing smugly. ‘’Can you blame me?’’

‘’Can you guide me again? I lost the position because of you.’’

This time, Rafe won’t make a fool of you. This time, he’ll be the one who gets played.

You took a deep breath as he moved to stand right behind you and resumed the same position he had you in previously. A soft breeze blew and you got a whiff of his expensive cologne. It reminded you of those mornings you had woken up in his bed at Tannyhill, wrapped in his sheets and covered in his scent.

Shaking that thought from your head. Focus.

‘’You’re picking up fast,’’ Rafe encouraged behind you.

‘’Do I?’’ you asked, purposely wiggling your hips against his pelvis.

You heard Rafe inhale sharply in response, his grip on your hands tightening. ‘’If you kept doing stuff like that, I might just have to take you right on the golf field.’’

Please do, you almost let slip.

At the next tee, you ran into Mr. Barclay and one of your co-worker. He was one of the newbies and seemed to be struggling with the golf bag.

‘’Mr. Barclay, hi,’’ you greeted politely. ‘’How’s the course today? We’ve made new additions this year.’’

The older man greeted you back with a smile, then began ranting about how his caddie wasn’t as good as you at the job. ‘’I asked for you at the caddie shack, but I was informed my favorite caddie-girl was already booked.’’

Rafe stepped in, faking an apologetic smile. ‘’That would be because of me. My apology.’’

Mr. Barclay stared you down like you were a piece of meat and then shifted his eyes to Rafe, giving him a ‘lucky you’ kind of look before leaving with his caddie.

‘’Are your other clients all old perverts like him?’’

Most. ‘’He gives me good tips,’’ you said in defense.

Rafe pulled out his wallet, then stared you right in the eyes as he stuffed a crumpled hundred dollar bill inside your bra. ‘’I do too.’’ 

—

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[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN (oneshot)

Aventurine x ex girlfriend!reader

He would gamble his own life before ever risking your relationship but his dangerous job forced him to give you up, shattering both of your hearts in the process. Months later Sigonian notices you on one of the boujee parties he got invited to as an IPC representative. Motivated by yearning and alcohol in his veins Aventurine tries his luck in love again. ANGST,SUGGESTIVE

general masterlist

Aventurine was always a little bit fed up with those expensive parties thrown by his business partners, lavish ballroom filled with pathetic people living with no purpose besides endless consumption, each of them raised in conditions he could only dream of as a child, staring at him with curiosity. Hoping that he will make a mistake, prove them he is still a lowlife they take him for despite all those privileges he now enjoyed as a high ranking IPC member. But tonight he sincerely did not care about any of this, barely acknowledging the noise around him. 

He sipped on a drink more pricey than lifetime supply of food for his whole clan would be, giving out charming smiles that never reached his devoid of emotions, outstanding eyes to greedy leaches sitting alongside him at the poker table. Seemingly interested in shallow exchange of blows disguised as jokes and witty remarks young man looked around not expecting anything positive out of this meeting, maybe except meaningless material gains he forced himself to care about for the sake of keeping up his Aventurine persona.  

Then he noticed elegant woman standing alone near the entrance. Fingers adorned with precious rings clenched around the glass, almost shattering it in desperate attempt to conceal how much his hands started to shake at the sight of familiar face. He thought he imagined it at first, but his broken heart wasn't playing tricks on him. Aventurine would recognize your face even after centuries, every detail of it carved into his mind, into his soul. Long, green dress tightly hugged your figure, enhancing every curve he loved to caress so much. It was really you. Just as beautiful as the day he broke your heart, five months ago. The day he saw you for the last time. 

*** 

- Why are you doing this to me? To us? After all this time? - tears dripped down your cheeks, you were choking on your sobs. Aventurine wanted to hold you, make you feel like everything will be alright, but he knew what he needed to do to keep you safe. 

- Y/n, there is nothing to talk about, stop making this so hard. I never loved you in the first place, I just needed some distraction from my work. - he was always a great liar. You seemed to believe him and he thanked Aeons for it, despite how much it hurt him to see you in pain. It's the only way to make sure they won't touch you. - It was funny to play house with you for two years but that joke got old. You no longer entertain me.  

You looked into his eyes, begging for this to be a cruel prank, searching for any crumbs of love in his eyes, but they were cool and calculated. Speaking to him when he put on his poker face felt like talking to a wall. Despair slowly turned into hatred in you heart, it's fire kept you warm in spite of your ex boyfriend's cold attitude.  

- I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. I can't blame you for being a shameless liar, you told me that's who you are at the beginning. I should've trusted you when you showed me your true colors. I don't even want you to apologize, I played myself investing my love in you. Now get lost Vasha. - nickname once spoken tenderly now felt like a slap to Aventurine. How do you tell somebody in front of whom you bared your soul that they were only a toy to you?  

He spared you the rest of monologue he prepared and went outside with all his belongings packed in three suitcases. He glanced at the door of your shared place for the last time and whispered to himself. 

- In another universe I can be just your Kakavasha, kiss your face every morning after I wake up by your side and hold you every night, love you the way you deserve to be loved, make you proud of me. Protect you with my own strong arms and build our future with them. But Aventurine can't afford such luxury, not at your expense. Not if it can cost your life. 

***  

Just thinking about how he treated you made him want to punch himself in the face. He tried to reason with himself. Back then his position in Stonehearts was endangered after he risked his Cornerstone during the mission in Penacony.  If he lost all his power opponents he got during his work in IPC would go straight after you and he wouldn't be able to fight them off. Aventurine secured his rank and influences by now, as soon as he did that he got rid of enemies to make sure he will never feel this incapable of protecting those dear to him. Such as you. 

Aventurine knew he should not hope for rekindling of your love, not after all those terrible things he has said and done, but could you blame him? All his life nothing really belonged to him, nothing but your heart you so willingly gave to him. Even money he bargained with were only borrowed from IPC, just like his new name, dignity and life. Not to mention his whole new personality, attitude worn as a mask grew so deep into him it felt like a second face. Kakavasha was a different man, the kind that knew what was really important and what was not.  

One not impressed by money or political circus, instead wanting to protect and provide for those close to him, more down to earth and proud than Aventurine could ever be with all his wealth and victories. The one who stood in silence when the lights were gone, the one who observed emotionless when his fate was debated by the rest of the Stonehearts, the one who put his own body as a shield between his friends and dangers of battle.  

There was not much those two men caged together in one body had in common, with few exceptions. Both had iron will and ambition forged in hellfire they went through in this lifetime, both were aware that even with all the luck in the universe their destiny was inherently unjust and both knew they will love you till death returns Kakavasha's tired soul to his family and Gaiathra Triclops in afterlife.  

Alcohol circulated in his veins, clouding his mind and soothing his fears. He excused himself not caring about worried glances his coworkers sent him and rushed towards you on slightly wobbling legs, passing self-important gentlemen and overdressed ladies. Concentrated on getting to you as fast as possible he didn't plan on what to say so once your eyes crossed he just froze in place. At first your eyes widened in pure shock but right away hatred took over. Aventurine inhaled sharply when your brows furrowed and jaw clenched. He wasn't used to irritated glances from you, you were always so gentle with him. His mouth got dry. 

- Long time no see, dear. - your voice was more collected than you expected it to be. Sometimes you imagined meeting him again but even in your dreams you were never this calm and over him. So time truly does heal wounds. - I have no idea why do you think you can just approach me out of nowhere after what you did to me, but I won't let you waste any more of my time after you stole years of my life with your empty promises. So please, hurry up.  

- So cold, huh? - Aventurine awkwardly attempted to laugh his anxiety off. - I know I must come off as a complete jerk but please, listen to me. Back then... I... I don't know how to explain that. 

- Maybe for once just say the truth if you even know how to be sincere. - you scoffed. - Simply say it like it is.  

- I was one bad day away from losing my job and I needed to make sure you won't get hurt in the process.  

You raised one of your eyebrows.  

- So you can only love me when you are on the top of the world but as soon as problems emerge I am a burden to discard? - you rolled your eyes.  

- Don't say that... It's not like that. - he hid his left hand behind his back, toying with one of the poker chips he always carried around. - If they kicked me out all kinds of sick people who prayed for my downfall would go after me. None of them would miss the opportunity to hurt me even more by harming you.  

- If that's what you say... - you seemed unbothered.  

- What do you mean by that? - Avgin curved his lips in confusion. 

- How can I be sure you aren't lying? That wouldn't be the first time it seems. - you chuckled sadly.  

- Please don't use that against me, I had no choice... - before he had a chance to explain further you interrupted. 

- Why should I believe you? Not to mention at this point it wouldn't change anything. - you looked away. - Not after all this time. 

- How could I let you know it was a bluff if you cut me off completely? I couldn't find you anywhere, I tried for weeks. You moved out and blocked me. - Sigonian's voice broke when he choked on repressed emotions, wondering if you even listened to him, your expression not showing any sign of interest. 

- I don't care anymore. If you really wanted to you would find a way. - you shrugged. 

Before he could mention how he overused his political influence and still could not find a single trace of you black haired male approached you both with glass of wine. Aventurine sized him up, tall and well build man had a reserved and cool aura, Avgin could feel hidden power radiate from that guy, as if he had a beast under his skin. Something about the way dark-haired male looked at you made his stomach turn. 

- I brought the drink you wanted. Are you ok? Who's that man? - mysterious guy asked you, concerned by your uncomfortable body language. He had a deep, melodic voice but spoke in monotone way. 

- I should ask the same thing. - Aventurine did his best to sound intimidating. - You guys know each other? - he turned his gaze back to you. 

- Yes, it's my coworker, Dan Heng. We grew really close lately. - you smiled at that strange, tall man. Sigonian stopped himself from asking just how close the two of you were. - Thank you for a chance to catch up Aventurine, but you see, I'm very busy right now. I promised to introduce my... friend to a few people. 

You gave him venomous smile when Dan Heng put his arm around your waist protectively and pulled you away from your ex. Aventurine hated the way you let that guy touch you. Did you allow him even more in private? Did you let him do things Avgin used to do? Does that other man know how beautiful you look with messy hair and no make up, with flushed cheeks and tears of pleasure in your eyes? Do you sing for him the way you did for Aventurine every night? Does he wear your marks on his back? Gambler preferred not to know, but whether Dan Heng already took his place by your side or was yet working on it, he was sure of one thing.  

- It's not over yet. - Aventurine muttered, clenching his left fist till he heard a poker chip breaking in half. 

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Part 7 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge @hellishjoel

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Words: 3500

Triggers: Smut

You’re my girl. The word went off like an echo in your mind all day long. You’re my girl. You’re my girl. You’re my girl.

Did that make you Joel’s girlfriend? You weren’t sure; but it was good enough for now. More than good enough. You went from low to high in the matter of a few softly spoken words.

You sat at the kitchen table, typing away at your laptop as you filled out job applications that matched your career choice in the immediate area. As you submitted several over the course of an hour or so, your mind began to wander and you thought about how your adult life could unfold.

Get a job. Turn it into your career. Continue to see Joel. Things get more serious. Both of you are making decent money. You move into the house next to your parents with him - after your parents finally approve. You get married, have babies and your parents can see their grandchildren whenever they want because they’re one-hundred feet away. Everyone lives happily ever after. The end.

You tried not to get ahead of yourself, but that day you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy. Joel had eased your mind just enough when said those words to you; and you knew he meant them. From what you could honestly tell, Joel was just as wrapped up in everything as you were.

As you were about to hit the submit button for a job in the next town over, you suddenly paused upon reading one crucial detail that hadn’t been a part of previous applications: You will be staying overnight at the academy for a four month period.

Staying overnight, hmm. You thought about it for a moment and then closed out the browser. That just won’t work.

Mentally, you were all in. A short time ago you couldn’t wait to start your career, find an apartment and get on with adulting. Now, things had changed; but you knew that was part of life. You had two things in mind, and both of them could be achieved, you knew. Still, you acknowledged there were some obstacles to be cleared before the happily ever after could happen. One, Joel’s divorce needed to be finalized. Two, you had to eventually tell your parents you were seeing your older, still-married neighbor.

Those can wait. You smiled, not letting your inner monologue bring you down. I need to decide what I’m wearing to dinner.

Joel sipped on a glass of wine and stared across the way. You were dressed in a classy black dress and your best jewelry. "You’re too good for me," he said with a grin, making you laugh.

You shook your head. “I’m way out of my league with you.”

Joel shook his head again and grinned wider. “Maybe we’ve both met our match then.”

“Maybe.” You raised your eyebrows and smirked at him, tapping your glass against his and leaned closer to him as you rested your foot on top of his under the table.

"Here are your salads," a waiter whipped in, laying plates down in front of each of you and refilling the empty glasses of water beside your wine. "Your meals will be out shortly."

"Thank you.” You politely nodded and the man nodded back before wandering to another table.

"Thanks," Joel echoed, and then quickly regained your gaze.

You took a sip from your wine and gently smacked your lips. His eyebrows raised and he looked down at his plate with a smile when he felt your foot travel up the inside of his pant leg along his calf.

Joel chuckled to himself and then looked back up at you, promptly throwing his napkin down over his lap. “You're going to get us kicked out of here,” he teased.

You forked a small bite from your salad and stopped rubbing your foot against him. A smile formed on your face. “We wouldn't want that.”

"Don't tempt me.”

You laughed lightly and teased him back, whispering. "The things I want to do can wait until we get home."

Joel had to keep himself from laughing out loud as he sported a big grin. He leaned forward and spoke quietly. "You could always tell me about it."

“I thought we were supposed to have a serious talk,” you whispered, still grinning.

“Oh, is that why you keep rubbing your foot against my calf?”

You laughed a little louder and then looked around the immediate area, seeing that no one was paying attention. You then returned your attention to Joel.

"I could live with getting kicked out of here," Joel added with a wink as he rounded up another bite of lettuce. "Just sayin'..."

"You bring out my worst," you joked with a smile, never breaking eye contact.

"And you bring out my best, honey." He smiled back. "That's why I think this is going to work.”

You wanted to lean across the table and give him a kiss but rather you reached for his hand on top of the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I want to be with you.” There… you said it. You said the words out loud that you had been wanting to say; and to say you were pleased by Joel’s immediate response would be an understatement.

“I want this, too.” He nodded, never breaking eye contact, “I think about you just about every second I’m not with you; and I don’t know if that’s ever happened to me quite like this.”

“Me either.”

“You’re young-”

“So what.” You stared more directly at him. “I want this. I’ve never wanted a man the way I want you. Does my age bother you?”

“No.” Joel still smiled, keeping the mood light. He squeezed your hand back and you smiled wide at him.

“Good.”

He brought your knuckles to his lips. “Your parents,” Joel began, “They're-”

“Let me worry about that,” you cut him off again. “We don't have to sort everything out right this second.”

“Fair enough.” Joel kept your hand in his and you smiled simultaneously when you felt his foot run up the inside of your calf now. When you bit your lip he grinned more mischievously and lowered his voice, "Weren't you going to share details about what you wanted to do to me?”

Your eyes remained on his as his thumb began to trace circles over the back of your hand. "We should have ordered a booth so we could've sat together on the same side," you told him.

He tipped the corner of his mouth up in a half-smirk. "Well, normally I hate it when couples do that shit so you'd have to give me a good reason to consider it.”

"I'd give you plenty of reasons to consider."

"Tell me."

You knew by now that Joel could do some serious dirty talking to get you all hot and bothered but you weren't as confident in your own ability to do so. You had things running through your mind but you started giggling when you thought of yourself actually saying them out loud.

"More water?" The waiter returned with a pitcher.

"I'm fine, thank you,” you told him, leaning back to sip your wine instead. Joel put a hand up as he declined.

"Just another minute until your food comes out."

Joel didn't miss a beat, looking back to you as the waiter stepped away. "I'll take the lead on this one," he told you with a smile. "You see, if you were seated right next to me I'd slowly run my hand up the inside of your thigh..." Joel took another bite from his salad. "And I'd use these two fingers to slip your underwear to the side…”

"What if I'm not wearing any?"

He raised his eyebrows in the slightest bit of intrigued shock and then let his eyes drop toward your waist. His tongue reactively danced across his lips and then he grinned more devilishly than before. Joel looked over his shoulder, down at his lap and then back to you. "My God, woman.”

You were so enamored by Joel that you couldn't help but shamelessly let out what you were feeling; whether it be through the subtle intimate touches or quiet flirtation. It amped up your heart rate because the territory was so unfamiliar.

“I think it's best we didn't land ourselves a booth then." You grinned, "Because…”

Joel had both of his elbows on the table with his hands folded beneath his chin as he leaned almost halfway across the table now. "Because what?"

You motioned with your eyes to the waiter, who was holding a tray by his shoulder. "Guess the rest will have to wait."

He turned, wanting to slip a one hundred dollar bill into the guy's shirt and tell him to get lost, but he slowly leaned back in his chair with a painful smile on his face.

You felt pleased with yourself seeing him just a bit flustered. You never felt completely in control of him, and you hoped you could make it last.

"Steak dinner for you sir." The waiter placed Joel's food down, "And baked Tilapia for you ma'am." He looked back and forth between the two of you. "What else can I do for you?"

"Nothing," you said at the same time, and then you added. "Thank you so much."

The man nodded again and walked away.

"You know... you should dress up more often," you told him.

He chuckled to himself and began cutting the steak in front of him. "If it'll bring this side out of you-"

"No really." You smiled at him. "You look nice."

Joel shrugged and took a bite. You could see an uncomfortable shift in his posture because of the compliment. Despite you finding his fleeting moment of coyness to be adorable, you decided to get back to being flirty and a little silly to keep the vibe of the night going. "Why don't we get these meals to go and, uh..."

He glanced up to you and stopped chewing on the bite in his mouth, seeming to be eager to agree despite just getting the overly expensive meals. When he realized you were kidding he shook his head. "You're enjoying this huh?" he finally asked with a smile.

"Enjoying what?"

"You know what."

You laughed and decided to focus on your dinner. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to, uh…." Joel subtly motioned to his lap with his fork and then as if he was speaking to a dog he said, "Down boy," making you laugh a little louder.

Joel chuckled and looked around to a few other diners that looked in your direction. He then looked back at you with a laugh of his own and lowered his voice again. "We're doing dessert at home."

You continued to laugh with him as you forked a bite of fish into your mouth. “Deal.”

By the time dinner was done, you felt like you were in a notch deeper. Joel slipped an arm around your waist as you exited the restaurant and the two of you made your way up the quaint, little street toward where he'd parked his truck.

"You do look beautiful," he told you as you went.

“Thank you.”

He opened the passenger door and helped you up into the truck, careful not to let you slip in your heels. You thanked him again and watched as he crossed around the vehicle to enter through his side. Joel closed the door and walked around, joining you in the car before resting a hand on your left leg. "I'm curious to see if you were being serious about the no panties thing."

"Still thinking about that huh?" You teased and glanced down as the muscles in his fingers twitched against your thigh in anticipation. "Only one way to find out."

He leaned across the way and kissed you while sliding his hand further up your leg. You massaged his tongue with your own, pressing your eyes shut hard. When his lips parted from yours, Joel took a long, deep breath out his nose. He slid his hand away and leaned back in the driver’s seat."We've got a forty minute ride home.” He looked over at you, biting his bottom lip for just a second and said. "I think I’m going to draw this one out."

You shook your head at him, noting he was making it obvious that he was taking back control of the situation. "You're going to be wondering the whole ride," you told him.

"I may just have to surrender to you before then," he admitted, beginning to pull the truck out of the parking space as he headed down the road.

"So, is this our first real date?" you asked him.

Joel grinned and gave a nod, “I suppose it is.” He linked his fingers through yours and took the steering wheel in his left hand.

You turned to him with a smile and knew he could tell you were purposely staring when he grinned to himself.

"I love that you wrote your number on a post-it,” you said to him honestly, smiling so wide that it began to make your jaw ache.

Joel laughed out loud, “The perks you get of dating an older man.”

“One of the many.”

“You know I thought about you the entire night after we first met on your back step.”

“Really?” You knew you must’ve sounded like a giddy teenager.

“Mmm…” Joel swallowed hard but a closed-mouth smile remained on his face, “I couldn’t believe you showed up at the bar that night.”

“I couldn’t believe you were there. Holly asked if I knew you and when I looked, I almost didn’t know what to do.”

Joel glanced over at you, “I’m glad you picked there of all places.”

“Me, too.” You added, “I, uh… I’ve never just done something like that before. I never wanted to. I don’t do one-night stands, or even just hook up to hook up. Not that I care if people do.” You were rambling, “My friends do all the time, it’s just not me.” You took a breath, trying to reel in your thoughts and were relieved when Joel began to chuckle.

“I know,” Joel said to you, “And you don’t have to explain.”

“I haven’t had sex with anyone since October of last year.”

He glanced at you now.

“Before you,” you added.

Joel grinned and brought the back of your hand to his lips. “Whatever happened in your relationships before me is your business. All I care about is today… and tomorrow… and the day after that.”

You smiled and leaned across the way, glancing at the open road in front of you. You planted a single kiss on his lips, vowing to take on his mindset and to stop worrying about his soon-to-be ex wife. Joel was right. The past was the past. The future was yours for the taking.

He kissed you back, glancing at the road quickly before kissing you again. "I got an idea."

You grinned, willing to follow anything he said at that moment. "What?"

Joel smiled and then floored the pedal a little harder, weaving in and out of traffic before taking an exit halfway between the restaurant and his house. He pulled the truck down a series of backroads before coming to a clearing on top of a cliff that overlooked a large body of water that stretched on for miles.

"Where are we?" You asked him, staring outward at the darkened sky.

"Nice ain't it?"

You smirked. "Something tells me you've been here before."

"Can't we let the past be the past?" Joel laughed, reiterating his previous statements.

"How many women have you taken here before me?" You raised your eyebrows at him in a playful accusation.

"A couple," he admitted, "As a younger man." And then added, leaning across the way to kiss you again. "But I just couldn't wait the forty minute ride."

You kissed him back and closed your eyes. "As long as I'm the last woman you take here..." They were a bold choice of words, but you said them anyway.

"I can agree to that," Joel told you, feeling your tongue eagerly slide back in his mouth. Your hands reached for his belt and Joel moaned into your mouth when he felt it unlatch. He pulled back for a moment, reaching for the handle that launched his seat back away from the steering wheel and then pulled you onto his lap upon shoving his pants down past his knees.

Joel moved his hand between your legs and a smile formed on his face as he fingered your underwear to the side.

“I was just teasing about the panties,” you whispered against his lips, watching his eyes close. A smile twisted back onto his face

"Save that one for our tenth date,” he choked out, leaning his head back against the headrest when you lowered yourself down onto him. Joel let out a satisfied sigh when your bodies finally connected after the prolonged sexual banter at dinner that left him yearning to touch you.

You began to move on top of him, making every part of his body twitch with pleasure. You grabbed him by his tie and kissed him hard. Immediately, you could tell he enjoyed your moment of aggression because he let out an extended moan into your mouth.

You abruptly pulled your face away. "People don't come up here, do they?" you breathed against him, not stopping as you rode him.

Joel didn't seem to care as he helped to move you with his hands; his eyes were still closed and mouth partway opened.

"Joel." You smiled and he let his eyes flicker open with a groan and a lopsided grin.

"Why, are you imagining the paper headlines?" he asked. "Local construction worker arrested for lascivious acts in a public place with his hot, young girlfriend?" He pulled your face to his and kissed you again, urging you to continue.

Girlfriend. That was all you needed to hear. Everything he had just said ignited a fire inside you as he penetrated your lips with his tongue with force. Your hand wrapped around his tie again and Joel groaned.

You didn't stop this time, breathing heavily against his mouth as he thrusted up from beneath you. When you parted your lips from his to moan, Joel grabbed your face again, guiding your mouth back to his. You could tell he was having a hard time controlling himself as he tried stopping you several times from then on out, but you didn't let him.

"You're not going to get yours," he warned, almost unable to get the words out, while keeping his eyes closed tightly as his eyebrows pressed together. His hands gripped your hips hard and you grinded on him forcefully, moaning his name out into his ear.

The muscles in Joel’s abdomen tightened and he held you against him harder as his bare thighs tensed. “Fuuuuck…” he bucked his hips up, letting out a series of moans and curse words all the while pushing your hips down forcefully against his as he began to come. Joel’s eyes were pressed shut and through gritted teeth he hissed your name.

You loved the few times when you got him so worked up that he couldn't control himself. Watching his face in that moment of pure ecstasy made your entire body feel hot and satisfied.

Joel's head finally fell back against the top of the seat again and he breathed heavily in and out with his eyes closed. You remained on top of him and touched your lips gently to his, releasing his tie from your hand before climbing off of him to get back in the passenger seat.

He didn't move for a few seconds and then finally glanced over. "Okay..." Joel took a deep breath. "Now I'm ready to fuckin' go to sleep."

You snickered and readjusted yourself next to him.

"Told you you weren't going to-" he began, but you leaned back across the center console and kissed him again. It was a hot, passionate kiss despite the intimacy that had just come to a close in the cab of his truck. "We have a long ride home," You reminded him, "So, don't get too sleepy because you owe me one once we get there."

Joel smiled and looked down before pulling his pants back up. He looked at you with a lazy grin. "You got it, honey.”

CLICK HERE FOR PART 8

@pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl

[wakeup01]

Hey, is it still open ? If it is, I've got something to ask. See, the university that I attend is apparently quite focused on sports, when compared to degrees such as mine in linguistics. It means that, on my way to class, I see a lot of hot men with great hairstyles, and I've always felt a bit jealous at that. Don't get me wrong, I love the eyecandy, but it always made me wonder what would happen if, one day, I entered the wrong building. Could you help me to see what would happen ? Just as an experiment, of course, I want to go back to my degree nice and easy after that...

Team Player

Linguistics? Oh dear, oh dear. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you won’t be getting anywhere with that. But don’t worry, I’m feeling generous today. Okay, listen up. It’s very simple, all you have to do is follow that hot jock with the gelled blond hair to the left. No, no, not the right, the left. Take note of his smile. The way he laughs at literally nothing. Why? Oh, no reason…

Whoops. The locker room you say? What a blunder. Egg on my face, I tell ya. But while you’re there, maybe it’s worth taking in the sights and….smells. Every step is like walking through the humid air of the jungle, a breeze of sweaty jockstraps assaults you from every direction as the Football team get changed. You fail to avert your eyes from their hot glistening bodies, the display of pure strength and testosterone.

The jock you followed in notices you, notices certain inadequacies that need amending if you’re gonna be on the team. The team? Yes, the team. That messy hair for one. You barely get the opportunity to argue as he sits you down and scrapes the clippers across your skull. The buzzing sound makes you shiver. An overwhelming lightheaded feeling allows him to easily tilt your head down and mow the back. Running his hands through what little remains as he gells it up into a spiky jock style. Patting your strapped rear and padded thighs as the dirty, preused tight leggings pull up your legs and cover your cupped crotch. Your mouth opens, opens before your brain has engaged, just hanging ajar for several seconds. “B—bro.” The word is more of a proclamation than anything else. You impulsively adjust your junk, a clear shadow visibly outlines where your big balls push the cup outward.

He tells you that the newbies are liable if the team loses. That would be you. Taking one…or many, so to speak, for the team is the accepted punishment. He tells you this while stroking at his own cupped groin, a rather large bulge growing as you swallow hard.

Before you know it, you’re completely kitted out in the heavy uniform, a thick helmet lowering over your head - silencing those niggling doubts in the back of your increasingly tiny, sports obsessed mind. It’s like a deprivation chamber for your head, your inner monologue being blocked. The only thing that matters to you now is the game.

The game.

The ball.

The team.

The… punishment.

The twitching of your cock and ass makes you wonder if losing would be all that bad. You stand up and admire yourself. You barely recognise what you see, uncontrollably getting turned on by your own appearance. Were your arms always that chunky, that tanned? Like prime cooked beef hanging from your wide shoulders. Looking like a proper jock boy…smelling like one too. Huhuh. You turn, smiling dimly back at your bro. Laughing out loud for a reason you don’t remember. Uhh, I’m sure it’ll come to you…eventually.

I mean, you’re just trying out something new, right? No harm done, you rationalise as you sprint and achieve your first touchdown, your memory of…le..lin….lingizztics? Completely knocked loose from your ‘bro’d out, empty head.

Of course, the team loses anyway. Though you, and the rest of the team have suspicions about how accidental your ‘fumbles’ really were. Never-mind, that didn’t matter so much anymore, not while the whole team form an orderly queue behind your bent over rear. Your blonde bro is first up, he spreads your sweaty cheeks wide, spits on your crack and lines himself up for the ‘shot’. “You ready to learn how to handle some balls dude?”

“Hell yeah brah!”

[stuck-writing-sickos]

Slick (yandere coworker)

TWO

[Masterlist]

[T/w: suggestive content, misogyny]

<<hey do you fw this guy? ik hes not performing nearly as well as Lukas and Yuki but tbh i like writing him. the bite-sized nature of this story is liberating, as is the inner-monologue style ive chosen. given how busy ive been this feels good to write hahaha. lmk how we feel about this one.

Also if you noticed how misogynistic my characters all are - lord knows i tried not to build them this way. Unfortunately ive interviewed (informally) a lot of straight cis men in my life and i'll tell you what - they are even WORSE than what ive put down here. My commitment to psychological realism may be my demise. Sorry if you came to me looking for escapism. But hey, at least these guys commit to the bit, huh? dont fw this kinda guy irl tho lol>>

For my own sanity, please don't give me the truth.

So you are the type to fuck me then leave me, I see.

You were gone by morning. When did you sneak out? I have no clues. It was my fault, I didn't hold you tight enough when I drifted to sleep. Can you blame me, though? You worked your magic on me like your life depended on it. You treated your tongue and fingers like they were that of the Devil, and the rest of your body as if you were on a mission to recall the soul I owed you. You even attentively wiped me down, smiling, your lips butterflying on my sweaty forehead. You acted like all the trickstery you had pulled were out of love.

No... it really was my fault. I should have been the one giving you the time of your life. Instead I let you play me like a fiddle... my god. How embarrassing. How very emasculating. I can't fault you for being gone so soon when I lied sprawling and broken after you were done with me. For godsake, I whimpered and whined under you.

I tried texting you, but you took half your Sunday to respond. What the hell were occupying your time? Did you have any idea how each hour agonizingly crawled past me? I guess not. I asked if you got home okay. You said "of course, thanks for checking in on me. You're so nice!"

Man, fuck you.

I bit the bullet and asked you out again. No respond for the rest of the day. Fine. No big deal. I was never one to be bothered by juvenile texting etiquettes. You were busy. I get it. You had plans. You're a busy person. All good.

Or you lost interest in me.

I feel used, but I wasn't sure for what. You weren't on it for a free dinner, that's for sure - you have never looked like you were strapped for cash. As for my body... I don't believe what I gave was nearly adequate. You didn't even give me a chance to prove myself - hell, you pushed me down on my own bed and wringed all you could out of me. Why on Earth did you humor me, if you got nothing worthwhile out of me?

Maybe you found that out afterward. You saw me at work, then at dinner, then in bed, and you decided that I wasn't worth your time.

I'l give you one - I now know that you are very funny.

Elsewise, I got nothing.

Given your secretive nature I suppose you wouldn't kiss and tell. There's nothing in it for you, except for an even more tarnished reputation. We all hate you anyway.

Well, they all hate you.

The others didn't hold back when they talked about you - they made fun of your clothes for being "too nice" (whatever the hell that means). They also laughed between themselves about your overly formal and distant attitude - did you know they think you're a robot? You are especially NOT popular with the girls, by the way. They think you're, and I quote, a stuck-up bitch.

The fellows mostly don't mind you. With the way you conducted yourself around me, I'm sure you know how easy us men are by now - if you're kind to the eyes, we wouldn't have any qualms with you. But, we also have this pathetic thing we do where we agree with the ladies around us. They're easy on the eyes as well, and we want to scutter around them long enough to maybe get something out of them. Long shot, I know. Extremely desperate. Well, I know that, too. Forgive us when we nod along or laugh between one another when the gals make degrading assumptions about the men you might have slept with to get all the nice things you have, like your shoes or clothes or earring or that enviable sense of financial security.

Again, I'm sorry.

I used to not think about their gossips, but the way you dominated my body and self worth stirred something ugly at the depth of my guts. Did you do this before? How many man have you spent the way you did me? How many were driven a wreck?

Actually, never answer that.

[illmetkismet]

Leon in re4r has to be the most touchy feely goober i have seen yet.

I find it so endearing when he goes to comfort Ashley and also like in general the way he was with Luis when he was dying is just 😭

I think he's just very touch starved. What do you think? :)

i got this ask in the morning and i was like, 'i gotta think about this....' and i've been thinking about it all day because..... there's so much going on with leon and touch....

both with ashley and luis he doesn't let himself touch - really touch, the way he wants, to take their hand and hold on - until the situation is desperate. luis is dying, and ashley is in so much pain she's screaming with it. look how scared leon looks:

the halfhearted pat, pat, 'ok', he does in response to her hug later, when he wakes up and sees that she's alright, is such an interesting contrast. she's fine, she's alive, and now he doesn't have an excuse anymore, you know? he's not overcome with worry or grief. he's reigned himself right back in.

even here, where ashley's panting and almost crying after they run from the ganados into the cabin:

he lets himself rest a hand on her shoulder to comfort her and check in for like a second, because she's clearly very distressed, before he turns to deal with luis.

he does allow himself casual little touches here and there, when the situation calls for it. again, it's when ashley is really upset after the mind control incident that he lets himself give her that encouraging pat on the shoulder:

or when she's unconscious and he just administered the suppressant, and he needs to reassure himself that she's going to be ok:

so yeah, he's 100% touch starved, but i don't think he realizes it. the frequency with which he does reach out in re4r, however briefly, makes me think that he was probably a lot quicker to touch, to hug, to hold on, before raccoon city (his little bright-eyed rookie face makes me think that for sure). but after? there's this sense i think he has about himself that there's something wrong with him. that he survived something horrible against all odds, and now he's in this awful line of work - all the things he sees, all the people who keep dying around him - and it feels like he's carefully trying to contain himself, to isolate, to keep others safe from... whatever it is that's wrong with him now. like maybe he thinks of himself as cursed, somehow?

there's that tidbit i remember reading in a post @highball66 made, where one of leon's hobbies is listed as watching movies alone in the dark. on the one hand, cute and cozy! but on the other hand, is the 'alone' part really by choice?

so yeah, i think his natural inclination is to be a touchy feely goober, as you say, but he's almost all but killed that instinct in himself. now it takes extraordinary circumstances for him to reach out: either a situation where he needs to offer reassurance and understands that words alone won't do, or something so terrible happens that it overwhelms him to the point where he slips and doesn't keep his genuine need to reach out in check. which is.... so sad. because the only other way we see him touch in re4r is with violence, or to menace. his fist on luis' chest, pushing him back against the wall until he winces, for example. leon's been trained to leverage his strength to do harm, and though i think he hates that, that's probably how he sees himself now - as a damaged person whose only worth is that he's good at this violent work. i think he hasn't had a hug - a real hug - in years, in large part because he won't allow himself to have it.

haha oops this turned into a leon essay again... i just can't be normal about him. can't even answer a regular little ask without monologuing about his emotional damage.... thanks for the ask and for giving me this opportunity to TEDtalk about him :)

[changbinsboobs]

haii can you do skz ideal types? like physique and personality. thank youu

Hi:) since i want to do those readings properly im gonna do them one by one and since i already have some for individual members i'll use this ask to start with chan:)

So, i originally started doing an Ideal Type reading but it got hijacked😅 so i guess im reading on his current energy. I'll try to still add something about his ideal type if i manage getting past the bitter energy but i think ill have to redo it some other time since i believe his opinion would be very influenced by his current feelings right now.

Take it with a grain of salt!!!

Chan's current energy / Ideal Typ

For his physical type i got pretty weird cards ngl, 3 of them are the tower, 5 of cups and 5 of wands, the 4th one's queen of pentacles. Tbh i didn't really get any hints about anything physical. He seems angry and bitter.

I think this reading is gonna be hijacked by something else he wants to talk about. I sense he has had a bitter experience thats still fresh in his mind, i think he got dumped tbh!

Like im seeing a situation with lots of bickering. Ogmg ok wait i have so much to say about it this situation has so many layers!

He feels like he lost something great and regrets his stupid actions.

At the same time tho he thinks its that persons fault and if they were better he wouldn't have acted in a way that would get him dumped.

But then again he feels like he's at fault and regrets it a lot.

But he's also so angry cuz they kept having fights, and she kept exhausting him and he kept not being enough. He feels horrible when he's not enough! He doesn't want to feel like that. He wants to live up to her expectations, to peoples expectations. But he just couldn't in this situation with that person.

It seems like he actually got himself a high quality girl - the he couldn't keep obviously. And he's in so much distress with all his conflicting feelings and thoughts. Im sry but im getting a bit angry at him here🙄 its that male stupidity with lack of accountability whatsoever! You cant expect to give the bare minimum, to be an excuse of a "man" and except to get all the perks real man and masculinity gets you! Deal with the consequences bro🙄 -> not necessarily meaning him, im just seeing the picture from his view, so idk how "horrible" he actually was, i was rather talking about the general population of useless men that just have the audacity to expect the best when they themselves aren't worthy of it and then get mad when they can't keep it.

Anyways back to chan - im also getting mommy's boy vibes here omg its getting worse😩😭 i feel like with this situation he's like "forget her bro, she's not worth it. Your mom used to cook and clean, and take care of 3 children and do everything by herself and she didn't whine and was always so giving. I want a woman like that! This girl wasn't lie my mother - she's not worth it, get over her and stop feeling guilty." Don't take that monologue word for word i was rather training to paint the feeling behind his thoughts.

So yeah we have that...tbh i didn't expect him to have a reaction like that like with the comparison to his mom. The rest i expected, but this? Damn🥲

Also this whole situation seems very dramatic, but what I've noticed in the male population overall is that they tend to blow things way put of proportion, and so knowing chan and his tendencies for a victim-complex, pick me, delulu and stuff - im pretty sure this situation might've been not dramatic at all. Just 2-3 little discussions (not full blown arguments and fights as he depicts it) or even just opposing opinions, where he just felt attacked in some way just by her disagreeing or something...and then after a few dates or weeks of dating she politely told him she doesn't want to see him anymore cuz they don't see compatiable and he broke down.

Again idk how things are for real cuz i haven read the other girls energy nor have i read just the energy itself, im just reading HIS energy and perception, but it feels really needy and excagerated so thats whats leading me to believe that it might not be nearly as bad.

So i managed to get some cards on his ideal types personality only and i got those: 3 of cups, 6 of pentacles, page of cups & king of wands.

His types a younger, more innocent and inexperienced girl he can take care of and teach and lead.

She likes a girl that's social but shy. Someone he can take with when meeting his friends and show of. But as i said - social enough for him to be able to do that - but but also shy so he stays sure that theres no risk of her "going wild" (goddamn bro u forreal?🫠)

Im actually getting something about physical appearance - slender, middle hight, like just a bit shorter than him, prefferably forreign with lighter skin and ginger or light brown or dark blonde hair. Im also seeing big head? Like yk this type of body with very slender narrow shoulders, long lanky arms and legs, but a bigger head where it also seems disproportionate to the body? Its so specific i almost think thats what his last girl looked like.

And he also wants a girl thats submissive and will see up to him and make him feel like a boss or a king or a ...daddy (🤢 im sry i just cant hold in the cringe)

In conclusion - i think this ideal type i got from the cards isn't his true ideal type but rather something that came out of spite. Like if i had to guess he's describing the girl he lost, but without her empowering qualities so that he doesn't get hurt.

Judging on the energy of this reading and previous ones ive done i think he has had a think for strong dominant women because he's fascinated with inner strength and power and always wanted to conquer a woman like that because in his head it meant he has that amount of power and strength the said woman had and even more - since he has managed to tame and conquer her. Now that he's tried tho he got met with the cold reality and got a slap in the face realizing he might not be fit for the task just yet and is just sour about it😃

As weird and unexpected this reading was i really enjoyed it cuz it was really shocking to me actually and even gave me a bit of a slap in the face, reminding me how he's just a man...and that he apparently does stupid things like any other guy too.