#my house is in the middle of these 2 places

[watchmegetobsessed]

LITTLE NERDY VALENTINE

A/N: one day late, but here's a bit of valentine's day cuteness with fratry bc i've been thinking a lot about him lately

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

SUMMARY: Harry wants to celebrate Valentine's Day, but you're not a fan of his plans of going out and you have your reasons for that, but talking about them is not easy, so it causes some frustration.

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“So, what do you want to do on Friday?” 

Harry is lying on your bed with a textbook lying open over his chest, but he hasn’t read a single word of it in the last hour, he’s been too busy playing on his phone while you were sitting at your desk, working on a paper that’s due next week. He came over to study, but you both knew you’d be doing all the studying, you actually have no idea how Harry has good grades. 

“Friday? What’s on Friday?” you hum, still typing away on your computer, pretending to be oblivious.

“You know…” He draws out the words, sitting up so his back is against the wall. He puts the textbook aside, closing it, done pretending he is actually reading any of it. 

“Hm?” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen, but you can feel Harry’s burning eyes on your back. 

“Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day,” he chuckles, giving up the game. “We are having a Cupid’s Party at the frat house, but if you want to go out, maybe have dinner or something I’m down.”

“Uh, I don’t know…” 

“Or we can go to the movies, I’m willing to watch that new romcom with you, if you want.”

“Harry…” Sighing you give up and finally turn with your chair to look at him, but you wish you didn’t because he is giving you those puppy eyes he knows you can’t resist and he is hugging your pink fluffy pillow like a little kid. 

“Y/N?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out.”

You catch the tiny wince that twitches his lips, but he recovers quickly. You were really hoping you could avoid this conversation today, though part of you knew it would come up, since it’s Wednesday, only 2 days until Valentine’s Day. 

His eyes jump down at the pillow as he starts fumbling with it, like a hurt kid who just got told no. 

“Harry…”

“Are we ever gonna leave this room and act like a real couple?” 

“Don’t start this again, please…”

“I just understand, Y/N,” he groans as he looks up at you again. “We’ve been together for over two months and I haven’t even held your hand in public.”

“That’s not true, you held my hand when–”

“When we were hiking in the middle of the woods so no one could see us. Yeah, you’re right,” he scoffs. 

“We’ve talked about this,” you say, looking down at your lap as the guilt bubbles in your gut. 

“Actually, we haven’t. You just keep telling me you need more time, but never really explain why or what bothers you. I’m trying to be patient, but I really want to take our relationship out of this tiny dorm room.” He gestures around your room where you spend the majority of your time together with him. 

Chewing on your bottom lip you just keep picking on your chipped nail polish, not looking at him, but then he climbs to the edge of the bed so he is sitting right in front of you. He lifts your chin gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? I’m more than happy to wait for you, but I need to know a bit more.” He places a hand to your thigh, reassuringly rubbing it as he waits for you to say something. 

“I’m just… I don’t know, I like that it’s just the two of us.”

“Bullshit. It would still be just us.”

Ugh, you hate how well he knows you, you can’t lie to him, but you’re not willing to tell him the truth either. 

“Can we just not talk about this right now? I really need to finish this pa–”

“Y/N, stop avoiding this, please. You know you can tell me anything.”

He is looking at you, waiting and expecting, but you just can’t give him what he wants. His gaze keeps flickering between your eyes, hoping you’d finally open up, but you keep your mouth shut. And then he loses his patience.

“Alright then,” he whispers, jumping up to gather his things, showing everything into his backpack.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him tug the zipper angrily before swinging the bag over one shoulder. 

“I can’t do this, Y/N. I don’t want to hide and not even know why. You wouldn’t tell me what bothers you, so I have to draw my own conclusions and want to know what all of this seems like to me? Like you don’t want to be seen with me, like you’re ashamed of being with me.”

“Harry, that’s not true,” you protest, standing from your chair. 

“Then what is it?”

You open your mouth, but your voice dies in your throat. Unfortunately, Harry takes that as your answer. 

“Okay. Call me when you’re willing to talk.”

And with that, he is out of the room. 

A couples’ party might not have been the best place to be today for Harry, but the thought of easing his mind with a few rounds of beerpong was good enough to make him leave his room and join the party. 

Cupid’s Party usually has two groups of people: the happy couples, attached by the hip, eating each other’s face off and the single people getting wasted, hoping to at least hook up with someone. Currently Harry doesn’t feel like he belongs to any of these groups.

He assesses the living room over the rim of his red solo cup and tries his best to ignore the pain in his chest at the sight of all the happy couples in matching outfits, celebrating their love. In the beginning of the week he was still hoping he and you might be one of them, but things didn’t turn out to be the way he planned. 

After the fight in your room you texted him, asking him to come back, but he made it clear he wouldn’t be doing that unless you’re willing to talk.

Which you werent, so it’s been radio silence since then. 

He had to stop himself from texting or calling you like a million times, it’s been quite the fight since Wednesday, he’s been missing you like crazy, but he is also determined to finally move forward. 

“You alright man?” Niall pats him on the back with a cup in his own hand that smells so much of alcohol that Harry can’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose. While he likes to have drinks, he is often surprised how some of his friends in the house haven’t died of alcohol poisoning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he nods with a sigh. 

“Uhuh, that’s why you’ve been moping around for days, right?” Niall laughs.

“I have not–”

“I have not been moping, you arse!” Niall mocks him, which he finds hilarious, but Harry just rolls his eyes and takes a swig from your drink. “Alright, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it, but if you feel like you need a shoulder, you can come to me.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “Thanks, I’ll just get a refill for now,” he says, holding up his cup. Niall nods and they go their separate way.

Harry fights through the crowd towards the kitchen and tries his best not to get stopped by drunk girls that are more than eager to hook up with him tonight. He would love to tell them he is taken, but he can’t. Even despite the fight you had, he still doesn’t want to go against your will and tell everyone that you’re dating. 

The kitchen is a mess, but he quickly finds the tequila and then mixes it with some pineapple juice, then he stops by the pizza and grabs a slice so his stomach wouldn’t be completely empty. Though his original plan was to get drunk, but now he is not feeling that, so this is probably his last drink, since he is starting to feel a bit dizzy. 

Leaning against the counter he is debating if he should just go back to his room and spend the rest of the night playing video games, but then he spots an all too familiar face in the crowd outside in the hallway. 

You look very uncomfortable, navigating between the half drunk people while looking like you’re searching for someone. Harry puts his pizza slice down right away and he just starts moving towards you when he sees a guy bumping into you, making your shoulder hit the wall.

“Ah, sorry sweetheart, you alright?” the guy asks and his hand is already on your arm, leaning way closer than you’d like him to.

“It’s okay Dave, I got her.” Harry pats him on the back in a friendly manner, though inside he is fuming at the way he is looking at you right now, like he is ready to peel you out of your clothes. 

“Harry, hey! I was just–”

“I know, I got her,” Harry repeats, this time with a tougher look at the guy, which he finally notices so he just nods and wanders away. “Are you okay?” he asks, finally looking at you, keeping one hand on your elbow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” you ask and Harry nods right away, moving his hand to the small of your back, guiding you upstairs, towards his room. 

You’ve been to his frat house, you actually met him at a party here, but you’ve never been to his room. If the other boys saw you coming and going from his room it would have been quite obvious there’s something going on between the two of you, so you usually stayed at your dorm room where it was easier for Harry to sneak out without being noticed, that place is too big for anyone to notice him.

The hallway leading to his room is scattered with couples making out by the wall and you try not to stare at the pair that’s practically dry humping each other like they are in a private place. 

Harry unlocks his door with his keycard and then ushers you inside, finally shutting the noises of the party out. You’re curiously looking around the room that’s a lot tidier than you expected. Aside from a few clothes lying in the corner and two unwashed mugs on his night stand, it’s pretty neat. On his desk you notice the book you gifted him a week ago. You pick it up and open it where the bookmark is at around the third of the book and then you realize the bookmark is a polaroid of the two of you. It was taken the first time he slept in your room, your faces are mushed together as you laugh at something. You remember him taking a picture, but you weren’t expecting him to use it as his bookmark, which is such a sweet thing. 

He has been nothing but sweet to you and that just makes your guilt even worse for treating him the way you did. 

When you turn around you find him watching you with his hands in his pockets, just patiently waiting for you to start talking. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel like I’m ashamed of you. That was never the case and… yeah, I’m just really sorry.”

Harry nods, but then just keeps looking at you and you know he wants you to continue. So taking a deep breath you force yourself to keep talking before you chicken out. 

“I was actually thinking it was the other way around.”

That confuses him, he frowns but before he could ask anything you just continue.

“We are not really from the same crowd. You’re… You live in a frat house, you play football, people know you around campus while I’m more like just… a face in the crowd. I know it’s such a cliché, but I felt like that if people saw us together they would question why you’d go out with me a-and–Um… I just…”

“And you thought that I would also question why I’m with you?” he finishes what you couldn’t and you just nod, feeling your throat closing up. It’s been such a heavy weight on your chest the past weeks and now that you said it out loud it’s a relief but you’re also worried how Harry will think of you now. 

Then his eyes soften and stepping closer he gathers your hands between his palms, holding them to his chest. 

“Y/N, you realize this is not a movie where there are popular kids and nerds and they never talk?” he asks with a soft chuckle, making you laugh. 

“I know. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s just been haunting me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” you repeat. “Deep down I knew it, but I just couldn’t help it. I thought that I could get rid of it with time, but I couldn’t and I swear I didn’t want to hurt you with all of this, it’s just that I can easily get into these… spirals and it’s so hard to get out of them.”

“I know,” he softly says and leaning closer he kisses your forehead. “I just wish you told me so I could help you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.”

Letting go of your hands he cups your cheeks in his palms as he pulls you in for a kiss while your hands fist the fabric of his shirt at his waist. He is sweet and gentle, his lips reassuring you that he is right here, with you. He rests his forehead against yours, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. 

“By the way, did you just call me a nerd?” you ask, opening your eyes, making Harry laugh with your words.

“Do you not fit the nerdy stereotype of romcoms?” he challenges you with a wide grin on his face.

“Well, I do study a lot and spend every other afternoon in the library.”

“See? You’re my little nerdy Valentine,” he arches an eyebrow and you just roll your eyes at him, but can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. Then slowly, his expression turns more serious. “So what would you like to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a sigh.

“Listen. If you need more time… I’m okay with that. I want you to feel comfortable and if that means that I have to convince you that no one will point fingers at us if they see us together, then that’s what I’ll do.”

You’ve known it from the beginning, but Harry just keeps proving that he is the right person for you and you couldn’t be more thankful for him. 

Leaning in you kiss him shortly. “I want to move forward, I’m just a bit scared.”

“Then you’ll lead us in whatever pace feels comfortable for you, okay?”

You nod and he kisses you again. 

“Do you want to go back down?” he asks, nodding towards the door. 

“Yeah, I would like that.”

Walking out of his room he locks the door and the two of you head back down and you notice that he is still keeping his distance from you, not trying to change everything all of a sudden. Returning to the kitchen he makes you a drink and he grabs another slice of pizza when Niall emerges from the crowd. 

“Hey, you’re still here! Thought you’d lock yourself up in your room soon,” he chuckles seeing Harry.

“You thought I’d bail?” Harry grins, leaning against the counter. Niall’s eyes move over to you.

“I think we haven’t met yet. I’m Niall.”

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. You catch a look the two boys exchange and after that, Niall just smiles at Harry knowingly.

“Alright, I’ll be by the beerpong tables if you need me,” he waves before making his way out of the kitchen. 

“You have a bit of sauce there,” you point at Harry’s mouth smiling.

“Hm? Here?” he asks, wiping his lips, but he completely misses the spot, making you laugh. “Where?” he grins.

“Right there…” You raise a hand to help him out, but it stops midway when a thought pops into your mind and before you could talk yourself out of it, you lean in and kiss his lips. 

“Now you’re good,” you smile against his lips. Harry can’t contain his growing grin, because this was the first time you kissed him in front of other people. 

“I think it’s still there.”

“Oh yeah?” you chuckle at him.

“Yeah, all over my lips, everywhere.”

“Stop,” you roll your eyes at him laughing. He leans down and kisses you shortly before he continues eating his pizza, trying his best not to comment it when your hand sneaks into free hand, fingers lacing together.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: Joel has had a ‘crush’ on you for a long time now and will make sure no man gets in the way of that.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: PW[with]P- kinda. Reader is not legal to drink but still legal. Polite reader just trying to not be a bitch while dealing with a pervy old man! Joel has a crush on you, a BIG one. Bro gets so mad he gets a boner. Mutual touching he drives, a teeny bit of spanking & nipple play, unprotected PIV, aftercare for once wow!! Part 2 planned [ will be smuttier once im not sick ] no beta,

A/N: ANON REQ!! (you know who u are and here’s my take on a bit of a jealous Joel) I would've done way more smut if I didn’t have a high fever rn + writers block 😵‍💫! so VERY rushed.

No man should covet a woman he doesn’t own. 

And you weren’t his. 

Your daddy would make sure you would never be. 

Joel tells himself that. Over and over again, the only prayer in his head, the hymn he lives by ever since you’ve been staying with him per your father’s request. You yourself slowly recognizing Joel’s patterns of life. As he wakes up he takes pills for his headaches, swallowing them dry without a blink. His body is accustomed to the feeling. Every Saturday he’d take a weekly drive to the liquor store to stock up on the much needed provisions to his day-to-day routines. Booze, in much less dramatic terms. 

Your father was out of state for work forcing you to settle up with Joel for a couple of months, the only man your father would allow you to actually be around. In fear of you doing something bad. Bad as in… Sex? You could only assume that’s what your darling daddy meant. 

A rocky relationship in the cruel reality. 

Joel’s home. It was livable, there isn’t much to say when it’s the house of a man who’s been living alone twenty years. Indications of life scattered upon furniture the only real telltale signs that someone actually lives there. Coffee table littered with rings from mugs he’d simply leave for too long, the way the worn, vomit-colored green couch sags in the middle. Any prints that were on the buttons of the TV remote had been rubbed off by pressing around them, the last time he had gotten a new television was probably going on fifteen years now. Sad. Truly and utterly sad. 

Then you came along. 

Remnants of your liveliness woven into the once so dreary place. Something as so simple as a hair tie left on the counter, the very vague scent of perfume you left lingering in the small space of the bathroom every time you’d leave it. Now at night he’d walk past the second bedroom of his home that had been left unused, once depressed and dark, had the warm glow of your lamp being left on, leaking through the gap between the door and the floor. The littlest things.

Joel pretends not to notice. 

Though, he does. 

He notices the way you hum so very quietly the times you’re obligated to cook your own breakfast. How you pull your knees up onto the couch when you sit. Rolling your eyes at him every time he’d vexingly tell you to make sure to lock the front door when you came in. You listened. 

You’re too comfortable here. Too at ease. 

And what’s worse is he was getting used to it.

He’s not your fuckin’ father. He’s not your keeper. He’s just the man your daddy trusted well enough to take care of you when he was gone. Sorry excuse for a babysitter all the while you weren’t a baby. An adult who can well take care of herself. Only agreed because he wouldn’t want you to discover how he’s been living for practically twenty years by being alone for two months. The dark quietness of a home when it was just you there. 

He told himself it would be easy. Two months. He’d keep his distance. 

It’s almost impossible. The way you made him feel was sickening. You’re always around. Sinking deep into the couch, marveling in whatever boring sitcom would play on the box of blue light that flickered throughout the room. How you’d take sips from his beer just to tease, wrinkle your nose at the taste deep down you liked. Making your tongue buzz. You were making yourself at home in a place that was never meant to be yours. 

The only thing that worsened it for Joel is that you were so blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. 

He thought the hardest part of this arrangement would be keeping you out of trouble. Your father acting like if he was gone you’d fall apart as a person. Be out partying or fuckin’ every night. Far from the truth. Laying so contently home every night.

Coming back to reality, the hardest part was keeping himself out of it. 

It’s the way you’d walk around his house in whatever you had slept in that night, no matter it be a tank-top and those tiny, plaid shorts that went up your ass. Appreciating the comfortability, though, he fucking hated it. You acted like you belonged there. 

Often he’s finding himself watching you too long, staring at the curve of your mouth while you speak, the plump of your lips as you stay entertained by the television with your face at a gentle rest. He was always seemingly gawked. 

Fifty-seven wasn’t the age to have crushes. 

And on Sunday’s, the day of the lord, of course. Joel Miller goes to the local bar.

Nighttime was surprisingly when the crowd died down. You were surprised to see that as you walked through the doors that sheltered the poorly kept saloon style establishment. Tables seated with older men closer to Joel’s age, some luckier than others to be accompanied by a woman. Smelled like stale beer and sweat which in reality was more disgusting than appealing. Loud breaks in the casual conversions of the crowd as pool balls clacked together. Rejoicing coming soon after. 

Usually you had something better to do on these nights. Going out with your friend’s always suffices though of course they canceled out today. Great, stuck with Mister Miller for a night of drinking all the while you weren’t allowed to let alcohol in your body at your age.He wouldn’t lie for you either, he was supposed to take care of you. Not turn you into the starts of an alcoholic. 

Torturous. Did the man want you to shoot yourself?

He led you through the slim pickings of a crowd there really was, hand grazing the small of your back to keep you close. Nothing more. Both sliding your bodies onto the leather tops of the barstools. Uncomfortability was the price to pay for the first hand of drinks. A squeak in your stool that no one had the patience to fix. 

“Whiskey.” The request sounded more like a plea from his lips. “Two.”

You knew the second one didn’t mean for you. 

Rubbing his temple as he flagged down the waitress. She was all too polite for what seemed to be the shittiest bar on earth. As if a small town in Texas would give you any better. Nodding her head in your direction. Your lips pursed as if ‘Beer” was gonna be the next thing to move past them. Though, you digressed. 

“Soda. I guess.” Joel gave a nod to you. Of course he approved of that action. Rubbing a hand over his jaw he sighed. Forgetting to take his pills this morning. Fuck, the throb behind his eye was something only the alcohol could numb by now. 

“You could’a stayed home.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You shrugged, admittedly so you rather be home- no. You rather be out with your friends as you were supposed to be tonight but in an act of such kindness, you came here with Joel. “Maybe I wanted to see why you liked this place so much.” It was a simple muse to him, though it did strike your curiosity. 

“Quickest bar from home. Quickest way to get drunk.” Curiosity met with an undeniably depressing answer. You were used to it by now. His lips pressed into a thin line. Once the barkeep came back she handed Joel his drinks, plural. As she also came with yours. Soda rimmed with ice. He picked up the first drink given, perspiration coating the glass. His thumb pressed against the cold lowball as he took the first sip. Heavy hot liquid sliding down his throat. Numbing him, his mind. Felt refreshed. 

You hum, stirring the ice in your soda in circles with your straw. He hears the clinking over the din of the bar. Louder than his own thoughts. 

You crossed your legs. Your thighs squishing together through the denim of your jeans, the material a bit loose on your body, a choice out of comfortability to buy baggier bell bottoms instead of the ones that hugged your ass tight. Drawing Joel’s eyes unintentionally.

Fuck this. 

He drags his palm down his face, trying to wipe away whatever the fuck he was feeling. It’s sickening for him. It’s so easy to not feel like this when it’s something so simple, so selfish as a one night stand, a whore he had paid to suck his cock. Different. Far different, especially since the last month he’s spent his time admiring the woman before him. You. The innocence in your eyes that served your beauty. It was this crawling under his skin he wanted to rip away from. 

So fucking vigilant on the scent of you, the sound of your voice, the way you shift ever so slightly closer to him as another group of men pass.

Joel breathes out slowly, averting his eyes to the sweet sight of you. 

The night goes on, the whiskey dulling the edges of restraint with every slow, steady sip. Slowly the place was growing on you, the night seemed to cool it down, less noise less chatter. Seems everyone needed to knock out a couple drinks before settling. You would’ve been happy to say the same if you were allowed to order that beer. You propped your chin in your palm, your elbow flat against the bartop avoiding any of the sticky substances that would coat some unfortunate patches of it. Your eyes scan throughout the place. Not much to take in, not much to see.

Though the slow deliberate movements draw the tiniest bit of attention from a table your eyes accidentally glance at for too long. Subtle but inevitable. 

Joel catches the way the men sitting at that table glance your way. The way you adjusted your body to once again sit straight up. Clearing your throat. 

And that’s when it starts. 

The first one wasn’t particularly bold about it. Just a flick of his gaze in your direction before returning to his minutes-til’-flat beer. The second man, greying, looks a little longer. Too closely. He nudges his friend, mutters something incoherent- something probably offensive to earn a laugh from him. Now he looked again.

Joel knows that look.

The kind that lingers for too long. That waits for an opening.

The kind that makes Miller’s teeth grind, his shoulders go rigid. His fingers slowly begin tightening around the glass of gold as he keeps his eyes forward. His eyes flutter just a bit to the left, seeing your smile. Trying to hide it by gently pressing your lips to the rim of your glass. Pretty pink lips. Before time heat is bubbling in his belly. Praying to god that was the fuckin’ whiskey. 

Those men are still watching. 

The next sip of booze doesn’t quite help as much as he’d want. It doesn’t smooth out the sharp edges of this feeling, the low simmering deep inside his pelvis. It keeps getting worse. 

He’s coming over. Walking with heavy legs. 

Joel sees it from the corner of his eyes, the way the man pushed back the chair, unhurriedly, sloppily walking straight towards you. From what Miller could gauge from the corner of his eye and what the wiry grey hairs covering the man’s beard told him is that he was older. Older as in his own age. Fifties either early or late. Joel wanted to die. Exhaling sharply, slamming down his glass a bit too hard. 

Muddled, you’d lift your head from your glass to look at Miller with an eyebrow cocked. And before you could even speak-

“Evenin’.” The man spoke.

You’d blindly blink at the man now standing beside your barstool. Startled for only a second before schooling your expression into something- polite. Something surely this man was undeserving of yet you really couldn’t help it. Instincts. 

“Hi.” Joel wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t acknowledge him. Not yet.  

“Can I help you?” You smiled, sweetly.

The man would lean in as expected. The strong smell of beer radiating off his breath. Open-mouthed ogling like a fucking dog. He was clearly absolutely wasted. Just those words were an absolute understatement. 

“Is this your daddy?” Of course he’d say that. Gesturing to Joel who was looking straight on before he turned a glance to the man, his eyes slits as he glared. Understandable. If you weren’t trying to give this man the benefit of the doubt you’d be glaring too. This guy was undeniably a fucking dick.  

“No- no,” You’d giggle. “My babysitter.”

You didn’t like how your mind and soul was making you act, unfortunate your internal instincts were to be tooth-achingly sweet in public.

You wanted to die. 

“S’my lucky day, huh?” You’d blink again. Silence as if the man had stole all the thoughts from your head- not in the good way. 

“No. Not- not quite.” 

You’d laugh, trying your best to brush it off. The man should go away soon. Probably just mistaking you for something you’re not while you’re here trying your best to avoid something awkward. Joel’s jaw clenched. 

“Well,” He hushed. A finger twirled into one of your soft locks. Your body tensing as you kept up another nervous giggle– you were only egging him on more. “I just wanted to see you up close.”

“She ain’t interested.” Miller told the truth with that. You weren’t and you were further from interested. Though the nervous, dumb smile on your lips told the fuckin’ pervert otherwise. 

“She didn’t tell me that.” He pushed. “I’d much rather hear that from your mouth, sweetie.”

You hesitated, your lips parted though words weren’t falling. Refusing. Alas, Joel Miller reached his breaking point. 

He popped up from his stool as he moved over to the guy. The greying man hesitated at the sight, of course. He wasn’t gonna be the kinda man to get his ass beat over something fucking stupid. Though, Joel was willing to beat his ass for your sake. 

A long beat of silence through the access chatter swimming around the bar enters the space between you, Joel and this sad fuckin’ man. 

Joel doesn’t blink.

He doesn’t breathe. 

He just stares. 

The man exhales a chuckle, deep down he didn’t want to walk out of here with a broken nose for flirting with a girl he wanted to fuck. A girl he thought was alone, dumb enough to possibly join him and his sad excuses for friends sitting around his table.

“Didn’t mean any trouble, pal.” He threw his palms up in a mock surrender though, he didn’t mean it. That’s what that beer was for afterall. Stepping back only an inch, letting the hair that was between his fingers fall back to your shoulder. 

“Just bein’ friendly.” 

Joel didn’t answer, why should he? The man let out a scoff as he walked back to his table with his tail between his legs. That was good. All Miller could do was sigh. His shoulders still at unease as he sat back down on the bar stool. Your heart at a slow thump against your ribs. 

You knew deep down that really, you were fine with that. Sure that man was a cuck, sure, you were uncomfortable, but you also knew yourself and you knew if that man would have touched anything else other than the tip of your hair. Oh fuck. He would’ve been gone.

Or– would he? 

It doesn’t shake the feeling that Joel was annoyingly protective if that was the right word for it. That man wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to stick up for you.

He never did. 

He ran a palm down his face –again– he couldn't take the way he was around you. 

“Ohh, what the fuck.”

He was tired of this.

Goddamn if that happened a month ago chances are he wouldn’t have done anything other than roll his eyes and tell the fucker to go jerk off somewhere else but– oh my god did Joel wish he was the one that close to you. Breathing you in. 

Of course, you weren’t a random woman at a bar.

If only he had enough balls to speak to you. 

Pent up hormones ready to blow out of him every moment he was around you. He was too fucking old for this. 

Too fucking old.

If he felt the rush of blood to his cock one more time this night he was gonna–

Joel was already moving by now. Already shoving back from the bar, the scream of the stool leg against the glazed wooden floor of this god forbidden place made you inherently flinch. His jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he reaches for his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the counter without counting. He didn’t fucking care about the act of either over-paying or under-paying right now. He had one, sinfully unfortunate thing on his mind. 

He knew he’d never do it. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it.

Then his hand was on your wrist.

Grasping.

Firm. Unyielding. 

“C’mon.” He gritted. “Time to go, baby.” 

That was a new one. The name melting of his tongue like an instinct.

His grip was tight. Breathing hitched at the feeling of the grip. He was lucky it didn’t hurt. It was enough to make it clear he needed to get out of there. The reason wasn’t clear. It could be innocent on his part: he didn’t want you in a space where old men are looking at you. Ogling you like a slab of fuckin’ meat. 

His real reason was sickening. 

“Joel– c’mon!”

You’d whine, maybe you had a good reason to stay. Maybe you were just being defiant. 

Typical, like a child.

He didn’t give you time to finish.

The bar stool nearly topples as he pulls you up. Stumbling in the boots you were wearing. Tugging you in tightly to stand beside him. He was tensed, heat radiating off his body like a goddamn furnace. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak as if there was a point to. Nothing he said got through to you anyways. He just moves.

People are watching. Who wouldn’t? 

Your pulse spikes as you catch the amused glances throughout the pub. Folks who weren’t looking before now blinking. Causing a scene. Again, 

You. Wanted. To. Die. 

And to make it all better Joel’s eyes rip to the table those men from earlier were sitting at. The ones who eyed you. That same man who had harassed you muttering something to his friend beside him. Fuck. 

He thought he couldn’t get any more pissed. 

His palm covered his lips with no way to read. The music playing throughout the room covered any sounds of a hushed whisper into another man’s ear.

Though, Joel is pivoting. 

His grip on you released as he took a heavy-footed stomp over to that table. He frowned. He wanted to kill them. He would if he could. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Jesus Christ, man.” One of the men mused. Of course, Joel Miller was just another sorry excuse of a man to them. “You don’t give it up do you.” Your babysitter wasn’t intimidating in a setting like this. To a man drunk as a fuckin’ skunk sitting with a bunch of men who reeked of the same stench. 

Joel doesn’t move.

He goes to walk away. No. There was absolutely no point in doing anything.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“All I said is that if I were you I would’ve fucked her by now.” No. Nope that was it.

A quick turn back around and Joel had slammed his fist into the man’s face. Heavy handed. Joel’s knuckles cracking with the impact in the same note as the man’s nose. 

“Fuck!!!” The man cried. It was well deserved. Why would Joel let a man talk to his–

You weren’t his.

Miller couldn’t breathe in the moment. His breathing ragged, watching the blood quickly drip out the man’s nostrils. God was it satisfying.

Your stomach plummets. You can confidently say you’ve never heard a man yell like that. Before the next tick of epinephrine hits Joel his hand now runs to your waist instead. Pushing you out the doors before running into the parking lot.

Holy fucking shit.

The air of the night hit you like a bucket of ice quickly. Suddenly you were regretting only wearing a thin hoodie with a tank top underneath. Joel was dragging you to his truck, practically throwing you into shotgun. 

Slamming the door to your side.

He rounds the front quickly. Pulling open the driver’s side as he slid into the seat. You swore you could hear the way his breath shudders in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his seatbelt over his body– safety first, right? 

The truck was suffocating. Too small. Too fucking warm. 

You lick your lips, tasting salt. Your nerves were shot to hell. “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

He frowned. Fist on the shifter before pulling it into drive. He was speeding away, far away from that bar. Yeah, that one punch may had ruined his personal ‘holy day’ for a good while. If him and that man are ever in the same room again most likely one of them is getting there shit rocked and Joel worries that next time it may be him. 

He doesn’t necessarily wanna take that chance. All because of something so FUCKING stupid.

He doesn’t speak. Nothing to say on his part as for you– too stunned to say anything. You had no understanding of why Joel Miller of all people, of all the men you know was acting like this. His fists balled against the steering wheel. Knuckles turning pale. Ghostly. 

“Fuck.” 

He broke the silence with a curse. He was mad. At least, he sounded so. The growl in his voice masked the need. He could feel every twist, every coil in his gut. All because of you.

He can’t keep hiding it. 

“You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

The smell of hard booze on his breath impregnated your nose. Slowly beginning to understand the acts in the bar. “That wasn’t me trying to flirt.” You quickly retorted. That was the honest truth that you’d be abiding by. You were too nervous to do anything except giggle like a dumbass so that’s what you did.

“I can’t help the fact I try to be polite. Even if they’re verging sexual harassment.” 

You’d try to keep it light hearted with a quip. Joel didn’t laugh. Pursing his lips into a line before speaking. It only pissed him off more.

“Not what I’m sayin’.”

You breathe. What the hell did this man want from you if it wasn’t some reasoning from your lips? The road was wet, asphalt glistening with a sheen of rain making light reflect easily off like a mirror. As Joel turned his brights on to properly see through the dark road that light reflected into the truck. The formally dark truck.

Your gaze was pulled to his lap. An accident at first but–

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

His cock would writhe against the tightening denim of his jeans. If that didn’t tell you enough you didn’t know what would. 

Joel’s hands flex against the wheel, the veins in his hands popping.

“Whatever you say, M’not fuckin, jealous.”

No no, he was.

And the tension rolling off of him is suffocating, filling the small front space of the truck like a thick fog. Choking you. You could almost still feel the touch he left on you. The phantom of his fingertips that had branded your skin only a few minutes ago now.

He wanted you to touch him and it wasn’t a secret anymore. 

You reached your hand out to place on his thigh. The way his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. Yeah, he fucking needed this. You felt your own stomach bloom with heat as your fingertips just barely scathed the denim of his jeans. You were just so close. Closer than you’ve ever been. And if this is something to forever be forbidden,

For all you know this could be as close as you’ll ever be. 

He adjusted his hips. Spreading his legs as if to coax you, as if to tell you this is the right thing. Maybe it was too vague. He took a hand off the wheel as he began soothing more into things. His shoulders finally relaxed as he took a long. Deep breath in. Then out. His fingertips danced along the crotch of your own jeans. Pressing the pad of his middle against your extremely clothed clit, muscle memory of where he knew it was.

He knew.

It was that touch that made your legs wanna buckle. Your cunt clench. 

Your palm soothed up his thigh as he focused on the road. Eyes adjusting, focusing. While his cock focused all by himself. Finally your smaller hand went to the tent in his jeans. Taking your pointer and tracing a line up the curve of the bulge. Wooing a twitch from him. His finger pushed harder into your clothed heat. Rewarding him in your first gasp of the night. 

“Jesus, baby. Soon enough I’ll be the one with the broken nose.”

A jest like that was hard to process currently. 

“What do you mean-?” 

Joel takes his hand away from between your legs just for a second to turn the radio on. Very very low, some old 80’s rock song came on. The background noise almost calming.

“Your daddy.” He’d grunt. “If he ever knew I was touchin’ you–”

“I know. My mouth is shut.”

It was a promise. A promise as your palm slipped beneath his belt.

Home sweet home.

Once the front door was closed the exchanges between your mouths were all teeth and tongue. Messy, sloppy. No shortage of drool dribbling down either of your chins. His fingers latching around the hem of your tank top as he pulled it over your head. No bra. Less work for him. 

It was like clockwork how his big, rough hands scooped under your thighs to grab you, pick you up with a strained grunt ripping from his chest. He couldn’t remember a time where his cocks been this hard. He could almost completely promise that it’s never been. It was heavy and once his jeans were pulled down it was hanging heavy, loose in his boxers. Though his flannel stayed on. Unbuttoned, fabric framing his tummy and bare, soft chest. 

You laid on his bed, splayed upon his blankets like a goddess as you awaited for him to finishing taking his clothes off. But he just couldn’t fuckin’ wait. The sight of you laying there, helpless. Those pretty, lace panties he wanted to rip off with his teeth made his brain turn to mush. He crawled on top of you, leaning down to place a hot kiss on your throat as his hands moved down to your ass. 

“Don’t got time to take you over the knee, baby.”

This sentence came with a squeeze to the soft flesh of your ass. Flipping you over belly-down with his fingers tangled in your hair. Face stuffed into the pillow.

His hand came down firm on your lace clad ass. Watching the thickness of the skin ripple. 

Again. Harder.

You let out a sharp whine at the feeling. Each left with a stinging buzz that lingered within the plush skin. You were addicted. Though, what was fun for a moment was soon boring for Mister Miller, his cock in a painful state in the confines of his boxers. Feeling like he was gonna burst any good moment now. 

But were you ready?

He flipped you back on your back in a sinfully quick motion. One of his practiced, old hands laid flat against your stomach before slipping down beneath the lace of your panties, hooking a finger to the side before pulling them down. They were damp. That just wouldn’t suffice for him. His finger tested the waters, how gluey, slick your folds were. Taking what was currently dripping out of your hole and spreading it around like a glaze. 

He dipped his head down into your sternum, his lips pressing firmly against the skin there before he deliberately moved to one of your tits. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the already hard nipple before taking it between his teeth. 

“Fuck-! Joel-”

Funny, when you touched yourself you weren’t nearly this loud. 

This sensitive. 

The tip of his tongue swirled around the bud, it was smooth against his tongue. Warmer than your skin. His hips dug down deep into his own mattress. Mussing the blankets beneath both of your bodies as if they were neat before. He squeezed your other breast with his free hand, continuing his ministries just for another moment. Keeping his moments practiced and planned for the time being. He flicked your unintended, rock-hard bud with his free hand. Mind Numbing stimulation coursing throughout your body. 

Your hand came down to paw at his erection straining painfully against the grey cotton of his boxers.

“Oh–”  

He groaned, his hips pressing into yours before you could touch more. Clamping himself down so the only way you could feel him throb would be against your thigh.

“You think you’re ready, baby? Ready for my cock?”

Of course the answer was yes. He knew the answer was yes how you were writhing, practically salivating at the thought. Both panting like dogs. He pulled himself out of his boxers. The dim light of the room making it impossible to see was was between your legs. The details left unseen and unsaid as all you could rely on was feel.

You felt his head begin running up and down between your folds. With a girl so fuckin’ wet who needed lubracant. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began to push in. 

You’ve never felt anything like it.

Funnily enough. He’s never felt a girl like you either.

“Joel!” You’d squeal. “Fuck, Joel– JoelJoelJoelJoel–”

You were quickly chanting his name under your breath like an invocation. He was big though a three-letter word so simple as big was a fucking understatement. He was stretching out every ounce of your gummy walls. Your head craning backwards into his pillow. His pillow. The scent of his hair, his scent all seeping into your nose mixing with the sensations throughout your body.

“S’fuckin’-- shit, babygirl…”

Joel’s words were slurring together as if he had drank more than those two lousy whiskeys at the bar. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as you enveloped him. Clenching up every time the tip of his fat cock would graze your cervix. His hand pressed just over your pelvis. Feeling around, ‘til– oh fuck.

“Fuckkkkk… Feel that, baby?” You felt a lot of things right now, your body all too hyper-fixated on the feeling of him to focus on anything other than that. Then Joel took your hand. Trailing it down your stomach as he weakly supported himself with his left arm. Palm flat against the sheets. His bicep tense.

He brought your smaller hand down to your low stomach, feeling the bump there. The bump he was oh-so obsessed with. Jutting out against your palm. 

“S’my cock. Yeahhh. He wants you, s’fuckin’ bad.” 

He was barely there.

“--So. Fuckin’. Bad.”

He punctuated his words with every thrust. You wanted to call out, say something over and over again like your only fucking prayer. But words defied you in the moment. As soon as you felt the unbearable pressure build up in your gut, the pressure that took over, spilled from your pelvis to your pussy. You felt the wiry hairs that crowned his cock scratching against your clit only adding to the feeling. The feeling that was building and building. 

“Joel– I’m gonna–!”

It was so cliche. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it. Feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused. Your hips wriggled against his as your orgasm came ripping through your body. Leaning up as best you could to bury your face in his neck to gasp. Cry out into his ear as much as you well pleased as you felt your legs kick out, your thighs buzz.

His cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowing, becoming sloppier, rushed. His hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him til’ he was dry. Just wasn’t safe for an old man like him to blue-ball himself like this, huh?

“Fuck- she’s gonna milk daddy dry, ain’t she–?” He was trying to kill you.

With that it was only one more thick, deep thrust into your tight, throbbing cunt where he spilled his cum inside of you. Using what little energy he had left to paint those pretty walls white. Rolling his hips to drive his semen into your pretty little hole. His thumb pushed past your parted lips, your mouth quickly latching on. Cock-drunk, suckling on his thumb to muffle any whimpers. No more cries.

“Atta girl.”

He’d praise. His sweaty, damp body pressing heavily against yours. He didn’t wanna pull out. It’s almost like his body wanted him to stay this way until he was passin’ out. Though, he wouldn't let that happen. He slowly unsheathes his thick cock from your pussy with a wet, squelch as your walls adjust back to normal. Opaque, pearly cum dripping out of your cunt, drooling down your inner thighs all the way to your ass was pornographic. 

Reaching around the back of his head to seize a chunk of his greying, soft-to-the-touch curls. Your tongue licking his way into his mouth instead of his thumb. 

You felt absolutely and utterly euphoric. 

Laying with the blanket lazily draped over both of your bodies. Joel took a long sip from the bottle of alcohol, drinking it like water to refresh his mouth. He felt exasperated. He wouldn’t be able to pin point the last time sex made him feel this good if you were paying him a million bucks. But now he could say with you.

You tucked your face into his neck, taking in the scent of him, the stickiness of his skin. The salty scent of sex still lingering in the air around. 

It was silent. Like you were both trying to process what had happened within the last hour- hell, the last three. Even the whole bar thing seemed like an impossible daydream you’d watch on a soap, something that you’d say is unrealistic. 

“I was jealous.”

He murmured. Turning his attention back to you as the silence was officially broken. You could’ve figured as much.

“I guess I should be flattered.”

You’d giggle. Real and genuine. Not the fake one you put on for that pervert at the bar. 

“I’ve never had a man break another guy’s nose for me before.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Wrapping his warm arms around your body as he pulled you in close. The first time in twenty years his bed wasn’t empty and cold. A warm body tucked right against him, perfectly as if you belonged. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

[mllekurtz]

Shadowgast Fic Playlists

Some themed lists of my shadowgast works under the cut, including:

atmospheric one shots

modern and/or human aus

academia aus

silly, fluffy one shots

fics set in Exandria

long fics

smutty fics

This was suggested to me a while ago by a friend. I've written a bunch of shadowgast fics with different tags, ratings and vibes, but there are recurring patterns in most of them. I hope this is useful to anyone who'd like to approach my body of work, or reread some of it, or feels in the mood for something very specific, or wants to read the exact same fic again but different.

Atmospheric One-Shots

Fics set in a distant time and place, with a focus on the characters but also a rich backdrop of history and lore. Best enjoyed in a cozy setting with your warm beverage of choice.

the end of all our exploring (the gardener fic)

The Empire of Lights (the vibes au)

remote times and places and ultimate causes (the medieval au)

at the violet hour (the long distance relationship fic)

Modern and/or Human AUs

These stories have an emphasis on the modern setting and are farther from canon. Read if you want to meet the wizards at school, at work, on a train, at a conference...

strange magic (set in "modern" Rexxentrum)

The Empire of Lights (set in "modern" Rosohna)

remote times and places and ultimate causes (set in real life Europe in the Middle Ages)

after hours (they meet in a bar)

all this science i don't understand (small town vibes)

(your face in my hands is) everything good i need (set in modern France and Germany)

Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity (set in "modern" Rosohna)

Academia AUs

Stories that emphasize the academic setting, with the wizards as either students or teachers. Just a different flavor of nerds in their natural habitat, really.

(your face in my hands is) everything good i need (humanities professors)

Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity (grad student/TA)

all this science i don't understand (high school teachers)

life's too short to even care at all (they found a school in canon Exandria)

Silly, Fluffy One-Shots

Bite-sized snacks with a high sugar content, with no other purpose than putting a smile on your face. Read as a quick pick-me-up whenever things are hard.

library etiquette (a big misunderstanding)

strange magic (the commuter au)

after hours (the blind date au)

Fics Set in Exandria

Either canon compliant or divergent, these fics are all set in the world of Critical Role. If you're not a modern au person and would rather enjoy the wizards in their original setting, these are for you.

at the violet hour (mainly set in Caleb's house in Rexxentrum)

the end of all our exploring (set in Blumenthal)

eleventh hour (set on a beach in Rumblecusp)

the to make an end series (set in Aeor)

displacement (also set in Aeor)

birds of prey (a Scourger au that eventually becomes a retelling of campaign 2, set all over Wildemount)

eternally present, unredeemable (mainly set in the Cobalt Soul Archive in Zadash)

life's too short to even care at all (set in Caleb and Essek's school, near Zadash)

soft driven slow and mad like some new language (set in the Nein Sided Tower)

Long Fics

Sometimes you want to curl up with tea and a novel-worth of fic. This list has got you covered.

birds of prey ("evil" au, still in progress)

The Witcher au (your wizards, but as a witcher and a sorcerer)

The cost of living series (unfinished, but still pretty long)

Smutty Fics

I know some of you are here for this, and good for you. These are my spiciest one-shots, enjoy.

jealousy 

discretion (with saturdaysky)

antinomy 

displacement 

remote times and places and ultimate causes 

risk exposure from the birds of prey series

the awful daring of a moment’s surrender from the to make an end series

where's the point in hurrying (when waiting feels so great)

soft driven slow and mad like some new language 

an interlude and musica universalis from the cost of living series

[tactidoll]

help a disabled trans woman finally move into a real house

hi my names eris im a 26 disabled and heavily mentally ill trans woman living in one of the worst places in england, and more than that just over a year ago i was kicked out by my moms transphobic girlfriend, since then to avoid full homelessness and not having anywhere else to really go ive been living in a barely insulated shed on a farm in the middle of nowhere, this has led to me being nearly constantly sick for the entire year, already barely able to take care of myself ive just absolutely fallen apart as a person despite my best efforts and now during winter the shed has been constantly absurdly cold and lead me to deal with regular mild hypothermia thats sometimes hit moderate despite bundling up with both an electric heater and fireplace going and honestly i just dont know how much more i can physically take

ive been wanting to move into a walkable city due to my disability meaning i cannot ever drive, and ideally somewhere progressive so i can start to finally present femininely despite being outted over a decade ago which would also help dramatically, but despite trying to get financially able to afford the move ive made no progress due to having to spend the lil money i have spare each month on solving immediate issue and sadly im way too mentally ill too consider trying to move into a house share/roommates situation

the british housing assistance system id be able to use would need me to get a place before im able to claim assistance on rent so i really just need to get the money to pay for the deposit and first month of rent and the average deposit ive seen for the apartments that would be comfortable and habitable for my disabilities is about £1100 and about £800-900 for first months obviously thats a lot to ask for and im gonna be trying my hardest to put as much as i can aside to cover the rent and seeing if i can borrow money to help make up the rest

thank you so much for reading im sorry this isnt that well written im really struggling mentally and physically and im just so desperate

my paypal is https://paypal.me/tactidoll absolutely anything helps even if its just sharing this post everything will be saved until i can put that deposit down

18/£1200

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.12): after - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

warning/an; smut!!!!! for those who have been waiting & lowk emotional aftermath... also this is a pt.2 of the previous chapter, kinda like a continuation

part 11 - part 12 - part 13

after midsummers, at tannyhill;

tannyhill’s alive with energy, the party still raging even as you make your way upstairs. everyone’s still drunk, still reckless, still not ready to let go of the night.

john b practically kicks open the door to sarahs room, spinning around like he’s just won something. "god, i love rich people houses."

"my house," sarah corrects, flopping onto her bed.

jj, of course, makes himself at home immediately, heading straight for the minibar like he owns the place. you follow, grabbing whatever bottle he shoves into your hands while he digs through the stash.

"your house is a minibar away from a full nightclub," he mutters, twisting off a cap.

you're mid-pour when jj suddenly stops, his eyes flicking past you. you glance over your shoulder—just in time to catch sarah practically yanking john b onto the bed, her hands already in his hair, his hands already wandering, both of them completely dismissive to the fact that they’re not alone.

jj stares for a second, then clutches his chest like he’s about to cry. "ladies and gentlemen… true love."

you snort into your drink, and sarah barely pulls away, just flips jj off before going right back to whatever she was doing. jj grins, undeterred. "john b, my brother, my captain, my king. you’re an inspiration, really."

john b doesn’t even acknowledge him, too busy with sarah, who groans against his mouth before finally pulling back. "can you fuck off, jayj?"

jj throws his arms out dramatically, holding back a laugh. "this is sick. this is so sick."

sarah gives the nastiest side eye, and you don’t need to be told twice. you grab jj’s arm, dragging him out before you have to witness any more. the door clicking shut behind you.

jj looks at you, lips parted in mock horror. "truly, the king and queen of PDA."

you snort. "you act like this is new information."

he sighs dramatically, throwing an arm around your shoulders again. "guess that means we gotta fend for ourselves now, huh?"

you roll your eyes, but you don’t push him away.

jj grins. "c’mon. let’s be fun."

you don’t argue.

somewhere between stealing more drinks from sarah’s stash and arguing over what to do next, you and jj end up sprawled across the couch in the middle of tannyhill’s ridiculous sitting room. pope and cleo were supposed to come back with you at first, but decided they were better off heading home after getting sick of babysitting everyone else. kiara's mom was being a bitch as usual so they left before they could get into an argument. so now it’s just you and jj, the house around you too big, too empty, still buzzing from the alcohol.

jj groans, dragging a hand down his face. "you take forever to pick a song."

you’re curled up against the armrest, legs tucked beneath you, scrolling through your phone like the fate of the night depends on whatever song you choose next. everything’s hazy, warm, the alcohol making it harder to focus, but you’re trying. trying to land on something that makes everything feel right.

"i’m curating a vibe," you mumble.

jj mutters something under his breath, then suddenly—he swipes the phone straight out of your hands.

"jj!" you yelp, sitting up fast, reaching for it, but it’s too late. he’s already tossing it across the room.

your phone lands on an armchair with a soft thud, and the song you had just clicked starts playing anyway, filling the space between you. jj just stretches his arms behind his head, smug as ever. "problem solved."

you gape at him, fingers flexing like you’re actually considering throwing hands. jj watches you, waiting for the explosion, waiting for the snarky comeback, but it doesn’t come.

something feels off. not bad, not wrong, just—off. like a weight pressing on your chest, like a second thought that shouldn’t even exist right now.

your jaw clenches, and you roll your eyes instead, sinking back into the couch, crossing your arms tight over your chest. "you’re so annoying."

jj grins. "huh? what? what’d i do?"

he’s messing with you. you both know exactly what he did. you shake your head, more flustered than pissed now, looking away like you don’t want to meet his eyes.

jj notices, and for the first time all night, neither of you have anything to say.

the silence stretches—not awkward, not really, just… heavy.

his knee bumps into yours, and neither of you move away. your arms uncross. your fingers twitch against your thigh. jj’s watching you like he’s waiting for something.

you should be into this. it’s jj, he’s hot, you’re drunk, and this is exactly what you need—something easy, something fun, something that won’t make your head spin.

his gaze flickers to your mouth, his breath warm against your skin. it’d be so easy. too easy. you're overthinking it, because jj's voice jolts you back to reality.

"you good?"

jj’s voice is low, rough around the edges, barely audible over the music still playing somewhere in the background. his fingers trail along your hip, thumb pressing into the waistband of your shorts like he’s waiting for you to stop him.

you take a breath—sharp, unsteady. your skin is buzzing, flushed from the alcohol, from the heat of his body against yours, from the way his hands skim higher, fingertips teasing at bare skin. everything feels warm, hazy, like your head’s wrapped in cotton.

you force a smirk, tilting your chin up. "why wouldn’t i be?"

he hums like he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t pull away. instead, he leans in, breath hot against your jaw as his lips graze over your pulse. you tip your head back, giving him more access, letting his mouth move down, down—

and then it happens. like a reflex, like something automatic, something you can’t control.

rafe.

the thought flickers through your mind like static. there, then gone. quick enough to ignore.

you exhale sharply, shoving it down, burying it beneath the feeling of jj’s hands slipping under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your ribs.

"what?" he murmurs against your throat, noticing the way your body stiffens for half a second before you relax again.

"nothing," you lie, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him in to kiss you harder, desperate to overwrite the feeling creeping up your spine. you throw your leg over him, now straddling him.

you don’t want to think. you just want this—something easy, something fun, something that doesn’t mean anything.

his hands slide lower, gripping your waist, and down to your ass. you let yourself melt into it, let yourself move with him, let yourself forget.

but then his teeth graze your collarbone, sharp and fleeting, and something about it makes you think. think about—

nevermind.

your stomach twists. you feel dizzy for a second, head spinning—not from the alcohol, not from jj, but from the way your brain keeps betraying you.

jj’s mouth moves back to yours, swallowing whatever thought was about to slip out. his hands are sure, confident.

you let him kiss you. let him touch you. let him take whatever he wants. because maybe if you let this happen, if you just lose yourself in it, then the thoughts will stop. then rafe will stop.

so you don’t stop.

you just close your eyes and let it happen.

jj breaks the kiss to blaze a trail down your neck, sucking and biting like he's done this a million times before, which he probably has.

his mouth moves back to meet yours, grinning against your lips and pulling back just enough to look at you with lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. your hands move down to his bulge, palming him over his pants.

he groans as his fingers tangle in your hair, gripping gently, guiding your head downwards.

he leans back against the couch, watching you with a hungry gaze as you settle between his legs. the bulge in his shorts is unmistakable, straining against the fabric. he shifts his hips, pushing the waistband down just enough to free himself.

you take a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way your mind keeps wandering to places it shouldn't. jj isn't rafe, and this isn't about rafe. It's just you and jj, and this is what you want.

wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, you lean in, breathing in the musky scent of him before taking him into your mouth. he's warm and hard, the skin velvety soft. you swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the saltiness of his skin.

"fuck," jj groans, head falling back against the couch as you start to move. his fingers tighten in your hair, not pushing, just holding on as you work. his breath comes in short pants, and you can feel the way his body tenses, muscles flexing under your hands.

his grip on your hair tightens, and his hips jerk forward slightly, not enough to hurt you, but enough to show he's getting close. "shit, yn," he gasps out, voice strained.

you pull back, releasing him from your mouth with a soft pop. kooking up at him, you smirk, running your hand along his length, giving yourself a break. he looks down at you, making eyecontact before he throws his head back, groaning. you take that as a sign to go back to using your mouth, sucking on his dick, gagging as it hits the back of your throat.

jj's grip on your hair tightens, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you continue working him with your mouth. His hips start to rock slightly, thrusting up to meet your movements.

his words dissolve into a low moan, and suddenly his body goes rigid. he tenses, fingers gripping your hair tightly as he lets out a guttural groan, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he comes hard.

you feel the hot, salty spurts of his release hit the back of your throat, and you swallow instinctively, working him through it until he slumps back against the couch, chest heaving.

"holy shit," jj pants, looking down at you with a dazed, satisfied grin. "that was... fuck, that was really good, Roni."

you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, letting out a breathless laugh as jj pulls you up, crashing his lips against yours again. it’s messy, desperate, his hands roaming like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

but then—

your brain does it again.

rafe.

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to push through it, kissing jj harder like you can chase the thought away. you tangle your fingers in his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp, but even when he groans into your mouth, it doesn’t help. it doesn’t make it stop.

jj moves to kiss down your jaw, sucking a mark into your neck, and for some reason, it makes your stomach twist. it feels wrong.

"wait," you mumble, barely audible. jj doesn’t hear you, not at first.

you press a hand against his chest. "jj, wait."

he pulls back immediately, eyes flicking to yours, breathing heavy. "what?"

"i’m just—" you shake your head, exhaling. "i’m tired. we should go to sleep."

jj studies your face for a second, like he’s trying to read something in it. his hands are still on you, but they’ve softened, looser now.

then, he nods. just like that.

"yeah," he mutters, licking his lips. "yeah, okay."

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding as you shift off his lap, ignoring the way your skin still tingles where his hands had been.

jj doesn’t question it. doesn’t push. just grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over both of you.

"night, roni," he murmurs, voice quiet in the dark.

"night, jj," you whisper back.

but sleep doesn’t come easy. not when your head is spinning, not when you’re still buzzing, not when you know exactly why you stopped.

tags: @italk2god@angelicameron@marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43@idiotussupremus@sereneera@yesshewrites1@inlovewithchriss@ethanthequeefqueen@amterasuu@popou61@drewsstars@yannew@anothertimegirl@flvredcas@yootvi@mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial@cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa@6r4cie@adalia-lovelace@bee-43@drewrry@masongetinmybed@defnotayonna@lcversvoid@my-name-is-baby@lolasangelz@polli05927@laniirackssss@rafecameronswifeyy@starsval@hypnotizedstarkey@wintercrows@d-daxx@dontknow3m@jjasmiineee

[astrolook]

Your Birth Chart : The Cosmic GPS of Your Life.

It’s like your zodiac sign, but with a lot more feelings and less meme potential.

Forgot to tell you that even though I do birth chart readings on both Western and Vedic astrology, I prefer Vedic astrology more as my grandfather is a professional vedic astrologer for 30 years. I used to sit with him and watch him do readings for others whenever I visit him. Hello is 87 now and doesn't do readings anymore. I got his notes and it helped me greatly in the past 6 years.

Lemme me walk you through what you can learn from these 12 houses. If you wanted a complete reading or any other readings that I listed on my pinned post, just leave me a message.

House 1 : Welcome to your personal reality show—where you’re the star, the drama, and the plot twist!

Your "Hello, world!" moment. It's where your true self struts onto the stage, whether you're ready or not. It's the place that says, "This is me, deal with it!" And if you’re ever wondering how people see you? This house is your answer, no filter. This is your ascendant too.

House 2 : Where your self-worth meets your shopping cart—hope you’ve got a coupon!

House 2 is your personal treasure chest—money, possessions, and all the stuff you think defines you. It's where your relationship with your bank account, your snacks, and your comfy socks lives. Basically, it’s the house that says, "I’m worth it," and also, "But can I afford that?"

House 3: The Sibling Saga & Chatty Hour - Where gossip meets the road, and your brain decides to overthink EVERYTHING!

House 3 in astrology is basically the spot in your birth chart where all the “I’m just trying to have a conversation” moments happen. It’s ruled by Gemini and is the domain of communication, learning, and short trips—so if you’re wondering why you can’t stop texting your best friend at 3 AM or taking random detours on your way to work, House 3 has you covered.

House 3 is your brain's best (and most chaotic) playground. It’s also the house of short-term learning, so if you’re ever in the middle of a random Google rabbit hole, House 3 is the culprit, encouraging your brain to soak in everything from useless trivia to “who really invented the potato chip” debates.

In short, it’s the house where your inner chatterbox lives, loves, and sometimes gets stuck on repeat.

House 4: Where your roots are buried… along with your childhood trauma and that one dusty old sweater!

the cozy little nook of the zodiac where everything feels like home—whether it’s a warm hug or a crazy family reunion you didn’t RSVP for. Ruled by Cancer, house 4 is here to make sure you never forget that emotional baggage is always just a basement away.

House 5: The Drama Queen & Funhouse - Where your inner child throws a tantrum… or starts a talent show!

The house of fun, creativity, and—let’s be real—drama. Ruled by Leo, this is the cosmic playground where your inner performer, artist, and party animal live in perfect harmony. It’s where you go to express yourself, whether that means blasting your favorite song and dancing around the house or making your friends watch your latest TikTok masterpiece. Totally casual.

This house is also the domain of romance and pleasure, so it’s where all your crushes get way too much attention, and where every date feels like the season finale of a reality show. It's where you shine, baby—whether you're on a stage, in the spotlight, or just wearing a ridiculously fabulous outfit to the grocery store.

House 5 is also the place for children, your inner child and so on. Ready for your next adventure? Grab some popcorn, because this house is always ready for a show!

House 6: The "I Need a Nap and a Salad" Zone - Where productivity meets exhaustion, and your inner Virgo becomes the office manager of your life!

The house of work, health, and routines. It’s ruled by Virgo, so if you find yourself obsessing over every tiny detail of your daily life—whether it’s your diet, your work schedule, or whether your socks are perfectly matched—House 6 has got you covered. This is where you turn into a tiny, stressed-out robot who lives on coffee and occasionally remembers to stretch (but only after your back hurts).

House 6 is all about getting things done (or at least pretending you’re getting things done). It’s the zone where you manage your day-to-day tasks, juggle responsibilities like a circus performer, and try not to spiral into a mini existential crisis about how you still haven’t taken that 5-minute walk your fitness tracker recommended.

It’s also the house that deals with health, so it’s like your personal doctor, nutritionist, and gym coach all rolled into one—except you may not listen to any of them. There’s also a little “nervous energy” vibe here, so if you find yourself reorganizing your entire closet to avoid confronting your to-do list, yep, you guessed it, that’s House 6 in action.

House 7: The Relationship Rollercoaster - Where 'we need to talk' happens… about everything.

House 7 is all about partnerships, whether that’s romantic, business, or that friend who’s always late to everything. Ruled by Libra, it’s where you seek balance, harmony, and—let’s be real—sometimes, a little drama.

From marriage to bestie bonds, this house is where you sign contracts, have deep convos, and occasionally argue over who left the dishes out. It’s the "mirror" of your life, reflecting what you need (or think you need) in others. Time to pair up!

House 8: The Shady Transformation Zone - Where your secrets, taxes, and weirdest fantasies meet in the dark.

House 8 is the house of transformation, shared resources, and all the things you’d rather not talk about at family gatherings—like your finances, intimacy, or that one "crazy" ex who still wants to know how you’re doing.

Ruled by Scorpio, it’s where you dig into the depths of life, confront your fears, and, let’s face it, probably do some questionable stuff just to feel “alive.” Need a makeover? House 8’s got you. Just… don’t ask where the skeletons are hidden.

House 9: The Adventure Time Zone - Where your wanderlust, philosophy, and Google searches for 'how to get a PhD in 10 days' collide.

House 9 is all about expanding your mind, seeking truth, and hopping on a plane to somewhere you can’t pronounce. Ruled by Sagittarius, this house fuels your love for travel, higher education, and big-picture thinking. It’s where you get super philosophical at 3 AM or book a spontaneous trip to Bali after watching one YouTube video.

Dream big, travel far, and occasionally forget where you parked your car while contemplating the meaning of life. Who needs direction when you have House 9's wisdom... and a passport?

House 10: The "Look at Me Now!" Zone - Where your career, reputation, and obsession with Instagram followers collide!

House 10 is all about your public image, ambitions, and how you climb the metaphorical (or literal) ladder of success. Ruled by Capricorn, this is the place where you think about your legacy—so, no pressure. It’s where you put on your “I’ve got it all together” face, whether you're leading a meeting or pretending to know how to use Excel. Dream big, because House 10 is where you’re destined to shine—if you can just figure out how to make it happen without burning out. Work hard, play hard… but mostly work hard.

House 11: The "Squad Goals" & Dream Team - Where your weirdest friends, group chats, and life plans to take over the world live.

House 11 is all about friendships, social circles, and big dreams—basically, the place where your “hype squad” gathers to discuss how you’re going to revolutionize the world with memes. Ruled by Aquarius, it’s where you seek belonging and come up with those grand, slightly questionable ideas, like starting a podcast about your cat’s philosophical views or forming a band… with only two members.

This house is the cosmic hangout spot, so if you’re always texting your crew about your next spontaneous group adventure, House 11 is like, “Yep, we got this.” Just make sure your crew doesn’t get too weird, or, well, you might end up starting a cult.

House 12: The Cosmic Underworld - Where your secrets, self-sabotage, and unresolved issues go to throw a party.

House 12 is the house of the subconscious, hidden things, and stuff you really don’t want to deal with—like your existential dread, past life drama, and the weird dreams you wake up from, wondering if you’re secretly a superhero.

Ruled by Pisces, this house is where you process all the stuff you’ve been avoiding. It's a bit of a cosmic junk drawer, full of mystery, spirituality, and oops, did I really just do that? moments. It’s your personal therapy session, except you might accidentally cry in public about something totally random. House 12 is where you go to confront your inner mess—just don’t be surprised if you need a nap after.

[perilegs]

oh no ive started looking at takumi's outfit. if i were to cosplay him that'd be like a several year commitment thing with my speed and how well i'd want to get it done, he wears expensive materials. i'd have to do so much research into how his armor is constructed bc i dont get the point of the white thing that's his collar and stuff. it's kind of like an apron in the front but in the back it's a triangle. also that piece would need very rigid structure for it to not only stay up but not slide. im not really a pattern maker and i wouldnt even know what kind of a pattern to look for as a base id modify for it. his shoulder pieces also make my brain hurt. and i think the costume would be very hot to wear and i'd risk a heat stroke any time other than in the middle of winter. im starting to think im only thinking about cosplaying him bc he might be my fave so far and he has a bow

[xxplastic-cubexx]

btwww your first comic (the pookie bear one), when looking at your hank, i remembered a fanart i saw on twitter that it was charles and erik kissing then hank would be watching then and saying "how disgusting" and he kept looking at them

everyone likes to see the great erik magnus lehnsherr being soft towards his man charles francis xavier

omg yah ive seent aht comic :]] good stuff ...

[pup-pee]

my father telling me how scared he was when i ran away from the house but i cant express how scared i was 2 b in the house

hey, whats up w/that?

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

SENDING MY FIRST ASK FROM THE NEW BLOG!!!! i feel like i am sending a letter from a new address... crazy. ANYWAY HOW R U TONIGHT!!!! i hope ur havin a good day!!!! kicking my feet like a teenager at a sleepover rn tell me abt ur day who r the blorbos in ur mind rn what kinda art r u workin on lately how's it going friend!!!

HIIIIIII HI HI . HELLO SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG- i mean catboy cellbit!!! . dude i am. dreading the coming week tbh but it is fine !! we will get thru it we will survive!!! i am so sleepytired but alas i also cannot sleep so i may just have another night of reading and music ahead of me . wah. i hope u are hsving a good night <3 IVE BEEN COMPLETELY ART NERFED TOO BTW. my laptop died on me a couple days ago and while i was able to find a new one affordably it will not be here until the 13th 😔 so no digital art from me for a while. sigh. i DID just decorate my new sketchbook with stickers tho so im hoping that will get my brain in gear for traditional art again. AS FOR BLORBOS. oh . u know. the usuals. vash the stampede. zacharie from off . masky marblehornets (also tim marblehornets) . to name three of them.

[lilacerull0]

crying in my bed like I MADE IT!!!! I'M SO GLAD I MADE IT THIS FAR!!!!!

[nomaishuttle]

its literally so insane that my brother has like parents who arent young like thats insane... they were 34 when they had him... they were 20 when they had me which like isnt Insanely young but its still young yk. young enough that ppl r like Omg yr parents r so young ! when i say how old they are... but theyre gonna be 40 next year WHICH IS CRAZY. 40 year old parents hes like a kid from a disney channel show.

[altfire]

i literally cant help but rp in any game im literally thinking abt the lore of my current. modded minecraft world w my friends. god

[xcziel]

.

[a-story-teller]

Going to test drive a caaaar tomorrow 🚗🚗🚗

[miesozernacma]

ive had enough of the people in this house