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officialaemondtargaryen · 3 months

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Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye.

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app.

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened.

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever.

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself.

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent.

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message.

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot.

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner.

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”.

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste.

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out. She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on.

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place.

Finally, you knock.

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest.

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer.

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him.

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.”

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.”

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.”

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him.

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.”

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval.

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.”

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen.

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals.

“Water is fine,” you tell him.

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf.

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed.

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close.

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence.

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension.

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.”

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.”

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.”

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully.

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now.

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it.

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering.

It’s good. Better than most.

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile.

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin.

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side.

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.”

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?”

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.”

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts.

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss.

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands.

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name.

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin.

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you.

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair.

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom.

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak.

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat.

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment.

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer.

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest.

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!”

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen.

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.”

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

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tarotofhope · 28 days

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PAC: ♡ Channelled Love Songs from your Current/Future Romantic Partner ♡

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

(You can find all the songs mentioned in the Piles on SPOTIFY. Unfortunately Tumblr only allows 10 audio links per post🥲)

Pile 1

Songs - Aaya Jado Da by Asees Kaur

Screen Time by Epik High ft. Hoshi

Don't Forget To Breathe by Aaryan Shah

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. First of all, lot of green ink occured in your pile. Your partner seems very caring, nurturing and protective of you. They might be a very caring and loving person themselves, very protective of their belongings and loved ones. They like to have a quick check on you(like not in a toxic or negative way). They want to know you better and your little quirks. They genuinely care about your well being. They might be very cautious, structured, organised individual, a fitness freak as well. They seem kind of very picky, they don't open up to just anybody, they might have very few close friends. They're mostly not interested in flings and one-night stands. They take relationships seriously so they'll only jump into it when they see some real value in it. This person is like a 'husband/wife material' person or atleast a long term partner. This also seems like a long distance relationship to me or getting into a relationship after a series of personal hardships when you've become very mature either age-wise or experience-wise.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1.

Hope you're with this person or find this person soon 😉

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 2

Songs - Talk About Love by Callum Beattie

Seven- Clean Version by Jungkook

Tenu Khabar Nahi by Arijit Singh

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. Have you guys currently been in separation or broken up with your partner? This could be a recent past energy as well. See, now this also looks like an ex's energy(I don't like to go into this topic because it creates unnecessary confusion but it appeared in the reading so I had to) and whether ex or not, if you strictly don't want this person back into your life, you must then very well know that you've ended up for good and you don't need to allow this person back or this pile totally isn't for you, you should select another pile. One thing is prominent though, one of you has done something bad to the another person..and that was the main reason for your guys' separation. I'm nobody to judge you guys, you know yourselves better. Well, whoever this person is, they want to reconcile with you or you're currently reconciling already. It could be a different case for everyone choosing this pile. It could be so that this person or both of you might still have feelings for each other. This person wants to make things better or do things right. There is a promise of not making the same mistakes again. This person is asking for another chance. Now, you need to decide for yourselves, what's good for you and what's not. It's totally up to you.

That's all I see in the cards for you, my dear Pile 2.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 3

Songs - Tera Mera Hai Pyar Amar by Ahmed Jahanzeb

I'm Gonna Love You by D.O. ft. Wonstein

Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. This person looks so in love. But more so, this person is very sure of you, there feelings are very intense, too. As they are saying, that it's so easy to fall in love with you, either it's a love at first sight situation or there is a certain clarity about choosing you/about wanting to continue further with you. Nothing can change their mind about you. They are giving me strong future spouse energy because they just want to take you away as soon as possible. So, they'll be very assertive in their approach towards you in the courtship period itself. I also think that they'll be the first one to approach you if you've not met this person already. They'll make sure that you know they are not just fooling around, that you're in for a very long ride. They'll also want to make sure that you too, feel the same way for them before going very far because they want it all or nothing. They'll definitely try to win your heart over, Pile 3.

That's all I got for you, dear Pile 3.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌼🌸🌻

Pile 4

Songs - Young And Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

Every Second by Baekhyun from EXO (Record of

Youth OST- 3)

Aadat Se Majboor by Benny Dayal

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. This person might be a heart-throb. Popular person energy(for their work or looks). Everybody swoons over them. Their energy is quite charming and charismatic. They are bold, fun loving and outgoing, life of the party kind of person. You both might be quite the opposite of each other. They will be very confident in their approach. They might just be nervous about how to woo you because you are different from others and they don't want to make any mistake. They don't want to look like a creep. If you've already met this person or in a relationship, you know. They are someone who'll totally make a fool out of themselves to make you laugh. They love to see you smile and laugh but also, you don't laugh a lot, it seems. There seems to be a lot of people who are sexually attracted to them, but they choose you because you are special to them, you're not like the others according to them. They might've got their heart broken a couple times earlier due to which they're afraid of losing you but that's not going to be the case because they're sure of one thing that you're very firm in your decisions, rock solid and you won't run away when life gets bad. You guys are going to be like a power couple, each helping the other person where they are lacking, each completing the other.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Pile 5

Songs - Lover by Taylor Swift

Spider By Hoshi

Tere Mast Mast Do Nain by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. Your person seems very Venusian(very lovey-dovey, full of charm, likes fine art) and Neptunian(very dreamy) to me, a hopeless romantic even. Some of you might also be attracted to Pile 4, because this pile has got some similar vibes. They are magnetic, could also be popular for something that they do, something that only they create. They have a good taste in music as well, could be a musician or they like to play musical instruments. Dancing and singing could be their hobby or talent. They are also someone who knows flirting like the back of their hand. It comes naturally to them, sometimes they don't even know that they're flirting. They might also like good food and fine-dining, might also love to cook. You might not like this person in the beginning because you think they're a flirt and they don't look serious, but you'll eventually start liking them because they're not what they seem from the outside. It is giving me the vibes of 'One fell in love first, but the other one fell harder.' Their heart is so pure and innocent. They'll woo you with their heart, Pile 5. You seem like a tough nut to crack to them, someone who's hard to get. I also think you've got pretty eyes and a resting b**** face. They love it. There's going to be a playful banter between you guys. Everything will be worth it in the end.

So, that's all I've got for you, my dear Pile 5.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

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#astrology #divination #spiritualgrowth #tarot pick a card #pick a card #tarot pac #pick a pile #daily tarot #Spotify

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moonreader1010 · 3 months

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Pac- how can you be the b*tch that never loses<3

(the pictures do not belong to me. All rights go to the original owner)

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3 ^

Pile 1:

Go tell your friends about it (about it)

Go tell 'em what you know, what you seen

How I roll, how I get it on the low (oh)

You have a really bright aura. You should really use it. it will take you to great heights. You have this ability to shed enlightenment over literally anyone. That's your superpower. Your connections are very important. You should work on your tolerance. Try to not get so involved in matters that don't concern you. Be helpful but to an extent. I see you giving A LOT to other people. But please look after yourself first. You are sensitive to certain things. Use this ability. Don't let it use you. Okay?. You need to learn how to balance your pride and when to compromise. I see you leaning toward one side more but bby different situations need to be dealt with differently. Yes balance. Another card is also pointing towards balance. Learn balancing things and you will be unstoppable.

There has been some loss. There is some anger too. And bby it is only contributing towards emotional instability. Don't let it control you. You are made for greater things. You might have felt left out a lot in your life but that's because people don't know what to do with you and your amazing self. You are different. And that's such a good thing no? Why don't you let yourself accept it. You won't fit in and that's because you simply are just better than them. Use it!!!!!!

Your brain is AMAZING. Your Ideas are amazing. You can play with emotions!!!!!! Girlllll!!! You really need to go out there and get it. Period.

Additional- Libra, high achiever, materialistic, 3, 1, affinity, triumph.

Song for you - tell your friends by the Weeknd

Pile 2: a bit 18+

You gotta be a star to jump over the moon so when you touch on me

You're a shooting star (a star), oh yeah (a star)

You know you got somethin' for the world to see and there I go

Still wondering who you are (a star, a star, yeah)

Your friendships are very important. Your communication has so much potential to make you a winner. Why don't you use it? You might love solitude and your own company but bby you gotta get out to play. And to win. Sympathy seems to be something that you know how to use. You have it in you. Again, friendship and community has been highlighted. There is a gift that you have inherited from your ancestors. You also seem to have a power in creating suspense and mystery and it's really attractive. You should use it more. Oohhh I see that you are quite feisty. You are not someone who just simply agrees to anything. You oppose it. You make things interesting. Yum. Are you possessive? Because people really admire it in you. In a sexy way. There is this arrogance that even though is conventionally bad but your arrogance is different. It makes things interesting almost. You give people ecstasy. This euphoric feeling. Very feminine energy from this pile.

Additional - cat, business, money.

Song for you - star by Megan thee stallion (feat. Lucky Daye)

Pile 3-

You came along when I needed a savior

Someone to pull me through somehow

I've been torn apart so many times

I've been hurt so many times before

So I'm counting on you now

Somebody already broke my heart

Straight up I'll tell you that i got very slippery energy. Very teasing. I also had this sudden moment where I got really angry. I feel like this pile is very "good girl gone bad" types. Past wounds. You have been hurt. A LOT. There was an earlier version of you that has been killed. You are an entirely new person. I'm getting very "don't touch or I'll break your hand" energy. Ummm. Baddie. Haha. Anyway, there has been a lot of stress, overworking or like some overwhelming experience. Too much to handle. Or maybe that's what people made you feel, that you are too much to handle or very high maintenance. But what do they know. They didn't deserve you (i suddenly felt like I had to tell you this). So true. They definitely don't deserve you. Maternal trauma. I'm so sorry bby. Heavy theme of transformation. Keep your good fait up bby. Do something for your soul and watch how you win. You have been oppressed a lot and it's time to break free. Don't hide. Despite all this, there is an innocence to you and it drives people crazy. Girlllllll. I got goosebumps. Please invest in yourself. Omg are you seriously okay bby? I'm so sorry. But it's over now. Get up and make sure nobody ever thinks about hurting you ever again. Don't suppress your memories bby. Feel them and let them transform you. Girl you are going to win.

Additional - heart, tears, fox, red, 8th house, scorpio.

Song for you - somebody already broke my heart by sade (this song is like a dedication from you to yourself)

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotblr #free readings #intuitive readings #tarot requests #18+ tarot #18+ readings

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fictionadventurer · 3 months

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For all the talk about bad Christian fiction, I've seen several different ways that Christianity can be well-integrated into the story.

The story is about something unrelated to Christianity, but the characters are Christian and their faith affects their outlook and daily life. I recently stumbled across Wormwood Abbey by Christina Baehr, which is a light, fairly forgettable cozy fantasy that happens to do this really well. The story is about a woman who learns that dragons exist around her family's estate, but as the daughter of a rector, she often mentions prayer, sings religious songs, or thinks of Bible verses that relate to things she experiences. The Christianity feels organic to the character, and thus enhances the story rather than distracting from it.

The world is a Christian world where Christian beliefs are shown to be the correct framework through which to view the world. This happens in good Christian fantasy, like Lewis and Tolkien, but there are plenty of real-world stories where the themes line up with Christian truths, and this can make a story Christian whether or not religion is explicitly practiced by characters within the story.

The characters wrestle with how to apply their faith in their daily lives. Regina Doman's Fairy Tale Novels often feature this, as the characters struggle to deal with plot problems while living out their faith. Amy Lynn Green's work often features this as well--characters hold certain values (like, for instance, a Quaker pacifist) and have to figure out how they apply or don't apply to specific situations, especially when they conflict with other values, or they have to figure out how to live out their values (such as forgiveness) in moments where it seems impossible or even ill-advised. Charlotte Yonge's best works (specifically, what I've read of The Three Brides) do this as well--instead of preaching the one right answer, you have characters trying to figure out what the best answer is as they figure out what's right or wrong in this specific situation.

Characters face the revelation that there's a spiritual world that exists beyond our ordinary world, which can cause terror, but also provide comfort and hope. Elizabeth Goudge's novels often exist in this space, with very internal stories of characters coming to embrace the truths that come with living in a spiritual world. To a lesser extent, I'd say Amanda Dykes' work often fits here, with characters ultimately find comfort and hope from philosophies that line up with Christian truth. In less-cozy works, there's also the possibility of stories where an entirely secular person encounters God and has to figure out what that means for their life.

So our options are Christianity as character, Christianity as setting, Christianity as theme, or Christianity as plot. The ways this is integrated most seamlessly is when Christianity (or the ways they struggle with it) is a vital part of the character, so the plot that arises from it lines up with a Christian worldview. It also works well for the characters to just exist within a world where Christian truths are the way the world works. It doesn't even necessarily require the characters to be explicitly religious. Truth is something that everyone is searching for, and stories that honestly showcase truth or the search for it are going to resonate with a wide audience, even if they aren't Christian themselves.

#adventures in writing #catholic things #yes i harp on the same like five authors but they're the ones that happen to work for me #mileage may vary on how christian these authors are or how well they integrate faith #but for now they work as examples to explore the issue

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joelalorian · 6 months

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, but there's a little bit of progress. Tommy is the hero in this chapter. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Three | Main Masterlist

Sleep evaded Joel Saturday night, his mind unable to shut down and rest. He spent half the night searching for words to fit what he was experiencing. The right one didn’t occur to him until nearly five o’clock in the morning.

Turmoil.

That was the perfect word to describe the utter confusion and uncertainty boiling inside him.

His date went about as well as could be expected when one wasn’t particularly interested in the other person. There was conversation, but it mostly revolved around Annica and her interests. She asked a few polite questions about Joel but didn’t seem too interested in his responses. To be fair, they were short and rather ineloquent, but he barely had the chance to talk about Sarah before the woman changed the subject. She was also very much not his type.

She wasn’t you.

That’s the part which caused the most turmoil.

Joel didn’t realize how quickly he was falling for you until he was on a date with someone else. It somehow felt like a betrayal toward you, even though you and Joel weren’t together. Even though you didn’t even know that he liked you, more than liked you.

This entire thing was eating him up inside, all your interactions since Friday, but especially the way you bolted from him last night. He didn’t understand what happened until he checked out his face in the mirror, your parting comment finally making sense.

Annica had kissed him goodnight when he dropped her off. He knew she wanted more, at least a real kiss, but he offered nothing other than a loose hug and brief thanks for joining him. So, she pressed her painted lips to his cheek for several moments too long, subtly trying to turn his face toward hers, before he finally stepped back and walked away. He didn’t even wait for her to get into her house safely.

To his dismay, she left a clear and distinct reminder of her on his cheek that he was not aware of until you mentioned it. His face burned with the feeling of being marked like territory, and the worst part was you saw it. Who the fuck knew what you thought of him now.

Joel needed advice, someone to talk this all through with. If the situation didn’t involve you, he would have gone to you for advice. You were so easy to talk to and he opened up more easily with you than he had with anyone else in his entire life. But that was out of the question for… obvious reasons.

Your dad was equally as easy to talk to, a quality you must have inherited from him. But he couldn’t turn to JB about this for the same obvious reasons.

That left his brother. Tommy would give Joel a good ribbing about all this. Joel wasn’t ashamed to admit that his brother had more practical experience with dating and complicated relationships, especially recently, than he did. It was time to capitalize on all of Tommy’s shenanigans.

Dangerously under-caffeinated and bleary-eyed, Joel made bacon, eggs, and pancakes for the usual Sunday morning family breakfast. Tommy joined them a little after nine o’clock and helped himself to the spread. He knew better than to ask Joel about his date in front of Sarah, so the younger brother made quiet conversation with Sarah as Joel sipped at his coffee. She told him all about her adventure to the movies with you and how much she loved hanging out with you, how smart you were, and how pretty.

A stupid grin spread over Joel’s face as his daughter spoke about you. He could feel Tommy’s narrowed gaze burning into the side of his head, which he ignored until Sarah finished her food and ran off to play a video game in the living room.

“You gonna make me ask?” Tommy grinned at Joel as he cleared the table. Joel merely quirked a brow and focused on washing the dishes. “Fine, ya ol’ grumpy ass. How was the date?”

“Was alright. She talked, a lot,” Joel emphasized, “and mostly about herself. We don’t have much in common other than we like to eat. The movie she picked to see was God awful. I’d rather have seen the other movie with Sarah.”

“Really?” Tommy placed the last of the dirty flatware next to the sink, watching as Joel scrubbed each item before rinsing it off. “Annica texted me that she had a wonderful time and hoped there’d be a second date. Asked if I could put in a good word for her. Guess that’s not happenin’.”

“There’d be no point. She’s not who I’m interested in.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying, and he cringed when Tommy latched right on them.

“Ohhhh, and who might you be interested in, dear brother?” The shit-eating grin on the younger brother’s face let Joel know that Tommy already had an idea on who piqued his interest. “Couldn’t be JB’s hot little daughter, could it? You going cradle robbin’ now?”

Punching his brother in the arm, hard, Joel growled. “I ain’t robbin’ any cradles, asshole. She’s only about nine years younger than me.”

“Oh, is that all?” Tommy teased, rubbing his arm to soothe the sting.

“Don’t get me started on how you almost got busted for statutory rape last year, dickhead.”

“Hey now, I’m just teasing. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch.” Tommy surrendered, adding a grumbled, “And you know damn well that wasn’t on purpose. That girl looked 25! She sure had me fooled.”

Joel nodded, heading out to the back patio with another cup of coffee. Tommy followed, stopping briefly to grab a can of soda from the fridge. The pair sat quietly listening to the sound of songbirds singing the songs of their people before Joel finally spoke.

“I feel like an idiot asking this, but how do you tell if a woman is into you?”

Tommy nearly spilled soda all down the front of himself, the question caught him so off-guard. “Whadda ya mean?” he spluttered, trying not to choke on the carbonated liquid.

Rolling his big brown eyes with a huff, Joel glared at his brother. “I mean just what I said. I’m so outta practice with this. I keep second guessin’ everything. I just don’t know…”

Taking pity on his older brother, Tommy refrained from razzing him further. He was intrigued by this version of his brother who lacked self-confidence, so different from the over-confident man Joel used to be, at least when it came to women.

“Just so I understand, do you want to know how to tell if any woman is into you or a specific woman?”

Brows pulling together, Joel stared at Tommy blankly for a moment. “Does it make a difference?”

Tommy’s lips spread into a wide grin, deep brown eyes sparkling mischievously. “It sure as hell does, brother. There are few key ways to tell with most women, but if it’s a specific woman you’re curious about, I may have some intel.”

The struggle to hide his overwhelming curiosity on the ‘intel’ his brother had was a losing game, and Joel relented, his cheeks growing hot as he uttered the words. “Fine. It’s JB’s daughter.”

The room stilled as the brothers stared at each other, the grin on Tommy’s face growing impossibly wider until nearly all his pearly whites were on display. “I knew it! You dirty dog.”

“Tommy,” Joel growled, drawing out the two syllables until his brother sat back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

“Fine, no razzin’.” Tommy grumbled. He waited a few beats until Joel grew even more uncomfortable. “She’s into you, too.”

Joel perked up at that. “That’s your intel? How do you know?”

Looking around the backyard, Tommy thought of all the times he’d been around and caught you ogling his brother when you thought no one was watching, but none rivaled that time in the kitchen when you stared as Joel pulled his tee shirt off to put in on right side out. Tallying it all up in his mind, Tommy was certain that you had a thing for his brother. And now, it seemed he had a thing for you, too.

The question Tommy had now was, would either of you do anything about it?

With recent history as proof, he had his doubts.

Perhaps it was time to give you each a little nudge.

“It’s in the way she looks at you, all wide-eyed with wonder, like she’s imagining what it’d be like to be with you. I flirted with her for nearly an hour one day and she never looked at me like that once.” Tommy smirked at the glassy look that overcame his brother’s eyes. “Well, that and the drool dripping down her chin every time she sees you.”

“Yeah… wait, what?” It took a moment for Joel to catch on. “Fuckin’ asshole, I swear. She doesn’t drool when she looks at me.”

Laughter rumbled from deep within Tommy’s chest. “She might as well do with as into you as she is. I’m telling you, pay attention to how she is around you and you’ll see.”

The brothers fell silent again with Joel’s thoughts drowning in you. If what Tommy said was true, then you must be hurting over the fact that he went on a date with someone else, more so since you also saw him on that date. Already feeling like such a dick, worry over you weighed more heavily on him this morning. He had to fix this, but how?

Part of Joel wanted to rush over to JB’s and check on you, but the other part was terrified of how that would work out, especially if your dad was home and wanted to know why his best friend was frantic to see his daughter.

Shit. JB. Joel still needed to figure out how to navigate that part of this entire situation. The two of you could like each other all day long, but how would JB react?

Joel envisioned several scenarios that ended with him getting his nose bashed in by your old man. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

“What about JB?” Joel finally broke the silence, looking once again to his younger brother for guidance. “If I’m gonna do this, I want to do it right.”

Placing his empty bottle on the patio table between them, Tommy nodded. “Ok. Let’s think about this. Do you always check with a chick’s dad before askin’ her out?”

“’Course not, but this is different.”

“I get that but hear me out. What if you try before you buy?” Tommy asked.

Joel immediately stiffened. “I’m not gonna just fuck her before asking her on a date. Jesus, Tommy.” Not that he didn’t want to fuck you… he most certainly did, but Joel wanted to do this right. He wanted more than just sex. He wanted something meaningful, and he suspected you would as well.

“That’s not what I meant, asshole. Ya can quit clutchin’ your pearls like you ain’t banged a chick before the first date before.”

“Tommy,” Joel growled again. Little brothers were the worst no matter what age they were.

“Jeez, alright, fine. You’re really into her, I get it. I’m not sayin’ sleep with her first. I’m suggestin’ you ask her out and see where this is goin’ before you go to JB with your tail between your legs, is all.” Tommy explained, already getting fed up with how easily Joel got his feathers ruffled.

Considering the advice, and ignoring his brother’s snippy tone, Joel bobbed his head in a nod. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“I’m full of good ideas, sometimes. I got another one, actually. Get your grumpy ass to the store and buy some new shirts. Everything you own is at least ten years old and worn down. You need to dress better if you’re gonna date a younger woman.”

Another point to Tommy. He sure was racking them up.

“Fine. I fuckin’ hate to admit it, but you’re right,” Joel grumbled, looking down at the tee shirt he was wearing. It used to be black and faded to a cloudy gray from years of wearing and washing. “You mind watchin’ Sarah for a while so I can run to the mall?”

“Not at all, brother. I was hoping to watch the game on your flat screen anyway.” Tommy led the way back inside the house.

Emily: Sounds like you need some retail therapy, asap.

The pair of you spent the past hour texting about Joel’s date the night before. Emily’s emoji reactions were priceless as you recounted seeing them together at the movie theater and she was pissed on your behalf when you told her about the lipstick mark on his cheek. The conversation came full circle before Emily suggested the retail therapy.

You: Omg do I ever. Mall?

Emily: I can’t ☹ Ed wants my help with the garden. Again. I swear, I hate this fucking garden.

You: Booo. How dare you pick your husband over me

Emily: I gotta go with the one who has the bigger dick. Ur girl has needs u know that 😉

You: Yeah yeah. Chat later?

Emily: You bet. Have fun. Buy lots!

An hour later, you walked through Barton Creek Square, window shopping with a chocolate smoothie clutched in your hand. Not sure exactly what you were in the mood for, you started with clothing. This mall was a bit upscale for your budget, but you always enjoyed perusing the department store discount racks. Tossing your empty cup into the garbage can, you entered the large store.

Somehow, you found yourself searching through flannel shirts in the men’s department. Stopping for a moment once you realized what you were doing, you sighed. There was no escaping thoughts of Joel Miller, even subconsciously, it seemed. Huffing in frustration, you turned to walk back to the women’s section where you’d find things you actually needed when you heard your name.

Joel stood on the other side of the rack, eyes wide with surprise at the sight of you. His cheek was clean, no lipstick mark in sight, you noted. Just the normal, totally endearing patchy scruff. “Hey darlin’, what are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” you stated the obvious with a shrug, delighted at the pink tinge creeping up his cheeks.

“Me, too. Obviously.” Joel nodded, rolling his eyes – at you or himself, you weren’t sure. “I could use your help, actually.”

You weren’t expecting that. He looked at you with such open hope in his eyes, you couldn’t deny him. “Ok, shoot.” Your heart nearly exploded at the smile that spread across his face, putting his dimple on full display.

“I can’t decide which of these to go with,” Joel replied, holding up several flannels. After a moment, he put those across the top of the discount rack and held up a pile of tee shirts. “Or these.”

Eyes taking in the details of each selection – he had good taste; you could picture each option on him – you hummed. “Have you tried any of them on?” Joel shook his head, the mop of curls swaying deliciously with the movement. “Ok. Go try them on. That’s usually how I decide.”

Turning toward the fitting room with a nod, Joel paused and turned back around. “Come with me? I need your honest opinion on each one.”

Brow furrowed, you followed behind him wordlessly, eyes straying to his backside of their own accord. He wore the same dark, fitted jeans as last night and you swore beneath your breath at yet another reminder of his date. No amount of staring at his nice ass could pull that jealous feeling from your gut. He went on a date with someone and for all you knew, it could have been the best damn date of his entire damn life.

Leaning back against the wall opposite the fitting room Joel chose, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and wondered what the hell you were doing. You came to the mall for a distraction, to treat yourself and get your mind off the man on the other side of the fitting room door. Now you were… what? His wardrobe consultant?

Helping Joel pick out new clothes seemed like the job of a girlfriend, not his daughter’s babysitter. Let’s face it, you thought, that’s all you were to him. Mood growing sourer by the second, you startled as the door ripped open in front of you.

“What do you think?”

The universe was a fickle bitch. It wasn’t fair that Joel stood there looking like the man of your dreams and you didn’t get to call him yours.

The first shirt Joel tried on fit like a glove, like the factory made it with his frame as the model in mind. The material had just the right amount of stretch across the breadth of his chest and shoulders, while hanging on for dear life around his biceps.

After ogling him for far too long, your eyes finally met Joel’s. “Looks good,” you said, the cadence of your voice not giving away the riotous flutter of desire flaring to life deep in your lower belly. “Let’s see the next one.”

Chocolate eyes sparkled with delight at your response as Joel slipped back into the fitting room. What you wouldn’t give to follow him in there. Already picturing it in your mind, you would slip to your knees in front of him, fingers undoing his belt and the button of his jeans before slowly sliding the zipper down. You’d wind one hand inside his pants to trace the curve of his cock through his boxer briefs before slipping the length of him out of the little secret pocket. Joel would be trying on his shirts as your lips—

“How about this one?”

“Jesus fucking nutcracker!” you exclaimed, Joel’s voice jolting you right out of that wonderful little daydream. So deep into the fantasy, you hadn’t heard the fitting room door open.

Concerned, Joel reached out a hand, his calloused fingertips and palm running over the bare skin of your forearm as you steadied yourself. “Do, uh… do you have Tourette’s or something?”

Bemused, you blinked up at him, head thumping back against the wall. “What? No, no. I was just lost in thought, and you startled me.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with having Tourette’s, you know.” Joel tripped over himself to make sure you didn’t think he was making fun of the disorder.

You waved him off. “Of course not.” Clearing your throat, eyes closing to recenter yourself, you counted to ten. The heat of Joel’s gaze like a burn on your skin, you opened your eyes and assessed his shirt. It was nice, a deep burgundy color, but the fit differed from the last one. You hated it. “I like the way the other one fit you better.”

The pattern continued until Joel tried on every shirt in his pile. You managed to keep your mind from straying again by making conversation.

“How did your date go last night?” You dreaded the answer but needed to know.

“It was… I’ve had better dates. She talked a lot,” he said through the fitting room door. “I couldn’t wait for it to be over, honestly. I just wanted to be home.”

“So, no second date then?” you confirmed, butterflies beginning to take flight in your belly.

“Hell no.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the conviction in Joel’s voice, but you tried not to let it show on your face or in your voice as he stepped through the door. “That’s too bad. You deserve to find someone great, Joel.”

He looked at you for a long time, his eyes penetrating like he was trying to tell you something without using words. You just had no idea what. You were about to bid him farewell as he paid for the shirts you chose – the bluish gray tee shirt that fit him so well and a flannel with similar hues, and two more just like them – when he stopped you.

“Uh, would you have lunch with me?” he asked shyly, eyes brimming with such eager hopefulness you nearly melted.

Part of you wanted to turn him down over hurt feelings he wasn’t even aware of, but you couldn’t. Not after what he just told you about his date. The other part of you screamed not to read too much into it, that he wasn’t asking you on a date. It would just be lunch with your boss. But the final part of you, the hopeless romantic who wore her heart on her sleeve and just helped the man pick out clothes like a girlfriend would, screamed that this could be your chance to get closer, that it could be a date if you made it one.

Fearing you stayed silent too long arguing with yourself, you rushed out a quick, “Sure.” Joel’s face lit up like you’d never seen before. He didn’t look anywhere near this happy when he left for his dinner date the night before.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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odessa-2 · 7 months

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Titbits and analysis 🖖

As promised, some more titbits from the Con yesterday in Melbourne as well as my interpretations. Prior to attending yesterday, I told myself to keep an open mind and attempt to leave any biases behind (even after having seen the funeral pics). Clean slate. To try and view Sam, the event, questions, and subsequent behaviours objectively.

I'm the sort of person who feels energy and is affected by it and in some ways governed by it. The energy of people, both individually and collectively. The energy of a group. I tend to couple this with objective analysis, which forms the basis of my conclusions about people and situations.

I applied this method yesterday in attempting to understand and view Sam, the OL money 💰 machine and everything else. I also just wanted to go there and bask in the audience and enjoy myself....and....I did like it Jamie.

So first thing I noticed off the cuff was how experienced Sam was in handling questions, and the women, and tailoring his behaviour to suit their desires. He was charming, charismatic, approachable, a skilled professional. I saw the veneer. I felt the veneer. I also saw and felt that he is a pretty decent bloke under that veneer. A man with a solid work ethic, who is mild mannered and working with purpose in his life.

I observed that his handler or Convention agent or whatever he is, Steve, was in full control. He managed Sam's performance in a sense. He asked the questions and even set the directions for some answers. Sam is controlled. I didn't like Steve. I didn't get the best vibe off him. Infact, I got a bad vibe off him. I observed that everything was a performance. Scripted to a large degree. The Single Sam narrative was pushed by Steve. Hard. It was a performance. That much was clear to me.

So Sam chose to mention that he was in Austria skiing 2 weeks ago....blah blah...something about singing a Ronan Keating song. So the script tells everyone nice and early that he is NOT with Caitriona ✅️

Later on in the panel, he mentioned that he "was at the theatre in London the week earlier" watching a play. Huh? Getting his timeline confused? Interesting titbit, I thought. Who would he go to the theatre with whilst in London? Who else likes to go to the theatre? Who have we seen him go to the theatre with before? Ding ding ding!!

One of the first things he spoke about (umprompted) and imo was part of his speaking program, was that Caitriona is back home in Scotland doing prep work and will be directing this season. He said that he spoke to her recently and that she is cold and miserable back home. No one seemed to give a shit. The women were there for their Jamie. Sam read the crowd. He understood.

Sam tried to bring Cait into the conversation again saying something like "Where's Claire?....Caitriona isn't here". Again crickets from the audience.

He said that he auditioned with a lot of Claire's, but they couldn't find the right fit and that nobody was as brilliant as Caitriona.

It sounded like he genuinely missed her.

He spoke of his audition with Cait, saying they were very physical and were almost wrestling each other. He said he was sweating all over her and that his sweat was on her. The crowd still only wanted to hear about their Jamie. I think Sam relished in being cheeky in saying that she wore his sweat that day.

Someone asked about "how do you kiss and make out with a costar and then just carry-on. Isn't it awkward"? Sam responded generally initially, saying that there's lots of checking in with the person and apologising afterwards (in a joking fashion). Then that prompted him to start talking about Cait saying that he has also "snotted" all over Cait and exchanged many body fluids with her (in an acting context presumably)and that there's nothing really left to do together that they haven't already done. I was like "whoooaa wtf Sam?". Shooketh that he said that really. The silence from the crowd was palpable. They really didn't want to hear about Cait and Sam and their shared bodily fluids whilst 'acting'. He is THEIR fantasy man. Not Caitriona's. Silence from the audience. Sam already knew that the crowd were Sam onlies but he loved telling this story. Relished in it imo. He loved the double entendre. It was an unrehearsed, unscripted conversation as it resulted from an audience question. I concluded it was an act of defiance on his behalf. That's what it felt like to me.

Steve the convention agent guy, was always bringing it back to Single Sam. "I worry how are you going to get a date" said Steve. With Sam understanding the prompt ...."I worry too" says Sam. Bachelor narrative secured ✅️

Steve spruked the Bachelor narrative again to Sam's thirsty and adoring fans....."Sam you remind me of that old show where everyone has to guess which bachelor is going to come out of the mystery door". And that's when I knew with 100 percent certainty that the bachelor talk was a ruse. It was so contrived and performative. I smiled to myself. The women in the crowd were eating it up.

Another thing that stood out to me was when Sam was searching for the right terminology when talking about Cait. "My......co star" huge pause.

"I love you Claire" is the line he randomly chose to say when explaining his acting.

When asked how he has time to foster friendships and spend time with his family he talked around it. Avoided the question and kept it about his friendships saying that they are strong friendships that endure. He diverged and started talking about how he still has his core friendships that he had when he was bunking and sharing an apartment/house with them in London when he was younger. The veneer was up. Inpenetrable.

At another point in the panel Sam asked "How many Sheila's are there here"? LOL. I found that amusing.

Now this next part captured my attention the most. It had a weird feeling (energy) around it . Sam gave off a weird energy. Almost hostile. Again that's just what I felt.

Someome from the audience named Toni with an "I" was selected to ask a question. I can't remember what the question was but Sam made a really big deal about her being named Toni. "There's always a Tony have you noticed"? Why is there always a Tony"? He said. He didn't want to drop it. He placed a little too much emphasis on it. I was laughing silently but Sam's double entendre didn't go unnoticed by me. Everyone else was clueless or at least that's how it appeared to me. Was that an Easter egg dropped by Sammy?

Asked about what does he do for self care, he seemed to struggle answering that too. He talked in circles about his way points hike and how he's learning how to live in the moment. There's that wall again.

There were many other things discussed of course but I thought I'd focus on the things that shed light on his situation and that resonated with me.

So my closing Analysis? Sam is controlled. He peforms. He caters. He's intelligent and in tune with people and aims to please but is private. Sunday just reaffirmed and solidified my beliefs. Caitriona snatched up that hard working gem of a man quick smart!

#hublander #odessa-2 #melbourne #sam heughan

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monzabee · 1 year

Text

eight words when i think about us – lh44 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where Coachella has both you and Lewis high on each other.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: smut!, spanking, oral (m receiving), slight choking, unprotected sex (better wear that latex if you don’t want that i’m late text), slight manhandling?, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! taking a small break from writing requests, this was VERY fun to write. i don’t listen to drake, but this song and lewis??? i had to do something with it, and the fits from coachella were just too good to ignore. i hope you guys enjoy reading this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It all starts with a look shared between the two of you, it always has. Not at all an innocent one in its nature, no, it’s a look shared between the two of you which is filled with fire and unresolved feelings. You knew it from the first time you saw his eyes that the situation, whatever it might be, would end in your heart being broken; unfortunately, you’ve never been good at exactly practicing what you preach. You don’t know how the two of you end up dancing next to each other in your crowded group, or how he positions himself right behind you which gives him a great opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you towards him. Although the two of you are in a EDM set, all your ears can focus on is the dirty words he huskily whispers in your ear over the loud music.

“Let me take you back to the hotel,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice is hoarse because of all the yelling he’s been doing in his attempt to sing along to the songs.

“No, Lewis,” you whine, hands quickly moving to rest on his on your hips. “We said the last time we’d stop for good.”

“We did so the time before that as well,” he is quick to remind you, “and the time before that, remember that one time in Barcelona? You loved doing it against the window, darling.”

You feel your breath hitch when he presses his lips to the column of your neck, his kiss is as familiar to you as the morning sun. Your voice comes out needier than you expect, “Lewis, please.” You seem to beg him, even though you remind yourself to be stronger and keep your ground when it comes to him. “We said we’d stop,” you remind him.

“Please, baby, I’ve missed you.” His lips continue their journey across your skin which is breaking your resolve with every passing moment. “Haven’t you missed me, Y/N?”

His whisper against your ear, combined with his voice and his breath on your skin makes you shiver against his hold, making him smirk as he nudges your jaw with his nose and presses kisses against your skin there. “I did, I missed you so much.” You confess, letting one of your hands stroke his jaw. “But we can’t–”

“If you want me to stop, then just tell me to stop.” He grumbles, his kisses becoming more aggressive as he lightly begins to suck and nip at your skin. His lips turn up in a smirk when you let out a silent moan, which he can tell by the movement of your throat rather than the sound because of the loud music in the premise.

“Lewis.” You let out his name in a breath, which causes him to let out an acknowledging hum, but he doesn’t stop the ministrations of his lips. “P-please.”

His voice is filled with mockery when he teases you after sucking a particular spot on the base of your neck. “Please, what, darling?”

There is a pout on your lips as you push him off of you slowly, turning towards him with a defiant look in your eyes. “What’s the point? You’ll just end up running away again, Lewis.”

“Don’t be like this,” Lewis warns, “You know why I had to leave, so stop acting like a brat.”

The challenging look in your eyes makes him stand his ground instead of reaching for you, which is what he normally would have done. “What will you do, spank me?” You snap, rolling your eyes when he says your name in a warning tone.

“You know it wouldn’t be a sufficient enough punishment, you would enjoy it too much.” The condescending tone of his words making you roll your eyes. “Where are you going?” He calls out to you when you start walking away from him, and thus the group.

“I’m going back to the hotel.” You answer him, shooting him a pointed look over your shoulder. “Alone.”

You don’t end up going back to the hotel, alone, after all. Lewis insists that you cannot take an Uber back on your own, no matter how much you remind him that you are more than capable of doing so. He doesn’t bother arguing with you, but instead waits for your Uber with you – and consequently shocking you when he gets into the car after making sure you’re inside safely. He doesn’t say a word the entire ride, even when you ask him why he’s coming with you. Instead, he keeps a firm hand on your thigh, which is exposed because of your skirt riding up. He’s even quiet when you are in the elevator, going up to your room, and you can’t help but sneak a look at his face; all serious without any hint of playfulness.

So that’s how you end up bent over the arm of the couch in your hotel room, the way Lewis letting his hand come down on your ass every once in a while making you let out whines which get louder as he continues. “Look at you, darling, you’re such a sight for sore eyes.” He caresses your reddened skin, his hands lingering around the waistband of your thong – which he takes off promptly and lets out a loud groan at the sight which beholds him. “Fuck, Y/N, this is really doing it for you, isn’t it? You like being spanked?”

Your voice comes off muffled because of the way hide your face in the pillow you’re hugging at his words. “You know I do.”

“Such a bad girl.” Lewis tsks, delivering a few more hits to your already sore skin. “I was going to eat your pretty pussy out the way I know you like, darling, but you just had to go and say things that weren’t even true.” He lets his hand massage your skin to relieve some of the stinging feeling lingering there.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble through your whines, trying to appear as genuine as possible, but both Lewis and you know that you only acted that way because you were trying to get a rise out of him – which clearly worked.

“Oh, baby, you’re sorry?” He coos, pressing kisses to your reddened skin while he keeps on speaking. “Why would you say something like that in the first place, hm?” He nip at your skin, sucking a certain spot, until he’s satisfied enough that it will leave a mark, before speaking again. “You didn’t want to make me mad on purpose by saying no, did you?”

You pause as you contemplate what to say, your throat suddenly feeling very dry, you gulp down a snappy answer. "I-I’m–” You stammer, moaning when he bites down on your skin. “I did. I wanted you to fuck me.”

Lewis smiles at your honesty, knowing he’s got you where he wanted. His hands roam around the skin of your back, and eventually, he lets one of his hands to slide down to the junction of your thighs to press his thumb against your opening. “You like it when I’m rough with you, darling? You like being fucked, when I’m not soft with you?”

You nod your head the best you can while your face is buried against the pillow you have underneath you, but you’re reminded to speak out loud when Lewis uses his free hand to deliver another, albeit lighter, slap on your bum. “I like it when you fuck me hard.”

“Is that so?” He muses, stopping his actions to take a look at his handiwork. He lets out a hum which shows that he is satisfied with it, then he straightens up, pulling you up with him and making you wince when he makes you lean against the arm of the couch and consequently making your bare skin come in contact with the fabric. “Maybe I shouldn’t fuck you at all tonight, you’ve been very rude to me.” You shake your head, hands scrambling with anxiety to take his shirt off as you look at him with a pout on your lips. He watches you with an amused smile while also assisting you in your goal. “What are you doing?” He asks when you start pulling him towards the couch to make him sit down.

“You took something off me, it’s only fair.” You shrug, sinking down on your knees between his parted legs. “Is it okay if I suck you off? To apologise?” You busy yourself with undoing his pants, and his confirmation puts a sweet smile on your face. “Thank you.”

He watches your hurried movements, lifting his hips up to help you get his trousers and underwear off, but he stops you by gently grabbing your chin and making you look at him. “Slow down, darling.” He smiles when you let out a frustrated whine, your lower lip pushing out to make you pout. “We have all night.” He leans forward to get you out of your top which leaves you with your bra and your skirt on, a look from Lewis has you scrambling to take the former article off. You watch him lean back against the couch, radiating nothing but power. Instead of saying anything you nod and move to wrap your fingers around his cock, but he stops you as he catches your wrist and spits on your palm without breaking his eye contact with you.

He lets out a hiss when you finally do wrap your hand around his cock and use your thumb to spread the precum which has accumulated on his tip. You let your hand move up and down a few times before taking the tip into your mouth and lightly sucking on it. You gradually take more of him as you open your mouth to accommodate his size, using your hands where your mouth is not able to reach. A sense of pride washes over you when you feel him getting under your touch and he shows his appreciation by sliding his fingers through your hair. You hear a low groan that comes between his lips when you start bobbing your head up and down, which makes you tighten your lips around him. You don’t cut off your eye contact with him for the sole purpose of making him lose control, Lewis always makes a point of telling you how much he loves having your eyes on him at all times – it is a side effect of his job, you think, always in front of the camera, always being watched by the world. But you on your knees on him with his cock between your lips, looking him with huge eyes? It doesn’t take too long for him to take over all the control you held; he starts moving your head on his cock by the fingers he has tangled in your hair. Not that you mind, you’re more than happy to let him move you however he likes.

He eventually takes himself out of your mouth, before you make him cum, making you whine because of the loss of contact as a result, but there is a grin playing on his lips as he pulls you to his lap, his hand quick to go under your skirt. You let out a gasp when you feel his finger sliding through your slit, he only laughs at your reaction. “Did sucking my dick made you wet, darling?”

You nod your head with urgency, needing him to do something about the sweet ache you feel between your thighs. “Yes, Lewis.” You try to move your hips closer to his fingers to get some kind of friction, but left unsatisfied when he pulls them away with the tilt of one of his eyebrows.

He sucks on his finger as you watch him with parted lips, which makes him smirks as he shrugs. “You got to have a taste, it’s only fair.” He taps your thigh twice as he instructs, “Hang on to me with one of your hands, and lift your skirt with the other.”

You look at him with widened eyes, rising on your knees when you feel him pinch the skin on your ass. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

He smiles wickedly at your whining tone, lining himself with your entrance as he replies to your question in a nonchalant manner. “No, love, you’re going to fuck me.” Your breath hitches at the emphasis which only makes him smirk wider as he uses his hand on your hip to lower you onto his cock.

Your lips part in a silent scream as you feel the burn of the stretch he provides as he draws you closer to his hips. “Oh my god, Lewis.”

“Are you okay?” He asks, worried eyes meeting yours as he stills his hands.

“Yes, just- Give me a second,” you swallow down a breath, using your hand on his shoulder as leverage to push yourself down on him on your own pace. You head is thrown back and your eyes are closed once your hips come to a halt. The stretch being full to the brim after months apart is delicious, you decide.

Lewis’ hand squeezes your hip as he lets a loud groan as he bows his head. “Tell me what’s wrong, darling.”

A loud moan comes from you once you feel Lewis taking one of your hardened nipples between his lips and starts to suck, his forehead is flushed against your clavicle and you let go of your skirt to push him against in chest. “It’s just- it’s been a while,” you breath out; your hips start moving once the overwhelming feeling slowly fades away and leaves its place to pleasure.

He lets go of your nipple, “Start off slow, we have all night,” he reminds you and moves on to your other nipple, sucking and tugging against the puckered skin.

You let out a noncommittal hum, choosing to focus on the movement of your hips at the moment instead of his instructions. You gradually lift your hips higher, and let them drop harder, causing his tip to be burrowed deeper and deeper inside you. “It feels so good,” you praise him, “so deep.”

“Yeah?” Lewis asks breathlessly. “Look at me, pretty girl.” You force yourself to roll your head sideways, the tilt of your head allowing you to look into his eyes as the movement of your hips become sharper as you get used to the feeling of him within you. You realise just how much his eyes have changed over the course of few minutes when you lock gazes with him, his are a darker shade of brown and filled with lust. Both of you let out a hiss when you start rolling your hips against his and the friction on your clit sends shivers down your spine. You almost roll your head back again, but Lewis is quick as he grips your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

Your legs tighten around his on almost an instinct and you place your hands on his chest to keep holding your balance. “Lewis.” You voice comes out more as a moan, your hips getting faster as you try to chase the high. You unintentionally bit down on your lip, causing him to use his thumb to pry your lip free and slides his thumb in your mouth.

You groan around his digit as you close your lips around it and start sucking on it as you did with his cock a few moments ago. He watches you with pure fascination. “Good girl, Y/N, such a good girl for me.”

You ignore the burning feeling emanating from your inner thighs, pushing yourself to roll and move your hips up and down in a faster rhythm. You moan loudly as you feel a similar burn starting to form as your stomach coils. You incline your head to take a look at where the two of you are connected, watching him disappear between your folds, and Lewis follows your line of vision which causes him to moan as well. “So deep, Lewis, it feels so good,” you whimper, your hands automatically move to grasp the chains hanging around his bare chest when he makes you look back at him by gently grabbing you by your neck.

“Move faster,” he orders you, drawing you closer to himself as he simultaneously rises up to meet you in the middle and rests his forehead against yours.

You attempt to move even faster despite the burn in your thighs becoming more and more apparent. You nails rake down his chest as your breathing becomes erratic. “I-I can’t– Lewis!”

He causes you to scream out his name as he delivers a slap down on your ass as he announces, “You can.”

“Please,” you gasp, somehow it becomes tangled with a broken moan, “please, help me.”

“You want me to help, baby?” He asks in a strangled voice, the hand he has around your throat slightly tightening to add to all the sensations you are feeling at that moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

Although his voice is as sweet as it can be given the circumstances, he grasps both sides of your hips in a bruising grip as he lifts you off; just enough to keep his tip inside you still. You scream his name over and over again as he slams you down on his cock, and repeats the action until it leaves you as a sobbing mess. You try to keep your eyes open as tears of pleasure start falling out, not wanting to risk Lewis stopping because you’re not following his instructions. “I’m going to cum.” You manage to get out in a voice thick with pleasure.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I’ve got you; you can let go.” He keeps moving you on his cock before deciding to change your roles, holding you up while he fucks into you. You buck your hips down on his as best as you can, your vision blurring as your orgasm washes over you.

The moans and squeals leaving your lips only makes him move faster with conviction. While he guides you through your release, your body moulding against his as your legs start shaking, you feel his hips starting to stutter their movements. You cup his cheek as your breathy whisper hits his lips, “I want you to cum in me,” you shush him when he’s about object, “please, Lewis, just this once.” He lets out a groan mixed with a moan when he hears the desperation in your voice, his hands grip you tighter as he finally comes with a hiss leaving between his lips.

You let yourself fall against his chest, both of you heaving as you try to catch your breaths and come off your highs. Lewis’ arms wrap around your waist as he lets out a chuckle, “We’re definitely doing that again.”

The corners of your lips lift up in a grin against the side of his neck, your head nestled against his shoulder. “Does this mean I should be snappy with you more often?”

“I’ll answer that question after a bath, darling.” You see him smile from the corner of your eye. “And breakfast, possibly a round after breakfast.”

“Good,” you mumble sleepily, pressing a kiss against the column of his throat. “Stay, and please just get me out of this damn skirt.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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coolprettyleo · 7 months

Text

maybe i will finally learn my lesson? - begin again au ☆

wc: 1.2k

tw: sad, angst, rejection, talks about sex. no actual smut tho. borderline alcoholic tbh

ryan leonard x hughes sister au!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie fell back onto her bed with a soft thud as she tried to catch her breath. she looked at the boy beside her with a hopeful look hoping to gosh he would stay the night and cuddle her. she just needed some form of reassurance.

he never ever wanted to stay over though.

“i gotta go, the guys are going out tonight” he says as he gets out the bed acting like he was talking to some stranger. what frankie didn't realize was that they basically were.

“do you have to leave?” she says in a sad voice kneeling on the bed. she hated how he never wanted to stay and talk. was that so much for a girl to ask for these days?

“frankie, im all spent for right now, but i mean if im feeling it later on, i'll stop by”

is he fucking serious.

it had honestly been a while since frankie had felt that much rage. he really did only think of her as a fuck buddy.

she knew what she was getting herself into, when she agreed on their little agreement, but in the movies it always ends with the guys falling in love with you. right?

“oh my gosh. just leave. like actually” she said getting back in bed and turning her back to him. which left him dumbfounded. why would she be mad he had to leave?

“did i do something?” he asked confused as he finished putting his cloths on.

no answer.

that pissed drew off. she had no reason to be all pissy with him.

“are you mad because im going out with the boys? why would that bother you? were not anything, frankie. im allowed to go out” he said. still starring at her back.

“oh don’t worry. you’ve made that very clear to me drew” she says, her voice wavering due to the fact she just felt so foolish.

“whatever, you’re annoying me. talk to me when ur done being crazy” he said walking out and slamming her door in a fit of rage.

to say frankie took it totally fine would be dishonest. she sobbed in a fetal position all night. while blasting foolish one by taylor swift.

that woman really does have a song for every situation.

she had honestly never felt so alone.

of course she’s not actually alone; she just refuses to go to anyone and burden them with her problems. it’s not like she can call her parents and her brothers due to the fact she can’t lie to them. she knew they were going to ask something like 'how'd practice go?' and whatnot so she's been forwarding their calls since Wednesday when she quit the team.

she could also call her friends. or her ex teammates. did she even have friends?

she was alone.

___

she sits in her room finishing up and assignment when she felt like doing something. usually she would get drunk and go from there, but no. if the last week has taught her anything; it's that she's becoming a new person. and the new person wouldn't black out after every minor convenience.

so in the spur of the moment, she decided she was going to rearrange her room! which is what lead her to where she was right now; outside the freshman hockey house.

while moving her bed from one side to another, she found drews hoodie. so being the mature, new, amazing person she claimed to be... she decided to give him back his hoodie, as a form of ceasing the deal. this is a supposed to be a step forward is it three steps back?

frankie walked up the front steps and as she lifted her fist to knock she halts, when she hears multiple voices coming from inside. not wanting to end her and drews situationship in front of his teammates; to save them both the embarrassment. she quickly trashes her plan and decided to just head home.

but when she heard her name is when she decided against that.

"frankie?" she hears drew ask.

"yes dude. its actually so obvious she wants you after what your saying she did yesterday"

he told them about the argument?

well she couldn't really get mad, if frankie had best friends she would of probably told them too.

"well i dont want her like that and she knows that"

frankie felt her heart crack.

i mean she told herself he didn't like her back, but hearing him say it, is a whole different level of pain for someone who just oh so hoped to joke about their situationship one day over coffee as he watched the morning news while their kids got ready for school.

foolish one, frankie hughes.

"no way your gonna reject her, she's so hot. what the hell is there not to like" one of his stupid teammates said.

"I mean she's the nicest and one of the hottest girls I've ever got with dont get me wrong, but some of the shit she says makes me question if she's being for real or not" drew said not knowing the match he was lighting.

"I think I know what your talking about, is it when she said she thought denver was in texas?" one of his other teammates chimed in.

"bro yes. that actually left me speechless" he says. frankie felt like burning the house down at this point.

"she's lucky she's got hockey" another voice said.

"had'

the hoodie she had in her hands slipped through her fingers. just like the heart drew held. the heart he never wanted to hold.

she backed away from the door, never wanting to slash anyones tires more. she wanted to commit arson. the way they were talking about her, made her want to throw up.

she can take the fact he didn't like her back. thats okay. if he didn't feel the butterflies she felt it wasn't no one fault. but mine.

but the fact he stood their and called her stupid? who the fuck even knows geography like that? she felt so many emotions run through her veins and the one overcoming the rest was the one that held the power over her tears.

"frankie?" oh my god. no. why the hell did I not run home?

she turned her head to see ryan leonard standing there. one of drews friends. someone she had considered to be her friend. but if the rest talk about her like that, him, will, and gabe probably do too.

"you didn't see me here, ryan" she said as she covered her face trying to push past him.

"wha- hey! what's wrong? who did this?" he said grabbing her wrist and seeing her crying eyes. he knew who did it. he just needed to hear a confirmation before he went inside and beat his ass.

"nothing. let me go" she said wiping her tears.

"im not letting you leave here alone hughes, i know how you get when your this sad. I dont want to wake up tomorrow and hear that you got hit by a damn bus for gosh sake"

one thing ryan hated was when she would drink her feelings away because that meant she was going to be reckless. she honestly is reckless.

"well then do you want to come?"

I got tired so im done writing but I wanted to post this! also ! I have no hate towards drew, its all going to add up in the future when I start the other aus I have planned but for now drew is like anyone else and he's learning and growing. so bear with me!

#nhl imagine #frankie x ryan #ryan leonard #gabe perreault #nhl imagines #bc hockey #will smith hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #gabe perreault x reader #ryan leonard x reader #ryan leonard imagine #jack hughes #hughes sister #luke hughes #quinn hughes #drew fortescue

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zumek0 · 5 months

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draft 05; fushiguro, m.

↪︎ angst but very mild?, comfort, college/university au, no curses au, reader is very stressed.

↝ summary: megumi comforts you after you break down due to academic stress.

There’s a feeling of pressure on your chest, and a growing pit of despair in your stomach. You fucked up. Big time. Your teacher had given you a topic to make a presentation about a month ago and yet here you were, a week before your due date, not even having a clue of what the hell the topic was. As you stare into the google calendar tab open in your laptop you realize that not only were you supposed to present the topic in a week, but also turn in two different group assignments and an individual one. On the same day.

Almost mechanically you pick up your phone and open the messenger app.

Megumi’s always been more of a night owl. His body is used to staying awake until sunlight threatens to spill over the horizon. He knows it’s not healthy but even if he tries to sleep at a normal, decent hour his mind remains restless. So he does what he’s able to: assignments, projects, pre-reading for lectures, reading books he enjoys or has been wanting to read, listen to music, make playlists with songs that fit the vibe of a very specific picture of you he has in his gallery, watch a movie, etc.

It’s 11:56 p.m. when his phone starts vibrating over and over again. He can’t help the feeling of irritation that bubbles up inside him, thinking that Yuuji or Nobara are spamming the group chat with TikTok slideshows of “ask your friends which ‘blank’ are you!”. Although the feeling is immediately replaced with worry and slight curiosity when he sees it’s you who has been spamming him for three minutes straight.

His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re texting with correct spelling, no emojis, no jokes in the middle of the conversation and capitalizing the first letter of every text. He reads over the messages you’ve sent so far to grasp an understanding of the situation. When he gets to the bottom of the chat, he gets up and grabs his shoes and keys while still paying attention to the still incoming messages you’re sending him.

You’re startled when you hear a soft knock at your door, stilling your fingers from expertly moving across the keyboard on your phone. Your eyes remain on the door while you wait for the sound to repeat itself, just in case you misheard or imagined it. Your phone vibrates softly on your hands, displaying a text from Megumi: “open the door”. You get up and do as he ordered.

Once he’s inside your small campus room, he speaks. “Okay, now tell me everything slowly.” You do.

“… oh, did I also mention that I have two midterms that same week? And that quiz that we were supposed to present last week but the teacher changed last minute.” You can feel the headache creeping up your spine. You bring your hands to your head and rub your temples.

“And I know what you’re gonna say: ‘complaining about it isn’t gonna help you at all’” you make your voice sound deeper and more monotone to make it sound like his, “It’s just- It’s really frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t seem to just sit down and do things, like you do!”.

He doesn’t say anything and you’re thankful for that. “It’s like—I know I have stuff to do, and I know it’s very important that I do it right. But I just can’t seem to ever find the motivation to do it. And then I’m left in spots like this one where I’m gonna have to pull a miracle out of my ass to actually turn in everything I have to turn in this week.” He listens to your rant patiently. Even rubbing your thigh when he notices your eyes crystallizing and tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes.

After sitting in silence for what feels like hours, he finally speaks. “Do you want reassurance or a solution?” “Both. More reassurance though.” You both move to make yourselves more comfortable.

He’s sitting down in the floor with his back against the side of your mattress. One of his legs is bent and the other is stretched. Your head is now resting on his outstretched thigh. His long fingers find themselves running through your hair, an action that you commonly direct towards him whenever he finds himself unable to fall asleep while sleeping over in your room.

“I think you’re gonna make it out of this.” His voice Is soft, but assertive. “And yes, you have some awful time-management skills that we need to work on,” a snort leaves your nose “However last time you were able to give that other presentation while only having studied two days prior. If you try hard enough, everything will be okay. We’ll be okay. I’m gonna help you.”

You’re pretty sure the tears are running down your face at this point. You sniff tour nose. “Thank you.” Megumi leans down and gives your forehead a kiss. “But now, we need to get some rest. We both have early clases tomorrow. Well, today, technically.”

You get up from your position and make it to your bed. He’s hugging you while your head is on top of his chest. From this position you’re able to hear his heartbeat slowly lulling you to sleep.

can you tell i’m proyecting with this one? i literally wrote it at midnight. stress is eating me alive, so please excuse me if this seems like a self insert. i know people who are currently dealing with a lot in uni, so i hope this can help you if you’re going through the same.

—han

#땡땡! han’s works #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi imagine #jjk college au #megumi fluff #megumi comfort #stressed reader #jjk megumi #this is very self indulgent #sorry #megumi headcanons

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tinytalkingtina · 1 month

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Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday

@devondespresso Tagged me in this forever ago and I finally had one wiggle its way into my brain!

This week been fiddling with the idea of a true role reversal Steddie, with Eddie as the popular jock and Steve as the metalhead (as opposed to a punk). This got a little away from me, haha. No idea for a story or how other characters might fit in, but if anyone wants to take the concept and run with it feel free!

Eddie

Eddie is still poor, and still lives with his uncle (let's pretend he had to repeat a grade due to the chaos of moving in with Wayne). But he's Hawkin's star track runner/lightweight wrestler, channeling his energy into sports and competition. His grades are probably still not great, but since he's winning awards at meets, teachers let a lot more slide, and he skates by most of his classes with low C's. If he's loud and excited, then well, that's just what jocks do, right?

Wayne works nights, so Eddie is usually left to his own devices. Sure, the trailer can't hold that many people (and maybe Eddie has a bit of a chip on his shoulder that he lives in the trailer park), but this is the Midwest, and Eddie is creative. He hosts big bonfire ragers out in the woods, deep enough that the cops can't easily break them up.

Eddie's "Munson Doctrine" is from the perspective of being a jock. Mixed with his insecurities, it becomes about staying on top, no matter what. That means dating around, taking girls out most Fridays. He likes girls and has plenty of fun. And if he occasionally slips in a fantasy or two about drug dealer Steve Harrington pinning him against a wall with that knife of his, no one needs to know.

Steve

Then we have Steve. Steve's had piano lessons since he was 5. A framed picture of him in his bow tie and tiny suit at his first recital sits on his mom's desk. He's good at sports and does Little League as a kid, but they don't hold his interest, not the way music does. When he hits middle school, him and his dad have a huge fight over him refusing to try out for any sports. The cracks were already there, because his parents are louder than they think when they argue. To drown them out, he turns on the radio, spinning the dials. By chance, he finds a Black Sabbath song. Something in it speaks to him, gives an outlet to the frustration and anger he's feeling.

Steve picks up drums to play in band at school, but he also borrows books from the library and teaches himself guitar after begging his mom for one for his 13th birthday. He makes a few friends, they start a band. As he enters high school his parents fight more. His grades, never great to begin with, slip further, so no more allowance for Steve. The first time he tries to steals a tape, he's caught almost immediately. But he gets better at it over time. Can't steal tattoos though, and Steve's not a great artist. So maybe he starts dealing. His parents work late most nights, so they don't need to know about his...extracurricular hobbies.

Even if he's not at the top of the high school food chain, Steve's still good at reading people and social situations. I don't think he would have the desire to DM AD&D, but I think Steve makes a good player, always solid at strategizing. In the hallways, he sees and overhears things, enough that he's able to keep the heat off him and his friends with some clever insinuation, and the threat to cut off anyone who tries something.

He sees the way that loudmouth jock Eddie Munson's eyes flick down to his lips when he buys weed off him at parties too, the guy isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks he is. Steve would love to take him down a couple pegs, if Eddie'd let him.

Thanks to @little-annie for some ideas on fleshing metalhead!Steve out more :D

Edit: check out the role reversal steddie tag for snippets of what Annie and I are writing now :)

No pressure tags to some folks (and if anyone wants to be tagged in the future let me know!): @augustjustice @hbyrde36 @puppy-steve @soaringornithopter

@hairstevington @eyesofshinigami

#steddie #wiggly wednesday #writing games #tinawrites #steve harrington #eddie munson #they're both intended to be bisexual #just wanted to make that clear lol #role reversal steddie

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randombush3 · 6 months

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angel of small death & the codeine scene

jenni hermoso x reader

part two

this was supposed to be a blurb but it's too long bc i got carried away so oh well (i also deeply hate this because i got bummed out by the toxicity and had to tone it down)

big thanks to @codiemarin for the idea and the song xx

brief summary: it's a very, very toxic relationship

Hard, unforgiving droplets of water lash down onto the very small window of your bedroom. The sky is grey, your brain is foggy, and you are wondering what decision you made last night that has led you to waking up naked. A muffled groan sounds from somewhere far too close to not be your bed, so you are not alone.

Hungover, naked, and – with an arm now slung over your bare hips – definitely not alone. What a way to wake up.

Your phone rings, jolting you upright as the familiar tone screeches at you to stop running from your future.

You take the bed sheets with you, conserving your modesty.

And, oh.

You have slept with a woman.

She doesn’t look very French, you decide quickly, eyes roaming over the sprawling tattoos decorating olive skin. “Salut,” you attempt, finally uncovering the shrieking device and switching it off – they can’t get you if you don’t give in. “Pas pour être impoli mais je...”

“Hello.”

Your words fall back down your throat and you gulp as if to keep them there. You are well aware that staring is rude, but how could you not?

Her voice is gruff and low and heavily accented. It ignites something that must have been blazing last night, setting the dying embers of your one-night-stand right back on fire, and you… You just look at her.

“Bonjour,” comes her next bullet, aimed right at the centre of you. Your legs weaken and, for once, you cannot possibly run away. “I need to go to, ehh, how you say? Entrenamiento.”

“Désolé, comment t'appelles-tu?”

“Ah.” You continue to wait for her answer, stuck in the rusty cogs of communication. “Eh… Jenni?”

“Is that a question?”

“You speak English?!”

Your nod sets Jenni off into a fit of giggles, amused by the ridiculousness of the situation. You, however, with very little memory of the previous night, are wondering how on Earth this woman ended up here if she doesn’t speak French and was unaware that you speak English. But, if you were to remember, you’d have known that the only words exchanged between you and this Jenni up until now had been your consent for her to do whatever she had wished to you, and her mumbled ‘buenas noches’ after you had finished.

Jenni had not confessed what her initial attraction to you consisted of. You hadn’t minded.

Again, your phone rings, but this time Jenni is awake and cognisant, prepared to detect your reluctance to answer (the only reason you’d gotten up had been to decline the call) and glad to welcome you into her arms.

The previous night, she had mirrored your behaviour, lurching like a stray into an open, uncaring embrace with someone who wasn’t Alexia and therefore not the mistress of her heartbreak. Not that it had dulled her pain, and not that whoever you were mattered.

“You speak good English,” Jenni says a moment later, breathing in the heady scent of dried sweat and desire. “Where are you from?”

The only answer you give her is your mouth unexpectedly taking over her own, lips soft but attacking her nonetheless; it’s almost a warning, it’s almost a… threat. She feels a little threatened, really, but she does not know why. You seem like an angel, a halo of sunlight piercing through the grey skies and shining brightly even if the rain is determined to make her miserable. You are sweet, sickeningly addictive, and, although Jenni needs to get herself to the PSG training ground, knowing football will take her mind off what she is striving hard not to think about, she suddenly realises that you, naked on top of her, are her cure instead.

There is a second time, a third, and then the drawing up of some form of arrangement that neither Jenni’s English nor French permit her to fully understand. You appear when you need her, usually in the café opposite her apartment building, and Jenni makes a point to position her furniture so that they face her windows. She teaches herself patience, but hopes that you are there – sipping your coffee, smoking your cigarette – almost every waking moment.

Jenni decides that sex with you makes her feel alive, so enlightened that her eyes are open when they are shut and she just knows things. It has never happened to her before, not with Alexia, and certainly not with anyone else. You bring her Heaven, and she begins to learn your body like it is the Bible. She is on her knees for you, praying. She chases her petite mort, which you benevolently extend to her like some winged saviour, with abandon and devotion.

Jenni might have started to chase you, though each and every one of her attempts is shrugged off and denied into non-existence, somewhere between the plane of her imagination and the real world. At times, she has to convince herself that she is not telling herself some self-soothing tale about sex with a woman who disappears seconds after the act is done.

You are burning hot liquid in her hands. She cups her palms together and she tries to catch you, but some of it slips through her fingers and she can only stare at what she has lost. But, even then, she is glad you have seared her skin and made her feel something, and is thankful for the scorch marks you have left on her.

She often verbalises her gratitude, accustomed to her partner needing to be praised to the ends of the Earth, but you simply laugh at her. It’s not too patronising – it never is – but if Jenni wanted to, she would hear the venom behind it. And, whenever your Spaniard pants out a gracias/thank you/merci, you hold back the lashing of your tongue, choosing to slice her body instead of her heart.

It’s not really Jenni’s heart that you care about, though.

Well, at least, the metaphorical, poetic understanding of the organ.

You like that it pumps her blood around her body and keeps her alive. You like that she is alive. You like that she uses her oxygenated fingers to fuck you beyond the knowledge of your ever-approaching future and that the muscle is efficient enough to keep her going until there are tears of ecstasy streaming down your face and you lay upon the precipice of euphoria and total obliteration, tiptoeing across the boundary.

You care about Jenni in the same way a dictator cares for his prized weapon; obsessive, hungry, and overpowered by the idea of having such a thing in his possession. It is callous, and you know that, but it is the necessary mechanism to cope.

They will come for you within the next year. Jenni will be gone by then, and the armies you have rallied will have been slaughtered.

You are running with the knowledge that your legs will give out, but there is a woman, an impeccably rebellious choice, who soothes your aches like a decent dose of codeine.

“Are you in danger?”

The question is misplaced in the situation, and you are surprised that Jenni is brave enough to ask.

“Non,” you reply, using the language she can’t speak to quite literally avoid whatever communicative conversation the footballer has dreamt up.

“You flinch when your phone rings,” she accuses, tattooed arm extended and tensed, index jutting out towards the device lying face-down on the surface of the table. “You hide, I think. You speak very well. I am… confused, and my brain can’t work you out.”

“Good thing you don’t need to work me out to fuck me senseless.”

She cringes at how crass you sound, wondering if the sentence has left a bitter taste in your mouth too. She finds herself glancing at your coffee and taking in the stub of your cigarette. You smoke an expensive brand, not that she is well-acquainted with the various types of cancer-sticks (she would play football forever if she could).

“Are you English?”

You blink at her, but that is all you give.

“Are you French?”

You pull on the sooty edge of the glass ashtray and drag it towards you, eyes fixed on the brunette as you put out your cigarette.

“Why are you in Paris?” Jenni asks desperately. “Why are you here? Why do I not even know your name? Why, if you hate me, do you not just leave me alone?”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Your frown may not be genuine, but Jenni’s regret rushes in fast and strong, and she is barking out, “no! No, please!”. Her dignity loses sight of its owner and she would have been embarrassed once upon a time.

But that was before she met you.

When you stand, it is with precise and good posture, and it seems as though the entire world pauses to hear your next words. Jenni moves closer with a deft adjustment of the weighting in her hips, darting around the table and overwhelmed by the fear that this is the moment you are going to walk away.

Her fingers hook onto your flesh, the warmth of the skin a confirmation that you are human, and she lays her heart down to rest at your feet. It’s bloody and raw on the cobbled street, but it is throbbing for your attention and you are wearing a little smile that she has never seen before.

“Alright, Jenni,” you say, and she swallows her surprise that you have used her name, “I won’t.”

Jenni and you think, at the same time, of the omitted word: ‘yet’.

Her contract expires with PSG and you disappear. It happens at the same time, but Jenni is never granted another chat to determine whether the events are related.

The time that passes after her time in Paris does so in a way that makes Jenni want to both forget and remember her experience. Madrid is her home, but it feels dull.

Barcelona is worse. Alexia doesn’t… compare.

Of course, like Jenni and Alexia always do, they break up. Jenni is reminded of how you were running from something, and, inspired, she flees.

She tries to centre her focus elsewhere. Alexia, over the last three years, has grown frustrated with her constant distraction, claiming the forward to be trapped in her head as though it brought her bliss.

In truth, Jenni is experiencing leash-less confusion. She was a stray, she was fed, and now she has been released into the wilderness with no hint of your whereabouts and nothing to prove any of it was real. Apart from what is in her head; those memories.

A million unanswered questions weigh her down, though the Mexico sun is bright enough to help her see through the fog.

Is she better now, having survived?

Jenni does not know about the small hands that cling to your dress as you step onto the hot tarmac of the Mexican airport. Jenni is unaware that the newest share-holder of her new club, Tigres, is paying a visit, wanting to be introduced to his teams.

She is still relatively new – comfortable, but a stranger to the institution nonetheless. They push her to the back of the huddle of players, although she is tall enough to peer over their heads at their owner and his family.

He has two sons, she sees, and one is much more timid than the other. Neither react to the cooing of her teammates, nor do they seem to comprehend the conversation being had in Spanish.

“Dites ‘hola’, mes chéris.”

She knows that voice.

Your eyes are piercing and full of recognition. The quieter of the two boys follows your gaze, curious about the woman with drawings on her arms. Held by you now, he pokes your neck to get your attention and points at Jenni, leaning comfortably into your body to whisper something in your ear in a way that Jenni can only attribute to that of a son. You nod softly, and let him wave.

Jenni waves too, forcing her hand into motion and telling herself she is pathetic if she is unable to function at the sight of a married woman. (Had you always been married?! Is the older boy young enough to have been born after Paris?)

It works, briefly, and she begins to fumble through her French in her head to formulate a sentence so that she can talk to the little boy, but, too soon, you are waving at Jenni as well and your wedding ring is catching the sunlight and blinding the Spaniard before she can weave her way through the crowd.

The same ring falls to the floor hours later, rolling off the bedside table as your hand knocks the wood on your quest to find purchase somewhere. It hits the ground of Jenni’s bedroom with a clatter, but she barely registers the sound from her place between your legs.

Your back arches earlier than anticipated, but Jenni’s tongue is steady and practised. She is an addict with her drug in the palm of her hand, and when she kisses you, it is the heat of your breath in her mouth which makes her heart pound, keeping her alive.

Years ago in Paris, Jenni named you her angel of her orgasm, of what made her feel better after leaving what had been her home and a devastating failure of a relationship. Now, Jenni is unsure whether the euphemism fits. She translates it, instinctively to English (you’re right here with her), and deems it to be better.

Her Angel of Small Death.

She bleeds and bleeds, sliced by the weapons you wield, but then you soothe her pain like the opiate you are and she is ready to go again.

It’s your phone ringing that ruins the post-orgasmic silence between you.

Jenni observes as you reach out to check it, still tentative, still running from something. “Were you married?” she asks, and you discover her interrogation skills haven’t changed. “Were you married all this time?”

“I was engaged.”

“When we…” she trails off because she isn’t certain how she should describe the ritualistic nights you’d spend together, “you were engaged?”

You have toyed with her, leading her somewhere between loved and abused.

And you…

You give her a little smile.

“Sorry, Jenni.”

#woso x reader #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso x reader #woso imagines #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #alexia putellas

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pippin-katz · 15 days

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Random Satisfying & Clever Moments Of Audio From Dead Boy Detectives - Part 4

There's a few moments in DBD that utilize audio really well, or use sounds that always stick out to me while watching, and these are some of those moments!

This one is a bit of longer one, and might not make sense to everyone, but I'll do my best to explain it below!

Ep. 4 - The Case of the Lighthouse Leapers: The lack of music when Charles gets up after the trauma nightmare, then the addition of just The Wellerman song as he advances on the Night Nurse.

Using sound is very important, but so is the lack of sound. The lack of music or sound effects as Charles starts winding up the music sphere creates tension. After the overwhelming amount of stimuli in his trauma nightmare, the quiet is unsettling. It is the calm before the storm; that moment when everything is too still, too quiet, and you have a gut feeling that something is wrong.

Watching Charles wind the music sphere, speaking with such conviction, yet also composure, after everything she just put him through, it's unnerving. An explosion of blind rage would be expected, not the calculated way he twists the handle, walking and talking with full clarity and awareness of the situation.

The music sphere being wound up also coincides with Charles' emotions. The Night Nurse practically did exactly that to him by forcing him through all of that pain. Charles even acknowledges that she accomplished her goal: to make him crushed and devastated. But she didn't take into account his resilience, his strength; someone else would be helpless and sobbing on the ground after what she showed him, but Charles?

He knows how it felt. He was fucking there. He knows how much it hurt. He knows how unjust and unfair his life and death were. For the Night Nurse to play it for him like a slideshow presentation, as if he needs to be taught, pisses him the fuck off. Charles is furious that this woman has the audacity to walk into his nightmares and lecture him, as if she has any comprehension or understanding of what it was like to experience it.

I think it's part of why he mentions the memories specifically when he's about to kick her: "Those memories are not why I choose to stay here!"

Charles is fully aware of what he went through, and he's moved on, or is trying to at the very least. He does not want all the horrible things that happened to him while he was alive control and influence every decision he makes. He's not that sixteen-year-old boy trembling in a corner anymore; he does not have to bend in the face of danger and injustice. He can stand up for himself, for others, and he will because he wants to. It's not to make up for some "failure" from his life. It's who Charles wants to be.

SO! Back to the audio specifically, the use of The Wellerman song is obviously fitting since the sphere was used by sailors to "calm the seas", but also because there is something inherently haunting about that tune. It's right after he says that he's angry that he pulls the pin out; after trying so hard to hold back all his anger and pain, Charles is ready to let it loose.

The beats of the scene then follow the music. From the moment the song starts to the end of the first verse, the first "segment" of the fight happens. Charles speaks, she tries to reply, he hits her, and she reacts in that timespan. There are very faint bass notes underneath the song after he's hit her. They get louder as the song progresses, reintroducing the score of the show.

When Charles takes a second swing, it's at the start of the chorus of the song.

(The difference between verse and chorus is the starting note. Verses start low and get higher; choruses start high and stay high until the very end.)

During that chorus, Charles swings and hits her; he very nearly lines up his swings with the notes, but not quite. Then he speaks once she's backed against the wall. He lets go of the music sphere in the middle of the chorus, and completes his lines up to: "I still have a purpose!" as it ends. That's the second "segment" of the fight.

The second verse starts with him making his declaration and kicking her, and it plays out as the Night Nurse falls. The second half of the verse swells into a full score version of the song instead of just the sound of it coming from the sphere. It's the third and final "segment". Charles ends the confrontation, and once Angie disappears, the song fades out.

This sequence is such a good example of knowing when to cut the music, and how to gradually reintroduce it. It enhances the uneasiness you're meant to feel while watching Charles' anger slowly escalate. It's part of what makes the whole scene so effective.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

(ko-fi)

#dead boy detectives #save dead boy detectives #the case of the lighthouse leapers #rambles: dead boy detectives #charles rowland #jayden revri #the night nurse #ruth connell

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crumb · 4 months

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i love how benson is, on the surface, this devil-may-care kind of character, going around shooting people, dragging randy around to fix his life and scaring the hoes in the process—but at the same time there are these little details that show how much he does care. I mean the big obvious one is his motivation for wanting to fix randy, fix randy and help him not turn out like benson and the rest of the people in the small town, we all know this and have gone over these themes. but the smaller details, unintentional or not, those are really nice. Benson being the only one at Burger Burgers Burgers who has his sleeves cuffed and his shirt tucked in. This is one of many details that shows Benson does care, he cares about how he looks and how he's perceived to some extent. because let's be honest, it does set his character apart from the stereotypical 'redneck working at a fast food joint'. Which then gives an added weight to when he walks outside for his cigarette and untucks his shirt. he's releasing himself from this more restrained version he's presented himself as up until that point. Which then ALSO makes Chris saying "Benson, why do you fucking care?" even funnier. because like... Benson basically responds by killing him which in a way is him saying "hey, you're right, why do I fucking care?" lmaoooo Benson is also the only one, other than Randy (and I guess hardy?) who is wearing BBB uniform trousers. Chris is wearing cargo joggers and Jess is wearing a mini skirt with fishnets. If benson really didn't care about that job, or how he looked at that job, would he be wearing 100% of the uniform, well fitted, cuffed, tucked, cleaned, and ironed? And then when changing outfits at his house he puts on a fuzzy yellow/green cardigan and graphic ringer tee, the choices of which feel very intentional and like they're his favorite pieces of clothing. Which I think must be true if you think about him knowing this is his swan song, he wants to go out looking good. But what he doesn't change? His trousers. You'd think after killing three people at a job you probably don't particularly like and dragging their bodies around, changing out of the uniform would be a relief, other than wanting to just get out of clothes that are recognizable to the restaurant. Which makes me think his BBB uniform trousers are the best/most well-fitting trousers he owns which in itself is interesting. I mean look at the clothes he gives randy, they're not that much different in body size so even on benson those jeans would've been oversized as hell. This somewhat cleaned up version of himself that he presents, especially pre-killing spree, juxtaposed to his home life and his car is, I think, a great representation of Benson as a person. His home life, the clutter, his Ma in the front room, the clothes he gives randy, the junk strewn around his car—versus his cleaned and cuffed and tucked uniform and his stylish cardigan and graphic tee (idc what you say i love the cardigan)—I think it shows someone who is struggling but putting on a brave front, trying to come off as put together, as someone who knows himself and doesn't care about other people's perceptions, but at the same time so desperately does care and hates that he cares, and hates that he can't seem to change things. he can only dress them up a little to look presentable to passersby. and maybe it's one of those "the walls are just blue because they're blue!!" type situations and the wardobe dept or kyle or carter or the art director and whoever else, maybe it's just simply style/design decisions by one or several of them and there's no subtextual meaning behind it all—but even if so, I love that, to me at least, it's developed this deeper meaning within the context of the film and the character.

Don't even get me started on the Kurt Cobain cardigan and Benson having a shotgun in his trunk.

#hey i should just shut up #lol #the passenger #the passenger 2023 #im gonna go work on a gifset now hehe

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whyanne4 · 1 year

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Memories

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen! Reader

Part: 1/2

Category: angst

Summary: After months of sneaking around with your brothers biggest rival, Charles, you to end your relationship in order to protect both yourself and him from the medias praying eyes.

Right person, wrong situation. Loosely based on Conan Gray’s song: Memories. and Illicit affairs by Taylor Swift.

Masterlist

“Charles stop, we can't do this anymore.” You said as you felt the brunette slip his arms around your waist and kiss your neck gently. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“Why not Y/N?” He whined into your neck.

“Charles I’m serious, stop. What if Max finds out?” You asked as you untangle yourself from his embrace.

“I don’t care.” Charles said defiantly, stepping back a bit.

"Well, I do. Max is my brother, and if he finds out about us, it'll ruin everything," you declared, stepping away and plopping down on the couch in his driver's room and in your mind all you could think of was all of the time you’d spent with Charles on that very same couch. How he’d kissed you and told you you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

You had met Charles through Max, your older brother and fellow F1 driver. The two of them were fierce rivals on the track. And you knew that if Max ever found out about your secret relationship with Charles, it would not only strain their relationship but also create chaos in the F1 media.

Last season, when you started attending more races and spending time with Max's team, you and Charles had found yourselves drawn to each other. It was effortless, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. You had tried to resist the temptation, knowing the potential consequences, but love has a way of breaking down walls.

The months that followed were filled with stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and stolen kisses. Every moment with Charles felt like a dream, and you knew that what you shared was special and rare. Everything was perfect. He was perfect, he still is but the fear of Max's reaction and the media scrutiny always lurked in the back of your mind.

You both had agreed to keep your relationship a secret, knowing that the repercussions of being discovered would be severe. But as time passed, it became harder to hide your feelings for each other. The thrill of the forbidden love mixed with the danger of being caught was intoxicating, but you knew it couldn't go on forever.

You know that it would be terrible for Charless image if the media found out. You were 4 years younger than him and you know that the people on twitter would be having a field day if your relationship ever got out.

So you never told anyone. Not Max, not your friends, nobody. Your relationship was a well kept secret. Sneaking out to see him at his apartment in Monaco or in his drivers room. Secret vacations to foreign countries. Hotel rooms under fake names. Think of anything forbidden and the two of you’ve done it. During those months of sneaking around both you and Charles fell hard for one another.

Those months were probably the best months of your life. He was the perfect guy for you and you hope that you were the perfect girl for him. The love you shared was something out of a fairytale and you knew that it was one for the ages. The kind of love only a few lucky ones get to experience during their lifetime.

But the reality of your situation was inescapable. You knew getting involved with him was a bad idea so you’d broken everything off three months ago. You knew it was the right decision. Trying to maintain your secret relationship would only lead to heartbreak and trouble.

Yet, the heart wants what it wants, and when you saw each other again for the first time since the split at this weekend's Grand Prix, he pulled you into his driver’s room like so many times before. You tried to resist, but your connection was too strong to ignore. One thing led to another and suddenly you were being pushed against a wall with his lips on yours before you came to your senses. Which leds to where you are right now:

“Y/N please listen to me.” Charles begged as he followed you and sat down on the couch beside you. You looked into his gorgeous emerald green eyes like you had a million times before.

“Charles, please don’t.” You tried with him but he wouldn’t let you finish.

“No! I don’t want to stop loving you. You are the one for me and I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else.” He confessed wholeheartedly. You felt the tears start to form in your eyes.

"Charles, please, we can't keep doing this," you said, tears forming in your eyes. "I love you, but we're only hurting ourselves by continuing like this. You knew getting into this that it wouldn’t last. However much I want to, we can never be.” You reasoned with him.

“I don’t care. Y/N you are the love of my life. We can make it work. We don’t have to tell anyone if that's what you want. Or we can tell everyone. Whatever you want.” He pleaded with you. “Or if you don’t want that I can quit F1 and we can run away together. We can get a secret house together in the countryside of France and start a family together or something, anything. I would give you everything I have in a heartbeat. Please just don’t give up on this Y/N. Don’t give up on us.” He started crying quietly and so did you.

“Charles, you know that wouldn’t work. Our families would find out eventually and so would the media. You will be bashed for dating me and your relationship with Max will be ruined.” You pleaded with him.

“I don't care. Y/N, you are the love of my life. We can make it work. We don't have to tell anyone if that's what you want. We can keep it a secret until the time is right,” he pleaded, holding her hand in his.

“Charles, it's not just about the secrecy. It's about our families, Max's feelings, and the media. It's about everything. As much as I love you, I can't put everyone else through that,” she said, her voice filled with sadness.

“So, you think what we had was nothing?” he was rightfully upset, but you didn’t know what else to tell him, he clearly wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Please, Charles. This is hard enough as it is. Don’t make it harder than it already is okay. I know that one day you’ll find an amazing girl who will steal your heart and whom you will love 10 times more than me.” You put your hand on his cheek and felt his tears hit your thumb.

“That’s not possible, baby. I don’t want anyone else. We can make it work, please, you’re the one for me. I know it. I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you.” Charles pleaded.

“I love you too, Charles, so much.” You confessed to him. Even if you knew it wouldn’t help the situation at all. You felt the need to let him know that the feelings were not one sided. You loved this man with all your heart and if the circumstances were different, if you his rivals younger sister and if he wasn’t an F1 driver with the whole world watching his every move: You would probably get married, have a couple of kids and then grow old together. You would have the whole white picket-fence dream. But instead you were trapped in this situation and all you could do was try to let him go even if it was hard.

“See, you love me too. Y/N, I promise that things will work out.” He took your hand in his and caressed your palm gently with his thumb. His touch felt so familiar and you just wanted to let all your walls down and let him love you, let yourself love him. But you knew you couldn’t.

“Charles, as much as I want that, it’s just make-believe. It will never work out the way we want to and everyone will be hurt in the end, honey.” You felt the nickname slip from your lips before you could stop it. It was what you called him all throughout your secret rendezvous and the simple word held so much meaning for both of you.

“I know that, baby. I just don’t want to let you go. You’re my favorite person in the whole world. I don’t know how I will ever move on from you.” He seemed to finally give in and as much as it broke your heart you felt relief that he understood and didn’t argue more with you.

“I know it’s hard, honey. Which is why we can’t keep going back to each other from now on, okay? We can’t find an end to something that we keep beginning over and over again. From now on, I can’t be your friend or your lover, Charles. As much as it kills me inside I can’t hold you back from falling in love with somebody else.” You knew your words were harsh but you really needed to put an end to this here and now.

“I understand.” He put both of his hands on your cheeks and met your gaze. Both of your eyes were red from crying and held so many emotions and so much love for one another. “You’ll always be my person, no matter what happens or who I meet. If you ever change your mind I’ll be there for you with open arms no matter what. You’ll always have a piece of my heart Y/N. Please take care of it.”

“I will, I promise.” You vowed to him, your voice cracking as you tried to speak through your tears. “If things were different..” You tried to explain.

“Shh… Don’t worry about it, baby. You don’t have to explain.” He cut you off. “I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you.”

Silence followed as both of you gazed into each other's eyes, trying to savor your last moments together as a couple before all you had left were the memories of better times.

“Can I kiss you one last time?” He asked quietly as if he was afraid of shattering the moment.

“Yes.” Was all you could say before his lips met yours in one final, heart shattering kiss. Your tears mixed as they ran down both of your cheeks. His hands were still on your cheeks and you felt him pushing your face closer to his. You pulled away for air and he did the same.

“I’ll always love you, Charles.” You finally broke the silence.

“I’ll always love you too.” He said and you felt his soft hands leave your tear stained cheeks for the last time before he kissed your forehead and let go of you. You exited his driver’s room, heartbroken with only the memories of him left.

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