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agroupiewhore · 3 months

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Some random headcanons about what it would be like to date Enzo and a little imagine with him. I haven't wrote anything in ages so apologies if this is shite. Please no hate but let me know if you like this etc. I am always welcome to feedback/ thoughts/ comments/ concerns. Sorry in advance for grammar and spelling and punctuation

🐟🐳🐙🔵🪱

(THIS MANS JAWLINE IS MORE STRUCTURED THAN MY LIFE)

*Disclaimer: This is my own work and my own self-indulgent ideas, none of this is based in reality. And warnings for making out etc, nothing too explicit (PG-13)

✨️ There is no way you ever have to carry your own bag. This man is rushing in to help you. Whether that's your handbag on date night or all of the shopping bags after your weekly grocery shop run. And yes, he refuses to make 2 trips to the car.

✨️ Speaking of weekly shops runs, Enzo is that boyfriend who always pushes the trolley/ cart.

✨️ Matching Adidas trackies. Never quite knowing whose joggers/ t shirts/ jackets that belonged to.

✨️ Wearing his boxers after sex to go down and make a fresh batch of coffee.

✨️ Is always entertaining you with unusual facts and information about Uruguay and is keen for you to learn and embrace his culture and he is keen to learn more about yours.

✨️ Matching your nail varnish to his bow tie/ tie/ shirt colour etc.

✨️ Midnight beach walks where you tell eachother all your hopes and dreams and desires, all the 'deep stuff' you feel you can't tell eachother when it's daylight as it seems to real.

✨️ This man can dance. He has so much natural rhythm and is such a natural. He'll always be the first one up on the dance floor at parties and cast parties and would much rather spend the time on the dance floor with you rather than talking. Also at home will put on whatever dance music he wants and will just start dancing with you.

✨️ Dressing up as Kylo Ren and Rey for Halloween. "Well I mean... I think we should go as them, it would look good" "Fine"

A Perfect Day

You went to open the fridge to find the pouring cream for your iced coffees but were distracted by the note attached to the front, wrote in Enzo's beautiful cursive handwriting. You smiled to yourself as you read it. He always left the most beautiful love notes and this one was no exception. It simply read "You're my happy place". You took the note off the fridge and folded it neatly and placed it in your dressing gown pocket. You were saving them all, for what you weren't sure, but you pictured a future for you and enzo, maybe one day sticking all the notes down into a scrap book and passing it onto your daughter. To show her how much she should be loved by another. You smiled at the thought and opened the fridge, finally, to find the pouring cream. After Enzo had finished filming, touring and surving the awards season the two of you finally had some time and moved in together. The first thing he had done was gone out and found the most fanciest coffee machine. You guys hadn't even bought a bed yet at that point. You finished making your drinks and went back upstairs. Enzo was sat up in bed, shirtless.

"Well damn, it's hot this morning." You laughed as you sat back in bed next to him, being careful not to spill anything. "Here my angel." You passed him the iced coffee. He carefully took it from you and took that first heavenly sip.

"Hmm, perfecto." He said closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. "I do not know how I survived without having you around, only you can make my coffee right."

"I'm sure there is someone else who could, I could always teach them, it's not too hard. There aren't any crazy secret ingredients." You replied "I just make it with love, I think that's why it's so good." Enzo leaned over and kissed you. "I love you so much, mi amor." He said as he took your hand. "What would you like to do today?"

"We need to go shopping to get a couple things and I was thinking maybe we could have a go at making our own pizzas for dinner?" You suggested, admiring him.

"You always have the best ideas, I have a couple more things to add to the list so please don't let me forget my love." Enzo said as he got out of bed. It would never get old seeing how beautiful he was. It was like he had been sculpted by the world's most incredible artist whose attention to detail no one was able to match. You felt so lucky to not only be with one so handsome but to also have discovered someone with a soul that was equally as beautiful. Enzo gave all of his love and time to you. He was always there, his strength and resilience gave you strength. He was so honoured and humbled to have been given such an important role in the film and the sincerity in which he handled his part was inspiring to you. He never got angry when you would call him in the middle of the night due to the time differences or when he had come home to see that you had used his entire bottle of his most expensive cologne. You had missed him a lot while he was away filming so decided one night to spray a little of it on to the pillow next to you, then a little onto your wrist; just to make it seem like he was there with you, however next thing you knew you'd unintentionally sprayed the entire bottle around the house and it was now empty. Enzo found it to be a most romantic gesture and when he left again to complete filming took a pot of your lip balm to apply each night so it could feel like you'd just kissed him. You heard the shower turn on and got up from the bed again to decide what to wear for today. It was a simple errand day so you grabbed a pair of Adidas joggers and a black long sleeved top.

"Wow, you look so beautiful." He said staring at you.

"What? These?" You laughed. "It's a step up from pajamas."

"You look perfect, I love it so much I will also wear mine." He said as he began looking in the wardrobe.

"Maybe one day you could surprise everyone and wear Nike." You laughed. You admired him once again as he got dressed and then you both finished your coffees. Ofcourse Enzo insisted on driving and you sat in the passenger seat and played DJ. Enzo was a cautious driver, especially whilst you were in the car. He could never understand men who drove dangerously to try and impress their partners. How could he risk your life? He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to you, especially if he was the cause of it. You thought is was sweet how he was always so gentle and careful with you. He parked up outside the supermarket.

"I can get my door." You said quickly, opening it as soon as he turned off the ignition. A few times Enzo had managed to run around to open your car door whilst you rummaged around for your handbag or wallet. He was always the gentleman.

"You know I love opening it for you." He said sweetly as he linked his hand with yours. "I'll push the cart."

"I wasn't even going to try." You laughed. Enzo had to push the trolley. He just had to, it wasn't an option for you ever. It made him feel helpful and supportive. You took the list out of your pocket as you walked in with him and began looking down the aisles.

"We have to get these crisps, you'll love them." You said, standing on your tip toes.

"I got it baby." Enzo said, barely having to extend his arm to grab the pack. There were times when his height came in handy and this was certainly one of them. One time the two of you had a fight that had started off as a result of something so small and petty and then seemingly didn't stop and just kept getting worse and worse. It was the first night the two of you went to bed without apologies or saying how much you loved one another. The next day you didn't say a word to him, you'd returned from work and Enzo had moved all of your favourite snacks and drinks to the top shelves so you had no choice but to talk to him.

"And can you get those ones as well, my love. That flavour looks good too." You said pointing to the packet next to it.

"Anything for you." He said, grabbing everything you asked for. You carried on walking through the supermarket getting everything you needed to make pizza later.

"I'll get this." You said, putting your card on the card reader first.

"No, no!" Enzo insisted. "Baby, we talked about this".

"I'll pay." You said "It's fine honey". Enzo muttered in Spanish about how he should be the one paying. The two of you walked back to the car and together loaded the shopping into the back of the car and drove back.

"Are you going to let me carry any of the shopping?" You asked.

"Not a chance." Enzo laughed and leaned over to kiss you. You kissed him back and gently tugged on the back of his hair to be able to kiss down his beautifully structured jawline.

"I love you so much." You said, between kisses.

"I love you so much more." He said. He kissed the tip of your nose and rested his forehead against yours. His soft eyelashes gently brushing your skin. "I got the shopping, don't worry." You got out of the car and opened the door for him. Enzo grabbed all the bags and followed you in.

"Baby, one day all the bags are going to break and I don't know what you will do." You said as you began putting everything away. "Leave the pizza ingredients out, my love."

"Anything for you, I will cut mine in to a heart shape." He said, doing as you asked him. You smiled at him.

"I might try and do a star or something, I don't know." You said. "Maybe the shape of a coffee bean."

"You know me so well." He said smiling as the last of the shopping was put away. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning a beautiful pink colour. You went out onto the balcony and looked out. The view was beautiful, just like your life now. You heard the doors slide open and Enzo stepped outside. You continued to look out as you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. He kissed your neck gingerly taking in the smell of your perfume and moisturiser. The two of you fitting together perfectly, the final missing piece of the jigsaw to your life.

#lsdln #the society of the snow #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic #imagine

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c1oud999 · 5 months

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i just wanted to come on here and talk about my experience with spirituality. warning: longggg post ahead.

basically ive been in the spiritual community for YEARS now. ive had existential crisis since the age of 11 and ive gone through many phases of many different spiritual trends. from law of attraction, to witchcraft, to religious devotion, to law of assumption and now finally non dualism. i read books, meditated for hours and hours, talked to spiritual ppl from all walks of life and watched all the episodes of ganga upanishad (a show i still highly recommend, you can watch on youtube). all this childhood trauma and mental illness made me crave for sweet relief. but nothing really made sense until law of assumption. i thought that that would be it yk. i thought i was done searching but i think that was when i was searching for things the most. i do know i have it in my 4d, when will i see it? i thought i would get all my desires but did not meet success. and then the non dualism trend began and i hopped onto it like pretty much everyone else. i was bewildered at the stuff teachers kept saying. what do you mean everything's an illusion? there's no way that's true. my very real surroundings are causing me VERY real pain and suffering. oh no no there must be a deeper meaning behind all this. and so i read all the books in 4dbarbies drive, but nothing clicked. yes it made sense intellectually, but i didnt want to believe it bc where is the materialisation satisfaction here? also i felt none of the euphoria that was supposed to come with self realisation. which means i must not be a realised being. and then i cried and cried and cried, isolated myself, literally stopped going to school and just lay in bed all day. but ofc, i continued to read the tumblr posts like i had been doing for the past several years. and yesterday i read 4dkelly's post about giving up. it made sense. by the time i had finished reading the post i had truly given up on everything. on wanting, hoping, fearing, striving etc etc. i was SO tired. so i gave up. fell asleep. i woke up really late as usual and missed the school bus. i ate breakfast in silence, switched the tv on and lied down on the couch like always. and like always out of compulsion and force of habit i reached for my phone and looked up non dualism on twitter. and then i came across a tweet that said a simple sentence only- "nothing is ever actually happening." woah. that kinda drove me to the edge of the cliff i desperately wanted to jump off. i turned on some dnb background music and turned the shower on. i stood under the boiling hot water like some dramatic bitch and started piecing together the "puzzle". it all made so much sense now. i got out of the shower and left the house for the first time in months with a cute outfit and makeup on and everything. i went to the mall, bought candles, stickers, eye masks, coffee, and a doughnut with absolutely no social anxiety at all. i sat by window, read some poetry on my e-reader, cried, peered down at the floor below me and cried some more at the sight of little kids sitting on santa's lap and taking pictures and marveled at all the christmas decorations around me. it was insane. i decided i was going to be neutral towards everything but im in love. maddeningly so. in love with this dream that i thought did not love me back. but love is all there is. I AM ALL THERE IS. and i need you to take this literally. there is nothing happening. there is nothing here except you. nothing to fear, nothing to desire. ik a lot of people are going to dismiss this post because it's not a "materialisation success story" but i honestly dont think i can ever want anything physically bc in all its true essence, what is there to materialise? i am already whole and complete. i am lying on this cold hard floor, but i have never felt warmer. also ik there may be a lot of things ive written you might not agree with but again, this is NOT REAL. I AM. i hope this post helps you.

thank you to all the blogs ive come across and all the pointers they have shared: @se1f @realisophie @itgomyway @4dkellysworld @4dbarbie-backup @infiniteko @iamthat-iam and many more i cannot thank enough.

lots and lots of love (more than you can ever imagine), and good luck.

#nondualism #consciousness #advaita vedanta #awareness #advaita #non duality #law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #neville goddard

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 6 months

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waste your time on me | vernon

yeah hiatus is going great why do u ask? lol anyway i wrote this short lil cute vernon thing. meant to be a new relationship and he is VERY whipped and trying very hard. don't think there's any warnings! love our bononie.

“These are for you,” Vernon says quietly, handing you a bouquet of white flowers with bright yellow centers.

You take them, touched. “Where did you get these?” you ask with a note of reverence in your voice as you look them over.

“Well, I have this friend who works at a flower stand in town,” he begins, then pauses when you chuckle. “Is that funny?”

“It’s just very you,” you reassure him, hoping your smile is as warm as it feels. “Go on.”

Evidently it was, because the corner of Vernon’s mouth quirks upward. “Uh, anyway. I asked him his expert opinion on what to bring you today, and he asked me a few questions about you, and this was what he gave me.” He hesitates a little. “Uh, do you like them?”

You gently bury your face in the blooms, looking up at him as you do. “These are some of my favorites,” you say. “Do you know what they are?”

“Flowers?” he says.

You laugh again. “Yes, Vernon. They are. Do you know what kind?”

“Daisies, aren’t they?” he asks.

“Good guess, but no,” you correct, moving into your wide kitchen and pulling a vase from under the sink. “These are anemones.”

“Wait!” he cries as you pull your shears from a drawer and move toward the flowers. “I’m supposed to do that.”

“Do what?” you ask, startled.

“Get all the stuff off and put them in a jar,” Vernon says. “That’s my job.” He reaches out for the scissors. “I saw a TikTok about it.”

You hand the scissors over to him. “You’re really taking this boyfriend thing seriously, aren’t you?” you say, unable to hide the broad grin crowding your face.

“I really am,” he says, giving a smile of his own as he focuses on the flowers. “The guy at the flower stand told me to cut them diagonally. They’ll last longer that way.”

You take a seat at the counter and watch him snip the bottoms of the stems away, then fill the vase with water. He dumps a packet of flower food into the water and then arranges each flower in a clumsy circle that turns out adorably lopsided, looking at you proudly as he finishes. “What do you think?”

You look right at him as you reply. “Perfect.”

And he is. The way the light hits those brown eyes and turns them almost gold, the soft brown hair that just slightly waves over his forehead, the curve of his lips -- lips you’d dreamed about for ages and only just kissed for the first time a week ago -- coupled with how much you laughed around him, how he wasn’t afraid to show you new perspectives, and how comfortable and safe it was to be around him, all added up to a truly unforgettable and unprecedented person. You know it’s too early to say that you love Vernon, but you wonder when you’ll blurt it. You feel it so deeply it seems impossible you won’t let it slip sometime.

“Thanks,” Vernon says, admiring his handiwork, not catching the double meaning in your words.

So you stand, coming around the counter to reach out a hand to him. He takes it, pulling you into his side. His arm wraps around your waist, and he absentmindedly traces the curve there as you look up at him. “Thank you,” you say. “Is there a particular reason you brought flowers today? I mean, is there an occasion?”

“You’re the occasion,” he says, then winces. “That was so cringe. Forget I said it.”

“Not a chance,” you say gravely. “I guess that’ll go in the blackmail folder. But seriously, was there a reason?”

He sighs. “Well, not really. I just...” He pauses, suddenly avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah?” you prod, running a soothing hand up and down the back of his sweatshirt, trying to remind him he can talk to you about this stuff.

“Dang,” he says with a tiny laugh. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this nervous to talk to a girl again.”

“It’s normal,” you comfort him, although there are crazy butterflies doing divebombs in your stomach at his words.

“I know. Especially when -- when you like someone as much as I like you.” He turns to face you then, still holding you around the waist -- and in an unexpectedly bold move, he picks you up and plops you down next to his arrangement on the counter.

Determinedly, Vernon fixes you with an uncharacteristically intense look. “I’m doing all of this because I really want this to work out. Like, I’ve never been the guy who puts all his eggs in one basket, but I don’t want a single escape plan with you. If something happens to us, or between us, or whatever, instead of running away, I want to stick it out and work through it. And I’ve actually never felt like that with anyone else, so I guess it’s a little scary.” He shrugs like this isn’t the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

You put a hand on his cheek, and he leans into it, comforted by the touch. “You’re scared I might break your heart?” you ask him.

He gives a tiny nod.

You use your thumb to rub over his cheekbone thoughtfully before responding. “Well, I think that’s good,” you finally say.

“Hm,” he hums. “Why?”

“Because I feel that way too. So if we both ... I don’t know, if we both risk it together, I think we have a real shot.” You swallow a laugh at how dire you’re making it sound, and Vernon beams at you. As if unable to resist, he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and wraps his arms around your waist.

“Me too,” he says, and kisses you briefly on the lips before pulling you into a deep hug.

#seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fic #svt fanfic #vernon #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #seventeen fluff #hansol vernon chwe #vernon seventeen

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gigabyte-flare · 9 months

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He Comes Alive (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: As you settle into your new routine working for Leon, one day he decides to take you on a nice hike where the two of you make a gruesome discovery.

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

This part does contain a graphic depiction of an unalived individual. Reader's discretion is advised.

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

While at first you had been nervous about not meeting Leon’s expectations, you find yourself looking forward to getting up each morning to get ready to work at his house. Before you knew it, a couple weeks had gone by, nestled into a nice routine as October rolled in. Like Leon had told you that night at the gas station, he had you painting, cleaning sawdust off the furniture, holding stuff while he took measurements; stuff you could clearly handle. Each day, he’d hand you a $100 bill from his wallet. At first you’d argue that he was paying you too much, you had agreed on $10 an hour, but he’d insist the extra $20 was a bonus for doing such a good job. You found it impossible to make him budge on this, so you stopped arguing with him about it.

A part of you wonders if Leon just wants the company; out in public, he was quiet and usually kept to himself, but when he was working at his house with you? An actual chatterbox. You learn that he is a retired federal agent of some kind, having come back from a mission in Spain and deciding to retire early in a remote, quiet part of the country. He originally wasn’t planning on buying a fixer-upper, but he told you how he fell in love with the scenery up here.

“It’s only going to get better,” you tell him as you’re painting a wall in his kitchen with a paint roller as he works on installing new cabinets, “wait until the leaves start changing. You’ve never seen anything like fall in New England, I promise.”

Then, to your surprise, Leon began to ask about you. You tell him how you had been forced to go to college for accounting and dropped out when you finally couldn’t take it anymore, much to your father’s disapproval. You watch Leon’s face grow serious as you tell him about how hard your father is on you.

“You really need to stand up for yourself, sweetheart,” you must have heard Leon tell you a thousand times now.

“I know,” you reply, “but he just wants what’s best for me. He just has a weird way of showing he cares. I promise he’s not a mean guy.”

You continue to tell Leon about your family until Leon finally interjects, “Not to change the subject, but can I ask you a personal question?”

You stop mid-roll with the paint roller, looking over at him as he finishes installing another cabinet door, “sure. Shoot.”

“Got a boyfriend?”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat; that certainly wasn’t a question you expected him to ask. Leon must see the look of shock on your face, because he immediately starts apologizing.

“No, no! It’s fine!” you assure him, collecting yourself, “no, I don’t. I casually dated a couple guys when I was in college, but nothing serious.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“Sure!”

“Are you a virgin?”

The butterflies in your stomach immediately start in, your face turning beet red as you attempt to compose yourself to answer his question, “y-yes… I am. I guess you could say I’m picky. I want my first time to be with someone special.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon smile at you before focusing his attention back on the kitchen cabinets, “there’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart.”

Him calling you sweetheart was nothing new, you had gotten used to the nickname but this time, he said it with very clear intention and it shot straight into you, causing your clit to pulse in arousal. You try your best to ignore it.

“Can I safely assume you’re not a virgin?” you ask him, trying your best to just focus on painting the wall.

Leon chuckles, clearly amused by your question, “no, I’m definitely not. You could say I’m quite experienced in the matter.”

You weren’t surprised, especially considering Leon is 15 years older than you, a fact you often forgot because Leon was just so easy to talk to and get along with. Your mind begins to wander, imagining Leon being the one to take your virginity, how good he must be in bed with all the experience he has. You immediately shake the thought, ashamed you’re thinking such lewd thoughts when he’s right there. In an attempt to distract yourself, you look around the kitchen as you roll paint onto the wall, your eyes settling on a calendar Leon has hanging on one of the walls, which jogs your memory of a town event coming up.

“Has anyone told you about our annual Harvest Festival?” you ask, turning your attention back over to Leon.

“No they haven’t. What’s that?”

“It’s more like a carnival than anything, it’s an event we’ve had going in town since… 1947 I think… 40 years now, just celebrating the harvest and the coming of fall. There’s carnival rides, livestock and most importantly, food. You should check it out if you get a chance. It’s the last full week of October.”

“Maybe we can go together and you can show me all there is to see,” Leon replies as he hoists another cabinet onto the wall.

Your heart skips a beat at his response, “i-if you want to go together… we certainly can.”

“I’d love to go with you.”

“O-Ok…!”

Leon finishes getting the cabinet up, brushing his hands together before looking at his watch, then to you, “let’s stop for lunch, sweetheart.”

You finish painting the section of the wall you were working on before looking over at Leon, giving him a nod of acknowledgement as you set down the paint roller. You watch as Leon grabs stuff out of the fridge to make sandwiches: bread, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, onion and what had to be the rarest roast beef lunch meat you’d ever seen. Despite that, Leon made killer sandwiches, so you always look forward to having lunch with him.

Plus you were, you know, having lunch with Leon.

He sets the sandwich stuff down on a clean spot of the kitchen counter, turning to you, “go ahead and get comfortable in the dining room. I’ll bring the sandwiches in when they’re done.”

“Sounds good, I’m just going to hit the bathroom first, though,” you reply as you walk out of the kitchen.

You pass through the dining room, out into a hallway, you walk by what you assume is the basement door on your way to the bathroom. You do your business and come back out, noticing on your way out that the basement door is padlocked shut.

“That’s odd,” you say to yourself as you stop and look at the padlock.

You look around the door but you don’t see any sign of the key, not even on the small table that’s next to the door, which is even more odd. You then make your way back to the dining room, where Leon is already eating his sandwich, yours set in the other seat at the small dining table.

“Why’s the basement door padlocked?” you ask as you take a seat at the table.

Leon finishes chewing, nodding in acknowledgement of your question before he speaks, “there’s a lot of personal stuff down there, files and junk. Because I used to work for the government, there’s some classified files down there, too. I keep it locked just so that stuff stays safe.”

“Ah ok, that makes sense, sorry for prying. I just happened to notice it when I walked by, that’s all,” you reply before taking a bite of your sandwich.

“No need to apologize, it’s only natural for you to be curious.”

You take this quiet moment eating lunch together to really admire Leon, but discreetly. Today, he is wearing a tight fitting black t-shirt, which only accentuates his muscular body. Your favorite part of him, however, had to be those beautiful blue eyes. You constantly find yourself lost in them when you talk to him.

He suddenly makes eye contact with you, giving you a playful smirk when he notices you checking him out. You squirm in your seat, your heart racing as his ocean gaze seems to peer straight into your soul. There is no denying it now: you are hopelessly in love with Leon Kennedy.

“Mom, Dad! I’m home!” you call out as you walk into the house from the door that leads to the garage.

Your mother looks over at you from the kitchen sink as she does the dishes, “hey there, sweetie! How was your day?”

“It was good!” you reply as you hang up your purse and denim jacket in a small closet next to the garage door, “I painted some of the kitchen walls while Leon got the new cabinets up.”

“Hmph!” you hear your father from the living room where he’s sitting in his recliner, watching the news.

You watch your mother let out a heavy sigh as she shakes her head. Looking to you, she mouths ‘ignore him’ before focusing her attention back on doing the dishes.

“It smells amazing in here, what are you making for dinner, Mom?”

“Pork roast with potatoes, onions and carrots, sweetie. Figured that’d be a nice meal for a crisp day like today. Go ahead and relax, sweetie, I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready!”

About an hour and a half later, true to her word, your mother calls you down for dinner. At first, you all eat dinner in silence as your father reads the newspaper. An ad for the annual Harvest Festival catches your eye, reminding you of your conversation with Leon earlier that day.

“I was telling Leon about the Harvest Festival today,” you say, pointing out the ad in the newspaper.

“Oh, that’s right! Is he going to go, you think?” your mother asks.

“I think we’re actually going to go together,” you reply, your cheeks immediately start to turn pink as you shift in your seat.

“So, what? Are you seeing him now, is that what this is about?” your father growls, his eyes glaring at you.

“Wait-- what? No!”

“How old is he?” your father asks, his tone still angry.

“He’s… 36…” you reply, trying to avoid your father’s gaze.

“And you’re 21. Absolutely not, you’re not going with him and that’s final. In fact, you’re going to call him right now and tell him you quit--”

“Mick, you’re being ridiculous!” your mother cuts him off, slamming her fork down onto the table.

“I’m trying to protect our daughter! There’s a 15 year difference between them, that’s not acceptable!” your father argues back.

“Mick we’re 10 years apart, how’s that any different? She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions. How many times do I have to drill that into your thick skull, Mick?”

Your father grumbles, angrily stabbing his fork into the pork roast and taking a bite, aggressively chewing.

Your mom shakes her head, looking back over at you, “I’m sorry sweetheart. You absolutely can go to the festival with Leon,” your mother looks back over at your father, narrowing her eyes at him, “right, Mick?”

You watch your father roll his eyes before responding, “yes, dear…”

A couple days go by after you got into that argument with your father, but thankfully it’s business as usual. You wake up early as usual, getting yourself dressed and eating breakfast before you head out the door to go to Leon’s house. As you drive down Hemlock Drive, you notice the bursts of color on the trees changing into their autumn colors. It wasn’t quite peak foliage yet, you reckon about another week or so before that happens.

You park your car in its usual spot in front of Leon’s house, climbing out and approaching the front door. You simply open the front door and walk inside; Leon had told you that you were always welcome and didn’t need to knock. Upon walking in, you see Leon’s got his leather jacket on and that he’s packing a backpack.

“Whatcha doin’?” you ask, trying to look to see what Leon is up to.

“Good morning, sweetheart! Figured we’d do something different today; you deserve a break for working so hard,” he replies as he continues packing the backpack.

“Like… what?”

“I was thinking we could do the Basin trail today, especially since the fall colors are starting to pop up. I’ve heard people in town talk about it and wanted to see it for myself.”

You swallow hard, your anxiety immediately heightened, “you… do know there’s something in the mountains that’s been attacking hikers… right?”

Leon stops, turning to you, giving you a confident smirk before opening one side of his jacket to reveal a gun holster hanging from his torso with a 9mm handgun tucked inside.

“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

You give him a nervous nod, “i-if you say so…”

Leon gives you a reassuring smile before returning his attention back to finishing packing the backpack.

“There, bags are all packed and ready to go. I even made us sandwiches so we can have a little picnic in the mountains, doesn’t that sound nice?” Leon asks as he zips up the bag before handing it to you.

You grab the backpack, slinging it onto your back as you watch Leon grab the other backpack off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder as he gives you a wink, “ready to go, sweetheart?”

You follow him back outside, watching as he locks up.

“Are we taking your bike?” you ask as you look over to his motorcycle.

“No, we’ll be taking the Jeep,” he replies as he walks off the porch, turning to go to his Jeep parked on the side of the house; you follow close behind him.

He walks up to the passenger’s side door, opening it for you. You climb inside, slipping the backpack off your back and setting it onto the floor of the Jeep, as Leon climbs into the driver’s seat, putting on his seat belt. He turns the ignition and the Jeep comes alive with a low purr as you put on your own seat belt.

“I hope Metallica is ok,” Leon says to you, smirking at you as he shifts the Jeep into first gear and starts driving.

As if on queue, ‘Master of Puppets’ begins to play. Metal isn’t exactly your thing, but the tune is undeniably catchy. As Leon drives you down Hemlock, you watch, almost hypnotically, as he shifts the Jeep from one gear to the next. The first thing you notice is you feel every single bump in this road; you find yourself grabbing onto the Jeep’s roll bar above your head to steady yourself. You think you hear Leon chuckle under the loud purr of the Jeep.

Once on the main road, the ride was a little more steady, but not by much, you reckon that is just how Jeeps ride since this is your first time in one. Your gaze shifts from Leon’s hand on the stick shift, to out your window, watching the pops of color in the trees pass by, the sun finally cresting over the mountains. You suddenly feel Leon’s hand caress your thigh, causing you to jump a little as you look back over at him. He gives you a playful wink, his hand returning to the stick shift.

Before long, he pulls into the trailhead for the Basin trail. The Basin is a rock formation formed by thousands of years of water running through it, first formed during the ice age; the erosion from the water making a natural, crystal clear pool. Parking the Jeep, he climbs out, putting on his backpack as he walks over to the passenger’s side, opening your door and letting you out. Setting out onto the trail, the two of you walk side by side, taking in the scenery as the two of you make small talk about what’s the next agenda in Leon’s house, the weather and even the upcoming Harvest Festival. You do mention your argument with your father, causing Leon to shake his head.

It doesn’t take long to come upon the Basin itself, you hear Leon let out a soft ‘wow’ as he approaches the large fence blocking off public access to the pool of water. You stand next to him, leaning up against the fence to admire the Basin. You’d seen it before, but it had been years since the last time you saw it; it is still just as beautiful and mystifying as you remember.

“Cool, huh?” you ask.

“Very,” Leon replies, as he tries to nonchalantly reach over and snake his arm around your waist.

You feel yourself blush, but you let him, feeling him pull you closer to him as wraps his arm around your waist. For a few minutes, the two of you admire the Basin in silence, the sound of the water rushing in creating a sense of clarity. There is no doubt in your mind that you love Leon, and you’re starting to sense he feels the same way, or at the very least is attracted to you. From the corner of your eye you see Leon turn to you, a subtle smile forming on his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly asks.

At first you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly, it takes you a moment to process it but when you do, your heart immediately starts racing. Turning to him, your face undoubtedly beet red.

You swallow hard, working up the courage to answer him, “y-yes… you can.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, he shifts himself so that he has you pinned to the fence with his body, his hands gently cupping your face as he leans down, pressing his perfect lips against yours. It doesn’t take long for him to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping in to explore your mouth. You do the same, your tongues dancing around each other as Leon’s hands trail from your face, over your torso before finally resting on your waist. Meanwhile, your hands run through his blonde hair as you softly moan into the kiss.

The sound of a wolf’s whistle startles both of you. Leon stops, turning around to find two college aged boys, undoubtedly from Plymouth State University, staring at the two of you, snickering before they move on, walking in the direction that you two had come from. Leon lets out a frustrated sigh.

“We should get going, we can continue this later,” he purrs, looking back down at you and winking.

You nod as the two of you walk away from the Basin, Leon’s arm once again wrapping itself around your waist to keep you close. The two of you hike in silence, enjoying the sounds of nature. Unfortunately, the moment is soured when a powerful odor hits you like a ton of bricks, stopping you in your tracks.

“Do you smell that, Leon?”

“I do… I unfortunately know that smell anywhere. It’s the smell of death.”

You pace around, trying to ascertain which direction the smell is coming from, “you don’t think… it’s one of the hikers… do you?”

“Could be a large animal, but we better check it out, in case it is one of the missing hikers. I think it’s coming from this way,” he says, gesturing off the trail.

As you both start heading off the trail, into the woods with you taking the lead. The odor is becoming stronger and stronger as you go further away from the trail, a clear sign you were heading in the right direction. Coming up over a small incline, you see what you were hoping not to see at the bottom, a person. You immediately cover your mouth and nose with your shirt, the stench at this point overwhelming. As much as you don’t want to, you get closer, being careful not to slip and fall going down the incline. Leon catches up with you, still following behind you.

As you get closer, you can see the person is lying on their side, their skin an eerie white. From what you can see, the person has bite marks on their neck, much like what was described on the other hiker that was found. You look all around the person for anything that can identify them, your eyes finally settling on a ring that’s on their middle finger, your heart immediately sinking. You recognize the ring as your class ring, which can only mean one thing:

It’s Nate Dion.

His plan couldn’t have worked out any better. Not only did he successfully win over her affections, which he wasn’t concerned about, but stumbling upon the body in the woods was no accident. He led her to the body. He wanted her to see what he is capable of, how powerful he is, how he can provide for her. Obviously, she doesn’t know this, not yet anyway. Now is not the right time to show her, or to give her his gift.

Unsurprisingly, she threw herself at Leon upon the realization that it was the chief’s son. And, of course, he would hold her, smirking down at the body as she cried into his chest. Now, they were back in his Jeep, driving back into Oakvale to the police station. He looks over at her, seeing how she lays her head against the passenger’s side window, her arms wrapped around herself. His jacket is draped over her shoulders. Reaching over, he rubs his hand on her thigh to reassure her. She places her hand on top of his, squeezing it in acknowledgement.

“It’ll be ok, angel, we’re almost at the police station,” he says to her.

He turns his attention back onto the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice as he struggles to get his primal urges to breed under control. Finally he pulls up on the Oakvale police station, parking in one of the spots and killing the engine.

“I’ll go in and let them know what we found, angel--”

“I’m coming with you. Please don’t leave me alone, Leon…”

Looking over at her, he gives her a gentle smile, “of course, let’s head inside together, then.”

He gets out of the Jeep, walking around to let her out of the passenger’s side, immediately wrapping his arm around her in a protective gesture as they both walk inside the police station. Both of them walk up to the reception desk.

“We need to see Chief Dion,” Leon commands, resting his free arm on the counter as he glares down at the receptionist.

The receptionist pushes her glasses up off the bridge of her nose, “I’m sorry, Chief Bob’s currently in a meeting--”

“Please! It’s urgent, we found Nate…” his angel suddenly blurts out, the panic clear in her voice.

“What!” the receptionist exclaims, looking over at her, “is he…?”

“Yes, he’s dead, just like the other hiker they found the other day,” Leon replies.

The receptionist immediately picks up the phone, dialing a number, “Chief, Leon Kennedy and Mick’s daughter are here, they’re saying they found Nate…”

The receptionist hangs up the phone, looking at his angel, then to Leon, before continuing, “he’s expecting you, please go through the door on the left over there. His office is the first one on the right.

“Thank you,” Leon replies before he walks over to the door in question, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

Upon walking through the door, Leon finds the Chief’s office, walking in with his angel in tow. As soon as they enter, his angel lifts her head to address the Chief.

“I’m sorry, Chief… he’s… he’s…” his angel begins, but then immediately breaks down sobbing.

Leon wraps both his arms around her, trying to comfort her, “he’s dead, Chief Dion.”

“God…” Chief Dion says, looking to the floor, his eyes darting back and forth in disbelief before looking back up at Leon, “if I pull out a map, can you point out where you found him?”

Before Leon can even answer, his angel replies, “I can Chief…”

“R-Right… I’ll be right back then.”

Leon watches as Chief Dion leaves the office. He coaxes his angel over to a bench on the opposite side of his desk, sitting himself and her down as he holds her close, running his hand through her hair to love on her; to entangle her into his web even more. Leon buries his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deep before placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Before long, Chief Dion comes back out with a map of the trails in Franconia Notch, rolling it open to show his angel, “sweetheart, can you point on the map where you found Nate.”

Leon watches her turn her attention to the map; she ponders for a moment before pointing to a spot just off the Basin trail heading West, “right about here…”

“Off the Basin trail?” Chief Dion says, perplexed as he takes the map, looking at it with an eyebrow raised, “how on Earth did he end up over there?”

Shit Leon cursed mentally, he hadn’t thought about where he had originally grabbed him from, no matter, it’ll be fine.

Leon watches Chief Dion grab his transmitter, pushing the button to speak into it.

“Attention all units, I need Police, Fish and Game and EMT at the Basin trailhead immediately. Nate has been located. He’s… he’s dead…”

Chief Dion turns his attention back to Leon, “would both of you be able to stay here until I get back so we can collect a statement?”

“Of course, Chief, not a problem at all,” Leon replies, giving the Chief his best, kind smile.

“Thank you, I won’t be too long. Hang tight,” Chief Dion replies as he leaves the office, heading out the door to the receptionist area.

Leon wraps his arms around his angel even tighter, adjusting himself so that she could relax in his embrace. He watches her intently as her breasts rise and fall with each breath she takes. He can’t help but smile down at her.

Once we’re done here, I’ll bring her back home, and make her a nice dinner. Then I’ll continue where I left off earlier. It shouldn’t be very difficult to get her into my bedroom and--

“WHERE IS HE?!” a male voice shouts from the receptionist area, breaking Leon’s thoughts.

“Mick, you can’t go back there! Get back--!”

The door suddenly bursts open, an irate man charging through and coming into Chief Dion’s office.

“You…” the man practically growls as he looks down at Leon, “you son of a bitch!”

“Dad, what are you--”

“What were you planning on doing to my daughter?! Lure into the woods so you can have your way with her and then ditch her somewhere?!”

Leon rolls his eyes as he stands up, coming face to face with his angel’s father, Mick, noting how his face is red in rage, “what are you talking about?”

“Working on the house my ass! What the fuck are you doing dragging my daughter out into the woods alone with you?!” Mick continues, “I knew something wasn’t right about you!”

“Dad come on, please stop!”

“No! I am doing what’s best for you, this guy needs to fucking go!”

Mick suddenly comes at Leon swinging, landing a couple punches into Leon’s stomach before Leon is able to dodge them. Leon is unphased by the punches Mick did manage to land. Mick continues his assault, one punch missing and going straight through the sheet rock in Chief Dion’s office. Mick takes a second to shake his hand off before he continues to launch punches at Leon. It is taking everything in Leon not to snap and attack Mick with the full force of his abilities.

Leon, finally having enough of Mick’s mindless flailing of his arms, curls up his fist and punches him directly in the center of his face, breaking Mick’s nose instantly. Leon watches as blood runs out from his nostrils, his pupils dilating as the smell of blood goes straight to his head. He can feel his fangs descend and he fights off the urge to feed as Mick tries to get his hands around Leon’s neck. Leon reaches up, trying to grasp Mick’s hands to pry them off, however he’s too inebriated by the sight and smell of blood to be able to pry him off.

Chief Dion and several officers come through the door, the officers grabbing Mick from behind and managing to get his hands behind his back to handcuff him. Leon rubs his neck with one of his hands, looking down at his other hand, seeing faint signs of his black veins. He’s able to finally get himself under control, the black veins disappearing without a trace and feeling his fangs retract.

“What the hell is your problem, Mick?!” Chief Dion exclaims, his voice filled with disappointment.

“I am just protecting my daughter,” Mick replies, his angry gaze focused on Leon.

In that moment, Leon knows one thing for certain:

The father needs to go.

Part 4

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #vampire!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #he comes alive

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samaraannhan20 · 4 months

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Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Imagine: I'm Off to Save the Queen

A/n: this imagine is inspired by this tik tok, enjoy!

Warnings: mitchell!reader, age gap, deployment, I think that's it

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Baby,” I hear from somewhere in my room as I begin to slowly emerge from slumber.

“Mmm,” I mumble, wanting Bradley to know I am semi-awake, but not fully awake.

“Hey, you said you wanted to get up by now,” he tells me, sitting down on the edge of our bed. I reach out my hand, allowing him to take it and gently rub circles into the top of it..

“I lied,” I say, snuggling further into the blankets.

“Honey, you have to take me to base in a few hours for deployment. Don’t you want to get up so we can have brunch one more time before I leave?” he asks me, and I sigh heavily before sitting up.

“Okay, I’m up,” I say, and lean over and give Bradley a gentle kiss, before turning and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and standing. “Wanna take one last shower together?” I ask, holding my hand out for him to take.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Okay. We have the stuff for french toast, pancakes, or waffles. Bacon is an obvious must. Do you want eggs?” Bradley asks me as he stands in front of the fridge, starting to grab items.

“I want french toast please. No eggs, but yes bacon. Obviously. Can you hand me the strawberries? I can cut some up for our toast.” He laughs and hands me the case of strawberries, and I cross over to the sink to wash them off. We work in tandem and silence for a few minutes, occasionally laughing when I cut a strawberry and pop a piece in my mouth, or in his mouth.

“I’m going to miss this,” I say, stopping cutting in order to turn and look at bradley.

“Me too honey,” he says, also pausing what he was doing to look at me. “But if you really think about it, this is one of the shorter deployments I’ve been on. Only five weeks and I’ll be back.”

“I know, but that's still five weeks where I’ll be going to sleep and waking up alone. Plus, when I’m working with my mom I won’t be able to look forward to you coming to the bar,” I respond, stepping to him and wrapping my arms around his waist.

“I know,” he starts, and kisses me on the forehead before pulling away to get back to cooking breakfast. “But I’ll call you anytime I get phone time. And who knows, the mission could get moved up and it could only be three or four weeks. Plus, if you get really lonely you could go stay with your parents and sister.”

I pick up the knife and start cutting strawberries again and then after a moment of silence I laugh and say, “or I could go kidnap my sister and make her stay here.”

“Or you could do that,” he replies and we both chuckle. We work together in silence, and after I finish cutting strawberries I grab whipping cream out of the fridge and head over to our mixer and start the process of making whipped cream. I hear him grab plates out of the cabinet and set them at our seats on the other side of the island as I watch the mixer. I turn for a second and watch him as he grabs serving spoons and a fork for the strawberries, whipped cream, and french toast, before turning back to watch the whipped cream. After a minute or two, I feel Bradley come stand behind me and wrap his arms around my waist, resting his chin on the top of my head after kissing the top of my head. “Can I have a taste of that?” he asks just as I stop the mixer, and I laugh.

“In two seconds it will be on top of your french toast,” I say, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Yeah but I want to sample it first,” he says, and I chuckle under my breath. I turn slightly and stick my finger into the whipped cream, and then turn back to him and hold my finger out. He stares into my eyes as he grabs my wrist and brings it up to his mouth, taking my finger into his mouth and sucking the whipped cream off. He pulls my finger out of his mouth with a small pop, and then leans down and kisses me intensely.

“Brads,” I say when we pull apart, both breathing heavily. “We need to eat our breakfast. It’s going to get cold.”

“I would say I don’t care, but it’s our last meal together, we should eat,” he replies, before pulling me in for another kiss, lifting me, and from what I hear the bowl with whipped cream in it, and carrying me over to the other side of the island, setting me down in a seat.

“Strong,” I say with a laugh when he pulls away, and he just smiles down at me.

“You know it baby.” He turns and opens a drawer, grabbing a spoon and some silverware for us, before coming over and sitting next to me. He stabs a piece of french toast and places it on my plate, before adding another one, and then putting 3 on his plate.

“Hey Roo,” I say after a few minutes of chewing and small talk.

“Yeah sweetheart?” he says around a mouthful of food, looking up at me from his plate. I laugh when I notice the whipped cream on the side of his mouth, and stretch my hand out to wipe it off. When I’m done I lean forward and give him a kiss, and then pull back to ask him my question.

“Can we make a tik-tok today? I saw this one the other day that was sad, but I loved it, and I want to recreate it with you.”

“It’s sad?” he asks, looking at me with a questioning look.

“Yeah, but it’s fitting for our situation. Here, I’ll show you,” I tell him, and cross over to him, sitting on his lap and pulling the app up on my phone. I watch the video once, and then show it to him, and watch his face as it morphs from laughter, from knowing the sound is from Bluey, which is the show I turn on when I have anxiety, to sadness as it starts over again and he really begins to realize what I’m asking of him.

“Baby, you do know that this is going to make you even more sad than you currently are, correct?” he asks as the video ends.

“Yes, but then I’ll be able to watch it while you’re gone, along with the other videos we have made together at this point. And my students love Bluey, so I can show it to them and they will enjoy it, not realizing that it is sad, and their joy might make me feel better.”

“Okay. We can make it after we finish breakfast and I get dressed in my khaki,” he responds, and then we sit there and eat our breakfast making small talk throughout.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Okay, my phone is set up and ready,” I say as I wipe tears off my cheeks after we listened to it a few times and practiced. “Do you remember your lines?”

“Yeah honey. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me one more time, reaching over and wiping another tear off my cheek.

“Yes. I do. Let’s do it before we have to leave,” I say, and reach out in front of me to start the timer. As soon as the countdown finished Bradley starts mouthing his first line.

“I’m off to guard the queen. That’s my job.”

“Ooh, I’ll come too,” I mouth my first line as another tear falls down my face.

“No, you can’t guard the queen,” he mouths, and I see the first tear fall down his face.

“Why not?”

“You’re not good at it.”

“I am. Really, I am,” I say out loud, my voice cracking as I say it.

“No, you better stay home,” he says this part out loud, following my lead, and I lay my head on his shoulder before mouthing my next line.

“But I’m a guard, just like you.”

“Yes, but you’re not a proper guard like me,” he mouths, quieting again.

“Oh, okay then,” I whisper, before turning burying my head in his neck. The sound stops shortly after, meaning the video ended, and we both sit there silently with our arms wrapped around each other and my face buried in his neck, both of us with silent tears streaming down our faces.

“How come it never gets easier?” I say after a few minutes of us sitting in silence.

“I remember one time when I was young my mom and I were at your mom’s house one time when your dad was deployed. She had just found out she was pregnant with you, and she was crying because he had to leave again. I remember my mom told her this. She said ‘Pen, it doesn't get any easier because you fall for him a little more with every passing day.’ And I believe that goes with us as well. We spend every night together, and we learn new things about each other everyday. Even if it’s small things. It never gets easier because the closer we get the deeper we love,” he says, and then presses a kiss to my forehead. “It’s just five weeks,” he says after a moment.

“That’s true. Last year you were gone for like 6 months at one time. That was awful. Spent a lot of time with my parents. And Nat,” I say with a small laugh, finally unburrowing myself from him. “I guess we probably need to go soon.”

“Yeah, probably. Were you going to post that before we left?” he asks, nodding to where my phone sits because we haven’t moved it since we stopped filming.

“No, not today. Maybe tomorrow. I want to keep it just for myself, at least until you’re actually gone. I feel like if I posted it now my phone would be blowing up the entire rest of the time we had today, because everyone is a sucker for a good military story,” I say with a small chuckle, before grabbing my phone and standing up. “One last smoothie run and stop at Hard Deck?”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Okay guys. You are the last class I haven’t played this for yet,” I say a week later to the last class that I had yet to show the video of Bradley and I. “You guys love Bluey right?” I ask, and a chorus of yes’s and cheers erupt. “And you remember my fiance Lieutenant Bradshaw, right?”

“Yeah, he came on career day,” one of my students says, and I laugh.

“That’s right he did. Well he had to go away for a little bit but before he left we made this video together. Do you guys want to see it?” I ask, and they all cheer. I get them to quiet down and then I press play.

“I love you,” I whisper as the video comes to an end.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #rooster bradshaw

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years

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lost in japan | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader word count: 5.5k words request: yes by anon: “could you please write an imagine where mick and reader have a crush on each other but whenever they're together they always get shy or flustered and it's all cute and stuff?” & “may i please have some crumbs of vettel!reader and mick slowly catching feelings for one another and seb is in the front row eating popcorn watching as it unfolds” warnings: language, time jumps (i tried my best with the years and ages (reader and mick are the same age)). also! again! seb’s age makes no sense here!!!!!!!!!!! another thing, i know cherry blossom season is in march-may but let’s pretend it’s also in september-october okay byeeee. a/n: it is 4:30 am and i just finished this, kinda glad bc it confirms my theory that i work best during the night.

my masterlist

meeting him was the beginning of everything.

there was nothing special about their first meeting, but her life would change completely from that moment on.

she always wanted to go with her father to his races, she loved that her dad was so passionate about the sport, everytime he returned home he’d explain everything to her, she always had a million questions.

so, when she was eleven years old, in 2010, she joined her father, sebastian, for the first time. they traveled to monaco, a track that his father loved and could potentially give him the lead of the championship if he were to win it.

age 11, 2010.

she held her father’s hand and looked at everything surrounding her. everything was so big and shiny and new to her.

“woud you look at that?” a tall man said as they walked the paddock. he had a big smile on his face, she recognized him.

“dad, that’s your friend!” she said, pointing at the man.

“yes, darling, that’s my friend, michael,” seb looked down at her, smiling.

“hi, michael!” she waved her hand, the older german ruffled her hair in return.

“it’s great to finally meet you, and see you here. is this your first time here?”

“yeah! i’ve always wanted to see this in real life,” her smile was big as she looked at the teams’ motorhomes around her.

“and what’s your first impression?”

“i don’t think i want to leave,” she giggled, looking up at her father.

“well, i’ll let you get back to your tour. but when you have some free time make sure to stop by the mercedes garage, okay? i think my son could use a friend,”

“ah, you’ve brought mick with you?” sebastian asked, his friend nodded. “then he’ll have to come to the dark side, cause my kid is not going anywhere near that garage,” he shook his head, as both his friend and his daughter laughed.

“we’ll figure it out, these two need to meet, though.”

okay, maybe meeting him did have something special about it. a thought ran through her mind, maybe they’d grow to be as close as their fathers.

age 22, 2021.

“hey kid,” she froze, eyes widening as she turned around.

“dad!” she wrapped her arms around her father, closing her eyes as she hid her face in his chest. “what are you doing here?”

“good to see you’ve missed me, you haven’t called in so long i thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“it was only three days, dad. but i’m so sorry, it’s just… i’ve been busy here, and with the schedules and time difference, i-”

“it’s okay. i’m just happy to know you’re alright,” he smiled, ruffling her hair.

“i am. i am, it’s… kinda hard to believe that this is finally happening,”

“well after all these years and all your hard work, you deserve this, my love,” he threw an arm over his daughter’s shoulders, holding her close.

after endless classes, auditions, she was finally about to star her first movie as the lead actress. when she was about thirteen an idea got to her head, and it was impossible to get it out. she took as many acting classes as she could, even left her home when she was seventeen to fly overseas and hopefully get more opportunities to be in the spotlight.

it didn’t surprise sebastian, that his daughter would find her passion in acting. when she was little she used to always set up plays where she portrayed every role, most times recreating a disney movie she’d seen that day. he trusted her. he knew that a child’s dream had to be supported as much as possible, just like his own parents had done with his.

distance had been difficult at first, but once her first roles started coming, once she started to get so busy she barely had time to sleep, she knew it was all worth it. her first roles were small, but slowly, she caught people’s attention. casting directors, actors she’d worked with were asking to work with her again. it was simply out of this world.

“i- but dad… don’t you have a race this weekend?” she said, walking through the different sets of the studio until she reached her trailer. she was in the middle of shooting, but sebastian arrived just in time since she was about to take a break.

“yeah, that’s why i’m here. i’d like you to come with me,”

“dad,” she smiled. it had been years since she stepped foot in the f1 paddock, she remembered when her entire life revolved around that sport, when she wanted to know every detail there was to know about it… that’s not to say that that wasn’t the truth anymore, but her passion for the sport moved aside, leaving space for what would become her job, her favorite thing in her life. of course, she still followed the sport, tried to not miss any races, supporting her father, her favorite person and biggest inspiration.

“come on, i know you have the weekend off,”

“how did you-” she frowned

“your mother,” he answered. she sighed, but smiled after a second.

“okay. i’ll go”

a beautiful ‘before and after’ picture would be created later on the weekend, as she walked side by side with her father down the f1 paddock. just like she’d done when she was little. she was getting deja vu. she was happy she’d decided to join her dad, they didn’t spend as much time together as of lately, but this weekend she was determined to make the most of their time together.

as they walked, sebastian was catching her up on everything she’d missed since the last time she was there, which was about two years ago. she knew some things from speaking with him, and from the things she saw online, but there was nothing like seeing it all in real life.

they were stopped several times, by fans, journalists, and even people who knew her since she was just a kid. mechanics, engineers, and other team members from both red bull and ferrari.

then, someone caught up to them, embracing sebastian and smiling, her father patted the young man on the back, keeping a hand on his shoulder once they separated.

“all good?” sebastian asked, the younger blonde nodded, noticing her.

“(y/n)?” he asked, his eyes drifting back and forth between the father-daughter pair. sebastian smiled at the way mick’s eyes widened. he knew it.

she nodded, frowning as she couldn’t quite name the person infront of her.

“it’s been so long, how have you been?” he asked, smiling.

that was it.

she recognized that smile.

age 11, 2010.

contrary to the previous days, that saturday afternoon, she found herself watching the qualifying session with company. of course, the day before she hadn’t been completely alone, but she wasn’t with people she knew that well.

seb had meant his words, his daughter couldn’t leave the red bull motorhome, not because he didn’t allow it, but because he didn’t trust anyone to really take her through the paddock to the mercedes garage. so, corinna schumacher and her kids, mick and gina, went to find the young girl.

‘michael, his wife and kids, you can trust them.’ those had been her father’s words before introducing her to them.

she’d been quite shy at first, keeping to herself and just staring at the screens. she’d already had all of her questions answered during the first two practice sessions, but quali was different. she didn’t get it.

mick noticed her small frown, and he turned to his mother, who was busy staring at the screens showing michael’s data.

“mom,” he called, the woman turned to him, running her fingers through his hair, making a mental note to take him to get a haircut soon. “she’s upset,” he said. “why?”

“well, i don’t know. why don’t you ask her? maybe you can help her feel better.” mick turned his head back, pursing his lips, then nodded.

he walked to the young vettel girl, standing behind her. but he couldn’t figure out how to talk to her. then, he heard her talking to herself.

“why is it only eighteen minutes?” she huffed, her eyes glued to the moving cars.

“are-are you mad?” mick asked her, not thinking twice about his words, or how he could’ve startled her. she jumped, moving to the side and looking back at him.

“what?” she asked.

“are you… upset?” he tried again, raising his eyebrows, he didn’t know why he felt nervous talking to her.

“no. yes. i- i don’t know,” she said, looking back at the wall of screens in front of her. “dad said ‘see you in an hour’, but the clock says there’s only fifteen minutes left,” she pointed.

“oh!” he said, “that’s just the end of q1,” he continued, but she stared at him only with confusion in her face. “sorry, qualifying is divided in three, q1, q2, and q3,” he started, she nodded.

“i know that, but-”

“all qualifying sessions last different times, and when you add it all up it takes about an hour, a little longer sometimes,” he explained, “i know it can be confusing, but that’s why i’m here! and my mom and my sister. we’re here to take care of you. that’s what my dad said,”

“thanks, that’s… nice.”

“you’re welcome. and… i know that our dads are friends. so… maybe we’ll be like them when we grow up!” mick smiled, and her eyes drifted down to his lips, he had a nice smile. she could still see it in her head seconds after, that was a smile she’d never forget.

“i was thinking the same thing.”

–

age 22, 2021.

“mick?” she asked, eyes wide. “no way, you made it to f1?” she asked, eyeing his shirt and cap.

“finally,” he smiled, she chuckled, she remembered hearing him talk non-stop about one day being like his father. she was happy he’d finally reached that dream.

“congratulations! i- that’s amazing!” she smiled, “why didn’t you tell me? any of you?” she asked, looking from her old friend to her father.

“well, you’ve barely had time to pick up the phone and say hi, i didn’t even get a chance,” sebastian shrugged. she turned to mick, raising an eyebrow.

“well i… you know… we haven’t talked in a long time and… i didn’t think you’d care,”

“oh, come on! it’s me! i’ve known you… forever!” she was genuinely shocked that she’d missed this news, “you know you can tell me anything-”

“yeah, she’ll just answer three days later,” her father butted in.

“but i’ll answer,” she defended herself, “anyway, as i was saying before being rudely interrupted, doesn’t matter how much time passes, i’m here for you, yeah?” she smiled, trying to think when the last time they’d spoken was. too long ago.

“got it, and… same goes to you,” he grinned too, and she was immediately transported back to her teenage years. “i have to go, but it was great seeing you, you’re staying the whole weekend?” he raised his eyebrows, smiling as she nodded, “great, guess i’ll see you around,”

she nodded again, waving her hand at him, but he took a step closer to her, moving to wrap his arms around her, she was caught off guard, but slid her hands around his waist in return.

“good luck,” she told him, watching him walk away after he said goodbye to sebastian. she turned to her father, and frowned. “what?”

“anything i should know?”

“what?” she asked, seb raised his eyebrows.

“you’re… flustered,” he noticed, she rolled her eyes.

“i’m not,” she grunted, pushing him with her shoulder. seb chuckled, walking beside her, “everything used to be so big,”

“it’s all the same, you just grew up,” he smiled, a nostalgic smile.

“don’t get emotional,” she chuckled.

“you and mick…” seb started, “what… what happened between you two?”

“what do you mean?”

“well, one day you wre hanging out, the next it’s like you never knew each other.”

“i don’t know, i mean… i still consider him my friend, you know? like… he was a big part of my adolescence and i just… got busy. but, so did he. i’ve followed his career, well, i must’ve messed up somewhere along the way since i missed the news that he was in f1.”

“maybe this weekend you guys can work on that,” he suggested as they reached the aston martin hospitality. “i’m sure he’s missed you. he always asks me about you,”

“really?” she asked, taking one last look behind her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere in sight.

“every weekend.” seb nodded. “he’s a good kid. you two have my blessing, you know? in case you both ever want to… you know.”

“dad!”

age 23, 2022.

seoul had always been one of her favorite cities. the culture, the people, the different traditions compared to what she was used to from living in europe for so long. it was always special when she was there.

but that night, she wasn’t as ecstatic about being there.

not when he was so near yet so far at the same time.

it was pathetic, really, to be that infatuated with someone. she’d lived many years without him in her life, and it only took him one weekend to turn her life upside down.

mick and her father were in japan, it was the last time sebastian would race there, and her stomach hurt at the fact that they were really close, but she was stuck in south korea for the press junket of her first movie, a little over a year’s work was finally ready for the world to see.

to say that she was stuck would be an exaggeration, she’d arrived a few days before to get used to the time difference, she didn’t have to be there until wednesday, and it was currently monday. and all she wanted to do was get out of there.

she was being dramatic.

but she did wish she could be there with him.

her phone rang, and she ran to the bed, picking it up. she smiled as she picked up the call.

“hey,” she said, a smile appearing on her face before even hearing his voice, just reading his name in the contact was enough to turn her stomach upside down, to make her heart beat at high speed.

“hi, i didn’t know if you were busy, i-”

“no, i’m free,” she bit her lip, “how’s japan?”

“well, i actually haven’t had the chance to check it out, i’ve been sleeping all day,” he chuckled, she let herself fall on the hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“tired?”

“not anymore,” he laughed, which made her chuckle, too. “and you? have you explored seoul yet?”

“ah, well that’s the plan. that’s why i got here a few days before necessary,” she explained.

“oh, that’s nice, i’m sure there’s a ton of things to do there,” mick said, his voice sounding lower than before.

“yeah,” she sighed, “tokyo sounds great right now, though.”

“so does seoul.”

“what a tragedy we are,” she chuckled, biting her lip. “if only… there was a way to solve this,”

“switch places?” mick joked, though there was nearly no humor in his voice.

“maybe… we could get lost in japan.”

“we?"

"you're two hours away," she whispered, standing up and walking to the window, the sun was starting to go down, the best of seoul's night life would be starting soon. "i'm only a couple hundred miles away,"

"do you want to get lost in japan?" he asked, and she could hear the smile on his face.

"let's get lost."

age 22, 2021.

she felt like a little kid again. she remembered the thrill and excitement the pre-race brought, but living it as an adult, after years and years being away from this world, it felt like living it for the first time.

watching her father get ready, she thought about how lucky she was to have him. he’d taught her to fight for her dreams and not give up until she achieved them, to love people with kindness and give back whenever she could.

there were cameras all over the place, something she’d gotten used to. her eyes shifted from her dad, who was talking to the mechanics, to the screens on the side of the garage.

after a few seconds, she saw herself. she smiled at her ‘reflection’, turning to the side until she spotted the camera, giving it a small wave before looking back to the screen. she saw herself doing that, then the broadcast changed from her, to mick. who was also smiling at the screen, and the delay allowed her to watch him smile at her.

she looked down, feeling her face getting flustered. she and mick had been rekindling their friendship that weekend, catching up when he had free time, remembering the days when the paddock was their playground. it was easy and she was happy that they’d had the chance to do it, she felt bad for losing touch with him years ago.

“it’s time,” her father said, walking to her. she smiled, hugging him.

“good luck and fight hard,” she said, watching his eyes light up as he recognized those words. the same words she told him the day of her first f1 race.

after watching her dad step in the car and wait until he drove away, she stood up and walked down the paddock, sneaking into a different garage.

mick was zipping up his suit, adjusting the velcro strap. her lips curled up as she watched his concentrated face, his eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to be in deep thought. a second later, he turned his head to his side, and he had to do a double take to make sure he was really seeing her there.

she smiled sheepishly now that she’d been caught, she took one careful step in, relaxing as he walked to her.

“hey,” she said, smiling wider. “just wanted to wish you good luck,”

“thank you,” he grinned, a light pink tint creeping on his cheeks, “i’m really gonna need it,” he exhaled deeply.

“you’re gonna do great,” she reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “come here,” she pulled him closer, giving him what was supposed to be a quick hug, but he wrapped an arm around her back, keeping her there for longer than what was deemed appropriate. “i know this place brings back a lot of memories, but just enjoy it. it’s your first time here, racing in f1, your dream. you got this, mick.”

after the race she went to the pit lane, hugging her dad, but spotting another blonde german behind him.

“i’ll be right back, dad,” she told him, making her way to mick. “hey, that was so cool. congrats on finishing your first monaco race,” she hugged him, feeling his arms around her back.

“your dad is watching us. he’s smiling really weird, make him stop, please,” he pleaded, and she turned around to see her dad raise his eyebrows. she rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly at mick.

“it sometimes feels as if he’s the kid. i should go. i’ll talk to you later,” she raised on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

age 23, 2022.

she’d landed in tokyo. the city was filled with lights, skyscrapers, and she never wanted to leave. she’d told her dad about her plans, and had arranged a dinner for the three of them. she was the first to arrive, and was waiting for the two drivers to get there. the place was packed, but of course they’d given priority to sebastian vettel and his daughter. her booth was away from the rest of the other tables, it felt closed off and she was glad the place was good for talking. it would be good for catching up with them.

it was night, and she was feeling quite tired after a hectic and busy day, but she had limited time before having to jump back to her own responsibilities. she wanted to make the most of her free time.

footsteps caught her attention, she looked up, a happy smile on her face.

“mick!” she jumped up from her seat, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. it had been about a month since she last saw him, but she missed him as if it had been years. “how have you been?”

“i’m good, you?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek as his way to say hi.

“same. i… on my way here i was thinking that maybe… i was overreacting, and that i could’ve just come here after the race and-”

“no, i- it’s fine. actually i- as soon as i landed i just knew that you’d love this place if you were here. so i guess i- i’m glad that you wanted to get lost-” they both smiled at his words, “with me.” the concept of ‘getting lost’ in a new place fascinated her, to be so mesmerized and hypnotized by the people and the little markets and stores, that you forget about time, responsibilities.

she smiled at him, nodding, she sat back in her place, with mick in front of her.

“oh, great, i thought i was late,” mick said, sitting in front of her, “your dad’s always pestering me about being on time, and look at him, or- well, you know, you can’t because he’s not here.” he continued, “shutting up now.” he raised his hands as she laughed.

just at that moment her phone rang.

“sorry,” she excused herself as she picked up her phone. “dad?”

“hey, kid, so… i won’t be able to make it tonight. some last minute thing with the team came up. but! you two enjoy a nice dinner, catch up, behave and use protection,” he rushed the last few words before hanging up.

she was left with wide eyes and heat creeping up her cheeks, she shyly looked over at mick, thinking about how to explain what her father just said.

“what did he say?” mick asked, still so confused about everything happening.

“um… dad’s not coming, um, he said we should have a nice time and catch up.”

“oh… well, that’s alright with me, if…” he started, raising his eyebrows as he waited for her answer.

“yeah, i- yeah, let’s do it, we’re already here.” she smiled, pushing aside her nerves, reminding herself who she’s with. it’s mick. sweet, kind, thoughtful mick. her friend mick.

mick, who was staring at her with those big, bright blue eyes that took her breath away.

they talked, ate, drank wine and felt as if they were the only people in the world. conversation flowed easily with him, and the best part was that he really seemed interested in watever she was saying, he asked questions, gave suggestions and advice. and when it was his turn to talk, it took everything in her not to swoon right then and there. he spoke with such confidence and eloquence, softly. and even used his hands to emphasize important points.

they had to be basically thrown out of the restaurant, since they’d stayed thirty minutes past their closing time already. but that ddn’t mean they had to go their separate ways. they walked the streets of tokyo, side by side, speaking lowly as to not disturb the people sleeping, even though it seemed that no one was in their homes, since there were lots of people enjoying the nightlife. but it never crossed either of their minds to do anything other than walk and talk, and laugh and smile. mick took his jacket off when he noticed her skin got goosebumps after a particularly strong gust of wind, draping it over her shoulders, his heart stopped at the soft sigh that left her throat as she felt the comforting warmth enveloping her.

shy smiles and hidden looks when the other was unaware seemed to be their favorite way of communication. their eyes spoke all the words neither of them was ready to speak, perhaps because they didn’t yet know what they were feeling, or couldn’t figure out a way to express it.

he walked her to the hotel, at some point during their walk his hand had found hers.

he’d pulled her close to him, hiding in an alley to avoid a group of drunk men approaching them. it was probably nothing, but mick had been quick to think of a way to avoid them. she’d pressed a hand against his chest, looking up at him as he pressed a finger to her lips, telling her to be quiet. once they passed, and after a few seconds of silence, in which they stared at each other, he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her head, tugging at her hand to keep walking. she licked her lips, biting her bottom one to try and stop the tingling sensation she was feeling.

they hadn’t let go, not that either of them wanted to. but as she looked down to their joined hands, once they reached the door leading to his hotel room, she realized she never wanted to let him go.

he blushed under her stare, tapping his thumb against the back of her hand as he moved his hand back. since her decision to travel to japan had been a really sudden one, most hotels had been booked for the grand prix, and mick had insisted she stayed with him, claiming to have more than enough room for the two of them.

the next day, they woke up early. it was their only full day they had together in japan, and they were both more than ready to get lost in beautiful tokyo.

their first stop was an electronic store, where she bought an instant camera to capture their adventures of the day. after that they went to have breakfast at a famous cat cafe, which mick was dreading. it’s not like he hated cats, but he was a dog person, and the few times he’d interacted with cats they ended up scratching him, hissing at him or just ignoring him. not this time, a cat immediately crawled in his lap, claiming it as his seat for the day.

he smiled as she took a picture of him and the cat, and he noticed the way her lips curled up softly as she looked at the developed photograph.

that day would go down as one of her favorite days, an entire day with someone who made her feel special, who was almost as excited as she was about doing all the basic tourist stuff.

“i think we really are lost,” mick said, as he stopped in his tracks, making her stop as well. once again, her hand was in his. neither of them noticed when it happened, it just did. but they were both aware of how natural and right it felt.

“we just have to take a right turn,” she pointed.

“you’re sure?” he raised his eyebrows.

“that’s what the lady said,” she nodded, taking a few steps and dragging him behind her. “see? i told you we’d- whoa!” she whispered, looking at the huge park in front of her, filled with big cherry blossom trees. “mick, look at this,” she tugged on his hand running towards the park. she let go of him as she rushed deeper into the park.

“it’s beautiful,” he said, watching her wide eyes take everything in. she looked beautiful. a big smile on her face as she saw all the trees, the pink flowers.

“come here, i want to take a picture of you,” she said, making him pose in front of a tree. in the middle of the photograph stood mick, with his signature grin on, and everything behind him was pink.

“your turn,” he declared once the picture developed. he waited for her to decide how she wanted her picture, but she was simply so taken aback by the beauty of this place, that he decided to capture her like that. with her looking up at the trees, a smile on her face. she didn’t notice him until he was shaking the photograph, and she smiled wide at the gesture. that’s when he snapped a second picture.

“mick!” she laughed, taking the camera from him, he slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as he shook the picture with his free hand.

“hold on,” he said, walking to a girl about their age, he asked her to take a picture of the two of them. once he returned to her side, his arm returned to its previous place, bringing her close to him as she slid an arm around his back. before the girl took the picture he looked at her, which caused her to look up at him. they both smiled at the same time, and that’s when the girl took the picture.

after an entire day out on the streets of tokyo, they went to a sushi restaurant, nothing fancy, just what looked to be like a family-owned business.

“thank you for spending this day with me,” she said, taking a sip from her water. her throat was dry, her feet ached and her makeup probably needed more than just a touch-up. “i loved every second of it.”

“hey, you don’t need to thank me. i- i really enjoyed this day as well, i felt… free,”

she nodded, sharing the same feeling.

“besides i- i don’t think there’s anyone that i’d rather get lost with, other than you,” he smiled, his hand reaching for hers. she let him intertwine their fingers together, she’d gotten used to the feeling of his hand on hers.

“i feel the same way,” she said shyly, and it was not her turn to watch him get flustered under her stare.

once they reached their hotel, with the moon and neon lights illuminating the city, they sat on the balcony to look at the pictures they’d taken throughout the day, with a sharpie in hand to write small notes underneath. they watched the cars passing by, head the sounds a big city like tokyo made. when she got cold, instead of getting her a blanket, mick offered to keep her warm, she sat between his legs, with his arms around her.

“this one is my favorite,” she said, smiling at the picture of the two of them standing in front of the cherry blossoms.

“mine too,” he tightened his arms around her. she leaned her back against his chest, looking up at him.

“what should we name it?” she asked.

“hmm, i’m not sure,” he replied, staring deeply into her eyes. “would ‘lost in japan’ be too obvious?” he asked.

“maybe,” she chuckled. “i know i’ve already said it but… i just wanted to thank you. i really- i can’t describe how much i loved getting lost with you.”

“and i already told you, i only want to get lost with you. and you know what the best part about getting lost is?”

“what?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“being found. i- i want… i want to be the person you get lost with, and the one to find you. i want to explore the world by your side, and be consumed by the beauty of it, at the same time as i’m learning more about myself… and about you.”

“mick-”

“i’ve liked you, for so long. i think you were my first crush since back in the day. the years when you went away, when we lost touch, i’d convinced myself that i’d lost you forever, and would only have to know about you through your dad. but after last year… in monaco, when i saw you i just knew. i couldn’t let you go again. and i’ve loved every moment, every conversation we’ve shared since that weekend, i’ve loved getting to know you, and knowing that the kid i knew is still in here,” he tapped her chest, where her heart was, with one finger. “and getting lost with you these few days has been the best choice i’ve ever made. i not only got lost in this place… i also got lost in you. in your mind, your ideas and dreams. it’s like a paradise.”

she cut his words off by placing her lips on his. after years, they were both admitting that this thing between them was more than just a friendship, that the reason they couldn’t get the other out of their minds wasn’t just because they were good friends.

getting lost might have been the best decision they ever took. and having the right partner to get lost with. with the promise that they’d find each other during each adventure.

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wutheringmights · 1 month

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I finished rereading The Song of the Lioness quartet by Tamora Pierce a couple of days back. I already talked about the first book in a post that garnered more attention than it deserved. I guess we were all happily reminiscing about the menstruation scenes together, or Tortall fans are so starved for content they (we) will reblog anything.(Understandable. I too am starved for a thriving Tortall fandom.)

I'm too lazy to make separate posts about each book, so we're just going to do a mega post covering the second, third, and fourth book.

Unlike last time, I will be giving a little criticism to this series. I still love it endlessly, but there were a few things about the prose I thought was interesting that I want to talk about a bit.

So, without further ado~

In the Hand of the Goddess

I think this one is my favorite one, despite how rushed the plot it. It contains all of my favorite plot points, like awkward romances with George and Jon, attending knight lessons, and a little summer war. Fun stuff.

But it definitely feels rushed. I really wish someone told Pierce to make this a 12 book series, expanding on Alanna's years at the castle. It would have gone so far to better develop the romances and the friendships in these books.

I am fascinated by what Pierce chose to skim over. Characters would die or kiss for the first time off screen, with the prose resuming with Alanna reacting to it. It demonstrates an understanding of character work that I personally adore and try to emulate in my own writing-- the real bones of a story being in how characters respond to fantastic events as opposed to the fantastic events themselves.

Also, the whole veil spell Roger cast in objectively stupid, and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible. You're telling me that Roger used magic to make Alanna lose interest in doing anything about the obviously evil things he was doing? That's fucking hilarious. You know an editor came back to Pierce and asked her to come up with a reason why Alanna wasn't just going to spring into action at the first sign of Roger trying to kill her, only for Pierce to come up with this. It's so silly. I love it.

Woman Who Rides Like A Man

Did this book age poorly? Yes, but not as badly as I remembered. That's not a stirring defense, and it's really not meant to be.

The Bahzir are a mess of Orientalism, and Pierce definitely deserves criticism for not only the way she wrote them but for the ways in which she frames their cultural practices as something that needs to be fixed. Having Alanna want to force them to change their culture to suit her beliefs is not a great look for both the character and the writer. And that's not even getting into the whole assimilation plotline.

But I did enjoy Pierce's attempts to expand on the definition of womanhood, especially as a part of Alanna learning to embrace femininity. There is this running thread in these last two books of Alanna learning about all the different ways to be a woman and choosing for herself what her gender means to her. It's not done particularly well, and anyone looking for a revolutionary examination of gender roles and identity is going to be sorely disappointed. But there's an attempt here that I can't help but appreciate.

This book is also where Pierce starts to slow the plot down, which lends it to having the most reasonable pacing out of the bunch. That being said, it's also the book where the lack of development for a bunch of the side characters start to hurt. I really wish Gary or Raoul joined Alanna in the desert. Raoul gets his moment in the sun with the Protector of the Small books, but Gary remains largely forgettable. In fact, I spent this entire read-through convinced this man dies at the end of the last book, if only because I can't remember where he appears in any of the other books.

Lioness Rampant

This book somehow has the improved pacing of the third book while still feeling rushed. The quest for the Dominion Jewel really should have been it's own book, if only to give Thayet and Buri more room for development. Thayet in particular really needs her moment to shine, especially when she continues to be an important character in the other series.

But do you know who did get a lot of screen time? Liam.

Remembered shit about this guy before going into this book. I could only vaguely recalled disliking him as a kid, but not as much as I venomously hated Jon. (Speaking of which-- I love the way this man is realistically shitty. Him getting dumped by Alanna is always my favorite scene.) But Liam? Fuck that guy. Holy shit. I give full applause to Pierce for portraying the important milestones every girl goes through growing up, which includes having a situationship that is so shitty that it becomes essential character development.

Roger's return feels very... cheesy? I think Alex should have stepped up to be the final villain on the story. Unlike Roger, Alex was Alanna's friend. They have history. The betrayal would have imbued that final fight with so many more emotions than it ultimately had. I also would have liked Alanna to have at least meaningfully talked to Alex sometime before the climax.

Honestly, it's impressive how reactive Alanna is as a character in the last half of the book. She doesn't seek out how to stop Roger's plan, or fix Thom, or anything. Other characters make plans and she just... waits for something to go wrong.

That being said, by virtue of Alanna's relationships with George, Liam, and Jon all happening sometime in this plot, this book becomes a good place to look to get the full berth of how Pierce handles romances. Which, I love her approach. The romances are never over the top or, for lack of a better word, too romantic. It's very down to earth, with characters dating, marrying, or breaking up for realistic reasons.

Jon and Alanna were friends who broke up because they had different life plans. Liam and Alanna broke up for having fundamentally different values. As much as I bitch about how shitty Jon and Liam are, they're not cartoonishly evil. They're just a little shitty the way most of your exes will be. Jon and Liam are men could find love with someone else. They just aren't suited for Alanna.

Meanwhile, the most romantic things George does are wait for her and be supportive. He doesn't fight or get territorial. He makes his feelings clear, then waits for Alanna's cues. Alanna definitely loves him, but she ends up with him in the end because their lifestyles and core beliefs meld together. There's no grand romantic gesture or whirlwind affairs. They are just a good pair.

I have read stories with far heavier focuses on romance, and none of those couples feel as perfect as Alanna and George. Those stories prioritize all the gooey moments over showing why the main couple should get together. For how little romantic interactions they have, you believe these two could have a successful marriage. Perfect stuff.

---

Over all, I really enjoyed rereading these books. For all my griping, I still love the story. I love Alanna. She's a character who is fundamental to my soul. No matter where I am in life, I will always want to open these books and find her again, to walk back into Tortall and join her on her quest to be a lady knight.

My copies of the series come with forewards from a previous edition. In one of them, Pierce wrote that this series started off as an adult fantasy story that was much darker and edgier. I need to know what that story looks like, what happened in it. Pierce can claim as she wants that she hardly remembers what it looks like, but I refuse to believe that. Release the unedited first draft, Pierce. I am begging you.

#it probably has on screen gay sex for thom and roger #anyway that's the alanna series. the library book i ordered is still not here yet so now I'm off to find another short-ish book to read #this book better come in before june or else i will lose it. i am putting off reading the illiad for this #me rambling #bookish #books and reading #books #bookblr #tortall #song of the lioness #tamora pierce #me reading

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8siangemini · 10 months

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Hello Hello! ✌🏽 can you do a earth 42 miles x reader were she has sensitive ears and miles tends to tease her and bite them and be all like "my my what sensitive ears you have be a shame for someone to bite them". 😈💟

Wall Hugger

Earth 42 Miles x Reader

Summary: You’re known as the life of the party, yet untouchable. Nobody would dare catch you while you were throwing it during partys. All because everyone knew of the infamous wall hugger, that for the first time caught some. Your not-so-sneaky link, Miles G. Morales.

WARNINGS: Clothed grinding, sneaky links, ear biting

Author’s Note: Reader and Miles are aged up to college age!!! But besides that, I am sorry this took awhile to get out there but I wanted to finish my series before I did this. AND I really want more people to request stuff 🥰

The house was filled with bodies, rap music, the aroma of alcohol, and smoke coming from mouths. Every corner of the house and up the stairs were filled with strangers making out and more…obscene things going on upstairs.

You were dancing like it was the last night of your life. Your friend, Lana’s, hand was in your’s high up in the air as you two danced together. Your hips swayed back and forth, knowing all well who is staring.

You turn your head and through the multiple people you meet dark brown eyes staring into you. He leaned against the wall as many of his friends stood next to him talking to each other. But he himself was out of the conversation, all of his attention was on you, keeping tabs on everything you do, every movement, every sway. Miles G. Morales.

And as he stared at you all you could do was smirk at him, knowing all well who’s bed you’ll end up in the morning. You looked back at Lana and saw her lips moving, trying to talk to you. You bring your ear close to her to try and here what she was saying.

“Girl go get your manz!” Lana yelled over the loud music.

“Just give me a sec!” You yelled back.

And almost on command your guys’ song comes on, Under the Influence by Chris Brown. Slow and sensual music. You look at Lana who already knew what was going to happen. You two let go of each other’s hands and you bring your hands up into your hair, pushing it up slightly and look over at Miles.

His eyes scanned down your body and got hooked onto your hips. You swayed them back and forth as you stared at him, looking at his reaction. He bits down on his bottom lip slightly and pushes his body off of the wall. He pushes pass his friends and they all looked at him walking up to you. They all chuckle as they stare at their friend make his move.

He walks up to you and you turn your back towards him, giving him what he wants. He makes his place behind you and places his large hands on your waist. Your hands fall away from your hair and go behind you to place itself on the back of his neck. You feel his breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine causing you to press your body against him more, moving your hips into his pelvis as he grinds into you.

You bit the bottom of your lip as you kept on feeling his breaths down the shell of your ear. He knew what he was doing, he always knew how to get to you and how to get you rilled up.

“Hi mama,” Miles whispers into your ear as a low moan escapes your mouth, feeling his member slowly becoming hard mixed with his breath against his ear.

“Hi Miles,” You respond breathily.

You continue to rub your ass against Miles’ pelvis as he presses himself firmly against you, pulling on your hips.

“How about after this,” Miles begins to peck kiss against your ear. You began to feel like putty in his hands. You wanted to fall to your knees right then and there but his hands on your waist kept you stable. “I continue this back at my place wit you.”

Miles began to bite onto your ear. Another low moan escaped your mouth which Miles was able to hear.

“I’ll take that as a yes, mamas.” Miles chuckles.

Miles grip the becomes firmer and he continues his gentle abuses are your ear.

“You’re all mine, mama. Ain’t no one gon take all of this.” His hand glides down lower and squeezes your ass firmly.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man #spiderman #miles morales #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #earth 42 miles morales

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 8 months

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The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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