#be the change you want to see in your future

[11cupid-tarot11]

How would your future spouse treat you on your moon cycle? <3

I was having such bad cramps when this question suddenly hit me and I figured we'd all love to know, right? Even though I get very cranky and like to be alone during my time of the month hehe.

1 -> 2

3 -> 4

Pile 1- Wheel of fortune, queen of wands, queen of swords.

So this person will literally try to pamper you, whatever that may look like for you. I'm hearing they'll respect all of your boundaries and will grant all of your wishes, they're very supportive. I'm hearing they don't like seeing you in pain and they understand how uncomfortable this time frame is for you.

I think this person is naturally caring and easily can read human emotions and they're giving therapists vibes tbh like they could work in that field or maybe for some I'm picking up on massage therapists, this person just seems like they know humans enough like maybe they studied it or it could just means they've studied you so well they know what you need (I said 'want' at first but was directed to switch it to 'need'. Someone's fs here likes being in charge lol) . Either way, I think they'd love to be your massage therapist around this time. I'm hearing anything to make you feel good.

THEY WILL LITERALLY TREAT YOU LIKE A QUEEN, pamper you, spoil you.

I'm hearing for some, around your moon cycle you get mood swings maybe? Your entire energy changes enough for this person to catch on and they'll know before/when you're on your period because of this. Maybe you're usually very chill and calm and around this time you're just more cranky than usual like me lol and your person will try very hard to just make sure your okay and not taking their head off? Lol, the way your person talks is very funny, they're very funny and so so sweet!

I think this person will treat you so well simply because they love you, you're their baby and they respect you so much. You're literally their queen. They love you so so much 😍 they want me to leave this rose emoji for you 🌹 (I think they're very giving, it's just in their nature ���)

Other messages- my sweet girl, lots of chocolate and warm towels, hugs and I'm picking up on those who would rather be left alone for moments at a time they understand, they'll check up on you occasionally and will still be very affectionate (u can't refuse their hugs I'm hearing no escape lol 🤣😭 they're very cute. I think they like compliments? They might blush and smile a lot?) The type to randomly kiss ur forehead or cheek when ur literally just ✨chillin✨ just because.

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

Pile 2- Ace of swords, temperance, the fool and the hermit.

So I think this person actually doesn't know much about a women's cycle, I think for a specific few they're the only child or maybe they just didn't grow up around a lot of feminine energy so this just isn't their field but I'm hearing they'd try damn hard to make sure everything's okay!

They'd follow your lead on this, like they prefer to maybe watch you from afar during this time? Like sometimes they don't know if they should bother or if they could help at all so they'll probably just straight up ask if there's anything they can do. This person isn't immature about it, but they do feel a bit awkward during those days? (I'm actually dying at ur person, they hardly know how to describe anything?)

Okay, for example, say you're having very bad stomach cramps and you've been in bed all day complaining, they would probably let you stay in bed as long as you'd like and would peek their head in the doorway to silently check up on you because they don't know if they should disturb you or not.

I think they'd love it if you just told them or ask for anything you need, I think they'd rather you rest and use them as a servant 😜 (ur person wanted me to add that, they felt very serious until now? I'm dying) until you feel better, they'll try different approaches tho, I don't think it'll always be this awkward. I think when you two have been together for awhile they'll pick up. I think then they'd mix up their own home remedies, and their own strategies by now, they're not very specific on what this could be or what it could look like because I think this person doesn't really want you to know?

They really want you to feel cared for and like they're there for you as much as possible so they're constantly thinking of new ideas for you!

This is not an 18+ reading and take it how it resonates but I think a very selective few wouldn't mind having intercourse on their moon cycle? 👀

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

Pile 3- Death, Ace of coins, The tower, Page of wands

This pile feels different, I was getting the energy of your person being shy and excited to have their turn for the reading 🤣 maybe this person isn't someone who you see romantically at first, could be a roommate a friend but you do know this person or they will come into your life at some point and you guys will have some kind of friendship from the start. It's giving secret admirer tho.

With the death card I'm thinking y'all could've just made it official, it feels like this is something new to them. Maybe it makes them feel a step closer to you? They think it's very cool you're trusting them enough at a time like this. They really value it.

I think they'll be the type to really go all in, ask you probably 20x a day "What do you need?" I saw that scene from Aladdin, when the genie is explaining how tired he is of being in the lamp and he's like "What do you need?Poof! What do you need? Poof!"

This person is trying to charm you and maybe show you they really care for you by doing this, I'm hearing 365 days a year they'll be like this tho, not only when you're on your moon cycle. I think they want you to be vulnerable with them or can't wait to see more vulnerable sides of you.

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

Pile 4- The moon, Kight of coins, Temperance, Kight of swords.

My pile 4's energy is different, I think this person could be older than you? This person overall isn't someone who's very cuddly or could even be very hard to read so moments like these really show that side of them in their own way?

For example, say you ran out of pads but your stomach hurts too bad to go get them yourself, your person wouldn't be thrilled to shop in the women's section but for YOU they will, they'll go get your pads and make sure they're the right size and everything (I'm hearing he'll literally call you and ask what size he should get).

They're very serious when it comes to you, they have dedication and it shows in the oddest ways possible.

So for your time of the month they'd be very chill about, the other piles felt all jittery and nervous like they were scared to mess up but your person is smart, he'll break down those walls for you, if you just want to cuddle in bed they'll hold you as long as you like. I'm hearing they're actually kind of "softer" at the right times (I'm sorry I can't think of a better word right now)

You'll love how this person will treat you and your needs and I'm hearing symptoms as well, they're very comfortable and reliable. He's like your big giant teddy bear! 🧸

Let me know how it resonates in the comments below! Leave a suggestion for the next pick a pile!

#18+ tarot #pac tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #pac love reading #pick a card #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #spirituality #pick a pile #tarot commissions #tarot requests

[calicoheartz]

need need need something about Caitlin dating a famous popstar, think Sabrina carpenter

☆ espresso ; Caitlin Clark

summary : caitlin clark x pop star reader!

synopsis : you are the music scenes next hot thing , who happens to be dating worldwide famous wnba player (set a tiny bit into the future)

warnings : tiniest bit suggestive if you squint , pure fluff !

my master list ㇀♡

a/n: thank you to the lovely person who suggested this! i changed some of the lyrics in the song for it to make sense but it shouldn’t be too noticeable. Enjoy ◡̈

You were the music industry’s next hot thing. From performing at smaller venues, to headlining at Coachella; you were everywhere. Along with your wnba superstar, Caitlin Clark.

The two of you had met while you were preforming a gig at a local bar , a little right before you got your big break. Ever since then, the two of you had been inseparable. Both instantly drawn to each others passion and drive for your careers.

But with Caitlin’s demanding basketball schedule and your international shows and tours , maintaining your relationship proved to be a challenge. Only relying on calls , texts , and surprise visits whenever you can to steal a moment together amidst your busy lives.

It had been almost 3 weeks since you’ve seen your loving girlfriend. With the wnba draft and Coachella starting to kick off, the universe was simply pulling you two away from eachother.

You were sitting in your dressing room , preparing to go on stage to kick off the second weekend at the bustling festival , the biggest festival of the year for that matter. Your nerves were practically eating you alive, you knew she would be in audience. You toyed with your hair as your makeup artist finished the final touches of your look , as you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt. The skirt that perfectly hugged your curves , delicately adorned with lace and bows , your signature look.

You soon snapped back to reality, with the cheers from the audience slowly making its way into your mind. There was no doubt in your mind that this was the moment that could make or break your career. You planned on preforming your newly released song espresso , as a way to give your girlfriend a little treat on her first day back.

You made your way to the stage , sporting your signature beach waves and skimpy clothes, the intro to the song soon began and your eyes darted across the crowd. Begging to meet with the one pair of eyes you can call her own.

You hear the crowd begin to chant your name , you lock eyes with Caitlin briefly, sending a smirk your way. Prompting you to slowly begin to sway your hips as you begin to sing..

❝ now she’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night oh, is it that sweet? I guess so ❞

you turn towards caitlin , seeing a big grin on her face , as she very well knows the melodic tune is referencing your whirlwind romance. Your hips continue to sway as the lyrics danced off the tip of your tongue , hitting every note in the process.

❝ And i got this one girl

And she won’t stop calling

when they act this way..

I know i got ‘em ! ❞

The crowd begins to scream , noticing your small wink towards caitlin , making it painfully obvious of your ode to her throughout the song

As the lyrics then again roll off your tongue like sweet honey, you continue to prance around the stage earning gasps and applause from the audience, and most importantly; a hungry gaze from your girlfriend. Her eyes practically undressed you as they wandered from your hips to your face, and vice versa. You immediately felt butterflies in your stomach, it had been so long since shes looked at you with those eyes. And as much as you wanted to jump off the stage and into her arms, you only had to finish the rest of the chorus and verse before concluding your set.

You began…

❝ I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer…Oh, she looks so cute wrapped around my finger! ❞

The music continues and you feel as if you are on cloud nine. If this doesnt fully establish your relationship with cait, then youre not sure what will. You practically feel her eyes burning into you as you resume your soft sways, slowly becoming more provocative as you reach near the end of the song. You hair slowly flows with the gentle breeze, as you shoot a glance towards your girlfriend, receiving a approving nod in return. You hear your cue, and make your way to the front to face the audience head on, you quickly hit your iconic signature pose while belting

❝ Mmm, that's that me espresso❞

And the audience erupts with claps and chants as you quickly exit the stage, locking eyes with your manager who signals you to head to the back. As you make your way down there, you feel a strong and warming embrace wrapped around your hips, with soft kisses peppering your neck. “Cait!” you squealed, unable to hide your excitement to see the brunette, she grins at your reaction, snaking her arm beneath you as she slowly begins to carry you to your dressing room.

She soon gently puts you down, as she gently begins caressing your cheek. “You did amazing” she muttered, “everytime you preform you never refuse to amaze me with the amount of talent that you have-” you cut her off with a deep and tender kiss, tasting the mango flavored lipbalm that glistened on her lips.

You giggle, simply muttering , youre my honey bee.. Come get this pollen ;)

anywaysss this is my go at pop star reader x cc !! tbh i feel like this is train wreck but you be the judge of that! tysm for reading 🎀

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #Iowa #caitmylove #kate martin #hawkeye #22 #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wlw imagine #wlw #sabrina carpenter

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Jimin Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

One Shots

I want to be with you (a s f) ⊹₊⋆ moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

Ho-Ho-Home (a s f) ⊹₊⋆ Golden neighbor extraordinaire, Park Jimin, is (unintentionally) stealing your spotlight this holiday season. Despite your one sided rivalry with him, all Jimin wants is for you to remember him, to remember your past and hopefully create a future with you.

Into the wilderness (a f) ⊹₊⋆ alright, so last summer’s camp was... disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

The Boyfriend Concept (f s) ⊹₊⋆ Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot.

wanna watch a sex tape (s) ⊹₊⋆ When Taehyung invited you over to watch a movie, you didn’t think the movie he had in mind would be your sex tape… And you definitely didn’t think his roommate would want to watch, too.

feel your touch (a f s) ⊹₊⋆ You have always known yourself to be a sexual switch in bed, flipping between exercising and submitting control according to different situations and partners. And this camboy you are addicted to, one that seems to kinda reciprocate your interest, submits so beautifully that you just want to command him. But when things progress to levels you never anticipated, you end up discovering pleasant surprises that might just change your life.

physical (s) ⊹₊⋆ you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.

#bts #bts x reader #bts fic recs #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #park jimin #park jimin x reader #park jimin fic recs #park jimin smut #park jimin fluff #park jimin angst #jimin x reader #jimin fic recs #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut

[ysrjune]

omgomg what abt like reader and sam monroe are really good friends and he like has a thing for her in high dchool but she moves away n they run into eachother in the future AND HE LOOKS LIKE ANAKIN NOW.

(shut the fuck up this is so cute but like sad to me. im gonna sob 💔) also im literally listening to 'into you' by ariana grande, so that's why that's the title, ahaha 😈

Into You ✦

Sam had been a really good friend of yours since sophomore year. You didn't hang out with the same people at all, though. Sam hung out with a couple of druggies and ‘freaks’ while you were paired with ‘normal’ people.

You became friends with Sam because you had the same p.e class with him. He was often left alone and in the corner after walking 2 daily laps. Some guys even made fun of him, but Sam would always ignore them. Even your own girlfriends would make fun of him! You always felt bad for that poor boy.

So, one day you left your friends after walking 2 laps and went to the corner that Sam was always at. He didn't notice you at first, but once he did, he looked nervous. Why was a girl going up to him? The worse scenarios were going through his head. Maybe someone dared you to do that thing were you go up to a random kid and ask them out and if they say yes, you laugh and explain it was a dare.

When you finally stood in front of him, he glanced up anxiously and looked back down, waiting for you to just get it over with. “Hi, Sam.” You sweetly greeted with that charming smile of yours. He only nodded his head to your greet.

“Look, I know you're probably scared im gonna say or do something mean, but please trust me when I say I wanna be your friend.” and sat next to him. He was stunned at what you had said. You were so pretty and had a bunch of friends. Why do you wanna be his?

Sam messed with the stud inside his lip, making his labret move from the outside. “Just cause you feel bad doesn't mean you have to be my friend.” He softly spoke. Yeah, that was the big part of it, but you also believed everyone should have a friend.

It's not like Sam was completely friendless, but he was left out in a lot of his classes that his friends weren't in, and you wanted to change that. “Sam, I wanna be your friend because I think there's more to you than what people think.” He finally looked at you but still kept an emotionless expression. “Yeah, okay.”

And from then on, you bothered him every simple day during pe. You made him walk with you, run the miles with you, literally participate im everything in that class. He acted annoyed at first (which really, he loved the attention), but as time went by, he came around.

Sometimes, you'd ditch your friends to go inside the hallways or classrooms to spend lunch with Sam. You two became so close that he let you meet his mom, dad, step-dad, and little brothers.. and boy, did they love you.

The point has been made. You're close friends. Junior year was the year his biological dad died, but you helped him through it all. Especially with his drug problem. Since the last week of sophomore year, he's had a crush on you. At first, he tried to brush it off, telling himself that it's never gonna happen and to just keep you as a friend. You were the only one who genuinely cared anyway.

Sam had dated some girl named Alyssa for a while, which you hated. She was such a dirty hoe.. there were rumors that she kissed Sam's dad and that she told Josh to lie about never having sex with her, but come on, no one really believes that.

You tried to be happy for Sam, and you were for a little bit until Alyssa had a cow over you being too close with Sam. As a girl who's experienced the same, you understood and stopped talking to him for a while. Only giving him smiles and waves when you'd see him around.

What you didn't know is that when you stopped talking to him, he was really mad at Alyssa. “Alyssa, I love you, but you have to understand that she's the only one who really cared for me before you. I can't just stop talking to her like that. If I never met her, I'd probably would have already been dead because of how fucked up on drugs I was.” But she clearly didn't care.

She was so damn jealous that she wasn't the one who helped him through all that. Not only was she mad over that, but she was upset that you were prettier. Inside and out. She was so toxic with Sam, and everyone knew. His friends told him to just break up with her, but he didn’t want to. That poor boy was too scared.

At the end of 11th grade, he finally broke up with her, though, even though it was quick. All he said was that he was unhappy, and she used him for attention and that it was over. She didn't get a say in it because he walked away right after. And who did he immediately go to? You. He craved you so bad.

You had a boyfriend now, and he was so pissed. That should have been him. He was just too scared to say anything. Always seeing you hugging and kissing all over him was gut-wrenching. That whole breakup was right when the bell rang after school, so he planned to go to his house to freshen up and talk to you.

He knocked on the door around 6 in the afternoon just in case you were eating dinner at 4-5. Your mom opened the door, greeting him with a big hug since she hasnt seen him in so long. Let's just say things were awkward at first between you two at first, but after explaining everything, it was fine.

You gushed to him about Jesus, your boyfriend. Talking about how sweet and handsome he is.. Sam acted happy for your sake, but ooh, he was so jealous.

Stuff went back to normal, and you two became close again really quick. Sam met Jesus, and it went pretty well. Even if Sam was jealous/mad, he saw that Jesus really liked you and seemed like a good guy. What relieved him even more was that Jesus didn't mind your friendship.

“Oh, yeah. I had a homie who was on drugs and stuff. He didn't have anyone to help him out like that, so it's chill that you helped him out like that. I'd never get mad over him wanting to hang out, you know?” Your boyfriend explained one time when he was over.

You lasted with Jesus for a couple of months until the last few weeks of school because you were going to an out of state college. Sam didn't know that was the reason, though. He just saw it as a chance to finally confess. You two were sitting in an empty classroom together at lunch.

“Sam, we need to talk.” You speak softly. “We are talking.” He replies, eating a chip. “No, like. I have something serious to tell you.” His heart dropped. Were you gonna drop him? Did he do something wrong?

“What is it..” You friend replies with an anxious look plastered on his face. “I'm moving after graduation. Like, to an out of state college.” One part of Sam was happy, and the other was devastated. He finally got you back, and now you're leaving?

“Oh, um,” He looked to the floor. “That's great. Uh—not in the sense that, like, I want you to leave, but, you know. It's great that you have this opportunity.” He tried his best not to cry but failed. You two spent the whole time crying to each other, saying how much you'll miss each other.

But you'll keep in touch.. right?

—

You and Sam were bawling by the end of it. He was probably even sadder because it's not like he can tell you he likes.. no. Loves you, because what's the point?

He went along with you to the air port, saying goodbye. Hugging you hard and placing a kiss on your head. “Have a good time, okay? Have fun.” Sam says, eyes all red and droopy.

You nod, kissing his cheek and leaving a faint mark. Before he knew it, you were on that plane and gone. You swore that you were gonna call and visit for the holidays, but guess what! You didn't.

Spring break? No. Thanksgiving? Christmas? His birthday? Nope. He tried calling one time, but the number was out of service. That was the last straw. He was so mad at you.

He got over it after a year or so, too. He pushed himself to be more social and actually go out. His appearance changed, too. No more eyeliner or dressing in dark clothing. He even dyed his hair brown.

—

He kinda forgot about you since even after your four years at college were up, you stayed. You forgot about him too. Your new friends kept you busy all the time, along with your job.

Your look didn't change as drastically as Sam's. Your style of clothing changed a little, and so did your attitude. Back then, you were such a goody two shoes. Now, you go out amd party and break the rules more often. Nothing totally illegal, but you get it.

You still talked to your parents every night. They asked so many times to come visit you because they're getting old (a little dramatic, but it was still true) so you finally said yes after 6 years of not seeing them.

Your cousin had picked you up from the airport, thrilled to see you. She was chatting it up and telling you about everything that has been going on since you left. Then it hit you. Sam Monroe, that emo boy you loved so much probably still lived here. Your cousin knew him back then, too, so maybe she knows what hes been up to.

“Oh, girl. He's like, a totally different person. Dyed his hair, became more talkative.. like, literally. A bunch of girls from high school like him cause they realized how handsome he is, I guess.” She keeps babbling on about him to you. He changed a lot, it seems. But there was no way you were gonna try and go look for him. You knew he was more than likely mad at you for not calling and visiting.

Your parents had invited a bunch of people over for a welcome home party. They were all in the backyard, though. So, you had time to get ready. Sam was left in your mind while you showered and got ready. How different could he really look?

After you get ready, you make your way to the backyard, greeting aunts and uncles, cousins, and family friends, but most importantly, your parents. You were smothered by your mom's kisses and practically crushed by your dads hugs. They missed their little girl.

You drank with your cousins and played party games while the older adults watched and laughed at you, losing almost every round, causing you to face the penalty and take a shot.

By the end of the night, you were so drunk. No memory of what happened that night when you woke up in the morning. Confused in your old room, you groan and whine. A headache was bothering you, and you felt super weak, but you remembered that your dad wanted you to go to the hardware store with him to pick up a few tools.

You knew he would offer to just let you stay and rest, but you haven't seen him in so long and wanted to spend as much time with him as you could. With another groan, you force yourself to get up and shower. You didn't even bother to put on makeup or do your hair.. not even to wear a cute outfit.

Sweats with a baggy t-shirt and a pair of slippers was your choice. Your mom gave you something quick to eat before leaving with dad. The store was close by, so the ride there wasn't too long. Dad asked about everything you did over where you live.

Ex boyfriends, the classes you took, and a lot of other things were talked about, even when you got off the car and entered the store. You talked his ear off while he was looking through the aisles. One thing about dad was that he's never at the hardware store just for what he actually needs.

Normally, he'd tell you to shut up with all your talking because, well.. you're a chatterbox. but this was an exception since he hasn't seen you for a long time. Half an hour passed by before he asked you to go get something for him in aisle 12.

You looked and looked around that aisle for what seemed like forever trying to find a specific tool dad asked for. A groan escapes your throat, and before you know it, you are asked a question by a worker.

“Need any help, ma’am?” His voice was soft and calm. You turned around to see a very tall, muscular man with tanned skin, brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He was very handsome. So handsome that he left you speechless, and it was sort of weirding him out.

“Ma’am.” He repeated himself, looking slightly uncomfortable. You knock out of your trance and visibly cringed at yourself. “Sorry, um. Yes, I need help.” You respond with a nervous tone. “Yeah? Okay, what do we need?”

“A shovel.” You reply, trying to avoid eye contact. The man laughed a little, shaking his head. “Well, this definitely isn't the aisle where you'll be finding those.” Great, now you look stupid. Did dad send you to the wrong one on accident? Who knows. You just felt really stupid.

“Come on, n/n, I'll show you.” He says and starts walking away. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that he had just called you your nickname. What the fuck? How does he know that? Wait.

No, there's no way. This guy looks nothing like the one you had in mind. “Here ya are.” He interrupts your thoughts. “Oh, thank you,” You squint to look at his name tag. It was him. “Sam.”

“Did it really take you that long to realize?” He snickered and set his hands on his hips. “But I guess I can't blame you, though, huh? I look nothing like I did when you left.” Of course, he had to add that last part. Now you were sure he was pissed about what happened.

“Yeah..” was all you replied while literally checking him out. he didn't mind it. He knew he was handsome. His confidence grew a lot while you were away. “So, anyway. I'd recommend this one.” He quickly changed the topic.

—

He talked to you for a little while in that same spot. About why you left and why you didn't call back—but he was so mature about it. He wasn't angry or sad.. he was just asking like if it was normal. He even walked you back to where your dad was at, and said hi.

It made you smile to hear him ask for your new number. “Just so you know, I'm taking you out tonight, and you can't say no. Pick you up at 8.” He smiles at you. You shake your head and smile again. “Okay, see you then.”

—

errrm part 2 when 🤔

tags, @heartsforanakin @sockiess @radiantvader @anakinstwinklebunny @lunalitva @lvrfay3 🎀

#hayden christensen #sam monroe #life as a house #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe smut #i love sam monroe #sam monroe fanfiction #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen star wars #anakin skywalker smut #rots anakin #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

 “Can I kiss you, Sugar?” 

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive. 

This moment is no different. 

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head. 

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years. 

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained. 

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way. 

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss. 

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future. 

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now. 

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they? 

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.” 

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.  

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair. 

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home. 

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks. 

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads. 

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared. 

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment. 

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance. 

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain. 

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him. 

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his. 

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere. 

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter. 

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight. 

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone. 

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it. 

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be. 

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.” 

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it. 

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile. 

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight. 

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize. 

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised. 

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then. 

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down. 

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear. 

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it. 

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.” 

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you. 

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this. 

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away. 

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption. 

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off. 

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we? 

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption. 

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.” 

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened. 

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it. 

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours. 

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on. 

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man. 

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses. 

Always have, always will. 

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined. 

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into. 

You’d forgotten just how well you know him. 

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind. 

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens. 

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him. 

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core. 

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response. 

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.” 

“Please what, Sugar?” 

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-” 

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command. 

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention. 

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now. 

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day. 

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned. 

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water. 

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” 

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would. 

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer. 

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago. 

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up. 

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night. 

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.” 

You mean more than just the sex. 

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does. 

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again. 

You don’t know when the tears started. 

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet. 

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.” 

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use. 

“When I get back, all I care about is you.” 

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains. 

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you. 

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable. 

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die. 

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

[lushaletta]

the dark lord and his distraction / tom riddle

pairing: fem!reader x tom riddle

content: muggleborn!reader, swearing

summary: you distract tom from his plans. and he hates it.

a/n: this is my pt. 2 to the lamb and her wolf! idk if i like this but i kinda do but Arghh idk. there will prob be a part 3. love u guys!

read part one here!

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

“Hello!” you chirp, skipping over, books in hand.

Tom’s not looking for company. In fact, he was actively avoiding it. He couldn’t continue to be distracted by you. He had work to be done, meetings to be held. But he’s a weak man recently. “Hello.”

You set your things down and lace your arms around his neck suddenly. He’s absolutely horrified. “Thank you for your help studying, Tommy, I’ve passed my exam with full marks!”

He clears his throat and you leave a patch of goosebumps in your wake. “You’re welcome,” he drawls. “You wouldn’t have to spend so much extra time revising if you’d only paid attention in class.”

Tom knows you’re merely a distraction, an inconvenience to be ignored. Deadweight to his plans. You’d be a mistake. It’s obvious what he should do. He should send you off on your merry way and end whatever friendship has blossomed between you, so you at least have a chance at living. For someone so obsessed with immortality, Tom knew he was a dead man the moment you strut into his life, all smiles and Mary Jane’s. But he’s selfish, and so you were dead right with him, that very minute.

He doesn’t like anything you bring. He doesn’t like the reactions you elicit from calling him Tommy and he doesn’t like how you make him happy. Or hopeful. There is no hope for him. He’s destined to live a half-life and he doesn’t like that he wants to make you live that life too.

And you’re not entirely stupid. You know there’s something strange about him and that’s exactly why you come every day with your books and snacks. You’re curious. He’s haunting— a concoction of allure and fear and it’s all but enticing. “Well, who wants to do that? You’re a far better teacher.”

His face casts the ghost of a smile. “Don’t you have chess club in 15 minutes?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there,” you say, easily. Then the realisation dawns on you: You’ve never given him your schedule. “Wait a second,” you laugh. “How do you know that?”

He holds an even tone. “Not hard to guess.”

You blink. Change the topic. “You’re very pretty, you know?”

His knees almost give out and he’s seated comfortably on a chair. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying hard not to sound surprised. He’s not unaware of his good looks, but how anyone could be so casual about it is beyond him.

You’re an aberration, he thinks. No, he’s sure. You write notes in the margins of his textbooks and fall asleep on his shoulder. And when you do so, you let out the cutest little snores and purr. Like a fucking kitten. It drives him to insanity and even deeper into his spiral.

“No, like, you are super pretty. It’s kind of otherworldly.”

He’s not too sure what to say. He’s never rendered speechless by anyone, but fuck, you’re his exception to just about everything. Instead, he stiffens and breathes out a small, “That’s kind.”

Your cheeks dimple and Tom swears he sees his future. But that’s crazy. He has to remember who you are and hell, who he is. He’s the Dark Lord, evil, no matter how you see him in that pretty head of yours. And you’re a filthy Mudblood.

It’s been two days and he hasn’t seen you anywhere. He’s starting to think there *is* no cure to his hysteria because he acts crazy in both your presence and absence. He thinks about you too much in both. He’s looked everywhere; in all your classes and even your dorm that he’s managed to find.

He’s about giving up. There is no point because you’re meant to be temporary.

“Hi,” you say, breathlessly as you appear behind him, startling him into oblivion. He’s a skilled Legilimens so he should’ve heard your thoughts as you creeped up, but he was too busy with his own about you.

He conceals his relief and narrows his eyes. “You have been gone.”

You look a little disheveled but beautiful as ever. Tom doesn’t sweat, but it feels like he’s going to. “Family stuff. You know how it goes!”

Tom doesn’t know how it goes. He’s used to abandonment and lonely holidays. He doesn’t know how it goes but he knows how it feels to dread the Christmases and Easters and summers because all he can look forward to is disappointment.

He winces. You notice and cringe. You don’t know much about his family but judging by that reaction, it’s no good. “Mm,” he manages. It’s silence for a bit. Comfortable silence. He’s secretly relishing in your company. “I didn’t like it when you were gone.”

What a fucking tool.

The corners of your lips curl into a soft grin. “You are adorable!” you giggle. He’s mortified.

You haven’t really told any of your friends about your blooming acquaintanceship with Tom Riddle. After all, he’s not really known for his friendliness. But you trust Camilla. And you’ve used up the last of your excuses for bailing on meals to study with him.

“Riddle. Are you joking me?”

Your eyebrows quirk up. “No. He’s a breath of fresh air from the Hogwarts hustle. Not much of a talker though. I do most of that.”

She smiles a little like it’s expected of you but it fades once she refocuses. “He doesn’t like us Muggleborns, you know.”

“That’s silly.”

“Only true. I heard Mulciber whispering about it. Like, they really don’t like us. No wonder he’s such a git towards me in class.”

“Have you ever actually spoken to Tom, though?” You fold your arms over your chest. You’re not too sure why you’re being defensive.

“Well, no—“

“That’s what I thought! You don’t give people chances, Camilla. You rely on gossip to fuel your opinions,” you spit.

Camilla puts her hands up in surrender and starts talking about the cute Ravenclaw boy she’s planning to ask out.

“Oh! And I think Murphy fancies you! He asked me to ask you how you felt about him.”

You thought about him for a moment. He’s nothing special but he’s attractive and you’re honestly willing to give it a shot.

Tom is fuming, hearing what you think. Listening from around the corner and it’s creepy and borderline stalker-ish but he’s begun to feel a strange protectiveness over you. Frenzy and all that.

So, yes. You’re merely a distraction, an inconvenience to be ignored. Deadweight to his plans. But… you were a desire. A selfish, greedy desire.

And Tom always gets what he wants.

taglist for this series! @helalokithor @mli345 (can’t find ur blog so sorry!!) lmk if u want to be added!

#🎞 by.ivy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #tom riddle blurb #tom riddle x reader fluff #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #tom riddle drabble #tom riddle angst

[pickingupmymercedes]

Your future was Ferrari - Part 2/?

Part 1 here

summary: She was finally making her dreams come true, but as the old saying goes "when it rains, it pours" and maybe the nudge Charles gave her might get her somewhere she would never find on her own.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Ferrari!Reader!

warnings: alusion to mature content.

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Bit of a more internal debate chapter here, but it kind had to be done. Also, would you guys mind if I put explicit description of mature content on this fic? I skipped it on the first one but was thinking that it may be needed for the next ones

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The crisp January air of Maranello was a welcome change from the desert heat of Abu Dhabi. Three whirlwind months had passed since that unforgettable night, and now, amidst the intricate tapestry of Ferrari's world, everything was beginning to feel like home—the rhythmic pulse of machinery, fervent debates over car performance, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso.

One tempestuous afternoon, while engrossed in finalizing a critical report, a summons arrived from Fred’s secretary. Your heart thudded against your ribs like a frantic drumbeat as you made your way to his office. Upon entering, you were greeted not only by Fred's imposing presence but also by Charles, whose eyes sparkled with an enigmatic glint.

"Ah, y/n! Glad you could join us," boomed Fred, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. Charles flashed you a friendly grin.

As you settled into the plush leather chair, a tidal wave of nerves began to recede. The meeting commenced with a comprehensive review of your contributions and insights into Ferrari’s new car. Then, Fred dropped a bombshell that sent shockwaves through your core.

"We've been impressed with your work, y/n" he began, his voice serious. "I already knew of your great technical understanding and a quick-thinking, and Charles here, has been particularly vocal about his…" he paused, glancing at Charles with a smile, "enthusiasm for your skills."

A blush crept up your neck. Charles cleared his throat.

A blush surged across your cheeks, painting them a vivid shade of crimson. Charles, leaning in with a playful smirk, chimed in, "As you know, we’re an engineer short at trackside. The demands are intense—the relentless travel, the grueling 24-race season—but the experience is unparalleled. We believe you'd be the perfect addition to my side of the garage."

Your mind whirred at breakneck speed. The prospect of working trackside with Charles, under the revered banner of Ferrari, was intoxicating. You couldn’t deny the thrill of being closer to the action, the adrenaline rush of race weekends. Yet, a nagging voice of caution whispered reminders of the relentless schedule and unyielding scrutiny.

"It's a lot to consider," you admitted, looking between the two men.

Charles leaned back, a playful smile on his lips. "Think of it, y/n! You’ve always wanted that, even back at Alpha. Although, you would have to face the brunt of Fred's coffee breath during briefings" he joked, earning a chuckle from Fred.

"Alright," you announced, a grin splitting your face, "I'm in!"

The joy in Charles' eyes mirrored your own. He bumped your fist with a whoop. But as you left Fred's office, Charles stopped you in the hallway, his smile fading slightly.

"Hey," he began hesitantly, "about Abu Dhabi… I got a little carried away that night. What happened between you and Lewis? I never saw you after…"

The question sent a jolt through you. Your stomach lurched. How could you tell him the truth? Shame burned in your throat as you fumbled with your thoughts. "Oh, you know" you resorted to lies, forcing a casual smile "Fan stuff. Autographs and all that."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Charles' face. "Ah, right" he mumbled. "Well, see you in Bahrain then, it’ll be nice to have you in the pit wall!"

You plastered another smile on your face. Packing for Bahrain. Excitement bubbled beneath the guilt gnawing at your conscience. You were going trackside.

The shrill ring of your phone pierced the quiet of the dawn. It was an unusual wake-up call at 6:00 AM, especially on a Wednesday mid-winter break. Squinting at the screen, you saw your dad's name and answered with a groggy, "Hello?"

The familiar booming voice filled your ear. "Y/n! Did you hear the news? Lewis to Ferrari! Can you believe it?"

You forced a laugh. "Dad, there have been rumors about Lewis to Ferrari for years. Remember that time they photoshopped him in a red suit?"

"This feels different, though! There are articles everywhere, even F1 is buzzing about it." Your dad's excitement was palpable through the phone as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You mumbled an agreement, hanging up before he could pick up on the tremor in your voice. The news hung heavy in the air, a dark cloud amidst the usual pre-season jitters.

As you went about your day, the rumors intensified. Mentions on social media turned into breaking news alerts. By lunchtime, a tense hush had fallen over everyone at Maranello. An unexpected staff meeting announcement sent a jolt through everyone.

As you walked towards the assembly hall, a colleague whispered, "Did you hear? Brackley's having a meeting too."

Dread gnawed at your insides. You knew what this meant.

The hall was packed, a sea of expectant faces illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights. Fred stood at the center; his face uncharacteristically serious. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Everyone," he began, his voice carrying an air of gravitas, "as you may be aware, there have been a lot of speculations circulating today. Speculations that have become… well, reality."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. You could hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd.

“Lewis Hamilton is joining Scuderia Ferrari for the 2025 season.” A triumphant glint briefly played in his eyes, but before anyone could respond the team principle continued “But, that’s not for another year. In 2024 we have Charles here and Carlos, who have given us amazing years”

The hall erupted in a cacophony of comments and stunned silence. You felt the floor tilt beneath your feet. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drum solo threatening to burst out of your chest. Lewis Hamilton at Ferrari. Your secret, your shame, was about to collide spectacularly with your professional life. You were frozen, a lone island of stillness amidst the storm.

The conversations faded into a distant hum. You gripped the edge of a chair, trying to anchor yourself amidst the emotional turmoil. You had hidden that night from everyone, from yourself even. And now you would have to possibly work alongside him.

The desert sun beat down on the Losail International Circuit in Qatar, baking the asphalt and testing the limits of both man and machine. For you, it was the third day of your first official trackside deployment with Ferrari, and a whirlwind of emotions churned within you. The initial media frenzy surrounding Lewis' arrival had subsided, replaced by the usual pre-season buzz: championship predictions, car evaluations, and the ever-present debate about the second-fastest team.

You'd managed to navigate the past two days with a semblance of normalcy. Charles appreciated your input during pit stops and strategy discussions, and Fred's reassuring pat on the back after a successful test session confirmed he hadn't made the wrong choice in calling you in. Yet, a constant undercurrent of tension ran beneath the surface. The ghost of Abu Dhabi loomed large every time you passed the Mercedes garage.

On the morning of the third day, an urge for a pre-dawn run propelled you out of bed and straight to the hotel gym. As you hopped onto a treadmill, lost in the rhythm of your steps, a familiar voice jolted you back to reality.

"Well. Look who it is." There he was, Lewis Hamilton, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked effortlessly cool in a sleek tracksuit, his dark braids damp from a workout. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"Uh, hi." you stammered, desperately trying to appear nonchalant. You cranked up the treadmill's speed, hoping to appear absorbed in your workout.

Lewis chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. Briefly, he lingered by the treadmill before heading out, leaving you feeling exposed and flustered.

The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of data analysis and strategy meetings. By the time everyone else had left, you found yourself volunteering to stay back and finalize some reports. The solitude, however, was short-lived. As you gathered your belongings, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness of the paddock.

"Still here, I see?" Lewis' voice sent shivers down your spine.

He motioned towards a secluded corner of the pitlane, and you hesitantly followed.

"Glad to see you're part of Ferrari. You failed to mention that" he began, his tone casual.

Feigning ignorance, you played along. "I don't think we've met." A single eyebrow of his arched up in a silent challenge.

"Babe," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, "I've kissed every inch of your skin that night. We've been introduced alright."

Your cheeks burned crimson. His laughter did little to ease your mortification.

"You left pretty early the next morning," he continued, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Didn't even leave a message. Quite the enigma" He reached into his pocket; his phone poised. "How about we change that?"

Panic surged through you as his intentions became clear. Just as you were about to stammer a response, he intervened with a disarming smile

“Relax” he reassured, his tone softening. “What happened between us was a one-off thing, if you want it to be just that. But, since we’re gonna work together next year we could find ways, I get you’d want discretion though. I won’t deny it, I had fun that night”

Just as you looked at him deciding if you bought into his sudden innocence, a voice cut through the tension.

"Y/n? Are you still here?" It was Marco, a data analyst from your department, Lewis’ face etched with confusion. Seizing the opportunity, you called out, "Yeah! Just finishing up here! Coming!"

With a fleeting glance at Lewis, who seemed momentarily taken aback, you practically sprinted towards your colleague, your heart pounding a frantic escape rhythm.

You couldn't allow yourself to be alone with Lewis, not after that. Not when the truth could come spilling out like a dam bursting. Not when he was offering you something you didn’t even know could be within your reach, something you had never even thought of being a possibility.

With each step away from the empty paddock, you faced a choice: to embrace the unknown allure Lewis offered or to just forget that anything had ever happened. The impending collision of your professional and personal worlds loomed large, leaving you to wonder: would Lewis Hamilton be worth having your world come crashing down?

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #f1 imagine

[mariacallous]

Salman Rushdie has just published Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder. In August 2022, he was giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in New York. Hadi Matar, a 24-year-old from New Jersey, rushed the stage and stabbed him 15 times. It was astonishing that Salman survived. He lost the sight in one eye and sustained terrible injuries, but he’s still with us and he’s still writing, and unlike Hadi Matar, he’s still worth hearing.

We think of fanatics as stalkers with an obsessive knowledge of their targets.  Like the antisemites who compile lists of Jews in the media or the homophobes who so focus on the details of gay sex they might almost be closet cases

Most terrorists and bigots are not like that. They are like soldiers in an army who kill and hate for no other reason than tradition or men in authority have told them to kill and hate. If we were less fascinated by the pseudo-glamour of violence, we would see them for what they are: dullards and jerks.

In Knife Salman is almost as angered by the sheer lazy stupidity of his wannabee assassin as his violence.

“I do not want to use his name in this account. My Assailant, my would-be Assassin, the Asinine man who made Assumptions about me, and with whom I had a near-lethal Assignation … I have found myself thinking of him, perhaps forgivably, as an Ass.”

The ass “didn’t bother to inform himself about the man he decided to kill. By his own admission he read barely two pages of my writing and watched a couple of YouTube videos”.

That was enough, apparently, along with a little light indoctrination in the Levant.

We know from Matar’s mother that her son changed from a popular young man to a moody religious zealot after visiting her ex-husband in the Hezbollah-controlled town of Yaroun in Lebanon, a mile or so from the Israeli border.

“I was expecting him to come back motivated, to complete school, to get his degree and a job. But instead, he locked himself in the basement. He had changed a lot. He didn't say anything to me or his sisters for months.”

Salman quotes a wonderfully perceptive line from Jodi Picoult

“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”

Rushdie is openly contemptuous, as he has every right to be.

“I see you now at twenty-four,” he writes, “already disappointed by life, disappointed in your mother, your sisters, your father, your lack of boxing talent, your lack of any talent at all; disappointed in the bleak future you saw stretching ahead of you, for which you refused to blame yourself.”

This has always been the way. Readers old enough to remember 1989 when the Ayatollah Khomeini ordered Salman’s execution for writing a blasphemous satire of Islam’s origin story in the Satanic Verses,will know that Khomeini had not read it. Nor had the furious demonstrators in the streets or the regressive leftists and Tory ministers who upbraided him for the non-crime of causing offence.

Those of us who had read the book pointed out that it was a magical realist fiction which contained sympathetic accounts of the racism Muslim immigrants in the UK suffered. Indeed, the Tories of the day loathed Salman, we continued, because of his confrontations with official racism.

But after a while we fell silent. Pleading with his enemies felt demeaning. It gave them undeserved credit, as if they were reasonable people, who could be swayed by evidence rather than just, well, pillocks.

In Knife Salman attempts an imaginary conversation with his persecutor.

OK, he says, Islam, unlike Judaism and Christianity, holds that man is not made in God’s image. God has no human qualities, it says.

But isn’t language a human quality? To have language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal cords and a voice, just like a man. The terrorist’s understanding is that God cannot be like a man, however. So, God could not have spoken to Gabriel in Arabic. Gabriel must have translated his message when he came to the prophet.

The angel made it comprehensible to Muhammed by delivering it in human speech which is not the speech of God.

Thus, the version of Islamic instruction Matar received in his basement when he switched from playing video games to listening to Imams was an interpretation of a translation.

“I’m trying to suggest to you that, even according to your own tradition, there is uncertainty. Some of your own early philosophers have suggested this. They say everything can be interpreted, even the Book. It can be interpreted according to the times in which the interpreter lives. Literalism is a mistake.”

For a while, Rushdie says he wants to meet Matar again at the trial, as if he wants to have the argument in the flesh.

He tells a story about Samuel Beckett, which could only have happened to Samuel Beckett.

Beckett was walking through Paris in 1938 when he was confronted by a pimp named Prudent, who wanted money from him. Beckett pushed Prudent away, whereupon the pimp pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest, narrowly missing the left lung and the heart.

Beckett was taken to the nearest hospital, bleeding heavily. He only just survived.

You will never guess who paid for his treatment. James Joyce, of course, he did.

Anyway, Beckett went to the pimp’s trial. He met Prudent in the courtroom, and asked him why he had done it. This was the pimp’s reply: “Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Je m’excuse.” (I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.)

But the more he thought about it, the less Rushdie had to say to his enemy. The idea that you can have theological arguments with a man who wants to kill you for writing a book he hasn’t even read felt ridiculous.

Although popular culture is full of stories about murderers, and true crime podcasts top the charts, killers and fanatics are nearly always less interesting than their victims. More often than not they are just thick. Nasty and vicious, but thick first of all.

We are about to see the stupidity of fanatics deployed on a mass scale. Two thirds of Republican voters (and nearly 3 in 10 Americans) continue to believe that the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, and that Joe Biden was not lawfully elected. They think it because that is what Trump told them to think.

Islamists told Matar that Salman was an apostate, and that was all he needed to know. Trump told Republicans the election was stolen and ditto.

If Republicans were consistent people, they would not vote for Trump in 2024. What would be the point? They would have every reason to fear that the deep state would rig the 2024 presidential election as it rigged the 2020 presidential election.

But they will vote for him because, once again, that is what he tells them to do.

In the end there is a limit to how much attention you can pay the vicious and the stupid.

They are not interesting enough, as Rushdie concluded with marvellous disdain as he contemplated the life sentence Matar will face.

"Here we stand: the man who failed to kill an unarmed seventy-five-year-old writer, and the now 76-year-old writer. Somewhat to my surprise, I find I have very little to say to you. Our lives touched each other for an instant and then separated. Mine has improved since that day, while yours has deteriorated. You made a bad gamble and lost. I was the one with the luck… Perhaps, in the incarcerated decades that stretch out before you, you will learn introspection, and come to understand that you did something wrong. But you know what? I don’t care. This, I think, is what I have come to this courtroom to say to you. I don’t care about you, or the ideology that you claim to represent, and which you represent so poorly. I have my life, and my work, and there are people who love me. I care about those things.”

[str4wbaeby]

𝓶𝓪 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮 pt.2

ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳ ˣ ᵇᵒᵒᵏʷᵒʳᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

⤷ note : pt.1 | moodboard

today was honestly hectic for you. it's only been 5 minutes since you've gotten home, and you were already ready to fall asleep at the doorway. freshening up a bit, you plopped on the plush mattress of your bed, a soft sigh leaving your lips in sheer exhaustion.

you were tired; yet the brief encounter with the renowned writer this morning never seemed to left your mind. quickly disconnecting the charging cable, you lazily reached out to take your phone from the bedside table. you got up slowly, leaving the comfort of your warm bed as you went over to rummage through your purse in search of a certain piece of paper; eyes scanning skillfully through the crooks and crevices before finding it hiding in a corner of your bag. gently unfolding the paper, you allowed yourself to take in the moment as the realisation of him being interested in you finally hit you. your cheeks warmed up as the memories of the bookstore flooded your mind. swiftly typing the number in your phone, you mustered up the courage to finally text him.

"hey!"

"hi! almost thought you forgot about me, haha!"

the text was short and sweet, but you didn't expect him to answer back almost immediately. it was as if he was waiting for your text

in your opinion, the conversation was going pretty smoothly, with him doing most of the talking of course. you were content with being the listener; and especially after seeing someone so excited to talk to you, your heart did warm up a bit. you might not have been a fan of his works, but his personality was definitely addictive. the more you talked to him, the more you craved for him

"where do you work? maybe I can pick up sometimes"

"oh! so, you live down xxx-lane, I see. one of my friends live nearby as well"

"you live alone? working full time while managing chores must be difficult, right?"

you couldn't help but overlook how he managed to wring out every vital information out of you. how could you though? he just so sweet and gentle with you

currently, he was talking about his newly realised novel; explaining how he could relate to the protagonist's desperate yearning for his muse, claiming he himself never had the chance to have one, only until recently.

hearing this made your smile falter a little, mind wandering to the possibility of him already having his eyes on someone special. someone who was not you

you decided to change the subject, asking about his plans for upcoming future projects

"I do have a few plots in mind; a series to be specific. not going to spoil too much since I do want you to read it first. but yes, they will be dedicated to my muse. also...I would really like it if you were to be accompany to the launch event. after all, an artist is always incomplete without his muse"

#yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere scenarios #soft yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #x reader insert #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #male oc #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere original character #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #yandere #mochiii.writes

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Expanding on my previous post, I think having to take care of child of the enemy would be such a wonderful deconstruction of Leviathan's character.

Leviathan's main motivation for everything he does is to protect the future of Hell, to protect the children and avange the ones that were lost in the experiments. He eliminates anything that might be dangerous for Hell because if there's even a 1% chance of someone suffering he would blame himself for it. He wants to go find the seed of the fruir of knowledge even though he knows it's a dangerous journey, just because it might save his subjects.

Also, Leviathan (as far as we know) has the most personal reason to hate angels. He's seen them at their cruelest and they've always been a traumatic force in his life. While the other kings got to have more peaceful childhoods (again, we don't know if they were abused, I'm just going off what we know) Leviathan never had that priveledge. Even before the war he was abused by them, and now, in his adulthood, he still can't move on because he sees his subjects being killed and tortured by the same people that abused him.

I think that out of all the characters, Leviathan would be the most... interesting father. Don't get me wrong, he won't be bad, but the sort of abuse that Leviathan had to go through changes you in ways you might never expect. He loves kids, the main reason he fights this war is to make sure the children in Hell get a childhood that isn't characterised primarly by war and death. But if he had to deal with a child 1 on 1 for long stretches of time...

He'll probably be extremely overprotective of them, going by the same rule of 1% change of danger = death. The way most parenting works, especially from people that were abused in their childhoods, is that of trying to protect the child from the trauma they experienced. I doupt Leviathan would even let angels look at his kid, or anyone that he percieves as dangerous for that matter.

We also see in the Orias event that Leviathan can be very nice to the people he likes, and I think that it would be the same for his kid. It would be something like

Leviathan strangling MC: I need to kill you, MC, for your life is bringing certain doom amoungst my people

Levi's kid: Dad, can you help me with my algebra?

Leviathan dropping MC to the ground: Yes, sweetheart, what is it? Do you want us to repeat your multiplications table?

Tl;dr of this post is - stop saying Leviathan would be a shit dad. He'll be overprotective of his kid, but he'll never in a million years hurt a child

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #I can't believe that my first character analysis is on one of my least favorite characters #and one of my least favorite tropes #let's just throw a kid into the mix #I just think that childhood is the most important thing to Levi's character #lamenting that he never had a childhood #hating the people that took away his childhood #and doing everything in his power to protect other people's childhoods from being like his #if only mc was an actual character in the game and I could enjoy the main story

[blonditarot]

What does the full moon would like to say to you?

New full moon, some new messages ^^

Pile one => pile four

Pile one

7 of swords rev, 10 of wands rev, queen of cups,

Oh you’re exhausted. You want to leave all that burdens behind, it’s taking away your willpower to live. You’re so stressed out, you’re loosing your passion for. Drop the act, release some of that stress. Just drop it everything will be fine. You will hurt yourself if you continue doing it. Be compassionate and gentle towards yourself first. Take care of your health and your own emotions first. Lock yourself away from that stress, put some headphones on and breathe. Focus on your cup, on your own heart, on its wants and needs. Everything will be fine if you take a break. Drop it. Even if you’re only able to that for five minutes

Pile two

8 of wands rev, 5 of pentacles rev, 3 of cups,

It’s taking way more time that you want it. You’ve been struggling for a while now. You’re missing something important in your life that you see everybody else already has. It could be related to finances, love, spirituality. No matter what it is you want it too but it’s taking so long to obtain it. You see people succeeding and you think „When is my turn?”. You want up and you will achieve it, but for now please focus on small things in your life. Go and have some fun, spend time with your friends and family. They have the power to lift you up. Find the happiness in your heart and don’t be scared of sharing your struggles with your loved ones. Your life is already beautiful without all those things, your time will come, don’t worry. For now just enjoy what you have.

Pile three

the wheel of fortune, 10 of wands, 10 of swords, the world,

That blessing doesn’t come without a price. You’re lucky, you’re close to achieving your dreams. You just got an offer (or will receive one) to change your life. For some of you it could be career related but for others it is related to your healing journey. It won’t come easy. It will take some hard work to carry all that pain. It will open some old wounds from your past. It’s going to make you feel uneasy. You will have to rip your heart open. It’s going to be another responsibility and you will feel like you’re about to fail. That you will collapse. It will be so painful you will want to give up. But don’t. It’s going to be worth it, the dream you have, the peace that you want. You will achieve it. And after that you will start a new life.

Pile four

8 of pentacles rev, 8 of swords rev, 3 of wands rev, the magician,

You’re putting your effort into something that doesn’t sit right with you. You don’t have the motivation to continue but you do because it’s the safest option. You think you don’t deserve better, but those thoughts are the only thing that is limiting you. You’re trying to belittle yourself. You have the whole world in front of you, waiting for you to grab it and conquer it. And you know it. You know you can do that, you know your worth but you still prefer to stick with what you know because you’re scared of the future. But this is something you’ve been waiting for, something your heart wants, what you’ve secretly wanted for years. You’ve created this in your head and now it’s becoming a reality. Are you really going to let this opportunity pass bracie you’re scared you can’t make it. You have whatever it takes to achieve it so stand up and go get it.

#tarot #tarot readings #pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick one #pick a card tarot #free readings #free tarot #paid tarot readings #paid readings #kpop tarot

[bellysoupset]

Leo's Birthday

Soooo this fic actually takes place 4 fics in the future and I'll make sure to leave it in the correct order in the masterlist. But I wrote it first and I don't have the patience to wait to post!

-------------------------------------

“Hey, Wagner,” Dean poked his head inside of the empty conference room, where Leo was hunched over his papers, reading over a previous case similar to the one he was currently handling. 

It was only his third case, he couldn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah?” Leo didn’t bother looking up, so he startled when Dean suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, “Martin, what are you doi-”

“Mark your page,” Dean bossed, squeezing his shoulder, with a smile on his face, “I gotta show you something.”

Leo scoffed at the order, but his curiosity was piqued and he obeyed, marking his page and putting the files away inside his case. They walked out of the conference room together and then entered the elevator. 

“Where are we going…?” Leo frowned as Dean pressed the last digit. The top floor only had Mrs. Mitchell’s office and the rooftop…

“Wait and see,” Dean was bouncing on his feet and Leo squinted, suddenly very suspicious. Surely his co-worker wouldn’t be this happy over bad news, they were friends, so- 

The door opened and Leo nearly jumped out of his skin as a huge “SURPRISE!” followed.

He startled, his back hitting the inside of the elevator, then let out a chuckle at his own expense. His coworkers were all gathered around the door. Sandra, Chuck, Nicole from the reception, Mrs. Mitchell — his boss! —, others as well. 

Sandy was holding a box with a bento cake and two cupcakes inside of it. The icing was a deep, forest green, with golden flakes all over it. Their office’s colors. 

“You didn’t think you could hide your birthday from us, did you Wagner? We’re professional snoopers,” Dean messed up his hair, shoving Leo out of the elevator. There was a table on the rooftop and they had piled on little tea sandwiches, more green cupcakes and a champagne bottle.

Leo’s chest squeezed with happiness, “I wasn’t hiding anything, I - I love this, thank you,” he interrupted himself, as Sandra passed the box with the mini cake and cupcakes to Chuck’s hands and pulled him into a hug to congratulate him.

It was nearly the end of their day, so they spent an hour there celebrating. Leo devoured his cake. It was almost too much for one sitting, but he hadn’t had lunch, so that hit just the right spot. 

Still, as they wrapped up, he was feeling full enough he decided to skip on the two cupcakes and just bring them home for later. 

“Go home, Wagner,” Mrs. Mitchell patted his arm, “and next year we hope to know with more advance than Dean guessing because he was snooping during lunch,” she rolled her eyes, “so we can have a proper lunch in celebration.” 

“This was amazing, I don’t need anything else, ma’am,” Leo blushed and she wrinkled her nose at his line. 

“Don’t settle for less than you deserve, Wagner. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

She talked like their football coach, Leo thought with a smile, nodding and heading to the elevator. Maybe that was why he liked her so much.

Having two hours more than he had expected, Leo took his time driving home, stopping along the way to pick up flowers for their apartment and treats for JD.

Leo called Vince, but he didn’t pick up, indicating he was on the road. Jonah was surely still at the hospital. Leo took a long shower, then hit the dial to Luke, while putting the two remaining cupcakes in the fridge, taking a needless bite of one. He was bored and ready to start his birthday celebrations. 

“Hi kid,” Luke picked up on the second ring, “sorry, I’m in the middle of something. Is this anything urgent?”

“No,” Leo pouted, “we can talk at the restaurant, I was just bored and wanted to chat.”

“Sorry,” Lucas sounded busy, “I’m in the shelter-”

“The homeless shelter?” Leo raised his eyebrows, squishing the phone between his cheek and shoulder and falling down to his knees as he saw JD get out from under the couch, “what are you doing there?”

“I started working here yesterday,” Luke was breathless, “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. See you in a couple hours, kid.” 

“See you,” Leo sighed, hanging up and then getting down on his stomach on the floor in order to grab his cat. JD let out an indignant meow at Leo snatching her, falling into a baby position as he cradled her, “hi baby. My cute, fluffy, prickly baby,” he said in a childish voice, feeling the judgment oozing out of his pet.

Jonah came home just as Leo was starting to get restless, moving around with nothing to do since he hadn’t planned to have free time.

“Hi!” Jon jumped as he saw Leo sprawled on the couch, already all dressed for the night, with JD getting her fur all over his fancy buttoned up shirt, since she was curled up on his stomach, “you’re home early, I was hoping- I was thinking you’d-”

Leo lifted up his head from the couch cushion, eyebrows raised at Jon’s uncharacteristic fumbling of words, “hoping I was gone?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jonah scoffed, neatly tucking away his shoes and circling the couch in order to look at him, “don’t you look nice.”

“Thank you,” Leo grinned, lazily scratching JD’s head, “my boss gave me the last two hours of my day off, but uh… I had nothing to do, so I’ve been here, bothering JD.”

“She looks super bothered,” Jonah rolled his eyes, as their spotted cat was purring, rolled up on herself like a snake, on top of Leo, “well, I was planning on leaving this on top of the bed with a letter that said how much I love you and how incredibly successful and attentive and loving I think you are and how I wanna wake up next to you for the rest of my days, but since you’re here…” Jon sat at the edge of the couch, handing him a large silver wrapped box, “it’s nothing flashy, but you’re a lawyer, so I think I’m allowed-”

Leo raised a hand to shut him up, removing the lid of the box and then letting out a whistle, while JD got up to sniff at the wrapping paper, “this is stunning… You got my name engraved?”

“Stamped,” Jonah corrected, as Leo pulled out the dark leather case from the box, eyebrows raised at the marking that said Mr. Leo Wagner - Juris Doctorate, “I left some space there for the hyphenated Banks, if you make up your mind about it…” 

Leo’s cheeks hurt from smiling, “I love it. I’m gonna use it every damn day… And I’m considering the Banks, I promise,” he leaned in to grab Jon’s shirt, pulling him for a kiss, “I love it, thank you.”

“I love you,” Jon shrugged, thumb pushing slightly on Leo’s chin, “I’m gonna shower and we can go- Stop letting JD cuddle when you’re dressed up, bloody hell, Leo.”

“She’s cute!” Leo cried out as Jon got up from the couch and rushed out. He was still completely enchanted by his new case. There were fancy instructions of use and a bottle of leather conditioner in the box, as well as a life-long warranty that made him snort. 

As they made it to the restaurant, Leo’s stomach was starting to hurt from hunger. Even though he had had his mini cake in the office, three hours had passed and he was a big guy, just that wasn’t even remotely enough to sustain him. 

Bella, Luke and Wendy were already inside and Leo rushed to them. The couple had literally just gotten back from their honeymoon three days ago and they hadn’t had a chance to meet yet. 

“C’mere, blondie,” Bella pulled on the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a tight hug, “congratulations, Leo.” 

Leo melted into the hug, wrapping his arms around her and taking Bella’s feet off the ground, tipping his body back. 

They were already a bottle of wine in — not that much, considering there were five of them — when Vince entered the restaurant. 

“I’m so so sorry,” Vince cried out, stripping his biker jacket and throwing it to Luke, “there was a huge tree in the road and no one could get through –  it’s not important – Give me a hug!” Vin practically manhandled Leo out of his chair and the blonde let out a squeak at the ribs crushing hug, “happy birthday, kiddo.”

“I-Can’t. Breathe,” Leo gasped, making Vince chuckle and drop him. Leo dizzily staggered back, practically falling into his seat. 

Conversation went on easily after that. Leo retold that evening’s events, not hiding how proud and happy he was that his boss had joined in the celebration, and Wendy had a million tales to share about the fifty different things she was doing. Luke and Bella couldn’t shut up about the Maldives, still grossly all over each other despite spending nearly a month away with no one but each other’s company. 

Jonah brought up Angie’s proposition while they went through the second main dish – lobster — and Luke shrugged, “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Of course you do, you don’t work,” Jonah wrinkled his nose, causing Luke to glare at him and Leo to snort, continuing to eat his food. 

“I’ll have you know I actually got a job,” Lucas shrugged, as if those weren’t big news and didn’t mean a lot, considering how much of his mental health deteriorating was tied to his career path or lack of one.

“What’s the job?!” Vince practically rattled him and Luke chuckled, pushing his hands away.

“I’m a charity fundraiser,” Lucas was almost beaming with how happy he was and Bella threw an arm around his shoulders, planting a big lipstick-red kiss on his cheek, “I’m not gonna take credit for this, it was actually a culmination of my therapist asking me to get a couple vocational therapy sessions, my beautiful wife telling me to stop sulking about being rich, and me finally using my head.”

“Whatever does that mean?” Leo asked, leaning back on his chair. His stomach was stuffed with food and there was still dessert to go. He fidgeted on his seat, wishing he could rub his belly or loosen up his belt, but it would be bad form in an upscale place such as this. 

“Well, I have the political connections thanks to my mom, I have the glamorous connections thanks to my dad, but I never wanted to do anything with those. They always felt like a burden,” Luke blushed, “but that was silly. There’s people who’d kill to be able to get things as easily as I can, so I realized I can use these connections for good-”

“By making rich people give away their money,” Vince chuckled, clicking his glass with Bella and the ginger nodded almost smugly. 

“It’s not just that,” Luke whined, but he didn’t seem offended, “you actually need to know laws, but lucky me, I’m a Poli Sci major… And I happen to be really good at leading teams and bossing people.”

“We already knew that, Captain,” Leo winked at Luke, leaning to his side and half resting against Jonah, as the conversation continued, Wendy was full of questions about Luke’s new position, even after him saying he was not in charge of anything, but working under a guy. She had that ambitious little sparkle in her eye that often found a twin in Jonah’s. 

Not this time, tonight Jon was too busy saving all of his heart eyes for Leo. He leaned in, pressing his nose to the blonde’s temple and smiling, “enjoying yourself?”

“Uh-hum,” Leo nodded, biting down a grimace as his stomach cramped. Maybe he had overdone it… He just needed a moment, Leo thought, breathing through it and glaring in disgust to his empty plate. He really shouldn’t have cleared the plate. 

Probably noticing his grimace, a waiter quickly came to retrieve all the plates, then hung around as they chatted about dessert. Leo felt a wave of revulsion at the thought of eating another bite. His tummy was packed and he could feel a lump in his throat. 

He coughed lightly against his fist and squeezed Jon’s knee, “order me a water? I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Of course,” Jon nodded, still lazily studying the menu and letting out a chuckle as Wendy pulled her chair closer to him, impromptu giving him advice on what to pick.

Leo circled the table, when he passed by the guys, Vince darted out a hand in a teasing manner, giving his back a pat. 

It wouldn’t have mattered on any other day, but stuffed as he was, the little friendly pat — that was a bit rough, given Vince never seemed to have understood he was not the size of a kitten — caused a sick burp to come up.

It fizzled out in his throat, but brought with it the taste of his dinner, causing Leo to shudder. He burst into the men’s room and caught a glimpse of his face. 

The wine had done a decent job at masking his paleness, because despite the fact he had turned belly-fish white in the last couple of minutes, the alcohol still caused the top of his cheeks to be a starkling pink. 

He leaned over the sink, splashing his face with water and taking some soothing breaths. The hunched over position caused his stomach to slosh dangerously and Leo let out yet another little burp under his breath, glancing at the door nervously as he touched his belly. 

Deciding he didn’t want to risk getting walked on by one of his friends, Leo stumbled to the private stalls and locked the door. He sat on the toilet instead of leaning over it like his belly was begging him to, then spread his legs out and undid his belt.

The relief was instantaneous and Leo all but melted as the nausea eased up. He planted a hand on his stomach, tugging up his black button up, and scrunched up his face as he looked at his belly. His abs were a far cry from the morning, now his stomach was taut and stretched out, gurgling non stop. 

It wasn’t something they’d be able to hear over the chatting and the soft piano music in the restaurant, but in the empty bathroom he could hear it clearly. Leo groaned, planting the heel of his hand to his tummy and pressing in little circles.

The belly rub wasn’t quite successful and nowhere near as nice as Jonah’s were, but at least it managed to bring up yet another breathy burp- He lurched forward with a much bigger one, that nearly morphed into a retch. Leo slapped a hand over his mouth, shocked and breathing hard, trying to understand if his stomach was going to reject his dinner.

Instead, the near gag seemed to have calmed things down a bit. He carefully removed his hand from his lips, wiping the clammy sweat from his upper lip and breathing out. That was close.

Figuring he had been gone long enough, Leo begrudgingly got up, closing his belt once more and tucking his shirt in. He splashed his face with some more cold water and took a breath, forcing himself to get out of the bathroom.

The minute he walked out, a hand was planted over his eyes and everything went dark. Leo let out a startled squeak, which morphed into a hiccup and Jonah laughed at the noise, kissing his cheek.

“Relax,” he whispered in his ear, guiding Leo to walk forward, blindly, “happy birthday, baby.” 

He lowered his hand and Leo realized Jon had walked him back to their table. Now their friends were standing and there was a large cake in the middle of the table, with candles sticking out and already alight. 

Just the sight of it made his stomach churn, but Leo wasn’t lying when he smiled. The effort his friends had gone through to get him the perfect cake mattered much more than his bellyache and he shoved it to the back of his mind, grinning like crazy as they started to chorus in the happy birthday song.

Leo’s cheek turned a deep red as he noticed other strangers looking at their table, some even joining the singing. He turned his head, hiding it on Jonah’s shoulder and his fiance smiled, squeezing him closer as they finished up the song and Leo leaned to blow out the candles. 

He got pulled in yet another round of hugs and finally Leo fell back down on his seat, on the opposite side of the table. The brief truce he had earned from his tummy back in the bathroom was broken and he was hiccuping, causing Vince to giggle as he let out a little squeaky-toy noise. 

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Vin chuckled, pushing a plate with a slice of cake his way and then passing Jonah another one, “dig in, kiddo, it’s your favorite. Chocolate on chocolate on chocolate.”

Sounded like hell, Leo thought with a small grimace, but then his stomach sank as he heard Vince’s next words, “my mom was appalled she shouldn’t put in any fruit.” 

“Your mom- Ma made my cake?” Leo asked, both moved and completely distraught as he realized there was no way he could avoid eating now.

“Sorry guys, there was a huge tree on the road,” Wendy mimicked her boyfriend’s excuse from before, forcing a deep voice, “he was late because it was a whole logistic nightmare to bring the cake from Doveport, but Ma insisted, you’re like… Her favorite.”

Luke scoffed, “which is very unfair, I’d just like to point it out,” he said in a teasing way, “I’m supposed to be the favorite.”

“Shut up, Luke,” Bella chuckled, shushing him with a little kiss and stealing a piece of his slice of cake, even though she had her own.

Leo eyed the cake with disgust, nodding and forcing a smile. His mouth watered at the thought of pushing any more sweetness in his tummy, but he ignored it, grabbing the fork. 

Jonah was scratching his back with one hand, continuing to eat and humming in agreement to the compliments about Ma’s cooking and the fact Leo was her favorite out of Vince’s friends. He was blissfully unaware of the turmoil his boyfriend was in and barely registered as Leo pushed half of his slice on his plate, giving up halfway through.

He couldn’t even swallow what was currently in his mouth. Leo tried gulping it down, but his throat was refusing to cooperate. He hiccuped again and this time he couldn’t help but groan, as liquid rocketed up his throat. 

“I’m gonna get the bill,” Jonah whispered, squeezing his nape and getting up, beating Luke to it. 

Leo groaned, barely trying to hide how shitty he was feeling. His friends were all getting up and then Vince circled the table, grinning, “are you drunk, kiddo? That was almost nothing compared to what I’ve seen you drink-”

“No-” he finally managed to gulp down the chocolate mess in his mouth and felt cold sweat break out on his back, his stomach immediately rejecting it, “ate- ate- HIC!- Fuck, too much…”

Vince chuckled, grabbing his arm, “Okay, let’s go outside for some air. C’mon-” 

He gently shoved Leo forward and they walked out of the restaurant, Leo continuing to hiccup. 

The cool air was nice, but Leo knew he was past the point where a breeze could help. He cupped his mouth, muffling yet another little burp and groaning as a hiccup shook him once more, causing his stomach to clench. 

“Shit- Vince,” Leo grabbed his friend’s arm, gulping down nervously and trying to communicate he was gonna puke-

“BOO!” Wendy jumped on him and Leo lost his weak hold on his stomach. He let out a choking noise and folded in half, puking all over the patch of sidewalk and Wendy’s pink and green heels. 

It was so violent that Leo felt dizzy. His eyes stung with humiliation and his nose with the acid that tickled it. He stayed bent down, unable to straighten up not only because he was so embarrassed, but because his belly felt far from settled.

He closed his eyes, letting out a whimper, and then felt a hand in the middle of his back, rubbing up and down. Too rough to be Jonah’s. 

“What the hell, Leo?” Wendy groaned, while Luke said, “Wen, chill out,” and helped him straighten up. He was the one who had stepped closer. Vince and Bella looked equally shocked, Bella was the one carrying the box with the rest of his cake and she was clutching it to her chest. 

“Sorry-” Leo groaned, feeling his whole face burn and his throat close up, now with tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Wendy scoffed, as Vince grabbed her by her armpits and helped her slide out of her shoes without having to touch the chocolate vomit covering them, “god, this is gross…”

“Wendy,” Luke stressed, squeezing Leo’s shoulder, “what’s wrong, Leo?”

“Sorry,” he groaned again, sniffling pitifully, “I just- I just had so much to eat and then Wendy startled me and- Why did you startle me?!”

“Because you were hiccuping!” Wendy scoffed, with a disgusted frown on, using Bella’s shoulder to steady herself as she tiptoed away from the mess. Vince seemed to have gotten over the shock and only looked amused, snorting at his girlfriend’s answer, “I was trying to help!”

“Amazing,” Jonah said, half amused, half annoyed, jumping down the last steps and joining them outside, “Leo, are you okay?”

“I wanna die,” Leo groaned, but at least the nausea had calmed down a little. Not fully, he still felt stuffed and his stomach was still churning, but he no longer felt like he was going to throw up right at that minute… 

“You’re fine, Wendy will live,” Jonah rolled his eyes at Wendy’s little huff, but she did sigh and nod.

“Just because it’s your birthday I won’t yell at you,” she said, then in a much kinder voice, “at least do you feel better?”

“Not really,” Leo admitted, leaning on Jonah’s touch and wanting to crawl up somewhere dark and die. More people were leaving the restaurant and he wanted to hide away from their eyes, feeling like everyone knew… His stomach churned and he planted a hand on it, grimacing, “can we go home?”

Jon frowned, touching his face lightly, subtly checking for any heat, then nodded when he felt none, “yeah, of course. You guys can keep the cake, I don’t think anyone is going to eat it at home,” his voice had a slightly humorous tone and Leo blushed, but just the thought of the chocolate cake made his belly gurgle.

He groaned, “don’t even talk about it,” Leo wrapped an arm around his middle, squeezing his eyes shut as the queasiness started to come back. Luke thumped on his back in a sympathetic manner. 

“Feel better, kiddo,” he smiled, “and happy birthday.”

Leo whined as the rest of their friends did the same, side stepping the mess to tell him goodbye, Wendy being the last one. 

She squeezed his arm, “happy birthday, Leo,” her tone was teasing, “at least the hiccups stopped?”

“God, go away,” Leo groaned, muffling a burp in his hand and she grinned, kissing Jonah’s cheek. 

“You owe me a new pair of Jimmy Choo’s” Wendy warned him, waving and running to where Vince was waiting for her on his bike. 

Leo let out a sigh, falling against Jonah and groaning when his fiance let out a little chuckle at his expense. “What the fuck is a Jimmy Choo?” Leo asked, his voice muffled by Jon’s shirt, allowing the other man to pull him back to the car.

#sickfic #overeating #emeto #emetophilia #mywriting #leo wagner #food poisoning #uh that's sort of a spoiler

[damnedbeauty77]

leon kennedy x fem!reader

!MDNI!

cw: smut, p in v, reader a little traumatised, vanilla and protected, swearing. idk how to do this

summary: reader meets leon, her possible future boss, in a bar with jill and chris.

notes: this is my first time writing smut, did proofread and edit before publishing, if u have any ideas for improvement just dm me x

words: 2.1k

i sit at the bar, leaning over to ask the bartender for a pink gin. what can i say, it looks pretty. my friend went home with some girl already, leaving me with myself at 10.30 at night.

it's fine. it's whatever. i could meet someone. i could have fun.

"hi there."

a guys takes the stool next to me.

i smile. he's cute. he has light, silver-y hair, parted to the side in a messy style. very much, my type.

"hi there." i respond lightly. i might be little drunk.

"i'm leon. what's your name?" he asks, putting an elbow on the bar to tap his fingers on his wood. i have to stop myself from giggling.

"y/n... are you going to buy me a drink?" i twirl my my hair lazily and leon almost copies my movements, brushing his hair back with his left hand. i wonder if he has a bald spot.

"of course. what are you having?"

"well, i'm actually looking to try something new. ive been drinking gin since i was 16. what would you recommend?"

"well, for a pretty girl like you, id have to say a cocktail. vodka, maybe... sex on the beach?"

...

"you work in the bsaa? i literally applied there yesterday!" i laugh. "yeah, well, kind of. i work with them in the dso."

my mouth drops a little in shock. "no way, you're leon kennedy? one of the—"

"founders, yes." leon sighs, laughing. "i really didn't expect all of this to come up when i decided to come talk to you."

i stop and blink a little. i forgot what he was really here for, at least for a moment. "well, shit. sorry. i mean like.. we can still go somewhere, if you want." his eyes widen a little. "no, no i'm sorry. i like talking to you. i was going to ask for your number- my friends are still here." he signals to a table in the corner of the bar. a man and a woman laugh together as they drink.

i smile. "oh, i've been keeping you from them."

"not at all, they told me to talk to you - encouraged me."

"well i hope you don't have a bet going, because i was starting to like you."

leon laughs. "really?"

"don't be smug. do you still want my number?" it feels so normal. "yes."

i wrote it out on a napkin and gave it to him.

"can i meet your friends? that guy is pretty hot." i tease him, making him bit his lower lip. a tinge of jealously emanates off of him. "i thought the girl would be more your type." he replies. i nod. "she is."

i follow leon to the table. he introduces me.

"this is y/n." he says to them. "hi. it's nice to meet you." i reply. "that's chris redfield, and that's jill valentine."

"hi." the girl says to me. oh my god, she is actually really gorgeous. "sit with us." she says, opening the seat next to her as leon takes a seat next to chris. i look at chris. he makes eye contact for a second, then looks away as he drinks his beer.

"i love your jacket." i tell jill. she's wearing black leather, i'm assuming faux based on her haircut.

"thank you, i got it from a thrift store, i think..." she replies. knew it. "i love your top. it's really sexy." she says. i look down. i'm wearing a black mesh top with a black bra underneath. "oh shit. i really forget whenever i wear this shirt.. then wonder why everyone is staring at my tits." i take a drink. i notice jill looking at my tits for a second before clearing her throat. "totally. i see the appeal." she says. then she puts a hand to her head in embarrassment. i laugh. "you're very brave."

"chris, y/n said she was applying to the bsaa." leon changes the subject, turning to me. "he works there right now."

i straighten up my posture, "oh well, i hope you forget everything i do tonight and put in a good word for me."

chris nods. "I'll ask about you." he replies. i feel a bit shouldered. is he emotionally unavailable? is that why i'm so attracted to him?

"what do you do, now?" jill asks me. "i was in the airforce, for just about 4 years." i say. "i've been kind of working a bunch of different jobs, i was in the nypd, until last month."

"airforce. you hear that chris?" jill laughs a little, looking at me. "i was in the airforce as well, when i was younger." chris elaborates. "what base were you?"

"active duty. but honestly, they kind of kept me behind the scenes. i can fly a jet, but i guess i'm just better on a computer."

"see, us girls gotta stay together." jill pushes my shoulder. jesus christ, how many drinks has she had?

"yeah, of course. girl." i smile. "what do you guys do?" leon spluffs. "oh, you know. just bsaa stuff. bioterrorism, security..." he trails off. "what are the two a's again?" he asks chris. he laughs a bit, letting out a little sigh.

...

by around 12am, i start to feel exhausted. we've been talking and drinking for hours, and i just want to... i don't know. go home? but i want to stay with them at the same time...

i check my watch. "it's getting pretty late. i think i might go home." i look at chris for a reaction. he does give me a look of respect, i know when to stop.

"no way, you've drank way too much. i'll call you a cab." leon protests.

"no, no, i only live like a mile from here."

"then i'll walk you home." he insists. i smile. "really? you'd do that?" jill and chris talk in the background. leon smiles in return. "yeah. of course."

i nod.

he walks me out the bar, at one point placing a hand on the small of my waist at one point, making me let go of consciousness.

"you know, i'm staying just down that way." he points with two fingers to a lane next to us. "if you want, you can stay at my place for the night."

my face totally flushes. "um, i wouldn't mind that." not the first time ive fucked someone i met the first night after meeting them. leon's nice though. i think he would call me.

"okay.. good." he says. he turns to me for moment, looking into my eyes. then, kisses me softly. i feel blood rush to my brain in satisfaction and arousal.

"thanks for coming to talk to me tonight. i probably would have left if you didn't." i tell him, putting my arms around his neck as he lets go of my ass... when did he managed to slip his hands there??

he leads me down the streets, his hand around my waist as he flirts shamelessly. then as he's about to open the door to go inside, he stops and looks at me.

"this isn't.. going too fast, or anything, right?"

"i'm fine with it as long as you are. we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"no, no- i want to. i want to." he almost whines. his tone makes me smile. "good." i repeat him, kissing him again as he fumbles to get the door open.

he tastes like liquor.

i clear my throat, leaning into him. "can i go freshen up?"

he stammers a bit, face red. "yeah, the bathroom is down the hall to the left." he says. i nod, kissing him again before going. i wash under my eyes a bit for makeup, do my business, wash my hands again, then go back out.

leon is on the couch, tv on. he's put on closer. one of my favourites that i mentioned in the bar!

"oh my god, this movie is so sexy." i say, sitting down next to him. "well, i wanted to see what the fuss was about." he says, leaning back and taking a smoke.

"natalie portman, is the fuss." i say, placing my head next to his shoulder on the couch. "wow. you're right. they are all hot." leon laughs a bit, putting a rough hand on my thigh. he draws circles with his thumb over my skin. i look up at him, biting my lip.

i start unbuckling his jeans quickly, kissing him again, this time it looks sloppier, messier. "fuck, y/n." he groans as i palm him through his black calvin kleins. "these are hot.." i comment. "did you know you'd come home with someone to fuck tonight?" i ask innocently. he denies it. "wanted you as soon as i saw you."

i take off the mesh top jill complimented earlier. leon runs his hands all over my hips, waist and plays with the straps on my bra. i take off his shirt before he can do anything with my bra, then strip down my skirt as he pulls down his trousers. he lies sideways on the couch as i crawl over him, kissing his neck, trying to find the spot that makes him moan the most. "do you.. do you have a condom?" leon breathes out.

"yeah, hold on." i say, turning to the side of the couch with my bag leaning on it, opening it rapidly to take out the condom.

i rip it apart, seeing as he's already hard, i put it over his dick without even thinking. it's pretty big. like 7 inches at least. leon fingers me from underneath me, pushing my thong to the side. i moan and kiss his chest, licking a strip from above his dick to before the little line of blond hair at his bellybutton. he loves that, gripping my hair and pulling it up a little. "should i give you head or something, before?" he asks quietly. i shake my head. "i'll be fine. thank you, though." i smile through kisses down his chest, his fingers brushing over my clit. i line myself up as leon takes out his fingers, sinking down on him as i grab onto him shoulders. he sits up a bit, taking my waist with two hands to guide me back and forth on his dick. i roll my hips, kissing him roughly as i run my hands through his hair, combing it through my fingers. his neighbours had to have been hearing us.

leon rubs my clit with one finger as i start lifting myself up and down on him, legs wrapped around him at this point for the best angle. "please, please say my name." he asks quietly. i smile. "what? i can't hear you, baby." i tease him, kissing his ear. he leans his neck back, kissing my lips. "say my name, y/n." he asks again, a bit more commanding this time. and perfectly, he hits my g-spot with a thrust. "leon.. ughh, leon." i moan softly, and he replies by digging his nails into my back. "can i go on top.." he asks a little shy. i nod, letting him push me into my back, landing my head flawlessly onto a loose pillow. he pushes into me again, going significantly faster as he holds up the back of my knees beside his hips.

i see his eyes close for moment, and i feel his dick twitch a little in me. is he about to cum? i can barely read his face.

"fuck, you feel so fucking good." he says. i lean my head back a little, encouraging him to drive as far into me as possible. "oh my god, leon.." i groan, grabbing onto the sofa, scratching the fabric. i moan loud as i cum.

leon quickly follows with a low guttural groan to pair with his stalled thrusts.

i give him a kiss as he pulls out, almost immediately passing out on the couch. he throws the condom in a trash can, collapsing next to me, still naked.

"that was good. you're really good at that." leon says, wiping his forehead a little. i smile, thanking him. "it wasn't your first time, right?" i joke. he laughs, shrugging. "first time having sex with someone i met the same night. also, first time having sex pretty drunk." he confesses, making me laugh a bit. "my apologies if i have trouble remembering this. if i get the job, i mean."

"fuck, i totally forget that you might be working for me in a week... don't mention it to HR, right?" he slides on his boxers again. "so, you're my dirty secret now?" i ask. "if it helps to think of that way, then absolutely." he puts his shirt back on. "you want something else to wear? can't imagine that's comfortable." he points to my tight lace bra and panties.

"if you got a big shirt, i'll take it. want to finish the movie?"

"sure, but you'll have to catch me up." leon smiles coyly.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil fic #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy/reader #smut #first fic #one shot #resident evil smut #leon s kennedy #re4 leon

[urne-buriall]

sotw is so close to my heart and i admire you and your writing so much. the snippets you posted are so good and it’s so interesting to think about what could’ve been! something that is so interesting to me in the fic is sam and dean’s relationship. i wonder every time i read sotw what the future holds for their relationship?

this is a feast of a question. I'll tell you what I know:

there's just over a week between when Sam leaves and when he's set to start school. just before he's due to go back (and just after Dean rescues Zeppelin), he gets a call from Dean. at first he assumes Dean is calling to make amends for John and try to woo him back home one day, same old story. but Dean says he's broken from John, intends to become Sam's guardian, and also he's gay and dating Cas. honestly all the John stuff is more real and relevant to Sam in that moment. the gay thing is a surprise but Dean's pretty much like, "if you have questions just talk to Charlie, she knows" and I think Sam is pretty much in the best environment in that regard

the first time Sam comes home is, logically, Christmas. Dean and Cas just got the new farmhouse in November. part of Sam wanted to stay at school, because it feels weird going "home" out of tradition or comfort when this isn't your childhood home and everything's changed and he doesn't know what he feels. I also happen to know that Cas is the one to pick him up at the airport, unexpected because Dean got called away last minute with something unavoidable. and it's kind of good because Sam gets to ask and find out for himself that Cas doesn't think of Sam as encroaching on their space. that it was part of the conversation from day 1 that this was Sam's home too

and you know. YOU KNOW how excited Dean is to show all this stuff to Sam! the lights he put up, and a tree, and he's made a WHOLE BUNCH of food. like, it's a modest house that needs a lot of work and he and Cas are just scraping by, but he's made sure Sam's room is nice and there are presents for him and I think for the first time, Sam actually sees that Dean wants his approval. and when he finds out Dean is actually making plans to leave town and visit Sam in California for his birthday, he's surprised by Dean and understands just how much he's grown and changed without John around

they also have a conversation about John. to put it to rest. obviously Dean hates that but Sam insists he doesn't want to be kept out of it, that he was always affected by it to even if he wasn't allowed to be made part of it and understand what was going on. he wasn't actually left out of it, ever, and I think when Dean gives in and agrees to talk about it just this once, he realises how deep it went. and how Sam didn't even always have the connections that Dean had to other people in town, and that there were reasons Sam felt isolated. and Sam would ask the big question, does he think John's dead? (Dean doesn't know.) does Dean want him to be dead? (Dean never wants to see him again. but it doesn't comfort him to think of John dead rotting in a ditch.) (Sam, like the rest of us, doesn't seem bothered by this prospect.)

and, of course, a word about Dean and Cas. that first night Sam is home you just know Dean won't fall asleep and is whispering to Cas all the things like: "do you think he's doing good? he seems good"; "do you think he likes the place? maybe I should repaint his room"; and "is he okay with us, though? for real?" and on this Cas is able to assure him that on that drive from the airport, the only question Sam really asked was if Dean was finally happy

(he is)

#ask #spirit of the west #thank you for the kind words!

[11cupid-tarot11]

Short Channeled Letters From Your Boo! 💜

🪽

Pile 1 -> 3

Dm me for private readings!

$1.11 per question, c@shapp- $minnieplant3

Tips appreciated! 🩵

Love y'all! -Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

Pile 1-

Hi you! ;)

I want to get right to the point. I might be distant lately, I know we used to hang out quite a lot, right? I miss it too. I miss you. Literally every single thing about you down to the smallest of details and I think you miss me too. You see me everywhere, don't you? I see you too, in my dreams, every time I close my eyes. No one understands me like you do, no one knows what I've been through like you do, we're best friends so of course this separation would hurt you, it hurts me too, but it's the best thing I could think to do. I found myself falling in love with you, I felt scared and vulnerable again like a child and the feeling scared me. I knew it was something so much deeper because I love you enough to change, I love you so much I don't want my demons to ever hurt you, ever. I'll be back! I can't stay away from you too long, I've got plans ;)

Be talking to you soon sweetie :) take care!

Pile 2-

Hey my angel, how are you my love? It's been such a crazy journey, right? So many wild twists and turns, but we made it through! We're almost there now! I've been manifesting you for awhile, from far away, while you're with them. I pray and hope you're willing to accept me this time, because I'm ready and I really want all of you. All of your shadows. Everything. I really want to kiss you. I know I don't show it often, I'm not in the position to really show you right now anyways even if I wanted to, but I will be soon ;) I can't wait to spoil you rotten, pamper you and love you the way you should be loved, I can do it all, I'm very willing. I think we're soulmates, I can't ever imagine letting you go again, our future plays in my dreams like my little safe haven. 😇

Love you, angel!

Pile 3-

Meeting you would have to be one of the best things that has ever happened to me, even if it's not our time :)

When I think of something perfect I think of you, you're what I want, you're what I crave but I just can't seem to open my eyes to look for you, baby I might be a fool sometimes, if I'm being honest I'm a mess a lot of the time and that's the problem, who wants to hear that, though, right? But it's the truth, that's why I keep attracting every one bad for me, isn't it? You deserve someone who's your knight in shining armor, someone who matches your energy perfectly and I'm not going to touch a single hair on your head until I feel like I'm worthy to. I'm working on matching my energy up there with yours, in so many aspects and different ways. There isn't anything you should ever worry about, darling. You're going to be my last puzzle piece 🧩💕.

#18+ tarot #pac love reading #pac tarot #pick a card #spirituality #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot love reading #tarot requests #tarot messages #tarot community #tarot advice

[daycourtofficial]

Personal update below

Tw: pregnancy loss, miscarriage, blood

Here it is, the words I’ve been unable to type, much less say out loud. Late in the night a few nights ago, I woke up to some abdominal cramping and went to the bathroom. I had been bleeding vaginally all day, but not enough to be super concerned.

I woke up and went to the bathroom, and knew something was wrong. To spare the details, I was bleeding a lot, cramping severely, and I knew my baby was gone. I felt empty inside, despite only being about 7 or 8 weeks pregnant. Intuition, I suppose. I just felt so lonely, as if I wasn’t supposed to be the only occupant in my body.

My husband took me to the hospital and after hours of invasive poking, prodding, and testing, a nurse practitioner I will likely never see again, who will likely never think of me again, told me that my baby was gone. He was straight forward, which I like in medical personnel. He told me my pregnancy was unviable and that it’s common. That we shouldn’t worry. These things happen. It’s normal, common. The three or so minutes felt like an eternity, waiting for him to leave so I could fall apart in the privacy of my husband’s arms, despite the lack of privacy an emergency department offers.

The hospital was so sterile, the bright lights and lack of windows made it impossible for you to track the passage of time. The winding hallways a maze of monotony, making it impossible to know how to return to your room without a guide. The walls were devoid of any real color, save for tv screens and workplace posters. And yet, the room I was placed in was the only room with decorative curtains. All the other curtains were just a shade of navy.

Mine had flowers on it, as if the world or God or the hospital wanted to offer me some reprieve, some reminder that for the hospital, this was routine, but that it wasn’t routine for me. That I deserved something for my eyes to find comfort in.

So here it is, the new reality I find myself in. My baby is gone. The rare statement that, once it becomes true, will never change.

I’m reeling a bit from this loss, as you can imagine. I’m gutted. I got married right at the beginning of the year, falling pregnant not long after. I joked with my husband that I started the year off becoming a wife and was ending the year becoming a mom. I suppose it really was just a joke in the end, but I’m not sure if the punchline was me or my continued optimism, in spite all that I’ve endured.

Anyway, everyone was extraordinarily kind to me when I had posted that I was pregnant. I know that technically I don’t owe anyone details of my personal life, especially not this personal, but I wanted to share it because I don’t want to be sad and alone. And perhaps this will find its way to someone else who has felt some loss recently, whether it be the loss of someone or something, or a loss of self or identity, or a loss of the future you had planned out. Maybe they will feel some connection to this. Or maybe one day someone will think of this as they reel with their own loss.

I don’t regret sharing the news so early, despite the circumstances that have now led me to making this post. Any joy we can find is worth sharing, even if it’s fleeting, especially if it’s fleeting, and even if it’s for some stranger on the internet.

Anyway, I have my dogs and my husband, who are very loving. I’m not sure when I’ll post this, I’ll likely stick it in my queue somewhere so it feels less like I’m hitting the ‘post’ button and more like softly whispering all of this in the wind.

I will be okay, I always am. Grief is a black hole I am trying navigate and figure out where it ends and I begin, trying to remember what my new life will be like and how to grieve yet another version of myself lost to time and trauma and sadness.

There is no narrative device here, nothing I did could’ve changed the outcome. Sometimes the world is just needlessly cruel.

This doesn’t really affect anything on here or what I choose to interact with. I’m still okay discussing/reading/writing about babies and kids and everything in that realm. I just didn’t want anyone asking after the baby and making someone feel bad for wanting to know how I was doing.

Anyway, I don’t want to end this on a despairing note, even though that is the tune of my life at the moment. I want to remember that my now is not my forever, and I hope anyone reading this that is experiencing any manner of suffering takes as much out of that sentiment as I do.

Yours,

V ❤️

#personal note