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orteil42 · 5 months

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some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

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crushedcoffeecups · 26 days

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okay but imagine being a student of Saiki Kusuo's class. how fuckin weird would it be?

there's this guy, Saiki, that you don't know very well, but seems to be completely average in EVERY way. like, concerning average. you genuinely know nothing that he likes or dislikes or is particularly good or bad at. the only thing that sticks out about him is his weird hair clips and his tinted glasses. oh, and all the people that surround him

the weird, big, loud guy that no one really likes is his best friend. he basically follows Saiki around. one time Saiki made a completely to scale statue of him for a class fair.

the kid with a hero complex that is constantly going on about some shadow organisation and fantasy world is also his friend. the one that rips all of his clothes and always wears bright red bandages over his arms. he also follows Saiki around like they've been best friends since childhood. sometimes he talks about the both of them being soldiers in some army.

one day a psychic medium who can see ghosts and guardian spirits transfers to your school. the next day you see him hanging off of Saiki. what is it about this guy that attracts all these people? he doesn't even seem to talk to them. he's apparently the vice president of the medium's occult club.

the perfect dream girl of your class that everyone loves is weirdly obsessed with him. constantly trying to pair up with him in class. they've been seen on multiple dates together and members of the kokomins seem hate him. you're pretty sure they tried to kidnap him one time. he doesn't even seem to like the girl.

the over-enthusiastic class president that everyone respects is also his friend. you're pretty sure Saiki doesn't play any sports, but apparently he joined him on a tennis camp over the holidays. you heard that he hit a tennis ball so hard he sunk a boat.

an ex-delinquent joins the school, and immediately tried to be friends with Saiki. within a week he has joined the large group that follows Saiki around. one of your friends apparently saw the two of them taking motorcycle lessons.

the poor girl in class, the one with a dozen jobs who's constantly searching for food? yeah, she's friends with him too. one time you walk past a cafe she works at and see him inside, talking to the owner. what does he have to do with the cafe? and why was she wearing a maid dress? there's rumours in the school that the both of them took shady clinical trials over the holidays.

also, the girl who has a new crush every week gets weirdly into him for a while. you see her try a bunch of classic cliches to try to win him over. none of it works, but she still hangs around him for some reason.

a super rich guy shows up to your school and demands to date the beloved perfect girl. no idea why, but Saiki seems to some part to play in the weird love triangle. later on, you see Saiki and his friends visit the rich guys house.

a fortune telling gyaru joins your school, insisting that Saiki is her soulmate. the two are polar opposites, yet seem attached at the hip, along with that spiritual medium for some reason.

another new transfer (why does your school get so many transfers?) who never seems to shut up insists on following Saiki around. apparently they're childhood friends? they don't seem very friendly.

that famous actor, the one who is in everything on tv? you see him yelling at Saiki one day. something about a sister? you don't have any idea how they even crossed paths in the first place

on a random school day you overhear some of Saiki's friends talking about their trip to Britain together. did they really travel that far for just a weekend?

one day you see Saiki walking around with a young man with a weird headband. he looks familiar somehow. you could've sworn you've seen him on some science program or something.

you've seen Saiki walking around plenty of times. he walks everywhere it seems, and gets to places at a pace that is logically impossible. doesn't he have a motorcycle license?

his parents seemed perfectly ordinary when you met them, if a little too lovey-dovey. how is their son so different?

the dude never seems to change his clothes. obviously he does, seeing how they never get dirty or damaged. you guess he just wears the same thing on repeat.

you see him out and about with a little boy. probably babysitting. the kid keeps calling him by the name of some superhero.

the school brings in a magician one day. he greets Saiki like an old friend and calls him 'master'. you had no idea they knew each other, or that Saiki liked magic.

you've only known of this guy for a year, yet it seems like so much longer. it feels like too much has happened for the school year to have not ended yet. when did all those people transfer again?

feel free to add to the idea!

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esolvehub · 2 years

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#business #marketing #lead generation #data entry jobs #photo edit #presentation #clipping path #data collection #manipulation #finance #product design

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purinfelix · 7 months

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softly ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: gavi x reader (established relationship) summary: in which Gavi realises his touches can mean more than just post-goal 'good jobs' warnings: none! pure fluff <3 w/c: 496

a/n: this one's pretty short, just so endeared by gavi's touchyness with EVERYONEE ... those clips of him giving his teammates kisses after games/goals are my greatest weakness

Gavi was used to physical affection.

As a football player, and honorary ‘baby’ of pretty much any team he played with, saying he was used to it was more of an understatement at this point. Rough hugs, head nudges, and even playful smacks on the behind were nothing he was unused to. It was his way of showing and recognising the joy that came when goals were scored, when he wanted to wish a teammate good luck, or even just hello.

So when you two began going out he had not expected it to be any different. And at first, it wasn’t. The rowdy touches he was used to dishing out and receiving were simply translated into your relationship. He would jump onto you and smoosh your face in his hands, whilst you returned the favour by punching his arms and even playfully biting him from time to time. You liked to call it ‘cuteness aggression’, and even though he definitely didn’t consider himself ‘cute’ he was grateful nonetheless.

Because, until then, it was the only way he had known to show affection - and assumed it was the same for you. But for some reason, there was something within him that yearned for more. For things to be softer, gentler, more intimate between you two. He wanted your relationship and everything that came from it to be the exception to all of the roughness he gave and got, the chaos that was his life.

And so it did, with a little effort on his part. He managed to teach himself to make his touches softer. Clambering hugs became lingering embraces. Wrist grabs became intertwined fingers and thumbs caressing the back of your hand. Lips smashing into foreheads became peppering kisses down your cheek and jawline. It didn’t take you long to catch on and start following along - although it was difficult not to be completely enamoured with how bewitched he was by you, acting as if any touch not fueled by absolute care and love seemed unfitting.

For many it might’ve seemed like a lack of passion, the way his touches lost their roughness. But for you, it only felt the opposite, because you knew that there was something about the quiet of it, the intimacy, that only the two of you would ever know. Because you were the only person who was ever granted the chance of seeing Gavi like this. Of knowing the feeling of his fingers weaving beaten paths through the roots of your hair, or the feeling of his head resting on your chest as it rose and fell with the rhythm of calm breaths. In places away from teammates, cameras, stadiums of cheering fans and their watchful eyes. In the company of no one else but each other, where not even a word had to be shared. Touches that used to mean ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, and ‘good job’ came to mean so much more.

Came to mean ‘I love you’.

#pablo gavi #gavi #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi fic #pablo gavi oneshot #fanfic #football #oneshot #fc barcelona #jet writes ★#purinfelix

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sapphire-writes · 8 months

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Chapter 1: Welcome Home

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

summary ~ Hired by the elusive Aemond Targaryen, you arrive at Harrenhal House to care for his niece and nephew. Things go bump in the night.

warnings below the cut for your convenience

warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, angst, mentions of death, loss of a child, blood, wound care

note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!

banner made by the ever lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

Harrenhal stands on the edge of our world atop lush, green hills. The God’s Eye Lake is the biggest in the country, more like the sea than any landbound body of water you’d ever seen before.

As the Uber driver creeps along the bend of the God’s Eye, the old manor begins to come into view. A thick layer of fog seems to cling to the bricks; gray tendrils creeping onto the driveway and spilling onto the lawn.

“Are you a long way from home?” your driver asks, meeting your eyes in the rearview as he attempts to strike up polite conversation. You assume it’s because of the rather rough start you got off with him.

“Harrenhal House?” he had asked, face red, eyes wide, “That place is cursed.”

Not exactly the warm welcome you had wished for when you arrived in the Riverlands. Not exactly the impression Aemond Targaryen had given in his email when he offered you the job. The interview had been completed over the phone. His voice was cold, words clipped as though he wanted to find someone qualified and quickly to care for his niece and nephew.

The car pulls up to Harrenhal, tires crunching against the gravel of the driveway. The iron gates were open as you’d driven up, expecting your arrival. Hedges and statues covered with moss decorate the path toward the main house. The car slowly creeps closer. Your driver clutches the wheel as though the house means to swallow him whole.

Harrenahal stands out like a stain against the clear blue sky. It is an enormous manor, with shutters, and brick the color of pitch. The terrifying eyesore of the Riverlands. Crows have made their nests in several of the gables, their beady black eyes watching intently as the car comes to a halt.

A murder.

Of course, you’d done your research before accepting the position. Both on the home and on your host.

Harrenhal had a grizzly history. Your driver wasn’t wrong when he called it a cursed place. But the dead didn’t scare you. You had ghosts of your own.

Aemond Targaryen was a different story. Second son of Viserys Targaryen, whose recent passing was still hot news in the corporate world. Not that you paid close attention, but you’d heard there still had been no decision on the naming of the new CEO of Fire & Blood Co.

The death of the patriarch seemed to trigger a chain reaction of devastating events. If Harrenhal was cursed, so was the Targaryen family tree. Wherever the silver-haired blue bloods go, tragedy seems to follow.

The death of little Jaehaerys is the most tragic of all.

You’d yet to see a child-sized coffin and desperately hoped you never would.

They’d whisked Helaena Targaryen away from the boisterous streets of King’s Landing rather quickly after the funeral of her first son. After her accident.

You didn’t know what had happened, it was omitted from the press. Even the tabloids had only guesses. You doubt there are many limitations to actions caused by a mother’s grief.

Jaehaerys left two siblings behind; a twin sister and an infant brother still too young to toddle. Aemond Targaryen was hardly ready to be a father. You’d researched him as well and read about his ascent up the corporate ladder.

The boost of nepotism couldn’t have hurt, but from what you could tell, as you hunched over your laptop in the darkness of your hotel room, Aemond Targaryen had worked hard for his success. A tragic accident when he was a child left him blind in his left eye, leaving it cloudy and sightless, though nothing more was disclosed online about the incident.

There were other Targaryen siblings; an elder sister from a first marriage, a party boy, and another brother backpacking through the eastern continent. You flipped through countless articles and stalked the Instagram pages of the elusive family.

However, Aemond Targaryen did not have social media.

What he did have, was a marriage announcement, followed soon after by an obituary.

A handsome young widower. Not even thirty.

The deceased wife was much older. You’d browsed through Google images while slurping cold pad Thai, though there were hardly any pictures of them as a couple. Aemond seemed to avoid the press at every chance.

There weren’t many photos of him; just candid shots here and there—a dark suit, a flash of silver hair. You had shut your laptop after that, feeling suddenly self-conscious, as though Aemond would know you’d read about him the first time he laid eyes on you.

Your Uber driver helps deposit your bags onto the gravel, shutting the trunk with a grunt. He turns to you, eying the manor nervously, as though it's a living thing waiting to open its jaws and devour you.

“You be careful, love,” he tells you, nodding towards the house.

“I’m tougher than I look,” you assure, awarding him a wry smile.

The smile he offers in return is more of a grimace, and he is quick to return to the safety of his vehicle. You grab your carry-on and the handle of your suitcase, gazing up at the manor. A crow caws, alerting the others to your arrival.

A group of crows is called a murder.

You walk up to the doors, knocking once, twice. There is no answer. Turning the handle, you stepped into the grand foyer. A large staircase is the first thing you see, though you’re distracted by the man walking down the steps at a leisurely pace.

Aemond Targaryen is more intimidating than the candid photos you’d hungrily browsed. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a slender waist. His long, silver hair is braided into a bun resting at the nape of his neck, a few tendrils ghosting around his face. Pouty lips, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a beautiful straight, pointed nose.

You’d always had a thing for noses.

Seven hells. Stop that. This guy is your boss, your employer.

His eyes. One blue, the other milky and lifeless. The gash of a faded scar running up the side of his face only served to make me more handsome.

He greets you with the title of Miss, the gentle timbre of his voice floating down to you. It’s so formal, as though you’ve walked through a portal into a Jane Austin novel. He doesn’t smile, just watches you, sizing you up.

Fucking hell, he’s even more handsome in person.

The man could be a model if business doesn’t work out for him.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you watch him descend the steps. With his hands in his pockets, and white button-down sleeves rolled to his elbows, he oozes an air of cold confidence as his eyes trace over you. He doesn’t offer a hand to shake, despite his formality. Even when he removes his hands from his pockets, letting one drag slowly down the railing.

“You didn’t arrive with any other baggage?” Aemond quips, the fingers of his left hand uncurling from a clenched fist.

You blink, before glancing at your suitcase, at the carry-on bag beside it, “No…?”

Aemond hums to himself, lips pressed firmly together. His face gives nothing away, an emotionless mask of disinterest.

“No estranged boyfriend who’ll be coming looking for you?” he asks pointedly.

Your cheeks warm at his statement. You should have guessed he’d be direct. He didn’t ask you in the interview about a partner; just made sure you were able to commit to the position for at least six months.

“No,” you tell him, “No boyfriend.”

His eyes, both the blue and the milky sightless, hold your gaze intently before he nods.

“Follow me then.”

Aemond gives you a tour of the house, showing you all the rooms you’ll have access to. Mysteries are hidden behind closed doors that Aemond doesn’t acknowledge, including a closed door decorated with paintings of vines and flowers. He omits the majority of the west wing of the house which includes the location of his study.

A man has his secrets, you suppose.

What he does show you is the kitchen, along with the nursery and the library. Despite the age of the house, the kitchen is large and modern, with cabinets painted a deep forest green beside stainless steel appliances. A gas stove houses a tea kettle, ready and waiting.

He shows you to your room last; on the eastern side of the house close to the nursery. You follow him down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. Aemond has not attempted small talk throughout the tour of the house.

Aemond has stayed silent unless he is informing where he is taking you next, his hands clasped behind his back. It almost looks uncomfortable, the way he holds himself upright, his spine straight as an arrow.

“Your sister lives here as well, right?” you ask absentmindedly looking at the tapestries that decorate the hall.

Aemond stops in front of a door, turning back to you. Those cold eyes stoke a fire within you, setting you ablaze with each glance. He is silent for a moment before he opens the door.

“This is your room,” he continues, ignoring your question, “There are extra sheets in the lower drawers, and on Sundays, the housekeeper comes to strip the beds and tend to the rest of the house.”

He opens the bottom drawers of the large oak dresser. A large mirror rests on top of it accompanied by a dark jewelry box. The dresser matches the rest of the furniture in the room; all dark stained wood as though each piece was dunked in ink. A large four-poster bed sits in the middle of the room, the green comforter is warm and inviting. You can see God’s Eye from the large arched window; the water sparkles with the afternoon light cascading across the surface like diamonds.

“I hope you’ll find it satisfactory,” Aemond says.

You turn to face him, standing in front of the window letting the warmth of the sun on your face.

“It’s more than satisfactory,” you tell him, “Straight out of a Shirley Jackson novel.”

Aemond shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, seemingly perturbed by your praise. He purses his lips, glancing at the carpeted floor. You swear he’s smirking slightly.

“A backhanded compliment.”

“It’s not meant to be,” you assure him, your face warming with embarrassment.

“Yes well,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let's hope that’s how the buyers feel as well.”

“I didn’t realize you meant to sell,” you tell him.

“It’s ours for now, but I mean to relocate to Summerhal,” he comments, “This house isn’t held long.”

That’s all he says on the matter. You don’t ask him to elaborate. You doubt he would anyway, he seems keen to ignore your curiosity. Aemond leads you down the stairs once more and out through the kitchen onto a stone patio. The view of God’s Eye is spectacular, it’s close enough to stand at the edge if only you run down the hill.

A garden disrupts the spacious greenery and you walk beside Aemond, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“She’s here, she’s here!” a small voice calls, followed by a young girl bursting through the doors and out onto the patio.

“Jaehaera!” a woman calls, chasing after the young girl.

She races down the steps to where you stand with Aemond in the gardens. Cheeks rosy, smiling brightly, Jaehaera Targareyn boldly walks up in front of you. Her blue eyes are wide and she holds out a fist full of daisies.

“I’ve picked these for you,” she declares and you kneel to meet her height, “Talya said I needed to wait.”

You take the flowers from her, pressing them against your nose and inhaling their sweet scent. You’ve always loved daisies.

“Which you did not,” Tayla says, catching her breath as she arrives, “I’m sorry sir she didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” Aemond quips, arms tucked behind his back, “They needed to meet anyway.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jaehaera. I love your dress,” you tell her, and she twirls letting her baby-blue skirt billow around her.

“You’re much prettier than Kepus told me,” Jaehaera says, eyes drinking in every inch of your face.

“I told you I hadn’t any idea what she looked like,” Aemond gently corrects.

You smile, chest feeling warm at her kindness. You tell her your name and her nose crinkles.

“I’m going to call you Miss Gevie,” Jaehaera declares softly, “Because of how perfectly lovely you are.”

“Someone’s been practicing their High Valyrian,” Aemond remarks, “Have you had your lessons today?”

Jaehaera sighs, a very small sound, “Kessa kepus.”

“Syz riña,” Aemond says, a small smile appearing on his face before glancing at you, “You’ll have to meet Maelor as well.”

“Though he’s rather boring,” Jaehaera interrupts, “He only sleeps. I told muña I wanted a sister. I already have a brother.”

Your stomach flips at her words and you glance at Aemond. His expression is stoic, though Talya pales beside him. She steps forward, kneeling next to Jaehaera, who is busy counting the petals of the daisies you now hold.

“Jaehaera,” she says, forcing a small smile.

“What?”

Tayla grimaces, placing a hand on her shoulder, “We’ve talked about-”

“I want to see muña,” Jaehaera interrupts, shaking off Talya’s comforting hand. She glances at Aemond for help, though he offers none.

“She’s resting now….”

“I want to see her!” Jaehaera insists, louder this time lower lip wobbling.

“Why don’t you say goodbye to Talya first,” Aemond says, “She’s been very kind accompanying you here.”

“You’re leaving?” you ask the woman.

“I’m needed elsewhere, this was a very temporary arrangement,” she tells you.

“She works for my mother,” Aemond clarifies, nostrils flaring slightly, “She was unable to make the journey here.”

You remember reading about Alicent Hightower. You don’t see any of his mother in Aemond’s features. Where Alicent is soft, Aemond is sharp; nose straight and long, chin prominent. The word lethal comes to mind.

Aemond has looks to kill.

You shake your head trying to clear your thoughts.

“Can I show you my room?” Jaehaera asks, smiling once more.

“I’d love that,” you tell her, letting her place her small hand in yours and lead you back towards the house.

You glance behind you, watching as Aemond and Talya converse before Harrenhal swallows you once more.

“Miss Gevie,” Jaehaera asks, tugging her comforter up to her chin, “Are you going to stay with us for a long time?”

You stop picking up some of her toys from the floor. You’d been playing with dolls since after dinner and had just settled down to read a story before bed. You smile, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I am,” you tell her, “Your uncle is working very hard and needs a little extra help.”

Jaehaera nods, taking in the words you speak. Her blue eyes watch you carefully, seeming wiser than her years.

“I like you,” she says softly, “Kepus likes you too. I can tell. He just doesn’t say so.”

You smile at her. Aemond was clearly softer in the presence of Jaehaera. He’d been more pleasant at dinner than when you’d first arrived. Helaena was absent from supper.

“You’re not going to leave? No matter what?”

You stroke some hair from her face, “I am not going anywhere, any time soon.”

Jaehaera scoots down, laying back against her pillow. You stand, pulling the covers up when something catches your eye. You reach under her pillow, removing a doll that was hidden there.

“Who’s this?” you ask, staring at the doll.

It’s barely a doll, more a stick of melted charred plastic, warped from the heat. You can see remnants of legs and arms, the path a flame must have licked up through the plastic; the hair burnt to the scalp. The face is unrecognizable.

Jaehaera reaches up, closing her small fingers around it.

“He stays here,” she tells you, “He likes to stay inside his castle.”

Geez. Creepy or what? You force a smile, letting her take the weird Barbie.

“Okay,” you tell her, “Goodnight Jaehaera.”

“Goodnight Miss Gevie,” she sing-songs.

“You know, you can just call me by my name,” you remind her.

“I like Miss Gevie better, it suits you,” she insists, yawning.

You find yourself yawning as well, and head to bed. The manor is quiet as you make your way to your room, tucking in for the night.

Sleeping in a new place can cause strange dreams.

A bloodcurdling scream tears through the halls of the sleepy manor, its icy tendrils ripping you from your dreams and back into your bed. You awake with a gasp, sucking in air as though you’d been held underwater, just breaking through the surface. Hand clutching your throat you sit up, hair sticking to the back of your neck from the layer of sweat that covers your body.

The house is quiet once more.

Breathing heavily you sit up in bed for a moment, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You rise on shaky legs moving towards the door, and the ancient doorknob groans in protest as you turn it.

The hallway is dark, moonlight shining through the window at the end painting the floor with streaks of silver.

Maybe you were still dreaming.

But then, a low groan begins, the guttural sounds of a mourning mother’s wail. It washes over you like ice water and your stomach turns as the scream reaches its highest peak. Despite the alarm in your mind telling you to turn back into your room and hide under the covers, you race down the hallway towards the sound.

With each and every step toward the western wing, the screaming gets louder, broken up with deep sobs. You quicken your pace, bare feet padding against the carpet as you reach the source. The door you’d passed earlier, painted with flowers and twisting vines is open now, yellow light pouring into the hall from the lamp.

Aemond holds a girl in his arms--not a girl but a small woman; she’s frail, elbows poking against flesh like a starved baby bird, tears streaming down her ashy cheeks. Her silver hair is damp with perspiration, clinging to her face and neck as she clutches Aemond’s forearm. They’re in a heap together on the floor, Aemond’s arms tensed around her as he gently shushes her.

“Helaena…it's alright, it was just a dream,” he assures her, his voice softer and warmer than you’ve heard since meeting him.

He glances up at you, acknowledging your presence but saying nothing; his entire attention is on his sister.

“It’s never just a dream,” Helaena wails, nails digging into Aemond’s forearm, “Or maybe it is, maybe I’m asleep even now.”

A chill runs down your spine at Helaena’s words.

“Maybe I’ve been sleeping all along,” she continues, eyes glassy and her voice hoarse, “I could feel him, Aemond, it was so real.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I could feel him…in my arms….against my breast like when he was a baby…feeding, it was so real,” she says, her voice dropping into a whisper.

Helaena’s lips trembled, parted in a silent sob. The hand that does not anchor her to Aemond rests atop her breast, as though she can feel Jaehaerys against her chest even now.

“It’s alright dōna mandia,” Aemond murmurs, still stroking her hair. He rocks back and forth, starting a gentle pace to soothe her, “Go to the kitchen.” His voice is directed at you this time, your eyes meeting his. The tone he uses is still soft, and when you don’t move, he gestures toward the hall with a nod of his head.

“Do you hear him?” Helaena continues, “Running down the hall? Jaehaerys! Māzigon kesīr dōna valonqar!” (Come here, sweet boy).

“There’s no one there, Helaena,” Aemond soothes.

“I hear him,” she sobs, turning her face into Aemond’s chest, “Why can’t you hear him?”

Helaena’s sobs and questions are still ringing through your head as you leave the room, heading downstairs.

You make your way to the kitchen, standing in the dark, shocked for a moment before turning on the light. Helaena’s cries and pleas still echo in your mind as you fill the kettle left on the stove and turn on the gas burner. Searching through cabinets you find an array of handmade mugs, choosing a purple one with a twisted handle.

You rummage through some more drawers until you find some herbal tea, setting it beside the stove as you wait for the water to boil. You tap your fingers against the counter, a nervousness curling in your belly as you gaze out the window that leads to the backyard. You had known Helaena wasn’t well, but you didn’t realize just how serious it was.

You inhale a deep breath trying to steady yourself. It’s shaken you up quite a bit, hearing her agonized screams. Your hands tremble and you press your palms flat against the counter. A door slams from somewhere upstairs and you glance at the ceiling.

You look out the window once more, peering into the darkness. The God's Eye is just a still pool reflecting the light of the moon. A shadow moves behind you, reflecting in the glass and you gasp turning around.

“Seven hells!” you curse as Aemond walks into the kitchen, “You scared me.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just watches you for a moment, chest rising and falling with his breath. He must have also been asleep when Helaena’s terrors began as he’s clad in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, silver hair loosely braided down his back.

Ruby-red beads of blood blossom from the crescent-shaped marks on Aemond’s left forearm. You watch them swell into ruby marbles against his porcelain flesh before he grabs a rag on the counter, covering them.

“Are you alright?” you ask, as Aemond sits in a chair.

It’s almost like he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him; he takes a moment to process before he nods. You watch him as he stares at the table, tension rolling off his shoulders. The kettle begins to whistle and you quickly remove it from the stovetop, turning off the flames.

You pour your own mug before moving to the cabinet where you’d found it, retrieving a second. This one is green with gray streaks. Another handmade treasure, you’re sure.

You make Aemond a cup of tea, placing it in front of him before taking the seat next to him. His eye flickers toward the steaming cup. Though he hesitates for a moment, he wraps his long fingers against it, pulling it closer.

“It’s hot,” you tell him, as he lifts it to his lips.

“I don’t mind,” he murmurs. You’d likely burn your lip if you didn’t wait a few minutes. Aemond sighs contentedly, violet eye meeting yours.

“Thank you,” he says softly, “I should have told you…”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “I figured she was grieving. You’d mentioned she’d been unwell.”

“The doctors say it's night terrors,” Aemond comments, taking another sip, “Due to the trauma she’s experienced.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’m meant to speak with her psychiatrist later this week,” he says, “She’s begun a new medication to help her sleep. I don’t think it’s been doing her any good.”

“Sometimes those things take time,” you tell him, trying to ease some of his distress. He merely hums in response, as though he’s heard it all before. You glance at the rag on his forearm, biting on your lower lip before deciding to speak again. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

Aemond nods, bringing a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Above the fridge,” he murmurs, not looking up.

Rising from your seat, you retrieve the small kit, and place it on the table in front of you. You reach out toward him, tentatively moving the rag from his forearm, revealing the crescent-shaped marks. They’ve begun to clot, and you fold the rag into a small square, placing it on the table beside you. You dig for a few bandaids settling for the smallest ones.

“She had nowhere else to go,” Aemond says, more to himself than to you as you place the bandages on his arm, “Jaerhara, and Maelor they need to be with family. There’s no one else. Nowhere else.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” you tell him, pulling your hands away. You reach for your mug, placing your hands around it and letting the warmth seep into you.

Aemond hums, not answering, though he seems unconvinced by your statement.

“I mean it,” you tell him, “I can see how much you care about them. And your sister.”

Aemond meets your eye once more, his gaze softening.

“She is the best person,” he tells you, his voice even and calm, “The best mother….the best sister.”

There’s pain hidden behind the words that he speaks; you can hear it coating his voice.

“She’s just in one of her hard times,” he assures you, “She goes through phases. Not..not wanting to see Maelor…it comes and goes.”

You reach for his hand. In the heat of the moment, you’re not sure what else to do. There are no more words of comfort to offer him. Your hand fits in his perfectly, resting on top of the table. His palm is warm, the skin surprisingly calloused. Your lips part, a soft gasp slipping free at the feeling of his hand in yours.

Eyes wide, you smile softly at him before squeezing comfort into his hand. Aemond doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t pull his hand away either. You sit like that for several minutes, neither of you moving.

“Your tea will get cold,” Aemond eventually murmurs, breaking the silence.

Your hand slips out of his grasp, the sudden emptiness making you shiver. Clutching the mug, you bring it to your lips, sipping carefully.

It’s already cold.

How long have you been sitting here?

Aemond is watching you still, as you lower the mug. He stands then, taking both mugs to the sink.

“It’s late,” he comments, “We should get some sleep.”

You nod, standing. Aemond pushes into your chair, walking beside you back upstairs. He turns toward the western wing.

“You’re not going to sleep?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

“I am,” Aemond says, turning slightly, “I prefer to stay in my study.”

“Oh,” you comment, “Well ... .goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says before disappearing down the hallway.

You return to your room, lying underneath the covers trying to get warm when you come to a realization.

That was the first time Aemond had called you by your name.

note: let me know what you think! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them)

if you would like to be tagged in this series, please let me know!

ACP taglist: @aebi12 | @lokiofasgard12 | @darkenchantress

bold means I could not tag!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 🖤

#aemond x reader #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #halloween fic #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #modern au #halloween au

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acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies · 3 months

Text

AFTERGLOW PT 1

charlie bushnell x reader

warnings: fluff, smau

fc: isabella sermon

summary: you and charlie star in the afterglow mv

a/n the 30 pic limit caught upto me so pt 2 is here

liked by ynln, iamcharliebushnell and others taylorswift surprise coming your way tonight 🤭 🩷 ps there’s gonna be cats!!!!!!! view comments

user34 NEW ALBUM???? ➔ taylorfanpage dude i don’t think so it’s coming out tonight 😭 yn.ln 👀 ➔ iamcharliebushnell 👀 ➔ sabrinacarpenter 👀 ➔ honeymoon 👀 ➔ gracieabrams 👀 hearts4yn low key why is the aesthetic so lover tho queentay CRUEL SUMMER MV?? ➔ taylorswift close but not quite

liked by percyjackson, rickriordan and others celebnews yn ln has been confirmed to star in pjo season two as silena beauregard comments are closed

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others yn.ln working in multiple projects>>> view comments

leahsavajeffries SO EXCITED TO SEE UUUUU ➔ yn.ln SAME BAEEE dior.n.goodjohn MULTITASKING QUEENN ➔ yn.ln SAYS YOU walkerscobell not u quoting my book ➔ yn.ln since when was it ur book?? ➔ walkerscobell im an og fan ➔ yn.ln last time i checked i’m older so i’ve known the series for longer ynloml IS THAT TAYLOR SWIFT IN THE FIRST PIC hearts4yn TAYLOR AND YN????

hearts4yn they’re literally dating ynfan i got butterflies watching this pjofan UM THE KISS HELLO??? taylorfanpage wish they were an offscreen couple user56 🤩 fandomedits NEW CLIPS TO EDIT???? ynismywife IN LOVEEEE user07 my three favourite people fangirl best onscreen chemistry goes to… ➔ynmyfav and offscreen ➔ lovepjo they’re not dating?? are they? ➔ charlie&yn she’s been posting a guy who looks a lot like charlie

liked by iamcharliebushnell, taylorswift and others yn.ln their first acting job was with the TAYLOR SWIFT??? view comments

ynloml stars of the mv right there hearts4yn they literally stole my heart the first time i saw them aryansimhadri i think i like ur cats more than i like u ➔ yn.ln valid 😔 iamcharliebushnell i love your cats ➔ yn.ln thought you were more of a dog person? ➔ iamcharliebushnell i can change for you 😉 ➔ yn.ln 🤭 taylorswift you should bring them around more ➔ yn.ln will do 🫡

liked by taylorswift, iamcharliebushnell and others yn.ln lil photo dump from the past month 😘 view comments

iamcharliebushnell I GOT A FEATURE??? ➔ dior.n.goodjohn you got three acc and i got none ➔ yn.ln ILL DO A POST WITH JS YOU IN IT BBG walkerscobell i’m literally so pretty user45 taylor is literally so gorgeous ➔ yn.ln realll ynloml SOMEONE NEEDS TO CAST CHARLIE AND YN IN A ROMCOM PLSSSS ➔ yn.ln that’s the dream

seen by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others yn.ln lil blue appreciation post cos i’m in pjo 🤪 view comments

hearts4yn i bought her the flowers 🤭 ➔ iamcharliebushnell erm actually they were from me 🤓 👆 ➔ hearts4yn CHARLIE ??? HELPP ynismywife that looks a lot like charlie in the last pic🤨 walkerscobell i got forced to take the last pic ➔ iamcharliebushnell u literally volunteered ?? leahsavajeffries ONE MORE WEEK TILL WE SEE U ➔ yn.ln YAYAYAYAYAAY user02 that underwater kiss is so pjo coded user56 miss js finished working with taylor swift and now is in pjo LITERALLY ASPIRE TO BE LIKE U ➔ yn.ln omg ur too kind

ALL THE REP TV EASTER EGGS IN THE NEW AFTERGLOW MV !!

The first image shows a graveyard that we saw in the background when actors Charlie and YN were walking down a path, it’s the same one from the LWYMMD music video. When they were on a date at Olive Garden (which was included in NBNC and this song has a rep feel to it) YN’s phone has new year’s day playing and one of the rings on her hand is a snake ring. The black and white colour scheme of the heart on the building is the same as the reputation colour scheme. The TS written in the sand was first thought to be a Debut (Taylor’s Version) hint but after the overpowering reputation hints perhaps it means reputation (Taylor’s Version). There was a bracelet in the background of YN and Charlie’s kiss in the mv (which took place in YN’s bedroom) where in the background there was a black bracelet among the pink colour scheme that said “REP”. The paper on Charlie’s desk littered with kisses from YN had lyrics to So It Goes… on it.

NEXT ARTICLE: ALL THE CLUES THAT SHOW CHARLIE BUSHNELL AND YN LN ARE DATING

a/n stop i loved writing this

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lovelytsunoda · 2 months

Text

time after some time // mick schumacher

kisses underneath the collar of a turtleneck sweater

mick is gone a lot because of his job, which makes the moments they share all the more special. especially the moments shared in the half light before he has to go and catch his next flight.

pairing: mick schumacher x female reader

the room was still dark, echoing with the sound of rain tapping against the windows. mick's arms were heavy around her body, holding her tight as he snored lightly against the back of her neck. angie was curled up at the bottom of the bed, her fluffy body weighted against y/n's legs.

the clock radio on her nightstand chimed, softly tuning into the oldies radio station, playing a duran duran song. she kissed mick's hand softly, slipping out of bed, turning off the alarm and reaching for the hoodie she'd thrown over her reading chair.

angie stirred, leaping off the bed and nuzzling against y/n's legs.

mick was still fast asleep.

"come on, girl. let's get you outside." she chirped, patting angie on the side before leading her out of the bedroom and towards the heavy glass patio doors. despite the light rain, angie was eager to run around the backyard and stretch her small, canine legs.

she kept an eye on angie through the bedroom window as she slowly dressed for the day, a chill rising on her skin as she pulled a turtleneck sweater over her head, pushing the cowl over the bottom of her face as she shivered.

mick stirred in bed, a pretty little groan escaping his throat as he rolled over, pulling the duvet over his shoulders.

"morning, sleepyhead." she giggled, leaning over to kiss the side of his head gently. "angie's already outside."

mick grimaced, burrowing into the pillow. "you let her run outside in the rain?"

"we got an apartment with a backyard for a reason, babe. she's a smart girl, she knows to stay on the covered patio."

mick relented, hands gentle on her waist as he pulled her onto the bed. "i love you." he mumbled, voice low as he kissed her, repeating it in between kisses.

there was a muffled bark coming form the other room, followed by a tapping on the patio glass.

"can you let angie in? i'll go start breakfast." she hummed, kissing mick again. "i want you well fed before you get on that plane."

mick laughed, sitting up and letting the duvet fall away from the white tank top covering his sculpted torso. "babe, i'm flying to florida, not switzerland."

"it's still the other side of the country." she laughed, playfully hitting him in the shoulder.

the pair had relocated to texas whilst mick was still with haas, and even after guenther steiner had fired the poor boy, they had fallen in love with the property and the landscape. they lived right near the water, with plenty of walking paths for angie. more than that, it had become home.

"is your mom meeting you in daytona?"

"yeah, she and gina will meet me at the track."

she frowned, brushing mick's messy, blond hair out of his face. "sorry i can't make it this weekend. if work wasn't so hectic, you know that i would."

"i know." mick sighed, kissing her palm. "doesn't change the fact that i'll miss you like hell."

angie barked again, growing impatient as she sat in front of the sliding patio doors. the couple laughed, sharing a soft kiss before breaking apart, one going to let angie back inside and the other to make breakfast.

the kitchen was soon filled with music and the smell of grilled vegetables as y/n started making a frittata, a cyndi lauper album playing softly in the background. her hair was pinned up with a plastic claw clip, the faint smell of a bath and body works spray soaking into her skin. she hummed the words, smiling to herself when she heard the telltale clacking of angies paws on the hardwood floor, followed by mick's laughter as he chased after her.

"you're all wet." she whined as mick hugged her frmo behind, his arms a comforting weight around her midsection.

"take it up with angie. she's fucking quick." mick laughed, nuzzling into her shoulder. "i never stood a chance before she was shaking the water off everywhere."

his nose was cold as he trailed his face over the bare nape of her neck, gently nosing underneath the collar of her sweater before placing a soft kiss at the top of her spine. his hands moved from her waist to the collar of her shirt, holding it out of the way so he could kiss her some more, a show of intimacy that made her heart melt.

"ich leibe dich."

"i love you more."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @clemswrld @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @userlando @twinkodium @oscnorris

#mick schumacher x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula one fanfic #mick schumacher imagine #fools in love! event

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blackhairedjjun · 2 months

Text

flying home to you - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, non-idol au, friends to lovers | word count: 889 | warnings: profanity (just one "shit")

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - CHOOSE: sender, realizing the receiver is about to make a huge life-changing decision (literally anything, accepting a job offer, accepting a marriage proposal, leaving the country, ANYTHING!) tells the receiver that they’re in love with them, leaving them to choose between the sender and their original path. (requested by @forevrglow - “Can you do the [CHOOSE] prompt with Yeonjun and make it kinda like the ending of Friends? Y/N got an amazing job offer in another country and just as she's about to get on the plane, yeonjun arrives to tell her he loves her and then she gets off the plane”)

author's notes: hi bri, thank you so much for the request! i had to watch clips of the friends ending on youtube for this, i couldn't make it exactly like it just because airport security has changed so much since the show aired 😭 but i tried to keep the gist of your request, i hope you enjoy!

(also to anyone else reading this, please do not take this fic as career or relationship advice!! lmao)

neither the rumbling sound of your luggage wheels nor the roars of the airplanes overhead could drown out your nervous heartbeat. you approached the entrance of the airport terminal, bags in tow, and your nerves seemed to quake more and more with each step. as you found yourself in front of the glass sliding doors, you paused, inhaled deeply, and checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

the electronic copy of your plane ticket was there, as were the email exchanges from your new employer. paris was at your fingertips and in a few hours it would be right in front of you, surrounding you, and even beneath your feet.

yet you still found yourself switching over to your text app and checking your messages with yeonjun. it had been a few hours since you sent a cordial “i’ll text you when the plane lands!” to him, and there was still no reply; he was typically the kind of person who replies as soon as he can, usually late at night before he goes to bed. he had read your text, but not responded.

this fact rattled your nerves more than the plane ticket, the email exchanges, or the flight. sighing, you pocketed your phone again and pushed thoughts of yeonjun out of your mind. maybe it got buried in his inbox...

you gripped the handle of your luggage again to wheel it over to the entrance, but your steps felt slower than ever. other passengers had to walk around you to enter the terminal. why were you so damn nervous? you knew that a new job in a new country was scary, but more than ever you felt rooted to the ground. at the back of your mind were images of your home, of downing beers with yeonjun in your kitchen, of his downcast expression when you told him about moving to paris...

“y/n! wait!”

you whipped around at the sound of a voice that made your heart beat faster. yeonjun stood in front of you as if conjured by your thoughts, out of breath, jacket hastily thrown on and hair tousled.

“yeonjun, what are you...?”

“y/n, please,” he panted, “hear me out before you go...”

you were both in the way, and passengers shot glares at you as they headed to the terminal entrance. you moved aside, and yeonjun took the opportunity to move closer to you and take both your hands in his.

“i have to be at the gate by一”

“i love you.”

you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

yeonjun’s grip on your hands grew firm. “i’m sorry i never told you earlier,” he continued, voice cracking, “but i... i didn’t want to stop your dreams. i’m sure you’ll do amazing. but now that you’re leaving, and it’s real, and i don’t know when一 shit, i love you, y/n... i love you.”

you were trembling and yeonjun could feel it in your hands. he, too, was shaking, and it took every ounce of effort for him to keep steady.

your mind swam in a haze of thoughts, feelings, images. you remembered the way yeonjun held you when your ex broke your heart, the way his hands nearly brushed yours when he walked you home. you thought of home, of that tiny apartment where you’d stayed up with him talking about your dreams.

then you thought of paris. you thought of your dream job in your dream city. you imagined your new apartment overlooking the seine, and of the picturesque walkways lined with charming houses and old-fashioned streetlamps. your mind instantly created an image of you walking along them towards your new home, surrounded by fashionable locals in elegant coats... but you walked all alone.

where is your home? what is your dream?

then it all snapped together in high clarity.

you had been silent for a while, the thoughts too overwhelming for you to respond. yeonjun was still standing in front of you, and at your silence he dropped your hands. tears formed at the corners of his eyes and you swore you felt your heart break.

“sorry, i... i shouldn’t have said that. you should go...”

he turned to head back to his car. at first you couldn’t process it, and he moved slowly as if in a dream. then your senses caught up with you and you realized 一 yeonjun was walking away. your home, your dream was walking away.

“yeonjun!”

you ran towards him, nearly bumping into several passengers heading to the terminal. he caught you in his arms and his lips met yours; you melted into his embrace, kissing him back. he felt warm and his lips were soft, and you felt the warmth spread to your chest and set your whole body alight.

when you broke apart, you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears. your eyes met yeonjun’s, shining with adoration, and the thoughts and emotions swirling around you finally came to a still.

“i love you too, jjun,” you whispered. “i can’t leave you.”

he pulled you in for a hug and you breathed him in, your face resting against his chest. his heartbeat fell in sync with yours.

“y/n, stay...”

you gripped him even more tightly and nodded. there was no way you could leave your home.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt angst #yeonjun angst #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #yeonjun fanfic #bhj's 300 follower event 🖤#bhj: violet's works

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go6jo · 9 months

Note

personally suguru is very no shirt + plaid pajama pants to me idk. when hes out of the shower and his towel is around his neck and his hair is damp and spilling down his shoulders and back, still a little clumpy when he squeezes it with his towel, his pajama pants low on his hips... then he gives u a little smile like ":) fancy seeing you here" when he runs into u post-shower at the common area by the dorms (he forgot his claw clip there) (but not really bc satoru told him you'd be studying late there so he came anyway)

( — soda bottle anon )

and he'd look so good, too. suguru is confident in his body, all sharp edges and well defined lines as if he were carved directly from stone, a statue of mars, the god of war himself, owning the scars on his chest and showing his chiseled muscles from years spent practicing and, consequently, exceeding at the martial arts, a self-made master of combat. the water droplets get caught in every crevice of his body, lingering on the dip of his collarbones then tracing a path down to his toned abdomen, slowing down as they outline every curve of his abs, down his v-line and hipbones.

anyone who looked at him right now, leaning against the doorway would've been enthralled by the sight, a godlike figure standing upright in all of his glory - mars, the god of war but also virility and sex. anyone would've readily fallen at his knees, eager to worship him but you barely even spare him a glance as you mumble a quiet hello with your nose still stuck in between the pages of your textbook.

suguru is hardly upset by your distractedness, or the lack thereof, he hadn't expected you to fall for such a cheap trick, he knows you, knows you're better than to care for such superficialities. you barely so much as bat an eye when you're both sat on the couch on movie night and he lifts his shirt over his head to tug it off of him when he mumbles something about how you're room feels like a furnace in the summer. and you show absolutely no inhibitions when the shirt he's wearing during practice is doing an awful job at concealing his body underneath it as it clings to his sweaty torso like a second skin, he tells you to not hold back and you don't. he thinks you always look entirely too tempting, chest heaving in the aftermath of your little rendezvouz, beads of sweat falling down your body and little pants escaping your parted lips. and it's all his doing. he does, however, feel your damp skin grow hotter when he slings an innocent arm over your shoulder, singing words of praise about how proud he is of you. and he means it. everytime. he thinks it's alluring really, how much more confident you've grown with each practice. you're strong and stubborn and there's always a smug smile that forces it's way to his face when you've got him with his back against the ground, looking down at him with a glare akin to that of a predator, as if you're about to devour him. he wouldn't mind it if you did. he feels you shiver under his touch when he brings your feet to rest over his lap, your body splayed out on the couch as he kneads on the sore muscles of your legs, soothing any pains you might've had, lifting both of your legs up to his lips, one at a time, to press a feather-light kiss to your slightly scraped knees. he knows what gets you going, knows the way to your heart is though lingering touches and attentive gestures, quiet words who are meant just for you whispered to your ear.

so, instead, suguru walks up to you, drying his hair on the towel wrapped around his neck and stopping once he finds himself standing behind the chair that you're sitting on, his body hovering over yours as he peeks above your head into the book you're reading "anything i can help with?"

you tilt your head backwards to stare up at him, eyes meeting his at last. “if anything, i think you might be more of a distraction when you’re dressed like that” and he would've thought that he might've had some effect on you if it weren't for the chaste smile that you cast him, not a hint of provocation in your voice either, just a light hearted joke.

he inches closer to you, reaching an arm over your shoulder to trace his index finger under the many words written on the page, eyes scanning over each paragraph as his other hand holds his hair up to prevent any water from getting on your book. he squints his eyes a little to focus on the tiny letters on the paper and you remain staring at him, a fond smile on your face as he looks so adamant on understanding the subject you're reading on. your cheeks grow warmer at how he's behaving so casually within such close proximity, as if being this close to you just feels right, familiar even. though you're just friends, intimacy comes so naturally to both of you, you should've been accustomed to it by now but everything always feels new with him, exciting.

and when his eyes shift to meet yours with a smile, you shouldn't feel the way you do, not towards a friend, anyway.

"have you, by any chance, seen my hair clip laying around somewhere" the pads of his thumbs sooth over the darkening skin under your eyes and you close your lids at the tenderness of his touch.

"oh-" you take a moment to think and your eyes widen in realization as you look down again to show him the claw clip that has been keeping your hair in place this entire time. "you can take it"

but he just pats your head once, beckoning you to lift it up "its alright." he retreats and the comforting smell of honey and star anise starts to fade away the further away he goes. your shoulders sulk instantly. “you can drop by my room when you no longer need it.”

and you're not immune to the way his voice deepens ever so slightly, his words strangely seductive as they leave his lips, body growing warmer at the prospect of what those words could've meant were you two in a different situation. you're also not entirely indifferent to the way the muscles of his back stretch under the layer of his pale, delicate yet tough skin as he finishes drying his air with a towel. you wonder what his muscles would feel like under your hands as you smooth them down his back, you imagine he would shiver when the tips of your finger brush against a sensitive spot then he'd let out the quietest of moans as you massage the soreness away. you want to feel him under you. feel his every dip, every ridge on his body. but you think that's too much to ask of a friend, you dwell on the thought that, if you were lucky enough, later tonight, when you meet him at least, you'll get to indulge in sight of him a little more.

#i love u. i was screaming into my pillow when i read your ask.#also him as ares/mars EXACTLYYYYY OP YOU'RE SO RIGHT. me when love and sex and agression are so hardly discernible !!!!!!!!!!!!!!#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou x reader #geto fluff #geto x you #.mine #geto

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dreamauri · 10 months

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┇𝗗𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 - prologue ┇ ─ ୨୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ─ ┇you're the best, an unbeatable driver fighting for a place on the grid ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊ ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst ) ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 858 ) ╰ 🫧 :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

☆★ yayy!! thank you @lorarri for the title <3 i did a little character introduction at the end cause this series is going to have a lot of ocs (not y/n), anyways, enjoyyy ━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests )

2015 — Baku, Azerbaijan

The F1 grid watched intensely. You didn't need to over take, already in P1 with your trophy secured. But you did anyways, passing drivers one by one till you once more made it to the top of the grid. "Phenomenal performance by Seventeen, securing her Win once more."

Daniel Riccardo, Max Verstappen and and Carlos Sainz had stayed over to watch the F2 race, Crossing Paths once more with the all too famous masked driver. Jumping out of your car, you're greeted with your team shouting your number over and over as they hugged and kissed your famous black helmet. "Seventeen? Who names their child a number?" Carlos asked leaning on the edge watching.

"I don't think that's her real name, mate." Daniel commented taking a sip of the redbull can. "It's not, she doesn't use her real name. You can say it's like a . . . What do you call it? For superheroes?"

"Code name?" "Yeah, codename." Max nodded, his eyes trained on you as you did your post race duties and podium celebration. "She's scary." Carlos shivered standing straight ready to leave.

"She's nice." Max mumbled watching as you passed by. He gave you a small wave, you returning it hesitantly. An unconscious smile crept on his face, a little blush dusting his cheeks.

"You like her?" Daniel whispered teasingly, making the teenage boy frown in denial. "She's just a good driver. I- I don't really care." He folded his arms glaring at the older man.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2016 — Qubec, Canada

"And that is ferrari's reserve driver, and apparent F2 champion, seventeen, defending Vettel from Riccardo." Making the Canadian grand Prix so early into the season was a mistake. It was raining heavily in Montreal, and heavy slush was expected sometime during the race.

You could barely see, relying on instinct only as you took the turns and the curves. Your heartbeat was in your ears and you could feel it in your mouth as you continued to defend your temporary teammate from the red bull driver.

You were forcing the wheel in erratic directions to keep on the racing line, understanding the algorithm of the rain. "Seb i— o—t, se— —s —ut. Floo— it." You heard the choppy voice over the radio, passing by the crashed out Ferrari.

"Fucking hell." You cursed, accelerating as you maneuverer through the rain like a pro. It felt amazing to be in such a fast car, a big step up from the F2 motor. You pushed the DRS button once you got the chance, overtaking the current reigning champion.

"P—, p—. Ke—p g—ing." You continued to push every corner. "P what?" You asked not hearing the message. "P—." "Oh for fucks sake. Radio is shitty." You shouted overtaking the apparent Manor.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"It's not always so easy to be high up in the standings as a rookie. How do you feel?" "My eyes hurt." You replied blandly to the interviewer, rubbing your eyes tiredly. Your face was covered from the nose down with your hair up in your famous claw clip bun, still wearing the '1st Place' cap for some reason. You were doing your best to keep the photographers from catching major features of your face, needless to say, you were doing a good job.

With Hamilton to your left and Riccardo on your right, you sat in the press conference room bored out of your mind as the interviewers asked you dumb questions. "You guys should go back to school. Maybe you can learn how to ask good questions for best results in writing essays."

"How old are you? Aren't you still in school." Lewis asked, chuckling as he turned to face you. "Graduated early." You shrugged, going back to facing the sea of journalists. "Is there a driver you would like to battle with the most?" "Um . . . Not really. They're either retiered or dead. Maybe . . . maybe Verstappen, Max not Jos. I've raced against him in the karting championships, I'm sure he improved and could put up a better fight now." "Do you think you'll get a full seat next season?"

"That's a difficult question. Not all uh . . . teams have enough trust in female drivers. Hopefully I demonstrated how worthy of a seat I am. I am after all the first and only female to finish on a podium and win a race so . . . we'll see where it goes."

It didn't go. It never was going to.

You were stuck in the factory, working on the car for someone else. And when a seat was finally free in 2018, you watched as they gave it to someone who was not you. You were furious, no other team would take you, a girl. Not even Ferrari wanted you on the track and you were an exeptional driver.

the only thing that kept you grounded was going back home to your family. Your uncle and cousin were your pride and joy, the ones that kept you going. But the question was, what were you going to do now?

— 𝐌𝐀𝐗 (𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍) | 1 🇳🇱 :: ↳ 1997.09.30 (25) ↳ red bull's golden boy ↳ three time world champion

— ??? (???) | 17 :: ↳ 2000.07.22 (22) ↳ f4 world champion, f3 world champion, f2 world champion ↳ 2016 rookie of the year ↳ youngest f1 race winner

— 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 (𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒) | 7 🇩🇪 :: ↳ 1996.06.06 (25) ↳ mercedes second driver ↳ 2016 world champion ↳ youngest world champion

— 𝐌𝐄𝐈𝐊𝐄 (𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒) | 25 🇩🇪 :: ↳ 2000.07.22 (22) ↳ mclaren second driver ↳ 2022 rookie of the year

— 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐀 (𝐄𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈) | 🇪🇬 :: ↳ 2014.05.06 (8) ↳ best cousin in the world

— 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐍 (𝐄𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈) 🇪🇬 :: ↳ 1985.05.05 (38) ↳ #1 uncle

— 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 (𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒) | 25 🇩🇪 :: ↳ 1971.01.17 (54) ↳ grumpy old retired driver ↳ 5 time world champion

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flowersforjude · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | It’s just a job, nothing more. Until it isn’t.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3,008

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Canon typical violence, Injuries, Mutual pining, Joel is like the reader’s personal bodyguard.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Reluctantly protective Joel sure is something. Something I need in my be-

masterlist | read on ao3

This was supposed to be an easy one. Get you from place to place, unharmed and alive; get paid; and then that was that. Easy.

Except it was anything but.

Joel’s first impression of you was that you were meek and quiet. He was honestly pleased, thinking this made his job a lot easier. He thought you would follow his orders and just let him take the lead. Cut and dry, right?

How wrong he was.

He certainly wasn’t expecting your hidden fiery spirit. It only took a few days for your soft-spoken nature to disappear. He got used to your sharp tongue real quick, and while you knew when to really listen to him, he got used to your defiance as well.

Things started to go wrong as soon as you left the Q.Z. His original plan went to hell, and you were forced to take the long way around. Infected swarmed the short path, and the thought of making this trip even longer set Joel on edge. Bad luck already setting the precedent for the whole trip made him regret taking the damn job in the first place.

Before the trek even began, he put his walls up with you. He makes it clear he doesn’t do small talk, but that didn’t stop you from asking him a million questions. He answers some of them that he deems logical, but he shuts you down when you ask anything too personal. He doesn’t want you to know him. Doesn’t want to know you.

But then the inevitable happens.

You take a hammer to his walls and make the first crack. He’s unable to put his finger on the exact moment you began chipping away at his resolve.

Maybe it was the night under the stars when he actually allowed himself to hold a conversation with you. The first real one you guys had, nothing like your endless questions and his short, clipped answers. He learned that night that you had a real good sense of humor.

But then again, it just as well may have been the day you came upon a deer in the woods. He wanted to keep moving, but you were adamant about staying and watching the animal. Joel supposed he understood. He didn’t know how long it’d been since you’d left the Q.Z., so it’d been an eternity since you laid eyes upon anything other than a rat. The longing in your expression hit something in him. He didn’t know why. The world was the way it was. And it wasn’t changing, so why waste your time missing something you could never have again?

Though Joel ate his own words when he realized he wanted to give you what you yearned for. A scene of normalcy, something to ease the sting of your lost life. He couldn’t give you the life you had before the outbreak, but some part of him wanted to try his hardest to give you something close to it.

That’s why, even when you both had a close call with a few Clickers, he fought his hardest to get you out of there and to the place you were headed. His only hope was to deliver you to something close to normal.

The Clicker comes out of nowhere; it tackles Joel and slams him to the ground. He goes down with a crack and knows his back will be screaming later. The thing claws at him, ripping the shoulder of his shirt. He’s holding it back as best he can while trying to reach for his knife. Before he can grip the handle, though, a shot rings out.

Birds fly from the trees, the sound of their wings meeting his ears over the rushing of blood. He shoves the creature off him and pulls himself to his feet. The first thing he sees is you. You stand a few yards away with your gun still held up. Your arms seem to be trembling, and Joel is momentarily stunned. He knew you carried a gun, obviously, but he didn’t know you were such a good shot. He’d never seen you use it, always letting him take care of any threat.

He’s about to call to you, to say something like, ‘good shooting.” But before he can even open his mouth, another Clicker springs from the treeline. You go down with a shriek, but you're fighting to get free. Joel doesn’t think as he pulls out his gun and starts running. As soon as he’s close enough to guarantee a kill shot, he fires. A second shot rings out, and this time the only sound to be heard are your terrified gasps.

He’s next to you quicker than he realizes and pulls you up. Your eyes are frantic, zooming around until they land on his face. Relief floods them, and all of a sudden your hands are gripping at him. You take his jaw and turn his head back and forth, your eyes searching him for injuries.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice holds a slight panic. Your hands leave his jaw and trail down his neck, checking there for any bites too. “Did it get you? Are you hurt?” Your worry and the feeling of your hands still on him send tingles through his skin.

“I’m fine.” He assures you, trying to keep his voice from sounding too gruff. He peels your hands from him but doesn’t let go of them. He conducts his own search of you, checking for any bites or injuries from your fall. “Are you alright?”

“I think so.” You answer breathlessly.

He goes to retrieve his pack, which had fallen off in his struggle with the Clicker. You're hot on his heels, putting barely any space between your bodies. When he bends down to pick up the bag, his back screams at him. He winces as he straightens up, a hand going to his lower back.

You're worrying over him again in an instant. “What’s wrong?” You fret, putting your hand over his. He brushes you off and assures you once again that he’s fine. Your quick-witted attitude comes out in full force as you put on a stern expression. “Well, we should find a place to hunker down for the night. Something’s clearly wrong with your back.”

He can’t argue with that. It’s easy enough to find a suitable place, barricading yourselves in an old garage of some house. It’s a cold night, though, and even the closed-off garage doesn’t provide enough warmth to keep you from shivering. Joel contemplates moving outside just so he can build a fire, but the threat of more Clickers being in the area stops him. Being cold is better than being dead.

You're sitting on your bed roll, wrapped up in your blanket, blowing on your hands and rubbing them together. The slight tremble of your form doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Here,” he offers, motioning for you to slide over a little. He lays his own bed roll right next to yours and sits down. He brings his blanket up over him. “Come under here.” He held the edge of it up. You don’t have to be told twice as you press yourself to his side. With both blankets covering you, and your shared body heat, that should do for the night.

You fall asleep with your back facing him, your hands tucked under your chin. Joel finds himself staying awake, rationalizing it as keeping watch. He watches you as you breathe in and out. You hum every now and then, like you're talking in your dreams. Soon those peaceful hums turn into frightened gasps. He leans over you, watching your face. You don’t wake up, though your brows are furrowed and your lashes flutter, but your eyes don’t open.

After a moment, you roll over, facing him. Your hand shoots out, gripping the fabric of his shirt in your fist tightly. Joel doesn’t dare move as you shuffle closer to him, like you’re seeking him out in your dreams. Your face presses itself to his chest, your hand losing some of its tension but still keeping a hold on his shirt.

That’s when he hears it.

“Joel.”

Everything he thought he knew came crashing down with the barely there mumble of his name from your unconscious lips. It’s just his name, it shouldn’t startle him so much. But it came from you, whispered from the deepest recesses of your sleeping mind.

“Joel.”

There it is again. A murmured confession that you're looking for him. Searching for him in your rest for a reason Joel can’t decipher. It’s laced with yearning, so much so that he can’t stop himself from winding his arms around you.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He quietly answers when you call his name once more. His voice must have reached some deep part of your mind because you finally settled down fully. Sighing a little as you burrow yourself further into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything the next morning. Even though you woke with your head resting in the crook of his neck and his arm still caging you to him. He doesn’t say anything about your nighttime hunt for him. He can’t even imagine how that conversation would go. He pictures your flushed cheeks as you stammer your way around an explanation, and he almost changes his mind. But he decides it’s better this way.

This is just a job.

He doesn’t even believe himself at this point.

For the rest of the journey, it’s clear something has shifted. Some unknown knowledge hangs between you, but neither of you brings it up. Content with just letting it simmer until it eventually bubbles over and you're forced to deal with it.

You still glue yourself to him, never leaving more than a few inches between you both. If it had been anyone else, Joel would’ve already barked at them to back up. But it was you, and he found himself relishing in your closeness. He knew soon enough you would reach your destination and be forced to part ways. So, he was going to soak up as much of this as he could. He lets himself indulge in you and your endless sunlight.

On the last night of the trip, you and he sit across from each other with a fire between you. It was silent as you busied yourselves with eating decades-old canned fruit. The sound of the spoons clinking against the cans drove him crazy. He tried to think of something to say, something meaningful. After all, it is your last night together. But he can’t come up with a damn thing. He’s seriously about to comment on the weather just to fill the silence when you save him.

“What do you remember the most from before?”

This is breaking his rule of no small talk. He already knows that if he answers this, things are going to get personal. He answers anyway. “Football games on Sunday. Summer barbecues. My brother and I swimming in our grandfather’s lake.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” You're surprised, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t be. Joel hasn’t exactly been open with you about anything regarding himself.

He nods. “Yeah, a younger one. Tommy.”

You seem to peer closer at him over the fire. The orange glow of the flames enveloping your features. “Is he back in Boston?”

Another question that he wouldn't have answered before. “No, we haven’t talked in a while actually. I don’t know where he is.” He can see the sympathy taking over your face, so he directs the attention away from him. Not ready to open that door with you yet. “What about you? What do you remember the most?”

This brings a smile out of you. “My family going to this cabin by the lake every Fourth of July. Me and my grandma going apple picking.”

“I was never a big apple fan,” he remarks.

Your smile grows, and he thinks he’d keep talking all night if you smiled like that again. “Oh, I was. Especially apple pie, my grandma and I would make one every time we went picking.” The light in your face fades a little. You take on this faraway look as you gaze into the flames. Joel gives you time to speak again because he can tell something is on your mind. “Do you think the world will ever be somewhat the same again?”

That’s one question he absolutely knows the answer to. No. The world is the way it is now, and there’s no going back to what was before. Your only choice was to adapt. But the sorrowful expression on your face made him answer something completely different.

“I sure hope so.”

When you finally reach your destination the next day, you find out the person you were meeting was a no-show. You were still welcomed with open arms, though. The people even gave Joel somewhere to stay for the night. Offering him a room to rest his head and supplies for his trip back. He plans on leaving at first light, not wanting to chance seeing you in the morning. If he saw you, it would make things harder than they needed to be. He let himself enjoy your warmth for a while, but the job was done. It was time to get back on track, he told himself.

He’s stocking his bag when there’s a knock at the door. He’s not expecting to see you standing on the other side, but he’s not surprised. He steps back to allow you to come in, closing the door once you pass him.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He questions, kicking himself for the nickname. He hadn’t meant for it to slip out. Then again, he hadn't meant for this whole trip to go the way it did.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say quietly.

“What?” Joel demands.

“I don’t want you to go.” You repeat, your face is alight with that fire that surprised him so much.

He can’t help but laugh. He falls short when your face drops. “You know that’s not possible,” he sighed.

“Why not?” Your voice cracks. He wants to bring you to his chest and make your sadness go away. But he was the cause of your despair, so the sooner he was gone, the better. “Why can’t you stay and just be with me?” You look down at your hands, now knotted together in a nervous tangle.

“You don’t want me, sweetheart.” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not good for you.”

“Don’t you think I should be able to decide what’s good for me?” You roll your eyes, your face challenging him. His fierce, spirited girl. His girl. He shoves the thought away. You weren’t his, and you never would be.

“I’ve got too much—I’m too screwed up.” He crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know whether or not he does it to protect himself, but it’s something he does when in a confrontation.

You laugh outright at this. “We’ve all got baggage, Joel.”

Hearing you voice his name again takes him back to the night you called for him in your sleep. This was harder than he expected, harder than he wanted it to be. He didn’t want to cause you pain.

He’s about to disagree when you reach for him. Your fingers curl into the flannel he’s wearing, just like when you clutched his shirt that fateful night. He lets you bring him closer to you, letting your eyes bore into his without looking away. His hands take on a mind of their own and plant themselves on your waist.

“Stay, Joel.” You're so close he can feel your breath hit his lips. It makes his head spin. “Please.”

He can’t find his words; he can’t find it in himself to argue with you. He knows he’s no good for you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but everything screams at him to agree. To stay and keep you close to him for the rest of your lives.

“Y/N.” He whispers as a final stance against your magnetism.

“We don’t have to stay here. We can go wherever we want.” You offer, your nose brushing across his. Everything feels warm, and it's almost intoxicating in its intensity.

“Went through hell just to get here.” He points outs, trying to give you a small grin.

“I don’t care.” Your hands move up his face to hold his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. As if he wants to look anywhere else. “I’ll follow you anywhere, as long as we’re together.”

“Sweetheart-”

His protest is lost to your mouth. You kiss him with the same fire that burns inside you. Joel lets the flames consume him, and he thinks as long as you keep kissing him, he’d happily let himself burn in you forever. His hands tighten on your waist as he returns your kiss with equal fervor. He feels himself falling deeper and deeper, like he’s spiraling down the depths of something he’s blocked off for so long. When your arms throw themselves around his shoulders to pull him closer to you, clinging to him like he’s your lifeline, he’s positive that he’d follow you to the ends of the earth. He pulls his mouth from yours to trail his lips over your neck.

“Please don’t go,” you breathe as he presses a kiss to your pulse point. “Please, Joel.”

He nods against the column of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he sighs out. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

This was just meant to be a simple job, but it turned out to be something so much more than that. It was like an expedition to discover something you both had lost a long time ago. Peace. Companionship. Call it what you will, but he felt damn lucky to have found it again.

First Joel imagine! I honestly didn't mean for it to be over 3k, but here we are.

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #joel the last of us #the last of us imagine #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 1 month

Text

Thinking about; C.SC dog walk meet cute

I just watched two people walking their lil doggies meet and greet each other like it's a regular occurrence and it's cute af so now this is on my mind

Wordcount; 833

A/N- I didn't name "your" dog both because my mind blanked and I thought you can just imagine it to be called whatever you want that way <3

-Other Writing - More Coups thoughts; 1, 2 & 3 [all three are NSFW]-

A month or so back you moved to a new neighbourhood with your cute lil doggo

Of course, a dog needs walking and your dog likes routine a hell of a lot so every morning you take her for a walk down the same route

And although it's barely 6am during these morning walks thanks to your job starting at 7am, there's always this guy walking his own dog

Every morning regardless of the weather, you see this guy in sweatpants and hoodie, hood pulled up to shadow his face walking his little white dog

It always amuses you that although the guy looks like he couldn't care less how he looks, the dog is always brushed neatly with cute bows and clips and an adorable raincoat or jumper when the weather calls for it.

You've definitely noticed the way that when the dog is wearing a jacket, the man is wearing one that almost matches It's pretty fucking adorable, really

It takes a few weeks and just vague waves of greeting from across the street before you two actually cross paths properly

On this day, there's some kind of worker barrier on the path ahead of you, so you cross the road and walk on the other side

Your dog is not happy about this at all so you literally have to carry her across the road and when you put her down, she plops her backside down and refuses to move or look at you

"Having trouble?" The amused male voice makes you look up from where you're crouched in front of your dog trying to convince her to keep walking and you'll cross back over in a minute when it's possible

Of course, it's the hoodie guy, from this close you can see that he's got a face mask on and you briefly wonder if he always does

Shame, you had been kind of curious about what he looks like

"Yeah, she's a creature of habit." You sigh and point over to the barrier causing him to look over and hum in understanding

"Ah, yeah, Kkuma is the same." He motions to his dog, today wearing a cute frilly harness with a matching bow between her ears.

"You look absolutely precious, Kkuma." You inform, causing the dog to perk up and trot towards you. "May I?" You ask the man, hand lifted a little. He nods and you think he smiles by the curve of his eyes, so you look back down and offer a hand to Kkuma who sniffs it then happily moves closer to allow you to give her attention.

"And may I?" The man asks, now crouched too, closer than before by a fair amount, motioning to your own dog. You nod so he reaches out.

At first, your dog entirely ignores him but he makes a soft little sound and that gets her attention

Soon you're both crouched there petting and cooing over the other's dog, each of whom is lapping up the attention happily.

"Ah, we should really go." The man comments after catching sight of the time on his expensive watch. "Gotta get this one to the sitter ready for me to get to work."

"Oh, same, actually." You agree after checking your own much cheaper watch so you both get up

Just as you're leaving he calls out. "Hey uh, it's nice to meet you, maybe we can make this the new routine?"

"Maybe, if you tell me your name, stranger with a cute dog."

"It's Seungcheol," You tell him yours in return which he repeats softly. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time tomorrow,"

It's not many mornings after before Seungcheol asks if you two would like to join them for their evening walk

And then you both develop new evening habits and discover a new route to walk together

Conveniently, it takes you by the lake and stalls there where he always buys you both a hot drink if it's cold enough and something else if he can't use that excuse

It occurs to you early on that the evening walks feel very much like dates

But officially, your first date comes after a few weeks of morning and evening walks when Seungcheol finally reaches for your hand to entwine your fingers and asks if you'd like to meet earlier tomorrow for dinner

He says you, of course, can bring your dog because he plans to cook for you at his place anyway and Kkuma will love to spend more time with her bestie and-

You cut him off by pressing your connected hands to his lips You wanted to kiss him but decided it should probably wait until at least the first date

And of course, as soon as Seungcheol has his arm around you on the couch after dinner to watch a movie, both dogs curled up together on Kkuma's bed, you take your chance and kiss him

When you leave later, it's with another kiss and a promise of 'same time tomorrow'

A/N; Alternative title is "Same time tomorrow"

#seventeen scenario #seventeen x reader #seventeen seungcheol scenario #seventeen fluff #seventeen seungcheol x reader #seventeen seungcheol x you #seventeen scoups scenario #seventeen seungcheol imagine #seventeen scoups imagine #seventeen scoups fluff #seventeen scoups x reader #seventeen scoups x you #seventeen imagine

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green-eyedfirework · 2 months

Text

There were few places Slade hated as much as the Upper Eastern Seaboard. New York City, Bludhaven, and Gotham—all stinking cesspits of cities, all with too many heroes to be healthy, and, most unfortunately, all thriving with crime.

Once, just once, couldn’t someone pay him to murder someone in Hawaii? A nice, easy vacation in the middle of the Pacific, some actual fucking sunshine, air that doesn’t smell like a rotting dumpster… But no. Instead, Slade gets the scent of decomposed fish over brine, neon, garish lights, and the shallow, glitzy, faded glamor of Bludhaven.

Party cities are the fucking worst.

Not for his job, no, it makes his job very easy as he tracks down a Mr. Winston Cokewell to the Palais, a mid-range casino and hotel that is definitely owned by someone on the wrong side of the law, if the guards and their nonstandard guns are any indication.

Slade cases the building, noting multiple entry points but also multiple guards—Cokewell isn’t major enough a player to have his own security, and given his client’s discretion, is probably unaware that there’s a contract on his head. But Slade has no doubt that the moment he steps into that casino, every criminal in this city is going to know that Deathstroke’s here.

People tend to get a bit twitchy when he shows up. Can’t imagine why.

Luckily for him, there isn’t a business in this city without fingers in multiple pies, and it was easy enough to rustle up an invitation to the underground auction taking place the floor below the casino. Slade casts a glance across the rooftops on habit, making sure there’s no costumed hero trying to sneak up on him, and descends to the alleyway behind the casino.

As predicted, the guards freeze at the sight of him. One grabs his gun, wide-eyed, the other just looks terrified as he stalks towards the back entrance. “I believe I’m on the guest list,” Slade said, fully suited up and mask on. If he was in charge of security, he’d never let someone in without confirming their identity, but the two guards look relieved that they don’t have to stop him and just wave him inside.

Amateurs. Slade reminds himself that it makes his job easier, and lets it go.

The stairs leading down would be dark to a normal human’s eyes, and the corridor he emerges in shadowed and gloomy. There’s several people standing there—his target is nowhere to be seen, but half of Bludhaven’s underworld is milling around in tight-knit groups.

“Mr. Deathstroke!” the host exclaims, placing himself into Slade’s path, “I wasn’t—we didn’t know if you were going to make it—this truly is a wonderful surprise—we’re so very honored—”

Slade can recognize a stalling tactic when he sees one. “What happened,” he growls flatly.

“Ah, we’re just—just slightly behind time—nothing to worry about—we’ll be underway soon—”

Slade makes a clipped, unamused sound to cut him off. The host looks ready to disappear through the floor. “I don’t appreciate people wasting my time,” Slade says shortly.

“Of—of course, Mr. Deathstroke—we’re really very sorry—if there’s anything we can get for you while you wait—”

“I’ll find something to amuse myself with,” Slade strides past him, ignoring his spluttering to duck down a side corridor. Like he cares whether this auction is delayed or not. This is a great opportunity to eliminate his target, and Slade efficiently slips out of his Deathstroke gear and into a more conventional suit, slipping on a pair of sunglasses before he heads up to the casino.

It’s laughably easy to complete his contract.

Cokewell is drunk, the casino security is clearly more focused on what’s happening below him, and it’s child’s play to crack Cokewell’s head against the bathroom counter and leave the mess behind for the next guest to find. His contract specified a natural-looking death, with his involvement as hidden as possible.

One drunk guy slipping and hitting his head in the bathroom, done and done. Slade retreating back downstairs, avoiding security cameras, getting back in his Deathstroke armor and creeping through now-empty corridors to reach the auction room, also done. He’ll stick around as long as it takes to establish his alibi, and then he’s out of here.

The auction’s already begun, and Slade’s distaste for this garbage fire of a city sinks even deeper as he realizes just what they’re selling. Or who. Human trafficking, how very original. Slade suppresses his groan and slinks deeper into the shadows. If this night was interrupted by a Bat or two, he’d call it an improvement.

Though, come to think of it, it is surprising that he’s seen neither hide nor hair of the little bluebird tonight.

~#~

Everything feels…woozy. Like he’s underwater, blinking and blinking and never able to clear his eyes. The floor sways underneath him, rumbling with the voice of too many people, and he can’t help the stifled shriek as the red-tinged darkness is yanked away, leaving him under the harsh glare of stage lights.

“And now, my fellow compatriots, the item you’ve all been waiting for…the thorn in all our sides…our very own little Bat, Nightwing!”

No, no, no. He’s not a Bat, not anymore, Robin, Robin and Batman, the great partnership that ended, and any hope Dick had that he could go back was dashed by the photos of the new black-haired, blue-eyed child trotting at Bruce’s side.

He’s not a Bat. He’s a bird, and he’s been caught, and he’s staring out through cage bars at a blurry, seething audience of people yelling out crude insults.

Something in his stomach churns unpleasantly.

“Let’s start the bidding at a hundred thousand.”

Oh, fuck.

This isn’t the first time he’s been captured, or the first time he’s been drugged with something that makes him feel like a limp, overcooked noodle, or the first time he’s listened to people haggling over him like he’s a thing and not a person.

It’s the first time he’s been alone, though.

No Batgirl to give him the intel that the traffickers had cottoned onto him and had laid a trap. No Agent A tracking his location and vitals. No Batman speeding through the Batmobile for a rescue. No, Dick’s alone and no one is coming.

“Do I hear five hundred thousand? Five hundred thousand for Nightwing!”

#my snippets #sladick #auction #slade picks up a souvenir on his trip

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vivisviolets · 1 month

Text

━☆𓁺☆━ Magical messages for your Monday ━☆𓁺☆━ (⊹ timeless dw ⊹)

free channeled as i did my makeup weeeee

━☆pick the image you feel most drawn to sistaaas (gn term)~ or to become more clear for this channeled reading/future prediction, ask God/Spirit/your higher or future self for which pile would resonate best for your alignment~!!... And or just pick your favorite Powerpuff Girl ofc lollll━☆

━☆𓁺☆━ pile 1

━☆☆☆━

━☆ Pink, hearts, sparkles/sparkly (eyeshadow or sparkly dresses?- brooches?...), summer nights, fireworks, dreamy, grounded, Taurus/Virgo/Capri placements (Taurus midheaven, Capri rising/Moon degree, Virgo rising/Mars), divine feminine within masculine, house/collage party, business upgrade, phone calls, paid (family?$) vacation, past mommy issues ━☆

━☆I see a balcony, this could be the balcony of a new/different apartment that you are touring and settling on that is destined for you at this time in your life- for some this is an apartment at a party of some kind, hosted by a friend of a friend-... This is a balcony of a castle even- Disneyland? For my whole collective, this is a balcony that you are standing on at night, the sky is a fully darkened blue, and this is accruing in an environment where there are only a handful of stars or none at all... But there is something about the scene that is glittering- maybe dew drops on other balcony plants glistening from lit windows, stained glass,- for those at a party this could be what you choose to wear, eyeshadow, or some accessory,- for those in some place higher, or more royal I should say this is your dress or a clip on your suit-... For all in this collective, no matter the situation-... You feel like a princess. Or prince, or royalty, you feel high (maybe you are at this party💀- full or laughter and couches)- you feel on top of the world. Your world, that you are finally meeting- you are becoming aligned with your world... This might even be your first party, your first business trip/meeting, or your first apartment in a new town/place. You are looking from this balcony, up at the summer night sky, and down at the life below (windows, sidewalks, cicadas-)... You look ahead, past the balcony's edge- and you feel... At peace. Your eyes are sparkling, with tears for some of you, and for some, it's a feeling of satisfaction- you are here. In the weight of the past bundled up, and your whole future as open to you as the night sky, open to you and closer in reach- and you are here, right smack dab in the present, your present moment, your moment.

━☆"I feel nervous in a way that can't be named" - "-I dreamt last night of a sign that read 'The end of love'" - "we were reaching in the dark- that summer in New York" - "I've always been in love with you- could you tell it from the moment that I met you"━☆

━☆𓁺☆━ pile 2

━☆☆☆━

━☆ Green, connection to pile 1, 32, 222, 333(?), "finally here", garden, Paris, je t'aime(2006), fruit, park visit, "new job now colors", "you love her, don't you?" ━☆

━☆As I looked up from meditating on your energy, all I saw was green (the sunlight on my hydrangeas), you love nature and "organized plant life" (gardening I'm guessing) and you are finally in it! I keep getting phrases more so than just keywords so for some you may be a writer... And your work has finally become monetary "fruitful"! Or for some of you- you just have a "writer's heart" that I am heavily picking up on. -(Brontë sisters?? Wuthering Heights-?)- And I want to give you the message that you will have this same heart for years and years- and you do with it as you wish (keep it internal I mean), but this is just my message to you and what my own spirit guides are saying- tune into yourself and begin to express like my actual-writer group. I'm hearing that my writer group for this collective may even be your higher selves showing you what your future can be by stepping onto this path, and for those in my group already writing (and this could be anything, journaling, poetry, fan fiction, etc) you are now making steps towards this future-writer-self... I hope I'm making sense because I am not a writer lol (I am in my own way ofc I just don't describe myself as that... Yet!)- anyways, even if all that you are doing right now is just personal (for some of you, you already have a blog or page that you are posting on/beginning to, good for you!!), but if you continue to build your world, build your confidence/grow your confidence- this will in the future turn into a career I'm hearing, even if it feels slow going. I'm hearing it will result in journalism, a bigger blog, tons of kudos (~if you know you know), ko-fi, etc- I'm hearing you'll get those new pairs of shoes that you want (yes pairs, you'll have the income)- but back to nature~ you'll get that garden, it's already set in stone for you,- for some of you you'll also get that job involving nature/plant life/outdoors. I'm hearing it has something to do with the national parks/forest preserves, so you'll be getting that park ranger opportunity, fire watch (?), wildlife protection and observation- you got it-it's yours. For some of you, this is a position at a "big box store" in the gardening department, like Home Depot (US reader here- change the name for where you live)- you got it in the bag. I'm already seeing you pushing one of those big wooden carts around full of geraniums or something🌸. The point is, once you align yourself with where you want to be/go- you got it, it's yours. Arriving in even better a plan, and timing, than you were overthinking it would be.

━☆"silly boy- don't talk to me" - "I do better on my own- I don't mean to come off cold" - "shame I would've danced with you tonight"━☆

━☆𓁺☆━ pile 3

━☆☆☆━

━☆ -(*cw* 18+ near end)-(‼️**CW**‼️ vampiric energy ‼️ALERT‼️🗣)- Blue, clouds, sky, "sky high", birds, balloons, sunsets, the ocean, letters V, T, O, M, number 7, 777, 7171, sea turtles, tangerines, citrus, Pretty in Pink (1986) ━☆

━☆You're in the clouds- maybe you're high with a group of friends. I sense your crush, or someone you feel an attraction to when you get high- you're in a dreamy place, and the environment around you also feels a bit like a dream, you're at a fair- a fairground of some kind. It's dusk and by the beach, the air has turned crisper and you're in a jacket (bomber or jean), you're being led by the hand through the lit-up stalls, and the lanterns look like they have fairies made of light dancing in them- your head is spinning with the cold summer air as you are guided through the feet and shoes of others. This person guiding you sees you as theirs in this moment, whether they are one of your friends going solo with you, or the person who you have this scent of attraction towards- I'm not sure, I don't think you quite know either as they lead you with their back to you through the crowd. You two being connected by their hand reaching behind them to grip onto yours- the breeze flowing through the crowd dances through your loose hair whisps- your eyes are unfocused, and the air switches from clear and cold to warm and fried (because fairgrounds,- funnel cake)- your wrist stays pulled on, a clung-to-grip... This person, you do know them- and they want to take you somewhere while in this high, their own high makes them headstrong and determined I'm hearing, but again- I am unclear if this is someone in particular that you are attracted to, or a friend... Who most definitely has an attraction to you when you are both in the clouds... Together- you follow their grip on you, and what happens next-... I'll leave to your imagination ☁️💫

Ok I'm sobering from your energy- cuz your reading turned out too short for my taste and I want to try and "recall"/"remember" some of the details to better Identify this individual to you... You already know this person and they are within your friend group/you know them in a group setting (for only one or two of you- you are currently solo/on your own and this is describing your future friend group dynamic!),,, there is something dark about them physically or energetically- dark curly hair, dark/brown/hazel eyes, tan/dark tan skin I'm hearing. There's something noticeable to you about their jawline/chin/lips area- it's honestly giving Pretty in Pink energy- you have your eyes fully hazed over for this one particular person (also in your group- or this could even be a co-worker or someone you know from work) while this other person is energetically at your heels- it's giving you're gazing longingly at another while this person is staring hard at the back of your head. Ouch lol- but again the dark attributes I felt weren't just physical but also energetic... Yea, they're fun and have either a very charismatic personality or a more dry and witty charm to them (I'm hearing a bit of a drawl especially when they talk to youuu)- but their motives,,, their intentions boo-boo, I mean maybe you'd kinda like a bad little boy in the sheets- I'll leave it up to you, but I'll say just be totally freaking careful with your emotions and what you can actually gain from this person, cause,, I'm hearing the word "wipe/tissue"- this person is here for fun and then it's onto the next experience... They could get off on doing that actually 💀- but I mean you do you, just know what it is you're doing (it's giving vampire energy now... They want to take your precious energy under a cape before flying off out the window- OOF💀 babygirl-!)

*kept typing "?" when I wanted commas- this dude is confusing and not it tf- (I cannot go on any longer girllll😭)*

━☆"you would explain the current,Hoping I just stay the same and nothing will change and it'll be us, just for a while" "do we even exist? that's when I make the wish, to swim away with the fish"━☆

━☆

☆

━☆this was cool lol happy monday🎉☕️

#୨୧┈♡ vi post #୨୧┈♡ vi pac #୨୧┈♡ vi's art #pac #pac tarot #pick an image #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a pile

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