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seventeenpins · 2 months

Text

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader #ok i gotta be honest i was stoned out of my mind for writing most of this #but mostly sober for editing #thank u for bearing with meeeeeee

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rinhaler · 2 months

Note

OMG HI I LOCW UR WORKS U ARE SO TALENTED THAT MEGUMI KNW WITH THE GUN?? JAW DROPPED SCREAMING DLENCHING THE TOES WANT TO LICK THE SCREEN

anyways i love you and everything you write <3 was thinking about ex babysitter jujutsu kaisen guy.. envisioning geto or sukuna or gojo (???) idk but they like used to make fun of u and be a little angel for the parents n stuff but seeing them again but ur all grown up and a little spicy reunion !! n they’re like 5-7 yrs older so yum

got so so so carried away as usual but this was so fun to write.. i made it satoru and suguru bc i thought it would be fun :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, slight dubcon, fem!reader, age gap (reader 20s + them 30s), childhood crush to lovers?, alcohol consumption, love bites, tit sucking, praise, slight cucking?, double penetration (one hole), spanking, hair pulling, squirting, slight pussy eating, creampies, snowballing, pet names (sweetheart, baby).

words: 2.3k

It’s been months since you got to see a movie in the theatre. You don’t even remember the last time, or what you saw. But you’ve been counting down the days until you and your best friend finally had a day off work that lined up with each other. Why you’ve been craving seeing a movie, you’ll never know. But what you’ve been most excited for is the food.

Nothing has caught your eye, but your friend points out a cheesy sounding horror movie that you’re happy to see.

“Satoru? Is that you?” you ask, a familiar head of white hair catching your eye as you and your friend walk closer to him, seeing him leave the cinema screen you’re about to walk into. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since I was…”

“Wow,” he chuckles. “Look at you, all grown up. Yeah, it’s been a long time.” he continues. Your eyes meet the stare of the woman on his arm.

She smiles, but you see it’s disingenuous. Her body language is clingy and affectionate, desperately holding onto Satoru’s arm as she urges him to leave with her. You aren’t surprised that she’s trying to lead him away, but you are taken aback that someone has managed to tie the Satoru Gojo down. He was always popular with girls back when he used to babysit you, but he was never one for commitment or staying faithful.

“You two make a cute couple.” you smile at them both, trying to put the girl at ease. It doesn’t work, however. Instead, it seems to make her more nervous.

“It’s our first date.” Satoru informs you. He sighs a little as she pulls at his t-shirt, and it’s less than discreet. “We’re going to dinner later, so we better get going. It was nice seeing you though.” he smiles.

“Wait,” you stop him. “Um, are you still in touch with Suguru?” you wonder.

He smirks at that. He always teased you about having a crush on his best friend after the first time he brought him over for babysitting duty. They didn’t come as a pair every time after that, but it was more often than not. He made your heart race and you lost all ability to form a coherent sentence. You knew he’d never be interested in you; he was older and cooler than you’d ever hope to be.

“Of course. You know what? Here, give me your phone.” he tells you. The girl’s eyes fill with water, a look of defeat in a battle you weren’t even participating in overwhelms her. He quickly types his number into your phone and texts himself so that you can exchange contact information. “We can arrange a little reunion, yeah? See you around.” he winks before leading his date away.

A whole fortnight has passed before any plans come to fruition. That cinema trip is a distant memory that has been replaced with flirty texts in the group chat Satoru decided to make with you and Suguru.

It’s like being a teenager again.

Satoru’s teasing is ceaseless. Everything is so casual and generic in the group chat save for the occasional comment about your crush on Suguru back in the day. But it’s worse in the private messages. Now that you’re older and wiser he sees no point in holding back. He’s so flirtatious and grotesque and vulgar all at once.

Your conversations with Suguru, however, are a lot more reserved. Your fingers tremble whenever he texts. And the conversation is a lot sparser in comparison to how you talk with Satoru.

He’s sweet and kind, but you wonder if he’s just tolerating you for Satoru’s sake.

Satoru: are u cooking for us?

You: we’re getting takeout 🙄

You smirk at your phone as you continue to read the bombardment of heartbroken messages from Satoru, disappointment from the lack of a home-made meal. You can’t even tell if he’s being serious or kidding. You laugh, nonetheless. Though you’re easily startled when hear your doorbell ring.

As you open the door, you have to will yourself from allowing your jaw to drop. Pocketing your phone as you look up at Suguru. That handsome youthful face ageing into a more mature and chiselled one. It makes your heart skip a beat, but you try to downplay it.

“H-Hey!” you smile. “Nice to see you, it’s been forever.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” he smiles too, walking into your home when you move aside. He follows you to the kitchen, watching your every move as you pour two glasses of wine for yourselves. “I’m glad you got in touch.”

You continue to converse as you lead him to the front room and sit side by side on the couch. Neither of you seem to notice how time flies as you chat and reminisce about the days he used to come over to keep Gojo company while he babysat you.

As if you weren’t old enough to stay home without a sitter. That hardly helped your ability to seem cool for your age. And Satoru didn’t fail to tease you about that either.

“I always thought your little crush on me was sweet.” he laughs. “But I was too old for you, then.”

“I know.” you nod, taking a sip of the red liquid sloshing around your glass. “Do you remember that time Satoru invited two girls over?” you ask, face filling with heat as you recall the embarrassing incident.

“Oh,” he chuckles lightly, like a memory has been unlocked in the back of his head. “You locked yourself in your room and wouldn’t come out all night. Even after we sent them home.”

“I was jealous!” you try to defend yourself. “I was such a lame little pre-teen and then these gorgeous girls with perfect skin and perfect hair came over and you guys were hooking up and I was just… heartbroken!” you clutch your hand to your chest dramatically and begin to laugh as you try and make light of the memory.

He breathes, a soft smile prominent of his face as he thinks about it some more. The girls in question were the pretty, popular, cheerleader types. Everything you wanted to be, everything you wanted Suguru to see you as. And yet, you weren’t even close to achieving that reality. And still, he told them to go. Satoru felt bad for upsetting you, too. So they didn’t hesitate to tell them they had to leave.

“I remember sitting with Satoru outside of your bedroom door the whole time. You didn’t even use the bathroom.”

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “I ran to the bathroom after you left. And then I cried to my mom all night about how devastated I was.”

He thinks to himself, putting down his glass of wine on the coffee table before he looks at you. Your body freezes, worried you’ve offended him or creeped him out. A slew of words run rampant in your mind as you try and formulate an apology.

You’re taken aback, however, when he cups your face and slowly tilts his head before kissing you. It’s everything your teenage self had ever dreamed of. You want to drop your own glass to the floor and cup his face in turn as it deepens. But he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing.

“We’re not kids anymore.” he whispers.

You put down your glass beside his, before lunging in for another kiss. He lets you push him back against the couch, stripping yourself of your sweater so you’re down to just your bra. He smooths his hands over your hips, watching you eagerly as he awaits your next move.

“We’ll have to be quick.” you tell him. “Satoru will be here soon.”

You bend down to make out with him again, keening as he expertly unhooks your bra. His lips latch around your nipple before you’ve even realise he’s tossed your bra halfway across the room. Your hips roll against his clothed bulge, still in a state belief that this is even happening.

“I always wanted you to be my first.” you confess, and he halts his actions momentarily. “But I’m glad… I can fuck you properly instead.”

He allows you to help him out of his own shirt, neither of you capable of keeping your hands off each other for more than a second. Even less than that for your lips. Each sentence is hushed and hurried as you try and navigate this new and exciting development in what was meant to be a casual, friendly, reunion.

“So you’ve got experience now, huh?” he asks, kissing your neck greedily as he thinks about how much you’ve grown in the last decade. “You know how to fuck like a good girl?”

You nod, dumbly, kissing his neck in turn before traversing down his sculpted body. You both freeze, however, when the doorbell rings again. Your eyes widen in horror as you realise all of your clothes are scattered across the front room. There’s no way you can get dressed quick enough. Maybe it would be better to pretend you aren’t home. That you ran out because you forgot something at the store.

“It’s open.” Suguru yells, your heart pounding even faster than it had previously.

Satoru swaggers in as you sheepishly look in his direction with your arms across your chest, doing all you can to preserve your modesty.

“Wow.” he sneers, a teasing lilt in his tone as he looks at you both. Sweaty and dazed, though one of you seems to look less embarrassed than the other. “I knew this would happen.”

“It’s not what it looks—”

“Your tits are in his face and I can see a bruise forming on your neck, sweetheart.” he interjects, getting closer to you both. “I’m not judgin’. Why would I?” he smiles.

You can’t help but feel like you’ve been set up.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, “It’s too much Satoru. I can’t. I can’t. Y-You’ll have to wait your turn!” you protest as he prods at your already occupied cunt. But despite your whining he continues to push himself inside of you, determined to stretch you to your very limit. He shudders at the sight of your pussy swallowing his tip and doing all it can to spit it back out.

He’s been watching on the sidelines, patiently, as Suguru fucks you in the comfort of your own bed. Palming himself as he gets off to the image of his best friend’s cock drilling into your perfect little cunt. He thought he could be patient, but he was sorely mistaken. He’s seen with his own two eyes how well you can ride cock, but he wants to see how well you can handle getting railed.

He pushes you down towards Suguru has his palm splays across your back. You’re soon comforted by the feeling of his lips on yours, though you break away to moan as Satoru inches in further and further. His cock flush against his best friends without a single care, revelling in the sounds of your ragged breath and desperate whimpers.

“I can’t wait, baby. You’re swallowin’ this cock so good. Just take it, yeah?” he tells you, slapping your ass as he starts fucking you slowly.

“You look so pretty full of cock, sweetheart. Does it feel good?” Suguru asks as he plants his feet down onto the mattress and starts to fuck you in tandem.

You nod as a response, yelping as you feel Satoru’s fingers interlace with your hair and yank you up towards him. Your sweat coated back pressed flush against his chest. His free hand holds your hips while he uses your hair to his leverage as his pace becomes brutal. Your pussy oozes and gushes as they each poke and prod and fondle you through their eager assault.

Suguru’s hands wander to pinch and slap your tits, his lip bitten raw as he gets off to the sight of your flesh jiggling and bouncing in all of the right ways.

You squeak, unable to utter a single word or even so much as moan as you begin to squirt from the pleasure. The feeling is enough to have Suguru tumbling over the edge right after you while Satoru wraps his arm around you to play with your clit.

“Again.” he orders, pulling you away from Suguru so that he can kneel in front of your twitching pussy.

The pleasure builds again. Harder, slower, but finally you snap. Your cunt gushes divinely and Suguru savours every last drop. Satoru finishes deep as his balls tighten and he moans pathetically in your ear. But he doesn’t give you or himself a second to relax as he hooks his arms under the bends of your knees, spreading you open wide so that your combined coupling drips out of your hole.

Suguru buries his face in your cunt, slurping up the mess created by the three of you. He sticks his tongue out to show you the lewd combination of your fluids, before looking at Satoru with lust filled eyes. Satoru leans in to kiss him, accepting the tangy tasting mixture into his own mouth before looking down at you.

“Your cunt tastes beautiful, sweetheart.” Suguru tells you as he lightly spanks your clit.

Satoru forces you to look in his direction as he holds your jaw, prompting you to open your mouth wide for him. He kisses you passionately, encouraging you to follow his lead and welcome to lewd fluids onto your own awaiting tongue. You gasp as the taste hits you, but before you can object, he covers your mouth and pinches your nose with one hand.

“Swallow it like a good little girl.” he orders, and you do.

He lets you go after that, though your body just goes limp in his arms. He helps you lie down next to Suguru as he spoons you, and your childhood crush peppers you skin in delicate kisses as you begin to drift off.

“I’m glad I went to see that shitty movie the other day.” Satoru smirks.

@enchantedforest-network

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moonkissedvisions · 1 month

Text

Astrology observations! (Vedic, Western)

Consider:

• These observations are based on my personal experiences, intuition and knowledge, not research. Use your own discernment.

• I'm not a professional astrologer. I've been learning Western astrology since 2016 and I started learning about Vedic only 2 years ago. Astrology is one of my passions since I was really young but I didn´t focus on it as a profession. You can ask me questions or send me a message ofc :), but I don't offer any astrological readings or give professional advice.

• This is meant to be fun and entertaining, so if I said something that you didn't like or that you disagree with, be kind and don't take it personal. These are just really general observations based on 3-8 examples! If you want, we can discuss anything here as long as you are respectful.

• English is not my first language.

Now let´s read!

I never experienced true telepathy until I met a Venus conjunct Neptune man. He would look at my face and know exactly what I'm thinking and feeling, and he would be so understanding of it, even when it was something potentially hurtful to his ego. These people are psychic lovers and I'm afraid they are often seen with abusive people who take advantage of their unconditional love.

Mars-Saturn aspects in synastry is an indicator of only wanting to have sex with only this person, or could be that the couple can go for long times without being intimate and not feel like they need it.

This may sound obvious, but Ardra nakshatra people are the ones that feel so renewed by crying. They could heal A LOT by just a long crying session. And while others think "crying won't solve your problems" Ardra nakshatra people know this is so far from the truth. I am an Ardra rising and sometimes i tell my friends that i cried for hours to feel better and they are all like "if I cried like that i would feel so much worse but I'm happy for you" lol.

Hasta nakshatra men are such women worshippers. Hasta women are so maternal.

If i wanted good financial advice I would ask a Venus in the second house person. Specially women. Ik they are known overspenders but I had many good experiences with them.

In fact, I've seen some cases where people follow the advice of Taurus/2nd house individuals more often than other people's advice. They perceive it as being more valuable, I suppose.

Anuradha nakshatra individuals love movies about friendship and gore/horror movies. I think they like movies in general too.

Krittika nakshatra people are often perceived as "mean" or they say things that others take too personally? Idk but I know 3 cases like that. They are so unapologetic. The 3 of them were perceived as asexual too.

As a Swati moon I've always been obsessed with beauty, decorating, fashion and clothes, putting on creams, balms, perfumes and other products and it makes sense!

My obsession with beauty wasn't healthy tho. I suffered from mental illness and could see the slightest imperfection on my face. That's another thing about Swati individuals, they perceive every subtle, small detail and may become obsessed with stuff easily.

True crime documentaries are a Ketu woman´s best friend. Probably Ketu men as well, although what i observed from them is more of adventure movies, movies about survival or nature documentaries. Teen Wolf is the perfect Ketu people TV show. Criminal Minds too. And they were both created by a Ketu man.

I love Mercury nakshatra women's voices. They are also so funny and sarcastic.

I know three cases of people with a mix of tropical pisces/neptune and aquarius/uranus having lucid dreams/dreams they can partially control, and dreams about flying. They also rarely have nightmares but when they do it's not something happening to them but to other people, and they are there trying to help lol.

Rahu women or rahuvians in general could feel like they don't even understand themselves sometimes. They're so independent and hard to tame that they feel like they need something to "control" them or some kind of restraint, but nothing feels effective or worth it at the end. I observed in my grandma, a Swati moon woman, that she used to brag about how independent she was, refused to stay married, hated feeling restrained so much and then she ended up wishing someone took care of her, gave energy and time to her, took the lead for her. She doesn´t necessarily regret being someone unconventional and independent, but she recognizes that now that she is old.

Uttara Bhadrapada and Rohini nakshatra people like learning and are so curious about some aspects of sex, they may even want to be sexologists. Could also apply to Ardra.

Cancer women get a lot of hate for apparently no reason. I even heard people saying they hate Cancer women as if they knew all Cancer women in the world?? I think the most simple explanation for that is that Cancer represents a lot of what's a woman's nature and power which are erased in a patriarchy.

Everyone talks about how Aries people get over anger so easily and never hold grudges but I've actually seen the opposite. In a lot of cases they are worse than the common "resentful" water and earth signs.

Aries in general have a hard time apologizing. It's like they never did anything wrong, the others were just unfair to them. I know SO MANY examples of this unhealthy expression.

A nice observation now lol is that I've never met an Aries that didn't have beautiful red lips and cheeks.

I noticed a lot of Moon and some Mars people have a significant amount of moles/freckles. The Spanish word for mole is lunar lol.

People with Mercury/Saturn aspects or Saturn in the third house felt "dumb" when young. Because of it, they made a lot of efforts and worked hard to know stuff and be smart by reading a lot of books, watching a lot of documentaries and educational videos, playing general knowledge games, learning a lot of words and languages, taking a lot of classes, playing memory games, chess, and even researching cognitive processes and brain health.

I've noticed that many Sun dominant women have this lowkey unhealthy expression of not being good friends with other women/feminine individuals. They're the type to say women are a lot of drama or that they can't connect with them even though they don't have a specific problem with women. They may be friends with only guys, or feel isolated from women. They also used to want to be a guy or dressed/still dresses tomboyish (there isn't anything wrong with that). I think in a way it's completely understandable and even healthy! But some of them express a lot of internalized misogyny and unconscious projections that they can't or don't want to recognize. When their expression is healthy, Sun dominant people are totally the warmest, best friends. And just the type of person others need around and in their life.

Saturn in the 5th house people are often self-taught artists. Some people perceive them as boring because they can be really afraid of expressing themselves. They give a lot in romantic relationships and often don´t get the same in return but they want to keep going because they care about loving more than being loved.

Sagittarius people make good parents in general and they are so underrated as parents. They give their children freedom, make them experience fun things like traveling, and often spoil them in a good sense! They also teach them a lot of valuable things and make them laugh!

Virgos are the most considerate and thoughtful people. They remember stuff about you even if you barely know them and they barely know you. They give you what you need at the right moment. They remember how you make your bed, how you fold your clothes and then they surprise you with an act of service. They know exactly what to gift each person.

Saturn dominant people/saturn in the first house/conj ascendant could suffer from a lot of anxiety and overthinking. They also criticize themselves for irrelevant stuff and that's so sad because everytime I'm near a saturn dominant I can't get enough of their energy! There is something really pleasant about them. They are also giving, considerate and nice hosts/hostesses. They make people feel included and heard. I made a personal observation about saturn nakshatra men here (based in this video)

Ceres-ascendant aspects/Ceres in the 1st are the perfect homemakers.

Thank you for reading! See you in next post :)

Here you can see my last pac reading <3

images from pinterest, dividers by @muruffin

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grandtyphoonpoetry · 5 months

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I know it's been said before, but I feel like Katniss gets compared to Lucy Gray a lot because they're both victors from 12 and both women, but its actually Sejanus that she's really similar to. Side note- forgive me if i get a few things wrong, I just saw the new movie and re-watched all the old ones but I haven't read the books in a while.

We see Sejanus thrust into a world he doesn't feel like he belongs to, and we can assume he wasn't a revolutionary until he was directly faced with the horrors of the capital where he became one of the only people willing to speak up. On the other hand, years later, we see Katniss willing to do her own thing and not be involved until the games directly involve her and suddenly she's fighting like hell against the capital specifically, not the other tributes.

The funny thing about them is that the only thing they have going for them, or their cause, is their passion. Neither of them are charismatic, neither of them are particularly likeable or make good impressions. They're brusque, disconnected, determined and absolutely unwilling to play a part, no matter how it may alter the outcome. How other people view them matters very little and they operate on a one track mind. Sejanus made a statement to the game makers and honored a friend when he broke into the arena for Marcus, filled with grief and only half thinking. Katniss did the same when she covered Rue with flowers and when she hanged the dummy of Seneca Crane. Both are calculated but are shortsighted when it comes to their actions. They're sensitive and caring but it's not an immediately obvious character trait, and not something that they're generally known for.

They both just wanted there to be peace, they wanted there to be change, but they didn't want to be the ones to have to do it, unable to handle that kind of weight on their shoulders, and unable to put on an act. Katniss was ready to run from the fight as long as she had the people she loved with her and they were taken care of. Towards the end, all she wanted was for her and Peeta and her family to be safe and away from the fighting. Sejanus tried to help a group of people run away, and tried to run with them, and away from the mess Panem was becoming. He didn't want to be in the middle of it anymore, and as long as he could help a few less fortunate than himself and be away, he was okay. Both of them have break downs on several occasions when their quick actions of what they thought was kindness have consequences they NEVER wanted for anybody (after Katniss speaks in 11 or when Sejanus accidentally gets the rebels in 12 weapons).

Snow was definitely triggered by Katniss because she sang Lucy Gray's song. But he was probably fascinated and enraged by her at the start when she, and her lover boy(artist, performer, lover of people, Lucy Gray) START the games unconventionally -together- and Katniss is passionate, and she's calculated and at the same time so so so impulsive and myopic, and she reminds him of someone. Somebody he betrayed a lifetime ago but that betrayal was his tipping point of NEVER coming back to ANY good he had left in him. And she cries for tributes she knew for a day, and she can't act, even if her life depended on it (and it does), and she lashes out without forethought creating another mess Snow has to clean up, and he can't get a handle of her, and she's a disaster, and all he can think is Sejanus, Sejanus, Sejanus while he tries to control her more and everything spins out farther than he could've imagined.

Sejanus trusted Snow, and Snow outsmarted him, and in the end it was Sejanus's traits he went up against, and he underestimated her and he lost everything for it.

Me and @diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls have been breaking down all the characters and their connections so thank you to them for helping me flesh this out.

#sorry this is a mess #there may be a lucy gray/peeta post coming soon #i just have so many thoughts #it was devastating #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #lucy gray baird #the hunger games #suzanne collins

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avaf00rdxx · 3 months

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Leah Williamson relationship HC

A better fic will be out soon hang tight.

This is a scrap I made.

I would barely classify these as head cannons as they are very long. They are just about your relationship in general☺️

————————————————————————-

-you and Leah were best friends and crazy close when you first joined Arsenal in 2017. When you left to go to Barcelona in 2019 you both felt like a huge part of your lives were missing. When you came back to Arsenal in 2021 you both realised you were in love and started dating

-you always praise Leah for being the most fashionable person you know. You weren’t terrible yourself but you were always getting her to help you with what to wear daily

-whenever you two go to events together Leah will always make sure you get to the after party. Your pretty good at calling it a night often, which means Leah is dragging you for more drinks more often that not

-you, Leah and Alex Scott were sort of a trio. Sure Leah and Alex were a tad closer. But you had all been on multiple trips together

-your the cook of the house. She can’t go much further than toast. She tried to make frozen chicken one time for you both, but it ended up breaking the oven due to a weird setting she turned the oven on to.

-when she did her ACL you were in tears for her. When she walked off, She told you to get a goal for her. You didn’t in the end which made you sick to your stomach. You felt terrible and was just as devastated as Leah.

-your Australian. So bringing Leah over to your home was your favourite thing.

-Christmas in your house was amazing. You both decked out the house completely and danced and sung to Christmas songs all December.

-when buying your first house together. You had the biggest say. You had great taste is properties to buy so you kind of found a flat online and showed Leah. She said yes so you immediately booked an inspection. You got that flat two days later.

-You also bought all the furniture one night when you were both on international break and got it delivered to where Leah was. She was a bit shocked when she FaceTimed you after coming home to 45 delivery boxes.

-your taste in movies was so divergent. She liked the more fantasy movies like lord of the rings and Harry Potter. She also loved horror. Which was terrible for you. You loved romance movies, you’re either making Leah watch that or some stupid documentary you heard of.

-you were a huge dog person. And Leah already owned a dog when you first moved in together, but you had 2. So now it’s a crazy house 24/7.

-you love being together in the kitchen, listening to music and goofing around with a good bottle of wine. You both turn on old love songs and slow dance around the kitchen.

-she made you late to most trainings. Due to her stuffing around in the mornings. It got even worse when she cut her bangs

-one afternoon you were both chatting on how she used to have a fringe as a child. You said she would suit one (but you think she suits anything). So of course 2 weeks later she texts you to let you know she’s going to the hairdresser…

-Leah can be kinky asf. Come on we all know this

-sometimes after dinner you will beg her to play on the piano for you. She’s actually outstanding at it and you’re so proud of her. You will take your wine glass over and sit on the seat next to her while she plays.

-you tried to convince her to get Santa photos with the dogs. Which she very quickly declined.

-you were very good at makeup. You became obsessed with it as a teenage girl. So you find yourself doing Leah’s a lot for nights out and events. Even just doing a big look for fun.

-the girl couldn’t ride a bike to save her life. So you always tried to help teach her . She would somehow always say yes, Even if it was just an excuse to get a good laugh out of you.

-you and your Matilda’s team played in the World Cup and came fourth after being knocked out by her country in the semis. Your heart ached that you couldn’t finish it for your country, but it ached just the same at the fact that your girlfriend couldn’t lead her country to the grand finals like she had always dreamt of.

-every night you slept with your head tucked into the crook of her neck, arms cuddling onto her torso. It was just the best way both of your bodies melted together.

-sometimes she tried to take you on golfing dates. The first time she did, she told you she was good. Like the powerful Leah Williamson would. You were humble and said you would need her help. But when you swung your shot you actually made a great one and it had Leah’s jaw on the floor.

-you both had your first photo shoot together in 2020 just before covid. And you lived very minute of it. Now you have done heaps for brands like Calvin Klein, bikini brands, and more together, you both now being known for your hot couple photo shoots.

-you were both completely clumsy. The worst thing was when Leah and you had to screw a window nail tighter. Don’t ask why. But you apparently weren’t holding it properly. Causing it to fall out the other side of the frame. Completely shattering into the pool.

-though you were always chasing after her for outfit inspiration. You both looked phenomenal wherever you went. You would both be shot on camera court-side of a basketball game, on vacation or at dinner in the best outfits and hair.

-you though she was the hottest girl you had ever seen in your life. You had only had boyfriends who play football in your life before Leah. So you always blamed Leah for being gay.

-her love for country music was one of the things that made you fall in love with her. Along with her charming personality

-you were a striker for arsenal. When you scored in a game, you would do your celebration jump with your fists in the air and always try to look for Leah, to see if it was her arms you could jump into first. And she was always there, screaming at you for your goal with her arms wide open.

-your a bottom most of the time. But sometimes you switch it up and she lives for your dominant side.

-you suffered a severe back injury in 2022 while in Australia. You were scared you would never play again. Leah was on the next plane out to Australia, even though she was told not to. Just so she could sit next to your bed and hold your hand for hours.

-seeing Leah back in training after doing her ACL. With the brightest smile on her face, made your heart melt every time.

#arsenal women #woso #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #lionesses #wsl #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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galamalion · 1 month

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┈ ✧.* romance in the red line

┈ ✧.* summary﹕You and Nami attend Vivi's well-planned sleepover, and meet a new face the next day.

╰┈➤ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing﹕one piece x fem!reader

┈ ✧.* chapters﹕[i] [ii] [iii] [iv] [v]

╰┈➤ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ w/c﹕4.1k

┈ ✧.* chapter v﹕three's a crowd

“Wow, Vivi…” You took a deep breath in, marveling at the architectural wonder before you. “This is…”

“Totally awesome?” Nami chimed in, looking around the room.

“I was gonna say that it rivals the work of Michaelangelo, but that works too…” you replied.

Vivi crouched down and crawled into the blanket-pillow fort, poking her head out and looking up at the two of you.

“Feel free to come in! There are many snacks for us to share and movies to watch!” Vivi said cheerily, tucking herself back into the fort.

Both of you crawled after her, choosing your spots within and diving straight into the generously provided snacks.

Nami shoved a handful of pretzels in her mouth, “You’ve really outdone yourself, Vivi.”

“For sure,” you added. “Having a sleepover wasn’t on my college to-do list, but it definitely should have been.”

“And without the boys!” Nami cheered, kicking her legs excitedly. “No Luffy here to eat all the food!”

Vivi smiled at you both, “I’m glad you are enjoying the sleepover! I don’t have any siblings, so I have perfected the art of fort-making from a young age…”

“Well, that’s what friends are for!” You took a couple pretzels from the bowl. “Now we can do all sorts of things you couldn’t do back then.”

“And we can drink!” Nami interrupted, stealing a pretzel from you.

You rolled your eyes, moving over to the laptop to pick a movie, “I’ll leave the drinking to you, Nami.”

“Really?” she snickered. “You seemed pretty open to it when we were at the Baratie. If I can remember correctly, Sanji had to carry you back to the dorm…”

“How the hell would you know that?” you gaped, crossing your arms defensively. “You drank more than I did!”

Nami laughed, crossing her arms proudly, “I can hold my liquor pretty well, for your information! I’ve outdrank at least 30 grown men before!”

“What an accomplishment, Nami!” Vivi clapped.

You grimaced at Vivi’s cheeriness, “Don’t congratulate her for that, Vi…”

“Any more interesting bits of information from you, ____? A story we’ve yet to hear, maybe a long lost love? Or perhaps you and Sanji…”

“Nope, not a thing,” you quickly countered.

“Oh, you’re no fun!” Nami pouted.

You were quick to bring this party back on track, and away from your own personal life, moving to the laptop to search for movies.

“Alright, what are we thinking, gang? Romance? Comedy? Horror?”

Nami made a gagging noise, “Ew, no horror, please. I’m here for a good night, not a nightmare-filled one.”

“I do love romance!” Vivi said excitedly, looking over your shoulder with Nami at the selection of movies.

“Also, I want something classic!” Nami reached for the laptop, scrolling endlessly for movies. “And no superhero stuff, or future-y stuff.”

“Ok, well, we’ve got Clueless, Mean Girls, 10 Things I Hate About You…”

“10 Things I Hate About You!” Nami shrieked, reaching over and clicking on the movie before you could stop her.

Vivi gave Nami a confused look, “I’ve never seen it before, is it good?”

Nami scoffed, “Only the best romance movie of all time! Trust me, Vi, you’re in for a treat.”

“Agreed,” you added, “it’s at least in the top ten best movies of all time.”

“Make that top five,” Nami corrected, leaning back into the pillows.

“I’m glad to be experiencing it, then!” Vivi cheered, joining Nami in her cushioned throne.

You cracked your knuckles, “Alright, ladies! Movie’s starting now, I expect all phones to be silenced and all mouths to be zipped! Now, please enjoy the show.”

“Ok, mom,” Nami quipped, throwing her arms behind her head.

“You wish I was your mom.”

“Nuh uh, my mom’s already the greatest mom, like, ever!" Nami hissed, sticking her tongue out at you.

“Yeah, I already know, we had a fantastic time last night.” You grinned, copying Nami’s pose.

You earned a pillow to the face for that joke.

“I knew it! They belonged together from the start!” Vivi sobbed as the credits rolled, throwing her face into a nearby pillow and staining it with her tears.

“It’s a romantic comedy, Vi,” you said, pinching your nose, “you’re not supposed to be crying.”

Vivi’s lip wobbled, “I can’t help it…”

“Shh…there, there, Vi,” Nami cooed, rubbing the poor girl’s shoulders. “Be nice, ____! It was her first time seeing the movie of a lifetime.”

“It was a romantic comedy, ” you groaned, laying down in the mass of pillows.

Nami hummed, giving Vivi her blanket before collapsing down beside you.

“Tell you what, girls,” Nami yawned, pulling her sleeping mask over her head. “We absolutely need to go shopping soon. I know we all need a break after this heart-wrenching cinematic experience.”

“It was a fucking romantic comedy!”

“Well, so was the Fault in our Stars, and I cried at that!”

“You’re supposed to!” you yelled, hitting Nami with a pillow, “it’s not a comedy!”

“Comedy, shmomedy,” Nami shrugged, “you in for a shopping trip, Vi?”

Vivi smiled, her blanket pulled up to her chin, “Yes, it sounds very fun! I would love to go out with the two of you again!”

“Well, I suppose that depends on our little roomie,” Nami smiled devilishly, turning towards you. “You in, ____?”

You grimaced as the two girls looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer you didn’t want to give. Nami’s eyes were dark and knowing, while Vivi’s were light and full of happiness, unaware that Nami would probably coerce her into paying. You were more than capable of saying no to Nami, but Vi? A world with a sad Vivi was a world you couldn’t bear to live in.

“...How about Friday evening, after classes?” you muttered.

“Perfect!” Nami cheered, sliding the sleeping mask down to cover her eyes. “I’ll see you girls then. Just text me when you two are out of class and we can head out!”

“A terrific plan!” Vivi said, snuggling into her pillow. “I will see you both in the morning, good night!”

“Yeah, night, Vi,” you murmured to yourself, fearing for the safety of your wallet.

And so you joined their roommates in their quests for sleep, shutting your eyes and curling up in the mound of blankets and pillows surrounding you, giving you a very cushioned send off to the world of dreams.

*⋆✧*.𖥔⋆☆⋆𖥔.*✧⋆*

“...up, ____,” a voice mumbled above you, though you were hardly able to make out their words on account of the pillows smothering your ears.

Instead of responding, you just rolled to your side and pulled the fluffy comforter over your body, deciding that whatever the person was trying to tell you wasn’t worth it. You could decipher it in a minute, or five. Hell, why not just make it ten?

“Wake up!” the voice, now shouting, called out.

The dull pain in your ears was nothing compared to the unexpected pain in your face as a pillow hurled at top speed smacked you in the head.

“Hey!” you shrieked, clutching your cheek and looking around frantically. Nami stood above you, fully dressed with a hand on her hip, brows furrowed.

“Are you kidding me? How many times are we gonna have to wake you up?” she huffed, throwing a pile of clothes at you. “You’re lucky I set my alarm for earlier, you still have time to get ready.”

“My savior,” you groaned, examining the clothes laid before you. “Thanks for the clothes, though.”

Nami certainly had style, and it wasn’t hard to see with her daily outfits. What she picked for you chic, but comfortable enough to walk to your classes in, and wasn’t that the college dream?

“Oh it’s nothing, just something I threw together for you,” she giggled. “Vi’s in the shower right now, so once she’s done and dressed we can head out, ‘kay?”

“Got it, girl boss.” You rose from the jumbled mess of pillows and blankets and stepped carefully over to the closed bathroom door, gingerly knocking.

“Vi, it’s me! Mind if I come in for a sec?” you called out.

A muffled ‘yes’ came from the other side, so you creaked the door open and stepped inside with your bundle of clothes, doing your best to get dressed as quickly as possible.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Vivi,” you apologized, slinging the top over your shoulders.

“Ah, it’s no problem, really!” she said from behind the glass walls of the shower. “I hope you had a good night’s rest after our sleepover.”

You scoffed, “Oh, believe me, the rest was wonderful. It was the wake up call that sucked.”

Vivi laughed heartily, the sound echoing in the cramped bathroom, “This is the second time Nami has woken you up, yes? I am glad I missed this time, the first was quite…brutal.”

“Be lucky you’re not on her bad side, Vi,” you snorted, pulling your phone out.

Aside from notifications from games and emails, you did have a couple unread texts from Sanji this morning.

You raised an eyebrow as Sanji’s final text, clearly too disordered to be anything except for a violet keyboard smash.

The picture featured was a selfie of Zoro and a very angry Sanji, the latter attempting to wrestle the phone out of the former’s hands. You could also make out a very blurry Luffy crawling over a horrified Usopp in the background, clearly trying to be a part of the picture.

“I’ll give you some space, Vi,” you said, exiting the bathroom and making your way over to Nami amongst the mess of comforters.

“I got a text from Sanji—well, from Zoro, technically. They’re planning on heading down at nine, if that’s cool,” you said, sitting beside her.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Nami responded, scrolling through her phone. “We’ll probably have a few minutes to kill, depending on how fast Vivi can get ready.”

Vivi’s voice rang out from the bathroom, “I will be out shortly, do not worry!”

“Take your time, Vi!” you shouted back before turning to Nami. “Judging by Zoro’s texts, Sanji might be a while.”

“That tracks,” Nami sighed, a smile slowly forming on her face. “Knowing him, he’s probably ironing his suit right now.”

“Or curling his eyebrows.”

“Or waxing his shoes.”

Vivi’s head poked out of the bathroom, clearly trying to hold back her laughter.

“Perhaps,” she giggled, “he is powdering his nose!”

The room was silent for a second before the three of you burst into laughter, doubling over at your stupid jokes. You could afford wasting a couple of minutes to laugh, unknowing that the boys were, indeed, waiting for Sanji to finish ironing his suit.

“Pancakes aren’t that bad, Vi,” Nami said, drizzling her stack of pancakes in tangerine syrup. “You just gotta add what you like on top!”

“Yeah, Vivi!” Luffy said, voice muffled as he stuffed his face with his seventh pancake. “You’ve got syrup, sugar, butter, ice cream, gravy, meat—”

“You can’t put meat on pancakes, Luffy,” you pointed out, sliding your plate further away from Luffy’s potential grasp.

“Sure you can!” Sanji said, carefully decorating his own stack. “There’s plenty of traditional recipes that utilize meat and ‘pancake’, though I’m not sure you could call every example a pancake…”

“I’m saying you can’t put meat on pancakes like how Luffy does it.” You gestured to Luffy’s plate, which consisted of pancakes with huge pieces of steak and chicken on top.

“They’re not even serving steak right now!” Usopp hissed, looking at Luffy’s food with a mixture of awe and terror. “This is crazy! He’s crazy!”

“Pancakes don’t have any special nutritional benefits, but they are yummy,” Chopper remarked, taking a bite of his cotton candy-covered pancakes.

“I will stick to rice, but I thank you for your unique perspectives,” Vivi said, giving a polite smile to everyone.

“Here here,” Zoro agreed, taking a sip from his bottle.

“Stop drinking during breakfast, you have classes afterwards,” you whispered, nudging his shoulder.

“I’ll quit when I’m dead,” he responded unflinchingly, taking another swig.

You sighed, continuing to eat your meal amidst your chattering table of friends. Every conversation seemed to switch, both in topic and participants, every five minutes. You were able to catch details about the introduction of new majors—as if Grand Line didn’t have enough—as well as the topic of Luffy’s potential major.

“Come on, Luffy,” Usopp said, pointing his fork in Luffy’s direction, “you’re gonna have to choose a major soon. Why not try engineering?”

“I don’t wanna do math!” he pouted.

“You could do exercise science like Zoro,” Nami added. “Isn’t Ace doing something similar?”

Zoro hummed in agreement, “I think you’d like it, Luf. You’ve gotta learn a little bit, but you might like it.”

“But I don’t wanna copy Ace!” Luffy cried, shoveling more food into his mouth.

“If you’re interested in it, then you’re not copying,” you reassured.

“But I’m not interested.”

The table sighed in unison, knowing that any hope of finding Luffy a major would be short-lived on account of his short attention span.

“Well, you can always talk to your advisor,” Sanji concluded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Or your brothers. They’re juniors, aren’t they? Should have plenty of experience.”

“Oh, yeah!” Luffy exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “I bet Sabo would know what to do! He’s way smarter than Ace!”

“I wouldn’t say that out loud, Luf,” a blond man sitting behind Luffy said, turning to face your group. “You know how Ace gets when you compare us.”

Luffy’s momentary confused expression turned to one of glee as he tackled the man, grabbing onto him like a koala.

“Sabo!” he shrieked, earning the attention of nearly half the cafeteria.

“I think I remember something like this happening with the other brother,” Usopp grimaced, looking all around as if something would hit him at any moment.“Has he been there the whole time?” you whispered to Nami.

“I’ve only started sitting here since last week,” Sabo replied, giving you a knowing smile. “I heard Ace had a rather ostentatious entrance, so I thought I’d surprise Luffy in a little quieter way.”

“...I’m not sure you can call this quiet,” Nami said, watching Luffy squeeze Sabo rather violently.

“Does this mean Luffy’s off our hands?” Sanji asked, peeking over at the reunion.

Sabo seemed to think for a minute, looking between Luffy and your group, before saying, “I doubt he’ll let go in time for his classes, so I can take him for a bit.”

“Sounds good to me!” Nami cheered, standing up from the table. “We should all head to class anyway.”

“Have fun on your field trip, Luffy!” Vivi smiled, waving at Luffy before dashing out of the cafeteria with Nami.

You grabbed your plate and turned to Chopper, “Do you have class right now, Chopper? I’m heading over to the science building to talk to a professor before my biology lab, so we might be heading the same way.”

“I have my chemistry lab there in a bit!” Chopper said.

“Perfect, we can head over now.” You smiled, before thinking for a second. “Are you in organic chemistry, Chopper? Or are you in some higher class?”

“No, I’m still in general chemistry,” Chopper nodded excitedly, but then looked down at his feet. “I think I’m in your class…”

“Oh, shit,” you blurted, feeling guilty. “Where do you sit? I don’t think I’ve seen you in class before…”

“In the front.”

“...Really?”

Chopper blushed, looking embarrassed, “I can’t see when I sit in the back…”

“Well, I can sit up there with you tomorrow!” you offered. “If that’s not a problem, that is. It might be nice to have someone to talk to.”

“I’d like that!” Chopper smiled, picking up his bag. “But we should head over now, before all the spots get taken.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, calling back to the table, “See you guys later! Don’t let Luffy cause too much trouble, please!”

Sabo waved back, laughing, “I’ll do my best, but he can be unpredictable…”

“Hey!” Luffy shouted, “I’m 100% predictable!”

“That’s not—”

Before the conversation could grow into an uncontrollable argument, you escaped with Chopper in tow. Luffy may be unpredictable in seemingly every other aspect of life, but you could certainly predict how that was going to go. There would be no winners in that cafeteria, only poor, emotionally-scarred college students.

It’s truly amazing what you can learn from someone despite knowing them for less than a month.

“I fucking hate chemistry, Chopper,” you deadpanned, feeling wrinkles etch on your face as you looked over the lab you’d gotten on Tuesday.

You’d been sitting at one of the few tables in the building, trying to get a start on your lab before Chopper finished completing the in-class portion of his, but you’d been struggling with question two for roughly the entirety of Chopper’s lab, leaving you feeling hopeless, even with the aid you’d received from the professor.

Chopper looked shocked, joining you at the table, “It’s not that bad! I promise it’ll get better, ____! If you want, I can help you study?”

“Truly, Chopper,” you sighed, “I think I’m a lost cause. But I’ll still take you up your offer.”

You dug your phone out of your pocket and opened your contacts, swapping info with Chopper. Another friend to add to the collection, and this one had inherent value to your major!

“Thanks, Chop.” You smiled, tucking your phone away. “I should probably head to my psych class now, so good luck with your lab.”

“Thank you, ____!” Chopper beamed, waving you goodbye.

Luckily, your psych class was in the next building over, so you didn’t have to worry about being late. In fact, the only thing you had to worry about was your chemistry lab. Psychology wasn’t too hard for you, especially back at South Blue High. It was basically just memorization—albeit a lot of memorization—that you didn’t really struggle with. Differentiating ideas could be a tad difficult, but nothing you couldn’t manage. Way better than chemistry, at least.

Your class wasn’t all too great, however. It was full of people who didn’t really want to talk to others, leading to incredibly bland discussion times. Their lack of enthusiasm killed your vibe, so despite the subject being a total snoozefest, you weren’t really looking forward—

“Hey, ____!” Luffy yelled, waving at you from a lone table near the back.

Sitting beside your rambunctious friend was his brother, Sabo, who also gave you a polite wave.

“...Is this part of the field trip?” you asked Sabo.

“Well, I’m TA-ing for this class, so I thought it might help Luffy to learn about other subjects!” Sabo said, grinning.

“Wait, you’re the TA for this class?” You raised an eyebrow, setting your bag down at a nearby desk. “I didn’t see you on Wednesday, and you weren’t introduced either.”

Sabo leaned back in his chair, “It was a spur of the moment thing. I’m a sociology major, but I thought I might dabble in psychology. It’s fascinating, the mind, and what you can do with it…”

“You sound like a supervillain.”

“Me? A supervillain?” Sabo gasped, putting a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, I am the kindest, gentlest, utmost altruistic gentleman this world has ever seen! Isn’t that right, Luffy?”

Luffy blinked, not a single thought going on behind his eyes, “Sabo is totally awesome! One time Ace dared him to eat a caterpillar, and he did it!”

“...Gentleman, huh?” you snickered.

Sabo shrugged, his grin tugging at one end of his mouth, “What can I say, I was a strange child. But not as strange as Luffy…”

“Hey!” Luffy yelled, shaking Sabo violently as the latter laughed.

“Well, if you have any questions, just ask,” Sabo said, easily pushing Luffy off. “Though, you seem like a smart cookie, so I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“Or you could ask me!” Luffy shrieked, trying to push back against Sabo.

You laughed, finally taking your seat as class began. With Sabo and Luffy providing you company, the class wasn’t so bad. Sabo was nice to talk to during discussion times, as well as when you were filling out your notes—though it was slightly grating to hear your notes being critiqued. Luffy, despite being reprimanded by the professor multiple times, kept the mood of the entire class up. Luckily Sabo was good at smooth talking, or else Luffy would have probably been expelled. You can only break the same desk so many times before being a lost cause.

As soon as the clock struck 3:20, everyone filed out of the room. You left with Sabo and Luffy, making your way over to the cafeteria for dinner, though Sabo planned on showing Luffy one more class before officially ending their ‘field trip.’

“Has any class struck a chord with you, Luffy?” you asked, glancing over to your friend.

Luffy seemed to think for a moment before speaking, “Nope.”

“Seriously, Luf?” Sabo groaned, pulling on his hair. “Not even sociology? Come one, it’s awesome!”

“I hate sitting in a classroom all day!” Luffy pouted, dragging his feet as he walked. “I wanna do something cool, like being a firefighter!”

“Well, you can bring that up to your advisor,” you offered. “I’m sure there’s a degree that—”

“Fire Fist!”

You felt a tug on your waist as Sabo pulled you ever-so-slightly closer to him and away from Luffy, and within an instant you understood why. Hurling towards Luffy at top speeds was Ace, who tackled Luffy and sailed into the nearby grass patch.

“That’s 572 to 0, Luffy!” Ace cackled, slapping his brother harshly on the back.

Luffy heaved for a couple of seconds, clearly trying to catch his breath after being so blatantly assaulted by his older brother.

“I’ll get you next time,” Luffy scowled, jumping to his feet. “I’ve been working on my punches too!”

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” Ace snorted.

“Now, now, guys,” Sabo said, releasing you. “You almost hurt this poor young lady! What would Dadan say if she saw you now?”

“Don’t leave the house until you’ve done your chores?” Luffy responded, picking his nose.

Ace punched Luffy again, causing the latter to fall over onto the grass. He stepped up back onto the sidewalk, approaching you with an apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry ‘bout that, ____,” Ace chuckled, scratching his head. “But brothers will be brothers, ya know? Can’t go a day without tackling one of them.”

“I seem to manage just fine,” Sabo coughed.

“...In other news,” Ace said, “I thought I might invite Luffy and his gang of pals—that’s you—to a lovely restaurant in order to celebrate the upcoming hockey season!”

“Is it really hockey season? School literally just started,” you deadpanned.

Ace barked out a laugh, “Every season is hockey season, baby! Now, I have other plans currently that I’m 10 minutes late for—”

“You’re what ?” Sabo’s eyes widened as he turned to Ace.

“—and I need to be there soon, so I’ll take your stunned silence as a ‘yes’ to coming, and I’ll see you Saturday night at eight!”

Before you could even respond to Ace’s outlandish statements, he sprinted away as quickly as he came, dashing through—not around—groups of people, knocking over countless bystanders as he ran away.

“Your brother is a work of art, Sabo,” you finally said, feeling breathless watching Ace’s escape.

Sabo only snorted, looking down amusedly as his little brother rolled angrily through the grass.

“Which one?”

“...Fair point.”

tag list: @sylum , @dimplewonie , @kingofthemfingpirates , @luuffyswife

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lovebotmo · 3 months

Text

like the movies

chapter three - caramel creams

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 2311

author's note: omg ive been feeling stuck working on this chapter for days so thanks for your patience and as always, hope you like this next chapter. so so thankful for all of you who have commented on my previous chapters!!!!!!!!! kiss kiss

i've also started a taglist so message me if you want to be included!!

song inspiration: you're here that's the thing by beabadoobee

A week had passed, and you still knew diddly-squat regarding the mysterious guy who had generously sent you the bouquet of moly blossoms and the adjoining note. Glances over classmate’s shoulders to peer at their handwriting were unfruitful and almost landed you in detention when McGonagall had noted your lack of attention in Transfiguration. Whoever your secret admirer was, he had made sure to cover his tracks and frustratingly stump you. No additional clue found its way to you, and no one came forward.

You’d even gone to Professor Sprout earlier in the week to inquire about her moly plants and determine if your mystery man had procured the flowers from her, or alternatively, stolen them. She’d answered in the negative to both—no one had come to her regarding your bouquet, and she wasn’t missing any stock. However, she did echo the sentiment you and Hermione had shared, that whoever he was, he had spent a great deal of money to impress you.

You rolled over in bed to peer at the blooms decorating your bedside. They were still darling as ever. However, they were a constant reminder you had no clue as to who had sent them.

If the guy really fancied me, he’d know this must be driving me mad.

You pulled the covers over your head, groaning, before resolving to go down to breakfast in the Great Hall. Your little quandary wasn’t going to be solved anytime soon, and your stomach shouldn’t suffer for it.

Joining your friends in the Great Hall, Ginny noticed you were a little quieter than normal. “You alright there, Y/n?” Breaking your reverie, you smiled at the red-headed Weasley before stuffing a piece of jam-smothered toast into your mouth.

Your muffled and somewhat undiscernible reply of “’M all good, thanks” was met with a laugh from Ginny and a scolding from Hermione to slow down while eating.

“I’ve got to hurry, ‘Mione,” you said between bites, “otherwise I’ll be late for the Hogsmeade trip. Need to clear my mind for a bit.” Hermione watched in horror at the speed with which you downed the toast, practically throwing a napkin at you when she noticed the jam lingering in the corners of your mouth. You grinned sheepishly at her.

“Still no clue then, I reckon?” Padma asked. You just shook your head, turning to dive into some fried eggs. While you had hoped to be discreet about the whole situation, you had wanted your friends’ opinions, as well as their help, in searching for your secret admirer. However, you had no such luck and your friends were just as clueless.

“It’s kind of dreamy, don’t you think? The whole not-knowing part and the expectation of another clue or a gift. To think someone in this room sent you those lovely flowers!” Hannah seemed more excited about it than you did.

“Oh, come off it. We all know it’s killing Y/n not to know—I’ll bet you she was the kid who would shake her presents under the Christmas tree to try and figure out what they were. Maybe even peer through a hole in the wrapping paper to sneak a peek, eh?” Ginny joked, nudging your arm.

The glare you sent Ginny let her know she had hit the nail on the head.

“Can I see the note again?” asked Luna. Pulling it from your pocket, you handed it to the waifish girl, with Padma peering over her shoulder. As she handed it back, you noticed the certain degree of softness the parchment now had, caused by the countless folding, unfolding, and gentle tracing of the letters by your fingertips. You looked at it once more before tucking it back in.

“Well,” you said, rising from your seated position, “enough of that. I’ve got a date with fizzing whizzbees at Honeydukes, and I will not let you lot make me late!” Laughing, the five girls stood up to join you and began to make their way out of the Great Hall.

Upon arriving in Hogsmeade, the six of you split up to run various errands or meet other friends. Luna joined you on the trip to Honeydukes, desiring to pick up some pepper imps, which she believed would ward off nargles from settling in her hair. You just nodded at your endearing, albeit strange friend. Nodding was oftentimes the best thing to do when Luna said something particularly…off. Upon entering the candy store, you separated from the blond Ravenclaw to fulfill your particular errand.

“Mr. Flume!” You called out to the elderly proprietor of Honeydukes. He smiled once he placed your voice. Your acquaintance with Ambrosius Flume and his wife had begun in your third year, on your very first trip to Hogsmeade. Over the years, you’d heard countless stories about the store and its fantastical sweet treats. As such, when you were finally of age, you had been extremely excited to finally visit. Upon entry, in your typical coordinated fashion, you had managed to slip on and fall due to the bat’s blood soup Neville Longbottom had managed to spill all over the checkered floor. Spotting the tears quickly forming in your eyes, courtesy of your pain and embarrassment, Mrs. Flume had helped you off the floor and fixed you a cup of hot chocolate while you amused her husband with various accounts of muggle delicacies and candies. Since then, you had made it a habit to bring him a muggle candy of some sort to try, proving that even though muggle treats had no real magic in them, they could still be magical. In turn, he would trade one of his newest treats for you to try.

Finally meeting through the frenzied crowd of Honeydukes, Mr. Flume clasped one of your hands in both of his, giving it a hearty squeeze. “How have you been, dearie? Brought me something today, did you?”

You laughed at his eagerness. “You only want me for my muggle sweets, don’t’ you? How incorrigible.”

The two of you giggled like children before you pulled out the promised sweet. This time, you had brought him a small bag of Goetze’s caramel creams, also known as bullseyes. As silly as it might seem, the candies were close to your heart, something you had enjoyed with your mother as a child, eating away at the chewy caramel outside and the sweet cream filling.

“They’re my absolute favorite, you know. And after four years of exchanging candies with you, I insist you stock them just for me. Waiting for packages from my mum to get my fix is simply too difficult.”

Mr. Flume laughed at your dramatics before pocketing the sweets. “You know how much I enjoy these little exchanges with you, poppet. I’ve got something new for you to try, straight from my little lady’s oven.” Reaching into the pocket of his worn apron, he pulled out a pastry of some sort wrapped in brown paper. “Mrs. Flume calls ‘em ‘Cheering Cherry Tarts,’ ‘spose to boost your spirit for a few hours if you can imagine that. Hope you like it.” With that, he left with an affectionate pat on your arm before going to assist some of the other customers.

Taking one bite of the pastry, you had to resist the urge to moan at how delicious it was.

If you knew one thing about Mrs. Flume, it was that the woman could cook.

Scarfing down the tart, you grabbed a box of toffees and glacial snowflakes to bring back with you. After checking out, you made your way to The Three Broomsticks where you had agreed to meet to meet up with your friends after you completed your errands.

You quickly spotted your friends within the tavern. Padma was sporting several shopping bags from Gladrags Wizardwear, while Ginny and Hannah had popped into Zonko’s to pick up some stink pellets intended for the Gryffindor first-years. Ginny was more than happy to continue the pranking tradition her older brothers had begun at Hogwarts, and Hannah was always game for a good laugh. Hermione sat quietly at the table twirling one of her new quills. At the sight you let out a small chuckle. Hermione was many things, but she was not someone to pass up on purchasing new stationary. She was practically besotted whenever she saw a fine quill.

Joining the gaggle of girls, you all went over your purchases, ordering some treats and drinks, gossiping about various happenings at Hogwarts, and just enjoying the general splendor of The Three Broomsticks and its ambience. As much as you enjoyed your classes, moments like these were what you would miss most upon your graduation in the spring. It brought a little twinge to your heart, the bittersweet thought of leaving, but you were excited for the future and to see what your dearest friends would go on to do.

Your reminiscing and get-together, however, was interrupted by increasingly loud voices from a corner table. Imagining it to be some drunkards, you turned, only to see Nott and Malfoy arguing over something that had the two Slytherins particularly heated. While you had no idea what had started their spat, it was easy to tell that Malfoy had somehow provoked Nott who became increasingly incensed. Towering over the blonde, Nott continued to spew verbal fire at him and despite his best effort to hide it, you could tell that Malfoy was intimidated.

“Chi mi piace non sono affari tuoi, Malfoy. Restane fuori!” While you didn’t understand the Italian rapidly leaving Nott’s mouth, you could tell how angry he was. As he was about to continue his verbal assault, he caught your eyes and likely the look of concern on your face. His face relaxed and his next words seemed to slip his mind. Sparing one more withering glance at Malfoy, he quickly stormed out of the tavern and conversation slowly recommenced.

“Wonder what started that little fight,” wondered Padma, picking up her glass of butterbeer.

Turning back, you shrugged, “No idea.”

The six of you left The Three Broomsticks shortly after, realizing that you would have to return to Hogwarts soon. You linked your arm with Ginny as she chatted about her intended strategies for the upcoming Quidditch season. Walking towards the train station, you noticed Nott in the distance, trekking in the opposite direction of the Hogwarts Express.

Didn’t he know that the train would be leaving soon?

Removing your arm from Ginny’s, you excused yourself. “I’ll meet you guys on the train, alright? Save me a seat.” With that, you quickly followed the retreating Slytherin.

“Don’t be late, Y/n! You can’t be losing house points this early in the year!” yelled Hermione.

When you finally caught up to Nott, he was sitting on a bench located on the path that headed towards the Shrieking Shack. He was staring into the distance, those brooding eyes of his lost in thought. Hearing the crunch of autumn leaves beneath your feet, his head swiveled towards your approaching figure. He stood in surprise before sitting again. You sat down beside him.

Bumping his shoulder with your own, you asked, “Something on your mind, Nott? You seem a little…out of it.”

At the sound of your voice, he left out a long sigh. “No—nothing. ‘M fine.” The clipped response made you raise a brow at him. The guy was not very good at lying, even if he was a Slytherin. “And…it’s Theo. Or, I mean, you can call me Theo.” Those blue eyes returned to you, accompanied by the faintest of smiles.

“Alright then, Theo. What’s got your wand in a knot…Or should I say N-o-t-t?” You let out a small laugh, winking at him as he gave you a look somewhere between horrified and disgusted.

“I don’t even want to dignify that with a response.”

“It was right there! I had to.”

“You definitely did not.”

“Don’t you mean…did N-o-t-t?”

“Alright, that’s enough.” He paused, before continuing, “Do you think it’s too late to request a new Potions partner? I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it through the year at this rate.”

You gasped in mock horror, lightly knocking him on the arm, “Oh please Theo, I’m a peach. You adore me.” You didn’t notice how Theo stiffened at your retort, your eyes turning to the autumn trees lining the path.

“That was quite a scene in there, you and Draco. Fighting over anything in particular?”

Theo let out a huff of hot air through his nose, “No…it’s just—Malfoy’s a fucking prat.”

A bark of laughter left you at his response. “Could have told you that in first year, Theo. Would have saved you a lot of trouble.” At that, he laughed, and you were happy to see a grin finally grace his normally stoic face.

“Now c’mon,” you said standing, “we’ve got to get going if we don’t want to miss the train. Godric knows how much trouble I’ll be in with my housemates if we don’t make it in time.”

Theo stood and joined you in walking back towards the platform, a comfortable silence falling over you two. He seemed to have snapped out of whatever funk had clouded his mind, as he was soon making small talk and a few jokes as you got closer.

Just before you boarded the train, Theo grasped your elbow gently to turn you towards him. He was at your eye level then, as you had stepped onto the first step of the express. You looked at him with questioning eyes. “Sorry, um—just wanted to say thanks.” At your furrowed brow he added, “for checking on me, I mean.”

You smiled at him. “Course. After all, what are Potions partners for?” At that, he returned your smile, his bright blue eyes crinkling a little at the edges.

Huh. Cute.

taglist: @melllinaa

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bengiyo · 2 months

Note

Hi, i'm a newish bl drama watcher from thailand that just started watching thai bls. i'm a bit ashamed to say that for a long time as a gay man living here i've been avoiding bl shows like the plague cuz of both the fandom reputation and of misconception from my yaoi era which i leave far behind. i'm just want to ask how did you got into watching thai bls and what were you preconception before you got into it.

Welcome to the Tumblr side of BL fandom. I'd actually like to also hear more of your experience with yaoi and BL as a gay person growing up in Thailand if you're willing to share.

For me, I'm a Black American from the Gulf Coast (the South). I grew up in a Catholic city and spent my entire adolescence in the closet. Despite having a sense of who I was as early as 8 years old, I kept most of that to myself. Because I didn't talk about it much with people, I found out most information about queer media and queerness from the internet.

I entered BL via queer cinema. I think the first explicitly gay character that I remember from TV was Marco from Degrassi: The Next Generation. There were probably others, and definitely more subtle expressions, but when I think about the oldest gay character I remember and connect to, it's Marco. I don't like counting things like shipping Shawn and Corey on Boy Meets World or Tai and Matt on Digimon for oldest gay characters. Sailor Moon can't even count because we got a censored version of it in America.

I got access to satellite television away from observing eyes around age 16 and started watching content on Logo back when they aired gay content regularly. I watched basically whatever I could late at night. It's how I saw movies like Get Real (1998), Beautiful Thing (1996), and Bent (1997). It's also how I saw Queer as Folk (2000-2005) Noah's Arc (2005-06).

After hitting adulthood I mostly got lost in video games and standard American TV for a while, but I did basically show up to any Gay Event in TV. I appreciate that Stef and Lena from The Fosters (2013-2018) were some of the only TV lesbians to survive the horror of 2016.

I watched a bunch of movies in this time, many of which appear on the Queer Cinema Syllabus I made for a hypothetical Westerner new to BL and queer cinema, which @wen-kexing-apologist has decided to try to complete.

I got into Thai BL in 2018 accidentally. I started seeing gifsets of Kongpob telling Arthit he'll make him his wife passing around Tumblr and was basically like, "Right, what's all this then?"

I had watched a few Thai gay films, mostly notably Love of Siam (2007), Bangkok Love Story (2007), How to Win at Checkers Every Time (2015), and The Blue Hour (2015), but this was the first time I was seeing a long series made available so easily from any Asian country.

From there I got into Make It Right (2016-17) and Love Sick the series (2014). Once I realized that yaoi had moved beyond manga and a few anime adaptations, I went looking for a lot more. I basically haven't left since I started in about 2016 with SOTUS.

There's my basic entry into the genre. I don't think I was as worried about fandom and worries at the time because so much of being a fan of queer cinema was a mostly-private experience for me for so long. I didn't realize that BL fans active in the space would predominantly be women or queers figuring themselves out. It took a while to adjust to that, and also to adjust my expectations of the kinds of queer stories BL distributors were willing to fund.

That being said, I tend to agree with @absolutebl that BL has a useful role in normalization for non-queer audiences who encounter it. I like cheering BL when it does things I think work really well, and also deriding it when I think it does things that are offensive to help nudge the genre and offer my perspective as a gay man.

I like the place we're at right now where there's way too much to watch for any person with other hobbies and responsibilities because it means that people can pick and choose what's to their tastes.

More often than not, I'm probably most-invested in something airing from Japan because of my melancholy nature, but there's so much variety these days that it's okay if you don't like everything. I certainly don't!

I'm glad you joined us on Tumblr and look forward to your thoughts!

#answered #thai bl #fandom life #about me

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yanderecrazysie · 3 months

Note

yandere bakugo! purge au? it’s time for the purge and its the perfect time to get his darling

I’ve been watching the Purge show with my little sister and we occasionally just text each other “The Giving is near, the Invisible awaits”. I love the purge movies so much, except the Forever Purge, I just didn’t like that one.

Title: 12 Hours

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Bakugou’s scary lol

Summary: 12 hours when every crime is legal but with a twist- if you kidnap someone, they’re yours forever.

“You’re sure everything is locked down?” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

Your boyfriend smiled at you, “State of the art system. There’s nothing to worry about.”

You gave him a smile, but you followed it up with a sigh. You had a lot to worry about. You had gotten a note in the mail, two days before the purge, that read:

Dear (Y/n),

This is a notice that a Level 5 person(s) has been given permission to hold you indefinitely if you are captured during purge hours. We recommend staying inside and taking precautions to protect yourself.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers,

NFFA Personnel.

Someone had requested permission to kidnap you forever, as long as they captured you on purge night. Who it was, you couldn’t even imagine.

Your house’s defense system was practically a joke. You didn’t have the money to get fancy equipment like everyone else had. That’s why your boyfriend, John, had offered to let you stay with him during purge night.

The thought had crossed your mind that John could be the crazy kidnapper, but you knew that he could have you any time he wanted to, so there wasn’t any point in kidnapping you.

John had an amazing security system. Not as good as, say, the NFFA members had, but still very good. You felt mostly safe to stay with him, but there was still an ounce of fear that wouldn’t go away.

You had looked up what “Level 5” meant and had discovered there were five levels of dangerous people classified for the purge. Level 1 was the lowest and, well, Level 5 was the most dangerous.

You had an extremely dangerous person after you. Who knew what they would do to you after kidnapping you? Maybe they would torture you all year long.

Your boyfriend turned on the TV and, a few moments later, the announcement played.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. All other weapons are restricted.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. when the purge concludes.

“Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all.”

Even through the metal shutters, you could hear the sirens start. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“We’re in for a quiet evening, don’t worry,” John said, putting a comforting arm around your shoulder, “Should we get the wine out?”

“Yes, please,” you said shakily.

Your boyfriend walked over to the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of wine and a couple cups. He poured a generous amount of liquid into both cups and handed you one. You drank all of it in one go.

John laughed and refilled your cup, “It’s only 12 hours. That’s it.”

“12 hours is a long time,” you muttered, “A lot can happen in half a day.”

Ten hours passed uneventfully, the two of you watching the only channel that wasn’t showing highlights of the purge from cameras set up around the country or talking about the history of purging.

On the eleventh hour, someone knocked on the door. You froze in your seat, breath hitching in your throat from horror. Your boyfriend stood up, “It’s okay, no one can get in. I’ll check the front door camera.”

He checked the camera and smiled, “See, they moved o-”

The power went out.

A beeping sound filled the house and then the scraping of metal as the shutters began to rise. The security system had been disabled and was reversing itself.

Even in the dim light, you could see that your boyfriend had gone pale, messing with the system frantically to try to reset it.

Finally, he turned to you and said, “Get in the closet. I’ve got a gun and I’ll deal with anyone that comes inside.”

You were crying at that point, but you managed to nod. You ran to the closet and hurriedly closed it behind you. You pulled some clothes down from the rack and tried to use them to cover yourself. There was no lock, so you were absolutely toast if anyone looked inside.

You could hear the door open loudly, as though someone had kicked it open. Your ears strained, listening for any hint that your boyfriend would be okay.

A gunshot rang through the house and you hoped it was from your boyfriend’s gun and not the intruder’s. A loud, husky laugh followed the sound, “Nice try, extra.”

You covered your mouth as the sound of an automatic gun’s famous ratatata followed. You knew John only had a pistol. No doubt your boyfriend had just died.

“Y/n”, I know you’re in here,” the voice said loudly, almost playfully, “Might as well come out now, so I don’t waste time trying to find you.”

You had less than an hour left. If you could just stall him until the 12 hours were up, maybe you’d make it out alive.

Your breath hitched again as he came into the bedroom and you closed your eyes.

“Not under the bed. What about the closet?” You could hear the smirk in the intruder’s voice.

The closet door flew open and the clothes were pulled off of you. You looked up helplessly at the wild-haired blonde with blood red eyes as he crouched in front of you. He took your wrist in a crushing grip, grinning at you with victory, and hauled you up off the floor.

“C’mon, we only have one hour to get you home. Had to deal with a lot of shit tonight. But I’m sure your boy toy’s car will help us out, won’t it, baby?”

You hadn’t made it the whole 12 hours.

Your life was in his hands.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere bakugou #bakugou katsuki

248 notes · View notes

redclercs · 11 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

v. i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this

— the one where both of you have given everything to be where you are.

warnings: misogyny, sexual harassment, this is how monaco went btw i accept no criticism. barely proofread, sorry. 3.7k words (+ article, podcast excerpts)

masterlist ✢ next

'Have we let y/n y/ln get away with way too much?'

By Alan Gomez

Yes folks, it might be our own fault, we have created a monster in the form y/n y/ln. Mediocre actress at best and with an even worse personality, if the latest events are any indication.

But how could we let this happen? Come on, we're smarter than this!

The thing is, y/n brainwashed us into believing that her doe-eyed, no-brain characters were actually her. Don't beat yourselves up over this too much, even I was a victim of those pretty eyes. But now that the blindfold has fallen, we have come to realize we have let y/n get away with everything!

You might know y/n from Supercut, the romantic comedy that took the world by storm in 2019, where she starred alongside Aidan Kim and it lead to these two becoming one of the general public’s most cherished couples. At least until two months ago, when their breakup was announced via Inside Out. Although there haven’t been any official statements, given the circumstances, we believe it was the actress who broke it off with Kim.

→ Aidan Kim and friends at Cannes Film Festival

→ Y/N supports alleged boyfriend at charity football match

But whether she’s dating a new guy now or not, why do we keep letting her do whatever she wants?

How did she actually brainwash us into thinking she’s anything close to an “it girl”? After Supercut, all she’s done is the absolute bare minimum to keep people talking about her, it’s all RomComs and no effort. I didn’t want to be that person, and you have to believe me on this, but Aidan Kim made her.

Let’s remember Aidan built his career from the ground as a member of Star-5 the early 2010’s boyband that split in 2018. He was the ‘someone’ in the relationship. How can people even compare having the hit song “Round and Round” in your résumé to being in Scream (Netflix) and The Mist (again, Netflix)?

Aidan made us like her and the writers of Parisian Valentine, The Hating Game and Last Night In Love, did her a HUGE favor by consolidating her as the “Queen of RomComs” by what standard? Well, don’t ask me.

The truth is, we accepted y/n into our hearts and homes, thanks to Aidan Kim and an unbelievable amount of luck, and we haven’t held her accountable for anything ever.

Here’s what I’m talking about, if you’re still wondering what the point of this article is, click on every link to be taken to the whole context, you’ll thank me later:

❍Y/N yells at paparazzi to leave her alone as she walks around Beverly Hills with Victoria Presley.

❍ Y/N praises Taylor Swift while tearing down several male artists for writing songs about their personal experiences.

❍ Y/N says in interview with ELLE that not every movie has to be “profound”.

And just for fun:

❍ A collection of Y/N’s disastrous looks.

It’s time we realize y/n y/ln is talentless, has a horrible personality and feigns innocence she certainly doesn’t have. You will NOT continue to take advantage of us, y/n! It’s all over for you, so I’m glad you’re dropping your pathetic career to become a WAG. #Y/NIsOverParty.

↺ FROM ❛WE WATCH❜ PODCAST

Paul Byrnes: Can y/n really do another role now, after all she’s known for are romantic comedies?

Anna Sanchez: well, I really liked her in The Mist, she did great as character in a horror it was—

Paul Byrnes: No one cares about The Mist, Anna, just you.

Anna Sanchez: all I’m saying is she’s a good actress, she can do other things. That was your question, Paul.

Paul Byrnes: Well, in my opinion she can't and that's it.

↺ FROM ❛IT TALK❜ PODCAST

Greg Zane: Let's talk y/n y/ln and her fashion choices now that she's an F1 WAG. What do we think?

Riley Green: She's a what now? How long has it been since she broke up with Aidan Kim?

Martha Vincent: I think she's looking great, I just wish she'd let go of the ugly caps.

Riley Green: No seriously, how long did she stay single?

Greg Zane: I agree Martha, but caps are big in Formula 1, nothing we can do about that. I'm wondering if she'll go for a more glamorous look in Monaco.

Riley Green: guys? hello?

Martha Vincent: Oh Riley, we're not talking about her love life, let it go.

↺ FROM ❛HOLLYWOOD VIBES❜ PODCAST

Pauline Oscar: [cont.] I'm just so curious about the reason of their breakup, why hasn't anyone said anything?! It must be juicy.

Brenda Yim: I feel like it's bad for one of them, most likely y/n. Hello, can anyone offer one of their friends some money? Just like old times!

Pauline Oscar: [laughs] Definitely! We need to know! Can it get any worse than the fact that she's already with another guy? What's his name? Charles Le what? She soooo cheated.

liked by charles_leclerc, vicpresley, mati.bassi, carlossainz55 and others.

ynfreesia UM THE LIKES?

xxynbaby it's "monaco" of course

aidanluvs you don't even have the decency to pretend like you're alone? fuck you

ynredstar i cannot defend you if you pull this shit girl

mati.bassi great view for breakfast with my best girl!💕

ynredstar oh ynredstar nevermind thanks mati ↳ feels4aidan don't be so gullible she's obviously covering up for them

THE COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE DISABLED.

May 27th, Montecarlo, Monaco.

THERE are tears in your eyes, and despite your best efforts not to let them run down your cheeks, it's futile. The worst part is that you're the one doing this to yourself. There's zero need to read 'articles' from pseudo journalists on how a man gave you your career and how you're tossing it into the trash for another. Not to mention the cascade of curses you received for a picture on instagram, where everyone thought you were with the other man.

Has your life really come to this? People don't talk about you unless a guy is involved? You loathe it. Your career was never about Aidan, and it's not about Charles now. Who only makes things worse every time he shows up and yet you can't manage to bring it up to him.

It's embarrassing. You don't want to walk up to him during whatever free time he has in a hectic weekend, and ask him if it really doesn't annoy him everything the press has made up about the two of you, or if he's really that unbothered by being paired up with you in the wildest scenarios, and tell him that he can shut them down whenever he feels like it (you wish he would already), and let him know you won't mind whatever he says about not being involved with you.

But no, Mr. Leclerc is busy giving unclear answers at interviews and liking your instagram posts, as if this isn't already a wildfire.

You put down your phone and pick it back up almost immediately, Vic's ringtone fills your hotel room and you wipe away your tears before answering her FaceTime request.

"Were you crying?" it's the first thing she says, moving her sunglasses to the top of her head. There's a lot of noise in the background and you can barely make the words out, but she comes so close to the phone that all you can see is the tip of her nose. "Why were you crying?"

"It's nothing, Vic. What's up?" you sigh, rubbing your eyes only makes things worse but you don't want to worry about that now.

"I just got to Monaco, babe," the phone is at a safe distance from her nostrils again and you can see around her, the airport where you landed a few days ago. "I'm with my parents," she rolls her eyes, lowering her voice. "But if you could get me into the Ferrari Suite I can hang out with you tomorrow!"

They allowed you one guest and the spot has already been taken by Mati, so there really isn't much you can do in terms of getting her into the Ferrari Suite. "Well, let me see what I can do, okay?"

"Okay," she sounds unsure, you know Vic enough to be sure she expected a different answer. "I mean my parents have Lounge privileges but it's more fun to be with you."

Had she said something about coming to Monaco you might have been able to do something, but as far as you were concerned she planned to stay in France all week, enjoying Cannes and mingling.

"I'll do my best Vic, but you know how they are," you exhale heavily, "Plus it's a crazy-ass weekend."

"Isn't it always?" she's yawning now, "We can meet for dinner later and you can tell me what's up alright? Being with my parents is so boring."

You shake your head, "Be nice, they just want to hang out with you. I'll call you after Quali," you check the clock on top of the nightstand, it's 10 am. You have to get ready for FP3, which you don't care about attending or not but Stuart Schaffer asked to see you, so you haven't got much of a choice.

"Sure babes, love you." Vic pulls her sunglasses down again and blows a kiss to the screen.

"Love you too," it's your turn to yawn as you tap the hang up button.

You look at the special edition Ferrari cap you received as a gift yesterday on top of your suitcase and immediately discard the idea of wearing it. No caps. And then the wave of disgust invades you, are you seriously going to do what some random man said on a podcast you came across by accident?

The answer is yes, unfortunately.

─────────

You would rip your leg off if you could, at least it would mean you’d be able to get out of this chair and away from Stuart. But his palm resting on top of your knee feels like a death grip and you’re frankly afraid to move in case it goes further up.

Mati decided to skip FP3 and you’re really hoping she’ll be on time for Quali because you have no one else to talk to, Stuart is just parading you around again and keeping you way too close for comfort because he’s in a great mood since both Ferraris maintained their top spots and things are looking hopeful for Qualifying.

You know it’s your chance to ask if you can bring Victoria around tomorrow, and you know the answer will be yes, but you don’t. You don’t want to ask things from this man, he’s the type to never forget a debt.

You barely catch a glimpse of Carlos and Charles as they walk by on the way to their debrief and Charles waves at you quickly, with a single-dimpled smile. He’s wearing the same cap you refused to put on.

“I’m going to call my friend,” you blurt out once Charles is out of sight, finally moving your leg back to make Stuart’s hand drop. “She had the worst hangover, I have to check up on her.”

“Oh, you girls get wild in Monaco,” Stuart cackles as you sprint away from him, actually resisting the urge to wipe your knee clean.

"Hey y/n!" Mati's voice can barely be heard above the EDM playing wherever she is. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" you whine, looking back inside the Suite. "Help."

"What's wrong?" you picture her frowning as she tries to walk away from the noise helplessly.

You feel guilty for worrying her so you sigh. "Nothing, I just hate being here. Are you coming here for Qualifying?"

"Yep," she pops the 'p' and laughs. "Listen, why don't we have lunch here at the yacht and then go back for Quali?"

"Yes!" once again you look over your shoulder to where the Elix men are laughing at their own jokes and patting each other's backs. “I’m on my way, okay?”

“I’ll be right here, also don’t scare me like that again, please.”

“Sorry,” you chuckle, embarrassed. Maybe you’re a bit dramatic at times, but it’s really all good-natured. “See you in a minute.”

You turn to the door of the Suite, giving a short jump back when you open it at the same time as someone else.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, stepping inside as Charles moves out of the way to let you in. “Thanks.”

“Sorry I scared you,” he smiles, closing the door again once you’re fully in. Charles is once again holding a closed Elix can, tapping his fingers on the side.

You eye it suspiciously, wondering if the thing has really grown on him. After all, one of the first things he told you was how much it disgusted him.

“It’s alright. I thought you were in your debrief?” You grab a can of Elix yourself, looking good in front of the sponsors cannot hurt.

“It was a short one. Keep doing what you’re doing kind of thing,”

“Right. Well, good for both of you,” you look around for Carlos but he’s nowhere to be seen. “Would it jinx it to say ‘good luck’ for later?”

You know many sportspeople take their jinxes and rituals way seriously, and you don’t want to be the one to blame if something goes wrong for the local star.

Charles considers this for a second and then shakes his head no. “Wish me luck,” he smiles.

“Good luck, Charles.” You beam back at him, enjoying—despite yourself—the way his eyes burn into yours.

─────────

You’re back at the Suite with Mati 10 minutes before Qualifying starts. The tension that had seeped out of your body in the form of laughter and loud singing with Mati is already making its way back to your back and jaw. You’re not ready to be around the Elix people again, but you must. However, first, you make Matilde promise she won’t leave your side.

Stuart Schaffer is already patting the empty seat next to him when you make your way through the refreshment tables. You smile at him, a muscle in your cheek falters as you walk past him on your way to the balcony, to catch both Ferraris leaving the garage.

“Oh don’t drink that,” you whisper when you see Mati walk your way, two cans of Gold Elix in her hands. “Don’t.”

Matilde snorts, “You’re literally the ambassador of this thing, and you don’t like it?”

“SHHH!”

“Fine, but those guys are looking at us so we have to at least sip it.”

You groan, opening the one she offers you and then taking a huge gulp. “Yum,” you mock.

Mati laughs again before her face goes sour with the taste. “Oh my God,”

“Warned you,” yet you take another sip. You think that if it grew on Charles it might grow on you, but you don’t really see it happening.

Q1 and Q2 go by smoothly, at least for Ferrari and you’re on the edge of your seat for Q3. This is the race you’ve been more excited for, but it’s not like you’ve attended many others. Still, Monaco just hits different.

The end of Q3 almost gives you a heart attack, although you also blame your almost empty Elix. You didn’t even notice how much you drank, but the thing that really gets your heart jumping out of your chest is Victoria’s ringtone.

Begrudgingly, you turn away from the track. She has texted you a thousand times, without exaggerating, since Quali started and you know it’s because she’s bored out of her mind at the Lounge with her parents. But you’re starting to find this genuinely entertaining and you are bothered by the distraction.

“I told you I’d call you after Quali, Vic,” you singsong, looking up at the screens inside the Suite.

“Well Quali is almost over, no one cares about the last three minutes.”

You do, Max Verstappen is in first place, then Charles and Checo in P3. You’re crossing your fingers for Charles to manage to get above both Red Bulls. And for Carlos to squeeze in there too.

You don’t say anything else, too enthralled by the battle on the screen.

“Y/n?” Vic raises her voice, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes Vic, what is it?”

“We’re going to be at Ferrari together tomorrow, right?”

You wince, glad she chose a phone call instead of FaceTime this time around. You haven’t asked and you don’t intend to. Vic still has VIP Lounge access, she’ll be fine.

“They said no, Vic.” You lie, your eyes scanning the screen, it’s the last lap before they get the checkered flag out. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? Did you tell them I can give them publicity? I have one million followers!”

“Monaco is different from Miami,” you explain gently, “But you’ll still be at the VIP, you have a great view.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she’s beyond annoyed now, as it happens every time things don’t go her way. You can’t blame her, but you also think it will be good for her to spend some time with her parents, whom she refuses to visit although they live in Malibu and pay her mortgage. “We’re still up for dinner though, right?”

“Yep! I’ll meet you at your hotel.”

“Okay see you then, babes.”

By the time your eyes return to the screen, Charles is in P1, Carlos in P3 and the Ferrari Suite is exploding in cheers.

YOU’RE up painfully early the next day. Vic and you went back to your respective hotel way past three am and you’re exhausted, but at least you had enough self-control to avoid today’s hangover.

Nevertheless, the morning goes by in a blur between breakfast with Elix people, calls with Mildred and Walter, your manager, and two casting agents that tell you that no, you don’t need to go for an in-person casting, you’re not getting the role.

By the time you get to the Suite you have a headache and the knot on your throat is progressively getting harder to swallow. You only make things worse by rage-reading tweets with your #IsOver hashtag.

People claim, with more force every day, that Aidan gave you everything and you are starting to regret ever meeting him.

You have worked your ass off for years, taking on small roles, commercials, stock-photo deals. Learning scripts and going to castings and taking classes, you have been criticized and rejected for more things than just “not fitting the role”.

You have given everything you are and everything you have, and people assure what you got in return you owe it all to some man.

“Hola y/n!” Carlos is the first one to get back to the Suite and you wish he would rub off some of his good mood on you. “How are you today?”

“Hi Carlos, I’m alright and you?”

“You definitely look it,” he says, semi-sarcastically. “Something on your mind?”

The knot is back in your throat so you shake your head no. “And yours?”

“Nada de nada.” he smiles. You’re still growing on each other, but this is the most comfortable you’ve been while sharing the same space.

Charles arrives while Carlos, Mati (who is hungover from her party at the yachts) and you are comparing workout playlists. Wearing what now seems to be like his comfort cap, and a pair of ugly ripped jeans, he smiles brightly at the three of you.

You’re happy to see both Ferrari boys so smiley after the past couple races. Miami especially. And you hope they’ll do well; but you’re particularly scared for Charles, and whatever it is that made him unlucky in his hometown, you don’t want this day to end on a sour note.

You spend about an hour talking to them about anything, your movies, their races, Mati's tour with Romeo and Juliet. Music, hobbies and quirks, Charles and Carlos have an opinion on everything and they are actually quite fun to be around. Then, a Ferrari Team member comes to get them for the Drivers Parade so you wave them goodbye, wishing them a smooth race.

"You're not going to wish me luck, y/n?" Charles asks, the smirk on his face is one you identify as mischievous, and it makes a small wave of anxiety run down your back.

Mati stops the bottle of water halfway through her mouth to ogle at the two of you, and the palpable tension that has installed itself in the space.

"Good luck, Charles," the smile you return falters in one corner, but Charles doesn't seem to mind as he adjusts his cap and says thank you before leaving behind Carlos.

Mati has forgotten about her need to hydrate and is staring at you with both eyebrows raised. "I thought you were not doing that?" she gestures with her head towards the door through which both drivers vanished.

"I'm not doing anything," you reply, defensively. "He's being—"

"y/n, you could cut the tension there for a minute," Mati finally takes a swig of water and you wait for her to continue talking. "Like I said, I don't recommend it but... you're free to do whatever you want." she isn't unkind while wording that last part, but it still stings you with annoyance.

"Thanks, Mati." you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning back into the sofa.

─────────

The Ferrari Suite explodes in cheers once the checkered flag is out. After a frankly insane race with rain, crashes and too-long pit stops, both Ferraris have crossed the finish line, and most importantly Charles has finally managed to get rid of his Monaco curse. His enlarged picture appears on every screen with P1 right in the middle. Carlos is P4, but the points are extremely important in the long run, so people celebrate nevertheless.

Before you know it, Mati and you are being dragged down to the track for the podium celebrations. You're buzzing with excitement, holding Matilde's hand as you run to one side, where the mechanics can't crush you as they jump up and down.

Even above the general screams of happiness, you can hear talks of 'Charles deserves this so much', 'It was about time' and 'His hard work is finally paying off at home'.

At least someone's blood, sweat and tears are valued.

YOU are probably not living down the Charles dating allegations this weekend. Which is not your fault, honestly, had they enlarged the picture, it would have shown Mati just as excited for Ferrari as you were. She's Italian, and she bleeds for Ferrari.

But right now, surprisingly, you're not overwhelmed with whatever it is they're saying on Twitter. Although it took Mati snatching your phone away and tossing it in her own purse before sitting you down to retouch your makeup for the celebration party.

Victoria is joining you too, because a 'the more the merrier' applies to any sort of party happening in a Monaco club, especially if it is for the unofficial prince.

It is the first time in three months you let go of your worries, even if it is for the shortest amount of time as you dance with Victoria and Mati and drink anything you please and whoop every time the DJ mentions Charles and Carlos.

You're happy to be with your friends, away from Elix and celebrating two people who can become something more than coworkers to you. Although through the night you see them on a few occasions, Carlos waves at you as he passes by a few times only stopping in the third time to let you congratulate him with a quick hug that's more of a shoulder squeeze than anything.

Charles is obviously harder to approach, and to be fair, it's not like you're even trying. He's surrounded by his hometown friends and by anyone who wants to have his attention for a minute, for a picture or a dance or to buy him a drink.

It's past three am when Victoria is beyond buzzed and you're starting to feel exhausted so you decide it's time to leave. Mati has found someone to take home so she's been gone for around forty minutes, minding her business.

"Come on, let's go," you are grabbing Victoria by the wrist as her ankle twists. "We've both had enough," you laugh, Victoria joins your laughter as you snake through the crowd of people pumping fists in the air, some of them point and wave at you and you smile back at them politely.

You hear your name being passed around a few times, but you focus on finding the exit while keeping Victoria by your side, who has started to whine about not wanting to leave.

Once you break into the outside, you take a breath of fresh air, the coolness makes your skin rise in goosebumps and you shiver, letting go of Victoria to lift the hair on the back of your neck.

"It's too early!" Victoria complains once again, her eyes are glassy and she's just as sweaty.

"It's not, plus you're drunk, we should leave," your ears still feel drowned in the sound of music. “My feet are killing me.”

The exit opens again, and a couple stumbles out laughing and they tell Vic and you goodbye in drunken French. Before the door shuts again, Charles is out on the street too.

"I heard you were leaving," he says in what you're sure it's a too loud voice. But your ears have barely stopped ringing, so you can't blame him. "Are you two okay?" he eyes Victoria, who is starting to lean down on her knees to soothe her dizziness.

"Oh we're alright, we've just partied enough," you smile at him. Charles is rosy, bright-eyed and sweaty. Is it corny to describe someone as painfully handsome?

"I didn't get to congratulate you," you add, trying to keep your attention on Charles while being aware that Victoria might start retching at any given moment. "You did amazing."

Victoria straightens immediately, her glassy stare focusing on Charles. "You're such a good driver, Charles, for real."

"Thank you," Charles nods awkwardly a few times as Victoria pokes him with her left index finger. "And thank you y/n."

"Come on, Vic," you chuckle, keeping her hand away from Charles. "Seriously though, I'm happy for you."

Charles smiles again, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, really. I'm sorry I didn't see you earlier," he points behind him, to the club.

"It's your party, you can't be everywhere,"

Vic is yawning loudly, and you roll your eyes, amused. "We better get going."

"y/n, when are you flying to Spain?" Charles blurts out, the moment you turn to lead Vic down the street.

"I'm not sure, Wednesday probably?"

"You know, I can still show you a place or two in Monaco. If you want." He sinks his left hand in the front pocket of his dark jeans, and you wonder where the mischievous aura from what seems like ages ago went.

You pause, letting Vic put her whole weight on your shoulder as she finally gives up to the exhaustion. "Um well..."

The same tension that appeared at the Ferrari Suite is back, and the more you hesitate, the thicker it becomes.

Victoria pulls you down with her as she throws her head back, yawning again. Charles is just in time to hold you back up, his other arm pulling Vic back to a standing position.

"Only if you want," he says, he is far too close now and you can smell the mix of alcohol and cologne on him.

And maybe it's the alcohol in your own system, and you'll regret this once you sober up and realize that you told Matilde several times this is exactly what you were not going to do, but you say yes.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I want to say thank you to everyone who interacts with this series, it means a lot to me to know that you're enjoying it!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @majx00

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wolfhowlwitch · 6 months

Text

pro deity worship/low energy tip:

you CAN watch tv with/for your deities! and devote it to Them! and use that devoted time as an offering!

your offerings don’t exclusively HAVE to be physical or even only “things that would have been offered at the inception of the religion”. quality time is an offering. and TV (or movies!) can be quality time. as someone who is autistic/disabled, sometimes that’s all I can give (and I’m biased in that TV is my special interest, lol.)

examples:

for The Morrigan, I watch shows about killers, mediums, ghosts, and powerful groups of women. if I’m watching movies, I lean towards Irish horror movies or movies about spirits. sometimes just general dark fantasy movies. examples include Practical Magic (movie), The Hallow (movie), Hannibal (movie series or show but especially show), Psychic Kids* (reality show)

for Hermes, I watch things that are both funny and interesting/educational/informative. if I’m watching movies, I lean towards comedy romps (especially that involve travel) or biopics. examples include We Are The Millers (movie), Rocketman (biopic movie), Hart to Heart (comedy/interview show), Jeopardy!* (educational game show)

for Hades, I watch any and all horror movies, especially those with an afterlife component. if I’m watching shows, I tend to lean towards dark/kooky spooky cartoons. examples include Beetlejuice (movie or show but especially movie), The Cleansing Hour (movie), The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy (cartoon show), Courage the Cowardly Dog* (cartoon show)

for Persephone, I tend to watch anything old, spooky, heartfelt, and aesthetically beautiful. if I’m watching movies, I lean towards dark musical films or romantic movies with a horror twist (bonus points for horror, comedy, and romance all in one). examples include Deathgasm (movie), The Corpse Bride (cartoon musical movie), Elvira’s Movie Macabre (horror movie commentary show), The Munsters* (show)

I put a * next to the programs that I feel They’ve loved the most and have felt truly deep connection with Them over! please feel free to get weird with it, experiment, find what works for your worship. and maybe in the reblogs or tags, tell me what you’ve been watching and who you’ve been watching it with!

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kisskiss-slashslash · 11 months

Note

Hey 🙂

Really enjoying your writings.

May I request the slashers - the usual suspects (Jason/Michael/Sinclairs/Thomas) and anyone else if you want, mistaking their fem s.o for being romantic with someone else (like the situation with this other person looks totally sketch and could be construed for something not so innocent but its absolutely innocent - s.o would never cheat).

How would the slashers initially react and how would they feel and go about the situation.

❤

Warnings: Implied sexual harassment

Slashers and mistaking their s/o for being romantic with someone else

Jason Voorhees

He sees you holding a male camper’s hand as you walk away from the camp, and finds his heart breaking. Is he not enough? And if he isn’t, why would *that one* be?

Jason follows the two of you quietly, trying to see where this is going. He does not want to believe that you would truly cheat on him. But you give that camper sultry looks, and every time you do, Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

Finally, you arrive at a small clearing, far away from the camp.

“Now come on, honey, let daddy have some sugar”, the guy says, making grabby hands in the general direction of your chest.

“Oh I’ll let you have *something*, alright”, you say with a grin and, in one fluid motion, pull the small knife from your pocket and bury the blade in his throat.

“Shhh, no screaming, we don’t want to alert the others now, do we?”, you coo in a faux-comforting tone while his yellow camp shirt slowly turns red.

Jason comes out from between the trees and looks at you, bewildered.

You give him an apologetic smile. “There you are, love. Did you see all of that? Sorry. But this one was so gross that I just had to kill him myself.”

Now Jason just feels silly for ever doubting you.

Vincent Sinclair

He finally leaves his workshop for the day and wants to spend the rest of it with you, only to find you on the couch, with Lester leaning on you. It definitely looks like you’re cuddling.

Vincent feels like someone pulled the rug from under him. If you were to ever leave him, he would expect it to maybe be for Bo, but for Lester?

You and Lester both look up, and now Vincent notices that his youngest brother looks, quite frankly, miserable.

“Lester isn’t feeling well”, you tell Vincent in a soft voice. “Bo just left to the next town over, to get some meds, and asked me to take care of him until then.”

Lester coughs heavily. “Sorry, Bro. Didn’t mean to hog your girl.”

With his jealously forgotten, his protective older sibling instincts kick in, and he quickly sits down on Lester’s other side, putting his hand on his forehead. The youngest Sinclair is definitely running a decently high fever.

“If you let him lean on you for a bit, I can get up and make him some tea”, you say, and Vincent immediately agrees.

Freddy Krueger

He does not like you cozying up to other people, and being stuck in your subconscious, unable to do anything unless you fall asleep, sure isn’t helping.

Why are you watching horror movies with this loser? Why are you laughing so much? There you are, even casually mentioning Freddy by name, that should be enough of an indicator that you are unavailable, so why is this idiot still here?!

Once you fall asleep, Freddy confronts you about it. “I’ve killed significant others for less petty reasons before, bitch.”

“Okay? Sorry that I was trying to help you, I guess.”

“Help me?”

“Uhm, yeah? Did you not hear me tell him about you? Take a wild guess who the guy is gonna be thinking about when he goes to sleep tonight, and how those thoughts are gonna make him feel.”

Freddy presses his lips together. “...Fine, I guess. But next time, find a way to tell people about me without whoring yourself out to them, got it?”

Brahms Heelshire

You are getting just a tad to friendly with the new grocery delivery guy, and Brahms does not like that. It gives him flashbacks to Greta. So he tries to keep your attention away from the guy as well as he can. He unplugs the phone every time he calls, he demands your full attention during the times the man would be there and just generally tries to keep your eyes where they should be.

Finally, you have enough.

“Brahms, what is going on?!”

He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. “Do you love him?”

“Huh?”

“The delivery man. Do you love him?”

“Wha- Oh. Is this what this is about?” You sit down on Brahms’ bed and gesture for him to do the same.

“That man is my cousin”, you finally tell him. “Kinda distant though. I found out when I did one of those genetics tests you can order from the internet for fun.”

“So… You’re not gonna leave with him?”

“Hell no. I told him I got a great thing going here. But he’s also the only blood related family I have any real access to here, so I’m trying to maintain a good relationship with him.”

“Oh… okay, I think I understand.”

Bubba Sawyer

Subtle flirting is kind of part of business, especially when dealing with customers as a woman. You explained as much to Bubba when Drayton had the idea of you earning your keep by helping out with peddling his chili to people. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it. In the rare cases where he gets to watch from afar as you charm the customers into getting seconds, he finds himself irritatedly fiddling with his chainsaw.

One night, you come home, pull the hair net from your head and heavily sit down next to Bubba.

“What a day”, you grumble. “I swear, some of these people think they can treat me however they like just because they pay some chump change for Drayton’s chili.”

Now that catches Bubba’s attention. He looks at you, confused.

“What, you didn’t think that I *like* getting hit on by randos every day, did you?”, you say. “I want to tell them that I am married, but Drayton doesn’t want me to. Says they’re paying for the view and that feeling like they’re encroaching on another guy’s territory is going to scare them away.”

Now Bubba coos empathetically and begins rubbing small circles on your back, to help you relax. Now that he knows that you don’t like it, he feels a lot better about it.

#slasher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #freddy krueger x reader

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hotvintagepoll · 22 days

Text

Propaganda

Deborah Kerr (Bonjour Tristesse, An Affair to Remember, The King and I)— For several decades she held the record for most Oscar nominations without a win (6 in total), and she was a prolific leading lady throughout the 40s and 50s. She's best known today for the romance An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant, and as the governess in The King and I. Many people have this erroneous perception of her as extremely prim, proper, and virginal, but this could not be further from the truth. When she first came to Hollywood under MGM she was typecast into boring decorative roles, but broke sexual boundaries for herself and Hollywood generally in From Here to Eternity, when she made out (horizontally!) with Burt Lancaster (on top of him!) in the famous Beach Scene. She went on to play many sexually conflicted women, a character type that would define most of her post- Eternity work. She continued to break Hays Code boundaries with Tea and Sympathy, which addresses homosexuality/homophobia head-on, and even did a topless scene in The Gypsy Moths 1969!! One of the only classic stars to do so. She deserves a more nuanced and frankly a hotter legacy than she currently has!!!

Hend Rostom (Cairo Station, Eshaat Hob)— Egyptian movie star called the "Marilyn Monroe of the East", need anyone say more

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Hend Rostrom:

Deborah Kerr:

I think she was one of my first crushes before I realised I was bi in The King and I when I watched it as a kid honestly. The kissing scene in From Here to Eternity is iconic for a reason. Actually tried to learn the accents for the characters she was playing if they weren't English which is more than pretty much anyone else was doing then. Played very restrained characters who frequently seemed to be desperate not to be so restrained. Did horror movies without venturing into hagsploitation tropes. Gave Marni Nixon the credit she deserved for her share of the singing in The King and I.

Anne Larsen is a peak late 1950s bisexual with big MILF energy. Have you seen the behind the scenes pics of her wearing a suit?? Have you????? Vote Deb as Anne Larsen.

Nominated for an Oscar six (6) times and never won, but besides her having actual talent (hot), and besides her looking Like That (very hot, also beautiful), she was always playing women who are, like, crazy repressed. Which makes it fun and easy for me to read these characters as queer. Icon!!!! You know what's hot? Playing ambiguously gay in vintage Hollywood.

Her face and talent and body, yes, ofc, duh. But also!!! Her HANDS!!!! I may be but a simple lesbian, but she is the best hactor (hand actor) that ever lived and that's HOT! For propriety's sake I feel I must redact a large portion of my commentary on this subject. Anyway. She's hot in her most famous roles (mentioned above), and also some of her sexiest hacting is on display in An Affair to Remember (her hand on the bannister when Cary Grant kisses her off-screen??? HELLO???), Tea and Sympathy (when she's trying to persuade Tom not to go out and she keeps flexing her hands like she wants to reach out to him but can't??? ALLY BEHAVIOR! WE STAN!), and The Innocents (which opens and closes with extended shots of her hands bc director Jack Clayton was also an ally and he did that for ME). Much of her appeal also lies in the fact that she often played deeply repressed characters and you know what's hot? When those uptight characters finally unravel. It's sexy. It's cathartic. It's erotic. Plus, she's beautiful to look at in both black & white and technicolor, and the more of her films you see, the more you can't help but fall in love!

Literally is in thee most famously sexy scene of all time (or maybe just during the hays code era which is what we're talking about HELLO), which is the beach scene with Burt Lancaster in from here to eternity. To quote a tumblr post of a screen capture of a tweet of a video of joy behar on the view: "y'know, there used to be movies where they were kissing on the beach... From Here to Eternity. They're kissing-- Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr are Kissing on the Beach and then the WAVES crash!! You know exactly what they did!"

She might have a reputation of being chaste and virginal or whatever, but we all know it's the quiet ones who are certifiable FREAKS

#deborah kerr #hend rostom #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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beom1e · 7 months

Text

come home tonight

this, of all things, was supposed to work. that’s what you told yourself, repeated in your mind every night as you sat alone in the half-empty bedroom, every possession of beomgyu’s now missing. it was always going to be him for you. why didn’t he feel the same way?

pairing choi beomgyu x fem! reader

genre long-term relationship, lovers to exes, angst, slight fluff

warnings breakup, cursing, signs of depression

at the start of adulthood, you grew to love the year’s end.

the cold air would bite at the tip of your nose and your cheeks, and as much as you could hate it, the reddened skin was a sweet reminder of the season. it was cold enough to have a few extra blankets on your bed and maybe a hot water bottle too, and then to wake up and slip on some fluffy socks and a cosy hoodie. there was imagery of orange leaves and shades of brown coming into fashion, hot drinks rising to the top of the menu and a warm meal in a cosy cafe replacing the ice cream in the park cliché of a passing summer.

people came together for so many celebrations, families being reunited and the larger population becoming more generous in favour of the seasonal charities. a wave of students would move away from their childhood homes, only to return shortly after for a loving dinner around the table and matching pyjamas and movie marathons.

you especially loved october. halloween, pumpkin, scary movies, autumn fashion, pie, soup, knitted jumpers. and you had met the love of your life then, a random october evening on what had seemed like just another ordinary day.

every year, you had to buy decorations for your dorm, both arms holding heavy bags but you were totally unbothered due to your childlike excitement. and that was when one of the bags had broke open, everything falling to the ground at your feet in a mess of orange, purple and brown decor.

the kind stranger had rushed over to help you, collecting decorations in his arms before they could roll off onto the road. that was the day you had fallen for beomgyu’s smile and stubbornness to help you carry everything home. he teased you about your love for the annual holiday, admitting he had no plans to decorate his own dorm. so of course you offered to help him do it, and the innocent trip to a decoration store with him quickly became your first date of many.

he reminded you so much of the colder months. when you could see your breath in the air, the way the wind blew your hair forward into your eyes, wool hats and thick boots, grabbing a bite to eat from the nearest hot food truck. despite his bright personality, he had always been the calm autumn after the hectic summer in your eyes.

and, inevitably, he was how you grew to hate the year’s end.

october 11th,

‘soobin’s halloween party is coming up,’ beomgyu called from the kitchen, over the sound of water running and filling up the glass in his hand. ‘do you want to come with me?’

‘sure,’ the tap was turned off in time for your reply. ‘do you want to come with me to pick up some decorations?’

‘what’s the point?’ he turned into the living room, sipping from his water. you turned back to look at him, a costume magazine in your hands. ‘i mean, if we’re not throwing a party and won’t actually be home for halloween, why do we need to decorate?’

‘it brings me comfort,’ shrugging, you turned back to your magazine and folded the corner of a page that interested you. beomgyu leaned over the back of the sofa to see what you were looking at, a scoff escaping his lips. ‘what’s wrong?’

‘don’t you think we’re a little too old to be dressing up for halloween?’ his tone was mocking, one that you really didn’t care for. in all the time that you had known your boyfriend, he had never been against letting you celebrate halloween in the way that you loved. the shift in his attitude was a telltale sign that something was up.

‘we’re not going to cut eye holes into bedsheets, beomgyu,’ you shot back. ‘we can be a couple from a famous horror series or something. like sabrina and harvey, for example.’

‘why don’t you just get some cat ears and wear all black?’ he rolled his eyes, moving around the couch to sit beside you.

‘is there a problem?’ snapping the magazine closed, you leaned and tossed it onto the coffee table. ‘we’ve done this for the past three years. why do you have an issue with it now?’

‘i just think it’s a childish idea,’ he explained. ‘most girls dress like a playboy bunny, or just find any excuse to wear leather.’

‘so my sabrina and harvey suggestion wasn’t slutty enough for you?’ the look of utter annoyance painted your features. ‘let’s come back to this when you’re done being an asshole.’

october 14th,

the call went to voicemail again. you huffed, placing your phone face down onto the kitchen table that you were sitting at. beomgyu hadn’t picked the phone up in hours, nor was he answering your texts or showing any sign that he was coming home soon. after the small fight the two of you had a few days ago, he began avoiding you as if it had been all your fault.

you thought that things would change for this particular night.

around thirty minutes after the last attempt to call him, the door into your apartment clicked open. in came the topic of your thoughts, phone in hand and screen brightened due to movement. clearly he was just ignoring you, and had no genuine reason to avoid your calls.

‘oh,’ he looked up, taking in the sight. you’d set the table with candles and wine glasses, cold food untouched on your best plates. guilt consumed him when he remembered that it was your third year anniversary, and he had been a jerk to you all day. ‘i’m sorry, y/n, i was just busy and forgot what today was.’

‘ok,’ you replied simply, arms still crossed against your chest. it was your mission to avoid his eyes, because you knew you would forgive him if you were to take in his gentle features. and that was the last thing you wanted. ‘i’m going to bed. clean this up for me, yeah?’

beomgyu watched you exit the kitchen and go into the bathroom. you were wearing a dress he had bought you for one of your birthdays, one that he told you was his favourite. your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, and yet there stood beomgyu in jeans and a t-shirt and nothing prepared for you. no gifts, no surprises, not even a ‘happy anniversary’ wish or a bouquet of ‘i’m sorry’ flowers.

‘y/n, wait,’ he followed quickly behind you, pulling the bathroom door closed before you could open it all the way. ‘i messed up badly, i know, but i want to make it up to you.’

‘are you going to build a time machine so that you can go back in time and actually remember our anniversary?’ you laughed bitterly, shooting him a glare. ‘can you just get out of my way?’

he removed his grip on the handle, stepping aside. once inside the locked bathroom, you slid down to the floor so that you were sat with your back to the door and your head in your hands. did he not love you anymore?

‘i know you don’t want to talk to me right now,’ he continued on from the other side of the door. ‘i was an asshole. i started the fight and let you take the blame for it, and i didn’t even remember our anniversary, but you did all of this for me even though you were still angry at me. i’m so sorry, y/n, and i don’t expect you to forgive me.’

‘good, because i don’t forgive you,’ you whispered, tears threatening to fall. ‘i think i’m going to stay with a friend for a while… just until i can face you again.’

‘y/n, please don’t do this,’ beomgyu rested his head against the door, eyes closing in defeat. ‘please don’t leave. i’ll go… i’ll go stay with yeonjun for a week… to give us both some time to cool down and think.’

‘if that’s what you want,’ sighing, you wiped away at your tears. ‘and i won’t be going to soobin’s party.’

‘i wasn’t expecting you to,’ he frowned, lifting his head from the door and pushing away from it. ‘i’m sorry, y/n. seriously, this was all my fault.’ the floorboards creaked beneath his shoes as he walked away. that was your cue to get ready for bed, while he silently cleaned up the kitchen.

after you showered and changed into some warm pyjamas, you headed straight for bed without a worry about what beomgyu was doing. it was clear to you now that he had finally fallen out of love with you.

the hours you had spent making him his favourite meal, the expensive gift you left waiting for him on his bedside table, the dessert still sitting in the centre of the oven, the smile on your face as you found a ribbon perfectly matching the colour of his favourite dress of yours. that was the evidence. he didn’t even care, clearing everything away and spending the final hour of daylight in the living room alone. it was over.

october 15th,

it felt wrong. it felt empty. you’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, something in your muscles and joints and bones aching and preventing you from peacefully drifting off. when you woke up, beomgyu was already watching you with hurt in his gaze. if not for the painful connotations, it would have been sweet. two lovers waking up side-by-side in their shared bed, his eyes scanning over her features. except he was wondering where it all went wrong, and not how he got so lucky. he wanted to speak, but he had nothing left to say.

you rolled over to face away before making the move to get out of bed. the bedroom door closed loudly behind you after you disappeared. he sat up after, looking around the room filled with so many memories of the two of you. he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready to lose you just yet.

so he hurried after you, meeting you in the kitchen as you made yourself a morning coffee. you had this unmoving expression on your face, but your eyes were sad.

‘i don’t want to run away to yeonjun’s,’

‘i think we should break up,’

‘y/n, no,’ beomgyu was stubborn, that was one thing you had learned about him during your relationship. whether it was getting the last word in or completing a difficult level on the game he was playing, he wouldn’t give up until he got it. ‘we don’t have to break up to fix this, i want to be with you.’

‘no, you don’t,’ you mumbled, sniffling. he hurried to pull you into his arms, not wanting to see you cry if he was the reason behind it. ‘you don’t love me anymore.’

he didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t even sure if what you had said was true or false. he just let you cry in his arms, tears stinging at the corners of his own eyes as his t-shirt began to soak through. falling out of love was nobody’s fault, it certainly wasn’t his decision. he would never choose to lose you.

it felt like hours before he let you go. the grip you’d had on the material of his shirt left behind creases in two places, some of your hair stuck to your neck from where his head had been buried, tears of his own having inevitably fell.

but after the moment you shared, beomgyu was packing a week’s worth of things into the suitcase you’d taken to jeju last year and you were sitting in the middle of your bed with your knees to your chest. you had promised each other forever and you were willing to give him forever. how could he lose interest in you in just three years? how could he fall out of love with you when you were still so enamoured with him?

the very place you were coexisting in was the home you had built from the ground up. it was just a rented apartment — one that had seen many couples alike come and go — but you had made enough memories in it to make it feel special. the night you moved in, your first anniversary, all of the movie nights under rainfall, the talks you had about growing old together forever. memories that had been locked into the walls and the windows and the couch and the bedsheets. and as you stared at the person who you had created all of the memories with, you felt them all slipping away from you.

all you could feel was anger, embarrassment and heartache.

‘call me if you ever want to talk,’ beomgyu was standing in the doorway then, inches away from leaving your shared home. ‘i promise i’ll pick up every time you call.’

you only nodded weakly, your hand holding the door open being the only thing keeping him inside. neither of you knew what to say. how do you say goodbye to the love of your life?

once the door was closed, he was gone. you didn’t know what the future held for you both, whether he was ever going to come back and beg for you to let him stay. or would you slowly fall out of love with him in the same way that he had fallen out of love with you? maybe this was all a mistake and you were going to laugh about your time apart with friends in the future as they sat around your table in the kitchen with you. but only a fool would believe that.

october 24th,

the first week without beomgyu, you didn’t call. he wasn’t active on social media and he didn’t try to contact you either. it was a week to yourself, time for you to work on personal affairs and find happiness outside of your relationship. at the end of the week, he came back to pick up some more things. he didn’t drop to his knees and beg for another chance, he didn’t even ask if you wanted him to come back. you were walls apart as he washed some clothes and made a snack before packing up most of his stuff and walking out.

all you could do was cry into the pillow that still carried his scent that was slowly fading. the motivation to take care of yourself faded with his presence. you called in sick to work, cancelled on all of your friends, you barely even left the bedroom. if he was to show up again like that, out of the blue, you wouldn’t be able to face him.

november 17th,

weeks turned into a month and soon it was an apartment that was half yours and half nobody else’s. all of the bills had been switched to your name, not even the netflix subscription under his name anymore. the bedsheets and pillows had been washed of his scent completely. all he was to you was an untouched contact in your phone, the last few texts displaying arrangements for him to come pick the rest of his things up the night before halloween.

nobody broke up with anybody, you assumed he called it quits the first night he spent at his friend’s house. you told everyone it was a mutual agreement to break up, they hardly pitied you that way. some would apologise for bringing it up and give you that sympathetic frown, others would claim you weren’t right for each other, but they were wrong. he was the one for you, you’d been sure of that ever since the day you met him.

he was always kind, nobody expected it. he loved to joke around with his friends and play video games as if it was a paying job, but he was mature. he always had a logical solution when you turned to him for one. it was only when he knew you needed to laugh again that he would tease you or make an immature joke that received an eye-roll.

he knew you more than anyone else ever had. your favourite drink that he would always arrive with at the university library when you studied together. your forever loves, the movies you never got tired of and snacks you could eat until the end of time. the way you liked to be held in his arms before bed, the exact technique that would make you fall asleep when he played with your hair. how long you liked to shower, your favourite scent in perfumes and shampoos and detergent. your go-to flavour of ice cream, foods you would never eat even if you were offered a large sum of money.

god, you missed him like crazy. he seemed fine.

your relationship slowly disappeared from social media as if it hadn’t even happened. he was the first to delete the photos and posts about you, even the photos you had taken of him. you simply followed suit, not wanting to seem pathetic. although you archived every one rather than permanently deleting them, and a small part of you hoped he did the same.

everybody adjusted to the break-up, cutting themselves off whenever they mentioned his name around you. they tiptoed around you as if they knew that you would fall apart just thinking about him and what you’d once had. but you didn’t want it to be over. the lack of his presence in your life only caused you more pain, you just wanted him back.

the closest you had gotten to beomgyu since halloween was yeonjun showing up at your door. ‘he wanted me to return this,’ he’d said, holding a key out towards you. it was missing its keyrings, just a key attached to a metal loop. ‘and if you want it, i have his new address.’

of course you declined. he heartlessly sent a friend to return his key to you, but offered you an entrance into his new life without you. you wanted no part in his game, but avoiding beomgyu was impossible. you lived in the same area, shopped at the same stores, had the same friends. eventually you would have to talk, and you would have to find out what exactly happened between the two of you.

visiting the convenience store late at night was a common thing for you to do. you were wearing some old, checkered pyjama pants and a hoodie too big for your frame. it was going to just be a quick run in and out for some snacks and painkillers for your stubborn headache when you saw him standing there in front of an illuminated fridge.

he was staring between two drinks, one in each hand as if he was making a decision. his attire was much more put together than your almost-pyjama situation. he was dressed as if he had been out all day, like he had been out with somebody else, probably on a date considering he was dressed the same as he would when you he took you out on dates.

it was unknown to you, but beomgyu dressed up and came to the store in search for you. then it could be an accident that you bumped into each other, if this time was successful. he was always trying to accidentally bump into you on purpose.

you took off down an aisle as far away from him as you could, eyes searching for the painkillers that you typically bought. once you grabbed them and moved to another aisle, you heard beomgyu heading towards the cashier. thinking you were in the clear, you walked down the aisle he was previously occupying in search of the snacks you craved. as you approached the end of the aisle, the boy you were avoiding turned the corner and stopped in his tracks at the sight of you.

your feet brought you to a stop, just inches away from crashing into him. a sigh of relief left your lips.

‘hey,’ he spoke first, meeting your eyes.

‘hey,’ you whispered, gaze falling to the ground.

‘how are you?’ it was a stupid question to ask, he didn’t know where to start. all he wanted was to be close to you again.

‘well it’s a friday night and i’m about to eat a whole tub of ice cream and watch a movie,’ you laughed shortly, gesturing towards the ice cream box behind beomgyu. ‘what about you, is your date waiting for you in the car?’

‘i don’t have a date,’ the reply was simple and lacking emotion in his words, but you felt a wave of relief. it was reassuring that he wasn’t seeing anyone. it made you feel hopeful. ‘things are just a mess right now with the move and everything.’

‘yeah,’ you breathed out, then awkwardly chewing the inside of your cheek. ‘i better go, the couch is waiting for me.’

‘you forgot your ice cream,’ he twisted his head back towards the ice cream box. you came back down to earth in that moment and remembered where you were.

‘right, yeah,’ another laugh followed as you took a step towards him. he slid open the freezer from the top and you reached in for your favourite flavour. the door closing again cut through the silence. ‘goodbye, beomgyu.’

he didn’t say anything back. he couldn’t. goodbye, like you were trying to get away from him for the rest of time, like you hoped never to see him again. not a ‘see you around,’ or a simple ‘bye,’ but a goodbye. you were walking away by then as he stood frozen, so he followed you to the cashier.

as the cashier read out your total, beomgyu grabbed his card and placed it over the reader on the machine. you were left speechless, stumbling over your words as your receipt was being printed. you thanked the cashier with a smile but felt your shoulders drop with defeat.

annoyed, you shot him a glare and walked out of the store with your things. he followed behind you without grabbing his own things, the door sliding closed behind him. it was just the two of you staring each other down under the stars and the rain, neither of you knowing how to put this to an end.

‘i’m sorry,’ he spoke. ‘for everything. and i love you, y/n.’

he turned away, heading towards his parking space.

‘come home tonight,’ you called out into the dark, not even sure if he could hear you.

‘where do you think i’m going?’ he turned back around to face you. ‘i am going home.’

‘that’s not your home,’ you defended. ‘you know what i mean.’

‘i can’t do that,’ he sighed. ‘we broke up, i’ve moved out, we don’t even live together anymore.’

‘even if it’s just for one night?’ you frowned, your eyes stinging with oncoming tears.

beomgyu didn’t want just one night, he wanted to erase the past month and go back to how it used to be. it was comfortable and familiar and he loved you too much to let you go, but things had changed. the apartment would look different, you wouldn’t show the same side of you that he’d grown to love. you weren’t the same people anymore, you would never trust him the same way that you used to, and he’d fallen out of love with you. loving you could never compare to the way that he had seen you when he was deeply in love with you, like you were the sun, the moon, and the stars all in one.

‘and then what?’ he sighed. ‘this isn’t going to work.’

‘but why wouldn’t it?’ you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

november 27th,

if anybody was to ask what happened when you and beomgyu broke up, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. you were never sure if he was going to come back to you, but you still never gave up hope. that’s what people in love do, hope.

autumn was your favourite time of the year, or had been. you’d already skipped over halloween, and the novelty of orange leaves and brown clothing was starting to rub off. you wondered if beomgyu had been the thing you loved so much about autumn, because it was the time you fell in love. maybe you weren’t anticipating the season of pumpkins and coffee, maybe you were just looking to feel the same way you had when you first met him.

now that he was gone, everyday felt regular. it wasn’t exciting, there was nothing in the air. you didn’t walk around with a wide smile on your lips, kindly greeting strangers. you rolled your eyes at children jumping in leaf piles, scoffed when somebody ordered a pumpkin spice latte and pushed every cosy jumper to the back of your closet.

all that you had left was yourself. at least, that’s what you told yourself, because in reality you had everyone but him, and in reality, that was much worse.

there were so many missed calls and texts left unread on your phone, the device constantly buzzing on your coffee table. you would simply stare at the tv and switch between a million and one sitting positions in order to find a comfortable one. it always ended with your head hanging down from the couch and your legs thrown over the back of it. no plans, no purpose, no motivation, and time passing you by.

beomgyu was right, everything had changed, including you.

#tomorrow x together #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt #txt au #txt oneshot #txt angst #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #choi beomgyu au #choi beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu angst #beomgyu au #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu angst

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itsonlydana · 1 month

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"passenger princess" | chapter six

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,9k

❱ summary: a horror movie, 'your dad jokes' and overcoming the fear of being vulnerable by opening up

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: we're back on schedule! Anyone got the reference with the documentary?🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SIX: MOVIE

It was movie night and once again you found yourself sitting on the giant sofa, a glass of wine cradled between your hands as you watched Legolas and Aragorn argue over what to watch.

It was amusing, really, to simply sit back and observe how both completely missed the fact they could be on the same page if they weren't blinded by the urge to please the other.

While Legolas was trying his hardest to convince Aragorn you didn't have to watch another romcom and he would much rather try to understand that one French art film Aragorn studied in his poetry class, the brunette was keen on rewatching Mean Girls for Legolas.

They seemed to have forgotten you were there to be included in the discussion.

Feet burrowed into the cushions under you you sipped on the wine that Thranduil brought out to the pool two days ago.

Every sip brought the scent of sunscreen and the warm rays of sunshine back to you on this rainy evening.

Your gaze trailed to the floor-to-ceiling windows next to the sofa, right outside to where the pool was illuminated by lanterns and laid undisturbed except for the raindrops splattering onto the surface.

Thinking back to that day, you felt a heat creeping into your cheeks that not only came from the wine.

You had no idea what had been the push into the decision but when Thranduil had joined you in the pool, he had joined you. Not just sitting at the edge or watching you from the shadow of the terrace.

He'd come outside and immediately shed himself from his shirt and trousers, leaving you to a close death with every layer of fabric removed and every bit of light skin revealed.

You nearly had a heart attack at the sight of his upper body and the lean muscles you had known were there, but never had the pleasure –and oh, it truly was a fucking pleasure– to see in all their glory.

Thranduils shoulders were broad, yet fit his form and the adonis belt that accentuated his –must be said– slender waist.

The sentiment that no man his age should be allowed to be this good-looking extended to include all men or women no matter the age. It made little sense to you that this man looked like that at his age when you knew full well that he didn't exercise.

He had a body to fantasize about, and you gladly did.

"What do you say?" Aragorn called to you from the other end of the couch, where he was rubbing his temple, "Tell Legolas I really don't mind watching whatever he chooses."

"Oh, you remembered I'm still here?" you asked while Legolas gasped and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Yes, but you shouldn't not mind, you should enjoy the movie as well!"

"Legolas, I mean it. It's alright if we watch Mean Girls!"

"Woah, pause!" you took another sip and swiped the air with the other hand. "You two have been so insufferable ever since you did it. Can we go back to pining but without all the.. you know, back bending for just a movie?"

It shut them up, maybe they thought you hadn't noticed them sneaking off together or whatever the reason was, you were glad for the momentary silence.

"Let's just do the 'surprise me' thingy and no one will be truly happy, alright?"

No idea when you'd become the voice of reason but both nodded in agreement, sparing shy smiles to each other that said more apologies than Legolas had ever given to you in words, for the evenings you had to watch his choice of movie.

Love could really change a person.

"Fine," Legolas threw his long legs into movement, walked to the cabinets next to the flatscreen, and grabbed the remote. "Next time we–"

"We'll have the same discussion over and over again," Aragorn added.

"You're disgusting," you pretended to gag, heaving your chest for dramatic effect, "Finishing each other's sentences is so cringe."

"Using cringe in a sentence is cringe."

"Shut up and dim the lights, Las. Please down to the level that's in your head, alright?" You smiled angelicly, cheeks hurting from the effort though it was all worth it at Legolas scowl when he tried to fish for a response but ended up silently muttering under his breath and turning the lights off.

Engulfed in near darkness you only saw his lanky figure reach for something on the incliner next to the sofa before a cushion flew toward you with a scarily accuracy.

Wouldn't you have leaned to the side because you wanted to place the glass onto the coffee table, there would've been an accident for sure.

"Legolas you fucking idiot," you swore, already grabbing the cushion that hit your back. "Do you want another wine-stain incident?"

The wine-stain-incident of last year went down in history as the biggest argument this house had ever seen.

Legolas and Thranduil had been arguing like never before, snapping at each other back and forth for days over red wine spilled over the newly bought designer sofa cushions.

It went so far that Legolas camped at your dorm for a whole weekend, clearing out your fridge and complaining that his Ada was up his ass for an accident he didn't even remember.

After three days of coming home from work and seeing Legolas sulk on your bed, the thing that pushed your patience over the edge had been one night when the blonde couldn't sleep and decided that your bed was big enough for him to cuddle you; big surprise: it wasn't.

Nothing was big enough in the tin can of a dorm.

"So what?" Legolas fell onto the sofa next to Aragorn, giving you plenty of space to spread out on your half, "I'm just gonna tell him it was you again. Nothing's gonna happen then."

"You're a wicked man, Las," Aragorn said. Legolas grinned.

You snorted. "Sure, if you want your ass handed to you. Don't think it's going to work twice."

"Oh no, it will." Legolas raised an eyebrow much similar to his father, "Just like last time his anger will go up in the smoke the second he sees you and then–" he cooed in a very over-the-top imitation of Thranduil, "–no no no, it's alright! I hated the sofa anyways.. what? It's new? Doesn't matter, I'll buy a new one, babe."

"He doesn't sound like that and it wasn't like that!" you complained.

It had been exactly like that.

"It kinda was," Aragorn chimed in and received a smile (Legolas) and an angry huff (you).

Legolas tapped away on the remote, lightning up the living room as the flatscreen showed the last thing that had been watched.

Some nature documentary that, in the small second Legolas gave you before opening up the streaming app, seemed to be about whales and crocodiles.

Thranduils taste in movies was everything Legolas didn't enjoy: docus with long biology conversations, silent black and white classics or, his guilty pleasure, fake jury shows where he would point out where they went wrong or how inaccurate the case was.

You adored how he would sit on the sofa wearing his slim glasses and pretend he wasn't interested in the drama at all.

"Alright," Legolas said and pressed a button for the random movie.

"By the way," you said hushed, "He doesn't call me babe. Your father calls me sweetheart or darling, which is completely different and so much more endearing in my opinion."

Aragorn let out a loud breath and leaned over to rub Legolas' shoulder. "Wow, that was basically a 'your mom' joke, although much more eloquent. Hope you're alright."

"He will survive," you waved off, "It's not like I told him how he–"

"No, I actually don't want to hear that!" Legolas interrupted you loudly and turned up the sound of the TV, shutting down every remark that could've followed by the loud boom that cracked through the surround system like thunder.

You didn't need to read the title of the movie, that the first scene was a first-person shot of someone running through the woods at night and the only sound was their breathing and the snapping of twigs was telling you exactly what you were in for.

"Sorry," Legolas said before you even opened your mouth, grinning over at you in the moonshine light of the movie, "No take backsies for any insults just because you don't wanna watch horror!"

"But–"

"No no, no buts."

"You're so mean," Aragorn said to Legolas, but nevertheless grabbed one of the blankets beside him and threw it toward you, "Here, to protect you from any murderers."

You stuck out your tongue at him and yanked the blanket over.

Horror, was by far, the worst outcome of the random selection.

Everything else would've been fine, hell, even a compilation of every time you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Thranduil could be an easier watch than an hour.. oh well two hours of jumpscares.

"You'll be fine," Legolas was already munching on the popcorn he'd prepared earlier, throwing the golden snack into his open mouth and –naturally– not missing a single piece.

It was infuriating how talented he was in some aspects.

"Just don't look to your left and imagine the killer's waiting for you behind the trees."

"I hate you so much."

As expected, the blanket provided little comfort as the movie progressed and whenever you glanced over to Aragorn and Legolas, you could see them whispering together, quietly laughing over the dumb decisions the main character made.

So unfair they had fun while you suffered.

The scenes got even worse the longer you watched, tension sharpening like the knives you saw on screen, flashing in and out as the killer sneaked through the woods. The wind outside as well as inside screamed like a boiling kettle, rattling as the storm picked up and hammered the wind against the window.

There were creaks and echoes everywhere.

Every hair on your body stood up, an electrifying rush of adrenalin cursing through your body and having you cling to the blanket in an attempt to shield yourself.

It came out of nowhere.

The sound of a door opening and immediately shutting close with a bang loud enough that you let out a scream like your life depended on it.

It led to Legolas joining in, yelling in surprise and as he turned around to stare into the dark kitchen, the popcorn flew everywhere.

There, looming in the doorframe was a tall figure, dripping water and looking extremely haunted by the white flashes of the screen illuminating long wet hair and hauntingly sharp cheekbones.

"Oh my fucking god.. fuck! Fuck this shit," you gasped for air, inhaling one breath after the other until you were nearly dizzy.

"Ada, you scared the shit out of us!" Legolas quickly let go of Aragorn, whom he'd jumped the second he'd heard your scream pierce the quiet room.

"My apologies," Thranduils deep rumble sounded.. off. Strained, like the lopsided smile on his lips. "That was not my intention." He looked around, pausing at you and for a second the look on his face seemed haunted. "Please, continue. I'll be upstairs and make sure not to bother you anymore."

"Thran–" you started and rose to bend over the back of the sofa.

He stopped in his movement, haltering to nod at you, "Hi, sweetheart, excuse me for scaring you like that. You look lovely, though." And then he was already stalking back to the hallway, his wet hair clinging to his equally drenched coat.

You turned to Legolas and Aragorn, your expression communicating the confusion you felt clearly by the look of their equally unsure faces.

"Ada?" Legolas called, not looking away from you, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes?"

"I may have spilled wine onto the new white carpet. It was some hours ago but maybe we can fix it?" Questioningly you inclined your head, close to asking him what the fuck he was talking about, when Thranduil answered:

"Oh, no worries," –your eyes widened– "It's fine. Let's talk later."

"Well," Legolas stated as soon as you heard Thranduil walk up the stairs. "Either someone kidnapped Ada and that's someone else, or he's calculating how to murder you two for practically living here at this point."

Aragorn, sensing that this wasn't the time to continue, paused the movie. Even he was frowning.

You fell back onto your bottom, eyes flickering back to the doorway in uncertainty. "So I didn't just hallucinate that? You noticed how weird he was?"

"So weird. Maybe something happened?" Aragorn mused and started picking up the popcorn Legolas had strewn all over the place.

"Maybe he finally realized I live here rent-free as well."

You and Aragorn looked at each other. You spoke up first: "Las, the way you inhale his snacks and wine he's just ignorant of the fact. Do you have any idea what's up with him?"

Legolas shrugged, throwing one of the popcorn pieces into his mouth again. "Not the slightest. Haven't seen him like that since.. oh–", he paused, grimacing like he tasted something sour.

"What?" Next to him, Aragorn took away another lint-covered popcorn before he could eat that as well.

Suddenly, Legolas seemed sheepish, his gaze scattering everywhere except you which you immediately noticed.

"Legolas, since when?"

"'S probably doesn't matter," he mumbled, his face turning a traitorous reddish shade that reached the top of his pointy ears.

"You're lying," you detected, not trying to hide the sharp edge in your voice. This was quickly escalating, moving far beyond a simple discussion over what movie to watch. "What's going on? He's never like that… at all. He looked like he'd run over someone!"

"Love," Aragorn tried softly, but you were already too busy staring at Legolas to notice.

"You really want to know?" Legolas asked, the blanket he and Aragorn were under clutched into his fists. "I'll tell you but don't, and I mean it, don't zero in on that. This could be different, like completely." After your nod and a look over his shoulder to check that Thranduil wasn't creeping through the hallway with an axe, he continued:

"Y'know my mother left him, right?"

As soon as he mentioned her, you grew wearily. "Yes–"

"So she left when I was still a baby, like no worries he's fine with it and I'm fine with it and we were alright. He kinda knew it would happen, she was around but never there. He was the one giving up half of his firm so that he could work less and mostly from home. She just.. didn't change at all and when she was gone, Ada wasn't surprised."

You knew the story, it was one of those things Legolas had shared with you under the confined comfort of the blanket of the night and his bed.

"Uhm.. yeah, I don't know how to tell you this but she came back once."

The world swayed, ripping open right in front of you and you felt yourself tumbling, one foot over the edge of that darkness this statement had dunked your head into.

"Oh," you said, immediately trying to shut down the feelings of unease and insecurity gnawing at your mind. "I mean, she's your mom?"

Legolas huffed, "Barely. Biologically yes, but even then one could argue I'm Ada's clone." He grew serious again, his long fingers tapping the arm he'd thrown over his middle, "T'was like what.. nine years.. ten years ago? I was in the kitchen doing my homework when the keys turned and some woman suddenly stood in front of me that I didn't recognize but knew who she was. I kinda screamed. Ada came and when he saw her, he looked just like he looked then."

You blinked, your breathing coming in a bit faster than what you would define as 'totally fine'.

"What happened then?" Aragorn asked for you. Thankfully, because you weren't sure what to say.

"He threw her out and called someone to change the locks," Legolas said and lifted his head to stare at you, "Ada told her to go to hell or he'll sue the living shit out of her for child abandonment and whatever dirt he would find. Yes, he had the same look on his face, yes he was so fucking weird and kind of apathetic but, and listen to me; this could be a whole other thing."

"Wha– what.." you started, stumbling even over that one word, "what if it's not? Maybe he changed his opinion over time."

"Sure," he rolled his eyes but dropped the sarcasm when it did not comfort you at all, "No seriously, believe me, he doesn't want her in his, my, or our life. Not then, not now, not when you two finally figured yourselves out."

While that helped just as much as throwing a single glass of water onto a giant campfire, you nodded and put on a mask of uninterest.

Simply because it was much easier than getting into a whole discussion over feelings that may or may not be out of place.

He could've simply had a bad day at work.

"Let's just continue?" you asked, nearly begged, and were glad when Legolas and Aragorn didn't say another word but started the movie again to fill the awkward silence.

Under the blankets, you were wired.

You'd known you should've let it rest, to leave Legolas alone and maybe if that story had stayed untold, the straw just waiting to be dropped, hadn't dropped to throw your mind into a frenzy that was based on a "what if" situation you had on your hands because of a single, small interaction.

Well, it stood out and didn't fit Thranduil at all, but should you really care that much?

As Legolas said, you and he hadn't even figured out what was going on, just that there was something you both wanted to pursue.

The movie didn't fade you the slightest after the conversation, the next minutes flew past you like they didn't happen at all and when you heard Thranduil come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, you flew from the couch.

"Be right back," you muttered as you ducked past Legolas and Aragorn; the latter brushing his hand over yours to give it a gentle squeeze.

The momentum that led to you standing up in the first place left you at the sight of Thranduil's turned back, hunched over a plate of chocolate cake Legolas had bought while shopping for snacks.

He looked so weary and tired, deep worry lines indicating his age, still attractive and even more now that he had his hair up in a bun and wore sweatpants you'd never seen him in, but yes, exhaustion was written all over his face when he turned around.

"Hi," you shuffled around, making a lame hand movement that was neither a wave nor anything else, "Should I go? No forget that, of course I'll leave you alone. Never asked, alright? Bye—"

"Stay?"

The question was soft and almost overshadowed by the squeaks of fear coming from the TV.

"I…," you started, stammering but when Thranduil held out the plate and the cake he was still shoveling into his mouth in big bites, you agreed. "Of course."

You jumped onto the counter next to him, ignoring how the sight of sweatpants, gray slightly baggy but not baggy enough sweatpants!, up close messed up every single thought swarming around your head like busy bees.

He leaned back against the counter beside you, ankles crossed and his head thunked against one of the hanging cabinets on the wall.

For a while, all you did was let Thranduil feed you bites of the cake, taking every fork he held up to your mouth carefully and swallowing the questions you wanted to ask with it.

He ate as well, lifting one bite after the other to his lips in between feeding you and every time your eyes hung onto his plush mouth.

Not because his rosy lips looked especially enticing with chocolate cream smeared into their corners, but because of the indications of his teeth in them, in the raw bitten look of them that told you there was definitely something going on.

"Hey," you nudged your leg against his side, "do you want to talk about it?"

The sigh that left his throat sounded more like the groan of a pained animal, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed another bite before placing the plate on the kitchen island.

"You don't have to," you followed up in a rush, not wanting to corner him or force him.

"I should." Thranduil kicked one foot against the counter and turned his head so he looked at you.

Sitting up there, you were close enough to reach over and, in a moment of spontaneity, wipe away the chocolate on his lips.

He caught your hand, pressing a quick kiss onto your palm and keeping it in his when he dropped them.

"Yes, I should absolutely tell you," he swallowed again, "you have a right to now as someone.. as someone important in my life." The way he talked and furrowed his eyebrows showed how much energy and willpower it took him to admit that.

It meant a lot that he tried and cared about the conversation about opening up and being there, being in.

"I got a call at work today that I didn't expect and I'm still unsure what to make of it." Thranduil's hand tightened ever so slightly. His teeth once again found their place in his lower lip, dragging it back and releasing it.

"A lawyer informed me Legolas' mother wants to talk to me."

The air left your body instantly, the sentence punching you into the gut with an iron fist that had 'shouldn't have asked' imprinted on it and marking you all over.

Thranduil noticed, of course, he did, and lifted your intertwined hands for another kiss onto your knuckles.

"I told them not to bother me again," he clarified fast, "Told them ten years ago, told them now."

"Legolas told me that happened," you admitted quietly and let your head fall on top of his shoulders.

"I hope he told you that I had never any interest in keeping contact or searching that woman. I respected her choice to step away from our lives; she expressed a reluctance to embrace motherhood, and I had no authority to impose that role on her if it brought genuine discontent."

"Yes, he said that as well to comfort me."

"And I presume it did not?" Thranduil spoke forward into the otherwise empty kitchen and you followed his words with your eyes, searching the tiled floor for the courage to jump over that damn river of worries that hindered you from opening up.

He did it as well, you thought, he said you had a right to know, that you were someone important in his life.

"No," you finally acquiesced, feet firmly planted onto the metaphorical ground.

"Not the slightest. There is this woman I don't know, the mother of my best friend and the ex-partner of this man I really like and she's a total mystery and suddenly I hear she tried contacting you a few years back and now again and my mind can't help but project that she would be a much better fit to you than me."

There was a pause as the words sunk in.

Then Thranduil turned, opening up your legs with his large hands and stepping in between them.

The dimmed kitchen lights made this intimate, tension there was none for the look in his eyes spoke more of worry and his hands placing themselves under your thighs to pull you closer with effortless strength acted more out of the need to hold you than anything sexual.

"Darling," Thranduil's face filled your entire vision, the impact of the worry etched into the darker circles under his eyes hitting you square into the heart. "I can follow that train of worry and this is not me dismissing it but rather me questioning myself and my actions. Have I given you a reason to believe you're not the only one I want to spend my time with? You alone roam through my house and my head and dreams as if you own them, no one else."

You shook your head and rested your free hand on his chest, splaying your entire palm on the crimson sweater he wore, "Never. But she's probably your age and I'm... well I'm not."

"That is true. She is my age and you are not. She's also– what did Legolas say ten years ago?" He thought back, "Ah yes," he tipped his head closer, leaning his forehead against yours, "No one important. No one worth a second thought. No one, and now those are my words, that would come between you and me."

Your hands wandered, trailing up his collarbone standing out, and up his cold throat.

The hairs you brushed on his neck were still slightly wet, curling at the bottom as they slowly dried. "Then why were you this worried?"

He paused, mirroring you and cupping your face in his warmed hands, "This plagued me for different reasons. A part of me feared you would get scared and I might lose you, and the other was circling the dumb idea that Legolas could be angry that I blocked her off."

"So it was stupid of me to be jealous," you exhaled a deep breath, feeling the heavy weight being lifted of your heart as Thranduil's thumb followed the curve of your jaw and chin.

"Feelings are never stupid, they are valid in every form as long as you don't single them out or ignore your mind. And for you, that's really important because you have a really clever mind." He tapped your temple with his pointer.

A laugh escaped you, easing up the tension. "We're getting good at this," you said and nuzzled your head into his palm, "y'know, talking."

"I do feel very wise right now," Thranduils voice was airy and light, falling into that usual banter you guys were so much better at.

"Mhm, must be the age."

Where his voice had been light, his chuckle was deep and throaty, the tone rasping over every word he spoke: "My age allows for exceptional knowledge in many areas."

If you had been a maid in earlier times, that statement would've caused you to faint and even now it brought a heavy blush to your face at the directness in it.

Because you neither knew what to answer nor to do, you lightheartedly shoved him away, and while you regretted not going in for a kiss, the euphoric feeling that spread through you as he chased behind you through the kitchen made up for it.

"Come on, Grandpa," you giggled, swatting away his arm as he reached for your middle, "Use your knowledge to protect this fair maiden from the movie we're watching."

Legolas's head turned just as you entered the living room, the skeptic look on his face morphing into an understanding smile when Thranduil followed close behind you.

"Fair maiden?" he snorted, "Please, as if."

"Shut up Las," you hit his head as you passed him, nearly hitting Aragorns chest as well and wow, when did they decide that showing their affection in front of Thranduil wouldn't lead to instant death?

You settled into the cushions again, pulling Thranduil next to you.

There was a passing look between Thranduil and Legolas, where Legolas raised an eyebrow daring his father to say anything, and then between Thranduil and Aragorn, where they both nodded at each other before turning away; Thranduil to you, Aragorn to Legolas.

It was so weird, your lips curled.

Then you realized the movie was paused, the screen showing the beginning rather than the middle where you'd left.

"Noo," you whined as realization hit you, "You didn't continue!"

"Why would we? It's so much funnier if you're crying and screaming," Legolas teased and you fired a look of pure hatred at him that he reflected with an angelic smile.

Next to you, Thranduil had made himself comfortable, long legs stretched out and one arm lifted onto the cushions, giving you an encouraging nod to come closer.

You followed the invitation, huddling closer until you were nearly glued to his side and, after drawing the blanket over the both of you, his arm found its place on your hip, fingertips lifting your shirt just enough for him to feel the warmth of your stomach under his spread palm.

"Don't worry," he whispered and his nose nudged the crown of your head, "I scream much louder watching these movies. Now, Legolas, know that after this movie you're in for spilling wine again and ruining the carpet!"

"Wasn't me." Legolas tipped his chin to the wine glass next to where you'd sat when Thranduil had come home instead of telling him that there was in fact no stain or no ruined carpet.

"Oh," Thranduil's hand started circling your stomach, causing the army of butterflies in there to fly high, "then don't worry, sweetheart. I hated it anyway, ugly color, so much white. I'll buy a new one in red if you like that color that much."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil #thranduil oropherion

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