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joelsgreys · 6 months

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strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

#tw daddy kink #tw: daddy kink #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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falseficus · 8 months

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I read a physical copy of monstrous regiment soon after listening to the audiobook, and I noticed two tiny discrepancies between the two editions that make an absolute world of difference. when I found out that these discrepancies existed (you’ll find reddit posts backing me up about them), I felt cheated that my first experience of the book had portrayed a less cohesive arc than pratchett intended

if you’re looking to buy or read monstrous regiment, I strongly recommend the doubleday 2003 version or the corgi 2004 version, which iirc contain the original text. The harper collins publications and audiobook both contain these changes, which imo are confusing and severely undercut the themes the book is trying to get across. if anyone knows the status of other editions of the book pls feel free to add on

obviously the audiobooks and ebooks are more accessible than physical books to some people, so if you read one of those just know that the original text is different in some key ways. I still recommend you read the book because it’s crazy good :)

the changes I noticed, beneath the cut to avoid some serious spoilers:

firstly, the last line of Jackrum’s last scene. in the Doubleday version, this line reads:

“Jackrum had turned her chair to the fire, and had settled back. Around him, the kitchen worked.”

in the harpercollins version, the line reads:

“Jackrum had turned her chair the the fire, and had settled back. Around her, the kitchen worked.”

this pronoun change is actually has huge implications. in the scene in question, jackrum, a transgender man, reveals that he joined the army in disguise. he is referred to as “she” throughout his background reveal. however, he then considers where his future will take him, and in the final line of the scene his pronoun reverts back to “he.” jackrum’s pronoun goes from he->she->he, encapsulating the gendery arc of the scene. however, in the altered he->she->she version of the scene, half of that circle is erased. the neat tie-up of jackrum’s journey is left confusingly unresolved, and the importance of his gender to the book’s overarching themes goes underemphasized

the second change I noticed is how maladict appears in the book’s ending:

in the Doubleday version, maladict appears “in full uniform.”

in the harpercollins version, maladict appears “in full female uniform.”

maladict is the last soldier to reveal [their] true gender, keeping up a masc/ambiguous presentation far after all the rest of the squad has come forward as women. “in full uniform” maintains this ambiguity, allowing the reader to decide for themself whether maladict comes forward and presents as fully female or continues to dress masculinely despite the fact that circumstances no longer require it (in fact I believe that the latter is more likely, as maladict says “thought I’d try again,” which could mean dressing in male uniform again). “in full female uniform” removes that ambiguity, and brings maladict’s arc to a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion. it eliminates the possibility of maladict as transgender or gender-non-conforming, and I’m left wondering, “if maladict presents as female so readily, why make such a fuss of it before now?”

both changes undermine the book’s message by eliminating its space for non-cisnormative identity… which is kinda crucial to the whole idea. im honestly really disappointed that these changes were made in any version of the book, because whoever made them clearly didn’t get the point

#monstrous regiment #discworld #terry pratchett #the frog speaks

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 6 months

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Clownfall: Endgame

I am calling it that in the full knowledge that batshit things may yet happen, but listen. Listen. We have a year left before the general election. I am hedging my bets and assuming all that comes in that year will be Tory manoeuvring ahead of that. Let's all hope for a nice quiet year in which everything can fall neatly under that banner, that won't ruin this naming convention.

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor’s Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

The Premiership of Liz Truss

The Next Steps - Suggested Reading

The post-Truss contenders

Bye Matt

BoJo Resigns as MP

Alright, that's probably everything. Just nice to have it all in one place, innit? If you would like a nice soothing soundtrack to your reading, here's my recommendation. On with the show!

Clownfall: Endgame

Wednesday

So, let's start with charismatic and charming Home Secretary Suella Braverman! You may remember her from such hits as "Quitting before she could be fired after breaking the law only to be rehired by Sunak almost immediately and without consequence to appease the right wing nutjobs in the party", and "Claiming Pakistani men have a culture that makes them work in abuse rings to target vulnerable white English girls" (I should add that, if you are unfamiliar with Suella Braverman, regardless of what that quote implies, she is not, in fact, white); recently she made the news because she announced that being homeless is a "lifestyle choice". So true, Suella! They could give it up any time they wanted. They could, for example, get together and break in and steal your fucking house.

But in particular, here we're focussing on her recent stance towards the multiple huge pro-Palestine marches that have been taking place in London. So far she has indicated that she wants people who wave Palestinian flags to be arrested, so that's very measured and rational of her; but, last Wednesday (Nov 8th), she decided to write a lil opinion piece in the Times all about how mean and biased and liberal the police are. This is an absolutely fascinating assertion to I suspect literally anyone who has ever been involved with the police. But no! Quoth Suella, aggressive right-wing protesters are "rightly met with a stern response", while "pro-Palestinian mobs" are "largely ignored".

And, she claims, the march on Saturday isn’t simply a cry for help for Gaza, but an "assertion of primacy by certain groups - particularly Islamists - of the kind we are more used to seeing in Northern Ireland".

Imagine how well all that went down.

Thursday

You are underestimating how that went down, because it emerges that Suella deVille did not, in fact, get any form of validated sign-off or permission from Number 10 before squirting her ill-informed liquid horseshit all over the front desk of the Times news room, and that, Tumblrs, you'll be surprised to learn, is actually quite an important and compulsory part of criticising the police when you are the Home Secretary. Like, there is a Ministerial Code about this. It is very clear. It is in Article 8.2, Tumblrs. Thou Shalt Have Permission From Number 10 Before Making Media Interventions.

“The content was not agreed with Number 10,” a spokesperson for Prime Minister Rishi Sunak told reporters, referring to the prime minister’s Downing Street office. The ministerial code is clear that any ministerial media interventions need approval from No 10.

-AlJazeera

And the Tories are furious! The bloodbath forms quickly and loudly and the hounds start baying! Clown noses are flying everywhere! The factions are drawn! Because even now, there are Tories too stupid to understand that whether you agree with someone or not they still have to follow the rules! Also the other parties realise they can offer some actual opposition here, given that Suella has essentially dragged a barrel into the middle of the House of Commons dressed in a fish costume, handed around a set of loaded rifles, and then crawled inside to wait. The result is that the calls for her resignation are both deafening and pleasingly cross-party.

"(This is a) dangerous attempt to undermine respect for police", says Labour's shadow home secretary Yvette Cooper. "(It's) irresponsible," says London mayor Sadiq Khan. "The PM's weakness when it comes to standing up to Suella is the most shocking thing in all this," claims a senior Labour source.

They're wrong, of course. The most shocking thing is Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey realising he can actually appear in the paper if he plays this right and so surfaces to attempt some politics. "(Sunak) must finally act with integrity by sacking his out-of-control home secretary!" he declares, frightening many MPs who had forgotten he was even in the room with them.

Meanwhile, several Tories approach the BBC anonymously.

"The home secretary's awfulness is now a reflection on the prime minister. Keeping her in post is damaging him," says one. Another straight-up describes her as "unhinged". Another claims the comparison with Northern Ireland is "wholly offensive and ignorant", and really, all of this is permanently triggering that "Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point" reaction image.

Saturday

Hey, speaking of reaction images, look, Labour has a go:

Well. They tried.

BUT! Do you want to know the INTERESTING bit??!

Enter: Nadine Dorries! Mad shrieking pink harpy who spends her days maintaining a BoJo shrine in her bedroom! Always the most hinged of politicians, let's see what she has to say.

Former cabinet minister Nadine Dorries claimed Ms Braverman was trying to get sacked to give her a platform of martyrdom in service of the right-wing. "The competition is on now for who is going to be the leader of the opposition," Ms Dorries told the BBC.

???!??!?

PERTINENT POLITICAL OBSERVATION FROM DORRIES?!?!?? The most shocking part of this whole affair. Remember that time she yelled at a journalist during an interview about Boris Johnson's latest scandal when he asked her how Johnson was feeling about the whole thing and inadvertently implied they were having an affair when No One Asked? God, wonders never cease. She's even acknowledging the Tories can't win the next GE, look. I'd say this is growth, except I am 100% positive she's just being catty about BlowJo being fired again.

Anyway, the real Saturday issue: it's Armistice Day, and there's a pro-Palestine march planned.

Now, to give context, Armistice Day has a creepy level of patriotic state-worship attached to it in the UK. Some time in October everyone on telly suddenly starts wearing a poppy, and if you don't you get hanged, drawn and quartered by (a) the British press, and then (b) a baying mob outside your living room. You most be performatively sad. You must perform reverence and hero worship and say things like "Never again" all while whole-heartedly supporting current wars. You must talk about "our brave boys", and share the works of dead poets from the trenches, and then completely fail to absorb any of their lessons. If anyone tries to wear the white poppy to distance themselves from the current political appropriation while still commemorating the millions of conscripted casualties, you accuse them of being "woke" and pissing on the worthy dead of WW1. It's a whole thing, and politicians love using it as an excuse to point fingers and mock each other for being insufficiently patriotic if they wear the wrong tie to the ceremonies, or choose to walk with actual veterans rather than a head of the current army, or any number of other things. And then on November the 12th they'll order a drone strike or something.

So, off the bat, you can see how a pro-Palestine rally on the same day was likely to be seen as provocative to some.

"Some" included Sunak! He didn’t (publicly at least) ask the police to ban the protest, but did call on organisers to call it off, claiming the choice of date was “provocative and disrespectful”, because as I say, a march calling for the ceasefire of a genocide is super disrespectful to every sad dead poet in a trench who dreamed of a ceasefire so they could live, or something.

But the inevitable therefore happens, which is that far-right activists agree that it's disrespectful, and so decide to violently target the march to show their respect for the idea of peace on Armistice Day, or something.

Here's the planned route by the organisers:

Note, though, that the Armistice ceremony happens at the Cenotaph - visibly nowhere near the march. These two events actually wouldn't have overlapped, if it weren't for far-right protestors deliberately linking them to stop them being disrespectfully linked, or something.

And that's exactly what happened. From the Guardian:

Perhaps the most striking incident, though, was when far-right protesters charged past police who sought to hold them back from the Cenotaph. In this video, a man shouts “this is fucking our country” in celebration. Whereas the pro-Palestine march had been excluded from the area as a precaution, the far right was not; by overwhelming the police, they supposedly sought to defend the site from an enemy that simply wasn’t there.

(that's quite a good article of the whole thing, actually, I recommend giving it a read.)

Crucially to the clown show, though, several politicians and others accused Suella deVille of emboldening the far-right, which... well, several of the far-right protestors straight up said was the case on the day, so hard to disagree, really.

Rumours of a reshuffle in Whitehall circumnavigate the land so fast the truth gets sucked into a tornado and is declared MIA. Here's the thing! I've covered a few Cabinet reshuffles by now, Tumblrs, you know the drill. Reshuffles are always deniable until they actually happen – so if, say, a reshuffle was going to happen on Monday 13 November 2023, there’d be no need to publicise it in advance. That way, if things change and politics happen, you don't need to retract anything :)

Because, remember: reshuffles are always controversial. Yes, some people get demoted, and those people will often kick off, and some people who don't deserve it get promoted, and lots of people kick off. But the big thing is that a lot more people get overlooked for promotion.

His most ardent supporters would say that Rishi Sunak is a cautious man (if you'll allow me a moment to express my own view on the matter, Tumblrs, if you'll forgive this crumb of personal opinion amongst my otherwise impeccable journalling of greatest integrity, I once did a teambuilding task with my students where they had to build the best possible bridge out of uncooked spaghetti and pieces of marshmallow, and I personally would liken the structural integrity of his spine to the losing team's entry), and reshuffles will spread a lot of disappointment to Tory MPs who lose – or fail to gain – a cabinet position.

So, all in all... regardless of Suella's idiocy...

There's no guarantee of a reshuffle. Rumours are just that - whether they prove to be true or not remains to be seen.

Week Commencing Monday 13th November, 2023

New week, new challenges! And it's going to be a big week this week. On Wednesday (tomorrow, at time of writing), three big things are going to be announced, and these announcements will colour everything else this week:

One. The Supreme Court decide whether the government will be allowed to enact their plan to send some migrants claiming asylum in the UK to Rwanda, a signature Braverman plan that human rights campaigners (including many in Rwanda) have been trying to block for ages.

It’s a massive deal anyway – a flagship government idea that’s been bogged down in the court, and we’ll finally have an answer one way or another. For what it’s worth, the Tories aren’t confident about winning it, either. The optimists among them reckon it’s a 50/50 chance, the pessimists reckon it’s 70/30 against, so it's iffy at best.

But here's the thing!

Plenty of Tories have always disliked Suella. Others could handle the odd outburst she has, but can’t stomach the sheer number of them lately - the Lib Dem non-entity man was absolutely right that she is rapidly growing out of control and just does not know when to shut the entire fuck up.

Which means! If the Supreme Court allows the Rwanda plan, Braverman could become emboldened, like a far-right protest injuring police officers to defend the cenotaph from people who are nowhere near it and have no interest in it. Do we want an emboldened Braverman?? Well; no, obviously. I also don't want dysentery, or rotten meat, or a serial killer in my neighbourhood. But it's a question even Tories are asking themselves, which is notable.

Plus, even if the court allows it, there will still be months of planning, and lawyers might still prevent the plans in the long run... But psychologically, the issue is this: the government wants this win, but probably doesn’t benefit from Braverman feeling victorious.

Two. We’ll get inflation figures. The government promised to halve inflation, and it seems likely they’ve managed this. Expect them to massively celebrate this, to distract from the promises they haven’t kept e.g. waiting lists in England, competent governance, etc.

Three. Voting on a ceasefire in Israel seems likely for Wednesday. It’s the SNP’s idea, and it won’t affect government policy (they won’t support a ceasefire – they claim it’ll empower Hamas).

But it’s a big deal for Labour, even more so than the Tories. A Shadow minister has already resigned over the war. A bunch of frontbenchers want a ceasefire, but that isn’t Keir Starmer’s policy, a man who is calling for the colours of the Israel flag to be shown at sports matches to show that "we stand in solidarity with Israel", because you can really count on Starmer to fuck up everything he touches. So what do they do? Abstain? Claim they had a prior commitment?? We might see more resignations, basically. Big day for Starmer.

So! With all that in mind...

Monday

8.43am

Oh look. Timestamps are back. I wonder if that suggests anything?

Suella Braverman is sacked as Home Secretary.

But! Sunak is accused of waiting too long! Which he demonstrably did!

He should have made the decision after the illegal article that she shouldn't have written and triggered a far-right rally on fucking Armistice Day. Instead, remember that 'cautious' descriptor I talked about?? He waited until the tide had turned against her completely, and now looks like he (a) was too much of a useless wimp to fire her until he was sure people would still like him and pat his dick and tell him he's a Good PM, and (b) only fired her because he caved in to that appalling lefty liberal cabal that somehow these days includes the Metropolitan Police of all fucking people, and she'd have been able to stay otherwise.

Shout out to the best comment from Reddit:

u/nowonmai666: Doesn't she normally get sacked on a Friday so she can have the weekend off before being reappointed?

Anyway, that's the big risk now: Braverman’s supporters can claim she was only fired because Sunak caved in to the left.

8.56am

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns claims Sunak only sacked Braverman because he caved in to the left.

9.00am

Neil O'Brian, Pharmacy Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being a back-bencher with less power.

*sus*

9.09am

Nick Gibb, Schools Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being more diplomatic, or something.

*sus*

9.42am

The Lib Dems decide to build on the success of their leader getting to be on telly for his one comment on Thursday and call for a general election. Says Ed Davey: “It was the Prime Minister’s sheer cowardice that kept her in the job even for this long. We are witnessing a broken party and a broken government, both of which are breaking this country.”

Good job! They're having such a good few days.

Anyway remember the Tories don’t have to have a general election until December 2024, though, thanks to the Fixed-term Parliaments Act (2011), which was passed by the coalition government of Tories and, um, Lib Dems. In which Ed Davey served for three years.

Hmm.

9.43am

James Cleverly (remember him?) returns to the Cabinet and is appointed Home Secretary. The party attempts to appear trendy by experimenting with emojis:

This appointment is probably because Tory strategists wanted him in a domestic role to help the party’s chances in the next election; as Surprising Political Pundit Nadine Dorries told us, of all fucking people, the race is now on to lead the opposition.

But hey, this is not likely to lead to any more changes -

10.03am

FORMER PRIME MINISTER, BREXIT-TRIGGERER AND PIG-FUCKER DAVID CAMERON BECOMES FOREIGN SECRETARY

!!!!!!!!!!!!

And look! Another emoji! They're so hip!

(Side note... the balls on this one are astounding, actually. The UK political system has been in chaos ever since Cameron, and he was the first domino. This is not a well-loved former hero that will be greeted warmly by the unwashed masses.)

Awkward though, since just last month Sunak claimed that we’d lived through “30 years of a political system that incentivizes the easy decision, not the right one.” It would be a terrible shame if a journalist was to ask David Cameron whether he agreed with the Prime Minister on that, given that Cameron’s job is to support the Prime Minister now.

Especially since Cameron took to Twitter last month to explicitly criticise Sunak for breaking the Tory promise to deliver High Speed 2.

(Cameron tweeted this criticism last month. Labour MP Angela Rayner however promptly retweets it now lol suck a dick Dave, but try a human one this time)

Also, fun fact, Cameron has just come out of a large-scale lobbying and corruption scandal. Given the state of Sunak, though, that's actually probably what got him the job.

BUT!!! Here's an even funner fact: the man is not an MP. He left politics after he accidentally triggered Brexit and then it came out he'd once face fucked a dead pig's head while it was held on the lap of another Tory; he's been living it up in the lucrative world of after-dinner speaking, as these people do.

So can you do that?? Can you hold a Cabinet position if no one at all has voted for you??

Yes, turns out.

Don't be alarmed by that, though:

But, convention holds that anyone who becomes a Cabinet member while not being an MP needs to be a Peer - that way, if they do bad and naughty things, they can't be held accountable by the House of Commons but they can be held accountable by the House of Lords. Only problem is, Hameron is not a lord...

10.13am

The reshuffle, bafflingly, continues. Jeremy Hunt will remain as chancellor.

For the first time since 2010, the top four positions in government – Prime Minister (Sunak), Chancellor of the Exchequer (Hunt), Home Secretary (Cleverly) and Foreign Secretary (Cameron) – are all held by men.

10.18am

Lots of people tweeting about the historic context of Cameron’s appointment. Here’s my favourite:

10.48am

David Cameron is given a life peerage, so his proper name now is Lord Piggledick.

10.52am

Health secretary Will Quince quits. He wasn’t planning to stand for re-election anyway though, so this one is probably not a shock. But it's important that no one else resi-

11.04am

Decarbonisation minister Jesse Norman resigns.

...

Time for a

✨Conspiracy Theory✨

Between Quince and Norman – as well as Neil O’Brien and Nick Gibb – we’re seeing several mid-ranking ministers resign, despite being generally regarded as fairly competent.

It’s possible they were fired in private, and they’re publicly resigning to save face. But here’s another theory.

MPs aren’t allowed to seek commercial employment for six months after resigning from the government.

So hypothetically, if you were going to lose your seat in a general election, you’d want to have resigned six months earlier so you can still get a job.

If that’s what these guys are doing, it suggests we’re on track for a May 2024 election...?

11.05am

11.12am

Remember Cameron's financial scandal? Quick background here: David Cameron was specifically vice-chair of a £1bn China-UK investment fund.

So let’s see what throwback former leader Iain Duncan Smith thinks of Cameron’s return:

“I am astonished at this appointment. It seems to send a signal to China that we are pursuing business with them at all costs and any costs. Those who have been sanctioned now feel more abandoned than at any time. Those facing genocide and persecution will feel more abandoned than at any time.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Iain Duncan Smith *spits on floor*

11.50am

Former Tory deputy prime minister Lord Heseltine is asked to sum up the return of Cameron, and says it’s the “clearest signal that the sort of right wing lurch that we’ve seen and the anti-European movement that we’ve seen has been put to bed, and that will get a message across to people”.

12.13pm

A Tory MP is worried that Cameron’s return will turn back the clock on Brexit and Johnson’s election.

“It is very alarming. I am predicting a softening on small boats, a softening on legal migration. I would not be surprised if the ban on conversion therapy returns.”

... Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Anyway, let’s see how the public actually sees Cameron compared with other PMs!

Yeah, not sure people will mind if Cameron’s not Boris Johnson.

12.43pm

ITV political editor Robert Peston walks past a minister of state. The minister’s on the phone, but takes a moment to heatedly shout at Peston, “The PM just sacked me!”

I guess some days are easier than others as a journalist

12.47pm

Therese Coffey resigns as environment secretary!!!!

*choirs of heavenly angels sing*

You'll remember her of course, Tumblrs - she was one of the thugs manhandling people into the 'right' voting lobbies to force their vote on the day of Liz Truss' fracking law. Rumour has it she still has the Whip handle in her ass.

A lot of people seem to be resigning today! But don't be fooled. In almost every case, it’ll be because they were told to resign. They’ve been sacked, but they resign to save face. A last mercy from their benevolent leader.

My guess: Tessie here is terrible at media skills, so – get rid of her before she hurts general election chances. This, too, is a pattern.

12.52pm

Rachel Maclean sacked as Housing Minister! Fun fact, numbers fans: it took Doctor Who 33 years to make it to eight Doctors, but since the 2019 election, the Tories managed eight Housing Ministers in just under 4 years

trololol

1.15pm

Jeremy Quin quits as Minister for the Cabinet Office.

1.37pm

Times Political Editor Steven Swinford reports that No 10 is struggling to find a new housing minister (owing to rumours the job is cursed). Several people have turned it down, including Jeremy Quin. It is incredible to me that they didn't line someone up before sacking the last guy.

Kemi Badenoch and Michael Gove are apparently unhappy that Rachel Maclean was removed from the role. I for one do not care about the opinions of Kemi Badenoch or Michael Gove.

2.04pm

Health Secretary Steve Barclay becomes Environment Secretary. This is effectively a demotion for him. It is our 5th Environment Secretary in four years. Chasing that Housing Minister record! It took 19 years for Doctor Who to have five Doctors

2.15pm

Richard Holden appointed new Conservative Party chairman.

A 2019-intake Tory MP, he led the charge against Sir Keir Starmer over Beergate, which did damage Starmer a bit (albeit not much, given that it turned out Starmer had complied with lockdown regs, and the accusation was nakedly to try and distract from Partygate). So this appointment looks like more strategy to win the next election - someone not known enough to be hated, with what passes in the modern Tory party for a proven track record.

This could be a sign that the Tories intend to at least try to shore up the Red Wall votes? As unlikely as the Tories are to keep those seats.

That said, Holden’s seat disappears in a boundary change next election, sooooo … we'll see what they do there.

2.24pm

Victoria Atkins appointed Health Secretary, replacing Steve Barclay who’s moved to Environment Secretary. She's a relative unknown but also considered actually competent. Massive middle finger to Steve Barclay

2.37pm

Laura Trott (formerly in pensions) promoted to Chief Secretary to the Treasury.

2.42pm

Science minister George Freeman resigns.

3.18pm

YouGov conducts a snap poll: is the appointment of David Cameron as Foreign Secretary a good decision or a bad decision?

Good decision: 24%

Bad decision: 38%

Don't know: 38%

So that's going well

3.24pm

Greg Hands is made a business minister after losing the Tory chairman role.

John Glen moves from chief secretary to the Treasury to become the Minister for the Cabinet Office and Paymaster General.

3.39pm

With Cameron being a Lord now, he’ll be based in the House of Lords rather than the Commons. The most recent Cabinet Minister to be based in the Lords was former Brexit minister Lord Frost, who did weigh in on the matter:

“[T]hough I was not running a whole Department too. I don’t think it works well to have a lead Cabinet Minister answering questions and defending their Department solely in the Lords. The Lords is not a fully party political environment - nor should it be - and voters are owed proper political scrutiny. In our system, that can only happen in the Commons.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Lord Frost *spits on floor*

The SNP had already called this out, with MP Stephen Flynn claiming, “The UK is not a serious country.”

4.21pm

Conservative MP Lee Rowley appointed the 16th housing minister in the past 13 years. Even counting David Tennant twice, that's more than all the Doctors Who we've ever had, and that took almost 60 years.

5.16pm

Sky News’s Tamara Cohen reports that Sunak sacked Braverman by phone this morning! Downing Street says there won’t be any exchange of letters between them - this is almost unheard of. Politics runs on paper trails! Everything happens through formal letters! By phone!

It means we’re denied insight into their differences. But Cohen reckons we’re likely to hear from Braverman on Wednesday, as the Supreme Court rules on the Rwanda scheme.

6.03pm

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns, former Education Minister, submits no-confidence letter in Rishi Sunak.

It's almost like, in the absence of Dorries, she's decided that someone needs to step up and have a tantrum and that someone might as well be her. It is, actually, an extremely funny letter, as these letters go. Normally they're written with a sort of furious earnestness wrapped in formal language. I presume that Andrea Jenkyns MP, former Education Minister, was aiming for something similar, and the first paragraph manages it. But by the end you sort of start to wonder if this was supposed to be a letter she wrote with her therapist to get her feelings out:

My favourite line, when pulled in isolation, is "Yes Boris Johnson, the man who won the Conservative Party a massive majority, was unforgivable enough."

Yeah, Andrea babes. You're bang on there.

6.05pm

Esther McVey is appointed as Cabinet Office minister. Not a full cabinet member, but she will attend cabinet meetings.

This is notable: unlike a lot of today’s appointments, she’s on the right of the party. Her role will be to represent the government on TV and radio as much as possible, talking about gender/culture/British colonial history issues (i.e. she’s anti-woke and a screaming bigot).

In other words, with Braverman gone, McVey is an offering for the populist right of the party to try to appease them.

6.15pm

Sunak tweets about the new cabinet, claiming they’ll make “the right decisions for our great country, not the easy ones.” So it looks like that’s the new slogan, and we're pressing on with austerity

6.27pm

Tim Loughton, a Tory MP on the “One Nation” wing (i.e the David Cameron side) responds to Andrea Jenkyns’s letter of no-confidence by tweeting:

“Where can we submit a letter of no confidence in the Pantomime Dame?”

(It’s Andrea he’s publicly referring to as a pantomime dame there. A lil joke from the Tories for you)

6.31pm

Paul Scully sacked as minister for London. Didn't know that one was a position.

9.43pm

Sunak says that only a two-state solution will allow a new future for Israel/Palestine. This is, um, not what the Prime Minister of Israel wants. Who knows whether the Prime Minister of Israel will survive this crisis anyway – but these are big words from Sunak. Cameron’s influence? Maybe? Interesting either way

10.03pm

And then - PLOT TWIST!!!

According to ITV political editor Robert Peston, a senior government source reveals that Cameron was approached on TUESDAY.

Which means plans were underway to get rid of Braverman not only before the far-right violence on Saturday, but before her anti-police article on Wednesday. It seems she lost her job not because of what she said about police after all; but because she claimed homelessness was a lifestyle choice.

Well well.

11.05pm

And the day finishes with Andrea Leadsom back in government (as Under Secretary of State for Health and Social Care) which nobody saw coming! Pretty demeaning to the other 300 Tory MPs who could have been given this.

The final response from numerous Tories: they are feeling jilted and insulted because David Cameron being brought back when he's NOT EVEN AN MP, RISHI suggests that they themselves are not good enough to be in government.

No one tell them

#politik #clownfall: endgame

2K notes · View notes

kaciidubs · 4 months

Text

Walking in on Roommate! Chan | Pt. 2

❣ Summary: A lot can change in a month, but was it truly a change, or simply a realization? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 7.41k ❣ Warnings: Non!Idol AU, Roommate! Chris, fluff, smut, slice of life, slight humor, friends to lovers, slight! dom Chris, Dom/Sub dynamics, smut with feelings, sir/daddy kink ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Sir, and Daddy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Good/Pretty Girl, and Princess, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Pt. 1

It had been a month since the incident, and though you thought things had gone unchanged between you and Chris, your reality couldn't have been more wrong.

You seemed to linger more on every interaction with him, your brain working double time to process things he'd say or do as of they had a deeper meaning behind them - which they didn't.

He always left you little notes whenever he'd go out with Changbin for an early gym session, so why were you smiling at the hastily written messages and cutely drawn dragon-worm signature?

He always texted you on your break at work to remind you of any plans he made, so why did your heart flutter every time his contact popped up?

He always made sure your favorite snacks were in the pantry, and if you were running out he'd stock them up before you had the chance to add them on your grocery list, so why did you swoon every time your favorite bag of chips was sat on the kitchen counter?

There was no way your world flipped itself upside down over one incident, absolutely no way...

Unless.

"I'm screwed." You groaned woefully, dropping your head to the table in front of you.

Jeongin laughed, taking a piece of meat from your plate, "I told you to stop laughing at that guy's terrible jokes, now look at you!"

"What?"

"Jongsoo, the coworker you kept saying was trying to flirt with you but couldn't catch a hint?" Felix mused, tilting his head slightly, "Isn't that what we're here to talk about? 'Level three red alert', and all?"

"What? No, no," sitting up, you leveled him with a soft stare, "if this was about him, I would've picked a bar - he doesn't deserve the glory of being talked about over barbecue."

"Okay, so why are we here?" Minho huffed as he flipped a strip of beef on the tabletop grill, "Actually, better question, why am I here? Last I checked I never signed up to this whole 'red alert' code talk."

"Hyung, the last time we shared tea that you didn't know about, you ignored me and Felix for a week for 'leaving you out'." Jeongin spoke pointedly, recalling the way he practically cursed them out for 'disrespecting your elders'.

The former groaned, rolling his eyes, "Why didn't you just say you needed to shit talk someone?! Why are we speaking in code?"

"Because one of our friends has a big mouth, the other one forgets a secret is a secret the second you finish talking to him, another one likes sharing gossip online through subs and secret callout posts, one couldn't even buy a fuck to give about any gossip, and the final one... he's not allowed, he knows too much as it is already." You listed simply before taking a sip of your drink, "The group we have right now is formed out of the strongest tea holders, understand?"

"Anyways," Felix snapped you back into business, "what's happening? Why are you screwed?"

Steeling your nerves, you mentally prepared yourself for the word that were about to come out of your mouth.

"I might have a crush on someone..."

"I knew it." Minho announced smugly, taking another piece of perfectly cooked beef from the grill top.

"What?! There's no way you knew anything about this, Hyung!" Jeongin argued, sitting up in his seat next to you, "You don't even like people! How are you suddenly an insider?"

"Look at her!" He pointed the tongs in your direction, to which you tilted your head in confusion, "The past few days she's been watching her phone like a hawk whenever we all go out, she's been way too happy, and she spaces out more than usual-"

"Okay, that part could just be because of Lix's pot brownies!"

"Hey, hey, hey - ex-nay on the pot brownies-ay, okay? The whole world doesn't need to know - I only do it cause people ask me to!" The blond gritted out, pointing his fork in the direction of the youngest as a threat.

"Yeah, sure, next you're gonna say you only model for Hyunjin because he 'asks you to'."

"You little-"

"Hey!" The eldest of the boys snapped the tongs three times, effectively quieting them, "Shut up! We're here to get information, not talk about Felix's entrepreneur business, got it?" He pointed the utensil toward you yet again, "Talk. Now."

"Well- Uh... I don't know, it's not like I wanted it to happen, I was completely fine as friends with this person but then..." Shrugging your shoulders, you felt the events of the past month play back in your head, "I guess things just changed one day? Like, suddenly I could see them in this new light and now every time he does something so stupidly normal I find myself wanting to kiss him until I can't breathe."

"Ugh, that's both disgusting and cute - why did we have to talk about this over barbecue?" Jeongin whined before stuffing his face with a lettuce wrap. "Whosh th' lucky guy?"

"You really think I'm gonna reveal-"

"I swear to god, please don't say it's your coworker," Felix pouted, looking at you with pleading eyes, "you can do so much better than him - you don't have to do the charity work, I promise you."

"Lee Felix-"

"I know your heart's in the right place, but you don't have to cater to him, please."

"Would you please-"

"40 bucks says it's Chan." Minho hummed through a bite of his bulgogi.

The youngest nearly choked on his drink, swallowing a hefty gulp before coughing, "That's such a bad take! Chan Hyung? The man with negative rizz? The man who stays up long enough to say good night and good morning?"

"You say that like it's impossible!" The freckled blond argued, "It happens all the time in sitcoms!"

"Lix, please, I'd rather you not compare my life to a sitcom, I have enough happening for two seasons and a reunion episode as it is." You groaned, dropping your head in your hands with a sigh, "Can we just move on from the confession and talk about the movie night? I don't think my brain can handle the topic of my non-existent love life much longer."

Through a silent agreement, Minho ordered another round of food and the four of you continued onto much lighter - yet somehow more argument filled, conversation.

The coveted movie night was a monthly event that originally started with you and your friends, using the time Chris would be working late to have a movie marathon loaded with snacks, drinks, and cozy pajamas. It wasn't until Changbin caught word of the activity that the small gathering turned into a merged group affair; it was even enough to convince Chris to take time off to join in on the fun.

In the whirlwind of work and the existential crisis of realizing your crush, you'd completely forgotten that the event would be taking place tonight.

Funny, how fast time flies when your world is in shambles.

"Alright, that's all the blankets and pillows from the closet." Chris huffed, stepping back with his hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork; the large couch draped with various blankets and piled high with pillows that were sure to be rearranged in less than a minute of everyone's arrival.

You snuck a glance from your spot in the kitchen, a soft smile growing from his look of personal accomplishment. "Looks great, hopefully we won't have Han and Hyunjin fighting over who gets what pillow again."

He snorted out a laugh, heading over to you, "You think so? Those two could fight over who gets the last chip with an unopened bag right next to them - it's happened before!" Leaning his hip against the island, his eyes glanced over the various snacks covering the surface, "D'you need me to help with anything?"

"Um- Yeah, actually, can you get me the bowls from the cabinet? We can open the chips now, it's almost time for everyone to show up." You turned to look at the stove's clock; 7:33 PM, a little less than half an hour until your shared apartment would be filled with a sea of people.

Chris hummed, pushing himself away from the countertop, and you found your eyes drawn to his frame; a black tank top - sleeveless by his own doing - showing off the subtle build of his biceps, and a matching pair of black shorts you'd seen time and time again.

It was his staple look, simple, perfectly cozy for the impending activities, yet somehow you still felt your heartbeat racing the longer you stared.

Yes, you knew he was attractive, your friends gawked about it for weeks since you first moved in with him, but when was he this attractive?

"The big bowls, yeah?"

Snapping yourself out of your stupor, you nodded, even with his back still turned to you. "Mhm, those are perfect!"

You were in, deep.

You turned your attention back to preparing the chips, opening a bag and sneaking one of the plain potato chips when you felt a hand at the small of your back - the stack of bowls sliding onto the counter a second later.

"Here you go."

This was normal, it was normal for him and his affinity for physical touch, but you still felt a rush of electricity shoot up your spine from his touch - your body freezing as you registered just how close he was behind you.

"Ah- Thanks, Channie!"

Normal. So very, very normal.

"You need anything else?"

Lifting your gaze from the snacks in front of you, your eyes immediately found his; warm and kind, a shade of brown you caught yourself daydreaming of time and time again - distracting enough for you not to realize the mere inches between your faces.

He smelled like mahogany and lavender, a faint musk of the cologne he always wore tinted with your laundry detergent he claimed made his clothes feel softer.

"I, um..." His stare was hypnotizing, sending every productive thought in your brain out the window, "I-"

The sound of the doorbell snapped you out of your reverie, but you could've sworn you saw a hint of sadness in his eyes as he stepped back.

"That might be Han, he said he'd be coming a bit earlier."

"Yeah, no, that's fine - can you finish opening these when you get back? I'm gonna go get changed."

Chris hummed out a short "Yeah" before heading toward the front door, leaving you to collect yourself amongst the colorful serving bowls.

This was going to be a long night.

It wasn't long before everyone showed up; comfort clothes on and ready for the night's movie queue and rounds of snacks.

The seating arrangements remained in their usual layout with the mix of your friends between the couch or the floor, while you somehow always found yourself tucked between Chris and and the corner of the couch - arguably, the best part of any couch in your opinion.

This time, however, the arrangement was met with knowing side eye glances from your half of the friend group, a few of your girls sharing barely hidden smirks and whispers.

Before you could throw a pillow as a warning sign, a blanket of polyester blocked your vision and filled your nose with an all too familiar scent.

"Here," Chris hummed softly, rounding the edge of the couch to take his place next to you, "in case you get cold."

"Aw, you thought of me?" You teased, nudging his shoulder with yours as you unfolded his blanket and draped it across your legs.

"I always think of you."

His words made you freeze, your heart stuck in a limbo of floating to your throat or falling to the pit of your stomach while he carried on with the rest of the group.

I always think of you.

Always.

The revelation had the gears in your head working double time, the events of the past month playing like a movie in your mind - akin to the one currently starting on the TV in front of you.

He always thought of you, his caring nature shown in so many ways besides the ones you grew used to while living under the same roof; if you were running late coming home, you'd always have a text making sure you were safe - or, when you had important dates in your schedule, he'd be the one to remind you when they were a few days away.

Chris always did little things to show that you were on his mind, he always made it clear that you were important to him, that he cared about you as much as he did his friends.

But maybe... Maybe there was more behind it.

Your fingers glided along the blanket covering your lap, the fabric soft and welcoming like the hug of a close friend.

I always think of you.

It was like the three movies passed in the span of seconds, some of your shared friends tapping out after the second film, while the stragglers and self proclaimed cleanup crew stuck around to take in a cheesy family comedy of a man taking his family on a wild vacation.

"Min, you don't have to do that, you know," you chastized the black haired man as he washed the empty chip bowls, "I would've gotten to it in the morning!"

He scoffed out a chuckle, throwing you a knowing side eye, "Yeah, says the person who told me how much she hates the dishes with a passion stronger than Han's coffee addiction."

Deciding to protect your pride - knowing full and well he was completely correct - you wandered back into the living room where Felix and Jisung were folding one of the blankets, while Jeongin rearranged the pillows and Changbin gathered any missed trash lying around.

Felix shot you a sleepy smile, nodding his head toward the stack of folded blankets, "D'you want us to put these back in the closet?"

"No, you guys have done more than enough, seriously! I'll put them away, don't worry."

"What about this one?" Jisung held up the navy blanket you were using, Chris' navy blanket. "Want it folded? Are you still using it?"

"It's actually Chris's, I'll give it back to him."

Said man slipped away to his bedroom in the middle of the third movie, mentioning something about double checking some files for work before wishing you all a good night.

Humming in acceptance, the remaining boys gathered their belongings and headed toward the door, giving each of them a hug and making them swear to text when they each made it home safely.

Minho gave you a soft smile, though a certain glint in his eyes raised warning sign in your head, "Have a good night." He hummed with an air of mischief, slipping through the door before you had even a second to question him.

Frowning at the wood, you clicked the lock into place before gathering everything you needed to close off the living room for the night; tucking the navy blanket under your arm while balancing the other blankets in your hand. You stuffed them back into their bin in the hallway closet with ease, sliding the door shut and making your way toward your last stop of the night.

The sound of your knuckles against the door echoed through the empty hall, "Channie, you up?"

"Yeah, you can come in!"

Turning the knob, you were bathed in a soft purple light from his LED's, walking into the cozy atmosphere to see him laying on his bed with his phone in hand, "Hi."

He smiled, dropping his phone to the side as he sat up, "Hey, you - is everyone gone?"

"Yep, they helped clean up as usual, I'm just here to return this," you held up the blanket, stopping just short of the side of his bed, "thanks for letting me borrow it."

"You know, you can keep using it if you want, it's not like I won't know where it is."

Rolling your eyes, you held it out to him, "Chris, you and I both know I don't need anymore blankets in my room."

"What if you get cold?" He grinned, challenging you with glittering eyes.

"Then I'll use one of my blankets!" You laughed at his cheekiness, tossing the blanket in his direction just for him to catch it before it covered his face.

The room filled with your combined giggles, warmth settling over you as you watched him unceremoniously ball the blanket up and toss it toward his computer chair.

Just as you were about to announce your leave, your mind seemed to have a mission of its own the minute you opened your mouth.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, always - what's up?"

Always - god, was he trying to drive you crazy on purpose?

You needed clarity, something to confirm that you were seeing things that weren't truly there - making a purpose out of words that were simply meant from one roommate to another, one best friend to another.

"So... About what you said in the living room, when you said you always think of me..." You dropped your gaze from his, your fingers suddenly becoming the most interesting thing to you, "Did... Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it, you're one of my best friends - I think about you all the time!" The smile he gave you was genuine, warm, filled with so much truth that it made your heart skip a beat.

Steeling your nerves, you looked up at him with a firm stare, "All the time?"

"Yes...? I mean, I think about other people and things too, but for the most part you've always been there... Why are you asking-"

"Did you think about me last month?"

His smile faltered, eyebrows furrowing as he searched your face for a hint of an answer. "What are you talking about?"

"Chris, did you think about me last month - when I walked into your room and I saw you-" Taking a sharp breath, you calming yourself before looking at him with pleading eyes, "Did you think of me?"

The silence was thick, the sound of your own heart filling your ears - you were certain it would beat right out of your chest and run out of the room to save you from this conversation.

"Would..." He cleared his throat, dropping his head as he picked at the sheets underneath him, "Would it be weird if I said yes?"

Your stomach flipped, your knees threatening to buckle and send you straight to the floor but you stood strong. "Would it be weird if I said I wanted you to?"

His head snapped back up and he stared at you with a look crossed between shock and awe, "Are you serious?"

"Honestly, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." The confession took you by storm, though you couldn't find it in yourself to stop talking, "And it's not just from that night - well, some of it is, but since then it's like... enhanced? Like, every little thing you do just lingers and sometimes I think I'm just going crazy because it's not like you've done anything new - it's just you, yet my heart feels like it'll explode after every text you send, or whenever we're in the same room, and I-"

The sound of your name from his lips stopped your panicked ramble, though the look he gave you did little to calm your racing heart.

"Come here."

Offering his hand, you cautiously accepted it and let him guide you onto his bed, straddling his lap at his instance while trying not to completely evaporate from the close proximity.

"Honestly, this isn't how I thought I'd end up confessing, but I guess there's a lot about us that isn't traditional," he chuckled to himself, his hands naturally finding their home on your hips, just below the waistband of your pajama shorts. "First, I want you to know that I think about you no matter what - you're always somewhere in my mind and at first I thought it was because you're my roommate, someone I care about just like everyone else in my life. But, recently things have been changing and I..." Taking a deep breath, his eyes found yours, a firm, yet comforting gaze holding you captive in those brown irises, "I have feelings for you- I like you, more than just a roommate or a best friend, and I didn't want to ruin things between us if you didn't feel the same w-"

You cut him off with your lips against his, swallowing the rest of his sentence with a small hum of delight - soft with a hint of cherry chapstick.

He melted almost immediately, tugging you closer as a hand slid up your back to keep you pressed against his body - almost as if he allowed anymore space between you, you'd somehow disappear into his dreams.

When you went to pull away, he followed like a desperate puppy and you had to fight the urge to laugh at him, placing your hand on his chest to keep him from coming any closer. "Just so you know, that kiss means I definitely feel the same way."

Chris huffed out a giggle, narrowing his eyes playfully, "No, really? I would've never guessed!"

"Well, I know for a fact you also feel the same way." The lilt in your voice was teasing, making a show of rolling your hips against the mass that was quickly making itself known between your legs.

Biting his lip, he leveled you with a firm gaze, daring, "Don't start something you can't finish, baby."

The pet name made your heart flutter, and you tilted your head up in defiance, "What makes you think I don't wanna finish it, hm?" Grinding your hips yet again, you were able to work out a low groan from those wonderfully kissable lips, "I can finish it, Channie, just show me how."

Before you knew it, he had you wrapped up in another mind melting kiss that had you letting out a shivering moan against his mouth as you tried matching his ferocity.

"You," he panted, nipping your bottom lip, "are gonna be the death of me, you little minx."

He kissed his way down your jaw and neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive spots he miraculously had no trouble in finding, leaving you wondering how much he truly knew about you to discover this information.

However, all of your critical thinking skills flew out the window when he sucked at a spot just underneath your jaw, turning you into a whining mess that only craved him and him alone.

Tilting your head to the side to grant him more room, you simultaneously tugged at his shirt - almost offended that he decided tonight of all nights to wear one in the privacy of his own room.

"Off, Chris."

He pulled himself away from the paradise that was your skin, gazing at you with simmering eyes, "Say please?"

Pouting, you pulled at the offending cotton once more, "Chris-"

His hands immediately found your wrists, tugging them gently behind your back as he tilted his head, fixing you with a tsk of disapproval. "Use your manners, princess, you know how this goes."

Your body temperature spiked, flashes of him saying the same fated words as a tease just to get you to beg for him before he inevitably gave you what you wanted, playing back like a film reel.

You know how this goes.

Swallowing down the demand threatening to bubble up, you relaxed in his hold and softened your undoubtedly needy gaze, "Please, Chris? Can you take your shirt off, for me?"

The smirk that stretched his lips had your stomach doing flips, the mere glimpse of the cocky energy he had inside of him making your mouth water and your pussy flutter with need.

"That's my girl."

He let go of your wrists to hike the hem of his shirt into his hands, before tugging it up and off with the coveted crossed-arm maneuver that he never failed to use as his prized flirting trick - and, god, was it a good trick.

Despite having seen him shirtless countless times, seeing him shirtless up close had your brain melting.

"Remind me to thank Changbin for keeping you in check with his gym routine."

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, could we maybe not talk about our other friends while I have you in my lap?"

Barely holding back your laughter, you nodded and slipped your own pajama shirt off in one go as a peace offering, tossing it to the floor where his currently laid. "Yes, sir - won't happen again." When he went rigid underneath you, you arched an eyebrow, "Oh? We have a sir kink, do we?"

Before you could tease him any further, he surged forward and caught your lips in a feverish kiss, passion fueled and determined as his warm hands found the new, uncharted territory of your back.

"You're playing with fire, princess." His tone was firm, laced with warning as he nipped at your plump bottom lip, "You really think you can handle it?"

The tantalizing threat of a challenge had your heart skipping a beat; you'd seen him get into one of these moods before, asking an open ended question that he already know the answer to, and playing that game now held too many promising rewards in the end.

Preparing yourself for the next words coming out of your mouth, you gave him an innocent smile, "I know I can handle it, sir."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back, graciously earning you the split second of weightlessness before you were pinned on your back with every sense of yours surrounded by Chris; the feeling of his soft, cool sheets against your back, the smell of him ingrained into the cotton threading, and the heart stopping sight of him hovering above you bathed in that soft purple glow.

"Tell me you want this." His eyes locked onto your own, brown irises filled with caution and hope, "If you want me to stop, I'll stop, and we can pretend we never let it get this far, I promise."

"I want this- God, I need this, I need you, Chris - keep going, please."

With your consent given, his fingers danced up your thighs and over the cotton shorts you wore - a matching set to the shirt that was long forgotten - before dipping past the elastic waistband to drag them back down the expanse of your thighs.

They were unceremoniously tossed to the ground with the ever growing pile of clothes, and when he turned to give your panties the same, eventual treatment, his jaw nearly dislocated from the rate it dropped at; a bright blush turning his ears and neck red.

"Holy shit- I-I mean, fuck- Please... Please tell me you planned this"

You were now laid in his bed fully nude, which meant you weren't wearing panties for as long as the movie night went on, and that thought alone had his dick painfully straining against his own shorts.

Shaking your head, you timidly knocked your knees together, bristling at the exposure of cold air against your pussy, "I, um... I really wish I could say I planned it, but I didn't." Blinking up at the ceiling, a sheepish laugh shook your shoulders, "It's more comfortable sleeping without them, you know?"

Of course, you knew he knew from a few fated encounters with him early in the mornings, courtesy of wandering eyes and a not-so-small situation he tried keeping tucked away - it seemed that between the two of you, underwear was a foreign concept in the privacy of your shared apartment.

Chris groaned, a low, aching sound that begged for mercy to be taken on him, "You're absolutely going to be the death of me, there's no way you're real right now - this has to be a dream." Resting his hands on your knees, he silently waited for your hum of permission before pulling them apart, following the angle of your thighs down to catch his first glimpse of your pussy. "Fuck, if this is a dream, please don't wake me up."

"Chris."

Your insistent whine didn't fall on deaf ears as he wasted no time in scooting down his bed and ducking his head between your legs; plump lips peppering wet kisses along your soft skin, from the inside of your knee down to the highest point of your inner thigh, before skipping entirely over your cunt to repeat the process to your other leg.

Each caress of his lips sent chills up your spine, sparks of electricity shooting through your nerves and powering the growing desire within the pit of your stomach. Thankfully, you wouldn't have to suffer much longer as his second trip down ended with the warm sensation of his tongue swiping through your lower lips with a careful curiosity.

A sound crossed between a sigh and a moan floated through him before his hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs and he all but dove his head toward your pussy; lapping messily at the arousal dripping from you while aiming to explore your fluttering walls.

"Oh, shit-" Hands flying to his hair, you gripped at the roots as shock tinted pleasure shot through you, "Oh my god, Chris- Oh, god!"

The only sounds coming from him were muffled moans and lewd slurps, the only instances of his mouth leaving your pussy being him shifting his head up to focus his devilish tongue along your clit, and him pulling away for mere seconds of air before getting back to work.

He was eating you out like a man starved, and all you could do was lay there and take it with wanton moans and whines of his name.

"Chris, baby," you panted breathlessly, fingers tugging at his roots in hopes of gaining his attention, "baby, w-wait-" Pulling a bit harder, you were met with a groan of pleasure, sending your back into a small arch as the vibrations flowed through you.

With a small gasp of air, he pulled away just enough for you to catch the shine of your arousal coating the tip of his nose and lips, pupils blown with a fog of desire that made your mouth run dry.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you? D'you wanna stop?"

"No, no, you're amazing - if we stopped now I might actually die," giving him a reassuring smile, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead, "but as wonderful as your tongue is, I'd rather come on your dick first."

"Fuck." Pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, he sat up with a groan, "We're going to have to do something about that mouth of yours."

Blinking up at him with faux innocent eyes, you tilted your head, "I'm just telling the truth, sir."

He smirked at the pout set on your lips, leaning over you to nip gently at the flesh, "That's fine, I just wonder what else it can do." Sweeping you into a feather light kiss, he murmured softly, "You'll show me later, though, won't you, princess?"

Your pussy fluttered, clenching around nothing as you nodded without hesitation - only focused on getting those pretty lips, tinted with the taste of your arousal, back on your own.

"Good girl."

Chris pulled back, laughing at your whine of disdain while his hands got to work sliding down his black shorts with ease, shifting to get them fully off and added as the final item to the pile on the floor.

In the midst of all of his moving, you were able to catch a glimpse of just exactly what he was packing and your jaw dropped - the accidental peek you'd seen a month ago barely comparing to the full on staring contest you were having now.

He was big, bigger than most you'd had before in almost every way, and you nearly began to consider if it would even fit; your gaze trailing up the slight curve it held, mouth watering at a prominent vein running along the side.

"I'll go slow."

Your gaze snapped back up to meet his own, the previously cocky aura he held now warm and comforting, and your - admittedly needless - worries subsided.

"And I meant what I said earlier," reaching over to his nightstand, he pulled open a small drawer to take out a small, obvious box, "if you want me to stop, just say so."

Leaning up on your elbows, you watched as he pulled out a foil packet, "Do you know about safewords?"

"Yeah," bringing his full attention back to you, he tilted his head, "d'you have one?"

"Pear, for a hard stop, or the light system if it's easier for you to work with."

Scoffing out a laugh, he shook his head, "Whichever works for you, baby - I'll remember."

As you laid yourself back onto his bed, he made work of ripping open the condom packet, taking out the rubber and sliding it on with careful, yet experienced ease.

"Y'know, I never thought someone could look hot while putting on a condom, but I don't mind being proven wrong." When he ducked his head in embarrassment, a familiar sheepish blush beginning to turn his ears red, you giggled at your small achievement.

"It's our first time together, I didn't want to just assume that... you know." Growing past his shyness, Chris settled himself between your legs once more, one hand holding the back of your knee while the other wrapped around the base of his cock - a shiver of brief relief running down his spine. "Ready?"

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, "Ready."

Dropping his gaze, he leaned forward to press the covered head of his dick against your glistening entrance, biting his lip at the warmth emanating through before pushing onward - working the tip past your walls slowly.

The increasing stretch had a low moan escaping you, each inch introducing a new wave of pain tinted pleasure that shot from the top of your head to your toes. "Fuck, Chris."

He wasn't faring any better on his end, the lack of attention given to his dick since you first sat in his lap had him beyond sensitive and holding fast to his promise like a lifeline - go slow, go slow.

"Relax for me, baby," he gritted out, shivering as your walls clenched around the half of his length he managed to sink in, "just a little more, okay? Just need you to let me in."

"'M trying - you're so big." You couldn't find yourself to care about the desperate whine that took your voice, not when you were being deliciously filled with more to come.

Abandoning his hold on your thigh, he licked the pad of his thumb before bringing it to your clit, rubbing gentle circles in hopes of helping you relax further - and it worked. He was able to slowly sheath the rest of his dick inside of you, breathing a sigh of relief, while you shivered underneath him, canting your hips against the consistent flicks of his thumb against your sensitive nub.

"M-Move- Oh god, please move, Channie."

"Are you sure you're ready for that? I can wait-"

"Channie," looking up at him, you tried your best to give him a firm stare through the mind fogging lust, "I need you to fuck me; the color's green, it's so green, I promise - please, just fuck me already!"

He took his thumb off of your clit in favor of holding onto your hip instead, hovering over your body and keeping himself balanced with his left hand.

Licking his lips, his eyes searched your face for any signs of doubt, but he was simply met with desire and need. "Okay, only because you said please."

A smile lit up your face, and just as you went to give him a teasing reply, your body jolted forward and a surprised moan shot past your lips instead.

Another sharp thrust rocked your body and your hands scrambled to find purchase on his broad shoulders, latching onto him to take every quick, deep thrust he delivered before he fell into a regular pace of thorough strokes that had you seeing stars.

Chris watched every subtle shift in your expression after each thrust, drinking in the cute pinch of your eyebrows and pout of your lips while the sounds of your moans created a symphony in his head.

"Beautiful," he murmured, shifting his knees to allow him to drive deeper into your dripping cunt, "my pretty girl, taking me like you're fucking made for me."

The shift in his hips led you to lift your own, and the resulting graze of his cock against your g-spot had a near pornographic moan leaving you - neighbors be damned.

Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, he made a mental note to keep that angle as long as he could. "There it is - Fuck, look at you."

Your nails scratched down his shoulder blades, earning a sharp hiss of pain from the man above you, yet he continued on without hesitation.

"I wish I told you sooner," stifling a grunt, he switched up the pace with slow, shallow rolls of his hips, "could've had this pussy wrapped around me every fucking night."

A helpless whine vibrated through you, but the following moan was something neither you or him was prepared for.

"Daddy!"

There was a brief pause, not even lasting a full minute though it was glaringly obvious to you - even in your blissed out haze. Blinking up at him with worried eyes, you were ready to apologize for the mortifying slip up until you realized he wasn't looking down at you in disgust - but, rather, unrestrained lust.

"Daddy, hm? Is that what my pretty baby wants?" Sliding his hand down your thigh, he maneuvered to hook your leg in the crook of his arm and bring it up higher, evidently opening you up more. "I don't mind, it's fitting - you don't need sir right now anyways, isn't that right, princess? So," rutting his hips into yours, a cocky smirk curved his lips, "keep being a good girl and tell daddy just how good he's making you feel."

You could've died right then and there and considered it a fulfilling life; pinned underneath your best friend, your roommate, fucked within an inch of your sanity while he murmurs the dirtiest sentences you ever imagined from those glorious lips of his.

"O-Oh, god- P-Please, daddy-"

"Please, what, baby? I love hearing you beg, but you have to tell me what you want."

He knew what you wanted, he could feel it with each pulse of your cunt, the way your leg tensed in his hold while your body writhed underneath him - you were close, and he wanted to see just how far he could push you.

"I-I want- Fuck-" You squeezed the flexed muscle of his bicep, while your free hand fisted the pillowcase underneath your head, trying your best to gather the brain cells to make a comprehensible sentence through his unrelenting pace. "I wanna come- wanna come for you," blinking up at him with glossy eyes, you submitted instantly, "please, daddy, can I?"

Chris' pace faltered for the smallest of seconds, his heart swelling and his dick aching for the release he'd been fighting back since he entered your warm pussy - there was no use in stalling for more time, not when you needed him as much as he needed you.

"Hold it for just a little longer, princess." When you gave a displeased whine, he leaned down to kiss the pout off of your face, "It won't be long, I promise - ten seconds, you can count with me, yeah?"

Nodding desperately, you snuck another kiss from him before waiting for his next instruction, trying your best to suppress your lingering orgasm.

"Good girl - now, can you use your fingers to play with your clit for me? You can keep holding onto me, just use your free hand."

You followed his directions diligently, quickly licking your index finger before managing to work your arm between your bodies and finding your puffy clit with ease; the lightest touch sending a shock of pleasure through your system.

"'S too much, I-I can't-"

He shushed you, "You can, I know you can, just count with me, okay? Focus on me, baby - starting from ten."

Swallowing back a whine, you took a shivering breath, "T-Ten."

"Good, keep counting."

As your slow, broken countdown continued, he took the time to adjust his position one final time; sitting up straight and using his left hand to gather your leg in the same position as your right, holding you spread open and fully subject to his will.

"Seven... S-Six- Oh my god-" Your eyes rolled, your body feeling like fire was liking at each of your limbs as you rubbed quick circles around your clit.

"Don't stop counting, princess," Chris grunted, licking his lips as sweat beaded along his forehead, "come on, five."

A short sob broke past your lips, eyebrows pinching together, "I c-can't- I can't, daddy!"

"Four." He continued on, angling your legs slightly higher and focusing on the almost hypnotizing wet slapping sound of your pussy all but drenching his cock and the sheets underneath. "Three - almost there, baby, keep holding it for me."

You made a noise, not caring what it sounded like as long as it was known that you were still hanging in there, if only by a thread.

"T-Two - my perfect girl, doing so well for daddy, s-so fucking proud of you," he gritted out, breaths coming in bated pants as he exchanged the speed of this thrusts for more power, watching your back arch off of the bed in the process. "One - come, come for me, baby."

Your body followed through before your mind had the chance to comprehend his words, white-hot pleasure flooding through your veins as you came with a cry of his name - at least, you hoped the sound that came out resembled his name.

Chris groaned, doing his best to fuck you through your orgasm until he came with a shivering gasp, almost pained, high pitched whines falling from his lips with each wave; his dick quickly being surrounded by the warmth of his cum filling the latex.

Hours could've passed before you were able to come back to your senses, blinking your eyes open and dazedly looking at the man above you.

Even after sending you to the moon and back, he looked as breathtaking as ever; chest heaving and head tossed back, large hands now caressing your thighs as your feet met the mattress once more.

"Fuck." He laughed breathlessly, lifting his head to look at you with glittering eyes, "You okay? That- I didn't go too far, did I?"

Oh, he was going to be the death of you.

Shooting him a tired smile, you shook your head, "I'm more than okay - that was amazing, daddy."

You didn't miss the way his dick twitched inside of you from your words, his hands squeezing you softly.

"Princess, as much as I love hearing you say that, I might end up fucking you through the mattress if you keep it up."

Biting your lip, you not-so-subtly glanced at the open box on his nightstand before looking at him with daring eyes, "If I call you my boyfriend, can you fuck me into the next morning?"

He paused as if heavily pondering your words, then slowly pulled out of your sensitive walls with a grunt, "If you let me call you my girlfriend and let me take you on a date, you can call me both and I'll fuck you until you can't walk."

A bright smile found its way to your face and you nodded happily, "Deal, boyfriend."

With a grin as bright as the sun, he made quick work of taking off the used condom before tying it and tossing it in the small trash near his nightstand; returning to hover over you with warm eyes, "Deal, girlfriend."

Safe to say, he upheld his end of the deal with flying colors, and you planned the date as soon as you regained the ability to walk a day later.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies for Pt. 2 [If you want to be added to my official tag list please fill out the form below]: @turtledove824, @boi-bi-ahaha, @skzworlddomination44, @brojustfknkillm3

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bangchan smut #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader

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love-belle · 9 months

Text

i should hate u !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them using shady captions to communicate and the media and fans being confused.

for when you loved them too much. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

sequel - today and tomorrow and every day after that ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - hello!!! i really hope u like this <3 i was initially gonna do daniel ricciardo one first but i already had 1/2 of this done so i just decided to post this :) thank u sm for reading <3 i love u

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by paddock.club, f1gossippage, y/n4everrr and 6,829 others

f1news y/n y/l/n and max verstappen called it quits almost a month ago and it seems like they didn't end on good terms at all. the singer, at her london show last night, threw shade at her ex-boyfriend, saying and we quote, "the next song wouldn't have been possible without this one dude who inspired it obviously. so — here's 'i should hate you'. spoiler alert, i do. thank you!" the reason for the split is still unknown but sources who claim to be close to the pair said that 'it was bound to happen — with their different goals and plans for the future," seemingly referring to the talks that y/l/n wanted to get married and verstappen didn't. both of them have yet to comment on the situation. for more details, click on the link in our bio.

278 comments

username WOAH

username pause.

username ahahahahaha say what.

username oh my god 💀💀💀

username NOT HER CONFIRMING THAT I SHOULD HATE YOU IS ABT MAX

username no bc the way her voice cracked so many times in between the songs like girlie is angry AND hurt

username OH MY GOD

username i genuinely have no words

username omg the photos are NOT of her shading max. it's her laughing at a fan who yelled "you're the baddest bitch of all baddest bitches" at her

-> username YEAH LIKE SHE WAS SO CLOSE TO CRYING WHEN SHE SANG ISHY

username my delusional ass thinking they ended on good terms 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username nah it's so champagne problems and you're losing me kinda thing i can't handle this whatcthe fucj

username OH WHATCTHEBFUCJ

username me getting the big guns out to defend her AND max with my LIFE

username still processing their breakup give me a year to digest this information

username STOP WHAT THE FUCK

username my parents ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

username no bc she's genuinely such a sweet person so if she said this max must've done something 😭😭😭😭😭

-> username STOP NO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username can't believe she's saying this about a dude for whom she wrote "feels like" for like wow.

username I WAS AT THAT SHOW AND SHE LOOKED SO SAD AFTER SHE SAID THIS I FELT SO BAD

-> username SHE ALSO STARTED CRYING WHEN SHE FINISHED SINGING I MISS U IM SORRY AND ZARA (HER LEAD GUITARIST) HAD TO RUN AND CONSOLE HER

-> username AND SHE SAID THAT THE LAST MONTH HAS BEEN HARD ON HER AND SHE APOLOGIZED IF THE SHOW WASN'T AS GOOD AS THE OTHERS

-> username NAH MOTHER ATE AS ALWAYS

username y'all saying this but not the fact that she ALSO said "in another life we would've worked but im grateful for everything i had because for a moment you were mine"

-> username MY HEART JUST BROKE WHATCTHEBFUCK

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 799,155 others

maxverstappen1 i know i say that i am better now, spoiler alert, i am

8,926 comments

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danielricciardo spoiler alert, also a liar

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-> maxverstappen1 i will block you

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charles_leclerc i swear i can hear you crying from my hotel room

-> maxverstappen1 WE'RE NOT EVEN IN THE SAME HOTEL

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yourusername i hate you lol

12,628 comments

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*liked by yourusername*

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landonorris "in love" alright.

-> yourusername IT'S FOR THE AESTHETIC

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maxverstappen1 it's all better now

comments are disabled for this post

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yourusername and i swear to god i'd kill you if i loved you a less hard

13,728 comments

username SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

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landonorris mother father

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-> username ah yes the four family members mother father child and no

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username they STILL don't follow eachother LMFAO

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff

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norrizzandpia · 2 months

Note

oscar piastri after care

Someone tell me why i have NOT written for op in like YEARS? Guys its a crime

One Lucky Man (OP81)

Summary: After care with OP!

Warnings: insinuations of sex obvi, language, Oscar being lewd

Oscar’s chest heaved up and down as he flopped to the side of Y/n’s body. There was a flush to their faces and sweat clinging to their skin as they turned their heads, smiling softly at each other in the post-sex haze.

“I’d give that a solid 10 out of 10,” Oscar stated, a smirk on his face as he leaned over the mattress and picked his boxers up off the floor, slipping into them and sliding off the bed.

Y/n giggled, “Did you just rate the sex we just had?”

Oscar nodded triumphantly, “Yes, of course, I did. Gotta give credit where credit’s due.”

Y/n, jaw open, scoffed, “I assume you’re referring to crediting yourself.”

His feet stopped him just as he was about to step fully out of the room. He turned around and caught her gaze with a mischievous glint in his, “I did make you come like five times.”

Y/n wasn’t given a chance to respond, Oscar having run down the hall and away from her the moment the sentence left his mouth. She rolled her eyes at his attitude, not genuinely upset seeing as he did make her come five times. When he returned only a few minutes later, in his grasp a granola bar and water, he helped her off the bed.

“Why are you making me leave the cozy bed?” She gave, her hand clutching his as the soreness in her legs threatened a fall to the floor.

He chuckled with a shake of his head, “You have to go to the bathroom, Y/n. Come on, we’re responsible adults, right? Practicing healthy and safe sex, right?”

Y/n grimaced, “Oscar, stop talking like you’re some well educated physician. It’s freaking me out. Plus, we are very much not responsible adults. You just tried to hijack Lando’s car last night and almost crashed it into a pole because you got too excited and hit the gas pedal too hard.”

At the mention of their chaotic dinner with Lando the night before, Oscar let out a guttural laugh. He helped his girlfriend into the bathroom before closing the door, the sound of his chuckles being heard even on the other side of the door.

When she was finished and opened the door back up, Oscar pulled her into his arms again. He laid a kiss in her hair as he dragged her back to bed. Falling onto the heap of blankets, he practically forced the snack and water down her throat.

“Oscar! Oscar! I’m eating it, goddamn.” She laughed as he shoved it into her hand, wrapper somewhere on the floor from when he’d thrown it over his shoulder.

He smiled widely as she chewed, feeling uneasy as he stared at her eating a random granola bar. They passed the water to each other between sips, kisses being shared in the midst of it all as Oscar sidled up next to her.

He lightly pushed her back down to a lying position, tugging her into his side before pulling the comforter over them. Her head stuffed into the crook of his neck, Oscar laid kisses in her hair. His hands ran up and down her back as he started mindlessly talking to her, “Do you know how beautiful you are? I mean, seriously, when I first introduced you to Lando, he pulled me aside and asked how I had managed to even get your number in the first place. It’s cheesy and you’ve probably heard it from guys millions of times before, but I genuinely don’t think I have seen anyone more beautiful than you. I don’t even think words can describe how beautiful I think you are.”

He felt warmth against his neck. He smiled at the blushing she was enduring in the midst of his words, “I don’t care how many times you try to argue me on this. I will never let you win. You’re just… I don’t know. I just love you a lot.”

Y/n pecked his neck in a kiss, “I love you too.”

Oscar shook his head, “Nah, nah, nah, but I love you more.”

Y/n scoffed, “Oscar, no-”

Oscar interrupted her, “No fucking way, Y/n. I love you more. End of discussion. There is absolutely no way anyone could love anything more than I love you.”

She shrugged, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.”

“You help me sleep at night,” He murmured, another kiss to her hairline. She moved away from his body just enough to stare up at him.

She smiled, “You’re a great boyfriend, you know?”

Now was his turn to blush, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re just, like, a goddess, so you just deserve it.”

Y/n laughed, “Osc, I’m not a goddess, but thanks.”

He kissed her sweetly, “Sure, tell that to the millions of people online who continuously ask how you ended up with me. I’m one lucky man and everyone knows it.”

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #mclaren formula 1

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courtmartialme · 1 month

Text

some examples i can think of brotherhood crimes of doing riza(and royai) dirty in my opinion that's the absolute truth in the universe. consciously excluding stuff i think are minor but annoy me just as bad or else this post would be too exhausting:

being ugly in general

not including her time travel joke from when they learn that the elrics are kids and not adults on their way to recruiting them

not including the scene where roy meets her after she calls him when she meets barry the chopper and threatens to burn him out of jealousy

changing the dialogue after roy saves her from gluttony from:

to:

LIKE...... if brotherhood has the habit of cutting off scenes to make it shorter then WHY they would change this scene to become BIGGER AND WORSE. the dialogue in manga is a clear example of their trust and wordless care for each other. while in broho it's just ?????? roy being an asshole????? to his wife?????? whom he just left his post running for bc he sensed she was in danger???? whoever chose to change this dialogue. kill yourself

riza being nice to alphonse when they are at 3rd laboratory:

not including the only time in the whole series roy calls her by her first name only:

the WHOLE ishval arc. riza telling ed about ishval lasts a whole ass volume while it's barely an entire episode in anime like... hm.. for starters the way roy and riza meet again there is different. in manga she saves roy and hughes from a surprise attack, and only realizes it's roy when she sees him through the scope. then hughes tells roy that they brought a talented sniper from the academy and goes after her to thank her for saving them. in anime riza suddenly shows up to roy when he was talking to hughes and like... not necessarily a bad thing i guess but...... yeah.... also this whole conversation is cut off if i remember right.. among a lot of other things LOL i hate how ishval arc is played down in BH

riza being funny and cute not being included again

this scene when they reach 3rd lab again in promised day and roy jokes about wanting to see her honest tears again and riza replies saying water makes him useless BUT in manga she's all cute and blushy while in anime they make her be all # girlbaws about it because that's all brotherhood riza is about lmao they took away her moeness...crime

in manga, after roy gives up killing envy upon realizing it would lead to riza shooting him then killing herself, it shows him lowering her gun without the glove he previously had on. symbolizing that he lowered his weapon before he could lower hers. in anime he still has his gloves on

EDIT I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT PANEL OF THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RIZA BEING INSUBORDINATE AND A BRAT SHE'S SO CUTE THIS PANEL IS WHAT INSPIRED MY USERNAME... SHE'S SO CUTE...... brotherhood is so scared of letting riza be cute and moe because she would be too powerful if they let her

EDIT 222222 BECAUSE I WOKE UP IN COLD SWEAT AT REMEMBERING I FORGOT THIS TOO

roy visits madame christmas' bar looking down and she asks him why doesn't he and elizabeth go someplace fun... we all know who elizabeth is right... and he says miserably that another man took elizabeth away from him(referring to riza being kept hostage by bradley) and at that the other girl asks if that means she has a chance with him now. everyone knows that roy is so wifepilled he won't look any other way if riza is in the picture lmao also how embarrassing it is that even your mom knows you're fucking your subordinate

i'm convinced somebody at BH staff hated riza's ass because of how often riza and royai scenes are changed or ignored... i know it's common for anime adaptations to cut off moments from manga but for an anime that whole premise is to be The Better Adaptation, doing it so often makes it bad to me. if you repeatedly exclude scenes that tell more about the characters because they're "not relevant to the plot", eventually there will be no actual personality left, only characters that are plot props

THERE'S A LOT MORE i wanted to include but this is already long enough and i got tired LMFAO a lot of things(most not included) are non issues because are mostly about riza being a bit silly, or showing more expression than she does in anime in a scene that otherwise doesn't change anything. but they still annoy me because by repeatedly excluding and changing these moments add to the view people have of her being nagging and stoic, at an attempt to make her a cool flawless Good Woman Character. what for.

#tecotalk #fma #riza hawkeye #throwing in the tag because fuck it #not hiding anything under the cut everyone will be subjected to this

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messiahzzz · 18 days

Text

it is a conscious choice of mystra to initially present herself as this benevolent, courteous, and merciful being. a practiced and perfected approach she knows will compel gale to follow her demands with the least amount of resistance on his part. he already refused to follow her instructions when she sent elminster to request his death — his effective father figure, gale’s self-proclaimed hero, mentor, and the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place — so another appeal is in order.

narrator: "elminster's visit weighs heavy on your mind. his face you did not expect to see again." narrator: "when you last saw him, you were in your prime. no orb, no tadpole. a mage of growing renown, all power, pride, and potential - beloved by the goddess of magic herself. narrator: "it's one thing to have fallen from such heights, but to have elminster himself now witness your humiliation is almost unbearable." gale: [his disappointment cuts deeper even than mystra's. he was your hero.] narrator: "while most know of elminster the legend, few know him as you have. he plucked you from obscurity. offered you his guidance. his faith. and most recently, his pity."

yet it is curious how quickly she changes her tune once gale doesn’t readily agree to her demand to return the crown of karsus to her, no questions asked. or even dares to impugn, or criticize her reasoning for leaving him to die.

gale: "a great ask indeed. you've given me much to think on - as you always did." mystra: "so be it. follow the needles of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

gale: "because i disobeyed you. you punished me for it." mystra: "how so? you think i should have cured you? erased the consequences of your actions?"

gale: "you break up with me, cut me off from the weave, leave me to die, and that's all you have to say? 'you look well'?" mystra: "i did not come here to suffer a mortal's admonitions. certainly not yours."

gale: "you were threatened. you realised you couldn't control me." mystra: "you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a saviour." nodecontext: sharper, almost a warning - don't entertain such thoughts, gale. you won't like where they lead.

gale: "i don't know. i need time to think." mystra: "so be it. follow the needle of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

particularly interesting to note is how she uses his surname as a tool to chastise and taunt him. only referring to him as "gale dekarios" in the context of him displeasing her, when he doesn't readily obey, whether he simply wavers (needing time to think) or outright declines her instructions. she uses the very name he had actively discarded and refuses to be referred to at this point in time. a deliberate reminder of his fallible humanity, of the flaws he tried to distance himself from. she knows this.

gale: "i won't let you down again. when the absolute is vanquished, i will surrender karsus' powers to you. you have my word." mystra: "thank you. may the weave's light guide your purpose, and it's wisdom guide your hand." mystra: "the future of magic rests on your shoulders, gale of waterdeep". mystra: "i promise you - it is a burden you are strong enough to bear."

gale: "i don't need your forgiveness. the crown of karsus will be mine, and the karsite weave will obey me." mystra: "crown yourself, gale dekarios, and you will learn what it is to carry such weight upon your shoulders." mystra: "if it does not crush you, i will." nodecontext: an icy edge entering her voice - a hint of a challenge gale will face if he pursues this course. nodecontext: here we glimpse the true, unimaginable power of mystra. she's still in control of herself, but her anger should be palpable.

i have already addressed the overall topic of mystra & gale's relationship in several posts i wrote some time ago [x] [x] [x]. however, since then we have received new snippets of information with patch 5 that shed more light on the progression of their relationship as a whole. this post is intended to be an update of sorts, containing a more comprehensive list, as well as lore excerpts for added context and proof. i will split this essay into several sections for coherency — buckle in, cause this is going to be a long one!

✧ mystra's history of manipulation ✧

one of the epilogue letters revealed that elminster first sought gale out when he was about 8 years old. which according to gale's canon age being 35 (as listed on his idle champions character sheet) means that their first meeting occurred around 1465 DR. although elminster's wording suggests that this may merely be an estimate on his side.

furthermore - in the ending where gale dies in the attempt at ascension, raphael has the following to say:

raphael: "you were the spark of ambition that rekindled gale's ambitions, after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest."

insinuating that mystra did make an active effort to keep gale in line, to temper his ambition, lest his thirst for more knowledge would eventually prove bothersome for her. keeping an eye on him at all times, keeping him close, placating him, and urging him to be patient.

what distinctly stood out to me is how this also aligns with some of azuth's quotes in the temptation of elminster, while he gives advice to a then-young sage of shadowdale.

we are her treasures, lad—we are what she holds most dear, the rocks she can cling to in the storms of wild art. she needs us to be strong, far stronger than most mortals ... tempered tools for her use. being bound to us by love and linked to us to preserve her very humanity, she finds it hard to be harsh to us—to do the tempering that must be done. she began the tempering of you long ago; you are her 'pet project', if you will. [...]

"you serve mystra differently. she watches you and learns the human side of magic in all it's hues from your experiences and the doings of those you meet—foes and friends alike. yet the time has come for you to change, and grow, to serve as she'll need you to, in the centuries ahead."

and yet again, there is a reoccurring pattern in her relationship with sammaster, another of her chosen, as well:

sammaster fell to his knees and wept upon mystra's feet. they ended up spending ten days together. this made him the first chosen of mystra since the seven sisters. when he asked for the reason that mystra had chosen him, she replied that she had foreseen that one of her chosen would be killed in battle, and he would be the replacement. he left this encounter feeling as though he and mystra were in love.

mystra is no stranger to fostering feelings of boundless devotion that weren't present before. observing her potential chosen, appearing before them, promising them power. luring them into service without the knowledge of what this may entail. where other gods may instill fear, mystra instills the notion of love. practicing seduction while mirroring her chosen's humanity. intentionally portraying herself as someone sympathetic and approachable. syncing their language, highlighting mutuality, making them feel favored and seen. mystra sees no need in the act of divine separation, a display of godlike grandeur — inimitable, menacing, larger than life, towering above her chosen. instead, her manifestation is purposefully unassuming. she meets them in the form of a woman in her early 30s, conventionally attractive, palpable, and appealing to the masses — a human figure. the very embodiment, the very ideal of traditional beauty an impressionable, young wizard may have.

gale: "i can't quite describe it, the need i sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence." gale: "no sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies."

gale: "in her likeness, i used to read a thousand stories. she was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes."

player: “what did mystra’s attention feel like?” gale: “love. [...] perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. it was most certainly love to him. [...]"

how we see her in the game is very likely the same form she chose to present to a young gale. beauty, wisdom, elegance. perceived perfection, yet humble in her divinity.

the mystra of now (1490s DR) retains some of the memories of all of her earlier selves, and the relatively young and inexperienced midnight is “in there,” but wholly subsumed. mystra could generate an avatar or seeming that might fool some mortals into thinking they were meeting midnight, but it would be an act. [x]

generating an avatar in the form of a mortal she subsumed. purporting mutuality. midnight was just another mortal added to mystra's long list of "human stock" — vessels intended to preserve her power. favored, chosen, and ultimately suppressed by the very essence of mystra herself. midnight is no equal piece of mystra, the deity, there is no conscious part of the mortal that remains. [x] the mystra that currently exists is a union of the original mystryl, as well as all the other reincarnations of her that melded into her being. fragments of their minds that linger in the weave, scraps of humanity that could perhaps aid in her knowledge and understanding to prevent further betrayals in the future.

mystra's approach has always been indirect, instead of being outright menacing and portentous. the fact that mystra isn't written like the other gods in the game doesn't mean she's more sympathetic to gale's struggles or more inclined to understand human nature. her concern will always be the preservation of her domain and her hold over the weave — to do as the gods do.

gale: "you're one to talk. how many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if i detonated the orb?" mystra: "such eddies are unexceptional. souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust." nodecontext: matter of fact, not interested in these kinds of specifics

ketheric thorm: "who decides what is right? the gods did not care for right and wrong when they dismantled my life piece by piece." ketheric thorm: "and when i tried to buy it back, it cost me everything - everything." ketheric thorm: "we are copper pieces in their belts. tokens to be traded for scraps."

it is often mentioned that mystra makes her attention known by brushing against her potential chosen. whispering to them, touching their skin, eliciting a tingling sensation. which is also how mystra chose to reveal herself to ariel manx (midnight) in 1353 DR, while she was 21 years of age.

gale mentions feeling a similar sensation if he chooses to destroy the summoning circle in balthazar's office at moonrise and thereby receives her blessing.

gale: "did you feel that?" gale: "if i wasn't surrounded on all sides by the darkness of the shadow-cursed lands, i'd think it was mystra herself brushing against my skin."

mystra isn't above using manipulations to get her way. once again evident in her instigating dornal and elué silverhand's union in the first place, as well as intentionally withholding information from dornal that she actively took possession of his wife, elué. to ensure that they would indeed produce her offspring — the seven sisters — her chosen and the vessels to house her power.

where elué had previously been reluctant to acknowledge dornal's advances, he found them suddenly returned with great fervor once mystra took possession of her body. [x]

"by the time elué was carrying her final child, she was in effect a lich - a crumbling shell kept alive only through mystra's power. dornal was shocked at her deterioration. he sought magical aid to cure his wife, and when he learned from the most powerful priest he could find that his wife was possessed by an intelligent force of great power, a sickened dornal tried to slay her. he struck off her head one moonlight night as they walked together in a wooded glade. mystra was forced to reveal herself. dornal was shattered by what he had done, and aghast at how he - and especially elué - had been used." [x]

dornal, who had been kept in the dark throughout, abandoned his lands and children after slaying his wife, traveling to the north, with the plan to seek his own death. he repeatedly tried to poison himself, yet mystra wouldn't allow him suicide and magically neutralized the lethal doses to keep him alive against his will. after his death in 797 DR, mystra turned him into another servant of hers: the watcher — one who wanders the realms, seeking out new potential chosen to this day.

which brings us to...

✧ mystra's foresight and her "death" ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight - she foresaw the time of troubles and her own passing at the hands of helm in 1358 DR for defying him and her attempt to converse with the overgod ao without the tablets of fate. the very reason why she sought out mortal vessels to house her power (the seven sisters) — to avoid disaster should another entity win control over her in the chaotic period of wildly fluctuating power struggles that was the time of troubles. this divine power slumbers within these individuals, which she can call upon.

in 1385 DR mystra (midnight) was struck down by cyric and shar, which brought upon the spellplague.

in 1479 DR mystra was located by elminster inside a cave in cormyr, guarding her mortal body. she survived cyric's assassination by inhabiting the body of a bear, while still able to contact her chosen. she returned to her full power in 1487 DR.

the important part, that i've often seen outright ignored or misinterpreted by fandom altogether, is that mystra wasn’t actually “dead” for over a hundred years. at least not in the way we perceive it. we can’t equate her death with our mortal understanding of it. her powers were diminished to an extreme and she was weakened, yet she was still able to communicate. it was in her power to contact her chosen and to guide them. evident by her calling for elminster through her telepathic link and directing him to recruit other chosen for her to restore her power.

the plot of baldur’s gate 3 takes place in 1492 DR. meaning gale's actual year of birth would be 1457 DR. while elminster likely sought him out around 1465 DR, when he was only 8 years old. however, i once again want to emphasize that “couldn’t have been more than 8 summers old” indicates that this may merely be an estimate on elminster's side. he could’ve possibly reached out to him even earlier than that, or perhaps later. gale was 22 year old at the time when mystra was found in her diminished state by elminster in 1479 DR.

✧ mystra's awareness✧

gale: “so, all it took to get mystra’s attention was to learn how to reforge an artifact that once destroyed her." gale: "it's obvious, when you stop to think about it."

even if you may personally be skeptical of elminster’s insertion into gale’s life at age 8 (as well as mystra's ability to contact her chosen during her death) to be enough evidence of mystra’s attention — she had to be aware of him for his talents alone since he was a mere child. there is no way around this.

player: "how could she possibly know we read a book? hasn't she got more important things to worry about?" gale: "the weave is a highly sensitive magical network threaded through all life on this plane. any shift in magical energy, no matter how small, is akin to a beacon, alerting mystra to its cause." gale: "opening a book like the annals of karsus was akin to us shooting a firework spelling 'look at us, mystra!' directly into the skies of elysium. she knows."

mystra IS the weave, as gale himself has stated several times. it is an extension of her being, threaded through all life. by touching the weave one is directly touching the goddess of magic herself. mystra is aware of any magic user, able to deepen this contact at her choosing.

shadowheart: "isn't it so, that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavouring to call upon mystra?" shadowheart: "i'm surprised she still listens to you." gale: "she has no choice - she's sworn to hear all magic users. even me." gale: "i'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations."

gale described himself as a child prodigy. a virtuoso that was able to manipulate and compose the weave at will from an early age.

gale: "magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as i can remember. there's nothing like it."

gale: "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet."

gale: "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. the lady of mysteries. the goddess mystra." gale: "she revealed herself to me and she became my teacher. in time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover."

someone who was able to perform feats way beyond the skillset of his peers. he managed to wield the blackstaff itself, accidentally facing an irritated death slaad, and lived to tell the tale. he summoned and befriended tara, as well as the magma mephit, k'ha'ssji'trach'ash. we also know from elminster that he was able to cast fireball — a 3rd level spell — at age 8.

it is indisputable that mystra must’ve taken notice of the precocious young wizard during this time, even in her diminished state. much like she had once observed midnight. she began to whisper to him, drawing back the veils, revealing herself bit by bit, urging him that he was special — chosen.

gale: "he fancied himself much more than that. he fancied himself favoured above all others. [...] mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. the gossamer veils first, draped across the weave. the delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘chosen one’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely."

✧ final part: power imbalance & exerting control ✧

gale: "the weave is still here, all around us - inside of us too. as long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch." gale: "i've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways i am still a more than capable wizard." gale: "it's just that i'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at." gale: " to have one hand on the pulse of divinity." gale: "you have to remember that the weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of mystra herself." gale: "she can give and she can take away. i'm afraid i'm still very much on her naughty list."

gale: "mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold." gale: "and yet, even now, more than i fear losing my own self and soul, i fear losing my command of her art."

player: "he sounds like a very talented individual." gale: "he was. even though it was in mystra’s affections that his true power lay."

even apart from their innate different forms of existence as a mere mortal and the literal goddess of magic, mystra is in full control of gale's power at all times, able to grant and withdraw her favors at will. claiming that such a power imbalance doesn’t exist, that it doesn’t apply to their respective relationship, that it might’ve been “healthy” at one point if gale was indeed of age at the time their relationship transitioned into a sexual nature is —pardon my french— fucking insane.

this stance disregards everything we know about the gods, about mystra’s involvement with other mortals and her chosen. it disregards the level of authority she wields over any magic user. it carelessly and naively disregards the implicit difference in power. mystra is the goddess of magic, his goddess. the very object of his worship and adoration since childhood. the goddess he devoted his life, his work, and his unyielding loyalty to. it is ultimately irrelevant at what exact point their relationship underwent its final transition from muse to lover. this discussion is redundant. mystra has been a constant presence since his early childhood. his worship of her began with the practice of his first spells, even if it wasn't conscious at the time. every practitioner of magic inevitably honors mystra, regardless of their faith in her. magic is his life, in the same way that mystra is pure magic. she is in total control of the tools he wields.

✧ summary ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight, already knowing about the time of troubles & her subsequent passing. this being her reason to seek out mortal vessels to secure her power.

mystra feels any shift in magical energy no matter how small, immediately alerting her. gale was able to cast a third-level spell at age 8.

mystra has a history of instilling feelings of love that weren't present before and using her chosen/other mortals for her own means. (elminster, khelben, sammaster, the seven daughters, ariel manx etc.)

mystra's manifestation is a conscious choice. midnight has been wholly subsumed by her.

mystra wasn’t actually “dead” in 1479 DR, but merely diminished. she was inhabiting the body of a bear and was still able to communicate with her chosen. she directed elminster to recruit other chosen to restore her power.

elminster sought gale out around 1465 DR when he was about 8 years old, as stated in the epilogue letter.

mystra first functioned as gale’s mentor, then his muse, and later his lover.

gale’s relationship with her was indeed of a sexual nature, he has explicitly stated so several times. their intimacy wasn't restricted to incorporeal interactions either, even though they were preferred.

during the ending where gale fails to ascend raphael states during the credits that tav has “rekindled gale’s ambitions after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest”.

azuth describes mystra's chosen as "tempered tools for her use". being bound to them by love and linked to them to preserve her very humanity.

mystra's intention to shape gale into yet another loyal, devoted asset to her portfolio has been there from the very moment she chose to reveal herself, to instruct elminster to seek him out. it was a conscious decision to directly insert herself into gale’s life, sowing his conviction that he was favored above all others. singling him out among his peers, isolating him with subtle promises of his greatness, his uniqueness, and all he could yet accomplish to be under her guidance. offering him her teachings, her inspiration, and eventually her love. yet all the while tempering his perceived greed and thirst to reach for even greater heights, unless it acted in her favor. keeping him close — lest his growing ambitions should ever prove to be an outright challenge to her rule.

the groundwork has been carefully laid from the very beginning.

gale: “goodnight. and thank you for your patient understanding. [...] try not to think too poorly of me. a cat can look at a king. a wizard can look at a goddess.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #grooming tw #abuse tw #long post #writing this genuinely burned me out ngl #so glad to finally unleash it though since it has been sitting in my drafts for weeks

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bunnyshideawayy · 24 days

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a rumored bastard and a proven, disinherited, legally illegitimate recognized bastard are not the same.

Rhaenyra’s sons are rumored bastards, i know the show has a lot of team green stans feeling bold but just as in the books, they are never legally considered bastards in the show either. they are speculated to be via their physical features and Laenor’s apparent sexuality, but since Laenor and the KING (btw Westeros is a absolute monarchy, meaning the king IS law) both claim all three boys as legitimate heirs, unless someone demands a medieval dna test, those kids are legally Laenor’s true sons.

this is apparently a very hard concept to understand for some, hell even Alicent in the show says something like “we can all tell” which fair point, but that is not proof enough. looks, accusations, and rumor are not the same as actual proof of adultery or bastardy.

someone i was having a “discussion” with used Joffrey as an example to point out a flaw in my logic, but ultimately proved my point. Joffrey was a rumored bastard. Ned himself had no more proof than Alicent does, just hair color and a hunch, so Joffrey was never legally disinherited from the line of succession. I hate to defend either of these men but King Robert never publicly disowned him and called him bastard, which is why Joffrey ascended to the Iron Throne. now the rumors did hurt, and caused huge political issues leading to the War of 5 Kings, which is exactly why Alicent and Team Green is so insistent that Rhaenyra’s children are illegitimate, they know they cannot legally or physically prove her children are bastards, especially when Laenor and the King are claiming them are true born, but they can spread the rumor and call into question Rhaenyra’s honesty and morality. think episode 8 when team green takes their chance with Vaemond to attempt a coup of sorts for the Driftmark Throne, why would the succession of Driftmark need to be settled if Rhaenyra’s sons are true born? why would Alicent / Otto need to make this decision in place of the sick king and mia lord of tides who both had already been stating Luke would inherit for years. it’s all apart of the scheme to tarnish Rhaenyra’s reputation as Vaemond has no other proof either, and promptly loses his head (both metaphorically and literally) by calling the recognized heir to the throne a whore and her children bastards with no proof in front of the whole court.

it is a political scheme on both sides, Alicent cannot prove anything, and Rhaenyra cannot disprove the rumors no matter how many times they are claimed as true born sons. Rhaenyra has to live in the comfort the law gives her, as legally her sons are seen as legitimate, and thus legally they are protected. and from an unbiased pov with both in universe and historical references, those kids might be bastards in actually but not legally.

Rhaenyra goes through hell to keep her children legally protected, not only for their sake but for hers because should the truth come out both her and Laenor would be seriously punished, i wouldn’t go as far as executed but that would depend on if Viserys was old and bed ridden or dead. which is why im making this incredibly long post repeating myself in every point. you can argue all day about Rhaenyra’s children and their parentage but i am making this to make it clear that her children are not *legally* bastards by Westeros law. in order for Jace, Luke, and Joffrey to be illegitimate bastards Laenor, Rhaenyra, Harwin, and/or Viserys would have to publicly acknowledge them as such and disinherit them. no, Laenor and Viserys dying do not magically make Rhaenyra’s children legal bastards either. they would, again, need to be claimed and proven as such and disinherited.

and at the end of it all, true or not true, the rumors made a lasting impact on the story. so much so this fandom is still debating this topic, and frankly i am dreading the season 2 release when all the bad takes and bad faith arguments start up again.

anyway other famous rumored bastards are in Targ history are:

Maegor

Daeron II

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ceesimz · 10 days

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Booked - Mapi x Ingrid

TW: Mentions of blood, Ingrid gets injured during a game but it's not too bad. Feliç Sant Jordi🫶🏼

For the most part, María Pilar León Cebrián thought of herself as a calm and level-headed person in almost all situations. She was only human, there were indeed a few cases where that wasn't the case and even if her friends would never deem her as a calm person overall, she was sure that when the time came she was the model person in emergency situations.

What those one off cases were, you're wondering?

Ingrid. Syrstad. Engen.

All sensibility and composure flew far out the window as soon as Ingrid was involved, and that's where she found herself today.

It was an easy game, some may call it a battering, and Mapi had been subbed out just before the 70 minute mark so that she had somewhat of a rest before the weekend for a Champion's League game. Her performance was good, if not a little boring and easy since the other team had barely stepped a foot in Barça's penalty box, and she had a big, cheesy smile on her face when she saw that Ingrid was being subbed on just as she was coming off. And if Ingrid was annoyed about the two light pats on her ass from Mapi later before the Norwegian sprinted onto the pitch, she would simply say it was just for luck.

However, luck didn't seem to be on Ingrid's side for her quick involvement in the game. All of a sudden, it seemed the scoreline of the match had gotten to the opposing team's heads and before any of the Barça girls could realise, the physicality of the game increased tenfold. There was brutal tackle after tackle, shirt tugs, arm pulls, and risky one-on-ones for headers that saw Ona land horrifyingly on her neck and the player at fault to receive only a yellow for what everyone knew was a malicious and purposeful act. Ona was fine, she stood up after taking a few minutes to come back to herself, before moving to defend another corner as Alexia and a few other players were shouting at the referee who had made countless questionable decisions already.

"We're lucky nobody has been stretchered off yet." Mapi exclaimed to Frido from her seat on the bench, arms tightly crossed across her chest over her puffer coat.

"It's not a surprise though, right." Frido sighed disapprovingly, referring to the situation everyone was frustrated at in terms of the Liga F referees.

"Es tonterías." The Spaniard grumbled, slumping back in her chair as the whistle blew for the corner to be taken.

Her sulk didn't last long, it couldn't, because perhaps the most frightful occurrence of her life carried out right in front of her eyes. The ball curled right into the box where Ingrid was marking the targeted player at the front post, and the Norwegian wasn't able get a clean jump as the player to her side stomped on her foot aggressively. But before she could fall to the ground as a result of the pain of studs being dug into the space just below her ankle, there was an agonising strike to her face.

An elbow smashed against the outward corner of her eye hard, a sharp and sudden pain that immediately caused her to feel sick to the pit of her stomach, overriding any pain in her foot. She fell to her knees with a loud, excruciating scream, one hand immediately coming up to her face as the other clutches desperately at the goalpost beside her that she slumped against. When her hand came into contact with her face, she let out another scream, this one somewhat quieter, as the pain increased due to a nasty gash that stretched up into her eyebrow which stung impossibly more when she touched it. That's when she realised her hand was covered in blood and the sight of it caused her body to weaken as she paled, absolutely not a fan of blood. Her hands fell out in front of her as she kneeled over, side still pressed against the post, and she tipped her head forward to prevent anymore from dripping down her face.

The opposition's counter attack had to be stopped by Jana before the referee eventually blew their whistle. Jana had been subbed on for Mapi earlier and was now fuelled with rage, leading to her delivering an outstanding slide tackle to the player rushing towards her on the halfway line. Everyone will give her her kudos after the game for such a perfect tackle, it really didn't get much better than that, but for now the focus was, rightfully so, on Ingrid.

Alexia, Salma, and a few others had called for the game to be stopped as they rushed over to Ingrid the second she went down, absolutely enraged that a player had suffered not only a possible concussion which should have stopped the game straight away, but also had a gushing cut which was even more reason, if at all needed, for the whistle to be blown. Lucy and Irene were already arguing with the referee as words were ushered to Ingrid, but they were lost on her due to the intense ringing in her ears.

Mapi watched every second of it from the bench. When she saw the initial stamp on Ingrid, she stood from her chair and clutched at the back of the one in front of her as she voiced her outrage at such a blatant act. However, that was nothing compared to the reaction she had when she saw the hit to her girlfriend's face, followed by the stream of red. It was almost the exact same scenario she had gone through a while back, but her fear was about a million times more intense this time around since it was Ingrid. Her Ingrid.

When Mapi went through the same injury, she had been relatively calm when it had happened, and it had stayed that way as the medics attended to her before she was able to go back out onto the pitch. This time? Her emotions ripped through her and swiftly took control of her mind.

Even as Frido tried to hold her back, Mapi raced out of the seating area and onto the sidelines. An endless amount of colourful expletives left her mouth, cussing out the referee and the other team and just about anyone she could think to blame for causing such an avoidable situation. Jona and a few of the other Barcelona staff tried to call her back and stop her from acting out, but it was futile. She needed an outlet for her worries and if disguising her anxiety with anger was the first alternative her panicked mind thought of, she was fine with that. Some rational part of her mind had prevented her from rushing onto the pitch towards Ingrid, but that's about as far as she got.

The match officials came over to her and gave her multiple warnings about her actions but that didn't stop her, nothing would stop her until she knew Ingrid was alright. By now, the medics had made it to Ingrid and were cleaning up her, but Mapi had tunnel vision that she only snapped out of when the referee showed her a yellow card. Not the player that had brutally stamped on Ingrid, not the player that elbowed her, neither of them, the referee chose Mapi instead. The Spaniard could only laugh, and she went to let loose on the figure in front of her again but was stopped by Alexia, who had noticed the situation playing out after she had stepped away from Ingrid.

"Hey! Hey! Step down, stop, Mapi!" Alexia pushed her back off the pitch by her shoulders, the shorter woman not even realising she had gone onto it. "I know you are upset but you will get suspended if you carry on. Cálmate, María, ahora."

"That puta, she h-"

"Oi! I know, I saw it. Ingrid is fine though, just a bit freaked out." Alexia squeezes her shoulders before letting go and pointing over to the Norwegian, who was now sat up with her head being held still by one of the medics whilst the other gently dabs at the wound on her face. "See? She is okay. You can speak to her when she comes off, but for now calm down. This is not something to get suspended over."

"She's okay?" Mapi mumbles quietly to her friend after a moment, a concerned frown on her face as her eyes don't drift from Ingrid's spot on the pitch.

"Yes. You can find out for yourself in a minute." Alexia tells her, hands on her hips as she stands beside her. Mapi nods solemnly, all the fight gone from her, watching on silently.

Ingrid stands up and is met with an applause as she does so, one of the medics carefully lifting the blood-soaked jersey over her head before guiding her to the sidelines. With one eye, she spots an antsy looking María waiting for her and it makes her smile, feeling significantly better than she did a few minutes ago. When she arrives in front of Mapi, the Spaniard hastily unzips her coat and takes it off before draping it over Ingrid's bare shoulders.

"Thank you." Ingrid mumbles to her, grateful for the act as she was a bit cold now that she wasn't running around anymore. Mapi can't get a word out so just nods vigorously at her, something that makes her laugh a little and it's a noise that fills Mapi with relief.

The staff urge Ingrid to sit down in a chair at the back of the dugout and the Norwegian pats the chair beside her for Mapi to sit in, to which the Spaniard does immediately.

"Are you okay?" Mapi asks her breathlessly. Before Ingrid can answer, the cut is shown to her when the medic moves the gauze away from her eyebrow. "Ouch!"

"Why are you saying that?" Ingrid laughs, wincing when the gash is cleaned again with an alcohol wipe.

"Sorry, princesa, it freaked me out." Mapi answers with another grimace, though she looks at the cut quite inquisitively for someone so 'freaked' out.

"What a kind thing to say to your injured girlfriend." Keira said from one of the chairs in front of her, Ingrid giggling as Mapi looked a bit sheepish.

"Eso es un poco repugnante." Vicky comments from beside Keira.

"Oi! That's my girlfriend, nena." Mapi scolds her before turning back to Ingrid and scoffing when the dark-haired woman rolls her eyes.

"Hush, María. You don't need to play the hero." Everyone around falls suspiciously silent around her when Ingrid says that. She squints her eyes at her friends as the medics begin to bandage her up, eyes flicking between each person. "What is going on?"

"Nada." Mapi shrugged, sending what she thought was a sneaky warning glance to her but Ingrid caught it of course. The Norwegian sends a stern look of her own to her teammates, a silent plea for them to tell her whatever she wasn't clued in on.

"Mapi got booked for running her mouth off to the ref when you went down." Keira reveals, Mapi gasping harshly and slapping her shoulder.

"Oi, chivato!" She shouts, before turning back to Ingrid with a grimaced smile. "Sorry?"

"María, why?" Ingrid fixes her with another stern look, but unfortunately for Mapi, ever the childish one, she can't really take her seriously when she's got a comical amount of bandages wrapped around her head, looking like Mr Bump from the Mr Men books. "That was silly, you didn't need to do that. You could have got suspended!"

"I was scared!" Mapi argues, shoulders stuck in a shrug as she held her hands up blamelessly. "I feel better now, now that you're..."

"I'm what?" Ingrid pushes her, knowing that the words about to come out of Mapi's mouth weren't anything along the lines of 'now that you're okay' or 'now that I'm with you'.

"Now that you look really cute with that big bandage." Mapi comments with a mischievous grin, hearing some of the girls and staff around her laugh as Ingrid makes an outraged noise.

"María! I didn't tease you when you had the same bandage!" Ingrid exclaims, nudging her arm.

"I'm kidding, princesa, I'm joking!" Mapi defends herself, placing a hand on her bare knee and the other on her forearm. "Sorry elskling, I am."

Ingrid can't stay annoyed at the older woman for too long, not when she looks equally as adorable when she's begging for forgiveness, not when she's calling her pet names in Norwegian, and not when Ingrid knows she's just trying to lighten the situation and make her feel better. It's why she loves her, after all.

"You are annoying." Ingrid murmurs lovingly, shrugging the coat off and handing it back to Mapi when she gets given a fresh jersey. "Am I good to go back on?"

The medics have cleared her for now and Jona gives her the nod, so she stands but is quickly pulled back by Mapi who grabs her hand.

"Be careful, princesa." Mapi tells her in a soft, pleading voice. Ingrid nods and smiles when Mapi kisses the back of her hand before giving her a shy wave and walking to the sidelines.

Thankfully, the rest of the game goes off without a hitch, no more nasty fouls and not quite so much fury running through the other team. At the end of the game, Mapi joins her team in going through all the post-match procedures like the huddle and handshakes and fan interactions, before following Ingrid to the physio room like a lost puppy.

Before they start to take the bandage off though, Mapi grabs her phone from her coat pocket and makes sure to take plenty of photos of Ingrid with her head wrapped up, something that the Norwegian complains about before swiping the phone out of her hand and sliding it underneath her back where she lay on one of the beds. Mapi pouts dramatically before moving to stand at the top of the bed so that she's out of the way of the medical team.

They go through the process of taking off the bandage before examining it more closely now that they're not stuck in a mid-game rush, deciding that it can be solved with some stitches. Surprisingly, it's not Ingrid whose face pales at that, it's Mapi. But she just gives Ingrid a weak smile when the Norwegian looks up at her, squeezing the taller woman's shoulder comfortingly. Then, Mapi further grimaces when one of the doctors gives Ingrid a tiny injection in her eyebrow to numb the area before they start stitching. The Spaniard has her eyes screwed shut at that point, hand still placed reasurringly on her girlfriend's shoulder, until the doctor says he's done.

He gives the couple space for a while to allow the injection to work, at which point Alexia decides to walk over from where she'd been watching the whole thing, mainly her long-time friend.

"Stitches, no?" Alexia says, wandering over still in her kit except she'd swapped her boots for a pair of sliders.

"Yeah, stitches." Ingrid frowns, not quite a fan of the idea of it.

"You scared?" Alexia wonders, quickly shooting a smug, knowing grin at Mapi.

"Mhm. Mapi wouldn't stop gagging when she was getting her stitches." Ingrid and Alexia share a laugh as Mapi pulls a face at them both.

"That's because Mapi is a gallina. You should have seen her face when they injected your eyebrow, I saw the whole thing." Alexia teases as she looks back at Mapi whose face was now quite red, Ingrid giggling and also gazing up at her embarrassed girlfriend.

"No es justo, Ale." Mapi murmurs, glaring at both women.

"Cheer up, cobarde." Alexia lightly pats Mapi's cheek twice before the doctor comes back in.

"Ingrid, try to raise your eyebrow for me." All three people in the room standing over Ingrid watch amusedly as she tries so very hard to do as she was asked, but to no avail. "Perfect. Let's get started."

Alexia moves to grab a chair and sits on it backwards with her arms crossed over the top edge of it, smirking at the slight fear present in Mapi's eyes. The pair of them stay silent as they watch the doctor stitch up her eyebrow, and when he gets to the last few, Alexia grasps Mapi's hand that was gripping the edge of the bed so firmly her hands hurt.

"Come on, Mapi, you're doing so well, amiga. Nearly done, you're doing so well." Alexia reasurres her friend dramatically, Ingrid bursting out into laughter at the ridiculousness of it. Mapi grunts in frustration and slaps Alexia's hand away, lightly shoving her out of the chair and taking her seat.

The doctor quickly does a once over of his work before asking Ingrid a few questions where he decides she's all done for the night. With a quick thanks, he nods and smiles at the three, then leaves them to it.

"We will have matching scars, princesa." Mapi grins childishly at the thought, Alexia and Ingrid both rolling their eyes.

"Buena, I will leave you both. Make sure to look after her, yes Ingrid? She's a delicate little mariposa." Alexia pouts at Mapi like she's the injured one, pinching her cheek like a baby.

"Vete al diablo." Mapi slaps her thigh once more, then watches as Alexia squeezes Ingrid's hand quickly before bidding them both goodbye and leaving the room.

Mapi turns back to Ingrid who is already looking over at her, heads both at the same height now that Mapi was sat down, and Ingrid had a humoured but adorable look on her face.

"Not you too." Mapi grumbled.

"I did not know you were so squeamish, María. You can't even look at a tiny injection?" Ingrid grins at her, moving to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet grazing Mapi's shins.

"I'm not so perfect after all, princesa, sorry I kept that a secret from you for so long." And just like that, her teasing nature was back.

"Ha ha, Mapi. Very funny." Ingrid rolls her eyes, now in a little bit of pain due to the dark bruising beginning to come out.

Mapi smiles a toothy grin up at her, leaning forward to rest her arms on Ingrid's thighs and rest her chin atop them. Ingrid huffs a breath of laughter and rests back on one hand, the other moving to tuck some of Mapi's hair behind her ear.

"How do you feel?" Mapi wonders, one of her fingers pushing Ingrid's shorts up ever so slightly so that she can stroke her thumb along the soft, tanned skin that's there.

"Tired. I have a bit of a headache." In Ingrid's terms, a bit of a headache meant quite an uncomfortable headache, that Mapi had learnt in the time they'd been together.

"Well, you do not have a concussion which is good. Good for me because then I don't have to tape my mouth shut like last time." They both laugh at the reminder, Mapi simply gazing up at Ingrid. "We will get you some medicine for your head and I will drive home. Are you showering before we go?"

"Mm, no. Can we have a bath at home?" Ingrid asks shyly, and Mapi swears she feels her heart double, triple in size at the sound of her voice.

"If you'd like. Anything for min kjære. Mi princesa."

Sure, maybe Mapi wasn't always a calm and collected woman, but who wouldn't panic when someone like Ingrid was in the face of danger? María Pilar León Cebrián would, that's for sure. She'd happily get booked every game she played if it was for defending Ingrid, even if it Alexia or Jona wouldn't exactly be too happy with that. Because when the sun is staring at you with such a beautiful face, it's hard not to get blinded by it.

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #mapi leon x ingrid engen #ingrid engen x mapi leon #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #mapi león #fcb femení #fcb femeni #alexia putellas

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halfvalid · 8 months

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kitten

ABOUT

alternate title: the pet name 'kitten' is gross when used by men but it's cute when a woman nami says it

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!nami | fem!reader | live action!roronoa zoro

pairing: live action!nami x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

description: nami is aware you've got a crush on one of the straw hats, and she's determined to find out who—but she's completely oblivious to the fact that you actually like her.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of “y/n”, pet name "kitten", banter, absolutely tooth rotting amounts of fluff, a little bit of (affectionate) zoro slander

author’s note: i interrupt your regularly scheduled zoro fic posts to provide you with a sapphic nami oneshot instead because she is my wife and i love her dearly.

zoro accidentally popped up a bit too much in this because he's always on my mind. my apologies <3

You’d always liked astronomy. The current-world navigation had nothing to do with the stars, really; at least not when it came to the Grand Line. Unnatural magnetic fields and the odd weather was reason enough for that—but celestial navigation wasn’t even often used in any of the four quadrants. Too finicky, people would say; you know the practice had stopped being in use in the Marines years ago.

Nami knew it all, though. She was the only one of the Straw Hats who could read the stars, the sky spreading out as a map that only her eyes could read.

Your interest in it had always been more… artistic. While Nami babbled on about angles and reference points and sextants, you liked to talk about the planets and heavenly bodies blanketing the sky. It was dusk, and the sun was kissing the horizon good night, dull hues of pink and orange spreading alongside the sea with a golden shimmer as it tucked safely away.

You’d been lying out on the main deck for a good few hours, stretched like a cat along a hammock you’d strung up forever ago, when you heard footsteps.

“There you are, kitten,” Nami said with a laugh, and you sat up to appraise her. The evening glow cast fire to her orange hair, a blazing halo surrounding her head and painting her skin over in gold dust. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. “What for?”

“Well, for one, you missed supper.” Nami gingerly took a seat on the side of your hammock, the canvas cloth rocking from side to side with the motion. “Avoiding your crush again?”

You let out a sigh, half-exasperated as your bottom lip sucked in between your teeth. You nibbled at the flesh there, not responding. Nami had figured out a few weeks ago that you had a crush on one of the other Straw Hats, and she brought it up every so often, although all it did was cause a crease in your brow bone and a flicker of annoyance on your face.

“What, am I not supposed to bring that up?” Nami teased. The light shone in her crystal blue eyes, clear like the sky during midday, not a cloud in sight. “You still haven’t told me who it is.”

“Because you’ll pull something if I do!” you protested. “Don’t try to deny it, you conniving little witch.”

Nami gasped in mock-offense, a hand plastered to her chest. “And destroy your dignity like that? I would never.”

“I don’t trust you,” you answered, and Nami clicked her tongue. “What did Sanji make?”

“Fish. Soup. Rice.”

“You’re so undescriptive,” you said with a wrinkle of your nose. Nami just laughed.

“Not everyone can be as artistic as you, kitten. Come on, everyone left the kitchen already. You don’t have to worry about running into your mystery man.” She winked at the last sentence, and your breath caught. Nami seemed to notice, because she laughed, stepping up from the hammock and grabbing your hand to help you off. “You’re hilarious.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you protested. Nami just gave you a look, and you rolled your eyes, but let her drag you along the ship until you reached the kitchen. “You’re so mean to me,” you said, slumping into the nearest chair available.

“Mhm. Here.” Nami started serving up a plate, loading it full of food before passing it over to you. It was quickly joined by a bowl of soup. “Eat. We’re docking tomorrow, so you should get your energy up. We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping for what?” you asked, bringing the bowl of soup to your lips. Seaweed. “If you say rope and boat parts I’m going to scream.” As much as you liked the pirate life, there was only so much of the technicalities you could take. You weren’t very much a practical soul, lumped in very much with Luffy when it came to your general attitude of your job description. Pirating consisted of adventure and art, in your opinion.

“Rope and boat parts,” Nami said with a straight face. She’d always been the exact opposite, all focused on maps and making sure everything was running smoothly. “Well, only partly. I’ve been sent to go clothes shopping too. And to pick up a few other supplies.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re coming with me, right? Well, unless you want to join your…”

“Shut up,” you said, making a face at her as you set your bowl down. Nami just laughed.

“Just putting it out there, kitten. I’m sure you might be more interested in going with Usopp to talk to the stevedores. Or Zoro to the local tavern. Or Sanji for the—”

“Nope, nope, and nope. I’m going with you,” you said firmly. There was a whisper of a smile at your lips, but Nami didn’t seem to notice it. “And I still don’t get why I’m a kitten.”

“Because,” Nami answered, propping her elbows on the table as she gazed over at you. “I’m the cat burglar. You’re the kitten.”

“Why isn’t Luffy the kitten?”

“Luffy’s the captain, and I don’t like him as much.” Nami straightened, starting to clean up around the kitchen and load the abandoned dishes from when everyone else had eaten into the sink. You smiled at that. “You don’t like him, do you? I feel like you could do so much better.”

“My lips are sealed,” you answered. Nami gave you a sidelong look.

“That better not be a yes.”

You just shrugged, raising the bowl of soup again and finishing the rest of it before turning to the rice and fish. “Let’s not talk about it. What about you? Any romantic prospects—”

Nami turned so abruptly you almost choked while eating. “I just barely started learning how to make friends. Maybe we wait a few months before we get to that,” she said. You coughed, palm pressed to your lips as you cleared out your airways.

“Okay. Aggressive.”

Nami scowled. “That was not aggressive.”

You pulled a face. “Kinda sounds like you have something to hide, Nami,” you teased, and although you didn’t actually expect her to react, she did. To your surprise, Nami turned away again, the very edges of her face pinkening. You stared at her, heartbeat slowing to a steady thud in your chest. There was a faint taste of panic at the back of your throat, slightly sour and acidic like blood or rust. “Um, what was that?”

“What was what?” Nami asked evenly. Too evenly. You gaped at her back, organs wobbling precariously inside of your chest.

“That—thing.”

“Kitten, if you want me to understand what you’re talking about, you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that,” Nami said smoothly. “Now it’s getting dark. You should get to bed. Last chance to shove yourself with your crewmate of choice.”

“I’m still going with you,” you said stubbornly, shoveling the last of your rice in your mouth before slipping off your chair. You moved around the table, setting your bowl and chopsticks into the sink. “You want me to do them?” you asked, nodding at the dirty dishes that’d piled up. Nami shook her head.

“Go sleep,” she said gently. “I’ll get you in the morning.”

You watched her for a moment, lips twisting before you finally relented. “Night, Nami,” you said, and she turned away. You were safe there for a moment, admiring how the soft backlit glow from the windows etched shadows along her face. She really was beautiful, and your heart thudded fast in your chest.

Nami was the strongest person you knew. The smartest person you knew. The Straw Hats wouldn’t be the same without her, and sometimes you found it funny how she seemed so convinced you had a crush on one of the other members of the crew when it was so obvious that she was your north star.

Ah, well. She’d just have to keep on guessing.

Nami woke you at the crack of dawn, where the hazy rays of the sun just started rising up from the sea shore. You’d traveled to shore while asleep, and everyone was already up and running.

“Luffy left already,” Nami was saying, tying a bandana around her head as you gathered up the rest of the supplies you needed. “And we’ll probably spend the whole day out, so we can get lunch in the village.” She eyed you. “I packed breakfast. Come on.”

You followed her off the ship, savoring the early morning wind along the harbor. The dock men were all already hard at work, milling around the dozens of boats with tools and equipment propped on their shoulders. “Where to first?” you asked.

“Boat parts,” she said, casting you a sympathetic smile. “Some rope, extra sails, some other stuff. After that I’m thinking groceries—I put Sanji in charge of bulk stock this time, so just stuff like soap and necessities—and then clothes.” She grinned. “And some fun stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. Nami did most of the talking, but you were content to watch her barter, leaning back on your heels as she argued with sellers and eventually left with a satisfied smirk on your face. She hired some of the dock men to carry the ropes and items to the Going Merry, looking her arm in yours and going off to your next stop.

“You know, you’re basically stealing from them like this,” you told her, a smile evident in your voice. “Forty-five thousand berry to thirty thousand. That’s actually terrifying.”

“I said take it or leave it and he took it.” Nami shrugged, but you could see a beam of pride shine through her face. “But enough of that. The market’s up ahead.”

The entire village seemed to have been brought out, because true to Nami’s words, there was a fair going on. Stalls boasting all kinds of wares lined the streets, and you peeked through all of them, even at Nami’s urges to hurry up and focus only on your shopping list. She watched you with a soft smile on her lips, the expressions interlaced with ones of exasperation.

“I should’ve just picked a random man and carted you off with him,” she said with a click of her tongue as you spent far too much time glancing through a stand of knick-knacks and jewelry. “Currently either Zoro or Sanji are my top contenders.”

You barely suppressed a snort, fingers carefully combing through a bowl of baubles. There were various items inside, from earrings missing a sister to pins and little statuettes. “How come?”

“Usopp has Kaya, so I would hope you don’t like him,” Nami said. You raised an eyebrow, glancing up to meet her gaze.

“Kaya’s all the way back in Syrup Village, Nami. She can’t do anything, and who knows when we’ll return there?”

Nami gave you a horrified look. “Kitten, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

You just laughed, dropping your gaze again and picking at the bowl. There was a dull gleam of something at the bottom; it wasn’t gold or brass like anything else there, and was instead a shining, milky white. You dug through the pile, trying to get to it. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Does that mean it is Usopp?”

“I do not confirm nor deny a thing,” you said, finally plucking out what had captured your attention. It was a necklace, the pendant a glittering star on a gold chain. “And I want reasoning.”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami said, gaze flickering down to it before meeting your eyes again. “Zoro because he’s conventionally attractive and Sanji because he can cook.”

You scoffed, studying the necklace. “Those are terrible reasons.”

“I can’t think of any good ones,” Nami protested. “The only thing I can think of are reasons you wouldn’t like any of them. Because they’re all kind of losers and you could do much, much better.” She tilted her head imperceptibly upwards, and you saw a little glimmer in her eye, a reaction that bore uncanny similarity to the one she’d worn the day before. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“You think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?” You turned towards the stand seller, motioning at the necklace. “How much?”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami repeated, shooting you a look. “It’s a waste of perfectly good berry.”

“It’s five hundred at most,” you scoffed, fishing a wad of bills out from your pocket. Nami sighed, but she didn’t argue. “Barely anything. Do you think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?”

Nami looked distracted. “Hm?”

“You said Zoro was conventionally attractive,” you repeated, voice firmer this time. You tried to suppress the little tremble in your cadence as you passed the money to the seller. He counted it and gave you a firm nod. Carefully, you dropped the necklace in your pocket. “Do you think he is?”

“Well—from an objective standpoint—”

You pushed past the swarm of patrons milling around the stands, Nami having to quicken her pace to keep up with you. “Attraction isn’t objective.”

“Kitten.” Nami grabbed your wrist, forcing you to slow down, and you flinched. She tugged you in the direction of another stand, probably something off her list. “Why do you care so much? Am I right? Is he the one you like?”

You wiggled your wrist out of Nami’s grip. “I don’t care, I’m just curious. Because you’ve been blushing for the past half hour and you mentioned Zoro was conventionally attractive. And if you say he’s conventionally attractive that means you think he’s conventionally attractive. So assumedly you are blushing because of—”

It clearly took Nami a moment to unscramble your honestly entirely nonsensical words. “Kitten, I’m trying to figure out whether or not you have a crush on Zoro. You’re not supposed to be trying to figure out if I do. And I have not been blushing.”

You relented, but still couldn’t suppress the pout that threatened your mouth. Your teeth pressed against the flesh of your lower lip, running alongside the skin but not fully biting. “You said Zoro was conven—”

“If I have to hear you say the words conventionally attractive one more time, I swear I will lock you in the hold,” Nami said sharply, and you had to choke back your laugh. “And the reason I said that is because every single time we go out, at least five people turn to stare at his stupid face. Do you not remember that time on Mirror Ball Island? We practically had to fight women off of him.”

“Okay, fine,” you said, a glimpse at her features seemed to support her words. She was as guarded as ever, and clearly irritated, though her vexation didn’t seem as bad as the annoyances she’d hold over the rest of the crew. They never did, really; Luffy always liked to say that you were Nami’s favorite. “I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I neither confirm nor deny anything,” you repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past week. “Restaurant. Please.”

Nami didn’t look away from you, but relented, and the two of you went to the nearest restaurant to have lunch. You were mainly silent during the meal, replaying the conversation from before over and over again in your head. There was a buzz of uncertainty in the pit of your stomach, one that you entirely disliked.

Before you’d been fine with keeping quiet about your crush—you never felt too threatened or upset, under the impression that your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated and that Nami wouldn’t fall for anyone in the near future anyway. And you didn’t mind her guessing between your four male comrades to find the one who’d stolen your heart.

But the reactions and the blushes were a development. And you were starting to think that Nami herself had a mystery beau.

Nami talked about work during the meal, going down her grocery list and checking off the things she’d gotten. You watched her as she glared down at her notebook, pencil caught between two fingers as she scribbled down notes to herself. “You’re not eating,” you said gently.

“Sorry. Distracted,” Nami answered. She shot you a smile, but it quickly fell as she turned back to her notebook. “What about Sanji?”

You suppressed a sigh. “Are you still on about this?”

“Yes,” Nami insisted. She finally shut her notebook, slipping it into the bag hanging off her waist and picking up her chopsticks to return to her soup noodles. “You’d never go hungry with him around, at least.”

“I think you need to raise your standards. I already don’t go hungry with him around, I don’t need to date him for that.”

Nami clicked her tongue, but it was good-natured. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“I don’t want to talk about myself anymore,” you insisted, setting down your chopsticks. You’d basically finished your bowl already; there were only the final remnants of broth and rice noodles at the bottom, the soup seasoning darker in color; more pungent.

You fiddled with your hands, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that persisted even as you thought back to what Nami had said about Zoro. Her reasoning had been sound enough, but you still felt vaguely sick, that bitter taste of sour iron at the back of your throat again.

“Are you okay?” Nami’s eyes met yours, and you flinched away. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I think I’m going to head back to the ship and take a nap. I’m kind of tired.” Before Nami could say anything, you got up, chair scraping along the restaurant floor. “See you later?”

“What? Kitten, wait—” Nami called, but you just swallowed, glancing over your shoulder to shoot her an apologetic look.

The Going Merry was a breath of fresh air as you stepped foot back onto her deck. There were some dockmen milling about, setting material along the deck as Usopp directed them as to where everything went.

You brushed past them to veer towards your hammock, slipping onto it and kicking your legs up along the cloth without pause. Your eyes closed, and you let the sun melt down on your face, the tension in your chest easing as you embraced the beam of the sky.

You stayed there for a while, knowing you were safe as Nami wouldn’t come find you until she’d finished with all her actual tasks. Although this was occasionally irritating if you were in real desire for attention, you appreciated the responsible side of her now. You didn’t have to confront her for a few hours yet, so you spent the time on your hammock, watching the clouds drifting in the sky and picking out the dull stars that shimmered as the sky got darker.

It was just before suppertime when you remembered the necklace you’d bought. Stars were just beginning to materialize, dark blues and purples replacing the cerulean hues that previously blanketed the Earth. You fished the star necklace out of your pocket, peering at the pendant again. It was made of some sort of shimmering stone you didn’t recognize—perhaps opal—that made it glow like an actual star, iridescent when light hit it.

“Hey, kitten.”

You looked up, watching as Nami made her way across the ship deck to where you lay. She looked tired, but still bore a soft smile on her face as she met your gaze. “Hi,” you said, tucking the necklace back into your pocket. Behind her you could see the last of the hired work carrying barrels down to the hold. “Get everything done?”

“Mhm,” Nami said. “Wanna talk about earlier?”

“Not really,” you muttered, the sharp tang of rust dancing at the back of your tongue again. “Sorry about storming out. I felt unwell.”

Nami studied you carefully, arms folding unconsciously over her chest. “I can stop bothering you about your crush, if you want,” she said finally, a gust of a sigh leaving her lips. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, getting up and climbing your legs over the edge so you were sitting on the hammock. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Nami, I swear.”

“You walked out in the middle of a meal, kitten,” Nami said, and you could hear her voice starting to get upset, even as she tried to level her tone. “Clearly I did. Was it because I kept trying to figure it out? Was I right with Zoro? What—”

“It’s not because of that,” you interrupted, trying to keep your voice gentle even as your chest squeezed inward. You were powerless to your muscles; to your heart as it did a pathetic little thump-thump thing inside of you.

“Then why?” Nami leaned forward on her heels, and the setting sun caught her eyes, kaleidoscope blue glittering a thousand different shades like the opal of your necklace. “Just tell me, kitten. So I won’t do it again.”

“It was because of you,” you mumbled, shying away from her gaze. Nami sighed.

“Yes, we established that I did something to upset you already. I’m trying to find out what—”

“You called Zoro attractive and I was jealous,” you blurted, before you could even think to stop the words from falling out of your mouth. Nami froze, and you lifted your eyes up hesitantly to see her reaction.

Her shoulders were all tense, face guarded, eyes blank from their usual expression. “Oh,” she said evenly. There was an ugly purse tightening at her lips, and she fought to keep them in an even line. “So it is Zoro, then. Thank you for telling me.”

She turned away then, her movements abrupt as she started walking. A pulse of panic captured your heart, and you called desperately out to her, volume far too loud in the late hour. You didn’t find yourself caring. “I wasn’t jealous of you!” you cried, and Nami’s entire body went still.

She turned back towards you, so slowly that you found yourself capturing your breath in your throat waiting for her.

“I wasn’t jealous of you,” you repeated once her eyes met yours. “I was jealous of Zoro. Of you thinking he was attractive.” Your fingers fumbled together, trying to find something to occupy themselves with as you choked out the final sentence. “My mystery man is you, Nami. I like you.”

It took a long while for Nami to respond, and the Going Merry rocked as you waited, a soft sway of delay and building panic. There was a shimmer of something in Nami’s eyes, and her lips tugged downwards.

Her voice was hollow when she spoke. “What?”

“I don’t like Zoro or Usopp or Sanji or Luffy, Nami,” you said, hands tightening around each other with every word spilt out from between your lips. “I like you. I like you when you call me kitten. I like you when you complain about me buying things but let me do it anyway. I like you even when you’re teasing me about my crush.” Your voice dropped to a low mumble. “And I was jealous because you thought Zoro was attractive.”

“Oh, kitten,” Nami said, and you glanced up to see her right in front of you, bent over to meet your level sitting down. She reached for your hands, and you let her take them, exhaling as her tender grasp clasped around your palms.

“Nami,” you whispered, horrified to hear how wet your voice sounded. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Nami, you may be the ship’s navigator, but you’re my north star. I like you.”

Kitten, I do not think Zoro is attractive,” Nami said, and you had to choke back startled laughter at that being what she was focusing on. “That is the least of your worries.”

“But—you seemed so annoyed when you thought it was Zoro—don’t you like—”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Nami said, a soft laugh leaving her lips. They were trembling. Her entire body was trembling, even her hands as she cocooned yours in them. “I was annoyed because I thought you liked Zoro. Because—I like you too.”

You swallowed, surprise forcing your jaw to fall slack as you met her gaze. “Really?” you whispered. Nami nodded; she coaxed soft circles into the skin of your hands, a supportive smile edging up her lips.

“I really thought you liked someone else, kitten, I would’ve said something before if—” Nami let out another gentle laugh. “If I knew. It wasn’t until you told me about the crush did I realize. I got a little… too overprotective, and then… well, it wasn’t very platonic at that point.” She ducked her head, hiding her smile, but you slipped one of your hands out of her grasp to push it back up. “God, you’re too good for any of them.”

“I don’t want to talk about how the rest of them suck,” you murmured. “I want to talk about how amazing you are. Oh—and—” You dug your hand in your pocket, pulling out the necklace. “This reminded me of you. I got it for you.”

“Kitten,” Nami breathed, as you unclasped the necklace and carefully put it on her. It swung around her neck before you adjusted it, golden yellow bright against the white of her pale skin. The opal glittered, catching the moonlight that’d steadily glowed brighter from behind you. “Thank you. It’s still a waste of money though.”

“Not for you,” you said, grabbing her hands to squeeze her fingers. “Never for you.” You took in a nervous breath, your chest tightening inside—but it wasn’t all bitter and sour, nothing like the taste of panic.

Nami met you in the middle when you finally leaned up to kiss her, your hand slipping up the side of her face, fingers curling in her orange hair. She smiled when she kissed, soft and carefree for once, that serious facade she always took on melting away in the moment. She kissed softly; tenderly; like the moon shining gentle waves on the East Blue below or the sun in the hazy morning sky casting light across the world.

There were footsteps approaching from behind Nami. You opened your eyes, tilting your gaze up to see Zoro staring down at you both. Nami broke apart from you, glancing over her shoulder. None of you said anything.

“Okay,” Zoro decided, and then walked off. You barely managed to stifle your giggles until he was out of earshot.

“God, he’s such a loser,” Nami said, and then kissed you again.

#opla nami #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #cat burglar nami x reader #opla nami x reader #reader insert #x reader #nami x reader #nami x you #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #kiki writes!

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blitany · 1 year

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moments between Ellie and Joel that simultaneously broke me and healed me: ep. 8 edition

so much of Ellie is trying to be like Joel because he needs her (and she needs him but right now the closest she can get is imitating him) - from how she handles the rifle to how she talks to David and James. she’s always been brave and mouthy but she’s so clearly trying to imitate Joel now with the fake-deep voice and the insults/instructions (Buddy Boy? i’ll put one right between your eyes? the instinctive lie? it’s all so Joel)

all the times David refers to Joel as her father or her dad and she doesn’t correct him but that’s a lie she can’t bring herself to say on her own because that one’s too close to home, to close to what she wants to be true but is terrified to admit because she doesn’t think Joel sees her as his daughter

when Ellie lays beside Joel in the basement, partly trying to keep him warm, but partly for comfort, and Joel unconsciously turns his head towards her in his sleep, leaning into her like her presence is just as much medicine to him as the penicillin

Joel isn’t even healed yet but a switch flips in him because he knows Ellie needs him. the Joel we see next is darker, this Joel is the one Maria does’t trust and Tommy doesn’t understand, because he’s not about to lose a daughter again!!

“you don’t need a father” but she does, she does so badly and all she can think about is getting back to him

David’s whole speech about how she’s just like him so clearly unnerves Ellie because she’s not like David, if she’s like anyone she’s like Joel who she’s been trying so hard to be this episode. Joel is who she needs, Joel is who she takes after, and this man is nothing like Joel

the “violent heart” moment being such a parallel between Joel and David, highlighting how they’re nothing alike (Joel’s heart isn’t violent, it’s broken, but he doesn’t take and hurt for himself, he does whatever it takes to protect the people who need him) and by extension how David and Ellie are nothing alike and i could make a whole post about this moment alone and how utterly wrong David is here

how Joel grabs her backpack in the slaughterhouse because he knows she’s still out there and he’s not giving up hope on her just like he never gave up on Tommy - she’s family now, she’s his family now and he’s gonna get her back whatever it takes, and when he does she’s gonna need her backpack.

the way Joel goes to her when he spots her without thinking twice because it’s his girl and he’s just so relieved to see she’s alive... but the moment she starts screaming he knows something bad happened and his whole demeanor changes to focus on what Ellie needs in this moment

the absolute softness of how he says “Look,” says it’s me and I’m here and I got here as soon as I could and you’re safe, you’re safe with me

Ellie lets herself hug him for the first time ever and they just melt into each other as he holds her tight like they both need after the last three episodes

“I got you baby girl.” the first time he’s called her something soft, something affectionate, something he used to call Sarah. his girl, his baby girl, his daughter.

“I got you,” he repeats, “I got you.” as much to reassure her as to reassure himself. he closes his eyes and holds her tighter because yes, he got her. he got there in time. he’s got her and he’s not letting her go.

#the last of us #spoilers #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel and ellie #they are simply everything to me #the father daughter found family relationship is the entire reason i watch this show #episode 8 #tlou episode 8

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. 1

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist |

summary: When you let your new neighbor’s daughter inside to call her father from your landline, you never expect to be dealing with the fallout twenty years later. Series will take place before and after the outbreak, and is partially inspired by this request. Slow-burn(ish), eventual smut. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 6.4k chapter warnings: mentions of/encounters with a drunk person, references to absent parents, i imply that both reader (and joel) like pineapple on pizza. a/n: i need to get my shit together and make a proper masterlist/post for this series but i'm absolute garbage with photoshop/making collages so that is a project for another day!! for now, i wanted to get this first part out to ya'll. i watched a playthrough of the game too so ill be including some references to that throughout the series. this will be some hallmark-movie ass romance so strap in!! this chapter was super fun to write and i loved writing for reader and sarah, give it a read and let me know what you think!

-March 7, 2003-

“Excuse me? Ma’am? Excuse me?”

The voice behind you is so timid you don’t hear it right away, especially not when your phone is pressed to your ear with your shoulder as you sort through the mail, your coworker droning on and on…

“Ma’am?”

It’s a little more forceful this time, a little closer too, and that’s when it finally gets your attention. Turning around on your heel, you find a young girl standing behind you, one hand hooked in the strap of her backpack that hangs off of one thin shoulder, the other worrying about the butterfly pendant of the necklace she’s wearing.

You recognize her immediately as one of your neighbors, the girl from across the street whose name you didn’t know yet, because you only moved in about two months ago. You’d met the man who you assumed was her father – Joe? Or was it Joel?, you couldn’t remember – the first day you’d moved in, but there had been so much going on that you were too flustered to be engaged.

It’s a Friday, but apparently that doesn’t keep you safe from work calls after you leave the office, because you’re getting an earful of a whole lot of hot air, so much so that you’re probably unintentionally frowning at the girl in front of you while you try to follow the conversation.

“....I think you’re right, but they’re not going to budge unless we sweeten the deal somehow-”

“Can I call you back?” you blurt, ultimately thankful for the interruption. You don’t even wait for his response before you click off your blackberry, sighing, looking up. “Hi, yeah, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Uhm, I’m Sarah…..Miller….I live across the street?” her voice goes up slightly at the end of the sentence, like she’s unsure, even as she points to the home behind her, a two-story place that’s considerably bigger than your own, but maybe a little older. “I uhm…I locked myself out and I was wondering if I could use your phone…to call my dad at work? Please?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “That’s fine. Just uh..follow me I guess.”

Tucking the stack of mail in your hand under your arm, you wave her after you, your kitten heels clicking on the hard pavement of your driveway.

“Be careful here,” you warn her as you step over the middle step to your front porch that has rotted, and gives easily under any amount of weight. You’d learned about it the hard way, last week, and still had the bruise on your leg to show for it.

Your front door is open, and Sarah pauses to take off her shoes when you do, a pair of beat-up white Converse that have been doodled on in Sharpie.

“Here, phone’s right there,” you lead her into the kitchen and point to the landline. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Uhm, could I just get some water…please?” She stands rigidly in your kitchen, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Of course,” you reach into the cabinet. Once the glass is filled and placed in front of her, you retreat to your front living area to give her some privacy while she makes the call, sitting on the couch and scrolling through unanswered emails on your blackberry. Sarah mumbles indiscreetly, until you hear her call out again.

“Uhm…ma’am…I’m sorry, Miss…uh-what’s your last name?”

“Oh,” you sit up, giving her your first instead.

“Okay….Uh, my dad wants to talk to you…could you-”

“Sure,” you stand, stepping back into the kitchen, and accepting the receiver from the girl.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Joel Miller,” you’re greeted with a low, gruff drawl. “You’re the new neighbor, I believe introduced myself a while back”

“Joel,” you repeat. It’s Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel, you force yourself to remember. Joel and Sarah Miller. “Yes, we met very briefly.”

“And it sounds like you met Sarah.”

“Yeah.”

On the other end of the line, you hear him hesitate, let out a long sigh. “Look, I hate to put you out, but she lost her key to the house, and she tells me the Adlers aren’t home. Do you think she could stay at your place until I’m able to get off work in a couple hours? I know it’s a big ask, but-”

“Of course she can,” you cut him off, peering over your shoulder at Sarah, who’s staring up at you expectantly with wide, terrified eyes.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“She’s probably got homework so I’ll make sure she stays quiet and out of your way. I’m so sorry, she should know better than this. It’s the second time this month this has happened, I keep tellin’ her-”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal,” you cut him off, unintentionally, before wondering if it was rude you didn’t let him finish. It’s the native New Yorker in you, always in a rush and uninterested in drawn-out excuses. It’s an unfortunate instinct you’ve been trying to train yourself out of, particularly now that you’re living in the southwest. You soften your tone. “She can stay as long as she needs to, seriously. I don’t have anything planned.”

“Okay,” the voice on the other end sounds relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I should be home by nine, I’ll call if anything changes. Thanks so much.”

“Of course, we’ll be fine. See you soon.” You hang up.

Sarah is still behind you when you turn around, clutching the glass of water she’s got in both hands like a vice. “You can stay here until your dad gets home,” you tell her.

“Did….did he sound mad?”

“Maybe a little stressed,” you’re honest. “But….not mad. I also don’t know him, so…”

“I bet he’ll be mad. This is the second time I’ve locked myself out this month because I forgot my key, and I already got lectured once that last time because he had to leave work early.”

“You made a mistake, people forget things…” you shrug. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she looks around like it’s the first time she’s actually registered where she’s at. “You have a nice house. It’s cozy.”

“Thanks,” you put your hands on your hips and look around too. “I’m still settling in, so not everything’s unpacked, but I could give you a tour if you’d like?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ma’am. That tickles you. The address is still not something you’re used to hearing, even though you’ve only been in Austin a few years. “You can just call me by my first name, you know? Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Really?” she grins, following you down the hall. “I can’t wait to be old.”

“You’ll feel differently someday,” you answer. “But…I guess it’s not so bad.”

Compared to the house you grew up in, your new house is nothing special, but it’s yours, and you couldn’t be prouder that you’d bought it all on your own. It’s a three-bedroom ranch, and you’d converted one of the rooms into an office for yourself. There’s a kitchen, living room, and den. But your favorite part is your large, screened in back porch that overlooks your yard. Now that it’s getting closer to summer, you sit outside in the mornings with a cup of tea and read the newspaper, listen to the birds.

“Can I do my homework at your kitchen table?” Sarah asks once you’re finished showing her around.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever,” you answer. “I could probably stand to get a little work done myself.”

Sarah sits at your dining room table, spreads out her books, and works quietly while you answer some emails and look over some contracts. You’ve got a big meeting Monday with a potential client, and a giant stack of term sheets to go through, but if you could manage to get some of it done tonight it might actually help you down the line. As much as possible, you try to avoid doing too much work outside of your office’s standard hours, but sometimes, it’s inevitable.

The subject Sarah has homework in is algebra, which renders you useless. Even when you have to do any accounting at work, you’re used to having a calculator nearby. It’d been awhile since you spent time with anyone as young as she was – in sixth grade, she told you – and it was starting to serve as a confirmation of your own dysfunctional childhood, because her carefree, sweet nature was so drastically different from anything you remembered feeling.

After about an hour, Sarah slowly starts to close her notebooks, zipping her pencils back up in plastic pouches. You look up from making revisions on a contract, the smell of blue ink heavy in the air around you. “I’m done,” she announces. “Could I sit on your couch and read?”

“Of course,” you answer. “Give me five and I’ll join you.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find a good stopping point, and you pack up your messenger bag, and join Sarah in the living room. “So…I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell her. “Are you?”

Sarah nods sheepishly.

“I could order us something,” you said. “What do you like?”

You aren’t much of a chef, though you can generally figure your way out around any recipe. However, cooking for one is notoriously tedious. If you had multiple mouths to feed, maybe you’d be tempted to hone your skills in the kitchen a little more. Most nights you usually treated yourself to a depressing, hastily thrown together salad, scrambled eggs, or a PB&J. Tonight, you had actually been planning to take yourself out to dinner – there’s a cute little French bistro down the street and you were hoping to treat yourself to a cocktail and a nice meal while you read.

Sarah closes her book, contemplating. “Could we….get a pizza?”

You think about it. “Sure, yeah. Pepperoni…cheese?”

“Can we get….one of both?” she tests.

“Yeah, we can do both,” You smile. “I bet your dad will be hungry, too, he can have some if he wants.”

“Maybe…he likes pineapple on his,” Sarah wrinkles her nose.

“He has good taste. I do too.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them separate,” you call over your shoulder as you retreat to the kitchen.

Once the pizza is ordered, you return to your living room and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from Sarah, who is engrossed back in her book. “They told me about 30 minutes. What are you reading?”

“To Kill A Mockingbird,” she says, showing you the cover.

“That was one of my favorites growing up.”

“I have to read it for school…but it’s pretty good so far.”

Your phone pings with another email, and you glance at it quickly.

“Is that work?” she asks.

You nod. “Yeah. It still finds you, even when you leave.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“No way!” Sarah perks up. “Like on the tv shows? That’s so cool.”

You snort, shaking your head. “No, not exactly. I’m a corporate lawyer so it’s not as fun, actually, it’s just a lot of paperwork and meetings…”

“So…you don’t like it, then?”

“It’s….” you think about it. “....Fine.” Did you like your job? It wasn’t really something you thought about in that way, you’d always seen it as a means to an end. “I went to law school because my dad wanted me to…he wanted me to work for him someday. And…that didn’t pan out so…yeah. But you know…it pays well, and….”

“You get to wear cool outfits,” she gestures to you.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Although the heels do get a little uncomfortable.”

Sarah’s eyes shift behind you for a second to the hallway leading to your bedroom, then widen excitedly. “You have a cat?”

You turn around to see what she’s looking at, the white and gray ball of fluff that you’d found underneath a dumpster one late night in college.

“Yeah, that’s Martini.”

“Martini,” she giggles, and the cat approaches her cautiously. He’s notoriously shy and quiet, and not even particularly cuddly, but he likes to sleep at the foot of your bed and will sit next to you on the couch if you stay still for long enough.

The cat sniffs Sarah’s outstretched hand, then presses his face into Sarah’s palm so she can scratch him under his chin, his favorite spot. “He’s not usually a fan of strangers, he must like you.”

“I love animals,” she says. “My dad won’t let me get a pet because he says he’ll end up taking care of it.”

You chuckle. “Cats are pretty easy…at least, he is.”

Martini allows himself about twenty seconds worth of affection before he darts out of the room and heads to his food bowl.

“I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, I’ll be right back,” you push yourself off the couch and walk down the hallway. Any other night and you probably would’ve been in pajamas awhile ago but that’s probably not acceptable, so you settle for jeans and a sweater, which is much more comfortable than the dress and tights you had been in before.

The pizza arrives and after you tip the driver, set it on your kitchen island and pull some plates out of your cupboard. You and Sarah are both long settled with full plates when you speak again.

“Wow….I forgot how good pizza is…” you say, staring at the half eaten piece in your hand.

“You don’t eat pizza?”

“Usually only when I’m drunk,” you say, then immediately realize you’re talking to an eleven year old. “Oops, I…probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”

She giggles. “It’s okay.”

“So, it’s just you and your dad across the street?” you ask. “Does your mom live with you?”

The second the question registers, you immediately regret asking. Sarah shrinks before you, her face dropping, shaking her head. “No I…I don’t really have a mom.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, softly. You just assumed she existed although you’d never seen her, and you feel guilty, racking your brain for something that might help make her feel better. “I understand, my mom wasn’t really around growing up.”

“She wasn’t?” Sarah asked, looking up.

You shake your head. “My parents got divorced when I was young, my dad took us, and she moved across the country, so….I didn’t see much of her.”

“My mom… she left when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry.” You say again, staring at the girl in front of you.

For a moment, looking at her, you see yourself, and you wonder how a parent can wake up one day and choose to ignore someone that’s one half of themselves. Someone they made. If they really understood what that might do to a person’s psyche, growing up thinking that they weren’t wanted. You had always told yourself that your mother, your parents must have not understood, because if they did, and they still chose to do it…

“Are you married?” Sarah asks, and you’re snapped out of your train of thought.

Taking a bite of pizza, you shake your head no.

“So you live here alone?”

You nod, chewing.

“Do you like it?”

You nod, swallow. “It’s better than having a roommate, or living in the city.”

Standing up, you walk towards the fridge for a can of sparkling water. It hisses while you open it, and you lean over the counter while Sarah continues to drill you. “Do you ever get….scared? Like at night?”

“No….not really. I have locks. And this is a safe neighborhood. And uh, I may or may not have a nightlight still.”

Sarah giggles. “Me too.”

There’s a sturdy knock on your screen door, which you’d left open to let in the cool spring breeze, and you notice Sarah’s eyes widen. “I bet that’s my dad.”

As if he heard her, and maybe he did, the guest calls out. “It’s Joel!” It’s the same voice from over the phone, but much clearer.

“Come in,” you answer.

The screen door creaks open, the sound of boots shuffling inside. “Sarah?” It’s the same voice from the phone. Joel steps into the warm light of the kitchen.

When you first met it had been from a distance, you were carrying boxes and he was loading something into the back of his truck. It’s clear you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him, wouldn’t have forgotten his name, because fuck, he’s kind of gorgeous…tan skin, dark wavy hair, and a sharp jawline covered in stubble. In the archway to your kitchen he looks huge, taller than you remembered.

“Hi Dad,” Sarah says. “Miss-“

You cut her off simply by saying your first name. “Nice to meet you…again.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, and thank you so much for keeping an eye on her. We’ll get out of your ha-”

“We got you pizza,” Sarah pipes up, looking at him. You can tell that she’s trying to stall. Or at least, trying to offer him something that might soften the inevitable lecture she’s going to get. It’s a smart play, and definitely not something you would’ve been above trying at her age.

Joel looks at the three pizza boxes spread across your countertop. “You didn’t have to feed her, really, like I said, she should’ve known better,” he turns to look at her pointedly.

“I had to eat anyway. Please, help yourself. There’s a ton of leftovers,” You really did not want cold pizza in your fridge, because it’d be too tempting to eat as a late night snack or even breakfast on your way out the door in the mornings.

Reluctantly, he looks at you before taking a plate. “Thank you,” he turns to his daughter while he opens one of the boxes. “Did you get your homework done?”

Sarah nods. “And I got ahead on my reading for English.”

“That’s good.”

Joel turns back to you, settles in a chair with the plate of food in front of him at the island. You do the same. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to come over and properly introduce myself. Sarah too.”

You shrug. “I’m the new neighbor, that’s probably my responsibility anyways. It’s been kind of hectic settling in.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“Well, I’ve been in Austin for the past few years, but originally I’m from Manhattan.”

Joel nods. “Why Texas?”

It’s far away from my insane family, you think, and then settle on something else. “Work.”

Sarah is staring at her plate and tearing a piece of crust into tiny pieces. Joel eyes the slice of pizza he’s just taken a bite of.

“Pineapple?” he looks over at Sarah. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me so you don’t get in trouble?”

“It’s my favorite, too,” you offer, then wink at Sarah when Joel isn’t looking. She tilts her head down, her hair hiding the grin on her face from her father.

A buzzing sound cuts through the room before Joel can answer, and he digs in his pocket to fish out his cell phone. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”

When he steps out of the room, you begin to clear the empty boxes and plates off your kitchen island and bring them over to the sink. Sarah brings her plate over as well, stands next to you at the sink while you rinse them off and load them in the dishwasher.

“Thank you for dinner,” she says.

“Of course,” you answer.

“I just really hope he’s not disappointed with me.”

Placing your hand between her shoulder blades, you give her an encouraging pat. “I don’t think he is….” you hear Joel on the phone in the other room, his voice rising in volume. “....and honestly….it sounds like he might have bigger fish to fry…”

“Tommy…are you fucking kidding me? Again? How many times is this gonna happen? Okay…fine. fine. I’ll be there soon, but you can’t keep doing this shit.”

Sarah grimaces, and you both turn back to the sink sheepishly when you hear Joel’s footsteps returning. She bumps you with her elbow while you clear your throat.

You’re sure there’s still a residual smile on your face when you turn around to face Joel, who has his hands on his hips. “Alright, Sarah, we gotta get going.”

“Is everything okay with Uncle Tommy?”

“No, I’ve gotta pick him up at the police station.”

“Did he drink too much again?”

“Sarah!” Joel exclaims. “Please, it’s gettin’ late and you’ve got a soccer game tomorrow, you need to get to bed.”

You’re biting your lower lip so hard to keep from laughing you almost taste blood. It’s not funny, definitely not funny to Joel, who you can tell is having a rough night, but it’s objectively funny as an outsider, watching all their familial drama being put on blast by his daughter who doesn’t quite have a filter yet, and is first and foremost trying to protect herself from getting into trouble.

“She’s a lawyer, I bet she could help Tommy,” Sarah looks over at you. “Couldn’t you?”

Joel frowns. “That’s not how that works-”

“What’d they bring him in for?” you ask.

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Public intoxication. Are you really a lawyer?”

“Well…I’m a corporate lawyer so that wouldn’t really be my specialty. But uh…I’ve definitely been able to talk my friends out of that kind of thing before.”

“But this is not the first time,” Joel says. “It’s probably useless.”

“Didn’t you say you can’t afford to keep-”

“Sarah, enough.” Joel’s voice is as stern as you’ve heard it, and he digs into his pocket, producing a keychain. “Go home and get ready for bed. I’ll be home in a minute.”

Sarah sighs, defeated. “Okay.”

Joel stands dead still while she shuffles to the door, cramming her feet in her shoes with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

By this point in the evening, you’d usually be curled up on your couch by the fireplace with your latest knitting project, moderately stoned, watching bad reality television and sipping sleepytime herbal tea. But your night has already gone drastically different from your expectation. Why stop now? “If you wanted…I could try to help.”

Joel shakes his head, looks at the floor. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “I offered.”

He looks up, a soft smile breaks across his face, revealing a row of straight, sparkling teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen from him, and your knees feel a little weak at the sight of it. You think you might offer him anything just to see it again. “It’d be a huge favor. But….I’d appreciate it.”

“Alright well…” you look around, push yourself off the countertop. “I probably should change before we go. I don’t think I’ll be taken seriously in this.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I need to make sure Sarah gets to bed alright, how ‘bout you meet me on my porch in ten?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks again,” he raps his knuckles on the counter twice before retreating, and you stay in place until you hear the screen door close behind him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I feel like you’re meeting us all at a very chaotic time….I promise, things aren’t usually like this.”

Joel’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify this to you on the drive to the police station. In fact, he might be saying it more to convince himself, because he thinks ever since Sarah’s mom ran off, things have never not been chaotic.

In some ways, he’s glad it happened. It was a doomed relationship from the start, they’d both been far too young to understand the consequences of their actions, so it was probably for the better that she was no longer around. But he was caught in a constant state of feeling like he could never quite get a handle on things.

Joel glances over at you in the passenger's seat of his truck. He decides that you look a little out of place there, dressed in a black pantsuit, a messenger bag tucked between your heel-clad feet. He can’t remember the last time there was an adult woman in his car. Three months, maybe? It had been a date, a third date, and subsequently, a last date. But right now the context is different.

Your head is tilted towards the open window, the breeze casting stray pieces of your hair around as the radio cuts in and out of an old Eagles song and then to static, and then back into music again. He needs to get his damned stereo fixed but unfortunately it hasn’t exactly been high on his priority list. His gaze travels down the slope of your neck, where your skin dips into the collar of your silky blue blouse, then back to your profile, your lips moving as you mouth the words to the song, but don’t sing.

I get this feelin' I may know you

As a lover and a friend

You stop when his words register, turning to look at him, and he averts his eyes back to the road. “No offense or anything….” you say. “But compared to the family I grew up in….this is all pretty tame.”

Joel ponders that for a moment, notices the way your eyes are narrowed, the corners of your lips quirking. “What, you got a problematic little brother, too? A precocious eleven-year-old?”

“No kids,” you answer. He didn’t think so. “But I do have a problematic older brother. And the stress he’s caused has definitely taken years off my life.”

At least you seem like you understand.

He’s shocked you’re in this car with him, that after entertaining his daughter all night, you’d offered to help him out with this Tommy mess. Though, he assumes you’re doing it out of guilt because Sarah made it sound like he was broke.

“You know for the record, I actually have the money to bail him out.”

“I figured.”

“Then why’d you come?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. My life has been pretty boring lately. I can’t remember the last time I did something exciting on a Friday night.”

“This is exciting to you?”

“It’s objectively exciting,” you sound assured. “Maybe more exciting than being the person who got arrested for public intoxication.”

Despite the stress of the evening, he can’t help but laugh.

“And whether you’re broke or not, bailing someone out of jail is no joke. If you can at least try to talk your way out of it, you might as well.”

Joel can’t argue with your logic.

“What is it you do again?” you ask, eyeing the protective glasses he has in the cup holder of his front seat. There are nails stuck between the rubber grooves of the mat beneath the seats, a pair of thick gloves resting on the dashboard.

“I’m a carpenter.”

“Makes sense,” you answer. “So you’re handy?”

“You could say that,” Joel lifts the can of flat, warm seltzer from his lunch break to his mouth, just to take a sip.

“That’s hot,” you say, and he nearly chokes when he hears it. Are you….flirting? Though, you can’t be, because when he looks over at you, you’re staring at the road, face neutral.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of what’s hot and what isn’t….it’s just a fact. Everyone knows that.”

“Do they?”

“Uh-huh,” you respond. “I mean, I wish I was handy. I’m pretty much a lost cause in that department.”

“If it paid the bills, you’d figure it out.”

“If it paid the bills, I can tell you, I would not be living in our neighborhood.”

Joel puts his blinker on, preparing to pull into the police station. “You probably still could, it’s not that nice of a neighborhood.”

“Shut up,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “But in all seriousness, it is peaceful. It’s quiet.”

“See, but you still didn’t say nice.”

“It is nice. I like it.”

When he parks the car, you straighten up, unbuckling the seatbelt and exiting without a word. On the opposite side of the truck, he observes how you rebutton the front of your blazer, smooth down its lapels and shift your shoulders back before turning to him.

“You ready?” you ask.

He nods.

“After you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Joel spots you again, Tommy is walking a few paces behind you. You turn your head over one shoulder, smirking at whatever he’s saying. From where Joel is sitting in the lobby, he can just make out the soft curve of your hips, the tops of your thighs over the barrier that separates him from all the desks of the officers and staff at the station. You’ve got an easy, relaxed gait and you give Joel a wink when he catches you staring.

He can tell it’s just meant to be celebratory thing, since both you and Tommy seem to be in good spirits, but he likes the sight of it anyways, the idea that you’re both in on some secret that no one else is.

Joel stands to greet you and his brother to get the download, but as he approaches, your group is intercepted by one of the cops that had been hanging around reception.

“Miller,” he says lowly to Tommy. “This better be the last time I see you in here.”

When Tommy doesn’t answer right away, you pipe up.

“I assure you my client will be on his best behavior.”

The cop turns to you for a minute, turns back to Tommy, contemplating. “You’re lucky you have a good lawyer…” he says. “Although I’m still not convinced you’re really paying someone to get you out of a public intoxication charge.”

“I-” Tommy opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Alleged…intoxication,” you interject, stone-faced.

“He can hardly walk straight.”

You purse your lips. “But….you never did a sobriety test, so, would it hold up in court?” you grimace. “If I had to guess….probably not.”

The cop narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t push it, princess.”

Despite the infantilizing nickname, You respond with a polite smile. “Thanks again, officer. Have a nice evening.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs before backing away.

You turn to Joel, your smile fading, and Tommy cuts in. “We should get the fuck out of here before he changes his mind.”

“That’s it? You’re free?” Joel asks.

Tommy nods.

“Tommy’s right, we should definitely leave.”

It’s a mad scramble, the three of you settling back into Joel’s truck, and if he was feeling a little less angsty about the way the whole evening had gone, he might’ve even peeled out of the parking lot for dramatic effect. But at this point, his patience is wearing thin.

He’s back on the main drag, en route to Tommy’s place, with you on the passenger’s side, and his brother in the back, leaning forward with his elbows resting on your seats when his brother speaks up.

“Holy….shit!” Tommy turns to you. “That was fucking awesome, are you kidding me? Joel, where the fuck did you find her?”

He’s still drunk, words slurring together, and he shakes both of your shoulders ferociously. You actually giggle — the sound of it is fucking adorable and Joel wishes that these are not the circumstances for hearing such a noise. He rather it be because of something he said, but he knows Tommy has always been more charming, even when drunk

“She’s my neighbor, Tommy.”

“No way! How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Tommy asks, and Joel can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

��I’m kind of new to the area,” you answer.

“Dammit, oh my god, Joel, I wish you coulda seen it.”

Joel looks over at you, and is thankful that he catches your eye. “What’d you say?”

“Never underestimate your negotiating power when the cop you’re talking to’s shift ended over an hour ago, and he doesn’t want to fill out any more paperwork.” You cross your arms, look over your shoulder at Tommy, who is leaning back against the seat with his head in his hands, laughing, before looking back at Joel. “I told you, I have experience.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy pokes his head back between you. “How’d he even get you to come down here? What’d he have to do, offer to paint your house or somethin’?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sarah got locked out again,” Joel explained. “And I was over at her place when you called. She’s a corporate lawyer.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You know, Joel’s always liked the smart ones,” Tommy starts, and Joel has to contain the urge to slam on the brakes and send his brother face first into the back of his headrest. Unfortunately, he can’t do that with you in the car. “Too bad he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

“Okay, watch yourself!” Joel snaps, and he’s only halfway kidding. “You got off easy, but you’re on fuckin’ thin ice, and I’m still pissed that I’m spending my night bailing you out again.”

Tommy doesn’t even catch on to Joel’s irritation – or maybe he does, and has just decided that he’s going to be the Annoying Younger Sibling and see how far he can push it. “Don’t let him fool you, okay?” Tommy continues, and you’ve angled yourself towards him, amused. “It’s not always him lookin’ after me. Before he had Sarah, he was crazy.”

“Alright, alright that’s enough, Tommy.” Joel shoots daggers towards his brother in the rearview mirror, and he watches Tommy’s smile falter, finally deciding to back down.

“Is that true, Joel, were you really crazy?” you ask after Tommy grows quiet, tilting your head. “I can’t see it.”

“Well we’ve all have our moments, right?” he says sheepishly.

“We do,” you agree, and then it’s finally silent.

Joel is thankful to see Tommy’s driveway straight in front of him, and his car lurches up the curb. “Alright, alright, this is your last stop,” he says to his brother. “You’ll get in okay?”

Tommy takes a deep breath, settling himself after all his bravado and sinking back against his seat. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Sarah’s game.” He slinks out of the truck and slams the door behind him.

Normally, Joel would’ve chewed him out after something like this, but he knows being hungover tomorrow at a middle school soccer game, sandwiched between screaming parents and the ear-splitting whistles of the referees will be punishment enough.

“I’ll see you then.” He watches his brother stumble up the steps to his home, unlock the door, and give a wave before disappearing inside.

Joel’s left alone with you. “Should we get you home, now?”

“Yeah, we should.”

Joel puts the car in reverse, puts one of his arms over the back of the bench seat to look for cars behind him, and catches you staring. You don’t even seem embarrassed that he notices, either, you just shift your gaze away to outside the window.

He feels a little self-conscious about the first impression he’s probably made, which is a feeling he’s not used to…caring about what people think.

“Sorry about him, he’s….a good guy but a real piece of work.”

You giggle. “Like I said, I have a brother, too.”

It’s been awhile since he’s interacted with anyone outside of Sarah, Tommy, and his coworkers, and his day was exhausting. He wants to ask more questions, see if he can hold some kind of conversation, but words fail him, so you spend the short drive on the way back home mostly in silence. You’re so quiet that by the time he pulls into your driveway, he thinks you might be asleep. If you were, he doesn’t even get the chance to wake you, because you immediately sit up straight once the truck has come to a halt.

“Thanks for everything tonight,” he says.

“You’re welcome, it was no problem,” you get out of the car, sling your bag over your shoulders, and close the door. “Have a good night.”

Joel’s listening to the retreating click of your heels up the driveway when he rolls down his window all the way to speak again. It’s clear you’re tired, your shoulders are slouched, and he feels incredibly guilty. You worked all day and then had to put up with his entire crazy family.

“Hey,” he says. “How much do I owe you for the pizza?”

You turn around, still stepping backwards. “Nothing.”

“Look, you’ve done too much for me tonight to say that,” he says. “I’m startin’ to feel bad.”

You stop in your tracks then, the smirk on your face fading a little bit as you slowly step forward to where he leans out the truck window. It’s only a few feet, but you’re much closer now than you’ve been to him all night, and there must be jasmine in your perfume. It smells expensive, he thinks, as your hands lift to rest on the door next to his elbow. “You shouldn’t feel bad,” you say softly, voice low.

God, you’re fucking beautiful, he realizes, basked in the glow of the moon, a smile creeping along the edges of your lips. Of course, he knew you were attractive, had definitely registered it at some point before – maybe when he’d walked in on you and Sarah giggling in the kitchen. He was just too busy being worried to even notice until now.

This isn’t a date, but you’re so close he could kiss you, kind of wants to just to see what would happen, but he doesn’t. You’re his new neighbor, and if he’s reading this wrong, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the mistake everyday, first thing in the morning when you’re picking up your newspaper at the end of your driveway and he’s leaving for work.

“But uh…if it would make you feel better…one of the steps on my front porch is rotted. Maybe you could come over sometime and fix it? That a fair trade?”

Joel nods, and you stick out your hand. “It’s a deal,” he says, ignoring the jolt of energy he feels when your palms press together, like you’re a kid wearing a hand buzzer, trying to shock him.

“Great,” you step away. He’s about to put the car in reverse when you speak again.

“Oh, and Joel?” you ask, he looks back at you. Before you speak again, your eyes shift to the ground, like you’re mustering up the courage to ask him something, and when they return to his again, your expression is somber. “Go easy on Sarah….she’s a good kid.”

Joel nods, understanding.

“I know.”

volume ii

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #tlou fanfic #tlou series #texas sun

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shubblelive · 9 months

Text

— INVITATION

summary : after a long day of work, wilbur is desperate to curl up and spend time with his favourite girl. only problem is you’re not speaking to him.

genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending

warnings : light swearing, mentions of food/eating, wilbur being mean

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called a girl

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where the reader is an overall bubbly, energetic person and wilbur just suddenly lashes out at her one day, and she apologizes and goes home, and wilbur tries to call her and apologize and everything in the end it’s just fluff and apologies<33 tyy

word count : 2.1k

note : hi anon!! i hope you enjoy this fic, it’s a bit longer than i expected but i’m very very happy with it <3 also you referred to reader using she/her so i used those pronouns in the fic i hope that’s alright <333

you were wearing his favourite jumper. it was yours - he’d swear on it - but you were adamant that it belonged to him. it had, originally, as most of your jumpers were, been his. but he’d given it to you months ago, and you were still promising that you were going to return it one day. he hoped you didn’t.

you’d been stealing his clothes for as long as you two had been together, for the last four years he had bought every single shirt, jumper, jacket, with the knowledge that you would steal it. it made sense, in your earliest days, when the two of you were long distance. you’d arrive at his flat for a week with a half-packed suitcase, and you’d leave with nearly a drawer full of his sweaters. but even now that you lived ten minutes away, you still had a habit of nabbing his sweaters. he didn’t mind in the slightest, and most of the time he would offer up suggestions for articles of clothing you could take. you guys had been together for nearly five years, it felt weird for him to be territorial on his clothes, especially because you’d return them whenever he asked, the scent of your perfume mingling on the fabric. he absolutely loved seeing you so happy, and if you stealing a shirt or two did that then he was more than willing to comply.

or at least, he was usually. now, he was running late for a stream and he couldn’t find his grey jumper. he’d been tearing his bedroom apart piece by piece in an attempt to find it so he didn’t have to walk through the rain in just a t-shirt. he sighed and sat down on his bed, remembering that he gave it to you when he went over to your apartment earlier in the week. it had been five days since he’d seen you in person, and it was driving him crazy. he had planned to spend the night at your place after his stream though, and that was pulling him through. it was fine, he took a few deep breaths and went to go and find a jacket to wear, already pulling up twitter to post the stream would be ten or so minutes late. he remembered to tweet out about his late stream, but he hadn’t remembered to text you to tell you that he would be late coming over. you’d organised for seven, which gave him nearly three hours of streaming time, and he assured you that he wouldn’t be going for that long. he ended up jumping on a call with some other people while he played, though, and that completely distracted him. leaving the office at eight, he had his phone on speaker as he tried to order an uber and call you at the same time. he was exhausted, and of course he wanted to see you and spend time with his favourite girl, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to reach your house without falling asleep, and being more social sounded like torture.

his jacket was rough against his arms, and he remembered suddenly about the jumper. your call timed out and he finished ordering the uber for his own flat, moving to text you and tell you he didn’t feel up to hanging out.

he opened your message history, and was hit with a message from you from half-past six, over an hour and a half ago. hi wil, you’d opened with, and he softened, knowing his annoyance didn’t really mean anything. my neighbours are being really loud, so do you mind if we meet at your place? can’t wait to see you. there was another two, each sent half an hour apart, a second one apologising for messaging while he was streaming, and a third saying, hi i let myself in i hope that’s okay. are you almost home? your most recent message was nearing forty-five minutes ago, and he cursed under his breath, cancelling the uber knowing it would be faster for him to walk than wait.

he reached his apartment out of breath and cold, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into bed. he still got to see you, and hopefully your smile would be enough to rid himself of any residual annoyance he held towards you.

he dropped his guitar case on the floor in the living room, calling out your name. “lovely? you still here?”

he heard a crash from the kitchen and took his coat off, slinging it over the arm of the couch. “hang on!”

he had a headache, and he massaged his temple as he made his way into the kitchen. you brightened the second he arrived, all but running into his arms. “hi, darling,” he needed alone time. he loved you, of course he loved. you were one of the most important people in his entire life, he absolutely adored you. but right now, he craved being by himself. you were here though, so he wasn’t going to make that your problem.

“hi, wil! sorry about the mess!” you smiled up at him. “i thought i’d make food? are you hungry?”

he shook his head. “no, you’re alright. want any help?” this time it was you who shook your head, and he kissed your temple before going to sit down on the couch, closing his eyes. you’d eat, and then you guys would be able to go to bed, and when he woke up in the morning you would be there, and he’d get to take you out for breakfast and spend the entire day with you. he just needed rest.

there was something you needed, and it was on the top shelf. you didn’t want to bother wilbur, he’d just got home, you could do it yourself. wilbur was much taller than you, so to get to his top shelf you would have to climb up on the counter. you’d be alright, you didn’t need to stand up or anything, just kneeling on the bench would be fine. you got up there with ease, but wilbur came through the doorway right as you started reaching. “what are you doing?” he’d been too loud, he knew that instantly, you jumped, and he had to rush forward and stop you from falling off the counter. “what on earth are you on the counter for?”

“i was trying to reach the bowl,” you said quietly. he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“why didn’t you come get me?”

he helped you down. “i’m sorry, wil. didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. he felt a flash of annoyance, and then kicked himself for it. you were never a bother, not even when he was exhausted.

“you should have asked for help.” he said simply. “do you need anything else?”

you smiled up at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it. “do you wanna watch a movie? i’ve been hearing good things about this one new one, here let me-”

“stop,” he breathed out. “i’m exhausted, and i just want to be alone, and you’re here, in my kitchen crashing around and almost hurting yourself! i can’t do this right now?”

your smile ebbed, and you took a step back. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“because i didn’t want to upset you,” he sighed out, running a hand through his hair. “i just can’t do this tonight,”

“you invited me-”

“you invited yourself!” he wasn’t yelling, no, he had enough patience to not be yelling at you, but his voice was raised. “i didn’t invite you over to my house into my kitchen, to wear my sweaters.”

you’d been together for half a decade. neither of you needed an invitation, you both knew that. wilbur had given you a key because he wanted you to let yourself in whenever you needed. he’d spent entire days in your flat without you there while you were away. this had never been an issue before, and he made sure you knew that.

you stood still for a moment before reaching down and pulling off the jumper of his he’d been looking for, leaving you in a black long sleeved shirt underneath. you tossed it to him. “because you never thought to call me and let me know you’d be late. by over an hour.” you were quiet, quieter than you usually were. your voice was loud, and bright and he revelled in it, soaking up every little comment you made, every “i love you,” every giggle, he adored it.

“because not everything i do has to do with you,” he was verging on cruel, and he knew it. “i had a long day at work, and i just want to be alone, but you’re here. so i have to cater to you.”

you didn’t reply, just brushing past him, with a soft “sorry” as your arm brushed his. you grabbed your stuff and left in silence, deciding on walking home.

he rested his forehead against the closest surface - the fridge - and swore under his breath. he was still holding your jumper, and he brought it up to his face, burying his nose in it. it smelled like lavender.

he fished his phone out to call you as he retook his place on the couch, cheek still pressing into the jumper. it was soft. he loved it. he loved you. he was such an asshole.

he called. you ignored him. he called again, three times. four times over the half an hour until he knew you were home and he knew you were ignoring him. his headache had increased, and all he wanted was for you to be resting in his lap, drinking you in while you watched your movie. he opened his phone again, not to call you this time, but instead to order an uber for your place. god, they were probably making so much money off him tonight but if he had to walk the entire way to your house, he’d collapse of exhaustion. he was there within fifteen minutes, thankfully this driver not getting him lost, and he payed with one hand as he bounded up the stairs with the other. he brought out his keys on autopilot and then remembered what he’d said, putting them down to knock on your door instead.

“darling!” this time he was yelling. he didn’t care though, he needed you to hear him. it took three more times knocking and five more yelled pet names before you opened the door. your eyes were red, and you had changed into softer clothes, these ones all belonging to you. “i’m so sorry,” the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “i’m sorry i got angry, i’ve been so tired recently and that’s not your fault nor your problem, but i took it out on you and you don’t deserve that, lovely.”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. he took a step closer to you hesitantly, and when you didn’t step back he wrapped his arms around you.

“you’re never a bother,” he said, voice pouring with affection to make up for his thoughts betraying him earlier. “i love you more than anything. i’m sorry i didn’t show you that tonight,”

“i’m sorry for going in without you telling me,” you said.

he shook his head vehemently. “i gave you a key, lovely. i gave you a key because any space with you is better than one without.” he took your face in his hands and made you look at him as he spoke, trying to get you to absorb every word he was saying. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and i can’t do that if you can’t get into my house.”

you looked like you were about to start crying again, and he kissed you gently. “i’m sorry,”

“don’t be sorry,” he assured you. “just let me in? i want to watch a movie with you.” your smile came back, if only slightly, and he knew he was making progress. you brightened up every room you were in, and even if you were a little loud, and too bubbly, and you stole his sweaters, he wouldn’t want you to be any different. he kissed you again, slowly and gently and when he pulled back your eyes were sparkling. “lovely?” you hummed to show you were listening. “when we get a place together, promise you won’t climb on the counters?”

“i don’t know if i can commit to that,” you said, laughing softly. “but i’ll see what i can do.”

#wilbuh #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot angst

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