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#now my relatives can’t celebrate it with me :(
ultraviolencced · 2 years
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things are very very very bad ! :)
#like i’m literally in shock i don’t know how to live right now#get ready this is gonna be a whole ass book in the tags#*people that aren’t blood related but family bc my grandpa had someone working for him they became pals his wife and my grandma became pals#when they had kids my grandma would babysit and my mom would babysit and then i would be babysat by the girls my mom did she lived with us#for a while so yeah that’s the back story#she got pregnant while my mom was pregnant with my brother so mom had bro then a few months later i’ll call her m had her baby their name#was james and he became the newest member of the fam i visited them in the hospital when they were born and james and my bro became good pal#fast forward august 31st 2022 j passed away they did it themselves#friday was the service it was more of a celebration of life they already had the physical funeral and it was just immediate relatives#it was hard hearing their parents and their sister talk broke my heart#right after their sister spoke the music came back on and it was pilots it was the run and go and i broke down my sister had to go outside#it was really really fucking horrible to know that a queer kid i knew and loved died killed me#rewind to a few months ago my brother od’d on oxy he was in the hospital for 2 days it caused some physical damage to his heart enzymes#he got on antidepressants and a psychiatrist and seemed to be doing better#fast forward to saturday night he overdosed on street fentanyl he again went to the er and is now at a mental health center for a 72 hour#hold and after that we’re trying to find a rehab and mental health center#i grew up seeing what addiction does my uncle was a heroin addict from the time i was born until i was 16 or 17 so i saw some shit#and a lot of it fucked me up and i can’t see my brother go through that#my brother is the smartest mother fucker i know and fucking mental fucking illness fucking everything up like he earned 13 college credits#in 1 fucking day his japanese studies professor said my brother knew more than he did and fucking opiates fuck#and the sheriffs who searched his room found street fentanyl that they all had to have gloves bc it’s killing people in my town everyday#they said they literally get calls everyday because of this shit like i’m about to go find the piece of shit who sold it to him#and put my fucking 9 in his mouth and pull the trigger i’ll gladly go to prison for that tbfh#so that’s what happened with my brother and my non blood brother/cousin#now my fucking mom so she never goes to the doctor and me and my sister yell at her about it so she finally went to address her fucked up#neck and back well turns out she has degenerative disc disease same shit my grandma had basically her spine is crumbling#she also might have skin cancer and it could affect her throat and thyroid :) bc they saw something in her throat during her mri :) so fuck#and then there’s me and my crumbling jaw no joints without arthritis and brain tumor#and my sisters mental health is Not Good it hasn’t been for months and this is killing her and im so concerned for her#now all three siblings have been put on a 72 hour hold at some point :) sister at 12 or 13 me at 22(in there for my bday) now bro at 19
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atticrissfinch · 3 months
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(His) Home for the Holidays: A Meet Me in the Back Christmas Special | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)
Part 4 of Meet Me in the Back
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pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: joel texts you while he's horny during the holidays, and you decide to visit him at his house after work. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), size!kink, daddy!kink,  face-ridin', dick-ridin', ass-eatin' (Joel tosses reader’s salad and gives her a side of housemade ranch iykyk), kissing after said ass-eating, some nasty cumplay, brief fingering, kissing!!!, taking nude photos, unprotected PIV, pussy...job? idk reader strokes him off w her pussy lips, v brief mentions of cigarettes and weed, fluff??, characters actively avoiding Feelings™!!!, so many fucking stupid dirty christmas puns, reader can fit in Joel’s coat, has hair, and doesn't necessarily celebrate christmas, but is very familiar with it ig word count: ~5.2K | ao3 a/n: thank you guys so much for loving this fucker as much as me. we get into some real naughty list shit here!! i hope you like it, and don't be mad at me about the end ok thx <3 also s/o to @cafekitsune for the adorable divider! Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi
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The days before the Christmas holiday are always the longest. The office is relatively empty, no real action happening, and yet you’re stuck here for eight hours a day regardless. You find yourself bogged down with busy work and rubbing at your eyes with the strain of staring at your screen. 
You hear a vibration on your desk and check your phone. 
Joel: Wat r u up 2?
You roll your eyes a little, but you won’t lie to yourself. You're glad for the distraction. 
You: Working
Joel: cum over
You: I literally just said I’m working dude
Joel: leave early. want u
You: I can’t just leave early. I’m stuck here. 
You huff and toss your phone on your desk, trying to get back into your flow, but your phone keeps buzzing. 
Joel: im so horny 4 u rite now
Joel: cock is all harddd
Joel: needs 2 be inside u
Joel: permishin 2 send pic???
You groan, your forehead falling into the palm of your propped arm. He has gotten much better at asking before he just sends full hog, and you’re grateful for that. 
You glance around quickly, ensuring that no one is lurking in the proximal area, and you give him the go-ahead. God knows you need a little excitement while you’re dying of boredom in corporate America. 
The picture arrives quickly, and you look around one more time before opening the text. 
He’s actually taken the time to set up his phone at the end of his bed, clearly with a timed shutter, because he’s naked, up on his knees, with one hand gripping his massive length and the other dangling a twig of some kind of greenery above it…is that mistletoe?
Joel: u gotta come kiss it now. sry I dont make the rules
Fucking mistletoe. 
You: Jesus. Did you buy mistletoe JUST for this little bit of yours?
Joel: no comment
Joel: cum over and suck it baby he needs it real bad
You don’t know what the fuck it is about this man, but he’s getting more and more dangerous for you. You’ve become much more inclined to jump when he says so. And the sight of his cock, thick and hard and ready for you has your body responding in kind. You squirm in your chair, pressing your thighs together and feeling the pressure building there. 
You sigh and respond. 
You: I’m off in three hours. Don’t you have to work tonight?
Joel: its my day off. let santa stuff ur tight little stocking real nice n full bby
You scoff at the cringey line, as used to his disgusting language as you are. 
You: Yikes
Joel: yikes what? 
You: Just everything about you. 
Joel: and yet u scream around daddys cock all the same every fuckin time dont u. dont kid urself. just cum get ur present
You drop your head back with a quiet whine, the arousal between your legs only intensifying as he lays out so plainly how deeply he’s come to own you and your desires. 
You don’t let yourself linger too long on your response, promising you’ll be there as soon as you’re off and requesting his address. 
__
The mobile home park where Joel lives is…not exactly well-kept, but you try not to judge. You get momentarily lost, but eventually see Joel’s beater pickup truck pulled up next to one of the trailers, and you pull in next to it. 
You: I think I’m here?
You confirm the number on the outside of the house and gingerly step out of the car. 
Joel: doors open
You steel yourself as you climb up the small flight of rickety, crumbling wooden steps and pull the clattering metal door open. 
“Joel?” You call out, taking in his living space for the first time and kicking off your boots. 
It’s pretty small, but you suppose that’s fitting for a man living alone. A minimal kitchenette cluttered with food items and dirty dishes, a shrunken living room with a ratty couch and a recliner set in front of a television with a chipped coffee table littered with beer cans, cigarette butts, an overflowing ashtray, and a bong. A skimpy fake Christmas tree adorns the far corner of the room with cheap ornaments, some tired-looking garland, and flickering multi-colored lights, but it does have a certain charm to it. 
“Back here,” You hear him call out from the end of the narrow hallway to your left. You shrug off your purse and coat and hang them on the hook by the door, next to his coat. The same coat you’d wrapped around yourself when he helped with your tires. 
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you lean in to take an exploratory sniff. 
It still smells like him, of course. His cologne, his cigarettes, his weed. But there’s something else. The very subtle aroma of your perfume. An indulgent smile bleeds across your face. Sure, maybe he’s just lazy and hasn’t bothered to wash it. But you like that you’re there. That it’s not just him leaving bruises and ink on your skin and a deep aching between your legs every time he fucks you, but you’ve also left your mark on him. 
Your reverie is interrupted by Joel’s voice once again from down the hallway. 
“Come see what Santa brought you for Christmas, darlin’.”
You shake your head, but your smile is still intact. 
The floorboards creak under the shag carpet as you make your way towards his voice. His door is only partially shut, so you slip yourself inside tentatively. 
And he’s there, just as you’d suspected. Naked as the day he was born, lounging on top of his sheets with hands clasped behind his head. He's got one leg extended and the other bent and spread wide to showcase his hard cock slapped against the pudge of his stomach. He's still got that tacky gold cross around his neck. But the pièce de résistance is the goddamn Santa hat placed jauntily on his head. 
“Knew you’d come runnin’ when I called.”
You click your tongue dismissively against the roof of your mouth and curve a hand around your hip. “Please. You had to beg to get me here. You and your Discount-Strip-Mall-Santa ass.”
Joel’s face pinches, tugging at the rim of his cap, “Ouch, baby. This here’s the finest quality Santa hat that money can buy at the dollar store.”
You snort, wetting your lips against your tongue as you banter back, “Shouldn’t you be ringing a shitty bell at the local grocery store panhandling for donations or something?”
“Nah,” Joel refutes, scrunching his nose in the most annoyingly adorable manner, “Gave me the boot after I fucked all the lady clerks in the break room.”
“Ah, naturally,” You nod, stifling a giggle. 
You watch as his eyes give you his customary scan from head to toe. 
“Goddamn. Look at you, all done up.”
You glance down at yourself and lift a brow at him as you jog your memory of your chosen outfit for the day. Black trousers, a button-up blouse, and a simple blazer. Nothing you’d normally bat an eye at, but you guess Joel has only ever really seen you in casual clothes. “This? Really?”
“Mmhm,” Joel hums, scraping his teeth over his lower lip as his gaze heats up. “Daddy likes.”
“Wait, I’m confused,” You joke as you crawl onto the bed, Joel tracking you with his eyes along the way until you’re straddled above him. “Are you ‘daddy’ or ‘Santa’ right now? I’m a little lost in this roleplay.”
Joel chuckles, pinching your chin in his fingers and angling you down toward him. “Come on, now, ain’t you ever heard that song? ‘I Saw Mommy Kissin’ Santa Claus’? We’re one and the same, darlin’.”
“That mean I’m supposed to kiss you now? I thought that only applied to your cock, Mr. Mistletoe,” You laugh. 
Joel shrugs, leaning his head up closer to you. “I’m not picky.”
You stare at his lips and weigh the decision. You’ve never kissed him before. He’s kissed parts of you. Possibly every other part of you. But never your mouth. And since you know very intimately what he smells like, you have a good idea what he’ll taste like as well. 
You sigh, meet his eyes for a beat, and then press your lips against his. They’re soft, faint remnants of chapstick clinging to the crevices, serving as a gateway to his already searching tongue. You welcome him into your mouth and he strokes at yours with an unexpected tenderness, tasting how you’d imagined. The tang of his most recent cigarette, the depth of every smoke he’s had every day prior, a hint of mintiness from either gum or toothpaste. And the weight of his tongue in your mouth…it rivals what you’ve felt of his cock when you’ve tasted it. Maybe not in size, but in sheer magnitude. 
You lock your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and drop down to grind your crotch against his cock, your nice dress pants be damned as his dripping head soaks into the fabric and you continue luxuriating in the feel of his tongue filling your mouth. 
Joel grunts at your movement, tugging at your hair enough to lift your lips from his. “Sweet as a fuckin’ sugarplum, baby.”
“And that’s not even where I’m sweetest,” You whisper, smiling against his lips. 
“Don’t I know it,” He mutters, capturing your lips again and squeezing at your ass to kickstart your grinding again. “But how about you remind me?”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhm. Come ride Santa’s face.”
“I don’t remember that part in The Night Before Christmas,” You tease, twirling the ball on the end of his cap. 
“Probably stuck it in them footnotes,” He chides. “Take off your pants.”
You dismount to shuck off your trousers, and the rest of your clothes just to save time and not feel so overdressed in comparison, and he manhandles you until you’re situated directly above his waiting mouth. 
“Take a seat, darlin’. Might not be Santa’s lap, but it’ll be just as comfy, I promise.”
You don’t take much convincing, to be completely honest. You very willingly subscribe to the philosophy that if a man suffocates on your pussy, well…there’s not much of a better way to go. So you sit until Joel’s facial hair scratches and prickles at your skin, and you feel the broad length of his tongue stroking up the line of your pussy. 
You moan out a breathy sigh and settle yourself onto his face, your hands stabilizing on either side of the pillow cradling his head, and start to roll your hips against the graze of his tongue. He’s attentive and thorough as he works at you, alternating between lavish licks to your folds and circling your clit with the point of his tongue, making you gasp and your stomach tighten intermittently. 
It is a little weird not having him spewing heinous shit into your ear as he pleasures you, but you’re certain his brain is actively crafting more bizarre turns of phrase to plague you with as he eats you out from below. 
His tongue spears and you moan out as he penetrates you with the muscle, fucking into your slick entrance as you rock down onto him harder. Joel moans in return, his brows drawing together as he strives to fuck you as deep as possible with his chosen tool. 
“Oh, fuck, Joel, that’s…god, that’s so fucking good,” You whine, raising a hand to squeeze at your tit and steadying yourself against his wall above his head with your other hand. Joel must get inspired, because his own hand comes to grope at your unattended breast, working it in tandem with yours. 
His other hand presses upward lightly on the back of your thigh, and you lift, looking down with a shred of concern. 
“Just wanna knock at that back door a bit, baby,” He reassures. 
“Huh?” You ask, brain a little fuzzy with arousal. But then his nose is nudging at your pussy and his tongue is prodding at your asshole, and your voice cracks mid-moan at the blissful sensation. You’ve never had someone eat your ass before, never really cared, but holy fuck. “Oh my god, Joel.”
“Call me ‘daddy’, sweetheart. Or ‘Santa’ if it gets you off,” He offers before diving back in on the tight ring of muscle with his lips and tongue. 
“Fuck. Daddy…” You whimper as you feel the tip of his tongue breach the pucker of your asshole. The whole “daddy” thing is a losing battle at this point if he’s just going to push for it each time, and you might as well lean into it. He sucks lightly at the ring of you as he thrusts it inside softly. “D-daddy, that’s…”
You swear he laughs against you as the hand on your breast slides down to your hip. And you can’t help yourself, you dip your hand below your stomach to play with your clit to build upon the pressure Joel is stoking in your belly. The hand on your waist inches inward until his thick, wide thumb is sliding into your cunt, fucking you in time with the thrust of his tongue in your ass. 
“Oh, god, daddy, I’m gonna come,” You whine, increasing the pace on the sensitive bud of your pussy. Joel growls between your cheeks, sucking and fucking you until you buck up into your hand with a shout and your pussy beats against the pads of your fingers. You feel your ass squeeze around his tongue, your cunt around his thumb, and Joel grunts as he coaxes you through your orgasm. And he doesn’t stop until you physically pull yourself off his face and fingers and collapse onto his chest. 
“Oh fuck,” You pant, your mouth agape and dragging against the sheen of sweat on his skin. “No one’s ever done that before.”
“Not one goddamn motherfucker has eaten your ass?” Joel asks, his voice appalled but delightfully raspy and wrecked. “That’s a fuckin’ crime against humanity. That’s a perfect fuckin’ ass.”
“You probably wouldn’t be surprised how many men don’t give a fuck about going down on a woman’s pussy, let alone their ass.”
“Fuckin’ absurd,” He mumbles, smacking his hand on your asscheek and gripping it under his fingers. “Ass deserves to get fucked every which way.”
You shake your head vehemently. “You’re not fucking my ass with that third arm between your legs,” You shut him down immediately. “I’d never shit normally again.”
Joel rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “We’ll just table that for now.”
“No,” You protest, slapping his chest, “Not tabling. It’s buried. Six feet under.”
“Alright, alright,” Joel concedes with a chuckle, gripping the back of your leg and hitching it at his waist. “Guess that snatch is still plenty tight for me, ain’t it?” He says, latching onto your lips, sucking your response off your tongue. It’s only after he’s invaded your mouth entirely that you recall where he’s just been, but the dizziness in your mind has you shoving that knowledge as far back as you possibly can. 
“And what about me?” He nips at your lip with a grin. “You wanna lick Santa’s big candy cane?”
“God,” You huff out with a smile of your own, your forehead dropping onto his chest. 
“Or would you rather just take a ride on his North Pole, huh?”
“You know, I almost respect your commitment to this bit.”
“What bit? Can’t a guy just get in the holiday spirit with his little hoe, hoe, hoe?”
“Ok,” You groan, pushing yourself off of him to get up from the bed. 
“Woah, now, hold on,” He protests, a strong hand circling your arm and gently tugging you back. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere yet.”
“Why? I got what I wanted,” You shrug, sitting back down beside him and laying a hand on his chest. “Santa is seeming a little selfish right now. Isn’t it the season of giving?”
“Season of givin’ you this dick, maybe,” He retorts, pulling you onto his mouth again, and you groan against him. He croons at you as his lips brush yours, “Let me fill that stockin’ like I said I would. Show you what Santa’s got for you in his big sack.”
“I already know it’s coal. Can’t be anything else when I’ve been letting a strange old man hit it this often,” You say, wending a hand down south to wrap around what you can of his cock, and grinning with pride when you see his eyes pull toward the back of his head as you start to stroke him. 
“Well, that’s because I know all the best puss is on the naughty list, don’t I?” He groans, thrusting into your hand. “You don’t think Santa gets his little helpers from the Nice List, do ya?”
“Guess you got me there,” You concede, leaning down to taste him again. He moans into your mouth as you jerk him, and the sound of him so desperate and horny has your pussy thirsting after him again. 
“Climb back on top, little sugarplum. Let Santa deck those fuckin’ halls of yours,” He breathes over you, and you don’t even question it, you just swing your leg over his hips and settle the lips of your pussy onto the length of him. You skate your soaked core up and down the underside of his cock as it rests against his stomach and dip your thumb into his tip to simultaneously massage his frenulum with his own wetness. 
“Christ,” He pants out, clamping a hand onto your hip to push and pull you up and down the outside of his cock. “I could fuckin’ come from just this, baby. But I need to fuck this nasty little slit.”
“What, no dirty holiday-themed pun for that one?” You smirk as you take hold of his length and position him at your entrance. 
“Just eager to fill you with all my Christmas spirit, darlin’,” He rasps, squeezing at your hips and stroking the creases of your thighs with his thumbs. 
“There it is,” You quip as you sink down onto him slowly, your mouth dropping open as he…well, he does a damn good job filling you with that colossal Christmas spirit. And as your ass sits flush with his thighs and his cock kisses your cervix, you have to admit…you’re feeling pretty goddamn jolly. 
The ease of which your body welcomes Joel inside you now has you equal parts comforted and terrified. If you’d have told that naïve, reckless young woman who flashed her tits at a convenience store clerk that you’d soon be hurrying over to that man’s dilapidated single-wide in a sketchily quaint trailer park, sitting on his monster of a cock like it’s an old friend, bantering with him about his stupid fucking puns…you might’ve had to admit yourself somewhere. 
But the way he fills you, makes space for himself within you, makes you feel like you’re the most velvety, divine cunt he’s ever sunk into, it sends tingles up your spine and a pulsing in your pussy. 
“Shit, baby. Lookin’ like a star on top of a goddamn Christmas tree with my big trunk shoved up inside you. ‘Cept you got these sexy little ornaments,” He coos, cupping your tits again and fiddling with your nipples between his knuckles as he gropes at them. 
“Play with them a bit more,” You moan, grinding on his cock and feeling it drag against your walls, “Maybe I’ll light up for you.”
Joel smiles wide, massaging your breasts with rough, dexterous hands. “Look pretty bright already to me with this cock rammed up your tight little cunt. Got you glowin’ with it, baby.”
“Shut up,” You brush off, embarrassment heating your cheeks as your hips begin to rise and fall onto him. “The glow just comes naturally. Nothing to do with you.”
“Sure, sugarplum. All you,” He placates, leaning up to suck one of your peaked buds between his teeth. You gasp as he grazes over it, pinching the other in his hand as his upward movement causes his dick to drag along your cervix. 
“Oh my god,” You keen, toppling forward onto his chest and burying your face into his neck. Joel’s hands glide around to your back, holding you against him and using his new leverage to thrust into you from below. 
“That too much cock for you, baby?” He sings in your ear as you clench around him. “‘S it overflowin’ your little stocking? Rippin’ at your seams?”
“‘S deep,” You manage to whine breathily. “So fucking deep, daddy.”
“I know, little sugarplum. Daddy gets real fuckin’ deep, don’t he? So good at takin’ all this cock, baby.”
You whimper into his neck, your nails scraping down his back as he fucks you open on his lap. Your clit grazes against him and you can feel your release climbing again as he continues to pound into you. 
“You’re not gonna come again are you? Slutty fuckin’ thing. Can’t help but squirt all over this massive cock, huh?”
“C-can’t help—fuck, daddy, I can’t,” You cry, your teeth scraping at his neck as you grind your clit against him. 
“Yeah, fuck, baby. Make a mess around daddy’s cock,” He orders as he thrusts, pulling your hips down onto his length. 
Your vision starts to shimmer around the edges as he slams into the end of you, and you feel yourself splintering open, losing all grip you have on yourself. You burst apart around him with an inexcusably loud, animalistic scream, one sure to spark gossip among Joel’s neighbors for days to come. 
“Fuck yeah, such a nasty fuckin’ slut. Feel you soakin’ my cock, baby,” He grunts, your juices flowing out of your pussy and down his balls as he fucks you through your orgasm. 
And you can’t seem to get anything else other than “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” for a good thirty seconds. Joel seems to revel in that, encouraging it as his cock keeps splitting you open. 
“Yeah, that’s right, tell me who’s makin’ you feel so fuckin’ good. Who’s big dick keeps you fallin’ apart like this. Good fuckin’ girl.”
Joel has no intention of letting you rest as he chases after his own completion, and his hips start to hammer up into you as he edges closer. 
“Fuck, I’m close. You want me to come down your fuckin’ chimney, little sugarplum? Give you a real fuckin’ white Christmas?” He grunts as his fingers dig into your hips and his cock pounds against your walls. 
You squeak out some semblance of an answer, unintelligible, and bear the brunt of his cock seeking its release. 
“You know what I want, darlin’? Want you to jerk off my cock with those pussy lips like you were before. You do that for daddy?”
You whimper and nod into his neck, and you gasp when his length slips out of you entirely and he drops you on top of him. 
“Grind on it, baby. Stroke daddy off with that drippy little fuckhole,” He instructs, helping to guide your hips back and forth. 
You undulate your hips on the exterior of his cock as you stay buried in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily into his sweaty skin. 
“Let daddy see you, sugarplum,” He urges, pushing you up by the shoulder until you’re upright. 
You position your hands behind you and fall back onto them, giving Joel an unobscured view of your movement on him with the strength you’ve regained since your disorienting release. Your lips glide along him effortlessly with the ample supply of your own slick and come. Joel starts to jerk you forcefully back and forth on his cock with hands on your hips, like a ragdoll, until his grunts morph into deeper moans. 
He finally comes with a slew of curses, his spend spitting from his cock directly onto his stomach and throughout the hair smattered on the skin there. You slide on his length until his hips buck with sensitivity and you slow to a halt, panting and staring down at the mess you’ve both made on his abdomen. 
“So fuckin’ good for me, baby. Shit,” He groans out, stroking his hands down your slick thighs. 
“That was…kind of incredible,” You breathe, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. 
“‘S’all you, baby. ‘S’all you,” He praises, and actually seeming to mean it this time. 
You smirk slightly as you swipe a finger through his semen and pop it into your mouth, moaning around it. 
“Fuck me, sweetheart. That’s…that’s a fuckin’ sight,” He sighs, dimpling your thighs with his fingers. “How about you go for another little ride on daddy’s tummy, huh?”
You quirk a lazy eyebrow at him and then drop your gaze to the mess on his stomach. 
“Come on, sugarplum,” Joel rasps, nudging your thighs forward until you’re hovering over the puddle of his come, “Dip your cookie in Santa’s milk. Just like that.”
And you’re too far gone to even unpack the weird shit he just said, you just lower yourself down onto his soiled belly until you feel it seep through your folds. Your hips move almost on autopilot, dragging through the mess and honestly…feeling fucking heavenly. The slick slide of it over your core, the slip of his hair swirling in his own spend on each pass of your lips, the low rumble of Joel’s voice as he coaxes you on. 
“That’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Seein’ my nut coatin’ that beautiful snatch. Can I take a picture of it?”
You nod, leaning back on your hands again while he retrieves his phone from his nightstand. 
“Spread those messy lips open for the camera, sweet little sugarplum.”
You do as you’re told, tilting your hips up and using one hand to part your lips. You hear him snap a couple of photos and then he turns the phone around to you for your inspection. And it looks hot as hell. Your puffy cunt drenched in both of your fluids, his hairy, curved stomach very clearly soaked with the evidence of your activities. 
“Send that to me.”
He smirks up at you and you watch his fingers move on his phone until you hear a buzzing in the heap of clothing on his floor. You lean down and put your weight on your elbows on either side of his head, lips ghosting over his mouth. 
“Thank you, Santa,” You whisper, sealing your lips together. 
He moans into your mouth as your tongue strokes along his. You suddenly feel something plopping onto your head and your eyes fly open, hands shooting to the top of it. Joel’s grin is incandescent as you realize he’s rehomed his Santa hat. 
“Gross,” You groan, flicking at the fuzzy white ball at the end of it. “It’s all sweaty.”
“So that’s where we’re drawin’ the line now?” He jokes, stroking his thumb down your chin. “Looks better on you.”
“I dunno,” You impart nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t look so bad on you.”
“I’ll be damned. You think I’m handsome, sugarplum?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Y’did. I heard it loud and clear.”
“Hearing things, old man,” You dismiss, dropping one more kiss to his lips and unstraddling his lap, your pussy making an entirely unsexy suctioning noise as you extract from the stickiness between you. 
“That was fuckin’ hot,” Joel remarks, rolling onto his side and hauling you back towards the bed by the back of your thigh. You yelp quietly as you stumble forward on the carpet and feel Joel mouthing at your messy cunt. 
“Ok, Jesus. Down, boy,” You giggle, shoving Joel’s head from between your legs. Joel’s smile doesn’t budge as his mouth shines with your shared spend. 
“Sorry, baby. Just too fuckin’ tasty. Irresistible.”
“You’re ridiculous,” You mumble. “Where’s your fucking bathroom?”
“Door on the left,” He answers smugly, settling back in against his pillow with his hands clasped behind him, just as you’d found him, only sans his festive hat. 
You roll your eyes, maybe with a smidge of affection, and head off to clean up. 
“Mmm. Hate to see you go—”
“Don’t finish that,” You cut him off, not even looking over your shoulder as you go. 
“Give her one Santa hat and suddenly she thinks she’s got allll the power,” He calls out after you as you slip into the bathroom, and you can’t wipe the stupid fucking grin off your face. 
When you’ve relieved yourself and tidied up a bit, you re-enter his room with a clean washcloth. 
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” You raise a brow at him as you throw your leg over his thighs again and begin softly wiping at his belly. 
“Ain’t nothin’ funny about this, baby. Just a nice view,” He says, unbothered against his pillows. “I could get used to this.”
“Don’t,” You say as sternly as you can, but you can’t rein in your smile entirely as you do. 
“I won’t,” He pauses, eyes flicking to your hat, “Mrs. Claus,” He ends with a smirk. 
“Okay, we’re not…” You head him off, plucking the hat from your head and chucking it at his chest as he laughs and you try not to smile. “Keep that shit to yourself, please.”
“Whatever you say, sugarplum.”
You wipe at his stomach as the conversation settles, but not for long. 
“Thanks for takin’ pity on me this joyous holiday season. Fuckin’ an old man and all.”
You glance up at him long enough to see the sly little upturn of his lips, his heavy, sleepy eyelids, and shake your head a bit as you focus back on your current task. 
“You’re not so old,” You utter quietly, but you’re sure he hears it. “As far as I know, anyway. And you can still get it up. That’s what I care about.”
“Yeah? That all?”
You jot your eyes up to his face again, then quickly back to his stomach. “Yup.”
You see him stick out a lip and nod out of the corner of your eye, securing his hat back on his head. “Fair enough.”
You sit back on his thighs and toss the dirty rag into his overflowing hamper. “Well, thanks for my gift, Santa. I’ll forgive you for not wrapping it, I guess.”
Joel scoffs, squeezing at the side of your thigh. “You ain’t ask me to wrap a goddamn thing since the first time. Haven’t heard you complainin’ ‘bout it.”
“Guess not,” You muse, your fingers subconsciously filtering through your folds for a moment. “Anyway, I should go,” You mutter as you come back to yourself. 
“Or you could stay,” He poses, gliding his thumb over your thigh. “Could play again later. I got all night.”
“I don’t think so,” You mumble, maneuvering back onto the floor and pulling your clothes on. 
“Hey,” He calls softly, and you look up at him as you do up the fastenings on your trousers. He’s got a crease between his brows. “This is just fun. You and me. That’s all it’s gotta be, yeah?”
Your fingers stumble as they button up your blouse. “And that’s all it’s gonna be. Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
You smooth out your collar and take a deep breath. “Yeah. So. Thanks for the fuck. It was good. Really good.”
His eyes roam over you and settle on your face. “Anytime, sugarplum.”
You nod once, resolutely, and head out the door.  Next
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YALL WE HAVE FANART!! Please check out this adorable depiction of Sleazy Santa Joel 😭😭
Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!
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jungwondazed · 6 months
Text
quiet.
description: heeseung x reader // (slight degradation + praise, fear of being caught, closet sex)
a/n: oh to have a boyfriend like heeseung where the sex never gets boring
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heeseung was very particular with sex. he was never satisfied with just fucking, he always insisted on adding onto it with something to fuel the excitement. 
he likes tight spaces. he likes recording. he likes quickies. ropes. school uniforms. in a department store changing room. right before class. 
heeseung gets turned on when you’re worried you’ll get caught. his cock twitches when you think you can’t take something. he lives out his sexual fantasies by forcing you to be slightly out of your comfort zone.
“you gotta be quiet for me baby” he breathes out right by your ear as you fuck up and down on his dick. you don’t answer and shamelessly bury your face into his neck.
“sounds like you’re losing your mind all over my dick isn’t that right ___?” he teases you again. it wasn’t like you chose to be in this position. forcing you into some random closet of his parent’s huge lake house where all his relatives were running free to celebrate the last day of summer break. 
you can’t string any words together with the proximity and fear of being caught, all while feeling so fucking good on his cock. you love fucking heeseung, you love being able to bounce on him over and over. holding onto his broad shoulders and feeling up his arms, having his hands wrap around your waist to guide you up and down. there was no better feeling than this.
he leans back, holding himself up with his forearms digging into the closet floor. 
“wanna see your pretty face.” even with that grin, the look in his hooded eyes is dark and alluring. he maintains eye contact while you ride him, then slowly lingering his gaze down your body, making you squirm out of self consciousness. his eyes still once it finally lands on your entrance, seeing you being stretched out by him. he bites his lip to hold back a groan. 
“you’re so tight around me ___, so fucking tight.” he watches you move up and down, licking his lips when he sees you leaving a white ring of cream around the base of him. something shifts in his eyes and suddenly he pulls you down to lay flat on his chest, bringing his arms to wrap around your back.
“i’m gonna fuck the shit out of this pussy, ___, i'm gonna fuck the shit out of you” he breathes out heavily, lifting his lower body up to pound into you. you can hardly process the sudden change of position and you let out a sob into shoulders, quickly silencing yourself after realizing where you are.
“i told you to be fucking quiet.” and you partially listen. you can’t help but to keep whimpering, biting onto his shirt to help it as much as possible.
heeseung fucks into you and you can’t do anything but lay on him and take it. he fucks hard and you feel every inch of it. he fucks you at a pace you’d never be able to ride him at and it brings tears to your eyes and all you wanna do is cry out for him.
the closet fills with the sound of you squelching against him and you feel yourself about to let go.
“you better not make a fucking mess ___, know where you are right now.” yet he keeps giving it to you like you need it and you have no choice but to want to cum all over him. 
“can’t take it hee” you whimper out, trying to get off of him, and he forces you back down. pressing his hand firmly onto the small of your back and thrusting up into you harder. he kisses the side of your face and you can feel how close he is too. 
“i’m gonna cum with you baby, can you cum when i do too my pretty girl?” you nod and whine into him again. he always sweet talks you and drops the mean act when he’s close.
“love you so fucking much, want you to make a mess all over my dick baby. give it to me,  want you to cum as hard as you want.”
his brace around you is firm but you feel a change in the way he touches you. his hands are more slow, trying to soak in every part of your body. he kisses the sides of your face, your shoulders. his mouth latches onto your neck and he sucks down on it to quiet himself as well. 
“gonn- fuck- cum all in you.” he moans out in between your neck and you lose yourself all over him, feeling your release in every inch of your being, pressing your hand hard over your mouth to not make a noise. your eyes gloss over and you feel your whole body trembling.
he fucks you through your orgasm and sucks hard on your skin, knowing it’ll leave a mark later. it feels too fucking good, too good that you lose all reasoning and call out his name over and over. he lets his mouth go from your neck to breathe out soft groans, not caring about whether you both were too loud anymore. you ride out your orgasm too, both of your bodies moving into each other until you were too tired to move at all. 
he’s gorgeous after he cums, his eyes barely opening, collapsing back down onto the ground. he lays like that for a few minutes to catch his breath. once he realizes your eyes on him he brings himself up to make out with you. kissing you hard, moaning a bit into your mouth, all with his cock still inside. he finds yours hands with his and interlocks your fingers, smiling through your kisses. pulling back every once in awhile to admire you all over again.
it takes awhile for you and heeseung to pull yourself together and leave the closet to go back to the family, and your mind starts to wonder where heeseung wants it next.
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endlessthxxghts · 1 month
Text
Time of The Month
New boyfriend!Frankie Morales x afab!gn!reader
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Summary: You had a date planned tonight, but your monthly visitor makes an early appearance, wreaking bloody havoc on your plans. W/C: 1k (wow, I'm sticking to my celebration rules for once?) Content warnings: Pics are for aesthetic purposes only!! Mature content, but purely fluff and comfort! Mention of reader having period, but no use of any pronouns or physical or feminine descriptors. Santi gets mentioned! Frankie calls you "cariño" and "baby." Some kissing. Honestly, I think that's it! Please let me know if I missed anything. BLOG RULES MAKE THIS 18+! MDNI.
A/N: This is my response to this request made by @sawymredfox in regard to my 1k follower celebration! I hope this gives you all the fluff and comfort you were hoping for!🥹 Also, shoutout to @javierpena-inatacvest for picking out the pictures above — it matches the comfort vibe perfectly. Thank you, bestie, I love you.💚 Anywho, I hope you enjoy. I'd love to hear what ya guys think. All my love. Xx
MASTERLIST || L'S 1K CELEBRATION
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You and Frankie have been seeing each other, officially, for a few months now. And even though you two were friends for a little bit of time before that, there was still a charge of attraction then. So, really, your entire relationship started in the talking stage. So, yeah, your guys’ relationship is relatively new, which is why he’s shaking like a leaf at the prospect of letting himself into your home without you giving him the approval to do so—even if you told him so many times before that it was okay. But when you didn’t answer your phone for the third time in a row, he knew something was off, especially since you two had a little date planned in a few hours. 
Putting in the code to your garage—no, he doesn’t have a key…yet—he makes his way through, hitting the button inside to watch it fall shut before he actually enters your home. He’s met with complete silence: all lights off, the television off, no sign of life anywhere. 
He calls out your name, voice filled with anxiety. A beat passes, and no answer. He walks deeper inside, slowly making his way to the living room. “Cariño?” He calls out. Still, no answer. He really doesn’t want to invade your privacy like this, but part of him can’t just sit in the unknown. Not when his partner is the most communicative person he’s ever met in his life. No, something is really wrong. 
He makes his way to your bedroom. The door is shut, but not all the way—enough for Frankie to see your dimly lit space and smell a plethora of essential oils coming from your room. He gives your door a slight knock before entering, and the view he’s met with sends him in absolute shambles. You’re curled up in your bed, fetal position, cocooned in a thick blanket, and your arms are wrapped around something—holding it tight to your lower belly. A heating pad, he thinks. 
Your bedside table houses a glass of water, some painkillers, and some chocolate. Then, it clicks. 
You’re on your period. 
It’s not like Frankie has never experienced a person being on their period before, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen you on your period before (just last month—duh!). But he has never seen you like this. So weak and fragile. So in pain. God, he hates seeing you in any kind of pain. He would take it all away if he could. 
The only reason he’s nervous is because he knows every person who gets their period is different; their needs are different. Unique. Some prefer the warm embrace of another at all times, others prefer complete solitude. Frankie was still learning what you were like during your time of the month, and he just wants to be as accommodating as possible for you. He doesn’t want to make you upset, ever, and definitely not when you’re in such a vulnerable state—ready to either cry or rip him a new asshole. Whatever he would have to experience, though, he would endure it, for you. 
Scooting closer to the side of the bed you’re laying on, he slowly kneels, his broad hand feeling your forehead. Warm and a slight layer of sweat from your cocoon and your heat pack. You stir at his touch. “Cariño,” he whispers, trying to get you aware of his presence. 
Your eyebrows furrow, a little pout forming, not wanting to wake up. Frankie softly laughs to himself. He brings his face closer to yours, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Baby,” he says a little louder this time, still unbelievably gentle. 
One eye slowly peels open, the other following suit. “Frankie?” you say with uncertainty, your voice thick with sleep. Your hand leaves its hold on your heat pack to rub the fatigue out of your eyes. 
“Hi, honey,” he whispers, his thumb mindlessly caressing your face wherever he can reach. 
“B-baby, what are you doing here? I-” you gasp. “Oh, fuck! Baby!” You immediately rip the blanket off of you, scrambling to get yourself to sit up. “Baby, our date! What time is it? I must’ve fallen asleep- I- I’m sor-”
Standing a little taller now on one knee, Frankie stands between your legs, both his hands finding their homes on your cheeks, pulling you to look at him—to ground you. He kisses your nose, a soft say of your name to get your attention. 
“Cariño, breathe, it’s okay, we’re okay,” he says softly. “We planned for 7, baby, it’s 5:30.”
He feels your body start to relax, a soft sigh of relief fanning his cheeks. “Oh,” you whisper.
“The question is, though,” he asks, one hand leaving your cheek to rest across your lower belly. “Do you feel okay enough to even leave the house?”
You track his hand before you meet his eyes. “...not really,” you admit. 
“That’s oka-”
Cutting him off with a thick sigh, “I’m so sorry, baby, I just ruined tonight. My period has been wonky lately. I was supposed to start tomorrow, but it ended up being a murder scene a few hours ago, and I’ve been in pain ever since. I didn’t even realize how hard I knocked out-”
He pulls your face into his, your lips meeting each other in a soft embrace, stopping your brain from the 5k marathon it was currently running. He pulls away, your cheeks completely hot under his gaze, Frankie mirroring your bashfulness. “I- I’m sorry, I just-” he lets out a breathy laugh. “I don’t need you overthinking with me, cariño. I promise it’s okay. As long as I’m with you, I really don’t care what we’re doing. Okay?”
“Okay,” you respond, eyes tearing up at how sweet your boyfriend is. 
“I just want you. I just need you. Nothing else,” he angles your head down to kiss your forehead. “Now what’s my baby craving? I’ll go get it.”
“No-” you immediately reply, clearing your throat to suppress your eager response. “No… just. I don’t want you to leave me.” You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his kneeling form flush against your sitting one. 
“Okay, baby. I’ll just get it delivered then. Pretty sure Santi isn’t doing anything besides being an asshole,” he says, laughing into your neck. “Wanna bother him?”
“Fuck yeah,” you laugh. Frankie beams at the sound. 
“¿Qué quieres comer?” What do you want to eat? 
“Mmm, can we get…” you trail off, a little shy to indulge. He’s probably hungry and wanting a real meal like what your original plan was for, but here you are, craving nothing but junk and snacks to satiate you tonight. 
“Hm? Fries and a chocolate frosty? You want pickles, too, huh? Maybe some mashed potatoes?”
Oh my God. You’re going to fucking marry this man. 
“…yes.” 
Frankie pulls away from you with a smirk, reaching for his phone to dial up Santi. 
Huh. Maybe he already does know you—especially during this time of the month. 
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End note - I hope this was okay!🥹 There are a few more requests for me to do as part of my celebration!! I'm sorry if it seems like I'm dragging them out lol! Not my intention at all, just trying to balance my excitement with the neediness of school😩 lolol but anyway, I love you all SO MUCH thank you for your endless love.💚
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thetarsier · 10 months
Note
heyyy!! i hope you’re well!! i was hoping you could write a jealous!aaron x reader where she’s basically getting hit on while she’s at girls night and maybe penelope snaps a picture of her and the guy and sends it to the BAU gc and aaron basically drives over and suprises you because he was jealous
a/n: hi! thank you for the request, lovely, i was so excited to write this one :)
Word Count: 2k
Warnings/notes: drinking, asshole-type men (yes that's a warning)
<3: aaron hotchner x fem!reader, established relationship
Girls' night always - always - ended in one of your own getting hit on. Usually, it was JJ, but Emily fielded her fair share of creepy drunk men. Penelope tended to go after men herself, and you were the quiet one that laughed along with the others at the strange men eyeing them up. Rarely were you ever the target of their affections. 
It was something that the other girls constantly tried to change, with JJ repeatedly pointing you out to the men who came over to the table (which almost always ended in you ducking away to the bathroom until the guy got the hint). They didn’t know that you were more than content being an observer of their conversations, happy to celebrate the numbers Emily and Penelope received and laugh over the rejections of the men that came after JJ. 
They didn’t know, because they all still thought that you were single. You’d never told them otherwise, and that was mostly because of who you were currently dating: Aaron Hotchner, your boss. 
It was a connection that blossomed over the many years of you being at the BAU, not the same as some rushed, half-assed attempt to score during a night out. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were trying to take it slow out of the eyes of your coworkers. It’d worked for almost two years now with only a few minor slip-ups that were easy to explain away to the people who’d witnessed them. 
Not Rossi, however. Rossi had you two figured out almost as soon as you started to take things seriously, and now he acted as your protector. He changed subjects, scolded, and made those who questioned you or Aaron seem stupid. He was the perfect person to have as a secret keeper, mostly because he didn’t have it in him to care that much. 
And he’d done a beautiful job, too. It was a running joke on the BAU group chat that Penelope’s mission on your nights out was to find you someone to go home with. This was why, despite your usual invisibility, when a guy approached you at the bar, you were left alone with him, your girlfriends disappearing into the crowd around you. 
“-And so, yeah, I would say I’m self-made. I mean, my dad did lend me most of the money I used to actually start up, and all of my customers came from the family company, too, but I run the place, you know?” The guy interrupted his ramblings to take a sip from his beer, and you continued your nodding. 
You were used to listening to fast ramblings, thanks to Spencer, but usually his monologues were interesting, and you could follow them with relative fascination. This guy was just… awful. At storytelling, and being a good conversationalist in general.
“He hasn’t stopped talking this whole time,” JJ observed from their table, shaking her head, “Can’t imagine he’s particularly decent.”
“She hasn’t walked away, yet, though,” Emily shrugged, “Maybe he’s like Reid?”
“Does he look like Reid?” Penelope pulled her phone out of her bag, “Doesn’t matter. Mission half accomplished - everyone has to see this.”
She snapped a photo of the two of you, him leaning into you, you leaning onto the bar. From an outsider's perspective, with the angle that Penelope had taken the photo, it might have looked like you were enjoying his advances more than you actually were. You felt the vibration in your pocket as Penelope sent your photo to the group chat, but you didn’t look, too focussed on how you were going to get out of the man’s company without causing a scene to care about what your phone was doing.
“Oh, look,” Emily pointed to Penelope’s phone, “Morgan’s already responded-” She switched to a lower tone of voice as she read out the man’s text. “-Doesn’t count, Babygirl. Nobody’s gone home yet.”
“He’s right, you know,” JJ looked back at you and the man, “And I don’t think this is a match made in heaven.”
“I can’t keep losing this bet!” Penelope complained as she shoved her phone back in her bag and sat down, disheartened. 
“Ha!” Emily laughed, looking at her own phone, “Hotch has seen it.”
“Oh, that’s embarrassing,” JJ stifled her own laugh by taking a sip of her drink, “Delete it, Garcia. Her boss has seen that.”
“He’s seen it all - he’s in the group chat,” Penelope defended, “Maybe the embarrassment of her constant failure will lure her into a perfect match.”
“That makes sense,” Emily commented sarcastically, eyes roaming over the crowd. 
You laughed politely at the man’s joke before averting your eyes down to your lemonade. You weren’t supposed to be the designated driver - the four of you were meant to get a cab - but once you’d found out about Penelope’s plan, you’d switched to non-alcoholic drinks. 
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust yourself, but you studied serial killers and rapists for a living, and you knew that some men liked to take advantage. If you were drunk, you couldn’t defend yourself as well as if you were sober. Usually, it wasn’t an issue - you had your girls - but sometimes the anxiety was too much for you to enjoy a drink, and that anxiety only increased tenfold when you were left alone with a guy.
The man’s droning on was getting so tedious that when you looked over his shoulder and saw Aaron - neat suit and all - you thought you had imagined him. Then, when he started moving closer, you started to worry that he would get the wrong idea. 
But, he knew you, and you could tell by his caution that he was well aware of how you were feeling, tuned into your discomfort. Once you’d confirmed that your boyfriend was, in fact, in the same bar as you, you smiled and communicated with your eyes something that you hoped sounded like: ‘Get the hell over here right now.’
“Excuse me,” Aaron attached himself to your side, and you instantly felt safer, “What are we talking about over here?”
“Hey, back off, man,” The guy stood up straighter, and Aaron slipped an arm around your waist, “I’ve been talking to her all night.”
“Yes, and clearly it was riveting conversation,” Aaron eyed the many empty bottles surrounding the two of you and then your own singular glass of lemonade with disdain, “But it’s time to say goodnight.”
He didn’t even allow the man to say anything else, just used his grip on your waist to spin the two of you around and toward where he knew the girls were sitting. His arm left your waist once the two of you were no longer shielded by other people, and as you approached the tall table, sliding into the spare chair, you scowled at Penelope. 
“Next time you try to set me up against my will, at least make sure he’s not a jerk.” 
“Next time, my love.” She promised, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. 
Aaron stood to your right, in between you and JJ, and you gestured to him as you looked between your three friends, “Look at who had to come and save me,” You feigned annoyance, and acted as though you were secretly telling the girls of your embarrassment, “How did you even know we were here?”
“Oh, my God. He saw the photo.” Penelope gasped.
“The what?”
“Garcia put a photo of you and the guy on the group chat to try and prove that she’d succeeded in her mission,” JJ admitted, amusement swimming in her blue eyes as she looked between you and Aaron. 
“Oh, you’re asking for an HR case,” You pointed a finger at the flamboyant blonde, who smiled sweetly at you, tucking her hands underneath her chin, “You sent a picture of me at a bar to all of my colleagues?”
“If it makes you feel any better, Morgan said it doesn’t count.”
“Oh, great, so you sent my picture to my colleagues, and it didn’t even count.” You were only joking with them, and each of them was well aware of that fact. 
“Still,” Emily turned her attention back to Aaron, “Why are you here?”
You also turned to look back at him as he rubbed the back of his neck. He clearly hadn’t thought much past the initial urge to save you from your misery, and you were sure that not even Rossi could’ve lied your way out of the situation. 
“Um…” He narrowed his eyes, brain working overtime for something believable, “I was here already for, the, uh…” 
His eyes darted down to yours in desperation. You laughed at him, leaning your head back onto his shoulder and reaching your hand down to grab at his. The secrecy was on your account, as most things in your relationship were; not only because he was technically your boss, but also because he was head-over-heels obsessed with you. It was created on your account, and you would be the one to break it. 
“Okay, guys, there’s a reason why I never go home with anyone from the bar…” You grinned, peeking up at Aaron from where the back of your head rested just below his chin before you looked back at the girls. 
Penelope was shocked into silence, her mouth wide open, hands stuck out by her sides, JJ was sporting a happy smile of her own, and Emily had a hand over her mouth, eyes blown with shock. After a few seconds of silence, where Aaron squeezed your hand to soothe both of your nerves, the group sprung into action. 
“Oh, my God!” Emily chuckled, “I knew there was something going on. I knew it!” 
“Oh, this is… This is…” Penelope waved her hands around. 
“Wonderful,” JJ finished, reaching over to touch your other hand that rested on the table, “And congratulations - you had everyone fooled.”
“It’s been hard,” You conceded, “Sometimes during hard cases, it was slightly too hard, but we’ve gotten through it.”
“Oh, you guys,” Penelope tilted her head to the side, “You’re too adorable.”
“And on that note,” You smiled, picking up your purse, “I think we should probably go.”
You said your goodbyes, and Aaron managed to get out his own through his uncharacteristic blushes and stutters, and you made your way out to Aaron’s car, hand in hand. 
“Why did you come?” You asked him out of curiosity once he’d climbed into his side of the car.
“Honest answer?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded, turning your body towards his, “Really, I saw that photo of you with the guy, and I didn’t even think about it. I just got in the car.”
“Oh, you were jealous,” You teased, poking his arm gently, “It’s okay, Hotchner, I’m all yours, anyway.”
“Good,” He leaned over the centre console, fingers gripping your chin and encouraging your face closer to his, “Because I’m all yours.” 
Each of his kisses was a seal to his promise.
It was only in the morning, when you finally checked your phone after a night with Aaron, that you realised another photo had been snapped of you. One of you and Aaron walking out of the bar holding hands. Penelope had sent it to the group chat with the message ‘Mission finally successful.’ 
The group chat had barely shut up since, question after question rolling into your inbox.  
You groaned, falling back into your pillow, where Aaron kissed a path from the tip of your middle finger to your cheek, smiling against your skin. 
“If it makes you feel any better, Dave will stop bothering us about telling the truth now,” He mumbled into your neck, and you sighed, a smile on your face as you played with his hair. 
“Very true, Hotchner. Just remember: it was your jealousy that got us into this mess, so you’re dealing with the questions we’re going to get.”
He laughed into your skin, an agreement.
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grandline-fics · 6 months
Text
Shifting Focus
DESCRIPTION: The moment they began to see you as more than just a crew-mate
WARNINGS: None
CHARACTERS: Sanji, Law
WORD COUNT: 1,125
MASTERLIST
---------------
SANJI
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Another battle done, another town unexpectedly saved and the Strawhats were front in centre of a celebration banquet thrown by the thankful civilians. Never one to turn down the chance to enjoy themselves with a good party everyone in the crew savoured every moment of it before they’d have to set sail again. Chopper, Luffy, Franky, and Usopp were laughing and joking around as usual. Zoro had found a relatively quiet place to drink while still enjoying the atmosphere. Brook stood with the musicians, already he’d picked up on their songs and was able to join them perfectly. As always Sanji’s first priority was the food, looking over everything appreciatively and talking to the cooks to learn any new flavour combinations or techniques.
The sound of cheering pulled him from his careful examination of how the meat was prepared. Across the town square he watched as you, Nami, and Robin were being taught the dance moves of a local dance. You were getting the hang of it but when you were meant to kick your leg out, you twirled which knocked you into Nami. Together the two of you were knocked towards the ground only to be stopped by Robin’s summoned limbs. The three of you laughed along with the other dancers. Sanji couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, that was you all over. 
Even when you stumbled you still found a way to find a positive about it all. After getting untangled from your crew-mate you wandered over to the food table and grinned happily at Sanji. “Were you blown away by my amazing dance skills?” you asked playfully, eyes trained solely on his face.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Sanji admitted with a flirtatious grin, returning your intent stare with equal attention for emphasis. He took in the way your eyes sparkled under the soft light of the lanterns hung above your head, the way your lips spread out into the brightest smile that was too infectious to fight. All around him he could hear the laughter and sound of other women and only now did he realise that you were the only person he wanted to pay attention to. Suddenly the sound of the music changed into something fast and you gasped excitedly, reaching for Sanji’s hand. “Wh-”
“C’mon Black Leg, dance with me!” you urged, tugging him towards the centre of the square. Slowly you looked over your shoulder to fix him with a challenging look. “Or do you think you can’t keep up with me?” Sanji stared at you and prayed he wasn’t misreading the hopeful glint in your eyes. Could it be your words held more weight beyond the light-hearted flirting he’d been used to? 
Not wanting to let the chance go, he tightened his grip on your hand and twirled you effortlessly while walking with you to the dance floor. “Oh I’m with you every step of the way.”
LAW
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Law was exhausted and yet even with being a doctor, he chose to push himself further instead of actually taking the free time they were between islands to rest. He sat hunched over his desk, gaze pouring over multiple medical textbooks and charts of the islands they could end up at. Absently he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall but kept his tired eyes focused on the pages in front of him. “Captain? You haven’t gone to bed yet?” A low sigh came from his lips before he looked to Bepo. His deadpan expression telling the bear that obviously he hadn’t. He knew the crew was concerned for this awful sleeping habits but this was something that needed to be done.
“I’ll go soon.” He told the navigator and dropped his head back down, nothing more needed to be said. At least that was what Law thought. Two hours ago he’d promised Sachi he’d ‘go to bed soon’ and Penguin was promised the same an hour before that. It was getting out of hand so Bepo walked through the corridors of the Polar Tang in determination. Twenty minutes later the door to Law’s study opened and he snapped his head up. “Bepo I said-!” he shut his mouth to see you entering. 
“Oh dear, Captain, we might need to get your eyes checked if you think I share any resemblance to him.” You teased while approaching the table. Law kept his head down but was acutely aware of you standing behind him, your gaze sweeping over what was causing today’s lack of sleep. Offering nothing more than a small hum of interest you set a cup of tea and a snack beside his elbow and stepped around to the opposite side of the table again. His stare moved from the offering to you as you sat on the edge of the table, one of the texts lifted into your hand. 
“Aren’t you going to tell me to go to bed?” he asked with a frown, watching as you flipped the page and shook your head. “Why not?”
“Not much point in doing that is there, Captain?” You asked innocently with a knowing smile. “You never listen. I mean it’s fine, you know best.” Law folded his arms and continued to watch you. “There’s actually a bet now.”
“A bet?” Law repeated in interest and slight worry. Bets among the crew were standard, something to help pass the time but when it was about him, it was something he couldn’t ignore. You nodded and turned the text around to face him, lightly tapping a passage for him to read. Law’s eyes flickered down briefly to note the page and saw it was exactly what he was looking for; notes about a virus that was common in one of the islands they were heading to along with it’s method of treatment. But that wasn’t the pressing matter anymore he found. “What’s the bet?”
“Oh just just the guys betting what time you’ll actually fall asleep at. Whoever guesses right wins a date with me.” You answered so casually and leant over the table to grab another textbook. He observed you so intently, trying to hide his shock at the terms of the bet. He stared at you hard, searching your face for any trace that it was a lie but the twisting knot was growing in his stomach. He all but flinched when you unleashed the full force of your stare at him. “If you go to bed now, they all lose.” Your voice was low, practically urging him to make a decision. Whether you were lying about the bet or not, Law’s body acted immediately. He got to his feet and strode to the door, leaving you to smirk triumphantly. “Night Captain.” 
967 notes · View notes
luvinescent · 3 months
Text
Stealing Time
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Pairing: Modern!Robb Stark x fem!Reader
Summary: Weddings should be an event full of joy and happiness for everyone involved. Especially for the bride and groom, who are the main focal point of it all. So, what is the reason for celebrations if they both have gone missing?
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v, dirty talk, etc.
Word count: 3933
Additional: M/H/N stands for Maid of Honors Name.
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A soft melody of a strong quartet could be heard through the air like a soft breeze as more guests continued to arrive. The venue was decorated with fairy lights that cascaded down, a crystal chandelier in the middle of it all, creating an inviting and dreamy atmosphere. The celebratory music pulsated on the dance floor, enticing visitors to sway and swirl in a joyful celebration. The air was filled with laughter and lively discussions that mixed with the sound of glasses clinking as toasts were being offered in honor of the newlyweds.
The only problem was that neither one of them were present in the room.
Catelyn Stark, mother of the groom, stood scanning the room next to the wedding planner— a young girl who looked to be on the verge of pulling out her hair. Catelyn could hear the small anxious mutters of “we’re off schedule now” as the girl kept analyzing the clipboard she held in her hand. Excusing herself from the girl and her husband, Catelyn went towards the hallways connecting to the venue. She was stopped in her travels by a distant relative on her husbands’ side, smiling at the old man.
“Catelyn!” he greeted heartily. “Where is that boy of yours? I haven’t seen him or the new Mrs.”. He let out a great laugh, holding onto his rounded beer belly for support. Catelyn returned the laugh, nodding at his question, “I was just about to go get him. I’ll be right back”.
She turned around; the sound of her heels clicking on the shiny floor echoed, causing any guests in her path to quickly shift aside. Catelyn walked with a confident stance, her chin up, shoulders back, and a big smile covering her face. A smile that was very deceiving and Jon Snow knew this when she came faced with him.
“Where is your brother?”
He stared wide eyed at her, caught off guard by her presence and her question. His face was a ballet of nervousness, revealing the false confidence he was trying so hard to keep up. “I-I, uh… I don’t know...”, Jon shrugged his shoulder, wincing a little at the look she gave him. Catelyn smacked her lips, grabbing a hold of Jons ear, “Don’t lie to me. Where is Robb? The nerve of that boy! Disappearing at his own wedding, and you covering for him. I thought I raised you both better than this!”. The entire time, the bride’s maid of honor had stood next to Jon, witnessing him get a scolding from his mother, but Catelyn could care less about his embarrassment. Before Catelyn could continue her interrogation, she was stopped by the sound of a familiar voice within her distance. “Have you seen Y/N?”.
Turning around, Catelyn saw the mother of the bride asking a family member before she turned and saw her. “Oh, Cat!”, the mother rushed towards her, “Have you seen my daughter? I can’t find her anywhere”.
Putting back on that wide smile, Catelyn turned her head to Jon and the maid of honor. “What a coincidence. I can’t seem to find my son either.”
The two looked like deer’s caught in headlights. Both their words jumbled out fast, inaudible to the human ear. Thinking fast, M/H/N leaped into action, her words both a hasty attempt and holding a somewhat truth to them. “Y/N went to go change from her wedding gown to her reception dress”. Jon nodded vigorously in agreement at her explanation, “A-And Robb wanted to change his shoes”. M/H/N whipped her neck and gave Jon a glare, his add on not helping as Robb did not bring extra shoes. Y/N’s mother did not have time to question any of what they said—being brisked away to go greet a great aunt.
Catelyn stood in front of the two adults once again. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by their statements.
“Y/N went to go change?”
“Yes”, M/H/N said instantly.
“And Robb went to go change his shoes?”
“Yes”, now it was Jon.
“…and they went together?”
“…yes”, they both replied. Humming to herself, she continued observing them, knowing very well they were hiding something. “How long ago did they leave?”. They once again exchanged looks with one another, face flushed with embarrassment, “Uh, not that long ago…they’ll be here soon”. Catelyn’s skepticism deepened, her eyes darting from M/H/N awkward performance to Jon’s increasingly guilty expression. Letting out a sigh and rubbing her temples, she turned to return to the party, “Fine”.
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With one hand tangled in his auburn curls, you panted against Robb’s lips, “mm you’re insane”. Robb chose to ignore your words, his lips choosing to instead attack your neck and his fingers gripping hard on your thigh— surely to leave bruises come morning. Craning your neck back for more easy access, you tried reasoning, “they’re probably looking for us now—“. You couldn’t even finish your sentence, his cock having thrusted into your walls so deep it left you gasping for air, “f-Fuck, Robb!”
He groaned against your neck, his hips moving in rhythm against yours, “Who cares what they’re doing when I get to have you like this to all to myself”.  You almost bit your tongue when his hand slipped between the two of you, fingers rubbing at your sweet spot, “Fuck, I love it when you moan my name”.
It was almost close to an hour ago when your maid of honor took you to change out of your wedding dress into your reception dress. Coming out of the dressing room, you were met with both your newly brother-in-law and newly husband. While M/H/N and Jon engaged in some conversation about the band arriving soon, Robb and you took to wrapping each other up in arms. With a huge grin on his face, he planted small kisses all over your face, “My gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, wife”. Laughing at how his stubble tickled against your face, you laid your palm up against his cheek, “Aye, watch the makeup”, quickly giving him a kiss on the lips before pulling away and looking into his blue eyes, “but thank you my very handsome, good-looking, very very very attractive husband”. You two shared a moment of silence and intense gaze before you both broke out in giggles, capturing each other’s lips in one another, moving tendering and deeply. Pulling away, Robb stared down at you, both love in his eyes but also a hint of something else.
“You know you really do look gorgeous. You look equally as beautiful in this dress as you did in your wedding dress”. You thanked him once again but gave him a puzzled look when he said he had other opinions, however.
“And what other opinions are those?”, you said, smiling while waving at a cousin who just entered the building. Turning back to Robb, you noticed the way his eyes had slightly shifted in emotion; something more carnal behind them. Bending down his head towards your ear, he whispered softly, “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have you naked with my head between your thighs”. His voice brought chills up your spine as he blew a soft gust of air on your earlobe before going back to height. Biting your lip and playing with his tie, you titled your head to the side and chuckled softly “You would, huh?”. His only reply was a nod, watching your every move like hawk and gulping as your fingers started to trail along his neck now. Robb was being unfair; he knew just how much his words had an effect on you. But yours did too. Bringing him down by his tie, you’d thought best to return his teasing—fighting fire with fire.
Slowly, you leaned up, “…I want you inside of me. I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do right now”. You could hear his breath hitch behind his closed mouth. Both of you were once again stuck in an intense stare down, this time only desire and want in your gazes. You were quick to fix yourself up, distancing yourself a bit from Robb and plastering on an innocent smile as more guests arrived, “Hi. Thank you for coming”. You snickered to yourself; feeling Robbs eyes on your back as he hadn’t moved a single inch from his spot. Jon and M/H/N ended their conversation and turned to face you both, nodding their head in the direction of the main area, “Alright, let’s get going”.
You took one single step before Robb came up behind you, grabbing you by your forearm and pushing you towards his chest. “Actually”, he started, “Y/N told me her dress is bothering her”. M/H/N had stepped up, examining you from head to toe, “Oh, let me help— “. Robb had interrupted her by raising his hand and shaking his head, “No, it’s fine. I got it. Besides, we want to spend some quiet time together, don’t we babe?”. Looking up at him, you quickly assessed the situation and nodded along, “R-right, yeah. We’ll be right back. You guys go and have fun. Who cares about us anyways.”
Jon and M/H/N didn’t have time to argue back— the new couple running down the halls of the building, hand in hand with laughter being echoed throughout it. Jon tsked his tongue, shouting at his brother and sister-in-law who were still in view, “What do you mean who cares about you guys?! This is your wedding!”. They both turned to flip Jon off, turning the corner and disappearing to the next connecting hall. Sighing, Jon rubbed his face as M/H/N came to stand next to him in silence.
“You know there was nothing wrong with her dress”. “… Yeah”.
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And that’s how you found yourself with Robb in some random office room in the building of your wedding reception. Robb’s patience was running low as he pushed you up against the wall and against the corner of what some seemed to be some bookshelf. Both your lips hungrily going at each other very frantically. A loud moan was swallowed by his mouth when his fingers went down, pushing your panties to the side and starting to play with your wet folds and opening. Wasting no time, you trailed your hands down towards his belt, quickly trying to undo it. Robb pulled away entirely from you, using the distance to unbutton a bit of his dress shirt and to take off his belt. Breathing heavily, you grabbed him back down by the neck for another kiss, biting his lip and sucking on his tongue. Pulling away, you raised an eyebrow at Robb with a smirk present on your face and his lips darkened and wet with saliva, “I’m almost positive this kind of tradition is reserved for tonight. You know, after the reception, not during”. Robb laughed slightly, pushing up against you and grabbing a hold of your thigh, wrapping your leg around his waist while the other stood for balance. His other hand was used to bunch up the fabric of your white party dress and to pull down one of its straps. “What can I say”, he bit along your neck, “you’re just so damn beautiful. So damn sexy. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold myself back when I saw you walking down that aisle”. His lips returned to yours. This kiss was messy with teeth almost clashing and tongues fighting. Both your hands were everywhere they could be felt; his on your thighs, ass, hips, breasts, and yours on his chest, neck, and back. Pulling away, Robb looked at you from head to toe and gave you a teasing smile, “And what’s all this?”. With both your body movements and clothes shifting, Robb had finally taken noticed of the white lace lingerie you had underneath the entire time of both your wedding dress and your reception dress. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a pointed look, “It was supposed to be for tonight. Way to ruin the surprise”.  He pouted mockingly at you and let out a small chuckle, kissing your forehead before his previous lustful look returned, “We can keep it on for now. And for tonight, I’ll just pretend it’s my first time seeing it”.
The way he spoke and stared at you had sent something straight to your burning core and had made you shifted closer to him unconsciously. “Such a gentleman”, you spoke running a thumb along his bottom lip and started kissing him again. With his belt already undone, it only took a few seconds to push down his clothing layers just enough to free his cock. As a brief warning, sliding your panties to the side, he slid his tip through your wet folds for a couple seconds. The whine you let out was all he needed before he pushed entirely inside you. You gasped loudly and screwed your eyes shut as Robb gave you a few seconds to adjust to the sudden fullness. Shaking your head, you bit down on your lip, “Don't be gentle with me—I like it when you're rough”. Robb wasted no time, gripping your thigh and fucking deeply into you, “Ah, fuck”, he moaned out, “you feel so fucking good. My good girl. My fucking wife”. He moved his lips along your collarbone, groaning and biting down. “Mm, fuck” you muffled out as your pussy clenched around his hard cock with every thrust he made. Robb took a second to look down, watching the way you took him in and your sleek and arousal that coated him every time he reentered. He was in heaven. Looking back up, you stared at Robb whose pupils were dilated in rapture with a little sweat coating his forehead. You probably looked the same to him as well. Your standing leg was starting to lose balance, causing you to slightly shift. Robb was quick to grab a hold of you, causing the tip of his cock to hit your most sensitive spot and just what he was looking for. “Hmm!”, you moaned out, “fuck Robb, right there!”, you truly felt like you were seeing stars. He started to fuck into you even faster and harder, increasing his movements, your pussy clenching even more, indicating your release. Eyes rolling back, you let your head fall back against the wall as you let out a mixture of curse words, moans, and Robbs’ name. Your body filled with warmth and pleasure, trembling as Robb held onto you and continued trying to reach his own climax. His movements were starting to get sloppy; you knew he was reaching his dissolve soon. However, he had to stop his movements abruptly; the doorknob to the room shaking vigorously.
Despite having locked the door beforehand, it was Robb’s natural reflex to reach over and hold onto the knob. At the same time doing so, he had let out a groan, and you a squeak as he slightly pushed you with his body. You were caught off balance but were able to hold onto the corner of the bookshelf, giving Robb a glare while he raised his finger up to his lip.
“Is somebody in there?”
Both your eyes widened in mutual shock; mouths agape as you two exchanged a horrified glance. You both recognized that voice as Robb’s Aunt Lysa.
She started banging harshly on the door now, “I know that someone is in there. I can hear you! This is a private event! If the cops need to be called, I have no problem- “.
“It’s me Aunt Lysa”, Robb spoke out, slightly cringing. Your face was flushed red; both because of your current activities and because of shame. Looking down, Robb’s left hand still had your thigh wrapped around his waist and his cock still buried inside you.
“Robb?”, Lysa questioned, “Is that you? Your mother has been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing in there?”
Robb gave you a once-over before clearing his throat, “I’m just…changing”. Your grip on the shelf was losing itself, causing you to readjust and move — which caused you to slightly sink down onto Robb’s cock. He was quick to bite his lip to stop the moan coming from his mouth, almost drawing blood in the process. Robb knew you too well and covered your mouth with his hand, knowing you would do the same. The only probably was that he wasn’t as quick.
“Now, hold on,” Lysa loudly said from the other side of the door, “I can hear another person in there and it sounds like a woman. Robb Stark you may be my nephew but I swear to God if you’re doing what I think your doing - “
“It’s me Mrs. Arryn”, you finally spoke out too. There was a moment of silence from the other end before Lysa started speaking again, “Oh, Y/N. Of course… Your mother was also looking for you…”. There was some awkwardness to her tone as you tried your best to clean up the situation, “I’m just changing too. Robb’s helping me”. Another awkward silence passed, “Of course he is…”. You and Robb gave each other a side glance; it was clear she didn’t believe you two and knew what you two were really doing. “Well”, Lysa began, “I best let you two get back to uh…changing…oh, um, where are the bathrooms?”. Robb was the one to answer her question, “On the other side of the building”. With a quick thank you and goodbye, you could hear the distant sound of her heels from the other side before she was gone entirely.
Turning back to Robb, you slapped his chest, groaning into your hands, “Ughhhh, that was so embarrassing”. He only laughed, making you peek at him from the gaps of your fingers. “What are you laughing at? You heard her; our parents are looking for us, so we better go”. Robb’s only response was to kiss you sloppy, pushing back once more inside you. You gasped into his mouth, his tongue playing with yours. Robb then pulled out of you completely, making you whimper from the sudden emptiness. Grabbing you by the forearm, he dragged you towards the desk in the room, bending you over it, pushing your dress up and your panties down— exposing yourself fully to him. He caressed your ass before smacking it hard; making you huff, “Let them wait a few more minutes”, his fingers played along your glistening folds. Standing up behind you, he pushed himself back into you, thrusting in, and out, and in again. Each time rougher than the other as he stretched out your cunt. Grabbing ahold of your hair and arching your back for him, he spoke into your ear, “This is our special day, isn’t it?”. Your only answer was a loud moan, his fingers being placed in your mouth to suck on. “Besides, I’m not fully done with you”.
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About twenty minutes later (some of which took up of M/H/N fixing your makeup and concealing your bite marks), you and Robb entered the main room holding arms. Guests were raising their glasses up to you in cheers— some already clearly starting to get tipsy. A close friend of yours came up to you both, hugging you and giving you your congrats while Robb shook hands with her boyfriend. Once they pulled away and moved aside, you both had clear sight across the room of the one person who was looking for you two the most: Catelyn Stark. To make matters worse, she was also conversing with her sister; both whispering and giving you two the side eye.
“Crap” both you and Robb said in unison, watching Catelyn with her wrath make her way towards you. Your sight was cut off by the wedding planner standing stressed and tired in front of you, “Okay, we can get back on schedule if we just follow with the original plan. Bride, it’s time for the father-daughter dance”. Your ears perked up at the familiar sound of the music you had chosen for this occasion and turned to see your dad already on the dance floor. Turning back to Robb, you gave him a sheepish smile, “Would you look at that… gotta go”. He was quick to grab a hold of your hand, “You can’t leave me. You vowed to be with me through anything”. Pulling your hand back, you raised both hands up in defense, “I had my fingers crossed when I said that”.
Seeing his pouted puppy look made you laugh, quickly blowing him a kiss, “I’m kidding. I love you”, turning to go dance with your father. Robb didn’t even have to turn around— already feeling his mother’s presence behind him. Wrapping arms with him, many passersby would see the scene as a mother coddling her son. But Catelyn was actually pinching Robb’s side, and hard. “You are so vulgar I swear. At your own wedding Robb, really? You couldn’t wait until after?”, she spoke through gritted teeth.
Robb winced a little at the pain, but his eyesight was also focused on you. Smiling and laughing with your father. “Why are you getting only me in trouble? Y/N was equally in on it”. Catelyn could only roll her eyes at her sons’ immature response, “Please, knowing you and knowing her it was probably all your doing”. Staring up at him to continue her scolding, she stopped momentarily at the look in her sons’ eyes. Following his line of vision, she was meet with you. A tender smile graced Catelyn lips. Nothing short of captivating was the way he gazed upon you. His unspoken proclamation of love seemed to go beyond words, and his eyes radiated an undying commitment. “Are you happy?”, she asked Robb. The song was coming close to the end. Robb turned to face his mother, a stern look on his face and nothing but seriousness was his tone, “Yes. I am”. From the corner of his eye, Robb could see your father leading you to him. Standing up higher, Catelyn gave him a quick peck on the forehead, “Good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted”. You and your father came face to face with the both of them, Catelyn giving you a peck on the cheek and your father handing you over to Robb, “She’s all yours’ son,” he patted his shoulder, “take care of her”.
Robb led you to the dance floor where the band had started to play a slower and more romantic song. Swaying to the tempo, you spoke up, “So, was she angry?”. Robb let out a small chuckle, smiling down at you. “She was,” he began, “but she said she’d forgive us if we gave her a grandchild”. Staring at him agape, you slapped his chest with a small gasp, “She did not say that!”. Now you both were laughing. The world around you two seemed to fade into a soft blur as you moved, lost in the embrace of your love. Resting your head against his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I love you”, Robb spoke up, his hand tenderly placed on the small of your back. Sighing deeply, inhaling his scent and allowing yourself to bask in his warmth, both of you feeling safe in each other’s embrace, you let him know your feelings, “I love you too”.
Enjoying the moment's beauty, you both stayed in each other's arms as the music softly faded into the night. You both understood that this dance was only the start of an endless journey together.
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nataliawrites · 1 year
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Crowning Glory // Max Verstappen
Max Verstappen x Princess of the Netherlands!Reader
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Max prided himself on his control. His job depended on it. His life depended on it.
Even when he briefly lost control — and he really doesn’t regret the infamous pushing incident — it was always of his own doing.
Until you came into his life.
A knock on the door to his driver’s room started Max. It was race day and it was rare for him to be bothered when he was preparing on his own. A home race meant that everything was heightened. The adrenaline thrummed deeper. The cheers were louder. The Orange Army was nearly blinding in the stands.
“Max,” the familiar voice of his team principal filtered through the door after another knock, “I have someone who would like to meet you.”
“Can’t we do this later, Christian? I know you know my routine by now.”
“Just open the door. I think you’ll be happy to change up your routine this once.”
Max heaved himself off of the small couch and went to send the Brit and whatever guest he brought along away so he could continue to focus on the race in peace.
He opened the door, prepared to shut it in a second, but stopped short when he saw who was standing next to Christian. The guest in question was wearing an elegant summer dress in a bright shade of orange sure to be similarly reflected upon thousands of Dutch fans around the track.
She was also the subject of his long running teenage crush. A crush he thought he had gotten over until he was staring open-mouthed at her right in front of him.
“Hallo,” she takes the initiative to greet Max considering he was still making somewhat of a fool of himself in front of her, “it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Max bends into a hasty bow, unsure of the protocols for meeting someone he had only ever seen on the news and the pages of magazines, “Your Royal Highness, I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m the one intruding on your preparations,” she waves his apology off. “I just wanted to stop by and wish you luck before the race. It is my first time attending a Grand Prix in-person but my family and I have been fans for a long time and started following your career when news of an incredibly promising young driver racing under the Dutch flag first made its rounds.”
“I-thank you, Your Highness. I am honored.”
“Well, I will leave you to continue getting ready. Mr. Horner promised me a tour of the garage. Good luck again, you do your country proud.”
Max remained frozen in the doorway, watching the heir apparent walk away with the Red Bull team principal, bodyguards seemingly materializing from the walls to surround her as they made their way into a public area of the F1 Holzhaus.
Max managed to get you out of his head once the race began. The second he got into the car, nothing else mattered. Everything beyond the track ceased to exist as he pushed the car to its limit and passed the chequered flag for yet another home win.
But when it came time for the podium ceremony, there you were front and center, ready to present trophies to the three drivers. Max swore he could feel a spark travel up his arm as your fingers brushed his while handing him the trophy. “Well done! Tonight we celebrate.”
Turns out the celebration was a far cry from the ones he was used to. Instead of a club, Red Bull team members were invited to join you at a nearby royal residence for dinner and drinks. Max listened to you explain why from his seat next to you at the long dining table as you waited for the first course to be served, pleasantly warm from champagne already, “I used to love going out. Tried to have a typical university experience, you know? But I was almost kidnapped last year and despite security stepping in on time I have been forbidden from doing so again. Too much risk.”
And there it was. The reminder of just how different your lives wore despite both being Dutch public figures. One day Max will retire and can live a relatively normal life if he so chooses while you will ascend to the throne and lead a kingdom.
He didn’t exactly pity you — royalty was royalty at the end of the day — but he did sympathize with the constraints that it placed on you and how you lived your life.
Max clears his throat, “I’m not exactly sure how this whole thing works but I would love to take you out.”
He waits for a response and nervously cards his fingers through his hair when he doesn’t get one, “only if you want, of course, Your Highness. I have a sailing boat on the coast not too far from here. It’s not a yacht, though you are welcome to join me on that too if you are ever in Monaco, but I promise that it is peaceful and private. I just thought you would like to get away from all this,” he gestures around the room of mingling Red Bull staff and dignitaries, “for a little.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hhmm?”
You ask again, “are you sure?”
“Sure about what? That I would like to take you on a date? Quite sure.”
“Any privacy we have won’t last long.”
“I know.”
“The press can be brutal.”
“So I’ve learned. I don’t particularly care.”
“There are rules …”
“I will learn them.”
“Okay,” you finally allow a shy smile.
“Okay?”
“Yes, Max. I would love to go on a date with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But if we are to date you have to call me Y/N.”
“Gladly … Y/N,” he tests out how your name feels on his lips for the first time.
“Oh and you will have to meet my parents.”
That gives him pause. “Your parents?”
“Yes.”
“As in the King and Queen.”
“Yes.”
“I have to meet the King and Queen?”
“It’s all still a bit old fashioned, I’m afraid. We will need their approval.”
You’re quick to reassure him when you see how quickly the color drains from his face, “my father is a big Ferrari fan but he has a soft spot for you. You need not worry.”
“Your father is the King.”
“Yes.”
“My King.”
“Yes. And he’s my father. You’ll have to get used to it if you see us going anywhere.”
“Right. Of course …” A few seconds pass. “But he’s the King.”
You pat his hand where it’s splayed on the table, “you’ll be fine.”
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zlebooks · 1 year
Text
A SINGLE THREAD OF GOLD (TIED ME TO YOU) 𓍯 series of events where you realize your fate with him is much more intertwined than how you initially believed it to be.
INCLUDES. 🪡 childe, thoma, xiao, zhongli (i might do a part two for ayato, diluc, kazuha !! i just wanted to get this out of my drafts as soon as possible 😭)
AUTHOR’S NOTE. you know the trope “omygod it’s annoying you’ve been by my side all the time but somehow it became less annoying… i like it even and omg i didn’t notice that what i’m looking for is you all along” ?? yes this is that trope … inspired by taylor swift’s invisible string and the movie harry met sally! both got me in a chokehold rn. also the angst levels increase the further you scroll down.
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somehow friends to lovers, mentions of wedding and settling down.
childe is a friend. although, he isn’t the type of friend that you share your secrets with, not a friend who regularly contacts you to hang out, nor is he a friend that eats ice cream with you whenever you get your heart broken. childe is the friend you met through mutual connections, the one that makes you say ‘oh! what a small world’ because you just met him last week at a friend’s birthday and now he’s attending as one of the groomsmen at your distant relative’s wedding.
he’s equally surprised as you, of course he wouldn’t forget the one person that told him: “god this party sucks” when the celebrant was just literally behind the two of you. he remembers you being brazen and holding a glass of beer on one hand.
just like the birthday party, during the wedding’s reception, childe finds himself sitting beside you. he asks you how you’re doing as if a lot happened within the week you were separated.
(“you say that as if a week could eventful.”
“hey! a lot can happen in a week!”
you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to prove his point.
“like one of your friends getting married!” he gestures to the now married couple dancing.
you find yourself stupidly laughing.)
you both enjoy yourselves together. in the short period of time you sat beside him, you figured that childe was fun to be around and he basically knows everyone in the city.
that’s why, you couldn’t help but joke that you might see him again in another wedding.
(you did.)
surprise was an understatement when you saw him entering the venue. this time, you were a bridesmaid, and he was the cousin of the groom. and just like the previous wedding, childe finds himself sitting beside you, now talking about how the last two months went for you.
(“you better not tell me i can’t ask you about how you spent the last two months because it’s a short time.”
“you know how a year for a human is seven years for a dog?”
“you’re telling me i’m the dog?”
once again, you idiotically laugh.)
this time around, you found out that childe’s real name was ajax. childe was just a nickname given to him by his 8th grade teacher and the name has been stuck ever since. you figured out that he likes the nickname rather well— he tells you that it makes him interesting to which you disagree, sparking a thirty minute debate between you two.
when the party died down, and you were called to help the newly wedded bride, you both bid each other good night. this time, it was his turn to joke about the next wedding you two will meet.
(“if i saw you again in another wedding, i promise to shave my head.”
you snort, “see you at the next wedding then.”)
the moment you meet childe once again, you were a little bit disappointed that you weren’t wearing another bridesmaid dress. however, childe was more than ecstatic that he met you in a baby shower hosted by a mutual friend (once again).
the moment the couple popped the balloon which launched dozens of pink confetti to the air, childe appears right beside you almost immediately.
this time, you find out that he’s equally anxious as you to see the people in your life settling down. that your friends left and right are getting married and having kids, while you had the trouble of looking for someone to spend new year’s eve with.
(“don’t you think that all these events we’re attending are getting suffocating?”
this was the first time you wholeheartedly agree with him without the teasing.)
when everyone else was starting to clean up, and you finally put your hand on your friend’s belly to feel the baby kick, childe tells you he’s going home with a box of take outs. he finally asks you for your number, telling you that he hopes to see you again without the pressuring reminders of settling down.
(“see you on new years?”
“see you on new years.”)
five months went by without the wedding and baby shower invitations, you were glad to say the least. while you were incredibly happy for your friends, you can’t help but to feel insecure for being unable to settle down like the most of them are.
childe and you call sometimes, mostly right before bed and you always scold him for ruining your body clock. but as whiny as you can be, you never actually hung up on him.
these conversations over the phone let you discover little things about childe. like how he hates ketchup on eggs but is fine with it being on everything else, how he likes eating mint choco flavored ice cream but detests anything else flavored mint, and the fact that one of his hobbies is crocheting stuffed toys for teucer who you learned was childe’s youngest brother.
he came from a big family from the country side. he had three older siblings and another three that followed him. you learn that he was a family man; he specifically treasures and adores the three younger ones left at home.
you discover that to them, childe is ajax— the dependable big brother.
during the phone calls, ajax tells you his adventures back home. how he once got pulled into the lake after catching a fish bigger than him, how he once went home with more than enough bruises after learning how to skate for the first time. in return, you supply him the latest office gossip; how the boss and his secretary were sleeping together and almost got caught by the wife. putting things into perspective, your stories were much more dull.
despite these phone calls starting to become a part of your nightly routine, you both never came around to the idea of spending time with each other in personal.
however, the promise of spending new years with each other still remains. and when the night came, you were all bundled up in his arms from complaining how cold it was outside. it was now his turn to complain about the cold as you have succeeded at stealing his mittens and scarf.
(“you didn’t think you could dress for the weather?”
“my coats at home ruin my dress.”)
when the countdown starts and the ball finally drops, everyone starts kissing their partners while you could only stare at childe’s lips. he does the same to you, and before you knew it, you were leaning towards each other, finding the warmth of your lips.
ajax finally meets you halfway and the moment just felt right.
(the next wedding you attend to was yours. and every single one of your mutual friends were invited.)
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friends to lovers, swearing.
thoma has been there for your first heartbreak.
he was there to watch every sappy romcoms known to man with you, he was there to give you a new roll of tissue whenever you ran out, and he was right beside you to clean up whatever mess you made.
thoma has been there when your first love shattered your heart into pieces just like how you’ve been there for him when his broke.
the two of you fell easily into a routine; he listens when you gush over the guy you recently met while you give him advice on how to win over his seat mate in class. he reassures you that it wasn’t your fault that things ended up that way while you listen to his frustrations about how incorrigible his girlfriend was. the two of you share a microwave meal as you both whine how relationships are tiring only for the two of you to share a tub of ice cream two weeks later, as you talk about how beautiful it is to love.
the night you call him, your words gibberish and barely comprehensible, it doesn’t take thoma very long to piece the puzzles together. you were obviously upset (upset is an understatement) about your recent romantic endeavor and it was up to thoma to cheer you up just like you’ve done for him many times.
on his way to your home, he picks up a tub of ice cream, a pack of tissue to be safe, and a romantic film that he knew would make you laugh at the ridiculousness.
he rings your doorbell to which you open the door in response, and he sees you standing in your pjs, eyes bloodshot and snot all over your nose. while this was the typical look whenever you were heartbroken, thoma is confused and left to wonder— you have yet to mention being interested to someone for the past two months.
but when a gold envelope haphazardly thrown on the kitchen counter catches his eyes, thoma gets the idea.
“he’s getting married.” you sob loudly, “he’s fucking getting married.”
the male hands you the box of tissue he bought, and you motion him to enter the flat.
“all this time, i thought he didn’t want to get married ever, but he just meant that he didn’t want to get to married to me,” you cry harder than what thoma was accustomed to, and scared that you might literally fall apart, he leads you to your couch.
“and you know what’s funny? they’re getting married on spring,” you inhale briefly, “in fucking spring thoma! that’s when i wanted to get married.”
the man pats you in the back, “he was a douche anyway; i didn’t like him.” thoma takes out the ice cream he bought, handing it to you and the spoon urging you to eat like it would make your problems disappear right away.
as if you hadn’t heard your friend, you continue venting out your frustrations. “and get this: the girl he’s marrying is hannah.”
“hannah?”
“hannah on your 21st birthday. your hannah!”
“oh.”
he sits on the couch, grabs the tub of ice cream and keeps it to himself.
and then the two of you sit in silence.
“do you think this is god’s way of telling us that we’re meant for each other?”
thoma raises an eyebrow.
“i mean, all the people that throws us away—“ thoma decides that he will lecture you on your choice of words, “—end up being together. like maybe we’re so bad that we’re made for each other?”
“which movie did you watch without me?” he teases, to which you take offense because you would never dare to watch a bad movie without him. the rest of the night continues without the topic being brushed over once again but for a moment, thoma actually considers the thought.
maybe, just maybe.
five months followed, and you never cried out your heart to him ever since. thoma, finds himself relinquishing from meeting new people, taking time to sort out himself partly. the other part knows that ever since you told him your silly theory about why your relationships always end up as failures, thoma had started seeing you more than as a friend.
he thinks that he’d make a great damn boyfriend; better than anyone else you had. he knows exactly what makes you double on the floor for laughing, the food you want to eat on certain days, and how to calm you down whenever you were anything but.
despite that, thoma waits. he waits for you to come to him, waiting for you to realize, and waiting for you to be ready. so when you call him up on a friday night, just to hang and not talk about how relationships were taxing, that was the moment he knew.
when you told him you wanted to see another romcom movie without being gibberish and snot blocking your nose, he decides that maybe it’s finally the right time.
thoma lives for the after. the after of every failed relationship because he knows that at the end of the tunnel, there is hope. that in every relationship he enters, he’ll be one step closer to “the one”. and as he looks at you, fighting to keep your eyes wide open to watch yet another sappy romcom movie, he realizes you were the after.
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kind of soulmates to lovers, reincarnation, character death (but it’s a happy/hopeful ending don’t worry)
xiao dreams.
at night, dreams plague him in his sleep and he wakes up wondering what is it all about.
illustrations of what wang shu inn looked like more than 10,000 years ago visits him in his sleep, the old liyue looking so vivid as if he lived to tell the its tales.
in these dreams, xiao is always visited by the same person. their hair covers almost half of their face whenever the wind blows, their lips always chastising the “him” in his dreams, their smile was so bright that it completely unravels the heavy knot on xiao’s chest.
and xiao finds himself longing. whenever he wakes up in the morning, he yearns for this person. for him, it feels like the act of falling in love with someone you don’t know, missing somebody you never met.
(“promise that you will look for me in our next lives, alatus.”
xiao jolts awake.)
the young man has heard of that name before.
in his history class, way back in 7th grade, he had heard the feats and victories that belonged to the name. a fearless warrior that served liyue’s god, alatus was said to die peacefully years after the war yet he was all alone.
he had lived his life devoted to the god of contracts; spending his days fighting demons, alatus’ loyalty was to liyue and its people.
xiao hears that a museum nearly ten blocks away has opened to visitors. it is said it contains almost all the rich history of liyue that remains untouched, including portraits and statues once revered many years ago. there, xiao seeks answers.
he arrives at the sight of a familiar figure.
“do you know him?”
you turn around, looking at the guy bewildered.
“i’d have to be really old for me to know him,”
xiao feels his breath taken away from him as he finally confirms his suspicions; you looked exactly like the person in his dreams, only your hair is much shorter. the flurry of emotions inside of him breaks the dam; his heart pounding loudly in his chest that any louder you would have heard it, his head filled with incomplete memories, and his lungs struggling to breath.
(one night at wangshu inn, he sees you brushing your hair.
“join me and let’s look at the stars together.” you pat the space next to you.
“waste of my time.” he tsks, before muttering his breath but he finds himself taking his rightful place beside you.)
he notices the way your eyebrows furrow at him and your lips turning into a pout. “has anyone told you that you look exactly like the guy in the painting?”
true to your words, when xiao gazes upwards, he sees himself staring back at him. eyes bore into his soul, scrutinizing his every move and it’s extremely weird that such painting makes him feel like he’s being watched, and by himself no less.
below the painting, a gold plate is mounted against the wall.
a lover’s oath.
alatus in the art is holding someone. their white clothing smeared with blood, and the tears that fall from the yaksha’s face were enough to tell xiao that they were in their last moments before separation.
strangely, xiao feels a tug on his heart strings. an overwhelming feeling looks over him, and he feels like he’s about to cry.
“it brings you to tears, doesn’t it?”
(xiao in his dreams feels like his heart was ripped open.
in his arms, the only person he might have loved is already dying. the blood from the wound seeping on their clothes is a reminder that it’s only minutes away before their impending doom.
xiao, for the first time in a while, cries when he wakes up.)
“i dream of the person in white,” xiao suddenly confesses.
“they say that they might have been alatus’ friend, companion, and lover.” you tell him, reading from the standee near you.
when you receive no reply from the male, you glance at him and your eyes meet.
intrigue, you ask, “how do they look like in your dreams?”
“they look like you.”
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the timeline varies but it’s mainly centered in whatever the genshin timeline is for plot convenience, references to death (still happy ending), reincarnation au, it literally takes several lifetimes for zhongli to realize he likes you, literally the “i’m god’s favorite mortal; he favors me” pipeline. ALSO i got carried away im sorry
first.
you first meet zhongli as a refugee from the waging war. the god governing your land slaughtered mercilessly by those who seek more power. your feet brings you to morax; looking for a shelter and protection.
you almost got turned away, even receiving snide remarks from higher beings for being naively brave to seek protection from a god when you were nothing but a mortal.
(but what is a god’s purpose if not to protect the nation he governs and the people inhabiting it?)
it was only in the right hand deity’s grace were you able to stay.
so like a fish out of water, you live amongst immortals, making yourself useful with mundane tasks that warriors shouldn’t be bothered with.
(when you died in the hands of the enemy, it served as a reminder why morax fights this war.)
second.
the next time zhongli notices of your presence, it was in the middle of the rise of liyue harbor. he is finally a step closer to building a safe land to house his people; long years of the war soon to be buried.
morax, now known as rex lapis, hears every single prayer made at his statues.
he feels you ardently take care of the sculptures and in return, he passionately listens to your pleas of saving your sick mother.
(on your way home one day, you find a plant you’ve never seen before. you take its fruit for your mother to eat as you hold onto your faith, hoping that this may be the answer to your prayers.
the next day, she stands up from her bed for the first time in a long while.)
third.
the first time you were able to hold a conversation with zhongli, was his first time walking amongst mortals.
he now goes by jiawei, a struggling merchant trying to strike a fortune in the harbor— at least that’s what he tells you during your introductions.
you’ve always thought that jiawei was a noble’s son. his vast knowledge on liyue’s history, his proficiency in reading and writing, and his peculiar taste for lavishness gave it away. furthermore, there were days he hadn’t been present, and you surely assumed it was due to his duties as a noble.
zhongli, or jiawei in this life, shares myths and legends of ancient liyue to you while you show him the ropes of living as a simple commoner in his land. he teaches you how to read and write while you teach him what goes on at the streets of the harbor.
(when jiawei doesn’t appear one night to meet you under the stars, you assume he finally grew out of his childlike wonder and immaturity. instead, he grows into the shoes that were his noble duties.)
fourth.
zhongli catches your reincarnation crying underneath an oak tree this time.
he approaches you gently, wishing to comfort an old friend even if you probably don’t remember him. a hand behind your back soothes whatever distress you’re carrying as he tells you everything will be alright.
zhongli learns you are bound to suffer the same fate as almost every maiden in his country.
in a few months or so, your hand will be taken and you will be forced to marry someone whom you have yet to meet.
and zhongli, for the first time, meets someone who openly cursed rex lapis.
(“trust in the lord rex lapis my foot, he doesn’t even listen to my prayers!”
zhongli purses his lips— if only you retained your past memories.)
the following week, your father shared good news that you wouldn’t have to marry to save your clan from ruin. apparently, your crops have never been better and every merchant is seeking business with you.
the next time you see the man who listened you vent out your frustrations under a tree, you thank him for the comfort you received. he expresses his happiness as you tell him that maybe rex lapis isn’t deaf after all while you don’t catch the slight tense on his shoulders.
(that life, just like any other life, you thank him with a different name yet again. zhongli feels that he’s close to losing his identity.)
fifth.
“i know you from somewhere.”
“that wouldn’t be possible; i have just gotten back from my travels.”
“i know you from a long time ago.”
“again, that would be impossible.”
the fifth time zhongli meets you, he notices that your sense of deja vu has gotten stronger.
the god gives you his mortal name that he decided to stick to, making it the first time among others that you meet him under the name zhongli.
in this life, he tells you that he’s a scholar that hails from the land of sumeru with keen interest on liyue’s rich history, and now he’s traveling across teyvat for his studies. you find yourself not believing him one bit.
he tells you stories from his travels, from the hospitality of mondstandt to the exquisite cuisine of inazuma, zhongli recounts the wonders of each nations he’s visited. but from his stories, you know that the man’s heart will always remain in liyue.
and as months passed by and seasons changed, you find yourself wishing that his heart would remain with you as well. but the god resigned himself to a much crueler fate; to walk down a path alone and by himself.
(“i think i love you.”
“it shall pass.”)
sixth.
the heart is a fickle thing, zhongli realizes.
in your previous lifetime, he refused to return your feelings and for a while, he’s committed to it. but as he lays his eyes on you for the first time in this lifetime, he was suddenly reminded that he too, was capable of loving.
zhongli doesn’t approach you, afraid that the feelings he has locked away far deep into the trenches of his heart will blossom and turn into something as beautiful as flowers. but alas, your soul finds his, under the same oak tree that he once found you under, and you almost remembered.
(“i just know that you were special to me.”
zhongli almost caves.)
seventh.
almost a century passes by and zhongli’s feelings for you remain the same. you died and you were reborn.
he never reveals himself to you.
eighth.
ninth.
tenth.
eleventh.
(“why do you seem so afraid?”
the god does not reply, afraid that his voice might give him away.
“why can’t you give us a chance?”)
twelfth.
when zhongli is just zhongli and rex lapis was no more, he comes and finds you.
he dines with you in your favorite restaurant, he walks around the harbor with you hand in hand, and he finally takes you to places in liyue to see its beauty that the textbooks could never justify.
for the first time, the ex archon takes the key and unlocks his heart, allowing himself to love with no restrictions.
(you die from old age, and you know that your husband isn’t anything like you for his hair remained dark while yours turned white, his skin smooth and soft while yours had turned wrinkled and rough from time.)
twentieth.
liyue’s skies have been crying non stop and zhongli is to blame partly.
while he had renounced his claim to the land long ago, a part of his soul is still linked to his beloved nation.
your body remained lifeless, cold, and bitter in the god’s arms. you died peacefully in your sleep, beside your lover and zhongli feels like heart in his chest is being ripped apart slowly and painfully.
as a mortal, you were granted with infinite numbers of reincarnations. you meet zhongli, you spend your lifetime with him wondering why his touch feels so familiar, and then you die peacefully. the cycle repeats.
(zhongli is cursed; he’s sure of it.
while he remembers every waking moment with you, you were bound to forget him and the lives you spent together.
but still, even if the cycle of losing you hurts more than any wound he received from the wars he fought, zhongli continues.
for what is grief if not love persevering?)
twenty-fifth.
through the years, he has grown weary and tired. the path to godhood is a lonely one, but a path leaving his old ways whilst immortal? zhongli has never felt more alone in his life.
he ventures the lands and seas in attempt to break free from the shackles of being a god.
but even then, his path remains anything but fortuitous; his attempts were futile.
(it was his turn to swear at celestia and the higher beings.)
thirty-ninth.
zhongli finds comfort in writing.
he jots down everything about you in every life you spend with him, afraid he’ll forget one detail about you.
this is where he finds solace in when time takes you away from him. it’s what keeps him sane as he waits for you in your next life and the one after that.
as he reads and reads the words he put down into notes, he notices nothing ever changes. he always end up falling in love with you, and you always end up falling in love with him. for zhongli, may it be cruel in its own way, it is a reminder that immortal he may be, he always has a place in your mortality.
(“what are you writing?”
“just some reminders for the day darling.”)
fortieth.
zhongli, with how long he’s been living, should have known better than to leave his possessions laying out in the open.
it’s not like he’s keeping secrets from you, but even he would go crazy if he finds a journal (of his lover nonetheless) that suggests he’s already living his fortieth life.
but you were better than zhongli at handling things like this. you were much more patient and calmer, like the never changing rivers of liyue.
zhongli tells you of your past lives for the first time, and you cry.
not because you felt trapped by loving the same person all the time, but rather, sorry that your lover had to go through all of it all alone.
(“can’t you just grow old with me?”
“believe me sweetest, i tried.”)
morax, rex lapis, jia wei, zhongli. they’re all the same. they’re all slaves to love and to the dreams of spending the rest of their lives with someone they cherish.
that night, zhongli prayed, got on his knees and begged.
once, he was an enemy of celestia. now, he falls to its feet willing to do anything just for it to grant his wish.
he doesn’t sleep, eat, or drink. he just prays.
(oh how the mighty have fallen.)
a week later, your eyes squint at him and he wonders.
“is there something on my face?”
you shake your head, and without warning you pull a strand of hair from his head.
“are you supposed to have white hair?”
zhongli, funnily enough, starts bawling.
(you never thought someone would be so happy that wrinkles are starting to appear all around his face, and how the callousness of his hands become more evident.)
forty-ninth.
fiftieth.
fifty-third.
sixtieth.
seventieth.
zhongli is able to love freely. finally.
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please do not repost or translate without my permission. reblogs are greatly appreciated!
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pearlywritings · 4 months
Text
A nickname's origin
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synopsis: after meeting your lover's family and having a great start of your trip to Morepesok, Childe wakes you early in the morning, because he has something to show you...
prompt: 21
requested by: a lovely anon
pairing: Childe x fem!reader
tw: fluff, established relationship, usage of Childe's real name
word count: 1.5k+ words
a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 3 more requests to write.
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“Isn’t the scenery marvelous?”
It absolutely is. Snowy planes sparkle in the rising sun as if the ground is covered by richest furs and most precious gems - it’s almost blinding. The giant pine trees look enormous even kilometers away from you, creating a thick forestland; you remember how your lover told you that it is home for many species you can’t find anywhere but Snezhnaya. Looking back, you release a puff of warm air, adoring the sight of wooden cottages - or how the locals call those izba’s - lining perfectly, each with a fence, which is carved with intricate patterns and charms to protect from evil spirits. Smoke curls from the chimneys and it immediately reminds you where you are.
Outside. In the early hours of the morning.
“Wish we were watching it from the inside of your family’s house,” yawning, you reach to adjust the scarf - along with the hat it was knitted by his mom and gifted to you with the warmest of smiles. It’s been just a couple of minutes since you two exited the village and the cold is already biting the few uncovered areas of your face.
Ajax laughs. Heartily, with his hands resting on his hips and head thrown back. Of course, he is laughing, of course he’s going to suffer less - he was born and lived all his life in such an environment.
“It’s not funny!” Your huff is ignored and a punch that was aimed to his shoulder is easily caught by his palm. 
“Sorry, sorry. I just imagined how my siblings would’ve been glued to your sides and mama and papa continued their yesterday’s quest to ask you hundreds of questions. Don’t be mad, I thought you’d like to have a little break, at least for half a day, my fierce ounce.”
Ounce. That’s what he’s been calling you for the longest time now, yet never, never, telling you what that means (but he did assure you it’s a good thing, he loves you after all). However, he promised to show you once you come with him to Snezhnaya to visit his family.
To make it short - here you are, in Morepesok, at dawn, with your gingerhead of a fiance, motivated to stay in this harsh weather only to finally find out what or who was your lover’s inspiration behind his nickname for you.
“You have a point,” you sigh. You are happy his relatives were excited to meet and accept you, so much joy filled your heart yesterday, when you arrived. But dealing with so many people drained you - just a second of your head touching the pillow was enough to send you right to the gates of the dreamland. “I need some energy-refill before being ready to maintain a proper conversation with them again…”
“Don’t forget that the whole village wants to meet a lovely bride I brought with me,” it makes your groan.
“Is that really necessary..?”
“It’s a tradition. But it’s going to be fine, I promise,” the snow crunches under his heavy felt boots as he steps closer, arms circling your waist, and lips touching the bridge of your nose, making you close your eyes. Oh, the frost is already brimming your eyelashes. “Mama and papa are going to organize a feast - to celebrate you, to show you are a part of the family now, and our neighbors are going to come to congratulate us and bring some presents.”
“Well, I like presents,” his words and embrace soothe you, and you bury your face into the fur of his sheepskin coat. “And I like people acknowledging our relationship.”
“See? It’s a win-win,” he grins widely, boyishly, and it’s enough to reassure you. After all, you won’t be alone - he will be by your side.
“Alright, alright. Now, can we move? it’s getting cold, even with all these extra layers of clothes…”
“Sorry, baby. See that forest? There are mountains on the other side, that’s where we are heading to.”
“Wait, we’ll have to climb?” You look at him incredulously, perfectly aware that neither your clothes, nor your abilities are suitable for such an activity. Childe pats your back reassuringly.
“Nope, simply observe from a good spot. Come on, to that house to the left my dear, I made an agreement with Uncle Vladislav to give us a ride. Don't let go of my hand, alright? The path can be a bit slippery.”
The first experience of riding in the sleigh drawn by horses was magical. Though it was open, you had a very warm fur blanket covering your legs, snuggling into Childe’s side, taking in the vast snow fields surrounding you. Uncle Vladislav appeared to be a nice old man, with a long beard and bushy white eyebrows that almost covered his gray eyes. Before the ride he let you offer some carrots to the three beautiful white horses and gently pat their big noses. And during the ride he managed to entertain you with all kinds of stories of local folklore - his words perfectly flying behind his back and to you, and then he even started singing. Something about three white horses named December, January and February taking him somewhere into the ringing snowy far far away. You even managed to doze off a little - your lover had to shake you out of it when you finally arrived.
“Wow, we’ve ridden right into the forest?” You can’t help but ask in astonishment - from the distance the forest looked absolutely dense, but now you can clearly see a road wide enough to get through the way you did.
“Cool, right?” The smiling gingerhead offers you his hand, before turning to the old man. “Uncle, it can take some time, sure you want to wait for us?”
“Haha, that’s a funny thing you ask, chap. If I make you walk back your mother will have my head. Not that I was going to do so in the first place. Don’t worry about the cold - for the worst case scenario I have a bottle of fire-water with me. Might offer you and your girl to take a sip when you return.”
“Hope, it won’t be necessary!” Clasping his gloved fingers around yours, clad in mittens, the young man leads you away with a giddy look in his eyes.
“Sooo, are you ready to see a real ounce?” That wide boyish smile is back on his face and excitement exhilarates in your system. Ready? You were born ready. At your enthusiastic nods Childe presses his nose to your temple, gently rubbing in affection. “Great, because we are almost here. But please, be careful. Even with all that snow you can easily trip. And above all, do not let go…” his hold on your hand tightens. “For any reason, understood?”
“Ajax, if you tell me this one more time, I will let go. You've been telling me this since yesterday as if there is danger looming over me. Then again, how are you gonna protect me with one hand occupied? Or- Oh. Ooooh~” a smug smile appears on your lips. “Is my darling clingy~?”
He whines something about being worried and protecting you with no hands at all, to which you just laugh, promising that you are just teasing. And it's not like you can resist his adorable devoted clinginess - thus the lock of hands stays unbroken.
Not a couple of minutes later you are standing in a clear spot among the rows of trees which is enough to see the side of the mountain above the coniferous tops. Your lover is squinting, sharp eyes searching the expanse of the rocky surface. You patiently wait, quickly realizing that it’s pointless to stare there not knowing what you are looking for. Besides, admiring Ajax doing such a concentrated face is a treat.
Finally his eyes widen and a toothy grin tugs his mouth wide.
“Well, my dear, we are lucky. Look at that cliff.”
Trying your best to follow the direction of his unoccupied hand pointing you to lift your gaze. A thin ribbon of steam is momentarily broken when your breath hitches - and there is a solid reason for it.
A majestically looking large cat is getting ready to make a jump to the next protruding ledge. Fur is whitish to grey with black spots on the head and neck, with larger rosettes on the back, flanks and bushy tail. Oh, the tail. It’s so long and thick, like a whole other body. And then the animal jumps, flawlessly landing on all paws and getting a nice stretch, as if showing off specifically for the two of you.
“It’s a snow leopard,” your partner explains. “But here we call them ‘ounces’.”
“It’s… It’s so pretty…” You can’t take your eyes from the creature, so perfect among the snowy mountains.
“Part of the reason I gave you this nickname,” he embraces you from behind, putting his chin on top of your head and gently rocking your body in place. “Another part is because you are fierce and strong and also I really loved these animals when I was a kid. Always begged dad to take me hunting birds just to see the cats.”
“Aww, it’s so sweet,” despite the freezing cold your heart melts and you put your palms on top of his locked on your stomach. “But why being a tease and calling me a word I don’t know? Why not ‘my snow leopard’ instead?”
“About that… Let’s just say I wanted to keep the intrigue and increase my chances when convincing you to visit my homeland.”
A sheepish chuckle that follows makes you want to give him a little punch, but you quickly decide against it. Admittedly, Ajax did everything perfectly - this whole trip to Morepesok has been excellent so far, and he did not disappoint with the inspiration behind this unique term of endearment.
“Can we watch it a little bit more?” 
“As long as you want, my pretty ounce."
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ceruleancattail · 4 months
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HORROR EVENT:
Darkness was the only thing they’ve ever known.
Silently waiting in their places, rooted to the ground. Lifeless puppets, limbs dangling aimlessly. Nothing more than dolls on display, doomed to forever remain.
Until someone takes a step forward, reaching out for them. Illuminating this lonely universe with your presence, every tap on your screen bringing you closer and closer into their world.
They’re simply delighted.
Preparations are hastily made to welcome you to the Night Raven College, scripts are reread, attire adjusted until they suited. Until all of them stand before the chamber of mirrors, waiting for a sign. A sign of you.
Some of them elbow each other, snapping at the opposition. Trying to force their way forward, ready to leap out and grasp you at any time. Despite having individual minds,all of them thinking the same thing.
You’ll chose him, right?
He’s been waiting for you forever! He doesn’t know what he’ll do, if you don’t pick him…
Some smile placidly, eyes never leaving the rippling glass of the mirror. A certain cruel amusement flickering within their pupils. The sadistic gleam of a hunter observing his prey.
Oh, it doesn’t matter if you don’t chose him now.
Things can change, after all. He assures you, you’ll end up taking his hand in the end.
Countless eyes gleam within the shadows, peering at the glossy image reflected within the magic mirror. Waiting with baited breath, heart trashing like a feral beast, imprisoned by a cage of bone.
Oh please, darling. Don’t keep him waiting.
Wouldn’t you take his hand?
200 Pieces of Fan Fiction Celebration
The Cerulean Cat’s Tail presents:
Sentience
A Twisted Wonderland Alternative Universe where the characters are sentient, and will do anything for your love, even if that means breaking a few… rules.
No one’s going to miss a few lines of code here and there, really. It’s fine, it’s for you after all. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do, if it’s for you.
About this event:
Sentience allows you to play as the player in Twisted Wonderland. Play the game well, and you may just be able to escape this world… relatively unscathed.
Scenarios may be requested specifically for characters through the askbox. Ask them whatever you’ll like! Of course, I can’t guarantee your safety in the process, though..
Disclaimer:
As it’s a horror event, it’s inevitable that some of the works may be heavily yandere focused, however you may request for a softer scenario. Please do specify what genre you’ll like me to write for!
Rules of this event:
- to participate, you must reblog at least one of my works and this post!
- send an “scenario” into my askbox! The Twisted Wonderland Cast are eagerly waiting for your asks attention. Victims can ask for varying situations, or ask those lovely, lovely boys of yours any question you want. Nothing’s too bothersome of a request, if it’s from you.
- an example of an ask for this event
Taking Jade’s hand… before letting him go and choosing someone else instead! I’ll love to see the desperation melt into something a bit more sinister… (Yandere)
Or
“Thanks for waiting for me, Ace! Oh… what’s that you’re holding?” (yandere)
Feel free to be as detailed as you want! You’re the unfortunate victim, the star of this show, after all. Better get accustomed to the stage, for they’ll never let you leave.
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sunshine-theseus · 4 months
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The Game That Changed Our Lives | Katrina Gorry x Reader
Words: 2.3k
Summary: your sister retires but you found the girl. (I know how her final game went but I’m changing it because I can. again apologies it's not my best)
Warnings: nothing really but reader is like 26ish? So it’s like a 5 year age difference. And I’m gonna say Harper is like 4 not 2 for the sake of the timeline. Also please pretend there’s like at least a week between the 2 games.
Requested by - @liverpoolfan96
“Christiiine. You can’t make me! I refuse!” I try to pull my arm out of her grip as she drags me onto the field.
“You’ve been crushing on her since we played against them at the World Cup, you’re going to meet her.” Christine continues to drag me through the celebrations of our teammates, the British Columbia rain pelting down on us and the Australian players.
“Plus, after our final game in Vancouver, who knows when you’ll see her next. And I’m your older sister, I’m required to make you do things you don’t want to.” She abruptly stops in front of Steph Cately, who is talking to Caitlin Foord and Katrina Gorry.
Christine hugs her former Portland teammates before turning to Katrina, who now has her little girl resting on her hip. The group begins talking amongst themselves and I zone out, until an arm wraps around my shoulders and squeezes me.
“This is my little sister. I apologise you haven’t met her yet, she’s awfully shy, especially when she likes someone.” She pointedly comments toward Katrina. I shove my elbow into her ribs and glare up at her before turning toward the Australian girl. My face is flushed, and my palms are sweating as I make eye contact with Katrina, who smiles at me before picking up the little girls hand and makes her wave. It’s painfully adorable to watch.
“It’s nice to meet you…”
“Y/n” I smile at the shorter woman as I watch Christine, Steph and Caitlin slowly move away from us out of the corner of my eye.
I talk to her for a relatively long time, eventually finding myself sitting on the wet pitch, my feet touching Kat’s as Harper runs back and forth between us, occasionally actually holding the ball we’re throwing. But then we’re both called by our respective teams to get back to the locker rooms before going back to our hotels. We bid each other goodbye, exchanging numbers before I crouch down and hug Harper.
I spend the following days excessively texting Kat, or Mini as everyone endearingly seemed to call her. I also facetime them after dinners to talk to Harper, who apparently begs all day to see me. I tell everyone who will listen, about the beautiful Australian and her precious little girl who adores me. It doesn’t take more than 10 minutes for Christine, or whoever else it may be, to tell me to shut up most times. Except Jessie, who is either far too polite to say anything, or has her headphones on and therefore isn’t actually listening. In her times of need, she messages Janine, who comes to rescue her.
~~~~~
The day of our match in Vancouver at BC Place, temporarily renamed Christine Sinclair Place, I unintentionally go dead silent. It was naturally an emotional day for us all, but being the sister of the world’s top goal scorer who is finally retiring, having played with her all my life, and being there to see her hang up her boots? It had me tearing up every time I even looked at her.
I woke up that morning, turned over in bed, and saw her training bag sitting on the bed, and began crying. A similar incident happened at breakfast as I watched her walk the buffet line next to Schmidt. Ashley wasn’t sure how to comfort me and simply decided to pat me on the back.
By the time we pulled up to training, Kat had messaged me multiple times, and I hadn’t read a single one. I spent every moment by Christine’s side. I think most people were annoyed by lunch time, but I continued to cling to her arm as the bus pulled up to Christine Sinclair Place. And as we all changed into shirts with the number 12 on them for warm up. And as we changed into our kits, her for the very last time. I finally let go when we had to line up, her mere steps behind me as she waits to be announced.
I make eye contact with the Australian I had been accidentally ignoring all day, tears pricking behind my eyes. I give her a small smile, but she just turns back to her mascot.
We then all line up on the pitch, watching as past Canadian teammates come out and a farewell video plays on the big screen above us, Schmidty, Christine and our nieces standing in front of us all. I can’t help the tears that fall as Jessie hugs me as well as she can as we stand side by side.
Before we get into our positions to start the game, I rush to the sideline to meet Christine. Our pinkies link together, and we step over the white line with our right foot in sync. We turn toward each other, and as we raise our joint hands to kiss our thumbs, foreheads leaning against each other’s, the tears spill once more. Our hands drop to our sides once again and before I can say anything, Christine wraps her arms around me. Not a word is spoken as we hug, or as we part, or as she pats my back when we move to our positions.
I turn to look at the player I’m marking and come face to face with Kat. Her originally cold glare softens when she notices the drying tears on my cheeks and taps my leg as we wait for the whistle to start the game, a small attempt to try and comfort me.
~~~~~
In the 37th minute, the ball falls at my feet and I don’t hesitate on running forward, making a final pass to Christine for her to shoot, increasing her score from 190 to 191 goals. As the net ripples, I run and jump into her arms before she wraps an arm around my neck and ruffles my hair. The action had become our well known ‘sibling celebration’, and like hell I wasn’t going to experience one last time.
“We’re going to get you a goal too.” She laughs as we reset. I once again fall in my spot in front of Kat, who gives me the first smile of the night.
We’re awarded a corner in the 56th minute. Jessie sets it up and it falls to Christine, who manages to find me, and I manage to find a gap, and the goal. It’s a similar string of events, jumping into Christine’s arms before I wrap my own arm around her neck and mess with her hair. She gets subbed off 3 minutes later and I struggle to let her go as Schmidt comes on. A familiar pat on my leg as we watch her walk off is my only sense of comfort.
~~~~~
After the game ends, and many hugs and celebrations and lots of tears, the toes of my boots meet those of Kat, who has Harper hanging on her hip again.
“I’m sorry I ignored you all day. I didn’t realise how sad I’d be today, and I got so overwhelmed.” I wipe the remaining tears off my cheeks as I finally look into Kat’s eyes, the palladian blue seemingly brighter under the stadium lights.
“It’s okay, I just wished you said something. So we could’ve cheered you up.” Harper reaches out for me as I take Kat’s hand and I pick her up, spinning her around.
“Can I also admit I was nervous? That we were getting too close, and I’d just spill all my feelings to you. But after today I think I shouldn’t waste time fu- fluffing around.” The swear almost slips from my lips but Harper’s tug on my hair reminds me of who’s around.
“I wouldn’t have minded… if you’d let it slip.” Her hand slips into my spare one and we smile at one another as Christine and Hayley approach us.
Christine bends over, resting her hands on her knees, as she comes face to face with Harper.
“Hey chickee, how’d you like my final game.”
“It made mumma sad.” I turn to look at Kat questioningly.
“You were sad?”
“I mean yeah but no where near your level of sad.”
“No no! Not mum, mumma.” Harper’s finger pokes at my cheek and everyone seems to have a matching incredulous look on their face.
“Me?” the girl nods vigorously.
Kat opens her mouth to apologise but I kiss her cheek then Harper’s, and hand the little girl to Christine who wastes no time spinning her around and taking her to play with girls from either team.
“Can I kiss you?” I rush out as I turn to the older woman, her eyes sparkling. She nods and I place my hand on her cheek, leaning down to press our lips together.
“I know this is pretty quick, but will you be my girlfriend?” her warm breath hits my lips and all I can do is kiss her again.
~~~~~
“Come on Harper! Aunty Christine’s already there!” I yell down the hall, Kat rushing past me to pack the orange slices and bottles of water into the car.
The 7-year-old comes rushing out at the sound of her favourite aunt’s name, making a bee-line toward the car.
When we arrive at the field, Harper bounces on the balls of her feet, waiting for Kat and I to get out. Once we have everything, she grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd to find Christine who is getting ready to ref the Under-10s finals.
“Christiiine! Can you help me tie my boots?” I look at Kat, who has just caught up to us.
“We may as well be invisible.” She chuckles and helps me set up our seats as Christine ties Harpers boots and sends her off to warm up.
“She’s going to be playing for The Matildas before you know it.” She says as she passes us.
“Heartbreaking it won’t be the Canadian team.” I retort. Katrina pulls my hand into her lap and rests her head on my shoulder.
“Thank you for helping raise her. Being her other mum.”
“I’d do anything for you two. Anything.” Kat hums and puts more body weight against me.
“You’re so pretty.” I whisper, pecking her nose.
“Not as pretty as you.”
~~~~~
“Katrina! You can’t look! It’s bad luck!” I yell through the door as Jessie helps me get into my dress.
“But I want to see you.” I can hear the pout in her voice, and it takes everything in me not to leave Jessie and rip open the door. It’s Harper who saves me from doing so. I hear her dragging her mum away as my niece ushers me over to put one last pin in my hair. The 15-year-old had some sort of magic for hair, and it was free.
It’s another 20 minutes before the bridesmaids line up, and an additional 5 until I slide into my place next to Christine, who opens her mouth to say something, but seems to choke up and begins to cry. All I do is smile and link our pinkies, and she walks me down the aisle.
As I stand next to Kat in front of our friends and family, holding her hands as she says her vows, I realise how lucky I am. Having these people in my life, meeting the love of my life and having the best daughter. I wouldn’t change a thing. And I say just that.
“When my sister dragged me back onto the pitch to meet you after her second last game, I was so embarrassed and adamant you’d hate me. For no reason. But when I looked into your eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, I knew. And when Harper laughed as I blushed when Christine basically told everyone I had a crush on you, I knew I wanted her in my life forever too. I’m so grateful for having Christine and Jessie and the whole team. I’m grateful for my family. But I’ll never be as grateful for them as I am for having found you.” I smile a watery smile as Kat cries, and I can’t stop staring and thinking how beautiful she is. We exchange rings and I kiss her like it’s the only thing keeping everyone alive.
“I love you.”
~~~~~
I stand on the sidelines, looking down at my boots and the matching pair that stands firmly next to them. I then reach out my hand and link my pinkie with the girl next to me. Despite the different jerseys, we step over the white line with our right foot in sync. We turn toward each other, and we raise our joint hands to kiss our thumbs, foreheads leaning against each other’s. When I look into Harper’s eyes, I see Katrina’s, and when I think about this moment, my very last game, I think back to that game 13 years ago, saying goodbye to my sister on the pitch, and I smile.
“Good luck chickee.” I press a kiss to Harper’s forehead and take my position, marking the young Gorry.
When the game ends, I fall to my knees. People from both teams dogpile on top of me as we celebrate both the win and my final game. I spend a lot of time talking to everyone before I meet Katrina’s eyes, standing next to my big sister. I run forward and pull them both into a hug.
We eventually head back to the hotel. Kat and I fall back onto our bed, hearing the girls continue celebrating in the hallway.
“I’m so proud of you.” She whispers against my neck, the warm breath sending chills down my spine.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I kiss her gently and pull her closer to me. We spend the rest of the night watching the games at Christine Sinclair Place. The game that got us to confess. The game that changed our lives.
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morehotch · 11 months
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birthday secret
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info: aaron x babysitter, age gap (reader is in grad school and their age is not specified), it’s aaron’s birthday, gender neutral reader, 2.7k wc
Babysitting Jack Hotchner is one of your absolute favorite times of the week. Jack is a sweet, loving, and a curious six year old that you’ve been babysitting for over a year.
You spent a lot of time with Jack, whenever his aunt was unavailable to watch him, his father texted you to see if you could stay with him. Jack’s father, Aaron, had a very demanding job that didn’t totally understand the specifics of. You know he works for the FBI and travels an immense amount. You’ve spent many nights in their apartment’s guest room, putting Jack to sleep and taking him to school in the morning.
For how much time you spend with Jack, you definitely appreciate how adorable and caring he is. Jack has always been relatively easy to care for and would only come to you upset if he missed his dad and wanted nighttime snuggles— or if it was storming outside.
It’s a big bonus that Aaron Hotchner is incredibly, unfairly, attractive. He always wears pressed and expensive suits with his fancy watch and his usual stern gaze only made his smiles and laughter that much more enticing and encapsulating.
You only hope your raging crush on your boss isn’t too obvious. Aaron is just the total a package, way more responsible and considerate than guys your age— and more attractive. How great he was with Jack and how much he prioritized and cared about his son only amplified how much you unfairly think about Aaron Hotchner.
When you’re making dinner for Jack in their kitchen, you can’t help but think about what it would feel like to have Aaron’s arms come wrap around your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder. Or— whenever you borrowed a shirt or sweatshirt from his closet, you force yourself to ignore how ridiculously good his clothes smell and how comfortable they are.
Tonight, Aaron texts you that he should be back around 8 or 9 tonight and is only staying a few hours later than usual. He wasn’t on a specific case and traveling, instead he had a long budget meeting at the end of his work day.
But today is also Aaron’s birthday and Jack had been talking to you about it all day ever since you picked Jack up from school.
From the two years you’ve been babysitting Jack, you learned that Aaron wasn’t big on his own birthday. From the parties you attended for Jack, you know he puts an immense amount of effort for Jack’s birthdays— but his own were easily overlooked by himself.
But not by Jack.
You stand in the kitchen with Jack now, finishing the dinner you made for the two of you as he helps to put his plate in the sink with a sad pout.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, noticing his sudden mood change since he had finished his favorite mac and cheese.
“My dad doesn’t have a cake,” Jack frowns, continuing, “usually me and daddy always eat cake for his birthday.”
You bite your lip, trying to think, “do you have the ingredients here for us to make something?”
You had spent most of today helping Jack make birthday cards, wrap his dad’s presents, and make a special birthday sign. You know Aaron would be more than happy with everything else Jack had already done but you also know that Jack absolutely thinks the cake is the most important part of birthday celebrations.
Jack looks around, thinking, “wait, maybe!” He clammers out of his chair to rush towards the pantry, obviously searching for something.
You follow him as he pulls out a box of chocolate cake mix and shows it to you. You glance at the other ingredients required and make sure they have them all before agreeing as he excitedly cheers.
Jack quickly helps you round everything together, now full of energy for your baking project. “Ok,” you sigh, staring at all the ingredients now laying out in front of you as he giggles, clasping his hands together, “let’s start!”
You read the directions as Jack looks at you for instruction. He helps you crack the eggs and watches as you mix the rest of the ingredients together in their mixer before you finish pouring the mix into two different cake pans, sticking them in the oven.
You finish with minimal mess as Jack’s interest focuses on the container of bright blue icing he mysteriously pulls from the pantry. You wipe down the counter and put the dishes in the dishwater while you wait for the oven timer to go off while Jack finishes some of his homework from school today. 
Once the cake is done and Jack impatiently watches it cool, you help him ice it, making sure to wipe off his blue stained hands with a wipe afterwards.
He giggles happily at your end product; the two layered chocolate cake with neon blue icing is not the most aesthetically pleasing dessert you’ve seen but it smells good and did it’s job of distracting Jack from missing his father and wanting to celebrate his birthday.
Jack grins, throwing his arms around your legs to hug you. “Daddy will love it!”
“I know he will,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you smile down at him. 
-
It’s around 7:00 pm when Jack starts to get tired but you can tell he’s willing herself to stay awake, desperately wanting to wait up for Aaron on his birthday. But you know he planned on staying pretty late tonight so you’re sadly not sure if Jack will be able to stay up for him. You’re about to suggest starting to get ready for bed until you get the first text from Aaron you’ve gotten since you picked Jack up from school. 
Hey, I’m otw home.
You tell Jack and he quickly runs to the kitchen to make sure the cakes looks presentable, suddenly gaining a rush of adrenaline, running back down the hallway to his room to pull out his dad’s presents and cards. 
Jack bounces on his heels excitedly for almost ten minutes straight and when the door finally opens, he rushes to Aaron, “Daddy!” he runs straight into his arms, knocking the air only slightly out of him.
“Hey buddy,” he grins, lifting up Jack into his arms. 
“Something smells good,” he remarks and turns to you.
“It’s a secret!” Jack yells, slightly into Aaron’s left ear. 
“Well, it must be a yummy secret then,” he says and Jack giggles sweetly. 
“Come see it, it’s for you!” Jack says, wiggling out of his father’s hold only to grab his hand and tug him into the kitchen. Aaron looks over his shoulder to make eye contact with you and smile at his son’s excitement, obviously endeared. 
“Thank you,” he mouths and you smile, trying to ignore how hot your face feels. 
“It’s your birthday,” you say, once you join them in the kitchen. “You have to have a cake.”
“See! Y/n said so too!” Jack tugs on his dad’s suit jacket that Aaron begins to take off before sitting down. He uncuffs his button down and rolls the sleeves up to his forearms and loosens his tie and you suck in an audible breath, too enamored to even feel that embarrassed. 
Luckily, Jack saves you from any scrutiny, bouncing up and down from excitement. He had been waiting to see his dad all day and any of the tiredness he felt a few minutes ago had totally disappeared. 
“Can we eat it now?” Jack asks and Aaron smiles, taking a good look at the chocolate-- blue, obviously homemade cake. 
“Why don’t you wash up first,” he says, hand on Jack’s back, who nods and runs to the bathroom.
Aaron turns to you with a grin. “Thank you again, Y/n. You totally didn’t have to do this.”
“No problem, we wanted to do this for your birthday. I hope your meeting went well.” You say politely.
“Not really,” he says quickly, “but that’s expected when dealing with my boss.” Aaron chuckles under his breath. “Nothing better than a cut budget and threatening to fire me on my birthday.” 
You’re surprised he’s this honest and open with you. You liked Aaron but never really discussed personal matters or anything beyond small talk and things concerning Jack.
“Anyways,” he shrugs casually, licking some spare icing off his finger. Aaron seems to realize what he said and visibly cringes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you.”
“No, no you’re not, that sucks. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.” You’re not really sure what to say that could make Aaron feel better. You’re in grad school, you’re not an FBI agent and barely know what his job entails. “Well,” you continue, “I know Jack is very happy to have you here.”
Aaron grin at the mention of his son, “Thank you for doing all of this with him. He absolutely loves it when you come over. I feel bad not spending my birthday with him. It’s not a big deal to me but I know it is to him.” 
Your eyebrows furrow as Aaron leans against the countertop, staring intently at the cake in front of him, lips pursed and obviously internalizing his decision.
“I know Jack is just happy you’re here now, he knows how hard you work and he doesn’t hold that against you. All day he was just excited to talk about you and your birthday. You do your job and balance it with being a great dad.” Your words pour out truthfully and Aaron’s lips curl into a smile as you continue. “Plus, I’m always happy to spend time with Jack, he’s such a sweet kid.”
Aaron’s smile doesn’t falter and you’re happy that your words seem to resonate with him. Aaron’s gaze continues to linger on you, his mouth opens to speak, choosing his words carefully before hurried footsteps make him stop what he’s about to say.
“Look!” Jack’s voice rings out, “I forgot these,” he runs into the kitchen and Aaron watches him wearily, not wanting him to slip.
“This!” Jack shoves more birthday cards he made into Aaron’s hands, climbing onto a barstool near the counter to be next to the standing two of you. “I made this one for you and Y/n helped with this one!”
Aaron turns over the pink construction paper as some of the excess glitter rubs off onto his hands. “Wow, This is so beautiful, thank you, buddy,”
Jack grins and watching his dad happily and you suddenly feel like you’re intruding on an intimate family moment.
“Well, I guess I should get going, it’s getting late.” You start with a small smile and Jack frowns. 
“But you have to eat the cake we made!” He cries, tugging on his father’s arm and looking up at him with wide eyes. “Can’t Y/n stay?”
“Of course, in fact since you helped, then I think you should.” Aaron turns to you, smiling knowingly. 
You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too, but you’re still hesitant. “I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything.”
Aaron’s hand grazes across your forearm, “Of course you’re not,” he frowns. “You’ve helped us so much, you’re never intruding in the Hotchner home.” 
You laugh and look into Aaron’s sweet and pretty eyes. It was so easy to let yourself imagine being with Aaron, loving him even more than you do now. 
“Let’s eat the cake!” Jack decides for you, pulling you from your thoughts and laughing as Aaron cuts it unevenly. 
It’s definitely not the most delicious thing you’ve ever had, very rich and kind of loop sided, but it has heart.
You watch as Aaron feeds Jack cake and occasionally wipes crumbs and icing off his chin and inner corners of his mouth. 
You eat your own piece, listening as Jack retells a story to Aaron about school. You watch Aaron look at Jack with so much love and attention and note how Jack’s eyes totally light up while talking to his father.
Jack turns to you after a while, giggling, “you have icing on your chin!” He mumbles, “cute.” You feel your cheeks flush with heat as Aaron chuckles and you attempt to rub the icing off.
“Daddy, get it off of Y/n too,” Jack says as Aaron moves closer to you.
“Here,” he mutters, tongue poking out in concentration, “it’s right- here.” His finger wipes at your cheek swiftly and you mutter a quiet thanks.
Your cheek feels hot to the touch as Aaron pulls away slowly, eyes still not leaving yours, and Jack resumes his sweet story.
-
“Thank you really, this is the best birthday I’ve had in awhile.” Aaron says as you both stand at his doorway, Jack busy getting ready for bed. “And, honestly, I would love for you to come back more.”
“Me too,” you say quietly. You both are silent and suddenly it’s hard to make eye contact with Aaron as you focus in on his shoulder instead. 
When you finally meet his gaze, he leans closer to you and breathes in before his lips are suddenly on yours. He tastes like the sicky sweet, blue icing as you move closer to him, meeting him halfway.
It lasts for only a few more seconds before he pulls away with wide eyes. “I’m, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing the nape of his neck nervously. 
“No, no, don’t be sorry,” you say, “that was fine.” You smile, “actually I really liked it. It was— um, way more than fine.”
“Uh-,” Aaron completely forgets what he was going to say and feels like he’s talking to a high school crush. it’s been so long since he’s dated or even thought about dating; thought about kissing someone. 
You’re young and sweet and kind to Jack- that was the most important thing to him, how you interacted with Jack. You took care of him and made him feel so loved when Aaron wasn’t home. You took so much pressure off of Jess to be available constantly. Finding you to babysit Jack changed so much, and Aaron wanted it to secretly change even more. 
“What I said about coming back- I meant, I just. you know, babysitting. Of course. We love you. You know- like babysitting wise” Aaron looks frustrated, like he can’t easily articulate his feelings. 
“Of course,” you smile softly, trying to navigate the rush of complicated feelings that swarm inside of you. 
“I just really like you,” Aaron finally admits. “I was so worried these past few months and I just.” He stops himself to look up at you with a bit lip, looking nervous. “I just love how great you are with Jack, you’re understanding, kind, and he’s so comfortable with you. That’s so important to me.”
Aaron stops himself from rambling. “Anyways,” he laughs, “obviously I’m very out of practice with things like this. But,” he trails off. “I was thinking if you wanted to, we could go on our own date and we can even bring Jack.”
You’re stunned by his admission but find yourself smiling immediately, words leaving your mouth before you can even register them. “I would really like, love, that.”
Aaron looks relieved and immediately beams. “Me too,” he mutters, his voice soft and sweet as his hand slides out of his pocket to interlace his fingers with yours. He looks like he’s about to kiss you again until Jack comes bounding into the doorway, making you let you of Aaron’s hand quickly as Jack clings onto his father’s leg. 
“Night night y/n!” he smiles sweetly, already changed into his dinosaur pajamas, holding a stuffed giraffe in his arm. 
Jack only breaks away from his dad momentarily to hug you. “I wish you could stay forever,” he murmurs, looking up at you with a jutted out lip and big eyes that you never want to say no to. It doesn’t help that you feel that exact same way as Jack. 
“I told Y/n to come back whenever they want,” Aaron adds, making Jack squeal with excitement.
“I can’t wait for you to come back!” Jack squeezes you tightly one last time and Aaron smiles widely, looking at you knowingly, “Me too.”
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worstjourney · 4 months
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The Millennials' Polar Expedition
A year ago today (23 Nov 2022), I launched Worst Journey Vol.1 at the Scott Polar Research Institute. This is the text of the speech I gave to the lovely people who turned up to celebrate.
As many of you know, my interest in the Terra Nova Expedition was sparked by Radio 4’s dramatisation of The Worst Journey in the World, now 14 years ago.  The story is an incredible story, and it got its claws into me, but what kept me coming back again and again were the people.  I couldn’t believe anyone so wonderful had ever really existed.  So when I finally succumbed to obsession and started reading all the books, it was the expedition members’ own words which I most cherished.  These were not always easy to come by, though, so plenty of popular histories were consumed as well.  Reading both in tandem, it soon became clear that, while there were some good books out there, there was a lot of sloppy research in the polar echo chamber as well.
I also discovered that no adaptation had attempted to get across the full scope of the expedition.  There has never been a full and fair dramatic retelling, all having been limited by time, budget, or ideology from telling the whole story truthfully.  I was determined that my adaptation would be both complete and accurate, and be as accountable as possible to those precious primary documents and the people who wrote them.
So the years of research began.  I moved to Cambridge to be able to drop in at SPRI and make the most of the archives.  Getting to Antarctica seemed impossible, but I went to New Zealand to get at least that much right, and on the way back stayed with relatives in Alberta, the most Antarctic place I could realistically visit.  I gathered reference for objects wherever I could.  Because Vol.1 takes place mainly on the Terra Nova, which is now a patch of sludge on the seabed off Greenland, I cobbled together a Franken-Nova in my mind, between the Discovery up in Dundee and the Star of India in San Diego.  I spent a week on a Jubilee Sailing Trust ship in order to depict tall-ship sailing correctly.  I’m sure I’ve still got loads of things wrong, but I did all I could, to get as much as I could, right.
But still, everyone I met who had been to Antarctica said, “you can’t understand Antarctica until you’ve been there, and you can’t tell the story without understanding Antarctica; you have to go.”  So I applied to the USAP’s Antarctic Artists and Writers Program, with faint hope, as they do “Ahrt” and I draw cartoons.  But I must have blagged a good grant proposal, because a year after applying, I was stepping out of a C-17 onto the Ross Ice Shelf.  The whole trip would have been worth it just to stand there, turn in a circle, and see how all the familiar photographs fit together.  But the USAP’s generosity didn’t stop there, and in the next month I saw Hut Point, Arrival Heights, the Beardmore Glacier (including the moraine on which the Polar Party stopped to “geologise”), and Cape Crozier, and made three visits to the Cape Evans hut.  Three!  On top of the visual reference I got priceless qualitative data.  The hardness of the sound.  The surprising warmth of the sun. The sugary texture of the snow.  The keen edge on a slight breeze.  The way your fingertips and toes can start to go when the rest of you is perfectly warm.  The SHEER INSANITY of Cape Crozier.  The veterans were right – I couldn’t have drawn it without having been there, but now I have, and can, and I am more grateful than I can ever adequately express.  With all these resources laid so copiously at my feet, all I had to do was sit down and draw the darn thing.  Luckily I have some very sound training to back me up on that.
Now, this is all very well for the how of making the book, and, I hope, interesting enough. But why?  Why am I putting so much effort into telling this story, and why now?
Well, it means a lot to me personally.  To begin to understand why, you need to know that I grew up in the 80s and 90s, at the height of individualist, goal-oriented, success-driven, dog-eat-dog, devil-take-the-hindmost neoliberalism.  It was just assumed that humans, when you get right down to it, were basically self-interested jerks, and I saw plenty of them around so I had no reason to question this assumption.  The idea was that if you did everything right, and worked really hard, you could retire at 45 to a yacht in the Bahamas, and if you didn’t retire to a yacht, well, you just hadn’t tried hard enough.  Character, in the sense of rigorous personal virtue, was for schmucks.  What mattered was success.  Even as my politics evolved, I still took it as a given that this was how the world worked, and that was how people generally were – after all, there was no lack of corroborating evidence.  So: I worked really hard.  I single-mindedly pursued my self-interest.  I made sacrifices, and put in the time, and fought my way into my dream job and all the success I could have asked for.
And then I met the Terra Nova guys.
What struck me most about them was that even when everything was going wrong, when their expectations were shattered and they had to face the cruellest reality, they were still kind.  Not backbiting, recriminating, blame-throwing, defensive, or mean, as one would expect – they were lovely to each other, patient, supportive, self-sacrificing; in fact the worse things got, the better they were.  They still treated each other as friends even when it wasn’t in their self-interest, was even contrary to their self-interest.  I didn’t know people could be like that.  But there they were, in plain writing, being thoroughly, bafflingly, decent.  Not just the Polar Party – everyone had to face their own brutal realities at some point, and they all did so with a grace I never thought possible.
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It presented a very important question:
When everything goes belly-up, and you’re facing the worst, what sort of person will you be?
Or perhaps more acutely: What sort of person would you rather be with?
It was so contrary to the world I lived in, to the reality I knew – it was a peek into an alternate dimension, populated entirely with lovely, lovely people, who really, genuinely believed that “it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game,” and behaved accordingly.  It couldn’t be real.  There had to be a deeper, unpleasant truth: that was how the world worked, after all.  I kept digging, expecting to hit bottom at some point, but I only found more gold, all the way down.  How could I not spend my life on this?
Mythology exists to pass on a culture’s values, moral code, and survival information – how to face challenges and prevail.  Scott’s story entered the British mythology, and had staying power, because it exemplified those things so profoundly for the culture that created and received it.  But the culture changed, and there were new values; Scott’s legacy was first inverted and then cast aside.  The new culture needed a new epic hero.  You’d think it would be Amundsen, the epitome of ruthless success, but “Make Plan – Execute Plan – Go Home” has no mythic value, so he didn’t stick.  The hero needed challenges, he needed setbacks, and he needed to win, on our terms.
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Shackleton!  Shackleton was a winner!  Shackleton told us what we knew to be true and wanted to hear at epic volume: that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard, you will succeed!  (Especially if you can control the narrative.)  Scott, on the other hand, tells us that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard . . . you may nevertheless die horribly in the snow.  Nobody wants to hear that!  What a downer!  I think it’s no coincidence that Shackleton exploded into popular culture in the late 90s and has dominated it ever since: he is the mythic hero of the zeitgeist. I am always being asked if I’ll be doing Shackleton next.  He has six graphic novels already!  That is plenty!  But people still want to tell and be told his story, because it’s a heroic myth that validates our worldview.
That’s why I am so determined to tell the Scott story, because Scott is who we don’t realise we need right now – and Wilson, and Bowers, and Cherry, and Atch, and all the rest.  The Terra Nova Expedition is the Millennials’ polar expedition.  We’ve worked really hard, we’ve done everything we were supposed to, we made what appeared to be the right decisions at the time, and we’re still losing.  Nothing in the mythology we’ve been fed has prepared us for this.  No amount of positive attitude is going to change it.  We have all the aphorisms in the world, but what we need is an example of how to behave when the chips are down, when the Boss is not sailing into the tempest to rescue us, when the Yelcho is not on the horizon.  When circumstances are beyond your power to change, how do you make the best of your bad situation?  What does that look like? Even if you can’t fix anything, how do you make it better for the people around you – or at the very least, not worse?  Scott tells us: you can be patient, supportive, and humble; see who needs help and offer it; be realistic but don’t give in to despair; and if you’re up against a wall with no hope of rescue, go out in a blaze of kindness.  We learn by imitation: it’s easy to say these things, but to see them in action, in much harder circumstances than we will ever face, is a far greater help.  And to see them exemplified by real, flawed, complicated people like us is better still; they are not fairy-tale ideals, they are achievable. Real people achieved them.
My upbringing in the 80s milieu of selfishness, which set me up to receive the Scott story so gratefully, is hardly unique.  There are millions of us who are hungry for a counter-narrative.  My generation is desperate for demonstrations of caring, whether it’s activism or social justice or government policies that don’t abandon the vulnerable.  We’ve seen selfishness poison the world, and we want an alternative.  The time for competition is past; we must cooperate or perish, but we don’t know how to do it because our mythology is founded on competition.  The Scott story, if told properly, explodes the Just World Fallacy, and liberates us from the lie that has ruled our lives: that you make your own luck.  What happens, happens: what matters is how you respond to it.  My obsession with accuracy is in part to honour the men, and in part because Cherry was the ultimate stickler and he’d give me a hard time if I didn’t, but also because, if I’m telling the story to a new generation, I’m damn well going to make sure we get that much RIGHT.  It’s been really interesting to see, online, how my generation and the next have glommed onto polar exploration narratives, not as thrilling feats of derring-do, but as emotional explorations of found family and cooperative resilience.  We love them because they love each other, and loving each other helps get them through, and we want – we need – to see how that’s done.  It’s time to give them the Terra Nova story, and to tell it fully, fairly, and honestly, in all its complexity, because that is how their example is most useful to us.  Not as gods, and not as fools, but as real human beings who were excellent to each other in the face of disaster.  I only hope that I, a latecomer to their ways, can do them justice.
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wavesoutbeingtossed · 15 days
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Randomly thinking about “tolerate it” (narrator voice: it was not random) and how under the cloak of fiction it is ostensibly inspired by works like “Rebecca” (which Taylor said she read during the 2020 lockdowns I believe?), with the line of “you’re so much older and wiser” indicating that the speaker is significantly younger and inexperienced compared to the person she’s speaking to and a pretty direct reference to the plot of the book.
But I saw something somewhere once that stuck with me about how it might not be referring to relative age between the characters but chronological age as in the passage of time in a relationship. And that made me think about how in a contemporary context, it might not necessarily be referencing an actual age gap between the two characters, but rather a sarcastic or cynical response to the man’s claims that he has matured (“you’re so much older and wiser [than you were before/than you were when we met/etc.]”), which then made me think about that line in relation to the woman. And that it could be taken like, “you act like you’ve matured so much in our time together and like you know everything, while I’m supposedly still stuck as the girl I was when we first met.”
Which then made me think of the “right where you left me” of it all and did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen time went on for everyone else she won’t know it and the bit in Miss Americana where she talks about how celebrities get frozen at the age at which they got famous, and how she’s had to play catch up in a lot of ways not just in her emotional growth but kind of in general. (Which also made me wonder if she’s ever been called out for immaturity/lack of curiosity/lack of education about things in her life…)
Which then made me think about the rest of the song, and @taylortruther’s posts yesterday about “seven” and “Daylight” and the way Taylor idealizes her youth yet contrasts it with an almost sinister reality in its wake, and the line, “I sit by the door like I’m just a kid,” because the discussion raised that her relationship let her recapture some of the childlike joy and wonder she’d lost. So this line is a double-edged sword: the speaker sits by the door with childlike hope that the person will come home and cherish her, but on the darker side, feels like the child dealing with the monsters she doesn’t have names for yet and the feelings of isolation she felt as she aged.
I’m not saying the song is necessarily autobiographical; like most of the songs on folkmore, it’s clearly a fictionalized story based on media she’d consumed and created, but we know a lot of the fictional songs were infused with her own feelings and experiences and… This idea swirling in my head picked up steam and now I kind of can’t stop thinking about it. Sorry but I’m a little obsessed now.
Like maybe it might start to shed light on why she identified so strongly with the novel in the first place…
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justporo · 7 months
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A Night of Song and Laughter (Part 8)
ATTENTION: There is some SMUT in this chapter, because Tav gets a little touchy and Astarion just pours oil into the flames - only lightly smutty though, because I like to be a pain in your ass, hihi.
There will be more smut in future parts that I will still have to write but let it slowly burn for now - I know you want it.
Also this is the last part leading up to my main idea for this story - the plot point I actually thought about when I started writing this and thought it'd be like a few thousand words adventure.
Btw, did part 7 yesterday go through okay? I felt like it didn't really show up for some time when I posted, eh. Anyways, if you missed it, it's on my blog of course.
A bit more is already up on AO3!
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)
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(Gif from here!)
You kept on drinking and talking. Teasing each other, pouring more shots. It really did feel like one of the memorable evenings you thought about when you first told Astarion about this place. The main act had started to play downstairs: a band of elves – a rarity in itself, but they were practically celebrities as Lira explained: a male drow bard with long sleek black hair playing the lute and singing with a dark and somber voice that had men and women in the audience swooning, a female wood elf bard with a violin with green skin and equally sleek but powdery-pink hair and the voice of an angel and three more equally beautiful elven musicians. All were precariously clothed, leaving little to none to imagination. Since they had started playing the mood in the tavern had dangerously shifted from drinking and laughing to people of all genders and races and combinations dancing and kissing and stealing touches they thought nobody would see.
With half the bottle gone you could certainly start to feel the alcohol doing its work: you felt pleasantly buzzed, also giggling more and batting your eyelashes more at Astarion - which might’ve been caused by the amount of drinks you’ve had or the seductive, pleasant music… or maybe it was just your fatal attraction to him and his very much encouraging and looks and touches.
While Daegin had been complaining about the last time he had visited his family for the better part of an hour, you started to get a little handsy with Astarion. Which prompted him to grab hold of your roaming hands. “Do you mind, darling?”, he whispered to you with a smile and pulling both of your hands to put them over his heart. You blushed shamefully, immediately worrying if you’d made him uncomfortable. You quietly voiced your concern to him and apologized for your indecent behaviour while Daegin complained loudly about his second cousin's awful wife.
The vampire laughed softly and lifted your hands to his lips to plant a gentle kiss onto them. “No worries, darling, if you’d ever really do something to make me uncomfortable, I promise, I wouldn’t hesitate to call you out on it.” He pressed another kiss onto your fingers. “I love when you show how much I am yours and that you can’t keep your hands off me, my heart, but maybe just for tonight, keep your hands out of my pants while we have an audience, alright?” You nodded but still felt a little bit ashamed of yourself, so you buried your face in his shirt. You mumbled something about respecting boundaries into his chest to which he pressed a kiss on the top of your head and held you for a moment. Daegin was still on about his relatives while Lira boredly dragged her shot glass around in circles by its rim and stared into nothingness.
After a few moments Astarion leaned down to whisper into your ear. “There will be no boundaries tonight though, when I’ll have you all to myself and remind you why it is that you can’t keep your paws to yourself”, he simply stated and then went back to holding you sweetly – as if he hadn’t just given you the most enticing promise you thought someone ever gave you. Very naughty thoughts started to race through your mind, prompting you to let go of Astarion and get at least a few inches between you – a much needed safety precaution. You poured yourself another shot and downed it immediately while you could feel the same pulsing sensation between your legs you’d last felt when he had you pinned against a wall only a few hours ago. The rough fabric of your linen blouse started to rub on the hardening tips of your breasts, your throat was bone-dry although you only had just drunk something. Astarion leaned on his elbows to grab the bottle of liquor and also pour himself another one while watching your face and giving you a dirty smirk. He did look like the personified sin right in this moment. Astarion’s eyes wandered to where your hardened nipples here now clearly visible through your shirt while he drank slowly. He licked his lips afterwards without stopping to stare but you saw how he rearranged his pants with his hands – only the slightest bit awkward. And when your eyes flicked down, you noticed that not only your arousal was pretty obvious right now. “I admit you make keeping boundaries pretty hard, my love”, he whispered under his breath. You stepped closer to him once more but not touching him. “Seems that’s not the only thing I make hard”, you whispered back while returning the dirty smirk he gave you moments ago and staring into his eyes confidently. His pupils diluted slightly at your words, but he held your stare without moving, positively becoming a statue.
Then you suddenly turned away from him and to the other two at the table, crossing your arms over your chest, breaking the spell. “So, what else is new?”, you asked suddenly and with a not-so-subtle note of hysteria in your voice. You had been way too close to just completely losing yourself right then and there; all because of some dirty whispers and stolen glances.
The half-elf and the dwarf, both well drunk - much more than you - had obviously been completely oblivious to the electric tension between you and the vampire – thank the Gods. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that Astarion had rolled up his sleeves and was leaning on his elbows again next to you.
“Well”, Lira drawled, now much less focused on niceties and political correctness, “have you heard that Cazador Szarr has kicked the bucket a few weeks ago? And his whole estate was looted. It’s been the talk of town for weeks.” That sobered you right up. This was the first time you heard that this had become public knowledge. It seemed Astarion and you had been well shielded in your domestic little bubble since you had parted ways with your adventurous little group and settled down in Baldur’s Gate.
You threw Astarion a concerned sideways glanced but to your surprise he seemed relaxed. Even more so, he was grinning broadly, mischief twinkling in his eyes. Daegin happily chimed in and gave you a rundown of different theories on his death: heart attack (“Nah, he was perfectly healthy, last thing I heard”, Astarion commented), poisoned by another noble family to gain his power (“Probable, but why loot his estate and why not keep his death a secret and pose as him, so much easier to take over his influence.”), tragic accident (“Unlikely, I heard he never even really left his castle.”). Astarion seemed more intrigued in adding to the gossip that you thought was clever. But hells, you would not stop him from talking shit about this fucking bastard.
“Do you want to know what I heard?”, Astarion said after Daegin had finished. He leaned towards them as if he was going to let them in on a secret. Lira, immediately intrigued, leaned over the table just as he did. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in anticipation. Even Daegin seemed immediately interested. There he went doing it again, Astarion and his damned silver tongue. You were about to join his act in whatever lie you thought he would fabricate from thin air, when he began: “I heard, he was secretly a vampire and was murdered by one of his own spawn because he’d made a deal with a devil to perform a horrific ritual that would have made him even more powerful and killed thousands of people!”
Your chin basically dropped to the floor but you were way too shocked to do anything else. Lira and Daegin mirrored your emotions perfectly albeit for different reasons. Did… did he actually just tell them the fucking truth?
The silence between the four of you kept dragging on. Astarion simply drank another shot of liquor, shrugged his shoulders and casually said: “It’s just what I heard.” You could simply blink at his nonchalance. Then Daegin broke the silence with deafening laughter, roaring and throwing his head back, slapping his thighs with his hands multiple times. Lira joined in but her laugh turned into a silly cackling chuckle that made her shoulders quake like she was losing her mind. You couldn’t join in, you were too starstruck by Astarion’s boldness. But neither was Astarion. He just threw you a defeated look that seemed to say ‘see? No one’s ever going to believe it’.
After several minutes of choking on their laughter they seemed to calm down. Lira had to wipe away tears from her eyes several times, the dwarf had started coughing horribly halfway through. When he had regained a bit of composure, he jumped off his stool, walked around the table and offered Astarion his hand – which the vampire took with a confused look. “I gotta hand it to you, elf, no one ever made me laugh that hard. Not even my own brother”, he said and shook Astarion’s hand, congratulating him.
“Tav, you really need to bring him when we go out drinking from now on”, the short man said and laughed again. This time you and Astarion joined in.
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