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summervale · 2 months ago

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「Merriment」

Third-person reader insert! Y/N is the younger sister of King Robert Baratheon. Her house sigil is a stag, yes, but it seems she has a particular fondness for hounds.

Contains: Reluctant pining, kissing, mature situations Words: 2,311

UNFINISHED WORK: This was supposed to be a long, multi-part piece which is why it takes so long setting up! This was part one and is about halfway finished. Figured there's a lot of Sandor fans that might enjoy a small something cute <3

No husband and no responsibilities made for a very happy woman indeed. Small wonder she was all smiles and riddles and gayeties; she must, the commonfolk thought, be the happiest woman in all the seven kingdoms.

This was likely true.

She was forever laughing. There was a smile on her face always, it seemed, and everywhere she went she took merriment with her. Her ladyship took great pleasure in riddles and games and shows of mummers and fools, and King’s Landing had not hosted a tourney that did not have her there in the pavilions in many a year. She was a friend to all regardless of birth or station or reputation (within reason), and for this she was quite loved, but also quite resented. The resentment was paid little mind—turning a blind eye and smiling was much more fun, as it was often irksome to those who were loth to favor her.

Y/N Baratheon. Lady of Storm’s End, younger sister to Stannis and Robert, older sister to Renly. She possessed the same appetite for amity as Robert coupled with the mirth and grandeur of Renly. Of Stannis, it was said, they shared only a name. Still she insisted she adored all her brothers equally, “even the gloomy one.”

Much was afoot in King’s Landing.

King Robert had named Lord Eddard Stark new hand of the king, and Stark had arrived with a host of his own and his two daughters in tow. This was cause for celebration, and celebration was cause for a tourney, and where there was a tourney (or a celebration), Lady Y/N was to be found.

And she was found in King’s Landing quite a lot, of recent.

There was a rumor, often dubbed a vicious and untrue one, that though her house sigil may be the King's own stag, Y/N had a particular fondness for hounds.

The sun was two hours from setting when a host of black and yellow arrived at The King's Gate. In came banners that bore stags, and a spate of wagons bringing wines and cheeses and polished pears from Storm’s End. An impatient rider rode ahead of the rest, leaving behind a cry of protest as she thundered away, alone, up the streets of King’s Landing.

She arrived with a well-lathered horse and a swirl of her cloak. A party had time to gather in the yard of the Red Keep; a paltry welcoming committee with little time to prepare.

But the King was there—of course the King was there.

Had she not already been grinning, she would have grinned. “There’s my favorite brother,” said Y/N, dismounting and already forgetting her palfrey.

The look on Robert’s face was strange, though, and uncharacteristic of the Robert she knew and loved. The years had not been kind to him (as was made most evident by his growing waistline), and his face was stern, drawn into a scowl, his brow furrowed.

Is he not happy to see me? she thought even through her smiles and excitement. Gods, he looks as grim as Stannis, maybe twice as much. When she made to throw her arms about his neck, he took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length instead.

“That’s your grace to you, woman. I am the King, or have you forgotten?”

The King’s sister opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, which was done dumbly and not unlike a fish.

The ruse was short-lived.

Robert Baratheon—King Robert Baratheon—broke into a roar of laughter like that of a bear made human. Still holding his dearest sister by the shoulders, he gave her a hearty shake. “Your face!” he boomed. “You should have seen it!”

Her smile returned, then her laughter. “You’re a fool if ever there was one, Robert!” She threw her arms around his neck even as he shook her, and the big king lifted his little sister in his arms and hugged her so tightly, so fiercely, that the now-arriving party feared the king may crush their lady.

Robert didn’t crush Y/N, though. No, they were both used to it. “You’re crushing me, Robert,” she huffed at last, prompting the king to drop her back down onto the ground.

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Right then, let’s get inside. We have much and more to catch up on, and there’s a flagon of wine calling my name.”

“Every flagon of wine calls your name, your grace.”

The King was laughing again, then, and the King’s sister was smiling.

That, as far as the two Baratheons were concerned, was the way it always had been, and the way it always would be, until one buried the other.

Meeting the King’s party was a grand ordeal, though Y/N had already met most of the partygoers in attendance on at least one occasion. Of course she knew the Lannisters, her brother’s family by law, and she’d met Lord Eddard Stark once before. Lord Eddard’s daughters were new to her, however, and a few of the faces at court as well. Having been taught well, she recognized most of the family names and colors, smiling and shaking hands and doing all the formalities a lady should do.

The occupants of the Red Keep’s great hall that night came from houses big and small, known and unknown, and saw the attendance of lords and ladies, knights, hedge knights, bards, poets and singers, fools in their motley and mummers with their painted faces. There were cards being shuffled and dice being thrown. Serving girls brought plate after plate of selections from the kitchens: stuffed capons, wine-glazed lamb, honeyed figs, dark breads with thick crusts, sweet lemon cakes still-warm from the ovens. The courses seemed never-ending and the wine never stopped flowing.

“Never was there such a party before, brother,” declared Y/N. She lifted a gilded goblet with a flourish, and rich, purple wine splashed over the rim and down her hand. She was the picture of effortless joy.

And she knew it, too.

If she hadn’t known it, the guests would have reminded her; the way they flocked to her in throngs and yammered on and on whenever she should happen to lend an ear—which was often. Round and round she circled the crowd as the evening wore on and the wine continued to flow, searching the room for a familiar face—a face that would stand out even in the most crowded of rooms.

Her gaze passed the lords and ladies, passed the knights in their polished armor, until at last she found her mark.

Sandor Clegane, the Hound, stood near the far wall, obscured halfway in the shadows. His face was grim, as it usually was, pulled tightly into a scowl that had long since worn its lines permanently into his features. The burn scars that marred half his face were highlighted by the flickering torchlight, giving him an even more fearsome appearance.

She knew Sandor was not like the other knights, not like the men who fawned over ladies with flowery words and grand gestures. He was rough, blunt, and often downright rude.

He was the perfect change of pace.

Oft she sought him when at last she could take the rinse-and-repeat of perfumed nobility no longer. She wove through the crowd with ease, exchanging smiles and nods as she passed, until she finally stood before Sandor.

"Sandor," she greeted him plainly. “It’s been too long.”

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. For an overly long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a grunt, he inclined his head slightly. "My lady," he replied, his voice as rough as the gravel on the King’s Road.

Y/N smiled up at him, unfazed by his gruffness. "Why do you stand here all alone?" she asked, her tone teasing. "Surely even hounds deserve a bit of merriment."

Sandor huffed, a sound that could have been a laugh if it had come from anyone else. "Merriment’s for fools," he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“Forgive me, then, for it seems I’ve forgotten my motley.”

“So it seems.”

She knew he was not a man of many words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But she also knew that, for reasons she could not fully explain, she had become someone he tolerated more than most.

Perhaps it was a royal decree by Robert unbeknownst to her. And what a royal decree that would be! The thought made her laugh aloud, which only earned her a raised eyebrow in response.

He indicated the floor from which she’d just come. "Motely or not, you should jingle along with the other fools,” he said, though his tone was less stern than usual.

"And you should be out there with your fellow dogs," said she, “but here we are."

Sandor's lips twitched as if they might have remembered how to smile for half a moment. “Surprised you’re not dancing again. It went well for you last time.”

With one sentence he had broken the façade she wore so well. Her look of smug mirth disappeared from her face in an instant and was replaced instead by one of flustered surprise.

It had been a celebration much like this one and she was deep in her cups by the time the sun had set and the dancing had begun. Y/N had been at the heart of it, twirling and dancing with little care, passing hand from one lord to another, from knight to knight, breathless and flushed and shoes long forgotten.

The next thing she knew, she was stumbling, and a moment later, toppling entirely. The ground rose up to meet her with an unpleasant wack!, and the pain in her cheek was overshadowed only by a pain in her ankle. She’d gotten too carried away and twisted something, it seemed, and hadn’t even felt it until she was picking herself back up off the ground.

Or, well, trying to pick herself back up off the ground. The usual cloud of courtiers buzzed around her in an attempt to see her upright again, but the pain in her ankle swelled red hot and angry.

A shadow passed, then, and she had looked up, her vision slightly blurred from the wine, to see Sandor Clegane’s gruff face above her. There had been no mocking grin or cold stare, just a look that might have been concern on a more expressive man. “You’re alright.”

Without another word, he had scooped her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all.

Y/N had gasped, her hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders. "I can walk!" she had protested, though she hadn’t made any real effort to leave his arms.

"Not on that ankle you can’t.”

And so she had let him carry her, through the bustling hall and up the winding stairs of the Red Keep, all the way to her chambers. It had been awkward, but it had also been…

More.

“You’re quite strong,” she said to him, which earned only a grunt of acknowledgement.

Something—something—fluttered inside of her when she saw him so close; the burned skin unevenly healed, the scruff that dusted his face, the muscle of his neck that disappeared beneath his armor where her prying eyes could not follow—but her imagination could.

When they reached her chambers, he had set her down gently on the edge of her bed. She had looked up at him, her heart pounding in a way that had little to do with the wine. As he made to release her, she caught the back of his neck with her hand and held him there, inches from her face.

She’d expected him to break free, to pull away, to do anything else. But he stayed.

He stayed there like that, his lips inches from hers.

He had hesitated, his expression torn between wanting to leave and the pull of something deeper that they both felt there between them. They both smelled of wine and honeyed mead, lips sweet.

She didn’t know who kissed who, but in half a heartbeat they were entangled.

Sandor’s breath came ragged against her mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She bit his lip and he growled. It was fast, animal, raw want.

And a longtime coming.

When he pulled away, she pulled him back in again, and he didn’t fight her. Breathless, she’d pulled herself up by his shoulders and onto her knees, the pain in her ankle unfelt and forgotten. Her hands cupped his face and she pulled him in, in, in, until her chest was flush with his and she could feel every rise and fall of his on hers.

At last he’d taken her by the elbows and pushed her away, and it ended as suddenly as it had started.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he told her.

“But I haven’t had enough of you.”

“You’ve had your fill of that, too,” he said, turning cloak and leaving.

“I’m quite certain I haven’t had my fill of you.”

He paused mid-step and looked at her over his shoulder. “You don’t want that,” he assured her. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something sharp as steel and burning hot.

Y/N leaned back on the bed. “I know what I want,” she said, wishing she could stand and go to him, to pull him by his cloak and his armor and whatever else she could get her hands on—something lower than his beltline. “I’ve known for years and years.”

Slowly, deliberately, Sandor crossed the room again, silhouetted against the warm torchlight that poured in through the still-open door. “Trust me,” he said, towering over her, leaning in close. “You might want to get your fill of me, but you don’t want me to get my fill of you.”

Her breath left her body in a shuddering shiver.

Again he had turned, then, and didn’t stop to look back at her that time.

#game of thrones #unfinished fic #game of thrones fic #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #fluff

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roosterforme · 4 months ago

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Covering the Classics Part 17 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna is giving herself one last chance to get her manuscript before she moves on without it. She has friends, a job she loves, and a man who believes in her. There's nothing else she really needs now, but she's going all in on a plan that is perhaps just crazy enough to work.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, espionage, adult language, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Bob watched Anna emerge from the bathroom in one of Jessica's cocktail dresses after he picked her up from work and brought her back to his house. "I'm thinking this one?" she asked, turning back and forth in front of his bedroom mirror while wearing the black and white dress. It was a little snug and also a bit short on her compared to how it would probably fit Jessica, but he thought she looked incredible.

"Yeah," Bob agreed, standing behind her and zipping it up. "It's perfect." Seeing her in wedding rings was startling to him, and he had to remind himself over and over again that she had borrowed them as a cover. As part of the ruse. That they belonged to his friend. That she wasn't reconciling with Kevin. "What time do we need to be at the hotel?" he asked, running his hand along her hip as she started to clip her hair up onto her head.

"Eight o'clock," she confirmed. "The cocktail reception lasts from eight until ten, and there's no way Kevin will want to miss a single minute with all of these people who seemingly worship him."

Bob tightened his hold on her, his distaste for Kevin clearly written on his face as he looked in the mirror over her shoulder. She told him he needed to change out of his uniform, so he was wearing a plain undershirt and jeans. He looked a bit ridiculous next to Anna as she swiped some eyeliner on in the shape of a cat-eye before coating her lips in a deep red stain.

"That's pretty," he whispered, and he was rewarded with her turning around to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving her perfect lip marks behind. He didn't bother to wipe it away. He was so thankful she wasn't trying to do this on her own, even though she seemed calm and confident. He didn't want Kevin to have even the slightest opportunity to be alone with her. "You'll call me if you need me to come in," he said.

"Yes," she confirmed for probably the fifth time. "I'll keep my phone on me."

"And you'll get out of there if you don't feel safe?"

Anna nodded up at him, looking so beautiful with a soft smile on her lips. "Yes. My manuscript is not as important as I am."

Bob kissed her deeply. She finally got it. She tried to swipe at the lipstick smudged on his mouth, but they left his house hand in hand with some of the stain left on his lips. He helped her into his truck and took his time driving up to Carlsbad as she navigated along the way for him. When he reached for her hand, she laced her fingers with his, and he chuckled.

"I kind of hate her rings on you," he muttered. "I wonder what Bradley had to say about that one."

Anna made a face when he glanced her way. "I'm sure he's still asking her to explain where they went, and the more she says my name, the unhappier he's going to be with me."

"Nah," Bob replied as he made a left turn. "You're one of us."

She squeezed his hand. "That still sounds almost too good to be true. And we do need to return her rings tonight so he doesn't have a full panic attack."

"That sounds fair," he murmured, looking for a place to stop his truck and let her out. The swanky hotel where Kevin's medical conference was being held was just up the block, and now his heart was pounding.

"This is perfect," she told him, pointing out the window before unbuckling her seatbelt. "Just leave me off right here." He put the truck in park, but when she tried to pull her hand away, he held on tighter. She paused and looked at him before leaning in to kiss his cheek and saying, "I got this, Bob. It's okay." When she tried once more to get out of his truck, he tugged her closer to him. "You have to let me-"

"Anna, I love you."

She froze at his announcement, but he was getting tired of not telling her. He'd been thinking it for ages. He thought he almost lost her before, and he wasn't going to let Kevin of all people potentially ruin her night without her knowing she at least had him to come back to. So as she crawled across the seat toward him, he repeated himself. "I love you."

Anna climbed onto his lap as her lips met his cheek and his chin. "I want to listen to you say that all night," she whispered, finally kissing his lips. "And I want to spend an hour telling you all about how much I love you. But I need about thirty minutes to get shit done first."

Bob laughed as he nipped at her smiling lips. "No rush. I'll still love you in thirty minutes." He would probably still love her in thirty years, and he was more than willing to tell her that later. But right now he had to accept one last kiss from her before he watched her hop down from his truck, put Jessica's high heels on, and start to head for the hotel entrance.

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

"You can do this," Anna told herself as she tried not to stumble in the shoes that were a half size too small with heels which were way too high. "Just stay focused." But Bob loved her! He said it, and he meant it, and now all she wanted was to run back to his truck. But this was her last chance.

It was ten minutes after eight. Kevin's schedule was giving her enough time to get what she wanted, but only if it went smoothly. Anna had never been much of an actress, but in this exact moment, she needed to pull off an Emmy winning performance if she stood a chance at getting into Kevin's room. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders as she walked into the beautiful lobby, opened her clutch purse, and pouted in frustration. "Oh no," she muttered loudly. There were a lot of people around, chatting and heading to the bar just past the concierge desk. She threw her head back in faux annoyance and marched in the terrible shoes toward the counter.

"How can I help you this evening?" asked the young man behind the desk with a smile.

Anna sighed and set her clutch down and glanced at his name tag. She made sure the rings on her finger were shining under the light as she said, "In my rush to get to the wine bar down the block in time for cocktail hour, I left my new necklace and my key card in my room. Think you could print me a new one, Marcus? My husband just gifted me the necklace and expects me to be wearing it."

"Of course, Mrs...."

"Webber. Mrs. Kevin Webber. We're here for the Neurological conference. My husband is a keynote speaker." She had to fight back the urge to choke on the words as she forced a smile.

"Right," Marcus replied, tapping away on his keyboard. "Webber.... I found the reservation, but it's only under your husband's name."

When he looked up and met her eyes, Anna wanted to run away, climb back into Bob's truck and give up. Her heart was pounding as she tapped her fingers on the counter and rolled her eyes. "He always does that when he books a room for work. But I'm definitely linked to his rewards account."

She tried to keep her face neutral as she awaited a response. There was no way Kevin would have taken the time to update anything so trivial. He was never one to take the time to update anything. That always fell to Anna. She watched Marcus start typing again as he said, "I'll just need to check your ID, Mrs. Webber."

"Absolutely," she replied coolly, pulling her New Jersey state driver's license that was about to expire from her clutch and setting it down for him. The longer he typed away, the more she started to panic. She wondered if Kevin was already having his first drink at the bar or if he had moved on to his second. As long as he was there, it didn't much matter to her what he was doing.

Finally, Marcus pulled a new key card from the drawer in front of him, programmed it and tucked it into an envelope. He conveniently wrote #609 on it and slid it toward her. "Is there anything else I can do for you this evening Mrs. Webber?"

She shook her head, picked up her license and the key and said, "I think this is all I need. Thank you, Marcus."

Anna turned toward the bank of elevators and counted each step. One, two, three, four, five.... She tried to keep her pace as unhurried as she could while still getting away from the desk quickly. She pushed the little up arrow and waited for the elevator to arrive while she glanced around the lobby to be sure there was nobody who had taken notice of her. When the elevator got there, she ducked inside and pushed the button for floor six and pulled her phone out to text Bob.

I got the key. I'm in the elevator.

When she arrived at the correct floor, she put her phone away and held onto the key card with shaking hands. She could do this. She knew she could. But one step onto the plush carpet, and she stumbled in Jessica's high heels. "Shit," she gasped, reaching for the wall as the elevator doors slid closed behind her. Could she really take Kevin's computer? Technically speaking, it was hers, too. They picked it out together. When he started medical school. She paid for it with her credit card. The one he then maxed out.

She pushed herself off from the wall, more pissed off than upset. Kevin didn't deserve her concern at the moment. He deserved nothing. Room 609. She found it down the left side of the hallway. Just as she raised the key card to swipe it, the door jerked open an inch, and she gasped. Fingers wrapped around the door from the inside as it opened slowly, and she ran as fast as she could for the stairwell, tucking herself inside just as she saw Kevin step into the hallway.

"Fuck," she gasped under her breath, afraid she might throw up. It was close to 8:30 now. He should have been at the cocktail party. Why was he in his room? Terrified that he'd seen her, Anna stood in the stairwell with her back pressed to the wall. She counted to fifty and then to one hundred, but the door never opened. When she peeked out into the hallway again, it was deserted.

"You can do this," she whispered, even as the thought occurred to her that he may still be in the hotel room. There was no way she'd be able to overpower him if he was. Before she could give it too much thought, she knocked on the door and then pressed her ear to it. When nobody answered, she did it again. Then she swiped her card, watched the light turn green, and pushed the door slowly open.

The hotel room smelled like Kevin's cologne, and she gagged, but after a quick inspection of the bathroom and closet, he was definitely gone. Her hands were shaking like crazy now as she checked the desk area for his computer, but it wasn't there. She dropped to her knees and crawled across the floor to his computer bag, but it was empty except for folders and pamphlets from the conference.

"Shit," she said, eyes stinging with tears. She made it this far, and she didn't want to give up now. As she crawled around the king size bed, she saw the computer charging cable on the floor, plugged into the outlet along with his phone charger. And there it sat, tucked halfway under the bed. The laptop.

Anna lunged for it, opening it and waking it up from standby mode. She was prompted to enter a password, and she smiled; Kevin never changed anything. It had to be the same one he was using since college. She entered it, and her smile vanished.

Incorrect Password

"You're joking," she gasped. This was supposed to be the easy part. This was the last thing she was convinced would trip her up. Perhaps she had just entered it wrong with her shaky hands, so she tried it again.

Incorrect Password

"Fuck!" Panic was setting in now. Should she just take it and risk pissing him off if the manuscript wasn't even on it? Her intention had been to check before she did. Her gaze settled on the little fingerprint reader down in the bottom corner near the keyboard. There was simply no way. If he had taken the time to actually update his passwords, then he would have taken the time to remove Anna's fingerprint access as well.

She bit her lip and slid her index finger down to the reader, and she was immediately rewarded with full access to the computer. Her eyes went wide as she tapped on the search option and entered the file name of her manuscript and hit enter, and when it popped up on the screen she burst into tears. She scrolled down and it was there. It was all there.

"Fuck you, Kevin," Anna said, voice hoarse with emotion as she yanked the plug from the wall, wrapped the cord around the laptop, and made her way to the door. She needed to act completely normal right now even though she felt like her heart might burst into a million brightly colored pieces of magic. She rode the elevator down, praying that Kevin was getting intoxicated enough that he wouldn't realize something was missing from his room right away. For the first time in her life, she didn't even care if he brought another woman back with him, but she did almost feel bad for pregnant Alyssa back in New Jersey. Almost.

When the doors slid open revealing the bustling lobby, Anna nearly tripped for the last time. She took her friend's shoes off and held them in one hand with her purse as she started speed walking toward the exit. She didn't see Kevin anywhere, but that didn't mean much since he had been in his room when she got here. Now she was counting on Bob to be where he said he would be.

Once she was outside, she immediately turned to the right toward the loading zone. She started to run barefoot down the sidewalk, and that's when she saw him. He was perfect, standing there next to the passenger side door in his white undershirt, running his hands nervously through his hair.

"Bob!" she called out, her feet already aching, and he came racing up the sidewalk to meet her.

"You got it!" he whispered excitedly. "Anna, Baby, you got it!"

"It's still on here," she breathed as he scooped her up with everything still held tight in her hands. "I got in with my fingerprint and I saw it, Bob. I have it." He kissed the side of her neck once, but otherwise he didn't stop walking. "Did you see Kevin?" she asked.

"Yeah," he grunted, setting her down and pulling the door open for her. "He headed the other way up the block. When he came out after you went inside, I kind of started to freak out a little bit. If I didn't hear from you again in five more minutes, I was going to make my way inside. But you didn't need me at all."

Anna tossed everything onto the seat and scrambled inside, anxious to get out of here, but not before she leaned down to kiss Bob one more time. "That's just the thing though. I'm pretty sure I actually do need you."

He was smiling as he said, "Let's go home."

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

Anna was holding the computer to her chest while Bob drove down the dark local roads of Carlsbad and got onto the highway. She didn't say much, but she looked so happy, and eventually her hand crept across the seat to take his. When he took the first street off the bridge instead of the second one, she asked, "Where are we going?"

Bob laughed. "Just because he hasn't been freaking out at you all night doesn't mean he hasn't been texting and calling me nearly nonstop."

"Who?" she asked, clearly puzzled as Bob drove through the quiet end of Coronado. When he pulled up in front of the Spanish Revival style house that had every light, interior and exterior, shining bright, she laughed too. "I almost forgot about the rings in all the excitement."

Bob watched as Bradley came running out onto his porch in his slippers, gym shorts, and his hideous tie dye shirt with a concerned look on his face. His wife was right behind him waving merrily from the porch in a bathrobe that looked too big for her as he ran down the walkway toward the truck. Bob watched as Anna twisted both rings from her finger and then rolled down the window, and in an instant, Bradley's entire head was thrust inside, eyes searching wildly.

"Do you have them?" he asked loudly, reaching for Anna's open palm and the rings. "Jesus Christ." He turned around and shouted to his wife, "They have them!"

"I told you they did," she replied easily, shaking her head. "It's not like she was set on stealing something tonight, Beer Boy."

Bob and Anna both started laughing as Bradley turned back toward them, looking much calmer with his wife's rings in his hand. "These rings are so important to me. Elvis himself married us in Vegas with them."

Anna patted him on the cheek and said, "And they're both just as perfect as when Advanced Calculus gave them to me earlier. They worked like a charm, so thank you."

He nodded and sighed in relief before heading back up to the porch with a lot more swagger in his step now. While he was walking away, Bob heard him tell his wife, "Put these back on immediately, Sugar, or I'm getting my Beta Gamma paddle out."

"Oh," Anna gasped as Bob started to pull away from the curb. "That actually makes a lot of sense," she muttered, holding onto the computer once again.

"They are in for a wild night," Bob told her, heading toward his house now. "And so is Kevin. In a much less fun way."

"And so are you," Anna said with a little smirk.

"I don't have a fraternity paddle," Bob replied as his cheeks grew warm.

"We won't need one of those for a good time. You have a collection of poetry that you wrote about me, and I think I'd like to hear you read it."

Bob was already twitching with need. "Will you put your black bra and panties on again?"

"What do you think I'm wearing under this dress? As soon as I pull my manuscript from the cloud and copy everything over to my own computer, I'm going to spend the rest of the night thoroughly thanking you for believing in me when I didn't believe in myself. And then we can discuss the plans to banish Kevin permanently."

There were so many things he wanted to do, but he knew his list would have to start after hers was complete. They would take care of her manuscript and get rid of Kevin. Then he could bring up going on some actual dates before she moved in for good and let their books get all mixed up. He was itching to get back to the bookstore again. He was dying to take her to Chippy's.

"You don't have to thank me for anything, Anna," he said softly, lacing his fingers with hers as he drove. "But when you finally feel free, just promise me you'll stay."

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

Anna! You badass!! Let's banish Kevin back to New Jersey forever! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

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@amiets2

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

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#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fic #robert floyd x oc #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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hauntedrain · 9 months ago

Text

Part 2: Unexpected | Max Verstappen x Fem Reader |

✮▹A/N: I hope you enjoy and sorry for not posting sooner! also this is kinda short so sorry about that, next one should be longer.

✰▹Warnings/Notices: NOT EDITED. also dont mind the dates on the tweets, It has nothing to do with the time line of the story. Terribly sorry if it doesn't make sense.

part 1: Here! Part 3 is posted <3

Twitch stream transcript!

Y/N: Uh hey guys! we have SERIOUS things to talk about.

Lorelei: Tu-tu-du-du, Max Verstappen...

Y/N: WHOS MAX VERSTAPPEN.

Theo: Okay calm down... we can explain.

Y/N: wait. he follows me on Instagram?

Lorelei: WHAT?

Y/N: LOOK HE DOES. CHAT WTF.

Lorelei: Chat is saying he saw a clip of the YouTube video

Y/N: ohhh, that's why everything went crazy...

Theo: wait do they have the clip of it?

Y/N: please no we don't need to watch that.

Lorelei: YES WE DO.

Y/N: No, because that's EMBARRASSING. Imagine If Robert Pattison or someone saw your tiktoks.

Lorelei: that's true.

Y/N: okay that makes more sense now.

Theo: I told you that you should get into F1. If you did you wouldn't have had this happen.

Lorelei: You know.. I wish Max Verstappen followed me.

Y/N: Apparently you're not cool enough then.

Lorelei: WHAT?

Liked by Max verstappen, TheoD, & 24,567,899 others

Y/N: The cat kinda looks like someone I know?

Click to view all 14,567,789 comments

User6: THE CAT LMFAO

↪ user7: Tbh it actually kinda looks like Max.

User8: I really hope they're talking cuz I really need to see Y/N in the paddock, worlds would collide.

↪ Y/N: I wanna drive the cars !

↪ MaxVerstappen: We could make that happen.

↪ Lorelei: IM SORRY WHAT?

↪Y/N: HAHAHA LOSER.

User9: kitty cat

User10: PLEASE SAY UR TALKING TO MAX PLEASE.

↪ user11: I mean its been a month or so at this point so yea they're probably talking.

Y/N has posted to their story!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ taglist: @holy-macncheese-balls @loloekie @cherry-piee @bloodyymaryyy @mangotaitai @the-untamed-soul @trouble-sistar @stinkyjax @minkyungseokie

Comment if you wanna be tagged <3

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: Okay I hope you liked this and it isnt to confusing, this story is kinda hard to format, but I still hope it makes sense. Thanks for the love. Love you guys <3

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mrchiipchrome · 8 months ago

Text

Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

W.C.- 2 k

a/n: This is part of the 'Parents' universe, also i need a better title for it sooo please give me suggestions:)

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

“Aye María, you’re trending on twitter.” Mapi’s head snaps in your direction, eyes gleaming with excitement. She has no reason to be skeptical, you look truthful as always, blinding smile stretching across your lips.

“Really?!-” Just as she was about to ask why she was trending, you interrupt her.

“No.” Your tone was one of complete seriousness, deadpan beyond comprehension. You look on in delight as your teammate’s smile drops off the vicinity of her face, lips contorting into a disappointed frown.

The back of your head stings with the hands coming down to hit it, a slap to the back of the head never hurt anyone, except you of course.

“Y/n, that’s not nice.” Alexia chides as you rub over the sensitive parts of your head, still stinging from the brutal hits. She looks at you through her peripheral vision, seeing the smile that’s still stretched across your lips, rolling her eyes at your childish nature.

What did she expect though when they brought in a child?

“Neither was the prank she pulled on me last week but you didn’t tell her off for that, did you?” Annoyance seeps into your tone, slapping away the hand ruffling your hair. Alexia rolls her eyes at you again and you can barely resist telling her that they might get stuck like that if she continues, it was always fun to rile the woman up.

“You wanna test me cariño? I can make your life hell.” She interprets the huff you let out as acceptance, rising from the table to throw her trash away.

On the other side of the room, you’re startled as lips press to your temple, hands placed on your shoulders.

“Causing trouble again, are you bubba?” Lucy plops down in the seat to your left, Keira occupying Alexia’s old seat to your right. You can’t help smiling again as your parents settle at your sides, they were a bit late to lunch as they were talking with Jona.

“No more than usual Robert, I wonder where I got it from. You think I need to go see the physios? Excessive childishness in a 15 year old is fatal from what I’ve heard.” You teased the older woman, who in response pushed her fingers between your ribs, the feeling way more ticklish than it should be.

“Leave the tot alone Luce, she’s got enough on her mind without you annoying her.” Keira says as she wraps her arm around your neck, pulling you into a headlock of sorts as she kisses your forehead over and over.

“No way, I mean I can accept bubs and bubba, but tot? I’m fifteen.” It was almost like a toddler whining after its favourite toy, all tied together by the way your feet pound against the floor in protest.

“Mhm, sure. You’ll have to deal with every embarrassing nickname in the book until you take your last breath, bubs. Now, have you eaten enough? You know that we’ve got another training session after this.” Lucy reminds you hastily, pushing a granola bar into your hands as Keira hands you an apple.

“Yes I’ve eaten, no you two won’t be calling me ‘tot’ and ‘bubba’ when I’m 60, and yes I did in fact know that we’ve got training after lunch. Also, can I go over to Vicky’s after training? I need help with some homework.” You’re nearly through the doors of the meal room as you shout out the question, both Lucy and Keira nodding their heads in agreement.

Thinking no one’s watching you in the hallways is your fatal mistake, as you dance around in your spot you can hear the very distinct giggles from your usual partners in crime. Your eyes scan the space and in milliseconds you notice the short frames of Pina and Patri, the latter of the two holding up her phone in such a manner that convinced you that she was recording you.

“Having fun there osito?” Patri asks teasingly, as if you didn’t have plenty of incriminating videos of her doing things she definitely shouldn’t have been doing. The only response you give her is starting to run towards her at an alarming speed, the two women looking at each other in panic.

Making the smart choice, they split up so that only one unfortunate soul had to deal with you, the one being Pina since she was easier for you to tackle to the ground if that was to be needed. She was also handed Patri’s phone when they were running, a sneaky attempt to keep the video.

“Come on, Osito, let’s not do anything drastic here.” Of course she was trying to negotiate when she was backed up against the wall, a nervous smile overtaking her face. “We’re amigos, remember?” When your eyes narrow, she knows she’s in trouble. Just as the shorter girl is about to try her chances at running away again, two stable hands land on your shoulders.

Pina nearly cries tears of joy as she sees Ingrid staring back at her, the norwegian’s arm now clasped tightly around your shoulders as she tries to pull you away from the short spaniard. But when you look back at her, thumb running across your own throat in a not so nice gesture, she begins to sweat again.

It was no secret that you had dirt on her and Patri.

When Ingrid notices your obscene gesture she makes sure to slap the back of your head extra hard, obviously disapproving.

“Why does everyone keep doing that?”

—---------

“Narla’s blue now, looks like a smurf bit her.” You tell Lucy who sits opposite of you at the kitchen table, Keira cooking dinner not too far away. Lucy’s head snaps up from where it was turned down to look at her phone.

“What are you talking about? Are you kidding me?” Her accent is way thicker than normal, clouding her words more than usual. Your perfected poker face was always useful, but especially in situations like this, it was extremely difficult not to burst out into laughter at her expression.

“Yeah I am. Why would she be blue?” The first part is said fully deadpanned, it is only when you ask her why that you allow the laughter to seep through into your voice.

Lucy’s chair falls to the floor as she stands up, hands placed on the table like she’s about to do a speech. Instead what she does is walk around to your side of the table, tackling you to the floor like it’s no problem.

The two of you wrestle on the floor like schoolboys for a few moments until Keira calls out for you both, the woman already seeming fed up with whatever’s going on.

“Kids, dinner is ready, go set the table.” She tells you, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips looking at you two in disappointment. Though most of it was channeled towards Lucy, she was supposed to be an adult after all.

The brit in question unlocks her strong arms from your midsection as you release her head from your grip, Lucy rushing to stand up.

“Careful now Luce, or I’ll get my pay back in the ring.” You hold your hands up in front of your face in the typical boxer stance, punching them out in a pattern. Right, right, left, right, left, left. At the same time you’re moving your feet against the floor rapidly, kicking them out whilst still keeping them against the floor.

“Calm it Sugar Ray.” She calls out from the kitchen, between the sounds of plates clacking together and utensils clinging.

“Actually I was going for more of an Ali vibe.” You respond, fighting the smile willing itself onto your face.

“Actually, Keira said ‘kids’ meaning both of us, so come here and help me.” Keira laughs at the playful shake of your head as you pass her by, her hands stretching up to mess your hair up even more. Dodging her hand as you slip into the kitchen has you triumphant, putting your hands up in celebration like Rocky.

It’s short lived though as Keira comes up behind you to complete her earlier action. You grumble in fake annoyance as you bring out the plates and place them on the table, sitting down in your seat with an overexaggerated angry expression on your face.

It all washes away though as Keira pinched your cheek lovingly, a genuine smile coating your lips. Dinner was spent in pleasant conversation, spent like a family.

—------

“Jorge Vilda: father to be.” Exclamations of disgust, shock and pure hatred ring out through the Barcelona locker room, some even pausing in the middle of getting dressed to look at you. You yourself were staring down at your phone pretending to read an article. “The former Spain coach announced the pregnancy on his instagram earlier this morning.”

“What the actual fuck?” Mapi finally gets out after nearly a minute of choking sounds, her face contorted into an expression of disgust.

“This has to be some kind of joke, Satan can’t have children.” Patri adds on, looking slightly green. You’d be more concerned about it if it weren’t for the facepaint you and Pina had applied onto her when she fell asleep first at the sleepover the night before.

“Of course she’s joking, there’s no article.” Irene takes your phone from your hands, showing the girls in the room what you actually were doing. “She’s playing 2048, we don’t have to worry.” Relieved sighs cling out throughout the room before they realize what you did, multiple hands coming down to slap your head again.

“Stop the abuse, did any of you actually think any woman would get within ten meters of that man? I wouldn’t even if I got a million euros.” Most of the women in the room shake their heads in amusement, though agreeing with you.

“You have got to stop doing that osito.” Mapi laughs out, knuckles digging into your head affectionately.

“I’ll stop when you all stop messing with my hair.” You grumble, smoothing your hair down against your now hurting head, Mapi’s knuckles leaving bruises.

—------

“Luis Rubiales dead at 46 due to unknown caus-” You were cut off in the middle of reading the title of the ‘article’, some of the women in the room jumping up to stand on their chairs, others cheering loudly.

"Hallelujah!” Was heard from multiple people, others settling on just dancing in their spots like they’d won the lottery.

Trying to slip out of the room to avoid having to tell them it was a prank and ruining the joy, you were quickly pulled back by a suspicious Alexia Putellas, her glare so intense that you were shying back from looking at her.

“Stop the celebrations, cariño was just pranking us again.” Even though Alexia tried to be the stern and serious captain, she couldn’t help the smile stretching across her face at the prank. She could admit when a prank was funny and the fact that everyone believed you, knowing full well that you’d done the exact same thing only weeks before made it that much more hilarious.

“Come onnnnnn, I thought we talked about not doing this bubs.” Lucy calls out to you sternly, but you knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t really mad at you, both her and Keira had amused half smiles on their faces.

“Okay, okay I promise that was the last time. Besides, I don’t think any reaction will ever top the one you just gave me.”

The women in the room looked at each other and then back at you, seemingly deciding that the best course of action would be to smother you with their hugs and kisses. It was impossible to get away from the mob, the ones closest to you covering your face in platonic kisses, the rest just looked on in amusement, waiting for their own turn to torture you.

And even though it took about 10 minutes to get all the women off you, and back to your parents, you wouldn’t do anything to change them ever. You loved them all, even if they messed up your hair daily.

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

Translation:

Osito - teddy/teddy bear

#woso #woso x reader #lionesses #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh #keira walsh x reader #wonze x reader #wonze kid #woso imagines

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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months ago

Text

Lord Husband (Chapter 12)

A/N: ik it took be forever to post this, pls dont crucify me. I also don't care if we have canon cregan; thats literally not my man

WORD COUNT: 1,078 words

masterlist

You gave him hope. You knew you did and perhaps you shouldn’t have. It would have been easier if you didn’t, but you think you… wanted to? Do you want to have dinner with him?

“Seven hells.” You grumble to Sȳndror after you’ve dismounted. “I suppose I have to eat with him.”

Well, you know you don’t have to. You didn’t even give him proper confirmation, but it’s much simpler to think of it as something you can’t avoid, you decide, making the walk back inside the castle.

“Draw my bath.” You say to Rose as you enter your chambers. “And you’ll need to select a proper evening gown for me today. I’ll be having my supper with Lord Stark.”

“You will?” Your handmaiden asks, looking at you as though you’ve grown a second head.

“I have just said it, haven’t I? Don’t look so bewildered.”

“My apologies.” She curtseys and runs off to start your bath.

When you walk over to the prepared tub, she begins to help you undress. “My apologies for my harsh tone. The situation is simply unusual for me.”

“You never need to apologize, princess. I understand fully.” She finishes undoing your dress and lets the garment drop before also helping you out of your shift.

“I brought him to meet Sȳndror today.” You say wistfully as you step into the perfectly hot bath. Rose always knows just how you like it.

“What prompted that?” She asks carefully, knowing that not even your closest friends have met the beast.

“He caught me watching him train. I wanted to frighten him.” You reply and she giggles.

“I would expect nothing less.” She says and begins to wash your body clean from the smell of dragon. “I also quite like watching the way the northernmen train.”

“There is something unique about the way they move.” You murmur thoughtfully.

“I would say there is something… primal in it.” Rose says with a giggle, clearly thinking about a different adjective in truth.

“Yes, it's very rough.” You muse.

“Did he get along with Sȳndror?” She asks, now running her fingers through your wet hair.

“He is not dead. So, I suppose the answer is yes.” You both giggle.

“Well, I am sure he is appreciative of the honour.”

“He doesn’t quite realize how much of an honour it is.”

“Lord Stark doesn’t know he is the first non-Targaryen you have brought to meet your dragon?” She gives you a slightly bewildered look.

“Of course not. He would be far too pleased with himself if he knew.” You roll your eyes and with your hair washed, you stand, Rose bringing you a robe.

“It is very gracious of you to allow him the meeting nonetheless.”

“I am known to be gracious.” You reply with a cheeky smile and the both of you giggle.

“I am excited that you’ll be getting more wear out of your evening gowns.” Rose says as she throws open the doors of your closet. “This one could be most suitable.” She holds out a stormy grey dress and you scoff.

“There’s no way in the Seven Hells i’m wearing Stark colours.”

“But it would make him go positively insane.” Rose muses.

“I’ll have one of my black and red gowns.” You say, ignoring her. “The one with the sleeves that Baela adores.”

“Oh, that will be a splendid choice. Lord Stark has never seen you in a proper evening gown. This one will make for a strong start.” She admires the dress in the cupboard before fetching your small clothes.

When you’re dressed, you look nothing short of phenomenal.

“He may faint from the sight of you.”

“I hope he does.” You murmur, checking yourself one last time in the mirror before strutting out of the room. “Come, Ser Robert. I will be suppering with Lord Stark.” You say to the surprised guard as you walk past him.

“You will dine… with your husband, princess?” He asks in a confused tone as he catches up with you.

“Well I just said that, did I not?” You shoot in a snarky tone.

He chuckles. “My apologies. I simply did not realize you enjoyed his company.”

“I am starting to think that I don’t enjoy your company. Perhaps I should get a new protector.”

“Any man but I will be subpar and that is the second time you have threatened to replace me today, princess. Should I be worried?”

“Not worried. Perhaps just less irritating.” You smile.

“Anything to please her highness.” He responds playfully just before the two of you arrive at one of the smaller dining halls in the castle. The doors are thrust open for you, your protector waiting just outside as you walk in.

Cregan stands when he sees you and immediately makes his way over before bringing your hand up for a kiss. “Princess.” He murmurs, not wanting to seem too casual by using your name (even if you are his wife).

“Lord Stark.” Your formality makes him frown. His own formality also made him frown.

“That dress looks beautiful on you.” He says, wanting to make sure you know he’s complimenting you and not the gown. He couldn’t care less about a few pieces of fabric.

“You are also looking well.” You murmur in response, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before gliding out of his hold and to your seat. You can feel the ghostly touch of his lips on your hand and you see how he lingers for just a moment before sitting down himself.

“How was your ride today?” He asks as you start to plate your food.

“‘Twas as good as it can be. Sȳndror is restless these days. He doesn’t enjoy flying as high as he used to; I think the bite of chill in the air bothers him.”

“I hope that he can settle soon. It will get warmer… in a few months' time.” Cregan tries to help, but the discussion of the passage of time unnerves you. You don’t want to think about how in a few months, you will still be here.

“He isn’t used to being alone.” Neither are you.

“Then we will have to house your brothers for a visit. I know how important family is.” He sees it then, the little glimmer in your eyes at the suggestion. Your husband feels like he’s made you somewhat happy for the first time ever.

“I would like that.”

comment to be added to the taglist

#lord husband #cregan stark fic #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #cregan stark x reader #hotd x reader #hotd

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catsteeth · 6 months ago

Note

Hii, I love your writings❤️ Can you write Podrick Payne and the fem reader? The reader is a Jon's twin sister, the Queen in the North. And Podrick has been in love with her for years, from the moment he first saw her. The reader is aware of the situation from the beginning, and when they meet again in the North at the end of the road, she notices once again how Podrick looks at her, but the only difference is that he is not a child anymore.☆

Growing Pains🍎

A/N: Thank you sm angel baby! Now this is what I AM TALKING ABOUT!!! Girl hell yes I can… I love this concept but I am going to take some liberties with the timelines and when Podrick is introduced in the story but let's all just sit back and have fun. You didn’t specify if you wanted smut but girls just wanna have fun so I did it anyway (there will be a cut off so you know when it's coming if you wanna stop reading beforehand) Hope you enjoy it and thank you for the request!! CW: SMUT MDNI, fuff, pining, mention of prostitution, mention of alcohol, fingering, grinding,

You had a hard go of it in life.

Being the bastard of Ned Stark and the twin of Jon Snow. Having the last name of Snow swayed every person's opinion of you. Except for one, Podrick. A squire of little influence. When he and his Lord Tyrion visited the North with the rest of the Lannister and Baratheon family, he found himself enamored with you.

At first he thought it was because of your fair beauty. Your skin had a glow to it, your eyes as well.

As the Stark family lined up to greet the royal family you and Jon were standing behind them. An embarrassment to the family but an open embarrassment nonetheless.

As you stood there, you studied all the knights and kings guard that stood before you and your family. You thought some of them were handsome but none captured your interest really.

That was until your brother Jon nudged you.

“It would seem you’ve an admirer, dear sister.” He teased as you looked and saw a shorter boy with short brown hair. He was certainly a squire. As your eyes met his he looked away

nervously.

You looked back to Jon, “Merely a boy, Jon.”

“Aye, as you are merely a girl.” He said with a smirk. You nudged him harder and gave him a cold and hard scowl, making him struggle to hold in laughter.

As Lord Tyrion descended from his carriage he stood beside Podrick while he waited for Robert and Nedd to be done with their reunion. However when he looked behind Nedd he noticed Nedd’s bastards giggling like children until Lady Catelyn shot them a glare that shut them up quickly.

However he also noticed how Podricks gaze was fixated on you. His face reveals how pathetically enamored he was with you. Tyrion chuckled to himself and then tugged on Podrick’s sleeve a few times until his attention returned to his Lord.

“Yes, my Lord?” Podrick asked,

“You are appointed to serve me, not Ned Stark's bastard daughter.” Tyrion said to Podrick in a teasingly scornful tone. “Is that who that is?” He asked his eyes to stay put on you.

Tyrion nodded, “(Y/N) Snow…” Tyrion spoke your name and to Podrick it sounded like poetry. He looked back over to you as Podrick mouthed your name back to himself. “A beautiful girl,” Tyrion said matter of factly.

“Yes, yes she is.” Podrick nodded, still unable to tear his gaze away from you.

“You know what they say about Northern girls?” Tyrion smirked as he looked up at Podrick,

Podricks gaze finally looked back to Tyrion with a confused look, “No?”

“Perhaps you’ll find out.” He said with a raised brow, making Podrick swallow hard.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Later that night during the feast you and Jon were turned away from the dining hall. It would be an insult to the royal family if you two were sitting in their field of vision. Gods forbid they were to see a bastard while they ate a meal that your family prepared for them.

You were content to go to your chambers and wait out the feast before you’d sneak into the kitchen and eat whatever was left. But the plum tree had recently bloomed and it was too tempting for you to wait until the feast was over.

Normally you’d convince Bran to climb the tree to pick you some but you were alone. So you did the next best thing, convince the next man you saw.

“Hello, kind ser. Could I trouble you for just a moment.” You said to a shadowed form nearby that was approaching. As it got closer you noticed it was the boy that was staring at you from the courtyard beside Lord Tyrion.

“Yes, yes, my Lady, no trouble at all.” He said, stammering nervously as he walked closer toward you.

“I recognize you… I saw you today. You’re not a Northerner.” You said with narrow eyes.

“N-no, my Lady I am a squire to Lord Tyrion Lannister.” He spoke softly and sweetly, but again, nervously.

“Huh, not a Ser then.” You furrowed your brows, examining the boy in front of you. Unsure if you could trust him or not.

He shook his head, “And you’re (Y/N)... Daughter of Nedd Stark.” He was careful not to use the last name of Snow.

“I am.” You said strongly.

“W-why are you not at the feast my lady?”

“Lady Catelyn thought it might insult the royal family for me and my brother to be seated in their midst.” You explained

“Why would she think that?” He asked genuinely, couldn’t understand you being hidden from anyone.

“I am.. unsightly.” You tried to find the right word,

“I don’t think that is the word to describe you-”

“A bastard… to put it simply.” You turned your mind back to the task at hand, unwilling to discuss the matter further. You looked up at the plums ripe on the tree behind you. “But nonetheless a bastard gets hungry just the same as anyone else.” You looked back at Podrick hoping he would get the hint. “Can't reach it though.”

“Yes of course,” He said quickly as soon as he understood what it was you needed from him.

You giggled to yourself as you watched him struggle to climb the tree. Just as he was about to pick the best one, his foot slipped and he fell out of the tree, with tons of plums following him. “Oof!” He grunted as he hit the ground and was covered in plums.

“Oh!” You shouted as you ran up to him. You couldn’t help but laugh as you kneeled beside him, “I am sorry, I do not mean to laugh!” You covered your mouth trying to conceal your amusement,

He looked up at you with stars in his eyes, that could have been the fall but he was sure that you looked like you were made by the Gods themselves. “That’s alright,” He said softly with a dimwitted smile on his face.

You kissed his cheek as a token of your appreciation, when you did he thought he might die. “I thank you.” You said as you grabbed a plum from his lap, making him blush,

“Of-Of course my Lady,” He stammered,

You bit into the juicy plum, “I’m no Lady.” You stood and walked away.

However, that wouldn’t be the last time the two of you crossed paths.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

When Jon left for the nights watch and was to leave for Kings Landing with your sisters, Lady Catelyn made it clear she wanted you gone. So you went with your sisters, however in KingsLanding you worked as a handmaiden.

But this did just give Podrick more of an opportunity to fawn over you.

When given the chance, the two of you enjoyed each other's company.

On one occasion you and Podrick got drunk off of his Lord Tyrion’s wine when you were alone. You threw cherries across a room while Podrick attempted to catch them in his mouth.

Tyrion walked in when he heard the commotion and drunk laughter from the hallway. He could see the love in the drunk Podricks eyes clear as day.

He felt slightly responsible for Podrick and offered him a gift of experience. He took Podrick to a pleasure house where he said “If you’re going to take that bastard girl's maidenhead, you might as well know how to do it well.”

“We are only friends, my Lord.” He stammered nervously,

“Unlikely it will stay that way.” He said as he left him alone with the three women.

That wouldn’t happen in Kings Landing however. After the execution of your father you traveled North to your Brother Jon.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Years later however, after a long and hard battle, figuratively and literally, you were an adored and respected figure in the North. So much so that you were named Queen.

When you caught word that Podrick was on the grounds of Winterfell you felt an unexplainable urge to meet with him again.

You saw him sparring with a man on the training grounds. You watched as this once frail and inexperienced boy fought with honor and precision. It made you feel a tightening in your stomach. You felt yourself losing your trail of thought as you watched him, until he noticed you.

“(Y/N)” He said with wide eyes, and then bam! His sparring opponent knocked him down while he was off guard, “Oof!” He tapped out, “Enough for today.” He hopped off the ground and ran over towards you, smiling,

You smiled back, “You look different. Well, but different.”

“You look the same.” He said catching his breath

You narrowed your eyes slightly as you smirked, “I’ll take that as a compliment,” He nodded, “It is.” His smile was almost contagious.

“Who taught you?” You asked, trying to distract from the compliment. “Brienne of Tarth, I’ve come into her service after Lord Tyrion.”

“An improvement.” You nodded, “You fight well.”

He bowed his head slightly “Thank you, your Grace.”

“No need for such formality.” You waved your hand in dismissal,

“Your Grace-” Someone of little interest to you at that moment spoke. Rushing you off to your regal duties.

You couldn’t say your goodbyes before being rushed off. Just like last time.

The rest of the day you spent thinking of him. Of how different things were now, how different you and he were, how much a man he’d grown into.

It was only until that night when you had the opportunity to speak to him once more.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As Tyrion, Jaime, and Brienne finished a drinking game, Tormund came in an attempt to court Brienne but of course was unsuccessful. As he faced the rest of the table in a defeated sorrowful look, Podrick smiled at him.

As the Giant man left the table, Podrick looked back and noticed you. Once he saw you, his smile grew into a bigger and genuine one.

“Walk with me?” You asked and he of course nodded. Leaving the table in haste, making Tyrion smirk.

The two of you walked around the grounds, that now with everyone in the tavern was empty.

As you walked around, he noticed the very same plum tree that he fell from all those years ago. The tree hadn’t bloomed yet but, he thought back on that memory so often he couldn’t have been mistaken.

“Last time we were here you were here because you weren’t allowed in the dining hall. Now you own it.” He smiled at you, proud of your accomplishments.

“And you were in the dirt covered in-” You said teasingly with a mischievous smile.

“Plums.” He said matter of factly

“You remember?” You asked genuinely surprised.

“Of course I do, I remember how you laughed at me.” He said teasingly as he chuckled.

“I apologized!” You giggled,

“It’s alright, I liked hearing you laugh. And seeing you smile.” He smiled at you in a way that caused a heat to spread throughout your whole body.

“You’ve grown.” You couldn’t believe how much more bold and confident he had become.

“You’ve grown as well.”

“People tend to do that.” You teased,

“That’s true, and yet after all that time I couldn’t ever get you out of my head.” He thought about his journey and how often he missed you, “On our journey we always heard murmuring about you. The things you were doing. The wars you and your brother won. The triumphs and lows of it all.” He looked down trying to contain himself, “I thought of you often.”

You felt a heat rush over your cheeks, “You were always a considerate friend.” You rationalized, and paused for a moment before you looked over at him, “I thought of you often…” you smiled “As well.”

“May I ask you something, and truly I don’t mean to offend-”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well this sounds interesting, go on.” You said smiling,

“What of any… suitors?” He asked awkwardly,

You huffed a laugh and then shook your head, “No.” You looked over at Podrick who was already looking at you with a dumbfounded look, “What?” You giggled. “I apologize, I just find it hard to believe that.”

“Well I’d not lie.” You smirked,

“No, of course not. It’s just that you are…” He looked at you, “Mesmerizing.” He studied you for a moment, and then felt content to do what he had been meaning to do for so long, “You’ve always been mesmerizing.” He took your hand,

“What?” Your eyes narrowed as he kneeled in front of you.

“Ever since I saw you, I’ve never been able to release myself from this feeling. The way your hair shines, the way your eyes glow.” He looked up at you, at how beautiful you looked under that plum tree, in the moonlight. “Ever since you kissed me, even though it was just-” He reminisced on the memory for a moment, “A peck on the cheek,” He shook his head, “I couldn’t feel satisfaction from anything else. And what's worse is that- I don’t want to, I don’t want to feel satisfaction from anything but the satisfaction you bring to me. And ever since I have been back here the feeling is so much worse.” His grip on your hand tightened as he searched your eyes for a hint of your own emotions.

You shook your head, “I’m sorry.” You said, not sorry for not feeling the same but for not understanding your own emotions.

“I-” He looked down, confident he was defeated, “Forgive me.”

“No,” You shook your head again, “Forgive me.” You held his face in your hands,

“For what?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion, and concern that he’d just ruined whatever relationship you two had had for good.

“For ignoring my own feelings for you.” You held his face closer to your own, “I’ve been doing it for so long…” Your eyes were filled with a pining that you didn’t know you had, “Far too long” He leaned in even further, your eyes drooping slowly but not losing contact with him. Your noses brushing against one another. Your lips finally meet softly, hardly even touching. his hand came to cup your jaw as yours carcassed the back of his head. As you closed your eyes your lips parted slightly allowing him to kiss you deeper.

nothing had ever felt so right. You knew then that you were born for him and he was born for you.

♥️

he gripped your waist, pressing you closer to his own body. He walked you back into the tree so he could lean into you even more.

“Gods” You whimpered into his lips, “You’ve gotten strong-“ your hands gripped at the muscles of his arms over his chainmail.

“Is this alright,” He asked to which you nodded and continued to kiss his lips.

The kiss somewhat restrained at first was now unhinged and desperate. His tongue met yours and you did not fight it, no you welcomed it.

His hand traveled down your jaw to your breast, gripping at it through your bodice with hunger. He groaned into your mouth but soon enough he couldn’t restrain himself and his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, to your breasts. They’d been a weakness of his for too long. “Gods” He groaned

“Tell me to stop and I will,“ His hand traveled up your inner thigh. His fingers, now rougher than they were before, stopped just before they reached your silk small clothes. His eyes looked into yours waiting for your que.

You looked at him, you ran your hand through his hair once more. His eyes met yours, desperate and hungry, no starving. You nodded at him, which made him smile and breathe a sigh of relief as his face returned to your breasts and his fingers began to run up and down the sensitive slit of your clothed cunt.

“Mmphm,” You moaned into his ear as his lips traveled over your cleavage.

His middle finger pressed against your hot damp entrance while his thumb moved in circles around your sensitive clit.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you whimpered from the pleasure. A pleasure so new. You’d used your own fingers or relieved yourself on a pillow before but this was different, a different game entirely.

You felt him grinding his arousal on your thigh as he moved your small clothes away, pushing one finger inside of you, slowly. “Ah!” You jolted towards him, grabbing ahold of his back pressing him closer to you.

He inserted another finger, pressing them deeper and deeper until they met your maiden head. His eyes found yours, and once again you nodded.

He kissed you deeply as he sunk his fingers into you. You gripped onto his hair and moaned out. As you moaned he bit your bottom lip. You held onto him tighter as the pain flashed across your body but was replaced by pleasure. “Are you alright?” you nodded, unable to find the words when he was pumping him fingers in and out you, “You did so well,” His eyes filled with love and adornment for you. But soon his lips returned to your neck and your breasts.

“Podrick,” You said breathlessly, “Pod?” You had to pull his face away from your breasts, though his lips wants to immediately latch onto yours, “I can’t,” You whined,

He pulled his fingers out of you and your hand away immediately,

“Not here,” You shook your head still trying to catch your breath,

“You’re the Queen, you can do what you please.” He said, half serious, wanting to rid you of your skirts and prove his love and himself there and now.

You giggled holding his face as he restrained himself for kissing you, “I want you to bed me in my chambers. Not here.”

“As you wish it, my Queen.” He smiled at you, and kissed you once more before rushing you off to your chambers.

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hiveworks · 1 year ago

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Interview with Mad Rupert, author of Sakana

September 2023

Sakana, the story of life and love in a fish market, is coming back from its hiatus soon! The strip comic style webcomic began in 2010 and follows Jiro, Taisei, Yuudai, and Chie as they navigate their relationships and learn to face their feelings. We asked creator Mad Rupert, author of Robber Robert and artist of Bunt!, for an interview to celebrate the series return.

Read Sakana | Shop books & merch | Read more Hiveworks comics

Sakana has been your baby for 13 years. What has the webcomic journey been like for you over the past decade?

It really has been over a decade, hasn’t it! There have certainly been ups and downs, periods where I was updating as much as I could, and also long hiatuses. I feel like webcomics have always been an amazing space to practice my craft and stretch my writing and drawing skills alike. You can kind of do anything you like with webcomics, and oftentimes people come up with wackier, and imho more interesting concepts than if they were beholden to a large publisher. Not that I haven’t made my fair share of traditionally-published comics and graphic novels… but there’s just something so gratifying about coming up with your own wild story and working towards its end on your own time. Webcomics are incredibly tough and time consuming, but also the ultimate form of self expression.

What is the origin of Sakana? What made you want to tell this story?

Sakana actually started as a class project when I was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design. I had been accepted into the Sequential Art department’s yearly Japan trip to study comics and cartooning in Tokyo for a few weeks, and our final project was to create 11 comic strips based off of something that made a strong impact on us during the trip. We had visited the old inner market (now demolished) of the Tsukiji Fish Market at 4am one morning, and it was the most incredible place I’d ever been, so I decided to craft a short story that took place in the market. Beyond the first 11 strips, I decided to continue the story for as long as I could as a way to practice the comic techniques I was learning in class. That was over a decade and 600 strips ago! It really has become the most ambitious project I’ve ever undertaken.

Do you have the ending already written? Do you see a conclusion in sight?

Yes! I’ve always had something at least resembling an end in mind throughout most of the comic’s lifespan. For a long-format comic like SAKANA, I think it’s very important to have a rough ending planned out as early as possible, otherwise it becomes difficult to keep the narrative moving in a satisfying direction, drop little tidbits of plot that will pay off later, or even maintain your enthusiasm for the project. To be clear, the details of Sakana's “end” have changed many times, which is only natural with a very long project like this. But I’ve always kept crucial details the same: basically certain characters in a certain place at a certain time doing certain things (to keep from getting too spoilery haha.) HOW they get there, WHY they’re there, and WHAT exactly they’re doing will ebb and flow as the years go by and I myself get older and older. But having a general sense of the end in mind has kept things moving all this time. The story’s got one more volume to go, and then I’ll be done!

Your hiatus is a result of working on a traditionally published graphic novel, coming in 2024. Is there anything you can tell us about your book?

My new graphic novel is called Bunt! and it’s a collaborative effort between myself and my dear pal, Ngozi Ukazu (author of popular webcomic Check, Please!) Ngozi wrote the book and I drew it, and we’re both really proud of what we’ve made! It’s already available for preorder all over the place and it will officially be out in stores in February 2024. We’re really looking forward to getting out there this fall and winter and spreading the word about it!

You recently successfully completed a Kickstarter for an 18+ comic, Robber Robert, as well. What is it like balancing these different narratives, genres, and mediums of publishing comics?

It’s definitely been a struggle at times to balance everything, and I definitely don’t recommend working on 3 giant projects at the same time! I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do it all at once, which led to me putting Sakana and RR on hiatus to finish Bunt!, and then keeping Sakana on hiatus while I finished up RR. I really burned myself out on comics for a while, and it’s been a huge struggle to get myself back to a good place with my work. Finishing Bunt! and RR Chapter 1 has really helped reenergize me, but I can always feel myself trying to overload my work schedule again and again. It’s my greatest weakness as a professional artist.

What keeps you inspired?

Making something for myself, practicing my craft, and putting my own stories out there are all huge driving forces in my life. Learning to stop overwhelming myself with work has also helped a lot. Looking back on all the art I’ve made and all the different things I’ve tried makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, so long as I give myself the time and space to enjoy the process.

Do you have any webcomic or graphic novel recommendations?

I’m a big fan of anything fantasy or sci-fi, especially if the narrative approaches the fantastical elements in a weird, unique, and kind of gay way haha. My favorite manga is currently Delicious in Dungeon, but I’m also a fan of historical series like Golden Kamuy and Bride’s Story. For webcomics, I love anything by Evan Dahm, like his long-format series Rice Boy and Vattu. As for Hiveworks comics, there’s too many to list individually but my current favorites are Fairmeadow by KP, and Tiger, Tiger by Petra Nordlund.

Any advice for new readers of Sakana?

I would say…despite its high page count, it’s not that long of a read! The strip format keeps it moving at a pretty quick clip when read all at once (but it certainly didn’t feel like that over the last 13 years updating one page at a time!) I know that the format and the black and white rendering might feel a little dated in the current era of Webtoons and full-color stories, but I’m too stubborn to change now, and I really appreciate anybody giving it a shot! Also, no matter who you are, or how much you dislike him in the beginning, Yuudai will probably be your favorite character.

You can read Sakana for free at sakana-comic.com and print books are available at hivemill.com

#sakana #webcomic #comic #webtoon #hiveworks #blog #interview

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dresshistorynerd · 9 months ago

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Ranking Men's Costumes in Period Dramas - Part II: The Good

Part I: The Bad

This is the second part to my ranking of men's costumes in Renaissance period dramas. I selected 10 shows and films which I think have great costuming for the female characters and ranked them according to their costumes for male characters. I have noticed that even when women's costuming is great, men's costuming might be absolutely dog shit. And that's very much what we saw in the first part, where I ranked the five worst entries. For some reason shows and movies are afraid to put men, especially the characters who are supposed to be cool, manly and hot, into historical costumes. And I'm not even asking for historical accuracy, I just don't want my male characters living in the actual 1500s in basically modern leather jackets and pants. Like I don't watch period dramas for vaguely historically inspired modern fashion, I watch it for the historical setting, which costumes help create. This time we will be looking some rare gems that actually imo have really good costuming even for the male characters. For the five best entries, we'll go from worst to best.

5. Eizabeth R (1971)

Elizabeth R is incredibly committed to historical accuracy in it's outfits, especially for queen Elizabeth herself, many of her costumes being directly recreated from her portraits. It covers the whole reign of Elizabeth, so this commitment is especially admirable as the timeline is more than 40 years, including a stark shift in fashion from less structured and more toned down Tudor fashion to the extremes of the highly structured Elizabethan fashion. It's not perfect, The hair is not always great and like many others they fail at French hoods, though they are not upward pointing or pseudo crowns detached from the hood, so could be much worse.

The men's costumes are also very good. They are faithful to history, they wear stockings, very short trunk hose, ruffs and even have some structuring in their doublets and jerkins. However, the reason this is not higher is that the men's costumes especially, but also many other costumes beside Elizabeth's are looking a little sloppy. There's some structure yes, but the men's silhouettes are just not bold enough and they end up looking a little costumy. Even the codpieces are shrunk so small I'm not even sure if they are there half the time. Cowardice. Here's two Robert Dudley's costumes and an actual portrait of him. I think the second costume is probably an attempt at recreation of that portrait, but it's just kinda halfway there.

4. Taming of the Shrew (1967)

This film is set in Renaissance Italy, the women's costumes fit well to 1520s-30s. They are honestly really great and cohesive. My only gripe is that their bodices have a very 1960s shape and the make-up is a little distractingly modern. But the costuming is not attempting to recreate historical accuracy, rather they took the historical silhouette and basic elements and crafted a very over the top but cohesive look. I honestly love these very much.

An interesting choice is made with the men's costuming, especially the main male lead, whose costume is based much more on the Renaissance German men's fashion of that period. His costumes resemble the over the top fashion of the German Landsknecht (first image below). In Italy (second image below) the doublets were also very voluminous and quite colourful but not to that extent as by the Landsknecht and literally no one, not even the other Germans, rocked that slashed style as hard.

This is not really criticism though. In fact I respect that choice a lot. His costumes are certainly not historically accurate, but they do fit the bombastic aesthetics of the overall costuming, they are loud, large and not afraid to fuck around. This man oozes sex-appeal much more than any character with some modern plain black pants and leather jacket. This is how you costume a Renaissance man who fucks.

3. Tulip Fever (2017)

I am stretching the definition or Renaissance here a bit, I admit. This movie is set during the 1630s tulip mania, by which point the remnants of Renaissance fashion had already been left to the previous decade. However, I do think most of the movies and TV set in Baroque era also struggle with the men's costumes. Though not as much, because black was fashionable for everyone, the cod piece was gone, trunk hose were replaced by more palatable Venetian hose, fashion was much more stripped down from embellishments, leather was not uncommon in jerkins and appeared even in doublets and hose and the Hollywood's beloved boots became actual fashion items. The men's silhouette in this period is very silly in my opinion and people seem to agree because it's usually skipped in costuming, but overall the period seems to fit modern masculinity standards much more easily than Renaissance era.

But I just really wanted to include this because the costuming is absolutely stunning (and let's be honest we are a bit desperate here trying to find 5 actually good examples). I have not watched the movie and probably never will because the post production was an absolute mess and it apparently came out as just a very bad movie, which is a shame, since the costumes are so good. The ruffs are perfectly crispy. The buttons are dense and look just right. The shoes, both boots and otherwise are so on point. The fabrics are honestly perfect. The silhouettes are just as goofy as they are supposed to be. And the women too have perfect silhouettes. All the details are just simply perfect. You rarely find costuming this meticulously created with historical details and great construction.

Honestly these top three could all be the best one. This final order was decided purely on which costumes I like more. And while I love the women's fashion of this period, I think the men's fashion is kinda stupid and boring, so I don't like these costumes on aesthetic level as much as the top two.

2. Romeo and Juliet (1968)

This movie is a perfect counterpart to the movie with the worst men's costuming which I talked about in the first post, Rosaline. They are both set in Italy around very end of 15th century and retell Romeo and Juliet. Both have very good costuming for female characters but obviously I think differ greatly in the male character costuming department. Romeo and Juliet costuming takes some artistic liberties to create a heightened reality quite similar to Taming of the Shrew costuming, but follows history much more closely. The colors are bright, the hose are tight, the giorneas are voluminous, the sleeves are long and massive and the cod pieces are prominent. Even the hair is perfect, even for women, they even use hairnets. I imagine the men's hair was quite easy to get right as hairstyles in 60s and 70s were basically lifted directly from 1400s Italian men's hairstyles. The men are even wearing appropriate goofy hats??? Amazing.

The costuming perfectly captures the era, but they still clearly had fun with it too. Honestly even though I appreciate the meticulously recreated historically accurate costuming, like in Tulip Fever, I tend to like more costuming that does take some artistic liberties to create a distinct look and atmosphere for the movie or TV show. There's some small things they don't get quite right, like having standard lacing instead of ladder lacing, metal eyelets (which would become a thing as late as in 1830s) and most egregiously Juliet in one scene has this very dumb supportive undergarment without even shift under it (first picture below)?? The outer garments were supportive during this era, there was no such thing as supportive undergarment which was any different from the outer kirtle (or gamurra in Italy). Shift was the only truly undergarment. But I will forgive these errors because the costuming is overall so fun and gorgeous. And they did get some details so so right, like look at Romeo's arming doublet (second picture below)! It has Lombardian sleeves!! This was a very specific style of arming doublet for this era and place. However those errors does prevent it from taking the first place. Which leads us to...

1. Orlando (1992)

This movie has Tilda Swinton in flamboyant Elizabethan men's clothing. That's all.

Okay, I that is all that needs to be said, but I will say more. This movie spans centuries and shows excellent costumes from several different periods, but I will focus on the Elizabethan costumes only for the sake of this post. The costuming is not super historically accurate in all the detailing, and clearly not trying to be, but it is always impeccable. Even while it takes artistic liberties and the story has an immortality fantastical element it still captures the men's fashion's silhouette much better than any other movie or TV show I know of set in this period. It does that better than the "we recreated these portraits" Elizabeth R. But what really makes this the best in my humble opinion, is that the movie is not afraid of the effeminate and emasculated modern perception of Renaissance men's fashion, no, it leans into it and uses it to explore the themes. The whole story is very much about gender and gender fuckery. Tilda Swinton plays the titular Orlando who is a cis man in Elizabethan era, becomes inexplicably immortal and later inexplicably turns into a woman for the rest of their several centuries. He is the embodiment of "I'm not sure if they are a butch or a twink" and as a bisexual I can only be grateful. But in all seriousness I think the costuming and the casting (queen Elizabeth is also played by a male actor) are so perfectly utilized to highlight the arbitrary construction of gender without needing to say it explicitly.

Conclusion

I have some closing thoughts. I took on this task as a way to show a point, which is that for some reason in Renaissance shows and film especially men's costuming is piss-poor, even when women's costuming is great. Male characters tend to have very bad costuming in Medieval media too, though this is also an issue for female characters. I don't think I have ever seen a Medieval show or movie with truly excellent costuming for anyone. In Renaissance media the issue is clearly not lack of skill or knowledge, they choose to do so. My thesis was that the producers think that the Renaissance men's fashion is too effeminate and too unsexy for the Hot Very Heterosexual Male Lead, who the mostly female audience are supposed fawn over like the female characters do. After the analysis think my hypothesis holds up.

Though there's an interesting trend I only noticed while doing this ranking; every entry (except the least bad) in the worst five list are from 21th century, and every entry (except Tulip Fever which is a little bit cheating anyway) in this best five list are from 20th century. I have some theories on why it turned out this way. First is that the studios have become increasingly more concerned with growing profits so they don't take risks and they put pressure on movies and TV shows to be as broadly appealing as possible. This means they can't just make period dramas for the core audience of period dramas, aka mostly women who are history nerds, so they pander to the modern sensibilities in costuming and not to the people who love to see actual historical costuming. Secondly, I think this might also tie to the broader conservative backlash against loosening of gender roles and broader queer acceptance. Among the core audiences of period dramas there are two distinct groups, queer nerds and conservative women, who don't want politics in their media, which is why they love historical stories because obviously queerness wasn't invented yet and people of colour didn't exist yet (they were and did). (They are ofc not always this extreme, but you get the point.) As men wearing dresses has become a culture war issue, I think the studio executives are afraid that anything not masculine enough in modern standards might alienate the more conservative audiences, and more broadly those who don't want to feel like they are engaging with modern political culture war topics in their escapist media. Even if they knew about the queer nerds, they wouldn't care about them and assume they will go along with it anyway. After all not challenging modern gender roles is not seen as an active choice, it's the default.

This bears repeating: cowards.

As a thank you for reading all the way to the end I will leave you with the image of Tilda Swinton in mid 1600s men's clothing. You are welcome.

Part I: The Bad

#fashion history #history #historical costuming #costuming #renaissance fashion #renaissance costuming #film costuming #historical men's fashion

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itsharleystuff · 1 year ago

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↳ II. 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘝𝘖𝘐𝘋

Read part one here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k (once again, I’m sorry)

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your steamy encounter with Joel during your homecoming party, things between you have been stagnant. Although, fate seems to be on your side when both Sarah and your dad have to leave town for a short while.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, p in v sex, Joel hits it from behind, blowjobs, some teasing, a bit of spanking, pet names (darling, sweetheart, honey), unprotected sex (pls do not attempt), cum eating, taking nsfw photos, Joel tries to be dom but fails, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), reader is kind of a brat, fluff and feelings (yes, this is a warning), alcohol consumption, brief mention of family death. Barely edited, sorryyy. No use of y/n.

—A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone but I suggest reading the previous part for a better understanding. Btw, there’s a couple of Easter eggs from the game in this! Also— I tried making a moodboard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ll probably stick to gifs in the future, lol.

“I like Indiana Jones," you babble, taking a sip from your coffee without looking at anyone in specific. "I was twelve and in love with Harrison Ford..."

"Okay, so that's one movie we're definitely not going to watch." Sarah chimes in, lazily chewing on her scrambled eggs. "How do you feel about Robert Pattinson?"

"That depends," you reply, moving your head side to side in a contemplative manner, "are we talking twilight or Harry Potter?"

You hear your dad snort on the other side of the table and see Joel chuckling beside him. Sarah crosses both arms over her chest and raises a brow at them. “What's so funny?"

"Nothing," your dad clears his throat and side-eyes his friend. "Just thought you two were a bit old for those crappy vampire movies. Maybe watch-"

"Forgive me, but I don't think it's a good idea to take recommendations from either of you," you cut him off, leaning back on your chair. "You're both obsessed with die hard, think The Godfather is incredibly complex and in your spare time watch construction programs. We'll be fine on our own."

"Touché..."

It's been three weeks since your homecoming party, and ever since then it has become a habit to have breakfast together every weekend. Today, Saturday, it was the Miller's turn to cook, which consequently had you and your father sitting at their table. As of now, you and Sarah were discussing your movie night, which had to be postponed due to her road-trip to San Antonio— apparently, she and her friend Ellie were going to visit some college campuses there.

It's also been three weeks since that little, hot encounter you and Joel had in your kitchen. And, contrary to your better judgement, both of you were more than eager to spend some extra time alone. Things since then had been uneasy, specially when being surrounded by others; always worried that someone might notice those stolen looks you'd share or sense the palpable tension that rose when you would stand too close to each other.

You try not to think about it. Except when you do. A swirl of memories would come flooding your mind in the most inappropriate moments, creating that heat that made you remember exactly how his fingers felt inside you, his tongue between your folds, the sloppy kisses and that feral, hungry look in his eyes while eating you out, touching you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"How about pride and prejudice?" the girl wonders, standing up to clean her dishes and snapping you back to reality.

"Shit, I love period dramas!" your dad shoots you a reproachful glare at your language, but you chose to ignore it. "As a matter of fact, most of my designs are inspired by the Victorian and regency eras."

"Oh, yeah," Sarah recalls, "I remember I read about it in one of your blogs. Dad showed it to me, by the way..." Joel clears his throat loudly, making her giggle.

Although she had mentioned it before, it was still kind of weird that he acknowledged your work. At first you thought it was merely because he wanted to connect with you somehow, but lately he'd been asking if he could see your new sketches and would let you borrow some old magazines he had around the house. Your best friend, Sophie, mentioned he might've been trying to show his interest in you subconsciously. And she was that one psychic friend who believed in zodiac signs and angel numbers, so you decided to believe her.

In that moment, your dad receives an incoming call on his cellphone; he excuses himself and heads to the living room. Your eyes lock with Joel's, and the fact that he was uninhibitedly staring back at you drew a smug smile on your face.

"Are you interested in fashion, Mr. Miller?" he sulks out a dry 'no', but you could see him fidget with his watch nervously. "Pity. I thought maybe you could model some of my male designs."

Sarah genuinely cracks up at your comment, slapping one hand on the table. "You want dad to pose for you? Seriously?"

"Why not? I brought my Polaroid camera, I can get some very nice shots." You were partially joking, but deep down you just wanted to see how he'd react.

"I mean, I know dad's got his charm with women, or so they keep saying-"

"No way anyone says that," he rambles.

"But the idea of him modeling is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

The fact was that you didn't want to take pictures of him so anyone else could see them. You wanted them exclusively for yourself. A couple of naughty Polaroids to keep around for whenever you were aching for him —which has been nearly every fucking night since your arrival—.

"It was a silly idea," you finally agree, shrugging. Joel stands to take his things to the sink. "Do you really have to leave for the weekend? You're like, my only friend here."

"Uh, about that..." she leans in towards you and you can practically smell a scheme on her. "Would you be mad if I gave your number to someone?"

You can quite literally feel the man standing behind you tense up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, like... To a guy." She moves in her place, but there's still no answer from you. "He's my English teacher. His name is Will and he's super smart, young, really funny and very handsome, I might add. I believe he can be your new male model." Sarah adds that last bit with a grin.

When you turn your head to see Joel, there was a deep scowl etching on his face, his body remaining still as a stone.

"I don't know... As friends, maybe." You weren't sure why, but the idea of meeting anyone new didn't really sound appealing.

She opened her mouth to say something but before she could actually do so, your dad walked in again. He appeared upset, gesturing nonsense and muttering impassively.

"What's wrong?" your tone comes out concerned.

"I have a meeting in Boston," he sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder apologetically. "Apparently it's urgent and I have to catch the next flight if I want to be there by nightfall."

"Oh, don't worry," you smile at him warmly. "I understand. Besides, I'm an adult. I can manage a weekend by myself."

He nods, still seemingly aloof. "I know but- I just wanted to spend some more time with you."

And of course you wanted that too, but saying it out loud could literally bring him to quit his job. He was always very extreme when it came down to you.

"What time d’you leave?" his friend asks him.

"Half past four. Why?"

"I can drop Sarah off at Ellie's and then drive you to the airport, if you'd like." Such a caring friend, Joel Miller. So selfless. Helping your dad out, attending his daughter's every special need...

"Yeah, thanks a lot, man. Take care of my little girl while I'm away."

You see his eyes gleam with a mix of unknown emotions, "Will do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The last few days had been no less than torment for Joel. Each moment that went by in which he didn't get a chance to be near you had him losing his mind. Badly. And it wasn't necessarily a physical thing— not always, at least.

Every morning, he would wake up and go to work, knowing for certain that when he comes back home he'll find you hanging around with Sarah or sitting out on your porch with a sketching notebook on your lap.

He liked to guess what you'd be doing.

Would you be playing board games with his daughter? Watching a movie or baking desserts? Maybe you were thrift shopping with your dad or simply going to the mall. And later on, when he finally gets to see you again, you'd tell him all about it.

Joel also liked to imagine what kind of clothes you'd be wearing. One thing he noticed is that you never stick to one particular style or aesthetic. One day you could be wearing pastel sundresses with ribbons in your hair; the next one could be long, black skirts paired with basic tank tops and multiple necklaces, or even something more extravagant, depending on your mood.

Seeing you was an experience— one that he could never get tired of. It's like every time he sets his eyes on you there's a certain color palette that changes constantly, or the feeling of gathering all your favorite songs into one playlist and then hitting the shuffle button. He never knows what to expect. Hence why he had given up on trying to relate you to the silly things around; like seasons, animals, artists or foods. Instead, he started associating you with feelings.

You were creative, unique and incredibly fearless. In a way, you made him feel uneasy, excited, thrilled, confident and many more emotions at the same time. If he had to describe you in one word, he'd say evoking.

Oh, how you pestered his brain.

He hated how much he thought about you, and how little guilt he felt from it.

Right now he was sitting on the drivers seat of his truck, waiting at the airport's parking lot. You asked him if you could walk your dad to his corresponding gate and he agreed. The downside: it had started to rain, probably not too bad for your dad's flight to be delayed but enough for your clothes to get soaked on your way back.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you muttered, shutting the passenger's door behind you. “The seats are gonna get all wet..."

"Here," Joel takes off his jacket to place it over your shoulders.

It feels warm and it smells like him, "Thanks."

He starts the car without saying anything else, keeping his eyes glued to the road. You, on the other hand, could not stop staring at him. Now that no one else was around, there was no shame in admiring his side profile, the way his muscles flexed and his hands grasped the wheel. There was something inherently attractive about men driving, but- Jesus... This image had your mind roaming around dark places.

Suddenly, realization sinks in— you're alone.

Alone with him.

"I, uh..." he taps the wheel with his thumb, still avoiding your gaze. "I wanted to take you out for dinner. The weather kinda ruined it."

The corners of your mouth hitch up in a silly smile. "Too bad. I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

Joel hums, appearing somewhat distraught. In reality, he was fighting for his life. The clothes you chose to wear today were not fitted for the rain; denim mini-skirt, high pair of boots and a white top that complimented your upper body. He tried not to look at the raindrops rolling down your thighs or note how transparent your shirt has become, forcing himself to stare at your hands and the many rings that decorated your fingers, seeing there the one he gifted you.

"How about you come over to my place?" you suggest, trying to catch his attention. "I'll need a shower and a change of clothes but... Maybe we can do something afterwards."

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, still avoiding your gaze, "Like what?"

This time your voice goes lower, a smirk spreads across your face and something in your eyes flickers; a darker, sensual spark.

"Oh, you know..." your hand carefully comes to rest on his knee. His thigh tenses but he doesn't say or do anything to push you away. "Whatever you want."

He swallows hard, feeling the pads of your fingers run circles on his leg, your nails mildly scratching over the jeans in a way that raises goosebumps on his skin and eases his nerves.

"I've got a better idea," he says, keeping his tone calm —barely—. "Why don't you come to my house instead?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Sure, but- what about my clothes?"

And then he smiles cockily, as if this had been his plan all along, "Wear mine."

Well, there was absolutely no way you were going to turn him down. With a bit more boldness, you slide your hand a few inches up his inner thigh, still rubbing soothing patterns. His jaw clenched, but remained silent and apparently unbothered.

"Joel?" his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, in a way only you knew how to. He uttered a 'hm?' in retort. "Did you miss me?"

"I've seen you nearly every day," he answers playfully.

You laugh, stopping your movements and simply resting your palm there. "So... No?"

"Didn't say that, darlin'." The truck suddenly stops at a red light as he exhales heavily, giving in to you at last. "But I'll let you guess."

A push and pull game, like a cat chasing a mouse. Your smirk widens. "I don't think so. Not as much as I have."

His eyes scan your body from head to toe, the way you sit with your legs slightly parted, back laying flat against the seat and face turned towards him with heated cheeks and low gaze. Unexpectedly, your hand draws back from his lap as you start looking through your purse and a frown forms on his face, baffled by the loss of contact.

"Which is why..." you take the Polaroid camera out and see a whole shift in his eyes, like he's about to burst in laughter. "I brought this."

"No," despite his categorical denial, you still held the object up.

"You have a green light," he curses under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. "Just let me have one, please."

He sighs in defeat, "Why'd you want that?"

The rain had started to settle down but the air was still pretty cold, all that could be heard besides your own voices being the drops that crashed against the car.

"Cause you're handsome," he rolls his eyes sarcastically. "And I like you."

Hell, you were always so straightforward. It made his heart jump inside his chest, wondering if it was gonna burst out.

"You won't like me as much once you meet that Will dude," Joel prattles through gritted teeth, remembering his daughter's suggestion from earlier.

"The guy Sarah mentioned?" your brows furrow subtly. "Why? What's up with him?"

He yanks his head to the side, glancing over at you for a second, "Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud." In spite of your puzzled expression, he decides to grant your wish. "I'll let ya' take it. But only if I get one in return."

Your lips purse in a smile, "As many as you like, Miller."

He doesn't say anything in response, but his grin doesn’t fade either and you managed to capture it on paper. The image slowly started to become visible and your first thought was how well it captured the whole 'Joel Miller' essence. It was a simple photo of him driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm thrown lazily over the backseat. That denim shirt hugged his arms exquisitely, the rolled-up sleeves adding to his appeal. He was looking at you when it was taken, so you could see more than half his face— and the way he was grinning, you couldn't help but think he appeared so much younger when he did that. The entire thing felt so much like him: snuggly, blue, genuine and you absolutely loved it.

"There," you show it to him as he started to pull over. "Isn't it nice?"

"Just keep it to yourself, aight?" the man grumbles.

"F'course," with a spark of joy, you slide the photo inside your wallet. "Wouldn't want anyone else peeking at that gorgeous smile of yours. That's a treasure of my own."

"Shut up-" he rumbled, turning his face the other way and opening the door, seemingly flustered. And out of all the amazing things you've accomplished in your life, making this rugged looking man blush was probably your greatest pride.

When he helps you out of the car, holding your hand firmly and cleaving to your waist; you wanted nothing more than to kiss him under the pouring rain, wildly and unhinged, just like last time. But this particular spot possibly had too many curious eyes of which you were unaware of. He obviously doesn't need to guide you through his house, since you already know nearly every corner of it, except for one. His bedroom. And apparently, that's the precise location he's taking you to.

"Please excuse the mess," he says, placing one hand on the door handle, "I haven't had a woman in here for ages, so I'm afraid I probably won't live up to your expectations."

"Joel," you snort, "it's been a decade and a half since you last dated anyone. Trust me, my expectations are pretty low."

He scowls, squinting both eyes. "You didn't have to say it like that..."

It's honestly better than you thought. His bed is nicely done, brown bedsheets striking as warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a pretty, light shade of blue that matched the grayish curtains on the left. The drawers in front of his windows had a bunch of stuff scattered on top of them: a CD player along with a few music discs, some papers, a cap and a pair of reading glasses, batteries, one screwdriver and a framed picture of him and Sarah at the beach. Meanwhile, the nightstand simply had one lamp and an alarm-clock on it. Over the bed's headboard were one poster of a music festival, the image of a landscape and an advert of what you guessed must've been a club, that read 'tacos and beer" on it. The door to the bathroom was on the right.

Messy, yet tidy at the same time. Very Joel-like.

"No way..." you murmur, eyeing the guitar beside his bed. "All this time I thought it was a myth."

"What?" he asks from behind you.

"Dad told me you used to serenade girls back in college and that you wanted to become a singer." A giggle escapes your lips, unable to contain it. "I remember saying he was surely making it up, but..."

"I didn't- I mean..." he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and feeling his chest swell with your laughter. "Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." The lingering, mischievous smile on your face made his heart pound and blood rush. "Come on, Miller. Shut me up, I dare you."

His eyes darken, but you don't falter for a second. He doesn't move a muscle, solely watching as you took off his jacket and threw it to the bed.

"You dare me?" his voice goes drops an octave, following your every move closely. "That's rather bold of you, sweetheart."

"Mhm," without breaking eye contact, you start taking off your boots. "And yet you're doing nothing about it."

Joel starts walking towards you slowly, holding your gaze intently. Your hair was damp and your clothes were still wet; it didn't really matter that the air was chilly cause you still felt warm all over. He soon invades your space, cupping your chin in his big hand and lifting your head upwards.

"Well, you're awfully quiet now, aren't ya'?" his hot breath fanned across your cheeks, the gap between your faces being basically invisible.

"I'm just waiting for you to start singing some random song by Alabama or Johnny Cash," you scoff. "Like a good ol' Texan ma-"

He doesn't let you finish the sentence, abruptly crashing his lips into your own. Joel isn't delicate about it and the fervor with which he kisses you makes your body stumble a few steps backwards. Your shoulders hit the wall and he pins you against it as your mouths find a way to mold perfectly, at a much nicer pace than last time. You throw your hands around his neck and let your fingers tangle in the curls around his nape, tasting the fresh mint on his lips. His hands rest on your hips, chests pressed together as the temperature kept rising with each second that went on.

You part your lips in order to grant him deeper access, feeling his tongue slide past your teeth and meeting your own in an ardent, heated way. It was perfect, until he broke apart, looking down at you with an asserted confidence.

"You really know nothing 'bout country music," he says in between shaky breaths, beaming. "S'that what you wanted?"

"Yes," you manage to say.

"Then say 'thank you'," Joel indicates petulantly, stroking your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, don't be such a brat."

You blink twice, your brain still buzzing with the sensation of mouth on you, barely capable of processing anything else. "But I want more..."

"You'll take what I give you."

Shit, when he said it like that- "Thank you."

"That's my girl," he straightened his back, opening the door next to you. "Now, get your pretty ass in the shower before you catch a cold, 'kay?" You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle. "There's clean towers under the sink. You can take some clothes from my drawers, or Sarah's if you feel like it. I don't think she'll mind."

"Understood." He can tell you're annoyed, which he finds funny.

"Don't be mad at me, angel." Joel tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. "Promise I'll make it up to you."

You nod distractedly, lost in the cocky spark on his eyes. "I'm not mad. Just hoping you fuck me real good if you're making me wait for it."

Your words almost make him choke on his own saliva. "Sweetheart, you're making it real hard for me to be a gentleman."

It makes your ego boost, in a sense. "I'll be quick. Can you get something for dinner, though? I'm starving."

"Shit, darlin', pick a struggle," he mocks as you enter the bathroom, "are you horny or hungry?"

"Oh, you jerk!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

6:15 pm.

You take a quick glance at Joel's alarm clock once you come out of the shower. It's been little more than an hour since your dad's plane took off. You hope the rain hadn’t made his flight any difficult, cause the weather turned out to be quite a blessing for you.

The cozy feeling of a nice, warm shower after being soaked under the rain was starting to settle in your bones, making your limbs relax. Then you realize, you smell like Joel. The scent of his soap, his shampoo, even his laundry detergent, is all over you. It's intoxicating in the most fantastic way possible, making your insides burn with a thrill of excitement. You took one on his flannels, —dark green with red stripes— and decided to wear it without anything besides your underwear. It was pretty big anyway, and covered just the necessary areas.

You slid your socks back on when all of the sudden you hear the faint sound of music from the floor beneath. Curious, you walk towards the noise, finding out Joel was in the kitchen, crouched down in front of the opened fridge. The CD player that you saw earlier on his room was now on the table, playing a melody that you recognized almost immediately.

"I like this song," you say, leaning against the wall. "That's Billy Idol, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he recalls, taking out a medium sized plastic box from the fridge. "Tommy made that mix. There's plenty of hits from past decades. I think you'll enjoy it."

The man finally turns around to face you and his face fails to hide his surprise. The way his prying eyes sweep your body in detail, taking his time particularly on your bare thighs, almost made you feel self-conscious if it weren't for that shadow of desire that crossed his eyes and the way his nostrils flared from a contained breath.

"How is he, by the way?" you ask, still on the subject. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Who?" he clearly forgot what he had just said.

"Your brother," you call to mind, "how is he?"

Joel sets the box down on the table and drifts his gaze back to your face. "Fine, I guess. Last time we spoke he said he'd go to Dallas." He takes two glasses from the pantry and what it looks like a bottle of wine. "I-uh... There isn't any real food in here besides those strawberries and chocolates that this guy brought for Sarah. Should I order something?"

You shake your head and walk over to him, "This will do. Won't she get mad if we eat them, though?"

"Don't think so," he replies, pouring the red liquid into the glasses. "I'll blame you if she does."

"Oh, okay-" you cock an eyebrow at him and hold back a giggle. "Thought you didn't like wine."

"It's a fancy drink," he explains, "s'only for special occasions."

"Oh?" you take a sip from it, eyes boring into his. "And what's tonight's?"

Joel smiles conceitedly, jutting his chin out. "I've got you all to myself."

You snort, feeling the heat soar across your cheeks. He takes the snack box and with a sly gesture asks you to follow him into the living room, the melodic sound of the eighties tune turning to background noise as you do. The only lights on are the ones in the kitchen and the lamps beside the couch, shining a perfect light on his features.

"Come here," he calls, the leather squealing under his weight when he sat down. You set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the tv, going to sit next to him. "No, sweetheart," he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I meant here."

His legs part slightly, making room for you to sit on his lap. Your smile broadened toward a soft chuckle, settling yourself on his thigh. Joel immediately gets his hands on you, one on your lower back and the other merely resting on your upper leg.

"So, who's this mystery man that's been giving gifts to your darling daughter?" he scoffs in response, reaching for a chocolate from the box.

"Honestly? No fuckin' clue." You hum in surprise, drinking from your wine. "She never involves with them, thank god, and once they meet me they never come by again."

"I see,” you muse, “you're the overprotective type," you bite on a strawberry next.

"I wouldn't say it like that..." he sees the sarcastic glimpse on your expression and holds back laughter. "It's a dad reflex, I can't control it."

"Right, sounds convincing."

You stretch your arm behind the couch, setting your elbow and laying the side of your face on your palm. His face is very close to yours but all you do is simply stare at each other; Joel's big brown eyes glimmer with infatuation. “Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?" he asks lowly. "Somethin' more serious."

You wince in confusion, but still nod, "Sure."

He inhales sharply, taking a couple of seconds to actually say what he meant to. “Why are you here?" your frown deepens at his words. "I mean- Texas. I know you said you wanted to make up for the lost time with your old man, but... I feel like there's something else you're not saying."

It takes a minute for you to really sink in on his question. You nearly gulp down the alcohol before setting the glass down, avoiding his ardent gaze.

"Honestly?" you sigh, "There's so much to unpack that I don't even know where to start."

"Try." Although he didn't sound harsh, the effort he was asking you to put in wasn't something of your liking.

"Well, first of all," you meditate, clearing your throat, "the city didn't feel like home since my mom passed. It made me realize how much I missed here." He nods comprehensively, caressing the exposed skin of your thigh in a reassuring manner. "And then there's this- fear. Yeah, I guess it is fear... I've managed to accomplish so much in such short time that it actually fucking scares me to go any further and see that-" you stop, sighing and shaking your head. "That I've reached my limit."

For a moment, there's just silence floating between you, all that could be heard were the rain and a song by tears for fears.

"Darlin', look at me," he asks softly but you can't bring yourself to do it, embarrassed by your confession. "Please, let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

And it's practically impossible for you to deny him anything. Specially when he asks so nicely, when his hand grabs the side of your face so gently— you give in, just like that.

"You're afraid to succeed because you don't know what to do with yourself afterwards. Is that it?" You nod faintly. "Can I speak frankly?"

"I have a feeling you will anyway-"

"Yeah. A bit of tough love, but you need’a hear it." Joel strokes your cheek sweetly and you get shivers from the affection in the action. "Sweetheart, I know what you're going through. Shit feels like it's either moving too fast or not moving at all. And I know how scary that is. Trust me, there's still plenty of time for you."

You square your eyes to his, "Sure, bet you were frightened when you were twenty four."

"Terrified," he spoke truthfully. "Everyone I knew was getting married, moving out or working their asses off."

"And you?" he grunts, taking a strawberry from the box. "What were you doing?" Joel eats the fruit patiently, simply staring at you silently. "Come ooon, don't play hard to get."

"Gotta promise you won't laugh."

It's a tricky business for someone who makes fun of everything, and yet you simply reply: "I swear."

"Fine," he rasps out in fake annoyance. "I used to make my own guitars and- sell 'em sometimes. I'd also teach guitar lessons and horseback riding."

Your eyes widen in surprise and something flutters in your stomach. "Shit, that's actually pretty cool!"

He groans, rolling his eyes at the same time, "I told you not to make fun of me."

"No, no- I mean it." You shuffle on his lap, resting a hand on his chest. "And you sound passionate about it... Why'd you stop?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, tightening his grip on your waist. "It went well for a couple years but I eventually had to get something more solid. More so after Sarah was born." He takes a deep breath in, the smell of his own shampoo on your hair hitting his nostrils and catching him off-guard.

"You should teach me," you suggest with a smug grin. "I always wanted to learn."

"What, guitar or horseback riding?" he wonders, suddenly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck.

"Guitar. I'm pretty good at riding, if you must know." You feel him chuckle against your body, his facial hair scratching your sensitive skin.

"We'll see 'bout that," his voice comes out husky as he starts kissing along your jawline.

Joel's common sense jumped out the window long ago, but the string of self control that kept him sane all this time couldn't bear the weight of you wriggling on top of him, semi-naked and with his scent all over you. Something primal took over him, a glimpse of possessiveness that he didn't believe himself capable of feeling towards you specifically. He wanted you to wear that flannel around town so people would look at you and know who it belonged to; whose bed you've been visiting. He wanted you to smell of his cologne so other men would know that you weren't free for them.

Your fingers run through his soft curls, messing his hair while he grabs the back of your thighs and manhandles you onto straddling his lap. He nips and licks over all your vulnerable areas, making your breathing start to labour. How could he possibly know this well the easiest ways to have you so desperate this quick? Leaning into his touch, yearning for him even with the smallest action? He wasn't aware of the answer himself, he just knew.

Joel instinctively throws his head back when you tug at his hair and seize the opportunity to duck down and lay a sweet kiss on his forehead. His hands coast up your thighs, splaying his fingers on your ass to squeeze the flesh. You hold back a giggle, kissing the curve of his nose before catching his soft, soft lips on yours.

He slides an arm around your waist, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to keep you as close as possible. You feel your nipples harden when his tongue ran along your bottom lip— tauntingly slow, until you allowed him full access to your mouth, letting him taste the sweet mixture of wine and strawberries on your tongue. But his vehemence didn't make you any less eager, kissing him back with just as much passion and vigor, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and mildly pulling at it with minor strength.

The action ignites a fire within him, seeing you on top, feeling your fingers roam around his cheekbones and along his jawline like you knew just how much fucking power you had over him... It was a new sensation, a new kind of desire he didn't recognize at first.

Joel's lips were swollen and his own excitement was starting to feel evident underneath you, which created a blunt ache between your legs. He usually appeared so big and mean, with those broad shoulders and permanent scowl on his face. Now, though... He seemed like he'd let you do just about anything with him, to him— it didn't really matter as long as you kept staring at him like that; through heavy lids, eyes sparkling with a profound, desperate need that spoke without words, saying 'only you get to see this side of me'.

You start grinding your hips against his, rubbing your clothed core above his growing boner in small, calculated circles as you shore yourself up with a hand to his chest. He merely admired you from his position, letting you have your way with him; all the while his gaze reflected patience, like he could take over the situation any second but enjoyed watching you lead.

"Joel," you call his name, leaning forward to kiss his chin, moving your lips all the way down his throat and feeling the nice scratch of his beard. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt as you come up to whisper in his ear: "Stay still."

Panting, he narrows his eyes in confusion, "What?" Though you don't give him enough time to figure out your words, getting back on your feet and parting his legs further with a light thump of your knee.

He observes your every move quietly, amused by your confidence and determination when you drop to your knees in front of him. Joel's cocky expression doesn't sway, not even when you drag your nails across his inner thigh, inching closer towards his very visible hard on. However, his body betrays him, selling a whole different story. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," he hissed, refusing to place his hands on you.

"Or what?" you drawl, coming to rest your palm on his crotch. A simple, feathery touch that made his pulse accelerate.

"You'll regret it," he warns grimly.

"S'that so?" you start to unbuckle his belt, way too slow for his liking, tugging down the zipper of his jeans. "I think I can handle it."

He smirked, his hand slithers to the back of your scalp and forces you to lock eyes with him. "Don't test your luck, sweetheart."

You pout mockingly, doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying while dragging down the fabric just enough to free his cock. Your new found courage falters for a second, finally seeing him in all his size and girth. He was, by all means, a big one, the amount of precome oozing on the tip telling you just how much he loved being teased, despite whatever words came out of his mouth. The mere sight of it sent a new heated wave of slick between your thighs.

Joel mimicked your expression scornfully, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, "Too big for ya'?"

"None of that," you wrap your hand around the base, not really applying any pressure; though the sole warmth of your touch was enough to give him goosebumps, "we'll make it fit."

"That's my girl."

With a chuckle, you lower your head to kiss the inside of his thigh, the pads of your fingers softly grazing the veins on his length. His whole body shudders, leaking onto your hand and letting out a subtle gasp as you spread kisses all along his shaft. Your eyes peer into his soul when you gently place your lips to the slit, tasting the salty precome as he calls your name in what resembles a desperate plea. In a swift move, you finally take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and deciding to put an end to his suffering. He mutters a gruff 'fuck' when you attempt to take him farther, pumping what you couldn't yet fit and snaking your free hand under the hem of his denim shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Shit, darlin'-" you feel the heaviness of his palm simply resting on the back of your head, not pushing or forcing you in any way, but allowing you to adapt to his size. "The only way to get ya' to stop talking is with a mouth full of cock, ain't it?"

You hum in response and the sensation is completely enrapturing for Joel, his callused fingers tangle in your hair to ground him as he releases a shaky breath. It's a huge challenge to focus on anything else but him; your mind whirring with a familiar dizziness while you bob your head up and down his shaft, intoxicated by the taste of him, the smell of him and every sound that escapes his lips, making your clit throb with need and your arousal pool in your panties, uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

For Joel, it's overwhelming.

He's never really been the noisy type during sex but heck— you were doing it for him. He's a panting mess above you, his hips buck ever so slightly in tandem with your mouth, trying not to lose it entirely. Your spit drools down his dick and the way your dark, dilated pupils sparkle with lust as you hollow your cheeks around him pulls a groan deep from his throat.

"That's it, you can take it," he coaxes when your nose nudges his pubic bone, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. "Good fuckin' girl, just like that..."

Enticed with the praise, you keep repeating the motion, sliding one hand to hold his hipbone for support and feeling his burning skin under your touch whilst the other plays with his balls to aid his pleasure. The obscene slick sounds mix in the air with his hoarse cursing, the rain and the faint music of kings of leon, sex on fire.

He looks so good from this angle, chest rising and falling with heavy, irregular breaths, head thrown back and both hands on you, keeping you angled for his cock. Drops of precum roll on your tongue as you keep changing the pace at which your head moves, tears welling in your eyes and jaw going slack. Shit, you're aching for him so bad that the only thing you can think of to relieve the need is squeeze your thighs together in order to create some friction. And it works, the action eliciting a moan from you that makes him fucking whimper your name.

"Bet your cunt's drippin' just from sucking my dick," he muffles a laugh that turns halfway into a sigh when you pay special attention to the ruddy, sensitive tip. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

You can tell he is by the way his cock twitches in your mouth; his spine straightens at the heat gathering between his legs and he tries to pull you off against your will, uttering a warning that you chose to ignore. Joel's lips part in a throaty groan when he reaches his high, feeling the outline of your fingers digging harshly on his hip, your hand rubbing his length and your tongue lapping at his slit, taking in every single drop of his release until he's spent, right before pressing a soft kiss to it that makes him shiver. And hell— contrary to others, he tasted good; warm and thick, coating your senses.

His heart beats aggressively against his ribs and he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to get back on your feet while resting your hands on his waist. Although his eyes are barely open, he can quite literally feel your smile when you chastely kiss his lips. He chuckles breathlessly as you sit beside him, tugging himself back in his pants.

"We're not done yet," he says, grabbing the back of your knee and promptly engulfing your leg around his waist, maneuvering your body so that your back rests against the couch and he's crouched down, caged in the middle of your thighs. "I said I'd make it up to you and I will."

"Well, you've certainly got some stamina in you, old man," you poke fun at him, raising a hand to move those rebellious curls away from his eyes.

Joel smiles, caressing your cheek affectionately. "Always got somethin' to say, don't ya'?"

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you coo, enveloping your arms around his neck, "we both know just how much you love to hear me talk."

"Mhm," he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, "yes, I reckon you're right."

His big hand covers nearly half of your face as he holds you still, crashing your lips together. He kisses you deeply, vigorously, in a way that makes you wonder if you could possibly drown in a person's essence. His other palm slides between your bodies to start undoing the buttons of the flannel —his flannel— you were wearing. You can't help but whine when he draws back, watching you from above.

"Joel-" blood rushes through your ears and can feel your cheeks warm up as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers coasting down your throat and to the valley of your breasts, licking his lips when he sees your hardened nipples.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he speaks freely, without holding back emotion, and it makes your heart skip a beat. "Such a sweet, sweet girl I can't get enough of."

"Then take a picture," you purr, "it'll last longer."

He stares at you through a measuring squint, a lighthearted smile forming on his face. "Since you insist." It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, until you finally recall that there's actually a camera inside your purse; one that he reaches for. "If I remember correctly... You said I could take as many as I like."

You lightly squeeze his waist with your thighs, feeling your whole body burn with anticipation. "I did say that..."

"Let's just pray your dad won't find these hanging around," he ponders, turning your face slightly to the side. "He'll have my head."

"And that would be terrible..."

He takes the Polaroid with one hand, the other coming to grope your breast as he backs off for a better angle, ultimately deciding to wrap his fingers loosely around your neck instead, purely holding you there. You glance at the lens, making your best "fuck me" eyes added to a cheeky smile, hearing him curse under his breath prior to snapping the picture.

"You've got the prettiest fucking tits I've even seen, sweetheart," he snarls, laying a palm flat over your lower abdomen while he waited for the photo.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got such a marvelous way with words?" he suppressed a laugh, safeguarding the picture on the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just a few women." Before you can even begin to act annoyed, he sets the camera aside and leans down to kiss your collarbones, the pad of his thumb kneading circles around your sensitive nipple. "Look at you, honey," he murmurs, "you're so easy to please... Or is it just because of me?"

You're panting, your back arching in response to his constant ministrations, every inch of your skin blushing under his attention. "I think it's-" you're cut off by the sudden need to swallow when he sucks a mark on the vulnerable skin between your breasts, "you."

His body vibrates with a laugh and you feel his hand palm your clothed sex, dragging his tongue over your delicate nipple, gently nibbling at it. You screw your eyes shut and let a single, fluttery moan slide past your lips when his thumb nudges your clit.

"So wet just from giving head?" Joel shakes his head in fake disapproval. "Who knew you were such a horny little thing?"

You are holding onto his bicep for dear life, fearing you might collapse into oblivion if you part from his body. His index glides across your slit over the drenched cotton fabric, making you squirm beneath him.

"You- you tasted good," you babble, mind all over the place.

"Yeah?" his chest swells with pride, "you should taste yourself, angel," his mouth travels across your abdomen, "sweetest thing I've ever had."

It's pointless trying to conjure a response, you're simply too far gone by now. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your thighs, flattening his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You whimper, running your fingers through his locks and bucking your hips to meet his face.

"Please," you blurt out, "Joel, please..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asks, moving the underwear aside to directly touch your clit, fondling it as he watched your slick coat his fingers. "What do you want?" But you can't conceive an answer, all that could come out of your mouth were those pathetic, desperate moans. "Use your words."

With his free hand he plays with your nipple, grabbing your breast with his entire hand. "I want you."

He tauntingly moves his fingers around your seam, refusing to go any further. "Say it again."

"I want you, Joel."

Cocky bastard.

He licks his fingers clean and starts getting off the couch, leaving you with a confused, dumbfounded expression that nearly makes him crack up.

"You didn't really believe I'd be fucking you on the couch, did ya'?" he teases, but all you can muster up is a barely audible 'oh'. "Come on, let's take this to my room. And don't forget to bring that camera of yours."

Mind still dazing, you obey his instructions, following him silently upstairs as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. For a second, he glances back at you, gifting a soft, reassuring grin before extending his arm to grab your fingers, holding your hand in a pure, intimate touch.

And just for that moment, you forget that he's actually your dad's oldest friend, that he's Sarah's father or any other thought of the sort. He's just Joel. Joel Miller, the only man that has managed to make you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or that made you blush with merely a few compliments.

"Ask me to kiss you," he urges, taking the camera from your hands and carefully placing it on his bedside table, his eyesight fixed on you.

"Kiss me," you don't ask, you downright beg.

He does, though it's not like the previous times. He's tender, almost languid about it. His hands are on your bare hips while yours cup his cheeks; Joel's fingers reach to remove the flannel from your shoulders and moves his lips to the newly exposed skin, murmuring constant admirations. You feel your lungs clench and a tingly sensation on your lower belly.

"I'll take care of you, darlin'." You let the shirt slide down your arms and fall to the floor. "Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on by fooling around with those stupid boys." His words go straight to your core as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Take them off," he gestures to the last piece of clothing on your body.

You compel to his wish, stripping under his prying eyes while he lazily gets rid of his boots. His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the glistening mess he's made of you, promptly dragging you on top of him. Your hands lay flat on his exposed chest shortly before he switches positions, readjusting you on the middle of the bed.

"Joel, please just-" you whine when he keeps playing with your entrance, stretching you with his fingers. Your skin scorches with desire, knees weak from the growing heat on your lower body.

"Stop nagging, sweetheart," he grits through his own lust, his gaze impossibly dark. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Joel, I'm too worked up, I-" you gasp when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your toes curl. "Fuck..."

"Come on, baby." He ducks down to kiss the skin behind your ear and his beard tickles nicely. "It's just the two of us now, feel free to be as loud as you need to."

His pants are undone and hanging loosely on his hips, the image being so blatantly erotic that only managed to get you more aroused as you fumble to get rid of his shirt. He chuckles at your eagerness, shrugging it out of the way and haphazardly kicking off his jeans and underwear altogether, discarding them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You take a second to revel on his naked figure, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and sturdy chest, the marked collarbones and every noticeable mole. His hair is messy from your fingers, a thin layer of sweat sticks some curls to his temples as his wild, hungry eyes bask in the view of your sopping pussy when he parts your shaky legs further. But the moment of appreciation is brief, both of you being edged and spurred on.

He maneuvers a hand to your lower back and aligns your hips with his, watching the way your hole drips for him, wetting his bedsheets. You're a panting mess beneath him, lightly scratching his shoulder-blades and biting on your bottom lip, looking up at him doe-eyed and all splayed out for him to take. Joel wants to tell you just how badly he's longed for this— how he's been yearning to have you so achingly bad. But right now, feelings overrun his thoughts, especially after hearing his name spilling from your lips, begging for him to take you.

"Relax, darlin'." Joel teases your slit with the head of his cock, rubbing it along your sex and coating it with your slick. Your head tilts backwards, dipping on his pillows, small whines keep spilling from your mouth. "I won't go easy on you."

"Great, cause I don't want you to-" your slurred words get muffled by the sudden feeling of intrusion as he finally buries himself in your cunt, letting out a filthy, guttural groan.

You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded and staggered from the way he was filling you up so nicely, the stretch being a tad painful at first, but the kind of pain that could only ever feel good. Then your whole body quivers from head to toe.

"That's it, you can take it," he mutters, peppering kisses to your chin and collarbones as he bottoms out. "Fuck, you feel divine-" The tight, warm grip you welcome him with resembles nothing he's ever had before. This is new, this is you.

You bear down on his cock, enveloping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to encourage him. He holds you down with a firm grip around your neck, starting to set a pace with his hips as he draws out and then back in slowly, roughly, making your back arch. Your erect nipples brush against his strong chest and create a delightful friction that has you moaning louder than you could've expected. You're amazed by the way he thrusts into you, somehow mindful to hit every right spot inside you —needless to say that it was something that others could hardly manage before—, his pubic hair tickles the skin below your belly button, sending shivers down your spine that prompt you to drag your nails down his back.

"Look," he indicates, despite your inability to even think straight. "Look," he repeats harshly, using the hand that was on your hips to tilt your head downwards, forcing you to stare at where your bodies connected. It was obscene, the wet noises of your pussy and skin clapping against skin sounding purely pornographic. "Look at the mess you're making."

"Joel, I-" you can't form sentences properly, all your attention being focused on how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, for god's sake..."

"Lemme help with that," he speaks breathlessly, pining your leg over the crook of his elbow to make his thrusts deeper, more precise. You cry out in bliss, feeling the heat expanding from your stomach to your legs. "Yeah, you're close, I can fuckin' feel it- fuck..."

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his dick just right. He knows he's in too deep when you call out his name like it's the only word you can remember, when he wallows in the glorious view of your pretty face contorted in pleasure. He looses the grip on your neck and strokes your lower lip with his thumb, prodding you to keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. It's electrifying, a feverish kind of sensation that gratifies every nerve on your body.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, overcame by the intense feeling of euphoria that your body was providing. You realize in that moment that the reason why Joel could fill that void so easily was because he kept prioritizing you above him. Your pleasure was his, too.

"Jesus Christ, Joel-" you mewl when he abruptly pulls out, “… Worth the wait.”

He laughs shakily, kissing your lips shortly. "Turn around, sweetheart. I want to fuck you from behind."

With a buzzing dizziness, you follow his instruction. God, right now you'd do just about anything if he asked you to. You notice movement from his part and patiently wait with your butt up in the air for him to stuff you again; instead, you hear the familiar clicking sound of the Polaroid camera.

"You fucker," you chuckle, "did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Couldn't help myself," he groans, caressing the soft flesh before lightly slapping it. "You look too damn gorgeous." The hit on your skin burns nicely and you can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips.

"Shit- do that again..."

You can practically hear his smile when he talks, "You into that?" he repeats the action with a little more force and the pain sends a shock of pure pleasure between your legs, your own fluids dripping down your thighs. "F'course you are, I should've guessed with that attitude of yours."

He plays with your swollen pussy, enjoying your tiny moans and the way your legs tremble as you fist the sheets underneath you, burying your face on his pillow when he spanks you again— this time so hard that it probably left a mark. But before the sting washes away he takes the opportunity to enter you in one swift move, holding your hips steady and trailing his fingers along your spine.

"That's my sweet girl," he praises a midst, starting to grind his cock inside you. "Taking me like you were made for it."

This is way more intense, the angle allowing him to hit deeper, harsher. His gruff moans become more frequent as he speeds up his pace, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. The sensation was purely fantastic, melting every thought away and just leaving Joel Miller to fill you in every sense of the word. His hands are never still, roaming your responsive areas, caressing the most sensitive and always taking care of your aching clit.

You might cry from the overwhelming ecstasy— the way his tip constantly hits the depths of your cunt with each relentless thrust has you seeing stars. Joel gets a thrill from the way you can't seem to get enough of him either, throwing your hips back to meet his unwavering pace, clawing at the pillows and moaning helplessly, pushing him close to his climax.

"Joel, it's too much..." you mumble. "Please, I can't-"

He hunches over you, kissing your nape to ease the overpowering sensations, "Yes, you can. You're a big girl, you can take it." And then your vision goes blurry, all you're able to hear being his disjointed, lewd moans; all you can feel is his hard, hot body flushed to yours, his cock twitching inside you and the wetness of your own body. "That's it, give me another one, baby- fuuuck..."

The buildup is so strong you nearly collapse, feeling yourself tremble as he chases his orgasm, fucking you through yours. His fingers reach your bundle of nerves and apply barely any pressure, which has you coming undone in seconds, absolutely soaking his dick and the sheets beneath you, chanting his name like a prayer. A string of curses falls from his lips as he pulls out and quickly manhandles your fucked out self to lay on your back. He exhales sharply through his nose, spilling his load all over your stomach without even touching himself.

You both stay there for a while, catching your breath and looking intently at each other’s eyes before he rolls over, going limp beside you. You stare blankly at de ceiling, suddenly feeling aggressively aware of your sticky skin covered in sweat and cum, the numbness on your lower body that will surely feel sore in the morning and all the marks he's left dispersed on you. You feel satisfied, fulfilled even. Joy bubbles up your chest and comes out in form of a giggle, one you're unable to hold back.

"What?" he asks, turning his face towards you with a half-smile.

"I don't know, I just..." you shake your head, still laughing. "I don't know."

He chortles in disbelief, holding out a hand to take some tissues from the bedside drawer and going to swipe his mess off your tummy and inner thighs. "Shit, I think I might’ve just fucked the sense out of ya'."

Joel sets himself between your parted legs, laying the weight of his upper body on top of you, resting his chin on your chest, eyes boring into yours. He looks so young like this, despite the greying hair and the small wrinkles, his beautiful brown orbs sparkle ever so brightly under your attentive gaze.

"What will your dad say when he returns and finds out his only daughter has completely lost her mind?" he jokes, cradling you in his big arms.

"Come on," you roll your eyes playfully, "we both know that if I had been in my right mind since the beginning, I probably wouldn't be in your bed right now." He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade either. Joel nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse zone briefly before closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp in utter silence.

The wind was howling outside, rustling the tree branches, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your ribs, his deep breaths fanning across your shoulder and his unique scent all around you, on you. In spite of the cold air, your naked bodies are warm enough to stay comfortably in this position, at least for a while— however, there's something deep inside you that doesn't want this moment to end.

"Hey," you call him lowly and he hums in response, "can we order pizza?"

He nods faintly, "Anything you want, honey."

Anything.

If only.

"I'll call," you say. "Any specific requests?"

"As long as there isn't any pineapple on it, we're fine." You glance down at him, almost appalled.

"You don't like pineapple on pizza?"

"No. That's disgusting, come on."

"Oh, grow up!" he opens his mouth to retort, but when he sees your dismayed expression he can merely bark a laugh that you get infected with.

"Order whatever you want," he whispers in your ear. "But you'll have to promise something."

"What's that?" you raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Say you'll stay," he murmurs, slightly hesitant. "Stay here and spend the night with me."

The proposal takes you by surprise, so much that you actually stopped breathing. You ponder wether if you could or you should; because, at the end, what would a night really mean? What could possibly change?

Nothing, right?

Besides, no one had to know.

(...)

A few moments later you're downstairs looking for your phone, wearing nothing other than his green flannel. Joel decided to take a shower while you ordered the food and you chose to walk around the house, paying attention to the little details you hadn't quite noticed before.

Now that you see it, there are plenty of horse images here and there. Very Texan of Joel, you can't deny. Lots of pictures of Sarah growing up, some of him and Tommy and a good deal with your dad. None of his ex-wife. In fact, there's no proof that she even existed. You decide not too think too hard about it, since it was none of your business after all.

You pour yourself a glass of water and wander your eyes across the amount of pills he usually takes. Anxiety pills, painkillers, vitamins. What could possibly be troubling this middle-aged man so bad? Again, you decide to turn a blind eye and simply pick up the phone, expecting a message from your dad to tell you he arrived in Boston well and safe. Instead, you find that your direct messages in social media have new requests. Curious, you open them to see what the fuzz was about.

Hi!

This is Will

I don't know if Sarah mentioned me...

I'm her English teacher, haha

I hope you don't find this creepy, your profile popped up in my 'people you may know' section and since Sarah said she wanted to introduce us, I thought I might just say hi 😉

Honestly, with everything that went down you had nearly forgotten about Sarah's 'you should hang out with people your age' speech. And now that you were stalking his profile, he appeared to be maybe a couple years older than you— handsome in a boyish, intelectual way, if that made sense. Apparently, he studied in New York too, and lived in Queens.

Hi!

Yeah, I reckon she did

What's up, Queens? :)

You don't really expect a reply, not giving much thought to anything in the moment. Though, an involuntary smile twitches your lips when there's a quick message that reads "Not much, Brooklyn" and the writing bubble underneath.

After all, having a friend in Austin wouldn't hurt.

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