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maiamore · 6 days ago

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STAR-STRUCK

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 5k

Summary: You’re a fresh-faced production assistant for known action star Joel Miller. He’s not quite what you expected–but neither are you.

Tags: actor!joel x production assist reader, action film set, no use of y/n, rough/dom Joel, use of the word ‘kid’, mirror sex, rough sex, unprotected pinv, mentions of injuries & violence, Joel does his own stunts, public sex, bdj (big-dicked-Joel), Joel is not nice in this fic, more untagged read at your own discretion A/N: oof this a long one. also! i swear i've seen something similar relating to the mandalorian reference. if anyone knows the fic, pleaaaase let me know

READER’S TATT/PIERCINGS-SPO

This wasn’t what you’d imagined your life to look like.

For the majority of your adult life, you’d clung to a glittering, idealistic vision of your future. You’d blame it on those countless movie marathons with your dad–the late nights, the worn-out couch and the satisfying click of the DVD player setting the stage for your ambitions. You’d dreamed of being a part of the magic. The glitz, the glamour, the art of it all.

Directors like Ridley Scott, Martin Scorsese, John McTiernan captured your adolescent heart, fanning the flames of your Hollywood dreams.

You knew coming into this that it was going to be far from easy. God knows you’d paid your dues living in NYC after having moved from your small town–sharing a tiny shoebox of an apartment with three others, taking multiple part-time gigs, hustling to finally land a Production Assistant (PA) role.

And now here you were. Accommodations comped, flown to Atlanta for the shoot of some action movie you weren’t even allowed to know the title of thanks to the NDA you’d signed.

It was suspenseful, sure, but not in the sexy, thrilling way you’d imagined. More like in the “what fresh hell did I sign up for” sort of way.

“So you��ll be handling scheduling, coordinating, and helping the stylists. And making sure his overall well-being is met.”

You shuffled behind Jonah, the PA you were supposedly replacing. It was nearly overwhelming. Already built streets, custom housings, all wrapped up in a larger than life sound stage. Everyone was in their own world, working on their own tasks.

Normal people might have felt small and unseen. But you? You were still star-struck. You could be a part of something so much bigger than you, and that thought excited you.

“7am every morning. You’ll need to be on standby to help Joel with everything he needs. So here’s the schedule.”

More papers were being shoved to you, your arms slowly vanishing beneath an ever-growing stack. You scanned it, eyes twitching in dread.

Every fifteen damned minutes had its own designation. Was this a movie or a military operation?

“Right! Got that. So…who exactly am I…” You squint at the bolded text on freshly printed paper, still warm to touch. “Wiping sweat at 16:45…for?”

Jonah halts mid-strut, turning back to you like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “What…do you mean? You don’t know who you’re working for?”

“I do.” You shoot back defensively. “Well–okay. No. Not really. I was given an NDA, so I’m–”

“It was a yes or no question, hun.”

Suddenly, you were grateful to J-hole leaving. Not so much of replacing his long ass list of endless tasks, though.

He stops before the stylist’s station, gesturing to a cluttered board, displaying headshots and costume references for your apparent “boss.” As you step closer, your breath catches in your throat.

No way. No fucking way.

“Joel fucking Miller?”

Your fingers, almost acting on their own, plucked one of the profile shots from the board. Joel’s broad frame was practically sculpted. His Special Forces uniform taut over his muscles, probably for the character he was playing. Another close-up featured his face smudged with faux grime and fake injuries, his expression hardened and grim.

And then…there were the less clothed test shots. Your gaze betrayed you, dipping to the dark trail of neatly trimmed curls disappearing beneath his belt.

Your head snapped up so fast it was a miracle you didn’t pull a muscle, as though the sheer force of willpower could exorcise the horny demon possessing you.

Jonah grins at your obvious surprise. Sighing dreamily at the profile shots of him, side views and costume shots.“Yep. Now. It isn’t going to be a problem with you now is it? We had to fire the old girl cuz’ she attempted to–nevermind. Don’t wanna get into that. It was a whole debacle. You can look it up in the files under the Miller versus Nancy lawsuit.”

You glanced at Jonah, confusion knitting your brow before returning the photo to the desk. Honestly? You probably wouldn’t have blamed this Nancy. Joel had been the blueprint for your sexual awakening.

As fucked as it was. Considering he was closer in age to your dad than your own.

Watching him star in films by the greats back in high school had left you fantasizing, his smoldering intensity seared into your brain. God. You were going to need the entire night to mentally prepare for this.

“You tellin’ that story again?” The voice behind you sent a shiver up your spine–it was the kind of voice that wrapped around you like a thick yarned blanket on a cold night. And the kind of voice you fantasized about when you were grinding against your pillow.

You froze, every damned nerve on high alert. Turning slowly.

Joel Miller stands there. Resurrected from the photos itself.

He was dressed like he’d just walked off a lazy Sunday pickup game. Grey athletic shorts that hung low on his hips, revealing sturdy, hairy legs that somehow made him seem even more rugged. A black t-shirt clung to his frame, dampened at the collar with sweat. Navy cap sitting snug on his head.

You couldn’t stop yourself from shamelessly dragging your eyes from the damp curls peeking out at the nape of his neck to his thighs.

He scratches his stubbled jaw, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on you. They paused, and you realized–a little too late–that he’d caught you gawking.

Joel nudges his head towards you. “This her?”

Jonah nods, handing Joel a call sheet. “All new and sparkly.”

He looks you over–not in a predatory way, but like he was cataloging every detail. Dark and steady. And it lands on your shirt. For a split second his brows lifted, just barely.

“You watch that one?”

Your brain stutters and you look down, realizing you’d stupidly worn your Mandalorian graphic tee. His face–or well, Din Djarin's helmeted face, was plastered across your chest along with the iconic Star Wars logo.

“Oh! Um. yeah,” you stammer, tugging the hem of the cotton as if the ink would magically disappear.

Great. You meet the man you had dozens of posters of and you were stuttering like a fucking idiot.

“Big fan. Of the show. And, um, the movies. And, you know, your–” Joel holds up a palm, silencing your rambling. “Right.” He sounded amused, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “...‘preciate it.”

Joel never liked change. It was ironic, given his line of work. An actor, in its nature, had him slipping into new roles and personas on a constant basis. But no matter how many characters he played, he'd preferred the familiarity of a constant crew.

So the news that Jonah was leaving and that his replacement was a fresh out of film school rookie had Joel grumbling for days.

Then he saw you.

Maybe it was the way you looked at him, like you were seconds away from fainting. Or maybe it was the shirt. That damn shirt.

You clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about dressing for long hours on set. Instead of the usual hoodie and less than glamorous foam sneakers combo, you were rocking a cropped baby tee stretched taut across your chest.

His gaze dipped, almost involuntarily, taking in the rest of you. The way your bootcut jeans sat low and snug on your hips—to the bunch of keys and a juicy grape chapstick hung on a carabiner attached to your belt loop.

When you shifted nervously, the movement sent a glint of light flickering from your stomach. A silver charm, shaped like a star, dangled from your belly button. He caught himself mid-thought, forcing his eyes back to your face, but the damage was done.

You weren’t as innocent as you looked. He’d figured out that much.

Your fuck-ups hadn’t gotten you fired. Not yet, at least. Somehow, you were still here. Holding onto your job by a thread.

It still felt surreal, working for Joel Miller. You’d spent years watching this man on screen. All his works & press interviews. It seemed pretty fucking unreal to think that you now had his name saved to your phone like no big deal.

Given you weren’t able to tell anyone about it, though the purple vibrator that sat in your bedside drawer was pretty much the only thing that knew his name by now.

In the weeks that followed, you’d fallen into a rhythm with him. There were rules–unspoken ones. You didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t hover too close, and didn’t take it personally when he barked orders or dismissed you with a grunt. Joel wasn’t an easy man to work for.

What was even worse, was that in Joel's eyes, you were probably the least sexual entity to have ever existed. It stung, especially when you considered how much of your mind he occupied.

“Give me a…second. Dunno how these things work.”

You’d shifted uncomfortably, dropping to your knees to Joel’s horror. You sat on your thighs with a huff. Attempting to gather the hem of Joel’s pants to tuck into the army garters.

“Christ. You don’t hafta…” Joel’s throat tightened as he fought the sudden, unwelcome heat pooling low in his gut.

“Huh?”

It was distracting, the sight of you so close. On your fuckin’ knees no less. Joel tugs around his belt. He snaps his fingers to catch your attention and you look up at him, with wide eyes.

His thumbs twisting around the two metal hooks of the thin garter until it connects. “Just hook em’ together, kid.”

You nodded at his words. Finally managing to neatly tuck it into his boots.

Though from his vantage point, something else catches his eye–a small mark etched into your skin. Black ink at the nape of your neck, a star, delicate like the charm that hung from your belly button.

“Ya got a thing for stars?”

You blinked a few times before the words finally registered. Was he really starting a conversation when you were on the ground like this? You notice the slight nudge of his head towards your left.

Instinctively, you cupped around the back of your neck. “Oh..yeah. I mean…it’s pretty and all.” You had to admit, Joel’s childlike curiosity over the ink on your body all of a sudden caught you off guard.

He raises a brow at your admission. “What’s the point of puttin’ it at a place you can’t see. Seems pretty pointless.”

“Didn’t put it there for me to see.” You say with a shrug.

Joel’s jaw ticks when he realises the insinuation behind your words. He drags his hand down his face, opting to finally keep his mouth shut when the images conjured in his mind couldn’t be held back anymore.

You didn’t quite notice his distress till you looked up after the lengthy silence that settled.

The imperceptible twitch in his crotch area catches your attention. Your lips parted to stifle a gasp of surprise.

Was he— “Jus’ get the hell up, kid.”

The respectable thing to do was to go on about his job. It was humiliating enough that you’d caught him in a painfully embarrassing position.

But Joel Miller learned two new things about himself.

First, he didn’t quite mind the soft, lingering scent of strawberries and vanilla you seemed to carry. A quiet, comforting sweetness that seemed to cling to the air whenever you were near.

The second? Well, the second was far more troublesome.

The thoughts that plagued him at night when he was fucking his fist, or someone else for that matter. It didn’t help that he was aware of such vivid and intimate details of you. It fucked with his head how desperately he wanted to draw pleasure out of you and stain that pretty little dainty star you had on your belly with ropes of his cum.

The culmination of it all was taxing. But somehow? He managed to keep those thoughts at bay.

When the director finally called cut for the day, Joel stepped off set, muscles aching and shirt damp with sweat. He scans the area out of habit.

Jonah would’ve been there by now–towel, water & phone in hand, ready for the usual barrage of calls and texts he needed to deal with.

Instead, it was you.

Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as the realization hit him again. Right. Jonah was gone.

“You don’t have to look like the world’s ended, Joel.”

He doesn’t answer you, not at first.

“It’s not like I’m going to tell people that you—“

Joel seats himself in his chair loudly. A silent warning for you to not go there. He lets out a long, drawn out exhale. Folding his arms tightly. “Kid. Don’t know whatcha think you saw–”

That again. Kid. Was that how he saw you? You had half the mind to admit what the idea of it did to you—the idea that he might’ve gotten hard at the thought of you.

“Hate that I even have to ask.” You begin, not letting him finish his thought. “You realize I’m not.” You were dabbing a little harder now, tossing out the used makeup wipes in the trash beside you.

“Y’are when I’ve got a decade over ya.” He says simply. Wincing at your harsh gestures. “Don’t need the complications.” He pushes your hand away, his deep brown eyes stayed locked on you, searching, warning.

“Leave well enough alone, got that?”

The following weeks on set proved to be grueling, even by Joel’s standards. His reputation preceded him. A stubborn, self-reliant actor who insisted on doing his own stunts. For the studio, it was a nightmare. Higher insurance premiums, a ballooning budget, and his manager losing sleep over the what-ifs.

For Joel, it was just how he’d always worked.

But his body wasn’t what it used to be. He could feel the aftermath of his aching limbs with every roll, leap, and landing. By the end of each day, he was a drained man.

The tension on set that evening was suffocating, the kind that made every sound sharper, every movement feel urgent.

Joel’s stunt wasn’t supposed to go wrong. It rarely did. But today was different.

You’d seen the way his jaw tightened with every take, the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. Monitoring him from the sidelines when the cameras were still rolling.

Then it happened.

A sickening crunch, the unmistakable sound of something gone wrong. Joel hit the ground hard, and the set erupted in chaos. The director’s voice echoed through the sound stage, “Cut! Jesus. Check on Joel. Now!” as the crew scrambled toward him.

You froze, the towel and water bottle in your hands suddenly feeling useless. Your feet moved on instinct, but the crowd around Joel was essentially a wall. Blocking you out.

You couldn’t get through.

“Back off. M’fine.” Joel’s voice cuts through the commotion, frustration dripping from every word. He swatted away helping hands, gaze darting through the crowd. His face twisted in anger, not from pain but from the lack of order.

“Where the hell is she?” he grumbled.

You hesitated, your stomach knotting. His eyes finally locked onto you, and his expression darkened. “You. Get over here.”

The weight of his command pulled you forward, even as your gut screamed to stay back, letting someone more qualified deal with it. You shuffled behind him as you’d maneuvered out of the crowd and back into his trailer. Eyes widening at the sight of blood seeping through a tear in his shirt.

“Joel, I–…shouldn’t we call–”

“Don’t need someone else,” he interrupted, his tone biting but strained. “Just. I’ll tell ya what to do. Kits in the left drawer.”

“Okay,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, wracking your brain for memories of those first aid videos you’d seen on YouTube. Film school did not prep you for this.

As you grabbed the first aid kit, you watched Joel slump against the trailer walls. You stood there, awkwardly, watching the scarlet blossom against his abdomen.

He looks at you for a moment before exhaling. “Y’know, you can ask n’ not jus’ stand there like a mute, darlin’.”

The witty remark dies in your throat when he yanks his shirt off. Effectively shutting your brain down entirely. You stare down at his body in its’ full glory. Damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. Blood smeared in jagged trails down his arm to his abdomen, mingling with grime from the fall. Joel pulls out the antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit, handing it to you.

“Shit, Joel. That looks fucking bad.” You hissed out, as though you were the one with a darkened gash on your midriff when you attempted to wipe the first streak off.

“Why…” Fuck. Your voice was cracking. “Why didn’t you just let someone else help you?”

He huffed, his dark eyes flicking to yours for a moment in amusement before looking away. “Ain’t worth makin’ a scene over somethin’ small.”

“This isn’t small, Joel,” you protested, frowning as you uncovered a deeper gash on his side. “You should’ve let the medics handle it.”

“Don’t need all that fuss.” His tone was clipped, defensive. “Been doin’ my own stunts for years. Ain’t stoppin’ now ‘cause of a scratch.”

“This isn’t a scratch.”

Joel’s gaze flicked to yours again, a flash of something unreadable in his expression. “Look, I get it, alright? But I don’t need everyone actin’ like I’m fallin’ apart. I’m fine.”

He knew deep down that his ego was far too big to admit that he actually needed help.

“Stubborn,” you murmured under your breath, shaking your head as you pressed a clean pad against the wound.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Joel’s patience was paper thin, but he bit back whatever comment was forming on his tongue. “Enough of that. Just…tie it up” He sighs, strained, handing you a roll.

You nodded, fumbling with the bandage as your heart pounded in your ears. The wound was deeper than you’d thought now that it was clean, and the sight of it made your stomach churn.

“C’mon, darlin’. Ain’t got all day.”

You secured the bandage, tying it off with a bunny-eared bow before sitting back on your heels. Fingertips drumming on your knees, seemingly proud of yourself.

Joel glanced down, his brows furrowing as he took in your work. “What the hell is that?”

“What?” you say defensively. “You told me to tie it.”

“Looks like ya wrapped a damn present,” he muttered.

“Fine, I’ll redo it–”

“Don’t bother.” He caught your hands before you could move, holding them in place. “It’ll hold.”

The silence that followed proved to further intensify the air between the two of you. His grip on your wrist was firm but not harsh, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t dare to move.

The curve of his nose grazed your cheeks, the faintest touch sent a shiver down your spine, but he had enough sense to move away.

You however, didn’t think, didn’t hesitate when you leaned in, capturing his lips in a quick, tentative kiss.

It seemed to have caught the both of you off guard.

Joel froze, the kiss barely lasting a second before he pulls back, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he’d tell you off.

But instead, he leans forward. Kissing you harder, deeper. A palm slips to the back of your neck to anchor you in place.

With nowhere else to put your hands, you placed them on his thighs, gripping them tightly.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin. His other hand gripped your waist, drags you closer until your knees pressed against the side of his hips.

But just as quickly as it started, Joel stops. He pulls back with a bated breath. His hands slip from where he held your neck. “Shit,” he mutters, his jaw clenching as he looks away. “Shit.”

You blinked, your heart racing as you tried to catch up. Trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Joel–”

“Stop. I shouldn’t have.” The curtness in his tone startled you. But you frowned. Trailing behind him as he gets up.

“Well you did.” You blocked his path towards the door of his trailer. Eyes filled with a burning persistence of him once again denying you.

“Don’t push it, kid.”

You’d practically stepped up to him confrontationally. “—Or better yet, you gonna tell me that I imagined it?”

“You can’t do all of that and then just back off.”

It frustrated you to no end when he stonewalled you like this. Like you were some irrational kid who couldn’t read between the lines.

When Joel finally does speak, he merely says your name. With a finality you couldn’t quite refute. You bite the inside of your cheeks. Feeling humiliated at being shot down when you’d thrown yourself onto someone like this.

“Fucking coward.”

This time, you didn’t mumble.

Joel visibly grimaces at that. You feel his hand grip painfully around your wrist, stopping you from leaving the trailer.

You let out a choked gasp when his hands shoot out to grip around your throat before you could even react. Forcing you backwards at every step. Instinctively, you grab around his wrists to loosen his grip.

“Hey!”

He leans down to your level, lips grazing against your ears in a deep whisper. “Fuckin’ coward, huh?” You'd pushed all the right buttons. He'd held back for so damned long and he didn't have it in him to hold back. Not after you'd run your mouth.

You let out a shaky exhale. Teeth grit painfully. You should’ve felt scared. Horrified, really. But the tenderness in his hold makes you feel conflicted about what you should’ve felt.

Joel’s grip held you firm. Tipping your head up. “Y’want me to fuck you that bad?”

A soft whimper leaves your lips when his back presses against you. The hardness rubbed up against your core. You shudder at the sensation, nodding weakly.

His rough palms circle around your waist, turning you over the dressing table until your pelvis sat flush against it. The grip around your throat swiftly turns to a vice grip around your jaw.

He tugs at your jaw. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Ugh—yes.…need you..tofuckme.” You manage through gritted teeth. It irked you to say it, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t have let up.

Joel tugs you to look up into your own reflection. Your gaze immediately sours, attempting to look away.

“C’mon now. S’a pretty sight.” He tuts. His other palm drags the fabric of your top up harshly, pulling it up along with your bra. Your tits spilling at the notion. A gasp slips from your lips.

“Joel!” Your palms tightens into fists on the table at the obscene sight.

So much for someone who didn’t want to give in.

It doesn’t faze Joel, merely letting out a low whistle. Kneading them in his palms. “Perfect fuckin’ tits.”

He presses a kiss down the sides of your neck. Twisting around your nipples till they hardened between his fingers. You let out a pathetic whine at the sensation. Holding his arms firmly, you squirm as he nips your shoulder.

“Could you just—“ Your protests don't stop him in the slightest. Nudging your head a little to give him room. He takes it as a sign to bite down on your neck, bruising you with hickeys all over.

Joel seems to catch your nervous flickers towards the doors. He shifts your hair over one side of your shoulder. Thumbing over the ink on the nape of your neck. You hear the sound of the zipper, briefly catching sight of him shucking his pants down. He winces slightly at the dull pain shooting across his abdomen, but the desperation of needing you was far greater than the pain.

Somehow, the idea of not being able to see it made it so much worse. And as though he reads your mind, he presses his jaw against the side of your head. “Relax.” The tenderness in his tone through the roughness does manage to soothe your nerves. You nod slowly.

Your hips jolt as the cold air hits your body when Joel dips a finger under the waistband of your sweats. He teasingly brushes his fingers lightly against your skin before swiftly tugging them down to your thighs along with the flimsy cotton panties you had on. “A little warning would help.” You bite back, finally losing patience at his tactless gestures.

Joel meets your gaze through the mirror. A lopsided smirk quirking up his lips. “Right. My bad.” You could feel the disingenuity in his tone before he taps the length of his cock against your lower back. The gesture almost mocking.

A shudder runs down your spine. He was big, unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

He hikes your hip backwards and flush against him. Your palms instinctively clutches around the edge of the table. Joel takes his time, sliding his hard cock between the softness of your thighs. The sensation nearly sends you doubling over. Watching the weeping tip poke through in the reflection, slightly smearing his precum on your clit.

You squeeze your legs together subconsciously, earning a wince from him. He was certain he could come just from fucking your thighs like this. The pace he took now bordered on torturous. Teasing you with everything but giving you nothing.

You took it upon yourself to stretch your hands between your thighs in an attempt to notch him in you. You were aching. Badly.

Joel lets out a grunt of disapproval, yanking your wrist to pin it behind your back. Leaving you to steady your body weight onto your other hand. “Eager little thing. Daddy ain’t ever teachya patience?”

His snark burned in your cheeks. It was a futile effort. He could see every single expression you were making from your reflection and he fucking thrived on it. Joel takes a hold of his cock, lining it up against your soaked cunt, he slowly drags your slick over his length. You were soaking him before he even started.

Your head dips, clinging onto the fleeting pleasure every time the tip of his cock bumped against your clit.

“Joel–please just fuck me...”

So he does.

Before you could even catch your breath, he snaps his hips into you. “Deep breath f’me, sweetheart.” If not for his grip around your wrist, you would’ve probably face planted into the dresser.

The sting from the intrusion of his thickness had your cunt tightening with every move he makes, squeezing the absolute life out of his dick.

Your hair falls in front of your face as he mercilessly fucks you. You swore you could feel him almost grazing the entrance of your cervix. “T-Too..too fucking...big.”

Joel tips his head at the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock, probably only halfway. He doesn’t say anything yet. Only humming at your whines. “I know baby.”

You look down shakily at where the both of you were connected, the lines between pain and pleasure blurring to the point you hadn’t registered the tears prickling the corner of your eyes. “Hurts…”

Joel seems to feel a tinge of empathy at the way you were struggling to take him, hiccuping through your whines. His gaze flickers to the way your pretty little face scrunched up, doing your fucking best like the good girl you were. A slight groan leaves his lips involuntarily.

All rationality be fucked.

His hand grips around your throat, forcing you to look up at the mirror.

As humiliating as it was, you couldn’t help but feel increasingly turned on at the sight of his cock fucked into your dripping pussy in squelches. “See that? Takin’ me so ’fuckin’ well.” He sighs into your shoulder.

The praise has you lifting your hips higher, on your tippy toes–forcing a deeper arch at your hips. With how slick your thighs were, you weren’t even sure yourself if you did come.

Nothing but the sounds of his pelvis snapping into your ass in rhythmic, hard slaps. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder. And you hear him audibly grunt this time. Thrusting into you at a punishing pace.

Joel could feel the all familiar tightening in his sack, he knew he was close. The sheer suction your soft, slick walls were providing him was nothing he’d ever felt before. He lets go of your throat, both palms gripped around your hips, painful enough to leave a mark. The table rattles under your combined weights and Joel’s frantic thrusts, products rolling and clattering onto the ground. He noses your cheeks, stubble rubbing against your pulse point. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

You offer a slight whimper at his words, meeting the intensity his thrusts weakly. You both still at the shuffle of footsteps approaching the trailer.

The sharp knocks against the trailer door has the both of you whipping your head towards it.

“Everything okay?”

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears loudly. The door wasn’t locked.

Joel doesn't answer, simply looking at you. Your expression twists in frustration. Mouthing the words ‘me?’. There wasn't time to deliberate. Your lips parts to speak, barely able to form coherent words. “Y..yeah. A-All good.”

“Right…productions cutting it close. So if Joel’s oookaaay…”

You cursed internally at how persistent whoever behind the doors was. But you nearly see white when Joel fully slams into you. Deeper than before. You couldn’t control the sharp cry that leaves your lips, but it is soon muffled by Joel’s rough palms covering your mouth.

“M’fine. Give us ten.”

Your tears pool around his hand. Gripping onto his wrists when he continues to pound into you at a faster intensity. You were whining by the time the crewmate finally left. Joel pulls you against his chest. Audibly groaning into your ears now. “Fuck. M’close.”

You nodded dumbly, not even sure just what at anymore. Shaky hands clinging onto him like a lifeline. With a final rut, his hips stutter, ropes of his cum painting the insides of your walls.

He held it there for a couple of seconds before pulling out. All messy and soaked with your arousal.

You let out a strained exhale at the feeling of loss as your pussy convulses around nothing, pearlescent liquid dripping from your reddened cunt.

Joel sighs wantonly at the sight. With the state of you, he was briefly worried that he might’ve gone too hard. And then he sees it. Your smaller, manicured hands, pushing more of his dripping come into your folds. Yeah. Joel was fucked.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel the last of us

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thyln4gf · 10 months ago

Text

Darling, can I?

✞ Confusing feelings - youre both lost, stuck and thinking about each other after the hookup. But its not a one-night stand if it turns into two, right?

✞ Word count - 1898

✞ I have synesthesia! Heres 5 songs that i associate with this fic - "favorite" - Isabel LaRosa, "bad idea!" - Girl In Red, "attention" - Charlie Puth, "eat your young" - Hozier, "meddle about" - Chase Atlantic.

✞ Warnings - smut, mentions of alcohol.

✞ Lando Norris x reader

Whiskey, expensive cologne, and dizzying passion.

Thats what he reminded you of. The image of him was burned into your brain permanently. Whenever whiskey washed over your tongue, memories of him would flash before your eyes. The way he had his tongue deep down your throat, mercilessly fighting with yours. The subtle flavour of whiskey and the cologne he used numbed your senses, almost making you forget your own name. No one has brought you to the heights he has by simply kissing you. No one, ever. And all that happened only once - yet, you couldnt help but let your mind linger on the memory. You kept it close to your chest, like something sweet and sacred. But you thought that he didnt feel the same - and you spent hours thinking about it. He was a famous figure, after all. You probably were just another pretty looking doll to him, something he could play with once and throw away. But did you care? No, not really. You knew that you could easily get anyone else. If you wanted to, that is.

Initially, Lando thought the exact same thing. That you were a pretty thing that he particularly enjoyed playing around with for a night. But, after you, hooking up with women simply didnt feel the same. He kept thinking of you and your scent. The way you looked at him (that look in your eyes was enough to make any mans knees buckle), and the way you made him feel. He was starting to regret his actions, as he found his heart making even more space for you and the feelings for you that have been bubbling up to the surface.

Today was no different - he was staring up at the ceiling, contemplating his life choices. It was approximately 7am, and all he could think about was you. Even when the pretty looking miss barbie he had in his bed tried talking to him - he found himself getting distracted. You just had a way of drawing people in, and barely even noticing it.

And, before he knew it, he was up on his feet, getting ready to leave the house. He had already escorted the blondie out of the door, and that was his last straw - as soon as the distraction left his space... he *had* to go and see you. He wasnt so sure if you would accept him, though. He felt like an ass. He used you and threw you away like something disposable. And he was sure that it was an uncomfortable experience to spot him out and about - monaco wasnt that huge, after all.

"Fucking hell..." he muttered under his breath, as he was currently failing to button up his shirt - his hands were shaking more than ever. He knew that you had options, and that so did he. But he was almost desperate to hold you in his arms.

-------

You were having another slow morning - the weight of your responsibilities was slowly, but surely, weighing you down. You had pulled yet another all nighter - your body is currently powered by hopes, prayers, and a load of canned caffeine. You were surprised by how you were still pulling through.

You were currently walking around with a textbook in your hands, hoping that the walking part is going to trick your body into staying awake. And it was actually working, honestly - despite your legs feeling like pieces of stone. The house was pretty quiet, too. One of the things that made you cherish living alone - peace and quiet.

But thats until you heard your doorbell ring. You werent expecting anybody, it was a Tuesday morning... you put the book down onto the kitchen table, and start making your way towards the front door.

You had a horrible habit of opening the door without peeking through the little hole. And you should have, atleast this time - because none other than Norris himself has made his appearance. You werent expecting such a sight, and so early. You werent expecting him to squeeze himself right past you into your house, either.

"What the fu - hello?" You calmly call out to him, your voice laced with confusion. However, you dont question it much, and close the door behind you. Lando almost looks grateful as you do so - almost as if he was expecting for you to kick him out.

He looks into your eyes, just like that. You can see him briefly licking his lips, and one of his hands going to the back of his neck, rubbing it. He looks away and takes a deep breath, before he can even say anything else. He had 'im nervous and overwhelmed' written all over him, in capital letters. But what is it? Only the sight of him made your heartbeat accelerate a tiny bit.

"I wanted to - ohhh..." he tries to speak up, but he sees you stepping closer to him. Your movements made him freeze in his spot. His breath got caught in his throat. In all honesty... when he looked into your eyes, all he could think about was that one night you spent together, and his confusion about his feelings towards you amplified. Your movements were slow enough to almost feel agonising, making him want to snap and break his composure.

Neither of you say a word, nothing. All he could see was you, and all you could see was him. You could almost imagine how his hot breath would feel on your neck, and in... other places.

But, besides your own thoughts, him struggling to breathe, and the distant ticking of the clock somewhere in the house, nothing else could be heard. The clock almost felt like a ticking bomb, a countdown of seconds until one of you snapped. Both of you knew what was coming a long, long time ago. It was just a question of when.

The silly little staring contest continued. But Lando couldnt keep to himself for much longer - he almost lunges towards you, planting his lips on yours like he was a drowning man, desperately trying to come up for air. You cant even describe the noise that just left your throat, though it was definitely one of surprise. But you quickly found yourself kissing him back, your hands immediately burying themselves into his hair, his snaking around your waist.

You both start losing yourselves, and pretty fast. All the energy and the longing spilled out, sending a wave of electricity throughout your body. You spent the past couple of weeks trying to ignore those thoughts. That maybe, just maybe - you liked him. Each and every of your doubts melted with zero effort as soon as you felt him squeeze your body against his, his fingertips clinging onto your clothes, desperately.

You werent sure of the speed you wanted this to be. As if sensing your confusion, Lando slips his arms a little lower, them now being wrapped around your hips. He didnt want to waste any time, nor he liked to do that. Suddenly, the feeling of being carried takes over - Lando has picked you up, and is about to pin you against the wall with his body.

The intensity he kisses you with increases as your body makes contact with the wall. You can feel his every muscle, hear all the sounds he's making. Hell, you think that you can even hear his heartbeat. You can feel a bite or two he makes on your lips, but youre too far gone for your brain to register it properly.

His body presses against you even harder, the feeling making you moan. You hear him chuckle - he's rather happy that he gets to see the wild side of you - youre always so calm, so... collected. He liked to joke that you were a rock in your past life. His hands leave your hips, now roaming all over your body. He always liked to explore - and this wasnt an exception.

Eventually, his hands start slipping under your shirt. His fingertips are a little calloused and rough from all the training and racing, but his palms were soft. His fingertips were still a little chilly from the air outside, and his palms felt almost disgustingly warm. The contrast between the textures and temperatures makes you shiver with pleasure. You cant help but imagine what they would feel like if he put them down your pants.

If you didnt believe in being able to read someone elses mind before... You were about to. Because you suddenly felt one of his hands slip lower, and lower, and lower. From your chest, down to your stomach, and down to the waistband of your pants. But he doesnt go further, for now - he pulls away slightly, to look up at you, his eyes filled with anticipation. He clearly wanted to ask if you really wanted this, for your permission to go further. He just couldnt find the right words - a part of him was scared as well.

You didnt know what to say either. You always struggled with talking about your feelings, leaving alone... these. All you could manage was crash your lips back onto his, even harder than before. A surprise groan leaves Landos throat, a moan - yours. He understood your message well, or so he hoped. He didnt want to misunderstand anything, even worse - hurt you.

His hand does end up in your pants, starting to slowly rub in all the right places. And, right at that moment, you can feel your brain disconnect from your own body - its almost like you were suddenly working on autopilot. You were almost ashamed to admit, but you could already feel yourself getting close. Something about him felt nothing like you have ever felt before, in all the right ways - his touch overwhelmed and turned you on at the same time.

Lando could feel your back trying to arch, and hear your moans getting louder. He smirks to himself - that didnt take long, he thought. Even faster than he would usually finish in.

The orgasm reaches you just seconds after. The wave felt hot, melting your insides and your inner thighs, as you moan into his mouth. Oh yeah, right - you two never stopped kissing each other during all of this. You simply couldnt be bothered to leave each others embrace. Well, you were basically forced, still pinned against the wall - but you didnt have any complaints. You barely had it in you to kiss him back anymore.

And he could feel it. He felt it. He pulled his face away from yours just a little, making eye contact with you. His hand that was in your pants just now comes up to his face, starting to lick the fingers clean. All while never losing the eye contact. For the first time in awhile, the sight in front of you made you blush.

Seeing your reaction, he chuckled, again. You were adorable. He hesitates slightly before speaking up.

"Could I be your favourite, darling? Can i?" He asks you, in the most gentle tone you have ever heard. The thought of it only makes you smile like an idiot.

'Youll know when you find the one', they said. And you always thought of it as bullshit. But right now? You were proved wrong. You were staring into this mans eyes and you could see the world.

Your favourite.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanart #formula one fanart #fanfiction #formula one fanfics #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando fanart #oneshot

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freeluigihesbae · 3 days ago

Text

𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝟐

(3,362 words)

part 1

summary:

luigi fell in love with you for those sparkling eyes where his dreams of falling in love first came true. but how did it happen?

(*) - picture only for outfit, not physical appearance of reader.

𝗍𝗐: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi couldn't sleep the entire night, twisting and turning after intermittent 15 minute periods of shitty sleep because he couldn't forget your eyes. Those orbs had so much love and concern in them he might as well place you in a field full of flowers, and he wouldn't be able to distinguish you from them.

It was like someone gave him a potion to drink, except it didn't have to touch his tongue; only his eyes.

What were you?

He kept asking himself the same question.

Now, it's not different. Luigi grabs the phone from his nightstand.

3:34 am

He groans, throwing his face into the bed. There was nothing to do to compensate for the sensations he felt when he looked into your eyes. And those weren't just any eyes to him, no no no. They were these doe eyes, perfectly round and enrapturing like they were meant for him to see and better yet, drown in.

He opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling while letting his mind do its work and paint the memory, which he watched dancing around in the space above him.

Love at first sight isn't the right phrase because something is beautifully obsessive with how he feels. He wants to hold you and look back into the world you hold in your eyes.

He thinks about your eyes, thinking of them akin and second to the Earth. Colorful, yet they were only one color. Bright, yet they didn't shine unless the sun draped its light over them. He doesn't care though, because he doesn't need the world around him to supplement the love and glimmer that he already saw.

In a room pitch dark, he knows your eyes would be the stars it was missing.

Luigi forces himself to close his eyes, squeezing and un-squeezing them but refusing to open them again because if he did, he'd be staring right back into your eyes and that was going to kill him.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You wake up, groaning at once when you realize that stupid cast is still on your leg. It isn't helping that you have a ridiculous number of credits, clubs, and extracurriculars that you had to stop participating in for the sake of your injury. Guilt has its side effects.

It's 7am, and you push yourself out of bed, grabbing the back of your leg for support. There's nothing to look forward to today, you think, as you make your way to the bathroom. You pat your head, realizing your hair looks like a nest which you didn't need a mirror to confirm, but nevertheless, it leads you to your dirty mirror.

You blink a few times at the bright light you turn on, shoving your face into your hands before looking up.

Your eyes widen. You remember the instance from yesterday, where you bumped into Luigi and- and-

You have a date? with him at 3pm!

Your eyes widen, neck straightening out awkwardly before you cough and smoothen yourself out. You quickly turn the faucet on, feeling a small rush of energy before you get yourself ready for a 9am class.

You already knew who Luigi was, but you never knew his name. You saw him on posters and countless pictures that were hung or shared around campus. Rumors used to spread that he'd be with the new hot girl on campus, one of whom was Ash.

Ash was your closest friend but because of conflicted schedules, you hadn't got the time to catch up but nevertheless, she had messaged you that her homecoming crush had rejected her. A call with treats and a nice relaxing session was in the works for later that evening, but for now, you focused on getting ready to push through your AM classes.

You run and turn the water, letting the warm droplets hug you in all their sweetness as you hum away a nice, relaxing tune.

You realize you're hugging yourself, rubbing slowly. Luigi's hands suddenly come to memory, wishing yours rubbing around your body were his instead, no matter what they were doing. You remember the way his features had softened and spilled with adoration when he saw your crying face.

You hate to admit it, but the moment you pulled you into the hug and placed his hand in that comforting, reassuring manner on the back of your head, you felt butterflies. But not just any butterflies - no no no. These were butterflies that were iridescent and awoke a certain desire to stay in his arms and beg the universe to make the stars align so that at some point, he'd hold you again.

You had enjoyed your time at Penn, but watching everyone else get into a relationship had done its job, wearing down on you. It's not that getting into a relationship just because everyone else was, was the important thing. Rather, it seemed nice: comfort, kisses, hugs - having someone that truly cared about you and could be the one-point failure.

Except, they wouldn't be a failure if they really were the one for you.

But, you can't keep your hopes up too high. After all, Luigi was just feeling bad about snapping at you and this was a perfectly appropriate way to say sorry - the cast gave you extra points so if there's anything good coming from it, you sure hope your meet-up will be the one.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi tries to focus, but can't find it in himself to glue his eyes onto the teacher's screen like he should.

It was 2:30pm and the last thing he cared about was his damn class.

"You must be regretting what you did with Ash, huh?" Luigi's friend, Arvind, nudges him in the ribs for which Luigi scoffs about and turns to respond to.

"Nah. I don't know why you guys made her think I like her because I never did." Luigi is curt - the last thing he wants to think about is Ash and the whole fiasco from yesterday.

"Listen man. That was their idea. I didn't take any part in it. Just want the best man to have someone to go to HOCO with." Arvind snickers but his eyes soften when he watches Luigi's face stay the same. "You okay? What's on your mind bro?" Arvind asks with real concern this time and Luigi smiles before turning away and fiddling with his fingers.

Here goes nothing, Luigi thinks, before sharing the secret inside of him.

"I think I have a date?" Luigi blurts it out, trying to get the words out of him as fast as possible.

Arvind's jaw drops.

"Yo, were you seeing another chick this entire t-" "She's not a chick, and no, I just met her yesterday." Luigi's smile disappears as he internally rolls his eyes. Of course this is what Arvind would say - why did everything have to be so unserious and so...degrading?

Where was true love? Not the time, Luigi thinks, as Arvind is jumping around in his seat.

"You bagged a chick in less than a day BRO," Arvind is shaking Luigi's shoulder, who's biting his tongue, wishing his friend would shut up. "You gonna get laid after the date?" Arvind is laughing to himself and Luigi can't stand it any longer, pushing his chair back before nearly spitting his next few words out.

"She's not a chick. She's a woman and I think I have a date to get to know her and treat her better than you and all the others guys in our stupid friend group ever would." Luigi stands tall, looking down on Arvind whose features contort into shock. "That's what I thought. All of you are so damn shallow." Luigi quips and walks away, thankful that everyone else was leaving class because he could hardly wait.

He pushes the doors open, bracing himself for the cold while running through hundreds of scenarios for how Cafe Amore would go, unable to contain his excitement. His previous anger dies down as his mind is now refocused on you, letting his mind flicker back to your beautiful eyes.

He forgets that he never got your name because he's already calling you something else in his mind. A name he hopes he never has to stop uttering.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your 2pm class just finished, which meant you had no time to get ready. You limp out of the building as fast as you can, where you just completed the class and to your luck, Cafe Amore is right across the street.

You whip out your phone, fixing your hair and thankful you took the time to get ready half well before putting it away.

You're wearing a shorter-length, high rise and black leather skirt with a baby pink satin shirt tucked in*. Your belt is silver, with small charms lining the links it's made of. Your hair is in a faux ponytail, thanks to the claw clip you used earlier. You know you look good because there's never a day where you go without compliments, but it was those butterflies again.

You wanted to look good for Luigi and it was hard to admit that you looked perfectly fine.

You walk into the cafe, closing your eyes at the sweet smells of tea and chocolate that permeate the air. You take a deep breath in before walking over to the very back, choosing an isolated booth to set your bag down before quickly fixing your outfit and looking out the window.

The sun is yet again in your company, it's warmth making you feel less alone despite Luigi not sitting in front of you. You lean your head against the window, smiling as you wondered what your little meet-up would be like.

You question why you're feeling so invested, like this was an actual date. It wasn't, it really wasn't, but something in the way he held you yesterday tells you otherwise about, not this being a date, but about what existed between the two of you.

The time is 2:58pm, and you calm yourself, knowing that Luigi would come.

He does.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi is panting, running through the crowds of students hoarding the sidewalk as he tried to find the cafe. He completely forgot that his class was on the other side of campus, nearly half a mile away from the cafe. It would take ten minutes exactly by walk, but by the time he walked out of class, it was 2:51pm.

That means he had to run.

So he did.

Thanks to his efforts, he checks the time to see a wonderfully sitting 2:59pm. He takes a moment to set his back against the glass of the cafe, watching his own breath create vapor in the atmosphere before turning around and fixing his curls. He thinks he looks stupid but in this moment, he draws on the compliments his friends had always thrown him and takes the risk, opening the door and walking in.

The cafe is busy and warm, which Luigi quietly thanks them for, but no matter where he turns his head, he doesn't find you.

Panic slowly builds up as he walks around, tilting his head and checking each table. People start to look at him oddly and after 30 seconds, he thinks that you're not here.

In a last ditch effort, he turns the corner away from the front counter and walks towards the back, where he always studied. No-one ever went to sit there, especially since the cafe owners made it a point to reserve it for him due to the lack of traffic around the place.

He knew you wouldn't be there, but still, it was worth a try.

He walks forward, eyes slightly crest-fallen while holding onto hope you might've sat there. From his line of vision, he can't see the inside of the booth since he's standing directly behind it.

After a few steps more, his lips part and he gasps.

There you are.

Your head is perched against the glass but your eyes are closed, letting out tiny breaths as you're clearly fast asleep. Luigi can't help but close his fists, feeling his entire body viscerally react with adoration as he took in the details of the satin wrapping itself around your frame, one that was much smaller than his. He appreciates the sunlight reflecting it's beauty on the faux stones that line your earrings, all while staring at your lips that were dutifully lined with lip gloss.

It's illegal, he thinks, that he can't kiss you in this moment.

But the one thing he was waiting for the most was your eyes.

Luigi walks over before sliding into the opposite booth, sitting down and quietly setting down his items. He hesitates, but finally slides a hand onto one of yours, that's innocently sitting on the table. His index fingers slowly reach out, as he's gulping in fear of you getting scared.

"Hey." He softly speaks, tapping the inside of your half out-stretched palm and slowly, he watches your eyes flutter open, eyelashes stuck together. Your head lifts up, making him quietly giggle at the red spot on the side of your head that was leaning on the window. Your lips smack together slowly as he watches you lick your lips and finally, finally.

You look into his eyes.

Luigi thinks he's going to pass out just from how breathtaking the sight is. You're just waking up from your sleep, unaware of the world around you for a few seconds and in that time, Luigi reads it all. He basks in the way your eyes glimmer in the autumn sun that's quietly adding to the ambience.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You gasp, realizing you fell asleep for a few minutes.

"Luigi I'm so sorry. Oh my god-" You cover your mouth gently, not wanting to mess up your make-up before you hear him laugh.

"You look really pretty when you sleep. I don't mind at all." His fingers are in your palm, you realize, which he only adds to by squeezing his fingers around. You take in a small breath, eyes fluttering again as you feel the electricity between both of yours' skin.

"Oh." You quietly respond, but inside, you're scrambling for a good response. Was he flirting? Was this real?

You stare back into his eyes which are intently watching you. It doesn't take a detective to see how he's desperate. What for, you can't tell, but there's a certain boyish desire you see twinkling in his pupils, thanks to the sunlight.

"So..." Luigi starts, smirking at your expression. He knows exactly what he's doing, you think, before you parrot him.

"So..." You giggle before he pulls his hand away. Instantly, you miss it but you don't say a thing, because this isn't a date.

"What can I get for you on our date?" Luigi asks and his eyes widen before he's stuttering. "I-I- didn't mean that it's just like casual - what do you want to eat?" He asks, waving his hands around and before you can answer, he slaps himself across the face. "D-Do you want to drink something? I can get you something to eat with it. You don't have to eat something because the two aren't like- like mutually exclusive-" "How about we check the menu together?" You cut him off, giggling ridiculously hard at how nervous he is. He looks up at you and he fights back every urge to close his eyes, unable to take the stare coming from your now crescent shaped eyes, adorably crinkled from your laughter.

Luigi stops, letting out a breath before he looks up to his side. You're already standing up and holding out your hand. He gulps before sliding his hand into his, nearly fainting at the size difference.

You're feigning confidence but in truth, it's overwhelming when he stands up. He's at least half a foot taller than you and it's taking everything in you to not fold into half and let him carry you to the counter instead.

"I'm sorry if I walk a bit slow, this cast is really holding me back. Sometimes I wish someone would carry me everywhere." You snort, tightening your grip around his hand but he furrows his eyebrows.

"Did you have a long walk to the cafe?" Luigi asks and you can tell there's genuine pain in his eyes because it's true.

Luigi feels pain bloom inside thinking about how you probably had to drag your foot across the stupid campus. Did he want to punch the fibers of fate for doing this to you?

Maybe.

You stutter but decide to lie a little, just to test his water.

"Y-Yeah I had a long walk here." You say, biting your lip when Luigi's face becomes even sadder.

"I'll help you with that." Luigi says, his face serious and you tilt your head, questioning him silently. No need to speak, because he answers by tipping you back and picking you up bridal style and you squeal, wrapping your hands around his neck and widening your eyes.

"I-Is this okay?" Fuck, Luigi stares into your eyes and feels his own knees shake before he brushes the thoughts away, smiling at your reaction.

"L-Luigi you don't need to do this I was ki- OH!" You jump when he throws you up a little to adjust your position in his arms, making you giggle and dig your face into the crook of his neck.

"You're such a menace. Put me down." You try to fake seriousness, but you both know you're lying. You totally love it and he doesn't think twice before not believing you.

"Too bad." Luigi starts walking and you can't stop the laughter spilling from your lips as you repeat yourself, increasingly more unserious every time and Luigi finds himself giggling too. You both ignore the stares from others in the cafe, lost in your own world of the hilariousness of the situation.

Luigi sighs before putting you down gently, smack dab in the front of the counter where the cashier is staring incredulously. You throw your head back, laughing and watching Luigi cover his face.

"I can't believe I just did that." Luigi mutters and you slap his chest.

"I can't either but I-" you stop yourself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying you liked it, but you can't stop the intensity of his stare.

His curly locks are spilling over his hairline, sharp jawline complimenting his stubble and high nose bridge. His look is curious yet intense, desperate to know what you are going to say.

"You?" Luigi stares at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence and you part your lips, moving in an inch closer-

"Ahem." The cashier is staring at you both with a blank expression and it makes you both stand apart, like a pair of thieves just found guilty.

You were... but let's move on.

You and Luigi share a look before he reluctantly looks at the menu, rambling away about what his favorite pastries and dishes were. You stare at him lovingly, hanging onto every word he spoke with intention.

"Get the strawberry - caramel coffee. It's the best thing they have and," Luigi stops talking before looking you up and down. "It matches your outfit." It evokes a stupid laugh from your mouth and Luigi has to bend, keeping his hand on your back to stop your from falling.

"Okay." You nod, moving to open your purse to pay but the cashier is already saying a soft thank you and moving to get your drinks and pastries.

"What?" You ask and turn to look at Luigi, who's got a mischievous yet arrogant smirk on his face.

"Apple Pay. Used my watch, bambi." Luigi says, ignoring the look of surprise on your face.

Bambi.

He just called you bambi.

That seals the deal for you because for the rest of the date, he keeps calling you sweet things, dropping bambi every now and then to reignite the butterflies which are now desperate to escape.

Desperate to escape by making you smash your lips on his. Or the other way around. :')

starting taglists soon. if u want to be added to it, please comment on my PINNED POST on my blog, not on my other posts. thank u!

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fluff #bruh idk #this is so fucking cute

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daydreamgoddess14 · 1 year ago

Text

Hot Water

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent xF!Reader

5 Times Roy Kent ends up on your doorstep even though you know it can't keep happening.

~~~

I feel like this was dragged from me kicking and screaming. It started out just a little smutty one shot and now it's a slightly longer one. I do hope you like it, I'm not sure I do but hey ho, there's always the next one! 🙃

~~~

Well. This was really fucking inconvenient.

You’re literally laying on the bathroom floor. Underneath the fucking bath. Something, somewhere, somehow has sprung a leak and you’re resolved to fix it. You’ve even got your dad’s old toolkit out in the hope that wielding a tool might help. It hasn’t so far. It doesn’t help that you know approximately zero about plumbing. This is all just capping off a pretty fantastically awful couple of months to be honest. And although it’s a work day, and therefore your biggest problem is at the forefront of your mind, you’re going to have to forget the main reason behind your shitty time recently. Because this leak ain’t going to fix itself. You’re doing a masterful job so far - real professional. You’ve remembered to turn the stopcock off which is a big bonus. You nearly broke your hand doing it, but it’s done. You give your spanner an experimental jiggle over what looks like a loose nut, but as you do so, a spider runs over your hand. That little fucker is the catalyst for everything else. You squeal and pull your hand back, whacking first the pipe and then dropping the spanner onto your forehead. Whacking the pipe leads to the spider's little spider buddies coming out to find him, and you soon have one on its way up your arm and one in your hair. All limbs and spanner and spiders, you’re dragging yourself out from under the bath and shaking the little bastards off. Crying, of course, because what else are you meant to do when there are 3 spiders on you and you’ve just hit yourself in the face with a metal tool?

It’s already 7am, you need to be getting ready for work so there’s nothing else for it, you can shower at work. Luckily, luckily , if you head out now you should be early enough that you’d be alone there. The lads won’t be there til 9am anyway, so it’s only the staff and possibly coaches who might be there any earlier. The showers should be free. You try and give yourself a spider once over, throw on a pair of joggers and a jumper over your PJ shorts set and shove half your life in a bag. You’re only a 10 minute walk from Nelson Road so you don’t bother driving. You head straight in through the side door and shout hello to the cleaner who’s at the top of the stairs to Rebecca’s office. Passed the locker room, and into the depths between the gym and the training pitch are the showers. You put your bag on the bench and pull out a towel and some Richmond kit to wear afterwards. As one of two sports massage therapists for the team, you live in joggers and Richmond vests. Boring but functional. You’ve seen no one, heard no one, but you’re still not keen on the idea of stripping off in a men's shower room so you’re absolutely keeping the knickers on. One less area to have to cover up. You hang up the stuff you need, put away the under bath grimy stuff you’ve just taken off, and switch the shower on. Colin was not wrong about that water pressure. You’re OK. It's OK. This was the right thing to do. A scalding shower with pressure hard enough to feel like you’re being clapped on the back by The Rock sounds like bliss. While the shower heats up, you strip off (except the knickers, of course) and grab your shampoo. That little bastard spider is not leaving babies in your hair. No fucking way. As a second thought just before you get under the water spray, you switch Spotify on your phone so you can drown to the angry sounds of Olivia Rodrigo. You’re getting pretty good at the speed on Good 4 U, though sometimes scream singing it does leave you feeling like you’ve run a marathon. You’re better at the unhinged wail you can really give to ‘bloodsucker, famefucker’ on Vampire, it just hits different at the moment. The hot water hits your body and you finally relax.

~~~~~~

You wish you weren’t so outwardly affected. It was always going to go this way, you could have done more to protect your heart though - it would have saved you looking so foolish, and it would have saved a ruined friendship. That was the hardest part to deal with. You’d joined the staff under Ted Lasso and had built a great rapport with the players and the coaching staff. You considered them friends - all of them. Sure, you harboured a pretty big crush on Roy Kent, but it didn’t affect your work. You ignored those feelings, trampled over them and focused on getting on with your job. Notoriously slow to win over, he eventually became as good a friend as everyone else. The night of the West Ham game was insane. Ted was leaving, everyone was bouncing between elation over finishing second in the league and the prospects that would bring, and losing Ted. There were tears of joy and laughter one minute and tears of devastation the next. Ola’s could barely contain the emotion everyone was feeling. You’d decided to hit the road, everything was winding down anyway and the players were going on to an exclusive club which they’d invited you to as well - and you knew full well you wouldn’t have to buy a drink all night, they’d never let you do that when it was £25 for a double gin, but you didn’t want to carry the party on. You’d kissed whoever you could reach, hugged as many as you could see and air high-fived Sam from across the way. You stepped out into the late May night, it was still warm so you lingered outside with your drink while you waited for the taxi.

“Oi, how come I didn’t fucking get one?” Roy asked, stepping out to join you by the window.

“Hey, you going to the club? Get what?”

“A hug.” He nudged your shoulder.

“That’s my taxi. You always get a hug.” You slipped your arm across his back and leaned up a little to reach him better. “See you Monday.”

“You can’t go back in a taxi on your own?”

“Course I can, I always do.” You laughed, pulling open the door. He held it open while you sat in the backseat and slipped in after you.

“C’mon, I’ll make sure it gets you back ok.” You haven’t moved quite far enough along the seat so as the taxi driver rounds each corner, you're pushed further into Roy. “So everyone else gets hugs and kisses eh?”

“Only the people I could reach. Also, you just had a hug, stop complaining.” Another corner taken at a higher speed than necessary smushed you into his side. “Jesus, is this guy ready to finish or something.” He put a hand on your thigh,

“You ok?”

“Yeah fine.” The heat of his hand lit up your skin, the addition of far too many drinks made you feel flushed. You both looked at his hand on your leg and then back to each other, the streetlights illuminating you both and then sending you into darkness again. You didn’t know if it was an unconscious move or deliberate, but his thumb brushed gently in small circles on your bare skin. You’re sure he must be able to see your heart pounding through your dress. As he leans forward into you, his hand moves up just another inch and as you gasp at the sensation, he lightly kisses you.

“Here we are. That's a tenner please, love.” Roy goes for his wallet but you push his hand out of the way and hand the driver a note from your bag. He has to open the door to let you out, “you coming back in, fella?” the driver asks. He looks down at the hand which he held out to help you from the taxi to find he’s still holding it.

“No thanks, mate.” You’ve barely got the front door closed behind you before he’s pushed you up against it and kissing you with a fierceness you hadn't realised you were so desperate for. Your hands worked fast, pushing his jacket down his arms and onto the floor with a thud, and pulling him back to you by his t-shirt. The dress Keeley suggested for you is flattering, but a little more revealing than you’d usually wear. Shorter than you’d normally go for and with a low neckline too. He’s got one hand up in your hair and the other is back on your leg, halfway up the skirt while he kisses your jawline. His body presses against you and you can feel him, hard through his jeans. You bring up the leg he’s got a hand on and he hooks it over his hip, it tilts your lower body further into his and he is so close to where you need him it sends you dizzy. It's impossible to disguise the neediness of your moans and the hand that's up your skirt is moving further up to grip the fleshy soft spot between your hip and thigh.

"God, Roy -," you whine, you rock your hips towards his,

"Sure you want this?" You nod against his shoulder, "Talk to me, babe," he asks.

"Yes, yeah I'm sure," you're pulling at his t-shirt, dragging it over his head.

When he mutters "good girl," against your collarbone, you're certain you could come there and then. He traces the line of your knickers with his fingers, feeling just how ready you are for him, "fucking hell," he says, wrecked. He slips his fingers inside you and presses his thumb to your clit. He seems to know exactly what you need and just when you're at the brink, grasping for the release that's just out of reach, he kisses you. It's hot and rough and sends you right over the edge. He gives you a minute, a slightly softer kiss, but you don't need it, you only want him. Your shaking hands fumble with the button of his jeans until he takes over and does it himself, he's dug out a condom from his wallet. You're still fully clothed, still wearing the high heels that, with his help, have you at exactly the right height for him to push into you. It's everything. Everything you've fantasised about since the day you were introduced, he's the only thing that stands out from your first day at the club. In a room full of high-profile, well-paid, gorgeous footballers, he's the only one you see. He thrusts into you using your hips as leverage, the spike of your heel grazing the back of his thigh. Your hands hold fast to the back of his neck and his shoulder,

"Roy, fuck, you feel so good." Your name is reverent on his lips as he comes and on hearing, you're there too. His pace slows as his hips stutter, and your head rests in the crook of his neck while you catch your breath. All at once, he's gentle again, carefully bringing your leg back down and making sure you're steady on your feet. He looks a little sheepish as he steps back away from you, taking you hands to help you stand up away from the back of the door,

"You ok?" He asks, while you straighten your dress and pull it back down into place.

"Yep, all good. You?"

"Yeah, yeah fine." He looked like he couldn't get out of there fast enough, his hesitation and unease rubbing off on you. "I should go though,"

"Yeah, no I figured as much."

"It's just been a fucking long day, y'know?"

"I know. Lots of crazy emotions." He must have seen the look of hurt cross your face,

"Not that it was a mistake… but maybe, probably shouldn't have happened? Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a fucking dick-,"

"I get it Roy. It was fun but it didn't mean anything." It didn't mean anything . Probably the biggest lie you've ever told and it's out of your mouth like you knew it had to be said all along.

~~~~~~~~

On Monday morning, you were all notified that Roy would be named as the new head coach for Richmond. He obviously knew beforehand, so within 36 hours you'd gone from sleeping with a colleague to sleeping with your boss, and the sudden distance and desperation to get out of your flat became clear. Along with the knowledge that it definitely could not happen again. Not that he gave the impression that he wanted it to. The following week, you took yourself on holiday for a week with some of the team and friends, just a big villa and a private beach in southern Spain. You'd relaxed, eaten your weight in fresh seafood, and consumed more sangria than you should have. All week, Instagram was full of you and your sunkissed friends having a whale of a time. You returned feeling better about yourself and ready for a few easy admin weeks before the start of the season. And then Roy had shown up at your door.

"Nice holiday?"

"Not bad… can I help you?" You're on your guard, holding the door closed against you.

"Right. Thought I should check in, see how you are?"

"As my boss, or?"

"Can I fucking come in or not?" You hold the door open but keep your arm in the way, childishly making him duck to get through. "Did the lads behave?" He asked from your kitchen.

"Oh yeah. I slept with Jan in the pool, Richard on the beach and shared a bed with Moe and Tommy all week."

"Fucking funny," he didn't look amused.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" He did a momentary double take. "Course I'm joking. Bad enough that I've fucked the boss, isn't it? Jesus if word got around I might as well quit."

"Don't say that." He growled.

"True though isn't it? You knew, and that's why you left in such a hurry. Quick and dirty. What was it? You'd wondered what it would be like, so thought you might as well give it a go before you started the top job?" He didn't say anything. "And now you're worried that I've been off having too much fun with one of the lads? Like you have any say whatsoever?"

"No. Fuck no. You can do whatever you want."

"I know."

"See whoever you want."

"I know."

"Will you stop arguing with me on this?"

"I'm agreeing with you. Boss." Somehow, you'd managed to square up to each other like you were about to hit him. It was still a reasonably high possibility until he closed the gap and kissed you. Horny traitor that it is, your body gives in immediately. "We shouldn't do this again," you hiss as he bites your shoulder.

"So tell me to fucking stop." He grabs at your loose sleep vest and pulls it off, surprised to find you don't wear anything underneath. "And if you really do want me to stop, then you'd better tell me right fucking now." Instead, you walk him back a step to the sofa and push him to sit down. As soon as he does, you straddle him.

"Do not fucking stop." You warn him, pulling off his t-shirt. It's the same needy, desperate and hot sex that you'd both craved last time, at least this time you already know that it shouldn't be happening. The difference is that it makes it even more intense. He does the same disappearing act as last time, leaving you doubting your life choices and questioning your sanity.

~~~~~~~~

It happens again the next week. With so many people on holiday, Keeley organises a karaoke night for those who are around. It's lairy and a lot of fun, you sing a few songs including a duet with Nate. Soon, the challenge becomes choosing songs for other people. You can't even place the song Keeley has picked for you until the music kicks in, it's not until you're singing it and reading the lyrics that you realise how apt they are.

"I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl

But I do bad things with you

So it goes

Come here, dressed in black now

So, so, so it goes

Scratches down your back now

So, so, so it goes"

You catch his eye as you're singing without meaning to, and it's like lighting a fire in your belly. You know it's going to happen again. You still don't make it to a bedroom. Instead, you get to your knees for him just inside your flat and this time he's the one sounding needy and desperate. You've never heard Roy Kent of all people sound so wrecked and affected. Ever giving, he's utterly confused when you reject him afterwards and send him home without letting him touch you at all.

It's this which brought him back to your door the last time, just over a month ago. You've been in a bit of a downward spiral ever since. It had been over a week since the karaoke night. Pre season training was due to start and you knew you'd be busy with rusty footballers who tried to rush their first decent stretch in weeks. You were exhausted after the first day back, your hands ached and you'd half forgotten what it was like to be on your feet all day. You're yawning your way through a takeout menu when the door goes. Once again, Roy is on your doorstep, but this time he has a bag of food with him. He brushes straight past you and into the kitchen where he manages to plate up two meals despite not knowing where anything is kept and you becoming mute.

"Why are you here?" You mumble.

"I saw the appointment list for today. Thought you'd be fucking knackered." Once you’ve finished eating, he leads you to your own bedroom where he sits you on the bed. "This ok," he asks.

You nod first, then follow up with a hushed, "Yes." He undresses you slowly, taking his time in a way he hasn't any of the other times before. He lays you back on the bed and settles between your thighs, you're in pieces even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him with a whispered "fuckkk," he gives your thigh a bite,

"Hold fucking still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking, your hands are in his hair, dragging through the curls that have grown out over the summer break. You practically wail his name as you come, and if you've learned anything from the hurried, rough trysts you've had so far with Roy, it's that you definitely weren't prepared for the time he actually gets to take his time with you. He's watching you come down, boneless from your first orgasm, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling back up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences, speaking only in single word requests, "clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs. He's equally as eloquent, but out to take an agonisingly long time with you. He pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. The closeness is both intense and intimate, and when he kisses you it feels so much like a promise your heart could break. Unlike the previous times, you don't part immediately while you both catch your breath. He shifts off you slightly but stays with his nose against your jaw and his hands coveting your body. He's the first one to say it.

"This can't keep happening."

"We both keep saying that and yet here we are again." You sit up against the headboard, mindful to cover yourself up.

"I know."

"But, you're right, we can't." You decide you need to be firmer, "I can't keep doing this." He nods and gets up to dress.

"I'm sorry." He mutters as he leaves.

~~~~~~~~

Roy is always consistently early for work. A byproduct of being awake at stupid o’clock to train Jamie, yes, but before that, he’s just always been early. Now he’s head coach, he uses the time to get the coffee going or makes sure Will is on top of everything in the boot room. Has a wander around and checks the gym or the showers for lonely socks, earbud boxes, or hats. More recently, he's just sat at his desk and moped for an extra half hour before anyone arrives and calls him out on it. Today, though, he puts the coffee on and starts in the gym where he straight away finds Isaac’s favourite sweatbands, Moe’s sunglasses, and one of Dani’s socks. It’s like picking up after a bunch of fucking kids. He dumps the loot in the middle of the locker room and carries on. He can hear singing as he gets closer to the showers and assumes that Jamie must have chosen food over cleanliness and has decided to save time by coming straight to Nelson Road after breakfast.

“Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath!

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night crying on the floor of my bathroom

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

But I guess good for you”

Yeah. That's not Jamie. But it's already too late, he'd been rounding the corner as he'd heard the singing and now, well… thank fuck you've got your back to him. He tries to back out of the room, but manages to crash into the bench and sends your phone crashing to the tiles, the music stopping abruptly. The noise has you covering as much of your body with your hands as you can while you scream like a banshee, the sound echoes off the tiles, and what the hell is the lump on your head?!

"Roy! Fuck me, turn around!" His brain manages to click into gear enough to let him do that at least, but then it goes manic on what he's just seen. Or not seen really, his memory fills in the blanks though. "Fucksake what the hell are you doing?” You’re shaking, he can hear it in your voice. He truly scared the shit out of you. “I need to finish washing my hair, can you be trusted for 5 fucking minutes if I move my hands?" You ask, a little calmer.

"I heard singing, thought it was one of the lads."

"Oh so jumping them in the shower is also fine? Don't move. I'm nearly done. Ouch, cocking shitting fuck." Your voice catches and he thinks you might be crying.

"Jesus, are you alright? I've never heard you swear like that."

"I'm fine," you reply quietly. "Hit my head." He turned quickly, too quickly for you to cover back up, "Oi!" His eyes initially went exactly where you’d expect, then they flew up to yours and didn't move, but it didn’t stop you covering yourself up with your hands again.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" he crossed the room and brought a hand up to your temple which was sporting a painful looking purple bruise. “Was it me, did you hit your head when I came in?” You shake your head with a grimace,

“No, it’s been a fucking awful morning. I just-,” he’s close enough now that he’s going to be right under the shower head in a minute, and he can see that you are close to tears. “You’re gonna get soaked. Could you just go away please?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he goes back to the bench and retrieves your phone from the floor. He has the good grace to look ashamed that the screen is smashed to bits. “Fuck, sorry.” he kicks off his sneakers and turns back to you, “turn around.”

“No, I want to be left alone. Let’s not pretend you give a shit, Roy. Just go.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. This is getting stupid.

“Of course I fucking give a shit. Please. Turn. Around. You’ve hit your head, you’re freezing cold, you-”

“Fine.” You glare, “fine.” You turn to face the wall, no idea why. It becomes clear as he comes to stand right behind you, under the stream of water.

“Head back.” You lean your head back as he asks. His height over you means he has a direct line of sight down your body so you keep your hands in place as he washes the shampoo out of your hair. He avoids the lump in your hairline far better than you did, and now you’re back under the water, you’re warming up a bit. He takes his time, and as you close your eyes, his are drawn to the path the droplets of water follow over your skin, like memories of where his mouth had been. “Did you need to do anything else?” he asks softly. You shake your head, moving your hands and arms so you can still cover yourself but also bring a hand to cover your face, trying not to cry. He reaches past you to turn the shower off. He moves away but he’s only gone long enough to get your towel from the hook. He holds it out for you and turns his head so you can move your arms and step into it. Then he leads you to the bench and pushes your shoulders gently to sit you down. He disappears and comes back a couple of minutes later with a towel for himself and another smaller one which he passes you for your hair. You use it to blot the majority of the water out of your hair, breathing in the soothing lavender softeners Will uses. He’s busy watching you but you’re staring at the floor. With your hair a little dryer, he brushes his fingers through it to move it away from the bruise and take a better look. “That looks really fucking nasty. What did you do?”

“Spanner.” You mumble. He’s not speaking so you know he’s waiting for you to elaborate. “I have a leak under the bath I was trying to fix. A spider scared me so I hit the spanner off my head while I was trying to get out and then there were like three other spiders all over me and I fucking hate spiders and… I just feel like shit.” Saying it all out loud, you realise it all sounds a bit feeble, that you’ve overreacted.

“Get dressed before you get a cold. I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll shout this time before I come in.”

~~~~~~

You don’t rush. You sit for a minute and try to gather your thoughts. Of all the people in the entire club, he was the one you’d least want to see you half naked in the shower. He’d have probably been top of the list only a month ago. You’re not even sure by this point what he actually did see, but it’s also too late to care now. It’s done so there’s no undoing it. And it's not like he hasn’t seen it all before anyway. You dry off and pull on your sweats, you’re just reaching for your Richmond t-shirt when he calls out to let you know he’s on his way back. He’s been to get changed,

“I’m fine, you might as well get back to work. Everyone will be here in a minute.” He goes to challenge you again but you just don’t have the energy. You haven’t even had a coffee yet this morning, let alone breakfast. “Please, Roy. I’m fine.” You throw your wet towel in your bag and check you’ve got everything before squeezing past him and back up to the treatment room. You avoid everyone all morning, Katie offers to go outside for training so you can stay in. She goes out just before 10am, meeting Nate in the corridor. You have to pop to the main office to sign for a delivery and when you get back, there’s a mug of coffee and a paper bag with a pastry inside on your desk, along with some painkillers. The rest of the day seems to settle down. You work your way through the list of players who need some time with you. Jan Maas is last on the list with a niggle he picked up in training that morning. You’ve got your hands high up on the back of his thigh when Roy taps on the door,

“Hey coach.” Jan mumbles from face down on the treatment bench. You manage to get your thumb right where he needs it and he lets out a low groan. Roy raises an eyebrow,

“Alright Jan. You good?”

“Yes, she’s a genius” He hops up from the bench with a big smile. “You should let me buy you a drink, to say thank you.”

“I’m fine thanks, Jan. Take it easy on your leg.” When he leaves, Roy moves to sit on the bench. He takes your wrist as you walk by him, pulling you to stand in front of him where he can check your forehead again.

"How's it feel?"

"Like I hit myself in the head with a spanner."

"Are you done?"

"For the day or generally? Because the answer is yes to both. I'm going home. I need to… not be here." Not be around you . Is the follow up you'd like to add. I can't ignore it like you can, can't just pretend I don't feel the way I do. It’s getting harder every day.

"I think you have a concussion. I'm pretty fucking sure you didn't want to vocalise those thoughts?" You go to slap your hand to your head, but he stops you just in time. "Don't make it any fucking worse." He rolls his eyes when you glare at him. The off season was so much easier. The need for contact between you both has steadily increased over the last month with the team returning. Daily meetings and progress reports on injuries old and new, the only saving grace is that he's stopped coming to you for his own recovery sessions.

"I'm going home."

"Let me drive you."

"I'd really rather you didn't. Look, I'll be fine. I'll get over it, I just need to do it in my own time." You don't wait for a response. You take your bag and leave him sitting on the treatment bench alone.

The first thing you do is fix the leak. It would be much easier if you were in the right frame of mind, which you're not, but you manage. There are no more spiders, but you end up soaked from the water left in the pipe which bursts out when you loosen rather than tighten the nut. You really don't know whether to laugh or cry from the calamity of it all. You're about to go for cry, but the doorbell goes and you're surprisingly unsurprised to see Roy. Again.

"You know, it would be a lot easier for me to get over whatever this," you motion between the two of you, "is, if you could just fuck off and leave me to it?"

"Can I come in?" You turn to let him in, looking expectantly for him to continue. His hand rubs his beard and up through his hair, cut shorter since the last time he was in your flat - the curls gone. "Fucksake. You act like this is easy for me."

"Well you make it seem like it is."

"It's not. It never fucking has been. Why do you think I kept coming back even though I knew, I knew it was a bad fucking idea?"

"You tell me? You're the one who walks out of here without a care in the world once you've got what you want?" A look of hurt flashed across his face, you knew it was a low blow, you had no idea why you'd even said it.

"Is that really what you think?" He asked quietly. You shook your head. "All this coaching job has done so far is make me fucking miserable."

"It's only been a couple of months. You'll figure it out."

"It's making me miserable because I lost you in the process. You said earlier that I shouldn't pretend to care, but I don't need to pretend. I do care. Too much, that's the fucking problem." He sighed heavily.

" We can't keep happening, you're my boss now."

"Well, I've been feeling like this a lot longer than I've been your fucking boss, and I don't regret any of it."

"Feeling what, exactly? Because if you're about to fuck up your future-"

"I love you." You close your eyes. Your head is pounding again.

"Roy, think about what you're doing -"

"Tell me you don't feel the same, and I'll go." You shake your head,

"I can't," you whisper. "I can't. I'm in love with you too." He crosses the room and cups your cheek, checking the bruise on your forehead again before he kisses you. You sigh into him, "What are we going to do?"

"I'm the boss. As long as I'm not fucking you in the treatment room, I think it'll be OK."

"That's a shame. Not even after hours?"

"Don't tempt me. Any objections to me waking you up every couple of hours to check you really don't have a concussion?"

"Depends how you plan to wake me?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." He smiles, letting you lead him to the bedroom.

~~~~~~

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent smut #roy kent x you #roy kent imagine

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numptypylon · 2 months ago

Note

For the time skip ask:

To eachother: "what's the weirdest food you've eaten?"

This vaguely follows the last drabble in the series, but it's not at all required reading. And this is MUCH fluffier <3

“We… need a less depressing question next.” Rayla wiped her eyes, and it stuck this time. She didn’t draw away though, just settled to get more comfortable in his lap, carefully adjusting to rest her head under his chin without her horns stabbing him in the neck. “So… what was the weirdest food you ate, since I saw you last? You said you went to Evenere for a diplomatic visit, and to Duren and all sorts of places?”

“Yeah, I did,” Callum said. “But the food there wasn’t that weird except for the snails.”

“Snails?! Yeah, that’s super weird. I didn’t even eat snails, and I ate lichen at some point, it was not for lack of desperation.” She paused. “I guess I answered the question too and it’s more sad than weird, it was lichen, for me. One out of five stars; do not recommend, will not elaborate. Anyway, going back to you… who eats snails?”

“The Evenerian nobility. Apparently. Even they don’t eat them for breakfast though, that was just me.”

“Callum, why…”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! You’ve seen the situations I accidentally get myself into, we know this about me!”

Her laughter vibrated against his chest.

“I’d been to Duren already, by then,” he continued. He had some explanation, after all. “And in Duren they have a kind of whirly bun with cinnamon that they call a snail, but of course it’s not really a snail, it’s just dough that’s shaped like a snail, and those were really good, so I ordered them when I saw snails on the menu during a diplomatic outing in Evenere… a casual meeting of minds with select Evenerian courtiers before an all-day political gathering.” He dreaded to think what they had thought of his mind after that. Probably that he was out of it. “And you know, I just met these people and I didn’t want to offend their country’s food by insinuating it was weird even though it was.”

“So you just sat there and ate snails for breakfast out of sheer awkwardness?” she giggled. “That… sounds like you.”

“I did. I ate the snails in garlic butter. At 7am. With hot chocolate as my drink accompaniment of choice.”

“That’s kinda a power move, if you pulled it off with confidence.”

“I did not.”

“Hey, maybe you looked cooler than you think?”

“I catapulted a buttery snail onto the window of the establishment with my fork, trying to get it out of its shell.”

“And maybe you looked good doing it? You have a way with breakfast foods, you know? I hold firm that those hairy butt fruits you love are also super weird, and back at the inn, you made eating those look just… so good. I’m sure those diplomats were also barely containing their desire for you.”

“Also, huh?”

“Mmmhmm. Also.” She shifted just so. “Then. Now. Always-”

“Rayla?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m done with questions.”

They're not really done with questions, they just need a makeout break XD Cinnamon rolls are called snails in Denmark, which inspired this I'll be back with more of these drabbles, hopefully in a few days.

If you want backstory for the inn breakfast referenced in this, that is Downtime’s Up inn chapter (all chapters of this fic are oneshots)

#rayllum #rayla #callum #the dragon prince #tdp #numpty fic tag #downtime’s up #five questions prompts

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harlowsbby · 2 years ago

Note

i still remember that one anon sending in a concept of how Jack and a member of his team don’t get along. they always argue and hate on each other every time they’re in the same room to the point where they have to be separated. Jack at the end ends up confessing his feelings to her but reader doesn’t believe it bc of how he is with other women and just not serious with them. pls post it that anon was doing their thing with that idea😭😭😭 i saw u saying its titled coming together.i’m not giving up on u anon !!!!!!

Coming Together

You hated the way you absolutely had the biggest crush on Jack simply because you knew he was a player and you’ve seen up front and personal how he’s treated women.

You’ve been friends with Jack since High School and since you were taking this summer off from College Jack suggested you’d come along with him for his summer tour. You were beyond thrilled mainly because you’d finally be able to spend time with him.

Jack would be lying if he said he didn’t like you as well, he’s been falling for you ever since he met you in Ms. Honey’s 9th grade home room class and when he had you for almost every class after that.

Lately Jack and Neelam’s assistant Keith haven’t exactly been seeing eye to eye whenever they were in the room together they’d start arguing instantly and when Keith found out Jack had a crush on you things went a little south.

You were all on the tour bus on your way to California for Jack’s show that night it was around 7am in the morning, you all had the option to fly on the jet but Nemo saw the tour bus as a bounding opportunity, there has been so much heated tension in the air and he knew it all needed to be cleared up.

Jack sat at the tables with Urban, Neelam and Nemo while you were in the kitchen with Keith the two of you making coffee. Jack glanced up when he heard you giggling.

“Stop Keith that’s already so much sugar you only need at most two scoops.” You laughed and snatched the spoon out his hand.

“What if I like my coffee sweet though? Just like how I like my women.” He smirked as you laughed nervously. “Is that so?” He licked his lips and nodded. “I think it is, but seriously I love sweet coffee I don’t know how you can only do one scoop of sugar.”

You shrugged your shoulders and lifted the iced coffee to your lips before taking a sip you moaned softly at how good it tasted, Keith and Jack cheeks heated up at the sound of you moaning. “It’s because a little bit goes along way.” You told him and went to walk back to Jack and them.

You went to walk past Jack to go lay down in the bed in the back till he grabbed your arm softly. “What did he want? He didn’t say anything to you did he?” Jack’s jaw tightened and you frowned shaking your head. “He didn’t say anything Jack I promise.” You told him softly.

“I’m going to lay down for a bit okay? I have a little headache.” He smiled and and nodded and let go of you. You went back into the room and shut the door behind you before flopping on the bed.

After scrolling through apps on your phone eventually you ended up falling asleep but not long after you were sleeping the sound of yelling had woken you up.

“Yeah but she isn’t your girl so don’t fucking go near her alright?!” Jack yelled at Keith as Urban attempted to hold Jack back.

“Jack calm down man he isn’t worth it.”

Neelam stood in front of Keith trying to hold Keith back and Nemo well he just stood there wondering what was going to happen.

Neelam wasn’t really sure how this argument started because one minute they were joking around, the next Keith was talking about you and one thing led to another and Jack was charging after Keith like an animal.

“She isn’t your girl nor will she ever be your girl.” Keith scoffed. “News flash she isn’t your girl either Jack and I highly doubt she’ll be with anybody like you.” Keith tried pushing past Nemo but he wasn’t giving up.

That’s what made Jack even more mad because he as well had many thoughts that you’d never date him simply based off the fact how he treated other women.

“You don’t know shit Keith honestly Neelam if you’re going to hire an ass for an assistant at least run it pass me or something.” Neelam rolled her eyes and tossed her hands in the air. “Don’t bring me into this shit.”

“Just face the facts that she’d never date you, because the only thing you can offer her is the thing between your legs other than that you have nothing to offer her.” That one hurt Jack. He’s been working hard to prove to not only himself but other people as well that he’s changed.

You stood there a bit frightened mainly because you’ve never seen Jack react this way, the way his face was slightly red from anger, his fist being balled to his sides was a bit terrifying. Urban looked up when he noticed your presence.

“Jack.” Urban mumbled that’s when Jack looked behind him seeing your confused and scared face, his face immediately softened and his fist unclenched. “Y/N shit.”

“Checkmate.” Keith stated and smirked before he went and sat down in the front of the tour bus with Nemo. “Y/N, can you take Jack in the room with you please?” Neelam kindly asked you nodded and took his hand leading him into the room.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and watched as you bent over to get something out of your suitcase his cheeks flushed as the shorts you were wearing were a bit too short but Jack wasn’t complaining.

You turned back around and that’s when he saw you had some sort of mini massaging wand in your hand. “What’s that? It isn’t one of your sex toys is it?” He laughed as you smacked his chest. “No it’s a massager I got it back in Japan when we had went. Isn’t it so super cute?” You smiled and he nodded. “It’s super cute Y/N.”

You crawled on the bed and stood behind Jack on your knees, he was swearing a white tank top so it was easy for you to apply some lotion and start massaging the tool into his skin. He groaned and leaned into your touch. “That feels good Y/N who would’ve thought a mini massager would be able to go along way.” You giggled and twisted a few of his curls.

After awhile it was quiet the only sound coming from Jack’s phone, it was starting to eat you alive as to what he was arguing with Keith about.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened between Keith and yourself?” Jack sighed heavily and turned off his phone.

“Do I need to though? It really wasn’t anything. You rolled your eyes. “It had to be something I heard you say something about a girl not liking you.” You paused for a second. “Who is she.”

You said bluntly and even though you knew you might regret asking him that question deep down inside you needed to know if he was thinking about someone else.

“You’re the girl, we were both arguing about you.”

You stopped your movement as your heart began to beat. “You were arguing about me? Why I’m nobody special.” He smacked his lips.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? I’ve liked you since the day we met and Keith well I guess he found out about that and was trying to ask you out and I got jealous.”

“You we’re going to ask me out?” You smiled wide he nodded his head. “Yes but I’m sure he messes up any chances of that happening.”

You wanted to believe Jack you really did because this is what you’ve wanted all along but because of the fact of how he was with other women and never treated his past relationship serious you were a bit hesitant, you just didn’t want your heart to be broken by someone you’ve loved for the longest.

“I like you too Jack but it’s hard to believe that you really like me simply based off the fact that you’ve got a well known track record with women.” He laughed.

“I’m flattered that the feelings are mutual but I promise I’d never treat you or do you like that, I’ve changed and I’m still changing Y/N.”

You removed yourself from behind him and you were now sitting on his lap in front of him, Jack wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you flush against his chest.

“I’m giving you a chance Jack but I swear on my life if you break my heart-.” He cut you off. “I’d never break your heart ever now can I kiss you?” He desperately asked you nodded and leaned into him and he leaned in as well and connected your lips onto his.

“I told you they’d kiss now pay up.” The two of you pulled apart when you heard Urban talking. You looked behind you seeing Urban and Nemo standing there. You hid in Jack’s neck trying to bury yourself from the embarrassment.

“Can you two get out of here!” Jack yelled and the two of them laughed.

“Wait what are they doing? Is he kissing my women.” Keith yelled and tried looking into the room but Nemo pushed him back.

“That’s none of your business but if you must know I just might be an uncle soon.” Urban teased making Keith groan.

“Well since the moment is ruined I guess we should go back out there with everyone.” You told him softly and went to remove yourself from Jack but he pulled you back into him.

“I don’t think so I’ve been waiting on you for the longest so for the rest of the night you’re mine.”

You giggled but nonetheless you spent the rest of the night wrapped up in Jack’s arms but you weren’t complaining, as long as you were with Jack you were at peace with life.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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pocket-watcher · 9 months ago

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Hi! I love your blog and your stories. They inspire and make my soul curl up! @ о @ ||| Can you make a story about character A being forced to sing a hypnotic song in order to lure character B, who is the partner of character A, into a trance? Character B try to do everything possible to make A stop singing, but they are not allowed to do so. Thanks <3

Hi anon! :) Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoy them!!

As for your request, here you go! And please let me know what you think :)

Sirens don’t exist.

That’s what Dylan thought, anyways.

Being a strong swimmer from an early age meant Dylan had heard it all. How he must be some kind of mythical creature to hold his breath that long. How his toes were actually webbed (they weren’t, but if they were it might shave a few seconds off his record), and how he looked more at home in the pool than most people did in their own beds.

That’s probably why he decided to be a lifeguard.

From 7am-6pm Monday-Thursday he spent his time surveying, swimming, teaching, and rarely (but not rarely enough) saving lives at the local pool.

Unfortunately, despite his skills, Casey was still a stronger swimmer than him.

She glided when she was in water, effortlessly twisting her body around and around. She was the only one picking up more shifts than Dylan.

Casey had always eyed Dylan suspiciously, though. She’d actually been the one to make a few of the “merman” comments before, but almost in a way where she seemed like she wasn’t actually… joking?

Weird.

But eventually, Dylan spent more and more time with Casey and became utterly enamoured with her.

Her smile, her laugh, her love of the water. They went to the beach every other week, and she was the only one who listened to his corny marine-puns.

It was perfect.

Until Dylan forgot his wallet at work.

It was around 8pm. The moon was already rising in the sky as he unlocked the door to the locker room.

It’s kinda eerie when it’s all quiet like this, he thought.

But then he heard it.

Someone was singing…?

“…hello…?”

Why would anyone break in here just to sing?

Dylan passed his locker without checking for his wallet, and instead peered around the corner from the changing room.

Sure enough, there sat his girlfriend, Casey.

She sat in the moonlight singing out. Her eyes shone. She didn’t seem to notice him, she was too lost in her song.

I’ve never heard her sing before, Dylan thought. He smiled. She was a beautiful singer.

Dylan felt his eyelids droop slightly. His head began to bob as he struggled to keep it upright. He could feel his arms growing heavy.

His grip on the wall slipped and he stumbled out into the open. Casey stopped in shock.

“D-Dylan? What are you doing here?”

“I was…” Hm. What had he been doing here? It didn’t seem to matter now. All he wanted was for her to start singing again.

Wait. What? No. He was here… to get his wallet. Right?

Casey smiled, but not the sweet caring smile Dylan was used to. It was eager, crazy, almost scary… she covered her face and seemed to return to normal for a moment.

“P-please! You need to get out of here! I… I can’t control myself like this! Please don’t listen!”

Dylan started towards her. What could’ve made her so eager for him to go?

The moonlight poured in and, despite her covering her eyes, she suddenly regained that crazed look in her eyes.

She began to sing again.

Dylan felt as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

Don’t listen.

“Uh… Case… could you stop singing for a sec and talk to me…?”

He could feel his vision blurring slightly. His blinks became slow and laboured.

She looked at him with hunger. Her hand limply beckoned him towards her, as if her arm were a puppet’s on a string.

She licked her teeth.

Dylan plugged his ears and stumbled.

“Casey, seriously. This isn’t funny. Let’s go home…”

He didn’t even sound convincing to himself. That thought also told him he hadn’t plugged his ears very well.

Her singing weaselled its way into his ears and burrowed deep into his brain. Dylan felt hims thoughts become dreamlike, passing by too quickly for him to register.

She said not to listen. Sink. Obey. What did she mean by that? Get closer. Go deeper. Why wouldn’t she just talk to me. Drop. Good. It’s like a siren song. Blank. Empty.

“P-please…” Dylan whimpered as his feet dragged his body over to her involuntarily. “Casey.”

She looked at him, full of lust, full of excitement. He couldn’t understand the lyrics but they drowned his own thoughts out completely.

In the moonlight she didn’t just look beautiful. She looked ethereal.

And Dylan wanted nothing more than to stay there, listening to her forever.

Luckily, that was just what she had in mind.

#who doesn’t love a relationship built on lies manipulation and hidden hypnotic abilities #hypnok1nk #hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #watcher answers #watcher writes #watcher’s stories

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neonponders · 2 years ago

Text

Inspired by @gorbovsky-l ‘s art ✨🏀

[ Steve goes to the s4 basketball game but it’s for Billy. ]

~ my drabbles anthology on ao3 ~

• • •

Steve was grumpy, he could admit that. Well, he could admit it now that it had been a few hours. That didn’t stop him and Robin having an immature spat in the car over over Fast Times with the word boobies flying around.

Then, “Just get whatever is occupying your braincell off your shoulders, already.”

Steve’s jaw had dropped, openly gaping at the road towards Hawkins High. “We’re talking about your love life - lack thereof.”

“Hush.”

“Oh, am I talking or hushing?”

Robin burst out into tired, 7am giggles. “You’re so petty when you miss him.”

Steve sighed through his nose in defeat. He did miss him. Between the summer, the school year starting for the new batch of seniors, and winter basketball camp, Steve felt like he rarely saw his boyfriend. He had a green Hargrove 7 jersey in his trunk since the team was using the white jerseys for their final game, and that in itself was annoying.

Come get your jersey.

Come see me.

Steve couldn’t even fault Billy for being committed to something. He just wished it was a little more Steve and a lot less basketball.

But everything was fine. The bubble was about to break. They were finally having a home game, and it was the championship to boot. Steve’s back seat was crowded to show for it with Robin’s band attire: feather duster helm and all.

Steve was a sap. He knew it. He was ready for something long haul, but he hadn’t grown too far from the feeling of being a senior. He knew what it felt like to be a strong, upperclassman. Looked up to. On the verge of the rest of his life. He didn’t want to steal that from Billy just because they’d spent the summer being split up by jobs, hospitals, school, basketball camp...saving the world from a catastrophe that nearly took Billy away forever.

Maybe Steve wasn’t being too unreasonable.

But it also meant that Billy needed normalcy more than ever. He certainly deserved it.

So Steve dropped Robin off, and he went to Family Video for the long wait before tonight’s basketball game. The phone usually wasn’t too busy during the day, but he could predict some noise around lunchtime and the end of his shift. Today, lunchtime rang.

“Family Video, this is Steve.”

“Steve! It’s me.”

“Oh, hey, Dustin,” Steve greeted in something just a little better than a monotone. As if Dustin didn’t call from the school’s payphone every other day. “What’s up?”

Steve slowly grimaced as Dustin told him he had to fill in for Lucas at that night’s D&D campaign. Dustin got demoted back to his last name.

“Henderson, I graduated. I can’t go to your silly club session.”

“Well, Lucas has his stupid basketball game!”

“It’s not stupid. It’s the championship. You, me, and Max all know how much work he and the team have been putting into this season.”

The team. Billy. Billy was the team. Even with his injuries, recovery, and hard ass mindset that made him a lousy patient, Billy still maintained the stage presence to run the court.

He was still an asshole, but an observant one that had him taking Steve’s place as captain instead of the entitled judge’s son, Jason Carver. Billy might’ve been mean on the court but he was indifferent - even nice - in the locker room. Carver played nice on the court but wasn’t so nice off stage. Everyone’s doubts at the start of the season had been quickly put to rest.

“It’s a game, Steve - ”

“And your weird board game isn’t?”

“D&D involves weeks of plot, strategy, improvisation, and the statistical gamble of dice - ”

“Yeah, I seem to remember weeks of planning, myself. Whatever, I’ll be at the school supporting your friend for you. Uh oh, customers. Gotta go. Bye.”

“No- Steve!”

He was pretty sure he could hear Dustin cussing him out even though the phone was back on its mount. He smiled at the customers and tried to keep his glances at the clock to a minimum.

The day was easy until 4pm. Steve almost leapt out of his skin when he realized school had ended. Old habits. Today, it did mean the end of his shift, though, so he clocked out and went home to freshen up.

Freshen up for what, he didn’t know. He might have some old habits but he’d forgotten how stuffy the gymnasium could get during a game. Probably because he usually spent games on the spacious court, not the stands -

“Hey, Steve!”

He rotated to see...Stacie. No. De-uh-B-Brenda! “Brenda, hi.”

Her teased and permed hair floated around her as she smiled and walked with him into the gym. “How are you? It’s so weird. Like, half our class is gone, and the rest are hard to find.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve said, even though he didn’t, really. All of his enduring friends were younger. With the exception of a very - tragic - few, they were somehow all alive, too.

Brenda meant alumni who had moved away. Steve didn’t contribute this much.

Predictably, spaces were available in the bleachers next to the band. People usually didn’t want to be right next to the noise, but this meant he could be close to Robin. He kept his tone jovial and polite as he curtly gestured at the bleachers. “I’m heading up.”

“Sure!” she chimed, accepting his hand for a boost. Not really his intention, but he’d never had any issue with Brenda. She was nice, smelled good. Great at math but just as crap as he was in Mrs. Click’s English. She tasted like bubble gum when they made out at a football game three years ago. All things considered, she and Steve were on easy footing.

Until Tammy Thomson showed up to sing the National Anthem.

He and Robin caught each other’s side-eye the same time. Told you, he mouthed. Muppet -

“Wow,” Brenda breathed. “She sounds amazing, doesn’t she?”

Steve smiled on autopilot, and just as quickly recoiled once her head had turned back to the performance.

He tried not to rock too strongly on his feet. He didn’t need everyone on the bleachers looking at him like x-ray vision, making him feel exposed and ready to scream over how he needed Robin’s sass, the weekend, a freaking burger, and Billy to run his mouth. A lot of mouth. A lot of...

Steve raked his hands through his hair, stuck between thinking the world of his boyfriend out there on the court and the fact that they were losing. The white jersey actually covered all of Billy’s scars, but Steve and Robin could see his fatigue arriving faster than the rest of the team. They glanced at each other, only interrupted by Max manifested between them.

“Hey,” Steve frowned. “Have you been here the whole time?”

She glanced at him, deadpan. “Duh. Which of us is going to convince him to sit on the bench?”

Steve blew air between his lips so they vibrated. “I thought you knew him better than I did. Billy doesn’t take losing well.”

Max glared at him. “He’s going to have a heart attack.”

“He’s in good hands,” Steve defended, but he could feel his confidence rapidly draining. “Peter Townsend is diabetic and the couches always kept an eye on him.”

Max grimaced at him like he had spoken another language, but as soon as she tried to say more, their coach called for a timeout. The team huddled up, and it wasn’t a big wonder why. Their best player had more than run out of steam, he’d overspent himself, and they only had a minute left to get anything done. Covered in sweat and rocking with their breaths, the team listened to Carver arguing with coach until a decision had been made. They needed a fresh player who could make the most out of a minute, and they had one.

“SINCLAIR! You’re in!”

Max and Steve heard the freshman gawk. “Huh?”

“You’re in! Son, let’s go!”

He ditched his warm-up jacket and ran into the huddle for the plan. Steve crossed his arms after giving Max a tug on her jacket so she would get off the stairs and stand with him. Billy would skin them alive later if they made a scene of approaching him on the bench, so they had to stay put.

To everyone’s trepidation, shock, and jubilant relief, Lucas delivered. Saving the world a few times had made him sharp, adaptable, and frugal with every second. The nerd managed to convert all of it into a game he had only started playing this summer.

And to top it off, he landed the final shot. Hawkins High won the game.

Steve exploded, jumping and yelling and waving his arms. Max screamed Lucas’s name, clapping her hands until her palms glowed scarlet. When the referee’s whistle coupled the scoreboard in announcing the game over, the team crowded around Lucas and Billy, and the court flooded with people.

Steve moved through the crowd easily with Max in tow, and finally - finally - got a face full of Billy. Running made his hair light and fluffy, eyes glowing as he realized who were holding onto him.

He called, “Hang on! Hang on!” and Steve let him go as the team finally set Lucas down onto his feet after hoisting him up. Billy gripped his shoulder for his attention, and Lucas accepted his hand. “Not bad, Sinclair. Not bad.”

Lucas beamed, only for his smile to drop into shock at seeing Max. “Max! You came?”

“Yeah, whatever,” she scoffed, but with a smile. Then Lucas hugged her and she looked ready to punch him. “Oh- Ew. Gross, you’re disgusting. How are you this sweaty after only a minute?”

The older teammates laughed for some reason but they all got hustled into the locker room - including Steve. He didn’t realize his blunder until the coach started doing a congratulatory speech to the team, and Steve slipped behind a wall of lockers to head toward the door...but he didn’t leave. He wanted to know what the coach had to say on Billy’s behalf. He wanted to know how the team treated him and Lucas.

He both got it and didn’t, since the coach tactfully uplifted everyone without dragging out everyone’s flaws. That was good. Billy couldn’t take a compliment without being reminded of how he had to sit out the rest of the game. More importantly, the coach spoke about how grateful he was to have the seniors under his wings after such a year.

For a gut-wrenching second, Steve thought the coach was going to mention the kids who were still “missing” from the summer.

He didn’t. He kept the room on high feelings, warning the rest of the team that winning a championship wouldn’t make things easy next season, and that they had summer training to look forward to. He reminded them to clean up after themselves, and saw himself out right as somebody unearthed a boombox from their gym bag.

“Why the hell did you bring that thing?”

“To either celebrate or wallow in our sorrows,” came the reply, followed by laughter and rowdy singing...

Steve looked up when a pair of pants was thrown over the wall of lockers. Right under the waistband of the sweatpants, was a Hawkins tiger, and a yellow number seven. Steve smiled and yanked it all the way onto his side.

Billy soon followed, coming around the lockers to find his pants in Steve’s hands. A bright smile flashed on his face before he reigned it in and sauntered toward him. He had to get close to be heard over the noise of music, singing, and locker rattling. “You’re a weird dust bunny.”

Thank goodness for the noise, because Steve snorted as he reached for him. “Come here.”

Billy let him. Billy never would’ve let him before July of 1985. But Billy let him now, cradling the sweaty-damp junction of his skull and neck, nuzzling his nose with Billy’s to encourage Billy to finish the distance. Billy’s lips were soft, unbearably soft and insistent. His arms initially went around Steve’s body, hands sliding over his shoulder blades and then down, down to give the hillocks of his ass cheeks a lift.

At least Billy had some tact, because the bubble burst and Steve tilted his head for more. Billy’s hands lifted up for his waist, incidentally hiking up Steve’s grey shirt but no further. Lockers chimed behind Billy’s back when Steve pushed him against them. Steve felt more than heard Billy’s low hum in his throat, the vibration on his lips and the breath from his nose.

Steve didn’t care that Billy had a game’s worth of sweat and filth on his skin. The only thing keeping him in check was his concern for Billy’s heart and lungs. Kissing made him out of breath, sometimes. For Steve it was as blissful as it was scary.

But this time, Billy chased his lips when he pulled back. His hand found Steve’s hair and Steve felt teeth in their kiss -

A locker slammed over the music, inducing someone to holler, “Sinclair! You comin’ tonight?”

“Uh, let me think on it. I’m gonna shower real fast!”

Billy stepped off where he’d been leaning against the lockers and Steve composed himself in time for Lucas to step into view. He tried to play it casual, but his wide eyes said, Scram, already!

Steve smiled bashfully and waved him away. To Billy, he asked, “Are you coming over?”

Billy scoffed and Steve couldn’t blame him. Big championship party tonight -

“You joking? I’m moving in. I’m exhausted and I want pancakes everyday for the next week.”

A stupid giggle spat out of him. He might’ve actually spit a little. Steve felt like he could cry. He didn’t, though. He’d cried enough for a whole summer.

“Deal... How do I get out of here?”

Billy smirked and nodded his head toward the bathroom side of the locker room. “We’re about to run Sinclair out of the showers.”

#harringrove #s4 #post s3 #neonponders

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chiskz · 2 years ago

Text

I'LL BE YOUR MAN (KINGDOM LEGENDARY WAR

𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 2021, Kingdom Legendary War era

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,2k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Stray Kids' performance with "I'll be your man" wasn't easy from the very beginning...

♡𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @alyszaen , @smh-anon , @neohyxn , @stealanity , @alixnsuperstxr , @kimcheon-sa , @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs , @qtnoaly

《 ♡ 》

The performance with the cover of I'll Be Your Man as part of the Kingdom Legendary War program was fast approaching... It's hard not to, though, when there wasn't that much time at all between recordings for the episodes. Work on the show began a few hours after the song was chosen. All Chichi was waiting for was a background music from 3RACHA that she could work on. Its absence, however, didn't mean she wasn't working - in the meantime, she had already spent several hours thinking about the concept and general set design, which she offered to take care of as part of the choreography. She was just sitting exhausted in the middle of the practice room in worn, washed-out sweatpants and carelessly combed hair when she took the phone in her hand. 3:11am. The night is still young, right? That's probably what Bang Chan thought too, from whom an incoming call had just popped up on her phone screen. She answered the call quickly, maybe a little too quickly.

„Yeah?"

"Are you at the label?"

"Yeah..."

On the other side she heard a quiet sigh.

"Normally I'd tell you to go to bed right away, but this time I'm glad you're here. Will you come up to my studio?"

Ichi made a quiet sound of confirmation and hung up, putting her phone in her pocket. She took a blanket from the leather black couch and wrapped it around herself becoming a pancake of fatigue. She walked slowly up to the next floor, to "Channie's Room." She knocked briefly and went inside. Han and Changbin were already waiting for her on the couch, and Chan was sitting at the desk, on which a laptop lay turned on. All eyes were now on the newly arrived guest.

"I feel like I've done something wrong." She confessed with a quiet laugh and sat down on the armrest of the couch. "What's up?"

Chan sent her an encouraging smile and changed the piece of paper that lay in front of him.

"It's about your lines."

"There's nothing to talk about." She replied immediately, suddenly no longer sleepy. "I don't want any, I just want to dance well."

"But-"

"Really, that would be fine. As long as I can dance well then-"

But she said no more, as Changbin put a small buttered roll into her mouth, a bag of which lay open on the couch between him and Han.

"Be quiet and listen. This is where Changbin did quite a long rap." Chan handed Ichi a piece of paper he had just removed from a small stack lying on his desk. "He said he'd like you to perform it."

"Me?" She looked immediately at Changbin, but he remained silent. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so she hastily averted her eyes from him and focused on the text on the piece of paper. "Wouldn't it be easier to divide it between me and Changbin? Or give it to Changbin in general? I don't think I can handle it, it's too important performance to experiment like this..."

"You can handle it." Changbin finally spoke up. "Your pronunciation is already really good, besides you're in good shape, you won't run out of breath, which you control well anyway. You'll succeed and we'd like you to do it. Okay?"

Chichi swallowed her saliva loudly, looking then at the guys then back at the piece of paper. Oh god...

"O-okay."

•••

Recording her rap lasted until 7am, she had already stayed in the studio with the guys, getting 2 energy drinks and big coffee. Changbin directed her, he even recorded for her as he rapped the part so she would know what and how. The boys were pleased with the result, but Ichi only felt growing anxiety and panic. She wasn't good enough to do it, not during something so important. Chan assured her that "when should they experiment if not now," but this did not appeal to her at all. Still, she did it so as not to let down the trust placed in her so much - yet inside she felt she was dying of stress.

The only thing that comforted her was the fact that, along with her part, the recording for the cover had been completed and she already had material with which to move on with her work on the choreography and visual part of the performance. In the whirlwind of all her work, she managed at times to forget the weight that had been placed on her shoulders. After another day and a second consecutive sleepless night, she was already able to proudly invite the rest of the members to the first presentation of the choreography and the first rehearsal. After consulting with Minho, she made a few modifications and rehearsals in the following days were already in full swing.

After one such rehearsals, the members went for a well-deserved break, which was actually lying on the floor together and catching their breath. Chichi wasn't as tired as they were, but she couldn't deny herself lying down between Felix and Jeongin. Maknae tapped her on the cheek with his index finger, to which the oldest member smiled instantly.

"I like your part." He said quietly enough that only she could hear him. "Don't be afraid, ok? Go ahead and do your job."

Ichi could have sworn that if he had added one more sentence she would have cried like a baby. She was afraid, terribly afraid. Raping not live, surrounded by people who made her feel comfortable was one thing, but doing it in front of so many people in front of the TV, in front of other idols with more experience than her, and that's when there's a win at stake... It was already a different thing. She didn't think she should do it. What if she gets the words wrong? What if her accent is heard somewhere and the situation with online hate happens again? She doesn't know if she is currently capable of going through something like that again...

•••

The last rehearsal had just successfully ended. The performance was tomorrow... Ichi turned off the recording she was playing from her laptop and applauded her members briefly.

"Very good. I'm glad we're very in sync, just as I asked. Otherwise the choreography would look very messy. Therefore, today let's have some nice meal, preferably meat, to gain strength. I’m paying."

Sounds of satisfaction went through the training room and boys thanked her with loud applause, then headed for the exit together. Chichi already wanted to follow them out, but after reflexively counting the members in front of her, she realized that someone was missing. She looked behind her and saw Lino, tying the laces of his sports shoes. She smiled softly at this sight and turned around, crouching next to him. The man raised his head, then eyebrow slightly.

"I know where’s exit." He snapped her lightly on the forehead, yet Ichi lost her balance in surprise and fell on her butt. She lowered her eyebrows.

"A person can no longer do anything nice for you without being victimized!"

"Don't cry, or I'll feel sorry or something." She laughed quietly while lowering her head, but Minho helped her up nonetheless. "Why are you so stressed?"

She looked at him unsuccessfully trying to hide her surprise at how quickly he saw through her... Although maybe it wasn't that hard after all?

"How do you know?"

"Your hands are shaking so much that if you put a knife and a potato in them, you would peel it whole after a few seconds."

Chichi didn't even know how to comment on it....

"I don't know myself. I don't think I'm capable of doing something like that. The rap is fast and long, apparently it was meant for two people, not one!" She called out immediately, feeling her voice breaking.

Still, she made no impression on Lino, as he only blinked slowly when she finished speaking.

"So?" Ichi opened her mouth slightly. What do you mean "so"?! "Chan is hardly ever wrong when it comes to music. If he or any of 3RACHA has generally decided that you should perform this particular part then you should do it. If you can't trust yourself then trust them."

Ichi listened to him carefully, a moment later lowering her gaze. If it were as simple as he says... Or maybe it actually is, only she is making it unnecessarily difficult for herself? After all, it's not like the whole performance is focused solely on her part, is it? It's not up to her to determine their to be or not to be... But then again, it's probably too crucial a moment of the song to ruin it?

"You're right." She said finally, feeling like she had been thinking about his words for ages. "Instead of thinking about how I shouldn't do it, I should do my best to do it and do it the best of my ability."

Minho nodded and patted her firmly on the back.

"And keep it that way. Now come on, I didn't waste precious minutes of my life on you so that now I can't eat properly."

Ichi stuck her tongue out at him and went ahead. What he said made sense, the question was did it actually calm her down?

•••

The day of the performance finally came. Ichi paced around the already prepared stage, warming up her voice and waving her hands, unable to stand still. With only a few minutes left, she could feel the stress rising dramatically within her, causing a huge heaviness in her stomach and a cold sweat on the back of her neck. She can’t do it, she can’t do it, she can’t do it...

"You can do it." Mumbled Changbin quietly, standing suddenly behind her. Ichi turned around instantly, taking a deep breath. "I know we have our backs to each other in the choreography, but if you feel the stress is getting to you don't hesitate and look at me, okay? Look at me, your biggest fan."

Ichi felt tears slowly flow into her eyes, disturbing her vision. She began to blink rapidly to get rid of them, and in response let out only a quiet "mhm" muffled by the gurgle formed in her throat by the stress.

The recording began. Chichi was able to concentrate fully on the dance and for a moment forgot about the stress taking over her entire body. It returned with redoubled force, however, when she and Changbin knelt in their positions while all attention was focused on Seungmin and Chan performing their parts. Ichi lowered her head. She felt like throwing up, afraid she would as soon as she opened her mouth. She sniffled silently without even knowing when she started crying. She can’t do it... She turned quickly to Changbin, who must have known all along that she was going to do it, because he was already kneeling facing her. He looked at her intently with eyes apparently filled with tenderness and a sincere belief that she can do it. But she only began to gently shake her head and repeat soundlessly "no, no, no." Changbin couldn't look at her tears. Had they made the wrong decision? Was Chichi really not ready for such a thing? No, he further believed she was. What she wasn't ready for was her self-esteem, which, by how low it was, had led her to such a state. Her part was just about to begin, he, she, Han and Seungmin slowly stood up. This was the moment when Changbin made a spontaneous decision for which he was ready to suffer any consequences later.

With one step, he bridged the distance separating him from Chichi and placed his hand on the back of her neck, with his other hand raising her hand with the microphone to her lips, squeezed by her so tightly that her fingertips turned white. Changbin began to rap with her, and their voices were in almost perfect harmony, despite the fact that they both had strong and distinctive voices. As Ichi entered slowly into the rhythm they moved away from each other, and their rap became more and more aggressive and filled with emotions, as if they had planned it from the beginning.

After the recording ended, all the members left the stage, with Jeongin and Ichi going last with their heads down. In their minds, both of them had ruined the performance. They were unable to look at themselves in the mirror, let alone in the eyes of those who had pinned all their hopes on them. What these poor two didn't know at the time, however, was that it was Jeongin's voice crack and Ichi's tears that added emotion to the performance, added to the pain caused by the broken heart - and that was the main premise of both the song and the overall performance.

《 ♡ 》

bonus - chichi's outfit

#stray kids 9th member #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop oc #stray kids oc #idol oc #stray kids female oc #stray kids added member #stray kids addition #skz imagines #skz x oc #kingdom legendary war #kpop fake scenario #skz drabbles

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whovianshifts · 5 months ago

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shifting experience in a lucid dream!

(or at least i think that's what happened)

last night, i had the most insane shifting experience. i genuinely have no idea what is was - a lucid dream, maybe - but all i know is that i felt like i was right on the verge of shifting.

last night, as usual, i put on my gateway tapes - still on Focus 3 - and it was alright. i didn't really feel deep in the void or anything, and my mind wandered at times (which i think came down to the fact that i was almost putting it off a little). i usually put an alarm around 2-3 hours before i usually wake up as well so that i can attempt to shift in the mornings - mainly so that i can still practice it everyday but also to make sure that when im doing the tapes, i can purely focus on them and not worry about shifting.

so yesterday, i did the gateway tapes meditation pretty late (2-3am ish) and then put an alarm for 7am. the entire night from here got so crazy that i couldnt tell you a timeline but i am *pretty* sure that my near shifting experience happened after the alarm and between the hours of 730-930.

now, i woke up at 7am, stayed awake for like 2 minutes just shuffling around my room but my whole issue with this technique at the moment is that im sleeping wayy too late, so my shifting alarm is usually around the same time as sunrise, which is SUPER distracting as it just naturally makes me feel 10x more awake.

so basically, i got back into bed, put on some generic theta waves on spotify, attempted to shift for half an hour by going through some techniques from the gateway tapes and then just counted to 100 and repeated affirmations.

whilst im trying not to get overwhelmed by tiktok this time round in my journey, i saw this person saying that "your subconscious has no eyes," - something that genuinely cured my contempt of 'I am' affirmations. its kinda simple, your subconscious creates what it is being told, so i found it easier to accept the logic behind affirmations and the fact that it didnt just feel like a groundless practice allowed me to feel good about them for the first time in like 4 years (no exaggeration). i ended up having my usual mild symptoms of just purple/blue colours, white light seeping etc and then fell asleep, with the intention of shifting in my sleep repeating as i fell asleep.

as i mentioned, it was light outside, so i found it really difficult to sleep but, somehow, in the dredges of sleep that i did get, i kept jumping in and out of a string of *really* detailed and vivid dreams.

NOW THIS IS THE COOL PART (i logically cannot fathom how all this happened in 1-2 hours; the subconscious mind is insane)

in one of the dreams, i felt as though i was consciously awake. like i was in real life. i was lying on my bed in this dream, deciding to shift. i had a few short attempts but they werent 'working' so i told myself ill try one last time and 'it will work'. i was doing all the same things i do in real life, counting, affirming etc but this time, suddenly, i felt my body just ascending upwards and breaking through some kind of metaphysical boundary. i felt my surroundings change so fast, but it freaked me out so i snapped out of it so fast and i was back in bed again. i woke up, but somehow still in the dream, (though again, it felt so real) and then tried again but it didnt work. had i just pushed through that little bit, i just know i would've shifted and woken up somewhere else!! i wouldnt call this a lucid dream, as retrospectively, i didnt feel like i was fully in control, but it did feel like i was making decisions based on some sort of personal will.

the craziest thing was, i remember so vividly trying to fall asleep FOR AGES after my 7am alarm. again, with daylight already breaking through my blinds, i found getting back to bed SO difficult. i dont even remember falling asleep, let alone into such a deep sleep for all this to happen.

the only thing i remember is that i kept repeating 'i am in tigris snow's guest room, i am in tiggy's guest bedroom' (where i'm shifting to) over and over until i did go to sleep and just by doing that, i got so far!!

as someone who honestly doesnt like being out of control when shifting, ive always been an awake method girlie. i think this just comes with the fact that ive never fully trusted in the power of my subconscious and feel better doing it myself. but after this?? i hardly even used a method and i got so close to shifting and i still cant fathom what happened fully, just that it did and i was there.

overall, i rate this semi lucid experience a 1000/10 as it taught me the significance of so many basic shifting concepts i usually overlook, such as affirmations and 'sleep' methods, and just overall taught me to trust in my subconscious more.

so naturally, my future resolutions:

-trust in the power of affirmations

-try out more sleep methods

-learn more about lucid dreaming and whether what i experienced was one! if not, im sure im capable of getting into that state anyway so trying it out would be so cool too.

anyway, happy shifting friends

tish :)

#shifting #reality shifting #anti shifters dni #shiftblr #quantum jumping #shifting community #shifting to the hunger games #shifting to the ballad of songbirds and snakes #reality shifter #lucid dreaming #the gateway tapes #the gateway experience

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thyln4gf · 11 months ago

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Lets have some fun, shall we?

✞ This is a little different from what i usually do! This piece of work consists of some of my favourite F1 drivers as sexual gestures/things, and shortest, smallest blurbs ever about them (also a song for each). Its made based on purely my intuition and imagination, so just sit back and enjoy i guess.

✞ Word count - 1467

✞ Warnings - heavily sexual content.

✞ Drivers included - Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo, Lewis Hamilton, George Russel, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Alex Albon, Sebastian Vettel, Jenson Button.

✞ Authors note - requests open! Doesnt matter if you want more for a particular driver, or something completely new.

Charles Leclerc (closer to you - jungkook)

Drunk sex - He's definitely the type to underestimate his limits by a little, or maybe even a lot. Some people would say that those type of decisions are the worst ones that they have ever made. To him? Heaven on earth. Nothings more thrilling to him than the fuzzy feeling taking over his brain, the haze over his eyes - feeling like his body is operating on its own. You know what they say? If you take away one of your senses, the other gets stronger. So by taking away his ability to think properly, he's allowing himself to feel the pleasure even stronger than before. He finds solo sessions like that okay, but with you? Sheesh... He might as well have been a man who wasnt breathing, judging by the desperation he takes and eats you up.

Carlos Sainz (american teenager - ethel cain)

Morning sex - think of him being absolutely exhausted after a hard day at work, coming home to you - youre also exhausted, you were taking care of the kids, ran some errands, took a few calls. So you two cuddle up and fall asleep right away. Now lets take ourselves to the morning - its 7am, and the sun is already shining through the window. He wakes up to the feeling of your warm body, your bare skin against his. He might try to resist his urges at first, but then he'd inhale some of your scent - and he would immediately cave in. You cant resist his offer either, its tempting - being a parent, and having a husband who's always travelling... what could be a more perfect time to get going at it? The drowsiness after a good nights sleep still lingering and the rays of sunshine slipping through the window makes it much, much more addictive.

Max Verstappen (change (in the house of flies) - deftones)

Angry makeout sessions - now, lets be real. Did you expect anything else? This man has a lot of pent up anger. Not enough of that, he's a pretty angry man in general. He can be gentle, yes, and he has showed you exactly that multiple times. But one has to let off some steam and let the anger fade away. To him, making out with you is the perfect medicine. The softness of your lips and his aim to please you distracts his brain, and his senses get busy by letting his hands squeeze and caress your body anywhere he can reach. He seems to love your hips and your thighs - sometimes, he'd grip hard enough to leave some bruises. Not that you mind - it reminds you of the fact that he's yours, that he's desperate for you, and that he's not going anywhere. He needs you.

Daniel Ricciardo (teeth - 5SOS)

Getting handsy at the club/party - he doesn't even need those shots for the confidence, he already has enough. But something about the atmosphere gets him going. Is it the dim lighting? The smell of alcohol, sweat, and all those different perfumes mixed into one? Whatever it may be, he's definitely getting extra touchy. Rubbing your thigh while sitting in the booth, grabbing your waist to dance (not wrapping his hands around you, no - grabbing and squeezing it with his fingers), and all that jazz. Its almost like his hands have a mind of their own - he's far from the possessive type though. He just cant resist the inviting temptation to feel you with his hands.

Lewis Hamilton (renegade - aaryan shah)

Inappropriate thoughts during the wrongest moments - i dont have much explanation for this one, but it just makes sense. It does. Imagine listening to your boss talk about something incredibly boring. The conference is dragging on, on, and on. You can see someone napping, someone is doodling away in their notebook. Him? He's thinking about how he spent the night with you. He's thinking of how pretty your face looked, the tears smudging your mascara all over your cheeks, the pretty sounds you were making. And it was all for him. He quickly gets brought back to the earth as the boss calls his name. He's a lucky bastard though - he was always good at not letting his thoughts show on his face.

Lando Norris (monster - lady gaga)

Public fun - whatever the fun it might be. Anything ranging from caressing your waist in front of a group of people, to having sex in the most unconventional places ever. If there's even the smallest chance of getting away with it? He's doing it. And if the risk is even bigger? Even better. It excites him and turns him on like no other. The only thing thats more exciting about this is you, and the fact that he gets to do all those things to you, with you. Unlike Daniel - this little bitch is possessive as hell. He wont hesitate to give you hickeys where everyone can see them, while everyone can see.

Oscar Piastri (boyfriend - dove cameron)

Worshipping your partner - he's quiet, and he's kind of reserved. Doesnt mean that he's not as nasty as his teammate - just in a different way. He's more private. He'd enjoy being dominated by you, and only you, despite being a dom leaning switch himself. Youre his weakness, his royalty. You could be using him as a mere fucktoy, and he'd let you. He would also probably agree to a threesome with Lando - with the goal of being able to dominate and get dominated. He loved the idea of the whole focus going towards your pleasure - worshipping you.

George Russel (masterpiece - MIW)

The "face-off" - him sitting down on the edge of the bed, feet firmly on the ground, you straddling his lap. Youre grinding against each other, the room getting filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, and more and more of his moans. Most importantly? Youre staring into each others eyes. You enjoy watching him turn into putty underneath your touch. You find the way his big eyes look up at you pretty - so you cant resist the urge to ride him until he's actually crying, and cant think of anything else but of getting more. He kisses you as a distraction - its one of the sloppiest makeout sessions that you guys have ever had. But, dont lie to yourself - its one of your favourites as well.

Alex Albon (whore - in this moment)

Using toys - he isnt scared of a little "help" in the bedroom. This man is far from insecure, and it shows. He doesnt see it as a sign of weakness, if anything - he thinks that they help to show his skills and abilities better. He's a giver - he often finishes from giving you the pleasure only. He's also willing to try whatever you want to try - he feels honoured and even flattered that you trust him enough to voice your deepest fantasies. And he will do anything in his power to fulfill them - he wants to hear just how good you moan for him. His pretty princess.

Sebastian Vettel (sonne - rammstein)

Smiling - this man smiles, grins, and smirks through anything, to the point it can make you uneasy sometimes. He's praising you? He's smiling. He's dirty-talking into your ear in front of people? He's smiling. He'll do that anytime, anywhere. But his favourite reason to smile is hearing the sounds you make - he thinks of the fact that they were brought out of your mouth by him, and a smile just slips. The only moment where you can see that smile falter is when he's on his third or fourth orgasm - he simply cant focus on anything else but you and the way your body feels. "Thats it schatz, just like that" - and thats how you know that this man is far gone already.

Jenson Button (diggin' my own grave - FFDP)

Neck kisses - it almost feels like your neck is the staple of his life. He can and will snuggle into it and kiss it any chance he gets. Its not even always sexual - he sometimes does it subconsciously - but its definitely one of his favourite aftercare activities. And you havent complained once. You enjoy the feeling of his warmth lingering on the skin of your neck, and the way it gently tickles whenever he decides to rapidly attack it with the kisses. Your scent and your warmth feels comforting and almost hypnotising to him. But sometimes it just cant help but have the opposite of the calming effect on him - and a second round happens.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanart #formula one fanart #fanfiction #formula one fanfics #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #lando norris #oscar piastri #george russell #alex albon #sebastian vettel #jenson button

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your-local-hoemie · 2 years ago

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Hello im here with another request :p can i request thoma and childe with s/o thats not good with words? Instead of saying 'i love you' s/o expresses her feelings through her actions like making them gifts, baking for them hugging them etc c: if its to complicated or too long then feel free to ignore this okay take care c:

-🐢anon

Welcome back to our fine establishment. Some Thoma and Childe content shall be served fresh for you uwu

Also yes. I relate to this so much cuz words are hard and so are emotions so buckle up bi’h cuz I’m diving nose first 💀

Also these are just head-canons this time because it’s 7am and I haven’t slept and I got so much work to do this week so time is limited until the 8th, I’m sorry ;-;

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, more fluff, might have to pay for your dentist appointment,gn!reader, not proof-read.

Characters: Thoma, Childe.

THOMA~

Baby boy is very understanding

I feel he’d also naturally use acts of service to show his affection

At first he was a little paranoid since you never openly said you loved him much if at all

As soon as he realises the little things you do for him is your way of expressing yourself he immediately relaxes

Cherishes everything you do

Give him a pretty rock you found?

Bet your ass it’s always going to be on his person

He’ll always encourage you to just be yourself around him and never wants you to feel uncomfortable

Might end up having a unspoken competition with each other over who can do the most things for each other

Still can’t get used to having someone do things for him

People have mentioned how you never tell him you love him or anything like that which often makes you feel guilty or a bad s/o

He’s quick to explain that if you really love someone then you don’t need words to show how you feel~

I feel like he’d also appreciate it a lot since he gets easily flustered so having subtle signs of appreciation and affection is way easy for him to handle~

On the very rare occasion you’re comfortable enough to say you love him though you can rest assured it will hold so much more weight to it~

Even if you only say it once every year or longer he knows how hard it is for you to express yourself like that so it will be more than enough to last him~

Will also remind you that he know you love him and how lucky he is to have you so you never have to get anxious or worried~

Boy is head-over-heels for you and wouldn’t want you any other way <3

CHILDE~

Please be patient with him good lord

He’s so clingy and he doesn’t even mean to be

When he noticed how you never seemed to return his eagerness to publicly express your love for him he gets worried

He’s aware enough to know he’s a handful and probably thinks you’re tired of him ;-;

Once you explain that you don’t feel comfortable expressing your emotions verbally he’ll quickly piece everything together

Suddenly the gifts you give him even though you know he can easy afford to buy them himself mean so much more than they already did

The food you make him tastes just a little bit more homely

If you engage in bird behaviour like with Thoma and give him cool shiny stuff you find or just a nice looking pebble, he’ll proudly show them off!

Absolutely names them too~

Has a little “family” of rocks and gets genuinely upset if people make fun of them

Move over Zhongli, there’s a new rock daddy in town

He still tells you he loves you every chance he gets but he also makes sure to tell you that he know you love him too even if you don’t say it out loud~

He’s really such good boyfriend material even with his outwardly egotistical attitude and murderous tendencies cough cough

He loves you so much and he appreciates your patience and love for him

He wouldn’t want you any other way because to him, you’re worth every second of his time

If anyone questions you or makes you feel guilty for how you act then he’s immediately there to kill prove them wrong

You’ve taught him how to appreciate the little things in his life and how even the smallest act of love can mean so very much <3

These are so fun, idk who you are but I want to platonically make out with your brain 💀

Sorry it was so short but I’ll be back on my bs on the 8th!!

#genshin boyfriend scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin scenarios #genshin impact fluff #genshin drabbles #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #thoma genshin #Childe genshin #thoma x reader #thoma headcanons #thoma scenarios #childe x reader #childe headcanons #childe scenarios

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tanoraqui · 2 years ago

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S&D Tier fic inspired by this video. unedited.

“Kiddo, we need to talk about something,” Alex said, and thought, Oh god, I’m turning onto my father. Parenthood was a mistake. I should scrap this all right now and pretend it never happened.

But Hawk was already abandoning its legos and scurrying over to where Alex stood in its bedroom doorway, looking up at them all expectant and a little nervous. (It didn’t project except deliberately; Alex had given themself zeranid-specific telepathy during the space war, for army-directing purposes, and only ever partly turned it off because being able to read your kid’s moods was really helpful in parenting, especially when your kid was an insectoid war machine that didn’t visibly emote like a human).

(Yeah, it was way too late to scrap this all and pretend it’d never happened. It’d pretty much been too late since Morgan first phrased “keep an eye on my core hivemind war machine” as “babysitting.”)

Hawk had scrambled up their body to perch on their head and peer down at them through bent eyestalks. It loved doing that with Alex, because most people couldn’t hold forty pounds of chitin and lethal claws on their head without wobbling.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re adorable.”

Alex patted it on the shell, then walked over to its bed, gently pried its claws out of their hair, and set it on the skateboard-patterned duvet beside them.

“Now, I know you were eavesdropping on my call with Diego earlier—”

I wasn’t! Hawk insisted, projecting innocence and injury.

“I’m an expert eavesdropper and I saw one of your spy drones in the vent,” Alex retorted. “Learn to spy better if you don’t want to get caught!”

Hawk drew its limbs in a couple inches, sulking. Alex scratched the base of its eyestalks reassuringly. This was why they planned on leaving this sort of Real Conversation With Our Kid mostly to Morgan—Morgan was better at reassuring! But obviously, Morgan couldn’t take this Real Conversation…

“I’m guessing you didn’t hear what Diego was saying too much, though?”

They kept scratching as Hawk begrudgingly shook its head.

I could hear her being angry. Do I still get to play with Ducky today?

Alright, time rip off the bandaid.

“Yes,” Alex promised. “But— Listen, you know how Morgan woke up screaming in the middle of the night last…7am today?” Which was like midnight for Morgan; even parenthood hadn’t changed that.

Uh-huh, said Hawk.

“And you know how you showed them that cool trick with the squirrel a couple days ago, you know, the one you told me about over dinner?” While Morgan looked faintly queasy and didn’t finish their food, man, Alex was kicking themself now; at the time they’d been too busy laughing and enthusing at the gory details and the little dance Hawk did to show how it had puppetted the squirrel corpse.

Yeah! Hawk’s limbs stretched back out and its eyestalks waved excitedly. I’m going to show Ducky at our playdate! I’m going to make one do the Macarena. That’s Ducky’s favorite dance.

“That’s hysterical,” Alex informed it. “Okay, but here’s the thing: you can’t let Ducky’s parents know, and you need to pay attention to if Ducky is getting scared while you show him—you remember what people are like when they’re scared?”

Hawk rolled their eyes both internally and externally. They smell nicer and I want to kill them more slowly.

“Hel– heck yeah,” said Alex. “So, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if Ducky is getting scared, you should stop your super cool squirrel trick. Even if you haven’t made it dance yet. Because otherwise, Ducky might be the next one waking up with screaming nightmares, and then Diego really would cancel your next playdate, instead of just talking sh– trash.”

What?! Hawk reared up in dismay and affront, hissing in the way quadrillions of people on thousands of worlds had learned to fear. Why?

But it was a smart kid, so it immediately connected the dots—the really important dots in this conversation; no offense, Ducky. It curled back in on itself unhappily. Did I make Morgan have a nightmare?

“Yeah,” Alex said bluntly. “And Morgan is never, ever going to admit it, because they love you so, so much, and they’d literally rather die rather than make you feel bad about anything you can do or want to do.”

Don’t kill Morgan’s parents, they reminded themself reflexively, to counter the other reflexive thoughts. Do not kill Morgan’s parents, do not kill Morgan’s parents, do not—

They gathered Hawk onto their lap and booped it just above the mandibles, to remind it that it was cute and loveable and to make sure they had its full attention.

“Morgan is stubborn like that, but Morgan is also squeamish,” they explained, in terms suited to a six-year-old. “Literally and morally. That means that when they see too much blood or wiggling internal organs or corpses used as toys or…any sort of killing, really… If they see that stuff up close, they start to feel sick. It’s very lame, I know it’s very lame, but that’s just how they are. So, because we love Morgan, there are rules of thumb—rules of claw, for you, I guess.”

Hawk projected rapt attention. Alex had noticed at some point years ago that every random monster they manifested now—not a power they used often, but it could be fun, eg, for space armies—instinctively adored Morgan as a default feature of their existence. It wasn’t a feature they felt any need to change.

They enumerated on their fingers.

“One, try not to take more than about fifteen seconds to kill a single living creature in front of Morgan, and no more than a minute for a group. If you want to take longer than that, or if it seems like you need to take longer than that, either drag your victim out of sight or drag Morgan away and come back later.

“Two, don’t play with or otherwise weaponize corpses for more than, like, casually throwing them at your enemies, in front of Morgan. Otherwise it’s fine! And Morgan doesn’t even mind if they’re watching you fight on tv. It’s just when they have to see it up close that they start to feel sick.”

I don’t want to make Morgan feel sick. Hawk wasn’t quite at the stage where a human child would be in tears—they were a ruthless killing machine, albeit one who was functionally a six-year-old with an increasingly healthy upbringing with loving parents. But it radiated distress, and hid its face in Alex’s midriff like Alex could shield it from every possible bad thing in the world. Which Alex could, obviously.

Can’t you just make them not get sick?

“Believe me, I’ve thought about it.” Alex sighed, and scratched it gently between the eyestalks again. “But then they wouldn’t be Morgan, you know?”

No! said Hawk, confused and annoyed.

“You will when you’re older,” Alex promised, with another mark on the Turning Into My Parents list.

Hawk critter-grumbled against Alex’s stomach. And Ducky will get sick, too?

“He might, he might not,” Alex said truthfully. “He’s pretty young, so he probably can’t conceptualize that you’re killing people yet, defiling their corpses, all that stuff. In which case, it’s way better to show him now, so he’ll get used to it early!”

Hawk sat back on Alex’s lap with a thoughtful twist of its eyestalks. And I can still show you, right?

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Alex. “I can’t believe you haven’t shown me yet! I love flesh puppets! No matter how your playdate with Ducky goes, you and I are going to the park again tomorrow so you can kill as many squirrels as you want.”

Hawk brightened even to the non–zeranid-telepathic eye. It mentally ran through the list of people who were in on the secret of their identity.

Can I show Barnaby and Ohio?

“Totally,” said Alex. “I want to watch you show Barnaby and Ohio. Please let me be there.”

Okay.

“Okay!” said Alex. He scratched the base of Hawk’s eyestalks again, briskly. “Good talk, champ.” Oh god, that was a pure Mom-ism. “By the way, Rule Three is all bets are off if you or Morgan, or Ducky, is in real danger. Then you should kill whoever and however you want until you’re safe—and full! No skipping meals!”

Hawk both telepathically projected and physically dramatized the rolling of eyes again. Alex and Morgan were raising one sarcastic kid. To be fair, the idea of skipping and not skipping meals did come up a lot in their household.

Speaking of…

“Speaking of, you’d better eat lunch before you go to Ducky’s, or Diego won’t get you guys ice cream at the park.” Alex scooped Hawk up in their arms and headed toward the kitchen. “How’s raw hamburger sound?”

Hawk chittered. With the blood of my enemies!

“Absolutely not,” said Alex. “And don’t try to tell me Morgan lets you drink that stuff—even they wouldn’t give Red Bull to a six-year-old.” Plain coffee, maybe, but not that monstrosity.

Yes they do! Hawk insisted.

“No they don’t.”

Yes they do!

“No they— This is a stupid argument.” They planted Hawk on the kitchen counter and spoke firmly. “You can have chocolate sauce on your hamburger, but no caffeine until you’re older.”

Okay! Hawk wasn’t the least bit dismayed by this result. In fact, it was outright satisfied.

Alex hid their proud grin by turning toward the fridge, wherein lay meat and chocolate sauce both. Their intuitive talent for slaughter and Morgan’s cunning—even if its best friend was a baby hero, their kid was going to fuck up so much shit!

#S&D tier #alex stewart #alex s tier #hawk the zeranid #fanfiction #my fic

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