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aeralux · 3 days ago

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"Let's Get You Cleaned Up" - Aegon Targaryen

Summary: After Aegon fucks you breathless (as always), the only logical thing left to do, is to shower. But who is to say he can resist you there? He just wants to clean you up. ModerAegon!au

Warnings: SMUT; oral (m! and f! receiving); quite rough blowjob (but he is sweet about it); dirty language; x reader; oral in the shower

Words: 3.9k

Notes: Female Reader. No other descriptive language is used.

-- aera xx

You're still shaking, your body recovering from Aegon's brutal passion. Anyone could tell what had just happened in that bedroom, and it was so intense, so all-consuming, you felt like you might never walk straight again. Your legs tremble, collapsed on the bed, boneless and spent.

You can still feel him inside you, stretching you, filling you, claiming you in the most raw, animalistic way. Your cunt throbs in time with your racing heart, a dull ache that speaks of the intensity of your lovemaking. You're sore, exhausted, utterly wiped out - but you've never felt more whole.

Your releases mingle on your skin, sticky and warm, marking you as his. You run your fingers through the mess, marvelling at its slickness and volume. You came so hard, so often, lost in the heat of the moment, chasing that high repeatedly until you were both utterly spent.

"I love you," he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. "More than words can say. More than I ever thought possible."

Aegon lowers his head, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss. A promise, a vow, a declaration of forever.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. "You're my everything," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

Aegon's hands roam your body gently, reverently. He traces the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breast. "I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world," he promises, his lips brushing against your cheek.

You gaze up at Aegon through your lashes, a playful pout on your lips. "If you really want to make me the happiest woman on earth, you'd come shower with me," you purr, your fingers trailing lazily down his chest. "I feel quite... sticky."

You glance down at your thighs, coated in your mixed releases. "Ugh, look at the mess you made," you tease. "The least you could do is help me clean up."

You stretch lazily, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Unless, of course, you're too lazy for it," you taunt.

You let the suggestion hang in the air, waiting to see how Aegon will react. Will he rise to the temptation, and follow you into the shower like a good little puppy? Or will he sweep you off your feet and carry you to the bathroom himself?

Aegon's eyes darken with lust at your suggestive words, a slow grin spreading across his face.

He leans in, nipping at your lower lip. "Careful now, baby," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Keep teasing me like that, and I might just decide to lick up every last drop of our mess."

Aegon's tongue flicks out, tracing the shell of your ear. "I'd start at your ankles," he purrs, his hand sliding down your thigh, "and work my way up. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until I reach the source of all that sweetness."

He nips at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "By the time I'm done, you'll be begging me to fuck you again. Right there on the bathroom floor, against the cold tiles."

Aegon pulls back, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Or," he says, his voice taking on a note of challenge, "I could always just pick you up and carry you to the shower myself. Hold you close as the water cascades over our skin. Wash every inch of you until you're all clean and fresh and ready for me again."

He raises an eyebrow, a cocky smirk on his face. "What's it gonna be, baby? You gonna let me take care of you?" Aegon waits for your response, his body already responding to the images his words have conjured.

Your breath hitched as his words sent a shiver down your spine. Your messy cunny ached to be filled by him again, the empty throb almost unbearable.

Images of him in the shower filled your mind - wet, glistening, covered in soap. You whined softly, clinging to him like a desperate puppy. You needed his touch, his hands, his cock. Anything.

Gods, he made you absolutely insatiable. "Please," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon groans at your needy whimper, your desperate plea. Fuck, he loves seeing you like this, all wanton and wild-eyed, begging for his touch. It's the biggest fucking turn-on, knowing he's the one who drove you to this point, reduced you to a quivering mess.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me what you need. Beg me for it."

Aegon's hands roam your body, squeezing, kneading, teasing. He dips his fingers between your legs, feeling the slick heat of your arousal. You're dripping for him, practically gushing, and the knowledge sends a surge of pride through him.

He circles your clit with his thumb, drawing out a gasp from your lips. "You want my cock, don't you?" he purrs, pressing a finger inside you, then another. "Want me to fill you up, fuck you until you can't walk straight."

Aegon pumps his fingers in and out, curling them, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. You clench around him, trying to pull him further, and he chuckles darkly.

"Greedy little thing," he murmurs, his other hand coming up to pinch and twist your nipple. "You'll never get enough of me, will you? No matter how many times I fuck you, it's never enough." All you can do is nod in response, quiet gasps escaping from your parted lips.

He leans down, biting at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. A reminder of who you belong to, who owns this body, this heart, this soul.

"I'm going to fuck you in the shower," he promises, his voice low and serious. "Going to bend you over and take you from behind, so hard and deep you'll forget your own name." All you can do is nod in response,

You walk your fingers down Aegon's chest, marvelling at the hard planes of his muscles. "Mmm, you’re gonna clean me up?" You purr in a breathy tone, your eyes sparkling.

You lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let me take care of you," you breathe, your hand trailing lower, skimming over his abs. "I want to make you feel good too."

You nip at his earlobe, tugging on it gently. "I'll lick up every last drop," you promise, your voice low and husky. "Make you clean."

Aegon inhales sharply as your teeth graze his earlobe, your words sending a jolt of electricity straight to his cock. Fuck, the way you talk, the promises you make, it's enough to drive a man wild. To reduce him to a panting, desperate beast, ready to do anything, say anything, just to feel your mouth on him.

"Careful, baby," he warns, his voice rough and gravelly. "Keep talking like that, and I might just bend you over the bed and fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

Aegon's hand tangles in your hair, tugging gently, urging you closer. "You want to taste me, don't you?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Want to wrap those soft lips around my cock and feel it slide down your throat."

He rocks his hips forward, grinding his hardness against your stomach. "I'd fuck your face so hard," he promises, his grip tightening in your hair. "Use your mouth like it's my own personal toy. Make you choke on my dick until you're dizzy and light-headed, begging for mercy."

"But first," he growls, his fingers circling your clit, "I'm going to eat this pretty cunt until you're screaming my name. Make you come on my tongue, my fingers, my cock. Over and over again, until you can't take it anymore."

He kisses you then, hard and dirty, all tongue and teeth and pent-up aggression. A bruising, brutal kiss that leaves you breathless and aching and needing so much more.

"Shower," he rasps against your lips. "Now."

You nod eagerly, a needy whimper escaping your lips as you grind your hips against his hand. "Yes," you breathe, your voice trembling with desire. "Shower…”

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, and your breathless little gasps. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, owning you, branding you as his.

When he finally pulls back, you're both panting, your cheeks flushed and your eyes glazed with lust. Aegon stands, effortlessly lifting you into his arms.

He carries you to the bathroom, your bodies still locked together, your skin slick with sweat and arousal. He sets you down on the cool marble floor, never breaking the kiss.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice low and authoritative.

You obey immediately, sinking to the floor. Aegon steps into the shower, turning on the spray. Water cascades over his body, plastering his hair to his head, and running in rivulets down his chest and abs.

"Be a good girl and clean me up," he orders, gathering shampoo in his hands.

"Use your tongue, baby."

The demand hangs in the air, heavy and dripping with promise. Aegon stands under the spray, the water beating down on his skin, waiting for you to obey. Waiting for you to worship him the way he deserves.

You tentatively approach Aegon's throbbing cock, your tongue out in anticipation. Your heart races as you take in the sight of him, standing tall and proud under the spray, water cascading over him.

You start with little kitten licks along his shaft, your tongue darting out to taste his salty skin. You trace the thick veins running along his length, marvelling at the size of him, the hardness.

Encouraged by Aegon's low groan of approval, you wrap your lips around the leaking tip of his cock. You taste his pre-cum on your tongue and can't help but moan, the sound muffled by his thick flesh filling your mouth.

You start to bob your head, taking him deeper with each pass. Your hands come up to grip his hips for balance as you lose yourself in pleasuring him, in worshipping his cock with your mouth.

Aegon's head falls back with a guttural groan, fingers threading through your hair. "Fuck, just like that," he grunts, his hips rocking into your face. "Take it deeper, baby. Choke on my cock like the good little girl you are."

"That's it, baby," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take it deeper. Worship my cock like you mean it."

His hips roll forward slightly, pushing his length further into the velvet heat of your mouth. He can feel your tongue swirling around him, tracing the sensitive underside, teasing the weeping slit.

As you eagerly suck on Aegon's throbbing cock, you feel his hands gently threading through your hair. The sensation of his fingers massaging your scalp as he lathers your hair with shampoo makes you moan around his thick shaft, your eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss. Aegon's tender touch, mixed with the dominant way he uses your mouth to pleasure himself, has you absolutely lost in the moment, craving more of his delicious cock.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he pants, his eyes locked on the erotic sight of you on your knees, his cock disappearing between your lips. "Such a good girl for me, so obedient, so eager to please."

He rocks his hips in time with your bobbing head, setting a steady rhythm, a tempo that has him hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You gag a little, but it only spurs him on, making him thrust deeper, harder.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough and authoritative. "I want to see those pretty eyes of yours when you swallow my cock."

He pulls back slightly, letting you catch your breath, before pushing forward again. His cock stretches your lips, fills your mouth, dominates your senses. The taste of him, the weight of him, the sheer size of him - it's overwhelming, consuming, all-encompassing.

You gaze up at Aegon through your lashes, your eyes glossy and unfocused. His hands grip your hair, holding you steady as he shampoos your hair and thrusts into your mouth, his thick cock stretching your lips obscenely. The wet slap of skin on skin echoes off the tiled walls, mingling with your muffled moans. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, determined to take every inch of him.

You can feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, pooling on the cold, wet floor beneath you. The sharp contrast of the hard tile against your skin only serves to heighten your desire.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, faster, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. You can taste the salt of his pre-cum on your tongue, the musky scent of him filling your nostrils. It's intoxicating, overwhelming, driving you wild with lust.

"Such a good little girl," Aegon growls, his hips snapping forward, burying himself deep in your throat. "You love having your pretty mouth used like this, don't you?"

You moan around his length, the degradation and praise only fuelling your desire.

Aegon groans deeply, his cock throbbing in your mouth as he thrusts into your warm, welcoming depths. He savours the sweet submission in your glazed eyes, the way your throat constricts around him as he claims your mouth.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his pace increasing, fucking into your face with abandon. "Take it all. Every fucking inch. You're mine, all mine."

He pulls your head forward, burying his cock to the hilt. You gag and splutter around him, but he doesn't relent, keeping you in place until tears stream down your cheeks.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful like this," he rasps, his thumbs brushing away your tears. "My perfect little cocksucker. Sodesperate for me, so hungry for my cum."

Aegon pulls back, letting you gasp for air, before ramming back in, setting a brutal pace. The wet, obscene sounds of your blowjob fill the steamy bathroom, mixing with his grunts and your muffled moans.

"Gonna fuck this pretty face until you're choking on my cock," he promises darkly, his eyes blazing with lust. "Gonna pump you full of my seed, mark you inside and out as mine."

His balls tighten, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his peak. "Get ready, baby," he warns, his voice strained."Gonna cum down your throat. Swallow every last drop like a good girl."

With a final thrust, Aegon explodes, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting mouth.

"Fuck, yes!" Aegon roars, his cock erupting in your mouth, pumping load after load of thick, hot cum directly into your stomach. Thick, hot ropes of cum coat your tongue, fill your cheeks, and you swallow greedily, eagerly, determined not to waste a single precious drop. His whole body shudders as he empties himself inside you, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over him until he's spent, drained, utterly satisfied.

You swallow every drop of Aegon's thick cum, a few pearly white strands clinging to your chin. As you pull back, gasping for breath, you can't help but cough, your throat used and raw from his brutal thrusts.

You gaze up at Aegon through your lashes, eyes big and doe-like. Your eyes are still a bit unfocused, glassy with lust and submission. Shampoo suds cling to your hair, waiting to be rinsed away.

Aegon's chest heaves as he catches his breath, his cock slowly softening in your mouth. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and intense, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, his voice low and husky. "You took my cock so well. Such a good little cocksucker for me."

He reaches down, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the stray drops of cum clinging to your chin. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice filled with possessive pride. "My perfect little princess, all used and marked up."

Aegon straightens up, his hands going to your hair, massaging the shampoo into your scalp. "Let's get you cleaned up, baby," he says, his tone gentler now, almost tender. "Can't have you walking around dirty."

He takes his time rinsing the suds from your hair, his fingers never stopping their gentle massage. The warm water cascades over your body, washing away the evidence of your debauchery, but leaving the memories, the imprint of his touch, his possession.

You hum softly as Aegon's strong fingers work the shampoo through your hair, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss. His thorough ministrations send shivers of pleasure racing down your spine, the warmth of the water and his touch melding into pure magic.

"There. All clean. But don't think for a second that we're done, baby."

His lips crash against yours in another bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, staking his claim, marking you as his.

When his lips claim yours in a searing kiss, you meet his passion with your own, your tongue tangling with his in a sensual dance. The taste of him, the feel of him, it's intoxicating, addictive.

But as the kiss deepens, your knees begin to tremble, the ache of kneeling on the hard, unforgiving tiles finally catching up with you. With a soft whimper, you carefully manoeuvre your body, settling onto the cool floor. The change in position allows the warm spray to soothe the dull throb, and you lean back against the wall, letting the water cascade over your shoulders.

Aegon's eyes darken as you lay back, your body relaxed and pliant in his wake. He drinks in the sight of you sprawled there, wet and wanton, completely at his mercy.

He steps out of the spray, water sluicing down his chiselled body, dripping from his hair, and his stubble. "Look at you," he growls, his voice low and rough. "So fucking beautiful, baby. So perfect."

Aegon drops to his knees, his hands skimming up your thighs, parting them. He leans in, his breath hot against your sex. "I can smell how wet you are," he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your clit. "Fuck, you're dripping for me, aren't you?"

Without warning, he dives in, his tongue delving into your folds, lapping at your essence. He groans at the taste of you, heady and sweet, pure ambrosia.

"Taste so fucking good," he grunts, his tongue circling your clit, flicking, teasing, driving you wild. "Could eat this pretty cunt all day."

His fingers join the fray, plunging into your heat, curling, stroking, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. He sets a relentless pace, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna clean you up, baby," he growls, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Gonna swallow every drop of your sweet cream."

You whimper and gasp as Aegon's skilled tongue and lips work their magic on your throbbing pussy. Your fingers tangle in his wet hair, tugging him closer, urging him deeper. "Oh gods, Aegon… Yes, more!" You mewl wantonly, your back arching off the slick tiles. Pleasure sparks through your nerves with each flick and swirl of his tongue.

The lewd sounds of his feasting echo obscenely in the steamy bathroom. You writhe and buck shamelessly against his face, too lost in ecstasy to care how desperate and needy you must look. All that matters is chasing more of this bliss he's giving me.

"Please, Aegon, I'm so close…" You whine, eyes rolling back as his tongue zeroes in on your aching clit. Your thighs quiver and clench around his head, your hips rolling feverishly. You can feel the telltale tingle building low in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter.

Aegon growls against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs as he devours you. The vibrations of his voice against your sensitive flesh make you buck and moan, your hips grinding against his face, seeking more, more, more.

He laps at your clit, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue flicking rapidly. At the same time, he pushes two fingers deep inside you, crooking them just so, rubbing against that spot that makes you see stars.

"That's it, baby," he rasps, his words muffled, his voice dripping with lust. "Ride my face. Fuck my mouth. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Aegon can feel you tightening, your walls fluttering around his fingers. He doubles his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, pushing you to the brink.

"Gonna cum for me?" he asks, his voice a dark promise. "Gonna soak my face? Paint me with your cream?"

He seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers piston in and out, in and out, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust.

Your moans echo off the tiled walls, your body writhing under his relentless assault. Pressure builds deep in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter with each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers.

"That's it, baby," Aegon rasps, his voice rough with lust. "Cum for me. Let go. Give me everything."

With a keening cry, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs clamp around his head, your hips bucking wildly as you ride out the intense waves of pleasure.

Aegon laps it all up, his tongue greedily licking and sucking, prolonging your climax until you're boneless and spent, collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath.

You try to catch your breath as your release trickles down your inner thighs, leaving a sticky trail. With each inhale and exhale, your ample breasts rise and fall, the soft flesh jiggling enticingly.

Reaching out, you gently caress Aegon's cheek, silently praising him for bringing me such exquisite pleasure. Your fingertips trace the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble that has grown there, before delving into his damp hair.

You pull him into you, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring all your gratitude and adoration into the press of your mouth against his. Aegon responds eagerly, his kiss consuming, all-encompassing, leaving you breathless once more.

As you break apart, you gaze up at him through your lashes, a soft, sated smile on your lips. "I love you," you murmur.

Aegon's heart swells at your words, your tender touch, the love shining in your eyes. He leans into your caress, his eyes fluttering closed, savouring the feel of your fingers in his hair, the soft press of your lips against his.

When you pull back, he gazes down at you, his expression open, vulnerable in a way he rarely allows himself to be. "Love you too, baby," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. "So fucking much."

He rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. At this moment, the rest of the world falls away - there is only you, only this. The love, the connection, the rightness of it all.

"You're mine," he whispers fiercely, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. "Mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to protect. Always."

Aegon seals his vow with a kiss, deep and passionate, pouring all his love, all his devotion into the press of his lips against yours. He loses himself in you.

"Now let's get clean… and actually shower this time," he says with a chuckle, holding his hand out to you and pulling you up. "And then we can order food and watch whatever you want," Aegon murmurs against your neck and places a kiss in the crook of your neck.

154 notes · View notes

estellesdoll · 3 days ago

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Hii can you do a Matt Sturniolo imagine where like the reader (us) is Eminem’s daughter and they like meet at an event and are like super into each other but they Matt doesn’t find out we’re eminems daughter until a little bit later. Please and thank you <3

∿ 𝜗 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜚 ﹐

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: At an event, Y/n, Eminem’s daughter, meets Matt while picking a drink. They connect easily, and when Matt learns who she is, he treats her like anyone else. By the end of the night, there's a spark between them, hinting at something special.

𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 : yes

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: older!matt x fem!reader | Eminem's daughter

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption

𝒘. 𝒄.: 3.1k

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: I hope you like it! 🎀🤍 It's my first request, and I'm pretty nervous! SEND ME MORE REQUESTS, AND IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, LEAVE A COMMENT ON THE POST:

౨ৎ𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | ౨ৎ𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 |

| ౨ৎ𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | ౨ৎ𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕

The event was in full swing, a sea of people gathered in the extravagant venue. The lights flickered in sync with the beats of the music, and the air was thick with excitement. But, as always, you tried your best to stay in the background, away from the spotlight that seemed to follow you wherever you went. After all, being Eminem's daughter wasn’t always as glamorous as people made it out to be. Tonight was no exception, your goal was to enjoy the night without drawing too much attention.

You bit your lip as you read over the menu for what felt like the tenth time. A Tommy’s Margarita? A Negroni? You had no idea what the difference was between them, and the last thing you wanted was to look completely out of place by ordering something that tasted awful. You loved a good drink, but you weren’t exactly a cocktail expert. You shifted on your feet, trying to decide, and that’s when you heard a voice next to you.

“Having trouble deciding?” he asked, his voice light and friendly, with a hint of curiosity.

You blinked, trying to shake the feeling that you knew him from somewhere. Maybe a friend of a friend? Or just someone you’d seen in passing? You didn’t know, but his face definitely wasn’t unfamiliar. Maybe you had seen him in a video or an Instagram post? He had that vibe, someone you might come across on a popular account. You couldn’t quite place it, but there was something about him that felt so familiar.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “I’m a little lost here. I was thinking of getting a Tommy’s Margarita or a Negroni, but I don’t even know what the difference is.”

He glanced at the menu, his smile not fading. “Ah, well, the Tommy’s Margarita’s actually a pretty straightforward drink. It’s just tequila, lime juice, and agave. No triple sec like a regular margarita. It’s refreshing—tart, but not too sweet.”

You nodded slowly, trying to absorb the information. “So, it’s like a cleaner version of a regular one?”

“Exactly,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. “It’s pretty smooth, too, so it’s a good choice if you’re looking for something light and easy to sip on.”

You felt a little more confident now, but your attention still wavered between the drinks on the menu. “And the Negroni? What’s that one like?”

He chuckled softly, as though amused by the contrast in choices you were considering. “A Negroni is, uh... definitely more of an acquired taste,” he explained, his voice gentle and patient. “It’s gin, vermouth rosso, and Campari. It’s very bitter—herbal, strong. Not something I’d recommend if you want something refreshing.”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought of something so bitter. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that one. Not feeling the bitter vibe tonight.”

He laughed, a warm, easy sound. “Smart move. The last thing you want is to be stuck with something you can’t even enjoy. You want something light, right?”

You nodded, relieved that he was guiding you through the options without any judgment. You were starting to feel more at ease in this conversation, even though you couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that you knew him from somewhere.

“Well, in that case,” he continued, his gaze still on the menu, “the Tommy’s Margarita is definitely your best bet. It’s the kind of drink that goes down easy and doesn’t make you regret your choices later.”

You chuckled, appreciating the reassurance. “Okay, I’ll go with that. One Tommy’s Margarita, please,” you said, feeling like you could actually get through the night without too much embarrassment.

He grinned, clearly pleased with your choice. “Good pick. You won’t regret it.”

As the bartender started preparing your drink, you turned to face him again, feeling like the conversation had flowed so easily. There was something about him that made you feel comfortable, as if talking to him was just... natural. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder where you knew him from.

The more you thought about it, the more his face seemed familiar. Maybe you’d seen him on social media, or in a video—he had that type of presence that made you feel like you’d come across him online before. It was like a faint memory that was just out of reach.

“So, are you new to cocktails, or just trying something different tonight?” he asked casually, his voice relaxed.

You laughed, feeling the lightness of the moment. “I’m more of a wine or beer person. But, you know, fancy night and all that. Figured I should try something new.”

He nodded in understanding. “I get it. Sometimes the fancy drinks aren’t just about the taste. They’re about the experience, right?”

“Exactly!” you said, warming to the conversation. “It’s like, why not try something new while we’re here?”

“Right,” he agreed, his voice softening. “Life’s too short to play it safe all the time. Gotta make the night memorable.”

You smiled, feeling a little more connected to him. There was something about the way he spoke—so laid-back, so easy to talk to—that made the whole event feel less overwhelming. Maybe you had made the right choice coming here tonight after all.

“Plus,” he added with a teasing grin, “if the drink ends up being terrible, we can just blame it on the drink and call it a learning experience.”

You laughed, and the bartender slid your Tommy’s Margarita toward you. You picked it up, raising your glass toward him. “Well, I’ll just blame you if it doesn’t taste good.”

Matt raised his own drink, his eyes locking with yours as he smiled. “You can blame me all you want. I’ll take the hit.”

You both clinked glasses, and you took a sip of your drink. It was perfect—tart, refreshing, exactly what you needed. You smiled at Matt over the rim of your glass, feeling a little lighter now that you’d figured out what to drink.

“This is really good,” you said, your smile genuine.

He grinned, pleased with your reaction. “Told you. You made the right choice.”

For a moment, you just stood there, both sipping your drinks and enjoying the quiet comfort of each other’s company. The event felt a little less like a formal gathering and more like just two people getting to know each other.

"So, are you always this good at making cocktail recommendations?" you teased, a small smile curling at your lips. "Or is this just a one-time thing?"

Matt chuckled, his eyes lighting up as they met yours. "I’m just a guy who knows his drinks. But I think I’m also pretty good at reading the room," he said with a playful glint in his eye.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the confidence in his voice. "Oh really?" you asked, leaning in slightly, just enough to make the space between you feel charged. "And what does that say about me?"

He took a small step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "It says you’re someone who appreciates a good recommendation—and someone who knows how to enjoy themselves when they’re out," he said, his voice lowering slightly, as if the words were meant only for you.

You smiled, the compliment making your pulse quicken a bit. There was an undeniable energy between you two now, something that made the rest of the world blur out of focus for a moment. "I like the sound of that," you murmured, feeling a little bolder now that the conversation was leaning into something more intimate.

Matt’s lips curved into a grin, his gaze softening just a touch. "Good, because I’m just getting started," he replied, his tone warm, yet there was a challenge in it, like he was daring you to keep up.

Your heart fluttered, the playful back-and-forth making everything feel more thrilling. The connection between you was undeniable now, and you could tell he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. The night felt suddenly filled with possibilities, and the conversation was only just beginning.

"So, what’s next?" you asked, your voice soft but curious, wondering where this would lead.

Matt leaned in just slightly, his voice quieter. "Whatever you’re up for. I’m all about keeping things interesting."

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension between you two building with every passing moment. The night had just begun, but you already felt like it was turning into something unforgettable.

As the conversation continued, the easy chemistry between you two only grew. You felt yourself relaxing, laughing more easily with him. There was something so natural about the way he spoke, like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you for who you were—not just as someone famous, but as you.

He leaned in a little closer, his eyes locking with yours as he asked, “So, you never told me your name…”

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the subtle shift in the air. "It’s Y/n," you replied, your voice soft, not fully sure what kind of reaction he might have. "But, um, I guess you could say... it’s a bit of a... family name."

Matt furrowed his brow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Family name? What’s that supposed to mean?” His curiosity was clear, though there was no judgment in his voice.

You smiled, looking down at your drink for a second before meeting his gaze again. "Well... my dad’s kind of a big deal," you said, your words casual but laced with a hint of hesitation. "You might’ve heard of him... Eminem?"

Matt blinked, processing the information. The realization slowly dawned on him, and his expression shifted from playful curiosity to something more awed. "Wait, Eminem’s daughter?" He leaned back slightly, eyes widening. "No way."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the surprise in his voice. "Yeah, I know, kind of a shocker, right?" You shrugged, trying to downplay it, feeling the familiar discomfort of being tied to that name, though it wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection.

But Matt’s surprise wasn’t off-putting. He didn’t seem impressed in the way people usually were when they found out who your dad was. He seemed genuinely... intrigued, and something in his expression softened as he continued, “I never would’ve guessed. Honestly, I don’t even know why I didn’t put it together sooner.”

You smiled, appreciating his reaction more than you expected. "I like to keep things low-key," you said. "It’s just easier that way."

He nodded, looking thoughtful. “I get that. It must be tough sometimes, though, right? Having everyone always know who you are...”

You shrugged. “It’s not that bad, really. I’ve always kind of just... been me. The whole fame thing is something I never really got used to.”

Matt’s eyes softened, his voice quieting. “I like that about you. You’re not trying to be anyone you’re not.”

There was something in the way he said it, so honest, that made your chest warm. His sincerity was refreshing, and it made you feel even more at ease with him.

"So, um..." Matt began, his smile returning. "That’s pretty cool, though. I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda shocked when you said your name earlier, but you’re nothing like what I expected."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what did you expect?”

Matt chuckled, a bit of shyness creeping into his demeanor now that the mystery was out. "I don’t know, maybe someone who’d be all about the spotlight? You’re just... normal. And honestly, it’s kinda nice."

You smiled at his honesty, feeling your heart flutter a little. “Yeah, well, sometimes I’d rather just enjoy the night like anyone else. No cameras, no interviews... just a drink and a good conversation.”

“Exactly,” Matt said, his voice almost conspiratorial. “And it feels like that’s what we’re having right now.”

The way he said it made your pulse quicken. He wasn’t treating you like you were some celebrity—he was just treating you like someone he was genuinely getting to know, and that felt... nice. More than nice, actually.

"So," you said, leaning in a little, your voice soft, “what do you think about the rest of the night? You up for a bit of an adventure?”

His smile widened, and you could see the same spark in his eyes that you felt. “You know what? I think I’m up for whatever comes next... especially if it means more time with you.”

The air between you two crackled with potential, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you weren’t just the daughter of a famous rapper—you were just Y/n, having a fun night with someone who was clearly drawn to you, not the persona attached to your name.

As the night stretched on, you two continued to talk, laugh, and enjoy each other's company, both of you discovering more about the other in the most genuine way possible. By the time the event started to wind down, you realized how much you were looking forward to what might come next.

And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel like Eminem’s daughter, just a girl who had met someone she couldn’t wait to see again.

As the event began winding down, the crowd starting to thin out, you found yourself not wanting to leave just yet. There was something about Matt that kept you there, drawn to him in a way that felt effortless. His presence was comforting, like a quiet anchor in a world that could sometimes feel overwhelming.

The music was quieter now, the lights dimmer, but you barely noticed any of that. Your focus was entirely on him, the way he smiled when he caught your gaze, the way his hand rested just a little too close to yours on the bar.

“So,” Matt said, leaning closer, his voice soft, “I’m really glad we talked tonight. I know we’ve only just met, but it feels like... I don’t know, like it’s been longer, you know?”

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at how sincere he sounded. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like everything just clicked, like we’re... meant to be having this conversation right now.”

Matt’s gaze softened, and he smiled at you with such warmth that your chest fluttered. There was something undeniably sweet about how easy it was to talk to him, how comfortable he made you feel despite the weight of who you were. He didn’t treat you like you were someone special just because of your last name. He treated you like you were... you. And that felt like a breath of fresh air.

“You know,” Matt said, his hand moving just a little closer to yours, “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. I can’t remember the last time I met someone who made me feel this... easy.”

You reached for your drink, your fingers brushing against his hand by accident, but the small touch made your heart race. “Yeah,” you said softly, “it’s rare to find someone who just gets it, isn’t it?”

Matt smiled, his thumb brushing lightly against your hand as if to reassure you. “Yeah, it is. But I’m glad I found that someone tonight.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the way he looked at you, the warmth in his gaze sending a flutter through your chest. He didn’t need to say anything more for you to understand what he meant. The connection between you two was undeniable, growing with every passing moment.

“Matt,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “this... it feels really nice, just being here with you. I didn’t expect to feel like this tonight.”

Matt's eyes softened even more, and you could see the shift in his expression—a kind of vulnerability that made your heart ache in the best way possible. He leaned a little closer, his voice gentle. “I didn’t expect to feel this way either, but I’m glad it’s happening.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. You felt your pulse quicken, and before you knew it, you were leaning in just a little, drawn to him in a way that felt almost magnetic. The tension between you two was palpable now, the air thick with the anticipation of something that could be even more than this easy conversation.

“You know,” Matt murmured, his voice low and warm, “I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you are, Y/n. Not just because of who you are, but because of how you carry yourself. You’re... real. And I like that.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your heart swelling with the warmth of his words. “You’re making me blush,” you whispered, but there was a playful smile on your lips.

Matt chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours once more, his fingers intertwining with yours. It was a simple touch, but it felt like everything in that moment. “I’m glad I could make you smile,” he said, his voice so sweet, it made your chest ache with affection.

You looked into his eyes, the connection between you two feeling more real with each passing second. "I like this," you whispered, your voice steady but soft. "I like us."

Matt’s expression softened, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand as he smiled at you, a little shy, but genuine. "Me too, Y/n. Me too."

For a long moment, you just looked at each other, the world around you fading into the background. There was no pressure, no expectations—just two people sharing a moment that felt... perfect. The warmth in your chest and the soft smile on Matt’s face told you that this was only the beginning of something good. Something that felt right.

And as the night drew to a close, neither of you seemed eager to part ways. It wasn’t just the drinks or the event that made this night special. It was the connection that had formed between you both, something sweet and real that you couldn’t deny.

"Maybe we can continue this... sometime?" Matt asked, his voice low, filled with anticipation. "Like a real date?"

You smiled, the flutter in your chest growing. "I’d like that," you whispered back, your heart racing a little faster at the thought.

Matt grinned, a warm, sincere smile that made your heart skip a beat. "Good. Because I think I’ve already decided—I’m not letting you go that easily."

And with that, you both knew that tonight wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the start of something new, something sweet, and perhaps even the beginning of something more.

﹒◟send me your requests and use an emoji if you want to stay anonymous. 𓂃

@estellesdoll

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @gemzyy

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qwerty019283ytrewq · 20 hours ago

Text

Parental custod

✨️Imagine✨️

Max rolls his eyes when he sees Jack making his way towards him during the drivers parade.

Don't get him wrong. He's glad that there are so many rookies on the starting grid, but he would trade them all for one particular person. It doesn't help that Jack looks too much like Daniel, with his accent, a little hairstyle, and a big nose. The wrong nose, the wrong hair, the wrong Australian that Max wants to spend time with.

"Hi Max!" says Jack, with too much enthusiasm and an awkward smile. "You...Listen, I'm sorry to bother you, but could you help me?"

He looks like Max is his only and last option. He could have turned to anyone. Lewis would have helped him for sure, and so would Fernando, but Jack came to Max. Max sighs, apparently not so well hiding his fatigue and unwillingness to help the Australian because Jack's facial expressions change. Now he looks like a scared kid in a mall who turned to a security because he got lost.

"Ya...I didn't want to bother you, but... Daniel doesn't answer my calls, and it seems that I write to him too much..."

Yes, he really is a lost child... a child whose "father" did not come to his first competition. Max's thoughts go back to the days when he himself followed Daniel, looking for every opportunity to talk to him, touch him. He was teased, called a "duckling," but Max was too blinded by this sunny man to somehow protect himself from attacks.

"How can I help you?"

✨️✨️✨️

Max returns to his room after the race. He collapsed on the sofa and hoped to sit in silence for a couple of minutes before having to return to the circus, but the silence was broken by the ringing of his phone. After seeing the caller's name, he can't ignore it.

"Your 'son'..." - Max puts emphasis on the word 'son' - "...the whole parade of drivers terrorized me." He says before Daniel has time to greet him.

"Come on, you look cute in all these photos," Max hears him smirking, but there's something else to it. Max doesn't give himself time to think about it. "And judging by the comments, you're his "dad." Have you called Seb yet? Did he give you a couple of tips for a novice grid dad? I'm sure he knows a couple of great places that serve the best ice cream after a crappy race."

Max blames fatigue after the race and jet lag for his next words.

"We could share custody of Jack, you know? In the end, yes, he has your nose, but the hair is definitely mine."

There is a silence that Max dreamed of, but which he now hates. He hears Daniel's short laugh, wants to know what's in his head right now, hates not hearing him, hates not seeing him most of all.

"Um...you know...such issues are worth discussing personally. Maybe...Maybe you'll come to my farm and we'll... distribute our parental responsibilities?"

"Just buy a normal beer, I won't drink that donkey urine anymore."

"Come on, it can't be worse than sweaty champagne from a shoe."

#daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #max/daniel #maxiel #mv1 #dr3 #somebody write this please #rookie on tumblr

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robolvrr · 2 days ago

Text

pop 'n lock it! *⁠.⁠✧｡⁠☆

rodimus prime x gn! flirty bounty hunter reader

sexy aliens at hotspots near you! • rodimus has learned that maybe cybertronians aren't as feared by the rest of the galaxy as he thinks.

warnings: nsfw, sexual content. (fisting, valveplay, friends with benefits.) non-cybertronian reader.

"come here often?"

your fingers rub absently on the safety lock of a battered pistol. the sizzle of raw laser still sends a wave of nausea through your system, before your internal servers have forwarded through past memories and interactions to positively identify the cocky voice rumbling through your communications system.

your lips playfully pull upwards.

"how'd you get my line, roddy? don't remember giving you this frequency babe."

the laughter that follows is painfully confident. so much so, that you can easily pick the chuckles apart and find the nervousness coursing beneath. he's about to snip back at you but that's just so predictable, especially since he's much more fun tongue-tied.

"daww, you missed me pretty thing? and here i thought you were too busy being a lil commander. if you wanted me so bad you coulda just told me the last time."

rodimus lets out the equivalent of a bark. you turn your attention to the sky, squinting in an attempt to see if he was piercing through the atmosphere or not.

"oh, you're mean! you know, sometimes i think you just like to project. i get you that riled up, sweetspark?"

that's how he wants to play tonight? cute.

you make eye-contact with a ball of flame and melted metal dancing across bright, magenta skies like a comet out of hell. humming, your pistol meets your hip, belt heavy with equpiment.

"your paint job gonna hold, hm? coming down awfully hot, needy."

"am not."

"uh-huh. sure, speedy. you want me to buff it better later?"

"just get that expression off your face. ugh."

that smile is downright cheshire. this planet's entire warmth and core couldn't force his frame any hotter than the sly smirks you design. it's your plotting grin.

the possibilities send a nice shiver down to his pedes.

"good mechs get rewards. stop playing coy and admit you're stressed and you missed me."

silence, for once, fills your comms. he can imagine you sucking your teeth with a feigned, sour pout.

"... be ready."

your head tips back when you giggle. legs drape over a slender, glossy bike before it sets to hover over rusted terrain, helmet clicking into place as your suit whirs to function.

[ welcome back, user. where to? ]

wrists twist back until the engine purrs. you wonder if rodimus will too.

"the usual. clear my night and tell trax the job is done."

your bike and you shoot through the desert in a blur, leaving the approaching prime and your disintegrated target of ash far behind.

---------

rodimus knows he shouldn't be interacting with you on any level. like, at all.

it's not as if you're a major threat. he's learned the hard way not to leap to conclusions, though you've never made a point of following through with any threats and you're cute, kind of intimidating. almost some figment of his imagination that flits in the corners of his optics.

he hasn't told anyone, anyone, on the ship about you.

for one, they just wouldn't get it.

rodimus prime, captain of the lost light, dirty pervert who enjoys interfacing outside his species every once in awhile. who is hopelessly intoxicated by a being hundreds of feet shorter and yet lets 'em run him up a wall.

for two, he's sure it isn't "ethical." magnus wouldn't look at him the same and he already was in hot water.

for three? well for three, you should be in prison. he's not sure where or which one, but from his research and your blunt pride, you're not exactly a good person.

not entirely. you've gotten rid of some awful corruption and he doesn't like how he's starting to question where his morals and your efficiency mix, because he's certain you don't fry his processors that bad to the point he's losing his sense.

you do.

rodimus lands on the planet's surface, fields buzzing too much to remember the name or care about proper docking. it's not as if he's sticking around for long, per your request.

which is cool. totally cool.

rodimus feels like shareware when he transforms into alt-mode, aware you're probably already waiting. his pistons roar and he fights the urge not to ding you again, because yeah, he's needy.

so what if he misses your mouth? missed your skin, synthetic and otherwise, missed your foreign technology analyzing his ticks and limits?

he needed this. he deserves this, that much was true.

the crackle of his comms make his wheels bite rock aggressively.

"don't make me wait."

----------

he arrives not even five minutes later. you're too static to care about or remember his measurement of time. it's quick and to your standards and that's all that matters.

his chassis is dusty. sure enough, there is visible damage upon his descent. you don't look up, or over, your shoulder until he drawls in bratty greeting.

"you know, most hosts are a little more attentive."

there he goes. classic rodimus, always misbehaving. biting what he could chew and choking instead.

you let the silence grow awkward before you give him what he wants. you can sense the way he's unsure by how his vents vary, fans slowly whirring as they lower the temperature down a degree.

"and most guests are more polite. who said i invited you?"

poor thing looks like a kicked pet. his optic ridges droop and his dermas screw up, stubborn.

"i can be good. it's just... i need you, okay? that's what you wanted to hear, right? just give me tonight. please."

he slips down the concrete wall as steps, practiced and nonchalant, drift his direction. all his insecurities and want bubble to a nasty concoction and his legs part without command.

he can feel it. your stare, right on his closed array. the visual, physical culmination of his obsession dripping and oh, primus. your mouth is opening and you're letting it fall on your tongue.

"hahhh.. frag." he stores the image in a file far away.

"like candy, roddy. i can forgive you for intruding if you haven't been touching yourself like i asked, darling."

he groans and his digits scrape the foundation. you suck your finger and he's shaking.

"sure tastes like it."

frag it all. you make him so desperate it's embarrassing.

he nods his head fast and his panels pop and lock open.

leaning forward, you make a mental note to see just when your schedule will open up again this lunar cycle. while his spike is just as pretty as he is, an curved phallic throb of silver metal with sparkling, ruby bio-lights, you dip lower instead.

rodimus didn't have time to ask, hearing the whoosh of your thrusters and suddenly tongue and spit find his node with turbokitten licks.

"ooohhhh, okay, hah! w-warn somebody before you just g— guhh..!"

you never ask him to mass displace when intimate. it's partially the reason he feels so gross. there is no reason for him to be this broken already.

he should be breaking you. you should be under him, unable to take an inch. unable to think straight, or walk straight—

you're nibbling.

the rounded knob is rubber and thick. solid. firm, but slippery. you're not worried about harming him, though you do bite harder than necessary to ensure he's getting stimulated.

transfluid starts to drench your chin as you swirl and slobber, forming a warm suction that earns you a glitched moan.

"yes, yes, yeeeeeeaaahh... j-jhust like. ah! that.."

eager fingers circle his valve. he hiccups his approval.

then, your hand. he has to focus on not crushing it but from the yelp and helm bumping the ceiling, he wasn't expecting the action at all. you dreamily continue to coat him in your saliva as your wrist slithers in.

rodimus is sure he's going to offline.

you're not big. that's been established. but he still has to ease his calipers, legs trembling as you shove more and more of your forearm in him.

"please don't stop. i-i'm sho sorry. i'll be good. i'll be so good fhoure yew."

lubricant coats his faceplate when he hears your wicked amusement murmur against his valve instead.

his processor is fuzzy. he can't grab at anything because his strength will collapse the support beams, or you'll shoot that domineering leer that makes him feel like he's tipped over a vase.

rodimus whines, bleats. after lapping and swallows, your mouth has lost patience and drifted to his pulsing shaft instead. your lips are so much softer than a cybertonian, pillowy and velvet.

meanwhile, you are lazy. still pumping up to the elbow, in and out, in, out, innnn, outttt.

"let me see you cry, honey. so cute when you do. so handsome. so pretty."

the captain ex-vents sharp. his optics are cerulean. they glow in the darkness and drink you up.

"y-yeah?"

greedy! he's too obvious.

"you're the prettiest cybertonian i have ever seen." there it is, that engine growl. it vibrates your form with a tickle.

"my little light. my perfect...", you know what you're saying is going to make him overthink. you keep going because you feel how close he is already. "perfect prime."

that does it. rodimus tries to reboot his vocalizer as he shrieks out, dopey and bursting. a large, pink pool puddles at his aft, a single servo snatching you by the waist by instinct and dragging you up, up, up, up.

his glossa shoves down your throat and you paw at his helm.

he wants this burnt into his very being. his spark is thrashing.

"give. more. c'mon."

smoothing away tears, you suckle. his glossa slithers out and spit and fluid makes spider-web bridges between your mouths.

"you know i am not that mean, right? relax your pistons."

rodimus looks at you, albeit too tenderly. you close your eyes and distract you both instead by kissing him again.

"hah. as if. you're evil."

"you seem to have a habit of letting evil people around you, roddy." clink. the suit on your body phases off. he looks like he wants to stick you in his intake, drool and all.

"... touché."

#maccadam #idw rodimus #rodimus x reader #rodimus #valveplug #/nsfw #/nsft #transformers #lost light #transformers idw #rodimus prime x reader #mtmte #transformers x reader #give me this tall red glass of water #reader loves him but is too stubborn to let it go anywhere further #the most wicked friends and benefits #mtmte x reader

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topazy · 2 days ago

Text

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.07

The more you got to know the people who saved you, the more you understood why they saved you. Abraham explained that he and Rosita are on a mission to get their companion doctor Eugene Porter to Washington, DC, safely because Eugene knew how to stop the virus and Abraham wanted you to join them. What they were doing was courageous, but you needed to find your family.

You look over at Glenn who was carrying Jace and nod appreciatively. You, him, and Tara were taking turns holding him to try and keep the strain off your shoulder.

The atmosphere is awkward as you walk in almost complete silence. Abraham and Glenn got into a physical fight because Abraham made a comment saying Maggie was most likely already dead, and the noise from the fight attracted a horde of walkers. While five of you fought, the walkers off Eugene tried to help, but the accident ended up shooting the army rank several times, causing it to stop working, which meant the only option now was to travel by foot.

Abraham slows his pace to walk beside you; he nods his head in the direction of Glenn. “He’s a persistent son of a bitch, I get while you’re following him.”

“I’m not following him just to help find Maggie. Our people were more than just someone to survive with; we are a family. My brother, nephew, and Daryl are still out there, along with the rest of our friends. Me and Glenn can’t stop looking for them.”

“Do you really think you’ll find them?”

You don’t answer his question. The last few days have been hectic, and you couldn’t allow yourself to think that you won’t ever find them.

Abraham changes the subject. “I didn’t have you down as a hunter, but damn those squirrels you caught last night went down a treat. Your father taught you to hunt?”

A small smile pulls on your lips. You found hunting extremely difficult morally, but when Daryl had his arms wrapped around you to show you what to do... It was the safest you’ve felt in a king town. “No, Daryl taught me to hunt skin and gut animals, so you can thank him when we find him. I used to be vegan before the world went to shit.”

He laughs, “Well, those days are long now.”

Abraham was right; you ate whatever was possible now.

You make polite small talk and learn more about the mission until Tara starts laughing. “I can’t believe I still have this,” she pulls a wallet out of her jacket pocket. She chuckles to herself while opening it up, “Three dollars and an expired voucher for grocery shopping.”

“Never know, it could go up on a museum wall one day.”

Her smile fades when she pulls a Polaroid photo out of one of the slips. Tara goes to say something, but her breathing becomes shaky. “I never saw her after... I kept thinking she might have ended up like my sister, or she’s alone and hurt, or…”

Glenn gives her a sympathetic look. “Who is she?”

“My girlfriend Alisha... I think I saw her body at the prison, but the more I think about it, the more I’m unsure if it was her.”

You understood how awful not knowing where everyone was felt. With the attention of somehow trying to comfort her, you walk closer but come to an abrupt halt when you see the picture she’s holding. You feel warm, a painful knot forming in your stomach. Tara’s girlfriend was the woman who put Hershel on his knees; she was the woman you shot and killed at the prison.

—

When night falls, you take turns keeping watch, and right now it was currently your turn. Abraham picked a spot that was surrounded by thick trees and bushes, keeping you out of view of anyone who may walk by the train tracks. You had bundled Jace up in a T-shirt and your jacket to keep him warm. Your back was pressed against a tree so you could securely place him between your legs.

You let out a deep sigh. Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham had all fallen asleep while Tara and Glenn spoke quietly. Finding the picture earlier had really upset the brunette, and you felt so guilty that she was continuing to torture herself by imagining all the different things that could have happened to Alisha. If it was someone you cared about, you’d want to know the truth.

“Tara, I need to tell you something. I... I, Alisha, she's gone. She’s dead.”

The look in her eyes, she knew. She knew it was you before you'd even told her. “How would you know that?”

“I killed her.”

Tara blinks away her tears, then shoots you a death glare. “You killed my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t know who she was, not until I saw the photo earlier.”

“So you just killed someone and didn’t think about them again?” Tara scoffs; she shakes her head and looks away from you. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hershel was a good man. He was a stranger who saved my nephew's life. He let us into his home. Your girlfriend dragged Hershel, an old man with one fucking leg, from the back of a car and forced him to kneel on the ground to be slaughtered by that sociopath in front of his own daughters!” Your vision becomes blurry with tears. “When I came face to face with her, I didn’t think twice about killing her, and no, I didn’t think about her again, not until I knew who she was. I’ve only told you so that you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life wondering what happened to her.”

She takes a moment to process everything you’ve just said. “If you could, would you have done things differently?”

“I found my baby alive next to the body of a boy who had been shot in the chest. Some asshole who attacked us in our own home put a goddamn bullet in a child and then continued to attack my people.” Using the sleeve of your jacket, you wipe at your eyes and nose. “I don’t know who killed him, but I don’t regret doing everything I could to stop my son from being one of those kids.”

Silence falls over the camp; nobody dares say anything. Tara walks off, and Glenn follows her. Feeling eyes on you, you turn your head to see Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene staring at you.

—

The next morning, everyone remains quiet as a mouse as you continue to follow the trail tracks. The only real noise was Jace babbling while you tried to get him to say mom or mommy. You decided it was best if you hanged back from the others, just close enough that you wouldn’t fall behind.

Glenn looks and observes you for a moment before slowing his pace to match yours. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Jace.”

“Sure.”

“Did Hershel ever check his ears out?”

“He did," you didn’t like thinking about it. “Hershel thought Jace’s eardrums got damaged from being exposed to so many gunshots and explosions when he was first born, but it’s hard to know for sure. He thinks his right side is more damaged than the left.”

Glenn’s brows pull together with confusion. “How’s that possible?”

“Maybe a gun went off on his right side... I should have done more to—“

“Don’t,” Glenn cuts you off. “Everything you do is for him.”

—

You can’t help but smile proudly at Jace; hearing him say mom filled your heart with so much warmth. You kiss his cheeks multiple times and say, “I’m so proud of you, little man.”

Daryl and Rick would be so proud.

You look from Jace to see what was in front of you, and you gasp in surprise. There was a wooden post with a map pinned to it, leading the way to a location called Terminus.

“Holy shit,” the map had a message written on mud left on it. “Glenn, Glenn. It’s a message from Maggie. Her, Bob and Sasha are alive.”

“Oh my god!” He comes up to look for himself and notices you are crying; he kisses you on the cheek. “If they are alive, then so will the rest of our people.”

Tears of happiness brim in your eyes; all you needed to do now was make it to Terminus.

#tomorrow’s promise #the walking dead #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon #daryl dixon/you #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl Dixon/reader #daryl dixon fanfic #tomorrow’s promise 4.07

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poledancingdinos · 1 day ago

Text

Mission: Impossible - Talk to the Girl

Pairing: Captain Syverson X OFC

Word Count: 2870

Warnings: Fluff, Flirting, Implied PTSD, Implied Smut

Taglist: @summersong69 @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @rosecentury @shellyshellshell @winter2112rose @secretdream2 @toooldforobsessions @wa-ni @valacircareads @missemrose @liecastillo @identity2212

Masterlist

Sy tried his best to look like he was having fun but it was a little hard to do when the loud thrum of the music was grating on his nerves. The upbeat pop song sounded nothing like gunfire or explosions so why did it put his entire body on high alert?

He glanced around the room for the millionth time, taking note of every exit and where each guest was seated now that the meal was over and people had switched chairs to mingle with other tables. If this was what retirement brought, then maybe he would have been better off going back.

During his surveillance of the room, his eyes lingered on the pretty bartender who’d appeared in the corner when they had opened up the bar. She’d caught his attention immediately, looking pretty in her simple black dress and serving everyone with a smile that made his heart ache a little whenever it wasn’t directed at him—which was every time since he hadn’t had the guts to go get himself a drink even once that evening.

His last beer had been empty for over an hour now but none of the guys at the table had gotten up so he hadn’t been able to bother them for a refill.

Not realizing he’d been openly starring for longer than socially acceptable, Sy didn’t hear his name being called until it was followed by a hit to the shoulder.

“Just go talk to her, man.”

“Who?” Sy asked, feigning innocence.

TJ, the groom and one of Sy’s best friends, shot him a look that told him he’d been busted and wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Go talk to her. Maybe the promise of a good lay will wipe that frown off your ugly mug and you’ll stop scaring off my wedding guests.”

The problem was, Sy had this feeling like that girl wasn’t meant to be just a one night thing, and he had no idea how to go about finding out if that was true. It wasn’t like he’d never gone home with a stranger in a bar. He was just used to the girls being the ones to show interest first.

“Okay, clearly I’m gonna have to spell this out for ya.” TJ cleared his throat, putting on a serious air and leaning in closer to Sy. All the boys around the table had cut off their conversation, focusing on their exchange.

“Your mission: libation retrieval. You will need to make your way fifty feet south of your current position at which point you will make contact with the person of interest. Now, this is where it gets tricky. You will need to be very mindful of what you say or this op could blow up in your face. The code word is ‘hi’.”

Sy couldn’t help but smile and flip his middle finger at the other man.

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

“And you’re being a pussy. Guess that’s why we make the perfect pair.”

He was right, Sy did need to put on his big boy pants, go order his own damn drink and talk to the beautiful woman.

Standing, Sy nervously straightened his tie and readjusted his suit jacket. He felt the entire table’s eyes on him as he crossed the room, moving around the outside of the open space that served as a dance floor. Sy considered a variety of opening lines but when he finally reached the counter, the cute bartender spoke first.

“What can I getcha? Shots, a beer, something sweet?”

Sy rarely drank anything other than beer but he wanted to keep her talking and a one word answer wouldn’t accomplish that.

“What do ya qualify as something sweet?”

The woman finally flashed that gorgeous smile at him, pushing a little pamphlet across the counter. “I can make all the classics or I have a few signature cocktails.”

Glancing through the menu, Sy hummed as if in deep contemplation. “I think I’ll stick to a beer but I wouldn’t say no to some other kind of sugar.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at him, attempting to conceal the smirk pulling at her lips.

“Isn’t the rule at these things that best man is supposed to go home with the maid of honor?”

“The maid of honor is happily married to one of the other groomsmen. And she’s also my sister.”

“Ah. Let me guess, your younger sister and her friends always lurked around you and your friends growin’ up until one day y’all came home from college and suddenly they were the ones who had your friends’ attention?”

Shooting an amused look at his brother-in-law over his shoulder, Sy realized he had six pairs of eyes watching him like he was some show animal.

“Yeah,” he admitted, turning his focus back to where it belonged, “that’s pretty much what happened with my sister but the groom only joined the group after our first deployment. He stayed, I went back. It’s probably also the reason why I am the only member of the wedding party who isn’t married.”

Subtle Sy. She opened her mouth to respond but a high-pitched voice cut off any words before they were formed.

“Uncle Sy, Uncle Sy!”

Sy spun, catching his god-daughter as she jumped into his arms and making a show of almost falling over. “Woah, princess! You’re growin’ so big, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep catchin’ ya.”

The little girl giggled, tugging playfully on Sy’s beard like she always did.

“Mama said I can have a juice or a fizzy drink!”

Sy looked at his sister who nodded in confirmation. He wouldn’t have put it past the sneaky five-year-old to tell a little white lie to manipulate her uncle.

“Well, which didja pick, juice or fizzy drink?”

“I want something pretty like Mamaw.”

He knew the ones. His mother was a big fan of those internet bartending videos and ordered drinks purely based on aesthetics. The problem was that most of those drinks got their color from the various alcohols mixed in.

“You know,” the woman chimed in with a warm smile towards his niece, “I have a menu here with lots of pretty drinks.” She pulled a second pamphlet from behind the counter, holding it out and leaning in conspiratorially as she stage-whispered, “I keep it hidden because it’s not for grown-ups.”

Sy locked eyes with the little girl in his arms and she grinned like the cat that got the canary, nodding furiously. Accepting the menu, Sy held it up for his niece to see.

“What do ya think, princess? The red one is real pretty.”

The red one was a Shirley Temple and seemed to be the one which was the least likely to give his god-daughter a sugar rush before bedtime, but she shook her head, instead pointing at the one below it. “I want this one!”

“Ooh, that’s one of my favorites too!” the woman declared.

So much for no sugar rush. There was a one hundred percent certainty that his sister would give him shit for his choice but he was not about to be the reason her daughter had a tantrum at her best friend’s wedding.

“The lady has spoken. We’ll have a Unicorn Waterfall, please.”

She got to work, rimming a glass with something purple then adding some bubblegum pink syrup and ice. On top of that, she placed a large chunk of blue and pink cotton candy and on the side, she filled a separate carafe with lemon-lime soda.

“Alright, sweetie, all that’s left is to pour the soda over the cotton candy. Do you think your Uncle Sy would help you do it?”

He didn’t miss the fact that she paid enough attention to remember his name.

“Oh! Please, please, please, Uncle Sy!”

“Sure, that sounds easy enough.”

Both glasses were pushed closer to him and Sy picked up the little carafe. His niece placed her tiny hand over his, eyes wide as he tipped the carafe and the clear liquid melted the cotton candy. The resulting drink was pink on the bottom and slowly transitioned to a deep purple without a trace of candy in sight.

His niece squealed and clapped, squirming so much Sy was afraid he might drop her for a moment.

“Okay, Hailey Mae, what do you say to Miss…” Sy paused, raising an eyebrow towards the woman of his dreams.

“Grace.”

“What do you say to Miss Grace?”

“Thank you, Miss Grace.”

“You’re very welcome, sweetie.”

With a grateful smile, Sy pushed the carafe back towards Grace and put his niece down on the floor. When he straightened, his beer was ready and waiting by his niece’s glass.

“I want to carry it, Uncle Sy.”

“Alright but two hands, okay?”

Hailey Mae tipped her chin, a look of stern concentration taking over her face as she carefully took the glass from Sy. It seemed Grace had thought ahead, making the drink in a plastic cup. The worst that could happen was a spill or a stain on the dress she would have outgrown by next month anyway. As much as Sy wanted to hang back and talk to the cute little lady who had just stolen his heart, he had to follow his niece to make sure no one accidentally bumped into her as she slowly waddled back to her mother.

To his great dismay, Sy was then immediately stolen away by his great aunt and wasn’t able to go back to the bar. Every time he broke away from one group of people, he was pulled into another mindless conversation.

Before he knew it, the evening was winding down, most of the guests had returned home and the wedding party retreated to their rooms at the hotel by the reception hall. Most of them lived less than an hour away, Sy being no exception, but the groom’s parents and siblings had come from out of town so the hotel stay had been a way of giving the newly joined families a little more time together before they all went home.

“She’s cleaning up, it’s now or never,” Sy’s brother-in-law said from behind him as he watched Grace wipe a metal shaker with a microfiber towel.

“To do what? Bring her up to my room?”

“I was going to say get her number but yours leads to sex tonight and mine means waiting until at least tomorrow.”

Sy just kept staring at her.

“You do remember how sex works right? You take that shrimp in your pants and you slip it in a woman’s—“

“I get it,” Sy growled. He did not want to hear whatever version of the birds and the bees he was about to spew.

“Good, now go get your bartender.”

Sy took a deep breath and made his way to the bar before he lost his nerve. He arrived just in time to see Grace heave a crate of liquor into her arms and immediately stumble backwards. Luckily, the fridge kept her upright and prevented her from causing a giant mess.

“Woah, ya need help with that?”

Grace gave him a relieved smile, managing to set the box on the counter.

“How is it that it feels heavier now than when I got here?”

“Maybe because you’ve been slingin’ drinks all night and you deserve a break,” he answered, picking up the box. “Where am I takin’ this?”

“My van is parked out back. We need to go through the service corridor.”

She picked up a case of syrups and moved towards a door in the corner of the room. Sy followed without question appreciating the view of her ass in that dress.

They crossed another large metal door and were greeted by the cool night air.

“This is me,” she said, setting her box down on the asphalt and digging her keys out of the bottom.

Once the van was opened, Sy set his case in the trunk then picked up the one she had carried and slid it in beside the first.

“You got anything else to bring out?”

“No, that’s all of it. The venue provided most of the equipment, this was all that was left of my stuff.”

This was it. Sy could either man up or never see this woman again.

“You know, it’s pretty late. Might not be such a good idea to drive anywhere tonight.”

“Is that so?” she asked, cocking her hip as Sy took a step forward.

“You could always come up to my suite. I could make ya a coffee or you could get a bit of rest before drivin’ back.”

“Your suite, huh? Are ya tryin’ to use your wealth to get laid?”

“No, I’m tryinʼ to use my friend’s wealth to get laid. But I’ll settle for usin’ my natural charm to get your number.”

An amused expression lit up her face at his honesty. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, smiling at the ground for a second before looking up at him from below her lashes.

“You’re right,” she said with an exaggerated fake yawn, “I’m really tired after workin’ all evenin’. It would be irresponsible of me to drive back tonight. I wouldn’t want to fall asleep behind the wheel and cause an accident.”

“No, ma’am it would not. And I’m all about bein’ responsible.”

The incessant ringing of the phone pulled Sy out of a deep sleep. It eventually stopped but the reprieve lasted for all of ten seconds. When it started for the third time, Sy muttered a curse under his breath and rolled over to the other side of the bed to pick up the receiver.

“What?” he barked.

“Damn.” It was his friend Mack’s lazy drawl coming from the other end of the line. “I was sure that you bein’ late to breakfast meant you’d gotten some last night but that tone tells me different.”

“Well fuck you too. I’ll be right there.”

He slammed the phone down and stretched out with a groan. Only then did he realize that he’d just rolled from one side of the king bed to the other completely unobstructed.

Sy sat up, taking stock of his surroundings. His suit was hung neatly in the closet when he was sure he’d thrown it haphazardly over the chair. Or near the chair. He was butt naked, which, had he been home, would not have been strange, but he didn’t make a habit of free-balling it on strange sheets.

On the up side, the evidence suggested he hadn’t hallucinated his night with the sexy bartender. On the down side, Grace had snuck out without so much as a goodbye.

There was no time to sulk, however, because he was expected downstairs with all of his nearest and dearest. When he stepped into the restaurant, he had approximately a five second warning before his favorite princess was in his arms.

“Uncle Sy, you’re late!”

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he carried her to the only two empty chairs, settling her on her booster seat. “I forgot to plug my phone before goin’ to sleep so I didn’t have any alarm to wake me up.”

“Forgot or passed out with it in your hand and a fresh load coolin’ on your chest?”

His sister kicked Mack under the table but his niece didn’t hear a word. She’d already picked up a purple crayon and set about drawing a unicorn on the paper place setting.

“It’s okay, Uncle Sy, I forgive you.”

“Well thank you, little lady, that’s mighty gracious of ya.”

For the next two hours, Sy did his best to put Grace out of his head and focus on the people around him. He still made a mental map of the room, the exits and the position of all the guests around the table but, without the loud music, he wasn’t nearly as on edge as he had been the night before. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t haul ass back to the relative peace of his room once the meal was over.

After being constantly on guard for sixteen straight hours the day before and only getting a few hours of sleep, he was ready to get back home to Aika and give his mind a rest in familiar surroundings.

Once he finished packing up his things, Sy moved to the nightstand to retrieve his cellphone. He hadn’t been lying about forgetting to plug it in the night before. When the device turned on again, there were a dozen missed calls and texts from his friends trying to reach him before breakfast.

Dismissing all the notifications, Sy slipped the phone in his pocket and reached down behind the nightstand. He’d been trying to retrieve his charger, only his hand brushed something else instead.

As it turned out, the something in question was one of those notepads that hotels left by the phone. And that notepad had the sweetest words Sy had ever read.

Had to get the van back for an early job. I hope that won’t keep you from calling. Grace xxx

And there below her name, were the ten most perfect digits in the world.

#captain syverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #cpt syverson #cpt syverson fic #cpt syverson fanfiction #henry cavill

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shrimptiger · 3 days ago

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Congrats to Max on his 4th title, but at the end of the day, I am a Lando, Oscar and Carlos fan, not a Max fan, so I obviously wanted one of my drivers to win. Oscar and Carlos had been out of this for a while, and it's sad seeing Lando lose his chance today, but no one can deny he's had a phenomenal season.

Look at how he started: 0 wins, one pole position, and 13 podiums; and look at him now: 3 wins, 8 poles and 25 podiums. That is 3 wins, 7 poles, and 12 podiums in 22 races this season, not counting sprints and we don't know what the last 2 races have to offer.

And let's look at the standings when Max won his other titles as of now, with 2 races and one sprint left in the 2024 season:

2021: Max won with 395.5 points and second place was Lewis, 387.5, 8 point gap, but I think we all know that in 2021, it was Max challenging Lewis on the title fight, not vice versa.

2022: Max won with 454 points and Charles was second with 308, that is a 146 point gap from Max to second place in the wdc.

2023: Max won with 575 points, p2 was Checo with 285 points, fucking 290 points separating them.

2024(with 2 races and a sprint left): there is mathematically no way for anyone other than Max to win the wdc unless he gets disqualified, which I don't see happening, so we have Max wdc with 403 points and Lando in p2 with 340, only 63 points between them.

What I mean is, Max never had a challange like this year. I'm not saying that Lando is some big unstoppable machine, and I think Max did good and kept him at distance, but if you would have looked at the standings a month ago, and even before today, you would say that Lando still had a slim chance, weather you belived in him or not, and even if that chance was small.

Maybe this is my first season, and maybe I wasn't here to see Lando before his first win, but he's not the egoistic piece of shit people say he is, and maybe he's not the best talent formula 1 has ever seen, and I don't think he will ever be, but no one can deny that he's good, and you probably couldn't do his job better than him. Statistically, he is the biggest challange to Max' wdc he's ever had(once again, 2021 was Max challanging Lewis, the championship was only his to win, because he couldn't lose it if he was never top of the standings to begin with), all in the season he's got his first "gifted" win and 2 phenomenal ones to follow with 20+ second gaps to p2, which coincidentally was Max, and Lando stood on the podium for 12 of the 22 races we've had so far this season(once again, not counting sprints), that is iver half of the races this season, and he made the 1 pole position he had at the start of the season into an 8, 7 this year.

You're blind to say he didn't have a downright amazing season, atleast compared to previous years, or that he's a bad driver, and I bet you that, had you been in his car, you would not even be close to being as good as him, let alone better. Frankly, I think the hate is just mindless, if you don't have anything better to do with your life than to hate on someone for doing their job(and it doesn't go to say that he is innocent or perfect and he's done no wrong, because I agree that he made mistakes and said and done bad things, but who here hasn't?), I recommend seeing a therapist or picking up a hobby to fill your time in a somewhat productive way.

I've said what I had to say, peace out, better luck next year and congrats to Max again, a deserved champion. Feel free to say anything you think I missed.

#f1 #formula 1 #ln4 #lando norris #mclaren #mv33 #mv1 #max verstappen #formula 1 world drivers championship #formula 1 wdc

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phoenix-eclipses · 3 days ago

Text

Casting Love Intermission

Soulmates weren't an unheard of topic in your youth. From several storybooks in your early education revolving around the romance of soulmates and even adults around you speaking about their soulmates, it was hard to ignore their existence.

You had assumed you didn't have one. You didn't have that string, always depicted as red, that would lead you to your soulmate. You didn't have any lettering on your body, despite checking several times.

The disappointment you had over your lack of a soulmate wasn't unknown by those who lived with you. Babysitters coming and going, trying to comfort you, convince you that perhaps some sort of sign would appear later.

And it did. Only in a form you didn't realize that made you different. Sitting in art class, your teacher insisting on the severe differences between some colors you were looking at. That was when you were brought to a specialist who informed your father about your color blindness.

When your babysitter at the time was informed of this, she immediately took to explaining to you a type of soulmate bond was colorblindness until you met.

That was the last day you had seen her, your father firing her later that day.

Her replacement refused to read stories about soulmates. She didn't want to speak of soulmates at all, shutting it down anytime you brought them up. Instead, she'd sit down next to you, a pitying look on her face and say.

"I know it is hard to not see the world like those around you, but if you stay obsessed with soulmates as you are now, you will also not understand the world."

So you stopped. For two years, you'd zone out as your professors read books about soulmates, no longer listening to every single word. It was only after that two years something changed. You were visting your aunt in Tokyo.

She walked beside you, guiding you to a park that she told you that her and your mother used to frequent in their youth. When you arrived, she allowed you to go play at the playground as she sat and watched on a bench.

Throughout your stay at her place, she brought you to the park each day. Somedays you'd meet some of the kids who live in the neighborhood nearby, getting to play with them as well.

It was on the last day that one of the neighborhood kids who you hadn't seen before appeared. You immediately ran over, excited to make a new friend. You waved at him, slowing down as you stopped right in front of him.

"Hello-"

You froze in your introduction as you looked at him. His golden eyes stared at you in shock as you did the same. You watched as the boy in front of you and the world around him brightened up, colors you had never known existed appearing.

"Woah..." the boy muttered in amazement. You let out a laugh, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

"C'mon! Let's go play!"

He stumbles a bit in your hold but follows after you, the both of you glancing around at the colors. The two of you play until it turns dark, your aunt telling you it was time for you to go home. You wave excitedly at the boy, promising that next time you visited your aunt you'd come to play with him again.

It's over dinner that you inform your aunt that you think the boy is your soulmate. She drops her chopsticks and stares at you in shock for a few minutes.

"Do not tell your father."

That was all she said before continuing to eat. You frown, asking her why you couldn't tell him but she just shook her head and repeated herself.

Despite her lack of explanation, you find yourself listening. When your father picks you up, you don't mention the boy, you only speak of the other kids you had become friends with. You don't tell him about the colors that you could now see surrounding the two of you.

But you do tell your babysitter. After a week of not telling anyone, you can't hold back your excitement and as she attempts to deny to read you a book about soulmates, you find yourself blurting out the fact that you did have one.

"I met him! In Tokyo! You can even ask Auntie!"

Your babysitter frowns. Pulling out a book from the high shelves in your room, not a book about soulmates. And she reads it to you, not speaking to you about your soulmate.

You assume that's just how she would treat it, even with the knowledge of you having one, she wouldn't speak of them.

But she does speak of them. She shared it with your father. The next day he informed you that you would no longer be going to Tokyo to visit your aunt. You could still see her, but she would be coming over to Miyagi.

"I don't want you returning to speak to that boy."

You cast a look at your babysitter who refuses to meet your eye. It stays silent in the room, your father's words being treated like the law. You never went back to Tokyo to visit your aunt, though she made sure to frequently come over to visit you. She apologizes to you, promise she'd find a way to bring you to find your soulmate.

It only takes another two years for your father to decide to limit your meetings. Small family meals with him present, able to hear all of your conversation. And soon, not even those happen.

It's not until you graduate from Aoba Johsai and inform your father that you were going to attend Tokyo University, with or without his help, that you are able to return to Tokyo.

Back to the park, no longer aware of the name of your soulmate. All you remember is that golden color that was the first color you could ever see. But even then, in a world full of color and so many people, there was no way to ever find him again.

After all, there was no guarantee he'd even remain in Tokyo. Even if he did, who's to say he hadn't already had his heart casted in the direction of another after you had failed to fulfill your promise to see him again?

0.17 -- Masterlist -- 1.1

Notes

This honestly was finished like the day I posted 0.17 and then some of it didn't properly save so I didn't rewrite it until today lol

Thought it'd be kinda cool to like dive more into their like first meeting and also kind of why Y/N isn't sure about finding their soulmate but also kinda wants to

Ahhh I'm almost done with this semester so yay

Divider credits @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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nicky35 · 12 hours ago

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First don’t think I’m a hater. You’re not a Paige stan so I believe you’ll be reasonable when reading this. So far Paige has not lived up to the hype and I don’t see it happening. I worry if she’ll even make it far in the W. I won’t say her name but she’s not going to have a season like her. Paige should’ve went to the W last season. She was better last season. I doubt she’ll even make it Top 3 in the draft. Sarah is outshining her and it looks like she’s trying but she’s having a bad season like Kiki.

yeah i'm not a paige stan in terms of thirsting over her and stuff, but i am a paige basketball fan. that is why i started following her in hs.

i am interested in what you would consider being her "living up too the hype". i'm assuming that this means she does not put up cc or juju numbers. this goes back to people who think that stats = worth in basketball nowadays. you see a lot of people say that cc should've won over paige, because she had higher numbers. a lot of that doesn't take into account a. efficiency and b. the different style of play at uconn vs iowa. uconn has always played heavy ball movement. they want everyone on the team getting involved and getting assists. they also value minimal turnovers and high fg%. there are a lot of things you see in a game that highlights and boxscores don't tell you. anyone with real ball knowledge can see how paige runs a basketball court.

now to address she was better last year and that sarah is outshining her. she had to play insanely heavy minutes last year because of uconn's injuries. she also had to pf, because one of the only healthy and experienced players was nika, another pg. nika rarely scores, so paige was in a position where she had to take that role on more, especially with two freshmen in the starting lineup. sarah is lookign fantastic and i love how quickly she's flourishing, but she is in a much more comfortable situation. watch any game so far this season and it is obvious how quickly this team falls apart when paige isn't on the floor (their biggest issue which is why geno is trying to prep them for next year).

why did she comeback? well she played two and a half seasons at the college she's been dreaming of going to her whole life. she wants to win natty, but also it is her loyalty to geno and how little she has actually been able to play for him. even by leaving after this year, she still didn't play a whole four years. another thing she probably took into consideration is that she played almost 40 games for the first time in two years. not only that but playing 40 minutes each game, so to go from that into a new, harder league where she would've likely been drafted to a bad team where she would've again played heavy minutes and also likely a team that does not have as good of trainers and medical resources for rehab and preventing another injury.

there's about nothing she can do this season that would make her drop from that number one spot. her versatility, marketability, and overall play puts her above any other candidates.

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another-lost-mc · 1 day ago

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Something something about Zee, an advanced synthetic assigned to protect you as your ship makes its long voyage back to Earth in a futuristic Alien AU.

Along the way, you realize something's changed as he starts to act a little too human at times, when before he shrugged off your attempts to become friends, your silly jokes and harmless teasing easily swept aside and ignored. The ship lacks luxury and privacy with its cramped quarters and with the rowdy, abrasive crew as the only other options for company, you still find yourself gravitating towards him. The human crew members are cruel to him, ridiculing him for his very existence. Despite his gruff demeanor, he's gone out of his way to make sure you're cared for and as comfortable as one can be on a rickety space in the middle of outer space. The last thing you want is for Zee to think you're as callous as the rest of them are. You appreciate him for what - who - he is.

When his previous annoyance at his prime directive, protecting the most obnoxiously cheerful human he's ever met, fades away into something else, he finds new reasons to stay closer to you than ever before. He lingers on the edge of your peripheral vision, the second shadow that follows your steps - and whether you can see him or not, you know he's there. Never more than a room away, you wonder what it is he's waiting for, or why you shiver with anticipation every time you feel his stare rake over your skin from somewhere nearby.

Forced together and living in close quarters, who knows what might happen before journey's end?

You can't remember where you first heard the rumors, but you knew - or at least suspected - that certain androids could have sex. Your android could, if you weren't mistaken about the shape of his body underneath the form-fitting jumpsuit he wore around the ship. (And when exactly did you start thinking of him as yours?) You've heard that some of the most advanced androids are capable of feeling pain, but are they capable of feeling pleasure too? You're woefully uneducated on this subject, not that you've had much reason to consider the question at all, but thankfully, he's a very patient teacher with a fondness for hands-on learning.

What he tells you, not with words but in smoldering glances and firm but gentle touches as he peels away your clothing, piece by piece, is that pleasure itself is possible. At least, the sorts of pleasure a synthetic being like him can experience. In most circumstances, those mimicked sensations, a trick of wires and circuitry far too difficult to explain, aren't usually enough to entice him to indulge in such messy encounters.

All it takes to change his mind is for someone else to look at you a certain way, or an innocent touch that lingers long enough for him to notice and frown at its meaning. Suddenly, the idea of sex is very appealing if it means tempting you away from anyone else he deems unworthy of your time or attention.

As a synthetic, sex isn't a sensory feast the way it is for humans. The rhythmic movements as he snaps his hips in a slow and deep but unyielding rhythm doesn't tire him out. Instead, he focuses on watching every tiny expression that flits across your face, listening to the soft noises you think he can't hear over the sound of squeaky springs as he moves, and nearly smothering you with his weight into the thin, uncomfortable mattress in your sleeping quarters.

He doesn't know why the single drop of sweat trickling down your face and over your jaw is so enticing - but then again, he's never felt hunger like this before either. Maybe next time he'll be tempted to taste the salty trail, if he's not transfixed watching the pleasure and adoration that brighten your gaze instead.

When you bite your bottom lip between your teeth to try and keep quiet, he runs his thumb across your mouth, ack and forth with a hint of pressure, until it's shiny and wet with spit. With a slick glide, he pushes it inside slowly until he can touch the tip of your tongue. It's a pleasant picture, one he'll think of often long after this day ends. He decides that if he can't hear all your little sounds, then feeling the vibrations as you suck the digit shallowly into your mouth is the next best thing.

Above all else, he doesn't want you to turn your face away, or to close your eyes even as your eyelids flutter and your head tips back against the threadbare pillow. His low voice, rougher than you've ever heard it before, cuts through the warm silence like a knife as his fingers hold your chin in place to keep you still. He can't help but stare at his own reflection, hair wild and expression desperate as any living man, in the shimmery film that glazes over your eyes.

In the dark ocean of space, surrounded by nothing but a sea of stars, watching you fall apart underneath him is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

#in today's daily offering of “the fandom crossover no one asked for”...#don't ask me why I wrote this I have no idea #my oc: zekhan #I don't know how to tag this #au: obey me x alien

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nerdishpursuits · 13 hours ago

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I want both Marta and Fina to get their pound of flesh. Death by a thousand cuts isn’t punishment enough for Santiasco and I look forward to them figuring out how to neutralise the threat he poses (with this kind of man, investigating his past could prove beneficial; his obsession with Fina feels pathological, so there should be a pattern with previous behaviour; his rabid desire that she rots in prison for being a lesbian is borderline fanatical). So I really cannot wait for this spineless, narcissistic misogynist to get his comeuppance (kudos to the actor though, for doing such a great job at making Santiago utterly loathsome)

Once again it’s proven Mafin has no equal on this show. Theirs is the healthiest, most beautiful and awe-inspiring relationship. It’s on an entirely different level and, on the cusp of 200 episodes, still eclipses all that surrounds it. They’ve set the bar so high nothing else compares or competes. The way they love each other, so selflessly and unconditionally, so fervently and self-sacrificing. The rest can only shield their eyes, for you can stare at the sun but not at Mafin. They burn that brightly.

Digna and Marta’s heart-to-heart has been a treat. I’m glad my initial suspicions about Digna seem to have been exaggerated (then again, the actress has this way of keeping you guessing which way the character will sway, and it threw me; she lulls you into a state of complacency, then has you questioning her motives, then has you eating out of her palm again; well played, Madam, well played). That being said: I’m glad Marta and Fina have more support during this devastating time, so they can take off their masks, if only for a moment. And support, empathy, love and affection are sorely needed.

The Mafin jail scenes we’re getting? Devastatingly beautiful. It’s all so cataclysmic, brimming with anguish and hopelessness but the drama is exquisite. And damn, if Marta and Alba aren’t taking their acting, and us, to new heights!!! Fina’s unwavering valor though shrouded in terror, Marta’s crippling despair though mustering all her bravery and resilience. They’re down in the gutter for now but I can’t wait for Fina’s liberation and their desperation to reconnect, to feel safe in each other’s arms again.

Tasio, the consummate troglodyte. I struggle to see what Carmen sees in him, especially given his character arc is one step forward, one leap back. His lack of empathy and rampant misogyny are off-putting and I don’t know why I expected more from today’s scene. Presumably, he’ll grow at some point. But until then? The little discourse about his stomach turning at the thought of Carmen having shared quarters with Fina? Despicable and infuriating. Whether 1958 or 2024? Like my partner likes to say: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Someone raise Gaspar a statue. That man is the only one on the show who merits standing ovations (except maybe for Mateo). He can run circles around his fellow men in terms of empathy, loyalty, kindness and friendship. They’d all do well to follow his example. Alas, we know they won’t. Not really. Luis and Joaquin most likely, given their father’s personal history. And Andres is an ally but, apparently, only there for decoration. Damián is at least helping, in his own way, given he’s terrified for Marta and wants to keep her safe. (I think he grasped there’s no separating his daughter from Fina, so he needs to think of them as inseparable). Conclusion: #OneManArmyGaspar

The rumor-mill is already hard at work within the colony and damn if that’s not the last thing they need on top of everything else. Funny how no one’s talking about Santiago’s unwanted advances towards Fina or his aggression towards her. They can’t catch a break, can they? Oh well. One hurdle at a time.

Finally: at this point, does anyone not know what Fina is being accused of? The news is spreading like wildfire and seems impossible to contain anymore. I shudder to think at the damage control that might require. At this point? I’d say Damián could marry her, thus giving Fina the lawful protection of the De la Reina family. Far from ideal but it’s not like he’s going to marry anyone else, given the Digna boat has tanked spectacularly and irreversibly. Least he can do is secure Marta and Fina’s future in a way that’s harder to contest in the eyes of the law, ensuring they can be together without raising too many suspicions. A far-fetched idea, of course, but it does feel like a plausible scenario to me. Rather outlandish, but plausible.

#mafin #marta de la reina #fina valero #marta x fina #marta y fina #sdl #suenos de libertad #these episodes hurt #but damn: they’re so good #meta #rambling #text post #q

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biblical-chronicles · 2 days ago

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Don't be a stranger pt. 2

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You lot wanted it, so here it is. I probably would have done it anyway since it's been rattling around me little head, this one x

the reader comes back for seconds and gets her sweet little revenge for the mark that Liam left on her neck last time.

part one here for anyone who has just joined the party.

_________________________________________________________

You hadn’t necessarily planned on texting Liam after that first whirlwind of a day at their house. But as the days turned into a week, you found yourself unable to shake the memory of his smirk, the casual confidence in the way he teased you, and the heat of his kiss still tingling on your skin.

When you finally caved in and sent a text—just a simple “Hey, it’s me”—you told yourself it was just out of curiosity. Nowt more.

His reply came later that night, the screen lighting up your dark room.

“Took you long enough, love. Thought you’d bottled it, got me worried”

You rolled your eyes at the message but couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face.

“Worried? Really?”

“Course. Not every day someone like you waltzes into me gaff, and leaves me wanting more.”

Your cheeks burned at his audacity.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming, you mean.”

The banter came naturally, his texts as playful and maddening as his in-person quips. What you didn’t expect was how much you’d start looking forward to them—or how much they revealed about Liam beyond the cocky front. Beneath it, there was a wit and depth that caught you a tad off guard. You found yourself talking about everything from music to the frustrations of everyday life, and before you knew it, you were texting late into the night more often than not.

It was dangerous territory, you knew that much. And yet, when Lennon invited you back over to finish the project draft the following week, you didn’t hesitate.

You arrived mid-afternoon, greeted once again by Liam instead of Lennon.

“Back again, eh?” he said, leaning against the doorframe with that same smirk that'd drive anyone up the wall.

“I’m here for Lennon,” you said pointedly, brushing past him into the house.

“Right,” Liam drawled, shutting the door behind you. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, love.”

Lennon was nowhere in sight, and Liam wasted no time making himself comfortable on the couch beside you.

“He’s upstairs,” Liam said, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “Probably lost in some boring uni nonsense. Reckon we’ve got a bit of time to kill.”

You gave him a wary look. “Don’t you have summat better to do?”

“Not really,” he said, grinning. “And even if I did, can’t think of anything better than windin’ you up.”

You tried to ignore him, pulling out your notes and pretending to organize them. But Liam was relentless.

“What’s this project of yours about, then?” he asked, leaning closer to peer over your shoulder.

“Media influence, told you already” you muttered, trying to focus on your pretend note organising.

“Fascinatin’,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Bet you’ve got loads of thrilling insights, don’t ya?”

You shot him a glare. “Do you ever take owt seriously?”

“Sure I do,” he said, feigning offense. “Just not boring uni projects - Proper dull, that. Can’t imagine Lennon’s much help with it, either.”

“He’s actually been great,” you said, your voice defensive.

Liam snorted. “Figures you’d say that. Always did like the serious types, didn’t ya?”

You frowned, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just an observation,” Liam said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Bet you’ve never let yourself have a bit of fun, have you? Always playin’ it safe, always thinkin’ too much.”

His words struck a nerve, and the frustration bubbled to the surface before you could stop it. “And what’s wrong with that? At least I’m not going around acting like a...a walking ego with no sense of boundaries”

Liam grinned, clearly happy about successfully winding you up. “And we all know that you love when I break these boundaries, love.”

The tension crackled between you, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Liam’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, standing abruptly. “I’m going to find Lennon.”

But as you turned to leave, Liam’s hand shot out, gently catching your wrist.

“Wait,” he said softly, the teasing edge gone from his voice.

You hesitated, glancing back at him. His expression was different now—more serious, more vulnerable.

“Don’t go,” he said, his grip light but firm. “Not yet.”

The sincerity in his tone threw you off balance, and before you could respond, he stood, stepping closer. The tension between you was almost unbearable, the silence filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Liam said, his voice low and rough. “Go on, say it, and I’ll back off.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out.

Liam’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “Thought so.”

He took another step closer, his hand still holding yours. “Let me kiss you again, love. Properly this time.”

Your resolve crumbled as he leaned in, his other hand brushing against your cheek. And when his lips met yours, it was as if the world stopped.

This kiss was slower, deeper, filled with all the unspoken tension that had been building between you. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead resting against his, Liam let out a soft chuckle.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice still rough with emotion. “You’ve been wantin’ that as much as I have.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, your cheeks flushing.

Lennon’s voice echoed faintly from upstairs, snapping you back to reality. You pulled away from Liam, your breath still uneven. His hands lingered at your waist for a moment before he reluctantly let go, his lips curving into a lazy grin.

“You’re trouble,” you whispered, taking a shaky step back.

Liam’s grin widened. “Takes one to know one, love.”

You rolled your eyes, but your flushed face betrayed the truth. Before you could overthink it, you mumbled something about needing to finish the project and hurried upstairs, leaving Liam behind with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

The next few days were a blur. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart jumped, half-expecting another message from Liam. And they came often—teasing, flirtatious, and persistent.

You ignored the more daring texts but couldn’t resist replying to the others, your banter sharp but secretly thrilled. Despite your best efforts, Liam had a way of getting under your skin, his charm impossible to ignore.

A week later, you found yourself back at their house, this time to review your final project draft. You were quite sad as that would be the last time you could arrive at Liam's with a good excuse, after this session the project would surely be done. Lennon was as diligent as ever, focused on editing while you fought to keep your thoughts in check.

You almost made it through the session without incident—until Lennon got a call and excused himself, leaving you alone in the living room again.

The silence was short-lived.

“Fancy seein’ you here.”

You didn’t even need to look up to know it was Liam. His voice had that familiar mix of amusement and mischief, and when you glanced toward the doorway, he was leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

“Not now, Liam,” you said, trying to sound firm.

But Liam was undeterred. “What’s the matter, love? Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

You huffed, turning back to your notes. “I’m trying to work.”

“Boring,” he said, strolling into the room. “C’mon, you can’t be serious all the time.”

“Some of us have priorities,” you shot back.

Liam plopped down on the couch beside you, far too close for comfort. “And some of us know how to have a bit of fun. When are you gonna loosen up, eh?”

You didn’t answer, keeping your eyes firmly on your notes. But Liam wasn’t one to give up easily.

“Still mad about the other day?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You looked at him sharply. “I’m not mad.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What do you want, Liam?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You.”

The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Too bad,” you said, your voice steady despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not interested.” you said with zero conviction in your voice.

Liam chuckled, clearly sensing your lie. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, love.”

Before you could reply, he reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The gesture was so unexpected—so gentle—that it left you momentarily stunned.

“You’re beautiful when you’re flustered, you know that?” he said softly, his gaze locking with yours.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the tension between you was unbearable. Liam’s hand lingered near your face, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek.

“We should stop” you said weakly, though you made no move to stop him.

Liam’s smile softened. “We don’t have to.”

And just like before, you found yourself leaning in. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if both of you were savoring the moment. Liam’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a confidence that left you breathless.

When the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the spell, you pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. Liam grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Better get back to Lennon,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t want him gettin’ suspicious.”

You nodded, still dazed, and watched Liam hurry out of the room, your mind still racing.

That night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed with a new message.

“Still thinkin’ about me, love? Don’t lie—I know you are.”

You groaned, tossing your phone aside, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to ignore. Liam Gallagher was trouble, no doubt about it.

And yet, against all logic, you couldn’t seem to stay away.

The days that followed were a constant tug-of-war with yourself. Liam's texts kept coming leaving you blushing more with each one.

At first, you resisted replying. But by the third day, you’d had enough of pretending you weren’t thinking about him almost the entire time. With your heart pounding, you finally texted back:

“Fine. Come over tomorrow night. Just you.”

His reply was immediate.

“Now we’re talkin’. What time, love?” “7. And don’t be late.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You stared at your phone after sending the message, half-excited, half-terrified. This was reckless, you knew that much. But the truth was, you didn’t care anymore.

The next evening, you found yourself pacing your living room, nerves buzzing as the clock ticked closer to seven. When the doorbell finally rang, you took a deep breath and opened it to find Liam leaning casually against the doorframe, a crooked grin on his face.

“Well, don’t you look nice,” he said, his eyes raking over you with a smirk that made your cheeks heat. “All done up for me, are you?”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“Sure, love,” he said, stepping inside. “Just happened to be wearin’ that when I showed up, yeah? Don’t lie to me; I know effort when I see it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, shutting the door behind him.

He turned to face you, the teasing glint in his eye sharpening. “Oh, I don’t need to, love. You’re doin’ all the flattering for me. I mean, this,” he gestured to you with an exaggerated sweep of his hand, “is practically a declaration of love.”

You groaned, resisting the urge to toss a pillow at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you invited me over,” he said, his smirk growing. “Must mean you like me a little bit.”

“Don’t push it,” you said, trying to sound firm. But the smirk on his face told you he saw right through you.

Liam followed you to the couch, where you’d set out drinks to break the tension. He plopped down beside you, stretching out in that effortlessly confident way of his.

“So,” he said, picking up his glass. “What’s the plan, love? Bit of small talk before you ravish me, or are we skipping straight to the fun part?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Give over.”

“Oh I know you love it” he said, grinning as he leaned back against the cushions.

You laughed shaking your head. “How do you even fit that ego through the door?”

“Talent,” he said smugly, taking a sip of his drink.

The teasing went on for a while, the conversation flowing easily as it always did. But there was a new edge to it tonight, a tension that simmered just beneath the surface. Liam’s gaze lingered a little longer, his touches—an arm draped over the back of the couch, a hand brushing yours—more deliberate.

Finally, you set your glass down and turned to face him fully. “Alright, enough games,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we stop pretending we’re here to just talk?”

Liam’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with something that made your pulse quicken. “Thought you’d never ask, love.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you met him halfway, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was as electric as it was inevitable.

Liam’s hands were on you immediately, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your head spin, his hands sliding up your back, tangling in your hair.

“You’ve been drivin’ me mad, y’know that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, your fingers tugging at his shirt.

He chuckled, his lips trailing down to your neck. “Can’t help myself around you, love. You’re irresistible.”

You let out a soft gasp as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin. “Liam—”

“Hmm?” he murmured, his lips still on your neck.

“Don’t you dare—”

But it was too late. You felt the familiar pressure of his lips against your skin, the telltale heat of a hickey forming.

“Liam!” you exclaimed, pulling back to glare at him.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Couldn’t resist,” he said with a grin.

You narrowed your eyes at him while he leaned back a little with an unapologetic smirk.

You pushed him back slightly, your lips quirking into a sly smile. “Fine. But if you’re going to keep marking me up, it’s only fair I get to do the same.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, and his grin turned downright devilish as he leaned back against the couch. His hands stayed planted firmly on your waist, holding you there like he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon. “Oh, is that how it works now? You think you can keep up with me, love?”

“I don’t think—I know,” you said, your confidence unwavering even though his smirk made your stomach twist.

“Big words,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he tilted his head to expose his neck. “Go on, then. Show me what you’ve got. But don’t cry when you realize you’re not in my league.”

You scoffed, leaning closer. “I’m not going to cry.”

“No?” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “You sure about that? Last time I so much as nipped you, you were practically beggin’ me to stop. Or was it to keep going?” He cocked his head as if in mock thought. “Hard to remember—it’s all a blur of you moanin’ my name.”

“Shut up, Liam,” you snapped, your cheeks burning despite yourself.

“Shutting up,” he said, the grin never leaving his face. “But I’ve got to say, the view from here is pretty spectacular.” His eyes dragged over you pointedly. “You got all dolled up just to get your revenge, didn’t you? Go on, admit it. Could’ve come out in your pajamas, but no—you went full effort.”

You huffed and tried to ignore him, leaning in closer to press your lips to his neck, but he wasn’t finished.

“I mean, it’s flattering, really,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that made your skin prickle. “All this just for me? Sweetheart, if you wanted to impress me, you could’ve just said so.”

“Oh my God, Liam,” you said, your voice muffled against his skin as you tried to block him out.

But he wasn’t letting you off that easily. “What?” he said, his voice lilting with mock innocence. “You’re makin’ me feel special, love. You’re desperate to make your mark, aren’t you?”

“Desperate?” you echoed, pulling back just enough to glare at him.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward so his breath brushed your ear. “You’ve been thinkin’ about this, haven’t you? Wondering how it’d feel to take control for once. Bet it’s been driving you mad, hasn’t it?”

“You’re unreal” you muttered, trying to focus on your task.

“And you’re stalling,” he said, grinning as he leaned back again. “Come on, then. Show me what you’ve got. Or is all that fire just for show?”

Your pride refused to let him win. “Fine. But don’t complain when you’re the one left squirming.”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots,” he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You ignored him and pressed your lips to the curve of his neck. You started with a gentle kiss, your lips brushing over his skin like a whisper. His body tensed beneath you, though he tried to play it off.

“Is that it?” he asked, though his voice was already a little uneven. “Didn’t realize revenge was meant to tickle.”

You smirked against his neck, letting your teeth graze the sensitive spot just below his jawline. His breath hitched, and the grip on your waist tightened reflexively.

“Better?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke.

“Gettin’ there,” he said, though his voice was noticeably rougher.

You sucked gently at first, testing the waters, then increased the pressure, making sure to take your time. His breathing grew heavier, and his hands flexed on your hips like he was trying to stay still.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “Alright, love, point made.”

But you weren’t done. You moved slightly, finding a new spot just above his collarbone, and sucked harder, your teeth grazing his skin enough to make him let out a low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” you teased, emboldened by his reaction.

“Don’t get cocky,” he rasped, though his hands slid up your back, pressing you closer. “You’re not—oh, fuckin' hell—” His words cut off as you sucked again, the mark blooming dark against his pale skin.

Liam chuckled, his hands tightening on your waist. “Not bad,” he said, his voice rough. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna keep up with me.”

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

You pulled back, a smirk tugging at your lips as you watched him, utterly satisfied with the two dark marks you’d left on his skin. But your mischievous side flared, and you leaned in again, catching his gaze.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice dripping with intent, “I think I’ve found the perfect spot this time.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but also a little wary. “Oh, is that right? You reckon you’ve got me figured out now?”

“Maybe,” you teased, the corners of your mouth curling as you moved in closer. “Or maybe I’ve just been saving the best for last, all for you love.”

His body stiffened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. His hands slid up to your back, fingers grazing the edges of your shirt, and he met your eyes with an almost challenging glint. “You’re gonna keep me here, then? Got no other plans, huh?”

You didn’t answer, too focused on the task at hand. Instead, you let your lips hover near his skin, just inches away, and he exhaled sharply, like he knew exactly what was coming.

You lowered your mouth to the side of his neck, your lips brushing over the sensitive skin as you tested for that perfect spot. He twitched, and you smirked, immediately knowing you’d found it. His breath hitched slightly, and before he could say anything, you pressed your lips firmly against the warm skin, sucking gently at first.

He froze, his hands gripping your waist, as you felt his pulse quicken under your lips. You couldn’t help but smile into the skin, feeling that rush of power as he tensed, knowing you had him just where you wanted him.

Liam’s breath hitched. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. But you didn’t stop—this time you sucked harder, your lips pressing down with a firm, determined pressure. You felt the soft pulse of his skin beneath you, and the moment your teeth grazed his neck, Liam let out a sharp gasp, his hands digging into your hair, tugging you even closer.

“Oh God,” he groaned, his voice thick with a mix of shock and desire. “You really know what you’re doin’, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, pressing deeper, your tongue flicking out against the sensitive area. His body was shaking slightly beneath your touch, but he didn’t dare move away. His hands gripped your hair harder, guiding you with desperate urgency as his breathing became uneven.

You could feel the strain in his neck as he stretched it out, giving you better access. “Jesus,” he muttered, his voice tight with tension. “I swear to God, love...”

You took that as your cue to push even further. With one final, decisive suck, you pulled away to admire your work. The mark you’d left was darker, deeper, and undoubtedly the best one yet.

Liam let out a groan of both frustration and pleasure, and you could see how the edge of his control was slipping. He was breathing heavily, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to regain his composure. His lips parted as though to speak, but nothing came out. His hands were still in your hair, keeping you impossibly close, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re gonna be walking around with this for days, aren’t you?” you teased, the power shift intoxicating. “You’re not gonna be able to hide it.”

Liam let out a low, throaty laugh, his voice rough with need. “I don’t bloody care, love. You could cover me in them, for all I care. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know it doesn’t,” you said, eyes glinting with mischief. “You like it, don’t you? Being marked like this.”

“Yeah, well,” Liam muttered, still catching his breath, “You’ve got me all turned on now, couldn’t care less who sees it.” He leaned in close again, his lips brushing against your ear, the warmth of his breath making your heart race. “I’m not the one hiding, am I?”

The night blurred after that, a mix of kisses, laughter, and whispered challenges. By the time you finally collapsed against him, both of you were marked with more than a few hickeys.

Your face was hot, your breath still coming in uneven pants as you looked at Liam, whose own face was similarly flushed. He was studying you now, his eyes dark but soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual, his fingers tracing lightly across the small hickeys you’d left on his neck.

You nodded, still catching your breath, the intensity of the moment slowly sinking in. "Yeah... I'm good."

Liam chuckled softly, shaking his head, clearly still in disbelief at the way the night had unfolded. "You're bloody brilliant, you know that, love?"

You smiled, teasing as always. "Glad you think so, Gallagher, same goes out to you"

But despite the playful banter, there was something deeper there now, an unspoken connection that neither of you could deny. The night had shifted, but it hadn’t ended. And as you stayed close, tangled in his arms, you both knew that things had changed between you—and there was no going back.

Still, the reality started to set in, and you hesitated for a moment, your thoughts clouded with uncertainty. You bit your lip, gathering the courage to speak up.

"Hey, Liam," you started, your voice quieter now, the playful edge gone, replaced with a vulnerable honesty. "I don’t want this to just be a one-night thing, you know? I... I want more than that."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into one of those familiar teasing grins. "Oh, so now you want more? Where was this earlier, love? I coulda been yours way back when, but you had to play it cool, didn’t ya?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile at his typical Liam bravado. But you weren’t backing down. "I didn’t know what I wanted until now," you admitted, your voice quieter, more sincere. "But I know I don’t want this to end like some fling."

Liam's grin softened a little as he studied you, that playful edge still there but with a new tenderness. He leaned in, brushing his lips lightly across yours, almost as if he were testing the waters.

“Should’ve said summat before, then, if you wanted to be me girl,” he teased, though there was something genuine behind the words. "But I'll allow it, love."

Your heart fluttered at the way he said it, the mix of cocky and sweet that only Liam Gallagher could pull off. And before you could respond, he pulled you in again, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both lazy and full of fire, the promise of something deeper between you both.

You melted into him, your body fitting against his like it always had been meant to. The kiss deepened, the air around you thick with everything that had been unsaid before, everything you were now ready to face. As his hands pulled you closer, you could feel that you were both stepping into something new—something that could be real. And you weren’t about to let it slip away.

He grinned, pulling you closer. “Think we’re gonna have a lot of fun, you and me.”

And for once, you didn’t argue.

_______________________________________________________

Hope you lot liked it. Kept it proper long ’cause I know the pain when a fic cuts off too soon. Also, let’s be real—I’m just hopelessly head over heels for that man

waiting for your feedback me celestial bastards xx

#liam gallagher x reader #liam gallagher xf!reader #liam gallagher x f!reader #liam gallagher x you #liam gallagher one shots #oasis x reader #oasis one shots #liam gallagher fanfiction #oasis fanfiction #britpop #britpop x reader

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bexxa12 · 3 days ago

Text

STUDIO SECRETS|| JJ x Y/N

{Summary}

Jungkook, a musical prodigy whose voice captivates millions, finds himself drawn into a world beyond the spotlight. His path crosses with the enigmatic daughter of his esteemed producer, a woman whose secrets run as deep as the melodies he crafts.

Chapter 3

WC: 2,210

The door closed behind her, the sound echoing through the studio like a final note of a symphony. Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling that she had left an indelible mark on him, a spark of something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Mr. Kim cleared his throat, the spell broken, and Jungkook turned back to the task at hand.

They worked into the night, the energy in the studio palpable. The walls seemed to hum with the power of their collective passion, the music growing more intense with each passing hour.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, melding with the faint metallic tang of new technology and the nostalgic scent of worn-out vinyl records.

As Jungkook played, Mr. Kim's eyes never left the monitors, scrutinizing every note and beat with a meticulous precision that had made him a legend in the industry.

His graying hair was swept back in a neat style that defied the chaos of the cables and instruments scattered around the room

Finally, the last note of Jungkook's song faded into the quiet embrace of the studio. Mr. Kim leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, his eyes closing briefly as if to savor the sound that had just filled the space. He opened them and nodded, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Good job, Jungkook," he said, his voice gruff but warm.

"We're done for the day. That was the final take."

The song they'd been crafting together had finally come alive, a fusion of beats and melody that felt like a piece of his soul.

As Jungkook stepped out of the music booth, the cool air washed over him, a stark contrast to the warmth of the spotlights.

"It was nice to finally meet her." Jungkook said casually, as he approached Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter, Y/N. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

"How did she seem?"

"Determined, like you," Jungkook observed, chuckling.

Mr. Kim's expression grew thoughtful. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, that one."

Jungkook nodded, picturing the young woman who had visited the studio earlier that day.

She had the same sharp gaze and focused demeanor as her father, yet there was a warmth to her that was all her own.

"Yeah, she was pretty intense," Jungkook said, smiling.

"But in a good way. She talked about her cases like they were the only things that mattered in the world."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled with pride.

"That's her alright," he said. "Her passion for justice is unrivaled."

The conversation grew quiet as they both reflected on the day's achievements and the paths their lives had taken. Jungkook had always admired the producer's dedication to his work and family.

The way he balanced the two, especially in the fast-paced world of music and entertainment, was inspiring.

Mr. Kim's phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the silence. He picked it up, squinting at the screen.

"Looks like Y/N is stuck at the office again," he said with a sigh. "She's always working."

Jungkook leaned against the soundboard. "Is she okay with that?" Mr. Kim rubbed his temples.

"It's tough, but she loves it. Says she's fighting the good fight. Sometimes, I wish she'd take a break though."

Jungkook nodded sympathetically.

"You've taught her well," he said. "She's following her dreams."

Mr. Kim couldn't help but smile.

"I just want her to be happy," he said. "And if that means fighting for justice, then so be it."

Jungkook nodded.

"You know, I've never met anyone quite like her. Most people in my line of work are chasing fame or fortune, but she's out there making a difference."

Mr. Kim's expression grew contemplative.

"Yeah, she's one of a kind," he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

"When she told me she wanted to be a lawyer, I was worried it'd consume her, but she's found a way to keep her passion from becoming a burden."

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully.

"I can see it in her eyes," he said. "The same fire you have for music, she has for justice. It's pretty amazing."

Mr. Kim's gaze drifted to his phone's lockscreen. In the picture, his daughter, Y/N, was a young girl, her tiny hands clutching a makeshift microphone, mimicking her father's every move as he worked in the studio.

He couldn't help but wonder if she had inherited his love for music, or if it was his passion for his work that had inspired her to pursue her own dreams with such fervor.

"Well," Jungkook said, breaking the silence, "we should start wrapping up. It's late." Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes lingering on the picture before he set the phone down.

"You're right," he said, standing up and stretching. "Let's get you home. You've earned it."

Jungkook grabbed his bag and jacket from the chair, feeling a mix of excitement and exhaustion. As they walked out of the studio, the cool night air was a welcome change from the stale air-conditioning.

The city outside was alive with the hum of traffic and distant laughter.

"You know," Jungkook began, "I never thought I'd find a producer who understands me so well."

Mr. Kim chuckled, his eyes never leaving the descending numbers. "You've got a unique style, kid," he said. "It's been a hell of a ride working with you."

"Same to you," Jungkook said, his smile mirroring the producer's. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Hold on a sec," he said, turning to Jungkook with a sudden seriousness.

"You ever think about what comes next?"

Jungkook cocked his head, a bit confused by the shift in tone.

"Next?" he echoed.

Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes searching Jungkook's.

"Yeah. You're on top of the world right now, but there's more to life than just music, you know?"

Jungkook took a moment to digest the question, his thoughts drifting to the moment he'd shared with Y/N during her visit.

"Sure," he said, his voice a little softer than before. "But music is what I know. It's who I am."

Mr. Kim clapped him on the back.

"I know, I know," he said. "But don't let it consume you. There's more to life than what's in there," he said, gesturing to the studio.

Jungkook nodded, understanding his mentor's concern. He knew all too well the pressures of the industry and the toll it could take on one's personal life.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, his voice earnest.

Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. Mr. Kim's words echoed in his mind, prompting him to consider the future beyond the glitz and glamour of the music world.

"You've got a big heart, Jungkook," Mr. Kim said, his voice gentle.

"Don't let the industry change that."

Jungkook nodded, feeling the weight of Mr. Kim's words. He knew the path ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was determined to stay true to himself.

"I won't," he promised, his voice firm.

Mr. Kim nodded back, his eyes reflecting a silent understanding.

They walked towards Mr. Kim's car, the rhythm of their footsteps syncing with the distant sound of the city's heartbeat. Jungkook broke the silence once again, "You know, I haven't been home in a while," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

"Yeah?" The producer's tone was curious. "I think it's time," Jungkook said, looking up at the neon lights of the city. "It's been too long since I saw my family." Mr. Kim's gaze followed Jungkook's, understanding the unspoken longing in his voice. "They'd love to see you, I'm sure," he said.

Jungkook nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he said. "But it's more than that. I miss the simplicity of it all. The quiet mornings, the smell of mom's cooking."

Mr. Kim chuckled. "Sounds like you're due for a visit," he said, unlocking the car door.

Jungkook slid into the passenger seat, his eyes lingering on the cityscape as the Mr. Kim started the engine.

"I hope so," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. "It's weird, you know? Being famous and all, but still feeling like the kid who used to run around the neighbourhood."

Mr. Kim nodded as he pulled into the flow of traffic. "You're still that kid, Jungkook," he said. "Don't let the lights and cameras fool you. They're just a part of the show."

Jungkook leaned his head against the cool window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as they drove through the night. His heart felt a tug of longing for the simple life he'd left behind.

The producer's words resonated deeply within him, reminding him of his roots and the importance of staying grounded.

As they pulled up to Jungkook's apartment complex, the stark contrast between the bustling streets and the quiet residential area was palpable.

Mr. Kim put the car in park and turned to him, his expression a blend of pride and concern. "Take some time, Jungkook," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had seen too much of the world. "Go home, recharge, and remember what's truly important."

Jungkook nodded, his eyes reflecting the neon glow of the city. "I will," he said, his voice filled with a newfound resolve.

Meanwhile, in the bustling law firm across town, Y/N was deep in thought, her eyes scanning through a mountain of case files that threatened to topple over at any moment.

Her office was a beacon of order amidst the chaos of the open-plan workspace, her desk a bastion of neatness in a sea of clutter.

Her concentration was shattered by the abrupt ring of the office phone. She picked it up, her heart racing from the sudden noise.

"Yes?" she barked into the receiver, expecting yet another urgent demand from a colleague.

"Y/N, the senior partner wants to see you in the conference room," the voice on the other end said. "Now."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was unexpected. She'd been burning the midnight oil for weeks, but she hadn't anticipated a meeting at this hour.

Y/N quickly gathered her thoughts and her files, straightening her blazer and taking a deep breath before heading down the hallway. The sound of her heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing through the late-night emptiness of the law firm.

She could feel the weight of anticipation growing heavier with every stride.

The conference room was a stark contrast to her cluttered office. It was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the sprawling cityscape outside.

The senior partner, a sharp-featured man with a reputation for his no-nonsense approach, sat at the head of the table, his expression inscrutable. Y/N took a seat opposite him, her palms damp with nerves.

"You've been working hard," he began, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Very hard."Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts.

The senior partner leaned forward, his gaze intense. "We've noticed your dedication, and we have a case that requires that level of commitment."

Y/N's eyes widened. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. A chance to prove herself, to show that she was more than just the daughter of a legendary music producer.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice betraying the excitement she felt.

The senior partner slid a thick file across the gleaming mahogany table. "We're taking on a high-profile case," he said.

Y/N's heart raced as she reached for the file, her fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the folder. It was the kind of case that could make or break a career.

The kind that had the potential to change lives. She felt the weight of it in her hands, the pages thick with legal jargon and the stories of those in need of her help.

The senior partner began to lay out the details, his voice measured and precise.

"It's a murder trial," he said. "The defendant is a man named Lyle Castellanos. He's been in the system before, but this is his first degree charge. If we win, we could set a precedent."

Y/N's eyes scanned the file, her heart racing. A murder trial. This was bigger than she had ever imagined. The gravity of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders, but she felt a strange sense of excitement. This was it, her chance to make a real difference.

"You'll need to leave for Busan tomorrow," the senior partner said, his tone no longer one of praise but of urgency. "The case is complex, and we need you to be fully prepared."

Y/N's eyes snapped up from the file.

"Busan?" she repeated, surprise colouring her voice. The city was a world away from the bustling streets of Seoul, where the law firm was situated.

The senior partner nodded, his expression unyielding. "The case is there," he said. "We've got witnesses to interview, evidence to review. It's a fresh start for you, Y/N. A chance to show us what you're made of."

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I won't disappoint you, sir," she said, her voice firm.

The senior partner's eyes narrowed. "I'm not looking for perfection, Y/N," he said. "I'm looking for someone who won't back down from a challenge."

Y/N met his gaze without flinching. "Then you've come to the right person," she said, her voice steady.

"I'll take the case."

#bts fanfic #bts #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook

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