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punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

something only you can give

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You, Joel and Sarah head to NYC for a long weekend and celebrate New Years Eve together.

Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat - reader is on BC) unprotected piv sex, soft!joel, slight jealousy/possessiveness, a little cheesy because this is still a Hallmark-type story

WC: 8.2K

A/N: I had so many requests for more from this couple, and the original story was so successful, so I thought up a little NYE story. Also I absolutely needed to use this pic for something because it's haunting my dreams. Hope you enjoy ✨

Series Masterlist

Wednesday

"Oh my god! Look, Dad! You can see the Statue of Liberty!" Sarah squealed, yanking on Joel's shoulder to make him look out of the tiny, oval window of the airplane. Joel smiled as he leaned over to peer out.

"Looks cold out there, hope you're ready," he told her, looking down at the darkened, snow covered streets.

"It gets cold in Texas, too," Sarah scoffed.

"Not like this," Joel told her, sitting back in his seat.

His hand dipped over the armrest to find yours, your fingers lacing together, making you smile and pull out your earbuds.

"Hey," he said softly, his dark brown eyes sparkling with excitement. You grinned and wondered if this man would ever not give you butterflies. You hoped not.

"What do you wanna do tonight?" you asked him, running your thumb over his dry knuckles. He shrugged.

"Let's just check into the hotel and get some room service or somethin'," he said. "You got a big day tomorrow, you need your sleep."

He wasn't wrong. Your trip had multiple purposes. Tomorrow, you had to go back into your office to collect some computer equipment in order to work from home, back in Austin. Then on Friday, you planned to rent a U-Haul and load up all your belongings from Melanie's apartment. You had hoped to time it so that you could go there while she was at work, but the unfortunate part was she worked in the same office as you. So, you had to just hope all your meetings tomorrow would keep you busy enough that you didn't run into her at all while you were there.

And since this trip was technically your Christmas gift to Joel and Sarah, you planned on exploring the city together the rest of the time. Sarah already had a list of things she was desperate to see while you were there, and you planned on checking off as many as you could.

"I'm so excited to stay in a hotel!" Sarah said after overhearing you and Joel. "I only got to stay in one once, when I was super little. I barely even remember."

"I remember plenty," Joel said, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't fall asleep til almost two in the morning. Drove me nuts."

Before you knew it, the pilot was announcing the plane's descent into JFK. By the time you filed off the plane and collected your luggage (and 45 minutes spent at the lost luggage counter claiming the suitcase you checked the week before when you decided to skip your flight) you were all exhausted. You yawned as you leaned up against the check in counter at the hotel, your arm around Sarah's shoulders as she rested her head against you, waiting for the receptionist to make your keys. You took one from Joel's outstretched hand as you filed into the elevator, your luggage in tow.

"What's our room numbers?" Sarah asked sleepily. You looked down at the card in your hand as you stepped off the elevator.

"305 and 306, they're right next to each other. I'll knock in the morning before I head out and say bye," you told her, heading down the long carpeted hall with a dizzying pattern. Sarah frowned.

"I don't get the extra room?"

"No, you're with me," Joel said, swiping the card and pushing the door open.

"But Dad!" Sarah whined. Joel sighed and held the door, waiting for her to come in the room. He raised his eyebrows at her when she didn't move.

"Let's get a move on, I'm beat," he urged, but she just made a face and crossed her arms.

"Why would you two sleep apart? That doesn't make any sense," Sarah countered, and you felt the tips of your ears burn as you stood in front of the other door, the key hovering over the lock, waiting to bid them good night.

"You're too young to be on your own," Joel began to explain, but she shook her head defiantly.

"I'm sixteen, Dad. Please? Pretty please? I'll be right next door, it'll be fine!"

Joel sighed again and rubbed the palm of his hand over his face.

"You're lucky I'm too tired to be arguin' with you," he muttered, stepping back out into the hall to look at you. "You okay with that?"

"Y-yeah, of course," you stammered, handing Sarah your hotel key, which she took excitedly with a triumphant smile spread wide across her face. "It is your Christmas gift, after all."

"You wanna order somethin' to eat with us at least?" Joel asked her as you walked past him into the room.

"I'm not that hungry," she said, opening the door. "Let's just go for a big breakfast tomorrow." And with that, she disappeared inside her room.

"Sorry," Joel told you as he set his bag down on the spare queen bed.

"Oh, I think I'll get over it," you teased with a wink. You pulled back the covers and collapsed on your back with a groan, closing your tired eyes.

Joel's lips brushed gently over yours, and a slow smile spread across your face. Without opening your eyes, you lifted your arms to wrap loosely around his neck, pulling him down to you. Even though you felt like you could sleep for a year, you couldn't get enough of him.

"You hungry?" you asked him when he finally pulled back.

"Not for food," he said with a smirk, nipping at your jaw, and you felt your cheeks flare with heat.

You twirled your fingers around his curls and hummed against his mouth, trying to stifle a yawn, but Joel noticed.

"You got a big day tomorrow," he reminded you again, kissing the tip of your nose, and you nodded.

"I know, but -"

"It's okay, baby. Go get ready for bed. We're here all weekend," he said, giving you a quick kiss before helping you up.

You headed to the bathroom begrudgingly. You knew he was right, but it was so hard to not take advantage of every single private moment you possibly could. You wouldn't stay the night at Joel's house if Sarah was there. He claimed she wouldn't mind, but it just didn't feel right. However, you hoped to open up more possibilities for you both when you got back to Texas and begin checking out all the apartments your sister, Cassie, very eagerly found for you.

Thursday

You adjusted your skirt as your train came to your usual stop. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was really just a month since you last made this commute, and you came to realize you absolutely did not miss it. The rude people shoving past, the weird smells of the subway station, and the delightful random power outages that made you late for work left little to be desired. You kept telling yourself this was the last time you would have to make this trip as you trudged up the steps and onto the bustling street. You wrapped your scarf tighter around your face as the blistering wind took your breath away. By the time you made it the four blocks to your office, your eyes were watering from the cold and wind. You took a moment to dab at the corners of your eyes before heading into the lobby and to the elevators.

You made a beeline for your cubical, trying to keep your head down and avoid getting caught in any conversations that would just end with the other person being nosy. You had no doubt rumors were swirling around the office when those pictures of Will and Melanie appeared on Instagram. Combined with the fact that you were conveniently out of town for the month made for the juiciest office gossip.

Opening up your Outlook, you confirmed the first meeting you had was with Brian in IT in less than ten minutes. You had just enough time to use the bathroom and grab some coffee before he met you at your desk with all your required equipment. He spent the next hour going over in painstaking detail how to set up all of the devices while you furiously took notes. Fortunately, none of it seemed bulky or heavy, so you wouldn't have a problem getting it on and off the subway.

Next, you had a meeting with HR to review a revised contract now that you were accepting a fully remote position, even though it was the exact same job you were doing before, it required all new paperwork.

By lunchtime, you finally managed to get an hour to yourself. You snuck out of the office to grab a sandwich at your favorite deli and checked in with Joel.

You: busy morning, my head is spinning... can't wait to leave - what are you guys up to?

Joel: Sarah wanted to see Central Park. Figured I would spare you, it's freezing out here but I can't get her away from the damn ice rink.

You: try not to get run over this time ;)

Joel: I only let that happen when you're around to save me.

You giggled to yourself as you walked down the street back to your office, the cold air not bothering you so much anymore.

You: ah I should have known it was all an act. Nobody could ever bring Joel Miller to his knees

Joel: Just you, baby.

You blushed and sent him a quick heart emoji before pocketing your phone and heading back into your building.

As you got off the elevator, you were distracted thinking about Joel and Sarah, wishing that you could be with them instead of stuck in your stuffy office building all day, but you comforted yourself with the fact that you'll all be crammed into a U-Haul truck for almost two days soon enough.

You had your head down, rummaging through your purse and not paying attention when you heard a familiar voice nervously say your name as you passed. You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat and turned around. You knew the odds of seeing her were pretty high, but since you managed to avoid her all morning, you had convinced yourself you might just get through the whole day.

"Hi, Melanie," you said, your voice strained.

"You look good!" she replied, giving you a cheesy grin. You nodded and forced a small smile in return.

"I was gonna stop by and get my stuff during the day tomorrow, if that's okay," you said, and she quickly nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Hey, listen... did you have a minute? I think we should talk," she asked, chewing her lower lip nervously. You glanced around the hallway, noting the looks you were getting from your coworkers who were no doubt trying to eavesdrop. You looked down at the time on your phone, your heartbeat slowing a fraction when you saw the picture of you and Joel kissing under the mistletoe as your background.

"I only have ten minutes," you said, hoping to dissuade her, but unfortunately she eagerly accepted your offer.

"Here, why don't we go into conference room B, there's no meetings scheduled," she said, leading you to the door, away from prying eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Melanie blurted out the moment she shut the door. "I was wasted. It's not an excuse, but I swear it only happened after you broke up. And it's over now."

When you saw the pictures, you had just assumed she was the girl Will was cheating on you with when you caught lipstick smeared on his neck after a night out. She could have been lying, but you weren't sure what the point would be, other than to try to clean up her reputation.

"That was really fucked up," you told her. You couldn't help it. It still stung to be betrayed by not only the man you were ready to spend your life with, but one of your closest friends, as well.

"I know," Melanie said, tears welling in her eyes. "You don't have to forgive me, I get it. But I just needed to tell you to your face. I just feel so awful that you're leaving town over it."

"Oh, I'm not moving because of you or Will," you said, taken aback. "Is that what people think?"

"I-I don't know. Maybe? It doesn't matter. Just as long as you're happy," she said, giving you what felt like a genuine smile.

"I'm moving because I met someone," you clarified. "Back home. In Texas, over Christmas."

"Oh, that's great! Good for you!" Melanie said, giving your shoulder a playful nudge, and you frowned.

You were about to argue with her, sensing that she didn't believe you and she was trying to help you save face, but you let it go. It didn't matter, anyway.

"I should be getting back, I have a meeting with Mike soon to go over this remote work thing," you told her, referring to your boss.

"I think it's great they allowed you to do that," she said, and you swore it sounded a little condescending, but you couldn't be certain.

"They offered it to me, actually. I didn't ask. I was giving them my resignation. Guess they really like my work or something, huh?"

You gave her a mocking smile as you headed back to your cube. At the end of the day, you were happy, and ironically it turned out to be the best thing that could have ever happened to you. But you didn't want to tell her that. It wasn't your responsibility to absolve her or anyone else of the guilt they had for what they did.

Joel met you down at the lobby when you texted and let him know you were getting off the subway. When he saw you lugging bags of computer equipment under your arm, he quickly rushed over to take it from you.

"Thank you," you said in relief, clenching your sore hand. He leaned down to press a soft kiss against your lips, and all the aggravation you still carried with you from earlier vanished. You were home.

"Have a good day?" he asked as you walked over to the elevator bank.

"Uh," you said, not really interested in rehashing your conversation with Melanie. "It was alright. Missed you guys a lot, though. Did you have fun?"

"Sarah had a great time. After the park, I took her to some cupcake spot she heard about online, then she swindled me into shoppin' for clothes. I think she's up there going through all her new stuff right now," he told you with a grin, jabbing the 3 button in the elevator.

You laughed and shook your head. Joel loved spoiling his daughter, he just liked to pretend otherwise.

"What should we do tonight?" you asked him as you followed him down the hall towards your room.

"Sarah wanted to try this Chinese restaurant nearby, you like Chinese?" he asked over his shoulder, realizing at the last minute he actually had no idea.

"Sure I do," you said with a grin.

"Then after, thought we could check out some huge tree. Probably won't get another chance for a long time."

"You mean the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree?" you asked, and he snapped his fingers.

"That's the one."

You giggled, as if there was another one that could compare to the most famous Christmas tree in the world.

After dinner, where Sarah insisted you all order something different and share, you headed to Rockefeller Plaza. As expected, it was insanely crowded, but none of you cared. The tree was massive and lit up in front of a huge ice rink, where families and couples glided around giggling and falling into each other.

Mercifully, Sarah said she got her fill of ice skating earlier in the day, so the three of you found an empty spot against the railing to watch all the skaters and admire the tree. Sarah pulled out her phone to take pictures, scurrying a few feet in both directions to try to get the best angle while Joel stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist and his prickly chin resting in the crook of your neck.

For the first time in a long time, Joel felt content. He felt like he had everything he could ever want: his little girl was happy and he had someone who loved him, someone who cared for him and wanted to be with him just as badly as he wanted to be with you. And the way you were with Sarah made his heart swell with so much love, he thought it might burst. It finally felt like the last puzzle piece in his life was found, a piece he didn't even realize he needed to survive until he met you.

The three of you walked slowly back to your hotel. Joel's hand linked with yours while Sarah skipped ahead, occasionally stopping and turning to look up at the huge skyscrapers in awe.

He watched as you laughed at Sarah's antics, your eyes lit up and your smile wide as she babbled on and on about how cool the city was and all the things she wanted to do tomorrow. You turned to look at him and when you noticed he had already been gazing at you with so much adoration, you blushed.

"What?" you asked when he didn't look away. "Do I have something in my teeth?" He laughed.

"Just can't believe I get to sleep next to the most beautiful girl in the world tonight," he said quietly so Sarah wouldn't overhear. The color on your cheeks deepened as you shook your head.

"There's literal models walking the streets here, you know," you teased.

"Seen 'em. They don't hold a candle to you," he said sincerely. You bit your lower lip, trying to contain your grin, and playfully shoved his shoulder.

"C'mon, charmer. Let's get back to the room," you told him, leaning into his arm and wrapping your free hand around his bicep, pulling him close.

"Tired?" he asked, watching Sarah shoot ahead a bit to look into the front windows of various shops.

"Nope," you said. His eyes shot over to yours and he smirked.

"Good."

Joel loved a lot of things about you. He loved the way you laughed, he loved how you pretended to like the action movies he suggested for movie night, and he loved how you insisted on helping him cook, just so you could be near him. But he especially loves the way you whisper his name breathlessly in his ear when he first sinks himself into you. The way you say it makes his heart flutter in his chest, like you were saying a prayer or sharing a secret that was only meant for his ears. Even throughout the day, whether he was at work or driving in the car or grocery shopping, he replayed it over and over in his head, like a mantra.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He couldn't get enough of it. Like a catchy jingle that refused to leave his head. But nothing was like actually hearing it in his ear. It sent goosebumps all over his body every time. He rolled his hips and watched your lips part and your eyelids droop. It's only been a few weeks but you knew each others bodies so well, already. He never put much stock into the idea of soulmates, but for the first time in his life, he was starting to believe it. The instant connection you both had combined with the way your bodies fit so perfectly together left him with few other explanations.

Your fingers raked through his curls, nails gently scraping his scalp in just the right way that made a tingle shoot down his spine and a quiet moan slip past his lips. God, he fucking loved when you did that. He mentally added it to the ever growing list of reasons he loved you as his mouth descended upon your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin while his lips leisurely roamed the column of your throat, stilling only when he found your pulse point thrumming steadily against his tongue.

If he could stay inside you forever, he would. His body constantly ached to be near you, to show you how much you meant to him, to prove to you he was devoted to you in every way. And the best part was, he felt all of that in return. Your hand always searched for his, whether you were in the car or walking down the street, you needed his touch just as badly as he craved yours. Even if it wasn't clear, the fact you gave up your whole life in this exciting city just to move to Texas more than proved your feelings for him.

"Joel," you whimpered again, your hands sliding from his hair to the sides of his head, dragging his face up so you could lock your lips with his. As the volume of your moans increased, he realized you were trying to muffle the sounds against his mouth, and the mere thought that he could give you so much pleasure that you couldn't even control the sound of your own voice made his knees weak.

"So beautiful," he gasped, pulling his face away so he could look at you, the pressure in his stomach building and his muscles tightening with every thrust. You bit down on your lower lip, trying desperately to stay quiet so his daughter wouldn't overhear in the next room. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he groaned softly, and watched as your eyes fluttered shut and your cheeks reddened at the compliment.

His big hand gripped your thigh, yanking it up so your leg hooked around his waist and he could delve deeper, his hips circling as he watched your face, waiting until he saw your eyes fly open and your jaw drop. Right there.

"Ohmygod," you whined, your brows pinching together as he felt your climax building around him.

"That's it," he mumbled hotly against your ear. He would never get tired of making you feel good. The way you fell apart for him like this made him feel like a man, like if he could do that for you, he could be capable of anything.

"I'm-" you began, but your gasp cut you off.

"I know, baby, I can feel it," he assured you, nibbling on your jaw. "Doin' so good."

Your nails dug into his bare shoulders as you hung onto him for dear life while your orgasm shot through you like lightning. You buried your face against his neck and let out a muffled scream that sounded like a garbled version of his name, and a lazy smile spread across his face.

"There we go," he said softly, his hips keeping up the same pace that brought you over the edge so you could ride out your orgasm as long as possible.

"I love you, Joel," you whispered hoarsely against his skin once you found your voice again.

"I love you, too, baby," he said with a grunt, chasing his own high now that he was certain you were satisfied. "God, love you so fuckin' much. Can't believe I went so long without you."

He frantically latched his mouth over yours as he felt himself spill inside you with a deep groan, his breaths ragged as his hips shallowly thrusted forward until he collapsed on top of you with a sigh of relief. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close with the side of his head resting against your chest as he listened to you catch your breath.

He felt you draw lazy circles over his back with your finger, and he was convinced he could fall asleep just like this if you let him.

"Joel?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think we're moving too fast?"

His eyes flew open and he tilted his chin up to look at you.

"Do you?"

"No," you said with a shake of your head, your finger still drawing patterns on his sensitive skin. "It's just - we've barely known each other for a month. Some people might find it shocking that we already say 'I love you'."

"It's not like we're teenagers," he said, nuzzling his face against your chest and closing his eyes. "I'm old enough to know how I feel 'bout you."

You grinned and kissed the top of his head.

"Me, too," you whispered, relieved to hear him say that. An insecure part of you had wondered if you pressured him into this relationship when you skipped your flight in favor of staying in Texas with him. He never gave you a reason to think otherwise, but considering how badly your last relationship ended and how you managed to ignore all the red flags, it was nice to hear Joel confirm it.

Friday

Luckily for you all, Melanie's building had a designated spot for moving trucks to temporarily park right outside the front door of the building. It was quiet, most of the residents were at work as you rode the elevator up to the 8th floor. You dug your keys out once the doors opened, and you led Joel and Sarah down the hallway and around the corner to Melanie's apartment.

"I don't have that much stuff," you assured them both as you unlocked the door. Joel shuffled a handful of flattened cardboard boxes inside and against the wall while Sarah dropped the bag of packing tape and bubble wrap on the kitchen counter.

"This place is so small, this is where you lived?" Sarah asked in disbelief. You laughed as you led her down the hall to the spare bedroom, where you had been bunking for just a few short days before you flew home to Texas for the holidays.

"I didn't stay here long. I used to live in a much bigger place, actually," you told her, opening the door and sighing at the work you had ahead of you. In your hurry to leave Will's apartment, you didn't exactly take much care in packing your things.

"Why did you move?"

"Sarah," Joel said in a warning tone, but you just shrugged.

"It's okay. I was engaged and living with the guy. It didn't work out," you told her, deciding not to get into specifics.

"How long were you together?"

"Sarah!" Joel scolded louder now.

"What?" she asked, clearly annoyed.

"Joel, it's fine, I'm over it," you laughed, waving him off as each of you began to construct the cardboard boxes. "Uh, long time. Seven years, give or take. We met in college," you told her.

Joel didn't even know that, although he had his suspicions based on pieces of information you had told him in the past. Still, hearing 'seven years' stunned him, although he knew he had no right to feel jealous. He was with his ex-wife for even longer, but he was a bit older than you, as well. But the thought of some man getting you to himself for that long and not even treating you the way you deserved set his teeth on edge.

The two of you spent most of the morning packing while Sarah continually got sidetracked looking through your purses and makeup. You took a short break after ordering in lunch, and by early afternoon you were close to finishing up.

"Shoot, I got a missed call from Tommy," Joel murmured, frowning down at his phone. "Didn't even hear it ring."

"There's really spotty reception in this building," you explained as you taped up a full box. "If you go down to the lobby, you should get a signal."

"Alright. You be good," he told Sarah, narrowing his eyes as he left the apartment.

Joel was pacing the lobby as he listened to Tommy on the other line.

"So, they brought us the wrong size?" Joel clarified. He reached up to rub his forehead with his spare hand and realized he had brought down a tape gun by mistake. Dropping his arm back down to his side, he turned around in the lobby as Tommy went into further detail about the mixup. He vaguely watched as a younger guy in an expensive looking suit tried the doors, then finding them locked, rang the bell for one of the apartments.

"Yeah so they sent us 6 size 8s when we really need 8 size 6s, right? I'll call 'em when we get back, but for now, go down to the other site on Summers. We should have size 6s there, then we'll replace 'em once I get it all sorted out."

An older lady walking her small dog got off the elevator and gave Joel a smile, which he returned with a quick nod. She held the door open for the younger man who was waiting to get buzzed in. His eyes landed on Joel, then he noticed the tape gun in his hand.

"Excuse me, are you the mover helping the girl in 807?"

Joel frowned and held up a finger. 807 was Melanie's apartment number.

"Tommy, lemme call you back," Joel said into the phone before ending the call. "Sorry, what was that?"

"You're the mover, right?" the young man asked again, now pointing to the U-Haul parked outside.

"In a way," Joel replied slowly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Who are you?"

"Name's Will," he said, reaching out his arm to shake Joel's hand. If Will noticed Joel tense up and hesitate before forcing himself to shake his hand, he didn't let on.

"Joel. What can I do for you, Will?" Joel asked, doing his best to keep his emotions in check.

"The girl you're moving is my ex. I've been waiting to run into her and her friend told me - sorry, you don't care about any of this," Will realized with a chuckle.

"No, it's alright. Go ahead," Joel urged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I messed up, and I came to try to get her back but I know she'll kill me if I go up there right now and surprise her," Will said, shifting his weight and fiddling nervously with his tie.

"How'd you mess up?" Joel couldn't help but ask, his body stiffening. You were his now. He wanted to set this little punk straight, but he bit his tongue.

"I cheated on her," he replied with a shrug. "I mean, it's New York! Everyone's sleeping with everyone, I didn't think she would get so pissed about it. But since she's been gone, I've been missing her, you know?"

"No, I don't know," Joel said, a frown etching his features now. He didn't appreciate the cavalier attitude he took when he spoke about hurting you. "Real men don't cheat on their women. They treat 'em with respect, treat 'em right. Sounds like she's better off, if you ask me."

Will stared at Joel for a moment, an awkward silence filling the lobby, but Joel didn't back down. He held his glare and waited for Will to make the next move.

"You sound like you're from the South," Will said.

"Yep."

"My girl's from Texas," he added, the wheels turning.

"Don't sound like she's your girl anymore," Joel couldn't help but remind him, and Will's jaw clenched.

"Right," Will finally said, eyeing Joel up and down one more time before turning to the elevator. He pressed the call button right as the doors slid open, revealing both you and Sarah each holding a box.

You didn't notice Will at first. Your eyes immediately found Joel's and you smiled, but then you took in the look on his face and your smile wavered. You shifted your gaze to Will and your eyes widened in shock when he gave you a warm smile and said your name in greeting.

"Will," you replied coldly, all the blood draining from your face as you forced yourself to step off the elevator so the doors wouldn't close.

He took a step towards you, leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek, but you quickly stepped back. Joel had to hide his smirk as he held out his arms for the box you were holding.

"I'll take it to the truck," he assured you, and your wide eyes flicked back to Joel. You began to shake your head and he stopped you. As much as he wanted to stay and put this guy in his place, that wasn't going to happen. Not with his daughter right next to him. He trusted you implicitly, and if you needed his help, you would ask for it.

"I'll be right back," he said softly, and you slowly released your grip on the box to allow him to take it. "C'mon, Sarah," he said. Sarah gave you a confused look as she followed Joel out the front door behind you.

"Your mover's got a kid working for him?" Will tried to joke, but you just whipped your head around to glare at him.

"My what?"

"The mover you hired. Kind of a weird guy," Will said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What do you want, Will?" you asked, anger flaring in your belly.

"I want you back," he said bluntly. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you. I got carried away, it's no excuse but all the guys I work with at the firm all have side pieces and I just lost sight of everything and what we had." He reached a hand out to try to take yours, but you crossed your arms defensively.

"C'mon, don't be like that. We have a history together. I said I was sorry."

"I don't give a shit," you spat. "I was with you since college, Will! I was there when you were broke and failing class and I fucking helped you! And the second you get an ounce of success, that's how you repay me?"

"Listen-"

"No, I'm done listening. I wasted way too many years on you, and I'm not interested in wasting another minute." You dropped your hands to your side, about to turn around to find Joel outside when his hand shot out and grabbed your shoulder.

"What are you gonna do, huh? You think you're gonna find anyone in Texas better than me? Think again, sweetheart," Will said with a scoff. You knocked his hand roughly off your shoulder.

"I already did, actually," you couldn't help but say smugly. "Joel."

"Joel? The mover?" Will asked, looking over your shoulder and out the glass lobby doors.

"He's not my mover, you asshole, he's my boyfriend," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Oh, wow, and he's got a kid? C'mon, you gotta see how that's a step down," Will replied, tossing his hands in the air in disbelief.

"Shut the hell up," you snapped, your voice rising. Joel swung the door open just as you were finishing your sentence. "She's amazing. And Joel treats me better than you ever did, and he actually knows how to make me come!"

Joel cleared his throat behind you and you spun around on your heel, heat immediately flooding your face. To your relief, Sarah was a few seconds behind and didn't walk into the lobby until you had already stopped speaking. You looked back and forth between Joel and Sarah, your eyes wide and your heart hammering in your chest. Joel tried his best to hide his smirk by looking down at his feet, but you could see his cheeks lift and the dimple appear on the side of his mouth.

"Fine," Will said curtly, brushing past you, clearly not appreciating the hit to his manhood. He locked eyes with Joel as he was about to leave.

"Good luck, man," Will said, shaking his head.

"Doesn't sound like I need it," Joel said over his shoulder with a grin. Will paused for a moment with his hand on the lobby door before pushing forward and walking back out onto the sidewalk.

"Uh, what was that about?" Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow at you and Joel. You turned away, trying to hide the color on your face and neck.

"Nothin', babygirl," Joel said, his grin still plastered across his face. He draped an arm over you and Sarah's shoulders as you waited for the elevator. "Nothin' at all."

Saturday - New Years Eve

You and Joel strolled hand in hand throughout the Museum of Modern Art, gazing at the art hanging from the ceiling overhead as you made your way to the next exhibit. Sarah led the way excitedly, her crumpled brochure tight between her fingers as she made sure you got to see every single piece of art the museum had to offer.

Yesterday, you had apologized profusely to Joel the moment you were alone and Sarah couldn't overhear. He had just looked at you in surprise, not understanding what could warrant an apology. He had never felt more proud when he heard the end of your argument with Will, but you explained you felt childish and immature. Maybe you were right, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he was on top of the world. And it also didn't stop him from joining you in the shower that morning to prove to you twice that he could, in fact, make you come.

If that made him immature, then so be it.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watched Sarah lead you from piece to piece. She looked so happy and you were thrilled you were given the opportunity to be a part of her life and witness her unbridled joy for things you took for granted.

Something snapped in you when Will implied that Joel having a daughter would be a downgrade. You couldn't help your reaction, you saw red and jumped to their defense because they both meant the world to you, and you refused to let anybody say otherwise. Regardless of the history you had with Will, you realized it all meant nothing to him until he couldn't have you anymore. And once that clicked, that shared history no longer meant anything to you, either. The only thing that mattered was Joel, Sarah, and your family. Because those are the people who truly loved you, who loved you unconditionally, and that was all that mattered now.

After the museum, the three of you got hot dogs from a street vendor because according to Sarah, it wouldn't be a true New York experience without one. It had been a while since you had one, and you were surprised at how good it was. You grinned as you watched Sarah lick the mustard from her fingers and told her so far her to-do list was knocking it out of the park.

"Are you sure we can't go to Times Square tonight?" Sarah begged the both of you as you headed towards the Empire State Building next.

"People have been lining up there all morning," you explained. "We would waste the entire day, but I promise you'll still be able to see fireworks from anywhere in the city."

"It's way too cold and you gotta be squished up against people or else you lose your spot," Joel added. "Not my idea of a good time."

"Alright," Sarah said dejectedly, unable to hide her disappointment.

"Hey, I think I have a better idea," you told her, and she looked up at you expectantly. "Why don't we go up to the roof of the hotel tonight? You'll have a great view of the city and that way you could see all of the fireworks, in every direction. We can bring up snacks and blankets -"

"Yes!" Sarah squealed, jumping up and down. "Yes! That sounds perfect!"

Joel chuckled as he watched Sarah bounce around, talking animatedly with you as she already planned what snacks she wanted to buy, Times Square already long forgotten.

He gazed at you adoringly as you giggled with Sarah in front of him on the sidewalk. How did you always know what to do? The way you fit into their lives with such ease astounded him. He always thought he would end up alone after he and his ex divorced. He had never really considered a relationship, although he ached for someone like you for years, he focused all of his energy on Sarah and making sure she had everything she ever needed. But watching the two of you together just solidified what he and his daughter were both missing in their lives. You brought this beautiful energy and light into everything you did, and suddenly he didn't seem to mind all the years he spent so alone, because now that you were here, it all made sense. He was just waiting for you.

You and Sarah juggled all of the blankets you could find in the two rooms while Joel lugged up two bags worth of drinks and snacks behind you on the stairs. Once you made it to the roof, you realized you weren't the only ones who had the idea, but even so, there was still plenty of space for you to have some privacy together while you waited for midnight. You spread out a thick blanket to sit on while Joel laid out all the snacks and popped a bottle of champagne and Sarah took pictures of the skyline.

"This is perfect," Joel told you as he handed you a champagne flute. You thanked him and settled in next to him, the back of your head resting on his shoulder as you watched Sarah take selfies then frown, deleting them before changing the angle and trying again.

"You think you'll be too tired to drive tomorrow?" you asked him, and he scoffed.

"No way. I can get four hours of sleep and still operate a table saw. Drivin' a truck will be a piece of cake."

You giggled and took a sip of your drink.

"I hope you have your liability insurance up to date," you teased, and he grinned. "Where do you think we can stop for the night?"

"Thinkin' if we make it to Nashville, that'll be a good spot, 'bout halfway," he said, and you nodded.

Sarah helped you set up a tray of cheese and crackers as the clock inched closer to midnight. You could see her eyelids drooping, but she was fighting to stay awake. She definitely wasn't used to all of the walking that was required in New York City, and it showed.

You had to nudge her awake when you heard the other people on the roof begin to murmur louder, and when you glanced at the time, you realized it was only a couple minutes until the ball dropped. She sat up and sleepily rubbed her eyes, but perked up quickly when you informed her it was almost time. She jumped up and pushed her way to the railing so she could get the best view of the street below, but you and Joel stayed cozied up under a blanket on the ground.

You listened as the small crowd of people on the roof began to countdown to midnight, and joined in with the cheers when the clock struck midnight. Fireworks began going off in the distance in every direction, and much to your surprise, someone was setting them off a block away on the roof. The loud pop made you jump, and Joel chuckled next to you.

"C'mere," he said, pinching your chin and pulling you in for a kiss. His lips felt cold but his hands were warm as you let yourself melt into his touch.

"Happy New Year, baby," he murmured against your mouth, and you smiled.

"Happy New Year," you whispered before cupping his face and pulling him closer, your lips slotting together perfectly as the fireworks continued to go off and the rest of the crowd looked up in awe. But neither of you cared to take your eyes off the other. There was no point: nothing could compare to what was right in front of you.

Sunday - New Years Day

Sarah yawned, her chin resting in her hand as she slumped over the table at the diner you had found within a short walking distance of the hotel, one of the few places open on a holiday. You had gotten up early so you could hit the road and put as many miles under your belt as you could. The trip was short, but you crammed in as many things as you could, and you could tell even Sarah was ready to get back home.

"Dad, I'm tired," Sarah pouted as she watched Joel finish eating his pancakes.

"You can sleep in the truck," he told her, wiping his mouth before drinking the rest of his coffee. "This ain't even that early. I'm normally up -"

"By 5, yeah, we know," Sarah said, rolling her eyes dramatically, making you giggle. Joel raised an eyebrow at you.

"Oh, so now you're gangin' up on me?" he said accusingly, but his tone was light, which made you laugh even more.

"Where are we gonna put all your stuff?" Sarah asked suddenly. You frowned, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"At the house. Where's your stuff gonna go? Dad's closet is already overflowing-"

"Oh, no," you told her, shaking your head. "We're taking it to my mom and dad's house until I find an apartment."

"An apartment? Like that small one you just left? Why?" Sarah asked, snagging an extra piece of bacon from your plate.

"Well, apartments are notoriously tiny in New York City. The ones in Austin will be bigger," you explained, ignoring her underlying question. But she didn't let you get away with it that easy.

"We could make room at our house, right Dad? Can't you build something for her clothes?" Sarah asked, turning on him now.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, anxiously draping his arm across the back of the booth. "But she wants her own space, baby girl."

"But why?" Sarah asked, furrowing her brows at you. "You're over all the time anyway." You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Yeah, I know. But your Dad and I just met, and you really should be together longer before you move in with someone," you explained, and you felt Joel shift his weight next to you.

"You said you were with that other guy for seven years and you lived with him, right?" she questioned, and you knew immediately where she was going with it.

"Yeah," you said slowly.

"So maybe that doesn't really matter," she said with a shrug. You shifted your eyes to Joel, silently asking for help, and he straightened up in his seat.

"Alright, that's enough, detective," he said to Sarah. "Let's get a move on, I wanna hit the road."

A couple hours later as you made your way further south and Joel confirmed Sarah was fast asleep in the backseat, he cleared his throat, getting your attention.

"Y'know, 'bout earlier," he began, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "If you wanted, you could move in. But only if you wanted," he repeated nervously, stealing a glance in your direction. "Don't want you thinkin' I don't want you around-"

"Oh!" you said, blinking in surprise. "Thank you, but I think maybe I should learn to live by myself for a while. I've either always lived with my parents, or a roommate, or Will. I think it would be good for me to get my own place. Nothing against you," you said hurriedly, "I really appreciate the offer."

"'Course," Joel said, nodding in understanding. "Just wanted you to know you're always welcome at our house."

"I know, thank you," you replied, reaching your hand across the seat to him, and he dropped his hand from the steering wheel in favor of holding yours.

"Besides, we can have sleepovers at an apartment where we can be as loud as we want," you whispered with a wink, and he smirked.

"I'm gonna have your poor neighbors up all night," he told you, and you giggled. "Get you kicked out, then you'll have to move in with me." You laughed even louder at that, and Joel joined in, eventually waking up Sarah.

"What's so funny?" she asked sleepily, and Joel shook his head.

"Nothin', go back to sleep," he said, glancing at her in the review mirror.

"Well, I'm up now," she said, stretching and looking out the window. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Maryland," you told her over your shoulder. She groaned and laid back down, shoving her earbuds in.

"Wake me when we get home," she mumbled, closing her eyes.

You smiled, turning to look out the window at the cars flying by on the thruway. It didn't really matter where you were because you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

You were already home.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywuanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin @daddy-dins-girl @jessthebaker @seratuyo @wh0reforbucknasty @paleidiot @misstokyo7love @runningmom94 @mandoisapunk @marantha @missladym1981 @mybworlds @hologramgrlluvr @txtattoostark @jay-mach @stevie75 @merz-8 @sarap-77 - if you are crossed out, it won't let me tag you

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natnatscorner · 2 months ago

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Mattheo begging for you back after cheating on you

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Summary: After 2 years of dating, the boy who you thought loved you cheats on you with your best friend. Now he's trying to get you back.

word count: 581

cw: none.

masterlist - harry potter fancast masterlist

"Mattheo go away for the millionth time."

You could not believe that he was back again. It's been a week since he cheated on you, with none other than Melanie, your best friend since 3rd year. You were stumped to find out because Melanie always told you to stay away from him because he's bad news. But maybe that was all a lie, and she wanted him for herself. Doesn't matter because she's dead to you, I think she got the memo when you threw all her stuff out of the dorm. You hated both of them at the moment.

"Y/N, please we need to talk." You hear his muffled voice behind the door. You roll your eyes and are about to walk back to your bed but stop as he starts to speak again. "Please baby, it was a mistake. She was the one who came onto me." he pleaded. You scoff as you turn around and open the door to see a teary-eyed Mattheo who looks relieved that you finally opened the door. You give him a dirty look and step back after he tries to grab your hands. "Whatever you want make it quick, I don't want to see your face right now." He took a deep breath in.

"Look I know I fucked up really badly, b-but she was a mistake. I love you so much more than anyone in this world. Please don't let my actions ruin us." He urged in a desperate tone. He looks as if he's about to start crying, but you don't feel bad. Why is he the one that's acting a mess, that should be you. I mean you ARE the one that got cheated on. "I'm not sure what you expected, but we are not getting back together. You would have kept it in your pants if you loved me that much. Now please go away." You state just about to shut the door. "W-wait!" Mattheo stops the door with his hand, opening it back up, and pushing you back.

"What the hell, Mattheo?!" You groan in annoyance. "Y/N, please don't leave me like this. You just can't. You have to forgive me! I can't live without you." He says, sniffling and wiping the tears from his face.

You feel yourself wanting to cave, maybe you should just forget this all happened and go back to him. Because, deep down you knew, you still love Mattheo Riddle. However, this cut is too deep to just forgive and forget.

"Look Mattheo," You take a deep breath as you prepare to shatter his heart.

"You and I, we're over. you broke my heart Mattheo, 2 years of dating and you cheated on me. Not to mention it was with my best friend. You must have real guts to come back begging for me, how pathetic. You seriously need to move on with your life because like I said, we are done. There is no more us. So just go." Looking at him coldly.

"Y/N y-you can't be serious, please. I-" He stops. It hits him, now realizing that he would never get you back. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I hope you can forgive me” He looks at you one last time before muttering the words ‘I love you’. He walks down the stairs into the common room.

Oh god, what have I done? You thought to yourself. Instantly regretting what you said.

I'm not sure I'll continue, but if I should tell me!

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#natnatscorner #harry potter #harry potter fancast #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo x reader #mattheo x fem!reader

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dulcewrites · 1 year ago

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ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it

AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF

I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.

Upgrade You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)

Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different

You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.

"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"

"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.

She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."

"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"

Melanie shakes her head slowly.

"So, who is going to tell me to change?"

"... No one?"

"Exactly."

Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.

Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.

Aemond Targaryen.

Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.

You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.

Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.

Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.

A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.

You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.

"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"

"Dior," she calls back.

You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.

"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.

"Perfect," she beams.

She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.

"Happy studying!"

Sweet and simple, just how you like em.

———

You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.

Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.

"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."

He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."

Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.

"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"

Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."

You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.

If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.

Oh sweet, silly boy.

"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.

"Better yet, let's call it a date."

Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.

The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.

"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."

She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.

"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra rolls her eyes then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"

"Why do you think I am in timeout?"

Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.

"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.

"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."

"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."

Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"

"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys has found a new muse."

Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips curiously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father possibly preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, freshly off the passing of her mother and seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior, rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.

"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."

"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."

Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now. New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.

"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."

"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."

Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.

"Don't be gross."

Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.

"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."

"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."

"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."

She sighs. That was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Hellbent on insisting that this was some sort of grand plan of the Hightowers. Even Rhaenyra over the years had grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the ever changing moods that come with being in Viserys Targaryen’s orbit. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.

"How do you even know this?"

"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."

Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"

Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it was not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."

Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.

Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.

Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.

She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was what she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends. Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.

She had a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.

#a reader fic? yeah I know lol #this is short but I got this idea #aemond getting the pretty woman treatment lmaoooo #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fic #hotd angst #black!reader

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 4 months ago

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out of my league | pedri gonzalez [part i]

🎓 synopsis: You got into college hoping to reinvent yourself, to leave the “loser” label behind. But months in and nothing’s changed – then you see him. Pedri González, the guy who couldn’t be more out of your reach. You’re sure he’ll never notice you, but maybe, just maybe, you two have more in common than you realized. And maybe, just maybe, he’s been looking your way too. tags: self-doubt, nerd and jock trope, love triangle, you're not like other girls, mutual pining. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 3.8k words) | masterlist |

part 1

You walk into the lecture hall, shifting your weight from foot to foot, clutching your bag strap tightly. Students swarm in around you, talking, familiar voices calling out to each other, laughter echoing off the walls. You scan the seats, looking for an empty spot – but, more importantly, looking for an empty spot where it might be easy to casually say hi to someone, where you might manage to start up a conversation without feeling like you’re forcing it.

No luck. Everyone else seems to have a seat next to someone they know, pairs and small groups filling up rows, bags and books claiming seats before you get a chance to. Finally, you slip into a seat near the back, opening your notebook and hoping that, if nothing else, maybe the professor will start early and save you from the heavy silence between you and everyone else around.

Class begins, and you make yourself busy with notes, trying to ignore how easily the others settle in. You catch part of the conversations: plans to go out, complaining about an exam, and one girl a few seats over talking about her internship in a confident voice that makes you feel smaller somehow.

It’s silly, childish even, to still be waiting for something to change, still half-hoping someone might come along and say, “Hey, you look like you’re new here,” or “We’re grabbing coffee after this, wanna join?” But you know better – things like that won’t happen for you. So, after class, you head to the café down the street, at least there you can sit alone in peace.

As you order your coffee, you try to shake off the familiar feeling of disappointment, reminding yourself that college isn’t some high school movie where everything magically falls into place. It’ll come with time, you tell yourself.

You take your coffee to a small table near the window, trying to focus on the hum of conversation around you rather than your own thoughts. Then, out of nowhere, you notice him.

Pedri.

You’ve seen him before, of course. His face practically wallpapered half the university’s Instagram page. Pedri González, the football prodigy, popular on campus with that effortless charm. Today, he’s leaning against a counter, his order in hand, scrolling through his phone. He’s so close you almost look away instinctively, but something keeps your eyes on him – maybe the way he seems so at ease, so comfortable in a way you can’t seem to find for yourself.

And just as you think that, he glances up, catching your eye. A flicker of recognition crosses his face, and for a split second, you swear there’s something like a smile directed right at you.

You suddenly hear a voice from behind – high-pitched, bubbly, and unmistakably familiar. Melanie, his influencer girlfriend with the flawless face and perfect body, skips up to Pedri with such an enthusiasm that it makes your stomach twist.

“Pedri!” she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. He looks a bit startled at first, but then his expression softens, and he wraps an arm around her, shifting his coffee to avoid spilling it. “I’m holding coffee,” he laughs, his voice low and easy. “Calm down.”

She pouts, tugging at his sleeve in an exaggerated, cutesy way, her voice taking on a pitch that gets on your nerves. “You didn’t wait for me!” she says, drawing out the words with a look of playful hurt. Her expression is almost too perfect, like she’s used to performing for an audience – and for all you know, she might be.

Pedri just shakes his head, still smiling. “Alright, alright, next time I’ll wait,” he says, clearly charmed. That gentle look in his eyes makes your heart sink. Here he is, so warm and patient with her, someone who seems worlds apart from you.

You look down at your coffee, suddenly feeling invisible again. You decide to make your way to the door, head down, hoping to slip out of the café without a second look from anyone. It shouldn't be too difficult. But in your haste, your bag catches on the edge of a chair, and you feel a sting as something sharp nicks your finger. You wince, glancing at the tiny cut forming on the tip of your finger, and that’s when you hear her voice again.

“Oh my god, are you okay, honey?” Melanie’s voice rings out, unexpectedly dripping with concern. You look up, realizing that she’s talking to you.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, yes,” you stammer, raising your hand to show her the barely-there cut. “It was just… a tiny cut. Really, it’s nothing. But thanks for asking.”

Pedri’s face shifts from curious to concerned as he sets his coffee down and digs around in his pocket. “Hey, hey,” he says as he pulls out a small band-aid and holds it up with a smile. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

He comes closer and carefully grabs your injured finger. His hands are warm, and he’s so close that you can smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. You try not to make eye contact, so you look up at Melanie instead – only to find her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowed. She looks absolutely furious.

You pull your hand back as soon as he finishes, tucking it away like it’s something you shouldn’t have shared. Your heart is pounding, and for reasons you can’t quite understand, you feel a knot of nerves in your stomach.

“Umm, thanks,” you say, glancing from Pedri to Melanie and back again. “I… yeah, okay. Well, bye then.”

Without waiting for either of them to respond, you spin on your heel and head for the door, practically stumbling over yourself in your rush to leave.

part 2

It happens one afternoon when you’re at the library, tucked away in a corner, lost in your notes. You’re not really expecting anything – it’s just a quiet day like any other. You’ve been at it for hours, and it’s one of those days where everything feels like it’s blurring together – but you need to keep going. Finals are coming up, and organic chemistry isn’t about to let you off easy.

In front of you, a group of students has taken up a whole table, their textbooks and notebooks sprawled across the surface. You’re aware of a little rustling, some light laughter, then whispers that rise just enough for you to catch a few words.

“Just ask her!” one of them says, and you notice a nudge from one person to the next, like a gentle push to do something. You ignore it, but then, after a pause, you hear a voice close by.

“Hey.”

You glance up, slightly startled, and there’s Alexia standing next to you. You recognize her from thermodynamics – she’s that person who always seems to understand things when the rest of you is lost. You didn’t think she’d remember you, let alone approach you.

“Oh, hi,” you manage, trying not to sound as surprised as you feel.

“We’re, uh, actually about to grab lunch,” she says, gesturing to the group sitting around the table. “And… well, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us?”

You look over and realize that the rest of the group is watching with interest.

“Oh… sure, that sounds nice,” you say.

The next thing you know, you’re sitting in a little restaurant, the sound of salsa music filling the air and the table scattered with plates of tacos, chips, and guacamole. You’re squeezing around a table just big enough for the six of you.

“So, did anyone actually get the last question on the problem set?” Diego asks, looking around the table.

“Don’t even talk to me about that one,” Ana groans, reaching for a chip. “They’re just trying to mess with us. Like, sure, a totally realistic scenario in the real world, right?”

Arthur smirks, shaking his head. “Weak. I got it. Want me to explain?”

“Oh, please, Mr. I-Got-It-On-The-Fifth-Try,” Andrés scoffs. “Don’t act like you didn’t guess half of it.”

Laughter rises around the table, and you catch Alexia rolling her eyes at Arthur. “He totally guessed,” she whispers, leaning in, and you smile, realizing you’re laughing too, genuinely. There’s no awkwardness, no need to carefully plan out every word.

Then Alexia groans beside you, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, the most annoying people on campus just walked in."

You follow her gaze and spot Pedri and his friends entering the restaurant, laughing loudly and drawing attention, moving with confidence.

"Oh, do you mean the most famous?" Ana teases, which sets off a laughter around the table. They’re clearly all in on the joke, sharing knowing glances.

You feel your cheeks warm, trying to hide that you're blushing. Just a few hours ago, the thought of being in that group had felt like the ultimate goal, some idealized version of what college life should be. You’d thought everything would change, that you’d somehow become a different person overnight. Now, you look at them again, at their loud voices and carefree attitude, and something about it feels... less shiny. Less like what you actually need.

This time, he doesn’t look at you. Pedri and his friends settle at a table on the other side of the restaurant. It’s strange – you’re both here, sharing the same space, yet you might as well be in different worlds.

For the first time, it doesn’t bother you. There’s a quiet satisfaction in knowing that you don’t need to be over there, part of his world, to feel like you belong. You turn back to your own table, the conversation picks up right where it left off, and you dive back in, laughing along, feeling more settled than you ever imagined you would.

part 3

You’re standing in Ana and Alexia’s tiny dorm room, surrounded by piles of clothes, makeup scattered across every available surface. Alexia’s leaning in close, brushing eyeshadow onto your eyelids while Ana adjusts the straps of her dress on your shoulders. The room feels so cramped, and your pulse is racing – this party is supposed to be huge, half the campus will be there, and just thinking about it makes you feel like you’re looking down the edge of a cliff. Your palms are clammy, and every now and then, you catch yourself wondering if maybe you should back out.

When Alexia pulls away to get a good look, you finally muster up the courage to ask, "Do I look... pretty?" The words come out quieter than you intended.

Alexia squints at you, considering. "What? Yeah, of course! Maybe…” She leans closer, tapping her chin, “maybe just take your glasses off."

Ana reaches over, carefully slipping them off, and both of them stare at you. Your heart skips a beat. Why did they pause like that? Why haven’t they said anything?

“Actually, you know what,” Ana says, laughing as she slides your glasses back on. “Let’s keep them on.”

Your stomach drops, and you immediately start overthinking. Does that mean you look… weird without them? That the glasses are hiding something? You’re seconds away from spiraling when Ana laughs again, picking up on your panic.

“No, no, it’s not that! Really!” she says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I just think the glasses suit you. They make you look like… you, you know?”

You take a breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. “Sometimes, I feel like people don’t even look at my face,” you say quietly, almost more to yourself than to them. “Like… am I ugly or something? Just be honest.”

Alexia shakes her head, leaning in with a smirk. “The problem is not that you’re ugly. Because listen – you’re not.” She tries to keep a straight face but can’t hold back a grin. “It’s just… you have this really scary resting face. Honestly, it took us months to gather up the courage to talk to you. You looked like a total psycho!”

Your jaw drops, and then Ana starts giggling, and before you know it, all three of you are laughing so hard you’re practically gasping for air.

By the time you and your friends arrive, the place is buzzing – every corner packed with groups chatting, laughing, flirting, leaning close in half-drunken conversations, snapping selfies that will likely look more like a blur tomorrow. It's surreal, looking out over the room and recognizing faces – people you've seen day after day in the library or sitting across from you in classes.

You glance over at Alexia, who’s already chatting with Ana, while Diego and Andrés are joking around, nudging each other, making it look like they’ve been friends for years. It feels good – safe, even – knowing you're with people who know your quirks and still want you here.

For a second, you catch sight of Pedri and his friends across the room. They’re their own universe, laughing, leaning back casually against the wall, looking like they know everyone and everything.

The music grows louder, bass pulsing through the floor, and after a few songs and a couple of drinks, the air feels thick, almost stifling. You slip out onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, grateful for the silence.

A few moments later, you hear footsteps. When you turn, Pedri is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that familiar half-smile.

“Hey! Finger-cut girl! Escaping too?” he says, nodding back toward the chaos inside.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, needed a break. It’s… intense in there.”

He steps forward, looking out over the city lights beyond. “It’s kind of crazy, all this,” he says, gesturing toward the noise and chaos inside. “Sometimes I just want to get away for a while, you know?”

You blink, caught off guard by the depth of his words. You’re both a bit tipsy, sure, but it doesn’t feel like enough to explain why he’s opening up like this to you. It’s almost… intentional.

You want to keep the conversation going, to say something meaningful back. Tonight, you’re really trying to be friendly, trying to bridge that gap that always feels so hard to cross. But it’s not easy for you. It’s like something physically tightens in your chest whenever you’re around people – every word feels like you’re tiptoeing on the edge of saying too much.

Still, you take a breath, gathering the nerve to open up, even if it’s just a little. “I get it,” you say, surprised at how steady your voice sounds. “Sometimes it feels like everything’s moving too fast, and you’re just… stuck, trying to catch up.”

He looks at you like he’s really hearing what you’re saying. His expression softens, and the usual cockiness in his eyes is replaced with something quieter.

He agrees, “Exactly.”

For a moment, you both stand there, the noise and music from inside a distant hum. Then he leans on the railing beside you.

“You look different tonight,” he says, his voice lower, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. “Good different.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide how much his words make you blush. “It’s just makeup and a nice dress.”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on you. “No, it’s more than that. You look… happy.”

You’re not sure how to respond, caught between laughing it off and letting his words sink in. You look up, meeting his gaze, and suddenly the closeness between you feels electric. His eyes flicker from your face to your lips, and for a heartbeat, you’re frozen, feeling that rush of anticipation.

There’s a pause as you both just look at each other, and in the dim light, you notice something unexpected – he’s actually nervous. The way he glances down at his hands, how he shifts slightly, like he’s unsure of himself.

Your heartbeat picks up as he leans in, his breath warm against your cheek. When his lips finally meet yours, it’s gentle at first, tentative, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you let yourself sink into it.

Just as you’re starting to forget where you are, his hand slides down your back, fingers trailing lower, and it’s like a switch flips. You pull back, reality rushing back in as you catch your breath, and he looks at you, confused.

You look down, noticing your lipstick, or, well, Alexia’s lipstick smudged on his lips, “You have a girlfriend,” you say, your voice a mix of anger and disbelief. “Why would you do this?”

He hesitates. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

“Since when?”

“Uhmm… listen, we’re about to break up. Any day now. I’m just trying to find the right time.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, stepping back.

He sighs, like he knows how this sounds. “She kisses other guys too, it’s fine, we have an open relationship.”

You fold your arms, skeptical. “Okay… maybe start with that next time. I still don’t feel like I can trust you, and I’m pretty sure she hates me. Either way, I don’t want any drama.”

Pedri laughs, trying to look nonchalant. “Drama? Me? I’m the chillest. There’s no drama with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You just told me you’re in the middle of breaking up, and I don’t even know what that means.”

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, I like thinking,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “You should try it. It’s really good – it lowers your chances of hurting people.”

Pedri opens his mouth, maybe to defend himself, but instead, he just nods, an apology in his eyes. And though you can see that part of him wants to win you over, there’s a quiet recognition there too. He knows he messed up. The music shifts, someone calls your name, and before either of you can say anything more, you turn and walk back into the noise, leaving him standing there.

part 4

It’s a random Tuesday when you find yourself in a situation straight out of a cheap comedy. You’re just minding your business, walking back to your dorm with an armful of snacks you impulsively bought after a long day of exams. But right as you turn the corner of the hallway, your foot catches on a loose bit of carpet. In an effort to keep from falling, you stumble forward, dropping your snacks everywhere – chips and candy scattering across the floor like confetti.

As you scramble to gather everything, trying not to laugh at your own clumsiness, you realize you’re not alone. Just around the corner, you hear voices. You freeze, quickly recognizing one of them as Pedri’s. And the other... Melanie.

You lean down, staying out of sight and pretending to reach for a stray bag of chips, hoping to avoid drawing attention. But as their conversation grows louder, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“You don’t understand,” Melanie’s voice is strained, dripping with frustration. “We have something big, something real. We’re building a future here!”

Pedri sighs, his tone more tired than angry. “Be honest with me – are you even still in love with me?”

There’s a beat of silence, followed by her dismissive laugh. “This is bigger than some little crush, Pedri. We have stability. What kind of future do you have with her? You two have absolutely nothing in common!”

You bite your lip, cheeks heating up. Could they be talking about you? You’d get up and leave if you didn’t feel like you’d definitely be noticed now. You’re basically a hostage in your own hallway.

Pedri’s voice grows firmer. “This isn’t about her. It’s about us, Mel.”

She scoffs, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “You two aren’t going to last a month. Just wait. You’ll come crawling back to me.”

At that, she storms off, heels clicking sharply. Pedri steps out from behind the corner a moment later and catches sight of you sitting there, wide-eyed and completely flustered, with a bag of chips crushed in your hand. There’s a split second of mutual shock before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh god,” you mumble, utterly mortified as you scramble to stand. “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping. I… I was just… my snacks…”

Pedri grins, shaking his head. “You know, I think this might be the best thing that’s happened all day.”

He holds out his hand to help you up. “Need a hand with that?”

You take his hand, still flustered but grateful. As he helps you gather up the rest of your snacks, you both start walking down the hallway toward your dorm room. It feels easy – surprisingly comfortable, considering the circumstances. The small talk flows without much effort, and Pedri seems genuinely happy to be talking to you.

“So, what’s your course again?” he asks, glancing over at you with that warm smile that makes you a little nervous.

“I’m studying chemical engineering,” you say, trying to sound confident, even though you’re still a bit flustered from your earlier clumsiness.

Pedri raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Oh, so you’re smart, smart, huh?” he says with a grin. “I didn’t take you for a genius.”

You laugh, a bit shy but glad he’s not being too serious. “Well, I’m smart in the sense that I know how to memorize a bunch of formulas. I wouldn’t call it genius-level.”

He chuckles, clearly impressed. “I don’t know. Sounds pretty smart to me.”

You shrug, glancing at the floor. “Well, I know, it sounds super boring, but I kind of like it. I guess I’m just really into figuring out how stuff works.”

Pedri looks amused. “So you’re, like, a chemical wizard, huh?”

“Something like that,” you joke, trying to downplay it.

"So..." Pedri seems to want to start a serious conversation, looking at you with a slightly hesitant expression. "About what you heard... and about the kiss..."

You immediately shake your head, feeling your heart race. "We don't have to talk about any of it. Really."

Pedri pauses, confusion flickering on his face, as if he’s hurt by your response. "Are you sure?"

You look at him, trying to keep a straight face. "I have social anxiety."

He stares at you for a moment. "You seem fine talking to me."

You sigh dramatically, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your lips. "I'm freaking out inside, trust me."

"That's okay," he says, his tone softening. "Alright, then maybe we can talk about other stuff? Maybe I can walk you to your room again some other times? What about that?"

You think for a second, still a little unsure but feeling the warmth of his easy-going demeanor. "Umm... yeah. Other stuff sounds nice. Walking sounds... okay."

Pedri raises an eyebrow, clearly teasing now but with a playful glint in his eye. "Can you handle walking and talking?"

You pause for a beat, then nod with a little more confidence than you actually feel. "I can handle!"

➜ Next Part

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #football fanfic #pedri x reader #pedri x you #pedri imagine #football imagine #brightlightwrites

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 years ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?

PAIRING: Ex-Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

RATING: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY:

Your ex-boyfriend, Dieter Bravo, is in town and sends you a text. Meeting up with an ex, especially one you’re still in love with, is a bad idea, right? Based on the song “bad idea, right?” by Olivia Rodrigo

DEAR READER:

My first Dieter Bravo fic! If you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💕 You can also support my writing through my kofi Dividers and banners by @saradika

CONTENT WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, no referenced age difference, dubcon - alcohol consumption prior to sexual activity, domme/sub dynamics, sub!dieter, teasing, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), praise, pet names, begging, unprotected p in v, love confessions, dieter being bad with feelings and words. please let me know if any are missing!

Dieter sits on the couch in the penthouse hotel room he's currently renting in New York, phone in one hand and a fresh Salty Dog in the other. The TV flickers with a porn he rented after not finding anything worth watching on the limited number of free channels and to be honest, he likes the background noise of moans and skin slapping against skin to fill the silent void.

He scrolls through Twitter as he sips his drink. There's one tweet that catches his eye, a familiar name in the hashtag that gives him pause. A glutton for punishment, he clicks the hashtag, his screen flooded with cell phone quality pictures of you, enjoying a night out.

In New York.

It's a blurry photo of you on a rooftop in a sexy outfit that looks like it was made just for you, a shimmery black fabric hugging all your curves just right. You're surrounded by people he doesn't recognize and your head is thrown back in an easy laugh.

Dieter frowns. He used to make you laugh like that.

Dieter scrolls some more, a glutton for punishment, and comes across another picture, a different angle, but this time there's a man leaning into your space, mouth close to your ear and an arm settled at the base of your spine. He takes a hearty sip of his drink, wincing at the bitter taste as he sets the glass on the coffee table.

He closes Twitter and opens his messages, scrolling until he finds your name.

wyd?

Your phone buzzes in your hand and the name that flashes across the screen has your breath catching.

Dieter: wyd?

You roll your eyes at the message. Of course.

You set your phone down on the table and look up, catching the judgmental stare of your best friend, Melanie.

"What?" You ask. She raises her eyebrows at you.

"That was very much the Dieter Bravo eye roll," she says, tone accusatory. "Did he just text you?"

"No."

Your phone buzzes a second time and her eyes drop to the screen, her hand reaching across the table to snatch it before you even have time to blink.

"'I'm in New York'?" She reads. "Oh my god, he did not send you a 'wyd' text!"

You're in a nice restaurant with a six month long waitlist for a reservation so you're desperately trying to keep yourself from launching across the table at her to get your phone back but the urge is certainly strong. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you hold your hand out to her. "Give me my phone."

"Are you going to text him back?"

"No." Yes.

The look she gives you momentarily leaves you wondering if she can actually read minds. You straighten yourself in your seat, tilting your chin defiantly as you say, "I am a grown adult who can make her own decisions."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you always make good ones," Melanie replies, handing you your phone.

"It's a bad idea, right?" You ask. "Like...an extremely bad one?"

"Catastrophic even," she agrees. “He’s your ex for a reason!”

“Okay, but can’t two people reconnect? Isn’t the goal to be like…friends or something?”

You stare at each other for a moment. Her smile falters. "Oh my god, you're going to answer."

"I'm going to answer." Your fingers fly across the screen and hit send before you allow your logic to return.

Address?

The car you ordered pulls up to a boutique hotel, the kind that has a symbol for its sign instead of a name, and the driver comes around the front of the car and opens the door for you, holding a hand out to help you from your seat. You thank him and take a deep breath before entering the glittering lobby.

There's a separate elevator for the penthouse suite and the attendant on duty asks for your name, checking an iPad in his hands before pressing the button with a gloved fingertip. Once the car arrives and the shiny golden doors silently slide open, you step inside.

You stare at your reflection in the doors as the elevator rises, wondering why you're doing this. Your relationship with the actor lasted about eight months - long enough for you to fall in love and long enough for him to decide he was bored of you. After citing scheduling issues as his reason for breaking things off, you went back to hearing about him rather than from him and trying to fix the cracks in your life that he had left behind.

When the elevator stops and the doors slide open, Dieter is standing there with his familiar messy brown curls in disarray, a hotel robe open over his chest and tied loosely around his waist. He opens his arms wide as he grins.

"Hey, baby. Miss me?" He asks. You roll your eyes.

"Like a cavity, Bravo,” you reply, but your feet still guide you forward and you let yourself get enveloped in his embrace, the familiar smell of faded cologne and weed invading your senses. “Why did you text me?”

“Why did you come?” He asks.

“I asked you first.” You pull away, stepping around him and entering the living room of the large suite.

“You want a drink? I got you that wine you like,” Dieter says, pulling a bottle from an ice bucket set on a room service cart. He holds a glass up and you nod, watching as he fights with the corkscrew.

He finally gets the bottle popped, pouring each glass to the brim and stepping carefully across the room with one in each hand, settling beside you on the couch. He passes one to you and you take a quick sip to prevent disaster. Dieter opts to chug half of his serving in one go.

“So,” he says, drawing the word out, “You wanna have sex with me?”

You drain the rest of your glass, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table beside his. You kick your heels off, shifting in your seat until you’ve got your knees beneath you, pressed into the cushion. Planting a hand on his shoulder for stability, you swing one leg over him and settle on his lap.

“This is a bad idea, right?” You ask, face close enough to his that your lips nearly touch when you speak. His hands slide up your thighs.

“Probably,” he agrees, brown eyes half lidded as he stares at you.

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you decide, pressing your lips to his. Your mouths move together hungrily, six months apart fueling a fire that’s ready to burn you alive.

“Fucking hell,” Dieter groans, hips bucking up and dragging his hardening cock against your center. “Want you so goddamn bad.”

“How bad?” You ask, already breathless as he trails his lips down your neck, his beard scratching the thin skin over your rapid pulse.

“Thought of you every time I fucked my hand.” A bite to your throat has you hissing from the combination of pleasure and pain. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging his head back in retaliation. “Even bought one of those pocket pussy things. Didn’t even come close.”

That gives you pause. With six months gone between the breakup and now, you would have thought he’d been drowning in women and men clamoring at the chance to fuck him.

You kiss him again, your tongues sliding together in a messy, dirty dance you’ve missed more than you care to voice. Your hips move over his while his hands explore every exposed inch of you they can find.

“Take your clothes off,” he demands when his lips break from yours.

“Ask nicely,” you chastise. His brown eyes go wide, a pathetic puppy dog glimmer in them.

“Please,” he begs. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

You stand, laughter spilling from your lips as you reach for zipper at your back, tugging it down slowly while he watches. He licks his lips like he’s being presented a six course meal and his hands curl into the material of the robe that’s fallen open, giving you an unobstructed view of a broad chest and soft tummy. You turn your back to him, easing the sleeves of the dress off your shoulders slowly.

“Come on, baby,” Dieter whines. “Quit teasing.”

“Good things come to boys who wait,” you tell him, shimmying the fabric over your hips, bending at the waist to ease the dress over the curve of your ass and down to the floor. This leaves you in only a thong, the red straps of it a gorgeous contrast to your skin that you know he’ll go crazy for.

“Fuck. Me.”

You turn back around to face him, the man’s eyes dropping immediately to your breasts. He raises his arms, making grabby hand motions toward your chest that have you giggling.

“What if,” you tap your finger to your chin in thought, “I just wanted you to watch me?”

Dieter pouts. “I could be a lot more help with my cock,” he argues.

“Hmm.” You take a seat on one of the cushy arm chairs in the sitting area, spreading your legs wide. “I’ve been doing just fine these last six months without it,” you tell him, sliding a hand beneath the elastic of your panties.

“This is fucking cruel and unusual punishment,” Dieter says. “A violation of the Geneva Convention.”

“Always so dramatic,” you reply as you circle your clit with your fingertips. He leans forward on the couch, hands gripping the cushion tightly as he watches. “You want a closer look, baby?”

He nods his head rapidly and you lift your hips to shove your panties down your legs, gathering them in your hand and tossing them at his face. The wad of fabric drops to his lap and he balls it up in his fist and brings it to his nose.

“Pervert,” you say affectionately. You hook your leg over the arm of the chair, spreading yourself wide for his gaze. You tease your clit with two fingers, trailing them lower to your entrance and dipping one inside, your head dropping back against the chair with your moan.

The sound of skin sliding over skin reaches your ears and when you look up, you find that Dieter has shoved his boxers down to where they now sit looked around his ankles, his thick cock caught in the tight grip of his fist. You lift your hand away, closing your legs and leaning forward with your eyes narrowed.

“Now, Dieter, I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself,” you say.

“Can’t touch you, can’t touch myself,” he whines, releasing his cock and gripping the couch cushion. “C’mon, baby. Please? I’ve missed yo—“

“Cut!” You yell. Dieter’s mouth snaps shut in surprise. “That wasn’t a very Oscar worthy performance, Di. I think you can do better than that.”

His blank stare morphs into heated understanding and you watch as he slowly slides from the couch and lands on his knees. He slips the robe from his shoulders, leaving him gloriously naked. You take a moment to appreciate the muscles of his chest and arms, his softer belly dusted with hair that draws your eye to his flushed cock and his strong thighs.

Then he starts to crawl.

Those big brown eyes of his look up at you with so much desperation and, dare you say it, adoration that your heart skips a beat as he moves closer. When he reaches your feet, he sits back on his heels and settles his hands on his thighs.

“Please, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you. You know me, my tongue is much better at giving you an orgasm than it is with words.”

“Fine,” you say, tone implying he’s inconveniencing you with his desire. He grins, his hands immediately grabbing at your thighs and tugging your ass to the edge of the seat. He positions your legs over each arm of the chair before diving in with his talented tongue, licking through your slick folds with practiced finesse.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, sucking your clit between his lips. “Your pussy is even better than that six course meal we had at that pretentious restaurant in Paris.”

“L’Arpege?” You gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. “You never told me you didn’t like it. I only picked it because of your two month experiment with veganism!”

“Wasn’t there for the fucking food,” he says. Two fingers press to your soaked entrance, sliding into your tight heat with little resistance.

Your head is spinning, stars bursting in your vision as his thick digits curl against your G-spot. His other hand presses on the top of your pelvis and the look in his eyes tells you exactly what his goal is.

“Dieter,” you say, his name a warning as you squirm beneath him. He grins up at you from between your legs.

“How’s my performance now?” He asks. “Oscar worthy yet?”

“Nominated at best,” you bite back through gritted teeth despite the pressure building in your core. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly against the bundle of nerves until that pressure bursts as you cry out, “Oh, fuck!”

The orgasm he pulls from you is overwhelming and leaves you gasping, vision blurry as you look down at Dieter’s smug expression and dripping chin. He runs a hand over his chin, collecting your release on his palm and using it to ease the friction of his hand as it pumps his cock roughly.

“‘Nominated at best’,” he says, voice pitched higher to mimic yours. “Please, that was the performance of a lifetime.”

“Don’t get cocky, Di,” you mumble, planting a foot on his chest and pushing him back. He topples over, landing on his back with an oof.

You drop from the chair and crawl over his body, making sure to drag your soaked pussy across his cock. Your hands are planted on the floor on either side of his head and you stare down at his blissed out face as you rock over him.

Dieter’s hands grip your hips tightly. “Don’t good performances get awarded?” He asks, voice tight.

You reach down between your bodies to hold his cock steady, allowing you to sink down slowly, his thick length damn near splitting you open. You’ve missed this, the way he fills every inch of your hungry cunt, the way he looks at you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Which is saying something because the man knows art and is constantly surrounded by beautiful people but you’ve only seen this look when you’re alone with him, at the end of a long day on set or when you finally stumbled home together from a night out. It’s the way his eyes go soft and his touch grows reverent, fingertips gliding over whatever skin he can reach with a featherlight touch, and the combination wipes the dust off memories with him you’d been trying to forget and move on from.

“Dieter,” you say, voice shaky. You rock your hips, lifting slightly to your knees and relishing the drag of his cock inside of you before you slam your hips back down. “God, fuck, feel so good.”

“Your pussy was made for my fucking cock,” he says through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips tightly and encouraging each rock of your body. “Missed this, missed you, fuck. Love you so much.”

You stop abruptly, the man beneath you whining. You grip him by the chin as you ask, “You what?”

“I…uh…shit,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Oh.” You let go of his face, sitting up straight. “I see.”

“No, no,” he rushes to say. “That’s not what I meant.”

It occurs to you that you’re still impaled on his cock and this doesn’t exactly feel like a conversation to be had in that position. You make a move to get up but strong hands hold you steady in his lap.

“I just meant,” he say, fingers flexing nervously against your thighs. “I didn’t mean to say it right now. Like…I wanted you to maybe not hate me for a bit before I professed my love or whatever.”

“I don’t get it,” you admit. “I thought you just texted me to hookup because you were in town.”

“I’m in town for you.”

“For me?”

Dieter nods. “I’m not good with words that aren’t written for me. Too much going on up here,” he says, tapping his forehead. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we broke it off and I feel like that’s a cosmic sign that we’re meant to be or whatever.”

“Oh my god, you really are bad with words,” you say with a laugh. “Meant to be, huh?”

“Or whatever,” he finishes. “Marriage is a scam.”

“Right, right,” you murmur, rocking your hips the slightest bit. “Total scam.”

“It’s just a way for the governme—oh, fuck,” he says, words trailing off into a moan as you pick up your pace again, your hands on his chest to steady yourself. “Just like that, baby.”

“You’re lucky I missed you, too,” you tell him, gasping when his hips flex to meet yours. Your communication with each other devolves into moans and the movement of your bodies until the desperation you feel for one another reaches its peak.

Dieter wraps both arms around your lower back as you cum, holding you to him as your cunt squeezes around his cock. It’s only a moment before you feel him pulsing, warmth pooling inside of you as your orgasm starts to fade. You collapse against his chest, breathing heavily and listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath your ear.

He rubs his hands up and down your back as you both catch your breath, sweat cooling between you in the chill of the hotel room.

“You wanna order pizza?” He asks. You turn your face into his chest, muffling your laughter into his skin.

“Absolutely.”

#dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo the bubble #the bubble fanfiction

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scuttling · 8 months ago

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I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 6

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 6,247 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dream sex, Masturbation, D/s situations, Knife play, Blood sharing Summary: Eric and Cam return to Melanie's, and on the way back, something changes between them.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

She knows she’s dreaming, because Eric is beneath her, and since she’s known him he’s always been towering over her, covering her, leaning into her space.

Her knees are spread around his waist and sinking into the fluffy comforter they’re on top of, his hands high on her thighs as he helps her bounce and grind on his cock. She feels the ghost of him inside her, knows pleasure in this dream, but it’s nothing like the real thing, doesn’t compare to even the real life press of his palm against her lower back.

“I need more. So close, so close,” she chants, whimpering while his broad hands slide up to her breasts to squeeze them roughly, to close around her throat and make her face heat with the pressure.

“I’m right here,” dream-Eric comforts, brushing his thumbs over her bottom lip. “Daddy’s right here, just give in. Please just give in, baby.”

Her hairline prickles with sweat in this dream, the room warm and almost stifling around them as she works to bring herself off using his strong, gorgeous body. She drops a hand to her clit, rubs furiously until she’s coming and squeezing hard around his cock, crying out with the blissful feeling of release, of his hands, now on her hips so tight they must bruise.

She collapses on top of him, catching her breath against his chest, his hands moving soothingly up and down her back, over the sore spots on her skin. He praises her, perfect, Camila, good girl, makes her drift so far into another world she can’t remember anything but the sound of his voice in her ear.

She wakes up with no marks on her body, but one sticky hand between her thighs.

Cam receives a text the next night - I’m hiring a new bartender. Will you come by and help me vet him? Pam will pick you up.

Eric is looking unfairly handsome when she arrives, especially after that goddamn dream of hers. He’s got a low cut tank on, baring his chest and throat, with a leather jacket thrown over the top—she almost feels underdressed in her turtleneck and jeans, but it’s still early evening and the club is closed, so she doesn’t think it makes a difference to anyone but her.

“Camila, welcome,” Eric says, standing and walking toward her. He takes her handbag and shows her to the table where the prospective employee, Darren, is seated. The man stands when she approaches, and he’s good-looking too, with dark hair and blue eyes, a killer smile he unleashes the moment she takes his hand.

“Hi, I’m Darren,” he greets, and Eric hands Cam’s bag to Pam and pulls out a chair for her. She smiles back and introduces herself, then sits down and waits for Eric to push her chair back in. Darren sits too, drums his fingers on the table between them. “I’m, uh, 29, used to bartend at The Regal before the manager ‘went in a different direction’—girls in low cut tops,” he explains. “I’ve been doing it for about five years, and I think I’d fit in well here. I’m definitely pro-vamp, you know, and I’ve hung out here with my friends a few times. Love the vibes,” he says, looking to Eric, who appears bored by the conversation.

Cam listens in to the things he’s not saying, like that he actually got fired for hooking up with the manager’s girlfriend, one of the aforementioned girls in low cut tops. She doesn’t think that’s a deal breaker for Eric, gives him a gentle smile.

“Well that’s great to hear. Fangtasia gets all kinds, so having someone charismatic and open minded at the front of the house is important to us. It makes all of our guests feel at ease.” She lets a bit of flirtatiousness seep into her tone, a test, and he grins.

“Well I’m all about making everyone feel at ease. They come here to have a good time, you know?” She nods, probes his mind again—just some low grade horny stuff, typical human thoughts, and he’s thirsty. She stands from the table and crosses over to the bar, grabbing a pitcher of water and a glass, then fills it and takes it back to him. When she sets it down, he thanks her, lets his fingers brush hers as he lifts the glass. “Do you come here to have a good time? Or are you strictly business?”

“That’s not exactly relevant,” Eric speaks for the first time, leaning forward in his seat. Cam instinctively moves her chair a little closer and sits down beside him, clears her throat.

“How are you with cash?” she asks Darren, whose smile has dimmed a little at Eric’s comment. He takes a sip of water and nods.

“All good, I have a business degree and I’m great at math, so I always balance. And I tend to make pretty good tips.”

She doesn’t doubt that, with his toned arms and charming smile; they talk a bit longer, and his thoughts corroborate what he says, no red flags or reason for concern she can pick up on.

After the makeshift interview, they all rise and Cam shakes his hand, tells him they’ll be in touch. Though Pam already has his contact information and resume, he jots down his phone number on a napkin and hands it to her personally, “in case you have any more questions for me.”

Eric doesn’t shake his hand, but he does pull the napkin from her grasp and crumple it up into a ball when he’s gone.

“Hey,” she says lightly, following his long strides as he walks toward the trash can behind the bar and sinks a basket. “What if I had more questions for him?”

“That wasn’t an offer for another interview, and you know it,” he replies, pouring a glass of water and handing it to her with an expressionless look on his face. “He wants to sleep with you.”

“He wants to sleep with pretty much every girl he sees,” she counters, taking a grateful sip. “Including his previous manager’s girlfriend, which is the real reason he’s seeking work at your fine establishment.”

“I don’t know if he’s right for us.” Cam arches a brow, but Eric makes no effort to explain himself, so she’s left trying to figure it out on her own.

“Because he cheated? I feel like that’s the least of your worries. He didn’t skim, he has no criminal background, he’s never gotten into an altercation with a customer. He’s not part of any anti-vampire groups,” she ticks off with her fingers. Pam’s initial research was very thorough, and Cam was actually kind of impressed. “He makes drinks and looks hot, which is really all you need.”

She’s surprised when he moves closer, because even though that’s part of his usual MO, this time is different. His steps are slower, more purposeful; she’d think he was trying to intimidate her, if she didn’t know better. Or maybe turn her on? She can’t help that things like that cross the wires in her brain, how sometimes he’s even more attractive when he’s angry with someone or roughing them up.

“Is it all you need?” he asks when he’s in front of her, his voice sultry and low. “Or do you need more?” She exhales softly at his words, strangely similar to the words she’d uttered in her dream, and he brings a hand up to rest at the base of her throat, pressing his fingertips into her flesh.

She does need more, wants more, from him—as good-looking as Darren was, she can’t imagine getting what she needs from anyone but Eric now. He is the man of her fantasies, the one who knows more than she does about her own desires, but she knows she can’t have all the things she wants, even if he’s willing to play along when they’re alone.

And suddenly they aren’t alone, as Pam walks back into the room and clears her throat.

Eric steps back, takes his hand off of her, and after a long moment of continued eye contact, she grabs her bag from behind the bar and heads for the door.

“Just hire him,” Cam calls over her shoulder as she leaves.

She doesn’t hear from Eric for three days, until he shows up at her door just after the sun has set. He’s wearing a suit, all black, the first couple buttons of his shirt undone, and he both looks and smells absolutely mouthwatering. Whatever expensive cologne he’s got on is really working for him.

“There’s another party at Melanie’s, and she was so impressed with you last time that she’s asked for your services again. Are you willing?” She nods, takes a step back to invite him into the apartment.

“What does she want to know?” she asks, closing the door behind him.

“She and her pet have found another couple they’d like to play with,” he says, following her to her bedroom, where she tugs open the closet doors to inspect her options. “The dominant partner is human and Melanie would like you to get a read on him.”

She nods, flipping past hanger after hanger because nothing feels quite right for a party like Melanie’s; she stops when Eric moves closer with a soft hum of interest and pulls out a clingy little black dress with short ruffled sleeves and hem. It’s not what she would have selected, a little too cute, and she turns to him and says so.

“Won’t they expect me to look… I don’t know, sexy?” He holds the dress up to her, adjusts the neckline.

“They’ll expect you to look exactly the way your dominant wants you to look,” he says without making direct eye contact. “You’re free to choose, of course, but I think this one is perfect.”

When he does look at her face, he seems… Thoughtful, serious, almost smoldering as the silence between them evolves from a few seconds to a long, charged moment. They’re both breathing, but that’s all, eyes locked, bodies still, until she takes a step back and pulls her sweater over her head, tosses it onto the bed behind him. She’s not wearing a bra—though he can only see her from the back, now—but the dress doesn’t allow for one anyway, so that’s just one less step as far as she’s concerned.

Cam takes the hanger from his hands, slips the dress on, then unbuttons her pants and kicks them off, leaving them on the floor where they land. She tugs her hair out of the ponytail it’s been in all day, combs her fingers through it and then pulls it over one shoulder, exposing her back to him.

“Will you zip me up?” she asks, and he runs a hand over her hair, wraps his fingers around her arm, and pulls up the zipper slowly, purposefully, until it’s secure. Fixing her hair, she thanks him with a soft smile, then grabs a pair of shoes and sits down on the bed to buckle them up.

The drive to Melanie’s is strangely tense, and she can’t stop herself from looking over at him, at his silhouette in the dark. She can’t see his eyes, but her gaze lingers over his jaw, his chin, his Adam's apple, his lips… She’s not sure if it’s because of their stolen moment at the bar the other day, or the dreams she’s been having about him, but just looking at him turns her on and she only manages to look away when he turns his head and catches her.

His stoic expression cracks into a smile, but she doesn’t think too much into it, knows that her want just makes him enjoy their little game all the more.

This party of Melanie’s is a bit more private than the first, with seven couples in attendance, including Eric and Cam. A few of them she knows from the last get-together, a few she’s never met—including the reason she’s there, the couple Melanie wants her to check out before she commits to a date with them.

“That’s the one,” Eric says into her ear when they first walk into the room, and Cam spots the man he’s referring to right away. He looks to be in his fifties, wealthy, handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and a beautiful blonde vampire who appears to absolutely adore him. She is wearing a single strand of pearls and a wine-colored dress, hanging on his arm and his every word.

“I can see why Melanie’s interested,” she whispers back, and Eric puts his arm around her waist, maneuvers her in front of him as if guiding her from behind. It feels nice to be taken care of by him, and it’s what their fellow partygoers expect, so she goes with the flow, let’s him lead her where he wants, to Melanie and her pet at the bar.

“Eric, Camila. You two look positively gorgeous,” she says with a toothy smile, looking both of them up and down languidly. Her dark hair is in bountiful ringlets, and she wears a navy blue suit, which pairs nicely with her pet’s silky pink mini dress and silver heels. She wears her collar, of course, which tonight is connected to a matching silver leash that Melanie holds carefully between her fingers.

“And the both of you are beautiful, as always,” Eric says, removing one of his hands from her body to take Melanie’s and kiss it. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re always welcome here,” she says, and her eyes rake over Cam again, to her surprise. Why she’s looking at Cam when she has Eric’s attention is beyond her. “It’s a shame you aren’t the type to share, but I do love seeing you nonetheless.”

Cam knows better than to indicate her confusion, to look like she’s questioning him here, so she holds her tongue for the rest of their brief conversation.

After they grab drinks, Eric walks her to an armchair on one side of the room and sits down, his legs spread just enough that she understands it’s an invitation perch on his lap. That’s new, and it makes her shiver, but she figures it’s just practical—they can’t talk here without whispering, and it won’t look as suspicious if she’s sitting in his lap and murmuring in his ear.

“What was that about?” she asks as she settles on his lap, his thigh firm and cool beneath her. She wraps her arms around him, one behind his shoulders and the other slung over his waist, and he keeps her close, rests his hand on the bare skin of her leg.

“With Melanie? Nothing.”

“You promised you wouldn’t lie to me, Eric,” she reminds him with an edge to her voice, because she’ll call an Uber and leave this party if he insists on keeping information from her, she has no hesitations about that.

He sighs, then moves her hair away from her neck and brushes his lips along her throat.

“I told you they were looking for another couple to play with,” he whispers in her ear. “She asked me first—if you and I would be interested. Obviously, I declined.”

She hums her understanding—certainly not because of the way his mouth trails along her neck, his hand resting between her thighs. She wants to be mad at him, because he’s obviously trying to soften her up, distract her, and cover up their conversation all at once… and because it’s working. Then she thinks, screw it, because he’s never going to stop teasing her this way, playing his game, and in that case, she might as well enjoy it.

“That explains why she’s looking over here like she’s starved for a meal.” Eric nods against her skin, runs his hand up and down her leg, and Melanie’s attention is even more targeted, her stare unyielding. Cam’s not looking directly, but she can feel her eyes on them and wants to make sure there is no doubt about their commitment this time. “You should kiss me,” she says quietly, and when he pulls back to look at her she meets his gaze.

Whatever he sees there, that’s all it takes for him to comply; his mouth is on hers in an instant, his hand moving from her legs to her face and cradling it as they kiss. She can feel her body warming up, and his, as he grows hard against her ass, and she brings a hand up to his shirt, rubs at the bare skin exposed by the undone buttons.

“Mmm, daddy.” Her voice is breathy when she says it, but he groans and breaks the kiss, looks at her with eyes so dark it’s hard to tell they’re blue. She licks her bottom lip, and he leans back in to kiss her again, rougher this time, his hand deliciously tight on her jaw.

When they part, she assumes it’s because of something Eric hears, because he seems reluctant to stop kissing but does it anyway. He runs his thumb over her lips, then slides his hand between her thighs again, but doesn't bother straightening his rumpled collar—which she finds out of character, and which she enjoys all the more for it.

A few minutes later, Melanie brings over her prospective partners and introduces them as Joel and Amanda before slipping away to tend to other guests. They curl up on the sofa beside Eric and Cam, talk a little about themselves, what they do for work, for pleasure, listen intently when Eric talks about the bar and what it’s like to be a sheriff, and Cam. He talks a lot about Cam, how they met, how smart and capable and beautiful she is, and she knows it’s for show but lets herself be warmed by his praise anyway.

Melanie and her pet—who Cam now knows is called Catherine—join the conversation soon after, snuggling up to Amanda and flirting with Joel, making the both of them laugh happily. Eric sips his drink, offers Cam hers, and because she feels strange just sitting silently in his lap she cards a hand through his hair, toys with the open buttons of his shirt between her fingers. He relaxes into her touch almost immediately, tilts his head just slightly like he’s enjoying it and wants more, and she leans in to whisper in his ear.

“All good so far. He’s genuine. And horny,” she adds, though it feels obvious. “He’s enjoying the thought of dominating two vampires, if that’s something Melanie’s up for, but overall he’s pretty mild. He isn’t even thinking about the blood.”

Eric doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t expect him to, just continues to rub his hand up and down her thigh. She figures she deserves that for teasing him too, and slips back into conversation easily, continues filtering Joel’s thoughts for anything untoward.

It’s early morning when they leave, and Cam needs Eric’s guidance—more because she feels a pleasant humming in her mind, her thoughts hazy from all of the kissing, the touching, all of Eric’s attention, than because they’d been drinking. The friendlier Melanie and Catherine became with Joel and Amanda, the more physically comfortable, and when they would pause the conversation to kiss or pet a little, Eric would keep them busy by making out with her slowly, drawing patterns against her skin with his fingertips. By the time they make it to the car, she’s aching with want, and she knows Eric can feel it, smell it, see it.

She spends the first half of the ride squeezing her legs together, trying not to think of his breath on her neck, his teeth at her ear, and then he reaches his hand toward her across the console, palm up like he wants her to take it.

She takes it, and he squeezes softly, eyes never leaving the road.

“You may touch yourself,” he says, low, and though she immediately flushes with embarrassment, the reaction is short lived. “Come in your panties like a good girl. You were so good for me tonight,” he praises, his voice like honey. “You always are.”

“Thank you,” she says almost automatically, and she runs her hand over her own thigh, a ghost of his previous touch. Her skin feels like it’s on fire, and she moans softly, earning Eric’s gaze.

“Camila,” he murmurs, and she closes her eyes, eager but nervous, so horny it hurts her. He’s watching, but if she’s not watching him watch her, she’ll be less self-conscious, and more… uninhibited. She’ll let herself feel good because he’s given her permission to, clearly wants her to, and god, does she want to please him.

She pushes her skirt up, knows he can see the purple lace panties she’s wearing, the ones she guides to the side so she can run her fingers over bare flesh. She’s wet, that’s no surprise, and she knows this is going to be quick, quicker because Eric is rumbling desire beside her and she wishes it were his fingers slipping through her slick.

“Mmm. Ooh,” she sighs as she slides her hand over her pussy, her lips easily spread and warm beneath her touch. She arches her back a little and rubs harder, a little faster, to feel that electric shock through her body. “Oh, god.”

“That’s it,” Eric encourages, squeezing her unoccupied hand, and her legs open wider almost instinctively, her hips tilting off the seat so she can press open her heat and ease one finger inside. “You’re fucking perfect,” he all but growls, and it vibrates through her, makes her buck her hips like she had in her dream, taking him in deeply, completely. “Another finger.”

She complies, sinks another finger inside; her hand is barely moving, it’s her rocking body that’s doing all the work, and part of her feels shameless and dirty, but the other part knows Eric wants this, is proud of her, maybe even worked her up on purpose so he could get her to do this in front of him. Either way, it’s a task she’s happy to perform, and when she comes on her own fingers she can hear the hitch of his breath, the wet snick of his fangs dropping.

The sound is almost enough to get her going again, but she’s exhausted and blissful, so she just hums her contentment before withdrawing her fingers and resting her hand on her thigh.

They’re parked on the side of the road, she realizes when she opens her eyes, in a remote area that looks kind of familiar. She blinks through her lashes, then turns her head to look at Eric, who… god, how could he even get hotter? But he is, his eyes blue like sizzling fire, his lips parted; neither of them speak, but he takes her other hand and wipes her fingers clean using the inside of her dress before they have a chance to make her uncomfortable. With a gentle touch, he fixes her crumpled panties, then leans in to brush his lips over hers again and again and again.

Eric gets her home, gets her cleaned up and into bed, and she reaches for him, wants him near. He understands why, and he knows he shouldn’t have pushed her that far in the car, that it was a selfish idea, even if it was spur of the moment; still, it happened, and he is as responsible for taking care of her now as he is for her previous arousal. He stays as long as he can before the sun threatens, laying in her bed and holding her until her breathing evens out in sleep.

That morning when Eric dreams of Cam, she is covered in blood: it’s a mixture of his blood and hers, leaking sluggishly from wounds he’s created with his fangs, with a sharp knife, its handle made of bone. Her wrists are above her head, tied together with a cord of leather and fastened to the post of her bed, and she writhes and whimpers as he thrusts his fingers into her soaked pussy, as he sucks at the juicy artery of her inner thigh.

“Please, please,” she repeats like a prayer, her eyes squeezed shut and then open and nearly rolling back in her head. “God, Eric, please.”

“You’ll take what I give you,” he says, leaning up, letting blood dribble from his mouth onto the soft flesh of her stomach as he kisses it, and she gasps, nods her head.

“Yes, daddy,” she corrects, though she shifts her hips up for more contact like a greedy girl indeed. “Whatever you give me, I’ll–I’ll take it.”

“Yes you will. Good girl,” he praises, licking at the spilled blood, and then swiftly flips her over, imagining the gorgeous smears of crimson she’ll leave on the fresh white sheets.

He pushes into her from behind, presses forward on his palms until he’s fully sheathed inside her tight, fluttering heat, then clamps a hand down on the back of her neck, rough and possessive.

“Take it, sweetheart, that’s right,” he mumbles as he fucks her, enveloped in the pleasure of her body, of the sweet sounds she makes for him, ones he’s actually heard firsthand; he’s craved domination since she first kissed him, maybe sooner, and he knows if she gives herself to him like this in reality, during the night, he will be lost. “Camila,” he pants, then leans in so he can press his cheek to hers. “Camila.”

“Eric,” she moans as he pounds against her, as his fingers twist into her hair and pull, undoubtedly making her roots ache. “Eric.”

“Camila. Camila. Camila.”

It’s barely night when Cam all but bursts through the front door of Fangtasia, wearing a pair of black pants and a white tank top, her hair loose in flowing waves. She looks serious, concerned, beautiful. “Hey. Pam called, came to pick me up—what’s going on?”

He knows he must look taken aback, because he didn’t have time to prepare his expression for that kind of questioning. He barely had time to register her presence.

“Nothing, I—Pam called you?” he verifies, and then Pam walks in the door, hovers behind Cam, though she doesn’t try to explain herself to him. Cam just nods and moves closer.

“Yeah. She said you needed me, that it was urgent,” she says, her eyes flicking over his face, his body, the line between her brows worried. This is so different from their last interaction, and he has difficulty wrapping his head around it.

“And you came.” He says it flatly, is able to conceal his… what is it, wonder, that she could care about him so much? As if she can tell anyway—and she probably can—she reaches for him, rests her hand on his forearm.

“Of course. Are you alright? Do you need me?”

“I think you should drink my blood,” he says before he has half a second to even think about the implications of it. Cam clearly feels the whiplash of his statement, blinks slowly a couple of times as if processing it.

“Sorry, what? I must have missed some of the conversation,” she tells him, and Pam perks up over Cam’s shoulder, nodding rapidly.

She’ll have to wait, because Cam is looking at him like he’s growing a second head.

“I think you should drink my blood. It would further strengthen our bond—you’d feel me if I were in distress, as I feel you. And I would be able to find you, if something went wrong. It’s more reliable than other forms of communication.”

He thinks briefly about the ways they already feel each other and wonders absentmindedly if this will be the thing that actually pushes him over the edge of sanity. Cam considers him seriously and eventually nods.

“Okay. I should—I mean, we should do that, right?” she asks, looking up at him for confirmation. It makes him feel… special, to know his opinion matters this much to her. “Are there any side effects I should know about? I know your blood can heal, and I just consider that a perk.”

Eric nods, and sighs, hopes what he tells her won’t put her off the whole idea.

“You may feel some physical changes for a while after you drink, like stronger senses, a bit more speed and agility. Mentally, you might find that I cross your mind more often. It’s part of the enhanced emotional tether we’d share. We’ll be even more attuned to each other’s state of being than we are now.”

She sets her bag down on the bar, but doesn’t appear phased by his admission.

“That’s good. It will help with the… stuff. The work, and the protection, mostly. So how do I—I mean, do you cut yourself, or bite yourself, or do I have to bite you?” she asks, gesturing to his neck. “I’m not sure I can bite that hard.”

“I would cut or bite myself to bleed for you,” he assures, his throat nearly closing up as he says the words. Five minutes ago this wasn’t an option, and now they’re discussing the specifics like it’s about to become reality. He’s surprised to find himself overwhelmed. “It is a very strong bond, Camila,” he says as a final disclaimer, giving her time to think this over if that’s what she needs. “Very strong, but breakable, in time.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she says more quickly than she probably should. Part of him wishes she would worry—that he’s bad for her, that he’s pushed her this far already, that he wants her like he’s never wanted in his existence—but her tone is determined and sure. “Can we do it tonight?”

“Yes,” Pam answers for him, walking up beside her. Cam drops her hand where she’d been touching Eric and takes a half-step away from him. “You can go do it now, in the office. It’s nothing ceremonial, just a quick nip and you’re on your way,” she says with a saccharine smile. Cam looks at her, tilts her head, and eventually looks back at Eric.

“She’s being way too nice. Does she gain anything from this? Commission, or something?” Cam asks, half-joking, and it does lighten the mood and bring a huff of a laugh to Eric’s lips. He shakes his head.

“No, she’s just nice sometimes; I know it can be unsettling.” He puts his hand on her shoulder, walking toward the back of the bar and bringing her along beside him.

“Very,” Cam says as she glances over her shoulder at Pam before walking through the office door.

Eric closes it and pauses, taking a deep, unnecessary but very needed breath.

“I know this is sudden, and what I’m asking of you is no small thing. If you need time to think it over…” Eric begins, his gaze soft on Cam’s face. Cam shakes her head.

“I know, and the same goes for you. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about this, weighing your options, and I want you to know I understand that it’s important to you, sharing your blood like this. I don’t take it for granted.”

It takes him a moment to let that sink in, she thinks, can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“I appreciate you saying that. It’s not something I do every day, but I am sure, if you are.”

He steps closer to her, gently touches her face, and she flashes back to that night at Melanie’s, the ride home after. Her throat constricts and her heart pounds in her chest.

That’s not what this is, she reminds herself. This isn’t dedication to each other, or something done out of lust or love. It will benefit them both, and Eric has decided the reward outweighs the risk. That’s all it is.

Still.

“I’m sure.”

With that, he nods and steps backward toward the desk, then leans against it and tugs up the sleeve of his v neck sweater, displaying thick, pale forearm and smooth, unmarked wrist. His eyes, darker than usual—probably due to the dimness of the office—linger over her lips, then meet her own gaze, and he lets his fangs fall without the usual fanfare.

She steps toward him and takes his hand, an acknowledgment of the seriousness of this, of the preciousness of this thing he’s offering; when he lifts his wrist to his mouth, their fingers are wrapped together.

He punctures his own skin like he would a human’s, two small wounds welling up with blood—and the way he looks at her as he does it, like they’re already tethered, like he’s seeing into every corner of her… it makes her heart race, her face flush. She does what feels natural—and maybe that’s taking it a step too far, but she can’t help herself—and sinks to her knees, bringing their hands to about thigh level before catching the slowly falling drops with her tongue.

At first, she sucks in a way that feels graceless and a little humiliating, so unfamiliar with this action in this context, but when Eric moans at the pressure of her mouth it becomes pure hunger. She takes his offering for the gift that it is, bunching the fingers of her other hand into the fabric of his sweater just over his stomach, and she drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

It has to be more than enough, she thinks around a moan of her own—it’s less about the taste for her and more about the feel of it, slick on her lips and warmer than she would have expected—but when his free palm falls to the top of her head, pushing her hair back from the curve of her face, all she knows for certain is that she never wants it to end.

It does, though, like all good things, and then Eric guides her to her feet and leans in for a deep, long, kiss that she feels with her entire body. He easily shifts their positions, so she’s the one propped against the desk, and then he pushes her onto it, curls his fingers around the back of her neck and keeps kissing.

They trade groans as their mouths move, frenzied, her hands grabbing at his shoulders, his careful but possessive on her face and throat. Her legs are parted, and she wants to wrap them around his body, pull him in closer and closer until they’re as tightly pressed as she needs them to be, but he slows his kiss and ultimately, unfortunately, backs away.

Icy blue eyes peer into hers as he moves fingers to her chin, tipping her face up so she’s locked in his gaze. Her chest heaves, and her body trembles like there’s something inside that wants to burst out of her skin and present itself to him, though she’s not sure what that may be.

“You will feel me, now,” he says, back to business as if he hadn’t just kissed her until she was lightheaded and thrumming with desire, as if he’s not hard in his pants, from the blood sucking or the kiss, she’s not sure. “I will find you, wherever you are.”

“And I’ll find you,” she confirms, wetting her lips; she’s almost surprised to taste his blood there, metallic but sweet, even more surprised when he swipes his thumb through it and brings it to his own mouth.

“All you need to do is call for me, and I promise I will come.”

“Why did you call her?” Eric asks Pam later, after Cam is long gone and the bar is closing up. Pam rolls her eyes and counts a stack of cash.

“Because I’ve had enough. You were moaning her name in your sleep,” she says, with an unsubtle hint that she finds the thought nauseating. She pauses her counting and flicks her eyes up to his. “I don’t normally like mixing business with pleasure, but I still think things would be better if the two of you just fucked already. And now that you’ve shared blood—” she begins, but he stops her with a look.

“She drank mine. I still haven’t tasted hers.”

For some reason, that lights her eyes up, puts a smirk on her merlot-painted lips.

“Really?” she asks in a lilting tone. “I would have figured you’d taken a sip during one of your, ‘investigations.’”

It’s Eric’s turn to roll his eyes, and he walks away, but unfortunately, Pam follows.

“Why would she want me to? Why would she want someone like me? With the desires I have for her?”

“She’s not exactly an angel herself,” Pam tells him, and he turns abruptly on his heel, knows she must see fury in his eyes. She raises her hands in apology. “Easy. All I mean is, I’ve seen the two of you together. She knows you, darkness and all, and she still wants you. She’s practically shown her belly trying to submit to you—either that or she deserves a good damn Academy Award.”

“That doesn’t mean I should take advantage—”

“Eric, come on, you love taking advantage,” she says sternly, hands moving to her hips. She looks like a teenager, and he finds that agitating.

“Not like this,” he says, pointing a finger at her, ending the conversation effectively with just that gesture and a few final words. “Not of her.”

He doesn’t dream of Cam that night, doesn’t need to: he can practically feel the slip of cotton over her skin as she changes into pajamas, the softness of the pillow when she lays down her head.

#eric northman #true blood #eric northman fanfic #true blood fanfic #eric northman x reader #eric northman x original female character

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beauty-and-passion · 10 days ago

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TMA - Chapters 131-140: Want to stop a ritual? Throw shit in it

Here we are, back with ten more chapters!

Jon promised me a way to save Daisy and I can’t wait to see how he will do it. And, most importantly, if he will come back all in one piece.

Fingers crossed.

<< Main Masterlist < Previous post _______________________________

MAG 131 - Flesh

So, Jon’s anchor is going to be part of himself. But it looks like that, no matter how many people/things want to kill him, he cannot die nor hurt himself in any way. Good to know, at least his patron is useful for something.

Melanie is back and she’s… better? Somehow? I mean, she’s still very pissed, but at least she’s not in a killing spree mode anymore.

I also really like her talk about anger, because anger is exactly how she describes it: gives you strength, it pushes you to do things and, when kept at bay, can become a strong part of you and your personality.

But because of its double nature, if anger keeps being validated, it can grow until “it slips out and hurts someone”. And if there is something that validates your anger and tells you that you are right to hurt others… you latch to it. After all, everyone would prefer some good validation, rather than acknowledging what you did was wrong and dealing with the consequences. As Melanie said, the bullet “didn’t stay in my leg because of some ghostly masterplan. It stayed because I wanted it.”.

Melanie: say no more, bro.

So, she calls Helen. And Jon is incredibly lucky, because I feared his rejection would let Helen plan revenge against him. But nope, it turns out she helped Jon’s colleagues against The Flesh and trapped Jared Hopworth in its corridors.

You’re a nice Distortion, Helen, I like you.

We finally meet Jared in person and he’s a nice guy, I like him! I mean:

He wants to kill Jon, but we already learned that killing Jon is a national sport, so it’s fine.

He wants to be paid for his statement, so at least he’s more clever and diplomatic than Jude, who just got pissed and burned Jon in return.

As soon as he got a Leitner, he went straight to experimenting on his father (by making him taller) and his mother (by giving her a new smile). He’s fucked up, I like that in a character.

When other Flesh servants told him to remake the world together, Jared replied: "fuck off, I like the world as it is and I have stuff to do.". What a king.

He got new friends, by reshaping their bodies.

Moral of the story: The Flesh’ powers can make you win in life, but unfortunately you can do nothing if someone scams you. And Jared got scammed by the letters, that told him to attack the Archives.

Who was the sender? The Web, still following some weird business plan? Or Elias wanting to have fun?

So, Jared fulfills his side of the agreement and tells his life story up to a few months ago. And Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, avatar of The Eye, magical know-it-all, the guy who literally sold one of his ribs for a goddamn statement… has the nerve to complain that the statement is already over and “hardly worth a rib”.

Goddamit Jon, you’re asking to be killed.

But since Jon is incredibly lucky, he doesn’t die because Melanie and Helen rescue him.

Honestly, I like the vibes these two have together. They sound like total besties and how cool would that be? They deserve to hang out together and talk about the people they killed, how complicated bodies are and how liberating it is to not care about them.

Is this change still supporting my “positive godly powers” theory? For now, yes. We’ll see how it evolves in the future.

_______________________________

MAG 132 - Entombed

After more than 100 chapters from MAG 2 and the absolute king who kept the coffin in his house without opening it (you will be forever famous, my man), we finally see what’s inside the Casket.

And there isn’t much, aside from a path that keeps getting tighter and smaller until you’re literally crawling, unable to die and unable to move on at the same time. It kinda reminds me of The Enigma of Amigara Fault by Junji Ito and the sense of claustrophobia I felt while reading it, so yes, I like it.

Daisy was still alive, I knew it! And Jon casually confirmed my theory about how Daisy was a servant of The Hunt. She herself admitted The Hunt had been part of her life for a very long time!

But hey, apparently being stuck in a casket for months, away from your loved ones, is enough to convince even the strongest Hunter that, once they’ll come back, they’ll change their life and become a better person, fuck The Hunt.

Does that mean The Buried >>> The Hunt? Makes sense: anyone stuck in a coffin for more than 30 seconds would start to reconsider their whole life.

About Daisy’s dreams: I'm not sure if I got it right, but what I understood is that she was having prophetic dreams about what would happen. Once she saw her dreams starting to become real (e.g., Jon coming back from the States with the same shirt she dreamt of), she decided Jon was not human anymore, and she had to kill him.

Pretty normal: everyone connected to a supernatural god wants to kill Jon.

Despite the threat, Jon focuses very hard on his rib incredible luck and gets them both out, just in time to meet Basira - who hasn’t dropped dead in shock yet. This man’s luck is starting to become supernatural too.

_______________________________

MAG 133 - Dead Horse

I’ve never heard of the lost city of Z, but it turns out it’s something taken from the real world - as well as Fawcett, his son Jack and his friend Raleigh Rimmel.Glad to learn something new :D

So these guys went searching for that city and searched. And searched. And searched. And met people from past expeditions and searched together. And searched. And searched.

Moral of the story: The Hunt is both the stupidest and the most clever of all Powers. It’s the stupidest because its ritual is neverending. And it’s the most clever, because if the ritual never ends, no one can throw shit in it to stop it.

Also, “The Everchase” is a cool name.

Okay, she’s a bit of a queen for this reply, but also: trust Jon, Basira. He says and does stupid shit, fine, but he already crossed the “I’m going to do everything by myself to save everyone” bridge. He spent an entire season being paranoid, only to realize he was being stupid. So yes, he’s right when he says “we make bad decisions when we don’t communicate”.

He might not be human anymore, but he’s still my son and I’m his proud mother <3

One last thing: Daisy has been eight months in the goddamn coffin and Jon three days? Holy shit, time flies when you’re having fun. Or when you’re being buried underground.

I wonder where the fuck was Martin during all of that. When will my man come back from Peter Lukas’ office - or wherever he’s working?

_______________________________

MAG 134 - Time of Revelation

Holy shit, I literally called him. Martin is back and the time of revelation wasn’t just for him: it was for us too.

So. A fifteenth Power, uh? Fear of Extinction, to wipe out everything in our world and leave nothing behind. “The Terrible Change. The Future Without Us.”

Pretty accurate fear and I definitely don’t like how we seem to inch closer and closer to it. Let’s all collectively thank humans’ hubris, incompetence and ignorance for the decisions made in recent history.

This "new birth" also makes me think: considering new Powers can be born from new fears... can a new Power be born from our century's new fears?

I am especially thinking about the "rise of the AI" fear. The fear that humanity will be destroyed by AI. That AI will take over and wipe us out entirely.

Is this fear maybe too similar to The Extinction, or is there the foundation for a possible, modern Power? What do you think?

My thoughts aside, this MAG tells us some more interesting stuff regarding Peter Lukas and the overall plot:

First: Two Powers never attempted a ritual.

Mother-of-Puppets, aka The Web. And I get it: why changing the world, when you’re having fun already? This Power is based on differences, so a multifaceted world is already perfect enough for it.

Terminus, aka The End. And, again, of course it doesn’t need to perform a ritual. Everything will eventually die, so why bother at all? Way better to just sit and wait for everything and everyone to die. Most relatable Power ever.

I get Peter’s reasons here. Of course, if a Power like The Extinction rises and takes full control, it will be game over for everyone. If The Extinction wipes everything out, there would be nothing for all other Powers - End included. And if there’s nothing for the Powers… who knows? Maybe they’ll wither and even die?

…

Don’t tell me this will be the final-final boss. Choosing between The Extinction and and keeping all other Powers. I will crumble and die if THIS is the final choice.

Second: Peter has a plan and he requires “someone touched by the Beholding”.

Of course Elias didn’t want to help: helping would’ve required him getting up on his ass and do stuff. Too much work for him.

Luckily for Peter, there is Martin! And Martin is:

lonely enough to be claimed by The Lonely

caring enough to do something for everyone else/the world

badass enough to go all the way and save everyone

Which are good things if you’re a great human being like Martin, bad things if the avatar of a supernatural Power got his eyes on you.

Third: Peter tried to perform a ritual.

So Forsaken is, what, the actual name of The Lonely? Just like Mother-of-Puppets and Terminus? Will we get the real names of all the Powers? I hope so.

Peter’s ritual failed because of Gertrude, of course. I wonder what kind of shit she throw in it: was it a guy, a thing or a guy with a thing?

Peter casually admits he will try to perform another ritual in the future - if the world, hopefully, doesn’t end in the meantime. Legit.

Fourth: Peter is a nice fatherly figure.

Like… he’s genuinely nice with Martin. He doesn’t want to pressure him and he’s trying his best to convince Martin he can be trusted.

Oh no, I am starting to like this guy and hoping he will be a good father. But I am so, so scared that he will destroy my hopes by the end of the season.

Fifth: Peter is a funny guy.

Pretty accurate resume of MAG 132, couldn’t have said it better.

Ahahaha, he even calls the archive “a little soap opera”! Which actually is, so he’s not wrong. He’s a funny guy, I’m really starting to like him.

AND HE’S EVEN NICER WITH MARTIN!

Peter Lukas, I’m talking to you now: get my hopes down, do one single wrong thing to Martin and The Extinction will be the last thing you will have to worry about.

_______________________________

MAG 135 - Dark Matter

We’ve heard/read a ton of statements, in these four seasons. But this is the first in which we get an ultimatum. Manuela Dominguez and Maxwell Rayner literally said: “Yo, we made our Black Sun and will perform a ritual soon. Surrender or else.”

10 points for the audacity, 10 points for the overconfidence, 20 points for the nerve of entering the temple of The Eye, calling it “a sick voyeur” and threatening its avatar/servants.

Okay, so the Dedalus served three purposes:

Manuela Dominguez had to create the black sun for The Dark’s ritual

Jan Kilbride was the lab rat, picked to entertain Simon Fairchild and The Vast

Carter Chilcott was the lab rat for The Lonely because… the Lukases didn’t know what to do?

I get why these three worked together, because what’s more dark, vast and lonely than outer space? It was the perfect environment for them.

But also: why did these three Powers work together like this? The Dark did stuff for the ritual, The Vast wanted to have fun… and the Lukases? What did they want to accomplish? I doubt they just wanted to hang out with other Powers. Did they also make something for their ritual? Maybe we will find out in the future.

Great, it seems like the black sun is still around. And guess who is the lucky guy who will have to stop this ritual. Guess it, Jon.

Oh my god, I love this man an unholy amount.

How can I not stan him? He sent Basira literally everywhere, because bringing Daisy back required her to be away. What a bastard, I bet he was grinning all the time like the bitch he is.

He even has the gall to say Jon’s performance during the Unknowing was “disappointing”. All while he was sitting on his ass, waiting to be metaphorically fucked by Martin’s plan.

At least it seems like Jon did great with The Buried, so his now-self-appointed mentor Elias Bouchard is satisfied and wants Jon to become stronger for the next big shit.

And the next big shit is:

The boss of this season is going to be the Extinguished Sun. And here I thought the previous rituals have all been stopped by Gertrude - at least, that what the first statements of this season seemed to imply.

But nope, there is still one on. And I’m glad for the clarification regarding Ny-Ålesund and the People’s Church of the Divine Host: they were not servants of The Eye, they were against The Eye. Of course they shared stuff like closed eyes symbol: The Dark is a bit like The Stranger, a power of the unknown. While The Eye is a power strictly based on knowing, making things clear, shedding light. Of course they would contrast each other.

And guess who is the lucky boy who will have to stop this ritual? Guess it, Jo-

Elias, please, stop being so funny, I can’t grin every time I read your sentences.

Maybe it’s better if this guy is in prison, because if he’s around, I would spend all time giggling and grinning.

_______________________________

MAG 136 - The Puppeteer

*EPIC, Circe and Puppeteer vibes intensifies*

So, as I was saying…

Poor Jon, he can’t even ask simple questions like “How are you?”, without activating his compelling powers. The Eye basically destroyed that shred of human interactions he could’ve still had.

Speaking of the statement, we get to see Neil Lagorio again. I remembered he was the guy from MAG 110, the one obsessed with spiders. Luckily I remembered it, because all the talk about puppeteers and being puppets and being puppeteered around had a lot of Stranger vibes.

Well, that until Annabelle Cane appeared, ready to pursue another weird business plan. This time the plan was:

Find the director obsessed with spiders

Now he’s obsessed with being puppeteered around

Send away his friend/colleague/caregiver for five goddamn months

Kill him by wrapping him in his strings

Uhm… profit?

Still a bit confused by her plans, but I appreciate the effort.

But if Annabelle’s plans are weird, Daisy’s plans are insane.

She’s really trying to not be a Hunter anymore. She wants to be a better person. So, what does she do, to be sure The Hunt won’t reclaim her again?

Kick the door of Elias’ old office

Go through all drawers

Find an employment contract

Fill it, sign it and throw it on the desk

Congratulations! The Eye accepted your cv, you’re part of the team

10/10, it’s the silliest plan ever, as well as the most Daisy plan ever and the most Eye plan ever.

Also, I keep loving how The Eye accepts everyone, it doesn’t matter if they’re carefully selected based on their psychological profile or if they smash open a door and sign a random form. Everyone is welcomed, in this temple of supernatural know-it-alls.

My bad, The Eye doesn’t accept everyone: it accepts QUEENS AND QUEENS ONLY.

Also, I love how we keep the EPIC vibes, first with the puppeteer, now with the monster.

Uhm, now that I think about it, Monster's lyric kinda fits for Jon, doesn’t it?

How has everything been turned against us? How did suffering become so endless?

And

I'm surrounded by the souls of those I've lost I'm the only one whose line I haven't crossed

and

If I became the monster and threw that guilt away Would that make us stronger? Would it keep our foes at bay?

and

Then I'll become the monster I will deal the blow

And this last part works very well, considering what he says here about the choice he made during his coma, the “choice to become… something else”. Like, you know, a monster.

Now, I’m not saying I want a Jon-centric animatic based on Monster from EPIC the musical… but I really REALLY want a Jon-centric animatic based on Monster from EPIC the musical.

_______________________________

MAG 137 - Nemesis

Oh, so a statement regarding the Slaughter’s ritual. And it has all the elements of a standard ritual:

a cool name (The Risen War)

people together in a place to do Power-related things (in this case, slaughter each other)

music because everything is better with the right rhythm

Profit! Unless someone throws shit in it

It turns out this is the first ritual in which you don’t have to throw shit in, to stop it. You have to throw shit out of it. In this case, a guy who decides “Fuck no, fuck the war and fuck killing others: I’d much rather live, thanks” and goes the hell out. Pretty good choice, I would’ve done the same.

Gerry has a father named Eric and I want to know what happened to him too.

Of course Gertrude likes Gerry. The world needs to like Gerry. Gerry deserves love and love only.

Jon has a point: why doesn’t he know anything about this ritual? He’s an avatar of The Eye, he’s supposed to know something about it. Or, at least, to know about this Watcher’s Crown.

And the way he talks about it… until now, I thought “the Watcher’s Crown” was just a cool name to identify the entire ritual. However, in his words, Jon seems to imply that there is something identifiable as a crown: something that may be crown-shaped or work as a metaphorical crown. It may not be a simple physical crown but maybe a crown made of eyes or a specific place that works as a “crown” - like a tower Panopticon-style.

Yes, I’m looking at you, Millbank prison.

Still, this doesn’t explain why Jon doesn’t know anything. An avatar of The Eye in The Eye’s temple… and he knows nothing? My possible explanations (for now) are:

Jon is not involved for now because Elias plans to involve him in a later stage. Hence, all the concern regarding how strong Jon is/testing him etc.

The Web/other Powers are purposely keeping Jon unaware of this ritual somehow, to not let The Eye ascend.

_______________________________

MAG 138 - The Architecture of Fear

Oh my god, Elias and Martin interacting. I am delighted.

Elias’ relationship with the apocalypse is “complicated”. Which I suppose is another way to say “Stopping it requires too much work and I’m too lazy”. Have I already said I love this guy?

My love aside, Elias’ reason is that he has been busy. And him being busy is such a joke, even Martin snorts.

What can I say, I love that my meme “ahah Elias lazy” is canon.

You know, jokes aside, I like how Elias gives a choice to Martin and Jon. He pushes them where he wants, sure, but he doesn’t straight tell them what to do - except for when Martin was burning statements but, well, he was burning statements.

If Martin wants to join The Lonely, it will be on his own accord. Elias could’ve tried to stop him somehow, considering Martin is one of his entourage and he hired him to be a servant in the temple of The Eye. But still, if Martin makes a choice, Elias will let him do it. He’s a good guy, after all…

… but he’s also an useless bitch. And I love him for that <3

The foreshadowing is real and I fear Martin will definitely join The Lonely. I mean, I am surprised he hasn’t done it already, considering he spends most of his time somewhere away from his friends and doesn’t interact with anyone except for Peter.

Also, we have the teaser and that made it clear he will do something to save Jon, so…

Speaking of the statement, it’s from Robert Smirke to Jonah Magnus, so of course it’s full of interesting things and that’s why I will overanalyze the heck of them:

1) Hubris is the real enemy

Once again, we have a human who learned about these Powers and thought he could channel and control them.

In Smirke’s case, he saw what he thinks are their truest forms and… honestly? Love that. Powers that are not human-shaped nor purely abstract ideas, but places and areas. It keeps their supernatural aspect, it makes them appear even more inhuman and it gives a clearer image of the fear they represent.

So, by looking at all of this, Smirke’s thought wasn’t “Maybe I should stop eating so much in the evening”, but “Sure, let’s build places to contain and control these Powers”. Hubris >>> Self-preservation, I see.

And considering what he says to Jonah Magnus regarding “their work on Millbank”, I assume the prison was built with the express purpose of channeling The Eye’s power. Then Smirke came to his senses and stopped dealing with this shit, while Jonah Magnus said “why not, let’s keep going”.

Hubris >>> Self-preservation, again.

2) Who tf is Scott?

So Maxwell Rayner has been going around for a while, fine. And, according to Robert Smirke’s words, same goes for Lukas (Peter? Or the entire family)... and Scott.

Now, who the fuck is this Scott? Did we already meet him? Do we still have to meet him? I don’t remember any Scott, so maybe he was a past avatar and died?

3) A balance of the Dread Powers

It’s implied that, in the past, Smirke thought the Powers could balance each other. Then, this idea was a bit lost, once he realized that the Powers are everchanging, new ones can be born from old ones and a real balance isn’t achievable.

And this makes me think about something I have been mulling over since MAG 135: why do these Powers all aim to make their own ritual? Why don’t they cooperate - at least the ones who don’t opposes each other?

Think about the Dedalus: we had three Powers working together, bringing people into space, planning this huge, cooperative mission… and used it to make their own individual ritual/waste time. Why didn’t they make up a collective ritual, one that could’ve worked for the three of them? Why has no one of these Powers tried to make up a new ritual, one that could work for more than one single Power?

I mean, a collaborative ritual is stronger, because it puts together more than one single Power. And it has more chances to succeed, considering the huge amount of powers, servants and avatars involved. It’s stupid they never tried and just worked by themselves all this time.

Typical Brits, always doing things by themselves :P

Jokes aside, maybe there is a plot-related reason for this lack of collaboration between Powers. And maybe it’s related to the following point:

4) The origin of the Dread Powers

I can’t believe it, but Mr. Sims is hinting at the origin story of the Dread Powers. He’s really trying to please me. And he’s succeeding.

I love backstories and origin stories, because they say A LOT about the characters, the plot and the writer. A good backstory is like a good foundation: if it’s stable and coherent, it can hold the story, justify its future development, explain the characters’ personalities/choices, and show all the attention and care of the writer. It’s the most evident proof the story is well made.

So yes, I am more than ready to find out what the real backstory will be and if it works in the TMA scenario.

For now, we have four possible choices and each of them has its own pros, cons and possible developments:

The Powers are eternal

PRO: It makes the TMA world more nihilistic. These supernatural forces have always been part of the multiverse, forever present and forever indifferent. It reinforces the idea of inevitability: humanity can do nothing to escape these fears.

CONS: if these Powers have always been, then why are they so interested in our planet? Do they latch onto every single life form in the multiverse? Or have they been eternally bored, until life appeared on Earth? And speaking of that, what about the animals? Did they appear when animals started to exist or only with humans? Gerry said the Powers take into consideration animals’ fears too (e.g., The Hunt), so they should manifest among animals too. So did they manifest among bacteria, too? Where is the line when the Powers start to take an interest in life?

The Powers are born by accident

PRO: It makes TMA world more tragic. Humanity (or God or whatever) brought this evil on Earth and has to deal with it. Humanity is responsible for its own misery.

However, this scenario offers a possible positive outcome: if the Powers are born by accident, nothing says they cannot be destroyed, too. If humanity somehow created an evil god, humanity can also kill that same god.

CONS: how where they created? If it was an accident, what happened? How did humanity manage to create such powerful forces? Is the process possible to repeat? Is it possible to re-create other Powers? What stops humanity from creating positive forces too, then? Or from destroying these Dread Powers? Is there a formula of some kind? An inverted ritual?

The Powers have been created by God and they’re part of a divine plan

PRO: it connects to my theory about the positive god-like forces. A positive force exists and it has not been shown itself yet.

And what could their divine plan be? To give humanity a choice.

In this scenario, the Powers work as a substitute of the Devil: they are tempters, liars, deceivers. They trick humanity, they offer gifts that damn people and push them away from humanity. When people are accosted by these forces, they have a choice: they can ran away and learn their lesson, they can resist them or they can fall prey of them. Just like humans with the devil, the decision is up to the individuals. (This would also reconnect to Jon’s talk about choices, btw.)

If we think about the possible future outcomes of this scenario, we can imagine that, just like God made these negative forces, they made positive ones too - and we still have to see them.

CONS: This scenario implies a God of some kind exists and that alone opens a huge can of worms. There would be a trillion questions to answer, starting from “How this God came to be” to “What did this God to, before humanity”.

And if this God made positive Powers too, then why the fuck did they wait the events in the TMA series, before showing up?

The Powers have been brought into existence by some ancient civilisation

PRO: It has some of the same good points of the “creation by accident”, like that humanity is responsible for its own misery - which is one of the most interesting, imho.

It also offers the same possible positive outcome: maybe an ancient civilisation created humanity’s fears, but a more modern one can create humanity’s hopes. That could open a ton of interesting discussions about humanity, how we shape the world, our misery and our nature.

CONS: same as the “creation by accident”. How did an ancient civilisation make these forces? Is there a ritual, a spell to cast? Also, there’s the risk of making everything a bit too “human-centric”, while until now, it seemed more like these Powers were forces of nature who just came in contact with humanity.

5) The Watcher’s Crown

Soooo, Smirke’s dream: he gets up, goes out, there is silence, then the sky gave him a wink.

If this is a possible foreshadowing of the Watcher’s Crown, I suppose the Crown is either the entire sky, the universe or the entirety of Earth.

But also, Smirke says to Jonah Magnus “if you have any remaining ambitions to use our work to try and wear the Watcher’s Crown”, which means… this “crown” can be wear.

And yes, sure, “wear the crown” can be metaphorical. Hence why, I really like the idea that the crown is either the sky or the Earth. I mean, just imagine an avatar of The Eye ascending, becoming so powerful that the entire Earth is one huge eye from which they can see everything everywhere. A truly colossal ‘crown’ to wear.

That’s awesome, I fear to see Jon in this scenario.

One last thing: I like how Smirke pleads Jonah Magnus, thinking: “I assume you’re still a normal guy and are not trying to kill me”. But, you know, the previous MAGs made it pretty clear that Jonah Magnus is kind of a bitch. So, who knows? Maybe he really asked The Eye to kill Smirke.

This makes me curious about what happened to Jonah Magnus. Did he die?

_______________________________

MAG 139 - Chosen

This statement was a beautiful surprise.

I wasn’t particularly interested in Agnes Montague. My thoughts about her were simple: she was the avatar of the Desolation, she was kinda powerful, and she didn’t seem like a bad person. That’s it.

But this recollection of her “creation” and life was truly interesting.

First of all, she wasn’t a normal avatar. She was birthed with a fire ritual to make her the perfect “vessel” for the Lightless Flame (whose real name, I suppose, is Asag). She was literally crafted to become an avatar.

Knowing that, you would expect she was purely supernatural, the messiah these people wanted: someone above humanity, completely detached from any human want or need.

But what Eugene Vanderstock portrays is the image of a normal human child: Agnes was bratty, like any other kid. She even threw the typical temper tantrums of a baby!

Then she grew up and the supernatural part of her started to shine through: she talked about “the Scoured Earth” (which I suppose would’ve been the ritual for The Desolation) and did some avatar stuff (like the creepy ritual with the candles).

However, since she was still a human kid, she was sent out to interact with other kids - and what better place to do that, if not at Hill Top Road, a stronghold of The Web?

My question isn’t why Agnes was sent there. My question is: was the Web an idiot to accept the avatar of a Power that has always given them trouble? Or was it given no other choice? Was it an “accept the girl or we will burn the whole place down” sort of ultimatum?

And what happened at Hill Top Road? Eugene talks about “A scar in reality that I believe has since been compounded by the interferences of other Powers.”. What does that mean? What did Gertrude do? I suppose she stopped the ritual somehow and I’m 99% sure she did it, by throwing some shit in it. Maybe the shit was another Power and that made a huge mess?

Whatever that was, it left the Fire gang waiting. And so they waited and waited… and what did manage to stop their plans altogether?

Let’s all thank Robert Sinclair and his crush on Agnes.

But seriously, this is what makes Agnes’ story even more fascinating.

Agnes was a chosen one. She had a destiny already written for her, she was birthed for one precise purpose. She was supposed to be a messiah, a goddess, detached from what is earthly and material.

But she wasn’t just that. She was human too. And in the end, it was her humanity that took over. Her feelings - no matter if it was affection, doubt or hope. She felt something and that something was enough to not attempt the ritual and die instead.

And she didn’t do it for some supernatural reason, but for the people she cared about. To not let them waste a chance. Until the end, Agnes felt something about others.

What a fascinating character, what an interesting dichotomy. And this makes Jude’s character extremely interesting too! A woman who, like a faithful knight, protects the goddess of their cult - a goddess too might for her, a messiah too high for mere servants like them. And yet, a goddess she loves. A woman she loves. Someone who draws her not just for her role - but for her humanity.

I hope there are great fanfictions about them that explore these contrasting feelings, because I would love to read them.

Glad to know that Jon isn’t the only Archivist who gets death threats all the time: Gertrude got some too. Being an Archivist: what a wonderful, peaceful job.

Jon agrees with me: being the Archivist is truly a fantastic job. Either you get threatened all the time by other servants/avatars, or your boss is going to kill you. And killing is the only thing he does well.

While speaking of the others:

Jon likes this new version of Daisy and I like her too: she’s less of a rabid dog and more of a queen and I stan queens.

Helen is still around! It left a door! The Distortion truly wants to work with them! Now, if only Jon would stop being so grumpy and collaborate, it would be very nice.

Awww, Jon’s worried about Martin! But he’s also trying his best to trust him. Buuuuut he’s also the avatar of a magical know-it-all, so of course he wants to Know everything, Peter’s plan included.

And the way he tried to do it was… interesting. It seems like he put a lot of effort and it’s not clear what happened. Did he succeed? Or is he still too weak to read another avatar’s mind? I suppose so.

_______________________________

MAG 140 - The Movement of the Heavens

Okay, so Jon wasn’t too weak to pry Peter Lukas’ mind open: he was just overwhelmed by the amount of knowledge. As he said in the previous MAGs, he drowns if he tries to open that door of infinite knowledge, so that’s basically what happened.

Then Basira throws some interesting shit here:

And that’s very interesting, because I was wondering how avatars work.

Jude told us that when you die, you get closer to your god but lose your humanity. So it’s implied that you die but also get a longer life. And we already met very old avatars (see Simon Fairchild) living an extremely long life - longer than any human. But we also met avatars who changed their name during the years (Grimaldi).

So I suppose the rule is: same body same name, different body new name.

And that makes me think about Jonah Magnus: he was touched by The Eye and, according to Smirke, he even wanted to “try and wear the Watcher’s Crown”. So I suppose he was a full avatar - or at least, he was trying very hard to become one.

My question is: did he succeed? If he did, is he still alive? Does he still have his name or did he change it? Only time will tell.

In the meantime, we get to see the wondrous first life of Maxwell Rayner / Edmond Halley that consists mostly of:

quality time with the Royal Society + a side dish of dissing John Flamsteed

quality time with the Dark cult in the woods, to look at a black pool

But since he’s also followed by his enemy, who stalks him 24/7, he ends up being killed. Conveniently drowned in that same black pool. And The Dark’s cult decides that, you know what, let’s not waste a fresh corpse and let’s make him an avatar. Legit.

Oh great, so he didn’t die. I was SO SURE back then that he was still alive, but then they kept repeating he was dead, he died, he was shot, then he disappeared for seasons and I stupidly believed that okay, fine, he was dead.

But nope, he’s not. He’s clearly around, just waiting to find the new body.

By now, the one with the highest count of “dead people who are still dead” is still Elias. Not even the police with all his info managed to do better than him.

And speaking of Elias…

Ahahaha Jon immediately realized Basira’s “sources” is Elias. After all, who is the only bitch who can send Basira on the other side of the globe, just to get rid of her for a while?

So, regarding The Dark:

The Dark gang will attempt the ritual on the North Pole during the winter solstice in order to get maximum darkness

They have their Black Sun, that “eldritch ball of some sort of manifested dark matter”

They’re currently doing their rehearsal in Ny-Alesund

And you know what that means, when there is a ritual and rehearsals: that the ritual is going to be some sort of ceremony. And how do you stop a ritual/ceremony?

My theory is perfect XD

One last thing:

Just a confirmation that The Eye is as useless as Elias and that’s why Elias is its embodiment. I suppose Jonah Magnus was too competent, hence why Elias became The Eye’s favourite.

_______________________________

In conclusion

It seems an eternity, since my reaction posts were short and funny ah ah silly story little mysteries, let’s see how it goes.

Now we have tons of info, which leads to me making a ton of screenshots and there's always the 30 images limit per post and I need images, because they help me introduce a new topic or explain my silly theories and I have a ton of questions and I want to know everything, and I love everyone, and I want them all to survive.

Moral of the story is: I’m getting attached. I have my favourites, but I appreciate every character - sometimes, there are even secondary characters who sparks my interest out of the blue (see Agnes)! And the plot gives me all I want, from backstories to foreshadowing. Heck, it’s even making my stupid theories somehow canon! What else can I ask?

For now, only that no one dies in the meantime.

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

📌TAGLIST: @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24 @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake-and-crofters @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue @cynicalandsarcastic @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire @riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 @arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @nevenastark @coldbookworm @boopypastaissalty @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @snixxxsmythe @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist @hehimejoshi

#the magnus archives #tma podcast #tma #magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #melanie king #daisy tonner #peter lukas #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #agnes montague

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aleksa-sims · 3 months ago

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RL Story

Because I was angry at N., I did not accompany him to his family today. Instead I met Sandra, to spend his money -we're going shopping! 🤷‍♀️😬 S. told me, that she is having a hard time finding a new job. Before going on maternity leave, she worked in a dental surgery. She’s a dentist’s assistant. Just like Bianca!! I thought I’d ask B. for a favor, so she can help S. get a job at her dentist.

While I told Sandra about Bianca, she started interrupting me.

Sandra: Did you have plans to see Alex today?? Or-

Me: Alex?... No!

Sandra: Don’t you see him? That’s Alex coming at us!

Me: You’re damn right! That’s him! ... Oh, there he is.... Hi, Alex, nice to see you, it's been ages, dude! 😬😳

Alex: Huh?... Holy shit! LEXI! 😦... Sorry I-... I have to go! I-, I gotta run! I can’t talk to you. Bye!

Sandra: 🤣🤣 Haha .. wtf???

Me: IDK?? 😄😄 Do I smell or something? 🤣 He’s literally running away from me. 🤷‍♀️

Sandra: He can’t talk to you? ?.. Either he’s on some heavy shit, or Daniel has something to do with it?

Me: Alex doesn't do drugs! And Daniel didn’t seem to be mad at me, when I saw him 3 weeks ago.... Agh, whatever! Now let’s go spend Nico’s money. 🤭😈

Sandra: Didn’t you say you wanted to spend his money?

Me: That’s what I’m doing! 🤨

Sandra: You buy, him clothes, but what about you? And actually you’re doing him a favor. He should go shopping himself, you’re not his servant.

Me: Nico would never go shopping voluntarily. Besides, I want my boyfriend to look good, yk? Tbh, N.'s no style at all! He doesn’t give a shit about it. If it were up to him, he would prefer to walk around in shorts 24/7. All the stuff he has, I got and chose for him.

Sandra: But who used to buy his clothes before he met you? I mean, he still managed to look handsome, as far as I remember.

Me: He, is handsome, but his style/taste sucks, S.! 🤷‍♀️

Sandra: Anyway. What should I give my bf for Christmas?.. My ex, I always got the same thing.

Me: Let me guess! You gave him a black suit. 😄😄

Sandra: Ha-ha! 🤨😒.... Well, I admit it. At first I found his black suits somehow.... interesting, but he was overdoing it.

In the end she found a gift for Dario (don’t worry, it wasn’t a black suit, her "suit guy" is past & still in jail!). I also bought some things for myself and Lucas. Well, and for Nico. 😒 Speaking of my Baby, Lucas was with Nico today. They went to N.'s Dad and to Melanie. Without me! I didn't want to! But I was so worried about my little one. He had never been alone with Nico before. So I expected the worst. Let’s see how their trip was today? But before I went home, I met Bianca, to give her Sandra’s documents. B. will hand over Sandra’s application to her boss with a personal recommendation. Hope it works for S.!!

Previous/Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #rl story #myrlgameplay #also #what's wrong with Alex?

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duskstargazer · 3 months ago

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[1924-1925]

It was nearly midnight by the time Edward returned to his yard. He was surprised to see Thomas still awake.

“Hey, Edward!”

“…Thomas? Why are you still up?”

“Because in a few minutes, the new year is gonna start!”

“…”

“You… do know what that is, don't you?”

“Well I know what years are, but I don't really see the point in staying awake just for the first few minutes of it.”

“Well, my crew celebrate it every year. It's a time where we can reflect on the year before, and make plans for what we want to do better in the new year. New year… uh… revolutions, I think they call them.”

“That's all well and good, but why wait until the year ends for that? If there's something you want to improve about yourself, why wait for the change in year to dictate when the change happens?”

“I guess… I… I dunno.”

Thomas looked away awkwardly.

“Nevermind. It's probably dumb and engines should probably only focus on their work and not silly things like-”

Edward felt a pain in his firebox as Thomas's smile wilted.

“I'm not against the idea.” The blue engine rebounded. “Self improvement is a noteworthy trait. I’m just a little confused about the concept.”

Thomas perked up a little.

“Maybe I'll give it a try this year. I just showed that I probably ought to be more open to trying new things.”

“I want to put more focus into learning how to manage trucks, and to be more into my job.” 'Dedicated’ was the word Edward would've used, but he let Thomas finish. “And to not get so upset by those big engines when I go back to the yard with Melanie.”

“That sounds very mature, Thomas. I'm proud of you.”

A sudden, deafening boom came from the sky. Both engines jumped, and looked up to see an explosion of colorful stars.

More fireworks went off, and the two engines and their crews watched in awe.

“Happy new year, Edward!”

“Happy new year, Thomas.”

#ttte #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine and friends #railway series #rws #ttte thomas #ttte edward #happy new year #new year 2025

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christinarowie332 · 1 year ago

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i am his .

matt sturniolo x reader

pt 3 of “i’d be an idiot if i said no to that” and “i win” .

warnings - suggestive ? no droogs (boring ik)

y/n and reader realise maybe it ain’t just tension.

—————-

“matt your not even looking”

i say turning my head to look at him giggling , as i’m sat on his lap sideways at his desk .

“i am looking” he whispers lowly , still not looking away from me .

“oh i know your looking , your just not looking at this!!!” i say tapping the paper infront of us .

it’s been around two or three weeks since i hung out with them all and smoked together for the first time . since then i have barley left their apartment . nick and i have gotten so close , chris too .

turns out me and nick had more in common then i initially thought . we both loved melanie martinez , him ,her new stuff and me her old bangers . we also bonded over more personal things and silly things but it’s fair to say we are now attached at the hip . sleepovers . meeting my girl friends . added to group chats and staying up all night talking absolute nonsense and getting deep out of no where.

chris’s issues with him and his girlfriend were worse then we thought . his ramblings from the other night followed into the morning and ended up with us all realising she maybe isn’t the nicest girl . they broke up. this is one of the things that brought us closer . late night seshes talking and listening to music . walks when everyone else falls asleep . him annoying me for half the day .he’s turned into my little brother and i love tm the kid .

matt .

although there are no labels . i am his . not in a toxic way . i am just trilly enamoured with everything this man does . waking up to him smiling down at me . late night drives ending with not so pg moments . his light touches , speaking more then words . the only other language i would ever want to understand . his smile when he sees me and his brothers getting along well . and it’s the same for me . everytime i see his cold mask and attitude drop , everytime i catch him smiling while his brothers talk , everytime a song plays that he likes , watching his shoulders relax and the corner of his mouth twitch , it seems i can physically feel my heart swelling .

so here we are now , in his bedroom after hanging out all day , trying to get him to learn cursive . a silly thing i realised this man could not grasp for the life of him .

“MATT ITS NOT THAT HARD YOU JUST LINK THE LETTERS TOGETHER!!” i jokingly shout through chuckles . grabbing his hand from my thigh and putting the pen in his hand.

“ugh i dont get it !!! it looks stupid bro” he whines out putting his chin on my shoulder and wrapping his free arm around my torso .

“here” i say wrapping my hand around his and moving the pen for him .

Love.

i write it subconsciously and i feel him take his head off my shoulder . i turn my head at the loss of heat to find him staring at me with relaxed and warm features , his eye brows curled upwards and a smile lazily plastered on his face .

“what?” i say tilting my head slightly and shifting my body towards him .

he doesn’t respond and just placed a hand on the side of my face . moving his thumb up and down my cheek looking between my eyes and my lips before leaning in .

we kiss constantly. not being able to stay away from each other . each kiss saying a different thing . “you look good” , “i like your makeup today” “i missed you” “that was really cute” “i need you” . never has it ever said this . the kiss screamed many things . the loudest being “i think im in love with you”

he pulls away first . we both stay silent as turn on his lap and put both my legs over his , sitting face to face . his hands trail down my back to my ass , pushing me forward so our chests are all most touching . i move his hair from his face , admiring the boy in front of me .

i arch my back slightly as i lean in to kiss him again . hands in his hair and on the back of his neck . his hands are on the underside of my thighs lifting up and down at the movement of our make out . his cold fingers getting warmed by my body every time i move downwards on his lap .

he moved his mouth down to my ear , my neck , my collarbones. anything he can reach from this angle . leaving bruises and pink marks in his wake . making my head throw back at the sensation and stealing soft noises from me .

my hand trails underneath his shirt. fingers running down his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths . he takes his top off with my help before lifting me and not breaking the kiss as he carries me to his bed . holding me up with both arms under my thighs before dropping me down on his bed and kissing down my chest. before making his way back up to my lips and placing a slow peck on them .

“ i want you all the time . i want to be yours and only yours y/n please” he whispers ,leaning on top of me , holding himself up by outstretched arms

“you have me matt .”

he has me.

_______________

i hate this sm . i’ll give em a spliff ext time i swear guys i just need a spliff myself first !!!

taglst 🤍

@mangosrar @sturnphilia @urmyslxt @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @sssturniolofart @deatthmatch @martyniukpl @parkerssecrets @lividnity @littlebookworm803 @daddyslilchickenfingers

love u all :) -millz / milkie 🤍

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #milkietalks #milkie is down bad #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader

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wizardsnorlax · 5 months ago

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Ok so update on the Spiral Jon fic I'm writing: I'm getting it onto Ao3 bit by bit because it's super difficult to write on mobile, but I need to take a break and get ideas for the season three events out before they get lost, here's a link to the season 2 notes

Ok here we go

Melanie does not join the Archives, this is for the best

At one point in season 2 Jon gave Sasha Georgie's contact info for "in case of emergency" use so Sasha is gonna be (mostly) ok she just needs to pop an allergy pill every once in a while

Sasha might be good with the hardware of a computer but the software might as well be a completely different language so she's very little help with Georgie's show

Jon takes to reading Statements like I took to weed gummies

Sasha follows about the same trail of clues as Jon did in Canon but Daisy's grip on Sasha is a bit harder to hold so Sasha gets claw slashes on her arms instead of a knife at the throat

Things that have changed about Jon while Sasha was gone: his hair now has ringlet curls, the extra flexibility in his joints has progressed but not to the point anyone has noticed let alone would consider a problem and his eyes are twitchy from the stress of filling her position to the point he looks like he's constantly ODed on caffeine

Sasha gets back in the office and when everyone learns they can't quit or be fired Jon makes it his personal mission to be as much of a menace to Elias as possible

but he'd never do that to Sasha, she gets doodles of her hanging out with Cecil from Nightvale because she's a good boss:)

Martin scolds Tim for how he's been treating Jon and Sasha because of the changes caused by first and secondhand paranormal bullshit exposure

Jon gets to go out for drinks with people who actually like him

Everyone learns why Jon has a shirt that says "the difference between me and Superman is Superman has Super Vision, I need constant supervision

A discussion about who takes Jon home with them is had because at some point the poor goober lost his shoes and started trying to wrap around Martin like a belt

Sasha gets kidnapped on her way home

Michael helps her because some part remembers being an archival assistant and she's treated hers so much better than Gertrude did

Helen doesn't take Michael's place but the door still rejects him and the corridor collapses as both Sasha and Michael crash into Jon's new flat

Michael is freed but is in such bad shape he needs to be in the hospital for several weeks on recovery

Things attempt to be normal

Tim and Jon are menaces to Elias in very different ways

Jon doesn't want anyone traveling alone

Elias doesn't care but can't STAND the idea of Jon being there without a buffer so Sasha gets to have company on her trip, Tim goes to India and gets the ghost bullet, cue Mystery Mousketool meme

Martin, Basira and Daisy are handling the workload as best they can but since none of them are particularly suited to the task things go badly because Martin is terrible at direct leadership

When Sasha and Jon get kidnapped by Trevor and Julia, Sasha decides that the best way to clear some of the air is through lore dumping her backstory (still to be determined)

Jon is deemed suspicious by the false cop cause he does NOT look sober

Insert attempted police brutality interrupted by a shotgun

While the false cop is regenerating Jon gets the "how did you two meet" Statement from Julia

They get to the cabin and Jon freaks out a little at the idea of reading ANOTHER cursed book

Big relief when nobody gets eaten this time

Nobody ever believes him but Jon has kept every promise he's made (not that he's made many before but it's the principle of it)

Yoinks the page

Our duo finishes the assignment

Back home

Sasha learns about the storage unit

JON STOP REACHING FOR THE EXPLOSIVES YOU ABSOLUTE GREMLIN

Tim is EXTRA motivated to wreck shop at the Unknowing

Jon and Martin stay behind to be distractions

Big boom happens, Tim makes it out because the guy's literally too angry to die, Sasha is in the coma, Daisy is in the Coffin and Basira is just having a time of it

Jon gets mind fondled by Elias and it makes Martin want to rip the bastard's throat out but the best he can do is have the cops rough him up as much as possible

Jon is temporary head of the Archives and the pressure swallows him whole and he crashes like a meteorite because he desperately doesn't want to be the one giving orders

Martin's "assistance" has been leaving cobwebs in places nobody checks

And thus we enter season 4

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #sasha james #tim stoker #martin blackwood #au fic

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mattyriddlegf · 3 months ago

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The Stupid Closet (30)

Hello everyone! Sorry I am a day late, the holidays have been crazy. Happy holidays to everyone, I am reminded by how grateful I am to be able to share my stories with you and to receive all of your support. It truly means a lot to me.

Enjoy! (6 more chapters to go after this!)

-----------

The next day, divination is your last class. When you get there, Mattheo is already sitting in his seat. He’s fiddling with his rings until he sees you walk in, his immediate attention on you.

Before you can even get a word in, Trelawney starts the class.

“My dearies, I have a special project for you to start your last semester at Hogwarts. You will be studying Lithomancy, the art of telling the future through very special stones”

You glance at Mattheo, catching him already looking at you. You couldn’t stop thinking about him talking to Melanie. Anyone else would sting but her? That’s just cruel. The eye contact holds until you both hear Trelawney, bringing you back to reality.

“Your partner will be the one sitting next to you at your table. This project will span for two weeks before you will present your findings to the class.” Great…partners with Mattheo.

Trelawney spends the rest of class introducing the topic and explaining how the project will work, which gives you no time to talk to (or sit in awkward silence with) Mattheo, thank goodness.

As soon as Trelawney dismisses, you pack up your books and leave the classroom. You didn’t have any plans but you were trying to avoid Mattheo, you didn’t feel like recalling him and Melanie together.

“Woah, hold on” he runs to catch up with you, “ wanna go study for a bit and start the project? I know you like to get a head start”

“I don’t have time right now” you say, trying to get away before having to talk to him.

“Ok stop. I’m serious, nothing happened with Melanie and I.”

“I don’t believe you, you two have…history” you say coldly. They had slept together and not that long ago.

“That's not fair. I could say the same thing about you and Theo” he retorts. When you don’t respond, he adds, “She asked if we broke up and I lied and told her to fuck off”.

You look between his eyes, he was telling the truth, “she thinks we’re still together?”

He nods, “that’s it.”

You look at him for a second before responding, “good I hate that bitch” you two start walking through the halls together, heading back to the Slytherin house.

“I know you do” he laughs, “she had a bruised nose for a week”

“And I’d do it again,” you shrug.

The silence lingers, the conversation now dragging. This was new territory for both of you, it had never been awkward, even when you were frenemies.

Your stomach rumbles, “oh my god, I never ate today” you groan.

This can become a habit of yours with classes, you get so caught up in them that you completely forget to feed yourself. He narrows his eyes at you, annoyed. He used to pester you to eat all the time.

“I have an idea” he states before holding out his hand towards you. You look at it for a second contemplating before you take it. You see him smile slightly before he guides you towards the kitchens.

“What are you doing?” He doesn’t stop until he reaches the doors.

“Wait here” he says before he heads in. You look through the small window and see him talking to a house elf before he looks out, seeing you peeking.

You move out of the way immediately, guilty that he caught you looking. You wait for a moment longer before he comes out and takes you by the hand again, “alright come on”.

He leads you inside and the house elves are leaving, “what is this?” You ask.

“You and I have the kitchen to ourselves for a while” he shrugs.

You furrow your eyebrows confused, what was he doing?

“Until they have to make dinner of course but that gives us plenty of time” he adds.

“I-“ you start, you didn’t know what to say.

“What do you want?” He asks, “I’m actually a very good cook”

“Mattheo wait” you put your hand on his chest to stop him without thinking and can’t bring yourself to remove it once it’s there, “this is too much…”

“Nope fuck that. What do you want?” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. He’s not going to let up.

You think for a second, “a grilled cheese”

“Just a grilled cheese, are you serious?” He asks in a monotone voice like he doesn’t believe you.

“Deadly.” You stare at him.

He purses his lips and nods before getting the ingredients and starts making 2 grilled cheeses, one for you and one for him.

You see him take out a jar of pickles and place them in one of the sandwiches, “what’re you doing?”

“Putting pickles in mine obviously” he says nonchalantly.

“Mattheo, that's disgusting! What is wrong with you?” You laugh. You didn’t mind pickles normally but in a grilled cheese? It felt illegal.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,”He smirks as pops a pickle in his mouth before setting the sandwiches in a skillet.

You sit on a stool, watching him tend to the sandwiches before he sets them on plates and hands one over to you. He stands at the counter across from you.

You bite into it and instantly you’re in heaven. You groan, “Matty this is so good”. The nickname rolls off with ease.

You guys eat the rest of your sandwiches, glancing at each other now and then. You can feel his gaze on you most of the time but you choose to ignore it, it’s overwhelming.

“You didn’t have to do this…” you trail off as he places the dishes in the sink, the brushes and suds moving with magic.

He turns around leaning back against the counter, “it was just my excuse to get you alone”

“Ah yes, you’re very good at that” you nod. You check your watch and realize you’re super late for your study session with Draco, “shit, I have to go”

“Oh, ok” he stands up as you grab your books and start heading to the door.

When you reach it, you stop and look back, “thank you”

“Sure” he says as he watches you leave.

You take off practically sprinting towards the library to meet Draco, he was going to kill you for being late.

Once you reach the library, you see him sitting at your usual desk, reading. You come up to the desk and set your books down, “I’m so sorry I’m late, I lost track of time”

“Where were you? You’re never late” he asks, annoyed but also concerned.

“Uh…” you scratch the back of your head, “I was with Mattheo”

His eyes narrow and you instantly know what he’s thinking.

“Nothing happened, we just hung out” you shrug as you sit like it’s not a big deal. Internally though, you were freaking out.

“Just hung out?” He asks, still not believing you.

“Can we just drop it?” You look to him, “seriously, no big deal”

“Alright” he turns away and hands you your potions book so you guys can study. Snape was already giving you a test so extra studying was essential to do well on it.

Although you were trying to suppress it, it was a good feeling. Being ‘normal’ with Mattheo, that is. But what even is normal with him? You had no idea.

@helendeath @mayamonroem @hatakemrs @swamp-box @iamdnb @cindyss @gillybear17 @princessluvssleep @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss @schaebickel @anime-tomicfox

#hogwarts fanfiction #slytherin #harry potter #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo fluff

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theunderestimator-2 · 7 months ago

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Hector Penalosa as captured by Melanie Nissen back in 1977 while performing at Larchmont Hall, Los Angeles, with The Zeros, a band of high school teenagers from Chula Vista, CA, who helped create the first wave of punk rock in Southern California (photo included in the photographer's 2002 "Hard and Fast " book with photos previously published in Slash Magazine as well as some never seen before).

cheunderground.site/ : "The Zeros, often referred to affectionately as the “Mexican Ramones,” cannot only justifiably lay claim to being San Diego’s first “punk” rock group but also can brag about being one of the first punk groups in the US. In a brief but brilliant career highlighted by some classic recordings as well as shows with the Clash and Devo, the Zeros played the first big punk shows in both Los Angeles and in San Diego as early as 1977, when they were still high-school students (…) at a time when greater San Diego was both indifferent to and unimpressed by counterculture movements of any kind. Zeros guitarist and lead vocalist Javier Escovedo hails from a musical family… His brother Alejandro founded San Francisco punk band the Nuns, whose pinnacle was opening for the Sex Pistols in their legendary final concert in 1978 at the Winterland, and, was the family member with the most influence upon his musical tastes. Zeros guitarist Robert Lopez and his cousin, Zeros drummer Baba Chenelle grew up together listening to music and learning to play the guitar and drums, respectively. Baba and Hector met in PE class at Chula Vista Junior High School on April 4, 1975, the Monday after KISS made its first appearance on Burt Sugarman’s “Midnight Special.” “I told this kid I had seen this band on TV with a bunch of makeup and platforms,” Hector remembers. “Baba said, ‘Yeah, man, they’re cool. I have three of their records, so I’ll bring ‘em tomorrow, and you can check ‘em out.’ Baba turned me on to a lot of cool music like Aerosmith, the Modern Lovers and the Velvets, and we became friends,” says Hector. Hector decided to switch to bass so that he could eliminate his competition. He began teaching himself to play bass using three albums as guides: “The New York Dolls”; the Dolls’ “Too Much, Too Soon”; and John Lennon’s “Rock and Roll.” During this time, Javier and Robert, who were students at Chula Vista High School, were playing in a band called the Main Street Brats, covering Standells, Seeds, and Velvet Underground songs, alongside Javier’s originals like “Main Street Brat,” “Siamese Tease,” “Wimp” and “Don’t Push Me Around.” They recruited Baba to be the group’s drummer, and later that year, when they needed a bass player, Hector was invited to audition at Javier’s house in Chula Vista. “I didn’t hear from them for a long time afterwards,” Hector remembers. “I finally asked Baba about it, and he told me that they weren’t sure because they thought if I joined there would be too many Mexicans in the band! They were looking for a blonde guy.” The band had now become the Zeros, a nod to a line by Lester Bangs Javier had read in Creem magazine: “I don’t wanna be a hero, I just wanna be a zero.” Founding members of the band Robert Lopez & Hector Penalosa reunited to form The Zeros ’77 and will be performing on a mini So-Sal tour on 17 Sept. in LA, 21 Sept. in San Diego & 22 Sept. in Long Beach. (from 'Getting Nowhere Fas't, a book on the '76-'86 San Diego scene by Ray Brandes of The Tale-Tell Hearts)

(via)

#hector penalosa #the zeros #1977 #punk #punk rock #melanie nissen #chula vista #SoCal #southern california #people

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 4 months ago

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out of my league | pedri gonzalez [part v]

🎓 synopsis: It’s like everyone’s decided for you – your friends are ready to meet Pedri, and his are curious about you. You’re both excited, but happy to take it slow. It’s a little nerve-wracking, but there’s something comforting about knowing you’re taking one step at a time. tags: nerd and jock trope, emotional vulnerability, overthinking. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 2.5k words)

you can read the first part here, or go to the masterlist.

The guys are already at their usual table by the time Pedri grabs his food. He slides in next to Ferran, who’s in the middle of a story, something about a fight breaking out at a party last weekend. Pedri half-listens, nodding at the right moments, but his focus keeps drifting. He sneaks a look at his phone. Nothing. No new messages. He’s already sent you a good morning text hours ago, and he keeps checking, almost out of habit now.

“Hey, earth to Pedri,” Pablo’s voice breaks through, and Pedri looks up to see all three of them staring at him, grinning. Ferran raises an eyebrow.

“You okay, man?” he asks, teasing in his voice. “You’ve been weird lately. Like, distracted.”

“Yeah, way distracted,” Hector chimes in, reaching across the table to nudge Pedri’s shoulder. “Ever since you started seeing that girl. What’s her name again?”

“Don’t even start,” Pedri cuts him off, but he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He picks at his food, trying to ignore the way Pablo’s smirk gets even wider.

“See?” Ferran laughs. “Look at him! He’s gone soft, I’m telling you. That girl’s got him whipped. Never seen you like this, man. Not even when you were with Melanie.”

Pedri just rolls his eyes, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth to avoid saying anything. Mentioning Melanie stings a little, but he knows they don’t mean anything by it. It’s just the way they are. He’s used to it. They all go back to arguing about the latest club in town, which one has the best music. The conversation is loud, rapid-fire, overlapping voices.

“What about this weekend, huh? Who’s going out?”

They all start talking about who’s got a hookup for a VIP spot, who’s bringing which girl. Pedri zones out, half-listening while his hand drifts to his phone again. He taps the screen. Still nothing from you. He feels a small knot tighten in his chest. It’s stupid, he knows – he doesn’t need to hear from you every second of the day – but there’s something about the silence that makes him uneasy.

“Oh, come on!” Pablo laughs, leaning over to catch a look of Pedri’s screen. “You’re not even listening, are you? She hasn’t texted you back yet, huh?”

Hector snickers, Ferran shakes his head, and Pedri feels his face warm as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Shut up,” he mutters, though he can’t help but laugh, too. They’re right, after all.

“He’s got it bad,” Ferran says, “Seriously, man, what happened to you? I remember when you were one of us.”

“Hey, you should invite her to the next party,” Pablo says, Ferran’s head snaps up with interest, and Hector chuckles.

Pedri hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” he says slowly, looking around the table. “With Mel around us like a hawk... it’s just –” He pauses, remembering the scene from the other week, his face twisting with annoyance. “You should’ve seen her the other day. She made a scene, called her ugly right in front of the whole campus, basically.”

“Is she?” Ferran cuts in.

Pedri blinks, confused. “What?”

“Is she ugly?” Ferran repeats, his expression too innocent, and Pablo nearly chokes on his drink.

“No!” Pedri says, his face flushing.

“It’s okay, Pepi,” Pablo says, slinging an arm around Pedri’s shoulder and giving him a mock-sympathetic pat. “You’re ugly too.”

“Shut up,” Pedri mutters, his cheeks burning as he glares at them, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. He ducks his head, a little embarrassed, but also smiling despite himself.

“No, but for real,” Ferran says, “Mel’s not gonna back off as long as she thinks she’s got a shot with you. Maybe if she sees you out there with someone else... it’ll make her chill.”

Pedri goes quiet, thinking about it. He knows Ferran’s right. Melanie’s always been possessive, always close enough to remind him of what they used to be. She’s not exactly subtle.

“I don’t want to make it a whole thing,” Pedri says, shaking his head, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Sometimes you have to make it a thing,” Pablo says, shrugging. “Show her you’ve moved on.”

“And,” Hector adds with a sly grin, “we wanna meet the new girl.”

Pedri rolls his eyes, but his mind’s already racing, thinking about you, about Melanie, about what it would mean to show up with you, to make things public. There’s a part of him that wants it so much, more than he’s willing to admit to them, to himself.

“Maybe,” he says, playing it off with a casual shrug, but his heart’s beating faster in his chest. “We’ll see.”

part 2

Ever since that first night together, it’s like a switch flipped. All that careful pacing, all that patience, is gone. Now it’s like you’re two magnets, completely incapable of staying apart. Your room, his room, your shower, his shower – it doesn’t matter. Every interaction, every conversation, somehow turns into a mess of lips and hands and whispered things that make your cheeks burn even thinking about them now. It’s insane.

And it makes sense, doesn’t it? The floodgates are open, and you’re not exactly in a hurry to close them. But it’s also... distracting. So distracting. You didn’t even answer his good morning text today, not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew the second you did, you’d spiral. Your brain would go there – straight to him and the way his hands feel on your waist, or how his voice drops when he’s close to you. And you just couldn’t let that happen because you really needed to study.

You told yourself a few hours apart would help, give you some distance to focus. But of course, it didn’t.

You’re sitting at your usual table in the library, textbooks open, a half-empty coffee cup pushed to the side. Your head’s drifting between project deadlines and the endless string of chemical formulas you’re supposed to have memorized by now. It’s not going great, and honestly, your brain is two seconds away from a complete shutdown.

“Be honest, are you embarrassed of us?” Alexia’s voice cuts through your haze.

“What?” you ask, blinking at her, your mind still clinging to the last remnants of molecular structures.

“How come you haven’t introduced us to your boyfriend yet?” Ana chimes in.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say automatically, sitting up straighter. “Guys, we’re taking things slow. He just got out of a relationship.”

“So?” Alexia asks, raising an eyebrow.

“And you guys keep saying you hate him,” you add, pointing a finger at them accusingly.

“What? No, we don’t!” Ana says, looking genuinely scandalized.

“Yeah,” Alexia admits, “we don’t say it. We just drop hints.”

You groan, leaning back in your chair, ready to end this conversation before it spirals out of control.

“And for the record,” Alexia continues, “we don’t hate-hate him. We just think he and his friends are pretentious jerks who care too much about appearances and not enough about academic success. Sorry.”

“Not helping,” you mutter, but a small laugh that escapes, despite how defensive you’re feeling.

Arthur, who’s been oddly quiet this whole time, finally clears his throat. “I have to admit something,” he says, his voice unusually serious.

Everyone turns to him, sensing a shift in the room.

“I like football.”

The whole table freezes, staring at him like he’s just confessed to a crime. “What?” Alexia’s the first to break the silence. “Since when?”

“Since I was a kid,” Arthur says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, even though the confession is clearly costing him. “And I go to all of his games. And... I think he knows I’m friends with you. He waved at me once.”

There’s another beat of stunned silence before Ana gasps, her jaw dropping. “Arthur! You traitor!”

“I can’t believe this,” Alexia says, shaking her head. “You’ve been hiding this from us this whole time?”

“It’s not like I keep it a secret,” Arthur defends, though his cheeks are starting to turn pink. “I just... didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Maybe I can talk to him, then,” you say, your voice so soft it’s almost lost under the chatter of the library. The words feel heavy, awkward, and you regret even saying anything. But now, all three of your friends are staring at you.

“What?” Alexia asks, leaning forward like she didn’t quite catch it.

“Just... bring it up,” you mumble, scratching the back of your neck, your eyes fixed on the table. “Casually. See what he thinks. And... maybe we can think of something for you guys to meet.”

Ana gasps, practically vibrating with excitement. “Finally!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air.

“Wait, hold up,” Alexia says, her brow furrowing as she looks at you skeptically. “Are you sure?"

“Of course. Well, I mean...” you start, still avoiding eye contact, “it is kind of not not a big deal.”, you say, busy thinking about how you’d even bring this up to him. Just casually? Like, “Hey, my friends want to meet you. No pressure, though.” It feels impossible.

“So,” Ana cuts in, “what’s the plan? Like, are we thinking a big group thing? Or a small hangout where we can all judge him quietly?”

“Please don’t do that,” you say, dragging your hands down your face as you sigh. “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to talk to him first.”

Arthur leans on the table. “You’re really overthinking this, you know. If he’s half as into you as I think, he’ll agree to whatever.”

“I’ll figure something out,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“Good,” Alexia says, leaning back with a small smile. “And remember, we don’t actually hate him. We just like to keep you on your toes.”

Ana grins. “Yeah. We’ll be nice. Probably.”

“Probably,” Arthur repeats.

part 3

You lean against the wall, your fingers tracing the rim of a coffee cup, lost in thought. It’s been a whirlwind, everything with Pedri, the way it’s evolved so quickly, so intensely. You didn't expect this – any of this. When you first met him, it was like a spark, like a connection you just couldn’t ignore, but now? Now it feels like something much deeper.

You take a sip of your coffee, but it’s lukewarm now, and you don’t really taste it. Your mind drifts back to the last few days, the way Pedri’s presence has become so constant, so consuming. It should feel overwhelming, but instead, you find yourself craving more. More of him, more of the way he makes you feel alive in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s scary, how fast it’s moving, but you don’t want to stop it.

Now, thanks to your friends and their constant teasing, your head isn’t just swimming with heated memories of him, now it’s anxiety. Like, full-blown, stomach-twisting anxiety about him meeting your friends. Which makes sense, every time you take a big step with him, it feels like there’s always a bigger one waiting just around the corner. It’s normal, sure, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

Do I really want him to meet them? The thought makes your stomach turn a little, not because you don’t want him to, but because you’re not sure what will happen once they meet. You sigh, rubbing your temple. Then, you stand up, shaking off the thoughts, deciding that overthinking isn’t going to get you anywhere.

So when you know your schedules match up, and you’re both going to be in the same building, you don’t even think twice. You find him, and just seeing him, you feel ridiculous about it, but it’s like your heart relaxes for the first time all day.

You just walk up and wrap your arms around him like you’ve been apart for weeks, not just a few hours. He doesn’t even hesitate, pulling you in just as tight.

“Sorry for not texting back,” you mumble, your cheek pressed against his chest. Your voice comes out weird, quieter than you meant it to, and there’s guilt sitting heavy in your stomach.

Pedri just holds you, his hand moving slow and steady down your back. “It’s okay,” he says, “You’re here now.”

And there’s that feeling again. Like everything else doesn’t matter for a minute. Just him, holding you, making everything in your world feel less... scary.

“My friends want to meet you,” you say, still pressed against him, your voice muffled against his shirt. You don’t even lift your head; it’s safer here.

“Sorry, what?” Pedri leans back, just enough to break the hug, one hand moving to your cheek, tilting your face up to his. His thumb brushes your skin like he’s trying to soften whatever has you so tense. His eyes flicker between yours, then settle on your lips, focused, waiting for you to say it again.

“My friends want to meet you,” you repeat, even quieter this time, but clear enough.

He smiles, wide, surprised, almost laughing. “My friends want to meet you!” he echoes, like it’s the most hilarious thing in the world.

Then, softer, his hands find their way into your hair. “What do you think?” he asks, his hands slide into your hair, petting softly, his fingers careful like he’s trying to calm your nerves. He looks entertained by the idea, maybe even excited, but there’s a carefulness too, the way he’s always so careful with you.

“I don’t know,” you say after thinking for a moment, your voice small. “It’s just... they’re my friends. And they’re kind of –”

“Protective?” he offers.

“Judgmental,” you correct, half-laughing but mostly serious.

He chuckles, leaning closer, the warmth of his breath brushing your forehead. “They can’t be worse than Ferran and Pablo. And you don’t have to decide now,” he adds, his tone more serious. “I’ll meet them when you’re ready. Just say the word, okay?”

The way he’s looking at you makes your chest ache, all that patience and care. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how good he is at this – at making you feel like you can take all the time in the world.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice almost breaking, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s relief. It’s gratitude.

“Now, come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, his hand sliding back to your waist, pulling you flush against him in one smooth motion. He leans in, his lips brushing just under your ear in a quick kiss before whispering, “I missed you.” Another kiss, softer this time. “I’m not mad you didn’t text. I know you’re a good girl.” And then he bites, just the faintest tug at your earlobe, all very fast.

“But now,” he murmurs, his voice casual, like he’s barely trying, “I think I deserve a reward.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, narrowing your eyes like you’re annoyed, but the corner of your mouth betrays you. “You’re getting spoiled,” you tease. “I’ve been rewarding you so much, you’re starting to think it’s a given.”

He smirks, tilting his head like he’s considering that for a moment, but his grip on your waist tightens. “It is a given,” he says, completely confident. “Because I’m always going to deserve it.”

And with that, you’re already giving in, rolling your eyes but laughing anyway. “Fine,” you say, trying to sound exasperated, but it’s no use. “You do deserve it.”

➜ Next Part

#football fanfic #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #football fic #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri x you #brightlightwrites

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