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fashionteahouse · 2 months ago

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nitrous - paul x reader

AN: << Request from @hobo97 : Can I get a Paul x reader where he loves going down on her, just need some smut with some fluff

<< sure thing ;) hope you enjoy :)

The lock of your door was tight and secure. The keys fell into your jacket pocket. You turn and felt the wind kiss your skin softly as you made the journey to the car door.

The smell was like whiplash, it was so manly, and so Paul. You lean forward and he covers your lips and slowly, sensually pulls away with a soft smack. You pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it in.

Soft spoken words of small talk filled the small space. Your eyes kept flickering to his hands that were on the steering wheel. Large and strong but gentle when handling you.

He opens both the car and diner door. It wasn’t busy, the servers allowing you both to pick, he picked a booth in the back in a corner. You were trapped between him and the wall, deciding to sit close next to you. He tells the drinks you both would like. The server goes to fetch it and he places an arm around you.

You look and give him a smile and flicker your eyes at the menu. He leans in and gives places a brief but affectionate kiss on your cheek. It was sweet. Butterflies flickered in your stomach. He places his lips very close, almost touching the shell of your ear. He whispers very softly to you, that only you got the luxury of, “You smell like sex.”

You pull your head away to look at him but just then, he turns his head over to see that the sever walks up to the table and sets the drinks down, naming each of them. You blindly tell the server what you want, swallowing with nervousness.

Paul is relaxed, watching as the waitress walks away. His eyes return to yours. It felt like it was just you and him in the world. His hand rests on your thigh. You place your hand on top of his as it strongly goes up further. You jolt discreetly as his fingers danced along your panty line. You look over and see that his fingers that were hanging over your shoulder, was now gliding on your neck and with your hair. If anyone were to look over, it looked like harmless love.

His other hand was the one that caressed the moistness that made a spill in your underwear. Your face burned higher than third degree as you watch him take the wet finger, smoothly swiping it in his mouth. The high of the nitrous taste making him want to sing.

He followed close behind you, your heart beating with every step that you took upstairs. Your hand on the railing, was covered over his as you went up a step.

Sitting on the bed, he hooks his finger, gesturing you to come to him. You carefully sit on his lap and he immediately crushed his lips to yours. His hands rubbing on the deep ache. Your breath hitch as his talented mouth, stimulated you at the same time as his fingers that were massaging the ache that was between your legs. A warm vibration spread through you as you squeeze some of his hair.

Breathing in and pulling back, the smell of you was so sweet, he could taste you on his tongue already. He didn’t need to get on a roller coaster, or try any daredevil tricks. This was more exciting. The scent of you made him grin, almost devilish, as he pressed his nose on the wet covered fabric that was between your legs. The scent swirled in his lungs.

You peered down, your back on the softness of his blanket, your underwear was rolled off of your ankles from Paul. Kissing the skin, moving lower and lower, the feel of his strong hands relaxed you as they guided your hips towards his mouth. A soft breath came out of your lips as he worked his tongue, tracing your gateway. He was making out with it. Lips and tongue deep into you, making it hard for you to catch your breath.

Paul was gone off of the taste. He kept lapping as if it was the last bit of water that he would be able to drink up for a long time. Your hips followed his tongue up and down, each glide of his tongue, sparking tingles through your body. The sheets beside you are gripped up from your fingers. You were over the edge while he took his time, he wanted to bathe in the sweet nectar. The sounds him suctioning all of you and his deep moans only added to the erotic scenery.

Squeezing his head between your legs made him keep going, overstimulating you until you’re mumbling out jumbled words. Your head is going side to side, body arching into him. He holds into you right, swirling and twirling his wet tongue on the pearl that you possess. He comes up, letting you go with a pop. You move back, not having a grip on your soft trembling. He runs his hands on your stomach, up to your breasts. He looks down, licking his lips.

He pulls you up, over him as he pulls you up towards his face. You retract, “I can’t.” you whisper.

“Yes you can.” he erotically whispered back, kissing you in the spot that you were weak to the touch. You grabbed blindly at the wall in front of you, pressing your rolling hips onto his face. The euphoric feeling made you only know vowels, not full words.

“You’re going to kill me.” you say, your high came down as he holds you close with your head on his chest.

“Im not.” he says as he chuckles, rubbing his hand slowly and sensually on your shoulder on down.

You break into a grin and sit up a bit to look at him and lean to kiss him, “Why do you do this to me?”

He pulls you back to his lips, pulls back a bit and softly tells you on your lips, “You taste so good.”

#paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you #reader smut #smut with plot #smut #fluff #smut and fluff #paul lahote x reader

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project-sonadow · 10 months ago

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happy hour drabble # 2

Sonic had been dragging his feet all day. It was Monday again, which meant there wasn't much to do at Speedy's. Count the change, polish his roller skates, clean the fryers. That was his routine. By the end of his shift, it felt like there were lead blocks stuffed in his socks.

One of his coworkers gave him a strange look when he hung up his hat. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," the girl replied. For some reason, her eyes looked sad. "Get some rest tonight, won't you, Arthur? We can't have you calling out; you're our best skater!"

Sonic raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask what she meant by that, she disappeared out the back door. Though her voice was muffled now, he could still make out her last request: "And don't forget to lock up!"

Rolling his eyes, Sonic twirled the keys in between his fingers and shook his head. This wasn't his first rodeo! After switching out his skates for his regular, non-wheeled shoes, he left the restaurant with his laces still untied. The door closed behind him, and he locked it with a soft click.

Shadow was waiting for him in his usual spot. The headlights on Shadow's motorcycle illuminated the dark parking lot with warm yellow light, and its engine filled the air with a weighty hum. Sonic hopped onto the back of the bike in one swift motion, and then wrapped his arms around Shadow’s waist like he'd been waiting to do it all day.

"No detours tonight," Sonic said. "I'm bushed!"

Shadow glanced back over his shoulder and was greeted by a mess of wild brown-and-blue quills. "Fine," he said. "That disaster you call a coat would give us away in an instant. Save your strength so I can fix it before bed."

If Sonic replied, it was drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle's engine as it roared to life. Sonic rested his head against Shadow's shoulder as the dark hedgehog drove them back to their apartment. The cool air felt nice against Sonic's fur as the wind whipped through it.

Soon, they arrived. Shadow parked the motorcycle in front of their apartment building before the two of them got off. Only then, under the bright white streetlights, did Shadow see the red flush on Sonic's cheeks. Without so much as a word, Shadow stepped forward and pressed the back of his hand against Sonic's forehead.

"Uh?" Sonic blinked. "Sh-- Lance? What're you...?"

Shadow dropped his hand from Sonic's forehead. "You're burning up," he said matter-of-factly. Then, he took Sonic's hand. "Come. Let's go inside."

Sonic let Shadow lead him up the stairs as he processed what he'd just said. "Wait," Sonic said as Shadow pushed open the door to their apartment. "I'm sick? But it's Monday!"

"Correct."

After both of them were inside the apartment, Shadow shut the door. Now, Sonic's face was screwed up like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem. "That doesn't make any sense," Sonic was saying. "I wasn't sick last Monday, or last last Monday, or--"

Shadow interrupted, "It's possible our minds aren't the only things that remain intact throughout time."

Sonic frowned, "So, someone's germs from the last loop are making me sick in this one?" He paused to think about that for a second. "That's not good, dude. That means..."

"Any consequences will persist regardless of our current place in time," Shadow finished. He was frowning now, too.

"Great," Sonic said, even though nothing about this was great. "Well, there goes my Plan A."

"And what was that?"

Sonic grinned, "'Run straight at the bad guy and hope for the best'!"

Shadow pursed his lips and sighed. Loudly. With agitation. "That's always your plan."

Sonic opened his mouth to reply, but a sneeze cut off whatever snarky remark he had prepared. His grin faded as he remembered how tired he was. Talk about a buzzkill! Next time he saw Tails, he'd have to ask him to make a shrink ray, so he could fight off germs with his fists.

Shadow shook his head as he watched Sonic's ears droop. "Go. Sit," he said. "I'll take it from here."

Sonic wanted to argue, but Shadow’s stern brown eyes made him feel funny. “Whatever,” Sonic muttered as he averted his gaze. “Just don’t take too long. I can’t promise I’ll stick around if you do!”

In truth, Sonic wasn’t going anywhere. Now that he was free from the constraints of his 9 to 5, and the horrors of capitalism were held back by the immutable strength of their apartment door, he was left with nothing to distract him from his fever. He shuffled into the bathroom and plopped down on the stool, waiting for Shadow to come in with the dye.

He sniffled. His bones hurt. He scratched his head, irritated. This never would’ve happened to world famous superhero, Sonic the Hedgehog. It was only because he was disguised as some random punk that he’d gotten sick.

“I seem to remember your fox friend recounting a tale to the contrary,” Shadow suddenly said. He’d appeared in the doorway, dye in hand. “Something about you and Arabian Nights…?”

Sonic waved his hand. “That was different,” he said.

Shadow popped the lid off a bottle of brown dye. “Oh? Is that so?”

Huffing indignantly, Sonic replied, “Yeah. That time, my worst enemy was a super powerful genie. This time, it’s customers!”

Shadow lowered his head. Sonic could’ve sworn he saw him smile. “Hold still,” Shadow said, his hands freshly gloved up and covered in dye. “I’ll be quick.”

Regardless of the truth of that statement, Sonic was physically, mentally, and emotionally incapable of holding still. He tried. Of course, he didn’t want to squirm around like a worm in the rain. But he couldn’t help it! Just like he couldn’t help but tap his foot against the linoleum, his claws clack-clack-clacking against the tile as he did so. That was, until one of Shadow’s hands moved to the back of Sonic’s left ear, and Sonic froze.

Sonic felt Shadow rub the dye into his fur. He felt his claws brush gently against the softest part of his ear. And Sonic stopped thinking about how lame it was to be sick. He didn’t worry about holding still. His heart fluttered in his chest and his eyes closed, totally focused on how good it felt to have Shadow’s fingers in his fur.

Shadow paused, having noticed the strange shift in Sonic’s behavior. But there was no time for him to lean forward and investigate, because a gentle pressure was now pushing against the palm of his hand, urging him to continue.

It was Sonic, leaning into Shadow’s touch.

Shadow nearly choked, but he managed to keep his composure. He isn’t feeling well, Shadow reminded himself. That’s all this was.

And yet, when Shadow resumed styling Sonic’s quills, he wasn’t thinking about covering up all the blue spots anymore. Instead, he focused his attention on just that one spot behind Sonic’s ear. He didn’t know why. Maybe he pitied Sonic. As the Ultimate Lifeform, he would never know how it felt to be ill.

Sonic leaned deeper into Shadow’s touch. His tense shoulders relaxed. His job, their mission, the time loop–none of that mattered anymore. Somewhere inside his chest, next to his heart, a soft rumbling began. Purring.

Sonic was purring.

Abruptly, Shadow stood. He turned away from Sonic, so he didn’t see him blink his eyes open sleepily.

“Shadow…?”

“That’s all for now,” Shadow said stiffly. “Count yourself lucky. If not for your… illness… you would’ve been sitting there for much longer.”

And then he exited the bathroom, leaving Sonic sitting there as the last of his purrs quietly faded away.

#project writes #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgheog #happy hour au #hehe :)c

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joelalorian · 1 year ago

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Tides of Desire - Chapter Seven: From Stem to Stern

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, fluff, angst, smut (eventual), unprotected p in v (though Joel had the best of intentions), little bit of fingering and oral (f receiving). Reader is a badass. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used).

AN: New mood board courtesy of the wonderful @janaispunk! Thank you so much, love!

The fun nakey times are finally here! Took them long enough, but Joel finally got his head out of his ass. Hope you enjoy!

Series masterlist

Chapter Seven: From Stem to Stern

A subtle ding sounded as the elevator reached Joel’s floor, jolting the two of you to awareness of your surroundings before the doors opened. The tingle from the merest brushing of Joel’s lips against yours had you floating on air as you followed him to his room, your mind a flurry of wonder. If that simple act was so damn good, what would if feel like to really kiss him, to run your fingers through his hair, to brush your hand over his hardening cock, to slip each other’s clothes off and climb into bed, to feel your bodies come together…

Jesus Christ, you were already hot and bothered as Joel swept you up toward another crest on the roller coaster you were on.

Once inside the room, you froze, wide eyes sweeping over the open concept, oversized room with a king size bed, a chaise lounge, glass exposing the large shower and garden tub to the rest of the room. It was a room for lovers, where nothing was hidden but the toilet. Joel booked this room with specific intent, or at least hope, that much was clear. He said you didn’t have to do anything, but clearly, this room was made for exactly what you wanted to do. The butterflies fluttering in your stomach became a flurry of activity equivalent to CAT 3 hurricane-force winds.

Holy shit.

Soft, cautious puppy eyes met yours, a hint of worry visible behind his glasses at your reaction to all this. A lock of dark curls had fallen over Joel’s forehead, giving him a youthful look. Your heart clenched. You wanted this. You wanted it so bad. Had he finally given in?

Your thoughts scanned through recent interactions, recalling Frank’s cryptic chat with you and the insight from Donna before her charter departed. Did they all know something you didn’t? See something you couldn’t?

Joel’s hand started to twitch waiting for your response to his silent question. Smiling brightly, you reached for him with urgency. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It will shatter me if you change your mind halfway through or regret this, us, tomorrow.”

Those dark chocolate eyes seared into yours, etching his words into your soul as he spoke. “I want this. I want you. I’m tired of sacrificing the things I want because I’m afraid of history repeating itself. Everyone has told me I deserve to be happy, it’s about time I believe it myself. And you… you make me happy.”

He kissed you then, hard, tongue running along the seam of your lips until you opened them to let him in. Your tongues tangled in a mix between gentle exploration and heated passion. It was the kiss of someone starved of intimacy, seeking to feel, to consume, yet not quite devour., not yet. That would come later, you hoped.

Face cradled in the palms of his hands; Joel caressed your cheekbones with his thumbs as the kiss continued. Your senses were consumed with him – his scent, taste, touch, the sounds of his subtle groans and whines at the feel, taste of you in return. It was all encompassing and you wondered how you survived those five weeks being close to him without doing this…

Wait, had it only been five weeks? That seemed so short in the grand span of things, but everything about yacht life was exaggerated, more intense. Time stretched differently when you lived and worked in a confined space with the same people. Feelings developed faster, more deeply during ‘boatmances’. And they burned out quicker, too, if you weren’t careful. Almost everyone who worked on a yacht learned that one the hard way.

Still, the five weeks of dancing around each other, your feelings, only made you realize how much you wanted this, wanted him. It wasn’t just a fling. It could, would be so much more than a boatmance. You had been willing to wait the entirety of the season to be with him. That was evident of something real, something sustainable, something that could so easily become… love.

Part of you wondered what really happened to change Joel’s mind. He had been so adamant about not pursuing something on the yacht and now here you were, wrapped up in his arms, in the hottest kiss you ever experienced – granted you were in a hotel room and not aboard the yacht, but still, it was still season. What changed his mind, exactly?

Equally, another part of you wondered what happened in his past to make Joel so rigid and sacrificial about the rules to begin with.

The moment one of Joel’s hands slipped down from your face to skillfully paw at your breast, all thought left your head. The moan that emanated from the depths of your belly was sinful and you could feel Joel’s lips twitch toward a smirk against your own.

Minutes – hours? – later, Joel forced himself back with a deep-seated sigh. “We need to go, or we’ll miss dinner.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” you asked, raking in the sight of him looking so thoroughly snogged. You were not ready to let him go yet.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he speared his fingers through his hair, attempting to collect himself. “No, not as such. But I know we’ll need the energy later, sweetheart, so we better get to dinner.”

Now that you’d kissed, Joel calling you sweetheart hit a bit different, leaving you weak in the knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lanterns filled with fairy lights were placed along the middle of the dark wooden table, elegant place settings in front of each seat. By the time Joel and you arrived, there were only two seats left, one across the table from the other. You slipped into the seat between Tess and Sarah when they waved you over and Joel sat next to his brother and Jake. Your eyes met across the table before Joel dipped his head toward his brother, a hushed conversation taking place. Tommy’s gaze shot to you with a leering grin before he turned back to nod at Joel, the movement of their arms indicating something was being passed between them beneath the table. You searched Joel’s face for a clue by he gave nothing away, simply taking a sip from the glass of ice water and continuing to talk to his brother.

“Soooo…” Tess drew your attention, “Where’s your room? Sarah and I are on the third floor.”

Willing the heat rushing your cheeks away, you forced yourself not to glance in Joel’s direction. “I’m on the sixth floor.”

“Ohhh reeealllyy?” Sarah chimed in, drawing out the words. “My dad is on the sixth floor, too. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think, Tess?”

The pair of them leaned across you, broad grins on their pretty faces as they teased you. “Definitely a coincidence. I heard the sixth floor only has a few, larger rooms… special ones. You know the kind, right, Sarah?”

You expected this ridiculousness from someone Sarah’s age, but Tess was almost worst in how much enjoyment she was finding in it. “Will you two quit it,” you hissed, though the inability to stop smiling lessened the effect.

“I’m just glad he’s manning up, honestly,” Sarah admitted once the laughter settled. “I know it’s probably weird to be concerned about my dad’s, you know, sex life, but I’m just really happy he’s loosening up.” After a beat, she added, “But I DO NOT want any details. None. Ever. Got it?”

Nearly choking on a sip of water, you nodded emphatically. “I have no interest in sharing any. Ever. Promise.” You hesitated a moment, graciously offering Tess a chance to add her two pence, but she only winked in return, broad grin gracing her face. “Can we, please, change the fucking subject now?”

As drink and dinner orders were placed, you glanced across the table to see that Joel hadn’t fared much better than you, his attention torn between his brother’s teasing and relentless questions from Jake. Your gazes met briefly, taking a moment to acknowledge each other, the hint of what was to come after dinner sparkling behind both your eyes.

Dinner could not be over soon enough. It was torture sitting across from Joel, sharing glances yet not really speaking, while also dodging Jake’s flirtatious attempts at conversation. You wanted so badly to temper your nerves with alcohol but didn’t want to risk drinking too much. Nothing could get in the way of a whole night alone with Joel. Instead, you sipped at a glass of cabernet and focused on chatting with Sarah and Tess.

Mid-way through dinner, a commotion sounded at the far end of the table, and you looked up to see Connor walking toward the group, one arm in a cast held tight to his torso with a sling. He looked a little worse for wear, but his young face was lit up with happiness at seeing everyone again. Emmy was nearly in tears as she jumped out of her seat to rush toward him, only calming when she glanced at his arm and pulled him into a tight side hug.

The rest of the evening past more quickly as everyone caught up with Connor. He was heading home the following morning and happily accepted Joel’s offer to join them for one last dinner.

When dessert was served, you excused yourself from the table with the excuse of wanting to relax in a bubble bath rather than hit the outdoor bar with the group. You accepted a fair amount of ribbing from the group for being an old lady, though two of the Millers and Tess teased you with knowing looks. The third Miller tilted his lips into a half smile, longing in his chocolate puppy eyes.

“Good night, mates!” you called over your shoulder, slipping through the tables to the lobby where you waited for the next elevator.

The resort was busy, it was near peak tourist season in the tropics with plenty of northerners seeking respite from the cold, and the elevator was packed. You squeezed between bodies and rolling luggage to reach the back corner of the elevator, knowing you were in for a few stops before you reached the top floor. The elevator slowly emptied floor-by-floor until you were the only one left going to the sixth floor.

Entering the extravagant room and kicking your strappy sandals off with a sigh of relief, you let the sundress you wore slip to the floor not far from the door. Dark blue lace panties and a matching bra were next to fall from your body, creating a trail leading to the tub. The thought of Joel spotting it all as soon as he walked through the door thrilled you as the large garden tub was filling with steaming water and the scented bubble bath provided by the resort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joel tried to escape as promptly as he could, the thought of you waiting – hopefully naked – in his room calling to him like a siren, but Tommy insisted that he join them for at least one shot at the pool bar before calling it a night.

“Big night, huh, brother?” Tommy teased, gulping heavily from the beer in his hand. Swiping the back of his free hand across his mouth, he grinned madly at Joel. “Ya sure ya remember how everything works? What parts go where and what not?”

“Asshole,” Joel grumbled, pink tinging his tanned face. “Let’s just do this shot already. I have somewhere much better to be.”

“Alright, alright. Here,” Tommy handed him the small glass full of amber liquid. “Cheers to your dick seeing some action finally.”

“Jesus Christ.” Joel rolled his eyes, tossing back the shot to let the liquid burn down his throat. “Behave tonight. Stay away from the married ladies. I’ll be too busy to bail your ass out of anything.” Clasping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, Joel nodded to himself before turning to walk away.

“Enjoy yourself and make sure she comes first!” Tommy called after him much to Joel’s chagrin, the nervous captain glancing around to make sure none of the other crew heard. He didn’t necessarily want to advertise that he was about to sleep with a member of his crew.

His brother was such a little shit, but Joel was grateful that Tommy always had an extra condom on him. It had been so long, Joel forgot all about the importance of protection and asked his brother for one at dinner in a panic. Having come prepared for his own night of potential fun, Tommy had extras and passed Joel two beneath the table. It occurred to him now that he probably could have tracked some down for purchase in this huge resort, but whatever.

A man on a mission, Joel stalked through the lobby to the elevators, not so patiently waiting for the next available one to take him up to the sixth floor. He wondered what you were doing, his mind swirling with possible images – you draped across the oversized bed, naked and waiting for him, or neck deep in the garden tub, equally naked with bubbles hiding all your delectable bits from his view as you waited for him to join you.

God dammit, his pants were already becoming uncomfortable, his cock swelling at his thoughts alone. He would be fit to burst when he finally set eyes on you.

A nervous tick settled into his hands, thick fingers flexing as the elevator ascended. Part of him could not believe he was doing this – what the fuck was he thinking?! But another part of him overflowed with virility, eager to prove to himself that he was ready and able to feel something again.

Right then and there, in that boxy elevator surrounded by Muzak, Joel made a promise to himself to allow happiness and love back into his life without regard to past hurts or failures.

Small beads of sweat gathered beneath his glasses when he stepped into the hallway of his floor. Removing the frames, Joel wiped his face and shook the nerves out of his shoulders. It was go time!

Heart beating heavily in his chest, cock still half hard, he entered the room, the trail of your clothes visible in the dim lighting. He followed them like a homing beacon to find you in the large tub, instrumental music playing softly from your phone as you relaxed, immersed in fragrant bubbles. The sight stole the breath from his lungs, glasses fogging up from the heat emanating from his body and the humidity of the bath. He tore them from his face, tossing them toward the vanity with a careless flick of his hand.

Neither of you uttered a word, gazes clashing as you stared at each other in a haze of need and want. He was already stripping out of his clothes before words finally fell from his lips. “Mind if I join you?”

You stared back at him, flawless skin dewy from the water and eyes wide, the curve of an inviting smile upon your lips as you took in every inch of his broad form as it was bared before you. “I’ve been waiting,” you murmured, sliding forward to allow him to slip into the tub behind you.

Joel’s confidence soared as your gaze roved over his now bare body, lingering for long moments on his cock, now fully hard and glistening with pre-come. He felt like a man reborn, giving into something he wanted, needed for the first time in far too long. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

The tops of your breasts peeked above the suds as you sat up in the water, eyes alight with playfulness. “Mmhmm, I like everything I’m seeing. Get in here, please.”

He followed your order at once, slipping into the tub with careful movements, and pulled you back against his chest once settled, the hard press of him against your lower back. Momentarily disappointed that he hadn’t gotten the chance to see all of you yet, Joel wrapped his arms around you, eager hands already roaming your skin beneath the water, which was dangerously high with the addition of his broad frame.

“You feel amazing in my arms.” Joel’s voice rumbled from his chest, and he could feel the gooseflesh spread across your skin as his breath washed over you. “I could so easily fall for you, ya know?” He felt you nod against him.

“Me, too, Joel” you breathed. Your hands wandered over every bit of him you could reach, both of you explored each other until the desire for more became too much and the water began to cool. “Take me to bed, Joel.”

He could refuse you nothing. Helping you from the tub, Joel gently wrapped you up in a bath sheet before drying himself off. When you dropped the towel to the floor, Joel pounced, sealing his lips to yours in an intimate kiss, a mere precursor to what more was to come as his own towel fell to the floor.

Stepping back, Joel bent down and fished around in the pocket of his pants for the condoms. A wave of lightheadedness washed over him as he stood up again, the sight of you naked and waiting for him too much for his senses. He grasped your hand, quickly bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss on your knuckles before leading you to the bed.

He you laid down on the bed, skin chilled from the air conditioning and Joel peppered your body with soft, wet kisses as his worked his way up to meet your lips. The kiss started as a gentle press of your mouths but quickly turned into a passionate tangling of your tongues and shared breaths. Joel could not keep his hands still, callused fingers caressing from the soft nook of your neck to the swell of your ass and everywhere in between. He could not get enough of you.

Your fingers tangled in his thick curls, tugging experimentally until he groaned with a deep rumble. One hand continued working through his hair as the other roamed, short nails scraping over his broad shoulders and back, along the softness of his belly and love handles, grabbing a handful of the ass you had spent many a moment admiring in his uniform pants. Finally, your hand moved between you to feel the heft of his cock in your grip, and watched Joel’s eyes roll back.

Loving the feel of your hands on him, Joel rolled until he was hovering over you, cock pressed against your lower belly. “Hi,” he whispered with a boyish grin, his left hand wandering down between your thighs, fingertips exploring your folds.

“Hi,” you giggled in return, squirming slightly at the intimate touch.

“You are mesmerizing, did you know that? I am completely under your spell, and I can’t fight it anymore. I don’t want to fight it anymore.” Settling more of his weight down on you, pressing his hardened cock further against you, Joel added, “Do you feel what you do to me, sweetheart?”

He watched your eyelids flutter shut as you nodded, his finger slipping inside you with a sigh. You were soaked and he murmured as much in your ear, adding a second thick finger, hitting depths he knew you couldn’t reach on your own. Joel used his thumb to pluck at your clit until you were a writhing mess beneath him.

“You gonna come for me, gorgeous? Lemme hear those delightful sounds, yeah?” He worked you faster, harder, watching as your eyes rolled back with pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show me how fucking good it feels.” His cock swelled impossibly harder at your moans as you tipped headlong over the edge into an abyss of pleasure. “You are fucking beautiful.”

Still high on your orgasm, you clawed at him, pulling him closer until his full body weight was on you, mouths meeting with sloppy kisses. A quick reach down and he was notched at your entrance, pushing into you with precision.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, the breath swept from your lungs as you were filled to the brim with the enormity of Joel fucking Miller. Your arms clutched him, left hand coming up to tangle your fingers into the thick hair on the back of his head, and your legs wrapped around his hips.

Whispering your name like a prayer against your skin as he pressed open mouth kisses down your neck, Joel moved his hips in a steady rhythm, increasing the intensity as the tension in your bellies built and built.

“You feel so fucking good. Your pretty pussy is like heaven, I never want to leave. It’s so tight, gripping me like a fucking vice.” Words of appreciation and praise tumbled from Joel’s lips as he surrounded you, working you both toward that beautiful peak.

His thrusts lost their rhythm as you came, your walls squeezing him until he exploded, emptying himself inside you, moans and sighs echoing off the walls of the oversized room. You remained tangled together, chests heaving and sweaty, until Joel’s weight became too much. His softening cock slipped out of you as he rolled to the side, eyes catching the unopened condoms packets on the nightstand once he was on his back.

“Oh fuck!”

The sudden exclamation in the quiet room startled you and you sat up. “What? What’s wrong?”

Eyes squeezed closed, Joel’s hand curled into a fist, bumping against his forehead in frustration. “I forgot to put on a fucking condom. I’m so sorry.” Figured, the first intimate moment he had in a long while and he forgot protection.

Your small hand ran over his belly, curling yourself into his side, chin resting on his chest. “Joel, it’s ok, I promise. I’m on birth control and clean. I always stay on it, regulates the monthlies, yeah? Besides, it’s been a bit since I was with anyone.”

Arm falling to his side, Joel’s head raised to meet your eyes, relief flooding his veins. “You sure? I mean, I’m clean, too, and it’s been… a long while since I was with someone.”

“It’s settled then. We’re clean and protected against pregnancy. When can we go for round two?” You burst into laughter at the expression on his face.

“Sweetheart, I’m forty. Gimme a bit of recovery time. I can go all night with a little recovery,” Joel promised, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your forehead, before pulling you up for a soft kiss on the mouth.

Cuddled together, you filled the time talking, and you finally got some context on why he refused you initially. There was history with Sarah’s mom, whom he met on a yacht in the early stages of his career, and it was a disaster, nearly sidelining his captaincy. He didn’t share the gritty details, not yet at least, but it burned him, badly, and left him avoiding intimacy on or off the boat for a long time. He focused, instead, on Sarah and his career, having a few dalliances and short-term relationships over the years, but nothing he ever committed himself to. Until you. He could see himself in a life with you.

“You make me happy,” Joel said, kissing his way down your body.

“You make me happy, too, Joel Miller,” you squeaked as his tongue delved between your folds, licking upwards to tease that little bundle of nerves.

Round two, three, and four carried well into the early morning hours, leaving you both satiated and exhausted. You slept in, missing the crew breakfast and half the day at the beach club, though neither of you cared. You knew Sarah, Tess, and Tommy would make excuses for you if anyone noticed.

The thought of going back to the yacht, where you’d have to resume your professional relationship again – at least in front of the crew and guests – left you both feeling empty and sad, but you agreed to enjoy every single moment you had left together at the resort. Everything else could be figured out as the season winded down.

TBC

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story

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piratefalls · 11 months ago

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i emerge from my pile of blankets in the freezing midwest just long enough to drop this. there's all kinds of fun stuff this week! and, despite being housebound because of subzero temps, i'm so far behind on reading it's not even funny, so it's a little shorter than usual.

masterlist.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes

Alex had pulled away at the sound of the door opening, is the thing. He’d looked up at Henry with wide eyes and spit-slick, swollen lips, and Henry knows intrinsically that he will never be rid of that mental image. He’ll take it into the shower later, into bed tonight, into the rest of his natural life; if he hits his head tomorrow and winds up with some medically implausible form of amnesia, the key to unlocking his identity will be the enduring memory of a beautiful mystery man and his perfect cock-sucking mouth. Because Alex was—Christ, he was— Or, Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

wake and shake by weather_stained

Alex wakes up to find Henry indulging in some...classical literature.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz

Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him. And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame. -- Or, surprise, it's a love confession

check-in closes at too-early p.m. by coffeecatsme

A passenger plane, even if he was in first class, wasn’t going to wait for the former FSOTUS to stop making out with his boyfriend so they can fly. Or, 5 times Alex misses his flight and 1 time he doesn't.

sometimes we break so beautiful by Anonymous

It’s his own damn fault; Alex knows this. It’s his fault for having everyone over for a small birthday party only to spend the evening whispering filthy things to Henry when no one was looking. (And when they were looking, because it’s his goddamn birthday and he can be as inappropriate with his boyfriend as he fucking wants to be.) It’s his fault for pushing Henry, for bratting off with antagonistic words like ‘what are you going to do about it—give me birthday spankings?’ and ‘do you actually think you could put me in my place? Because I’d like to see you try.’ It’s his fault for taunting Henry by suggestively licking the birthday candles, for doing anything he could possibly do to bring attention to his mouth, to his ass, to his fingers. It's his fault that he’s now on their bed, lying on top of Henry, arms stretched out in front of him on either side of Henry's head and wrists tied to the headboard.

There's Something Missing in My Heart by allmylovesatonce

When Alex goes to London to tell him he loves him, Henry sends him away. How do both of them react to being without each other and what happens when their emails are still leaked?

Waffles & Conversation by clottedcreamfudge

“I’m fine, I swear. I just need to give it a proper clean and I’ll be fine.” Ellen isn’t convinced. “Okay, but you’re letting Henry look at it later.” Alex grits his teeth for what must be the thousandth time today and tries to keep his voice level. “No, I’m not. He’s a vet, mom.” “And he’s the closest thing to a doctor we have coming tonight,” she says firmly, letting him take his hand back and raising her eyebrows at him. “It’s that or the ER, honey. Your choice.”

Keep Me Waiting (Give Me More) by bleedingballroomfloor

Alex rubs his face with his hands. “You’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that you got a guy off three times — three fucking times — without even touching his dick? I don’t even think that’s scientifically possible.” Henry’s wine-drunk grin grows a little wider. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”

Sweet, Like Sugar by everwitch

After Henry dates a series of certified assholes, Pez has had it and signs Henry up for a sugar dating app. Henry doesn’t expect much at first, but that’s before he connects with Alex; obscenely wealthy, devilishly handsome and unexpectedly sweet, Alex sweeps Henry right off his feet. But what does Alex expect in return for his extravagant generosity? And why is he so secretive about what his life looks like outside of his intimate conversations with Henry?

even sleeping you astonish me by accol

The utter irony. To be at a climate conference and have a storm descend upon the proceedings was perhaps poetic. To have the storm be intense enough to flood half the hotel and cut off transportation to the mainland was concerning. But to have it all culminate in Henry having to share a room with Alex Claremont-Diaz was as if Mother Nature herself was having a laugh.

9 to 5 by smc_27

Henry is Alex’s favourite colleague. By a fucking country mile, to be honest. He’s intensely competent, has an insane memory for process and policy, and is kind to everyone. Also? He’s fucking pretty, and Alex might be new to bisexuality, but he’s not that new. He knows what he likes, and what he likes are men with pretty eyes and kind smiles and nice cheekbones and English accents. Other men, too, but like. Be serious. Henry’s top of the list. Unfortunately, Henry lives in London. Alex lives in New York City. They work closely together and meet once a week, if not more, and Slack one another almost every day. Alex is on the legal team, and Henry is in business operations, and the second Alex met Henry for the first time, he knew he was truly fucked.

before the first light by stutteringpeach

“I don’t feel anyone. And I’m not going to feel anyone. Because I don’t have a soulmate.” Alex looks confused. “What? Everyone has a—“ “I don’t have a soulmate,” Henry tells him with a sigh, “because I don’t have a soul.”

Song In My Head by MayQueen517

Henry is an explorer and finds himself in a different situation entirely. === He’s restrained. By vines. His wrists and his ankles are encased in the surprisingly soft vines and around him is the scent of blooming honeysuckle that had charmed him so the night before. Henry groans, tilting his head back and he’s aware, briefly, of the vines gently supporting his head, as if they’re concerned over his comfort.

learning to love (without it having to hurt) by viciouslyqueer

Alex nods. “I get that.” He pauses. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right? If things aren’t great.” Henry’s face softens, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I know,” he murmurs. “Thanks.” He turns back to the television, and Alex forces himself to do the same. He tears his gaze away from Henry’s profile and focuses on their Star Wars marathon again, refusing to acknowledge how cuddly Henry looks in soft pajamas and fuzzy, mismatched socks. Alex’s heart leaps in his chest anyway. He knew having a crush on his roommate would be confusing, frustrating, and borderline heartbreaking. None of that stopped him.

address me properly by headabovethewater

25. Royalty kink

Pitching a Tent by cmere

Henry looks Alex up and down appraisingly. Alex feels heat rising in his neck and wills it to stop, burning with curiosity about what Henry’s going to ask. He finally says in a low voice, “Are you a serial killer?” Alex smirks. “Even if I was a serial killer, wouldn’t I just say no to get you alone?” “Dammit, you’re right,” Henry says, grinning. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances then.” “Live dangerously, sweetheart.” - or - “our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi i guess we’re spending the weekend together” AU!

take my hand if you can take me as i am by anincompletelist

It would hurt less, Alex guesses, if he wasn’t head over heels for the guy he’s supposed to be fucking through an ancient one-sided sex curse with that was partially — a lot, actually — his own fault. But. It’s not like there’s a fucking handbook. Alex has looked.

'till the gravity's too much by IndestructibleHeart

He’s been pacing the length of the house for the better part of an hour now, restless after 48 hours of involuntary confinement. The blizzard outside is unrelenting, to the point that city officials have recommended staying indoors until conditions clear. It’s actually a “suggestion” that Alex might’ve tested if a) Henry weren’t taking the ‘sTaTe oF eMeRgEnCy’ so seriously and b) if not for the fact that their door has literally been frozen shut. “Baby,” Alex says, deliberate and slow, because he knows it’ll earn him the long-suffering, utterly helpless expression it always does. “I’m crawling out of my skin here. Can you just… distract me?”

a quick study by @whimsymanaged

Alex is new to bisexuality, and he turns to a friend for some guidance.

where every wish comes true by HypnosTheory

“Locked out?” “I forgot my keys,” Alex says with a sigh, leaning against his door with a muted shiver. He was planning on a heated Uber ride to June’s apartment, not standing out in the cold ass hallway. Alex hugs his coat closer to his chest. “My friend has my spare.” Henry nods, leaning against his own door frame. Alex isn’t sure what the man does outside of going to grad school at NYU, but it must be bench-pressing horses based on the size of his biceps. Henry reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose and Alex swears he wasn’t that bisexual when the day started. “Would you like to wait in my apartment for your friend?” -- Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

Anything You Want by somuchworse

Alex rubs his thumb against the stubble on his chin, a soothing balm to the fire melting it’s way through Henry’s bloodstream. “You can tell me, baby. Whatever it is, I won’t care. I won’t judge you. Nothing. I’ll just listen.” And that helps. Henry opens his eyes, and his blood cools just enough to let him speak as he peers up at Alex through his eyelashes. “I’ve never had an orgasm. I’ve tried on my own, and with other people, and I always get close… But then it disappears. So, yeah. Never had one.”

I did one thing right (starry eyes sparking up my darkest night) by theprinceandagcd

"Sighing happily, Alex focuses on the feeling of Henry’s arm around his back. The tips of Henry’s fingers are brushing featherlight up and down his spine, and Alex can feel goosebumps rising on the flesh in their wake. It’s so fucking tranquil that Alex is pretty sure he could die right now and be perfectly content with his life, except – 'We should get married.' 'Pardon?' Oh. Fuck. He said that out loud."

like strawberries on a summer evening by Anonymous

He saw something wiggle in the blanket pile, and then Alex’s face appeared under a mop of messy curls, frown stuck firmly onto his face. “Ugh,” he said, from his spot on the bed. - Alex is having a rough time, and Henry is concerned, like any good boyfriend would be.

even though we know it isn't true by matherine

For so long, academics had been the one thing Alex could count on when everything else in his life was falling apart, the one thing he had always been good at. It didn’t matter that his parents were getting divorced as long as he could figure out how to factor an equation, didn’t matter that June was moving out to go to UT-Austin as long as he could analyze Jane Eyre, didn’t matter that his mother was on the campaign trail more often than he ever saw her as long as he could balance lacrosse with his position as valedictorian. But now, every time a paper comes across his desk marked to within an inch of its life, bleeding a C – or even worse, a D scrawled in bright red ink, his chest grows a little tighter, his breathing a little quicker. Thankfully, he’d not yet managed to fuck up spectacularly enough to get himself a real, honest to God F. He’s not sure he’d survive it. He’s already not sure how well he’s surviving. Alternatively: Alex is failing a class. Henry learns how to help him cope.

Twice the speed (of you and me) by @myheartalivewrites

“Hey. So, you know Pez?” Alex asks bluntly. No easy way into this, he’s decided. Henry looks up from his phone, frowning. “My best mate?” “Yeah, that one.” ——— Alex has an idea.

Don't Quit It by inexplicablymine

“And goddamn last but not least on my Hit It and Don’t Quit It list would be the Saracens rugby player Henry Fox. That man has great depths, and he could so easily plumb my depths, if you know what I’m saying. An all-around fantastic player, but also someone who is ridiculously smart off the field. And we all know by now that everyone on this list features my mile-wide competency kink. Henry, if you are seeing this, we could play around with some balls that aren’t just in play.” Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck. Alex has just accidentally outed himself to 6.7 million people. And according to the comments section, they seem to be all too aware. Or... Announcing your crush via viral TikTok... that's one way to get his attention ;)

Hall of Fame by politics_and_prose

“It is an unbelievable honor to be inducted into the New York Mets Hall of Fame. If I could tell the eight year old boy sitting in the stands at Shea that we would end up here, I don’t think I would. This journey has been … it’s been everything to me. Thank you, New York, for loving me as much as I love you. Thank you.”

Sip You Like Cosmic Juice by @sparklepocalypse

“There’s this… charity rugby match in Windsor next month that my mate, Percy’s foundation organizes. I, um… I was wondering if you might want to… be my guest.” Here’s the thing – Alex knows that Henry is athletic and strong. He’d felt and, to some extent, seen evidence of this in the way Henry’s hands had gripped at his waist and back in the Red Room, the ease with which Henry had manhandled him onto the sofa in his bedroom, and in how solid Henry had felt beneath him as they’d tumbled into the supply closet at London Children’s Hospital. And Henry’s a royal – being sporty seems to be a baseline job requirement for modern royals. So yeah, Alex knows Henry’s got some muscle, and as he walks toward the stands that line either side of the rugby pitch in Windsor, Alex thinks he’s prepared. He finds a seat in the stands among spectators wearing the colors of Henry’s team – red, white, and blue – then scans the pitch for a familiar head of blond hair. It’s probably for the best that he’d sat down first, because when his gaze alights on Henry out on the field, Alex promptly swallows his tongue. (Movieverse; what if everything's the same, except the charity sporting event is rugby?)

if you ever want me to tag you, let me know!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb rec list #rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #do yourselves a favor and mind the tags!

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biblical-chronicles · 4 days ago

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What are your top five Oasis and top five Noel and or Liam songs? I’m actually so curious, I love hearing about people’s favourites

honestly? piss off this is the worst question how am I meant to choose?? This proper overheats me brain but I'll answer just be ready for an essay xx and more than 5 songs like I can't choose as all of it changes depending on me mood and all.

Right, first off, Oasis tunes are the best, no contest. Liam brings that proper attitude, and Noel's got the lyrics and musicality locked down—perfect combo. But Liam's solo stuff, it’s missin’ that rock edge to me. Just feels a bit… tame. Guitars aren’t punchy enough, and the way they’ve produced his voice on some tracks? Breaks me heart, that.

Now, Beady Eye—I'll back ‘em all day. Weren’t half as bad as people made out; lot of the hate came from folks still bitter about the split, which, fair play, I get it. But at least Beady Eye still had a sprinkle of that rawness. Liam's solo work, though, I dunno. Some of it’s just slower, leans a bit too pop for me, y’know? But let's be honest no one is searching up Liam/Noel and expecting dead hitting hard rock. With Liam it just gets a bit redundant, but yeah, there’s some belters in there too.

Overall, gotta hand it to Noel on the solo front. He’s always been the musical and lyrical backbone, hasn’t he? His stuff feels more authentic, like it’s got a bit more weight to it. And his voice—it’s just fuller, more rounded. With Liam, though, I don’t get why they slap that weird filter on his voice in the studio. Makes it sound all poppy and high-pitched, which is mad ‘cause live, he’s still got that grit. Honestly, just wish they’d let him sound like him.

Beady Eye: Four Letter Word, Beatles and Stones, Wind up Dream, Kill for a Dream, The Roller, Flick of The Finger, Soul Love, Face the Crowd, I'm Just Saying, Shine a Light - all decent numbers in me books

solo Liam: Gready Soul, Wall of Glass, For What It's Worth, When I'm in Need, You Better Run, I Get By, Come Back to Me, All My People, Shockwave, Once, Halo, Why Me? Why Not., Meadow, The River, Gone, Invisible Sun, I'm A Wheel, Make It Up As You Go Along, Diamond In the Dark, Don't Go Halfway, I'm Free, Wave. But again, his work isn't as strong to me as it lacks experimentation, yet many people give him wayyy too much shit for his music, especially since I think his biggest weakness is the slightly wonky production making it sound almost not like Liam from time to time.

Noel's High Flying Birds (or as Liam coined them the high flying turds): the whole first album lawd it all has such a distinct vibe I'll just say the whole thing since I am the lunatic that listens to albums front to back (blame me getting a record player at 13 from me dad fer this), Second album ofc the sigh at the beginning of The Girl With X-Ray Eyes gets a separate entry here, but seriously another great album; In The Heat Of The Moment, Lock All The Doors, The Right Stuff, The Mexican, Ballad Of The Mighty I, Do The Damage, Freaky Teeth. Then album number three again great work from Noel no wonder, Keep On Reaching, It's A Beautiful World, Be Careful What You Wish For, The Man Who Built The Moon. Council Skies also holds up well in me books; Pretty Boy, Dead To The World (can make me weep definitely), Council Skies, There She Blows!. Noel is just way more likely to experiment and has more agency over his work, the lyrics just hit deeper. The production is also way better and feels better geared towards Noel's range and sets the tone well. That said, his albums, as solid as they are, could do with a bit of that Headshrinker / Bring It on Now energy now and then. Feels like they’re missin’ a proper kick up the arse, y’know? He leans heavy on the slower ballads, which are class, but sometimes you just want that raw, in-yer-face energy.

Oasis: oh we're in for a ride here, I'll divide it album by album to keep it a bit more tidy.

Definitely Maybe: Filled with absolute tunes front to back, I know it all word for word and cry everytime I hear any song off of it when outside. Every tune is amazing, I really wanted to choose a few of me favourites but I just end up naming the whole album so sorry, it is genuinely impossible to choose everything on here is a masterpiece and I don't hate any song. Can't even choose a top 5 it's just such a consistently great album, it just fucks that's all, has a song for every mood and occasion. Even summat silly like Digsy's Dinner is a tune, the "But I don't think we've been living very wise" hits sometimes you know??

What's The Story: Another bleedin’ masterpiece giving me all the same problem—just too bloody good from start to finish. Every track’s a belter, proper tune for any mood you’re in. And lyrically? Noel’s smashed it, hasn’t he? The Masterplan still gets me every time, proper emotional. But listen, no way am I giving you a top 5—drive me mad tryin’ to rank ‘em. Now, let’s address somethin’—all the stick Wonderwall gets. Yeah, I get it, it’s a bit corny, overplayed as hell, but don’t sit there pretendin’ you ain’t singin’ every word at the pub after two pints—or even stone-cold sober, for that matter. People need to let the poor tune breathe a bit, stop usin’ it to slate the whole catalogue, yeah? Oh, and Step Out? Absolute tune. And when Noel drops that “you’re me bitch, rescue me tonight"? fuck off I love it.

Be Here Now: Another solid album that gets way too much stick, if you ask me. Yeah, it’s not as strong as the first two, fair enough—but take it on its own, and it’s nowhere near as bad as people make it out to be. Production’s a bit wonky, I’ll give you that, but live or remastered? It’s a beast, mate. For me, it’s right up there with the others. To anyone hating "get yer shit together girl", so many absolute tunes on it; The Fame, My Big Mouth, D'You Know What I Mean, Going Nowhere, Stay Young, It's Getting Better (Man!!), Be Here Now, I Hope I Think I know, Stand By Me, Fade In-Out, All Around the World, and also I don't hate Magic Pie like many do, It's good. It was a concept album, and the concept was they were off their heads on coke—but somehow, it gave us all these bangers. What’s not to love?

SOTSOG: this is such a great album when you don't have a little gremlin in yer ear telling you how bad it is. Let's just ignore Little James (so sorry Liam) and focus on Gas Panic, Fuckin' in the Bushes, Go Let It Out, Put Yer Money Where Yer Mouth Is, I Can See A Liar, and Roll It Over. And I agree with Noel Sunday Morning Call isn't as strong but lord does he hate that song with a passion it's so hilarious.

Heathen Chemistry: I might be sounding like a broken record but yet again people hate on it too much, like calm yer tits and appreciate Force of Nature, Hung In A Bad Place, A Quick Peep, Born On A Different Cloud, The Hindu Times, Better Man, and The Cage. Yes, Noel singing "for smoking all my stash" is a bit corny but the instrumental fucks so I'm letting it slide.

Don't Believe The Truth: now this is their weakest album I believe, doesn't mean it's complete and utter shite just not as consistent. Still, Turn Up the Sun, Mucky Fingers, The Importance of Being Idle, The Meaning of Soul, Part of the Queue, A Bell Will Ring, Let There Be Love, to me are all solid.

Dig Out Your Soul: oh this album fucks alright?? I can fully listen to it, front to back, it's such a treat. Waiting for the Rapture got such brilliant guitar parts, same with Bag it Up, The Turning, and The Shock of Lightning. (Get Off Your) High Horse Lady is also great, such an interesting one from Noel, Ain't Got Nothin' is also decent and The Nature of Reality.

alright there you go I did it love x

one of the hardest tasks bestowed upon me in recent times which has proven that I am more indecisive than previously thought.

#oasis band

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theroseceleste · 6 months ago

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Pilot Miguel - Part 1 - Pilot

You're a member of cabin crew for AracnAir, a commercial airliner and today is Miguel's first day as Captain. Will it be a soaring success? Or will it crash and burn - his first day - not the plane...

Word count - 3675

I don't think there is any potential triggering content in this chapter.

This fic will have smut, but not in this chapter. Minors DNI

Enjoy! xx

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

You sit in your car looking into your flip down mirror as you check your makeup. It’s immaculate - it has to be. No single strand of hair out of place, pulled into a tight, neat bun. You look perfect, just how a member of an airliner’s cabin crew should; clean, presentable and stunning. You practise a bright white smile before slamming the sun-shade back up against the ceiling of your car. Then you open your door and slide out.

As you lock your car, you spot a group of other cabin crew across the car park. They too, are wearing the same uniform. A regal purple smart jacket, with the same colour pencil skirt or trousers. They could well be on the same flight as you.

Your purple heels click across the carpark as you drag your small travel case behind you. You’ll be flying for about eight hours today to Acapulco, Mexico and you’ll be staying over for two days before flying back. This is one of the many perks of being part of a cabin crew; seeing the world and being paid for it. This job does come with its challenges however…

After signing up to join AracnAir, you underwent intense and serious training; learning every emergency procedure and then performing them under extremely realistic scenarios. You have had to put out a real fire in a training fuselage, and activate the large exit chutes that become life rafts if the plane has to ditch into water and stage an evacuation suspended over a giant swimming pool.

You don’t just fly in one type of plane either, so your training included learning the ins and outs of every model that is in the airliner’s fleet. Learning the differences isn’t enough, you’re tested, yearly. Making sure you’re up to scratch and on the ball. If you fail the test, back to training you go.

Nueva York airport is a clean but bustling, expansive building. Long queues are forming before the check-in desks, snaking their way back towards the entrance. Bright white lights shine down and reflect off of the polished tiled floor.

The group of purple jackets are still ahead of you, as you follow them to your designated check-in area. In the small queue, you hear a couple of girls in front of you gossiping excitedly. A new pilot is to be flying with AracnAir today. New to the company, but a highly experienced flyer.

“He’s due to be piloting a flight this morning, I hear he’s handsome. I hope he’s on my flight.”

You silently scoff behind them, rolling your eyes in the process. It’s funny how excited they are considering that if he was on their flight they’ll hardly see him.

The queue inches further forward at a reasonable pace. You have your passport at the ready. With no large suitcases to check-in, you go through towards security rather quickly.

This is all fairly routine stuff. You put your hand luggage into a little crate on the rollers, along with your handbag, cellphone and shoes. No alarm goes off as you step through the metal detector and you’re able to pick up your cleared luggage on the other side.

After security, you walk through the duty free section. You’re greeted with a path winding all the way around the different stalls crammed with expensive perfume and colognes, oversized chocolate bars, trinkets and souvenirs, sunglasses, hats, you name it, it’s probably there.

Before getting onto the flight, you have to meet with your assigned crew and answer a couple of questions about the plane you’ll be working on. Once arriving at the staff lounge, you discover those girls who were in front of you in the queue are not on your flight. You wonder if they have got what they wished for and have the new pilot be their captain.

Your supervisor for the flight begins her usual pre-flight spiel. Today you’re flying on a Boeing-747. Presented with a technical question, you answer it correctly proving your readiness to fly.

“Oh and the Captain and co-pilot for today’s flight are Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker,” your supervisor mentions as two suited men enter the staff lounge.

Before seeing them, you smile as you’re fond of Peter, the First Officer. He’s been on several of your flights and is a very cheeky, spirited human being. But the name O’Hara, that’s a new one. No… is he the new Captain?

Your eyes glance up immediately at the thought, just to see if this guy really is as good looking as they say. Oh my… He’s tall - very tall, dark and certainly, incredibly handsome.

Unlike Peter, he’s wearing a stern expression on his face. Could it be first day nerves? Nah… He looks more… annoyed than nervous. Immediately you sense that both Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker are totally on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Grumpy and serious versus light-hearted and fun.

His pilot’s hat hides most of his dark hair, but you see his stunningly tanned skin. You try not to, but it’s hard to resist dropping your jaw at the sight of his facial features. Cheekbones that could cut diamond, dark brown eyes that’ll melt anyone’s heart, and those plump lips… your mind begins to run wild at the thought of what they could do. Looking around, you see several of your crewmates doing the same. Lucky for all of you, the Captain doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s time to enter the plane and get things set up. You’re usually stationed in first class, and today is no different. After stowing your little hand luggage case and handbag away in a locker, you get to business pouring glasses of champagne and begin preparing bags of snacks and goodies for the first class passengers.

The main theme for AracnAir is purple, hence the colour of your uniform. Within the plane, there are purple curtains that separate the different classes from one another and purple cushions and blankets are laid out neatly on each seat.

You’re in the zone, you have a nice routine that you stick to at the beginning of each flight. Opening various cupboards, you check the stock of different items in the galley. Everything looks to be in order. You stand up after crouching down, looking into one of the lower cupboards. Your back bumps into something big and the sound of a grunt follows.

“Oh!” you give out a little surprised yelp before turning round to see who you just inadvertently backed into.

Dark brown eyes glare down at you, they squint slightly as if he’s trying to control his temper. A low growl rumbles from deep within the Captain’s chest. Seeing him before getting onboard you knew he was tall, but up close, it’s a wonder how he can still stand up straight in the plane. His giant-like frame looms over you.

“I- I’m s- sorry Captain…” you stutter as your face instantly heats up.

You’re not really known to stutter but his intensity in that moment made your brain short circuit, and not in a good way.

A pale hand grasps around what looks like an incredibly large bicep underneath the Captain’s jacket.

“Come on big guy,” Peter encourages Captain O’Hara to move forward.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), he’s too big for his own good,” he whispers, but still loud enough for him to hear.

An unimpressed grumble comes from the larger pilot as Peter pushes him forward. “Come on, this way to the cockpit, I’m sure you know where that is…”

You giggle at First Officer Parker’s joke as he turns his head back to you and gives you a cheeky wink.

“Not funny, Parker.”

“What? (Y/N) found it funny…”

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, as they turn left into the narrow alley before entering the cockpit.

People are starting to come on board. You grab the first tray of champagne glasses and get ready to greet first class. It’s showtime, and you break out your trusty smile and say hello to the first passenger you see. But in the back of your mind, those dark brown eyes remain burned into your memory…

Once in the cockpit, the Captain takes his hat and jacket off and hangs them up. Then, he awkwardly situates himself in his chair on the left-hand side of the cockpit. His chair clicks into place after he pushes it as far back as he can to make room for his long, muscular legs.

Peter flumps into his seat on the right and sighs as he also re-arranges his seating position.

“Man, I gotta stop eating those burgers in the terminal,” he pauses as he pats his tummy.

“Starting to rock the ‘dad-bod’ look. Although, I hear that’s now a thing that the ladies like…”

The Captain doesn’t respond as he searches for the plane’s flight log, to check previous flights, any reported issues and its history of maintenance.

“Have you given your controls the ‘once over’ yet, Parker?” he asks in hope that’ll keep his First Officer occupied and quiet.

Peter sits up straighter in his chair and obediently does his checks. He may be a bit of a clown, but he understands that safety is important.

Leafing through the pages of the log book, the Captain seems satisfied with the plane’s history. All seems to be in good working order - it is a relatively new aircraft afterall. He puts the book down in the slot next to his chair and begins his own checks on his controls.

The silence between the two pilots makes Peter feel uncomfortable. He’s more of a chatty person and likes to joke around while he works. To fill the awkward silence, he begins talking again.

“There’s a spot on a beach with my name on it in Acap-”

“Do we have a weather report?” Captain O’Hara interrupts, his sweet moment of silence ended far too soon.

“Oh, yeah - here.”

Peter leans forward and passes a print out of today’s weather report for the flight.

Silence fills the cockpit once again as the Captain inspects the report. The forecast looks decent for smooth flying for the next seven to eight hours. He puts the A4 printout next to the log book.

“Begin pre-flight checks,” he instructs his co-pilot sternly as he places his headset on and grabs his checklist.

Peter also dons his headset and waits for Miguel to begin.

“Parking Brake…”

“Set.”

“Throttle…”

“Idle.”

“Fuel Flow…”

“Cutoff.”

The back and forth continues as the Captain ticks off the pre-flight checks until he is satisfied with the plane’s readiness.

Every first class passenger has been offered a free glass of champagne and are happily sitting comfortably in their pricey seats.

After stowing away the used glasses in the galley, you hear an announcement from the cockpit.

“All cabin crew prepare for take-off.”

That’s the Captain’s voice, it’s certainly not Peter’s. You find yourself liking the sound of him even if he is direct and to the point.

Your pre-flight preparations begin with making sure your passengers in first class are seated and have their seat belts fastened. You patrol the small section of the fuselage as your head turns left and right, eyes low, checking for buckled seat belts and that the chairs are in an upright position.

Once your passenger checks are done, you gather the flight safety demonstration equipment and stand at the front of one aisle. A screen unfolds from the ceiling and begins to play a video. Cheesy but cheerful music plays as a woman’s voice starts talking about how there should be no smoking on board and the evacuation procedure should the plane need to make an emergency landing.

Now it’s your turn. You point out the emergency exits for first class, place the life-jacket over your head and around your neck, tie it around your waist and fasten the buckle. As the demonstration takes place, the plane rumbles its way along the tarmac as it taxies to the runway. You’re so well practised at this that the soft bumps don’t bother you anymore as the aircraft navigates its way through the maze of tarmac.

The demonstration ends and you swiftly put away your safety instruction equipment before finding your jumpseat and strapping yourself in. Facing the passengers in front of you, you watch them all carefully as the plane begins its final turn before reaching the long stretch of tarmac lit up with lights.

All four engines whirr healthily away as the aircraft is about to make its final turn onto the runway.

“Set flaps to twenty,” the Captain instructs.

After Peter turns a dial, a mechanical noise vibrates through the fuselage as the flaps on the wings begin to move to their set position.

Captain O’Hara switches landing and strobe lights on and enables the autothrottle, while Peter locks in the final settings before takeoff.

Air traffic control gives the all clear to take off, and the pilots begin to push the throttles forward slowly. The aircraft starts its roll forward along the tarmac, gradually building up speed as the engines roar, increasing thrust.

The aircraft rattles and rumbles loudly as it screams down the runway. The Captain watches the equipment on his console and keeps the plane steady.

At the right time, Captain O’Hara pulls the yoke back, causing the nose of the plane to rise, its large wings catching the rushing air.

Eventually the back landing gear lifts from the ground too, making the plane totally airborne. Everyone feels the dipping sensation in their stomachs as the plane’s thrust pulls them down into their seats.

Once at a certain altitude, the Captain presses a button to bring in the landing gear, stowing the wheels into the plane’s underbelly.

“Nice one Captain,” Peter congratulates his new colleague, but he’s met with no response.

“Climb to forty thousand feet and maintain altitude in a southwesterly direction until you are advised to change,” a woman from the air traffic control tower at the airport they had just departed from speaks over the radio.

“Understood. Climbing to forty thousand feet and maintaining altitude in the southwest direction,” Captain O’Hara responds in a confident but stern tone.

The plane remains nose up for quite a while as it gradually climbs in altitude. Passing the first layer of large fluffy white clouds.

At last the aircraft has levelled out flying at roughly six hundred miles an hour. The flight path takes them over the southern parts of the USA and across Mexico to the popular holiday destination.

The seat belt signs switch off with an audible ‘bing’ and the cabin crew rise from their seats to begin their regular flight duties.

Soon, they will have to prepare lunch to be served to the passengers. But first, Duty-Free booklets and headphones are handed out for everyone to peruse or enjoy the inflight entertainment system.

In the galley, you begin organising food for first class when your supervisor pokes her head into the tiny kitchen-like area.

“Sweety, can you ask the boys what they want for lunch, then come and let me know?” she asks, jerking her head towards the cockpit when she mentioned ‘the boys’.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply.

You knock on the cockpit door and enter a security code to unlock and open it.

“Ah! (Y/N) is it lunchtime already?” First Officer Parker asks hopefully turning in his seat to see you.

You give him a sweet smile.

“Of course. What would you both like? Beef or vegetarian?”

Captain O’Hara never turns to look at who came into the room but feels two sets of eyes looking at him.

“Beef,” he manages to grunt out eventually.

Flight Officer Parker grimaces - he wants beef; but pilots can’t eat the same meals, in case there is something in it that makes them both sick.

“I guess I’m having vegetarian then,” replies Peter.

You give Peter a sympathetic smile and turn to leave the cockpit.

“So, uh, you’re a man of few words,” the First Officer comments as he keeps his gaze forward, watching the bubbly clouds pass below them.

No response, the awkwardness between the two deepens. The First Officer bites his lip and starts to ask another question.

“First day nerves?”

“Parker, I have over five thousand flight hours with this type of plane. I am not nervous. I just don’t like meaningless chit chat.”

Silence descends upon the both of them again - apart from the constant roar of engines. The lack of conversation is perfect for the Captain but absolute hell for the First Officer.

With the 747 on autopilot, the two pilots can relax a little more. They’re not due to check in with the next air traffic control tower for another thirty minutes.

The Captain occasionally casts a keen eye over the apparatus, looking at the artificial horizon, checking wind speed and altitude, everything perfectly normal.

His mind goes back to how you bumped into him earlier before takeoff. Even though he said nothing to you, he feels like perhaps he was an asshole for just glaring at you. It was an accident after all. He remembers the smell of your sweet and floral perfume filling his nostrils in the galley. He likes that smell-

A sudden shake of his head snaps him out of that mindset. He can’t be thinking like that…

The relative silence is interrupted again as you return, knocking on the door and entering.

“Here you go boys. Vegetarian for you.” You hand Peter his meal first as you watch him lick his lips - beef or no beef, he’s hungry.

“And beef for you, Captain.”

There’s that enchanting smell again. He wasn’t exactly listening to you speak when you entered, but your perfume alerts him to your presence.

Slowly he turns his head, peeling his unblinking gaze from the horizon and looking at you. Then his eyes land on the meal you are holding out for him.

“Thanks.”

His hand takes the tray gently from you but then he turns away quickly after without uttering another word.

“Mmm, this is so good…” Peter mumbles with a mouthful, taking your attention from the pensive Captain.

“Peter, I’m certain you’re the only person in the world who likes plane food,” you comment with a playful grin.

“Hey - it’s food! Course I’m gonna like it. Oh, by the way, if there’s any spare packs of biscuits, I wouldn’t mind one - or two.”

Raising an eyebrow and smirking up a storm, you produce two packets of biscuits from your jacket pocket, as if by magic.

“Ahh, you’re an angel!” he gasps in surprise.

“I knew you’d ask for one.”

Peter reaches out, his fingers try to grip both packets.

“Nah, ah… one for you.”

You hand Peter one packet.

“And one for you.”

You lean over the Captain and place the pack on his food tray. Your scent fills his nostrils more. He flinches slightly at your sudden unexpected space invasion but he soon relaxes when he sees what you’re doing.

“A peace offering for earlier.”

The stern look in his eyes wavers slightly, but unseen by you. In reality, you didn’t need to do that. It should really be him apologising, but right now he doesn’t really want to talk.

“Gracias,” (thank you) he mutters quietly.

Peter looks at you like you have betrayed him.

“But I usually get two packets!”

Honestly, it’s like dealing with a child when you’re with Peter, you roll your eyes and chuckle.

“You’ll get another one later, how’s that?” you ask.

The Flight Officer is easily swayed, especially where food is concerned. He gives a happy shrug and continues to eat his meal.

With a smile spread across your face, you leave the cockpit. The Captain’s word of thanks lingers in your mind. ‘Gracias’...

The rest of the flight is fairly uneventful; little to no turbulence, passengers are happy and not too demanding. You occasionally visit the cockpit to check on the pilots to see if they need refreshments. Whilst they both drink plenty of water, the Captain also seems to be a huge coffee fan.

Peter looks as though he’s dying of boredom. He usually enjoys talking while flying but his colleague is essentially a brick wall. Your visits to the cockpit brightens him up even if it is for a brief amount of time.

Landing is perfect and purely textbook. No hard bump as the landing gear connects with the tarmac and no ‘kangarooing’; bouncing the plane down the runway.

Now at a complete stop, parked next to the terminal, cabin crew say goodbye to disembarking passengers, wishing them a pleasant time in Acapulco, while Captain O’Hara and Flight Officer Parker finish the final checklist.

You and the rest of the cabin crew step off of the plane, greeted by the exotic mid afternoon heat as you walk through the tunnel leading into the main building. It immediately feels stuffy under your thick, shoulder-padded jacket. You can’t wait to check into your hotel and relax by the pool or on the beach.

Some of the other cabin crew members make plans for partying hard that evening as they line up in front of you at customs. You’re not really into that kind of thing, although you might enjoy the bar, just a little bit tonight. Peter will be there, he’s always good company. Then you think about the Captain. Your heart thuds slightly at the thought. You wonder what he’ll be doing…

Joining at the end of the queue at customs, Peter and Captain O’Hara arrive, dragging their own small cases behind them. They stand behind you, in silence. That is until Peter knows it’s you in front and steps forward to talk to you instead.

The sound of talking is drowned out as the Captain checks his phone. A frown grows across his face as he sees several emails come into his inbox. It seems impossible but his already crappy mood plummets even further.

I hope you enjoy the Pilot chapter of Pilot Miguel - see what I did there? Tee hee.

Next Chapter >

I have had so much fun writing this. As and when my other chapters come out from early access on Patreon, I'll upload them here. Stay tuned!

I you're interested in commissioning me, please click on the link below to find out more!

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #commisions open #fem reader #eventual smut #female reader #pilotmiguel #readerxmiguelohara #reader x character

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xxcocothekillerxx · 1 year ago

Text

Behind Locked Doors

Pairing: Johnny slaughter x FemReader

Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..

!THIS CHAPTER DOESN'T CONTAIN NSFW!

Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.

{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}

Author's Note: This is my first time really writing NSFW stories / stories in general. Tips and tricks on how to improve my writing and overall layout are welcome, though keep it respectful please. Other than that please enjoy! 💋

CHAPTER 3: The Sunflower field

'The sun is warm and delicate as it hits your face, the cool air tickles at your skin as you lay there and your eyes flutter open. The blue sky greeting your (color) eyes and the puffy clouds slowly drifting by, song birds chirp as you lay there in the dirt and sunflowers surround you as they loom overhead. The scent of the sunflowers and fresh dirt, with a hint of cow manure, filled your nose as you gently gripped the dirt in your palms, your eyes started to slowly look around and as you did so small soft grunts and groans escaped your throat as you began to sit up. Your head felt foggy and dizzy as you sat up, your face flushed a light shade of pink as your naked body was exposed to the wind and yet you felt concealed within the sunflower field. You crossed your arms to hide your chest as you glanced around the field, only an endless ocean of yellow and an infinite blue sky greeted your eyes. Peace filled your body, a wave of comfort until you heard a loud rumbling pound on the ground behind you and suddenly the sky turned a crimson red, drops of red rain hitting your exposed body, drenching you in blood. The sunflowers started to dye around you as fear engulfed your body, with your eyes wide and the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge as you heard another loud bang of a footstep, you heard the sound of a door creek open as you spinned around trying to find the direction of the sound. Your heart nearly pumping out of your chest as you felt a tight grip on your shoulder that quickly and harshly turned you around and all you saw was a evil grin and dark wild eyes looking down on you, before everything suddenly turned black…' you jolted up in your bed, breaking into a cold sweat, your breathing was fast and quick as you gripped onto your bedsheets. Your father sat next to you with a look of shock and concern.

"Y/N?.. you alright? I heard you start to thrash around when I came up the stairs.." your father explained, his hand gently placed on your shoulder as you sat there trying to calm yourself down. You take a few more deep breaths before you finally calmed yourself and look up at your father, tears filling your eyes as you quickly give your father a tight hug. Your father stayed silent as he stroked your head in a soothing motion and gave you gentle hush's as you quietly sobbed into his chest for the rest of that morning.

Later that evening you sat at the table down in the kitchen, eating your favorite cereal and drinking some orange juice, in your brown turtleneck sweater and brown bell-bottoms fixed up with a white belt,your father watching the local News on the TV. You listened to some of the news, only bits and pieces before one topic caught your ear which quickly made you perk your head up from your cereal bowl. ' ATTENTION: Four local highschool students went missing last night. They were last seen leaving a local roller skating rink, Leland McKinney, Julie Crawford, Connie Taylor, Sonny Williams and Ana Flores. If you have any information about their whereabouts PLEASE contact your local authorities', you almost felt your heart sink to your stomach as you heard their names. You got up so quickly and so fast you felt lightheaded and sick as you ran outside, nearly breaking the door off its hinges as you threw up on the wooden porch. You felt as if the world just hit you over the head with a cruelest joke in the world. Your stomach twisted and curled thinking about it, tears started streaming down your face as your first thought went to Leland and all of your friends, you felt so happy around them and suddenly they were gone. You heard your father quickly run out the door towards you, you felt his arms wrap around you in order to comfort you but you practically felt nothing, you felt numb and cold as you stood there. Seconds felt like hours to you all of a sudden as you gently, yet shakenly, placed yourself down on the porch steps. Your father quickly went inside to grab you water, you looked over across the road at the sunflower field. A shiver trailing down your spine as you watched the petals drift in the wind.

You sat there alone for a while looking at the sunflower field as you drank the water your father had given you, feeling relaxed enough to get up and go inside. So you brought in the cup and looked towards your father, "I'm gonna go for a walk… I'll be back soon I promise" you said wanting to be alone for a while, your voice strained and scratchy from the throw up and crying. Your father reluctantly nodded his head as he understood that you needed your alone time and didn't stop you as you walked back out the door, the dried tears staining your cheeks as you once again stepped outside and headed towards the field across the road.

The sunflower field greeted you as you took a few feet into its embrace, the ocean of yellow and green dancing around you as the flowers bellowed in the wind. You kept walking for a good few minutes before you hit a small clearing, an abandoned old rusty car sitting slightly slanted and surrounded by smaller colorful flowers. Your breathing calmed and slowed as your body relaxed, the fresh air seeping into your lungs as you leaned up against the old car. Pulling out a book from your brown bag that you brought with you, you sat on top of the hood of the car as you flipped through the book to get to the page you last left off on. You sat there reading for awhile before you heard something ruffling within the sunflowers, you jumped slightly as a rabbit quickly hopped passed you. Your breath hitched as the animal darted past you and right back into the field, your focus quickly snapping over to where the rabbit came from as you heard more Rustling. ‘crap..’ you thought as you think it's the predator the rabbit was running from. You kept still, clutching the book close to your face as you peered over it and waited for whatever monster to pop out of the bushes. Nothing came… and you started to relax yourself again, placing the book back into your bag as you lifted yourself off the hood of the car. Walking over to where you heard the movement, you leaned over to look through the tall stems of the sunflowers. As you looked into the flowers, your eyes darted around before your eyes met.. his darken, wild eyes meeting your, that devilish grin peering back at you. You felt your heart race as you quickly backed away from him, however he followed closely in hand, his grin trying to seem friendly as I kept approaching you. “What's the matter Y/N? Not happy to see a familiar face?” he condescendingly as his voice echoed through your ears as he tilted his head at you, desperately trying to look innocent. You felt your back reach the rusty old car again “what are you doing here?!” You yelled, your heart pounding through your chest. Johnny quickly pressed his pointer finger onto your lips, his eyes seemed to darken as his gaze met yours. “Shh~ don't mean no’ harm sunflower~” he whispered, his voice deep and scratchy even slightly harmonic as he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pulled his hand away as he straightened himself. You felt dumbfounded as if you shouldn't be scared and concerned for your safety, your brows furrowed in confusion as you kept your back firmly against the car. “I also went for a walk…my house is that way” Johnny explained almost sarcastically, tilting his head towards the direction he came from. You still felt nervous however you let your guard down slightly as he pulled his pack of cigarettes out and picked out to light it. “Those ain't good for ya know..” you sarcastically spoke, arms now crossed. Johnny didn't seem to care in the slightest as he ignored you and lit one of the cigarettes while placing the pack of cigs back into his pocket, you huffed in annoyance by his rudeness and just sat back onto the hood of the car once again. You reluctantly signed to yourself as you sat there Silently before gently moving over and patted the hood of the car. Johnny's eyes perked up from lighting his cigarette and looked at you in slight confusion, his eyes darting from you to the hood of the car back up to you. “Ya' gonna sit with me at least?” You huffed as you looked at him, Johnny's face turning from focused on his cig to slightly surprised, however he stayed silent.

Your eyebrows raised and eyes widened as you waited for him to either speak or do something. You wanted to talk about last night with him.. how he knew your name, why he was also in the sunflower field, why he creeped in the field next to you. “I don't feel like sittin’..” Johnny protested, focusing back onto his cigarette that sat firmly in between his lips. “Do you mind if you ask ya' something sunflower?” He softly spoke, his demeanor softened as his eyes drifted to you. You felt slightly surprised as you looked at him, yet something about the situation made you feel uneasy and softly said “don't call me sunflower..”. Johnny ignores you completely and faces towards you “Why are you out here?” He questioned as he walked closer, you unconsciously leaned back as he did so but Johnny didn't take notice or simply didn't care as he came within arms length of you and the car.

“Just needed a breather..” the pain in the heart slightly returned as you remembered the news and your friends, your eyes looked towards the ground as you felt a frog in your throat. You felt Johnny's eyes on you which made you look back up to him, his face almost unamused and blank of any expression that you could tell as you stood there. Suddenly his demeanor changed from not carrying to giving a reluctant sign as he shut his eyes, a groan of annoyance soon followed as he drew his head back and combing his hair back with his hand, you questioned his actions with a slight eyebrow raise before it decided to speak. “...wanna’ talk about it sunflower?” He seemed almost hesitant as he leaned against the hood of the car, his back facing towards you but you could still see the side of his face as his side eyes you from over his shoulder. You felt your body strangely relax as you watched him, everything about him felt off, you couldn't tell what he was thinking of feeling and yet he seemed calm.

“Some friends went missin’…”. You rubbed your arm as you felt the pain in your heart grow, Johnny's eyes slightly widened from what you said, although you could tell what emotion he was expressing as you felt his demeanor darken as he stayed silent. He almost seemed as if he was hiding something from you but you couldn't honestly tell as your eyes drifted away from Johnny and back over to the sea of yellow that surrounded you, you felt his stare on you once again however you didn't care to re-meet his gaze as you hugged your knees close to your chest and continued to look at the ocean of sunflowers. Johnny's weight shifted off the hood of the car and you could see him from the side of your eye move to being in front of you, your gaze slowly drifted over to him and up to his eyes. His expression hadn't changed however he did reach his hand out towards you, you looked at him confused until you saw his expression soften and a soft sign parted his lips, “want to head into town with me?..” he spoke somewhat softly, his hand still out for you to take. You still felt uneasy about him, although being in a town with a bunch of eyes probably wouldn't hurt so you took his hand, they felt rough and yet soft at the same time as his grip became slightly tighter around your hand as he helped pull you off the hood of the car. You felt insane for taking this stranger's hand but something about him made you feel at ease almost as Johnny led you to an edge of the sunflower field, a dirt road leading to a farm looking house on one end of it, you could tell its white paint was slowly peeling off. Johnny quickly blocked the view of the house as he pointed down the other way of the road, “towns that way sunflower” he chuckled as you two walked towards town.

You two ended up talking for a little while as you walked, you felt as if you missed judged him as he gave you a small side smile and kept up conversations with you. Soon enough you two ended up back in town and stopped in front of the same and only, roller skating rink where you first met… and where your friends went missing. Johnny quickly noticed your expression change from joyful to sad as he gently placed his hand onto your shoulder trying to comfort you, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. ‘I'll find’em soon enough…’ you thought to yourself, as now you wanted to enjoy yourself. Johnny's face gave a smile before walking into the rink with you by his side, you felt yourself stare at Johnny and wondered why he was doing this for ya. Johnny and you walked in and were greeted with the same boy from before with the most dead face you could imagine, you honestly still felt bad for the kid before he spoke, “Welcome to RollerSkate Jinx, let our-'' the boy was suddenly cut off by Johnny slamming a few bucks onto the counter, his face showing his uninterest. The boys just shrugged and took the money before walking to the back, Johnny let you grab some skates before you and him walked over to a table and sat down across from him. You looked at him wondering why he didn't also grab roller shoes, “I don't skate sunflower..” he huffed, as he noticed your confusion. You nodded to yourself before looking around and noticing there's little to no people here, you assumed it's because it was still early in the day. Nonetheless you didn't let it bother you and sat there for a while talking to Johnny.

Few hours pass and you and Johnny are talking and laughing together, standing at one of the claw machines. You felt frustrated trying to get your hands on one of the teddy bears, it's fluffy brown body with a satin red bow tie and black little beady eyes almost mocking you as you try and get it, Johnny standing next to you with his arms crossed and an honestly concerned look on his face as he watched you spend nearly all your quarters on this dumb game. You crossed your fingers as you put your last quarter into the machine, the claw roaring to life and the bright rainbow colors flashing in patterns in your eyes. Determination written on your face as you gripped onto the joystick of the machine and finger hovering anxiously over the button, Johnny watched in amusement and chuckled to himself.

(Arthur side note: we're just gonna pretend Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking came out 11yrs earlier, to me the song sits well with what I was imagining but you can also play any song… anyways!)

‘Cheri Cheri Lady’ started to play over the speakers, you where too focused on getting the teddy bear that you didn't hear Johnny come up behind you and lean over you to place his arms on either side of you and his head on one side of your head, he barely made a sound as his hand gently made their way onto yours. Shyness and slightnervousness filled you as your eyes grew wide and your face quickly flushed red as Johnny helped you move the stick to the correct position, his hot breath gently hitting the back of your neck as his focus was on your hands and the bear you were trying to get. You felt overwhelmed by his actions and his words of encouragement, “I got you sunflower” he gently whispered into your ear, his grip on your hands tightened as he made your finger pressed the red bottom slowly. Your shyness quickly turned in excitement as you watch the claw pick up the teddy bear, Johnny stepped away as you eagerly awaited the teddy. You heard Johnny chuckle to himself as you quickly grab the teddy bear from behind the flap of the machine, jumping up with excitement and joy as you hugged the teddy bear close to you. “I DID IT!” you yelled at you you practically shove the teddy bear into Johnny's face, Johnny only laughed and patted your shoulder. You two kept talking for a little while longer before you ended up leaving the roller rink and we're walking down the sidewalk back to your house, you noticed a familiar face as you two walked together, however as he noticed you and thwn johnny.. his face grew an angry expression. Johnny's eyes were focused on you before his eyes traveled to were yours where, you noticed he eyes widen as he gritted his teeth. The old man angryly waddled his way up to the two of you before smacking Johnny clean in the face, “the hell ya’ thinking hanging out with her?!” Drayton spat at Johnny, not giving your presence any mind as he completely ignored you, his focus locked onto johnny like an angry parents. You watched in shock as Johnny quickly sprung back at Drayton, his teeth gritted together so harshly they looked like fangs. “Leave it old man! … I can handle this!” Johnny snapped, yet he held himself back from actually throwing a punch. You unconsciously backed up as to not get in the way of the two, Johnny noticed and only got anger at the old man. His face red hot with rage as he looked into Drayton’s cold dead and expressionless face, the staring contest between the two made you feel uneasy until the old man quickly huffed and walked away quickly before spitting on the ground. Johnny's body relaxed as he watch the old man walk away, his focus still locked on him as he walked away. You gently placed your hand onto his shoulder as to relax him only to be greeted with Johnny snapping towards you with anger written on his face, his teeth gritted and bent into a snarl, his brows furrowed with build up rage and his eyes all seemed to dark as he looked at you like a wild animal. You quickly retracted you hand away from him in fear and backed away from his slightly, putting an arms length of distance between you before his face completely changed. Regret filling his eyes as he looked down at you, his shoulders dropped as his body relaxed and his hand reaches out in a way to say sorry. You only backed up more, confusion and fear in your eyes as your brows furrowed, Johnny sighed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“i'm.. sorry” Johnny spoke, his eyes locked onto the ground where your feet were. You could tell he felt sorry which made you relax somewhat. Johnny shit his eyes before taking a deep breath, he gave you a gentle look and took a step closer to you. It didn't take more then his one step for him you close together as he now was looking down on you, you didn't try to back away as you felt his hand land on your shoulders. He was gentle and calm as he tilted his head, giving you a ‘please forgive’ kind of expression. You signed before you gave him a nod, a smile quickly appearing onto his face. “Thank you sunflower…think I should take ya home now..” he smiled, gentle with his movements and words before turning to walked back to your house with you.

You two finally make it back to your house, your father now on the porch with his arms crossed looking over at you two at the end of the driveway. Johnny gave a wave to your father which made your father somewhat relax before walking inside to wait for you, you could tell your father was somewhat upset with you because you sad you'd only be a few hours and now the sun was starting to set. Johnny quickly, but gently, brought your attention back over to him by gripping onto you chin and lifting it to meet his gaze as he gave you a reassuring smile. “Thanks for hanging out with me sunflower.” He spoke as he backed up from you slightly, you smiled back at him as you nodded. “You're welcome.. should do it again soon” you shyly said, Johnny's face gave you a look of agreement. You stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before you two gave your goodbyes and him telling you to meet him on the dirt road to his house tomorrow, but not to go any further then the tree line. “See ya’ soon sunflower” You simply nodded before walking to the front of your door, however when you turned around to give Johnny one last wave goodbye… he was already gone.

You're father expressed worry about you being gone for so long and nervousness when he saw you with the Johnny boy, you gave him nods as you stayed silent as your mind was wondering about thinking about the day. After a little bit your father kinda gave up on speaking and went back to the couch, you went up to your room and changed into your PJ's and jumped into your bed to lay down. the stary night greeting your eyes as you looked out the window from your bed with a smile, snuggling under the sheets and your started to drift off to sleep.

‘see ya' soon sunflower’ echoing in the back of your head as you fell asleep with a smile staining on your face.

END OF CHAPTER 3

Now we got the ball rolling! Sorry this chapter took a little longer then I wanted to come out! However I hope you enjoy my series so far! Chapter 4 I hope to have out soon! 💋💋💋

Special Thanks and inspiration - @lil-spider 💋❤️

//Chapter 4//

#johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny tcm #fanfic writing #writing #writers on tumblr #tcm fanfic #tcm game #tcm #fanfic #fantasy #fandom #writing fanfic #writing fantasy #writing fiction #johnny slaughter fanfic

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ignitefever · 7 days ago

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🗲 — beat of the city. (app)

Click. Click. Click.

Her heels tap rhythmically as she walks through cobblestone streets, tram cars grinding along the rails, the roaring engines of passing cars, shopkeepers ringing their bells to attract customers…

It was the heartbeat of the city. A performance all its own.

“ ♪ …Duh-duh-duh, duh-duh… ♪ ”

Serval takes in each sound, each sensation, using the noise of the city and tapping of her heels to form the foundation of a beat. Mechanical Fever had been doing well enough with their shows, but the fans would get tired of the same ol’ eventually, and what rock band would they be if they didn’t flip the script every now and then?

Her walk has become a jaunty little sway as she approaches the door to her shop, humming as she takes out the key and slots it into the door. A lot of places around Belobog had begun to turn to more advanced security systems, but as seen with her taste in ‘prehistoric’ music styles, Serval had an appreciation for the classics.

A slot, twist, and a click, and she’s inside.

She picks up the mail she’d grabbed this morning, left on the counter just before she went out to do errands. Whistling, she flips through envelopes and vehicle catalogues, subscriptions to engineering and fashion magazines, only to stop when she spots a certain name.

Landau.

…Probably from Mom.

She sets the letter down, deciding she didn’t have the energy to think about family right now. Well. Former family, if her dad had anything to say about it. Serval—eldest daughter of the Landaus. Smartest in the Silvermane Guards. A once-in-a-generation genius.

Cast out like yesterday’s trash, by both friend and family.

As if she hadn’t spent the better part of her life working to please a father with high standards, supporting her best friend as she faced the crushing pressure of becoming Belobog’s guardian, or studying the Stellaron, so that they might understand a piece of the world beyond the endless blizzards and tundras…

That they might learn where the monsters and the Fragmentum came from, or a way to end the Freeze; save Belobog and the whole damned world, even—

"Take responsibility for your choices and the people of Belobog..."

And that’s what she had done, wasn’t it? Ticked off all the boxes. Excelled in her schooling, researched the topics that made her heart sing; working her butt off and piling up accolades and credentials, serving the city and continuing the Landau’s longstanding tradition of dignity and esteem.

Yet it got her nothing but an abrupt discharge from the army, an unrecognizable best friend that wanted nothing to do with her anymore, and a father so ashamed of her he didn’t even want her to claim her own family name.

So! She wouldn’t claim it.

She takes a seat at the front counter. She’d given Molly the day off from the workshop, Lynxy was out on an expedition, and both Pela and Geppie were busy with Silvermane Guard business, which gave her the perfect window to work on a few personal projects.

Like… restoring this old relic of a stopwatch she found.

She sets the machine out on her desk, and before opening it, catches her own reflection on the surface. Huh. She looked pretty good today. Makeup hid the bags under her eyes, though her hair was left a little tousled from the wind gusts outside…

“Agh.” The maid groans, “Lady Serval, your hair is COVERED in soot and snow! Were you playing around outside again? You know how the lord and madam hate it when you muss up your hair…”

Pure locks of gold. Perfect and pristine. A lauded Landau trait… until it wasn’t. Humming, Serval brushes her hair behind her ear and opens the watch to a series of gears. The thing about being ousted from an esteemed family was that you didn’t have to follow little things like tradition anymore.

Streaks of blue through the gold, brightly dyed tips… she’d always wanted to color her hair, just like the rock n’ rollers of old. Plus, there was a new glowing dip dye she was experimenting with…

Click. Click. Click.

Heels click with strong, purposeful strides. The halls of Qlipoth Fort were always noisy when Serval was around.

In her school days, it was all the commotion from her band performances with Dunn, and the growing hordes of fans amongst their classmates. Now, it was the respect she amassed as a researcher in the Architects, soldiers and scientists all buzzing about with rumors—a new lead researcher was about to be elected for a big project, and Miss Serval Landau was a shoe-in for the position.

Because of course she was. What Landau wasn’t made for excellence?

Yet Cocolia still shut down her lab, accused her of insanity, and threw her away. For nothing. Their friendship, her achievements. Her dreams, aspirations, her life… and dad? The family elders? Pheeeew, they were having none of that. No disgraces allowed!

And fine, great. Less pressure for her.

…Except they put it all on poor Geppie instead.

Click. Cli—

“Agh, darn. Looks like this gear’s jammed. Let’s see…”

But she made it through. Landaus were all about resilience and endurance, after all. Stubbornness, too. Even if those first few years after losing her job and leaving the family had been hell.

The family had taken her money and support, so she clung to what she had: technology. Machines. Her brain. Things malfunctioned and broke everyday, and people needed someone to fix them.

Cocolia had completely trashed her reputation and career prospects, so she channeled her rage the best way she knew how—rock music.

It was how she vented back in the academy, taking out the frustrations of studies and her family with a good, cathartic jam session.

And even now, her band attracted new and younger fans, lost kids seeking to find an outlet for the awkward and difficult feelings they were growing up with. Drama with love, peers, and family. The growing threat of the Fragmentum, and the bleak future that waited outside of Belobog’s walls.

The music helped them, like it helped her. The machines she tinkered with may not have been new, state-of-the-art technologies, but it felt good to see the smile on someone’s face when their heater got patched up, or the excitement in someone’s eyes when they got a new mod on their car installed.

Sure, she may not have been the Serval Landau. Not the Architect or prodigal daughter. But Serval Landau, the rock musician? The mechanic? She was making a difference, and that was just as good. Better, even.

There was still a place for her in the world. Helping little Bronya, forcing Geppie to chill out, making sure Lynxy and Pela didn’t get into too much trouble. Repairing machines, studying new intergalactic technologies, and coming up with ways to make life easier in both the Overworld and Underworld.

There was a time when everything felt dark. When she wanted to run from her anger and grief, from a life that felt empty.

But now, it’s different. Brighter, a little more hopeful. Not so bad.

A little more tinkering, and the gear unjams, Serval hums to herself as it begins to turn again, filling the silence with a steady, rhythmic—

Click. Click. Click.

Hm. She had the time. Maybe she’d read Mom’s letter, after all. Start writing that new song for Mechanical Fever’s next show, too.

#drabbles #[ kind of! ]#[ puts the app out there... ]#[ it's about 1.2k words ]

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batmanshole · 1 year ago

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my favourite emojis

thumbs up. salute. bomb. tulip. strawberry. sobbing. two red exclamation marks. red exclamation mark and question mark. woozy. dizzy. hand cupping. hand pointing. eye. female firefighter. female farmer. female construction worker. pregnant man. woman in wheelchair. woman in power chair. woman with probing cane. puppy face. duck. duckling. snail. ant. bee. jellyfish. whale. seal. sheep. guide dog. wing. dove. clover. four leaf clover. sprout. mushroom. lotus. bouquet. hyacinth. hibiscus. cherry blossom. rock. sunflower. coral. sparkle. star. rain. rain and thunder. snowflake. gust of wind. onion. garlic. bagel. ginger. cherries. peach. green apple. red apple. pear. lemon. orange. mango. blueberry. carrot. corn. broccoli. bok choy. potato. bread. sweet potato. baguette. pretzel. pancakes. hotdog. hamburger. sandwich. fortune cookie. rice. dango. sorbet. flan. lolipop. tea. honey. bubble tea. hockey. roller skate. fishing. woman surfing. fencing. paint palette. woman juggling. trumpet. saxophone. violin. chess pawn. guitar. headphones. probing cane. wheelchair. power chair. crutch. suspended train car. tram. trolley. train. train at station. airplane. airplane taking off. airplane landing. different airplane. ship anchor. moai head. map. roller coaster. park fountain. pink hospital. keyboard. phone with arrow. CD. DVD. minidisc. floppy disk. VHS tape. camera with flash. dial. antique clock. hourglass. hourglass with falling sand. old tv. plug. candle. lightbulb. ID card. ladder. pickaxe. saw. nut and bolt. gear. hammer. box propped up by stick. magnet. water gun. knife. axe. sword. dynamite. cigarette. gravestone. hole. bandaid. telescope. pill. broom. plunger. picnic basket. bath with bubbles. razor. toothbrush. lotion. soap. person in bath. toilet paper. toilet. sponge. bucket. key. skeleton key. bed with person in it. bed. chair. door. teddy bear. present. balloon. box. tag. scroll. document. document bent. file folder. open file folder. clipboard. office trash can. rolled up newspaper. filing cabinet. newspaper. composition notebook. plain notebook. red volume 1 notebook. green volume 2 notebook. blue volume 3 notebook. orange volume 4 notebook. stack of books. open book. triangular ruler. pin. pen. fountain pen right. fountain pen left. pencil. crayon. closed lock. pink heart. red heart. orange heart. yellow heart. green heart. cyan heart. blue heart. purple heart. grey heart. white heart. brown heart. black heart. sparkling pink heart. pink heart with arrow. pink heart with bow. double pink hearts. swirling pink hearts. glowing pink heart. vibrating pink heart. broken heart. radiation warning. libra. big red X. big red O. crossed out circle. question mark. exclamation point. warning sign. trident. fleur de lis. accessibility sign. canadian flag. brazillian flag. pirate flag. ok sign. cool sign. music notes. on arrow. top arrow. TM sign. crossed out bell. thought bubble. yelling bubble. speech bubble. spade. club. heart. diamond. gay pride. trans pride.

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theatrekidstatus · 1 year ago

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Chapter 31

-emily is 9- Anthony ramos pov:"ok so maybe it did take a year but todays the day" "EMMY VEN ACA" "sí papa" "we're going out today" "for real" "yes get ready" "ok" -15 minutes later- "ok are you hungry" "very much so" "lets head to breakfeast" "ok daddy wheres mommy" "warming up the car" "ok" we head to the car and lock the doors turn on the security and called jazzy to house sit "hey baby you ready for today" "yes ma'am" "so are we getting breakfast" "can we get breakfast and brunch" "ok princess" "guys theres something ive meant to ask you" "yes sweet heart" "can i PLEASE social media" "sfffff i dont know sweetie" "PLEASE ILL DO ANY THING" "ok you can have social media but we will run and watch the account but you can have snapchat to your self" "OK THANK YOU SO MUCH" she started downloading the apps and following people "here log into the accounts on our phones" "ok" she did then we made it to breakfeast we step inside and sit down i look up shes making a tictok "let us see before you post" it was a lip sync to one more hour" "you do love us" "never didn't" "EMILY" a young voice called "oh no" "whats wrong is that he brothering you" "no no no no no dad" "ohhhh is that jose" "no no no no" "tell him to come over" "NO NO NO NO NO" she whispered screamed "does he speak spanish?" "mas o menos" "jose ven aquí" "hola emily" "hola" "como estas" "bien y tú" "biennnnnn" "so jose you into mixed girls" "PAPA" "oh y-yeah?" "oh my god" "im just asking a question mija" "ANYWAY jose donde esta tú familia" "esta aquí" "bien bien" "well this is my sisters birthday brunch so i gotta split bye m&m's" "bye" "that went well" "DAD!" "what" "why did you do that" "what" "ANY OF THAT" "i was getting to know him" "you embarrassed all three of us" "i did not" "DID TOO" "well i apologize for trying to meet my duaghter crush A family fun day is a special time for families to come together and enjoy each other's company while having a blast. It's a day filled with laughter, excitement, and unforgettable memories. Let me take you through a fun-filled day that you and your family can enjoy!

The day starts with everyone gathering in the morning, full of anticipation for the adventures ahead. You and your family decide to kick off the day with a visit to a local amusement park. As you enter the park, the sound of joyful screams and the smell of cotton candy fills the air. The rides are calling your name!

You start off with a thrilling roller coaster ride that leaves you breathless and exhilarated. The wind rushes through your hair as you twist and turn through loops and drops. The adrenaline rush is contagious, and you can't help but laugh and cheer alongside your family members.

After the roller coaster, you make your way to the water park section of the amusement park. Splashing and laughter fill the air as you slide down towering water slides and float lazily along the lazy river. The refreshing water cools you down on a hot summer's day, and you can't help but feel a sense of pure joy as you see the smiles on your family's faces.

As the day progresses, you and your family decide to take a break from the rides and head to a nearby picnic area. You spread out a cozy blanket and unpack a delicious spread of sandwiches, fruits, and snacks. The sun shines down, casting a warm glow on your family as you enjoy a leisurely lunch together. Laughter and conversation fill the air as you bond over shared stories and jokes.

After lunch, you and your family decide to try something new and exciting - a mini-golf adventure! The colorful and whimsical mini-golf course is filled with challenging obstacles and tricky holes. You cheer each other on, celebrating every hole-in-one and laughing at the near misses. It's a friendly competition that brings out the playful spirit in everyone.

As the sun begins to set, you and your family head to a nearby beach for some relaxation and fun. The sand feels warm between your toes as you build sandcastles and collect seashells. The sound of crashing waves and seagulls overhead creates a serene atmosphere, allowing you to unwind and appreciate the beauty of nature.

To end the day on a high note, you and your family gather around a cozy bon

#hamilton fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfics #fanfic authors #fang #musical theater #anthony ramos #musical theatre #theater #theatre #21 chump street #broadway #hamilton musical #lin manuel miranda

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alectoperdita · 2 years ago

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Winner Takes All

rated: E tags: established relationship, married couple, anal fingering, anal sex, bottom Kaiba Seto

Written for @joukaiweek day 3 prompt: winner takes all

Turns out that sometimes what you need to do is throw out the two hours of location research you tried to do and just write the loving married smut you wanted to. Maybe I'll go back and write the proceeding horse racing bits before posting to AO3. Or maybe I won't. So feel free to use your imagination re: Kaiba and Pegasus's frienemies relationship.

I consider this to be in the same universe as The Best Laid Plan. Mood for this piece? Slice of life when you're married to a high-powered tech CEO.

---

The journey to Las Vegas was long but uneventful. Seto dozed off in the passenger's seat about an hour in, and Katsuya left him alone. It was only fair when he had done the same this morning: slept through the first leg of their journey from San Francisco to LA while Seto drove. No doubt a day of interacting with Pegasus wore him out on top of that.

Katsuya made good time, though, letting his road trip playlist and the GPS guide him through long stretches of desert highway and finally the congested motorways snaking into the heart of the Strip. They even made their specified late check-in time with the hotel.

Seto was slow to rouse through the check-in process, requiring Katsuya to purposefully nudge him at several points because the arrangements were made under his name. Cute, even if it was a bit inconvenient. But through diligent study, Katsuya's English had improved tremendously over the last few years, which came in handy when he accompanied his husband on these trips. And he was able to lock down the details on both of their behalf.

He suspected the other man was already fully awake by the time they boarded the elevator to their top-floor suite. Instead of calling his husband on his ruse, though, he simply petted the head pillowed against him as they ascended. Clinging tighter to his waist, Seto made a faint but happy noise. With the elevator to themselves, Katsuya pressed a kiss to his husband's temple.

When the doors opened to their floor, Seto peeled away without prompting. Katsuya felt bereft, but he knew it'd only be for a brief moment. Until they traversed the hallway and were safely behind the closed door of their hotel room.

Seto waited for him to set their roller luggage aside, but not a second longer. His husband crowded him against a wall and seized him in a heated embrace and an even more fiery kiss. Katsuya slumped against the wall at his back, ceding control as Seto deepened the kiss into an open-mouthed one. There were no words to describe the joy and comfort of being crushed against his husband. To feel his strong hands and slender fingers explore his body and inflame his senses.

Seto broke the kiss first. "Finally, we're alone."

Katsuya chuckled and brushed a few bangs out of Seto's eyes. He couldn't resist pecking the tip of his husband's nose. Seto wrinkled it adorably, as Katsuya knew he would.

"Better enjoy it," he quipped. "Because in another two days—"

Seto's groan cut him off. "Yes, CES starts. I won't even have a moment to shit in peace then."

Laughter bubbled out of Katsuya. He never figured out if his own speech pattern had rubbed off on his husband or if Seto always possessed that crudeness, but hid it perfectly. He took Seto's hand, noting a light tremor before he stabilized, and led them to the couch. Seto didn't protest as he pulled him down, immediately winding his arms around Katsuya's neck and burying his face there. He further melted as Katsuya began rubbing that persistently troublesome spot at the top of his spine. There was, unsurprisingly, a knot there.

While he worked on the knot, he glanced around their suite. They were in the outer room meant for working or receiving visitors, furnished with sitting furniture and desks. The view outside the window was grandiose. It framed a large swath of the illuminated Strip. Through the open door on the other side of the room, he spotted the bedroom. It was likely only smaller than the current room by a small margin.

Everything was suitably high end. There was a certain quality of life expected of someone in Seto's position. Over the years, Katsuya had learned not to feel too guilty about it and to enjoy the ride when appropriate.

A flirty kiss against his throat tore him from his thoughts. He peered down and found his husband watching him with dark, half-lidded eyes.

"Thank you for coming with me. I know this isn't always the most riveting experience for you, but it means the world—"

Katsuya silenced him with a kiss in return. "I'm happy to go wherever, as long as it's with you."

Seto smirked. "Be careful what you say. I might test you against such a claim."

Katsuya swept his hand down the length of his husband's spine to brace his lower back. Next, he took hold of Seto's hip and pulled him entirely into his lap. Seto complied, but with a hint of a struggle because he could be a brat sometimes. Once he had him where he wanted, though, Katsuya burrowed his nose into his husband's hair and simply breathed.

"Nah, you could make spending time in even those horse paddocks fun."

A light slap landed across his shoulder. "Pervert."

"Hey hey now," Katsuya protested. "I didn't mean it like that. You're the one with his mind in the gutter."

Seto yanked his head back and arched a sardonic eyebrow at him. "Really? So you didn't have a single dirty thought at the track earlier?"

Katsuya flicked his eye toward the ceiling and noticed the chandelier overhead for the first time. "Well, I'm not gonna lie. There was that super swanky men's restroom with the mirror, and you always get so hot and bothered when we fuck in front of one."

"So romantic. Be still my beating heart," Seto deadpanned.

"Oh, as if you didn't want to jump me after my pick beat out Pegasus's on the track." He pinched his husband's flank for good measure. "You two are ridiculous, by the way. Twenty Gs and a five-year licensing deal. That was some rich bitch shenanigan. Jeez."

His husband rolled his eyes. "Pegasus wanted to agree. He just needed the pretense for his board. Can't be seen as a man who welches on his bets. It's bad for business."

"Rich bitch."

There was a growing predatory light in Seto's eyes. He slithered out of Katsuya's embrace and off his lap, ultimately landing on the floor at his feet. It always tilted Katsuya's world a little to see this gorgeous specimen of a man kneeling between his knees. His breathing hitched while his husband worked his belt and trousers open. Once freed, his cock swelled to fullness after a few expert strokes of his husband's hand.

Seto's voice dripped with seduction. "But I won't deny you were immensely helpful earlier. Would you like to collect your winnings now?"

He bucked against Seto's expert ministrations. Fuck, he loved this man. After licking his dry lips, he reached down and weaved his fingers into his husband's soft locks. "Yeah. And what would that be?" he asked breathlessly.

Seto's eyes glinted like gems. "The stakes were winner takes all. So you'll take me with your cock after I show you proper gratitude."

A groan tore out of Katsuya as Seto devoured him with his mouth. "Fuck, babe. Your mouth's to die for."

At his feet, his husband made a sound that seemed smug and felt like all bliss as it rumbled down his shaft. Despite gripping Seto's hair, the other man set the pace, leisurely suckling on his cock and rubbing the flat of his tongue against the underside. Seto struggled to take him into his throat, but Katsuya could hardly complain. His husband knew exactly what to do and how to work him to the edge.

"It's okay, babe." He reassured his husband with a soft tone and a gentler caress. "Don't force it. If you make me blow my load now, who's gonna fuck you until you scream your throat raw? God, I can't wait to take your tight ass."

Seto's patience must already be frayed. His husband snaked a hand between his legs to fondle his own erection. His eyes had grown watery, wetness threatening to break their corners, but they were no less intense or hungry. After another minute of vigorous sucking and hollowed cheeks that brought Katsuya to the brink despite his warnings, Seto finally released him.

His voice was hoarse as he ordered, "Get the lube."

Katsuya didn't need to be told twice. With his erect dick swinging in the breeze, he scrambled to their luggage and located the lube they brought for the trip. Seto was nearly naked when he returned. His trousers and underwear were discarded in a crumpled pile on the floor, along with his sports jacket and tie. He was halfway to shrugging off his unbuttoned linen shirt when Katsuya stopped him.

"Nah. Keep that on. You're super sexy that way."

Katsuya didn't bother disrobing. He knew Seto wouldn't have the patience to wait. Instead, he took a seat on the sofa and pulled his husband down into his lap where he belonged. Their stiff cocks bumped and rubbed against each other. A moan of pure need ripped from Seto's throat as he unconsciously started humping against Katsuya. While his husband did that, Katsuya slicked multiple fingers with lube before smearing the wet tips against Seto's pucker.

"Hurry up," Seto growled impatiently.

"Thought this was supposed to be my prize to enjoy. You're even more eager for this than I am," he teased.

When Seto opened his mouth to retort, that was when Katsuya breached his entrance. He panted, his eyes rolling back in his head as he rocked against the intrusion.

Katsuya continued, raining kisses across his husband's flushed cheeks. "Think we should redefine who's the winner here if you're doing all—" He thrust his finger in and out of the quivering hole. "The taking here."

Seto could only cling to him, writhing and keening as Katsuya worked him open with more and more fingers.

"I love how soft and syrupy your insides get for me," he muttered affectionately. It took a few tries, but finally, he jabbed his crooked fingers into the right spot that made Seto tighten and spasm in turns. "I'd be happy to just do this all night. Feel you come apart again and again. Give you all the mind-blowing orgasms you could want. You can switch off your brain while I take care of you."

By now, a sheen of sweat coated his husband's body, soaking into his shirt. He was flushed pink from head to toe. But the teeth came out as Seto snarled, "If you don't put your cock in me within the next thirty seconds, you'll sleep on this couch for the rest of the stay. Thirty. Twenty-nine."

"Not fair!" he protested, even as he extracted his fingers. "You're counting way too fast."

Seto dropped the count, but only because he shoved Katsuya flat against the sofa back and maneuvered into position to line them up. He never hesitated as he sank onto Katsuya's cock in one slow but unrelenting glide. They both swore, still caught off-guard by the sensation of their bodies locking together to this day. Seto was so very tight and hot around his dick. He felt like heaven.

"God, you're incredible," he groaned and settled his hands on his husband's sharp, jutting hip bones.

After a biting kiss, Seto settled on a savage pace. Katsuya was content to sit back and let his husband fuck him into the cushions. Often, Seto either tired himself out or the burning flames quenched into something sweeter but no less needy. He rubbed his thumbs along the crest of Seto's hips, lauding him with generous praise and declarations of his own undying devotion. Sometimes, it felt as if he was taming a star when Seto molded to his tenderness. When their foreheads pressed against one another and they gazed into the depths of each other's souls.

"I love you," Katsuya said ardently. The truth of it pierced through his heart like a stake.

"And I you."

Seto smiled. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

That transition between fucking and making love was magical. But their desire to possess and own the other remained, a sweet bed of thorns cradled between their bodies, paradoxically blunted and sharpened by their love. They rocked against one another, giving and taking as they'd learned through multiple trials across the years. They'd come this far, and Katsuya couldn't wait to see what further place they would go.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Seto asked. "Our schedules are finally open."

An innocuous question, but one that felt as if it offered the world in this moment.

Katsuya hummed, unable to tear his gaze from his husband's lithe form as he rolled his hips and rode his cock. After a few seconds, he sat up, pulling Seto flush against his lap, impaling and immobilizing him. His husband shivered and gasped. His fingers dug deep into Katsuya's shoulder blades. Katsuya took the opportunity to kiss him deep and sensually until wanton sounds rumbled in the depths of his chest.

"I wanna sleep in with you tomorrow," he muttered against his husband's lips. "I wanna make sweet, aching love to you when you wake up. We can get brunch afterward. Walk around and check out the sights. Shizuka and the others will expect souvenirs. Come back here and press you against the window and take you apart while the sun sets over your gorgeous body. We can go out for dinner later, or get room service, whichever you want. And then we'll go to bed—"

"And have more sex." Seto laughed, lifting one hand from his shoulder to caress his cheek. "So your only plans are to fuck and eat. You are a cheap date."

Katsuya turned his head and pressed a firm kiss to his husband's palm. "Make love," he corrected gently.

"Ah, yes, my mistake." Seto rolled his eyes.

In retaliation, he forcefully lifted Seto by the waist before slamming him down again.

"Ah! Katsuya!"

"But if you rather I fuck you a little stupid, I can do that too. I'll do whatever you ask."

He grinned wolfishly at his husband before nibbling on his lips. Fucking, making love; they could do both at the same time. When he repeated the same motion, it wrung another sweet cry. Seto clenched around him, egging him without words. Before he knew it, he was bouncing him. His own hips chased his husband's tight heat, desperate to bury himself as deep in the other man as possible. Seto moved with him, jerking upward before throwing his entire body weight downward.

Then he arched his body in just the right way, puffing out his heaving chest and hanging low, entirely relying on Katsuya to keep him suspended. His body jerked as if electrocuted, freezing every muscle from head to toe as he clamped painfully hard around Katsuya's dick.

Katsuya had struck his husband's prostate to a heartbreakingly beautiful result. He leaned forward more, dipping Seto as he convulsed, eyes wide and mouth parted in a silent scream. He could do little more than grind against the other man, rutting against his hole and humping his stomach against his husband's pulsing cock until wetness exploded between their overheated bodies.

"That's right. Come for me," he groaned and held Seto close, breathing in the heady scent of sweat and sex.

"Katsuya. Katsuya." His name was a sweet rush of prayer and adoration.

"Seto, I love you so damn much."

"I love you too. I love you."

They collapsed back against the couch in one boneless heap. Katsuya had yet to come, but he didn't care as he cradled his husband to his chest and kissed him until they were both star-struck.

Elegant fingers danced across his brow and traced the slope of his cheekbones. Their eyes locked.

"We're not done yet," Seto reminded him with a cheeky squeeze of his ass.

Katsuya's hips twitched, bucking with renewed desperation. "Yeah? You want more?" That last question should really be a statement.

This time, when Seto smiled, it unfurled like a blossom toward the sun. "Always. Now take me to bed properly."

A corresponding grin spread across Katsuya's lips. "I love a good win-win situation."

#joukaiweek2023 #yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #my fanfiction #January is part of the Santa Anita Park's racing season #'perfect' pitstop between San Francisco and Las Vegas #CES included for me and my one homie who are way too enamored with the idea of Seto at the show #beware: this is fluffy and mushy and a very forced use of the prompt phrase #written in like five hours in hopes of shutting my brain up #very sparsely edited

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coyotescribbles · 2 years ago

Text

Skydive

Because what the hell why not.

----------

It's a brilliantly clear, bitingly cold afternoon over the Atlantic Ocean, and you're a prisoner aboard the Decepticon warship.

It's not... terrible, you reason. You still don't know why - wrong place, wrong time, probably. At least they don't keep you locked up in a box or anything like that. If anything, they barely even seem to notice your presence at all. Probably because there really isn't a whole lot you can get into to cause trouble.

That lanky Slenderman-looking fucker watches you, though - his unnervingly silent gaze makes the back of your neck prickle even when you can't see him.

And sometimes the Vehicons bring you things. You never ask where or how they get the snacks or the odd camping supplies (or the oversized purple puffy coat currently wrapped around your shoulders) and they never volunteer the information. They mostly just seem happy when you thank them for their "deliveries."

But mostly you're ignored and left to your own devices.

That's how you first crossed paths with him.

It was an accident, honestly. You'd just been shadowing someone's heels - was it R1d3r, or was it St3v3? You couldn't quite tell in the half-dark when they weren't chatting - and had followed them out onto the landing deck.

The huge fucking robot dragon lounging out there had distracted you long enough for your unwitting tour guide to accidentally lock your outside with it.

...It didn't turn out too badly, at least. The big guy was more curious than anything, and you (eventually) got back inside with little more wounded than your pride.

(Turns out, "cat playing with mouse" is only funny when you're not the mouse.)

So why had you gone back?

Boredom, perhaps. Or curiosity. Or maybe you were just lonely. Or a combination of all three. Each answer made about as much sense as any other, which was "none" when the object of your curiosity was, again, an airliner-sized robot dragon.

The fact that he didn't seem too keen on actually hurting you played into it, probably. Even if he didn't talk, you could tell that he was very aware of how fragile you are. Which was, well... it was a bit more consideration than most anyone else gave you.

So you went back again, and again, and again, until even the usual door guards stopped trying to catch you and shoo you away. And you would sit with him, or talk - about what was going on around the ship, or about things and people you missed, or just nothing in particular... he never said anything in return but it was obvious that he was listening, and that he understood, no matter what that screeching jet claimed. Sometimes you would even sing a little. And a few times, you even fell asleep against him, curling into the warmth he radiated.

And the more you visited, the more he seemed to warm up to you.

Which ultimately brings you back to now, standing on that flight deck under a clear, cold sky, with that huge dragon-mech lounging nearby, watching you curiously.

You look out over the indigo ocean - even from this height, it shimmers like a roll of silk in the bright sunlight.

And a terrible idea crosses your mind. A terrible, horrible, half-baked, exhilarating idea.

You've been bored for way too long.

You look back over your shoulder with a grin, the wind whipping through your hair. "Hey."

He cants his head at you in return.

"If I jumped, about how long do you think it would take for you to catch me?"

He lifts his head a bit further, and you can almost see the calculations running through his head in the way he eyes you

Before he can think to grab you, you're already sprinting away as fast as you can go. There's a sound of alarm from behind you, followed by the thunder of heavy footfalls, but it's too late.

"BOMBS AWAY!" You shout, throwing yourself headlong into the open sky with your arms open wide.

The plummet is like the first drop on the tallest roller coaster you've ever ridden - it knots up your stomach, makes your eyes water, and sucks the air from your lungs, and it takes you a few seconds before you're able to let out the delighted shriek that's built up in your chest. The icy wind buffets at your face and pulls at your thick coat, but even that bit of drag doesn't do much to slow you down.

A second later, and a massive shadow hurtles past you, and you watch as your dragon unfurls his wings to slow his descent and maneuver into your path.

(You're falling so fast now that you don't have the presence of mind to wonder just when you started thinking of him as your dragon.)

And it takes you a second more to work out that he's approximating your velocity. You'd half-expected him to snatch you out of the air, but of course that sort of tactic would probably (definitely) kill a squishy little thing like you. No, he's bringing himself alongside you, maintaining a flawlessly-calculated speed and position until you can safely reach down to catch the edge of his armor plating with your fingers.

Then, with the slightest adjustment of his broad wings, he pushes back up beneath you, and you find yourself lying flat on his back.

Your freefall slows, slows, until you're no longer at terminal velocity.

Then, with only meters left to spare, he banks into a wide turn, the tip of one wing just barely skimming the ocean's surface. You just laugh and press your cheek to his armor, holding on for dear life when the wind is forced from your lungs for a second time as you ascend. Your heart is beating so hard you're almost sure that he can feel it, too.

You're still laughing, though, giddy with reckless delight, when he finally catches back up to the warship and backwings into a skillful landing on the flight deck. Instead of climbing - or sliding - down like you'd expected, though, you find yourself briefly tossed back into the air when he transforms.

That was new.

He catches you again, this time in two clawed hands, and you fall back against his talons as he glowers fiercely down at you.

"Little fool. What is the meaning of such reckless behavior?" He demands; it's impossible to miss the concern coloring his voice. "You cannot fly."

"No, but you can," you smile as disarmingly as possible; "I knew you would catch me."

He lets out a huff.

It's adorable.

"I've always wanted to go skydiving, anyway," you continue, "I could just never afford it, so... I saw an opportunity, I took an opportunity. And you're way cooler than any stuffy old Cessna and a boring parachute."

If you didn't know any better, you might have sworn that he looked flustered for a moment.

He kneels down and gently deposits you back onto the flight deck; you're too wobbly to stand on your own just yet, so you just collapse back onto the chilly metal hull with another breathless laugh.

"The next time you wish to 'sky dive'," he rumbles, looming over you, "warn me before you fling yourself over the edge."

"I'll try to remember that."

#Transformers Prime #reader insert #human reader #Predaking #macaddam #SFW #I don't normally write in this POV #but it was kind of a fun little exercise

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spookyspaghettisundae · 1 year ago

Text

Roll High, High Roller

Night gripped the city of Las Vegas. Neon glowed out into a sky bruised black and blue.

So, too, the neon-pink sign of CATHARTES COLLECTION AGENCY, emblazoned atop the roof, five stories up. All but a few lights in the repo company building’s bowels had gone dark, as all its employees and its manager were off the clock now.

So, too, Cassie Shaw, standing at the back entrance. Off the clock, yet headed inside. Ready to pay back the bastard who ran the place.

She didn’t need to pick any locks because she already had keys to the place.

Still as a metal pole in the dark alley, she stood outside the backdoor, rigid and tense. Waiting, her eyes narrowed as she stared at her wristwatch. Counting seconds, waiting for the hands to click into the right place.

Everything was meticulously timed, she just needed to avoid the sleepy security guard who was supposed to be keeping watch in the building at this ungodly hour.

3:00 AM.

She shoved the key into the lock like sticking a knife into Jimmy’s back. Then she twisted it.

Both the key… and the figurative knife.

Sneaking through dark hallways, she kept pausing. Every time she stopped, she held her breath to the point of her lungs silently screaming at her. She lurked up steps of darkened stairwells. The painstaking slowness of her ascent not only served to avoid alerting the security guard on duty, it also afforded Cassie ample time to revisit how it had all come to this.

With the security guard nowhere in sight, and her mind running overdrive while she crept through the empty building, she had to keep telling herself the same things over and over again.

This wasn’t coming out of nowhere. The bastard had this coming.

Jimmy Cooper was going to get what he deserved.

Jimmy Cooper, her boss, had caught wind of her side hustle with her colleague, roommate, and lover. Chrissie Schneider.

They had been making a fair amount of cash on the side in underground poker games. Jimmy then put a stop to it all because they had been robbing the shirts off the backs of some of his high-profile clients—or low-profile, depending on how you looked at things. Then he sent them a manila folder containing photos of the two lesbians that some private dick must have shot from a building across the street, sending a message that Jimmy would bury them if they didn’t dance exactly to his preferred tune.

Exposing the stormy relationship between Cassie and Chrissie was the equivalent of setting off a bomb. Cassie’s dad was nobody less than Andy “The Hatchet” Shaw, casino owner and notorious gangster. And Cassie was married to The Hatchet’s rival, Marcus Schneider, another illustrious crime boss in Sin City. Jimmy Cooper obviously knew his way around the criminal underworld, so it would have been no big deal for him to expose it, he had his ass covered. And Jimmy was a real bona fide bastard. He would happily light a match and toss it onto the gasoline-drenched powder keg. He’d probably make a small profit on the side while he watched the city burn. Yet he felt the need to squeeze his own employees, make them do whatever he wanted.

Knowing him from their conversations, she knew Jimmy’s worst sides. Lurid, sadistic, and domineering, she bristled at the thought of what he would ask of them if he kept dangling this disaster over their heads.

And Cassie, well, she was going to flip the script on Jimmy. He had to have dirt on his computer, and Chrissie had given Cassie something as good as the keys to CATHARTES: a sleek little USB drive with some malware, which would help Cassie bypass Jimmy Cooper’s PC password entry.

Another key, another knife to his back. Because fuck Jimmy, Cassie thought. And with that thought, a new wave of confidence washed over her, surfacing in a sadistic smirk.

Jimmy Cooper was going to get what he deserved.

The door to Jimmy Cooper’s office was locked, just like the backdoor to the building. But this, too, had been expected. She quietly inserted the key Chrissie had given her.

Another figurative knife-twist. The door yielded, and Cassie snuck inside.

She only dared to breathe again once the door was closed behind her, and she could hide behind the desk.

Waiting several moments more, she ensured the rent-a-cop on guard duty still hadn’t caught wind of any intrusion.

She hadn’t even heard him. Maybe the goofball had fallen asleep on the job? Remy had that kind of reputation, after all. And few people were stupid enough to break into the CATHARTES office building. It wasn’t like there anything of value to steal there. Jimmy kept a bunch of old trinkets on display in his office. And they didn’t store cash or anything else on the premises.

Cassie inserted the silvery USB stick, pawed around the power button until it clicked, and the glow of the PC monitor bathed her in a sickly blue light when it winked on to life.

The malware immediately garbled the login screen and she landed on his desktop with some graphical glitches on display.

Cassie’s fingers hovered over the keyboard’s keys with anticipation, and her mouth turned dry. Then her fingertips rained down upon those keys, like a storm, a fury, with the precision of a skilled pianist.

The soft hum of air conditioning masked the tension building in the room, and eclipsed her breathing.

Above it all, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was on the precipice of something much larger than she had anticipated. She would find out soon enough how right she was.

Once she launched the copying process to clone his data onto the USB stick, she started snooping through his files. The digital mosaic of windows and virtual folders and countless little documents flicked on and off the screen as she skimmed their contents.

Before long, she got stuck on what had to be a coded ledger. Glued to this particular file, her eyes darted across the screen while she struggled to decipher the cryptic entries.

James Cooper, her seemingly mundane boss, was ensnared in a web of strange fascinations. Coded rows of data detailed a vast collection of physical items, distributed across two houses in Las Vegas, and six different storage units that he was renting under a fake-sounding name and what had to be a shell company of CATHARTES.

Was he a fence or a smuggler for stolen art objects? She now wondered.

The assortment of oddities on display in Cooper’s office began to take on a whole new dimension as Cassie let the files continue to copy. It was taking its sweet time, so she sated her curiosity some more.

A glass case behind the desk displayed what had to have been an Incan shield, a creepy old doll, a set of silver rings with odd crosses etched into them, and various other pieces of paraphernalia that all reeked of ancient history.

The whole damned office was plastered with the stuff. The creepy taxidermy of a fox, frozen in what looked like a scream, almost looked out of place on the bookshelf when she studied Jimmy’s odd belongings in this new light—behind more glass, he showcased an authentic Egyptian statuette, a stone tablet with indecipherable script engraved upon it, and metal bracers she previously thought were made of fake gold.

Slowly, so very slowly, it dawned on her that all this worthless junk might have been worth a lot more than she ever assumed. That these things weren’t just tacky replicas that spoke to an obsession with the antique and fallen civilizations, but actual relics.

Tearing her attention away from the dimly lit collection of curios in Cooper’s office, she flicked away the ledger and continued sifting through his files.

One of them read like the ramblings of a conspiracy theorist, merged with the surreal ravings of a schizophrenic patient. It contained nonsense about Freemasons, Illuminati, Rosicrucians, witch covens, and other esoteric subjects; paired with phrases typed out in all-caps such as “MASTER PLAN”, “EXTINCTION EVENT”, “THIRD AGE”, and yet more code, which all obscured the purpose of these texts to any casual viewer. Or they were more likely to resemble the contents of a fantasy novel.

Flicking that away as well, she delved deeper. Cassie opened his browser and perused his emails.

She could practically feel how the figurative knife in her hands. Not sinking into Jimmy’s back, but piercing a darker layer yet, like she was stabbing into a thick film of oil upon the surface of a deeper, darker ocean hidden underneath.

That thought made her bristle again and the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight.

Between legit business correspondences, some “URGENT” mails and other strange exchanges caught her eye. A lot of the mystery correspondents used code names, fake names, and she even recognized one among them: a former business associate of her father’s.

Without a doubt, Jimmy Cooper was involved in illegal activities—racketeering and protection money, if she had to hazard a guess. This part was what she had expected to find here, yet it felt so tiny compared to the maddening rest.

With a few clicks, she packaged up his mail history and downloaded it, so she could add it to the queue of files transferring while she sniffed out any other dirty data trails.

Her heart raced as the enormity of what she had discovered now finally settled in. Cassie had expected a little bit of dirt to blackmail her boss and turn his blackmail of them into a stalemate, but what she had discovered felt more like a conspiracy that transcended any mundane criminal dealings she had ever imagined. The coded messages suggested a global network of eccentric individuals, engaged in activities that defied conventional understanding. Europe, Russia, Africa, Asia, sitting in cities across the world, trading in bizarre secrets and even stranger information.

This wasn’t just some dirt, it wasn’t just some trail of illicit dealings. She wasn’t even sure how they could play this, yet her mind raced again, with visions of blackmailing him for far more than a clean slate. Perhaps, they could even press Jimmy for serious money.

Time ticked away while the vast amount of data trickled its way onto the USB drive. She cursed every time it slowed to a crawl in the copying process. The room felt claustrophobic. The air was thick with the weight of secrets she was unearthing from Jimmy Cooper’s dirty data grave.

Her hands trembled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, knowing every passing second increased the risk of discovery. Her vision blurred as she lost focus, lost in thought, plotting how she and Chrissie could best dangle this sword over Jimmy’s head, and squeeze every cent from the bastard.

So absorbed was she in the moment that she failed to notice the security guard nearing until it was too late to react.

The tranquility of the night shattered like the many panes of glass surrounding her, all reflecting the dim light from the computer’s screen, and herself mirrored in those many shiny surfaces.

Footsteps echoed through the office, and Cassie’s pulse quickened parallel to the quickening pace of someone nearing.

Knowing it was too late to shut down the computer and hide, dread gripped her. Paralyzed her.

Jimmy’s office door burst open. Even with his face mostly obscured by shadow, Cassie recognized present company as security guard Remy McPherson. A normally timid and modest man who usually stumbled over his words and stuttered whenever she spoke to him, Remy’s face now contorted into a grimace of fear and anger.

Cassie stared directly into the barrel of his pistol. It quaked in his hands.

Panic set in as she scrambled to grab the USB drive. The pistol shook more in Remy’s hands, and he shouted something at her. Though loud and clear enough to be intelligible, whatever he yelled at Cassie in that moment failed to penetrate the mushy panic soup her brain had just turned into.

The hairs on the back of her neck preempted what happened next. She just dove backwards, behind the desk, sensing how his finger would curve around the trigger once he lost his last nerves.

Glass exploded, both from her crashing into the display case, and bullets whizzing past her to shatter the world around her.

In the cacophony of chaos, she clutched a metal object from the display case—sparks flew where more bullets aimed at her instead ricocheted off the ancient Incan shield.

Her own fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm where she gripped the USB stick. She was barely thinking anymore, acting on instinct—so she dove through the window, shield first. The bedlam continued, with more bullets whizzing past her, swallowed by the glittering skyline of Las Vegas.

Cassie only had eyes for the sharp shards raining down alongside her, as they all fell together towards the alley’s asphalt. Time slowed to a stop and then sped up again, crashing at breakneck into her beaten-up old Honda.

The klaxon of her car alarm honked away. Where she groaned and rolled over ground, glass crunched underneath her back and limbs, and she rose to her feet, first wobbly on her legs like a newborn foal.

Heart racing, with the USB drive still clutched in one hand and the Incan shield in the other, she stared down at herself in disbelief. As reality set in, it dispelled all the horrid imagery of the many deaths she could have just suffered in that Vegas alleyway—a skull cracked open from the fall, a body filled with a dozen bullets, a quickly growing pool of blood underneath a mangled body, limbs twisted and bent at angles they should never bend—no, this reality looked quite different. Realities crashed into one another… as if the other deaths all happened in parallel universes, while the Cassie in this one had survived despite the worst odds.

Cassie had, indeed, crashed onto the roof and hood of her car, rolled onto the ground next to her vehicle, and stood up completely unharmed. Not even a bruise or a scratch on any skin she could see.

The shadowed silhouette of Remy stared down at her from the broken office window, five stories up, probably as stricken with disbelief as she was.

Almost comically, she started fumbling around till she fished the car keys out of her jacket pocket and stopped the car alarm, then dove again, this time into her crappy getaway vehicle.

The roof was so bent from her impact that she had to keep her head down and painfully tilted while she drove, and her sneakered foot kicked out the broken windshield while she revved the motor.

Like another surreal miracle, the engine growled and sprung to life. In other parallel dimensions, it failed to start, and she would soon find herself surrounded by police.

But not in this reality. In this reality, in this dimension, her old car allowed her escape.

With screeching tires, she took off and sliced through city traffic. The nightly air rushed through the missing windshield, cutting cold against her skin.

Maybe, if she was fast enough, she could even avoid a chase.

Last of what she had seen of Remy, he had looked as stunned as she still felt—but time was ticking away again. Panic gave way to pure adrenaline, heart hammering away as she raced her busted Honda across the city, careless of any speed limits, only reminded of them when she cut people off in traffic, and other drivers honked their horns at her in anger.

And sure enough, whether police was already responding to a call over a break-in downtown, or Cassie had just ran one red light too many, sirens blared from a police cruiser, now picking up chase of her.

Not for long, though.

A glint of neon lights reflecting off the Incan shield on her passenger seat blinded her and she ran another red light. A chorus of honking horns erupted all around her. The pursuing police car was T-boned by a truck behind her in another cacophony of shattering glass and screaming metal. Cassie shrieked in shock but kept her foot deep down on the gas pedal, roaring down Vegas streets until she jumped out of the car and ran two more blocks to get to their studio apartment in her mad dash.

Her heart still pounded like it was trying to escape her rib cage. Once more, other realities peeled away in which she had died a thousand deaths, and met a thousand failures, and none of them were this reality.

It took her several hundreds of frenzied steps till she realized she was still carrying around the small metal shield and the USB drive, both clutched fiercely in a hand each, and she rounded the corner to the building where she shared the apartment with Chrissie and—

Exhausted, yet triumphant, Cassie’s heart dropped from her chest into her feet and she froze on the spot.

Police cars stood outside the building entrance, without flashing lights or sirens. Huddled around the front door leading inside, Chrissie stood with police officers and what had to be a police detective, some badly-shaven guy dressed in a dark brown duster like he had jumped off the pages of a dime novel.

Even worse—Jimmy Cooper stood there. With them. Their conversation wasn’t heated, Chrissie didn’t look upset at all, and the dread gripping Cassie soon turned into boiling rage as the words exchanged between them reached her ears. The waters of that boiling rage soon bubbled as the words turned into sentences, and she finally made sense of what was being spoken.

Betrayal hung heavy and hot in the air, clashing with the cold breeze of the desert city’s night. A feverish heat was burning Cassie up from the inside, even before her mind actively registered what Chrissie was saying.

Her confidante and lover—

Ratting her out. Or rather… had she been ratting her out all along? The mind’s gears went grinding.

“…the moment she hooks that USB drive up to any device connected to the ‘net, you’ll know exactly where she is,” Chrissie said. A smirk crossed her lips.

Had this been a setup? All along?

The grimace Jimmy Cooper had been sporting slowly transformed into a satisfied smile. He popped a cigarette into the corner of his lips and lit it up in a fluid motion, with a smug expression across his face, and savoring the smoke he inhaled to only blow back out.

He looked like someone who had just enjoyed the best night of sex in his life.

The police detective, likely another dirty cop, nodded in recognition of the information Chrissie continued to share with them.

Distance muffled the words as Cassie backtracked to take the back entrance into the block, making her way up to the studio apartment she had been renting with Chrissie. She barely cared about getting caught now, fuming more with every step as the rage sank deeper into her gut, and she walked up every single flight of stairs till she entered their apartment. The hand clutched the doorknob and the hand stabbing the lock with her key both trembled.

Trembling with anger.

In a daze, she emptied the contents of several tequila, whiskey, and vodka bottles onto a hastily tossed pile of Chrissie’s hottest digs. Next, she tossed a lit lighter onto the dripping mess. Flames danced and flickered in the reflections on Cassie’s eyes.

None of this made sense. She neither had the time nor capacity to unravel why Chrissie had done this.

The betrayal stung, and the fire roared in response. It would take forever to untangle her feelings towards Chrissie Schneider, just to guess where it had gone wrong, and why she had done to her what she had done.

Cassie just… walked away. Walked away from all of it. Her life ended that night. In other realities, it had ended in other ways, and she almost believed she was catching glimpses of them in rays of streetlights wherever they reflected off the Incan shield. Different wrinkles in reality.

Tiny, teasing tastes of other things that could have been.

Police sirens howled in the distance. Flames and a pillar of smoke would soon rise from the apartment building she had lived in for over a year.

She just left the keys in the busted Honda’s ignition, leaving the wreck on the empty lot nearby.

Cassie walked off into the desert that night. The vast expanse stretched before her, mirroring the uncertainty of her future. Different realities, but only one path she would live in this one.

Clouds shrouded moonlight, and night’s dusty horizon soon swallowed her silhouette.

The night whispered secrets to her as she ventured deeper into the silent landscape, leaving behind the burning remnants of her past life. Leaving behind the whole damned city she had grown up in, those whispers and secrets soon turned into meditative thoughts, and sharp truths. She hadn’t been stabbing anybody in the back, she had been stabbing through the veil of the world she had known.

Oh, what a small world that had been. What secrets awaited her in the invisible world beyond it?

Unknowingly, she had enjoyed her first taste of chaos magick. Real magick. Those colliding realities, all melting into the one where fortune favored hers the most. That old shield from an old civilization had served as a conduit, and it would continue to serve her in that capacity.

Jimmy Cooper would probably want it back. And who knew how many bodies he’d be willing to drop in the process of pursuing that?

Weeks later, Cassie would only be found under a new name, founding a coven in Santa Barbara, a coven coming to be known as the Witches of the West Coast.

But that was another story. Another reality willed to be the one.

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saiacross · 2 years ago

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Bonds Unveiled

Supernatural FanFic : 2022 Words : First Work : OC

Chapter 1:

The Meeting

Eminence, Missouri

Nestled several miles away from the nearest town, a factory stands as a silent sentinel, abandoned. Rising several stories high, its walls now bear the scars of weathering and neglect. Faded patches hint at the vibrant signage that once proudly displayed the factory's name; and windows once gleaming with clarity, are now clouded with layers of dirt and grime. The once bustling parking lot now lies empty, overgrown with weeds and tangled vegetation. The asphalt now cracked and broken; and the distant sound of wildlife serves as a stark reminder of the factory's lost production.

As one approaches stepping through the factory's entrance, a cavernous space opens up, revealing the remnants of a once bustling production floor. The air hangs heavy with stillness, interrupted only by the faint rustling of papers and the occasional creek of metal elsewhere. Blanketed in shadows the factory floor stretches into the distance, beams of light from the clouded windows above providing only minimal viability. A labyrinth of conveyor belts, frozen in time, wind their way through the space, their motionless gears and rollers covered in a thick layer of dust. Abandoned machinery & assembly lines, once the heartbeat of production, now sits idle and forgotten.

As the evening sun cast a warm golden hue across the landscape, a cloud of dust rises in the distance. The rhythmic rumble of a powerful engine reverberates through the air, announcing the arrival of a classic beauty; effortlessly navigating the winding gravel road leading to the factor. Its sleek curves cut through the forested atmosphere. A symbol of timeless Americana. As it pulls closer, the crunch of gravel beneath its tires echoes through the stillness, intertwining with the whispering breeze. The dust settles in its wake, leaving a trail that marks its journey. Each turn of the wheels resonates with purpose and determination as if it itself possesses an unyielding spirit; Thee Black Impala.

As the Impala glides to a stop, the engine's growl tapers off, replaced by an expectant silence. The weight of the moment hangs in the air as the Impala's doors swing open, releasing a burst of energy. Two figures emerge, their steps purposeful and confident. The soft thud of boots hitting the ground marks their arrival. With the factory looming before them, the Impala remains a symbol of their shared journey, a steadfast companion in this unknown territory, a vessel that has carried the duo through countless trials and tribulations. It radiates a sense of familiarity and trust, a sanctuary a midst the unknown.

Two brothers, seasoned hunters; their expressions reflect a unique combination of focused determination and battle-hardened experience. Together, the they share a silent understanding, a nonverbal communication built upon years of hunting side by side. With cautious steps, they approach the entrance of the factory; one pausing on each side of the door, double-check their weapons. With silver bullets loaded & knives at the hips the brothers exchange a brief nod before entering.

______________________________________________________________

Inside the dimly lit factory, shadows dance a midst abandoned machinery. A figure in clad worn jeans and jacket grips a silver dagger tightly in their hand. Its polished blade reflects the glimmers of light that seep through the dirty windows, emphasizing its lethal potential. Their eyes, fierce and unyielding, lock onto the monster before them.

A werewolf, towering and menacing, lunges forward with feral intensity. Its snarls ring through the desolate factory, echoing off the ruined walls. But the dagger wielding warrior refuses to be swayed by fear, channeling their resolve into every movement. Dodging the werewolf's ferocious strikes with agility and elegance; reflexes honed through countless battles. Each movement is precise, calculated, as they maneuver with the grace as those a predator themselves. The clang of metal against claws echos as the silver dagger meets the werewolf's strike.

With unwavering determination, the warrior seizes an opening, their movements swift and deliberate. In a swift motion, the silver dagger is plunged deep into the werewolf's chest, aiming unerringly for its heart. The beast recoils, a guttural howl escaping as the silver's searing effect courses through its veins. As the werewolf stumbles backward, it’s killer stands firm, watching as the transformation fades, leaving behind the battered form of a defeated creature.

Sun rays filters through the factory windows as clouds pass, casting an ethereal glow upon the solemn scene. A woman emerged victorious, overcoming the fierce threat; her heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and triumph. Taking a moment to catch her breath; her chest rising and falling with exhaustion, she gazes upon the fallen werewolf.

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Slipping into the abandoned factory with silent footsteps, the brothers’ presences are cloaked by the shadows. Peering from a concealed vantage point, they observe the valiant struggle between two silhouettes. Their eyes, trained by years of hunting, keenly follow each fluid movement, tracking the ebb and flow of the intense battle.

One brother, taller then the other, furrows brow slightly as his analytical mind works to assess the situation. He notes one figure as a woman with impeccable technique, recognizing the signs of a seasoned fighter. His gaze flickers towards the silver dagger clutched in her hand much like the one he too has brought.

“Who is that?” He would whisper but never looked away.

The other brother has his jaw clenched in quiet determination, watching with a mixture of confusion and concern. His fingers instinctively adjusting around the pistol he holds to his side as he eagerly watches the back and forth between his target and the unknown woman.

“No idea.” His voice low and rough.

As the climactic moment unfolds, the brother’s eyes lock onto the crucial instant when the woman strikes with precision, plunging the silver dagger into the werewolf's heart. Their breath catches in unison as the beast's defeated form crumples to the ground. With only a glance to one another they share a wordless exchange, a silent question amidst the darkness. Despite knowing that they obviously had a shared purpose; an uncertainty still stood. Was this woman friend or foe?

Standing over the body of her pray the woman wipes away it’s blood from her silver blade using her jacket before sliding it back into its sheath that lay against her back; tucked into her jean’s waist band. A subtle shift in the atmosphere catches her attention. A lingering unease prickles at the back of her neck, and she turns her gaze toward the shadows, searching for the source. To her surprise, she locks eyes with two men, standing just beyond the edge of the dusty streams of sunlight. Their presence, revealed in that moment, shatters the tranquility of the scene. Ones empathetic gaze meets hers, while the other’s expression reflects a mixture of curiosity and caution.

A flicker of realization passes across the woman's face as she processes the significance of their presence. Her thoughts race, contemplating their identities and intentions. But before the brothers can calmly approach and initiate a conversation, a sense of urgency and fear grips the woman. Her instincts kick into overdrive, and without hesitation, she takes off, her footsteps echoing through the factory's abandoned halls. The adrenaline-fueled rush compels her to escape, to distance herself from the duo. She navigates the labyrinthine corridors, her heart pounding in her chest once again, as she seeks an exit, a path to freedom.

The men exchange a swift glance, their shared understanding urging them to give chase. With determined resolve, they pursue the woman, their strides purposeful and swift. The clatter of their footsteps mixing in the empty space with the woman’s.

“Wait!” The younger brother called out as they gave chase, navigating the twists and turns of the factory with a with skill. As the woman pushes forward, hurdling over discarded machinery and debris. With each passing moment, the chase intensifies; the woman’s figure fleeting, echoes of her footsteps taunting, and the brother’s pace quickening.

As the chase pushes deeper into the factory's labyrinth, the woman spots a glimmer of hope—an old, rusted door at the far end of the hallway. She channels every ounce of her remaining strength, propelling herself toward it with a renewed surge of energy.

The brothers, undeterred by the obstacles in their path, driven by a shared resolve to bridge the gap between them. Their voices call out, their words laced with a plea for understanding and a desire to help.

Reaching the weathered door the woman’s trembling hands wrestle with the rusted handle as her desperation fuels her. Closing in the brothers footsteps echo loudly as the old brother pulls ahead, reaching out to grab the woman.

Within moments of the door clattering opening, swinging hard enough to hit the side of the building, and the woman stepping foot out into brightly lit outdoors.

“Hold It!” A rash voice commanded. A hand firmly closes around her upper arm. Stopping her in her tracks as the two of the slid to a full stop.

“DEAN!” The woman heard another voice call out, filled with urgency, warning, and caution before she had even turned to face her captor.

“Dean?” She would question as her head snapped around to face the man holding her in place. Her expression one of surprise.

“Yeah?” The shorter of the two brothers answered, his brow creased as he leaned back slightly; taken by the sudden interest as he looked to the other man now standing next to him.

“And Sam? Winechester?” The woman looked to the taller man now standing next to Dean.

“Uhh, Yeah?” Sam answered though it sounded more like a question itself seeing as this is not how he expected the questioning to pan out.

“Great, so you know who we are but who are you, what are you doing here, and where’d you learn to fight like that?” Dean demanded answers more then requested them.

The woman frowned at Dean’s insistence as she sighed and pulled her arm out of his gasp.

“The name is Saia; I came here to stop that werewolf. Same as you right?” She would ask, raising an eye brow and resting her hands on her hips as she moved her gaze from Dean to Sam.

“So, you’re a hunter?” Sam would ask, motioning to her with his hand as he spoke.

Saia nodded her head but before their conversation could continue the moment was abruptly shattered by the distant wail of police sirens. The urgent sound slices through the air, carrying with it the threat of imminent discovery. The trio exchanges a quick glance, the unspoken agreement forged in their eyes. Without wasting another second, Sam, Dean, and Saia rush towards the side of the building, gravel crunching beneath their rushed foot steps. The pressing need to evade the approaching authorities motivating their movements.

In a seamless motion, Sam produces the keys to the Impala, tossing them to Dean before he takes the passenger seat. Dean slides into the driver's seat, his practiced hands swiftly inserting the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, a powerful beast ready to devour the miles between them and the approaching police. Saia settles into the backseat, pulse racing as the Impala surges forward, tires spewing gravel as it hurtles away from the factory, leaving behind the encroaching sirens in its wake.

As they speed through the winding roads, the trio exchanges glances. Dean's hands grip the steering wheel with unwavering determination, his focus unyielding. He navigates the roads, his familiarity with the Impala evident in every precise maneuver. Sam leans forward, offering Saia a comforting smile, assuring her that where they are heading is safe.

As the Impala roars into the distance, they leave the abandoned factory and its secrets behind. With each passing mile, the trio becomes a formidable force, bound together not only by the pursuit of justice but by the bonds of friendship and the shared weight of their chosen path. The road stretches out before them, a canvas for the battles they will face and the victories they will claim as they embark on a new chapter in their intertwined destinies.

End Chapter.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #OC #fanfic #kitsune #werewolves #werewolf #fantasy

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mahayanapilgrim · 1 year ago

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The Royal Song of Saraha

HOMAGE TO ARYA MANJUSRI!

Homage to the destroyer of negative energy!

The wind lashes calm waters into rollers and breakers;

The kingmakers multifarious identities form out of unity, seeing many faces of this one Archer, Saraha.

The cross-eyed fool sees one lamp as two;

The vision and the viewer are one, You broken, brittle mind!

Many lamps are lit in the house, But the blind are still in darkness;

Sahaja is all-pervasive

But the fool cannot see what is under his nose.

Just as many rivers are one in the ocean All half-truths are swallowed by the one truth;

The effulgence of the sun illuminates all dark corners.

Clouds draw water from the ocean to fall as rain on the earth

And there is neither increase nor decrease;

Just so, reality remains unaltered like the pure sky.

Replete with the Buddha's perfections Sahaja is the one essential nature;

Beings are born into it and pass into it,

Yet there is neither existence nor non-existence in it.

Forsaking bliss the fool roams abroad, Hoping for mundane pleasure;

Your mouth is full of honey now, Swallow it while you may!

Fools attempt to avoid their suffering,

The wise enact their pain.

Drink the cup of sky-nectar

While others hunger for outward appearances.

Flies eat filth, sourcing the fragrance of sandalwood;

Men lost to Nirvana further their own confusion,

Thirsting for the coarse and vulgar.

The rainwater filling an ox's hoof-print

Evaporates when the sun shines;

The imperfections of a perfect mind, All are dissolved in perfection.

Salt sea water absorbed by clouds turns sweet;

The venom of passionate reaction

In a strong and selfless mind becomes elixir.

The unutterable is free of pain;

Non-meditation gives true pleasure.

Though we fear the dragon's roar

Rain falls from the clouds to ripen the harvest.

The nature of beginning and end is here and now,

And the first does not exist without the last;

The rational fool conceptualizing the inconceivable -

Separates emptiness from compassion.

The bee knows from birth

That flowers are the source of honey;

How can the fool know

That samsara and nirvana are one?

Facing himself in a mirror

The fool sees an alien form;

The mind with truth forgotten

Serves a untruth's outward sham.

Flowers' fragrance is intangible

Yet its reality pervades the air,

Just as mandala circles are informed

By a formless presence.

Still water stung by an icy wind

Freezes hard in starched and jagged shapes;

In an emotional mind agitated by critical concepts

The unformed becomes hard and intractable.

The Mind Immaculate by nature is untouched By samsara and nirvana's mud;

But just like a jewel lost in a swamp

Though it retains its luster, it does not shine. mental dullness creases pure awareness' ribbon,

As mental sloth increases suffering also grows.

Shoots sprout from the seed and leaves from the branches.

Separating unity from multiplicity in the mind The light grows dim and we wander in the lower realms;

Who is more deserving of pity than he

Who walks into fire with his eyes wide open?

Obsessed with the joys of sexual embrace The fool believes he knows ultimate truth;

He is like someone who stands at his door

And, flirting, talks about sex.

The windstorms in the House of Emptiness Exciting delusions of emotional pleasure;

Fallen from celestial space, stung, The tormented yogin fades away.

Like a Brahmin taking riceand butter

Offering sacrifice to the flame,

He who visualizes material things as celestial ambrosia

Deludes himself that a dream is ultimate reality.

Enlightening the House of Brahma in the fontanelle

Stroking the uvala in wanton delight, Confused, believing binding pleasure to be spiritual release,

The vain fools calls himself a yogini.

Teaching that virtue is irrelevant to intrinsic awareness,

He mistakes the lock for the key;

Ignorant of the true nature of the gem

The fool calls green glass emerald.

His mind takes brass for gold,

Momentary peak experience for reality accomplished;

Clinging to the joy of ephemeral dreams He calls his short-thrift life Eternal Bliss.

With a discursive understanding of the symbol

EVAM,

Creating four seals through an analysis of the moment,

He labels his peak experience sahaja:

He is clinging to a reflection mistaken for the mirror.

Like befuddled deer leaping into a mirage of water

Deluded fools in their ignorance cling to outer forms

And with their thirst unslaked, bound and confined,

They idealize their prison, pretending happiness.

The relatively real is free of intellectual constructs,

And ultimately real mind, active or quiescent, is no-mind,

And this is the supreme, the highest of the high, immaculate;

Friends, know this sacred high!

In mind absorbed in samadhi that is concept-free,

Passion is immaculately pure;

Like a lotus rooted in the slime of a lake bottom,

This sublime reality is untouched by the pollution of existence.

Make solid your vision of all things as visionary dream

And you attain transcendence, Instantaneous realisation and equanimity;

A strong mind binding the demons of darkness Beyond thought your own spontaneous nature is accomplished.

Appearances have never ceased to be their original radiance,

And unformed, form never had a substantial nature to be grasped;

It is a continuum of unique meditation, In an inactive, stainless, meditative mind that is no-mind.

Thus the l is intellect, mind and mind-forms, I the world, all seeming alien show, I the infinite varieties of vision-viewer, I the desire, I the anger, I the mental sloth - And bodhicitta.

Now there is a lamp lit in spiritual darkness

Healing the splits riven by the intellect So that all mental defilements are erased.

Who can define the nature of detachment?

It cannot be denied nor yet affirmed, And ungrasp - it is inconceivable.

Through conceptualization fools are bound, While concept-free there is immaculate sahaja.

The concepts of unity and multiplicity do not bring integration;

Only through awareness do sentient beings reach freedom.

Cognition of radiance is strong meditation;

Abide in a calm, quiescent mind.

Reaching the joy swollen land

Powers of seeing expand, And there is joy and laughter;

Even chasing objects there is no separation.

From joy, buds of pure pleasure emerge, Bursting into blooms of supreme pleasure,

And so long as outflow is contained Unutterable bliss will surely mature.

What, where and by whom are nothing, Yet the entire event is imperative.

Whether love and attachment

The form of the event is it's emptiness.

Like pigs we wallow in this sensual mire

But what can stain our pearly mind?

Nothing can ever contaminate it, And by nothing can we ever be bound.

#maha siddha saraha #buddha #buddhist #buddhism #dharma #sangha #mahayana #zen #milarepa #tibetan buddhism #thich nhat hanh #Padmasambhava #Guru Rinpoche #four noble truths #buddha samantabhadra #Dzogchen #dalai láma #manjushri #merit

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