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thepersonnamedsam · 11 months

Note

you already know how much I love gen z driver! could you maybe write something of how would it be if gen z reader’s birthday happened to be during one of the gp’s? how everyone acts and makes it all about her?

happy birthday!

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: it’s the genz!drivers birthday, and it just happens to be the miami gp!

word count: 1.7k

warnings: some swear words and some google translated spanish and dutch :)

note: oh i just love all of your request, especially that one, bc i’m a birthday lover myself! have fun reading it and feel free to request more!! <3

masterlist/ taglist

The first people to congratulate her, were her parents. They called her, in the middle of the night; they forgot that time zones exist. But her heart was full when she picked up the phone at 3AM and both of her parents where singing ‚happy birthday‘ to her. What wasn’t so good, was that she had to be asleep, because it was a Sunday and race day! But it didn’t matter, it was her birthday!

Two hours later, her phone was ringing again, but this time not because someone was wishing her a happy birthday, no, it was her alarm. But today it was okay. 5AM on your birthday doesn’t feel that early, does it now? At least it didn’t for her.

Andy, her personal trainer, knocked on her door at exactly 6.30AM, holding a tiny cupcake with a candle in it. „Happy birthday, y/n!“, his voice cheerful and happy. Her smiled widened and her heart full with love again. „Thank you, Andy.“

„Are you ready for the race?“, Andy asked her. She nodded and closed her hotel door. „I’m excited to see Danny again and Nando and all the other people of course. Oh and definitely Lewis.“, Birthdays were her thing, she always missed them in school, either she had them on a weekend or she was on holiday. So, being surrounded by people who are important to her, was the best present she could’ve gotten.

On the way to the paddock, Andy let her pick out the music, her car playlist was blasting on full volume. Tongue Tied by GROUPLOVE was her favourite song at the moment, that’s why she was singing at the top of her lungs to the lyrics.

„Take me to your best friends house, go around this roundabout, oh yeah“, she looked at Andy as if he would follow the orders of the song.

The music died down, as they arrived at the paddock. Press was already waiting on her, they knew it was her special day and hoped to get some good footage of the birthday-girl. Usually the media annoyed her this early in the morning, but today, nothing could’ve ruined her day. She smiled and waved to the camera, spoke to some press people and had nice conversations with all of them.

The media always tried to find some gossip, especially on the young driver, but not today. They were happy to see her this happy.

As she set foot on the paddock, people were congratulating her. Pads on the back, some strokes on her arm here and there, everyone was nice to her, and who doesn’t enjoy some attention sometimes. Especially if it’s for something you didn’t work for. It was her favourite day of the year, Christmas is second.

„Danny!“, she shrieked as soon as she saw him. She sprinted towards the Australian and jumped into his arms. „I missed you so bad!“ Daniel just laughed and hugged the young driver. „Happy birthday, y/n.“

Her smile was consistent and contagious, every person she smiled at, they just had to smile back. Even Max smiled at her. Well, he always smiled at her, she was one of the persons that could make him smile.

„Max, can you give me a piggyback ride?“, she looked at him with puppy dog eyes and he just couldn’t deny her. „Of course, zus sister.“

As Martin Brundle spotted the two, he motioned to his cameraman to put the focus on them. „And now we see Max Verstappen carrying the birthday girl y/n. It is not rare to see the young driver interact with the different drivers. Let’s wish her a happy birthday“, he talked into the camera. „Hello you two, happy birthday y/n, am I the first to congratulate?“, the older man looked at her with an amusing look on his face. „Martin, as much as I love you, you are hopefully not the first person to wish me a happy birthday“, she looked at him with a serious face.

„Did Max congratulate yet?“, a challenging look on Martins face, he pointed at the camera and said: „Remember, this is a livestream.“, Max‘ cheeks turned a pretty pink colour and y/n gasped. „He did not!“, she gasped. „Max, you didn’t wish me a happy birthday?!“ - „I’m sorry, schat darling. Happy birthday, my dear.“

But how could she hold a grudge against a face that looked like Sid from Ice Age?

Fernando was the next person she saw, and he instantly grinned at her. „Oh Nando, do you know whose special day it is today?“, she singsang to the oldest driver on the grid. „Hmm, let me guess, is it Roscoes?“, he laughed as he saw her shocked face. „How could you, I thought we were friends?“ - „We are, we are, cariño darling. Feliz cumpleaños happy birthday, y/n.“

„How old are you now, 5?“, he laughed at her. „Har har, very funny Nando. How old are you turning this year, 60?“ She was always getting irritated fast. He grabbed her by her hip and pushed her into a side hug of his. „Don’t ever change, cariño.“

„Don’t have a plan for that, who’d change something as fabulous like this“, her hands were pointing to herself. „But on a serious note, Nando, do you know where Lewis is? I’ve been searching for him.“ Fernando only shook his head, he didn’t know where the British driver was. He rubbed over her hair as she left his side to search for her mentor.

„Oh Lewis! Your favourite person is looking for you“, she shouted over the paddock, with no luck. She didn’t even see a trace of Lew, none. But what she did find, was a monegasque driver with the number 16 and a spaniard driving under the number 55. They were arguing over some bullshit, as always, as they spotted her. „y/n! Over here“, Charles shouted over to her and waved his hand. She ran over to them and greeted the older drivers with a side hug. Carlos quickly kissed her head as he wished her a brilliant birthday. Charles even sang the first to lines of the song.

She was a bit embarrassed, but she enjoyed the attention of the two Ferrari drivers. „I love you guys, but have you seen Lewis?“, she smiled at the two as they rolled their eyes. She just wanted to see her favourite person on the paddock. She loved them all equally, but you couldn’t deny that Lewis definitely was her favourite. „I think I saw him at Mercedes, his motorhome“, Charles told her, she totally missed the sarcastic undertone of his and just skipped along to the Mercedes garage.

Before she even set a foot in the motorhome, Toto Wolff approached her and squished her into a hug. „Alles gute zum Geburtstag, liebes! Happy birthday, darling! How are you, so happy to see you“, he whispered into her ear. She loved Toto. „Hi Toto!“, she grinned up at him, „I’m good, thank you. Do you know where Lewis is?“ Toto laughed and pointed to his drivers room. „Thanks!“, she yelled as she took off.

She hasn’t been to her own motorhome, just wandering around the paddock and taking in all the attention from the others. And as she knocked on the door, she knew she’d receive the best attention of them all.

„It’s open“, she heard and busted into the tiny room. „Hello, your favourite human on this planet has arrived and will be gracing your presence from now on!“ She grinned at him and he only laughed and embraced the girl. „I have a present for the birthday girl? do you know where she is“, he joked and turned around to grab her present. „A present? Aw Lewis, you shouldn’t have, you totally should have.“

The present contained some gag gifts, such as a Mercedes hat and shirt, or some shirts with funny pattern on it. But the original present was a necklace. It wasn’t anything special, really. It was a simple silver necklace with a tiny turtle as a pendant. Her eyes were tearing up, so she quickly wiped them away.

„Is this one of the necklaces that makes you a godparent of a sea turtle?“ - „It sure is, have fun with“ he turned the pendant around and looked at the engraving on it „Yertle. He is now your godchild“, he smiled at her and motioned to y/n to turn around, so he could put the necklace on. „Thank you so much, it means a lot“, she hugged him as a thank you. He smiled at her, he adored the young driver and was grateful that he was apart of her journey.

„Thank you, love you Lewis!“, she yelled to him as she sprinted out of the motorhome. She was finally headed to her own garage. They had planned a surprise party for her and Lewis was the distraction. As she reached her motorhome, she didn’t see anyone. „Hello, is it not race day?“, she joked into the dark.

„Happy birthday, y/n!“

She jumped, her heart was racing, but she had a giant smile on her face. Her heart, once again, was full, full with love.

„Ahh, thank you guys!“, she squealed and sprinted into the engineers and mechanics, just like she won a race, which she hasn’t, by the way. She hugged all of them, thanked all and smiled the biggest smile she ever smiled. „I’m so grateful for all of you! And now, let’s win this race!“

She didn’t win, but was one of her best birthdays so far. And the after party was her personal highlight of the day. There was a huge pile of presents, just for her of course.

Lando was the DJ, Max was standing on a table, preparing to do a toast for her and Danny was laughing and pointing his camera at everybody.

The evening was definitely something she’d remember, maybe not Max‘ toast, as it was very embarrassing;

„Dear people, we have gathered here to celebrate not only my win, but also a birthday of some special person. She is not our girlfriend, which we are all happy about, but they’re all jealous of her, y/n! Happy birthday, you beast, come up here!“

The alcohol definitely made it more bearable, but the fact that Pierre had to drag you to Mac spoke for itself.

„Pierre, let me be, go back to your boyfriend“, she spoke harshly to the French man, but he ignored her with a smirk on his face and brought her up to Max.

„Ladys and gents, the birthday girl herself!“

It was one of the better party’s she attended and when she looked at all the posts she’s been tagged, she found one particular that she liked the most.

daniel3.jpg

Liked by yninsta, charles_leclerc and 473’827 others

daniel3.jpg happy birthday to my personal favourite female driver of all time! let’s raise a glass or two, to all the things i’ve lost on you ;)

View all 4638 comments

yninsta i am the only female driver…

landonorris that’s why your his fav

yninsta rude af

daniel3.jpg don’t fight kids

charles_leclerc happy birthday y/n!

carlossainz55 yeah, feliz compleaños to our fav girl

pierregasly liked by pierre gasly

f1girly we love all the drivers in the comments, y/n is definitely the paddock princess

likedbypear oh yes, idk if i want to be her or with her

yninsta be definitely with me, c’mon

neymarjr happy birthday y/n!

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #fernando alonso #genz driver #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #pierre gasly x reader #fernando alonso x reader #toto wolff x reader #female driver

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msschemmenti · 6 months

Text

Are You Jealous?

Chessy x Reader

prompt: jealous chessy :)

a/n: i rewatched parent trap recently and the craziest plotline in that movie was martin and chessy being lovers. both of them were clearly gay.

a/n: sorry this took so long lol unedited and probably pretty bad

“I’d love to see you tonight.” Y/n smiled down the phone. It’d been about a week since she and Chessy had seen each other and with the house to herself, Chessy was going to take advantage.

“Well Nick and the girls are going camping for the weekend, if you’re up for a drive out to the vineyard?” Chessy asked hopefully.

“I think I can swing that. What time should I be there?”

“Everyone should be gone by 5. So anytime after should be good.” Chessy grinned.

“I’ll be there by 5:30. SHould I bring anything?”

“Just yourself. I’ll make us some dinner and we can crack open something from the cellar to go with.”

“Sounds divine. I’ll call before I head out. See you soon.” Y/n smiled down the phone and waited for Chessy’s reply.

“Can’t wait.”

“Dinner was great Chess. Thank you so much.” Y/n smiled around her glass as she sat at the kitchen island watching Chessy move around the kitchen. They’d been dating for about four months and were as smitten as a couple could be. After Meredith, Nick started renting out the vineyard as a wedding venue as a bit of passive income. Y/n’s company had been one of the first to host a ceremony on the grounds. she’d been lost and had somehow driven up the Parker’s driveway and was met with a very beautiful woman waving her hands to stop her. from there their romance only flourished.

“anything for you honey. after i finish these dishes we can go sit under the stars for a bit?”

“i’d love to. why don’t i dry do we can start relaxing sooner? i need as much relaxation as i can get with this current bride.”

“well get your cute butt over here and get to work. the stars won’t wait forever.” chessy grinned, reaching to pull the woman close by the waist. The couple washed in tandem, giggling and stealing kisses as they went. really just enjoying each other's company. Just as they put the last dish away, voices floated through the open floorplan startling the couple apart.

“Chessy, who’s car is that?” Hallie called being the first to enter the house. It wasn’t long before more footsteps were heard and before they knew it they were no longer alone. Now standing face to face with a very intimately domestic scene.

“Uh. Hi guys. What are you doing back so early?” Chessy asked, stepping toward the small family.

“Rain at the campsite so we decided to try again next weekend.” nick shrugged eyeing the guest placing the last of the dried dishes in the cabinet.

“Bummer. I’m sure next weekend will be better. We’ll just be going then.” Chessy answered quickly grabbing Y/n’s elbow in an effort to leave the kitchen. Before she could even move around the island all four members grinned mischievously at the nanny and moved in.

“Wait Chessy, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Annie asked looking past Chessy and toward Y/n. Chessy fixed them with a withering glare but sighed pulling Y/n forward as she prepared for the embarrassment.

“Everyone this is Y/n, my friend,” she smiled toward the twins in censorship.

“Y/n, this is Nick Parker. He owns the vineyard. Elizabeth James, and their daughters Annie and Hallie.”

Y/n smiled, politely extending her hand to shake each member of the family’s hand before stopping briefly at Elizabeth’s. “I know this is a long-shot but you wouldn’t happen to be the Elizabeth James? Like the wedding dress designer Elizabeth James, would you?”

“Guilty,” Elizabeth smiled.

“Oh I love your work. I’m a wedding planner and all the best dresses I’ve seen in the last 12 years have come from you.” Y/n gushed causing Elizabeth’s cheeks to glow in a blush.

“How sweet, I’m so glad my dresses seem to rank so well.”

“Oh most definitely, I hope you’re still designing by the time I finally have a wedding of my own. I’ve always imagined I’d be in an Elizabeth James original for my special day.”

“I would love that, have you already got ideas? I could roughly sketch you something since we’re all here for the evening.” ELizabeth offered. Y/n took a step around Chessy to follow ELizabeth before turning back to her girlfriend.

“Do you mind Chess?” Y/n asked quietly, knowing that if Chessy said she did, she’d politely decline and hope she got the chance another day.

“No, go ahead, knock yourself out. Just come find me when you’re done.” Chessy smiled, pushing the woman over toward Elizabeth with a smile.

“Great, I can even show you some recent stuff I’ve been thinking about.” Elizabeth grinned, pulling Y/n through the hall toward her work room. As soon as the women disappeared Chessy could feel three pairs of eyes on her.

“Your friend, hm?” Hallie grinned rounding the counter to one side of the nanny.

“How come we’ve never met this friend before?” Annie asked rounding to the other side, effectively caging Chessy between them.

“That’s none of your business. And rain at the campsite? When’d you all become such babies?” Chessy chided, poking the girls in their ribs. They giggled helplessly as the older woman tickled them. “Wanna watch a movie?”

The movie had been on for half an hour and the other women had yet to return. Chessy’s attention had been divided the moment they pressed play. During the quieter parts of the movie, she could hear giggles floating through the halls. Chessy’s eyes wandered from the screen in hopes of catching a glimpse of her girlfriend returning, but she wasn’t rewarded. Both Annie and Hallie had anchored themselves on either side of Chessy, legs stretched to each end of the couch. They’d both been commenting on the film and asking questions and Chessy tried to keep up but after noticing her gaze shift to the hallway for what felt like the 100th time they took to giggling and quietly talking to each other.

As the credits rolled across the screen, Chessy was finally granted some reprieve from her torture. Elizabeth and Y/n came around the corner arms linked, quietly giggling over a sketchbook.

“Oh Y/n, you’re just delightful. I can’t believe you’ve done four weddings here and I’m only just meeting you.” Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief.

“My brides are always extremely high maintenance. They make it a bit hard to socialize at all!”

“Well, I’ll have to have you come by my local studio sometime. We just have to get together again.”

“Oh Elizabeth, that’d be great. I’ll have Chessy give you my info and we can connect sometime soon.” Y/n smiled as she placed her hands on Chessy’s head affectionately over the back of the couch.

“I’ll be sure to share that.” Chessy mumbled gazing up at the two of you. Both of their eyes still on the sketchbook.

“Perfect! Girls, it's getting rather late. Say goodnight.” Elizabeth smiled down at the twins while rubbing her hand over Y/n’s shoulder. The girls obediently wished their goodnights before leaving the room. As they left Y/n caught sight of the time herself.

“It is a bit late, I should head home. I’ve got a few early meetings. It was lovely meeting you all. Chess, will you walk me out?” Y/n asked, finally meeting the older woman’s gaze. The older woman followed behind Y/n closely and as soon as they were out of sight of the family her hands were resting on her waist.

They came to a stop outside of Y/n’s car and the younger woman turned to face Chessy, “Well that was fun.” Y/n smiled as Chessy backed her into the car.

“Well I’m glad someone had fun.” Chessy mumbled wrapping her arms around Y/n’s waist with a pout.

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Did you not have fun tonight?” Y/n frowned as Chessy sighed and dodged her eyes.

“I barely saw you tonight.” Chessy huffed.

Y/n looked over the nanny’s face with a smile. Seeing the jealousy simmering in her mind. With a grin Y/n splayed her hands across Chessy’s chest and pulled on the collar of her shirt. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“What? Pshh, No.” Chessy rolled her eyes.

“Oh I don’t think that’s true at all.”

“Well, I think you spent the whole evening with the Elizabeth James.”

“Chess…” Y/n dragged out, pulling the older woman closer to her.The older woman grumbled but ultimately sighed as the younger woman pinched her cheek. “You know I would’ve stayed if you asked.”

“You seemed so excited. Listen I’m just grumpy the evening didn’t go as planned. I don’t particularly like sharing you.”

“Well next time, we’ll aim for no interruptions hm?” Y/n smiled sweetly.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Now give me a kiss so we can say goodnight.”

taglist: @theonefairygodmother , @sleep-deprived-athlete

#lisa ann walter x reader #lisa ann walter #chessy x reader #msschemmenti

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icallhimjoey · 5 months

Note

Im not sure if this is a concept you’d like or maybe it may feel similar to other things you’ve written, but I had a thought…

What if Joe goes to a secret tiny cocktail bar to see his regular guy who makes the best dirty martini’s and helps him switch off. However one day his favourite bar tender has left and in his place is you, completely new and unknowing about the special methods to joe’s martini’s. There’s something about you that he has the patience for so he offers a little lesson while you’re quiet and that then starts a weekly visit from joe rating the martini progression until an eventual private lesson at his house is introduced…

it took me a while to get started on this, to figure out how i was going to DO THIS because i dont know SHIT about mixology, but i think.... i think i've come up with something to make it work, so, here we go Wordcount: 2.8K

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Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe was... just, somewhere else. Mentally he’d clocked out for a second. He banked on just his muscle memory to carry his legs from the tube stop over to the black matte door, all on automatic pilot.

This was what it was usually like. What it had eventually become.

Same tunnels, same stairs, same escalator, same ticket gates, same pavement, same corners– he walked the same path every couple of days and had done for too long now, he thought.

His second home. Wasn’t his fault it was so nice. That he liked the place so much.

He turned his head to check for traffic where he had to cross the street but after crossing, he couldn’t even remember if he’d seen cars coming his way. The only way he knew there hadn’t been any traffic to knock him off the road, is because he made it to the other side of the street unscathed.

The cold wind was fucking brutal tonight. Biting. Hurt his face and made him dig his hands deeper into his pockets.

Time for a drink. One that warmed him up from the inside out. Good thing he was on his way to get one. Well... some.

A couple good ones and then perhaps whatever else he’d get slid over that he didn’t order at Hush-Hush. His favourite spot.

Called just a singular Hush, and sometimes even The Hush by people that frequented the place. Joe was one of those. Pretentious, sure, but he liked being a regular too much to care what other people had to say about it.

From the outside, it was just a black door, nothing else. No signs. No windows. No outdoor seating – nothing.

You had to know someone, who knew someone, who knew someone to know of the place. Or, and like most people did, Joe knew, use Google. Or even Yelp. The bar was easy to find if you knew where to look.

Hush-Hush was a speakeasy done the way Joe loved speakeasies to be done.

Old-timey and dimly lit. Low music, sort of jazzy, sometimes live on the low stage in the corner where a piano resided on the side. People sat in armchairs and brown leather sofas. And cocktails were served by people who knew what they were doing.

Joe knew Martin, the manager, well enough by now.

Martin knew what he liked. Knew what sort of drink he wanted just by the look of him sometimes.

Joe hoped tonight would be one of those nights.

He walked up, jogged the last few steps up to the unassuming door and rang the doorbell. It took a few seconds for the little latch on the door to slide open, and two eyes appeared. Joe got recognized immediately and the latch closed just as quick as it opened before he was granted access inside.

Down the stairs.

Around the corner.

Past the toilets.

Down the dark hallway.

Into the bar.

Joe walked straight over to his spot, to his seat, where he always sat. A barstool on the short end of the bar, where he had the best view of the whole place, close to Martin’s workstation, who’d make time for a chat whenever he could.

Sometimes Joe would bring a friend, and they’d find a table with high-backed armchairs to sink into. But that was only sometimes. He liked going by himself more. He liked his spot by the bar more. Was easier to get his drinks there.

And Martin made the best drinks.

Gave Joe half his shit for free. Drinks he was considering to put on the menu. He’d make Joe try them out and then wouldn’t charge him a penny. “Try this,” he’d say, and he’d wait for Joe to give an extensive review.

It was always amazing.

Joe always loved everything he got given, and always left a fat tip to compensate.

Would sometimes say, “Little too sweet for me,” but he’d still finish the drink. Would always get onto the verge of being too drunk to make his way home. Martin somehow knew exactly when to give him a glass of sparkling water, and Joe would know; I’ve had enough.

But he always stayed ‘til close if he could. Liked it most when it was just him and maybe one or two other people in there still, when there’d be enough time to properly chat with Martin or other bar staff.

Sometimes Chloé would ask him how his evening was going, but he mostly spoke with Martin.

Joe wouldn’t say they were actual friends.

But he’d definitely say he knew Martin, that they were friendly, in a “Yea, I know the manager.” sort of way.

Joe liked this friendship that was contained by the location and the job at hand. There were two very clear roles here: barman and barguest. Drink-maker and drink-drinker. This was just casual small talk, never invasive, always topics he didn’t mind talking about at all. If he didn’t mention his work, Martin wouldn’t either.

Joe found his spot, sat down and nodded at Martin who was already holding up a classic martini glass.

See?

Knew what he needed.

Maybe not needed, but definitely what he wanted.

Someone who nearly dropped the glass through slippery fingers and seemed flustered and unsure about what her hands were doing.

About what your hands were doing.

“Dirty martini,” Martin instructed and hovered close, kept eyes on you, was ready to instruct and help if you did it wrong.

And… you immediately did it wrong, obviously.

You were learning still, and this was your second night actually allowed to make drinks. To be behind the bar and mix cocktails. To do them the way they were actually meant to be, and not do them the way you did them at home, where you just did whatever tasted nice enough.

You were new to this, so of course, you were full of mistakes.

Yesterday had been a disaster, and you had heard one barstaff tell another, “I’ve not seen it this bad in a while,” and you’d cried the second you’d stepped into your dark, cold flat afterwards.

Contemplated quitting.

Just calling and telling them that, actually, no, this was not the job for you, thanks.

But Martin was patient, and he was the manager, so that was all that mattered.

He just handed you what you needed when you reached for the wrong thing and told you with a little nod and a raise of his eyebrows for you to fill the glass.

Except you didn’t use a measuring utensil, were about to do a free pour and, no. That wasn’t what you were meant to be doing. Martin stopped you with a hand held over the glass, then pointed at a jigger.

“Sorry,”

“Always measure – free pouring wastes liquor and makes a drink taste different every time. Keep the control and use a jigger.”

You had seen Martin free pour all the time.

But okay.

You were told to use a jigger.

So, you used a jigger. Nearly got the wrong side of it though. Martin was able to flip it over just in time. But you used the jigger just like you had been instructed to and only spilt a little vermouth. Nothing crazy, you thought, but you could feel the annoyance practically radiate from this other girl, Chloé, as she wiped her station clean.

And you felt the burn of judgmental eyes on you from several directions now, because the handsome guest at the bar who you presumed the drink was for was now also watching your fumbling fingers.

“Oh, sorry,”

“Sorry! I didn’t see…”

“Where’s the– sorry, I don’t… what’s next?”

You were still learning.

Martin showed you were to find the olives and let you finish the drink. You looked over at Martin for confirmation; was this good enough to serve? Could you just place this on the bar in front of this guy who’d been hesitantly watching you make this drink for him? Had seen you nearly mess up, what, like, eight times?

Yes.

Martin gave you a nod.

You served the drink, smiled and said, “One dirty martini. Shaken, not stirred.” in an attempt to be funny. To get this guy to smile at you.

Except you hadn’t shaken anything, had you?

“Oh, I mean, stirred, not… I didn’t shake that. Sorry, did you want it shaken? I also didn’t–” you turned around to face Martin. “I didn’t shake or stir this, does it need– did I do it wrong?”

You saw how the two men looked at each other and smiled. Chuckled, almost.

“No, no. This is perfect,” the guest sat at the bar kindly said and took a sip.

You could tell by his face that it definitely wasn’t perfect. He then also immediately tried to carefully swirl the glass around a bit – to stir the drink. Or even to attempt to shake it a little.

“Next time,” Martin started when you turned back around, and then he tumbled into all the things you had done wrong. It made you feel the burn of failure deep inside your chest.

You could take the criticism, you told yourself.

You could. Promise.

It just made you feel very small, and insanely embarrassed, and so fucking dumb. If you got too much about it, made you want to cry.

But you were trying. That counted for something.

The guy at the bar did say the drink was perfect. That had to count for something, even if he so very clearly had been lying.

And, listen. Martin was just trying to teach you. To avoid you making future mistakes. It was no big deal.

All new beginnings were difficult, and you could deal with this.

You really could.

And so you did.

You ignored the prickle of tears behind your eyes every time you heard Chloé huff impatient and frustrated sighs.

You ignored the growing frustration you felt constrict your throat every time Martin went “Wait, wait, wait... hang on, remember what I said last time?”

It was only your second day. Everything was fine.

No matter how annoyed the other bar staff seemed to grow, you held onto your straight face. No matter how many times Martin seemed to have to go over the same things again and again. And again. Straight face.

“Yes. All right. Thanks. How much of this again? Ah. Okay. Will do, next time. Sorry.”

It didn’t help that the bar was dark, that the only real light source seemed to come from Christmas lights that were strung up for ambience.

You fought through the minutes, the hours, the entire evening that slowly dripped into the night, until it got close to closing and people started closing out their tabs. You were better at this. Actually good at this. Knew how to work the cash register, knowledge done up at a previous job, and smiled politely as people tapped their cards or phones against the PIN pad before wishing them a lovely rest of their night.

This was easier work.

Just the machine telling you what people owed the place and then making sure they paid for what they’d consumed.

Martin saw you go around and didn’t interfere, which gave you a little boost of confidence. Made you feel like he hadn’t made an insane mistake by hiring you a couple days ago, even though throughout the night you were sure he must have had that exact thought several times.

Doing this little task meant there were no wrong glasses to grab. No wrong ice cubes to put into glasses the wrong way. Not have the guy at the bar try to hide a smirk as Chloé said something to him, voice low enough for you to just miss it, but the roll of her eyes said enough.

Bitch.

No.

She was probably nice.

You were just fucking up a lot.

You would probably act the same way if the roles were reversed.

Maybe not so openly, though.

But, that was definitely some sort of sneer about you that she made towards a guest, and mentally, you went, “Where’s your Christmas spirit, Chloé?”. But outwardly, you'd pretended you hadn't seen or heard. Smiled your sweetest politest smile when you made eye-contact with him.

Good-looking bastard.

When he was the last guest in there still, you worked out how much money this guy still needed to pay and printed the bill for him. Slid it over just after he finished his chat with Martin, who disappeared onto the floor with a wet dishcloth to do the tables. A task he would have given you had you not already been busy doing something else.

“That will be 104,93 for you, sir.”

For a moment Joe just... looked at it. Was halfway through putting his coat on and froze, one arm stuck in a sleeve, eyes on the little white piece of paper and the number down at the bottom of it.

104,93 quid?

What... what were you doing?

You didn’t falter, however. You knew you got this right – you’d managed to keep count on this guy. Hadn’t found his tab in the system, so you’d created one for him, and then... had just, seen what he’d had.

Not that you’d been staring all night. But, you’d kind of been staring all night.

Men didn’t get to be this charming and then expect not to be looked at, you know?

He was also right there.

And you’d seen him watch you too.

Having someone watch you fuck up added another layer of nerves to everything, so, of course you’d seen him watch. Had felt him watch.

You set the PIN pad to the correct amount and held it out to him.

“Here you go.”

And listen. It wasn’t as if Joe had a leg to stand on here.

That was the correct amount.

He had consumed all of those drinks.

But, this... shit. This wasn’t how it usually went.

Usually, Martin wouldn’t charge him for half the shit he’d drink. And then Joe could tip and feel good about himself.

You were charging him like he wasn’t a regular. Like he had asked for all the drinks that Martin had made for him without him asking. Like he hadn’t helped Martin out by giving his honest opinion on every single one of them. Like he wasn’t Joe Quinn.

And then you smiled?

All innocent and sweet? Like you hadn’t practically cost the place money tonight, instead of making it some?

Joe got his phone, tapped it to the pad in your hands and tried to come to terms with how this made him feel on the inside.

Again, he had no leg to stand on.

He couldn’t really go, “Oh no, I don’t... I never pay for what I drink in here.”

So he paid.

Shook his head a little as you passed him the PIN receipt and told him to have a lovely rest of his night. Couldn’t help but smile at how silly this felt.

Just before Joe left the bar and made his way back upstairs into the cold, he stopped right in front of the hallway that would lead him there and found Martin close enough to say goodbye to.

“See you later, mate,”

“Yea, see you in a few,”

Joe looked back at you behind the bar, where you were trying to spin liquor bottles so all their labels faced out, nearly making one slip from its spot. You caught it just in time.

“And hey,” Joe added, nodding his head towards you for Martin to see. “Good luck with that one.”

Martin smiled, remained professional and just shrugged.

Joe was less tactic about it, what with the alcohol in his blood and him being the last guest in now anyway, and added,

“She’s lucky she’s cute.”

You pretended you didn’t catch that.

Pretended there were lots of people in still, and that the music was still going, and that where he was stood was way too far for him to be in earshot.

But you’d heard that.

And you would have cried if you disagreed.

But all you’d really heard him say was that he thought you were cute.

The handsome man who had sat the bar all night, who Martin just said he would see in a few days, had just called you cute after he’d watched you make mistake after mistake. After you’d served him mediocre drink after mediocre drink.

Cute.

Dirty martini.

Fun. You had a goal now.

You were going to learn how to do the perfect dirty martini, and you only had a few days.

“You just watch,” you mumbled to yourself as you covered the little dish of lemon slices with clingfilm that didn’t stick to the sides just before Chloé took it from your hands and redid it. Properly, this time.

Sigh.

No.

Dirty martini first.

Clingfilm after.

“You. Just. Watch.”

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #mistaken not stirred

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autismprotocol · 2 months

Text

TMAGP Theory Board (S1 EP 7)

Dang that episode was a RIDE Hope everyone had a relaxing week because after the newest protocol episode I am screaming!! so lets get right to it

What Happened in Episode 7: Give and Take

Celia seems to know something about the powers with her references to the buried and the flesh in the opening conversation with Alice

Celia recognizes Chester's voice!! since the introduction of Celia's last episode, I wanted to see how she would react to hearing Chester and Norris and we got that in this episode. It's safe to say that Celia recognized Chester's voice as Jon. This piece of evidence makes me almost 100% sure that this Celia is the same Celia/Lynne from Archives

Jon is Back!!! after Chester's statement (more on that later) we learn that Sam has been getting emails from someone named Jon. He also mentions it in an internal email. This helps support the theory that Jon and Chester/FR3-d1 are fused somehow which is what I (and a lot of the fandom) have been thinking. This leaves me with a lot of questions how else can Jon communicate through FR3-d1 with the outside world? Are Martin and Jonah sentient as well? Also, my big question is if this is the first time Jon has been able to signal to the OIAR Staff or if he has been trying to get them to listen since he manifested in the world and Sam was the first one to notice him or is this his first attempt to make contact. I'm interested to learn more about how Jon will continue to influence Sam. I think he's either trying to warn Sam about the OIAR's true intention or is he looking for some way to escape FR3-d1 and needs Sam's help.

This week's statement involved a place called Hilltop Centre branch of the Oxford people's trust. if you were like me and my roommate all your lore alert bells started ringing the moment Hilltop was mentioned. for people who are new to the Magnus Universe Hilltop Road is a major location for avatars (usually web-aligned ones) and also was the childhood home to the desolation avatar Agnes Montague. Hilltop is a big deal in TMA. Hilltop Centre being located in Oxford also lines up nicely with where we know Hilltop Road is located. I'm interested to know if we will hear anything about the house at 105 Hilltop Road being student housing because if that is true then we can connect the statement giver Anya Villette From MAG 114 to being from protocol's world. if that's true there could be a way to get to the Archive Universe through the gap in reality (a wormhole that exists where the house was built) Anyways definitely will have to listen for any more mention of a place called Hilltop in Oxford

Gwen was promoted by Lena to external liaison and is officially "In" It's time to learn the OIAR's secrets! after doing some research into the job title of external liaison it seems that Gwen is almost gonna be acting as a messenger between the OIAR and another party which is unclear at this time. my guess is it has something to do with Starkwell which was the private military contractor that was mentioned in Episode 4 but that's just a guess and me trying to fit in pieces that have not found a snug place in the lore yet. could be someone else (I'd love to hear your thoughts)

Remember our Buddy Klaus from Episode 4 who we thought was killed by Lena? turns out Klaus is still alive we learn through Gwen and Lena's conversation, that Lena was paid by someone to kill Klaus but failed.

Colin is more paranoid than ever! could be because of the eye or the institute but he does not want to be near technology right now.

Ooh boy that was a lot I'm still reeling from this episode so I'll leave it there for now. honesty I'm most stoked to hear Jon's back in the story and excited to see what role he'll play in Protocol.

Hope you guys have a wonderful week ask box and comments are always open and I'll be back next week for the episode 8 debrief/theory crafting

-Echo

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sw-33-ts-stuff · 1 year

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Could do tara carpenter x fem reader

R is Wrongly accuse of being ghostface and conviently disappeared even though she innocent *amber frames r by planting all the stuff the killer use in her bag and now everyone but mindy and Sam hate r as everybody suspect her of doing this except for mindy and Sam even to the point of hating her*

Tara is upset and hurt even believing that r is the killer because ghostface called and said stuff that only r knew about

*both Mindy and Sam have known r for a long time considering how sam used to babysit all of them and how attach r is to Tara when they were little. And they know r is not the killer as they know how much she loves and care for both Tara and Sam. And Sam was happy for r as she really approve of her dating her sister since she always was willing to do anything to make Tara happy*

Maybe have Tara and other come to r rescue *she was trapped in amber’s house the whole time which explain why she didn’t return their calls or text*

I really hope I did this request justice .........

Tara Carpenter X Fem!Reader

Samantha Carpenter couldn't leave her little sister unprotected especially now as she had been attacked. She thought back to when they were younger and how she watched all of them.

Images of a young Mindy, Chad and Y/N playing with Tara in her backyard going through her mind. She'd laugh as she'd watch Mindy and Chad try to tag team to beat Tara in a game and Y/N always came to the rescue even when she knew she'd get the brunt of their force.

Her shiny (e/c) eyes always looking to her younger sister in complete adoration.

She remembered the day the girl ran in the rain searching every sidewalk for Tara's favorite necklace. The younger Carpenter heart broken until the two came back necklace in hand. Y/N even going as far as cleaning it and putting it in a jewelry box to keep it from getting lost again.

"Babe we're here." Richie broke Sam from her trance as she parked in front of the familiar house. She knocked quietly pushing the door open and finding her favorite kids sitting in the Meeks-Martin living room. She started introducing everyone as she hugged them going last with Y/N as the two stayed embraced just a little longer.

To Sam, Y/N was family. She remembered when she had first found out about her situation at home and the blatant neglect her parents gave her. She'd allow the girl to stay over for nights on end worried that her abusive father would bring harm to her. Sam barely spared a glance to Amber who just gave a fake smile in return. It took a moment before she realized the black haired girl was wearing Tara's necklace.

The group were discussing their list of suspects The former sheriff Dewey providing his insight as well.

"And where were you Y/n?" She saw the girl flinch from the corner of her eye as she and Amber began to stare each other down.

"Like I told the police I went out to get food."

"Suspicious." Muttered Wes. She turned her narrowed eyes to the blonde.

"Tell me Wes what motive would I have for hurting Tara?!" The boy gave a sarcastic grin.

"You mean besides the fact that she left you for Amber?" Y/N's jaw clenched as Sam's eyes shot up in surprise.

Amber chuckled shrugging.

"What can I say? The heart wants what it wants, and he does have a point. Didn't the police mention how the killer somehow knew about Tara's alarm system?"

You just grit your teeth not bothering to respond as Mindy went to defend you.

"If that's the case Wes then don't both you and Amber have just the same chance at being the killer?" The blonde and raven haired girl turned to the female twin.

"Excuse me?!"

"Seriously?"

Mindy scoffed. "Oh please Wes we all know about your crush on Tara even before she began dating anyone, and Amber may want to make sure no one can take her the same way she got her." She paused for dramatic effect. "If I can't have her no one can."

Chad and Liv still eyed Y/N who had yet to say anything to defend herself.

Amber just smirked as Wes panicked to defend himself.

"I have an alibi!"

"Aren't there usually two killers in the Stab films?" Liv spoke from beside her boyfriend.

"Not in the 8th film Liv stay in your lane." The pink haired girl scowled.

"I'm sorry and you are?" Richie asked.

"Liv, Chads girlfriend-"

"Of six months!" The overly cheerful boy finished making her kiss his cheek.

"And no one thinks that's suspicious?" Dewey spoke from his seat. He turned to Richie. "And how long have you and Sam been dating?"

Richie mumbled. "Six months."

Sam turned to Y/n.

"You guys finally got together?" It was the first question she'd ask since she got there. The younger girl nodded a small smile on her lips before it fell. She did not explain any further as she looked out the window.

Sam thought back to the day Y/n came to her for advice on her feelings for her younger sister. The poor girl felt as if something was wrong with her because she felt warm whenever her sister was around. How she found everything about her fascinating. She was sweating, fingers picking at the skin as she was scared Sam wouldn't love her the same.

Sam tried her best to make sure the girl knew her feelings were perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of. She knew they'd probably take a while to officially get together but she'd hope once they did they'd stick together no matter what. She also hoped she'd know that they would always be there for her no matter the circumstance.

Ambers phone rang. "That's Tara, if you guys don't mind I think I'm going to go make sure my girlfriend is protected."

Everyone had left the Meeks-Martin household and Sam had sent Richie back to the hotel. Before she pulled off she rolled her window down seeing Y/N about to walk home.

"Hey, are you hungry?" The younger girl gave a small smile and nod. The were sat in the booth waiting for their orders when Sam finally broke the silence.

"What happened?" The younger girl shrugged picking at a napkin.

"I really don't know. One day we were fine the next I'm hearing about how cool Amber is and I let my jealousy get the best of me. I made a dumb comment that if Amber was so awesome then she could date her. When I went to apologize I headed over to your house and found them kissing on the front porch."

Sam's eyes softened.

"And you guys still hang out as a group?"

"Of course, she may not be my girlfriend but I did make a promise to always be there for her." Y/n chuckled. "Plus Mindy wouldn't let me sit in my room and cry for more than a couple days."

Sam laughed as their food was placed before them. "And when did you became a couple?"

Y/n sighed. "It was a couple of years ago, she was getting a lot better so I took her out for a picnic on the beach. She was mad I had to cancel our plans the day before."

You smile softly at the memory. Picking at the food on your plate as she did the same.

"I don't even remember what she said I just remember kissing her and telling her that I was in love with her and have been for as long as I can remember. I told her I'd never leave her side and asked her to be my girlfriend. I told her no matter what happens between us good or bad at the end of the day we'll fix it. I thought we were doing great but as you can see six months later I guess we couldn't."

When they had finished, Sam offered to drop off Y/n but the younger girl insisted she go check on Tara, since she couldn't at the moment.

On her way to the hospital, Sam found cop cars outside of Sheriff Hicks house.

"What's going on?"

"Can't tell you."

"I used to babysit the boy who lives there."

"The sheriff and her son have been murdered."

"What?!" She turned and saw a familiar face. She ran up to the tall man.

"What are you doing here?!" He could barely get words out before she spoke again.

"Who's at the hospital protecting my sister?!"

Her phone rang.

"Sam-"

"Richie I need you to go to the hospital to check on Tara."

She jumped in the surprised when Dewey got in the passenger seat.

"DRIVE!"

She grabbed her phone to dial Y/N only to receive a voicemail. Her brows furrowed.

Over the years she'd kept in touch with her to keep tabs on Tara no matter what the time was she always answered the phone.

She tried again.

And again.

Tara sent Amber home. She went to call the nurse and received no response. Sensing something off she begins to get out of the hospital bed and into the wheelchair nearby.

She begins to wheel herself out the room as she spots a pool of blood. Following its trail she finds the security guard behind the desk bleeding out. His mouth gaping trying to form words. Tara feels tears begin to fill her eyes as she places a hand only her mouth biting back a scream. She goes closer towards his holster.

Fuck! No gun.

She hears a crash nearby and hides in the nearest room. She hears footsteps draw closer looking around she grabs a bed pan. The door to the room over opens. She steels herself as the door opens. She swings as hard as she can and nails someone.

"Ow goddamn it!"

"Richie?!"

"Sam called said you were in trouble-"

"Look out!"

He turns in time only getting his arm sliced. Richie falls to the floor screaming as Tara flings a box of nearby syringes at Ghostface. Ghostface falls back into the nearby bed as Tara tries to wheel out of the room. Richie moves to get up but Ghostface kicks him in the face knocking him out cold.

Richies phone begins to ring.

"Hello Samantha. Richie can't come to the phone right now due to his impending death."

Tara keeps trying to wheel herself down the hall her bloody hand pushing as best it can.

"Please don't kill him!"

"This is what happens to people who stick their noses in business that has nothing to do with them. Or...should I carve up little sis again instead? Tell you what, you can chose. I'll only kill one. Who do you want to hear die?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Oh come one Sam didn't daddy always say it was a lot scarier when there was no motive?"

Ghostface yanks Tara from the wheelchair making her crawl to the elevator.

"Now chose. Or I kill them both." She sobs.

"Really? You can't save your own sister? All you have to say is "Kill Richie."

"Please-" she's cut off by the sound of groaning. Richie awake tries to crawl but Ghostface flips him on his back.

"Or you can save the man you love. All you have to do is say "Kill Tara" and I'll put her out of her misery."

"Please I'm begging you.."

"Chose now. Last chance to save one."

"I can't..."

"You want to know why I'm doing this,Sam? Maybe it's because you're a selfish bitch who can't even make a decision to save the life of someone you love! Maybe it's because you're too weak for this franchise!"

"Maybe...maybe you're right....or maybe I'm stalking for time, fuckhead."

The masked villain is shot three times as Sam gets to Tara.

"I'll get Richie!"

Dewey runs to help him back turned to Ghostface who raises their knife.

"Not today." He head butts Ghostface who falls back and shoots him in the chest a few more times.

"Let's go!" Dewey grabs Richie pulling him to his feet as they all get to the elevator.

"The head..."

"What?"

"We have to shoot him in the head....if we don't, they always come back." He begins to get out as Sam yells after him.

"Who gives a fuck?!"

Amber, Chad and Liv were all taking shots "in honor" of Wes as Mindy watched on slowly sipping a beer.

She looked to her phone still wondering why she hadn't heard back from Y/N.

The trio made their way over to her. Chad speaking up first.

"If you're still waiting for Y/n to respond you won't hear from her she's probably to busy stabbing someone else right now." Mindy glared at him.

"You really are stupid if you think she's the murderer."

Amber piped in. "Come on Mindy, it's obviously her. No girlfriend, no family, nothing to lose." She listed.

"Yeah her girlfriend was her family and everything to lose."

Great value blossom decided to jump in as well.

"Wouldn't that be more reason for her to kill everyone then?"

Mindy just glared. "Look if you wanna give up on our friend that's fine but I've known Y/n my whole life and I know better then anyone else that she would never have been capable of hurting Tara."

Chad shook his head. "People change."

The girl eyed her brother up and down.

"They sure do." She turned to go watch Stab on the couch as Chad scoffed going to the love seat to make out with Liv.

Amber went to the basement to grab more beer. Mindy getting up quickly to follow right behind her without her knowing.

Amber jumped seeing the curly haired girl once she closed the refrigerator door.

"Jesus Mindy!"

"You really went to the basement alone? What if I'm the killer?"

"You're not the killer." Amber spoke confidently. "Because I am."

Mindy eyed the girl before chuckling to ease the tension. She led the way up before she stumbled on a familiar bag, a knife and Ghostface mask.

"Isnt that-"

"Y/N's bag." Amber stated.

Sam, Tara, and Richie walked in disrupting the party and sending everyone home. As the two girls got upstairs Amber started shouting.

"Y/N's Ghostface!" Tara felt herself flinch. She didn't want to believe what Amber was saying but the way the killer moved in her home as if they knew the place then the special knock they'd made so Tara would know who was at the door. Mindy spoke up.

"That could be planted!"

Amber scoffed. "Jesus Mindy wake the fuck up your favorite couple wasn't perfect and shouldn't have existed."

"Where is she?" Sam spoke.

Richie spoke from behind her. "Waiting to slash out our guts the minute we split up."

The girls looked to him incredulous as Tara got Amber to take her to her room to get her inhaler.

Sam followed as Richie went to the basement stopping short for a moment. "Wanna come with me?" He looked to Mindy hopeful.

"Nope but nice try."

She turned to watch the movie only to be stabbed a few moments later. Desperately pressing her hands to her neck to stop the bleeding.

Sam ran when she found her, trying to help as Amber and Tara came down screaming. Richie appearing at the same time as Liv.

The pink haired girls hands covered in blood.

"Where's Chad?"

"He- he-"

"Oh my God!" Amber pointed. "It's you and Y/N, you're the killers."

"What? No-"

"You're the killer!" Richie yelled next.

"Fuck you Amber I'm not the killer." She smirked.

"I know." A bullet went between Liv's eyes as everyone began to panic. "Welcome to Act 3."

Tara tackled Amber as she went to shoot her sister. Amber tied her up smiling.

"It's ok you'll love the next part and you'll get to chance to say goodbye to your ex." She opened the closet door to show you tied up as well. Blood dripping down your forehead eyes growing wider as you see Tara.

The younger Carpenter sister began crying. You tried to place some of your weight on her to offer some comfort. The both of you breathing heavy and unable to speak.

Tara hoped you knew how sorry she was. She wished she never let Amber convince her that you weren't a good girlfriend or that you were Ghostface. In a way she was just as guilty for all of this.

The door opened again to reveal Sam. She looked at the two of you untying you both as she placed a kiss to both of your foreheads.

"Go hide." She whispered. Both you and Tara helped remove the rest of the duct tape from each other. Neither of you looking at each other as you did so.

You cleared your throat.

"You should hide in the bathroom Tara. I'll go down and use the element of surprise to get Amber and maybe with a distraction it'll give Sam enough time to get Richie." You turned to leave as Tara grabbed you by the shoulders to place a soft kiss on your lips sobbing as she did so.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" You looked into her brown eyes. "I thought we were good I know I said some stupid things but-"

"It wasn't you" she sniffled. "I was dumb and insecure. Amber kept saying how you were distant and should be doing more. Then it seemed like you would pay more attention to Mindy and I just listened. The more I hung out with her the less I'd trust you." Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. "Everyone leaves me anyway so what was stopping you from doing it too?"

You shook your head. "You didn't even give me a real break up, you just showed up with Amber the next day."

The girl nodded. "I know."

"Even though it killed me inside I stayed."

"I know." She hiccupped.

"I still love you and I'm going to protect you no matter what." She looked up at you doe like eyes shining.

"I know, I love you too."

You nodded getting one more kiss in before you gently stroked her cheek. She pulled you back from leaving.

"When we get out of this we'll fix it right? Like we always do?"

You felt your lips tug up in a small smile and nodded. "Yeah like we always do."

You crept down the stairs as quiet as you could when you spotted Mindy bleeding by the TV. You took off your shirt pressing it against her wound. Bleary eyes looked at you.

"Y/n?" She was getting weaker. You nodded placing a finger over your lips.

You ducked when you saw Amber go to the door screaming before firing a few rounds at whoever was out there. She came back in running straight to the basement to put the Ghostface costume back on.

Sidney and Gale walked in guns pointed at you. You lifted your hands up in surrender.

"Everybody Ghostface or not better come out or they're getting shot."

It was all a blur but you woke up on the floor next to Sidney and a bleeding Sam and Gale.

Amber taunting Tara. "Come out come out wherever you are." She grabbed you by the hair making you yell.

"You don't want your first love to die do you?"

"Tara! Don't come out." Amber stabbed you in the abdomen.

"You sure you don't want her to save you?" You glared at Amber.

"Fuck you." You gritted out.

She walked around the corner getting hit by crutches. You jumped on her punching her repeatedly. The last punch you pulled her by her shirt collar.

"And that's for stealing my fucking girlfriend you fucking cunt."

A gun cocked and Richie stood before you.

"You really wanted to play hero huh?" A body slammed into him knocking him over. Sam straddling him and stabbing him repeatedly.

You looked down to see Amber had made it to the kitchen choking Gale. Sidney helped Gale get up before they both set the teenager on fire. You felt yourself sigh as a bloodied Sam hugged you in relief.

Sirens growing in volume as they grew closer.

The two women came to join when a yell was heard.

A half burnt Amber running towards you with a knife raised. She was stopped short by a bullet through her temple. You all looked to see Tara teary eyed as she lowered her gun slowly.

She limped over to her body ripping the necklace from her.

"You were a shitty girlfriend."

#scream #scream v #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader

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coltishcaterpillar · 30 days

Text

Unmasked / Platonic!Alastor x Teen! Daughter Reader

Chapter II: Sneaking Suspicion

Summary:

After reading over thirty-one entries, three disturbing pages are brought to light….or the darkness, depending on how Emily wants to look at it.

WARNING: This entire chapter (and probably the next one) depicts a very disturbed, traumatized, paranoid child (who is you, the reader.), who has just lost the person she loved most in the world. A HUGE deterioration in her psyche is seen here.

Look out for: Murder, Mental Illness, Paranoia, Anxiety, Delusions, Cannibalism, etc….

November 12th, 1933

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, my dear diary. Please, Jesus, please help me find my way back, I’m…I’m shaking relentlessly and the monsters at night won’t leave me alone.

My Pa….he’s not come home in three weeks. I know he will never open that door again, but I wish he would just one last time.

It started with a simple hunting trip. I saw him bringing a large trash bag over his shoulder whilst he was going out, and I just assumed it held his gun and other necessities.

A few hours later, people heard gunshots go off in the area he hunted and now he’s…..

When they opened the bag they found another mangled body….and concluded that my Papa was the serial killer terrorizing New Orleans since 1922.

No, he couldn’t have done anything of the sort. He was a good man. PAPA was a good man. He was. He is.

I read it in the papers…nobody wants to see me anymore. I’ve tried contacting everyone I knew and loved, and they told me to never set foot on their property again, they thought I was involved in this hellish situation!

Anne, James, Elbert, Carol, Mr. Devereaux, Charlotte, Martin…..EVERYBODY has abandoned me!

I wanted to desperately contact Grandma, so I wrote her a series of letters. Her caretaker wrote me a letter back that she went into shock after finding out Pa died, and she’s….well, she’s in Heaven now too.

I just turned sixteen, please. I need my Papa back….my Grandma….

I’ve been in the house surviving off of scraps. I’m afraid to leave again; I don’t want to be shot, I don’t want people coming after me because of what my Papa allegedly did. I’ve lost so much weight, I’m tired, I feel sick….

I’m not ready to be a woman, to grow up, quite yet. I grew up taking things for granted; I thought I would have my family and friends for life. How will I find a job? Will anybody take me in? Can I find a new family?

I’m still here, I’m still here, my dear friend. My beautiful…I’ve not lost my mind, not yet. I’m not crazy, am I? No, no….I’m just….going through some traumatic moments!

I’m hungry….

My stomach is hurting so bad, I’m perspiring and my toes are curled…I need more food. I’ve eaten nearly everything, I have no money to purchase anything else…

Every time it growls, there’s a new tang of pain….

Papa, you would never….you’re a good man, Pa. I love you, I’ll always love you….

Oh, it all makes sense now! Why you never wanted me to see what you brought home, why you were always out late, why you were so secretive…oh, Pa, why didn’t you tell me?! I…I would’ve….contacted the authorities.

Which is what you didn’t want.

I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING DEMON! HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS UPON ME AND GRANDMA, I HOPE YOU ROT YOU SICK, TWISTED, SORRY EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN-

I miss your kisses and your hugs, Pa. Please….please come back. At least tell me where your grave is so I can hug your body one last time….I’ve never wanted to hear your voice more, whether it be in real life or the radios, please!

Oh my god, what are we having for dinner? I’m starving, Pa….

I have a headache, Pa….please give me some medicine to ease the pain…..

I need you, I need somebody. Anybody. Please….

I never want to see you again. If I ever see you again after this lifetime I will do everything in my power to slaughter you a second time for all the pain that you’ve caused….

I’m going to take a breather soon, my dear friend. I need to let off some steam. I’m….I just need to find an energy source. I’ll be back, I promise.

——————————————

November 13th, 1933

Oh, I’ve found something to eat, finally. It didn’t taste as terribly as I thought, and in fact, it tasted similar to how you cooked our meat, Pa. So tender….so, so, tender…..

The gangster didn’t even see it coming. I don’t think he liked me, he was looking at me like I did something wrong. I hushed him, hushed him well, and said,

“No, no, sir. Why are you giving me that look?? I’m only hungry! I’m just trying to survive! Please don’t let me starve!”

I hated that gaze. That look on his face made me feel like a monster, like I wasn’t justified in my action to cut him into tiny little pieces-

Pa, it’s just like you used to make. I never knew how…similar the meat tasted until now. Why did you do that? To so many innocent people….this man was not innocent, Pa. He was part of a cartel, I was doing this world a favour!

I feel better, I think. My stomach feels more satisfied than it has in days.

I don’t feel any better, though. I just…I just ate somebody….

I don’t know what to do! How is….how is his family going to react when they find this out?! I….I caused him pain, so much pain….

But I need more. I want to live….I have so much goodness to offer to the world, I promise I can be better! I’m not usually like this! I promise to make you proud! To make everybody proud…like I’ve always tried to do!

I know how much I was lacking in performance, I’ve never been cut out for the big leagues, but I am positive I can amount to something! If this world will give me a chance, I’ll be the best version of myself I can ever be. I can, I can! You always said I could do anything I put my mind to, I can do this. I can still be a happy girl and young woman, I can still grow up, I can make new friends. Perhaps I’ll move? Yes, maybe that’s a good idea…

I miss you. I miss Grandma, I miss our talks. The things you would do with me…how you used to sing to me when I was scared of the monsters under my bed, our weekly theatre nights; we’d always go to see Charlie Chaplin, that was your favourite; and it grew to be mine too.

I miss how close we were to each other. We were like….we were like two peas in a pod. We couldn’t be one without the other.

1917, was the year of my birth. How well do you remember picking me up that day? When I was alone, cold, nearly dead…in a dumpster? You saved me.

That’s why….I don’t want to believe you did those things, Papa. I don’t. I have a very strong sense of morality, you know that. I….I can’t fathom you ever being capable of something like that.

I…I don’t think I knew you, Papa. You…

You betrayed me.

Everybody was right, you know. The suspicions people had about you. Anne…she always talked about you with a certain look of fear in her eyes, and I always made the time to defend you to anybody who ever judged.

How was it, that the only person who never saw the signs, was me? The person who lived with you for sixteen years?

Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it.

And now look at what you’ve done. You’ve killed a part of me…you killed Grandma; your mother! I was supposed to meet her up for tea a few days after your death, but time had beaten me to it. What ever will I do, without your love?

I miss you, Pa. And I love you, so very much. But you better pray to the devil himself; that I do not die for another five decades. I won’t be able to hold myself back…from hurting you. And I’ll hurt you bad.

To be hated….to be attacked by somebody you protected, nurtured, loved with all your heart….yes, that’s the pain I want to inflict on you. Your daughter, the person you’d kill for, turning against you.

I love you, Pa, I really do. But….a serial killer will never be somebody I bode well with.

———————

January 10th, 1934

I am sorry. For everything. It’s very frigid out here due to winter, and I’ve been camping outside for quite a while…I can’t feel my legs anymore.

To….anybody I may have scared or hurt, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #platonic alastor x reader #alastor x reader #child reader #cannibalistic #tw murder #diary entry #horror #child trauma

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 4 months

Text

Se Zaldrizoti' Prumia - Chapter 9: The Ticking of Time

Chapter 9: The Ticking of Time

The primal urge to survive oft drives decisions made in haste.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: Slight angst, Otto Hightower, flashbacksssss

Word Count: 8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: Happy Christmas Eve to all who celebrate! Finally, the long awaited chapter 9. I hope you enjoy! (and psst, a small Christmas surprise coming soon! Unfortunately, it's not chapter 10, but hopefully you'll be as happy ;)

lovely dividers by @firefly-graphics !

The smell of rose oil permeated the air of Queen Alicent’s chambers, and the sounds of Aegon smashing his wooden dragon toy against his wooden tower toy could be heard, as the boy made roaring noises. Alicent watched the scene with slight amusement, as Helaena sat on her lap, docile, a rare moment of serenity. It was much needed, especially after the recent scandal that rocked the Red Keep and her contentious conversation with Rhaenyra a week prior.

Speaking of serenity…

Alicent trailed her gaze to a forlorn looking figure, sitting next to Aegon on the lushly woven Myrish carpet, her skirts splayed as she absentmindedly fiddled with a wooden dragon toy.

“You’ve been quiet,” Alicent noted, trying to breach your diminished figure. She hesitated on whether to verbalise what she knew your mind was occupied with, “Are…are you still angry at Prince Daemon’s latest transgressions?”

Once again, the tranquillity of nightfall had descended upon the Red Keep. The King’s solar was empty after the boisterous dinner that Viserys was lording over, elated to have his brother by his side again. Viserys and Rhaenyra had long since retired to bed, and now, there was only you and Daemon.

Daemon lay sprawled on the large settee, looking bored as he twirled a newly forged dagger in his hands, gifted by his ever generous brother to celebrate his return. The firelight glinted off the large ruby set in the pommel, and he weighed it between his hands. Not Valyrian steel, like Dark Sister was, but he tended to cherish any gifts his brother gave that were not disappointment or frustration. Which was a rarity.

Daemon’s bored gaze trailed to your figure, looking far too relaxed as you sat on the other end of the settee, face burrowed in a heavy tome. Daemon groaned, trying to get your attention and stop reading that godsforsaken book, but you only hummed, nonchalant, flipping to the next page. Daemon narrowed his eyes.

Your attention was fully invested in a chapter about the medicinal properties of hemlock in the newest tome you had successfully bribed the maesters for, when a sudden poke at your cheek caused an indignant noise to be elicited from your throat. “What in the Seven Hells,” you snapped your tome shut to glare at Daemon’s smug face, resting so close to your lap it made your heart thud in your chest. “Are you doing?”

“Trying to get your attention,” he said simply, putting his dagger down onto the tea table.

You levelled an unimpressed look at him. “And that required you to poke me in the cheek? What are you, five?”

“Perhaps.”

You huffed, vexed, picking up your tome again. “Byka zaldrizes, I gave up precious time that could be spent doing something else just to spend it with you. Surely, you can spare this forlorn prince of yours some of your attention.”

“Well, no one asked you to,” you said drily, your eyes flickering as they darted between the lines. “And we all know that your time will be spent mucking about in the Street of Silk, in some unlucky whore’s bed or getting drunk in your cups like some undignified ruffian.”

“Anyone who has the good fortune of bedding me is touched by the gods themselves,” Daemon’s snarky tone made you roll your eyes. Him and his overinflated ego. “And your assumptions wound me, byka zaldrizes. Do you not trust that my time in the Stepstones have made me more mature?”

Daemon was delighted by you putting your book down again, only to be greeted by your deadpan stare. “...are you still in possess of a cock?”

Daemon cocked a brow, eyes shifting down as if pretending to check. “I do believe so, yes. It would be a tragedy if I wasn’t.” You flashed him a sweetly sardonic smile, “Then I do believe no more needs to be said.”

Daemon groaned when you returned to reading your book, debating on the merits of just slapping it out of your hand. It would result in some very colourful language bursting from your lips, but it would be fun.

“Truly, your faith in me is awe-inspiring,” Daemon remarked sarcastically. “And what if I said that this time I promise to stay for the foreseeable future?”

You tilted your head to the side, detracted from your book once more. “Somehow I do not believe that. Trouble always seems to find you one way or another.”

Daemon rolled his eyes, flashing you a devastatingly handsome grin that you had to fight a strange squirming sensation in your stomach. “Then I swear to the Seven Gods that I will stay out of trouble. I won’t curb my excursions to Flea Bottom of course,” Daemon added, seeing your incredulous look. “A man does have his urges. And you know of my nature.” Daemon smirked. “But I think I’m capable enough not to commit another act that would warrant exile. Don’t you think?”

Your answering laugh echoed throughout the solar. But for a brief moment, you had believed him. After all, what more trouble could Daemon possibly incur?

You finally broke out of your empty daze, letting out a low, slightly hoarse laugh. “I am. But he is not the only object of my ire,” you admitted, sighing as you lowered your eyes to where Aegon was banging his wooden dragon against the carpet. Thank the Seven it was soft or he would’ve dented the dragon by now.

Confusion wrinkled Alicent’s features, but then her eyes shone with comprehension. “...are you perhaps feeling some anger towards Rhaenyra?”

Your head snapped up, a slightly horrified look painted on your face. “No, of course not. Daemon is fully to blame for this situation.”

You took a deep breath, feeling shame course through you like boiling water through your veins. You had known, that in some awful way, your conversation with Rhaenyra had indirectly led to the explosion of this scandal. Now, Daemon was exiled again - though you couldn't care less about that - Rhaenyra’s virtue had been called into question, and she was forced to hastily wed Ser Laenor. And the guilt had been eating you alive ever since. But you had not known your harmless words would lead to such a catastrophic end. ‘I am not cut out for this,’ you thought glumly to yourself. ‘That wise paragon of advice I was trying to emulate. I never was any of that.’

‘How foolish of me to play at a role I lack the foresight for.’

Nonetheless, your thoughts returned to the person who is mainly to blame for this situation.

‘Stupid, stupid Daemon,’ you cursed in your head, fingers tightening around the wooden dragon toy. ‘How stupid of me to believe that he could’ve changed, that he couldn’t sink any lower. Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

At least one somewhat good thing had arisen out of this mess. The ‘resignation’ of Otto Hightower.

Though many knew it was just a term meant to preserve the dignity of the former Lord Hand.

You were not sorry to see the man go - you had disliked him ever since his orchestration of the debacle with Alicent and Viserys years ago. However, you were sorry to see Alicent’s distraught state for the past few days. You understood her - she was all alone now, this was almost as great of a loss to her as Aemma’s loss to you was. Being bereft of a figure of comfort and support.

You studied Alicent, noting the slight eye bags under her eyes. You made a mental note to brew her a stronger chamomile tea - both to alleviate her stresses after pregnancy and to improve her quality of sleep.

A sudden knock sounded at the door, and Alicent’s older cousin and one of her ladies-in-waiting, Malena Hightower, entered the room, curtsying. “Your Grace,” you were surprised when Malena turned to you instead.

“Lady Y/N…a messenger came by earlier. He wished for me to convey the Hand…I mean, Ser Otto’s,” Malena recovered from her bluster with a slight flush, but you noticed Alicent’s face briefly crumple when she heard her father’s title reversion back to Ser. You felt a twinge of sympathy. “He wished for me to convey that Ser Otto wishes to have a discussion with you.”

The clattering of a teacup on the floor startled the both of us. Alicent looked embarrassed at her clumsiness, as a servant rushed in upon hearing the noise. “Pardon me. Malena, did my father disclose the reason why he wishes for an audience with my chief lady-in-waiting?” You were unnerved by Alicent’s uncharacteristic sharp tone. It was like…she was angry at her father.

Malena looked similarly unnerved. “Your Grace, I apologise. I do not know. The messenger just said that Ser Otto requested for Lady Y/N’s presence in his study whenever she was available.”

Alicent kept a calm facade, but inside, her heart was thumping like a surge of wild animals. ‘Is what I have been fearing about to come true? Y/N-’ Alicent swung her gaze to yours, where you were conversing discreetly with Malena.

“Thank you, Malena. If the messenger is still there, tell him I will be with him momentarily.” Alarm surged through Alicent’s body. She quickly handed Helaena over to the startled servant who had just finished picking up the shattered cup and disposed of it, stepping towards you.

“Y/N, I do not think you should go.” The words were out of her mouth before she could suppress them. Perplexed, you stared at the younger girl, noticing her panic. It unsettled you.

You tried to shoot her a reassuring smile. “Alicent, Your Grace-” Alicent immediately motioned for Malena and the servant holding Helaena to retreat out of the room when she noticed you addressing her by her title. They evacuated the room with haste.

Alicent seized both of your hands in hers, a gesture that startled you with its intensity and urgency. “No, do not go. Please,” she begged, her eyes flickering with a violent storm of conflicting emotions. She knew she should be obedient to her father, and that the meeting could be harmless, but a wrenching gut feeling told her it was not so.

You looked worried: what exactly had gotten into Alicent? It was unlike her to break her composure, and by such a simple request. Alarm bells began tolling in your head, and just as you were about to tell her that you wouldn’t go, a knock sounded at the door, and you and Alicent promptly broke apart from your intimate stance.

Malena re-entered the room, along with a man you recognised as one of Otto’s household knights, Ser Garrick Pommingham. This was bad. Alicent made a strangled noise in her throat as she beheld Ser Garrick. It was serious enough that her father had sent a household knight to deliver the message, but Ser Garrick? He was one of her father’s oldest household knights, and fiercely loyal and trusted by Otto. It was clear that the invitation was not one that both you nor Alicent had any say in.

“My Queen.” Ser Garrick bowed reverently to Alicent, before turning to you and giving you a smaller bow. “Lady Y/N. Shall I escort you to my liege?”

Any of Alicent’s protests were immediately silenced, as she wrung her hands helplessly. There was no fighting against Ser Garrick, who was an extension of her father, and a bull-headed man at that - always priding himself on completing all his tasks to perfection.

You knew as well, so you could only give Alicent a small, reassuring smile, trying to comfort her. Steeling yourself, you turned to Ser Garrick with a composed smile.

“Lead the way, Ser.”

The Tower of the Hand had been the site of a flurry of activity over the past few days, as various servants and household knights bustled in and out of the rooms, carrying and loading up boxes of belongings into carriages to be transported back to Oldtown.

Otto watched his servants move his things out of his nearly vacant study with an oddly impassive look, as he stewed in his own thoughts at his dismissal. He never thought that he would take up residence in Oldtown ever again, but how quickly the tide could be changed here in King’s Landing.

The sound of a knock at the door roused him from his thoughts, and soon enough, his loyal household knight, Ser Garrick, showed in the guest he had been expecting.

“Ah, Lady Y/N. I thank you for coming on such short notice.”

You entered the room, the skirts of your rose pink gown swishing as you moved into the study. Wariness was woven in every bone of your body, your muscles taut with tension. “Ser Otto,” you nodded at him, not missing how the former Hand’s frame turned stiff at the reversion of his title back to Ser.

“What matter has caused you to ask me to your study at such a busy time?”

Otto took a seat at the lavishly appointed chair at his desk. The same desk where he had spent so many nights toiling for King Viserys. Though the chair could no longer be called rightfully his, he leaned into it, gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you did so, though not without reluctance.

"I do not wish to take up too much of your time, as my own time is precious too," Otto stated, his voice blunt as he leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the oak of the desk.

"I have a proposal for you."

A frown furrowed your eyebrows, but you tried not to show it, smoothing out your skirts instead. “And what is that proposal? I am most interested to hear it.”

Otto smirked slightly at the small note of sarcasm he detected in your voice. Normally, he would be irked at such disrespect, but it was evident from this that you wished not to play any games. ‘A woman who cuts straight to the chase,’ he thought to himself. ‘No wonder Prince Daemon was drawn to her.’

It made things much simpler anyway.

“I’d like to ask for your hand in marriage,” Otto stated bluntly as he waited for your reaction.

Meanwhile, you were frozen, as if roots had suddenly sprung from the ground and trapped you in the chair. ‘My hand in marriage?’ The words echoed through your brain. You suddenly recalled Alicent’s guilt stricken expression as she watched you leave her apartments.

“Ser Otto,” you said quietly. “Surely you are jesting.”

Otto looked unruffled at that. “I do not jest about such matters, Lady Y/N.” You let some of the incredulity you were feeling slip into your expression. “Allow me to explain the merits of our match,” Otto said calmly, leaning back into his chair.

“Though I am ashamed of having done so, I had overheard your shouting match with your father at the Kingswood many moons ago.” This made you wince. You did not blame the man, the both of you probably shouted loud enough that those at the Wall could hear you.

“I understand you are seeking a match, by the end of this year in fact. Which is less than two moons away,” Otto observed you as you tried not to squirm under his intense gaze. “Quite a pressing predicament.”

Otto sighed. “I know, my dismissal has not made me the most…appealing of matches. What with my status as a second son, standing to inherit nothing short of some wealth and meagre land holdings. However, as you well know, you are not the most appealing of matches as well.”

When you looked offended, Otto only went on blandly, “Please, do not take offence, Lady Y/N. My words do not come from a place of malice. It is true though, is it not? While you are lovely, your age is not one to be overlooked. You are turning- twenty six? Twenty seven this year? Many lords in Westeros consider this to be well past your prime.” Otto’s eyes glinted. “And the reputation of your…ah, headstrongness, is well known across the Seven Kingdom. As well as your long string of marriage rejections.”

Otto shrugged, “That aside, think pragmatically. I am moving back to take up residence in Oldtown once more. Should you go with me, you would be much closer to home than here in King’s Landing.” Otto could still see the dubiousness in your eyes, and he knew he had to sweeten the deal up a little more. “And besides, I would not require any children of you.” He knew he had you again when your gaze shot up from looking down fixedly at the wood of his desk. “I am already a widower, with a daughter as Queen and four other strong sons. You would be under no pressure to produce heirs for me. And as a second son, my children stand to inherit next to nothing anyway. Moreover, if you are worried of any mistreatment, fret not. You are my daughter’s dearest companion, and a mother figure to her too. I will treat you with utmost respect”

You eyed him warily, finally speaking up. “You’ve stated many demerits of this match as well, Ser Otto. Do you truly think it worth it for the both of us to pursue such a match?”

Otto’s eyes glinted. She was more crafty than he thought. He would have to hammer down the point a little. “Though my inheritance is not rich in titles, I can assure you, it is not something to be overlooked. You would live comfortably, and be free to pursue any of your interests. I heard from the Maesters that you have an interest in healing and scholarly affairs. What better place to expand your knowledge than in Oldtown, home of the Citadel and some of the finest minds in Westeros?”

Your gaze sharpened at that, he clearly had been keeping tabs on you for a while now. Though his offer was not without temptation of its own. “But why me?” you pressed. “As you have said, I am past my prime and have a wild temper at that. The only merits I possess are my lineage and heirship to Highgarden, and my father has already taken a new wife, so that hangs in the balance as well.”

Otto smiled, “And that alone is enough.” Otto stood up, slowly walking over to your chair. He took your hand gently, and kissed the back of your hand softly. A frown was etched on your lips, and Otto knew it was best to let the matter go. For now.

“I shall give you some time to consider it,” Otto rumbled softly, helping you out of your chair. “But the clock is ticking, Lady Y/N. Both for you and I. Once I depart for Oldtown in a few days, the offer shall be rescinded.” His expression was one of faux concern. “And do you truly believe that you would be able to find any other man of suitable standing to court you before your father’s deadline?”

‘Even now he was not telling the truth, and trying to use wily means to stoke your deepest insecurities to his own gain,’ you thought, regarding the man before you in disdain. The both of you knew the truth of why he sought your hand, not out of compassion or sympathy, but to climb his way back up the political ranks. All of court knew how close you were with the members of House Targaryen, and that you were an ear of the King. otto was clearly trying to use you for his own designs, the same way he had used Alicent, and foist Aegon up onto the Iron Throne, whilst gaining more influence over Viserys - as if he hadn’t have enough already. Disgust pulsed through you.

You shot Otto a haughty look, brushing off his hand. “This is still a personal matter, Ser Otto, and I mislike the tone of your voice. As a stranger, you would do well to refrain from making comments on my personal life.”

Otto nodded stiffly. “Of course. I apologise. I overstepped. Shall I escort you back to my daughter’s chambers then?”

“No need, thank you.” You were eager to put as much distance between you and Otto as soon as possible. And you couldn’t possibly see Alicent with your mind in such a jumbled state. You bowed your head stiffly, “I bid you farewell, Ser. I will…consider your proposal.” He nodded, but you could see his gaze was filled with calculation as you turned your back on him and walked away.

“Lady Y/N.” Otto’s voice halted you just as your hand was on the door handle. “Just a question.”

“Do you really think that staking your bets on Prince Daemon would result in a good end?” You stilled, turning around to face him yet again. Your eyes met his cool green ones. “I do not understand what you mean, Ser Otto.”

“What I meant was,” Otto’s voice was blunt. “I do not think marrying Prince Daemon would bode well for you, if you wish to be closer to the centre of power.”

You stared incredulously at him, swivelling around to face him fully once again. “I’m afraid you have it all wrong, Ser. I never had that sort of intention.”

“Ask yourself, do you really believe that?” Otto’s voice was challenging. “Because I do not think you know your heart well enough..”

Astonished and angered by his boldness, you took a step back closer to the door. “Forgive me, Ser Otto, but I do not think you would know my heart better than I do.” You turned to leave, pulling open the door.

“Search your heart deeply, Lady Y/N,” Otto called out. “You will find my words will ring true.” You didn’t respond, instead choosing to shut the door firmly behind you, leaving Otto Hightower and his delusions of grandeur behind.

The Red Keep was blessed with a particularly pleasant chill this day, in the midst of a harsh autumn and an impending harsher winter. But you couldn’t bring yourself to admire the red and russet leaves as you normally did, instead wandering aimlessly around the Red Keep like a wraith.

It was completely absurd for Otto Hightower to think that you got close to Daemon for ulterior motives. Marriage? With that insufferable punk? You snorted. You could barely stand his presence most of the time, let alone marriage.

It was strange, however. Daemon had always been handsome, dangerously so, and charming, and that had never had an effect on you in the least. But ever since Aemma’s death…ever since his return from the Stepstones. You couldn’t lie, there was something there. The first stirrings of a fire.

Well, that fire would never burn on damp logs anyway, and that was all thanks to Daemon’s stupidity. You grumbled to yourself, shuddering that you might have carried a torch for Daemon fucking Targaryen.

You decided to venture into one of the courtyards found in the Red Keep. Perhaps some greenery would restore your senses, and provide a balm for your dilemma. Whatever were you supposed to do? There was no escaping the fact that it was nigh impossible to find a good match within two moons, one that would satisfy both you and your father’s expectations. But was marrying Otto Hightower really your only option? In all your worst nightmares, you never imagined that it could get so bad. While you did not share Daemon’s intense hatred for the man, the man made your skin crawl, with his pleasantries disguising a shrewd mind of warped traditional beliefs.

‘Could I really be happy with a man like that?’

Lost in thought, you didn’t realise you had company until you caught sight of a tall figure with blonde hair, sitting under the shade of a huge willow tree, an intent expression on his face as he sketched away on a piece of parchment. Curious, you approached the lone figure to get a closer look. As you stepped closer however, your heel crunched on a branch, causing the mysterious stranger’s head to snap up. Your eyes snagged onto the sigil pinned to his tunic.

A Beesbury.

You inclined your head apologetically, “Beg your pardon, I did not mean to disturb you.” The young man from House Beesbury laughed, scooping up his parchment before walking towards you and bowing. “Lady Y/N. Do not apologise, my day has been made infinitely better by your presence.”

You let out a small chuckle at his flattering, giving him a discrete once over. Exactly who was this man? Clearly you were not subtle enough, given the fact that he bowed once more, placing a hand to his chest as he did. “You must forgive my rudeness, my lady. My name is Alan Beesbury. My father, Lord Lyman Beesbury, serves on the Small Council as Master of Coin.” You let out a surprise “Oh!” before dipping your head politely. “Ser Alan. You must forgive me, I did not recognise you.”

Ser Alan smiled brightly, unbothered. “Tis alright, my lady. Granted, I have never been introduced to you in a formal setting, so it is understandable you do not know me.” “How did you recognise me then, ser?” you inquired. “I visited Highgarden with my father a few years ago, and caught sight of you with your lord father. I deeply regret that I was not able to make your acquaintance then. Although it seems,” Alan grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief, “That I am lucky enough to behold your beautiful visage once more, my lady. You have only grown lovelier throughout the years.” You couldn’t refrain from snorting lightly, “You have quite the honeyed tongue, ser.” “Well, it is a useful skill at court. And to charm the ladies I have taken a fancy to.” he winked. “Would you grant me the honour of your company, my lady? It has been naught but two days since my arrival, and I find that I am in need of a guide to this vast keep.” An amused smile graced your lips, as you thought about his offer. He might be a flirt, and awfully forward, but he seemed a jolly enough fellow, and it would be rude to reject his company. And…it would be a good distraction.

“I am at your disposal, ser.” He gallantly offered you his arm, and you took it. As you strolled through the hallways of the Red Keep, passing servants shot you strange looks, but you ignored them. “So, what brings you to the Red Keep, ser?” “Ah, my lord father summoned me to court to attend the upcoming nuptials for Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon.” Alan made a face that was so offended you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “He also thought it a good window of opportunity for me to find a lady wife.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, your mind going back to your unpleasant conversation with Otto Hightower. Not wanting to seem impolite, you quickly added, “I wish you luck in your search, ser.” He smiled, although the joy did not reach his eyes. “Thank you, my lady. You are too kind.”

Ser Alan halted abruptly, startling you when you noticed you had stopped next to a flowering bush. Carefully, he plucked a gorgeous, striking yellow rose, moving to tuck it behind your ear. “A magnificent rose, befitting a charming lady as yourself, my lady.” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his spontaneous show of chivalry. “I have to admit, ser, that you are the first man who has shown me this courtesy. I thank you most humbly.”

“My father has always educated me about the importance of courtesy, especially to a lady.” Ser Alan shrugged, a sheepish grin painted on his features. “So long as it makes you happy, milady.” You strolled through the garden, chatting as he inquired about your life at court, which you happily indulged. Gradually, you forgot about Otto Hightower and Rhaenyra and Alicent as you conversed with him, too lost in trading anecdotes and playful jabs with each other about some rather insufferable personalities at court. You realised you found his company rather pleasing: he was attentive, and clearly a gentleman, but not to the extent where it was ridiculously cheesy. He wasn’t dreadful company either, he seemed sincere to get to know his talking companion, instead of endlessly bragging about himself or his long list of achievements. And behind his sweet words, he also hid a sharp sense of wit and humour. He was an ideal husband, the thought struck you like lightning. You could feel the cogs in your head begin to turn. You might have just found a way to escape Otto Hightower’s offer after all.

“May I confess something, my lady?” Ser Alan’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “You may speak freely with me, ser.” you hesitated, before asking him, “Is it alright if I call you Alan, instead?”

Ser Alan’s eyes widened, and you were a little afraid you had pushed your boundaries a little too far, but he soon broke out in a genuine smile. “If only I can call you Y/N in return, my lady.” You found yourself returning his smile with one of your own. “Then it is settled then. What were you going to say, Alan?” “To be honest, Y/N, I was extremely elated to run into you today.” Catching sight of your puzzled face, he hurriedly rushed to explain, “You see, I had sent a few marriage proposals to you before. Well at least my father has. I thought you quite brilliant despite my brief encounter with you at Highgarden. You radiate warmth, even at first glance, and I was rather drawn to you. Which was why I was so happy to have been able to have the fortune to bump into you here today. The Seven have truly blessed me.”

“I see…” you murmured. “You are rather forward, aren’t you, Alan?” Alan looked unashamed of that. “I am a firm believer that being coy often robs us of opportunities in life, Y/N.” An amused smile twitched at your lips, “A bold philosophy, though certainly a wise one.” You took some deep breaths, debating on the gamble you were about to take. It was risky as hell. You barely knew anything about the man. It could end in disaster. But then again, your recent track record of decisions had led to bigger disasters than this.

‘And do you truly believe that you would be able to find any other man of suitable standing to court you before your father’s deadline?‘

How life could change with just one decision.

“Alan.” you began slowly, swallowing as you braced myself.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...does your marriage proposal still stand, by any chance?”

Throughout your time at court, you had not been well acquainted with Lord Lyman Beesbury. A jolly enough man, and sharp of wit and tongue despite his old age was all that you knew of him.

What you did not expect was how excited the man could be.

“Oh, this is fantastic, wonderful news,” Lord Lyman exclaimed, grabbing your hands and shaking them vigorously. You looked over to Alan with a bewildered expression, and he simply smiled and mouthed, ‘He’s always like this. Don’t mind it.’

“To think my son would finally settle down, and to Lady Tyrell at that,” Lyman continued to ramble on, and you were a little worried that the old man might collapse from the joy. “A fine, fine choice you’ve made, son. A fine choice. I couldn’t be prouder…”

You were mortified at how eager Lord Lyman seemed to be at the prospect of your marriage, but inside, you were secretly relieved. Otto Hightower had not sent word after news of your engagement with Ser Alan had disseminated through the castle, in no part thanks to the gossips who sniped at how the two of you barely had a courtship before your engagement. You had heard many whispers and murmurings of how desperate you must be to be driven to this point, but you didn’t care. You would take marrying Ser Alan any day over Otto Hightower.

No one was, of course, happier than Lord Matthos Tyrell at the word of his daughter’s engagement. From the way the reply to your letter had a few suspicious stains here and there, it seems a few tears had been shed. You could only muster a small smile at that, however.

Alan had been the perfect gentleman over the past two weeks, showering you with gifts such as flowers or jewels - as fitting a suitor does to a lady - spending time with you, taking strolls with you, oftentimes visiting you while you were carrying out your duties as lady-in-waiting to Alicent and the like. Time after time, you would find Alicent’s gaze trailing across Alan doubtfully, like she was trying to scrutinise him for any signs of ill will, but you had reassured her in private that he was wonderful. But all she had to say was:

“It is in human nature not to show who they truly are until later on, Y/N. I am just concerned.”

Alicent’s words made you a little ill at ease, as you knew as much. You’ve heard so many horror stories over the years from ladies whose husband’s affections for them evaporated like morning dew upon their marriage after all, and seen enough examples.

But you had made your gamble, and you must live with the consequences. No matter how dire they may be.

The candles in the King’s private bed chambers and living space flickered as the doors opened with a loud creak, and you stepped in quietly. The room looked empty, and so you decided to walk around for a bit.

And that’s when your heart nearly stopped.

There she was.

Rendered in vivid oils, the likeness of Aemma stared out at you with that gentle, comforting smile. Her visage encased within an intricately carved gold frame with dragons, and a makeshift shrine with candles decorated her portrait. Your heart was suddenly gripped with unbearable pain.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Viserys’ voice rang out from behind you, as he walked slowly to stand next to you, staring almost reverently up at her portrait. You couldn’t speak, your throat was closing up at the threat of tears that threatened to overwhelm and spill out from your eyes. You tilted your head down, unable to look anymore at that familiar, haunting smile.

The press of a small white candle into your hand startled you. Viserys regarded you with a knowing sadness. “I thought you might like to honour her. We haven’t…done so in a while. Together as a family.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now. Gingerly, you reached over and lit the candle, placing it on the shrine. You bowed your head, thinking of how much things have changed ever since her passing. How much you have had to change.

“She would be so pleased to know that you were getting married,” Viserys lamented, gently touching oil-painting-Aemma’s hand. “From what I can recall, it had always been one of her greatest wishes to see you happily married.”

You offered him a hollow smile at that. The joys of marriage had not yet made itself known to you, if you were even capable of it. And now, your head was too occupied with memories.

“You’re in a terribly grumpy mood,” Aemma commented, as she reached for a roll of warm buttered bread to go with her third cup of tea. Her light blue eyes were filled with amusement as she watched you prop your head up from where you had lain it on the table, a disgruntled expression on your features. “Dare I inquire for the reason?”

“Father has sent me another list of eligible bachelors,” you grumbled, helping Aemma refill her teacup, which she sighed exasperatedly at that. When it was just the two of you alone, she preferred for you not to serve her as lady-in-waiting, instead being more at ease and natural with her as her friend. But despite your attempts at overturning this habit, you found yourself unable to. Touch and small gestures were how you expressed your feelings after all.

“From which kingdom is it for this time?” Aemma asked in a joking tone, putting a strawberry tart in her mouth as she stroked her small baby bump that had begun to show after four moons.

“The Stormlands this time,” you sighed, dispiritedly popping a tart with an unknown yellow fruit in your mouth. The tangy sweetness, yet slight sourness of the fruit made you cheer up a little.

“That’s a mango tart. Some merchants from the Summer Isles exported it to us,” Aemma explained, carefully noting your expression.

“I wish I could live in the Summer Isles,” you sighed, popping another one of those tarts into your mouth. “And be done with all this bother. For Seven’s sake, I’m only twenty one. There’s still plenty of time.”

“Yes, for you to develop wrinkles,” Aemma jested, letting out a laugh at your mortally offended face. “My queen, is it customary for you to insult your subjects in their time of distress?” You asked with faux hurt in your voice.

“Perhaps I am a secret tyrant,” Aemma smirked slightly, lifting her teacup to her lips. “I am serious though, Y/N. You've been by my side as my lady-in-waiting for nearly two years, and we have known each other since we were children. You watched me get married to Viserys, be crowned as Queen, and giving birth to Rhaenyra. When will I get to witness some of your happy moments?”

You gave her a deadpan look. “Aemma. I truly see no joy in getting married now. I’m still too young.” Aemma tried to hold in a sigh. “”And when will that be? Moons later? Years? A decade? When you’re old and grey?”

“When I am ready, Aemma.” You stated, voice tinged with determination. “But when?” Aemma pressed. “Not to fear, I will definitely get married sometime during your lifetime,” you reassured her in a joking tone. “Perhaps when you’ve lived to seventy years…”

Aemma threw the throw cushion she was holding in her lap at you, and you caught it, laughing, as Aemma shook her head in fond exasperation. “You’re insufferable.”

Aemma looked at you, laughter dancing in your eyes as you changed the topic back to how you were going to answer your father’s newest letter. A wistful smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Do whatever you want, Y/N. I just hope that you will never sacrifice your happiness for the sake of something else.

A small tear plopped to the weathered ground of the King’s chambers as you managed to choke out, “She would be. I just wish…she could be here to see it.”

Viserys had a slightly guilty look on his face as you turned your gaze back to the portrait, confronting all the painful, bittersweet memories in all their blazing intensity.

It was time to stop running.

“When did you get this portrait commissioned?” The small semblance of a smile appeared on Viserys’ face again. “It is a story in itself, actually. Back when Aemma was…” Viserys’ voice hitched. “Pregnant…with Baelon, I had commissioned an artist from Volantis to paint it, as a gift to Aemma. Honouring her for giving us our-” Viserys choked up, his voice cracking. “For giving us our son.”

Your fists clenched slightly. “And then when Aemma…I was so lost. I couldn’t bring myself to look at any portraits of her, so I stopped work on the painting.” Viserys looked like he wanted to pull portrait Aemma out of the frame she was trapped in, by sheer will of anguish.

“But I had a change of heart. Three months after I named Rhaenyra as heir, I had moved on. I finally felt…peace. Like I have taken a step to atonement. So I gave word for the artist to continue, wanting to place it in the Gallery of Dragons after it was done.” The Gallery of Dragons was an art gallery in the Red Keep which honoured previous Targaryen rulers and royals who had passed. “But then he died when Alicent and I married.”

“Oh dear,” you murmured softly under your breath, and Viserys let out a ragged laugh, before bursting into a fit of coughing. You moved to help him to a chair, but he held out a hand, his focus on Aemma.

“I thought it a sign from the ancestors, from the Gods, that I should let go,” Viserys voiced out tiredly. “And so the painting remained untouched, and I thought I’d never see it to its finish. That the chapter would remain closed forever.”

“Then when Helaena was born, the head royal artist decided to take on the job.” “Why?” You asked. You knew that the head royal artist, an old kindly man, had deeply revered Queen Aemma, for he was of the Vale and Aemma had brought him to court as part of her entourage, where he quickly rose up in the ranks. His previous occupation as a woodworker apparently served his artistic abilities well.

“He was in his final days, and he wished for that to be the last painting he ever did.” Viserys smiled, his head drooping. “And I am glad he did.”

Silence fell over the room as you two continued admiring the painting of your beloved Aemma. “Her eyes seem imbued with life, don’t you think?” You mentioned in a soft voice. “It’s like she is about to start talking any second now.” Viserys let out a hoarse sounding laugh, coughing again. This time it sounded more serious, but he waved away your concern all the same. “They are. The artists did a good job.”

You were surprised when Viserys shuffled away to a chest on a table, rummaging through it before taking something out. It turned out to be some strange looking thin red sticks.

“In Old Valyria, while there were many gods that people worshipped, the way they honoured their dead were the same,” Viserys explained quietly, handing you a stick, which you took, bewildered. “They would light it, then bow three times before the deceased’s portrait. It was said that a soul connection would then be forged between you and the person you were mourning, and you could convey a message to them.”

“It sounds…” you tried to find the words to describe it. “...poetic.”

“I thought so too. Shall we?”

The two of you lit up the sticks, and a sweetly smoky smell emitted from them as they were lit. you followed Viserys’ lead, bowing your head three times, before closing your eyes.

You hesitated on what to say, but eventually settled on, ‘I’m getting married, Aemma. I wish you were alive to witness it…but I know you would be delighted in the afterlife. I hope you are doing well.’

‘I hope you’ve seen how much I’ve grown. I hope you’re proud of me.’

“Are you happy, Y/N?” Viserys’ voice broke you out of your thoughts. For a moment, you look lost at what to respond. Were you happy? Though you didn’t feel the typical, dizzy excitement that the poets talked about when getting married, you felt something steady, something reassuring. Contentment.

“I am.”

“Truly?” Viserys’ pressing made you hesitate a little, but you pulled a smile on your face and answered. “I am. Really. Alan is a good man, and I am ready to begin a new chapter in my life.”

Viserys finally began to relax, the tension visibly seeping out of his muscles. “Then I am most pleased for you. Though I never envisioned you to marry, and a selfish part of me wishes you would not have to leave this court, I am happy for you.”

You bowed, a gesture of gratitude. “Thank you, Viserys. It means a lot to me.”

His next words made you temporarily stunned into silence however. “Of course, I have also prepared your dowry. I have made sure that while it is lacking compared to Rhaenyra’s, that it is not to be underestimated. A ransom of jewels and gold as well as some antiques - Lord Beesbury does love his antiques. Some of those diamonds and sapphires are the finest I have ever seen.”

Your mouth was agape. “Viserys, there is no need for you to-” Viserys talked over you, taking your hand. “But there is.” He looked at you with heartfelt gratitude and affection. “You are family to me, Y/N. It is the least I can do for you, for such a momentous occasion.”

Your gaze softened as you began tearing up. “I cannot accept this. My father is already-” “I know, Y/N,” Viserys silenced you again. “But it’s not just for your dowry. Majority of the jewels and gold are for you.”

You were now even more horrified and confused than before. “For me?” Viserys regarded you with a fond exasperation that almost made you weep at his similarity to Aemma’s. “For you, you silly goose. In the event…you are unhappy with your match, those jewels and gold should be sufficient for you to start a sizeable fund of your own. And of course, I will welcome you back to court with open arms at any time.”

You couldn’t see past the blurry haze of tears and the painful throbbing of your heart, but the next thing you knew, Viserys was hugging you tightly back as you embraced him, choking with quiet sobs. He was crying himself a little too. “I only hope that you will be happy for the rest of your days, Y/N,” Viserys murmured, gently patting your back. Your body shook with violent sobs. “I…will. I promise. I thank you most gratefully for your generosity.”

The two of you stayed like this for a while, before you awkwardly broke apart when the tears had stopped flowing. “The hour is quite late,” Viserys noted, feeling a little fatigued. You smiled weakly, still reeling from the shock. “That it is. I should be returning to my chambers then.”

Viserys nodded, looking at you with fondness in his gaze. “Of course. You must still help me plan for Rhaenyra’s upcoming nuptials. And for your own. I would not want to impose on you any further.”

You curtsied slightly, “Then I shall retire for the night then.” You hesitated, looking at Aemma’s portrait one last time, many thoughts running through your head. A final goodbye. “Good night, Viserys.”

Viserys watched her leave, and the world suddenly seemed darker, much heavier. Like it had been since Aemma died. Coughs shook Viserys’ body, and he wearily took out a handkerchief to cover his mouth, careful not to let his spittle fly. A crimson stain slowly pooling at the white cloth was all he saw when he removed the handkerchief from his mouth.

‘And now, I am alone once more.’ Viserys thought grimly, looking back at Aemma. ‘My last reminder of you is gone, and only Rhaenyra remains now. My strength, and my consolation. And my regret.’

Somewhere far away in Pentos, the squawks of a raven could be heard as first light broke across the city. Daemon Targaryen awoke, hair tousled and a disgruntled expression on his face, despite last night’s pleasures. He had dreamed of her. Again. It seemed she was a wraith plaguing his mind ever since that fateful day in Flea Bottom.

His annoyance rose tenfold when he stalked up from his bed to receive the messenger raven. Unfolding the parchment, he took note of the familiar, rather wonky scrawl of someone who had only learnt to write recently. His eyes trailed over the words ‘the Hand has fallen from his high horse’, and he scoffed, smugness lining his features. The next two lines gave him pause, however.

‘The Princess has been betrothed to Ser Laenor.’

‘Lady Y/N Tyrell has been betrothed to Ser Alan Beesbury.’

‘From your loyal companion, Mysaria.’

Se Zaldrizoti' Prumia Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98 @travelingmypassion @zae5 @norestfortheshelbywicked @soleilgrec @anehkael @midnightprincess18 @lilith--666 @saay-karani @dumbhxeredrose @syviiss @nyenye @ahristata @hiraethrhapsody @babypink224221 @mckenziewhite2005 @justrybca @omgsuperstarg

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301 @hc-geralt-23 @babypink224221 @mckenziewhite2005

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form!

A/N: One more chapter until the end of Act I!!! AAAHHHHHH. I deeply apologise for my repeated promises to publish only to chicken out at the end, so I shall now refrain from making promises that I cannot make 😭 I hope to get Chapter 10 out before 2024 officially hits (new year new me lol), but no promises there. I'll do my best, however!

As always, thank you for reading this far! Let me know what you thought about this chapter in the comments 💕

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 7 months

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beer pong deals

pairing: chad meeks-martin x gn!reader

wc: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, swearing. thats it.

summary: a lucky charm in a game of chance

A/N: used the prompts "if i win I get to kiss you" from @ihateprompts

masterlist / chad meeks-martin

anika dragged you from your dorm to this party. you constantly tried to protest any involvement with the frat party happening on a thursday night when you had a class friday morning, a class with a test. she wouldn’t hear any of it, saying you already know the material and that you needed to take a break. shut your mind down and just have fun, drink just a little so your limbs aren’t so tense.

also she might have mentioned that chad would be there and that he’s been asking about you all day. wouldn’t leave anika alone until she promised to bring you around. and well, you might have agreed that a little study break would be nice. and anika being the fashion major she is, loves when you agree to go out so she can raid your clothes and work her magic.

you, anika, and mindy walked to the designated party house not far from campus. the three of you would switch from having discussions about the pain your professors were ringing the class through to having mindy talk about the latest horror movie she watched as she gave a quick rundown and then rated it. and just as you were three houses away…

“so my brother has the hots for you.” mindy, always with her bluntness.

a sigh knowing where this conversation is heading, “and i’ll outright say it, i like your brother.” the girls gasped. a flicker of confusion over your features, “i thought that’s what you wanted to hear.”

“well, yeah. but you said it without hesitation. so we see that this is more than simply liking, you’re infatuated.” anika’s cheeks were pushed high with her beaming smile. mindy just held a quirk to the corner of her lip, “gross as it might sound, i hope the two of you kiss. don’t get laid tonight. it’ll just ruin the romantics.”

“oh, so now i know the romantic genre is second to horror. more mindy meeks-martin lore unlocked.” joking with her as you ascended the steps and opened the front door.

the smell of weed, cigarettes, and alcohol filled your nostrils within the ten seconds you stood in the doorway. you fully regret saying yes to a party knowing these things usually just cause anxiety rather than mindless fun. but this was college, you told yourself you would try to step out of your comfort zone when presented with opportunities. anika presented the party, you stepped out of the comfort of your dorm, and now you wished to high tail it back to the small space.

“ah, ah, ah.” anika made sure to grab your forearm, already seeing the gears turning in your head. “no, you are gonna take a shot with us and then go find your boy.” tugging you along to the kitchen.

after downing a shot, well three shots, you filled a solo cup and made your rounds of the packed house trying to find the boy that calls your attention. you gave mumbled “excuse me’s” and “sorry” though no one cared as you shoved your wave into different areas. your shoulders would slump every time you didn’t find him. you told yourself if he wasn’t in the next room, you’ll look for mindy and anika then tell them you're heading home.

after more shoving, you found yourself in what appeared to be a game room or something, there was only beer pong set up with a crowd surrounding it. you journeyed closer and were able to hear the conversation over the loud music and a name catches your attention.

“chad, come on man. thought you were better than this.”

“shut up, derek. you're not doing any better.”

there were ooos that followed then they resumed their game. you leaned against a wall with your feet crossed at the ankles, not wanting to disrupt the game while it was in play. with the light dimmed you allowed yourself the pleasure of just taking in chad. the way his biceps would flex as he prepared a throw, how he did little hops on the balls of his feet from excitement or nerves. His gleaming smile showed his white teeth, or how his eyes widened and his brows rose slightly when he found you huddled away.

he clapped his partner on the back as he made his way through the crowd and came to a stop just in front of you. pushing your feet flat to the floor and standing at full height, you loosened your arms out just a bit as you shared smiles.

“i didn’t know you were coming.” he bit his lips as he tilted his head. “well, a little birdly told me you were asking for me.” trying to play coy as you took a sip of your drink. the spiked punch made you feel warm.

chad gave a deep chuckle, “anika and mindy?” a simple nod to his question. “well, i’m glad they brought you here. i actually have a favor to ask of you.”

he leaned his forearm beside your head, body moving slightly closer to yours. your eyes did a quick sweep of his body and when they landed on his face his smile grew slightly wide, probably cause he caught your wondering gaze.

“what might i get out of this favor?” voice dipping into a playful tone. watching how chad’s eyes dance across your face and made oh-so-obvious glances at your lips.

“well, first the favor is you standing by the beer pong table and being my lucky charm.” you couldn’t help the raise your brows, “lucky charm, eh? didn’t realize i was so special.”

again that charming smile caused your heart to beat a little faster. chad did a pass of the table seeing they were resetting for a new game, his eyes back to you, specifically your lips.

“and if i win… i get a kiss from my lucky charm.” his voice dropped, but he was close to your ear and you were able to hear the price he was giving.

you pretend to mull the thought over, liking the tiny hint of pleading in his eyes. “what if you lose? what do i get then?” personal space long forgotten.

“if i lose, i’ll take you on a date.” “kinda backward, isn’t it? shouldn’t you be proposing a date for winning and a kiss for losing?”

he shrugged, always suave. “either way, it’s a win-win in my books. so, my lucky charm… what do you say?”

his friends were starting to get impatient and were calling for him, or making kissing noises your way then laughing. you ignored them as the two of you got lost in each other’s eyes, fully understanding that no matter the outcome, both of you would be happy with the reward.

“okay.” you held a hand out and chad shook on it, “deals on.” with your hands still held, chad pulled the two of you to the group of rowdy boys.

“alright! me and james versus derek and paul. let’s do this!”

honestly, you got very bored of the game quickly, and who wouldn’t? boys taking turns throwing a dirty pong ball into cups of beer before chugging them clean, it’s nothing entertaining. but you wanted either of your prizes so you stayed close to chad’s side, eyes once again hungry and watchful of the way he moved. loving that he would turn to you before taking a shot and sinking it, starting to believe you actually might be his lucky charm.

last solo cup and it was chad’s turn. his friends chanted his name over and over, james gave some friendly shakes to his shoulders before stepping back. you kept a watchful eye on chad, not caring about the outcome of the game. chad’s head turned and he flashed a cocky smile, your skin felt on fire.

“ready for your prize, y/n?”

and without another word flung the ball and in a sweeping arch splashed it into the warm beer cup. chad’s side yelled in victory while the others sulked before getting more drinks.

chad held out a hand and without hesitation, you dropped yours into his and he pulled you away. he dragged you through the kitchen and out the back where not many people lounged, but didn’t stop until you were leaning against the side of the house.

“i see you have dirty intentions, mr. meek-martin.” voice a low purr as you curled a fist into the front of his tee.

another of chad’s deep chuckles, “only with you, my lucky charm.”

his large hands held your face as he pulled you closer until your lips met. just a minute of feeling the touch of each other and mentally pumping your fist before chad started to take the lead and move his lips. it was teasingly slow and you quietly whined at the rhythm while chad just smiled into the kiss.

“needy?”

“very.”

#chad meeks imagine #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks-martin #chad meeks-martain x gn!reader #chad meeks-martin fluff #scream 6 #chad meeks-martin scream 6 #chad meeks-martin scream 5 #scream 6 x reader #scream 6 imagine #scream 5 #mason gooding fluff #mason gooding scream 6 #mason gooding imagine

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power-chords · 6 months

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Often I feel very angry. It is hard to explain this even to my progressive Jewish parents – my Ashkenazi father, and my convert mother who frankly is more observant than I am – sometimes easier with fellow third generation millennials, depending on their milieu. My goyische husband, believe it or not, grasps it quite well because he grew up in Scarsdale. For the 18 years that we lived on East 70th our mezuzah was on the wrong side of the door. We never kept kosher. And yet I went to Hebrew school at Park Avenue Synagogue followed by Or Zarua which are both conservative congregations, a step up from reform and a step down from orthodox. We observed Shabbos, the high holidays; for a while I had a basic comprehension of the loshn-koydesh.

After I was bat mitzvahed I had no desire to see the inside of a temple again. This remained the case for many many years. You know what I learned about besides Torah? (Torah study, the ritual of Saturday morning services, was actually the good part.) Israel. At length. A country I felt no connection to whatsoever, that I had no desire to ever visit, that alienated me from my own Jewish identity as a diaspora New Yorker growing up in (what was, then, much more so!) a diverse neighborhood with kids from every ethnic and religious background imaginable.

You know what I learned NOTHING about? Yiddishkeyt. German expressionist cinema. Postwar American Jewish literature. Philosophy and psychoanalysis and dialectics and dialogics. Art, literature, theater, folklore. You would think that institutions theoretically devoted to the preservation of Jewish life in America would take a greater restorative interest in what the Nazis attempted to wipe from the historical record. You would be wrong.

The irony doesn’t end there. According to Dad my grandfather would not speak a word of German in the house – understandable after they've gassed your entire family to death – and he was resentful, for a little while, that on account of this he did not grow up bilingual. Why Martin refrained from speaking Yiddish around his American children had nothing to do with a rejection of Jewishness per se and everything to do with the guarantying of a more prosperous future. Metallurgy and manual labor sentenced him to a hard life and an early death. Despite chronic exhaustion and physical pain, he would bring my young father to public lectures at Yale on anything and everything related to the space program. He supported and cultivated his two sons’ every personal and intellectual interest. He ferried my grandmother to and from her performances along the Borscht Belt circuit, which back then was still a thriving scene. He was a state-raised orphan who lost everything and nevertheless managed to give everything. When she grew too old and infirm to do so herself any longer, he even cared for the cranky old bitch of an aunt who turned him away when he first washed up alone as a teenager on a totally foreign shore. I have tears in my eyes just typing this.

It is my parents and grandparents whose memory I hold sacred, the culture they swallowed or sacrificed in the hope of a new beginning – not for themselves, but for their loved ones. That a certain continuity could be transmitted and traced despite all efforts to either disguise or remake it, that there is an inextinguishable spark of recognition in language and expression and sensibility, is miraculous. It defies the nation state. And it will outlive the nation state.

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dragonsfromthemoon · 2 years

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Once again thinking about how Jon and Daenerys are meant to be, in every sense of the word.

At their core, they are both characters who desire home — a place where they belong, where they are loved and love back. A place where they can have a family and do not feel lonely anymore.

Their journeys, extensively paralleled on the books, speak of heroism. They try to make their world better. It is interesting, because making the world better requires facing directly the legacy of their forebears. Daenerys starts an anti-slavery campaign with ripples throughout the whole continent of Essos; her dragons mean hope and freedom, while the Valyrians of old used their power to build an empire based on slavery. Jon spends time among the Free Folk and learns a lot with them; he sees them as people that also deserved to be protected against the threat of the Others, while his Stark ancestors have fought the Free Folk for thousands of years and were only to happy to have they beyond the Wall.

A queen belongs to her people; you will take no pleasure in your command. They face the hardships of ruling, and in their storylines, George R. R. Martin is exploring what takes to be a good leader. He is exploring his famous question about Aragorn's tax policy: you are a ruler? Good. What do you do for your people, especially in times of need? When they meet, they will realize they are not alone; that someone finally understands the burden and how lonely and hard it is to rule. They will bond over sharing their experiences and over making plans for the future.

No one in-universe ever expected a girl and a bastard boy to have the destiny of their world upon their shoulders. Yet, here they are. Both of they are linked to propechies and visions about fighting the Others. Jon has since the first book, AGoT, known about the threat and faced it directly: his power as a talented warg, inputs, know-how and command will be essential to defeat the Others. Daenerys has three dragons with her, perhaps the biggest asset the living will have in the War for the Dawn.

In this sense, we can not only their political union makes sense, but their magical one too. They will both be heads of the dragon, the fire against the ice of the Others. They will need each other to win this fight.

For that, their meeting will be one of equals. A queen and a king. Two young, but very mature and experienced people. They have loved, fought, risen to power, been betrayed before... all kinds of things, a whole lifetime on the table, despite of their young ages. As Melisandre [Jon VI, ADwD] says: "The Lord of Light in his wisdom made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life. Power to make light. Power to cast shadows."

The last scions of House Targaryen meeting to work together. A kind of irony of the destiny, for in the Dance, it was argued a woman (Rhaenyra) could not rule,“bastards” “soiled” the royal lineage and should not be included in the line to inherit (Rhaenyra's sons). Yet that's all that remains of the Targaryens now: a girl and a boy with a bastard's name. And they will unite to face the threat said to have been foreseen by Aegon in a prophecy.

I dare say their bond and love already exist, even if they are yet to meet. That's why Dany dreams about a shadow lover, sees a blue flower in a wall in her bride of fire prophecy. That's why Dany hears a wolf howl after Jon dies, and feels sad and lonely. For Jon, a dragon or three might warm things up. In his first ADwD chapter, the moon is running with him, whispering to him, accompanying him. The moon kisses him.

Last but not least, Alan Taylor's words:

[Martin] just sort of mentioned in passing, 'Oh well it's all about Dany and Jon Snow,'" Taylor said. "And at the time I thought, 'Really? I thought it was about Sean Bean and Robb Stark?'"

"But [Martin] knew from the very beginning where he was driving and now we're starting to see that come to fruition," Taylor said. "We know that it's circling tighter and tighter on Dany and Jon and their partnership is starting to form, you know, 'fire and ice.'"

What GRRM mentioned to Alan Taylor still rings true for the books, for in ADWD, we can see many characters moving either Dany's or Jon's way. Their meeting will wrap up that and symbolise the beginning of their story together.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #book jon snow #book daenerys targaryen #jon x daenerys #jon x dany #snowstorm #jonerys #i love them so much your honor #my OTP #canonjonsnow #canondany

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wwenhlimagines · 7 months

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Corn Maze/Haunted House with hook ?

Fall Fluff Prompts

Growing up in the midwest, you always found October to be one of the best months to hang out with your friends. There was so much more to do than any other time of year, and you enjoyed every bit of it. One part that your boyfriend Hook didn't quite understand your fascination with was the corn mazes. Being from New York, he wasn't used to going to some random corn field at night and trying to find the way out for fun. However, you were so excited to go to one, so he happily took you to one.

He drove the rental car to a corn maze near the next Dynamite location, and you both got out with your hoodies, jeans, and comfy shoes on. He apparently didn't do his research well enough to know this one was a haunted corn maze. You saw the sign, and you smiled to yourself, hoping he didn't catch on until you were already into the maze far enough.

The wind was starting to make it a bit chilly, so you cuddled into Hook's side as you started walking into the maze. "Don't worry, baby, it's just corn, right?"

You try to stifle your giggle by making it sound like a shiver. "Yes, but it's chilly out here. I need you to keep me warm."

He smiles and wraps his arm around you, and bear hugs you from behind. "I can definitely help with that. Maybe we get lost in here on purpose for a bit, and I can really warm you up."

You see some slight movement ahead of you and prepare yourself for Hook's reaction. Suddenly, you hear the chainsaw, and the person dressed up as a zombie jumps out in front of you. Hook's grip on you tightens as he jumps back slightly, and a high-pitched squeak blares in your ear.

You start laughing so hard you double over as Hook holds your waist, still trying to catch his breath from the jump scare. "What the fuck? I thought this shit was just a maze of fucking corn."

You turn around and hold his face in your hands. "You didn't see the sign that said Haunted Corn Maze, did you?"

He groans and throws his head back in frustration. "Fuck, I wouldn't have brought you here if I saw that."

You kissed his neck as you hugged him and tried not to laugh. "As long as you keep me warm, I will protect you from the scary bad guys."

He groans but kisses your forehead, "Fine, but this never gets out to the lads. They will torture me if they find out."

You kiss his lips and nod before turning back around, leading him through the rest of the maze. You both jumped at a few places, but overall, you had fun, and Hook survived his first corn maze adventure. "So, are we making this an annual tradition now?"

Hook glared at you as you settled back into the car. "Why the hell do you find this shit fun? Is getting lost and scared in the middle of a corn field the only fun thing to do in the midwest?"

"No, but it is definitely the most exciting part of the year. Next year, we can stick with pumpkin patches and hay rides if you want to enjoy the non spooky stuff."

"You are lucky I love you so damn much. Otherwise, I would have left your ass out there."

"You wouldn't dare to leave a damsel in distress."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... can we just go back to the hotel and warm each other up like I suggested?"

Your hand squeezed his thigh as you kissed him. "What are you waiting for?"

His head snapped to the road as you drove away from the corn maze and towards the warm bed waiting for you both to return.

Tags: @730hook @99hook @hookswifeeyy @hooksredrum @hooks-martin @legit9thlunaticwarrior @plentyoffandoms @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

#aew imagine #aew hook imagine #fall fluff requests

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marypickfords · 2 years

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5 brazilian horror movies

since it’s october i wanted to make a post to recommend some of my favorite old brazillian horror movies. i tried to add links to watch them but not all have subtitles unfortunately! this is mostly in the order i thought of them, not exactly of content/quality/whatever. i haven’t watched many myself yet but i figured this would be a nice introduction to anyone who is interested!

1. as filhas do fogo (1978) dir. walter hugo khouri

ana & diana are a couple who go on a trip to diana’s family estate - an old house owned by old money, german colonizers. there we learn about diana’s family, her controlling & wwii-obsessed grandfather who wanted to get away from everything and bought this land & her mother who commited suicide years ago. we also meet the groundskeepers who live there, including the mysterious mariana. a heavily atmospheric, dark (both in content & the poor quality of the available print..), quiet, haunting & wonderful movie. khouri was mostly disregarded by critics because he seemingly went against the grain: while directors at the time were documenting concerns re the brazilian working class, khouri was mostly in old big homes, filming the ennui of a middle to upper class. that’s not to say that his movies are without a critique, however, and as filhas do fogo is a good example of his cinema that was well aware of, not only the history of the country, but the current political climate of a dictatorship. besides all that, most importantly.. it is so creepy! this is my favorite from khouri (and not just because it stars a lesbian couple) and possibly my favorite movie on this list.

watch on archive.org (w/ eng subtitles)

2. barão olavo, o terrível (1970) dir. júlio bressane

in this lovely experimental film, bressane pays an homage to horror & insanity in a very brazilian manner. the titular baron olavo owns the home which is the central point of the film and the inspiration for bressane, who saw this 19th century house as a laboratory of light. there’s no central plot exactly, but a spectacle of colors, horror, tenderness, absurdity and indulgence.. i love it. and yes, maybe lesbians are involved too.

watch on archive.org (no subtitles)

3. estrela nua (1984) dir. josé antonio garcia & ícaro martins

a very recent watch, estrela nua is a movie that could be easily paired with perfect blue or any of those 2girls1persona films. carla camurati plays glória, an aspiring actress who is suddenly cast to substitute troubled actress ângela, who has recently died in a car accident. ângela was working on an incestuous erothic thriller, and as glória starts working on the film she begins to.. maybe blend with said dead actress?? obsess over her?? dream about/with her..?? you know where this is going. there’s the clear element of a film within a film in this, but as it ends we realize we might have watched more than a couple movies - and they all work. carla camurati & cristina aché are phenomenal and the great selma egrei (from as filhas do fogo) also shows up as a lesbian actress.. it's just so strange and good.

watch here (no subtitles)

4. excitação (1977) dir. jean garrett

i opted for his garrett instead of a mulher... even though i consider both great brazilian horror films. both lean heavy on the erotic (or rather, the pornochanchada) and deal with, among other things, The Gaze. but i think excitação’s atmospheric beach scenes fit this list better. helena's husband buys a beach house hoping that she'll be able to rest & recover from whatever has been ailing her (hysteria..? paranoia..?). there, she finds out the past owner killed himself and that perhaps is what has been haunting her.. or is it maybe all the electronics in the house? excitação is, as i said, incredibly atmospheric. helena is mostly isolated, away from her husband, walking around the beach alone at night. she looks and looks: at the sea, at beautiful women, at every possible machine around her. this is one for the psychotic women enjoyers. kate hansen is so good.

watch on youtube (no subtitles)

5. as noites de iemanjá (1971) dir. maurice capovila

as noites de iemanjá is in my mind reminiscent of 40s val lewton films like i walked with a zombie.. both in the sense of women at the beach & also the vital element of african religions/deities, in the case of this movie the afro-brazilian iemanjá. and also because while that is the background (and it is very important to the story), the movie centers women that aren’t exactly a part of said religions, even if they are influenced by them. it’s a mysterious one, i can’t remember much of the dialogue, but joana fomm is hypnotic in this. she plays a nameless character who goes to the seaside with the lover because she is ignored by her husband. there, they watch together a group of people making offerings to the sea, to iemanjá. after this her lover disappears. it’s another good example of the mix of horror, folklore and the erotic, so characteristic of these brazilian movies of the time. this one (along w/ as filhas do fogo) shows up on kier-la janisse’s folk horror doc and it was a lovely surprise!

watch on youtube (no subtitles)

#recs #here's another halloween list from me #i feel much better tbh maybe the meds worked for once

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plentyoffandoms · 4 months

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Main Masterlist ♡ Christian Cage Masterlist ♡ Adam Copeland Masterlist

Warnings: Some swearing. Descriptive sexual acts. Smut under the cut. Breeding kink. Polyamorous relationship. Creampies. Unprotected sex, p in v.

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @orange-catsidy

I hope you like it.

WC: 568

William Jason "Jay" - Christian Cage

"Shit, shit, shit." Jay groaned as his hips stilled, the first ropes of cum filling her pussy, making her moan quietly. Her voice hoarse from the hours of moaning, gasping, and screaming.

Adam was sitting behind her, holding her against his chest. His hands are holding her legs wide apart for Jay to fuck her as deep as he could.

Adam is kissing her head, her neck, her shoulders, muttering how good she is. How well she is taking them, as they each take turns.

Jay pulled out of her abused pussy, his eyes watching as his and Adam's cum started to leak out her.

Jay quickly scooped up the cum and shoved it back in pussy, making her cry out, and try to close her legs.

"No love. We have to keep you full for it to take." Adam gently told her, as he pried her legs open once more.

"Adam is right, baby. We talked about us starting a family."

"Too much." Was all she said, making the two men look at one another. The two of them silently agreed to stop for the night.

"Okay baby, we will stop for today. We will start this tomorrow." Jay said as he backed up off the bed, to stand at the end of it.

◆

Jay could hear the headboard, and then the screaming coning from her room. He couldn't help but smirk as he started to take off his clothes, leaving a trail from the front door to her bedroom, standing at the door, his own hand wrapped around his hardening cock.

Adam was gently thrusting his cock in and out of her pussy. She was so fucking wet, Jay can hear it.

All Jay could see from his position was Adam's ass moving back and forth, YN wrapping her legs around his waist, her nails scratching his back.

"That's it, baby."

"Taking me so well."

"Gonna fill this pussy. Watch you swell with our child."

"Adam, shit, so close." She whined.

"I know, baby, just let go. We got you." Adam always seemed to know when Jay was near.

Jay walked to the side of the bed, YN reached for his hand, which he gripped in his hand.

Her hand squeezed Jay's hand, her pussy tightened around Adam's cock, the three of them moaning as the two that were fucking, finished together.

◆

Adam could hear the loud grunts from Jay, the moment he got out of his shower. Adam walked past Jay's room, looking in and stopping mid step as he saw their girl riding Jay for all she's worth.

In between Jay's grunts, Adam could make out.

"Gonna look so pretty."

"Round with our child."

"We are going to fill you over and over again."

Her moans got louder and louder until she finally cried out his name, signalling that she was coming.

"Fuck!" and the loud drawn out groan leaving Jay's lips, let me know that he was coming.

◆

Jay and Adam fucked her each and every day, until one after, she ran from the livingroom, running to the nearest bathroom to throw up.

Adam ran from the house to grab as many pregnancy tests as he could.

The three of them watched as each test came back positive.

They spent the night celebrating, each man between her legs, making her come over and over again all over their faces, fingers and their cocks.

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @faerieofthenightcourt @tahiri-veyla

#aew #all elite wrestling #reader imagine #female reader #reader insert #adam copeland smut #christian cage smut #adam copeland x f/Reader #christian cage x f/Reader #christian cage x f/Reader x adam copeland #christian cage imagine #adam copeland imagine #wrestler x f/Reader #wrestlers x f/Reader #wrestler smut

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heresthestorymorningglory · 3 months

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Can You Keep A Secret?

Summary: The hot guy at the bar can do more than flirt

A/N: You guys know the drill; NSFW 18+ because here, we like it spicy ;)

It's a part of a collab with the gorgeous Goosecord and another first for me.

As always, my darling soul sister, @ken-dom, thank you for the beta read and endless support and reassurance! Although...I still think you're biased. 🩷

The song they dance to, because I'm an old soul and will forever project on my writing is Ain't That A Kick In The Head by Dean Martin. You've heard it, and if you haven't....go listen now and come back.

Enjoy my loves!

You sighed heavily, squeezing your eyes shut tighter against the impending sunlight. You stretched, your head pounding with the reminder of the night before.

You took in a deep breath, an unfamiliar smell invading your senses; you frowned, turning your head on the pillow before blinking your eyes open.

You weren't in your own bed, and you were alone.

You rubbed your hand over your eyes, getting your bearings as you sat up, the soft cotton sheet pooling in your lap.

You weren't naked, thank God. But you weren't wearing your own clothes either.

You were clad in a soft black t-shirt and your panties from the night before.

You pulled yourself out of the soft bedding, making your way out to where you could hear noises coming from the kitchen.

Leaning on the doorframe you bit gently on your lip watching the man you'd met the night before standing at the stove. Jacob he has said his name was, Jacob Palmer. He was cooking breakfast, a pair of blue plaid pajama pants hanging loosely on his hips.

He glanced at the door sensing your presence and offered you a half hearted smile. “Morning”

You walk deeper into the kitchen, resting against the sleek countertop. “Morning” you offer the same lazy smile.

The kitchen smells heavenly. French toast, bacon, coffee. No eggs you noticed,

“Cooking bacon without a shirt on,” you observed “Seems dangerous”

“Well, my shirt is currently in use elsewhere” he smirked

You dropped your gaze to the floor feeling your cheeks flush pink, but you couldn't help smiling back.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, offering you a mug of coffee.

You accepted with a nod, the hot coffee warming your hands “Ravenous”

“How did you sleep?” He asked, turning the bacon over in the pan

“Good,” you smiled bringing the coffee cup to your lips “Really good”

You leaned against the counter, watching him cook, the guy you had met in the bar the night before had disappeared. The well dressed put together Calvin Klein model with the suave attitude had vanished after about the third glass of whiskey.

He had “moves” he had said; moves to impress the revolving door of women you had now joined. You knew by morning he wouldn’t remember what your name was, wouldn’t care so you chose to take the same approach.

You knew what this was, he knew what this was, why pretend it was anything different?

You had thought for sure he would interpret this as an insult, the tipsy girl from the bar didn’t want to sleep with the ridiculously hot guy. Why the hell not?

Instead, you found yourself on his couch with his head in your lap as you absently twisted his dirty blond hair around your fingers.

The mask had fallen away, you sat and listened as he told you about things he had wanted in life, things he had hoped to accomplish.

On the surface he was wildly successful in every way someone would think to want to be in your mid-thirties; and while you had found yourself sobering up, he was slightly more drunk than when you had arrived. The hand not busy in his hair, rested on his chest, his fingers dragging lazily over the back of your hand as he stared out the massive windows at the front of his house.

It was quiet for a long time before he spoke again. You had wondered if he had fallen asleep and were surprised it hadn’t made you jump when he did speak.

“I wanna tell someone about my day, y’know?” he spoke softly, not moving, legs stretched out across the couch, feet bare, shoes abandoned somewhere on the floor. He might as well not be wearing a shirt at all, the one he did have on was untucked and almost completely unbuttoned. “I want them to be here when I wake up, I wanna make them breakfast”

This made you smile and you considered not saying anything at all, but decided against it. “I like breakfast…”

He glanced up at you with a raised eyebrow “Eggs and bacon?”

“I’m allergic to eggs, but I love everything else”

He hadn’t said anything after that, so you weren’t too sure how serious he had been, but now, the next morning, you were standing in his kitchen and he had opted for french toast and bacon instead of eggs.

“Need any help?” you asked circling around behind him to the other side of the counter where the plate of finished bacon sat.

You picked up a piece with your fingers immediately taking a bite followed immediately by regret.

“It’s hot” he winced, offering you a paper towel into which you promptly spat the scalding hot piece of meat.

“You okay?” he asked with a small laugh

You nodded “So…” you started, changing the subject, if only to make yourself feel less dumb as you threw out the paper towel. “I have yet to see these moves you promised”

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked, turning off the stove, setting the finished french toast next to the bacon.

“Depends,” you smirked, setting your coffee down “Does it end with me in your basement freezer?”

He laughed out loud before shaking his head “No”

“Then probably”

He picked up the small remote that had been sitting on the counter and pressed a button before putting it back.

Dean Martin started playing throughout the entire house. You pressed your lips together suppressing a smile with a raised eyebrow as Jacob offered you a hand. You looked from his hand to his face and back again before you took it.

He pulled you against him, his free hand finding your waist; your hand finding his shoulder as he moved swiftly around the tile floor, he kept a tight grip on your hand as you spun away before he spun you back, your back hitting his bare chest with a thump.

You couldn’t help the small chuckle that came out as his hand found your hip as you leaned against his shoulder as he kept a hold of your other hand.

He was singing along in between trumpets.

You gasped as his foot hooked around your ankle, knocking you off your feet; he caught you before you crashed to the floor in the most ungraceful way, practically dipping you to the tiles as his hand slid up your bare thigh under his t-shirt, keeping your leg pressed to his thigh. Your arms instinctively find their way around his neck.

His breathing was even and steady as his blue eyes fixed on yours; your breathing was not.

He set you upright, his chest still practically pressed against yours; your breath shaky and uneven as the song came to an end. Neither of you moved, his hands still on your waist, yours still around his neck.

His eyes were focused on your lips before he glanced at you briefly and you gave the slightest nod.

His lips crushed against yours as he pushed you back against the counter before lifting you on its top in one swift motion. His tongue tangling with yours as your legs locked around his middle, pushing the already dangerously loose pajama pants off his hips to pool at his ankles. He kicked them out of the way, reaching up under the t-shirt you still had on, tugging your panites off and dropping them at his feet.

He braced himself against the cabinets behind your head with both hands as your mouth moved to devour his neck.

“This isn’t-” His breath was heavy against your neck as his head dropped to your shoulder “I didn’t-”

You pushed him back gently by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you. “You want it as bad as I do,” you breathed hard “So just shut up and fu-”

He cut you off, kissing you hard; he reached between you, the head of his cock lining up with your entrance before he thrust forward, filling you to the hilt, making you cry out into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to the very edge of the counter.

The counter stood sturdy underneath you as his fingers threaded with yours, pinning your arms to the cabinets over your head.

His mouth never stopped moving as you moaned against his lips as he thrust harder, your ankles still locked firmly around the small of his back. You thrust your hips as much as your position would allow as you broke your kiss with a deep gasp. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, your fingers squeezing between his painfully as you rocked on the kitchen counter leaning your head back against the cabinets, moaning towards the ceiling.

Jacob let your hands drop as he braced himself against the counter’s edge, thrusting harder, groaning against your neck as your arms dropped around his neck letting out a sharp gasp as your orgasm shot through your core, your nails leaving half moon welts the flesh of his shoulder blades, your body quakeing with pleasure as your walls clenched around his shaft eliciting a loud moan from him, before you felt him spill inside you, leaking out on the counter underneath as he breathed a soft “Fuck” against your ear.

You gasped softly as he slid from inside you, your hand reaching to push the hair that had fallen in his face back; both of you breathing hard.

“I have moves too” you smirked, making him laugh softly as he rested his forehead against yours, claiming your swollen lips in a gentle kiss.

#fic #n sfw #jacob palmer #crazy stupid love #jacob x reader #ryan gosling

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