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papiliotao · 11 months

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꒰ 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✩࿐

pairings: alhaitham, diluc, kaeya, and zhongli x gn!reader (separate)

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, arguments (unspecified reason), reader and character live together

summary: after a heated conflict with your boyfriend, you decide to sleep on the couch instead of together on your shared bed. how does he react?

a/n: shockingly, i'm not writing for any anemo boys this time. that's mainly because this is a gift for @spiritingawaytoanime for @favonius-library's gift exchange event! i hope you enjoy!

The sound of the front door closing is the only sound that can be heard as ALHAITHAM steps into your living room. An ocean of pitch-blackness threatens to drown him. The space lacks illumination. Darkness floods into every crack and crevice of your home, invading an otherwise peaceful space.

He breathes out a sigh as he walks down the hallway of your shared apartment. Alhaitham doesn’t bother flicking on the lights. He knows you’re probably asleep already, and he’d rather not disturb you, especially since you were in a foul mood earlier. So unpleasant, in fact, that you got into a petty argument with him. However, Alhaitham isn’t really that worried. He knows that in the end, you’ll be able to sort out your differences.

But when he enters the bedroom, he immediately feels that something is off. The air feels colder than usual, biting his skin with the ferocity of a thousand cuts. It’s unsettling and especially disturbing to Alhaitham because such feelings don’t often overtake his frozen heart. It almost feels as though the atmosphere has the ability to thaw his emotions, awakening a sentimental side of himself that doesn’t often show beyond his rational demeanour.

When he approaches the side of your bed, he instantaneously realizes what’s wrong. You’re not here. You’re not here. An unfamiliar feeling drives pinpricks into his heart. The sensation is strange, irritating, and it won’t go away. He hasn’t ever felt this way before. Perhaps this is another emotion to add to the list of new feelings being with you has caused him to experience.

Alhaitham sighs. It’s not like he wasn’t expecting this outcome. He had been far too cold earlier while you had been far too emotional. Ice and fire would never coalesce into a single being.

The feelings that accompany the situation are all a complete mystery to him. Nonetheless, he buries his emotions so that he can focus on finding you, maintaining his logical front in the face of such a precarious situation.

As your lover, he knows you well, so he’s almost entirely sure he knows where you’ve gone. Alhaitham shakes his head. He should have checked right when he entered the house. After all, the couches were right by the door.

Once again, Alhaitham walks blindly through the darkness, taking it step-by-step without so much as a stumble in his gait as he makes his way down a hallway that has long engraved itself in his memories. It’s odd. Alhaitham doesn’t usually go out of his way to become involved in the affairs of others, much less memorize details about their lives. But with you, everything is different. He remembers every single intricate thread of information in the web that forms your identity.

And perhaps that’s why he feels a sense of calm wash over him like cerulean waves on a pristine summer day as he approaches your sleeping form. As he takes in the sight of your silhouette against the backdrop of night, he notices that you appear to be shivering slightly. You don’t have a blanket on.

“Typical [name],” he whispers under his breath.

Although his words sound rather harsh and slanderous, he utters them with hints of a small smile gracing his face.

Quietly, Alhaitham walks over to a closet in which you keep a multitude of blankets. He takes his time selecting one — after all, he’s in no rush. Eventually, he settles on a velvety blanket that feels soft to the touch. Although Alhaitham can’t exactly picture it in the dark, he knows that it will be sufficient.

So with an insurmountable level of care, he drapes it onto your body. Even though he can be insensitive at times, Alhaitham knows that you most likely want some space for now, so with a gentle ghost of a kiss to your cheek, he leaves the room.

The silence that fills the house rings in DILUC’s ears, shrieking in a manner reminiscent of thousands of crystal glasses shattering into pieces. It’s deafening. The space feels as though it is full of nothing but misery and doubt and yet it’s so, so empty at the same time.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The sound of a clock’s arms snapping into place in one second intervals is the only sign of life within the building. Every space on the canvas of night is blank as if awaiting wonderous stars to fill the nothingness with inquisitive light. However, the illumination doesn’t come. Tales of galaxies serendipitously brightening worlds are simply idealistic fantasies from the minds of children. In the real world, things seldom end so well without any intervention.

So he decides to slowly get out of bed, leaving the warmth under the covers — a heat that feels far too stifling without you — in order to search for you. But as the abyssal air of night brushes against Diluc’s skin, he feels a shiver run down his spine. Nothing feels right without you by his side. He needs you. Now.

Diluc knows you’re sleeping on the couch. He saw you there when he was going to bed, but at the time, pride and petty emotions whispered words of spite in the depths of his soul, phrases that prompted him to ignore you.

As he navigates the dimly-lit hallways of your shared home, a wave of regret washes over him. If only things hadn’t gotten so heated when you were still immersed in the waking world together. Now you’re asleep, and he’s lost any chance he has of making things right today. If he wants to apologize, then patience will be crucial.

However, at the same time, Diluc wants to check up on you. So when he finally makes his way through the doorway of the living room, his eyes immediately land on your figure, burning with the light of a thousand fires, almost as though they are casting a glow upon your silhouette. The moonlight illuminates you, caressing every strand of your hair and highlighting every dip and curve of your features to make you look absolutely ethereal.

As Diluc approaches you, he notices that you’re barely covered by a thin blanket, and despite the feeble layer of protection, the frigid atmosphere of night seems to permeate your soul. He shakes his head slightly, sighing as he stares at you. No matter how angry he was at you during the day, Diluc can’t just leave you here to freeze.

So with bated breath, he picks you up while you’re still immersed in a universe of dreamy fantasies and carries you to your room. He thanks all his years of training with a claymore for giving him the ability to lift you. Although you’re not on the best of terms, Diluc is sure that you’ll make up once morning comes, and thus, a vibrant new dawn will overlook the horizon for both of you.

Shivers wrack KAEYA’s body as he tosses and turns restlessly in a bed that feels far too large and far too empty for his liking. It’s peculiar. The cold rarely bothers him, yet now, without you by his side, the frigidness of the night air is far too potent for his liking. Tendrils of night creep under the covers overtop him, wrapping around him with an icy fervor, and no matter how hard he tries to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he can’t.

It’s as though the brighter part of himself has faded away with the radiance of the sun, giving way to an indescribable melancholy that settles into every inch of his being, taking all that he has and becoming all that he is. The cold is so much more unbearable without your warmth, and it doesn’t take long before he realizes that he won’t be able to close his eyes peacefully and drift into a tranquil world full of glacial wonderlands. Instead, he’ll lie awake, alone in your freezing bed — a place that feels far too desolate without your presence.

Hours stretch on and on, twisting and turning in a way that morphs them into a neverending story. As time goes on, the unsettling embers that had once singed the pit of Kaeya’s stomach grow until they blaze brightly, morphing into a raging fire. It’s unbearable, and he knows that he has to do something or else his mind will continue nagging at him for the remainder of the evening.

With cautious movements, he sits up and climbs out of bed. It’s awfully quiet in the house. Usually, flirtatious remarks and passionate displays of affection fill the void within your home, transforming it into a utopia overflowing with wonders. However, at the moment, none of that exists. Perpetual darkness and transient flashes of anxiety are the only things present at the moment. However, he manages to carefully make his way down the hallway without much issue. The creaking of the floorboards is the only noise that cuts through the silence hanging in the air.

As Kaeya enters the living room, his eyes land on a figure lying on the couch. It’s you. He breathes out a sigh, approaching you. Kaeya can see the rising and falling of your chest, hear your gentle breaths, and feel you exhaling once he leans in to examine your face. You look as though you’re at peace — a stark contrast to your earlier demeanour, an act fueled by feelings of rage and spite.

A small smile tugs on the corners of his lips. You look ethereal, although slightly pitiful, your face tinted with the light of the moon. His heart breaks. You appear lonely without his arms wrapped around you. Kaeya feels the urge to pull you into his embrace, hold you tight, protect you from the unknown monsters of the night.

But instead of doing anything, he simply stands there. After your explosive argument, he’s still hesitant to touch you. However, upon closer examinations, Kaeya sees you shaking like a leaf in an intense gale. You’re freezing. And that’s the final straw.

Your boyfriend finally breaks under the weight of your needs and his desires. With steady movements and a fragile touch, he lifts your body just the slightest bit — barely enough for him to climb onto the couch under you. Gradually, he sets you down, laying your head down on his chest. His fingers graze over your features as he eyes you with a gaze full of admiration.

“Sweet dreams, babe. We’ll figure everything out once the sun rises.”

ZHONGLI sighs as he settles atop the plush covers of your shared bed alone. It feels cold — far too frigid for his liking as darkness encroaches, and although he glances out the window in hopes of seeing a single shard of fragmented starlight, he is greeted with nothing more than the sight of an endless abyss devoid of radiance.

A chill permeates every bone in his body, gnawing at him in a way that serves as a perpetual reminder that you’re not beside him right now. It’s strange. For once, Zhongli feels restless. He’s usually so calm, so composed. But at the moment, he can’t help but worry.

You’re not here with him. Instead, you’re out in the living room, curled up alone on the couch. Zhongli can picture you in flawless detail — every dip and curve of your troubled face, the shadows that shroud you in a cloak fashioned from midnight, and the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in and out. He feels a longing that he hasn’t felt in centuries. He wants to be beside you to trace your features, to prevent the glacial fingers of night from creeping down your back, and to feel your breath fanning his face.

However, he knows that no matter how hard he wishes, his hopes and dreams will have to be put on hold for now. In hindsight, it was a bad idea to let you escape into the land of slumber without trying to work things out with you first because now, Zhongli feels as though he won’t get a wink of sleep. At least, not without you by his side.

Eventually, he caves to all the thoughts running through his head; guilt threatens to swallow him whole. So instead of continuing to chase sleep, Zhongli gets out of bed, and although the night air sends a shiver down his spine, the sensation is nothing compared to his need for you. Quietly, he makes his way into your living room, trying to keep his footfalls light out of fear of waking you up. His eyes have long since adjusted to the darkness, so he navigates the house without any real trouble.

When he arrives at his destination, his gaze immediately zones in on a silhouette lying on one of the couches in the room. Although obscured by darkness, he knows that it’s you. Cautiously, he bends down to observe you. Zhongli raises his hand in order to caress your cheeks, his touch feather-light as if he’s afraid that you’ll shatter.

He wants nothing more than to wake you right now and talk things out, but he doesn’t want to disturb your slumber. You seem so peaceful despite everything that happened earlier, and besides, Zhongli is sure that with time, the two of you will make up. Your love for each other is much stronger than any form of false resentment fostered by petty arguments. After all, the illusions created by a deceptive heart are far too easy to dispel with feelings of everlasting passion and affection.

So instead of rousing you from the oneiric realm of dreams, Zhongli sits down on a couch beside the one you’re lying on. Although his mind has not completely settled yet, it feels less perturbed with you by his side. As a master of patience, he decides that he’ll wait for you to wake up. He’ll wait for the first rays of light to grace the face of the earth in order to greet you with a smile and an apology once you open your eyes.

Thank you for reading!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x you #genshin fluff

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

Text

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Nine - Cough Cough I'm Sick

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.3K

(idk who sorts out the media stuff so i just said marketing manager)

Series Masterlist

Here's the thing, it was exactly what it looked like. Max let out a laugh as he looked at the papaya drivers panicked. "Relax," he said quickly and walked out of the driver's room. "I'll meet you both outside."

Y/N and Lando looked at each other as Max shut the door. "Fuck," she whispered as she pulled her clothes back onto her body. She swapped Landos shirt for her own.

Wordlessly, Y/N left his drivers room. She pushed past Max and sped walked out of the track. She was so fucking stupid - this was why they had those rules in the first place!

And now that Max knew, what was going to happen?

She didn't sleep that night, anxiety overtaking her. For the first time of the grand prix weekend, Y/N checked her phone. She went onto her private account, went to the for you page (for the memes) and was immediately flooded with pictures of her in Landos hoodie. Fuck, that was right. She was wearing Landos hoodie.

She didn't know if Lando went to the club with Max, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around her pillow and tried to get some sleep.

***

They'd been home for two days and they hadn't slept together. It was unusual, but Lando couldn't blame her, especially after what had happened in Spain.

He missed her. Which, this time just a few months ago, would have felt impossible. But he really did miss her, everything about her.

She didn't entirely avoid him, but it felt like she didn't want him anymore. They hadn't properly spoken since the grand prix, almost like they weren't even friends anymore.

Lando kept himself busy. He gamed and streamed a lot, rarely giving himself time to think about the little hole in his heart.

It was an overreaction, Y/N knew. But she was terrified of the consequences that they'd inevitably get. So far, nothing had happened. But that didn't mean it wasn't coming.

The next week was the Canadian grand prix. For every grand prix since they began living together, Y/N and Lando had travelled together. One of them would usually drive to the grand prix, taking it in turns.

This time, though, Y/N travelled alone. She made her own way to the grand prix, over thinking and then sleeping on the flight.

Lando hadn't realised she'd left. He knocked on her bedroom and pushed it open. "Y/N?" He called, but she wasn't there, already on her way to Canada.

Obviously, Y/N arrived before him. She’d slept on the flight, sure, but she still made her way to her bedroom for a nap. Exhaustion gripped her as she got under the blankets and closed her eyes, still in her travelling clothes.

When Y/N woke up, there was insistent knocking on her hotel room door. “Fine, alright!” She shouted, her voice croaky. Her throat killed as she pulled open the door and came face to face with the McLaren marketing manager. “Hey,” Y/N said, rubbing at her eyes.

“You’re meant to be doing media things with Lando,” the marketing manager said quickly.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath and checked the time on her phone. Had she really been asleep for that long? “Okay, I’ll get dressed.”

She shut the door and got changed. What she would have loved to do was take a shower, but with the way the marketing manager was talking, she definitely didn’t have time.

As soon as she was dressed, Y/N followed the marketing manager down to the lobby of the hotel. Outside there was a car waiting for her. She climbed into the back seat and pressed her head against the cool window as they drove towards the track.

Somehow, she fell asleep in the car once again. She woke up to somebody shaking her shoulder, and was quick to follow them into the McLaren hospitality unit. Her had swam as she walked, but she ignored it; she had a job to do.

It was the first time she had seen Lando since she left their apartment. “Hey,” she said through a croaky voice as she sat in the seat beside him.

“Are you okay?” Asked Lando, his arm resting on the sofa behind her.

Y/N quickly moved it. She nodded her head and looked at the camera in front of them as a member of staff past her and Lando question cards.

***

She was sick. That was clear to anyone as she threw up into her bathroom. But to her, it was just stress. She’d had a taste of her first win and she wanted more. Th thought of trying to keep being consistent was making her so stressed that she was coming across sick.

She threw up before qualifying. How she made it all the way to Q3, she didn’t know, but she struggled to qualify in the top five. As soon as qualifying was done, Y/N rushed back to the hotel room while the team at McLaren took care of the media for her. She managed to avoid fans as she was driven back to the hotel.

As soon as she was in her room as she asleep on her bed, still wearing the McLaren shirts and shorts that she had left the circuit in. She didn’t even climb under the covers before falling asleep, her head just about on the pillow.

Again, she woke up to somebody knocking at her door. Again, she reluctantly stood up and pulled open the door.

Only this time, it was Lando on the other side of the door. “Shit,” he whispered as he looked at her. “You look…”

“Like shit,” Y/N answered for him.

“Are you okay?” Lando asked again and Y/N nodded, leaning her forehead against the wood of the door frame. But Lando clearly didn’t believe her. He stared at her, raising his eyebrows, waiting for her to take it back, to tell him that she was feeling as terrible as she looked.

Still, she couldn’t admit it. Lando tried to walk past her, to get into her room, but she stood in his way. “What do you want, Lando?”

“I want you to admit that you’re sick and let me take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me,” she said, somewhat stubbornly.

So, Lando grabbed a hold of her shoulders and forced his way into her room. He sat the door behind him and sat her on the bed. “Talk to me,” he said, kicking off his shoes and laying back against her pillows.

“About what?” She spat back, crossing her arms as she looked out of the window.

“About why you’re not talking to me.”

She visibly deflated. Fuck, she had missed him, but their last time had scared her enough to keep her away. No, he was just asking to get into her head before the race.

“Max hasn’t told anybody, you know,” he said, leaning forward and placing his large hand on her shoulder. “He’s not going to.”

Y/N twitched her head towards him, but she didn’t say anything.

“We could go back to the way we were, you know,” Lando continued. “I… I miss you and I want to go to how we were.”

She let out a sob and wiped beneath her eyes. She missed it too. Missed him. “I-“ but she couldn’t say more than that.

Wordlessly she crawled towards him. she laid down beside him, placing her head on his chest. “Lando, we can’t tonight,” she said.

“I know,” he responded with a nod. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick!” She insisted.

“You’re sick.”

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

Text

pink unicorn

inspired by this adorable video of drew

words: 600

warnings: dad!rafe, mom!reader, very soft and fluffy

“rafe.” you sigh, rubbing your forehead with your fingertips, eyes flicking between his hunched over frame and your daughter. “she doesn't even want it anymore! she's moved on.”

you watch as rosie occupies herself with your phone, giggling every time she presses the button to turn the screen on and off, looking at the picture of herself and rafe on your lock screen.

“she said she wanted it, im going to get it.” rafe grunts, putting more coins into the claw machine. he tries for a fifth time to get the pink unicorn stuffie that your three year old became obsessed with having for an entire minute before moving on to the next sparkly thing.

“baby, come on.” you groan. you knew when you married him that rafe was stubborn, thankfully it didn't rub off on your daughter, who is the happiest and most agreeable little girl you've ever seen.

“my princess deserves whatever she wants, including this stupid-” rafe jerks the claw machine “fucking- stuffie.”

he groans when the claw machine grips the unicorn, only for it to fall before he can navigate it back to the shoot.

“rafey, please. you've been at this for like five minutes. we can just buy her a unicorn stuffie.” you don't point out that she already owns probably twenty similar ones.

“one more try.” rafe glances at your daughter, frowning when she really is completely disinterested in the toy.

“okay. then can we keep going?” you question. you were supposed to be walking around the mall to look for a present for a birthday party rosie got invited to, of course also getting distracted by everything along the way, rafe bending to whatever store rosie wanted to go into, whether it was candy or video games, anything bright that looked exciting.

“mama.” rosie whines, your phone now sitting on the floor.

“come here, baby.” you pick rosie up, grabbing your phone at the same time and slotting it into your pocket. some people try to tell you not to baby your toddler so much, but you love being able to carry her around and keep her close, dreading the day that she's too big for you to lift easily.

“daddy, wheres my unicorn?” she pouts as the claw drops the stuffed animal again. rafe just gives you a look as he loads more coins in.

“for real, babe, last try or we are going to the toy store and leaving you here.” you know rosie is just going to find a million things she wants inside of the toy store anyways, probably another five pink unicorns.

rafe nods, concentration overtaking his features. rosie cheers him on from your arms as he hooks the unicorn around the center, claw raising up and bringing it over to the shoot. it falls perfectly down, both rosie and rafe shouting in excitement.

rafe gets the pink unicorn out, holding it out for your daughter to hug into her little arms. “thank you daddy!”

“anything for you my little princess, come here.” rafe opens his arms as rosie practically launches herself from you to snuggle into his chest.

“i wanna introduce pinky to my other unicorns.” she babbes about having a big tea party as rafe glows just looking at her.

“of course.” rafe nods. “let's go home right now so me you and pinky can play together.” you don't point out how all of rosies pink toys share the same name.

“babe!” you call out, following rafe out of the mall towards the exit. “we still haven't gotten our gift!”

“ill order it on amazon!” he calls out as you catch up to him and his long strides.

“come on, mommy, i wanna play.” rosie pouts, face mimicking her expression with big pleading eyes.

“fine.” you sigh, unable to say no to either of them. “but you have to clean up your tea party when it's over!”

“yesss!” rafe pumps his fist in the air, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

“and no real food! you’ll spoil your supper!”

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs

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teapartyprincess4two · 1 month

Note

nick x yapper!bsf!reader is a must

Talkative- N. Sturniolo

pairing: Yapper!reader x BestFriend!Nick

classification: platonic SFW head cannons

warnings: use of y/n, slight cursing (bitch is said too many times)

inspiration: request^^

summary: head cannons of Nick with a yapper bff!

Talkative- M. Sturniolo (Matt’s Version)

Talkative- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

—

☆SFW

Nick loves to talk, everyone knows this to be a true fact. No one has been able to keep up with his talkative persona, but when he met you, he met his match.

☆ You have a habit of barging into Nick’s room unannounced with your phone in hand, a bag of snacks in the other.

☆ “BITCH, YOU WON’T GUESS WHAT I JUST HEARD!” you announce, throwing yourself on the bed next to Nick.

☆ Nick rolls his eyes but despite your rude intrusion, he can’t even be mad. He’s desperate for the gossip, “I’m not guessing, just tell me.”

☆ “Actually… wait, let me guess.”

☆ You love teasing Nick about how handsome his brothers are. You don’t even have a real crush on either of them, it’s just fun to watch his reactions.

☆ A straw rests in your mouth, your eyes trained on the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen across the food court. You’re practically drooling.

☆ “Girl, what the fuck are you looking at?” Nick asks, following your gaze.

☆ “Oh just the sexiest man I’ve ever seen… well, after Matt of course,” you reply, a sly smirk on your face.

☆ Nick doesn’t respond, eyes squinting in annoyance.

☆ “Chris can get it too with that long, sexy hair. Oh, and Matt with his tattoos. I swear if they weren’t your broth—”

☆ Nick cuts you off before you can finish, “BITCH, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!” You burst out in laughter.

☆ You’re the only person, other than Matt and Chris, that can make Nick completely crack up with your witty jokes.

☆ “Holy shit, you’re actually insane,” Nick wheezes, wiping the tears.

☆ He’s clutching his sides, the laughter overtaking him completely.

☆ Your entire friendship is full of love, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not ready to playfully roast each other.

☆ When the roast is especially true, he shoots you a middle finger.

☆ “Fuck you,” he laughs, never taking anything you say too seriously.

☆ Sometimes you say things that Nick completely disagrees with, but he never shuts you down because he loves a good debate.

☆ “Nick, that’s literally wrong! How would the chicken come before the egg?!” you exclaim.

☆ “Where would the egg come from without the chicken?!” he’s getting excited, scooting closer as the debate progresses.

☆ “You’re so wrong, dude. Just admit it.”

☆ “IT’S LITERALLY THE EGG!”

☆ On the rare occasion that you two are fighting, he’s not in the mood to hear anything unless it’s an apology.

☆ His fingers are pinched together, the pinkie and pointer finger straight up in the air. “Quiet coyote, Y/n. Quiet coyote.”

☆ “Boy, shut the fuck up,” you laugh, shoving his hand away.

☆ He eventually gives in, rolling his eyes and preparing to listen to your rants.

☆ When you’re hanging out with a group of friends, it quickly turns into you and Nick talking over each other to tell a story.

☆ “Nick, shut up! Let Y/n speak!” Matt shouts, becoming tired of the constant interruptions.

☆ Nick pauses completely, side eyeing Matt in annoyance. You stop talking too because it’s not as fun without Nick’s energy to bounce off of.

☆ The two of you stay awake past midnight almost every night, your phones illuminating your faces as the FaceTime call enters the fourth hour.

☆ It’s just you two in your own rooms giggling and whispering through the phone.

☆ Eventually, when one of you gets tired, the other has to pull a conversation topic from the depths of your mind to keep the other awake.

☆ “You did not just say that,” you gasp, in shock at Nick’s statement.

☆ “Bruh, what you just said was worse,” he replies, a dumbfounded look on his face as he point to you with his hand.

☆ “Oh true.”

☆ You’re constantly interrupting him to take pictures for social media photo dumps. Whether it be off guards or full on photo shoots.

☆ “WAIT SHUSH! POSE FOR THE PICTURE!” you exclaim. Nick rolls his eyes, pausing mid yap sesh.

☆ Nevertheless, he puts on a smile and poses.

☆ “Let me see,” Nick yanks the phone, examining the pictures. If he doesn’t like it, he simply hands the phone back to you and poses again.

☆ Just like everyone else, the two of you have bad days sometimes.

☆ “Hey…” his voice is quiet, his head peering through your cracked bedroom door.

☆ You’re curled up under the covers, small sniffles escaping every so often.

☆ “How are you, bae?” Nick asks, throwing in a corny nickname to make you laugh.

☆ Your response is sarcastic, “Never been better.”

☆ “Bitch, fuck you,” he chuckles, but there’s no true anger in his voice. He kicks his shoes off and joins you under the covers, ready to listen to you recount your day and your troubles.

☆ Nick is ready to defend you no matter what.

☆ If he ever hears anyone talking badly about you, or even mention your name, he’s interjecting the conversation.

☆ Sometimes he doesn’t even know the previous context, but he’s ready to fight whoever is talking shit.

☆ Nick never turns down the chance to talk, even if he’s really busy.

☆ “I can call back if you’re busy.”

☆ “No, bitch! Tell me!”

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: this is short, mostly bc it doesn’t have a NSFW section like my other head cannon posts (for obvious reasons). But I hope you still like it!

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @hearts4chris @maryx2xx

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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shoddynomenclature · 4 months

Text

Companions Find Tav Wounded

Thank you to everyone who suggested a prompt! #3 (Tav is kidnapped) was definitely the top suggestion, and I will probably do that one eventually, but I’ve already seen it done a couple of times. So I decided to do this one instead. Mostly y’all just like when I torture poor Tav and it gets real angsty in here. I hope this fills all your angst needs.

I kinda rushed Lae’zel and Jaheira’s bits, so that’s why they’re so much shorter.

Anyway, Tav goes out to the forest to gather some supplies and is unexpectedly attacked. The companions find them beaten close to camp.

Shadowheart

You hear her calling your name into the surrounding forest. You try to scream, but nothing but a quiet groan leaves your lips.

The next moments are hazy and fragmented, like small shards of glass glued together to make a fuller picture.

Shadowheart is kneeling over you, whispering a prayer that seals your veins closed and makes your skin feel cool. It is not enough. She screams desperately for help.

When none comes, you feel her arms under yours, dragging you across a clearing till you are resting slumped against a tree. You hear her speaking to you but the words do not register.

You try to fight the darkness that seeks to overtake your vision, but it is no use. You lose consciousness.

When you wake up, you are back at camp, laid carefully across a bedroll. Your entire body screams with pain as a wet cloth gently cleans your wounds.

You squirm, instinctively trying to move away from the stinging cloth.

A gentle hand strokes your head. “You’re doing great, love. Just try to stay as still as you can.” She continues to pet your hair softly as she works.

Her hands glow blue as she runs them over your hemorrhaged skin. You feel lightheaded and the darkness creeps into your sight again. Your eyes flutter.

“Just a little longer, love,” she coos. “Just stay with me a little longer. You’re doing so well.”

Your entire body radiates with pain, but you focus your energy on staying awake. Your vision blurs and you grind your teeth together. “Can you… talk to me while you heal me?” You ask. “Keep me distracted.”

Shadowheart looks at you sheepishly. She’s not sure how to fill the silence on her own, but she wants to help. She does the only things she knows to do, and begins to sing a hymn.

You grip the bedroll, attempting to steady yourself. Her song makes your muscles relax and the healing begins to hurt less and less.

“Okay, love, it’s over. You did wonderfully,” she kisses your forehead and positions your head into her lap. She gently starts to untangle your blood crusted hair. “Rest now.”

You smile. Your body is still excruciatingly sore, but you nuzzle her thigh and kiss it gently before lulling off to sleep.

Lae’zel

You’re already unconscious when Lae’zel finds you beaten and broken in the forest clearing. You’re jolted awake by the pain that comes from your broken bones being slung over her shoulder.

You groan pitifully. She ignores you, running back to camp with the agility of a cat. It’s almost impossibly quick for someone who is carrying a whole person.

Despite her seemingly careless demeanor, she is incredibly gentle when she lays you down at camp. She gathers every person in camp to help you.

Despite her training being based heavily in self-reliance, Lae’zel was also taught to work well with a team. She knows her strengths and she knows how to delegate her weakness.

Healing is not her strong suit. So she leaves that to the professionals and instead turns to what she is good at: hunting.

She gathers Karlach, Minsc, and Scratch and they set out into the forest. Scratch and Boo were pretty quick to catch a trail.

Lae’zel charged ahead of the others. As soon as the perpetrators were visible, she rushed in, sword slashing so fast they were dead before they hit the ground.

“… wow” Minsc says as he approaches the scene. All three culprits were on the ground faster than he could even run after Lae’zel.

Lae’zel severed one of their heads and threw it into her pack. It would be drop at your feet when she got back. You would be alive and well when she got back. She repeated the words to herself all the way back to camp.

Karlach

“Hey bub! It’s dinner time!” She shouted into the forest, playfully tramping through leaves. “Where did you go?” She asks surprised not to find you in the clearing you usually went to to gather ingredients.

It wasn’t until she heard a groan and the rustle of leaves that she turned to find you, broken and bleeding on the ground.

“No! Nononono!” She stammered, running over and kneeling on the ground beside you. It couldn’t be you. This must be a nightmare. A trick of the imagination.

She wiped your hair from your blood crusted face. “Soldier? Darling? Wake up, come on wake up, please,” she pleaded, tears stinging her eyes.

“…Karlach?” You mumbled weakly. You tried to reach your hand out to her but found yourself unable to move. Your legs were wrapped in something resembling barbed wire.

“Yes! Yes it’s me baby,” she says, so relieved that you’re alive. “We’re gonna get you outta here okay? Um…” her hands work cautiously at the wire around your legs. When you yelped at the pain she realized she had no clue what she was doing.

“Okay. I’m gonna pick you up and we’ll get you back to camp, okay?” She gingerly took you into her arms, carefully not to jostle your legs too much. She didn’t even flinch as the barbs tore into her own arm.

As she approached camp, she shouted for Halsin and Shadowheart. They came running, meeting the two of you at the edge of camp.

“I-I don’t know what happened I just found them like this,” Karlach says, tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

“It’s okay. They’ll be okay just lay them right here,” Halsin soothed, leading you both to a bedroll. They started with a couple of healing spells, leaving you feeling rejuvenated enough to speak and move your upper body. Your bound legs are a different matter though.

Shadowheart went in with a knife, slicing through the wire with some effort. You screamed and thrashed in pain as the barbs tore further through your skin.

“Do you think you could keep them still?” Shadowheart asked Karlach. Karlach wrapped her arms around you from behind, pinning your arms against your chest.

She kissed your temple and whispered into your ear. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? I’ve got you.”

Both Shadowheart and Halsin started to wrestle the wire from your legs, leaving you wailing in agony and thrashing against Karlach’s strong embrace. Your cries shattered her heart. She felt like she was torturing you herself.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she muttered over and over again, nuzzling her teary face into the back of your shoulder.

When it was finally over, you relaxed and slumped against Karlach. She cradled you, rocking you back and forth in her arms. Your legs were shredded, but you would be okay. You weren’t going to leave her.

Minthara

Minthara steps gingerly through the clearing in the forest. Her footsteps are hardly audible as she walks through the brush. It isn’t until she sees you slumped against a tree with an arrow through your chest that she breaks out in a sprint.

She is by your side in seconds weapons drawn and scouting for the hidden enemy that shot you. She takes a good look around, but it only takes a moment for her to realize the enemies fled. She’ll take care of them later, but you needed healing.

She sheathed her weapon and got down on a knee next to you, whispering a prayer of healing that brought you back to consciousness.

Your breathing was erratic and labored. She needed to take you back. Now.

Typically, she’s the type that would throw you over her shoulder, but the arrow in your chest meant she’d have to go for a gentler princess carry.

When she has you back at camp you are approached Shadowheart, who was quickly tailed by Lae’zel.

“This arrow has to come out,” Shadowheart observed. “It’s pressing against their lung. Be gentle and don’t try to pull it out with the head still attached.” She jogs off to her tent for supplies.

Minthara straddled your legs, motioning for Lae’zel to brace you sitting up. She took your chin in her hand. “Listen to me,” she commands. “I’m going to make this as quick as I can, but don’t pass out on me.”

You nod weakly, head filled with only her words and confusion. “I mean it,” she repeats. “You cannot die. Understand?” You nod again.

With one swift movement, she shoves the arrow out your back. You shriek and your vision spots with white dots. You’re sure that hurt more than being pierced by the actual arrow. But you stay awake.

She gently carves off the arrowhead and lets it fall to the ground. Then, she pulls the rod of wood out of your chest. Your head spins, and you vomit onto the ground next to you. But you stay awake.

Shadowheart returns with cool water and a rag, which Minthara uses to wipe your face and head. “You did very well.” She states plainly, allowing Shadowheart to cast a spell to heal the wound.

Minthara does not allow you to be out in the middle of camp with the others for much longer. She picks you up again and brings you to her tent.

She spends the rest of the evening lecturing you about your foolishness. What were you thinking going out alone? She wouldn’t let it happen again. You’ll be at her side until you can prove you’re able to keep yourself safe.

Meanwhile she’s also tending to your every need, making sure you’re comfortable and you have blankets to keep you warm and you have a little pillow to prop up on. She even makes sure you have the stuffed animal you keep hidden away from the companions in embarrassment.

Jaheira

You remember the clearing, and the attack, and the silence that followed. You remember Jaheira standing over you, telling you were okay and you needed to stay alive.

You don’t remember how you ended up in her tent, though. Regardless now you are here and she’s pressing some bottle to your lips. “Drink.”

She forces your lower jaw open with one hand and pours the liquid downward your throat with the other. The mixture is chunky and disgusting, but you have no choice but to swallow every drop.

The effect it has on your body is immediate. The pain fades and a numbness spreads throughout your limbs. Your head is foggy and you feel like the room is spinning.

You attempt to sit up on the table Jaheira seems to have you on, but you end up almost falling off of it. She steadies you with a hand. “Still yourself. Lay down.”

You lay back down and allow her to work her magic. Your wounds are packed with a combination of magic, herbs, and bandages. Watching her dress your wounds, you are grateful for the liquid she gave you to start. This probably would’ve hurt otherwise.

“Rest now, cub. You must regain your strength.” She says, kissing you on the forehead and gently laying a blanket down over top of you.

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qierxing · 22 days

Text

Farewell to Thee?

A/N: (checks last post time stamp) Oopsie. (drops this in front of yall like a bag of groceries and fades into the distance)

Yan! Twst Isekai AU

CW/TW: the Mouse is Real™, graphic descriptions of bodily fluids/injuries, assault and kidnapping

◇ Continue

[Loading…]

“..llo?"

"Hello?"

"Hellooo?”

Out of the wispy fog comes a familiar voice. It echoes on and on, fading into a whisper. The tenure worms into your brain as you struggle back into consciousness. And as your eyes open and focus, your brain finally recognizes who is calling out.

“...Mickey?” You respond quietly in disbelief. “Mickey!”

“[First]!” The reunion, however unexpected, is still relieving. You never thought you would be so happy to see the cartoony mouse again. But…

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, huh?” He chirps, walking up to your side. “I’ve been trying all sorts of things to get here, even trying to change my pajamas before sleeping too, heh…”

“So…this is a dream?” You ask hesitantly. Mickey smiles up at you, unaware of your inner turmoil.

“Must be! This is quite unexpected, I usually only see your head and shoulders, not your whole body.”

That makes sense, in a way. Only white nothingness surrounds you. Although you two are striding forward in a sense of strolling, you can’t make heads or tails on whether you’re actually walking somewhere.

“Normally I’d ask to take your picture but I don’t have my special camera.” You wryly smile in response. Did you succeed with your plan? Interactions with Mickey was usually out of the player’s hands…did you force a connection when you caused a game over?

“That’s a right shame. I was so looking forward to it since you mentioned it last visit.” Mickey sighs with a playful pout. It then changes to something more somber as he gazes up at you.

“[First], I’m glad to have met you again, but be careful.” You stop in your tracks at the warning.

“I sensed some dark aura around you when we first met. It’s gotten even stronger this time.” Mickey explains, worried eyes examining you. “Please be careful.”

“Wh-what do you mean…?” Your mouth runs dry. Something prickles in the back of your head, and to your panic, the vision of Mickey starts fading away, images blurring.

“M…time….up….watch…” his last words hover in the air as you frantically reach out to him.

“M-Mickey?!” You fumble around, trying to reach out to him, but come up with air.

“Damn it!” You scream, impatient rage blinding your sight.

Just when you’re so close to getting an answer out of this damn game! You just wanted to go home! Was that such a sin?

The prickling in your head grows stronger and you grow lightheaded, collapsing in on yourself. You look up to see a bright glowing menu.

[True Ending has not been unlocked]

>⬛⬛⬛⬛ Key has not been obtained.

>Continue?

–

[Loading…]

Your cheeks feel sticky.

It feels so gross. The smell of iron and rust floods your nose and makes your eyes fly open. Your fingernails scrape the substance as you push yourself off the cold floor. When you hold it up to your bleary eyes, you can see blood and dirt flaking under your nails. Your entire front is also soaked in blood and saliva. The disgusting sight makes you cringe.

The ground underneath your body shakes. You regard the pool of blood, tears, and snot underneath you with a gaze not fully aware. You’re… in Twisted Wonderland?

Screaming? There’s people yelling somewhere, and it’s making your head hurt. You groan, raising your dirtied hand to steady your forehead.

What happened…?

"Easy, Trickster." A warm voice envelopes your ear. Suddenly, the scent of mint and petrichor overtakes your senses. Verdant green eyes peer down at you with relief.

“R…Rook?” The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like you. Someone else speaking in your body, like a ventriloquist. “H-How…?”

“[First]!” Grim flings himself into your face, adding to the pool of snot and mucus. It’s okay though. You hug him tightly, curling in on yourself, trying to absorb the warmth Grim gives.

The others come and swarm you; trying to check in on you, but you don’t respond to their numerous worried inquiries, drained of all your energy. Something catches your ear though.

“Oh, we were so worried! When Neige told us you got accidentally poisoned, we couldn’t take you to the infirmary right away–thank Seven Rook was there!” Kalim clasps your hands tenderly, not minding the gross slew of fluids getting on his hands.

Poisoned? How was I poisoned…?

A knife sharp pain slices through your brain when you try to recall what happened. You were with Neige…and then? Everything after that was all coming out as static noise.

“Prefect.”

You know who it is without looking. What a sight. How could Vil Schoenheit look this disheveled? Blonde greasy hair that is out of place, skin hollowed and pale with scratches, and bloodshot lavender eyes. He looks worse than you on death’s door.

"Vil…?" You gaze at him with empty confusion, unsure of why your heart drops at the sight of him. "Did…did something happen?"

Vil's eyes narrow but then close in resignation. Epel takes over, eyes wide in earnest. "Vil had an overblot, so we had to wrangle him back to normal."

Overblot…right…that's what supposed to happen, right?

Why…was that supposed to happen?

"Forgive me, Trickster. If only I had reached there faster with Monsieur Al-Asim…" Rook hums, surprisingly sincere. "Roi du Poison's madness and obsession…even when he had overblotted…how wonderfully beautiful it all was. The ink swirling around him, his stature…"

You shiver as his gaze rakes into yours.

"But, mon amour, you must not do that again, oui?" He leans in, lips ghosting over your ear and your blood freezes. What does he…?

"What a fine mess this is. What are we going to do now?" Ace drawls, eyes scanning behind him. Your eyes follow where he's looking and wince at the now destroyed colosseum. Debris and rocks flung everywhere, banners ripped to shreds, and electronics fried beyond repair.

For some reason, you feel calm despite the scene before you. As if…

"Well, well, if this isn't a sight."

Malleus.

Nothing registers until his gaze falls on you, and you swear his eyes glow for a fraction of a second.

"What have we here?" The question echoes and everyone looks nervously around at each other. “I arrive early to find not a single person and a stage laid to waste.”

You can only muster a sheepish grin in response. That's right. Malleus could fix this all up in a flash, no problem.

“Hornton, thank goodness you’re here!” Dried blood cracks on the edges of your smiling lips. “We could really use some help-”

“HORNTON?” You wince at the cacophonous pitch of everyone yelling. Rook is tactful enough to shield your ears but it only did so much to keep your eardrums from ringing. While Grim realizes who Hornton is, everyone else is flustered, attempting to explain the weight of his identity to the two of you.

You don’t need it though. His magic is enough of a demonstration as he winds back time and repairs the stage in moments. With that, the NRC group’s spirit and morale is renewed and once again, they’re raring to prove themselves to RSA.

The only thing that didn’t change is you.

Malleus gingerly carries you in his arms while Grim worriedly looks up at you. While they were reluctant to continue without you, even they were not foolish enough to let you go without urgent medical treatment.

You managed to stay conscious long enough to hear Malleus talking with the school medics and Grim muttering about stones before the dull ache in your throat and stomach forced you into an uneasy slumber.

–

The vestiges of a strange dream about mice and keys linger in your mind as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.

Evening has fallen, the only light coming from the dim lanterns the office has set up for patients. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can make out silhouettes of curtains and several items on the table near you.

Snacks from Ace and Deuce, herbal medicine from Vil, and colorful flowers by Kalim (you’re sure Jamil was the reason why it was not mountains of flower bouquets). The gestures are enough to make you weakly smile before it drops into a frown.

You turn to scan the room, and find no signs of life.

Did Grim leave?

An uneasiness begins to settle in your chest and you try to quash it. Maybe he just went to use the bathroom. Or if the staff made him leave, maybe he returned to Ramshackle. Anxiety begins to creep through your mind as the seconds tick by on the clock above the doorway.

Screw it.

You slip off the duvet covers and although the feeling of cold tiles on your bare feet is almost enough to make you give up, you push through and leave the room in the direction of Ramshackle.

Soon, the familiar sight of the Seven’s statues come into the horizon and cobblestones turn into granite tiles underneath your feet. Something makes you pause, however. Like a feeling of deja vu, you wonder why you feel like you’ve been in this situation before.

A growl shakes through the underbrush and you whirl to see the devil tips of a tail thrashing through leaves. Your heart jumps to your throat.

Grim!

The next thing you see is glowing blue eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth and dripping black saliva. You stumble back partially in disgust at the sight and partially from fear. What happened to your friend?!

“Grrr…mine…you can’t…” His words are hardly decipherable, making you furrow your eyebrows in concern.

“Grim!”

He’s already descended into a rabid, feral monster. Your calls only anger him, and his eyes thin into needle thin slits. He bares his teeth again and you steel yourself.

Letting out a guttural roar, he pounces and you narrowly dodge and avoid getting shredded by jagged claws.

You will not lose your friend here. You can’t. Not when–

A fleeting vision flashed in your mind: pitch black ink surrounding your feet, before finally flowing away and hardening into a condensed mass. Your head immediately is wracked in red hot spasms, causing you to keel over in pain. What is…

Unfortunately, this leaves you open to Grim’s next strike, and his attack throws both of you off balance. The impact sends you into the grass and it’s only when your back hits a tree trunk that you shriek out loud. Your fragile medical gown is torn through by his claws, leaving bloody gashes upon your midsection.

The excruciating pain is enough for feverish tears to run down your cheeks and your vision to start blurring as Grim growls again, no doubt readying to finish what he started.

“G-Grim…”

Your vision darkens, and your world goes silent.

–

A heart wrenching scream rouses you awake.

“[FIRST]!!”

The sound of whistling wind blows in your ears and instinctively you shiver. As your eyes blearily crack open, a gray figure comes into focus.

Grim is hunched over you, shaking your body with tears in his eyes. The both of you seem to be…flying? What?

“Subject F and Y secured. Waiting for other units’ reports.” A cold robotic voice drones above you. You force your head up and see a tall robot donning armor and wielding a formidable looking oar like weapon. As your eyes adjusted against the strong breeze, you realized you and Grim were trapped in a steel cage.

In the distance, your ears faintly pick up explosions and deep rumbling.

“[FIRST]?!”

Both you and Grim turn to see Ace and Deuce gaping up at you from the forest floor below. You open your mouth, but your voice doesn’t come out.

“All targets have been secured. All units fall back and return.”

“No!” Grim yowls. “My henchman, they’re hurt! Someone, help–!!”

But his screeching goes unheeded by your stoney captors. And although you swear you hear familiar voices calling back, the robots are undeterred and whisk you both away easily.

The last thing you see is the shattered ruins of a barrier and a school left in burned pieces.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #my works

238 notes · View notes

cherubshert · 3 months

Note

hihi !! i was wondering if u could make a fic about how reader has glasses and enhypen thinks its saur cute (separate members ofc)

thanks so much for reading this!

(֊⎚-⎚)

a/n: these are low-key bad and rushed lol. not edited, this is just fiction:). i hope u like :0

희승

The soft click of the camera signals the end of a session, polaroids hung around to dry, make-up and props littered around your desk. it's small, just you and heeseung, going all out for photography project you had. you pull off your glasses, resting them on the very uncomfortable surface you were sitting on. the dress you have on is simple, hand made by one of your other very close friends. you use your hand to raise it so you don't slip and fall, making your way to were heeseung was crouching.

"are they nice?" "very..." he replies distractedly his attention drawn to the picture in his hand. your head rests on his shoulder, "are you sure my glasses don't ruin the pictures?" "i wouldn't have told you to put them on if they did,you look cute." he leans back to kiss you, short but enough to have you hiding your face in his neck. he smiles before shaking you off. "come on we still have so many to take."

제이

Jay slowly pulls away from you, his face flushed , his hair slightly messy, falling into his eyes. "what happened?" you question, shifting you hands to rest on his shoulder. his smiles and tilts his head admiring your face before answering, "your glasses... kept poking at me." "sorry" you mutter your hands raising to take them of your face. his follow suit, gently brushing your fingers away, his large hand cupping your face. "don't get me wrong, m'not complaining. " his fingers follow the frame of your glasses, tracing round your ear . "it reminded me of how cute you look like this." "like how?" leaned in, rubbing your noses together. you shyly shift away, your back pressed against his desk. your hands going up to adjust your glasses. "like this." he pinches your cheek.

제이크

you let out a sigh, pushing your glasses up to rub your eyes. it's getting late now, the clock turning the second you looked at it '10:36p.m.' you turn over your shoulder, jake seating very comfortably on the couch, the tv playing so low that you were sure he couldn't hear anything. but his consideration to you made your heart flutter.

you stood to your feet, silently making your way to where he was. he jumps slightly when you sit next to him, once he calmed down his hand wrapped around your shoulder pulling you close. "you done with work?" "no but I was getting tired, needed a break." you reach forward grabbing the remote. you lean back into his arms, increasing the volume to the tv.

jake is silent the entire time, his breath so soft you thought he had fallen asleep.

feeling your glasses be pulled off your face, shot you out of your trance. "these are so cute on you." he puts it on, turning to you with a smile. his change in energy is definitely alarming, but nothing you're not used to. you mirror his smile reaching forward, cupping his face, squishing his cheeks. "they're even cuter on you." laughter erupts between you two.

you both calm down very quickly, your back pressed to the couch, Jake hovering over you. he very messily puts your glasses on your face, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "you're so gorgeous, but these bring out a different type of beauty." he says drowsily, you giggle, hand raising to brush his hair out of his face. he leans into your touch, sleep easily overtaking him.

성훈

"cut!" you sigh, resting your head on the table. sunghoon silently places a bottle of water beside you, settling in the desk before you looking over his script.

your head rises up finally, leaning on your wrist. "I'm so tired." he smiles at you. "we are almost done for today. just a few more hours." you only grumble in response.

the next hour flies by fast, and soon its time to go home. you two thank the staff , filing out with your small group of managers. "we could go out for a little snack first." sunghoon suggests, you tiredly nod in agreement, following behind him to a café nearby.

its small and cozy, the smell of coffee beans and pastry sugars filling the air, you get something small, sitting by the window to look over the scenes you'd be focusing on tomorrow. your glasses hanging on the bridge of your nose.

you don't notice his staring till your orders arrive, looking up to find his eyes on you before they quickly shift away, thanking the waiter.

"you don't wear your glasses very often." you look at him. "oh no, i usually have contacts. " he leans his head on his palm, smiling at you. "they look very cute."

선우

You were rather hard to miss, seated in front of him, your head often hidden behind a book. you're both on very different levels socially. sunoo always being surrounded by a crowd of friends and people he admittedly never met or even cared about. and you, there was only one person he'd ever seen you with.

you drew him in, often finding himself lost in delusional daydreams, surrounding your very unique beauty. a flower, often graced by the sun, your skin shines so magically. one of his favorite things about you was your glasses.

rather large for your face, but ever so beautifully added to your aura. the way you pushed them back when they slipped off your face, the pretty charms you often adorned them with.

so when you, turn back, your eyes meeting his through the lens, his heart flutters, immediately turning back to his note book. he stares at the empty page in distraught, not registering the shuffling of the other students moving around the room, or even the chair placed by his table.

"sunoo?" his head shoots up so fast, "we're supposed to work together on the project." you say as you placed your books down. "oh? okay" he feels a little dazed, closing his notebook and placing them away.

정원

The nurse's office is not really where you wanted to end your day, your leg being bandaged, the nurse giving you advice on how to care for your injury. how did you get hurt? taking pictures of the football team for your school's yearbook, you weren't expecting to be turned into a target of a stray ball...

Jungwon rushes into the room when the nurse exists, an apologetic look on his face. your glasses are held gently in his hand, he's still in his football uniform, telling you he's been waiting since you got here. "I'm really sorry again, i should have been very careful." "it's fine, i was also being reckless." you reach out for your glasses, grabbing them a lot harsher than you wanted.

you put them on, pushing them to a comfortable position. you try to get on your feet, but the bruise on your leg, though small sends pain through you. jungwon very gently pushed to help you walk, some how convincing you to let him walk you home.

The walk to your home is silent, and once you reach your apartment complex, he pass your bag to you. "thank you." "um, by the way, you look really pretty with your glasses on." you turn back to him, your backpack half way on your shoulder. he blushes, "i mean you look pretty in general, but I, you-" "thank you." you say with a smile, pushing your glasses up. "i hope I'm not making you uncomfortable." "not at all, you're very adorable you know. " the last part is so light he barely hears it, his shyly playing with his fingers."thank , thank you." he replies bashfully, "if you still want to take more pictures of the team, i would love to help." "that would be helpful... see you tomorrow." "yes... see you tomorrow."

니키

you dust off your outfit, fixing your jacket and mic. your stylist fixes off your make-up, passing a pair of glasses to you. you put them on, thanking your staff, before rushing to where you were supposed to wait. the director gives you some directions, and telling you the basics about how things will be filmed. you don't notice niki till you turn around, you bow at him and he does the same.

you both stand around awkwardly, waiting for your cue to start. when the instrumental starts, you shift closer to him."your glasses..." he says softly, "they look cute."

#cherubshert diary.#kpop fanfic #kpop x black reader #kpop x poc reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen reactions

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blorbocedes · 2 months

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i was always curious about this picture of nico seemingly upset on the podium and lewis trying(?) to comfort him so I dug up the lore.

here's nico looking gorgeously upset on podium. now let's set the scene:

it's bahrain grand prix 2015, and lewis hamilton has won 3 out of 4 races this season. the other race win? sebastian vettel. you have to realise in 2014, nico took it to the last race he was the clear title contender and now lewis and seb are above him in the standings. everyone's giving him the full checo in 2023 treatment, is rosberg a second driver now is his career OVER!!! brocedes are also beefing in the previous race, china 15

is the rosberg flop era imminent?!

hamilpole, vettel 2nd and nico 3rd in quali. race start and nico gets fucking Punted into p4. everyone thinks it's joever.

nico spends this entire race fighting for his life, battling vettel for p2 and is on his ass, forcing him into mistakes. it isn't until vettel damages his front wing and needs to pit letting nico pass. however! 14 laps to go and kimi has pitted for softs is when nico's breaks start failing. these mercs are fast but they're not reliable. kimi starts gaining a second a lap and with 3 laps to go, he overtakes nico to p2.

on the podium and after, nico is upset even though he's now second in the championship -- overtaking vettel by 1 point.

but you can see the gap to lewis, and it doesn't matter how good a race you have or what issues your car has when you're compared to thee teammate of all time.

toto tried empathy simulator

thanks lewis, very helpful

nico's upset on podium because it is hugely frustrating to earn that p2 and lose it in the final 3 laps. he writes in his column:

the next race in barcelona, nico would go to win the race from pole, his first victory in the 2015 season 🏆

anyways I think of that moment where nico's miserable on the podium and lewis nudges his shoulder like chin up, bud a lot

#is this interesting to anyone except me?#they do take a bit of effort so if you read it <3 like share reblog tell a friend tell an enemy #he looks so pretty when he's miserable #Bahrain Grand Prix 2015 #nicology #f1 lore #nico rosberg

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faerieroyal · 2 months

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𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘’𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 !

— ❥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 + 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

( warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of crying, my wishful thinking for the upcoming f1 season )

“and that’s it! oscar piastri is the winner of the 2024 australian grand prix!”

for possibly the very first time, you’re very glad you and oscar don’t have any pets; it’s entirely possible the scream you let out right at this moment would give any small animals in hearing distance a heart attack. leaping off of your bed, you let the adrenaline and pure joy of this moment overtake you, jumping all around your bedroom and whooping as you punch your fists into the air.

if you’re this excited, you muse once you’ve calmed down enough to pause and catch your breath, you can only imagine how happy and overwhelmed oscar must be feeling. he’s just won his first grand prix, and even better, he’s just won his home race.

your boyfriend has just become a formula one race winner. you wish, from the bottom of your heart, that you had a younger version of oscar standing in front of you right now, so you could tell him that all the work he was putting in would be worth it some day. you suspect that oscar himself would probably want to do the same thing.

practically flinging yourself back onto your bed, you pull your computer back onto your lap, just in time to watch max verstappen shower your boyfriend in champagne from where he stands on the second step of the podium. oscar laughs on your screen as the golden liquid pours over his shoulders and turns to spray max in return, but the camera filming him also picks up the red rimming his eyes and the tears still glistening on his face - happy tears, you can only assume, from all the emotions he must be feeling at a moment as amazing as this.

he looks strangely beautiful like this, taking a moment to drink from his own champagne bottle with skin flushed from adrenaline and emotion and glistening with overjoyed tears and champagne, and you wish desperately that you could be there with him. you’d both known going into this relationship that you wouldn’t be able to attend every race, of course, since you have a life of your own and a job that doesn’t allow you to work remotely, but that doesn’t mean not being there in person to celebrate with him after a good race or comfort him after a bad one doesn’t suck sometimes. it sucks more than ever right now, when something as fucking incredible as this has just happened and you can’t be there to give your talented, beautiful oscar a congratulatory kiss and spend the whole night telling him how proud you are of him.

once the stream on your computer switches to media interviews, you switch it off and close the laptop - as much as you want to keep watching oscar basking in the glow of his win, you know he hates media anyway, and as mean as it might be, you don’t really want to have to sit through the interviews with other drivers that will be shown before they get to your boyfriend. besides, you still have things to get done tonight while you wait for oscar to give you his usual after-race call.

it’s something you and oscar always do, after a race and the debrief and everything else he has to do on a race. normally, your facetime calls can last for hours as you talk and laugh and sometimes just stay silent, taking each other in, and they’re something you’ve come to treasure, but you’re sure your call tonight won’t last nearly as long. oscar has just won his first formula one race; no doubt he’s going to be taken out to party and celebrate the moment he’s showered and changed, and that isn’t going to leave a lot of time for a call with you. which, honestly, you’re more than fine with - you want him to go out and have fun, to celebrate his win even if you can’t be there to do it with him.

the call comes in as you’re sitting on your living room couch folding laundry, a candid picture of oscar making an exaggeratedly sour face in his mcclaren suit popping up on your phone screen. hurriedly you toss the pair of shorts you’ve been folding to the side and scoop up the phone to answer it, oscar’s beautiful, smiling face taking up your screen as the connection goes through.

“oscar jack fucking piastri,” you exclaim before he has the chance to get a word out. “how dare you win your first race without me there. i oughta break up with you right now.”

oscar chuckles, dipping his head and allowing a few stray strands of hair to fall into his face, making him look terribly soft and sweet. his hair still looks sticky with champagne and sweat, you notice; he didn’t even wait to shower before calling you.

“well, sorry about that,” he replies in an amused voice. “here’s hoping you’ll be there when i win the next one so we can celebrate properly. i mean, lando offered to give me a congrats kiss in your place, but i doubt he would’ve been any good at it.”

you lean your head back laughing at that, before agreeing, “yeah, here’s hoping. so what are you doing to celebrate? gonna show lando and logan australia’s hottest clubs?”

oscar snorts, and then says something totally and completely unexpected, at least to you: “nah. ‘m staying in tonight. would rather talk to you anyway.”

“what?” you burst out, shocked. you’ve known since you met him that oscar’s never really been one for crowded social settings, especially ones as loud as clubs tend to be, but you’d assumed this would be an exception. “oscar, you just won a fucking formula one race. your first one. and you’re not gonna go out and celebrate that?”

“i am celebrating,” he replies, completely casually, like the two of you are just talking about the weather and you’re not trying to talk him out of ditching celebrating a race win just to talk to you. “i’m celebrating by spending the whole night talking to my awesome partner who I really wish was actually here right now - or at least the whole night after i take a shower, probably, ‘cause my hair feels kinda gross right now-” he runs a hand through his locks, looking a bit sheepish. “-instead of going out and getting shitfaced and watching logan completely fail at flirting. much rather be doing this than that, i promise.”

once the shock of his plans for the night fades, you think, for a brief second, that you could honestly cry right now. here’s your boyfriend, having just achieved a dream that you know he’s been working towards since he was old enough to drive a kart, and instead of going out and drinking and dancing with his friends to celebrate… he just wants to spend the night talking to you. it’s such a simple expression of love, really, simple and wordless, but it’s so utterly tender and sweet that you wish, not for the first time tonight, that you were there with oscar right now, so you could kiss all over his beautiful face and let him know how much you love him right back.

“i mean, unless you had plans tonight,” oscar continues, completely oblivious to your adoring inner monologue, and his sheepish expression increases. “sorry, i should’ve asked, it’s totally cool if you have something else-”

“no, no,” you interrupt, shaking your head vehemently. “i don’t have any plans, it’s fine. and even if i did i’d probably cancel them. i’d rather be here with you than somewhere else, too, osc.”

oscar blinks in response to that, before a shy little half-smile takes over his face, and he asks softly, “yeah?”

“yeah,” you say with a soft smile of your own, and you hope that that facial expression conveys everything you can’t quite put into words - how much you love him, how unbelievably proud you are of him, how absolutely fucking grateful you are to have him in your life, to have someone who will do things like this for you without a second thought, because that’s just the kind of person he is.

you’re pretty sure a simple smile doesn’t convey all of that, but you’re also not sure you’ll ever be able to put all of that into words that will convey how much you mean the sentiment. so you settle, in this moment, for doing what oscar wants: you settle back into the couch cushions, bring your legs up to your chest so that you can rest the hand holding your phone on your knee, and begin, “so, you will not believe what happened at work today…”

formula one taglist: @whiskeyswriting, @lovings4turn !

general taglist: @maddipoof, @thatmagickjuju, @talkingturnedtoscreamss, @malafvma, @auxiliarydetective, @heliads, @oneirataxia-girl !

( send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist !! )

#(.⋆꙳‧ my works !! ‧꙳⋆.)#— ❥ dolly writes drabbles !!#— ❥ valentine’s love language shorts !!#— ❥ dolly’s celeb beloveds: oscar piastri !!#oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri x reader #f1 drabble #f1 x reader #formula one drabble #formula one x reader #gender-neutral reader

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libraryofloveletters · 8 months

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chapter two: disaster and despair

Chalres Leclerc x Fem!Reader + Carlos Sainz Jr x Fem!Reader

Warnings: carlos isn't fucking around, charles is soooo oblivious, flirting, sexual tension, rupert and lorenzo are a bit sus of carlos's actions, monaco was good to charles for once, alcohol and the consumption of, clubbing, insta is for fuckboys and cheaters apparently, lying, cheating on established relationship, allusions to smut and a bit of rivalry from carlos's end.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: in honour of Carlos's win today, have the 2nd chapter :) this one's juicy, it's a bit fast paced I won't lie but I hope y'all like it :))

Call My Name Masterlist

---

Monaco; glamour and extravaganza are the first words in your mind.

To most people, Monaco was just a luxurious place to visit and to F1 fans, it's another track on the calendar but to Charles, it was home.

A proud Monegasque; born and raised.

When he asked you to join him for the race that weekend, you booked the next available flight out. Unfortunately for you, you weren't a native to Monaco like your darling lover, but now that you two were a couple, you found yourself there a lot more and you've grown to love the place.

It was race day, Charles's fingers interlocked with yours as you two headed into the paddock, the flashing cameras in your face, fans shouting for your boyfriend. You smiled, taking in all the craziness as Charles walked you into the direction of the Ferrari hospitality building.

You had barely stepped into the building when someone called out, "good morning love birds." Carlos smiles at the two of you, pulling Charles into a half hug when he grabs his hand.

Charles pulls away from his friend, giggling as he does most times; seems that Carlos has that effect on everyone, not just you.

Speaking of Carlos; his hand rests on your hip, smiling at you as he leans in to hug you. His large hand slides from your hip to your back, touching just where the cut out was in the back of your dress - something you're certain wasn't a mistake on his part.

"You look beautiful," he whispers to you before kissing your cheek quickly.

Charles thinks nothing of it, smiling at you two before his hand replaces Carlos'. "Ready ?" He asks you, and Carlos. The three of you head towards the garage for the boys to do their morning check.

You had wandered off while they were busy. Seeing that it's his home race, his mother and his brothers were there. You had joined them above the Ferrari garage for a bit, you finally got to chat with Pascale since you arrived in Monaco a few days ago. Charles had been on the go since you arrived, him being the star driver of the weekend - a little term you came up with for home race drivers. He dragged you along with him, not allowing you a moment of rest since.

Charles was starting P4 this weekend, a good position to be. Everyone knows that where you place in qualifying determines your whole race here; there are very few chances to overtake in Monaco, the track was too narrow and the corners were quick and tight.

You were certain you'd be on edge the entire time he was out there, you were every time but today, the pressure was unbearable.

Not only was this his home race but he was in a position to win or at least get onto the podium.

He'd do anything to get up on that podium - especially this weekend.

About an hour to lights out, Charles comes looking for you guys to let you know that he'll be getting ready for his race if you want to head down.

His mother says the garage makes her head spin, so she'll stay upstairs and you offer to keep her company, but she tells you to go ahead and join the boys.

Charles has just returned to the garage when you make it downstairs, he and his brothers were taking a picture together as the mechanics and engineers did their final checks. Lorenzo was the brother closest to where you stood, with Charles in the middle and Arthur to the other side.

"Come here," Lorenzo waves you over and you shake your head.

"I don't want to intrude."

"You're not," he says, leaning over to grab your arm. He pulls you to his side, his arm over your shoulder when your boyfriend looks over at you and smiles. "You're a part of the family, y/n."

Joris smiles, telling the four of you to get a little closer and he takes a picture.

Lorenzo and Arthur step out of the frame, letting Charles pull you into his side. Your arms wrapped around your boyfriend when you lean into his side. Charles drops his head, his cheek pressed to the top of your head and the two of you smile at the camera.

You lean up, your hand pressed to his cheek when you kiss him. "Good luck," you whispered to him and he smiled, his hand giving your wrist a squeeze.

"Thank you, amour."

"Be safe, okay?"

"Always," he nods, giving you another quick kiss before you let him go, watching as he finds Andrea to get ready for his race.

You reach for your phone but you realize you've left it upstairs with Pascale. Charles was busy with his race prep so you figured you can sneak away and get back before he leaves the garage.

You had barely made it down the hallway, about to turn the corner when someone grabs your arm. You look over your shoulder to find Carlos.

"Hi," you smiled, "everything okay?"

He nods, "I saw you and Charles over there," he nudges your shoulder, your cheeks red. "It was nothing, just a kiss." You brush him off, your arm pulled from his grasp.

"Well, if it's nothing, do I get one as well?"

"Get... what?"

Carlos's eyes meet yours, there's something wicked written across his face and you can't quite place his intentions as of yet. The next words out his mouth do it for him; "a kiss."

"What-" you pause, jaw hanging open slightly as you stare at your boyfriend's teammate. "No," you shook your head, "not like that at least." You chuckled, trying to brush him off.

He was one thing, if not insistent. "Then how?" He raises a brow, waiting for you to answer him.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You have three options; one, walk away and pretend like this never happened. Two, tell Charles that Carlos asked you for a kiss or three, kiss him.

You lean into the man, your hand wrapped around his bicep when you press a kiss to his cheek. Your red lipgloss leaves behind a sticky kiss shaped mark on his tanned skin.

"Good luck," you say to him, taking a step back before walking off.

The man smiles, watching as you disappear around the corner before returning to the garage. "Where'd you go?" was the first thing Rupert asked when he saw him appear again.

His friend holds his chin, turning him towards the light. "Is that lipgloss?" Rupert asks another question and Carlos swats the man's hand away.

"Stop being nosey."

Monaco was good to your boyfriend, he managed to move up one place on the grid and finish in P3 - it's not a win but it's a podium at home and he was over the moon about that.

Someone turns their camera to catch the sight of you and the Leclerc brothers on the pit fence, screaming and cheering for Charles as he crosses the finish line. All of you go running, waiting to see him when he gets out of the car.

Charles, as expected, comes running as soon as he jumps out, jumping into the sea of red, a million arms wrapped around their driver. He makes his way through the crowd, hugging his brothers before he finally makes it to you.

He wraps his arms around you and you smile, your hand holding his helmet before pressing a kiss to the side of it. "I'm so proud of you!" You tell him, his visor open so you can see the crinkles by his eyes, the man grinning before giving you another squeeze and letting go.

The podium was Lewis in P1, Max in P2 and Charles in P3. It was a good day to be the top three teams.

Your boyfriend's teammate, on the other hand, didn't have such a good race. On lap 31, they decided to call him into the pits at the last moment, he tried to get into the pit lane and Lando was coming in at the same time. Unfortunately, the two of them attempted to get into the pit lane at the same time and they had a collision. Both drivers were okay but it wasn't a shocker that at least one Ferrari had a DNF this weekend.

They were still Ferrari after all.

You can't possibly lie and say you didn't feel bad for Carlos, because you did, but Charles on podium at home outshines whatever Carlos was feeling at the moment, and whatever you were feeling towards him.

Despite his DNF, Carlos did come down and join the team as they watched the podium celebrations. You were towards the front with Lorenzo and Arthur as well as a few of Charles's mechanics. Charles had a big smile on his face as he looked towards the sea of red, towards his team, his family and his girlfriend.

You were pushed up against the barricade so you take a step back and you glance over your shoulder to make sure you weren't stepping on anyone, but you find that Carlos was standing behind you; of course he was.

As much as Charles might've been oblivious to the fact, you weren't.

Carlos was making sure his presence was known, that you knew he was right there.

You smile at him, turning your attention back to the podium as they hand out the trophies. Carlos' hand rests on your hip when he steps a bit closer, you're sure it was just for a moment to steady himself with all the pushing but then it stays there; firm and warm and large.

He squeezes your hip and you slowly take a step away from him; not because you didn't like the feeling because.. god, you knew you did but simply because you knew this was wrong.

A shoulder brushes against yours; Lorenzo looks to his left and sees the look on your face.

"Are you okay?" He asks, shifting to give you some more space.

You nod, "fine." You smiled, looking up at the podium, taking a photo of your boyfriend.

Lorenzo glances behind you to find his brother's teammate there. Carlos smiles at him, nodding towards the older Leclerc. Lorenzo mirrors the action. Carlos's hand had already slipped from your hip, right before Lorenzo turned back to see him there.

All of you are focused on the podium, the drivers covering each other in champagne and Charles turns towards the crowd, spraying the gold coloured liquid towards the sea of people.

---

The club was packed; as it always was in Monaco but especially on a race weekend.

Your boyfriend had his arm over your shoulder, the two of your swaying side to side as he shouted something to his brother in French.

Andrea, Arthur, Lorenzo, Joris and a few other friends of Charles had joined him in celebrating his podium finish.

Charles had also invited Carlos to join you guys at the club but he politely declined, saying that he was tired and that he hopes that you all have fun anyways. Your boyfriend nodded along with what his teammate said, on a high already and he made him promise to join him next time. Carlos assures him that he will, sending him on his way.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you tell Charles and he nods. "Be careful!" He shouts, letting you go as he dances his way over to his little brother.

You shake your head, smiling as you head towards the bathroom. You make a quick check of your hair and your makeup; it was boiling in there, people packed together and you felt as if you were melting.

The phone buzzes in your pocket as you make your way towards the bar. You ordered a drink, reaching for your phone to check what it was. There's a message from Instagram.

carlossainz55: How’s the club?

You replied to him, it was innocent enough.

youruser: Good! Wish you were here, you’d be having fun with us!

carlossainz55: I wish you were here too.

You paused when you reread the message a few times.

youruser: What do you mean?

You typed out quickly, waiting for his answer. It came just as quickly.

carlossainz55: I see the way you look at me, y/n. I know you see how I look at you as well. You’re a smart girl.

youruser: I am.

It takes Carlos a few minutes to reply, you had washed down his previous comments with a shot of tequila.

carlossainz55: Hotel De Paris. Room 321

youruser: What am I supposed to do with this?

carlossainz55: Whatever you want.

Leaning against the counter, it takes you a few moments to gather your thoughts. Someone calls for you, "miss?" The voice comes from behind you, the bartender has picked up your empty shot glass. "Anything else?"

"One more please," you smiled at him.

"Name? For the tab?"

"Leclerc," you smiled once more. The bartender fills another glass, the clear liquid spills over the brim of the small glass when he sets it down.

You pick it up, downing the shot. The tequila burns on the way down, Carlos's message replaying in your head over and over again. You find yourself walking in the direction of your boyfriend, hugging him from behind.

Charles turns, "you okay?" He asked, grinning at you. You nod, smiling at him. It was just after 3:30 in the morning and you were exhausted. Between race day and the partying, you were ready to head home.

"I think I'm gonna head back to yours," you tell him and he nods, "do you want me to come with you?"

"No no," you smiled, a hand on his chest when you kissed him. "You stay and have fun, I'll see you when you get home."

"Text me when you get home, then." He smiles, kissing you once again before you head down, walking out of the club.

You hail a cab, getting into the back and the man asks; "where to?"

It was quiet, the man glanced back to make sure you haven't fallen asleep back there. "Miss," he calls yet again, "where to ?"

If you were a good girlfriend, you would have given him Charles's address but you were young and foolish, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself if you don't explore whatever this thing with Carlos could be.

Even if it's simply just a hello.

"Hotel De Paris, please." You tell him, picking at your nail polish when he drives off.

It's quiet, the man doesn't speak nor do you, simply thanking you when you pay him, tipping him a little extra as you were fighting with your own moral compass.

It's now 4am, the man at the front desk smiles at you as you pass by. You return the smile, stepping into the elevator. Charles would still be at the club for at least another 2 hours, you had time.

The 3rd floor button lights up when you press it.

This was wrong, you really shouldn't be here; ding. The elevator doors open and you step off of it. It takes all of you not to turn around and get back on it. There's a sign in front of you; 301 - 315 to the left, 316 - 325 to the right.

You turn to the right, counting the numbers as you passed them.

316 - 317- 318 - 319 - 320.

321.

Standing in front of the door; you still have a chance to get away but you don't. You knock on the wooden door and the sudden urge to throw up was all you could think of.

Maybe you can still get away.

Turn around, y/n. Run - run as fast as your feet can take you. You shouldn't be there.

It's too late, you don't turn fast enough and the door opens. Carlos smiles at you, leaning on the wooden door.

His shorts hung off his hips, minus a shirt and you'd say you weren't staring but you were. Eyes trailing over his bare body, counting the indents as you went lower. You'd never admit it to anyone but how you wished his shorts weren't in the way right now.

"Hi," you whisper, not even sure if the word came out of your mouth.

"You came," he says, smiling; there it is again, that mischievous look on his face.

You nod. "I did."

"Where is he?" He looks at you - he being Charles. You point behind you, as if he was there. "You know.. the club."

"Good," he smiles, stepping aside. "Are you going to stand out here all night or come in?"

You step past him, pushing your better judgment out of the window the moment the door shuts. You make it about half way into the room before you pause, turning around to face him.

"I'm really sorry about your race, you deserved to be up there too. Or at least be in the points."

Carlos shrugs, "that's life, corazón."

He steps closer to you and everything in your head is screaming; red flag!! run!! don't stay! go away! in big red, bold letters and yet, you stood across from the man.

"Is he expecting you anytime soon?" Carlos asks you, his hand cupping your jaw.

"I told him I would see him when he gets home. Why?"

"Then I have time," he pulls you flush against him.

You shouldn't. Wrong doesn't even begin to cover what was about to happen in this room. You shouldn't even be in this stupid room, with this stupidly handsome man.

Carlos's lips ghost over yours, ever so soft and you can't help it. You had a feeling - you promised yourself - this was never going to happen again and it might even ruin your relationship but god, how you wanted him.

"We can't," your hand wraps around his wrist.

He nods, "I know.. but you want to."

"I do."

"Then that's enough."

When Carlos kissed you, it's like nothing you had ever experienced before. You had never been kissed like that in your life; it was drawing, like he had a hold over you, kept pulling you back in until you had nothing left to give.

And frankly, you'd give him anything he wanted.

Everything about him was intoxicating. From the taste of his lips to the stubble on his cheeks scratching against yours. You needed him in a way that was indescribable.

Carlos wasn't sure what came over him.. well, he knew exactly what it was.

He wanted you to be his and even if it took a hundred years, you'd be his. He'd make sure of it.

You're everything he could have ever wanted. Your hands are everywhere, feeling all over him and he didn't care if your mouth was already on his, he wanted more. He wanted everything you could give him and he'd take it.

Carlos was greedy in that way. He doesn't stop to think how this would hurt you or your relationship.

In a some sort of fucked up way, he thought this was fair.

Charles gets to be the star boy for the team and he couldn't deny it longer. As much as he smiles and laughs with the media, everyone, including him, knows Charles will always be the focus of the team.

He wasn't going to let him have you as well.

He didn't care if he never won another race in his life; you were his prize.

Your purse tossed on the floor when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around him as Carlos gets on the bed with you.

You hadn't noticed that your phone fell out of your purse, too caught up with the man in front of you to notice your phone buzzing on the floor.

From Charles: did you get home okay?

add yourself to the call my name taglist!

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threadbaresweater · 4 months

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simple gifts | higuruma hiromi

it's christmas and i'm delusional. Have this picture-perfect hallmark romance daydream with my current obsession. f!reader, who can blush and has straight hair. they also visit a church at the end. 1.3k words of sappy fluff because i couldn't help myself. divider by @/saradika

Higuruma Hiromi never realized just how romantic the Christmas season could be until you were at his side. Frankly, he found the season overly commercialized, redundant, and really nothing more than a cash-grab for retailers and entertainers. Not quite the Ebenezer Scrooge of his time, he still found little to be excited about in the midst of the holiday hustle and bustle.

That is, until he happened to glance at you one day as the two of you strolled downtown among the artisan shoppes and tucked away coffee houses; your eyes positively sparkled as you studied a festive window display, the smile on your lips overtaking your entire face. Large, fluffy flakes of snow fell atop your hair and settled in on your scarf, and the ruddy color settled high on your cheekbones set your skin positively aglow. You didn’t speak to him– charmed as you were by the decorations– but he found that he didn’t need you to say a word. Your excitement was palpable.

He squeezed your hand and watched as a particularly large snowflake settled on your eyelashes. You giggled and swiped it away with a gloved finger, turning to smile up at him. When you realized the fondness in his gaze, the rose of your blush grew a bit deeper, and you swung your hip against him playfully.

“Knock it off!” you giggled.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“You’ve been watching me the whole time. Don’t you like the decorations?”

He hummed thoughtfully, adjusting the cashmere scarf around his neck. “They’re nice. But your reactions are more interesting. You’re like a kid in a candy store.”

You pointed at a grand, evergreen wreath at the rear of the display, adorned with red velvet ribbons and a few well-placed sprigs of holly. “Wouldn’t that look nice on our front door?”

Hiromi nodded once, pondering your suggestion. He’d never decorated for Christmas before, and while he liked to consider himself a man of good taste, there had never been anyone in his life to help him decide.

Another thing he was grateful to you for. Without much effort, you brought an unprecedented joy to his life that he’d never thought possible. “If you say so.” It was the safe answer, this much he knew.

“Don’t just tell me what I want to hear,” you countered, wrapping your arms around him for warmth– and as an excuse to inhale his scent, to feel the wool of his coat against your cheek. “Do you like it or not?”

“I do."

At home, you pulled out box after box of decorations, much to Hiromi’s bewilderment. “Where on earth are we going to put all of this?” he asked. Lounging in his favorite chair, feet propped on a well-loved ottoman as he sipped a mug of spiced cider, he watched you. “And how did you manage to accumulate so many...things?”

Your answer came as a conspiratorial sort of laugh as you surveyed the mantle of their fireplace and the minimalist decor of the rest of the home. “These are things I’ve been gifted over the years. Some, I’ve had since I was a little girl.” you spoke slowly, thoughtfully, as you carefully unwrapped delicate figurines, charming knick-knacks, and scented candles, lining them up on the coffee table until you could decide where to place them. “Some are gifts from friends...colleagues...ex boyfriends…” The last words spoken earned you an arched brow and a deep frown, which you answered with a cheeky smile. “I’m just kidding, Hiromi. I wouldn’t keep such things.”

“I see your sense of humor is suffering from all the giddiness you’re caught up in,” was his reply.

You bounced up from the couch and threw yourself into his lap, linking your arms around his neck. Bringing your face mere inches from his, you grew serious, your eyes dancing, sparkling in the dim light of your living room. When you spoke, your voice was low, an over-the-top sensual whisper. “You know you love it.”

He closed the distance between you and claimed your mouth with his, then; a slow, exploratory sort of kiss, one that left you breathless and dizzy. Hiromi had kissed you hundreds of times before, but you never quite got used to the rush you felt with each silken slide of his lips upon yours.

“I have to put up these decorations,” you breathed when you parted, your fingertips trailing across his cheek as your eyes remained locked, his warm breath blowing softly against your mouth.

“Of course. Don’t go blaming me for getting distracted, though.”

After another quick, short kiss, you slipped away from him and set about your work while Hiromi took it upon himself to fan out the branches of your artificial tree. Grand, tall, and full– with pre-lit branches and a realistic charm– it stood proudly in the middle of the large picture window of their living room. Together, you hung bulbs, garland, and sentimental ornaments, while festive music played in the background.

Later, over takeout paired with expensive wine, you asked him, “What do you want for Christmas, Hiromi?”

It took him two fork-fulls of food and a sip of wine to answer while he pondered. you watched him curiously, legs crossed, chin in your hands, the smile on your face revealing your quiet anticipation to his reply.

“I already have what I wanted,” he stated simply after touching a cloth napkin to the corners of his mouth.

You pouted and fluffed the rice on your plate. “You’re no fun. Tell me. Isn’t there something you’ve been longing for?”

If you hadn’t been studying him so intently, you would have missed the subtle change in his expression, the rush of color to his otherwise even complexion. He cleared his throat and stood from the table, walking around it to stand in front of your, hand extended in an invitation.

Confused, curious, you laid your hand in his and allowed him to pull you to your feet and fold you in his arms. Thumb and forefinger lifted your chin so that he could look upon you with such intense affection that it made you misty-eyed. “Hiromi…?”

“You.”

“What?”

He sighed and hugged your close, swaying side to side while the music you had put on earlier continued to play. “It’s you. And now that you’re here, I can’t think of anything else I want,” he confessed, sifting your hair through his fingers. “But if you insist on giving me a gift…” he backed away from you, threading his fingers through yours and leading you toward your Christmas tree. You followed, sliding your stocking feet playfully along the wood floor; you would swear you felt his hand tremble when he released yours to pluck a small, red box tied with a simple white ribbon from atop the branches of the tree. your mouth fell open as you watched him place it into the palm of your hand. “Open it,” he implored, softly.

“But it’s not Christmas yet…” you murmured. He pressed a finger against your lips and shook his head.

“Just open the box.”

You obeyed; slowly, deliberately, you untied the delicate ribbon and opened the box to reveal a ring bearing the largest diamond you had ever laid eyes on. Hiromi lifted the ring from its pillow and sank to his knee in front of you.

“Will you give me the gift of being at your side for the rest of our lives?”

Hand clapped over your mouth, tears blurring your vision, you nodded furiously and watched with rapt attention as he slid the ring onto your finger. He stood and curled his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth to kiss you, his own eyes damp with tears of relief, of overwhelming joy.

Late that evening, you stood together in the church of your youth– a stone cathedral with impressive stained-glass windows and aglow with candlelight, the ethereal sounds of a choir reverberating throughout the cavernous space. You sang the words to the carols you’d known since you was a little girl, Hiromi’s slightly out of tune baritone accompanying you quietly. Outside, the snow fell, blanketing the world in a pristine layer of glittering white.

In the warmth of the candlelight, you studied your ring– the symbol of Hiromi’s devotion to you. On the way to the church, you had talked about a Christmas wedding– next year, of course– and walked through the snow bundled in your winter coats, your excited laughter and breath visible as plumes of white against the indigo night.

“I love you,” you whispered when the hymn was over, just as the strains of the great pipe organ faded and the choir intoned their last note.

He turned to you and smiled, and for a moment, you thought your heart might stop.

“I love you, too.”

#higuruma hiromi x reader #jjk x reader

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shybunnie20 · 6 months

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Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.”

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times.

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is.

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

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tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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granolawriting · 7 months

Text

"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you.

“How's this for a Halloween costume?”

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design.

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?”

“Straws exist.”

“I'm not convinced”

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle.

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you.

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else.

“A cowgirl?”

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately.

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.”

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.”

You put the bag in the cart.

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together.

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad.

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her.

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end.

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works.

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut,

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?”

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there.

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.”

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.”

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work.

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—”

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body.

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?”

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006.

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?”

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on.

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.”

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50.

…

Ding Dong

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—”

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens.

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive.

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?”

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you.

He skips a beat.

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.”

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter.

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?”

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.”

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry.

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure.

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.”

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers.

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.”

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same.

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom.

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass.

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.”

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it.

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?”

“Can you ask one question at a time?”

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.”

“Maybe. Well?”

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.”

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him.

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.”

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons.

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing.

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask.

“Hey you!!!”

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements.

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process.

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!”

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement;

“And—”

She points behind you.

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!”

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this.

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather.

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right.

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance.

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses.

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller— as you force yourself to call him in your mind.

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?”

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you.

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete.

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?”

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—”

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you.

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?”

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure.

You nod your head meekly.

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.”

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start;

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—”

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.”

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up.

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.”

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues.

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.”

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means.

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards.

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him.

“I'm—”

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.”

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him.

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him.

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased.

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.”

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed.

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.”

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?”

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.”

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose.

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.”

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you.

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation.

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season.

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!”

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second.

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind.

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.”

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues.

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.”

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?”

“Spendin’ the night?”

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you.

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more.

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.”

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home.

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him.

“Ya’ need somethin’?”

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would.

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.”

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face.

“And what would that be darlin’?”

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think.

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.”

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore.

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?”

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.”

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you.

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?”

“What?”

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.”

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.”

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says.

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…”

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that.

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.”

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra.

“Take it off. Please.”

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you.

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.”

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume.

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him.

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”

“Then show me.”

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination.

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention.

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?”

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night.

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.”

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long.

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head.

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-”

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah.

“You like that sweetheart?”

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you.

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.”

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.”

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him.

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.”

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.”

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release.

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you.

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.”

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you.

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—”

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same.

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?”

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.”

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior.

“Fuckkk please oh my god”

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?”

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm.

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.”

“Inside of me”

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing.

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—”

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later.

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you.

“I think you forgot something.”

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?”

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night.

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing;

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?”

“I just wanted to feel you.”

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.”

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.”

“Yeah that’d be smart.”

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared.

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.”

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end.

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