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wineauntie · 4 months

Note

can you write on for quinn where you cook dinner together

A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE – quinn hughes x gf!reader (smut)

note: I know this isn’t my Luke imagine but I couldn’t sleep until I wrote this request! I was so in love with this idea and I can’t lie, I hadn’t planned on it slipping into nsfw material but it all just happened before I could stop, so I hope you enjoy it!

Smut will be separated with asterisks***

warnings: SMALL SECTION OF NSFW CONTENT, MDNI 18+, fem!reader, smut, fingering, f receiving, reader is a ray of sunshine, fluff to the extreme– Quinn is so whipped for reader. Use of nicknames: pretty girl, sweet girl and baby. Quinn has a dirty mouth fr, reader likes cooking and baking.

word count: 3.7k+

One thing you had yet to get used to was the coldness that could sweep across Vancouver. Winter was never too extreme here but occasionally, the snow and stormy weather would infiltrate and last anywhere from a few days to a week. You loved the snow with your whole heart, you just hated being cold...hence why the heating in the apartment had been on blast since you’d reentered your home. You'd been sent home early, by your manager when she'd heard that there was a storm inbound. You'd jumped at the opportunity and rushed home as soon as possible.

Upon your arrival home, you'd instantly stripped yourself of your multiple layers and shrugged on a pair of your fluffiest socks. You'd flitted around the apartment lighting several candles around the kitchen, and living room, along with turning on various lamps you'd found in thrift shops downtown.

You hummed lightly, content in the comfort as you moved into the kitchen, an empty cup that had once been filled to the brim with tea tucked in your hand. The kitchen was your pride and joy out of the whole apartment. It had been painted a softened yellow hue, with white vinyl cabinets and rustic wooden shelves stocked with plants, cooking books and various trinkets. Your varnished wooden countertops lay home to multiple chopping boards, even more plants and a range of appliances.

"I'll be home in five :)"

Your smile widened as the text lit up your phone. You bit your lip as you placed the cup by the kettle and leaned against one of the countertops, your eyes scanning the silent kitchen. You turned towards the small radio hidden between the plants behind you on the windowsill, as your thumb scrolled through your Spotify playlist on your phone whilst the Bluetooth connected. Selecting your favourite playlist, you let out a content sigh, turning up the volume to fill the quiet.

You were in the mood to cook. The need always swept over you every time you stepped into the kitchen, but tonight it was overwhelming. You moved around the kitchen, opening cabinets and the fridge, searching for inspiration to hit you.

Your search was interrupted as the creaking of the front door erupted from the hallway. You heard rustling before the door creaked shut once more. You beamed and hurried towards the door, barrelling towards your boyfriend as he swiped the grey beanie off his head.

"Oh, hello," he smiled, letting his arms fall around you as you crashed into his chest. You felt giddy, quite like you always did when you found yourself around Quinn. "Have a good day?"

"Mhm..." You nodded as you unlatched from him, allowing him to take off his jacket and shoes. "Got sent home earlier due to the storm. How was practice?"

"Good, we just ran drills" Quinn supplied before he turned towards you and tackled you in another hug, basically carrying you towards the kitchen. "'m feeling a bit hungry though, will we order in?"

"I was thinking of making something," you spoke, your hands draped around his neck and your feet on top of his as he moved to set his keys on the counter. "I couldn't decide though...I wanted to wait and see what you'd maybe like."

It was Quinn's turn to hum as he bent down to bury his face in the nape of your neck. "What about pasta?" He suggested, as your eyes ran around the shelves for any stand-out cookery book.

"We had that yesterday," You dismissed with a frown whilst your eyebrows scrunched together.

"We could have it again," he shrugged, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point. "The Italians have that stuff almost every day, surely we'll survive."

Your eyes lit up at his words as you yanked yourself from his grip and bounded across the kitchen. You pulled yourself up on top of one of the counters and grabbed a cooking book from the top shelf. As soon as you moved, Quinn followed, his arms anchored on either side of your legs in case you were to fall.

"How do you feel about pizza?" You questioned with a gleam in your eyes as Quinn helped you down from the counter. "I have a recipe that's easy to make from scratch...ooh! We could also make garlic bread!"

He watched you with soft eyes as you spoke excitedly, your eyes scanning the open cabinets for the ingredients. He loved to see you like this, with happiness radiating out of you. It made the stormy and snowy days like today seem incredibly irrelevant because who needed the sun when you'd bottled it up and released it with every grin you let slip across your face?

"Pizza sounds great, pretty girl." He smiled, his hands running down both of your arms soothingly. "As long as I can help?" He didn't know your twinkling smile could grow any larger, but it had as you practically bounced across the kitchen to grab two aprons.

"Apron up, Hughes," you teased, handing him the pale green apron you'd bought him when you'd moved in.

"I should be saying that to you," he remarked, tying the apron behind his back with a smirk. "I know how messy you can get."

With a feigned look of shock, you playfully whacked Quinn with your apron, stumbling when he caught it in his grasp and pulled it towards him so that you were now nose to nose.

You watched with bated breath as he placed the half apron around your waist, turning you to tie a neat bow in the back. His hands lingered over your waist as you turned around to face him once more. You stood on your toes and pressed a delicate kiss to his lips.

"Welcome home, by the way," you laughed as you pulled away. "I forgot to do it when you walked in."

"Oh, I know," Quinn replied, leaning forward and claiming another kiss before allowing you to grab your cooking book. You hummed along to the song playing in the background as your fingers skimmed through the pages, looking for the pizza recipe.

"Okay, I have dough left over in the fridge from those garlic and rosemary knots I made the other night, so it should be okay to use that for the base," you began as you moved to open the fridge and rummaged for the dough. You retrieved the container you knew was filled with dough and glanced at Quinn. "This should be enough for one big pizza? And we could share it with the garlic bread?"

"Sounds good, baby," Quinn agreed from his place at the sink where he was drying his washed hands. He made his way towards the cabinets and began to pull out an array of ingredients.

You let him walk back and forth to the countertop you intended to use as you scrubbed your hands in the sink. Quinn was continually examining the cookbook, depositing all the ingredients one by one until they were organised in front of the refrigerated dough.

"Okay," you huffed, your hands settling on your hips as you joined his side. "We need to preheat the oven, make the sauce and roll out the dough." You moved towards the oven, pressing a few buttons before returning to your station. "Step one, done! Alright, how about you crush one clove of garlic for the sauce and then maybe four or five for the bread and I'll start mixing the tomato passata and basil?"

Quinn nodded, his mouth slightly agape at how easily you controlled the world when cooking. Whilst he began rooting through the drawers for the garlic crusher, you began to pour out the passata into a large mixing bowl, which Quinn had grabbed and placed down whilst you were washing your hands.

Your humming filled the kitchen as you stirred. Quinn quickly crushed the garlic, looking at you for confirmation as he dumped the one clove into the sauce. You grinned from ear to ear, thanking him as he moved on, crushing the rest of the garlic and grabbing the butter from the fridge. You continuously stirred, ensuring the sauce had been mixed thoroughly. You made light conversation with Quinn as you worked, recounting your day from start to finish.

Quinn listened intently, soaking in your words as if they were honey. He listened as you told him all about your lovely local customers at the cafe to the cat you saw in an alley on the way to work, and he drank all of it in, his eyes finding it hard to focus on the task when your magnetism sought out for him.

"Oh, Q, there should be fresh ciabatta in the bread bin," You told him, "I picked some up when leaving work earlier, just in case we needed it…lucky us!”

"You are something else," Quinn commented with a lazy smile, his hands lightly brushing your allowed back as he moved to grab it. Shivers erupted down your spine at the sparse touch, a breathy sigh escaping your lips.

"Okay, so," You clapped your hands, "the sauce is all mixed, so is the garlic butter–thank you, now...it's just the dough and then toppings!"

Quinn helped set out a large baking sheet and sprinkled some loose flour across the countertop as you retrieved the dough from its container.

"Why don't you grab toppings, and I can start rolling?" You proposed, your bright eyes examining Quinn's face.

"Yes, chef," he saluted, causing you to laugh and push his chest. You slightly shook your head with a smile as you rolled out the dough, trying to maintain an even base. You focused on rolling, your eyebrows scrunched in concentration as your fingers darted out to roll the edges for the crust.

Quinn soon returned to the countertop with an armful of toppings in suit. He placed them all carefully nearby, so as not to crowd you as you focused.

"Why don't we split the pizza into four and do a different topping for each quarter," Quinn murmured, brushing a fleck of flour off of your cheekbone.

"You are incredible," You gushed, your eyes widening at the thought before your face turned rather stern. "but if I see one tiny sliver of pineapple, Quintin Jerome, I will not be happy!"

"No pineapple, pretty girl," he chuckled, "I got it."

Quinn helped to hold the sauce bowl as you gently scooped out and spread the sauce across the base of the pizza before the two of you scattered the mozzarella on top. You and Quinn each took half of the pizza, allowing the two of you complete control of the two quarters.

On one of yours, you placed sliced tomatoes and green peppers with a scattered spread of pesto, whereas on the other, you dispersed diced onions and spinach. Satisfied with your side, you glanced at Quinn, knowing all too well, he would add the meat to both of his. Lo and behold, he had placed pepperoni on one and pre-shredded chicken and red peppers on his other.

His arm fell around your shoulder as both of you stepped back to admire the masterpiece you'd created.

"I almost feel bad having to put it into the oven," you say sombrely.

"I can do it," Quinn spoke, his raspy voice low. "Saves me from worrying about you burning yourself."

"That was one time, mister," you huffed, pointing your finger at him in mock accusation, but your smile betrayed you.

"One time too many," he chided as he removed his arm from your shoulder and cautiously lifted the baking sheet that the pizza had been rolled on, moving it onto a tray before sliding it into the oven and setting the timer.

You watched until he shut the oven door before you sprang into cleaning mode, gathering all of the used equipment and placing them by the sink. Just as you took off your apron and were about to roll up your sleeves, your arms were restricted by Quinn's hands around your wrists as he slowly tutted.

"Nuh, uh," he shook his head with a pointed look, spinning you slowly to face him. "I'll clean up after dinner."

"But–"

"No buts,"

"I thought you liked my butt," you simpered cheekily, causing Quinn to roll his eyes.

"I do...very much," he agreed, pulling you into the centre of the kitchen before he lowered his voice. "Especially when it's squirming beneath me as you beg me to let you come."

All air left your lungs as a nonchalant Quinn stretched out a hand to turn up the music. Etta James' A Sunday Kind of Love had just begun to play, her sultry and smooth voice echoing around the kitchen as your boyfriend held you in his close grasp.

"Dance with me," He held your arms, his eyes searching yours for an answer. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you stepped closer to him, your chests pressed together, one of your hands clasping his, whilst the other curled around his neck, toying with the strands at the base.

The soft glow of the candles and kitchen lights created a warm ambience, casting intertwined shadows that danced along with your synchronized movements. Quinn's fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, pulling you even closer as the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enveloped in the timeless embrace of the music.

Your head lifted from where it had found itself nuzzled into him. Quinn's loving gaze locked onto yours, his eyes reflecting a mixture of playfulness and desire. The warmth of the kitchen, the subtle scent of dinner lingering in the air, and the rhythmic beat of the music made you want to bounce up and down with joy, belting from the rooftops that you adored your boyfriend and anything he did.

The dance floor was the small expanse of tile under your feet, but at that moment, it felt like you were lost in a world of your own creation, each step cementing the love and care you had for the man in front of you.

In a stolen moment with the music as your witness, Quinn leaned in. His lips met yours in a tender kiss as if sealing an unspoken pact, and for a fleeting instant, the only thing you could fathom was the taste of his lips.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. Your smile traipsed across your face as you leaned forward, recapturing his lips, and deepening the embrace. His thumb caressed your cheekbone as you sighed happily, your fingers soothingly twirling around his hair.

In a sudden move, Quinn's hands dropped down and grabbed your waist as he picked you up and carried you towards the dining table. You emitted a loud squeal, the two of your faces remaining close together as he monitored your emotions. You were still laughing when you were placed down on top of the table, his arms caging your body as his nose skimmed along the warmth of your neck. He placed a gentle kiss on the supple skin beneath your ear, earning him a quiet gasp for air whilst he moved across your jaw until finally lingering a mere centimetre away from your lips.

You whined as you tried to lean forward and take his lips with your own only to be stopped by an amused and dishevelled Quinn, avoiding your movement. His blown pupils examined your wide eyes and pouting mouth before he finally crashed his lips to yours once more.

***

This time, your kiss was feverish, your hands grasping at Quinn's shoulders as his ran along your thighs before creeping towards the waistband of your pants. You careened into his touch, panting into the kiss as he slowly shifted your weight so you were against him before he yanked down your pants, and tossed them across the room.

You gasped at the suddenness of it, your head spinning in need as Quinn pulled away to let you breathe, continuing his tirade of kisses down your neck, stopping just above your pulse point to slowly suckle at your skin. You let out a prolonged moan, your neck arching as one of his hands held your cheek to tilt your head, giving him more access to the skin there, whilst the other hand's fingertips traced circles on your upper thigh.

You melted at his touch, your body putty as he ran his tongue over the reddened patch of skin on your neck once more before he pulled away, placing open-mouthed kisses up to your ear. You gulped as his fingers brushed across the fabric of your panties, your eyes fluttering shut as he stroked his thumb against your cheek.

"Oh, baby," his deep and comforting voice drawled, "you're soaked through." You whimpered as Quinn removed his fingers from the material, placing them lightly in your pubic bone. "You been waiting all day for this, hm?"

You looked toward Quinn, whose darkened eyes kept a careful watch on your face. Your throat tightened as your words failed you, nodding frantically, while your hands desperately gripped his shirt.

"Words, y/n/n," he spoke more softly, his nose brushing yours as he shifted his position.

"Yes," you immediately gasped out, your half-lidded eyes overwhelmed with desire. "Need you...please!"

"So polite," he cooed, his finger tucking a strand of hair out of your face. "I'll tell you what, pretty girl, since you asked so nicely, I'll give you what you need." His fingers above the waistband of your panties slipped beneath the fabric as you let out a breathy moan. His fingers met your wetness instantaneously, a deep grumble slipping from his lips at the feeling.

"All this for me, huh?" He murmured, his finger circling your bud as you struggled to speak. Your head fell back in silent ecstasy, with your mouth agape as he slowly worked a finger inside of you, your walls clenching down as he moved it in and out. "You look so pretty like this," Quinn spoke in hushed tones, "all wet, needy and mine."

"Yours," you parroted breathlessly as he sank another thick finger inside of you. His other hand remained cradling your head, his lips ducking to kiss yours as your body trembled around him. He pushed his body closer to yours, causing your legs to spread further, his clothed groin skimming your own.

"You take my fingers so well," Quinn praised, his eyes unmoving from your blissed face. The feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of your drenched core, fired up every brain cell to send you into overdrive, wiping away any thought other than the pleasure he was giving you. Your hips bucked towards his fingers with a shameless moan, as you tried to feel as much of him as he was letting you.

He curled his fingers inside of you as he moved them quicker, his thumb moving upwards to stroke your sensitive bud whilst you crumbled on the table, the only thing keeping you upright being Quinn's steady hand on your face.

"Oh, does my girl need to come already?" Quinn lowly taunted, as he picked up the pace, his fingers now in an upbeat rhythm, in and out of you, as his thumb furiously rubbed your clit. Your staggered breaths and squeaks of pleasure grew rapid as your fists clenched tight around his shirt.

"Please, Q," you babbled as you begged, your eyes swimming as you found yourself stammering—drunk off of the feeling of Quinn's intoxicating touch. "Please, let me come, please?" You practically sobbed out your words, your back arching as the knot of warmth in your stomach grew tighter.

You felt his breathy laugh against your cheek as his fingers continued their onslaught of pleasures. Quinn leaned closer, letting his chest press flush against yours before he whispered a single word.

"Come.”

You needed no more prompting as your eyes fell shut and you cried out, a loud series of moans tumbling from your lips. Your body shuddered as the knot in your stomach snapped and pleasure erupted across every nerve, sending tingles down your spine all the way to your toes as Quinn worked you through your orgasm. He pumped his fingers in and out until he'd drawn out as much pleasure as he could, leaving you a panting and soaked mess.

The sharp ringing of the oven timer resounded and Quinn chuckled, removing his fingers from you as you whined at the loss of his touch. He raised the fingers to his mouth and licked your juices off of them, his gaze never straying from your overwhelmed self.

***

"Just in time," he said as his fingers popped out of his mouth. His lazy grin returned to his face as he moved both of his hands beneath your shaking legs before placing you down on a blanket on the couch in the living room. He moved the blanket to cover your legs as well as the couch beneath you before stepping back.

"You sit here, sweet girl, I'll sort the food." He told you, his hand lightly brushing over your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your head as you slumped into the softness of the couch.

You sat happily, watching as Quinn moved around the kitchen so freely as if he hadn't just pushed you into oblivion. You found yourself smiling softly as you settled into the warmth and it hadn't taken him long to reappear with one large serving platter with your pizza on top.

He sat down beside you as you quietly sprang to nestle into his side, trying to get as close to him as possible. He held a slice of pizza towards your mouth as you slowly bit into the end, before swallowing it. Quinn talked quietly to you as you ate, choosing to feed you at least one whole slice before he dug into his own. You remained cuddled into his side as you finished the slice, his arm draped around your shoulders.

"The garlic bread's just gone into the oven," Quinn whispered, watching as your eyes searched for something. They snapped towards Quinn at his words and he raised a brow knowing he'd hit the jackpot. You buried yourself in his side once more, his hand running through your hair as he plastered a joking smile across his face- the smile you adored.

"I got so caught up in dessert that I completely forgot about the sides..."

a/n: I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for this man <33

#wineauntie #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #hughes brothers x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes smut #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #literally toothrotting fluff #soft!quinn hughes #I love quinn hughes what a man #nhl x reader #vancouver canucks

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delulujuls · 6 months

Text

navy fury | mv33

im a redbull stan and max's girlie till i die (but my heart is papaya shaped) so please enjoy this one as well!

summary: max is struggling with asking for help, reader is trying her best to let him know that she always got his back

warnings: negative emotions, angst, max struggling with his demons, jos verstappen (he is the biggest warning lol)

pairing: max verstappen x fem!mclarendriver

Max would often get angry.

More often than he would like it to be. More often than he would want a consuming wave of anger to wash over him, for fury to engulf him and inject its burning venom into his veins. He would get angry over trivial things, get angry over bigger issues either. Anger would truly eat him up every time something didn't go as planned.

However, he tried to fight with his anger and negative emotions at all costs. Instead of processing them, letting go and moving on, he would bottle them up, allowing them to fester and poison his entire being. He preferred to get angry in solitude, where he knew nothing wrong would happen and even if it did, he would be the only one harmed.

Unfortunately, Max found a kind of satisfaction and comfort in hurting others. Emotions dissipated much faster when he could engage in an argument with someone rather than sitting in silence with only his own screams shattering his head.

If Max could have any control over himself and his emotions, he would unplug the anger outburst responsible for explosions of anger like this one.

He didn't hear the insults that left his mouth, didn't hear Christian's shouts telling him to calm down. He didn't feel the strong arms of the mechanics holding him back and pulling him away from Lance Stroll, who sat on the ground with a bleeding nose. In moments like this, Max was guided by nothing but emotions, desperately trying to find any way out.

In moments like this Max knew that to feel relief he had to destroy something. It didn't matter if it was a glass, his shattered fists or the bleeding nose of that Aston Martin dickhead who ruined his entire race.

Many people in his immediate surroundings distinguished the Dutchman before the anger storm and after it. Before it was Max, after it, there was only Verstappen.

Just as Max was the friendly, smiling guy who joyfully congratulated his rivals, willingly gave interviews and joked with team members, Verstappen was a walking hailstorm from which lightning could strike at any moment.

"Fucking idiot."

He growled one last time and walked deeper into the garage, where everyone he encountered averted their gaze and moved out of his way. It was always best to simply get out of Max's way and let him cool down. But no one knew that the fire of anger was just beginning to burn and the epicenter was yet to come.

"What the hell was that, Max?"

Cold water. The hiss of an extinguished fire.

He felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing his father's voice. Jos Verstappen was the only person who could instantly turn his anger into pure, filtered fear.

Max unzipped his racing suit, unable to look his father in the face. He didn't even know what to say. What was there to say either, he had just let his father down. Not for the first time though.

"I asked you a question."

His father's cold, gruff tone cut Max to the core and once again, Max was six years old, stuttering as he explained to his dad why he crashed his go-kart into his friend's. Apologizing and making excuses, saying it wasn't his fault that another seven-year-old cut him off. In his eyes, Max wasn't a grown man with an amazing track record, he was just a brat who needed discipline because he made idiotic mistakes.

His father was about to thunder over him again when the whole stormy situation was suddenly illuminated by a ray of sunshine. Quite literally, as it was Y/N still dressed in her bright McLaren suit, who upon hearing about the commotion in the Aston Martin garage hastily went out to found her friend.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Verstappen, but Max is needed in the studio," she said quickly, grabbing Max's hand "Come on, Max, we need to go."

"We'll come back to this conversation."

His father mumbled under his breath, watching them go.

The girl squeezed her friend's hand tighter and started pulling him in the opposite direction, wanting to get him away from his father as quickly as possible.

"I'm not in the mood for interviews."

"There's no interview; I had to come up with something quickly to get you out of there."

Max stopped, causing Y/N to be pulled back as well. Surprised by his sudden decision, she turned to him with a questioning expression.

"I want to be alone right now, without anyone."

He let go of her hand but she still stubbornly held onto his fingers.

"We both know you don't want to be alone."

Max shook his head in denial. The last thing he wanted was to be in her company right now. He knew that when the commotion and the crowd disappeared, all the emotions would flood over him like a toxic wave.

"You don't understand."

"Yes, I don't understand because you don't give me the chance."

The girl approached him, their bodies only a few inches apart.

"Everything is fine between us only when you're in a good mood. We are really close, we spend time together and we are acting like actual friends. But as soon as something doesn't go your way and your behavior changes, you build a thick wall between us." Y/N looked into his eyes, shaking her head. "Friends don't do that, Max."

"That's what the best friends do," he replied, looking into her eyes. As they were always in the colour of the clear sky, in that moment they were having a storm inside. "The best friends won't drown you in the shit that's swirling through their lives, they won't drag you into their inner conflicts. The best friends won't be a burden to you, you know why? Because they'll just spare you that!"

Y/N embraced him without a word. She hugged him with such force that someone would need chains to pull her away. She had no intention of leaving Max's side, no matter what he was struggling with. She wanted to help him, to be his support and to be the light in his darkest nights. She had no intention of letting him continue to deceive himself with assurances that everything was always perfect. Because life never looks that way.

Adult Max didn't return her embrace, knowing that it was for the best. Adult Max closed his eyes and tilted his head, not wanting to let a single tear escape. He hoped that by remaining distant, by hurting the girl with his indifference, she would let go of him. But Little Max didn't want to make her sad; he wanted to hug his friend and not let her go until everything will be okay again.

"I won't leave you with this, Maxie. If you like it or not."

Maxie.

Lighter.

Explosion.

He exploded in tears without any warning. He sank to his knees and tightly embraced his friend, burying his face in her stomach. Y/N stroked his hair, holding him close. She didn't try to calm him, knowing full well that he just needed to cry. He needed to let out all the sadness, anger, and bitterness that had accumulated in his veins and poisoned him for years.

When the girl kissed his wet cheek, she could swear that it left a bitter taste on her lips.

And it was exactly the venom finally letting him go.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 one shot #f1 imagines #mclarendriver #mv33 #mv33 x reader

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witchywithwhiskey · 4 days

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Hey! For the spring time drabbles I would love to see Lloyd Hansen (this moustach… I swear…) with smut no. 75. “you’ll cum as many times as i want, got it?”

ruining a perfect springtime date

pairing: boyfriend!lloyd hansen x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, restraints, light bondage, light bdsm, dom/sub vibes, praise kink, pet names, possessive behavior, established relationship

word count: 1,300ish

a/n: thank you for sending in this prompt!!! Lloyd absolutely would say something like this, so it wasn't hard to come up with an idea for this little ficlet 😏 i hope you enjoy it!!! ♡♡

The forecast had called for a beautiful spring day—warm, but not too hot, and plenty of sunshine to make sure the constant breeze didn’t get too chilly. Excitement filled your heart like champagne bubbles as you eagerly bopped around your room, getting ready for the day.

Your boyfriend, Lloyd Hansen, had planned the perfect springtime date. He’d bought a few tickets for a spring garden where the two of you could ride around on bicycles together, taking in the gorgeous blooms and soaking up the sun. Then, he’d booked a reservation at a sweet little restaurant with the most beautiful outdoor patio, where you could eat outside and watch the sunset together.

You paused just as you were spritzing on perfume and smiled to yourself, thinking about asking Lloyd for his jacket at dinner because you’d conveniently forgotten a sweater. You could already imagine the warmth and comfort of being wrapped up in his jacket, and it only made you redouble your efforts to finish getting ready so your date could start.

Lloyd was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs of the home you shared together, and you made yourself slow down so he could get the full effect of the effort you’d put into your date outfit and makeup. As slowly as you could manage with how excited you were, you flounced down the stairs, feeling your boyfriend’s gaze on your body.

You’d worn your favorite sundress in honor of your date, the cotton hugging all your curves perfectly to emphasize your body, while the hem was short enough to be flirty without showing too much thigh. It was sweet and a little sexy, and you thought Lloyd would love how good it made you look. Or so you thought.

But as you watched your boyfriend’s face while you descended the stairs toward him, you saw his expression darken. By the time you stepped off the last stair, Lloyd’s face was positively stormy, his blue eyes dark as the sky during a spring rainstorm.

Without a word, Lloyd prowled toward you and threw you over his shoulder, making you shriek in surprise. He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he carried you back to the bedroom you shared. When your sounds of surprise quieted, you realized he was muttering to himself.

“Look so fucking pretty in that sundress,” he grumbled to himself, his big hand gripping your soft thigh firmly so you couldn’t squirm off his shoulder. “How’m I supposed to keep my hands off you, huh?” he asked, but didn’t stop his muttering so you knew he didn’t expect an answer. “Woulda had to shoot every man that looked at you too long, woulda had to show them all you’re mine.”

Lloyd tossed you down on the king-size bed you shared, his mouth twisting in a snarl that had desire blooming deep in your core. His darkened eyes fell to your legs, where the hem of your dress had ridden up an indecent amount, his gaze staring at your thighs like he was greedy for them. But Lloyd held himself back.

Instead, he stood at the foot of the bed and slowly unbuckled his belt.

“You’ve done it now, princess,” Lloyd growled, his gaze drifting up your body to your face. “You’re not moving from this bed until I’ve had my fill of you, do you hear me?” His expression was furious, but there was a heat in his gaze that had you melting for your man. “You’ll come as many times as I want, got it?”

A part of you wanted to pout that Lloyd was ruining your perfect springtime date, but a much bigger part of you was eager for the punishment he had in mind. So you nodded, a breathy, “Yes, sir,” falling from your parted lips.

Lloyd’s mouth curved into a smile and then he climbed on the bed, crawling up your body and gathering your hands above your head. Using his belt, Lloyd tied your hands to the headboard of the bed, checking with you to make sure the restraints weren’t too tight before he moved back down your body.

Your boyfriend settled between your thighs, pushing your legs wide so your sundress gathered around your waist. Without further preamble, Lloyd buried his face in your panty-covered core, breathing in so deeply, it made you squirm, desire leaking from your hole.

“Can smell how wet you are already, angel,” he groaned, his eyes flicking up and catching yours. Lloyd held your gaze while he ran the flat of his tongue over your pussy, teasing you through your panties. It was so hot, you squirmed, but Lloyd just grabbed your hips and pinned you to the bed, holding you still for him. “Patience, peanut, I’ll taste your sweet honey when I’m good and ready.”

A whine worked its way up your throat and spilled from your mouth as Lloyd continued to tease you, his smirk deepening while sweat gathered at your temples. When your hands tugged impatiently on the restraints, Lloyd chuckled against your pussy, his mustache teasing your clit through your panties and driving you wild.

Finally, when your panties were soaking wet from your desire and his tongue, Lloyd tore them from your body and dove into your cunt, eating you out like a starving man.

That first time, your release came fast and hard, crashing over you like an unexpected wave that would’ve knocked you off your feet if you’d been standing. Pleasure the likes of which only Lloyd could give you swept through your body as you cried out for him, your thighs tightening around his head and body trembling through it all.

But Lloyd was nowhere near done. Your boyfriend treated you to another release. Then another. Then another.

And another.

He kept going until your mind was so blown with pleasure you could no longer keep track of how many times you’d come on Lloyd’s face, your juices gushing into your boyfriend’s mouth while he drank them down greedily, his mustache rapsing over your soft, sensitive skin.

When Lloyd replaced his tongue with his fingers, he used his mouth to tell you how pretty you looked in your sundress—how fuckable you were, and how he needed to keep you all to himself when you looked so gorgeous. You were his and his alone and he needed to show you just what it meant to belong to him.

By the time Lloyd pushed his hard, weeping cock into your wet, swollen cunt, you were delirious and exhausted. But the feel of your boyfriend’s cock sinking into you made you moan wantonly and yank weakly on the belt still tied around your wrists. You wanted desperately to wrap your arms around Lloyd’s broad shoulders, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your boyfriend pounded into you until you came again, swallowing your mindless moans with his kisses. Then, finally, he released your hands from his belt.

As quickly as he could, Lloyd divested both of you over your clothes, rubbing your aching shoulders and wrists, then slid back inside you. That time, he took you slow and sweet, rocking into your thoroughly used cunt and cradling your face in his hands while he told you how well you did for him.

Lloyd murmured against your lips that you were his perfect good girl and, impossibly, you managed to give him one more release. You came at the same time as your boyfriend, the two of you clinging to one another as your bodies came together in the most intimate way.

As you let yourself succumb to exhaustion, you had to admit to yourself that Lloyd may have ruined your perfect springtime date, but he more than made up for it.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #precious1610

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 11 months

Text

The Day the Music Died

I’m sorry that this is gonna be so angsty, but I used to be in the marvel fandom where the reader died all the time and I love this trend on tiktok so

Summary: The Grid has to say goodbye to their favorite girl

2023 F1 Grid x young!fem!reader

(For the sake of this story, reader is Aston Martin driver alongside Fernando, and Lance is the reserved driver, she can also be American if you want to really fit the song)

It was your favorite kind of race, a few hours away from midnight, and it was pouring rain, meaning the race was going to be more unpredictable and chaotic than usual.

You’ve always loved the rain and the extra risk factor it bought to Formula 1, so when your engineer told you the conditions were going to stay the same for the race, a bright smile took over your face, brighter than your usual one.

Your smile was one of your trademarks on the grid, often being compared to Daniel Ricciardo on the matter. Despite the age gap, you and the Australian were quite close and were like walking rays of sunshine when the two of you were together.

You were closest with the other young drivers the most though, Lando, George, Zhou, Yuki, and your teammate Lance being your closest companions.

You describe the grid as being like in a family, your teammate Fernando was like your grid dad, always looking out for you and defending you when the media felt a little extra vicious. The older men on the grid like uncles, looking out for you but letting you have your fun.

Drivers like Carlos, Charles, Pierre, Max, Esteban, and Alex were like cousins, you messed around with each other but always looking out for the other. Reporters called you “the glue” saying that your youthful spirit had helped bond the drivers as more than just competition.

So it made sense that a lot of drivers were worried when your car went into the barriers during the race.

Sunday started off fine, you had a goodnight sleep, hung out with your PR officer for breakfast and walked into the paddock with a smile on your face.

You greeted other drivers and the co-workers you knew as you worked your way to your garage and into your drivers room, changed into your drivers suit and reviewed your strategy with a few engineers before you had to head into the garage to get into your car.

“Radio check Y/n, radio check” Your engineer came over the radio. “Loud and clear” You replied, the adrenaline and excitement already kicking in as you were given the go-ahead to head onto the track for the formation lap. The mist from the cars around you and your soaked visor limited your vision, but you managed to find your way to your spot on the track. You were starting P5 today and were already anxious to start the race.

The flag was waved, the five red lights came on and off before all 20 cars were accelerating down the track, trying to gain positions early. You held on to P5 throughout the race, trying to defend against Carlos Sainz’ Ferrari behind you and trying to overtake Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you.

It was Lap 25 when you attempted another overtake on Leclerc, speeding down the straight and trying to gain on him before the corner. Right as you were beginning your turn into the corner, your tires locked up and you headed into the barriers, going too fast for your brakes to properly stop the car.

You felt the impact on the right side of your abdomen first, then your head, then your legs. It was like being compressed into a small box then slammed against a cement wall.

What happened? Why aren’t I on the track? Your vision went dizzy as you tried to remember what happened. I must have locked up, but why does my side hurt so bad?

“Oh no! Big crash on Turn 7, I think that was Y/n L/n’s Aston Martin! That looked bad, might be a red flag if L/n doesn’t show responsiveness” Martin Brundle spoke worriedly, crashes during stormy races were never good.

Just focus on getting out of the car, you told yourself. You wrapped your arms around the halo to try and lift yourself up but the dizziness in your head combined with the immediate pain in your right side made you sit back down. I probably hurt my ribs, you thought. It’s fine, I’ll just wait for the medics.

Brundle was right, the yellow flag was waved first and the cars slowed down, but it soon became clear that the race wasn’t going to continue for a bit. After a few minutes of waiting for you, a red flag was waved and the medical team was sent out.

Black spots danced in your vision as you tried to look around for the marshals. You expected your vision to clear up after a second, but it never did. Your world just became fuzzier and darker.

You started hearing sirens of an ambulance approaching, but your arms felt too heavy to raise in a sign of acknowledgement.

“The safety car and marshals arrive at the scene, still no movement from L/n” Martin’s voice becomes somber but he stays hopeful, of course you were fine, you never get hurt, you’d get out in a moment and everything would be fine.

You couldn’t keep yourself awake for much longer. It’s okay, at least I’m okay, right? Right? You asked yourself that question, expecting to wake up in a couple minutes. You weren’t scared of going unconscious, you’d be okay. But your eyes closed for the last time before you could find an answer and it was over before you even realized it’d begun.

The drivers were still in their cars, wondering what had happened. They knew you had crashed, but they knew you were strong, you’ll walk out of your car and dramatically insist Daniel give you a piggy back ride when you saw him. “You didn’t even hurt your legs!” He’d complain and you’d just shrug and tell him to let you climb on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the race might not continue for a bit, at least until Y/n L/n is safe and taken off the track” Martin tries to keep the viewers updated as curtains are placed around your car to keep the cameras away from you.

Everyone is getting antsy at this point, your engineer got no radio from you and there is no word from the medics yet. The drivers are calling in every other minute, anxious to hear from you. “Is she okay?” Fernando calls in. “Do we know if Y/n’s alright?” Carlos asks, having seen the crash up close. Daniel even walks into your garage, wanting to see for himself if there was any news on your crash.

As a Formula 1 Medic, Rowan should be prepared to handle any type of crash a driver was in, ranging from a bruise on their stomach to a broken leg, she was trained to handle it. But Rowan had never seen a dying person before, so her hesitation to help her coworker with lifting L/n out of her car was understandable.

Two other medics immediately crowd the girl. Rowan searching for a pulse, one taking off the teen’s helmet, and the third wrestling with the drivers suit, trying to assess the damage that could by covered by the clothing.

“Rowan, have you found a pulse?” One of the other medics who’s rummaging ambulance for supplies asks. Rowan doesn’t want to answer. She doesn’t want to face this. She wants to check her neck, her heart, and her wrist again even though she already did three times. Rowan doesn’t want to be one to tell everyone that Y/n L/n is dead, but Rowan knows better than that, so she removes her hands from the drivers body, hangs her head low, and closes her eyes as if that would stop her tears from falling.

“No pulse. I’ve checked everywhere three times. She’s gone.” The medic’s voice cracks as she says the last sentence, and a silence overcomes the team of safety marshals.

Nobody on the team had ever encountered a death before, so the medical staff was stuck in a mournful silence, letting the rain wash away the tears that threatened to drop from their cheeks.

The head of the team snaps out of it first. “Someone has to radio the Aston Martin garage and tell them” Everyone seems to step away, wanting to avoid being the one to announce the death. There was nothing to worry about though, as Rowan spoke up. “I’ll do it. I’ll make call” No one disagrees, and Rowan’s glad because she felt partly responsible, she should’ve gotten to Y/n quicker, helped her out of the car, told everyone to move quicker.

Rowan’s voice comes over the radio, shaky and somber. “Y/n L/n is dead. She has no pulse.” She pauses as her throat closes up. “We’ll take her to the medical center-“ That’s all the woman can manage before she bursts into tears and started shaking with sobs. Another medics pulls her closer to them, as they give a moment of silence for the driver.

The young medic is only a few years older than the girl who just died, questions herself, “What if I got there faster?” It lingers in her mind.

Gasps. Tears. Hands cover faces and people are pulled into hugs. Dead? Daniel thinks, no, she isn’t dead, Y/n- she can’t- she’s not dead. Before he realizes, he’s saying the words out loud and pressing the radio button before Otmar can stop him. “I- what do you mean she’s dead? She can’t be dead- she can’t be” The Australian has tears running down his face and he’s pulled away by one of the Aston Martin engineers.

Nobody knows what has happened except those in the Aston Martin garage, and nobody will know until 7:00am the next morning, when Y/n L/n’s death is announced by Aston Martin.

It seems like the entire world came together to offer their support. Millions of messages are sent to Y/n’s family and her friends and bouquets of flowers are sent to Y/n’s P.O. Box.

The funeral is held on Friday, family, friends, drivers, and co-workers show up to Y/n’s home town to mourn their beloved driver.

A moment of silence is held at the race three weeks later, nearly every driver cries and everyone that has a helmet has a sticker with your initials on it. Fernando wins for you and points at the sky as he sobs for his teammate that was like his daughter.

The paddock no longer feels the same. There was no longer a green suit to watch as she bounced around, talking to anyone and everyone, keeping a smile on her face through it all. There is something so clearly missing in the Aston Martin videos, no matter how much time passes. Fans rewatch her live streams and interviews because it’s all the comfort they have. You used to call the grid dinner outings “family dinner” but families smile and laugh together, and it takes a while before the grid can do that again.

Y/n L/n goes down in the Formula 1 Hall of Fame as the best female driver that has ever lived, but the whole world wishes she was there to see her induction herself.

The day the music died

So bye-bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee

But the levee was dry

Them good old boys were drinking whisky and rye

Singing, “This’ll be the day I die”

This will be the day that I die

if you’re confused on how y/n dies, I wrote it as her internal organs got crushes as she crashed straight into the barrier, i know it doesn’t really make sense and it took me me awhile to make this edit but I kinda forgot about it

also, I want to write more f1 fics after this, so if you have any suggestions on what team the reader should be on and what driver the reader should be with lmk 🫶

#formula 1 #reader insert #f1 2023 #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 drivers #driver reader #female driver reader #female f1 driver

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 9 months

Note

whipped price is the best price!! i read countryside again earlier on while ao3 was down and it soooo good literally tempted to read it again before i go to sleep tbh looooool but food for thought because i literally think of price and sunshine!reader before i go to sleep but what if (and idk if this is cliche but i am going to be a cliche for this cause why not)

but what ifffff price goes off to the toilet for a week and while he’s gone he leaves sunshine!reader at the bar to get drinks (yes at marissa’s place) anyway sunshine is at the barrr and some random dude comes up and starts to hit on her and she’s like nah dude i’m good thanks and he still hits on her and even marissa is like ‘seriously back off’ and then after a bit price comes out and sees and starts puffing his chest a bit cause ? who da fuck is that flirting with his women?! and the others see him storming over and try to brace themselves for the wrath of price on this muppet flirting with his girl and that’s all i have rn butttt if you wanna continue it then please do

TLTR; price gets jealous of another guy hitting on his girl and i am wondering if you’d be down to finish it off cause you’d do a wayyy better job then me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: Thank you s much love. This definitely took I turn, not gonna lie, but I still like it, hope it's alright<3

Dark and Stormy

Summary; When another guy hits on you, Price gets protective. One thing leads to another and you find yourself in a vastly unfamiliar situation with Price that Ghost helps manoeuvre.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 4.3k

Warnings; PTSD, mental health discussion, protective!Price, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

The intention of tonight was a quiet night out. Or, as calm as it gets when there's football on the telly. It also was when Johnny entertained a conversation with you rather than watching the game, as disinterested in the sport as they come compared to the others. And yes, even when a team scored, the evening was peaceful.

But then two things happened. John excused himself to the toilet while you headed to the bar, wanting a drink and something to chew on. It was a few minutes before half-time and you knew there would be a wave of people flocking towards where Marissa, at the moment, stood unoccupied, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes drifting over the crowd with an amused look. As you stepped up to the counter, that gaze settled upon you.

"Ain't it fascinating they can be this invested?" Marissa was as uninterested in football as Johnny, yet both possessed a good understanding of the game and the current season. Both your friend and the Scotsman unwillingly so, regarding the bar broadcasts relevant games on weekends and, apparently, it was a common topic not only off but on base amongst the men.

You shrugged in return. "Each to their own".

"I guess", she huffed, pushing away from the counter she'd been leaning against. With two short steps, she stood in front of you. "Wanna get something?"

"You already know what I want", you replied, to which she put a hand on her chest, an exaggerated expression morphing her features as her mouth dropped open.

"To come and keep me company, you shouldn't have", Marissa flicked her hand, making you chuckle.

"If it makes you pay for my drink, sure", you wink at her.

"Dream on, missy", Marissa chuckles as she goes to prepare the beverage, but she stops in her track suddenly, eyes shifting away from you.

"I can pay for your drink, gorgeous". You jump slightly at the voice close to you. With a swivel of your head, you instantly locate the blonde man who'd crept up behind you.

"No, thank you", you reply with a polite smile, turning towards Marissa again, trying to make it obvious you turned his efforts down.

"Didn't sound like that a second ago". Your brows furrow, sending the blonde a look over your shoulder.

"Joke between friends", you reply curtly, motioning between yourself and Marissa.

"Well, she can't keep you company all night, can she?" He smiled, leaning on the bar beside you with his elbow. "But I can". He must've thought the wink accompanying his sentence was meant to lighten your mood. If anything, it made you cringe inwardly and take a step away from him.

"Got my boyfriend for that". You looked forwards, locking eyes with Marissa. She met you with an expression you didn't need words to understand.

You saw a movement in your peripheral. Glancing at the man, you spot him turning his head left and right, looking behind him. "Don't see him around. You're not lying to me now, are you?"

You didn't look at him as he faced you, only following Marissa as she propped one of her hands on her hip, a low muttered 'Jesus' passing under he breath.

"Her man shouldn't need to be attached to her hip for you to understand what a no means", Marissa remarks. You send her a thankful look as her eyes momentarily shift to you.

"He should if having a girl this peng otherwise people will bother her all the time".

"Like you?" You finally turn towards him, arms crossed over your chest.

His brows are furrow, setting his features in a hard stare. "What did you say?"

You want to roll your eyes. But honestly, how the man's voice fell so drastically from the flirty tone made you hesitant. Yeah, you were bordering between annoyed and cautious now. "I'm saying I'm not interested in and you're making me uncomfortable".

"But I've done nothing wrong", he claimed.

"You may interpret that way, but I feel differently, so please", you motioned towards some other tables, asking the man to leave you be.

"I can stay here to have a drink if I want to", he states, turning to Marissa, making no move to listen to your desire for him to give you space. "I'll have a dark ale".

"I won't serve you", she declares.

"You can't decide that", he points at your friend, who cocks her head.

"I can. I own this place".

"Bull-fuckin-shit you do. What poor old grandpa did you rob this place from? Shouldn't even be surprised you took his life-work from him". Your mouth dropped open. Marissa's face hardened.

"Believe what you want because this is my pub and no one here will serve you". The man opened his mouth, about to continue the argument, when someone interrupted him.

"You can't get a clearer no from either of them, mate". Your eyes instantly find John upon his voice. He's standing behind the man looking at Marissa, then you, only for his eyes to meet the blonde's as he turns his head to see who's talking to him.

"I didn't talk to you, now did I, old man?"

"Maybe not, but you didn't show any signs of human decency and respect to her". John motions to Marissa. "Neither did you care when she straightforwardly said she didn't enjoy your advances", he nods towards you.

Understanding that John caught his behaviour towards the two of you, the blonde suddenly switched up.

"Oh, come on, it's alright, ain't it, love?" He turns to face you, concerning you're the closest to him. Your nose scrunch at the pet name. In your mind, it was only reserved for John. That the man dared to use it despite how he's been acting made a revolting sensation grow in your stomach. "You don't mind me, right?" He raises his arm, attempting to put it around your shoulders in a manner of goodwill. But, you move out of his reach, not desiring to be touched by this man.

And, even if you hadn't moved, the blonde would never have reached you concerning how John acted swiftly. He'd grabbed his shoulder, a gentle pull making him take a few steps back to give you space. When the blonde stumbled slightly from the reasonable action, you understood the man wasn't entirely sober, quite far from it. Noticing the same thing, John placed himself between you and the man rather than standing by your side.

A look of disbelief crosses the blonde's features before he turns sour. "You looking to scrap?"

"No". John stands straight, using his full height to his advantage. He wasn't only taller but broader than the other man, and you barely saw anything of him if you didn't glance around John's frame. All those things together would've been enough for most to back off, but not this guy.

"Then piss off", the blonde spat, clearly thinking the liquid courage he'd gotten was enough to stand up to John, oblivious to his disadvantage. And that was only physical. With John's experience, you didn't doubt who'd be victorious in a possible fight. "I'm just trying to get a drink".

John scoffed, glancing back at you. You knew his easy attitude was for your sake, the way his hand sneaked backwards in search of yours reinforcing that as he faced forwards again.

"It sounded like you tried chattin' up my girl and then insulted her friend. And when both made clear your presence wasn't welcomed, you can't respect them enough to leave. If you didn't notice that it's time to head home". John motions towards the exit with a small jut of his chin as he finally drops what you hope is the hint that will make the blonde scurry away.

The man did catch it, his eyes flickering to you and then down to see your enlaced hands behind John's back. But you also recognised something else. Hurt fucking pride.

"Don't come and order me around", he scoffs, chest puffing.

"Only givin' you advice". John was serious. You gather that much despite not seeing his face. His voice had dropped a notch, his sentence more straightforward than previously. "Better off takin' it".

"Or what? You gonna force me, don't think ya would even land a hit", the blonde scoffed in return, swaying as he made a show of moving his head as if dodging punches.

Something changed in the air then. John cocked his head, chuckling. An uneasy sensation rolls through your body upon the sound. It was nothing joyful in it. It was stern, hard edges digging into his smooth and raspy voice.

You know John is SAS, a soldier through and through. He's violent, but not violent. He can separate work from... this. What you feared, however, is that what he deals with professionally is calculated. Everything is planned, counted and weighed until agreed on something remotely executable. Initial planning left little to chance. That much you knew with your sparse knowledge of the military.

The blonde staring at John now was nothing of this. He was uncalculated, impulsive. He could do something stupid in seconds. You trusted John, not the man.

"Don't buy into his crap, please, John". You step up alongside him, gently shifting out of your enlaced hands to hold his arm, trying to divert his attention.

He doesn't look at you, eyes remaining locked with the man opposite him. "I won't".

"Ain't no fucking way to talk to me". You send the man a disgusted look.

"I talk however I want to you if you can't understand what a fucking no means", you spit back.

One of his brows cock and he steps forwards, hand raising. He doesn't come much further as John copies him. He steps out of your touch, one hand pushing forcefully enough against the guy's chest that he needs to catch himself at one of the stools.

"If you just were about to hit her-". Each syllable of the words is gritted through John's teeth as he speaks slowly. "-don't think about doin' it again". You hear the threat in his voice, the brush of 'test it, I dare you'.

Your throat constricts. And alarm of a situation spiralling out of control blaring in your body. You shoot Marissa a worried look and she knows what you can't say.

"I've had enough of this". Marissa firmly puts her hand down on the metal counter closest to her. Her action is followed by the rattling sound of glasses. John reacts in milliseconds, eyes snapping towards her. The blonde's attention follows a few seconds later. "You are not welcomed here anymore. Get out", she points at the blonde before motioning towards the door, her brown eyes darker than you've seen them in a long time.

"Or what?"

"I call the fuckin cops on you". She threatens, a sneer working itself into twisting her features.

The man is probably about to defy her and argue when a shadow suddenly positions itself at your side.

You feel dwarfed, standing so close to the new presence and John. But rather than shrinking in on yourself. You silently thank the gods it isn't an unwelcomed someone.

"You heard her". You look up at Ghost when he speaks. As always, his eyes were the sole feature peeking through his skull baklava. And right now, they bore into the blonde. "Get out". He didn't hesitate to grab the excess fabric of the jacket covering the man's shoulder.

"Take it easy, mate". The blonde almost whines as Ghost pulls him away from your group and forces him to walk ahead while he follows him to the exit. Even the man understood he'd met more than his match.

You don't hesitate to step around John to face him as soon as the man is gone. You immediately notice his lips set in an aggravated purse and how he must run a pointed tongue over his teeth. His head is turned, a hard stare boring into the man staggering away with Ghost's palm planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

"Hey". John's eyes finally met yours. They're dark, blue soladites gazing back at you. Something is brewing in them, something volatile. "Are you alright?"

John doesn't answer. Instead, his jaw only works, repeatedly tensing, making the muscle in his temple visible. It looks like he's chewing his words but can't spit them out.

You glance towards Ghost, who just pushed the man out of the pub, caring little about what he does with himself once out of the space.

Your eyes fall back to John as you sigh in relief. He still looks tense, and in an attempt to wordlessly tell him the situation is under control, you smile. But... you don't get a similar action in return. You got none, in fact. Something feels off. As if the situation is still spiralling despite the source of conflict gone. Your brows furrow, trying to snap him out of whatever resentment he can't seem to let go of by enlacing your fingers. Although, when your fingertips brush his, he flinches.

Taken aback by how his hand jerks away from yours and he moves back, you whisper his name. "John?"

Your hand hang in the air, staring at him. He's still looking at you. Even so, his gaze feels far-away. Now you're seriously worried.

"Not your fault". For being such a big man, Ghost moves quick and silently. Upon his sudden appearance by your side again, you turn to him.

"What?" His brown eyes lock with yours briefly before quickly falling on John again. He shakes his head once, not explaining something he must know.

"Marissa". You look at your friend when Ghost directs his attention on her. Even she's watching the situation with wide eyes, unfamiliarity written clearly over her features. "Have a secluded space?"

"I-uh, you can take my office". Your friend supplies the only private space within the pub's walls. Ghost nods, turning and stepping closer to John.

"Price". The masked man earns the attention of John when he settles on the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Your mouth had opened, wanting to speak up about what just happened to you but stop yourself when no reaction to the touch comes. "Get a move on. To the back".

And he does. Like a soldier, John turns and heads to the doors leading to the backroom. Stunned, you follow him with your eyes.

"You should come". Ghost directs with a quick look over his shoulder just as he follows John. You do as he says with a quick look at Marissa. She tries to give you a calm expression and a gentle smile, but it's impossible after your interaction with the blonde man and this sudden turn of events. Your jaw clenches as you hurry to keep up with the two men.

One of Marissa's coworkers emerges from the backroom just as you near it. Instinctually she holds the door open for the two men to pass through after she's stepped into the main room. You offer her a 'just getting some things for Marissa' to ease her confusion. Thankfully, you know her and she replies 'alright' just as your friend calls for her. Probably to not linger about to keep it as free of people as possible concerning Ghost's request.

You press your lips together when the doors close, cutting off much of the pub's natural racket, walking briskly behind John and Ghost. Something gnaws in your chest as you look at the latter. Neither he seems relaxed.

Your arms wind around your stomach, silently stepping into Marissa's office, staying almost pressed against the door once your close it by leaning into it.

"Price", Ghost's voice makes John turn. "Your head's elsewhere". He continues. He doesn't sound cold, but he speaks evenly.

For being a masked man, you would describe Ghost as someone who usually has an expressive voice. But his current tone sounds matter-of-factual. Fuck. You gnaw your lip, fingers digging into your sides, eyes jumping between them.

"You ain't there". Ghost's words make your eyes flitter from John to him and stay there for a few moments. You only see parts of his face concerning how he's still facing John more than you. "You're back home, at the pub. There's nothin' to overthink, nothin' to deal with, nothin' more happenin'. You hear me?"

John nods. But the large man only shakes his head in return. "Answer me, Captain".

"Hear ya, L.T.". John's voice is low and gritty as he grunts the reply.

Ghost nods curtly, a swift tip of his chin. "It's all in your head. Get it back on your shoulders", he continues, letting his sentence hang in the air rather than filling the silence with anything else.

Though you don't understand the interaction fully, you're starting to grasp what's going on in the stillness. You watch John closely as he crosses his arms over his chest and inhales slowly, holding his breath before exhaling. He repeats the action over and over.

"That cunt ain't here to bother you or your sweetheart, neither is anyone else, so at ease". Ghost angles his body, your eyes landing upon his profile. He motions to you with his hand, bringing a set of eyes to you. Yet, they're not brown, but blue.

Upon John's attention, you shift, shuffling on your feet, but don't avert your eyes. The look from before is still there, though it doesn't feel as intense. And then, slowly, it melts. It's nothing grand, not a sudden shift, no jerk of realisation. But the forced labour breathing John focused on eases into something natural, making his shoulders drop and the look in his eyes change. He feels present. As if he's actually looking at you now. A gentleness fills his eyes. They warm up.

Then, John's eyes flutter close, his head notching forwards. One of his hands settles by his temple, massaging the sensitive point before travelling to the bridge of his nose, pinching the highest point as a deep furrow sets his brows close to his fingers.

"You good?" Ghost asks, his voice milder than before.

"I'm good", John responds on a exhale. He takes a step backwards to partly sit on the desk behind him. He shifts his fingers so his thumb massages the skin between his eyebrows.

Meanwhile, Ghost turns, walking towards you. You only look at him once he stops beside you.

"Should I do something?" You whisper to the tall man. You felt helpless during this ordeal and still not exactly sure what happened even though you now had a guess. Ghost only cocks his head, hand stilling on the door-handle as he looks at you.

"Just be there for him", is all he says, swinging the door open.

He nods goodbye as he exits, not overstaying the moment after he apparently isn't needed anymore.

Your eyes fall on John when the door closes again. He looks tired, standing in a similar position as before. Only his hand had shifted to cover his eyes, the span of his brows covered by his index finger and thumb.

"John?" You try to soften your voice to hide your concern.

His hand drops, blue eyes finding yours. His mouth is in a thin line, corners slightly downturned. Your heart cracks a bit at his discouraged look.

Your feet move on their own, bringing you to him. As soon as you're within range, he drops his arms, opening them wide for you to step into. It's seamless how you reach around John's shoulders, one hand coming to the back of his head, moving him towards your neck while his arms wind tight around your waist, pulling you close as he haunches forward to burrow his face against your throat.

The silence is only filled with your breaths. Yours blowing into the air at the side of John's head, his exhales puffing against your skin. Your eyes are shut harshly as your fingers repeatedly card through his hair and continue down his neck until your fingertips glide over his last cervical vertebrate.

It's gradual, but you feel John the tension leaving his body. He relaxes against you, not feeling as stiff with his hold. His arms loosen, sliding lower towards your hips where his hand squeeze the plusher flesh. Your thumb circles his shoulder and you turn your head to the side, kissing the side of his head. In return, he kisses the skin over your collarbone.

There's a tug-of-war inside you. Should I? Shouldn't I? In the end, you decide to try.

"If you're comfortable in telling me, what happened?" The words brush against John's head, your breath disturbing some strands of his hair.

He sighs deeply and you hold your breath for a few seconds. "Got triggered". So...PTSD, then? Or was it something you never fucking heard of? Your mind raced.

As if able to read your thoughts, John finally leans away. You don't let your hand fall from the back of his head, continuing to card through the strands of hair at his nape as he looks at you, head bowed to be levelled with your face.

"Doesn't happen much at all". John begins, clenching his jaw before continuing. "But triggers can... it feels like a misplaced adrenalin rush with overwhelming emotions and racing thoughts".

You nod, biting your lip. Brows furrowing, you search for the right words, carefully choosing what to say. "Was it something that guy said that did it?"

"Don't know, can't recall what hit the wrong cord", John said with a shake of his head.

"You sound jealous". You try a different approach in a lighter tone, rapping your fingers against his neck with a soft smile.

"Maybe protective", John shrugs, chuckling awkwardly. Even so, the tightness in the corner of his mouth eases. His gaze flickers away, moving back and forth, staring into nothing for a few seconds. When his gaze trails back, his eyes are a bit clearer, apparently having uncovered something to answer your question better. "Think it was when he raised his hand".

The reminder that the man had thought about doing something physically to you resurfaced on your frontal lobe. As the moment replayed, you could understand why it was triggering, perhaps not to the extent and with the interconnections John obviously had towards the action.

"Got angry, worried, the feeling resembling something from...", John trails off, but you don't need him to explicitly say it. You're not there. Ghost's sentence echoes in your mind. "Should probably work on that, m'sorry".

This man. You shut your eyes, turning your head away. You try to will the wetness you felt away, but when you open your eyes, you still need to tilt your head back and forth a few times to not let any tears fall before you look back at John, eyes noticeably glassy even so.

"Don't apologise". You finally say. "It isn't your fault that guy acted like a cunt. Compared to him, you never wanted to escalate the situation even though you were the one who had the right".

"But-" You cock your head after he cuts himself short, giving him space to continue the conversation at his own pace. John releases a slow breath and speaks again. "It shouldn't have triggered me". You purse your lips at the way he says it. He sounds so frustrated with himself.

"Don't know too much about it", you admit, neither of you labelling what the obvious it was. "But you soldiers can't pick and choose what does or doesn't".

"Wouldn't that be a dream", he sighs.

"Maybe you should work on it. If you want to. Not the protective part, I mean... I appreciate that, I like that I can trust you having my back". You lick your lips, biting the lower one for a second as your brows furrow. "But, maybe the other part?"

It brought a sigh from John. "Guess... I haven't left the last deployment behind entirely despite being cleared on the med-evaluations". It wasn't a yes, but it was an acknowledgement.

"I-I know we haven't talked much about what you do in detail. But, if you want to, you know? Talk. I'll listen". John looks at you, blue eyes widening.

"I-", he began. "I need to think about it". You nod, not pressing him, understanding that he needs time.

Rather than continuing the conversation, you lean forwards, pressing your lips against his forehead. You feel his eyes flutter close, his lashes brushing your lower face as he leans into the touch, so you only part to mumble an 'okay' before planting another kiss between his brows.

You graze your lips over his face in soft presses until you reach his mouth. Hovering there, your hand slip to his cheek. Your fingers brush along the line of his beard, feeling the softness of his skin and the brown hairs. You hover there, waiting until John initiates the kiss.

It's sweet, soft. A gentle tilt of heads in opposite directions as you merely connect the plush pillows of your lips together. It holds so many emotions for something that is so surface-level.

"Want to go home? Escape the crowd?" You whisper against his lips when you part.

John hums, leaning away so his gaze meets yours the second you open your eyes. "If you don't mind".

"Would never mind if that's what you need". You smile at John, running your thumb along his cheek. He sighs, an appreciative smile spreading.

"Can I drive?"

You remember what he said the night you first met, how helpful those drives could be for him. "If you want to, yes".

"Thank you". John pecks your lip.

You smile at him. "No need".

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theemporium · 9 months

Note

could you maybe do a sirius x fem reader where he's feeling in a cuddly mood but r is too hot bc of summer and just being grumpy? and he's jus all pouty and wants to be held and kissed, please and thank you xx

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“Baby—”

“I’m comfy.”

“That’s great for you but—”

“I just wanna show you I love you!”

“Sirius,” you let out a groan, a small huff of frustration following as you sunk back against the sheets. Your eyes narrowed at the ceiling. “I’m fucking sweating my tits off, please let me go.”

Warm weather was a rarity in Britain, everyone knew as much. The country was made for rainy days, nipping winds and stormy nights. On the odd day of warm weather, it would be enough for people to abandon their jackets and get out their shorts for the few hours of sunshine they got.

But this? This was hell.

The weather forecast had warned about a heatwave, though most citizens rolled their eyes. Britain doesn’t get heatwaves. It seemed nonsensical to even think as much. But then the weekend hit, the temperatures went up and now you were dealing with the consequences of the houses being insulated to keep heat in, rather than air conditioned and ventilated.

“But I just wanna hug you,” he groaned as he nuzzled his head further against your stomach. “C’mon, love, let’s take a nap.”

The whole house was stuffy, your body felt like every inch was covered in clammy sweat and the fact your boyfriend was a fucking walking heater a majority of the time wasn’t helping. The sheets felt like they were sticking to you, the duvet felt claustrophobic and the heavy mass of your clingy boyfriend wrapping his body around you was only making you snappier.

“A nap?” You seethed before scoffing. “Absolutely not, I need to be sitting in a freezer right now.”

“Just use a cooling charm,” he murmured.

“I am,” you snapped before letting out a heavy sigh. “You’re too warm to cuddle with right now.”

Sirius raised his head, a pout on his lips as he stared up at you with big, doe eyes. “I just want some love.”

You rolled your eyes. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

Sirius sniffled. “Prongs would cuddle with me.”

“Then go annoy Potter,” you grumbled as you tried to wiggle out of his hold once again. “I’m gonna go stand in the shower until I feel like an ice cube.”

Sirius’ apprehension quickly disappeared, and was replaced with a knowing grin. “Got room for one more?”

“And let you hog the cold water?” You scoffed with a smile. “As if, baby.”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “You’re a cruel woman.”

“I’m a dying woman,” you corrected as you finally managed to scramble out of his hold and get off the bed. You turned back around, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on his lips before swiftly moving out the way before he had a chance to pull you back down onto the bed. “I love you, but not that much.”

Sirius snorted. “I love you too, babe.”

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

Note

Hi deary!!

So I'm in the mood for some angst!

Could you write about poly! Lost boys x reader who after an argument with them (why idk) is very quiet, because they told reader that their voice is annoying and complaining how annoying their voice is.

What would they do?

I was thinking a lil sexy time? (about how much they love their voice lol) if you don't do angst then just skip this part hahah

↱ fractured bonds ↰

➘ summary : the lost find themselves at odds with their mate (y/n), seems one wrong choice of words ruined that bond… or did it?

➘ the lost boys x reader , marko x paul x reader x david x dwayne

➘ a/n : had to rewrite this because I mixed up the fandoms so I do apologize for that

The winds of Santa Carla swept through the bustling boardwalk, carrying laughter and the scent of the sea. Among the vibrant crowd, (y/n) moved with a bright energy, her infectious laughter catching the attention of everyone around her. She was a burst of sunshine among the dark undercurrents of the town.

But her laughter and vivacity were not limited to her human life. The Lost Boys – Dwayne, Paul, Marko, and David – had been captivated by (y/n)'s spirit, drawn to her like moths to a flame. They were a group of vampires who roamed the night, seeking thrills and defying death.

One evening, as the moon hung heavy in the sky, (y/n) found herself at odds with her mates, their tension palpable. The topic that had ignited their disagreement was a trivial one – (y/n)'s impending transformation into a vampire. She wasn't ready for it, and the Lost Boys were growing impatient with her hesitation.

In the dimly lit lair they called home, the argument escalated into a heated exchange. Voices clashed, emotions ran high, and (y/n)'s bubbly demeanor was overshadowed by frustration.

"(Y/n), you've been a human for so long. It's time to embrace your true nature," David argued, his eyes dark and stormy.

"No, David," (y/n) retorted, her voice quivering with a mix of determination and fear. "I want to hold onto my humanity a little longer. I'm not ready to change."

Dwayne and Paul exchanged glances, tension radiating between them. Marko leaned against a wall, his arms crossed, as if waiting for the confrontation to escalate.

"Enough!" David's voice boomed, his patience at an end. "You're being stubborn, (y/n). We're not asking for much."

(Y/n)'s eyes blazed with defiance, her frustration reaching its peak. "I won't be forced into this, David. My decision is mine alone."

As the words hung in the air, a charged silence settled over the room. The atmosphere was thick with anger, each heartbeat a drumming reminder of the tension that had erupted.

In the stillness that followed, David's lips twisted into a snarl. "Shut up, (y/n)! Your voice is annoying."

A stunned hush fell upon the group, (y/n)'s eyes wide with shock. It was as if time had frozen, a chasm of hurt and resentment separating them.

And as the chapter came to an end, the words lingered in the air like an echo, a painful reminder of the fractured bond between (y/n) and David. The shadows of their disagreement stretched out, leaving their fate hanging on a precipice of uncertainty.

The days that followed the explosive argument were marked by an eerie silence that hung over the lair like a heavy fog. (Y/n) had become a mere whisper of her former self, her vibrant spirit dampened by the pain of the confrontation. Her laughter had vanished, replaced by a haunting quietness that the Lost Boys found deeply unsettling.

Dwayne, the quietest and perhaps the most empathetic of the group, was the first to truly sense the rift that had formed between them. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he gathered Paul, Marko, and David together in the dimly lit chamber they called home.

"We need to talk," Dwayne began, his voice heavy with concern. "Something isn't right. Our bond with (y/n) is weakening."

The others exchanged worried glances, their expressions mirroring the concern that had etched itself onto Dwayne's face.

"What do you mean?" David asked, his voice laced with unease.

"It's like every day she draws further away from us, it's hurting me more," Dwayne confessed, his voice tinged with sadness. "I can feel it – the connection that once bound us is fraying."

Paul's brow furrowed, his thoughts racing. "But why? What did we do wrong?"

Dwayne's gaze shifted towards the window, his eyes distant. "I don't know, but we need to find out before it's too late."

And so, guided by their shared concern, the Lost Boys sought out Max, the charismatic owner of a local video store who seemed to hold secrets beyond what met the eye.

Sitting in Max's dimly lit office, the group spilled out their worries, their fears, and the sense of impending loss that had gripped them.

Max leaned back in his chair, studying them with a knowing expression. "The bond of a mate is both strong and fragile, my friends. It's delicate, like a glass sculpture. One wrong move, one misstep, and it can shatter completely."

"But what does that have to do with (y/n)?" Marko asked, his voice laced with desperation.

Max's gaze softened. "A mate bond is a two-way street. If the human mate begins to draw away, to feel pain and heartbreak, it can reverberate through the bond. The vampire mate begins to feel their heart hurting, and if it goes on for too long, it can lead to their own demise."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the gravity of Max's words settling over them like a shroud. The realization hit them like a tidal wave – their bond was teetering on the edge, and (y/n)'s emotional withdrawal was pushing them closer to the brink.

The lair seemed to hold its breath as the Lost Boys gathered in somber unity. Marko's suggestion to confront (y/n) had been met with a unanimous agreement, driven by their shared desire to mend the bonds that had been stretched thin. With a sense of cautious determination, they made their way to the spare bedroom where (y/n) had taken refuge.

The door creaked open, revealing (y/n) sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze distant. The room was dimly lit, the shadows emphasizing the weight of their situation.

Marko, his voice gentle, was the first to speak. "We need to talk, (y/n). Can we come in?"

She offered a weary nod, her eyes briefly meeting his before she looked away.

Paul stepped forward, his expression a mixture of guilt and regret. "We're sorry, (y/n). We were wrong to push you into something you weren't ready for."

(Y/n) didn't respond, her silence speaking volumes about the pain she had been feeling.

Dwayne, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of vulnerability, stepped up next. "I should have intervened, (y/n). I'm sorry for not stopping it before things got out of hand."

Finally, David entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He knelt beside (y/n)'s bed, his gaze locked onto her downcast eyes.

"(Y/n)," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "I want to apologize for my behavior. I was an ass, and I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

Tears welled up in (y/n)'s eyes as she looked at David, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. His vulnerability touched her in ways she hadn't expected.

"I miss your voice too," she admitted, her voice catching slightly. "And I'm tired of feeling like I don't belong anymore."

David gently lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her skin. "You do belong, (y/n). You're our mate, and we want you with us."

As the room hung in a delicate balance of vulnerability, (y/n)'s emotions began to unravel. The hurt and pain she had been carrying seemed to seep out with every touch and whispered apology.

David continued, his words sincere. "I love your voice, (y/n). I miss it. I was wrong to tell you to shut up."

The tension that had plagued the room began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of connection and understanding. The Lost Boys' apologies were like stitches threading together the frayed edges of their bond.

The sun painted the horizon with hues of gold and pink as the dawn broke over Santa Carla. Inside the lair of the Lost Boys, (y/n) awoke with a sense of tranquility she hadn't felt in days. The air was tinged with a residual warmth from the night before, a reminder of the passion they had shared.

With a lightness in her step, (y/n) moved about the lair, her cheerful spirit back in full force. Her laughter seemed to echo through the space, and the Lost Boys couldn't help but smile at the sight of her renewed energy.

As the morning progressed, the group gathered, the atmosphere charged with a sense of anticipation. (Y/n)'s cheerful demeanor had returned, and her mates exchanged knowing glances, their hearts lifted by her transformation.

Dwayne, ever the gentle soul, approached (y/n), his eyes softening as he spoke. "You seem different today, (y/n)."

Her smile widened, radiant with a newfound resolve. "I am different, Dwayne. I've made a decision."

The others leaned in, their curiosity piqued. "What decision?" Marko asked, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

(Y/n)'s gaze locked onto David's, her expression unwavering. "I'm ready. I want to be turned."

The joy that erupted in the room was palpable, a chorus of cheers and smiles that reflected their relief and happiness. Yet, David's eyes held a trace of concern.

He stepped forward, his hand offering a small bottle of blood. "Are you sure about this, (y/n)? You don't have to do it if you're not ready."

Taking the bottle from him, (y/n)'s fingers brushed against his, the connection between them sparking a sense of security. "I'm ready, David. I want this – as long as you all stay by my side."

A collective sigh of relief seemed to fill the room, a testament to the strength of their bond. The Lost Boys gathered around (y/n), their expressions a mixture of pride and affection.

"We're not going anywhere," Paul assured, his voice carrying a promise that echoed in each of their hearts.

David's gaze held an intensity that pierced through (y/n)'s soul. "We're in this together, (y/n). No matter what."

(Y/n) felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The road ahead was uncertain, the transformation she was about to undergo a step into the unknown. But she knew that as long as the Lost Boys were by her side, she could face anything that came her way with a fearless heart.

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ghost-proofbaby · 5 months

Text

TEN MINUTES (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie has a bad day, until you show up on your day off. after that, all it takes is ten minutes and the promise of a bagel to make it all better.

warnings: fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), eddie is being a pessimistic hater (just like me fr), quite a lot of siren vocabulary here ('peak' references the morning rush, 'drive' references the position where you take orders on the drive thru, and 'customer support' is the person who just restocks everything and keeps the store as clean as possible. in simplified terms.)

wc: 4.2k+

the full menu

If anybody asked Eddie, he’d lie through his teeth and say that hate is a strong word. That he isn’t capable of hating anyone; that he only really, strongly dislikes a select few. But no one is really asking Eddie about that right now. So, he can be a hater all he pleases.

There’s nothing wrong with the people he’s opening with. It’s what he tells himself from the moment he wakes up, as he brushes his teeth, as he forces his curls into a half-assed bun and during the entire drive into work. There’s nothing really wrong with the two people. They’re not you — that’s not a crime.

But he was being a pessimist. Sue him.

“What would you rather open?” Corey, the other barista he was opening with, asks him as they walk into the store. Eddie isn’t even clocked in yet and he’s counting down the hours.

If you were here, there’d already be an unspoken rule that he’d open food and you’d open drive. “Either one.”

“Cool,” except it’s very much not cool as Corey says, “I’ll open food, then.”

Fuck me.

Eddie struggles through the tasks you normally fly through with half lidded eyes and an ache in his bones that he tells himself is just fatigue, but he knows is really him missing you. It’s been there since that day the two of you took the nap in his van, since he’d had the privilege of curling up and unwinding with you. He’s pretty sure the blankets in the back still smell like you, sweet perfume clinging to the material with a vengeance.

Peak isn’t any better.

Too many people, too many tasks, too many drinks, too many expectations. And not nearly enough clandestine smiles or subtle inside jokes. Not a single bump of a shoulder against his or an adorable little snort when he messes up rather than the well-deserved glare. He’s in a constant frazzled state, opening with the store manager rather than just another shift. Terrified he’s going to fuck up. Terrified that he’s one wrong move away from being fired. Terrified that he’s one ill-timed joke away from being scolded. He hates it; he hates spending his morning so tense and on edge when he’s grown so accustomed to spending them with you.

He’s in the back doing dishes with his headset beginning to slip off, just after peak when he’d been awarded the mercy of being reassigned to customer support, when he finally heard it — his sweet relief, the first ray of sunshine to break through the stormy clouds of the day.

“Hello, hello!” the annoyingly chipper voice of Corey greets the newest car in the drive thru, “How’s it going this morning?”

The only person he can stand being so positive is you. Anyone else, and he’s nauseated enough that he has to take actual, dramatic, deep breaths.

“I’m good, how are you?”

He knows that voice. God, he knows the voice that replies. He’d recognize it anywhere — in sleep, in life, in death. Stronger than any shot of espresso.

Nicole had just come in, taking over for the store manager. She didn’t even glance up from where she was writing in the books at the back desk as she heard the clatter of the dishes Eddie was holding echo through the backroom, only smiling to herself as she listened to him take off for the window and she says over the headset, “Metalhead incoming.”

He nearly falls on his ass twice, and scares the shit out of Corey, but it’s worth it when he peers into that small corner of the screen and sees you in your Jeep. Relaxed, smiling knowingly, as if you’re just waiting for him.

Corey seemingly knows better than to get between Eddie and answering this call, immediately backing off.

He has to catch his breath before he plays it off cool, “You know, most people don’t come to their place of work on their days off.”

“What can I say? I’m a caffeine fiend.”

You recognize his voice, too. It had been the one you’d prayed for as you drove up — you’re glad your sore disappointment didn’t last long.

“Yeah? Going into withdrawals not even, what, twenty hours after your last shift?” he teases with the dumbest grin, until the ache in his chest turns to an ache in his cheeks. There’s no room for him to even be embarrassed about how quickly his mood has turned around at your appearance.

You threw back your head in laughter, and he watched through the camera, “Maybe I just missed you guys.”

Maybe I just missed you.

He has to bite back an echo of the sentiment, still smiling wildly as he begins to type in your usual before even asking, “You want your usual?”

“Aw, you know my order, Munson?” your teasing has him blushing. Has something blooming deep within the pit of his stomach that he cherishes, “Cute.”

He doesn’t reply, only spins on his heels and begins to queue up your shots on the bar that’s closest to the drive thru corner. The current bar partner watches in confusion — he really doesn’t care. He’s not trusting anyone else with your drink. As if he has to make a point to everyone that he’s your friend, that you're his, even outside of these four walls (technically more than four, but Eddie hates technicalities).

He pauses halfway through pumping your ridiculous choice of syrups you always get, “You pullin’ up or what?”

Your laughter is cut short as you abide by his request he chose to politely poise as a casual question. The drive thru is in the rare state of empty, and you appear outside of that window rather than merely on the screen immediately, smile still gleaming in the late morning light.

Just like that, all the hate leaves Eddie’s body.

The automatic window slides open at the motion of Eddie stepping up to it, haphazardly popping the lid onto your drink as he glances up through his lashes, trying to force nonchalance rather than reveal just how giddy he is in your presence. It’s nice. A full breath of relief after the most suffocating of mornings.

“You makin’ me pay or what?” you ask, leaning ever so slightly out your window, voice pitched to clearly mimic Eddie’s.

With your head leaning out like that, the sun catches your nose ring just right, turning it into a blinding weapon as it blinks at Eddie. It makes your entire face look like it’s sparkling. It kind of reminds him of Twilight.

He kind of hates it. Kind of makes his stomach sick. Kind of makes his chest feel like a fizzy soda can, ready to burst at your command.

“It’s Nicole’s floor,” he shrugs, passing you the cup. Your fingertips brush his, and he tries to pretend like it doesn’t light a fire right through his core, “You already know she’d throw a fit if I made you pay.”

“And corporate would throw a fit if they knew that-“

“You wanna pay?” Eddie interrupts, squinting at you, picking up the card reader as he threateningly shoves it your way, “Because, by all means, I can take your card right now. Be warned, though. There’ll be a twenty percent tip added automatically.”

You whistle lowly, setting the cup aside somewhere in your car’s center console before you prop your chin up on your window to stare up at him, “Twenty percent? Have you earned that much today, old man?”

He promptly points to the mocha splattering his apron, “Absolutely, Sunshine. These coffees don’t drip themselves.”

You laugh at his nonsense, and he swears he can’t remember what reasons he even had to be in such a sour mood that morning. All his grumbles, all his woes, evaporate at the sound of it. Like a bandaid, like a balm, like an elixir — just under a minute with you, and all his problems have been solved.

Corey runs off to do other tasks, or maybe sit on their phone, Eddie isn’t sure. He doesn’t pay attention as the two of you somehow run off track into a conversation of the errands you spent the morning running. Washing your car, doing laundry (specifically washing your aprons), making a grocery list. He doesn’t get how all those mundane and trivial things can incite such exciting conversation between the two of you, but it does. He loves it — he loves hearing about your day. All your complaints and all the stupid things that get you excited. When you end up on some tangent about how you have never and will never separate your clothes by color because you haven’t ended up with any pink shirts yet, he can only imagine how terribly boring it would all sound to any eavesdroppers. When he laughs a little too loud at your recount of how you struggled to make your own coffee at home this morning, he knows he looks insane. It truly wasn’t that funny; but it was you, and when you started giggling to yourself halfway through the story, it was just infectious.

He spends so long draped halfway out that window, watching your fluttering lashes and pinching his eyes half shut at the reflection of the rising sun bouncing off your vehicle, that his ribs grow sore. A little indent appears on your chin, skin wearing a visible mark from leaning it against your open window all that time. And yet, neither of you make any move to end the conversation, to carry on with your day.

By the time another car pulls up, the window times are atrocious. Downright ridiculous. Probably bad enough to warrant a visit from corporate.

“I’m not insulting your baking skills, I’m insulting the fact that you just said oatmeal raisin is your favori-”

Eddie is cut off mid-tirade against your comment on your favorite cookie by the shrill ding that signals a car has pulled up to the order box, Corey’s voice following not long after.

“Hello, hello! What can I get started for you today?”

Eddie’s face twists up in disgust he can’t be bothered with hiding, and you bite your lip from bursting into laughter at his reaction. He didn’t like Corey. He didn’t have a good reason to hate them, but he didn’t have a good reason to like them. You always compared him to a feline when he’d explain it, poking fun at his pickiness when it came to which coworkers he would tolerate at best.

There was a reason that his nickname wasn’t Sunshine.

A hand comes down on Eddie’s shoulder just as your playful smile falters, and Nicole is practically dragging him out of the window.

“Okay. I’ve let you two ruin my drive times long enough,” she pauses, still holding back Eddie as though he might leap back into the window when she lets go of him. Her eyes narrow on you, “And you. I love you, but please, get the Hell out of my drive thru.”

A snort leaves you, “Fair enough. What are the times looking like?”

“Bad,” Nicole says flatly, “Very, very bad. So please, for the love of God, go.”

Eddie sneaks a glance up at the screen displaying the stats, and his eyes bulge immediately. You’d been sitting at the window for ten goddamn minutes. It wasn’t long in the grand scheme of things, the two of you had wasted far more time when on the floor together, but most people would spend less than two minutes there.

Nicole was going to kill him.

But it was worth it. He doesn’t care, isn’t worried about the lectures from Nicole or the shady comments that will surely be made by management regarding times and this random jump in the recap. All that matters to him is that the weight in his chest is a little lighter, that the noise in his head has gone a little quieter.

Nicole glances back at him and then you, and only sighs deeply, resembling a disappointed parent, “He literally gets off in five minutes. Just go park and wait for him if you really want to spend an unreasonable amount of time debating cookies.”

Your eyebrows lift, and you look right past the most relaxed of the shift leads to stare right at him. Eyes gleaming, smile brightening.

Yeah, the weight in his chest didn’t even exist now.

“See you in five,” is all you say before your car jerks forward, and is quickly replaced by an actual customer.

He doesn’t believe you’ll be waiting. Spends his final five minutes offering to help Nicole however he can, which she just scoffs at and waves him off, giving him the pity task of ‘wiping down everything’ before he clocks out. There’s a shocking lack of a lecture, and he doesn’t notice it, but everyone continues to side glance at him as he walks with a little pep in his step.

They can all see it. Even if he can’t, even if you can’t, they can.

The end of his shift arrives, the counters are clean, and Eddie nearly launches the wet rag he was using to wipe everything across the store into the bucket of sanitizer. Tosses it hard enough to splash some of that murky water that desperately needs to be changed anew onto Nicole’s sneakers, gets a joking glare from her out of it. It doesn’t phase him; he’s got one thing on his mind, and it’s you. You, who he really hopes is still waiting outside the store for him. You, who he is begging the Universe to have stayed around and parked your car so he could have ten more minutes.

Ten more minutes. If anyone in Hawkins knew he’d been reduced to begging for ten more measly minutes with some coworker at a coffee shop gig he claimed to hate, they’d mock him endlessly.

“Don’t trip over yourself on your way out,” Nicole teases him as he stumbles up to the counter and begins to clock out on the iPad, fumbling with typing his employee numbers in correctly twice before the screen that lets him finally free himself of his shift pops up.

“Ha, ha,” he monotonously replies, brows furrowed deeply until the virtual time card officially reads that his shift has properly ended. He doesn’t even glance up at Nicole. His mind can’t register her words or poking fun.

Just you. You, who made the weight of his existence something bearable. You, who could make ten minutes feel like ten seconds.

You, who’s standing in the parking lot, leaning against the driver’s door of your car, arms crossed and lips fighting their widest grin yet.

“Took you long enough,” you comment as he crosses the asphalt in record time, feet beating against the ground beneath him in a pace just shy of breaking into a jog.

“It took forever for the iPad to load,” he tries to excuse himself, chest heaving not from his speed but the anticipation of being close to you again, “I think Nicole rigged it as revenge.”

“Ah, yes, the sweet revenge of a whole two extra minutes-”

Your sarcasm is cut short by him reaching out and yanking you towards him. You collide roughly with his torso as he squeezes his arms around you, nose instantly burrowed into soft hair that still smells like your shampoo. It took even him by surprise; to be so careless, so driven by touch that he wasn’t even sure you’d accept.

But you do. You accept it, pressing your temple against his sternum without missing a beat, arms struggling to release from where he’d trapped them in front of your own chest so that they could wrap around his waist to return the tight squeeze. You all but melt into his embrace, and he’s glad he didn’t overthink it this time.

He had missed this. Ever since that afternoon in his van, with the rain and the unspoken words, he had missed you.

“Rough day?” you mumble against the fabric of his work shirt, still reeking of coffee and probably a bit of sweat.

He tries to ignore any embarrassment at the thought of smelling gross as he nods, “So rough. I hate when Corey is on drive. Too positive.”

“Yet you love when I’m on drive?” your laugh echoes, vibrating against his bones, “They are not that bad.”

“They’re fucking terrible. I hate how cheery they are. Also, it’s so annoying when they try to joke how we’re busy, or just joke in general-”

“Edward Munson, you are the world’s most pessimistic barista.”

He loves the sound of his name on your tongue. He’s never heard those syllables pronounced so beautifully, so lovingly. Every restless component of his body settles, and when you finally start to peel away from him, he nearly holds you tighter.

He should hug you more often.

“I can’t help that people are annoying. Maybe if they weren’t, I’d be less pessimistic,” he mutters, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.

Home. You were starting to feel like home, and he couldn’t begin to understand it. Miles away from the trailer, from Wayne and his ridiculous mug collection, from the sanctuary of his bedroom, and he managed to feel more at peace than he’d felt in years.

You’re shaking your head, blissfully unaware of the effect you had, “You say that about everyone.”

“Everyone but you.”

It was true. Everyone – classmates he’d left in the dust after graduation, his loyal friends, his passionate bandmates – found a way to annoy him at some point. It was fine; he could live with the little habits of others that irked him when he loved them enough. A fair trade off if it meant filling his life full of people that made it something worthwhile. But there was no trade, no catch, when it came to you. He was still sort of waiting for that other shoe to drop.

“Is that a challenge?” you take a step back, and he almost follows, like a lost puppy, “Because I can totally start trying to find ways to annoy you. I’ve just been playing nice these last few months.”

Funny how the months had flown by like mere weeks, and still managed to feel like years. It almost feels as though he’s known you since he was a child, like you were a residual comfort of his youth he’d managed to carry with him into adulthood.

He can’t say that, though. He can’t risk scaring you off, or scaring himself away. Maybe he would tell you all the ways his soul has started to yearn for you, all the ways you bring a tranquility in his life he’d spent far too long seeking out, only to find it in the most unexpected and inconvenient circumstances. Maybe those words will just tumble out some day. On a sunny day, or a stormy one. Hell, it might even be the day he finally calls Mordor as you had done days before.

“Try all you want,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, avoiding fumbling with them like some foreign objects, “But I’m pretty sure that’ll be impossible.”

You tsk, “No, see, this is the part where you tease me about how if that was me playing nice, you’d hate to see my mean, or some dumb shit. I didn’t wait a full seven minutes for you to not know our script, Munson.”

“Sorry, some of us didn’t take a class on quick wit,” he rolls his eyes, but his cheeks still ache where his dimples rest. Ever present indents when he was around you, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

He’s being brave. Sticking his neck out and handing you a knife. You could cut him down, tell him you’ve got too many errands to run still to spend any more time with him as he was implying. Or, you could do the opposite.

It should be predictable at this point, but it isn’t.

Your eyes widen as you tilt his head curiously at him, “I… Nothing important. Why?”

You’re gonna make him say it. Force him to ask for your time outright.

“I don’t know, I was just thinking…” he sheepishly starts, simultaneously lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck as he nods to your empty passenger seat, “Maybe you’d… I mean, you might want some company? If not, I totally get it, but errands can get lonely and-”

“Yes.”

“-I know it’s just nice to-” he stops mid sentence, looking up at your sunny disposition as he processes what you’ve just said, “Wait, did you just say yes?”

“Yes,” you repeat, “I would love for you to join me for my boring errands, Eddie,” The excitement nearly consumes him, the realization that the two of you were finally going to hang out away from work. Something he’s worked towards for months, daydreamed about for more nights than he will ever admit. All those long mornings are coming to fruition. Ten more minutes, and then some. “On two conditions.”

“Oh?” he asks, voice squeaking the tiniest bit. If it were anyone else, he might have been ashamed of that stupid crack in his dialect, “Do tell me these conditions.”

“One,” you hold up a stern finger, putting on the most serious face you could muster, “I pick the music.”

He pretends to ponder it, but he already knows his answer. “I suppose I can allow it. What’s the other one?”

Your hand falls slowly, dropping all your serious demeanor inch by inch. You were smiling with your eyes – he hadn’t thought that was possible until he met you, and fell in infatuation with those ever present creases at the corners of yours. The way they lift your cheeks, the way they make your irises sparkle. He thinks the term was actually invented for you and only you.

“You buy me a bagel.”

Your face is full of mischief, but your tone is dead serious. It doesn’t matter, because you don’t have to sell him on the idea. He’s done pretending he’s not desperate for your time, for ten more minutes.

“Done,” he says, “As a matter of fact, I’ll buy you twenty bagels to save me from my boredom.”

“Slow down there, passenger princess,” you shake your head, “I only need one. You’re absolutely welcome to order yourself nineteen, though. But you’ve gotta vacuum up any crumbs you leave in my ca-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stops you, waving his hand, “Got it. You choose the music, I buy you a bagel, I don’t leave behind any crumbs. Let’s go.”

You raise your hand, beginning to jingle your keys jokingly between the two of you, but Eddie is already rounding the front of your Jeep to get to the passenger door. “I didn’t even say where we’re going, old man!”

“Didn’t need to, Sunshine,” he calls out, grabbing at the still locked handle and tugging for emphasis. It earns a glare from you that makes all his insides twist in bliss, “Unlock this obnoxious ass yellow death trap on wheels so we can make it to the nearest bagel shop while they’re still fresh.”

“It is not a deathtrap,” you argue as you unlock your door first, hopping in and having to lean over to manually unlock his door. The moment it swings open, you’re still leaning over, settling your gaze on him, “And I happen to like the yellow, thank you very much.”

He’d never tell you, but he does too. It’s the most migraine-inducing shade he’s ever laid eyes on. He would never even consider buying a car for himself in the same color, and would mock any other driver on the road for it. But it was you – bright, vibrant, impossible to miss.

“You’ve got bad taste,” he says just for the sake of watching your faux annoyance, “Yellow’s the ugliest color.”

“And metal’s the most annoying genre.”

You’re both lying through your teeth. It doesn’t matter.

Because then he’s in your passenger seat, buckling up as you turn your key in the ignition, whatever upbeat songs you’d been listening to before begin to trickle out of the speakers, and everything just feels right. His shitty morning is forgotten entirely. As if it never happened. As if Corey hadn’t given him the worst headache of his life before you’d arrived.

When you turn your head to look at him, moving to turn down the music, you ask, “The nearest bagel shop is about ten minutes away. Is that okay?”

More than okay. It meant he gets more than just ten minutes. It means he gets more of your time than he’s deserving of, gets to watch you sing along to at least two songs he’s never heard of and would have no desire listening to when not with you, gets to feel a little more weightless a little bit longer.

Thank you, Universe, he mentally whispers at his wish of ten more minutes being granted, and then some.

“Perfect.”

You turn the music back up, lurch the car forward, and Eddie smiles when the sun catches that damn nose ring in a blinding manner yet again.

Perfect, indeed.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @@loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills

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#ghost's writing #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #barista eddie munson #eddie munson fic #coffee shop blues

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fleurlia · 3 months

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tropes and tulips: a romantic rollercoaster

ʀɪɪᴢᴇ as ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ᴛʀᴏᴘᴇꜱ

pairing. riize x reader genre. fluff, angst author's note. hi guys! i’ve been so excited about this riize series and makes me soo happy to share with u guys, it’s been a while since a posted some of my work. i promise to keep this interactive as i can, i love to hear what u guys think!!! so i guess the resquest are open (riize and nct dream, in the future i hope to write for enhypen too).

RELEASE DATE. february to march. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

caught in the choreography of fate: a dance with osaki shotaro | grumpy x sunshine | college student!shotaro x college student!reader

when your best friend's jerk ex-boyfriend abruptly dumped her, all you and your friends could think about was how to get revenge on that shitty dancer. despite weeks of planning your little evil scheme, everything goes wrong, and you are the only one caught in the middle. in that moment, everything passing by you was how your life was going downhill, and your perfect record as the brilliant student you were was ruined. but for some kinda miracle the academy decided they could use you and as a retribution, you ended up as the dance partner with shotaro, the star of the company.

testing the family bond: siblings edition | brother's best friend | college student!eunseok x sungchan younger sister!reader

the most precious thing in the world to you is your family. your older brother, sungchan, has been your best friend since forever, and due to the small age gap, you also share the same interests, friends, and even attend the same college. you would never hide anything from him, and he wouldn't from you. for years, you've upheld your role as a sister and best friend, following the agreement to not get romantically involved with any of his six closest friends, until the day you found yourself entangled in a foolish game with eunseok.

faking it with the heartbreaker | fake dating | college student!sungchan x college student!reader

you always had a thing for jerks; that was clear to you after many letdowns in your love life. trying to escape a never-ending situationship, you feel stuck and tired of heartbreaks until jung sungchan looked into your eyes and suggested playing the part of your fake boyfriend. of course, he was totally benefiting in the process. all you could think is how this could get really wrong really fast, but well, what disappointment could you have when it was all just pretend?

frozen hearts, warming love: the park wonbin effect | the heartthrob + doesn't believe in love (first love) | college student!wonbin x college student! reader

wonbin is popular, even though he's shy and, to those who know him, a bit awkward. hundreds of girls have confessed their feelings to him, only to be politely rejected. rumors and gossip circulate through the hallways, but no one has ever managed to melt the heart of the icy prince, park wonbin. until you come into the picture. famed for being a flirt cupid, you decide to bet that even the icy prince has his ideal match, and come what may, you're determined to find it.

stormy relations; frenemies under one roof | enemies to lovers + the boy next door | student!seunghan x student!reader

you've known seunghan longer than you'd wanted to. since moving to a different neighborhood three years ago, you've had the worst view in town: seunghan's room, your declared enemy for three years or more now. neither of you can even remembers why you dislike each other, but now your rivalry is known even in the school corridors, and everything turns into a competition even if one is not interested. everything changes for you when a storm and a fallen tree force you to start living under the same roof, and for a few fleeting moments, seunghan doesn't seem so bad in your eyes.

love in the lab: 36 quetions, one answer | friends to lovers + classmate to lovers | college student!sohee x college student!reader

after being subjects of a close friend's psychology study, which involved an experiment with "36 questions to fall in love," sohee can't stop thinking about you. you're fun and kind, surrounded by friends and numerous contenders trying to win your heart — how could sohee not fall for you? while this might be the most embarrassing thing to happen to some, for sohee, it was like waking up from a deep sleep. now, he needed to wake up to another reality: the fierce competition to win your heart.

life, love and anton | childhood friends to lovers | anton x reader

you've known anton before even knowing yourself. you grow up together, attended preschool, graduated side by side, you were there for all of his competition and he made sure to never miss one of your presentations – you even shared your first kiss. for both of you and your families, your relationship is more than friendship; you're each other's family. things take a turn when, on your 18th birthday, a rather awkward confession occurs, and then anton realizes: there never has been and never will be any girl after you. you've always been his soulmate.

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kairiscorner · 10 months

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my fics masterlist

hiya! here are all the fics i've worked on so far :>

if only forever was within reach - miggy angst fanfic (chapter 3 otw~)

the scent of burning tobacco, the taste of ash (noir x reader)

spider noir falling for a florist part 1

spider noir falling for a florist part 2

pav x grumpy reader

miguel x grumpy reader part 1

miguel x grumpy reader part 2

young nanami x reader

earth-42 miles and earth-1610 miles x reader

spider noir x grumpy fem!reader

the atsv babes with an insomniac partner (part 1 - miles and gwen)

the atsv babes with an insomniac reader (part 2 - pav and hobie)

grumpy noir x sunshine reader

when the mask finally comes off (scarred spider noir x reader)

convincing miggy to go with you to the barbie movie

being miggy's sole friend

spider noir x criminal reader

miguel with an overachiever reader

peter b x short grumpy reader (part 1)

enemies to lovers hobie brown

look at me when i'm talking to you - miggy x reader (his suit goes away)

miggy and his feelings for you

comforting gwen stacy

waking up with spider noir in the morning

my favorite part about you (noir x reader)

late call on a stormy night with miggy

the things we keep hidden (miggy x reader)

overworked salary man miguel x reader

domestic spider noir with his daughter

mixed signals with noir

school days with spider noir in a modern au

hobie brown x cottagecore reader

miggy helping clean your lips up

hobie loves your chaotic ass

miguel as your muse

lying down with miggy in a non-sexual way

noir's favorite part of you (your eyes)

younger miggy falling for you

a family of supers (domestic noir x reader)

catching noir dancing to the music on the radio

when he couldn't save you (noir x reader angst)

peni joins the family (domestic noir x reader)

we don't believe in labels (hobie x reader)

hobie serenades you

teaching hobie tagalog

jealous younger miggy (part 1)

miles falling for you during homecoming (fic idea)

whatever else you guys request ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯(send me a req thru my asks !!)

#atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #spider noir x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #spidersona #nanami kento x reader

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lemonmelonboy · 6 months

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Lonely for the First Time Ever

Jack x Reader

TW: Ian /j, Cheating, Loneliness

Content: GN!Reader

Word Count: 3317

Summary: My own fun take on Day 1 (?) of Somethings Wrong with Sunny Day Jack.

18+ Readers ONLY - Minors Do NOT Interact! Minors/Ageless Blogs will be Blocked!!!

I Do NOT give any permission for my work to be Reposted, Translated, or used with AI in ANY Capacity!!!

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

You had just dragged yourself out of your apartment after being called in to cover your flakey co-worker for possibly the millionth time that year. You surely missed your days off at this point, wishing to have just one every week rather than every other week. You sighed heavily walking down the sidewalk, as Jack trailed alongside you. It was cold and stormy, the rain was pelting the sidewalk and cars were passing by in a slum. It was such a peaceful walk.

You walked silently with Jack politely carrying your umbrella; you had protested but he very much insisted he take it for you. The rain soothed your racing mind, but that only made it so you thought slower about the things on your mind. You ran over what had just happened before you were rudely interrupted by your boss’s phone call. How Jack had held you so close, how you imagined kissing him for a brief moment, and how you wish you had. You mulled it over and over, unable to shake the image of the cuddly Jack. How Jack had looked at you with those love sick eyes. How bad you wanted to stay. Thoughts raced about why, which brought up feelings from the past few months. But as you slipped into your thoughts Jack gently bumped your arm, a playful event that he’d tend to do on your walks. It made you smile, he always knew how to make you smile, especially with little things like that. You look around trying to keep yourself in the present, but the pittering of the rain on the umbrella and sidewalk luls you back into thoughts of Jack and your loneliness.

“Sunshine?” Jack's voice cooed kindly. You looked up to him, suddenly pulled back.

“Hm?” you looked around as you realized you almost walked straight by your work. A soft embarrassed blush works its way across your cheeks.

You slip into the door, walking to the back to set your things down, ignoring Barry’s comments on how thankful he is you could come in and how absolutely sorry he is for having to do it. When you come back from the back of the store you find he had already left. You sigh as you find yourself alone in the shop, going through your list of menial tasks for the day. You work quietly as Jack hangs around, quietly helping when he can. It's weird to have him be so comfortable with how quiet you’re being. Usually he does anything to try to fill the silence, like whistling a small tune. However the man who stood before you now would only give you an encouraging smile whenever you looked at him and never said a word, not until you spoke up.

“Jack..” You sighed his name as you relaxed against the counter having finished all the tasks you needed to. You didn’t even have anything to tell, least not in a way you knew how. He perked up like a puppy being offered a treat.

“Yes, sunshine?” he asks sweetly. You looked at him and could feel your body warm as you saw his happy face and his kind eyes looking at you almost needingly. You mull over a single thought in your head and he can see you are resisting saying what you were thinking. “Is everything alright?” his happy look slowly fades to concern. Then he looks away with a soft blush on his cheeks. “It's okay to want that.. to want to be wanted..” he said breathily and quietly, almost like he was embarrassed by his own words.

“Wh-what are you saying?'' How did he know? You were sure you were only thinking to yourself, and you weren’t a vocal thinker.

“I just… sometimes people are like that for you, and it's okay to have a person you want to be with all the time… to want them to want you… and wanting them..?” He ended it like a question, almost like he wanted you to just admit it all to him right then and there.

“Wha- I- '' You didn’t know what you should say to him. You were so embarrassed at the implication that he was who you wanted- or the implication you wanted someone else.

“Do you… want me?” he asked, quieter than ever. He was still pretty blunt with it- looking at you with a pair of hopeful puppy eyes that made your body scream for you to just say “yes” and let him hold you. “I know it's hard to say- but I can help you learn what words to use to express these feelings.” He gently urges, moving closer to you reaching out almost as if he was ready to hug you, and hold you and possibly never let go.

“But- I- it's just that’s- you can’t just ask something like that- I-“ He moves closer, his hands resting on the counter behind you, he makes a point of not touching you yet, but wanting to get closer to you. A warmth spreads over your face into a sweet blush as you figure out how to answer. You felt in that moment that you wanted him to hold you, to grab you the best he could.

“I want to be there for you- whether you want me like that or not.. I’ll be there for you however you need me- I just want what’s best for you- What will make you happy-'' suddenly your phone starts ringing, interrupting Jack and causing him to step away. A soft frustrated look comes over his face as he looks away. You take up the cell phone, glad to have been interrupted right then, afraid if he continued your heart would have given out.

“Oh- Uh- I'll be- back!”

Jack nods slightly, “It might be important- so- don’t worry alright? I’ll still be here when you get back!” He said encouragingly as he let you walk past him.

You really shouldn’t be taking calls at work, but you didn’t care. You also didn't care if the call was spam and you picked it up without checking the name plastered on the screen. You quickly ducked to the kitchen camera blind spot.

“Hello?” You spoke with that pitch in your voice encouraging the person calling to speak. You were hopeful it was something that would take your mind off everything.

“You picked up-“ an all too familiar voice came through, in awe, and dripping with desperation. You froze, the last person you ever wanted to hear, especially with how your day was going. Ian. “Hey..” He spoke again, trying to fill in your quiet response. You hadn’t forgotten about him, but you hadn’t expected he’d call you while you were at work. “Are you alright?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“Ye-yeah, I’m fine..” You could hear him sigh softly in relief as you responded.

“I-I’ve missed you… and your voice..” he almost whimpered into the phone.

“What- what do you need Ian. I’m- at work, you can’t be calling me like this” You asked quietly, surprise still filling your tone more than any anger or demandingness.

“I-I know,, I didn't expect you to pick up! I-I’m sorry…” Ian said, he sounded so sad, and you do feel a little bad. He was your life long friend, and what felt like even longer lover. But he hurt you, and objectively you know you shouldn’t feel sorry for him, or how you treat him.

“You’ve said.. And I don’t forgive you Ian.. You know I am still mad at you.” There’s silence from him. You bite your quivering lip, pushing back a sob, thinking he must be feeling the same. “I-” You huff out, collecting yourself before you continue. “I’m trying to move on.” You say, a little sad hearing yourself say it.

“You’re- You’re what...” you can hear his heart break more in his voice, and you might’ve felt it just a bit yourself. “You’re not,, with someone right? Because… I am trying. I am going to fix this… And-” You cut him off

“Ian... Its not your problem whether I am with someone or not… We aren’t… We are not us anymore. So- what I do isn’t any concern for you...” You speak in a soft frustrated tone, you try to give him patience especially since you’ve trapped yourself into this conversation.

“But... can't it? Be, my problem? I-I need to make this up to you… You’re… All I’ve had since we were little- and… We’ve been through so much I- and I know this is my fault- and I need to fix this. Please. Let me fix this… Fix us…” he begged, and somewhere in you, you could feel the need to let him, to just give him the time to “fix” what he did, just so you could have him back. So you could feel less lonely. But no, you wouldn’t be able to handle it if he cheated on you again.

Breaking up with Ian was just as big of a loss for you as it was for him. You both lost someone you never thought you would. And God you had loved him. And who knows, maybe you still did, just a little. He took your silence as an urge for him to continue making his case. “I know I can make it up to you... I promise... I miss you so much- I-I want you so badly. And- I’ll be there soon to show you that what I’m saying is true '' he ends his statement with a happy hum, almost proud. You couldn’t take it anymore, you could hear customers in the front of the clowny yogurt shop come in, chatting modestly among themselves

“Goodbye... Ian.” you say, colder than you would’ve thought you could. You hung up before he could beg you to stay and talk to him more. You take a few slow calming breaths and turn to leave, noticing Jack standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Jack…” you mutter to yourself, afraid he might’ve overheard the call. He looks to you with a concerned kindness, one that he tends to give you whenever you notice Ian called you and left another message. You look away from Jack and walk quickly past him into the store, slapping on your customer service face and attitude.

Greeting the group of boys mulling in the front of the store. They seem preoccupied going through the yogurt flavors, which unfortunately gives you the time to think through things again. Your mind drifts, thinking of memories of Ian, clearer now than they had been that morning. One memory in particular, it was how he had looked when you kicked him out after finding out he had cheated on you. After running that memory in your mind a few times the memory of meeting Jack slowly started playing too. It hadn’t been long after Ian had left either, and you still weren’t completely sure where he came from. If he was a hallucination, could it have been your loneliness that made you imagine this pretty clown man to befriend you? Maybe that was why he was so attached to you? But, Jack certainly felt real, everytime he touched you, it felt real and so very safe. Maybe you did want him? Your thoughts were broken by a shy dark haired boy who stood in front of you. He couldn’t have been much younger than you, and he sported a gray and black shirt with a large black coat.

“We’re ready- to uh- pay- whenever you are?” he seemed nervous, a light blush spreading over his cheeks as he looked away from you, shifting nervously on his feet. One of the guys in the group set down the last of the three yogurt cups onto the scale, and you finish up their transaction. As two of the three guys start to leave the guy in the dark clothing lingers, glancing slyly at you, trying not to stare but also seeming to also want to admire you. “So- uh- you- work here often?” His blush deepens and he looks away again, clearly embarrassed. You can't help but be confused, annoyed and a little humored by his awkwardness.

“Yeah- unfortunately” you reply, attempting to give a light hearted air to your words.

“C-cool- Cool.” he pushes out, almost relieved you didn't call him an idiot. He seems at a loss for words now too, wanting to continue the conversation but feeling too awkward. He makes small noises before he takes his frozen yogurt and walks out. Once he’s gone you give a sigh and a light smile lingers on your face as you think about how silly that interaction was.

The rain continues to pound outside and your day drones on uneventfully and lacking any customers. Soon enough it was time to close and you did so quickly and happily. By the time you were finished with your last sweep you almost skipped out of the store. Jack smiled softly to you as you locked the door, him holding your umbrella once again. Once you were ready you turned around and the pair of you quietly walked home. He nudges you again about half way through the walk, his familiar gentle motion to let you know he was still around.

Once home you quickly kick off your shoes and flop onto your couch with a heavy sigh. You relax with your eyes closed and a gentle sigh. God you needed this seat.

“Hey.. sunshine?” Jack's soft cooing voice sang as you felt his weight and warmth settle in next to you. “Can I ask- who’s Ian..?” he asked softly. You rolled your head up to look at Jack.

“He’s..” Your gaze falls away from the kind caring clown. “An ex..” You gently hug yourself as you feel yourself become warm from all your emotions washing through you. You wanted to talk about him with Jack. You wanted to get it out. You haven’t really told anyone about what happened. Jack wraps a comforting arm around you after seeing you close in on yourself. His other hand rests on your arms, encouraging you to open up. You swallow your emotion like its pill stuck in your throat, then you continue. “He was all I had since we were kids.. Best friends forever- least we were supposed to be..” You felt your lips gently quiver before shaking your head to try to push it away. “and,, as we had gotten older we became something.. More. I don't think we ever officially labeled it- but we both had the mutual understanding that- we were who the other wanted for,, forever..” You huff softly as you feel the sadness hit you harder than before and Jack pulls you into him. He hugs you just to let you know he’s listening and understanding, to let you know you’re safe.

“So why does it seem like you’re so upset with him.. if you,,” he lingers before continuing “if you.. love him” that question hung in the air for a while. After you don’t respond for a while Jack gently leads your head to look up to him. “I’m sorry if that was too much, sunspot. If you can’t-” You shake your head softly, almost nuzzling into his hand.

“No- no it’s okay Jack,,” you mumble while looking up to him with sad eyes. “Ian.. cheated on me..” You mutter before turning away, almost ashamed to admit it. He pulls you back, running his thumb over your cheek to soothe you.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispers sweetly to you. He was making you feel so cared for and safe and you craved every touch he gave.

“And…” you felt your eyes slowly start to water. “He was all I had for so long... that when I made him leave I… became so very lonely.” You almost whimper to Jack, trying your best not to cry as you spoke. “I miss him so much Jack...” you whisper as you hide your watery eyes against his hand. “Then you came and you were so safe and I'm afraid I don’t feel genuine enough- like I should for you… or if I just feel these things for you because I can’t for Ian.” Tears pour from your eyes as you bite your lip, your voice and body shaking as you fight back sobs. Jack kindly rubs your back and swipes away the tears running down your cheeks.

“And because of that- I'm- afraid I make myself more lonely by pushing you away because I- don't wanna hurt you…but I still probably do hurt you..” You shake your head looking away and leaning against Jack's chest. He softly shushes you and hugs you tightly as you gently sob into him. “And you're so open, and honest, and kind and I don’t know if I’m completely able to feel all of this emotion as much as I want to- just… feel you hold me like this” you whimper as you cling against Jack, gripping his shirt tightly in your hands.

“It’s okay... I’ll be here for you however you need me… always” he promises you, resting his cheek against the top of your head and gently nuzzling. “You don’t have to tell me what you don’t feel you can,, you don’t have to do anything- feel anything you don’t want to feel.” He gives you a firm squeeze as you slowly calm down “You’re perfect…you didn’t deserve what they did to you- but it's okay to feel bad… or even miss them...” His words are like honey, slowly creeping into all your painful thoughts and soothing them, lessening their raw, burning pain. Being heard, letting it out, had helped tremendously. Especially with how Jack was holding you, close and warm.

“I’m sorry...” You murmur, feeling Jack’s hand on your back slowing. “I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you,, or disappointed you or burdened you or- '' Jack sits up and grabs your face gently. Holding you on either side with his hands, making you look him in the eye.

“None of that sunspot.” He said firmly, his eyes full of nothing but determined care. “You. Are. Perfect.” he says again “You are so amazing- Please never say any of that again” he demanded, his thumb running over your cheek. You look at him with adoration and understanding. You were so close. You nod softly and nuzzle into his hands, soaking up his sweet comforting warmth.

“Jack...” you whisper before looking up to him again with your eyes lingering on his lips. Before you know it, your body draws itself into Jack’s more and your lips find their way to pressing up against his. You feel him push back against your kiss, his hands holding you firm against him. You reach up and gently take one of his hands to lace your fingers together. You felt so overwhelmed with love at that moment. You didn’t want to pull away, but you felt Jack’s lips slowly retreat. You open your eyes and spot Jack’s deep red cheeks and fond eyes looking at you.

“I'm so glad you’re feeling better sunshine.” He says sweetly, and you instinctively nuzzle into the hand against your cheek, turning your head and gently giving it a kiss. That only seems to fluster Jack more. He pulls you against him again, similar to how the pair of you were seated earlier that morning, but this time you didn’t hesitate to kiss Jack as soon as you were situated. The pair of you layed there, trading soft and passionate pecks. Jack occasionally whispers loving praises to you, and soon, you fall asleep in exhaustion against his chest.

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sdj #sdj ian #sdj jack #sdj x reader #sunny day jack #sunnydayjack #sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack x mc #sdj nick #joseph cullman #joseph haberdae #jack haberdae #sdj jacktor #gn!reader #gn!mc #gn reader #gn!y/n

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itsnotgray · 5 months

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what a duo | jack hughes

imagine jack hughes with a grumpy x sunshine trope

like you’ve got mr.sunshine personified, who somehow winds up with his own little storm cloud.

he meets her at a bar in jersey, where she’s sitting in the corner, fondly watching her friends, happy to stay out of their chaos. and jack just spots her from across the room, dead set on getting to know who she is.

now, the second she makes eye contact with him, she knows who he is. how could she not? his face is plastered all over jersey, the gem of the city. but does that make her change her normal attitude? ahahaha- no.

she immediately locks eyes with him, and says “no, nice try,” and makes her way to her friends, unable to see jacks entire body seemingly recoil at her rejection.

a few days later, one of nico’s friends is having a baby shower, and nico unfortunately couldn’t make it, claiming he was “sick” (jack knew the man had a date he thought jack didn’t know about) instead, sending jack in his place.

jack, while loving to be social, isn’t into being social with a massive crowd of strangers. so instead, he gravitated towards the corner. where, surprise surprise- he’s met with the face of the woman who rejected him.

upon seeing the man, she goes to move away, before seeing his demeanor not as cheerful as she remembered it (which she instantly decided she hated. he should always be cheerful- it looked so much better on him).

“what, not running away this time?” he snaps, eyes glued to the masses of people congregating in the backyard. after a few beats of silence, she sighs, before answering, “i’m sorry.” “stormy, apologizing to me? never thought i’d see the day!” he exclaims, cheerful personality seeping through his pores yet again, a brightness within him unable to be contained.

she giggles, quickly getting used to his antics, before pausing. “…stormy?” she questioned, head tilting in jack’s direction (jack thinks she looks adorable- a bit like an angry kitten).

“well when i saw you in the corner of the bar, you looked like the sad guy in the cartoons who has a literal storm cloud hovering over their head,” he shyly muttered, taking a sip of the now warm drink clasped in his hand, glancing nervously towards the sea of people.

a longer period of silence ensues, jack beginning to grow fearful of her reaction. so much so, that he goes to get up to relocate to the opposite corner of the room, before she suddenly speaks.

“well then i guess that makes you sunshine?” she questions in a teasing tone.

“excuse me?” he quickly answers, confusion radiating from his body.

“if i reminded you of a storm cloud, then i guess that makes you sunshine. because the minute you made your way towards me, despite my reaction, you lit up the room jack. so- that makes you sunshine,” she finishes, her cheeks growing red, matching the red tinge on jack’s cheeks

at her sudden outburst, jack has relaxed back into his seat, a comfortable silence now taking over.

the pair sit in a short silence before jack breaks it, “sunshine and a storm cloud- what a duo we are,” he states, causing the duo to burst into a fit of giggles.

and that- that was the start of something truly beautiful.

#jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey oneshot #new jersey devils #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl hockey #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines

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y2niki · 6 months

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# exams <3

→ college bf! 니키 x you

warnings? none,

during the chaos of exams, you always seemed to find peace and quiet in the form of your loving boyfriend, riki. he understood the late-night study sessions, the stacks of notes, and the occasional moments of panic. but riki wasn't just supportive; he was the biggest cheerleader in your whole life.

each morning, he'd leave little love notes on your desk, often with a small treat – a chocolate, a doodle, or a soothing tea bag. his messages were just like warm hugs and sometimes he’d pop up on your doorstep unexpectedly, bringing a smile to your tired face.

riki wasn't just your boyfriend; he was your ray of sunshine during the sad stormy exam season. and as you huddled over your textbooks, he'd sometimes grab your hand and lead you outside for a brief, refreshing walk. he would whisper encouraging words, hold you close when stress threatened to consume you, and made every exam feel just like a breeze.

“4 more to go baby you got this”

#y2niki #niki #enhypen niki #niki x reader #niki fluff #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #fanfic #enhypen au

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elryuse · 22 days

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yandere stepsister Yeseo?

Forbidden Boundaries

YANDERE STEPSISTER YESEO X MALE READER

Yeseo clutched the worn teddy bear tighter, its fur damp with silent tears. Her brother, her only solace after their mother's passing, was a memory kept alive by that threadbare friend. Now, even that comfort was threatened. Her father, a man shrunk by grief, announced he was getting married. Relief battled with a cold, venomous fury in Yeseo's gut. Relief because Dad wouldn't be alone, fury because it meant sharing him, sharing everything. Especially when she found out her new step-family included a son.

Y/n. Broad-shouldered with a mop of black hair that perpetually seemed to fall across his forehead, he had eyes the color of storm clouds. Unsettlingly familiar yet undeniably foreign, they held a depth Yeseo couldn't quite decipher. He offered a hesitant smile, the kind that belonged on a nervous puppy, not the annoying boy who now claimed half her house.

"H-hi," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Yeseo scoffed, refusing to acknowledge him. The traitorous warmth that bloomed in her chest was a betrayal to her brother's memory. He wouldn't want her sharing their space, their life, with anyone. Yet, a twisted part of her couldn't deny the strange pull towards Y/n, a feeling that intensified with every stolen glance over the following weeks.

The animosity simmered, expressed in barbed comments from Yeseo and awkward silences at the dinner table. But fate, with a cruel sense of humor, threw them together one stormy night. Teenage angst and a dare fuelled by boredom led Yeseo out into the downpour. One careless turn, a screech of tires, and then…nothing.

She woke to the sterile white of a hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a machine a harsh counterpoint to the dull ache in her head. A hand, warm and surprisingly calloused, held hers. It was Y/n, his own face bruised and scraped, his eyes reflecting a concern that sent a tremor through Yeseo. Shame burned in her gut for her initial animosity.

"H-hey," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "You scared the living shit out of me."

Yeseo wanted to scoff, to maintain her facade of indifference. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she squeezed his hand, a silent apology. That small gesture became a bridge, their unspoken connection strengthening with each shared secret whispered in the dead of night.

Years flew by, marked by stolen glances across the breakfast table and late-night talks under a tapestry of stars. Y/n matured, his once-gawky frame hardening into that of a man, and Yeseo found herself drawn to him with a fierceness that both scared and excited her. One day, as she peeked out the window, she saw him. Laughing, carefree, with a girl with sunshine-colored hair hanging onto his arm.

A white-hot rage flooded Yeseo's veins. This wasn't supposed to happen. Y/n wasn't supposed to find anyone else. He understood her darkness, the shadows that clung to her like a second skin. He belonged to her.

When he returned home, a lovestruck grin plastered on his face, Yeseo was waiting. Her own smile was a stark contrast, cold and predatory. "Where were you?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Y/n froze, the smile dropping from his face like a discarded mask. "Just…hanging out with Sarah," he stammered, a flicker of unease crossing his features.

"Sarah?" Yeseo spat the name, the sound dripping with venom. "Let me think.. Hmm.. Isn't that what people call a date?" She snatched a nearby jump rope, its rough fibers sending chills down Y/n's spine.

Panic flared in his eyes, but before he could speak, the lights flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. It was either a cruel twist of fate or perhaps a carefully orchestrated plan of Yeseo's.

Hours crawled by, measured only by the rasp of Yeseo's voice, laced with a possessiveness that made Y/n want to run. Every denial, every mention of Sarah, fueled her torment. The room reeked of burnt sugar – a makeshift candle fashioned from spilled wine – and the stifling weight of fear.

"She doesn't understand you," Yeseo hissed, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness. "She can't see the real you, the broken you, like I can."

Tears pricked at Y/n's eyes. He choked out a desperate plea, "Yeseo, please…this isn't love. This is…crazy. You're my stepsister."

A strangled sob escaped Yeseo's lips. "Maybe it is. But it's all I have left."

Finally, his voice, choked and ...cracked with despair. "You can't lock me up here forever, Yeseo. My parents will be worried sick."

The flickering candlelight danced across his face, revealing a mix of terror and defiance that ignited a flicker of something akin to pity in Yeseo's heart. But it was quickly extinguished by the possessive fire burning brighter. "They don't understand you," she countered, her voice softer now, a dangerous kind of sweet. "They can't understand the darkness that lives inside you. Only I can."

Y/n scoffed, the sound harsh in the confined space. "Darkness? That's your darkness, Yeseo. Not mine."

His words struck a raw nerve, and a tremor ran through her. But before she could retort, a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the night, followed by a sudden flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a brief, shocking moment. In that split second, Y/n saw the desperation in her eyes, the deep well of loneliness that mirrored his own. It was a fleeting glimpse, overshadowed by the possessiveness that returned just as quickly as the darkness.

Days bled into nights, punctuated by interrogations, forced confessions, and a chilling intimacy that repulsed Y/n as much as it terrified him. He tried reasoning with Yeseo, appealing to the memories they shared, the moments of genuine connection. But it was like speaking to a wall. Her mind was consumed by a twisted sense of ownership, fueled by her grief and fear of abandonment.

One morning, he woke up to a strange stillness. The makeshift candle had burned itself out, leaving the room in complete darkness. He called out for Yeseo, a tremor in his voice, but there was no answer. Panic surged through him as he realized he was still bound by the jump rope. He strained against the rough fibers, his heart pounding in his chest.

Suddenly, a soft glow appeared at the doorway. Yeseo stood there, her silhouette framed by the faint light filtering through the hallway. In her hand, she held a cell phone, the screen displaying a picture of Sarah, smiling brightly.

"Look at her," Yeseo said, her voice devoid of emotion. "So carefree, so innocent. Doesn't she deserve someone who can be normal? Someone who isn't…broken?"

Y/n's breath hitched. He realized with a horrifying certainty what Yeseo was planning. "No, Yeseo, please," he croaked. "Don't hurt her."

A chilling smile played on Yeseo's lips. "This isn't about hurting her," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "It's about protecting you. Protecting you from her, from forgetting me."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes. He knew there was no reasoning with her in this state. He had to escape. With a desperate surge of strength, he yanked on the jump rope, the coarse fibers digging into his wrists. To his surprise, it snapped, frayed from days of use.

Yeseo's smile faltered for a moment, then hardened back into a mask of cold fury. She lunged for him, but he scrambled back, adrenaline fueling his movements. He stumbled towards the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

"You'll regret this!" Yeseo screamed behind him.

Y/n didn't dare look back. He burst out of the room and raced down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the cold floor. He reached the front door, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the lock. Finally, it clicked, and he flung the door open, escaping into the cool night air.

He didn't stop running until his lungs burned and his legs threatened to give out. He found himself in a park, panting heavily, the familiar scent of wet grass and blooming night jasmine filling his nostrils.

Looking back, he realized he had no phone, no wallet, no plan. All he had was the memory of Yeseo's twisted love and the chilling realization that he might never be free of her darkness. As dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange, Y/n curled up under a park bench, the weight of his ordeal crushing him. He had escaped Yeseo's prison, but the scars she had left on his soul would take a lifetime to heal.

Despite the exhaustion gnawing at him, Y/n couldn't stay hidden. The image of Sarah, vulnerable and alone, fueled a surge of determination. He had to get to her, warn her. Stealing back into the house, the adrenaline rush from escape fading, was replaced by a chilling dread. The silence of the house was deafening. Had Yeseo followed him?

He found his phone on the kitchen counter, a cruel taunt. He dialed Sarah's number, praying she'd pick up. The first ring was met with silence, then her sleepy voice. Relief washed over him.

"Sarah, listen to me carefully," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Don't come here, don't come near this house. There's…danger."

He heard the confusion in her voice, but then, thankfully, understanding. "Y/n? What's going on? Where are you?"

He couldn't explain everything, not over the phone. He mumbled a lie, about being out late with friends, and promised to call her properly in the morning. Hanging up, a sense of despair settled over him. He'd protected Sarah, but what awaited him back in the room?

The climb back to his prison felt like an eternity. As he approached the door, he braced himself for the confrontation. But the room was empty. Relief turned to apprehension. Where had Yeseo gone?

He found his answer on the bedside table – a single white rose, its thorn pricked with a single drop of blood. It was a chilling message, a promise. Yeseo wouldn't let him go, not entirely.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Sarah, worried at his sudden distance, grew distant herself. Y/n knew he had to explain, but the fear of Yeseo's wrath kept him silent. He became a prisoner in his own right, living a double life – the happy friend with Sarah, the terrified captive with Yeseo.

One night, Yeseo returned from wherever she disappeared to, a glint of triumph in her eyes. She held up a newspaper clipping – a picture of Sarah, smiling brightly, next to a man with his arm around her. The caption read: "Local Artist Sarah Finds Love."

Yeseo watched his reaction, a predator gauging its prey. She expected a jealous outburst, a fight for freedom. But Y/n surprised himself. He felt…relief. He was genuinely happy for Sarah.

Yeseo's smile faltered. Perhaps she'd expected a different reaction. Instead, she saw a quiet acceptance in his eyes, a resignation bordering on despair.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Then, Yeseo spoke, her voice a chilling whisper that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "So, you finally figured it out, didn't you? Sarah doesn't see the real you. She doesn't understand the darkness that lives inside you, the darkness that only I can love."

Y/n swallowed hard, her words a painful echo of the justifications she'd woven in his mind for weeks. "Maybe you're right," he choked out. "Maybe I need someone who…understands."

Yeseo's smile returned, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was a smile laced with victory, but also a hint of something else – a flicker of doubt. "But what about her? What about your precious Sarah?"

Y/n looked down at his calloused hands, the guilt of his deception a heavy weight in his chest. "I'll…tell her the truth. It won't be easy, but it's the right thing to do."

A guttural laugh erupted from Yeseo, devoid of humor and full of a chilling possessiveness. "The right thing, huh? Don't be a fool, Y/n. You won't tell her a thing. You won't risk losing me, not after everything you've seen."

He looked up, meeting her gaze with a newfound resolve. "Maybe you're right again. Maybe I won't tell her everything. But I will see her. I won't be your prisoner anymore, Yeseo. I'll see Sarah, live my life…as long as you let me."

Yeseo's eyes narrowed, the playful glint extinguished by a cold fury. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. "Don't test me, Y/n. You know what I'm capable of. You wouldn't want me to…hurt her, would you? Or maybe even you yourself?"

Y/n stood his ground, the fear a dull ache in his chest. "I know what you're capable of," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

Y/n's heart hammered against his ribs as he watched Yeseo pack a duffel bag with frantic energy. The air crackled with a manic excitement that sent shivers down his spine. "Where are we going?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

Yeseo, clad in a sleek black dress, her eyes gleaming with a feverish light, turned to him. "Away," she said, a single, chilling word. "To a place where they can't find us. Where our love can finally bloom."

Panic bloomed in Y/n's chest. He'd hoped for a compromise, a way to appease Yeseo while maintaining some semblance of normalcy with Sarah. But this…this was a nightmare unfolding.

"No, Yeseo, we can't just leave. What about Sarah?" he pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.

A cruel smile twisted Yeseo's lips. "Sarah? She'll forget you eventually. The heart wants what it wants, Y/n, and it wants you. With me."

Before Y/n could protest further, Yeseo grabbed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. She dragged him out of the house, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of fear and dread. He stole a final glance back, a silent apology hanging in the air for the love he was leaving behind.

Weeks bled into months. Yeseo had orchestrated a meticulously planned elopement, whisking him away to a secluded island off the coast of Thailand. They lived in a luxurious penthouse overlooking the turquoise water, a stark contrast to the prison it felt like.

Yeseo, initially clingy and possessive, gradually settled into a semblance of normalcy. But for Y/n, normalcy was a distant dream. Every stolen glance at his phone, every suppressed urge to contact Sarah, was a constant reminder of his stolen life.

Meanwhile, Sarah's world had crumbled. Y/n's disappearance was a cruel puzzle with no missing piece. Days turned into weeks, then months, filled with frantic searches and dead ends. The police, initially helpful, grew dismissive as time passed. Yeseo had covered her tracks well.

One scorching afternoon, Yeseo returned from a shopping spree, a triumphant glint in her eyes. She tossed a magazine onto the plush living room couch, the cover emblazoned with a picture of Sarah, a haunting sadness in her eyes.

"Look," Yeseo said, her voice laced with a cruel satisfaction. "Seems your precious Sarah has moved on. Found someone new."

Y/n snatched the magazine, his heart clenching at the sight of Sarah's downcast expression. The article spoke of a new relationship, a feeble attempt to mend a broken heart. A wave of guilt washed over him, a suffocating weight that threatened to consume him.

He looked up at Yeseo, her face a mask of triumph. In that moment, a cold resolve solidified within him. He would never win her love, but he wouldn't be her prisoner any longer.

As Yeseo busied herself in the kitchen, Y/n grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed a familiar number. The phone rang once, twice, then Sarah's voice, laced with a weary hope, filled his ears.

"Hello?"

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, blurring his vision. He couldn't tell her everything, not yet. But he had to start somewhere.

"Sarah," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "It's me…Y/n."

On the other end of the line, a startled gasp escaped Sarah's lips. Then, a stunned silence hung heavy in the air.

Y/n took a deep breath. He had a long story to tell, a story of a twisted love and a desperate escape. But for the first time since his abduction, a flicker of hope ignited within him. He might be trapped in a gilded cage, but he wouldn't let the bars silence him forever. The fight for his freedom, and perhaps even his love, had just begun, unbeknownst to Yeseo, who stood mere feet away, a cruel smile playing on her lips as she listened to the muffled conversation, the taste of victory already bitter on her tongue.

#yeseo #kang yeseo #kep1er yeseo #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #yandere #yandere roleplay #yandere x reader #yandere blog

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