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soxcietyy · 4 months

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Racer Yuuta pt2

Yuuta x fem reader

Part 3

Continuation of part 1, I’m horrible at descriptions so… also please read authors note down below!

˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚ forbidden love, brat taming, 5 year age gap, 18 + content, gagging.

Gojo ended up picking you up and taking you home. You couldn’t help but feeling so happy from tonight. You bopped your head to the music Gojo played in his car as you relived thoes memories in your head. If your uncle wasn’t here you would be screaming and kicking your feet. You Guys ended up exchanging contact information but you felt to nervous to text him first. What do you even say? You wernt trying to sound childish and just set hey. Maybe he was the type of man that like woman who played hard to get. Though that wouldn’t make sense since you were the one to confess to him.

"What had you all giddy?" Gojo asks as he noticed your absurd behavior.

You callado your hands together and look at him "I’m just so happy you took me out uncle Gojo, do you think I can come with you to the race?!" You say looking at him with your big glossy eyes.

Gojo let a loud hum as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Trying to think if he should let you go or not. Yuuta didn’t say anything bad about you tonight so maybe he would agree. But Geto would get back from his trip in the morning. Then again he’s leaving to America the day of the race so the odds were perfect for you.

"I’ll agree if you don’t embarrass me tomorrow at dinner. I’m having a few of the guys competing coming over and the last thing I need is you telling them my business."

All three of you lived together in this house because well they didn’t find the need in having their own place. Gojo would feel too lonely and nobody would be able to take care of you back when you were younger while Geto had trips. So it was a win win situation if they lived in one place.

"But won’t dad get mad if you bring people from drag racing home?" You tilt your head.

He let out another long hum. "I doubt it, he knows most of them. Plus it will remind him of the good old times. We were so young and wild, you probably wouldn’t be able to recognize your pop’s. I’m just not sure if you’re going to be allowed out your room but in case you are granted permission you better shut your mouth." He says as he drives down your neighborhood.

You roll your eyes knowing that you would have to convince your dad.

The next day you woke up to see you dad was home. You gave him a hug and helped him bring his things inside. You usually never woke up this early but you had eavesdropping to do. You had no idea who was coming but you hoped it was Yuuta. Like why wouldn’t he come? He’s Gojos pupil after all!

You help prepare breakfast and serve it to you dad and uncle as they spoke. Nothing could beat pancakes and bacon on a lazy Sunday. The second you heard Gojo say "hey Suguru" you knew it was going to be about a favor or idea. You quickly threw your portion of breakfast on a plate and ran to the table. Sitting down you pretend to not care about their conversation like usual.

Gojo told him about his dinner plans and your dad said that it was fine with him. Though he wanted to know who was coming over. He wasn’t going to let Gojo bring just any stranger inside.

"Yuji, Todo, Shoko, Nanami and Yuta." He said

Hearing his name made you choke on your orange juice making them both quirk a brow at you. You had no idea why you were so surprised by it since you called it not too long ago. You coughed as you waved them off telling them to ignore you.

You could see your dad’s face as he was thinking deeply. "Sweetheart are you nervous about having so many guys over? That’s okay you can stay in your room and hang out with Shoko." Your dad said looking concerned.

"No! That’s not it at all, I just couldn’t believe uncle Gojo has that many friends!" You say trying to somewhat change the topic.

Gojo let out a dry laugh. Not being able to believe you at all. He didn’t try to interrogate you about it though. Soon dinner time arrived and you had finished cooking the curry. When Gojo or your dad had small dinners like this you’d get paid to make the food. Them being rich meant heavy paychecks in your pocket. How else are you supposed to afford to keeping up with the trends. Setting your apron aside you heard the door bell ring.

You quickly run to your room to get ready for the night. You brushed your hair, did your makeup, and put on a silky light purple dress on. Everything and to be perfect tonight, you had to be perfect. Was this color good or did it make you look like a kid? You soon began to mess with the paint of your manicure. You stood at your door for who knows how long anxious to see what’s in the other side. Yuuta had yet to text you making you feel like you like this was one sided. Then again you hadn’t texted him either but that’s because you didn’t know what to say. What are you supposed to say to a guy like him? You didn’t want to seem annoying or desperate. It’s almost as if he heard your thoughts because a text soon came in.

Yuuta: I wonder what you’re doing in that little room of yours that is making you take so long. Trying to look cute for me?

You could feel your heart pounding heavily against your chest. Opening the door you walk down the stairs to see everyone is here. The first one to notice you is Yuuta who’s looking at you as if you were prey. You feel a sudden shiver knowing he has eyes on you. Those were the same dark eyes that had you melting last night. You approach the table where everyone is talking to introduce yourself but you knew there was no need.

"Ah my dear y/n, everyone this is my daughter y/n who just graduated high school not too long ago." You dad said making everyone look at you. The last part was unnecessary but either way you give them a small wave as you excuse yourself into the kitchen to start serving food. Pulling plates out the cabinet you place them out and start serving them one by one. Putting a spoon of white rice on one side and the curry in the other. When you got to the table you couldn’t help but look away from him. He made you feel so nervous that the butterflies in your stomach were about to burst out. The way he looked at you was so intimidating that it made your legs weak. Oh how you hated how this boy had a huge chokehold on you.

"They put my Angel to work I see," you hear someone say as they grab your waist. You jolt at the sudden surprise and turn to see that it was Yuuta. Today he wore a black shirt with some casual grey slacks. You give him a nod as you go back to serving food. Hands shakily holding the plate. You see as his hand comes into view and holds the plate still for you. All of a sudden you’ve become mute. Not being able to say anything but blush. His other hands snakes around your waist as they trail all the way down to your thighs. You bite your lip trying to hold on any possible squeak that may come out of you. It’s not that you hated it, more like it was driving you crazy. How his cold hand slowly moved up. Teasing you by gripping the fat of your inner thigh. His large hands then proceeded to go back up. Going under your dress just to stop when he found something interesting.

"Where have your panties gone? Did they get lost on your way here? I can also see that you have no bra on from how perky you nipples are looking through the dress" Hes says as he slids a finger in between your folds. You muffled a moan as his finger slid deeper into your wet slit. He makes you put the plate down slowly since he noticed your body quivering too much. He wouldn’t want you dropping a plate and making a mess.

"Gone all shy on me angel? You were so bratty and demanding yesterday. Or could you be trying to be on your best behavior tonight?" He asks as he brings his coated finger up to his mouth and taste your slik. This was not what you thought would happen tonight. You took him for a shy guy who was scared to do anything but here he was toying and tasting you. "You look so fucking perfect like this, my cute obedient angel letting me do anything to her."

"What’s all this chattering about?" You both freeze at the sudden question. Yuuta is the first one to turn his head around to see it was your dad standing in the kitchen entrance. Thank god Yuuta was huge and covered your body up so easily because you were mentally a mess right now.

"Ah I just came to help your daughter out with the food. Felt bad knowing that we were just sitting while she worked." Yuuta said as he grabbed the plate you set down and turned his body fully with another one he found next to him. Geto gave him an approving smile as Yuuta began to walk out the kitchen. He stopped half way in his tracks to look at you.

"By the way y/n, it tasted amazing."

Your face suddenly became beat red knowing what he was referring too. When he left you handed two plates to your dad. He couldn’t possibly think he was leaving the kitchen without being a helping hand. He gives you a tired smile and takes the plates to the table.

When you’re done you bring your plate to the table. Then you noticed the only available seat was in between Yuuta and your dad. You nervously sat down in between them and started eating. The dinner went by fast and easy. Everyone complimented your cooking skills and asked for the recipe. Gojo shut them up real quick saying that he would never allow his niece to give out such valuable information. You and Shoko spoke about how annoying these two grown adults were and there random things as you had Yuta on your left caressing your thigh. Shoko eventually pulled out a cigarette and started smoking making your dad roll his eyes.

"Shoko can you let me have a few drags?" Yuta pirks up when he sees her light it. She shrugs and hands it to him. You didn’t know he smoked at all though you didn’t know much about him period. You watch as he leaves the dinning table and walks to the back porch outside.

"I thought he stopped smoking," Itadori says

"He must be craving something, back then when he was a rookie he would smoke when he wanted something. If he wanted Icecream but couldn’t find an open shop he would simply smoke. Though that was years ago. Whatever he’s craving must be driving him crazy." Gojo laughed.

You could feel the heat began to pool down there. Your gaze turned to look at him to find him blowing out smoke while looking at you from afar. There was no way that he could be craving you?!

The dinner soon came to an end and everyone was leaving. They were bidding there goodbyes outside but Yuuta had stayed back for a bit to be with you,

"I’m guessing you’re going to the race tomorrow?" Yuta asks as he looks at you.

"That’s the plan, I guess I’ll be seeing you then." You say as you give him a hug. He gives into it and hugs you tighter. Placing two soft kisses on your forehead. Your heart sunk in pain as he waved goodbye and left.

The next day you sent your dad off to the airport. Gojo had stayed home trying to do some mechanics on his car before the race. He would do this every time he had a race, spending all day until everything seemed perfect for him. You grew tired of waiting on your uncle so you went into the garage.

"Can you make Yuuta pick me up? I’m so bored and you take forever to fix the car. I at least want to eat before going to the race." You say as you watched him roll up and down from under his car as he picked out tools.

"Can’t really make him do anything, maybe if he calls then I’ll let you go."

He says brushing your questions off because what were the odds of that actually happening. You eventually ended up leaving not satisfied with the answer but he didn’t really care. After working on his car a bit more he eventually finished changing the oil. But before he could get to something else, his phone started ringing. Shuffling around he somehow got the phone next to his ear and answered.

"The one and only," he answered

"Hey Gojo can you let y/n go out with me for the day?"

"Common man are you really giving in to her that easily? You’re not helping her spoiled brat allegations you know." Gojo said as he rolled out from under the car to sit up. When he did he was met with you sitting down on a random stool in the garage. He glared at you for somehow being able to pull strings.

"Sorry Gojo but I did promise her to take her out to eat before the race. I just forgot because iv been so busy on my car." Yuuta said

"Yea, no I get it. Fine you guys go have fun. Please keep your eyes on her. God someone really needs to say no to that girl." He mumbled the last part. You wave Goodbye to Gojo as you leave the house as soon as he got here. You immediately recognize his car and hop inside. He smiled at you sweetly as you put your seatbelt on. He liked the way you dressed, always having a skirt or a dress on to give him easy access in the future. Today you wore a tight red skirt with a black top and a leathered cropped jacket. You looked like an adorable doll that was dressed up. Maybe one day you'll let him dress you up.

on your way to eat you guys talk and talk about anything and everything. Trying to get to know each other better.

You were such a sweet, kind, funny and very adorable person If he had to describe you. That didn’t go for your other side. He could tell you have a big attitude from how you spoke. Though it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. With the small amount of time you’ve guys spent together he was sure he had you dominated. Like right now he sent you to fetch some napkins and condiments. It’s the little things that matter. As much as he had you under control that didn’t mean that you weren’t going to try him.

Both of you sat together in a booth. Yuta was trying to enjoy his burger but you weren’t quite letting him. You had taken your heel off and rubbed your foot on his crotch. Trying to get a reaction from him that he refused to give.

"Can you let me enjoy my meal?" Yuuta asks as he takes a bite.

"Yuu I want to do it, you’re not actually going to ignore my pleading right?" You smile innocently as you press harder in his member.

He let out a sigh knowing you weren’t going to stop till he gave in. He took another bite of his food and simply ignored your attempts. As much as he loved the thought of doing it with you he knew it wasn’t the time.

"You’re not ready for it." Yuuta said as he stole a fry from your box.

He could have swore he saw your eye twitch at his response. By the time you guys got done eating it was time to head to the race. It was already getting dark and Yuta had to get there early to make sure the event was going smoothly. On your way to his car you kept telling him how you were fully capable of taking him and that he was doing too much. Again he ignored your comments and walked to your side of the car to open it.

When he did you sat on the concrete floor refusing to get in until he said yes. He clenched his jaw as he closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew Damn well you were not throwing a fit at this moment. Before he could fully let himself calm down he heard someone call out his name. He opened his eyes and saw a guy approaching him. He didn’t look familiar though. The boy eventually made it to Yuuta but stood on the other side of the car.

"Hey man, so glad I caught up to you before you left." He panted as he tried to catch his breath.

"What’s up?" Yuuta asks.

"I need relationship advice, Not trying to sound weird or anything but I saw you and your girl in the restaurant. I saw how you spoke to her and maintained your ground not giving in to her and well I need help with that."

Yuuta did not have time for such conversation and didn’t really enjoy the fact that he was listening to your conversation. Before he could let him down and tell him he was busy he felt something weird. His eyes slowly averted to the ground to find you unzipping his pants. He whispered how much of and idiot you were right now. Fine, if you wanted this so be it.

"You just got to say no to the things you don’t like or want. Obviously you have to take into consideration on what they’re asking or saying. Though I assume you’re saying no to them because you know what’s good for them." Yuuta said as he felt you wrap your wet lips around his member. Going only half way down his shaft.

He couldn’t believe you were doing all of this when you clearly lacked practice and skills. If you were going to do something at least do it right. Though he had to admit it was cute that you were trying so hard to please him. You probably thought he was feeling so good right now. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

"Usually they would then try to prove to you that they were capable of doing it. That’s when you let them do it but watch them fail at it. You watch them suffer until you feel like stepping in and actually do something." He said as he leaned onto the car making you hit your head on it. He leaned in so much that he shoved himself all the way in your mouth making you gag.

Luckily the restaurant had music playing loudly outside so the guy couldn’t hear how badly you were gagging.

"With my girl I would personally let her make a fool of herself until she’s learns her lesson." he said smiling at the other guy.

you began tapping his leg begging him for air but he refused. He pulled his hips back and forward ramming into your drooling mouth. You tried to push him off of you but he was so heavy and you were starting to get weak from the lack of air. Still he thrusted deep into your throat. Your vision began to turn white as your jaw slacked.

"Thanks for the advice man, good luck on your race!" The guy said as he left. Yuuta thanked him as he pulled himself out of your mouth causing you to gasp for air. You collapsed onto his feet as you tried to compose yourself.

Yuuta crouched down grabbing you by the arms to help you up.

"At least be good at it next time you decide to go against my word and do what you want." He said helping you get in your seat. You sat there dazed as he reached into his glove box and pulled out some napkins. He folded them and proceeded to wipe your mouth clean. He didn’t want to take you to the race looking like a mess. Grabbing your purse he digs in it and pulls out a lipgloss. He might as well touch up your makeup right now since you’re not capable of doing it yourself.

AN: I couldn’t not fit everything I wanted in this chapter so the race will take place in chapter 3. Sorry for the inconvenience 😞

Tagged people who wanted a part two though I couldn’t really tags most people.

Tags: @officialholyagua @sukunaswifee

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iheartyvesss · 9 months

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boyfriend joel miller hcs

joel miller x younger!reader

i love southern men with my whole heart - a texan w a thing for her own accent ♥︎

this was very rushed bcs im working on a bigger joel and miguel fic right now so i just wanted to put something minor out while i did this

sfw & nsfw hcs! mentions of: breeding, dumbification, age gap (reader is 28, joel’s 34), pussy eating & fingering, that’s all i think?

post outbreak hcs here!

boyfriend!joel who feels his pretty young girlfriend is too good for him. he sees the way your eyes light up at the most miscellaneous of things and simply adores the way you’re the sunshine to his rainy day. he feels that you should have a chance to get settled and be happy, not be with your neighbor that just-so-happens to be an old man in need of a break. his feelings don’t matter, though, because everytime you come back from work you’re immediately at his house, smiling sweetly at him and pressing the softest of kisses to his lips.

boyfriend!joel who can’t take his eyes off of you while you take care of his sarah. the way you cook breakfast for her in his shirt and some shorts and dance around with his little girl while listening to “hey ya!” by outkast. sarah dances while mixing the pancake mix you’d ask her to, and you take care of the eggs and bacon. joel’s heart hasn’t felt this full since sarah was born. it’s on this day that joel realizes he wants to marry you. give you the kids you wistfully speak about while watching sarah fall asleep between the two of you. he wants to give you the family you deserve.

boyfriend!joel who glares at sarah’s soccer coach that keeps ogling you everytime you come to watch his little girl play. he doesn’t care what you wear, the short shorts and replica of sarah’s jersey are the least of his concern. it’s the eyes of the coach, amongst other fathers attending the game, that pisses him off. he knows not to make a scene because sarah would kill him, probably wouldn’t speak to him for days, but he can’t help the way his fist clenches and his teeth grind together. his anger clears when your sweet giggle floats through his ears, and your free hand that you’d been holding a sprite in tangles with his own. “you can’t possibly be jealous, baby.” you’d purred, grinning up at your boyfriend. “i’m goin’ home with you and my little girl after this. don’t worry about who’s lookin’ joel, they can look all they want.”

boyfriend!joel who takes pride in his girlfriend having a better job than him. you’re 28, fresh out of medical school with a doctorate in orthopedics. you work at the hospital down the street from sarah’s school and joel swears he has never been this attracted to scrubs before. he remembers the time you had to bring him lunch because he’d left it, and he can only presume you were on break or didn’t have any patients because you’d arrived in your scrubs with a happy smile on your face. “joel ‘s that your girl?” “mmmhm, that’s my doctor.”

boyfriend!joel who cannot for the life of him keep his hands to himself. it doesn’t matter what you’re doing, joel is going to have this hands on you! when you’re going grocery shopping his hand is settled on you waist, walking in step with you as you browse the aisles. sarah usually trots ahead of you two while talking about soccer or her school day if you’ve gone afterwards. when you’re at home, even if you’re just watching a movie or cooking, he’s kissing the side of your head and asking you the most miscellaneous of questions. you’ve discovered his love language is physical touch. (as if you could miss it)

nsfw headcanons ↓

boyfriend!joel who eats you out like he’s never eaten before. he’s dragging his tongue through your folds while his fingers busy themselves with rubbing your puffy clit. he’s made you cum once already by ordering you to use him, to move your hips as you needed to cum on his face. now he’s ignoring your cries for him to slow down, your soft cry of “‘s too much” only fuels him further, makes him eat your pussy like a madman. joel knows what makes you tick, he knows what spots to hit to make that pretty cunt clench and he does it for you every. single. time.

boyfriend!joel who can’t help but to fuck you dumb. he’s never trying to overwhelm you, to make you go stupid on his cock. no that’s never his intention. but he can’t deny how pretty you look with your eyes glossed over, fingers digging into his back, and your lips parted in nothing but ecstasy. he enjoys the way his smart girl loses all her senses with a little dick. he enjoys knowing his smart girl is just a slut with a degree, and it makes him harder the more he thinks about it.

boyfriend!joel who couldn’t control himself after you mentioned wanting kids. you’re talking with your friends that’d come over for a bit, and the statement comes out soft and sweet. “i want kids, i just don’t know if joel wants to start over.” you’d hummed, smiling softly at your friend’s 6 month old daughter. the evening passed quickly after that, and with sarah gone with her friends, joel has the entire night to make sure you have that baby you want so badly. it isn’t long before you find yourself in full nelson, pussy gushing and tears falling from your eyes. “joel- oh-” you gasp out as your eyes roll and your pussy tightens around your boyfriend’s dick. joel groans from above you, pulling his hips all the way out to snap them back against you. “aht, baby, you gotta take it all. you wanted a baby, i jus’ gotta give it to you. take it pretty mama, take this dick.”

boyfriend!joel who talks you through every orgasm. either the sweetest of phrases leavehis lips or the nastiest. joel likes to watch you fall apart with a satisfied grin on his face. “that’s it, my good girl. mmhm, let go f’me sweet girl. that’s it- jus’ like that baby.” and he’s leaning over to kiss you softly while your body shakes from your orgasm, your eyes are closed to prevent them from rolling and he finds it cute because he can still tell. he knows how good he makes you feel. it’s his pride and joy.

boyfriend!joel who knows how to use his accent. he knows you aren’t originally from texas and that southern accents simply do something to you. you believe it to be the huskiness of his voice mixed with the deep rumble of the sheer power of his voice, it all melts over you like a blanket. joel likes to whisper in your ear, deep and low. “thas’ my pretty slut, hm? takin’ this dick like she’s a professional.” and you’re moaning, clenching the sheets as he presses down on the middle of your back. his voice only becomes clearer with each stroke, and he’s practically splitting you down the middle while whispering in your ear. “come now, darlin’. there’s no way you’re cumming offa listening to me.” he laughs this low and raspy laugh that is so sexy to you. you can only whine in response, glancing over your shoulder with a little pout decorating your puffy lips. “can’t help it, baby.” you whimper out, not a thought going through your mind save for joel joel joel.

back to the website !

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel the last of us #joel tlou

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angelltheninth · 7 months

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A Few More Minutes and Then Some More

Pairing: Manjiro "Mikey" Sano x FemReader

Tags: fluff, cuddles, sharing a bed, cuddles, making out, lazy day, domestic fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Flufftober Day 8: Rainy Day

A/N: I was really looking forward to this flufftober piece, hope you enjoy!

Rainy days weren't that bad of a thing to you, if anything it was an excuse to stay in bed for a little while longer and be lazy for the day. You couldn't think of a better day to spend inside and you couldn't think of a better person to spend it then your boyfriend. If only he would answer your phone calls. Hopefully he's not in some kind of trouble again, or worse in a hospital again.

No, if he was you would have gotten a call already, you're in his emergency contacts after all. Mikey was probably just busy hanging out with his friends, not getting into trouble this time around. Yeah right! He's always getting into some kind of trouble.

Regardless you knew he would be visiting sometime today, he promised. While you got dressed for the day you kept looking over at your phone, waiting for a call or a text, but you were in and out of the bathroom and still nothing. What could he be doing on a rainy day like this that required so much attention? "Am I needy?" Yes, you probably were and it was Mikey's fault for spoiling you.

The rest of your morning routine went without a phone call too. You were right in the middle of making yourself breakfast when there was a series of quick knocks on the door.

You didn't bother to look who it was, it could only be one person. Although you weren't expecting to see Mikey standing in the hallways soaked to the bone.

"You gonna let me in or do I need to ask nicely?" He turned his head up a little to meet your eyes, his hands suspiciously hiding in the pockets of his pants and the top of his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. "Need a kiss for payment?"

Yes, but not right now, "Get in here already." When he passed by you he left little puddles in his wake, the rain draining down his clothes. He looked like he'd been in the rain for a while, there's no way he could have gotten this soaked just from walking to here, it's not even raining that hard yet.

Granted Mikey didn't seem to be shivering at all, which again begs the question, if f he's running to hot he can't feel the cold rain, what the hell has he been up to. "Something in here smells good. What you making babe?" He was careful when running his hand through his hair to get it off his face, he didn't want to splash any more rain around. Mikey turned to you a little smile on his face and beckoned you closer.

"Just bacon and eggs. If you called me I would have made you something too." You approached him while paying mind to the water. When you were close enough he made a move to pull you closer, "Ah-ah, nope. I'm not kissing you like that." You pressed your hand against his face and steered him in the direction of the bathroom, "Go take a bath before you make yourself sick!" Mikey was durable, but he wasn't gonna win a fight against Mother Nature.

"Wanna join me? I might need a little... extra something to warm me up in all the right places." He made a slight hip thrusting motion that he knew would only get him an eyeroll but it was more then worth a try in his opinion. Luckily he turned around just in time not to see your face getting hotter then...

"Shit! My breakfast!" You rushed back into the kitchen, saving your breakfast, mostly anyway.

The water in the shower kept distracting you as you ate. There was a slight urge to take Mikey up on his offer and join him but today was meant to be a lazy day. The next day? Maybe not so lazy.

Mikey though seemed hellbent on making it not a lazy day for either of you as he came out of the bathroom bare-chested and grinning happily. That wasn't what drew your attention though, "Your fists, you were in a fight after all." They were covered in bruises and not it was clear to you why he kept them in his pockets. Right as you noticed he showed them back in, shrugging like it was no big deal, "Nope, not today Mikey, let me have a look."

You took his hands in yours and looked at the little red bruises on his knuckles. The skin was scratched, splintered in various formds of healing but red around, probably due to the hot water he used to take the shower. If he needed to get his fists this banged up the it must have been quite the fight.

Mikey used to hide his injuries from you a lot more when you were only friends, and when you first began dating. Lately he seems to enjoy it when you treat them. At least the smaller ones.

"You should…"

"See the other guys? Yeah, I'm sure they've got it worse." You rubbed your thumbs over the injured knuckles, careful not to press down and make it uncomfortable for him.

Mikey shook his head, another smirk thrown your way, "I wanted to say give me something to wear but if you want me to tell you about the guys I beat up I can. I'm sure it's gonna be a fun story for a nap." You felt heat spreading across your face as you looked down his chest and abs, where little drops of water dripped down into the waistline of his pants. "Then again, maybe you want me more naked."

"Y-You're spending way too much time around Draken!" Or maybe he was finally opening up to you more. After all he's known Draken for longer. "Anyway, today is a lazy rainy day. None of that for you." None of you either but you could keep that to yourself. "Let's get you to bed, you look like you need to sit down and rest." Mikey didn't protest, he just smiled at you and pulled you into his lap when you showed him to the bed. "Mikey! What did I just say?" There was nowhere to go with his arms pulling you against his chest and more importantly his big grin enticing you to get even closer.

When you were close enough he stole a kiss, or two, or three from you. Well, is it really stealing if you give them away so easily.

"Not fair." You rubbed your nose against his and brushed his hair off his forehead, "Your hair is still wet. You really want to catch that cold huh?" Your hands reached for the blanket and draped it around his shoulders, looking very much like he did when he wore his jacket.

"No, just want you close to me. It's better when it's like this." He pulled you down with him, arms around your back and lips against yours, tongue asking for and being granted access to your mouth so easily. "That's better."

You put your whole weight on him, which to him wasn't hard to support, he's been in many brawls where most were taller, heavier and stronger then him and he still came out on top. Right now though he wants you to be on top of him, warming him up with your body, sinking in between his legs and pressing your breasts against his chest, so god damn soft, almost feels like a dream to him.

One hand moved down to your thigh, fingers dancing as far down as he could reach, then slowly back up and snapping the band of your pants against your skin. The sudden sting made your hips buck against his, definitely feeling a little more then you thought you would.

"Pervert." You kissed the word against his neck, leaving red lipstick marks there, marking him as he marked you so many times before. Mikey didn't comment, he didn't push for anything more then kissing, despite what you could so clearly feel down bellow. He seemed too tired to actually go through with what his body wanted. "Sleep, you little hothead."

"In a minute." His voice was already so groggy, his eyelids heavy and breathing evening out, along with yours, "Want to hold you a bit more." You nodded and leaned your head on his chest and sighed when he pulled the blanked from behind his back and on top of the both you, "Don't want you catching a cold either."

He came all this way to see you, after a fight and during rainfall nonetheless, all so he could have an excuse to shower and cuddle at your place. But you couldn't be all that mad at him. Behind that hard, tough guy exterior he really did have a heart of gold. And that heartbeat of his, right in your ear, just so happened to put you to sleep better then simple rain ever could.

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leondickrider · 7 months

Text

fluff alphabet ౨ৎ leon s kennedy x gn!reader

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 || working on sm leon fanfics at once ! i made this in like 20 minutes so it prolly sucks but idc!! nsfw alphabet coming soon :3

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 || fluff (obvi), not proofread or read by betas

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 || deinking mentioned, none

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎 || leon s kennedy mlist 🎀 @starzu

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

leon really loves just kicking back and relaxing with his s/o. after soo many life-threatening missions, he just wants to kick back on the sofa with his s/o in his arms and binge watch some tv. however, he also really loves taking they all the places they want to visit, whether it's a concert or a museum

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

everything, literally finds every inch of his s/o perfect and beautiful. but, he really loves their hands, especially if they are soft and smaller because it's the opposite of his hands that are rough from so much fighting and training. also finds their eyes beautiful, will literally hold contact for hours if he could

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

refer back to re4r how leon comforted ashley. he's really good at comforting you and will do anything to help cheer you up. 2 am emotional binge sesh? he's driving to the shoppe and buying you ice cream and frost and drizzle or syrup and sprinkles and brownie bits and cookies and and potato chips and and cheeseburgers and fries and tater tots and cheese and everything (i'm on a rlly strict diet so this is deadass just me listing foods i want rn) 5 pm cry sesh? he already has the tissues, blankets, stuffies and tear-jerking movies ready

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

in 1998, leon would dream about having a totally normal relationship with you. big suburban house, a couple kids. but after the raccoon city, he kind of changed his dreams. he still craves the normal, domestic life, but now he kinda envisions it as just you and him. not that he doesn't want kids, he just doesn't want them to be in such a dangerous world

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

i think he'd be more dominant in relationships when it comes to most things. not dominant in a weird, controlling way. but he would want his s/o to come to him before making any big decisions simply bc he probably brings home the bacon with his government paycheck. but other than financially, he's pretty passive, he really doesn't care what you do as long as you don't do like porn or like cheat

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

depends honestly; most fights he will forgive you, but sometimes he really holds it against you and just shuts you out for a while before resuming as if nothing happened. however, when he snaps and lets words he doesn't mean to get out, he will apologize so much. even if you forgive him, he doesn't believe it and will buy you everything

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

very grateful! in 1998-2013 and after vendetta specifically. he realizes that you help keep him happy pretty fast. if you're in raccoon city with him then he probably felt a lot better and more confident. (def not bc he wanted to show off in front of his partner!!) in 2004 he is soo grateful you were willing to stay with him even with the job he ended up with and with all the training he had to get. in vendetta i think that's when he might seem ungrateful cuz of his drinking.... but yeah after all that he's back to normal

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

a lot of secrets :(

mainly about work though, cuz unless you're an agent he literally cannot legally get into the details with you. he keeps secrets abt his drinking too, like you know he drinks but you don't know how much he drinks.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

yes! he became more confident in himself because like being in a relationship makes him feel like somebody wants him, so he gains sm self confidence and actually wants to be stronger so he can return home from missions !

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

i think he gets jealous pretty easily. he will get a bit jealous if a person look at you twice, or somebody flirts. but part of him thinks you deserve somebody better so he doesn't ever tell you about his jealousy, you gotta hring it up first

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

a very good kisser!! every single kiss is filled w sm love and affection and passion <3 mainly bc he doesn't really know when it will be the last kiss :(

first kiss was really special even though it was spontaneous. it was in the late hours of the night, the whole apartment dark except for the tv light. and you were slow dancing to some random song when suddenly the mood felt right and he kisses you MANSBSHH (this is based on my first kiss with my ex ....)

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

he doesn't really confess first, he drops subtle hints that he has feelings for you and just gopes you catch onto his words

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

yes, going back to dream. he thinks about marriage all the time, he likes the idea of having a cute lil spouse to come home too after grueling missions

he proposes totally out of nowhere. he originally had a plan, he was going to take you on a romantic vacation before proposing to you while there. but he chickened out last second, so after several other attempts (that he backed out of last minute) he finally had enough. and then one morning he got down on one knee after buying you a ton of donuts

marriage is really good. he's such husband material. overprotective but not too overprotective. possessive but not too possessive. you know what i'm saying?

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

sticks to the classics most of the time: babe, baby, love, sweetheart, etc etc. lots of italian pet names

however when he's sweet he really branches out: sweet girl/boy, lovie, lovebug, cuddlebug, pretty

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

oh my gosh, this man is so lovey-dovey. literally heart eyes for you. but he forces himself to stay serious even thought other people easily know he's all your's. he doesn't talk much when it's just you and him, preferring to just sit silently across from you and listen to you. and that's what makes it obvious to others since normally he doesn't pay attention and always says his dad jokes or says something stupid

he expresses his feelings by like... yeah.... not being annoying i guess

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

hmm, he doesn't really like pda due to his job. he knows he has enemies who are after him, but most don't really know about you since they don't really look into that. however, when he's off work, he'll take you into cities and his hand in always on you, whether he's holding your hand, or his hand is planted on your hip/waist. just makes him feel better

he brags about you to all of his friends. chris hears about it nonstop while leon is drunk (and he sobs after bc the redfield bloodline.) "sure that looks nice on them but you know who would look better in it? my s/o." "oh, my s/o has that same necklace, i bought it for them in paris." (😭)

he doesn't really care after the missions. esp if he got close to death, he is all over you the second he sees you. he doesn't care who is watching or who sees, he is literally holding you as if you were dying

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

he knows whenever you are upset. doesn't even need to hear you speak. literally can just tell from your footsteps or your posture

also, he's really quiet so when you are having your moments he's able to sneak around withhout setting you off (please i get so annoyed when people are loud when i'm mad)

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

yes

he will do everything to make his s/o happy

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

it really depends on your goals. if your goal is to become famous on onlyfans (aimed) then he probably wouldn't really help cuz well why would he?

he believes in you to an extent, he's brutally honest sometimes so... yeah... if you're dumb he will tell you that you're dumb (in a nice way) but he tries his best to support you 💀

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

there's no such thing as routine with this man other than his exercise routine

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

he knows you better than you do. this man literally buys whatever you're craving like a week before you even ask fo it. he knows exactly what album or movie or video game you're going to beg him to buy so he already got you it

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

literally his top pirority. it goes you, his friends, him. he always puts you ahead of himself in everything and values your life sm more than his own :(

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

everytime he returns from his missions, he always comes home with your favorite snack and an expensive bouquet of your favorite flowers (if you get the expensive bouquet reference jtm)

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

yes, he is so touch starved and can cuddle all day if you let him. he kisses you a lot as well

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

he always carries a little polaroid of you snd him cuddles together on the sofa (taken before 1998 for draamtic effect) and just looks at it for a little bit

he also bought a small bottle of your fav purfume/fragrance and always takes it with him on missions, aweet boy :)

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

this man would literally take a bullet for you !! A BULLET !!

reblogs appreciated always ♡

i'm making a ghost ver of this as well since i love him sm !! :))

#vivi writes ౨ৎ #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff

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1d1195 · 2 months

Text

My Friend's Toyota II

Read Part I here: My Friend's Toyota

~7.9k words

Warnings: a bit more angsty this time around.

She nodded feeling a little worried about the conversation she was waffling on thinking about it more. The kind of girls that flirted with Harry didn’t look like her. They were loud and boisterous. Fun and exciting. They probably didn’t get enjoyment out of perfectly stacking the dishwasher or the smell of laundry on Sundays while watching TV.

Told me that she’s never been in love before / Darling, I can treat you right, take you to the shore / Every time you cross my mind, I just want you more / Sitting in the grass looking at the tower / Thinking ‘bout her eyes every single hour / She’s my wildflower

She brought water and pain pills into Allie’s room and plopped on the bed beside her. “Good morning, sunshine!” She chirped.

“I hate you,” she hissed from beneath the blanket.

Giggling, she laid beside her hungover form and smiled at the ceiling. It felt like her organs were made of liquid. They were all warm. Like her heart had sent too much blood to each of them. Her face felt warm. He wasn’t even around and just the mere thought of Harry had her feeling downright giggly. It had never felt like this before about a guy. Not when she pined over the guy in her high school biology class. In her sixteen-year-old rom-com ridden mind, that guy was the love of her life. They were going to live happily ever after. One day he was going to notice her, not just as his lab partner but as someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was foolish to think. Not the guy she dated briefly when she was seventeen. But she tried not to think about him too much.

Sixteen and seventeen was so young. Twenty-one was still young but she felt more confident about Harry making the giddy feeling flood over her as she laid beside a headache-ridden Allie.

“Did you sleep in Niall’s bed?” Allie asked.

Her cheeks flushed hotly. She shook her head, glad that Allie was hiding beneath the covers. “No, of course not.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you. That wouldn’t even be the worst place Harry’s taken a girl to bed,” Allie murmured. Allie’s hungover, she reminded herself. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Speaking before she had time to process what she was saying. Worrying about something she had no control over.

She didn’t want to think too much about the rumors that swirled around Harry. After last night, if anyone saw her go into a bedroom with Harry, she was certain the rumors wouldn’t just be about him anymore. “I think I have to ask him about the rumors,” she whispered.

“Yeah? That’s good, honestly. It’ll probably make you feel better. You’re already on his side,” Allie was gentle. Even though her head was screaming, and she probably still didn’t trust Harry the way she did implicitly. But his previous relationships, they were none of her business. As long as he was kind to her, she had no reason to believe he would break her heart.

“What’s on the docket for today?” Allie asked sitting up and taking the medicine and water from her.

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “I was going to work on my online class, do some chores.”

“Well, I need hangover food, so put it off. We’re going to breakfast,” she said getting out of bed and pulling her hair into a twist and out of her face. She giggled in response.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

She was right about the rumors. As Allie devoured her bacon-y potato cure, she could hear the next booth over talking in low whispers about how Harry brought another girl into Niall’s bedroom. “They were in there for two hours.”

“Lucky girl.”

“Lucky Harry,” a guy muttered to them. “Did you see her? She’s hot.” She was glad the booth wall that separated them was high enough to keep her hidden. Allie seemed to be too focused on her breakfast to notice the others chatting about her one table over.

“That’s a new record for him. He hooked up with like five girls over the summer.”

That was the kind of rumor that made her stomach churn. “She’s nerdy and so not Harry’s type. I have a class with her, and she sits in the front. I give it two weeks now.”

“So why does he keep hanging out with her?”

She pushed her plate of French toast aside and tried to tune them out. She looked at Allie, head resting on the table beside her plate of food. “It’s so good,” she moaned.

Laughing, she shook her head. “No one forced you to drink that much,” she reminded her.

Allie smiled. “No one needs to.”

She knew she was being quiet. “Y’okay, love?” Harry asked as they walked to math class. She nodded, still silent. Harry didn’t press her, which she was grateful for; it seemed hard to believe he was planning this long extravagant plan to impress her long enough to sleep with her or something. The rumors continued to swarm from the weekend. She wondered if Harry heard them or if people were smart enough to not to talk about him in front of him.

But all the rumors were about how she wasn’t good enough. How Harry was wasting his time. It felt true. She probably wasn’t like the other girls Harry dated. The October breeze chilled her cheeks and she nuzzled into the collar of her jacket briefly to avoid the breeze. “Do you have plans tonight?” Harry asked.

Nothing besides studying and homework. But she didn’t want to sound unbelievably lame. “No,” she cleared her throat.

“Would y’want t’hang out?” He asked.

“Hang out?” She repeated.

He smiled. “Yeah... we can order pizza and study. Or watch a movie. Jus’ hang out,” he repeated. Her heart fluttered at how sweet it sounded. How innocent. She really needed to tell him about her worries.

Be careful with your heart. Allie’s voice was loud in her head. She loved her best friend, but kind of wanted to shove her for getting into her head like that. She was blissfully unaware of Harry’s reputation until Allie brought it up. Now it was tainting her walk. Ruining the nice late-night chat she had with him in Niall’s bedroom. If she ever ran into Niall, she would have to remember to thank him.

“Mitch works on Tuesdays and then stays at his girlfriend’s place so...I know y’don’t have class tomorrow. Y’could stay if y’want t’stay the night.”

Her heart felt uneasy, and she didn’t know how to answer without sounding like an idiot. “Um...”

“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “Jus’ thought I’d offer. I’ll take y’home any time y’want,” he promised.

Biting her lip, they entered the Sawyer building, and she paused right by the door ignoring the passing groups of students hurrying to and from their next class.

They stood near the ancient radiator for a building that was built in the late 1800s. It was painted over in white, about two inches thick of the chipping color. She wondered how it hadn’t melted off when the air was so chilly. While she warmed herself, Harry said hello to a friend of his and she got the gist that he was asking about the soccer game later in the week.

For whatever reason, in her mind, now was the perfect time to ogle Harry. His black jeans (they were her favorite of his) hugged the muscles of his legs like they were nearly painted on. She never cared about a guy’s legs before until she met Harry. His hair was coiffed to perfection in those lovely chocolate curls that made her want to run her hand through them herself. His jacket was lighter than hers; of course it was. It was probably a normal temperature to him and not frigid the way she thought it was. He looked so cozy she wanted to hug him. Other than gentle touches to the arm or hand, they hadn’t touched one another all that much. The ache she felt in her muscles to reach out and hug him was so strong she had to silently berate herself that she would look like a lunatic hugging in the middle of the building between college classes.

Eventually, she pulled herself from her thoughts. She found Harry smiling at her so sweetly while she thought about everything rapid fire while waiting for an answer. His friend was gone and she wondered how long she had been caught staring and nearly drooling over him while she warmed by the antiquated heating system.

“I would love to hang out, I’m not sure about staying over,” she admitted. “I have work in the morning.”

“S’fine,” he answered eagerly. “I’ll take any time I can have with you, love,” he looked at his feet and then up again, shyly through his eyelashes. Standing by the radiator was suddenly too hot. All he had to do was look at her. She would never need a heating system again.

“Do I look okay?” She asked Allie. She wasn’t trying to overdo it. She wanted to be prepared without looking insane. If she stayed over, she would have the T-shirt she needed for working at the local Starbucks. She could wear the jeans she had on currently, and no one would be the wiser. Her little bag of toiletries was shoved into the middle pocket of her backpack. The last step was to have Allie double check her outfit, hair, and makeup. That she wasn’t overdoing it for a Tuesday evening.

Allie paused from her painting wiping the back of her hand across her forehead to get the hair out of her vision. In doing so, she swiped teal paint across her skin. But it only made her look like the project herself. Her major was art, of course—she wanted to teach because it was one of the most passionate classes she took growing up.

Her teachers inspired her, and she wanted to do the same. Honestly, she already looked the part. Her outfits always consisted of bohemian skirts and the like. Her hair was a little frazzled but in an organized messy way. Allie added décor around the apartment that sparked a little flare to the selection of items she had purchased when they moved in. Her eye for color was impeccable and while she would probably have the same six prints hung on the wall, Allie was able to add something that didn’t quite fit their modern-twenty-something-year-old theme but nonetheless went perfectly. She was like a ballerina, utterly graceful. Like she floated from room to room and exuded beauty like it was her job.

Now, Allie looked her up and down. A black, long-sleeved T-shirt with the college name along the sleeve that she would wear to bed if she had to. She crammed a pair of leggings and socks alongside her bag of toiletries just in case as well. She wore a pair of Converse just in case she stayed the night and had to go to work right from Harry’s. “You look really pretty,” Allie promised with a smile. “Effortless beauty.”

She sighed with relief. “You’re sure. My hair isn’t too much?” She straightened it after a late afternoon shower. It would be easier to deal with if she did end up staying the night and didn’t shower.

“It’s very practical of you,” she assured her. “You’re not trying too hard, sweetie. I swear.”

“Okay,” she sighed again. “Is it weird I’m nervous?” She asked.

“Not at all. You really like him,” Allie reminded her. As if she could forget. “It’ll be fine though. You have nothing to worry about.”

Even though Allie was definitely her best friend, they hadn’t known each other long; there was still a long list of things she hadn’t told her yet. “I’ve...never spent the night with a guy,” she admitted.

Allie blinked. “Oh,” tilting her head curiously at her lovely friend. It seemed a little...not weird, but genuinely surprising. The girl was sweet as could be. They hadn’t delved too deeply into romantic histories, but it sounded like she had gone on enough dates back South to have stayed at a guy’s place before. “Well...it’s okay,” her tone was comforting.

Her face turned pink, and she looked at Allie as if she had all the answers. “What if I do it wrong?”

Allie smirked sadly. “Sweetie, you can’t do it wrong. Not if Harry likes you as much as he says he does. The way I saw how much he liked you. You were right,” she nodded her head firmly. “It’s different with you, trust me,” she wrapped her arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. She smiled brightly as she ushered her out the door before she could talk herself out of doing something she knew she wanted to do. “And if he does try something shady, you just text me and I will come cut his dick off.”

Harry said five and she knew it was a fifteen-minute walk to his dorm from her apartment. It seemed like everything was a fifteen-minute walk. She passed dozens of people hurrying to their late-night classes or to the nearest dining hall (it was breakfast for dinner night which was always a school favorite). The air was so brisk for her southern skin. She wished she wore a scarf. But she wasn’t too far away, and she was sure she could convince Harry to turn up the heat for a bit if needed.

The sun was lower in the sky. The blue wasn’t quite visible anymore. The clouds turned the light around the sun varying degrees of white, pink, purple, and orange. It was stunning and she took a picture on her phone for Allie in case she needed something to paint. She had already painted another photo she had taken earlier in the summer when they first met and told her anytime that she took a nice picture she would gladly paint it.

Harry told her to text her when she arrived, and he would run down to let her in. But due to students not caring about the safety protocols of the building, she made her way in easily when someone held the door behind them while exiting. Once inside she was grateful for the warmth and took a few moments to enjoy the heat and calm the nerves bubbling in her veins. Once she gained feeling back in her fingertips, she called Harry. “Hey love, are y’here? I’ll head down,” he said and she could hear the shuffle of items.

“M'actually in the lobby. If you want to tell me which floor, you’re on, I can make my way myself.”

“Oh, love. M’sorry. I hope y’didn’t wait long,” she could hear the frown in his voice. “Fourth floor. M’standing outside the elevator waiting.” she headed up to the fourth floor of the building via the elevator. She pressed the button and waited for it to descend.

“Not at all. Got right in behind someone exiting,” she promised.

“Oh good. Okay, see you in a minute.”

Taking a deep breath, she was grateful she was alone on the elevator. It was just hanging out. It wasn’t a date. There was no reason to be nervous. Harry was extremely nice to her. When the elevator door opened, her heart stopped seeing him waiting for her. “Wow, y’look beautiful,” he said in greeting looking her up and down but in a way that didn’t feel excessive. Her cheeks felt red at his assessment.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Thanks for having me.”

“M’pleasure, love,” he tilted his head for her to follow him down the hall to his room. She could hear music coming from the other rooms and even below her. “S’not as loud inside,” he promised.

She smiled. “It’s fine.”

He tapped the number on the keypad and opened the door for her to enter before him. “S’a pretty standard suite,” he shrugged. “Mitch’s room is over there,” he pointed to the door on the right side of the room. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge or cabinets.”

“You have a balcony?” She asked, dropping her bag on the sofa in the sitting area and rushing to the slider to look at it. He smiled at her excitement. She could feel it on her back as she looked through the glass. Harry didn’t go out there much because it was pretty closed off. Each balcony was enclosed with concrete walls on each side and a sloping wooden awning over top that extended past the rail. It almost looked like a prison cell with bars extending from awning to railing from end to end. Worry that drunk college students would fall being the reason. “Can I go out there?” She asked.

He chuckled. “Course,” he reached in front of her, unlocking the handle and pulling it open.

She stepped on the little area and peered between the bars to look at the cotton candy sky. “You get to see the sunset like this every day?” She asked.

He smirked. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “When m’home, I suppose. M’usually working or out and about around sunset.”

“I would live out here,” she told him.

“S’a little cold for you, I think.”

She wrinkled her nose at him so cutely in mock distaste, the expression on Harry’s face changed minutely and he smiled a little more. “That’s what blankets are for. It’s so nice,” but an involuntary shiver ran down her body completely shaking her theory.

Harry tilted his head back toward the inside. “Let’s get y’back inside before y’freeze t’death.”

“If I was going to freeze to death, it would have been on the way here,” she told him. “I should have gloves,” she rubbed her hands together quickly in response. He was right, unfortunately. The chill on the balcony ruined the warmth she got back when she entered the lobby of his building.

“Let me get y’some tea. The pizza should be here soon, too,” he promised. “I thought y’might want t’study a bit before we watch a movie,” he admitted. “If y’don’t, we can start right on the movie.”

She shook her head. “No,” she was quite relieved. There were a few homework problems she needed to finish and dreaded the idea of staying up late tomorrow night after a long day at work but of course would gladly suffer such a thing if it meant an evening with Harry. “That would be great actually.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get the tea,” he turned to the little kitchen area.

After homework, pizza, and a movie, it was nearing ten. They sifted through their regular course of conversation throughout homework and pizza time but remained pretty silent during the movie. The tension she felt between them was thick. She wanted to snuggle up to him but instead wrapped herself snug under the blanket he gave her. The idea of walking back in the cold fifteen minutes away seemed like a terrible idea. Even if Harry went with her.

Her thoughts rolled over about a hundred times weighing her options. She wondered if she should excuse herself to the bathroom to get a pep talk from Allie but stopped herself when Harry’s laugh quietly jolted her from her thoughts. Harry had one socked foot on the coffee table, the other on the floor, one arm draped along the back of the sofa behind her, but not in a romantic sort of way. His other hand propped his head up. His foot on the table bounced back and forth lightly in an easy rhythm. He looked so at ease. Not worried about embarrassing himself in anyway.

Must have been nice. When the movie ended about twenty minutes later, she glanced at her watch as discreetly as she could. “D’you want me to walk you back?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Um... it’s pretty late... and cold. I wouldn’t want to put you out—”

“S’no trouble at all,” he promised.

Her face warmed feeling like now he wanted her to leave. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I hate to think you’d have to walk back in the cold. I did bring a change of clothes but if you need me to—”

“Oh, oh,” Harry shook his head. Dropping his foot from the coffee table to the floor and turning to her completely. His eyes looked a little wild and she was surprised he looked so at ease moments ago. “Of course. I want you t’stay, love,” he promised. “You must pack light,” he shook his head. “M’so sorry it sounded like I wanted you t’leave. I do not want that. I jus’ assumed y’didn’t bring anything t’make y’comfortable staying over,” his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. She could see it in the low light of the lamp he and Mitch brought instead of the fluorescent overhead light. She sighed a bit with relief. “I don’t want you t’leave at all,” he promised.

The air in her lungs felt lighter then. “Oh. Okay.”

“Really,” he inched just a hair closer to her. If she wasn’t so focused on him, she might not have noticed the minute shift in his body language moving toward her. “M’really happy you’re here,” he whispered, and she knew the moment he looked in her eyes he was going to kiss her.

He was moving closer, she wasn’t helping. Her heart was beating so hard, she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. Surprised it wasn’t louder than the thrum of the music playing from the suite below him. He kept looking at her lips. The way they parted slightly. She breathed through her nose as she waited for him to get closer.

“I’ve never slept in a guy’s bed,” she blurted. Blinking, Harry stopped his motion half an inch from her lips. She could feel his warm breath across her face. He pulled back, creating a bit of space between them. He waited patiently for follow up. Gazing at her a little bit nervously. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. She turned her face away from him. “I’m sorry. That totally ruined the moment.”

“No,” he put a hand carefully on her blanket covered knee. “Not at all, love. M’jus’ trying t’give y’some time,” he promised. “M’jus’ waiting.”

She scrunched her eyes shut tighter seeing her blood rush in imaginary shapes behind her closed lids. She still faced away from him. She wanted to blurt it out. But was so scared he would reject her. Then she would have to walk home alone in the cold and dark. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, love?” She imagined the cute little pinch of skin between his eyebrows. Like he got when he concentrated while studying.

She took a deep breath and released an exasperated sigh. Her face felt hot still and maybe a walk in the cold would help her forget this. When she started to speak, her voice shook ever so slightly, and she prayed Harry didn’t notice. “For ruining—”

He did, and it broke his heart before she could finish the sentence. “Love, will you please look at me?” He interrupted. Harry didn’t rush her. It was so slow. A whole hour could have passed in that minute it took her to turn back to him, her hair falling in front of her face still hiding her expression from him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he promised. “M’honestly... glad y’told me; means you’re comfortable.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him this was the least comfortable she had ever felt in his presence, but she knew what he meant. “I really want to kiss you,” she whispered.

He smiled sadly. That must be a good sign for him, she thought. Despite the pause. But Harry must have also sensed there was more. “...but?”

She was quiet, bit her lip, and covered her eyes with her hand. “I’ve never been in love before,” she told him, the shake of her voice unmistakable. That must have really surprised him because he was silent. She didn’t dare look. There was still more. “And I’ve never—”

“Love, stop,” he said quickly. She was wrong. He wanted her to leave. This was so embarrassing. There were tears stinging the back of her eyes, but she still didn’t look—couldn’t look. Gently, he pulled her hand from her face holding it in his lap. He cupped his face with his freehand. “I jus’ want t’kiss you,” he whispered rubbing his thumb so softly against her cheek. It felt like the equivalent of his whispered voice. “Nothing more,” he promised. “Can jus’ be one kiss, even,” he suggested. “Nothing else,” he repeated.

She looked at those brilliant green eyes for so long she swore another hour passed in that minute. The shake of her voice disappeared. The stinging behind her eyes stopped. Her heart felt achy, and she leaned the final empty inches between them and granted his wish.

It was not one kiss. One kiss turned into another and then another and then she wasn’t sure she could keep count even if she wanted to. Harry’s hand cupped the side of her face the entire time. His fingers sliding between her hair right behind her ear and tugging her close. It had to have been hours by the time Harry pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. His breathing heavy across her cheeks as he pressed a kiss on her cheek, then pulled away to kiss her forehead. He tucked her head beneath his chin and pulled her toward him. It was quiet, aside from the music below them and their slightly ragged breathing. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She giggled slightly shaking her head against his chest. She was clinging to his short shirt sleeves with both hands, like he was a life raft. Granted, he did make her feel like she was drowning with kisses only moments before. They were quiet for a while, just basking in the warmth of each other. Every so often, Harry kissed the top of her head. His hand moved up and down her spine soothingly.

“Are you tired?” He asked. She shook her head. “Are you alright, kitten?” He asked nervously.

She nodded. “I’m good,” she sighed. “Promise.”

He sighed with relief. “Good,” he murmured in her hair. “’Ve wanted t’do that since I met you,” he admitted.

She smiled against his throat. “Yeah?”

“Very much so,” he mumbled.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked pulling back from him. It seemed colder than the air outside being so far away from him. It was almost harmful to her health.

He nodded. “’Course.”

“Have you heard the rumors about me?” She wondered.

He blinked. “No,” he frowned. “M’sorry. What rumor—”

She blushed. “Um... just that I’m not your type. I’m nerdy. Not...gonna be around long,” she turned away briefly. “I don’t expect you to propose or anything just for kissing me, Harry. I’m not insane. But I’m looking for a relationship,” she sounded way stronger than she felt. Looked him square in the eye as she said the next part. “But I don’t want to date lots of guys for weeks and not have it go anywhere or do anything. I want to have someone to depend on when I feel stressed, someone to sit with me while I do homework, go out to eat with or watch movies and—”

He smiled and chuckled softly as she spoke. Her heart felt so fragile and exposed and his laughter momentarily made her feel ridiculous. But after just a few seconds of his low chuckle, eventually, he sighed with relief. “Kitten, I’ve been waiting a very long time for you,” he whispered, cupping her perfect, gorgeous face, and kissed her again.

“Is it everything you expected?” He whispered. She snorted in the dark and Harry chuckled. Her body was warm and pressed close to his, spooned against his chest. She smelled like the raspberry chapstick she put on right before they climbed into his bed. He squeezed her, kissed her temple. His heart nearly broke listening to her worry about sleeping in the same bed as him. He knew there was more. More she was embarrassed about she couldn’t get it out in one full sentence. None of that mattered to him. Not even a little. “Can we talk?” He asked. She nodded silently against him. “You’ve never been in love?” He wondered.

She shook her head. “I think I’ve made it... too big of a thing in my head,” she admitted. “Too many rom-coms, fairy tales, and books I read as a teenager,” she explained. “It’s silly,” she whispered.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he kissed the back of her head. “S’really nice.”

“My parents met on this campus,” she explained. “They love each other like...” she shook her head, his lips basically rubbing against her forehead with her motion. “I’m a lucky girl to witness that kind of love. To have grown up around that love while I lived at home.”

“S’that why y’transferred here?”

She shrugged. “It worked for them.”

“Love, m’not trying t’pry or say s’weird. Or make y’uncomfortable in anyway. But... m’shocked y’haven’t been in love. You’re stunning,” he punctuated the thought with another kiss to the back of her head. “Sweet, intelligent, jus’ so lovely. S’a miracle for me y’don’t have a line of admirers.”

She turned around in his arms to face him. She was eye level with him. Their heads sharing a pillow on the extremely small twin mattress. Her nose bumped his and he smelled her raspberry chapstick even stronger. “When I was in high school,” she whispered. “I thought I was in love. I thought we were in love. He carried my backpack with my insanely heavy AP History textbook, he brought me coffee to school, and drove me home from soccer practice,” her voice was even. Not a hint of sadness yet Harry felt this rush of sadness all through him.

“Y’don’t have t’tell me, kitten.”

She glanced up at him, even though it was dark, the light thrown from the moon, made it bright enough that he could make out the whites of her eyes. “I want to,” she admitted. Her regular confidence seemed to be shaken during their almost kiss. The thought of making her uncomfortable, especially after feeling like she ruined their first kiss was his worst nightmare. But conviction seemed to resurface as she began her story. Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand where he thought it was going, but if she wanted to share, he would listen to every word.

He nodded. “M’listening,” he promised.

“We were having our first study date at his place,” she continued. “It was for our English literature class. We had to create a PowerPoint about a book we read. Highlighting all the symbolism and allegory. The history and whatnot,” it wasn’t relevant as to what they were studying. It wasn’t the point. She was stalling. Harry knew it. But he let her continue. “He invited me over because his parents weren’t home. His siblings were out. It was just us.” Harry was terrified he knew where it was going and even though she was perfectly whole in front of him, he felt so much anger coursing through him he worried he might hold her too tight. He held his breath waiting for the shoe to drop. “I thought he would just want to make out or something,” she whispered. “I’m pretty certain I was in love with a guy in my biology class the year before, so I knew I didn’t love him so maybe it’s my own fault for going to his house. Knowing what a guy like him—”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry interrupted. His voice was flat. He didn’t want her to continue. But he had to know. Needed to know. Because very honestly, Harry was going to kill him for hurting her.

She swallowed loud enough for Harry to hear, and she took a deep breath. “I told him I didn’t want to have sex,” she whispered very softly. “He said I was a waste of his time. All this time he could have been with,” she shook her head. “Three, four other girls. Not wasting months on someone that didn’t want to sleep with him,” she pressed her forehead against the top of his chest. “I felt so stupid,” her voice was so thin it was hard for Harry to hear her. He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her forehead. He hoped it was encouraging. So she would keep talking if she wanted. “I thought he liked me. I thought that maybe I wouldn’t get that earth stopping love my parents had, but maybe I would find a guy and we would grow to love each other like that. I know in hindsight that’s stupid to think at seventeen, but it was the only thing that made sense at the time.” Harry remained silent. “I walked home,” she whispered. “My mom just knew. She asked me a thousand questions if he hurt me. I told her he didn’t, but I think part of her still believes that I lied to her—”

“Y’did, kitten. He did hurt you.”

“He didn’t—”

“Love he broke your heart and your trust. He hurt you,” he said simply. “He’s an ass. An idiot. He should be in jail just for breaking your heart,” he promised. It felt so unbelievable that she had never been in love. He wanted to know more about the guy from her biology class, but he couldn't believe that someone so perfect to him hadn't been in love. “S’no wonder y’mum kept asking. Y’mum knows he hurt you. Y’jus’ pretended he didn’t so y’could protect your heart, love,” he explained. She was silent for a minute. Harry could feel her foot impatiently shifting between the covers, near the bottom of his legs and he continued waiting while she processed this information. “Have y’ever told anyone ‘bout this?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t...a huge deal,” she shrugged.

He was silent for another long moment, trying to control his anger. If he had his address, Harry was certain he would do something drastic “M’sorry y’feel like y’have t’minimize your feelings. You shouldn’t do that. Please don’t do that around me,” he murmured.

“Harry,” she sighed and pressed her forehead against his. “Where did you come from?” She asked. “Guys in college don’t... You can’t possibly be real.”

He smirked sadly. “I told you, I’ve been waiting a really long time for you,” he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, and her cheeks.

“Harry,” she said softly.

“Yes, kitten?” he was so happy to have her so close to him. None of his daydreams during their walks or math lectures compared at all.

“It’s not going to bother you if—”

“M’sorry t’interrupt, love. But, don’t bother finishing that question. M’gonna take care of your heart. That’s it,” he promised and gave her another gentle squeeze. “Go t’sleep,” he murmured.

For a while it was so quiet, it barely sounded like she was breathing. “Thank you,” her voice was so soft he hardly heard her. As he drifted off with surely the love his life in his arms, part of him thought she wasn’t speaking to him at all.

In the morning, her alarm went off pulling Harry from his dream state. Surely having her in his arms was still a dream, though. He yawned, stretching, and turning to her as she looked nervously. “Sorry, I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

He smiled. “S’okay. Can I make y’breakfast before you go?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’m good.”

“Jus’ lemme get dressed and I’ll drive you.”

“That’s unnecessary,” she promised.

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “S’too bad,” he shrugged, rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, she passed him to get dressed in the bathroom and Harry quickly stripped himself of his pants so if she was finished in the bathroom shortly, he wouldn’t embarrass her by being naked from the waist down.

She did catch him with his shirt off, making her cheeks turn the lightest shade of red. Harry smirked tugging his shirt over his head. “Sorry,” she murmured and grabbed her bag to shove her clothes inside it. “Er...I was thinking, by the time I get out, it will be colder...and I don’t have the right coat to walk home. Could you drop me off at my car?” She asked.

Harry tilted his head at her. “I’ll jus’ pick y’up, kitten,” he could see her mulling this over in her head. There was a bit of worry in her eye. Fear of putting Harry out, he was sure. “Love,” he smiled sweetly. “M’picking y’up,” he promised. “More time t’spend with you.”

“You are...” she smiled shaking her head. “Something else, Harry Styles.”

Hey, kitten. Missing you. Hope you’re having a good day xx

Hi! I’m good. Busy with work and studying. Hope your day is good too!

It’s pretty good. Heading to the mechanic. Cars are the worst 😔 Work later. Wish I could see you 😭

At least there’s no class tomorrow

I’d rather have class just to see you xx

That’s really sweet 🥰 Maybe we should meet up during class time anyway?

You’re a genius, love 😘 absolutely. I’ll meet you after your class.

Sounds perfect!

Harry felt shameful. It was a bad week and Thursday was supposed to be a good day after all since they agreed to meet up despite not having class. Well... it was bad aside from math class and studying. Two things he never thought he would say out loud or even think in the privacy of his own thoughts. It was also good because she said yes to a date—a real date.

After their night together over a week ago and a busy schedule on both parts, this was supposed to be their first official date the coming Saturday. He had it all planned out. A fancy restaurant that he made a reservation for in the city. They would take the train in to save them the nightmare of parking. He asked her on Tuesday after class and he didn’t think he would ever forget her beautiful smile when she said yes. It felt like he won the lottery.

But Harry’s car had other plans. He took it in for a routine oil change the night before. During breakfast, he got the call. He needed new tires and new brakes. He knew about the brakes, but he thought he could wait until spring to get new tires—just get through the winter. The mechanic was insistent.

He felt awful as he walked with her on Thursday to study in the library. She was bubbly with excitement for the last week. About him. It was too good to be true. Of course, something had to go wrong. He felt terrible that he was going to have to cancel. “Hey, love?” He asked.

She was rambling about something. Harry wished he had tuned in more to know what and felt bad seeing her excitement waver. “Yeah?”

“Uh...” he sighed and gestured to the bench along the sidewalk. “I have t’ask y’to reschedule our date,” he looked so miserable. Her heart felt so sad seeing how upset he was.

“Oh,” she frowned. The excitement in her eyes was officially dead. Harry felt horrible. “Yeah... of course! Of course, we can. Is... are you okay?”

“I jus’ feel so awful,” he mumbled. “Asking t’reschedule.”

“Oh,” she felt her face wrinkle in confusion. She placed a hand on his bouncing knee trying to help the anxiety he felt. “That’s... that’s okay. Is everything alright? Like, is your family okay or is it a doctor’s appointment?”

Harry thought he was going to cry. “Uh... s’a little embarrassing,” he admitted rubbing his hand on the back of his head. He couldn’t look at her.

“More or less than me getting lost on my first day of class as a twenty-one-year-old?”

He smirked. “S’nothing,” he promised.

“I... I hate to ask this because it makes me sound so insecure... but is it something I did? Or did someone say something about me and now you don’t like me—”

“Jesus,” he shook his head and pulled her toward him quick. He kissed the top of her head, his arm draping around her shoulders. If there was any question of them being an item, Harry certainly squashed them all in front of everyone walking by. Being broke wasn’t as awful as listening to her feelings of inadequacy. “No, no,” he sighed heavily. “God, no, kitten. S’nothing you did. You’re... you’re perfect,” he gazed down to meet her gaze. “M’so embarrassed... I had a pretty expensive car repair t’take care of... so m’over m’budget for the month. I didn’t know at the time—”

“Oh,” she blinked and shook her head. “Oh... that’s okay. We don’t have to go to that restaurant,” she shrugged. “I mean... if you don’t want to go out, of course. But... I don’t need a fancy restaurant.”

His heart jumped to his throat. “Really?” He sighed with relief. “Kitten, I don’t want t’wait any longer t’take you on a proper date... would you want to have a picnic or something? I know that’s lame. S’not a proper date because y’deserve so much more but...m’not making sense, I know—m’jus’ really overwhelmed and—”

She put a gloved hand on the side of his face and smiled. Harry thought that he would see her eyes in every one of his dreams. In his head. Every time he closed his eyes. “I would love a proper picnic date,” Harry swore her smile was made of stardust. Or maybe snowflakes. “Will it be too cold though? We could have an indoor picnic.”

“I’ll make sure you’re warm,” he promised.

She picked Harry up and drove them to where he said. He filled her car with a whole bunch of supplies, food, and drinks. He told her to dress warm and she looked like she was ready to hike. Boots, warm thick socks, a big sweatshirt. She looked so cozy and warm. Once they got to the little place Harry had found when he first made it to college, he requested she wait in the car while he set everything up. “Don’t look, yeah?” He smiled.

She nodded and made herself busy looking at her phone. But after the third trip to the car, Harry could tell she felt bad. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Stay put,” he insisted. After a few more minutes, Harry was at her car door. He was grinning like an idiot as he opened her door. “After you, kitten.”

There was a massive blanket laid on the grass. Along the edges there were little twinkling lights that he hoped made it feel like something out of a movie. Harry’s heart was thudding in his chest. A cooler with drinks and another with food was on one corner of the blanket. Finally, a tiny, portable space heater from camping with Mitch was directed at the blanket. She giggled. “Harry,” she sighed. “This is better than a fancy restaurant," he shook his head with a smirk.

“You’re still getting a fancy dinner, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

She bit her lip and laid across the blanket gazing up. “This place is so pretty,” she whispered. “Look how nice the sky looks.”

It was getting chillier by the minute with the sun getting lower in the sky. Harry hoped to stay an hour or two but with the slight breeze he worried she would freeze. But the way she laid across the blanket made her look like a goddess. She belonged to nature. He knelt on the blanket beside her and grabbed the food he had planned. She rolled onto her stomach and then to a half-kneeling, half-sitting position. Harry brought sandwiches delighted by her request that her favorite sandwich was peanut butter and strawberry jam. They ate quietly for a bit and Harry poured cans of the sparkling wines he had in his fridge (he thought they might be Sarah’s, but he wanted something classier than beer or seltzers for their first real date).

The sky was pink and purple again after they finished their sandwiches and two glasses of sparkling wine. Harry baked cookies before she came to get him. They nibbled on those while chatting but mostly he just enjoyed her company and how happy she was to just be there with him. It seemed like she really didn’t need a fancy restaurant—even if he thought she deserved it more than all the rest.

When they finished snacking, Harry put the coolers back in the car and laid beside her gazing up at the sky. He pulled the corner of the huge blanket up over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I could lay here forever,” he murmured.

“Me too,” she nuzzled herself closer to his warm jacket. He kissed the top of her head.

“M’sorry this is the lamest first date,” he grumbled still feeling the bits of inadequacy of what he wanted to give her because she deserved the best and not a single thing less.

“No way,” she shook her head. “This is so nice, Harry. I’m warm and cozy. I’m not worried about my dress looking right or spilling something on it. I don’t have to worry about which fork to use. There’s no one around to interrupt or stare at us...” she sighed. “It’s literally the best first date,” she promised.

“Stare at us?” He repeated.

“Surely you see everyone eyeing us every time we walk to class.”

He frowned. “I didn’t know,” he mumbled.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze. She looked genuinely surprised. “Hmm,” she hummed. “I’m not used to people staring at me,” she smiled teasingly. “You probably just tune it all out.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at her as he flicked her gently on the side of the head. “I only care when you’re staring,” he brushed his finger across her cheek. “S’like the only thing that matters now.”

“This is crazy, isn’t it?” She whispered.

“What?”

“Falling so hard?”

“Didn’t know y’were falling so hard,” he chuckled. She smacked his chest.

“Shut up,” she tucked her face into his side. He cupped the side of her face.

“I fell so hard, love,” he promised. “Fell so. Very. Hard.”

Harry thought about getting her back soon. It was getting colder by the second. But the sky was this multitude of sunset colors that made him never want to leave. He only wanted to exist right beside her in this little meadow of peacefulness and never let go of her.

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universecorp · 3 months

Text

Hearbeat pt.2 Teaser

Summary: After starting a situationship with your best friend from high school, things start to become complicated. Especially when you start to catch feelings.

Jaehyun x Reader Haechan x Reader (In pt2 and 3 )

w.c.: 2.3k

Genre: Comedy, smut, and angst

Warnings: Sexual themes, small argument

PLAYLIST: ♡

Sitting in a Dennys at 2:00 AM is not how you expected your night to end. You and Donghyuck had spent the better part of an hour talking and getting to know each other. He was easy to talk to, and funny, you didn’t feel like you were forcing any of your reactions which made you feel a lot more at ease than usual.

“Wait, you're Haechan? The streamer?” Donghyuck nodded, shoveling a scoop of hash browns into his mouth. “That’s so fucking crazy, my best friend loves your streams. We used to fuck and I remember one time he got the notification for your stream and stopped mid fuck to watch you.” Donghyuck nearly choked on the strip of bacon he was munching on.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You shook your head. “That’s so sick, did he at least like pick up where he left off while watching?” Another shake.

“I had to push him on his back and ride him.” Donghyuck laughed loudly, catching the attention of most of the other late night eaters, but it was clear he didn’t care.

“Now that I think about it, there was this one time I read a comment and it deadass said ‘I was fucking my girl and stopped to watch.’ I thought it was probably a troll, but that might’ve been him.”

You scoffed, shaking your head once again. “There’s no way that was him, he would never refer to me as ‘his girl’ it would be kind of funny if that was him though.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement, it was all he could do since he didn’t even know Jaehyun.

There was a small awkward silence filled only with the sounds of plates clinking and light chatter from the other patrons. Donghyuck looked like he was having a debate with himself befofe hr finally opened his mouth. “Look, uhm, I don’t usually do this, I honestly don’t usually take my hookups to pre-breakfast either, but I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You were a bit shocked. You thought maybe this was normal and Donghyuck was just one of those nice guys who treated his fucks to post coiatal meals. Hearing otherwise brought a bit of heat to your cheeks.

“So uh… is that a no? Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“Oh no, wait no, I mean yes! Yes… you can have my number.”

“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. You and big head aren’t fucking again right?” Minjeong was doing your nails on the floor of your dorm, and you were definitely making it hard since you were texting Donghyuck with the hand she was trying to get you to dry.

“Of course not. I’m texting a new guy, I met him at that party me and Jae went to.” Minjeong perked up at the mention of a new guy. Talks like these reminded you of being a teenager, but they were always relaxing. You seriously owed Minjeong some girl time anyway with how far up Jaehyun’s ass you had been for the past year.

“So what’s his name?”

“Donghyuck, he goes here obviously, also get this, ” Minjeong leaned in “he’s that streamer that Jae likes a lot.”

“No way!?” Minjeong gasped, she accidentally swiped a little polish on your finger, but you didn’t mind.

You nodded, smiling basically ear to ear. “Yes way, and he’s so cute. He’s telling me how he wants to take me on a date this weekend!” You closed your phone to give Minjeong your undivided attention while she swiped acetone over her previous mistake.

“I’m happy for you, I know I was kind of an ass with all the ‘I told you so’, but I really just wanted you to be with someone who treats you for what you’re worth.” You knew that, but hearing it felt really good. You always knew Minjeong was just looking out for you, but she also knew that whatever you felt for Jaehyun wasn’t going away like magic. Even now you sometimes felt a twinge of what you used to when he did certain things, but it wasn’t as strong as it was a month ago.

“It’s ok Minnie, I know you only had my best interest.” You brought your nails hand up to blow on the wet polish. “Look on the bright side though, I went through all that and now I've learned my lesson. No more wasting time or energy on people who don’t deserve it.”

Minjeong jostled your shoulder, “That’s my girl.”

A week later you were with Donghyuck in his apartment, playing a co-op game called “it takes two” that he specifically bought for the date. He turned on his twitch to stream, but he left his mic off to enjoy the moment with you. He was ticking so many boxes and even Minjeong gave him the stamp of approval when he met her a couple hours ago. Everything today was perfect, he bought you flowers, ordered from your favorite takeout place and even surprised you with slippers for you to wear around the apartment. You had been seeing each other for about a month now so you figured he would be asking you to be his girlfriend soon, but you were in no rush. His gestures meant the world to you and even then just his presence was enough for you to feel satisfied.

Now the two of you were snuggled up side by side, controllers in hand and your head on his shoulder. Nothing could ruin this moment, nothing except your phone which had been buzzing on the nightstand for a good two minutes. “Hey babe, I can pause if you wanna get that?” You looked up at Donghyuck with a small pout before shaking your head. You felt bad that whoever was calling you clearly didn’t get the memo that you were busy.

“We can keep playing, I’ll talk and play, m’sorry.” Donghyuck waved it off as he waited for you to answer your phone. You rolled your eyes slightly when you saw Jaehyun’s photo, but still answered the facetime call. “What’s up loser?” You sounded less than enthused, but he should’ve expected that since you ignored his calls for two minutes.

“God what crawled up your ass and died weirdo and why aren’t you showing your face?” Jaehyun scoffed as if his facetime screen wasn’t paused.

“Just the fact that you’ve been calling me for two minutes. What the fuck did you want? I’m kinda busy.” You cursed under your breath since you and Donghyuck failed the game stage for the fifth time.

“First of all, I wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner and come watch a movie, I’ll buy obviously. Second of all, if you’re gonna lie about being busy at least make it believable, I can hear you playing a game in the background.” Jaehyun had some fucking nerve assuming you would lie to him about being busy, but you weren’t gonna fight about it. You were gonna be civil. Even though Donghyuck had heard the way you and Jaehyun talked to each other before, he was a little annoyed that the other man was accusing you of lying.

“Jae, I’m on a date and we’re playing a game, so I actually am very busy.

“Wait… are you playing ‘it takes two’?” Jaehyun didn’t know about Donghyuck. He knew you had been on dates, but since he didn’t ask who with, you didn’t bother telling him it was Donghyuck A.K.A. his favorite streamer.

“Yeah, with my date.” You knew you sounded like a bitch, but you didn’t care. Jaehyun had barely been hanging out with you and even then it seemed like he only wanted to when he was bored. You were trying to follow Minjeong’s and your own advice and stop wasting time on people that don’t deserve it.

“If you’re actually playing a game with your date, show your face and his, then show the tv.” You were so close to hanging up on Jaehyun, but when you saw the screen pause and suddenly your phone was being held up by Donghyuck.

Donghyuck didn’t look happy. All of the irritation must have been building up to a point where even Jaehyun looked concerned. “Look, Jaehyun, I get it, you’re bored. I’m sure you miss having Y/N at your beck and call because you knew she would drop anything for you before.” Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from Donghyuck had him closing it immediately. “Those times are past and whatever sick game you’re playing at needs to stop. Got it?” The silence on the line was loud, Donghyuck knew he made his point. “Good. Now I’m going to go back to playing games with my girlfriend, enjoy the stream Jaehyun.” With that he pressed the end call button with a sigh and immediately after you were straddling the man.

“Girlfriend huh?”

Donghyuck set his controller down and placed his hands on your hips, it was all he could do to look cool despite the blush rushing his face. “Yeah uhm… I was going to ask you later during pillow talk after some earth shattering sex, but this is cool too I guess.”

You giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek. “This is cool too, don’t worry. We can still have earth shattering sex but now as boyfriend and girlfriend.” It was Donghyuck’s turn to giggle now. “Do you want to keep playing, we could even turn on the mic?”

Haechan shook his head, “No I think it’s time for that earth shattering sex we were talking about.” You bit your lip trying to suppress a laugh, he was so goofy and hot at the same time, you didn’t understand how anyone could be capable of that.

“I think that can be arranged…boyfriend.”

“He told you off?” Mark nearly yelled, catching the attention of several of the other students in the library.

“Dude keep it down, we’re in a library.” Johnny reminded before focusing back on his music theory assignment.

“Sorry, he told you off?” Mark asked again this time in a more suitable whisper.

“Yes, and she didn’t say shit bro, she just let him.” Jaehyun grumbled, taking a chip from the bag Johnny had managed to smuggle in.

Johnny was pretty unamused with the entire situation, given that he asked if the two men wanted to study in the library, but had basically been talking the whole time. “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s over how you treat her. I know you think you’re like bestie of the year, but you literally evaded her feelings for at least 6 months just so you would have an easy fuck.”

Jaehyun scoffed, “Remind me to stop telling you about my problems.” Johnny simply rolled his eyes before training them back on the score in front of him.

“I mean he has a point. You knew she caught feelings a while ago, and your agreement was to break it off, but you kept everything up. Plus you were the one who kept fucking with her and being all domestic, she’s probably traumatized.” Jaehyun shot a glare at Mark; he did not come here to be ganged up on.

“She can’t be but so traumatized since she spends all her time with Haechan, or Donghyuck, whatever the fuck his name is.” Mark and Johnny looked ready to hit their heads against the table, but clearly this was a delicate situation that needed to be nurtured and cared for so that Jaehyun would actually get some sense.

“Jae, buddy, pal, old friend if you will.”

“Get to the point Johnathan.”

Johnny sighed, “See the point is, she’s in a relationship now. You had your 15 minutes of fame where she basically avoided getting into something because she was holding out hope for you. Now, she’s tired of waiting. She wants something that makes her feel loved and worth it and frankly, your bare minimum effort of taking her back to your place to watch a movie and then fuck, isn’t cutting it.”

“Bars.” Mark fist bumped Johnny, adding an explosion sound effect at the end.

“You guys are losers. She didn’t seem to be complaining about the movie and fuck a couple months ago.” Mark cringed and Johnny simply shook his head at the way their friend could so shamelessly talk about you like that.

“Jaehyun, listen to yourself, you sound delusional. She may not have been complaining, but that’s also because if she did you would’ve had to break all of that off. You’re acting like she broke up with you when the two of you weren’t even together in the first place.” Johnny’s volume was starting to increase, but he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t the closest to you, but he refused to let Jaehyun disrespect you like this. “Also you literally only text or call her now when we can’t hang out. Do you think that makes her feel good?” Jaehyun opened his mouth, but Johnny cut him off. “Don’t answer that because I know you’re about to say some bullshit. You need to get with the program and stop treating her like some play thing that you decide to pick up everytime your other toys are broken!” Johnny finished closing his laptop and packing up his belongings.

“Dude, where are you going?” Jaehyun groaned before looking at Mark who was following in Johnny’s actions. “You too? Come on!”

Mark just shook his head, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before speaking again. “Dude, you have some serious soul searching to do. We don’t mind if you vent, but the way you talk about and treat her is sick.” Jaehyun just clicked his teeth in response to the younger man.

“Whatever.” Jaehyun stood up from the table and stormed out of the library.

“He needs to get laid.”

“Totally.” Mark agreed.

Taglist: @snapcracklen, @peachesmilk

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chelseachilly · 3 months

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my captain

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: literally just fluff celebrating ben leading the team out again and chels winning the semi final 😌 warnings: none word count: 1.7k

author's note: hope you enjoy, literally wrote this in like 30 mins so forgive any typos hahah

In all the years you’ve known and loved Ben Chilwell, it’s never gotten any easier seeing him struggle with injuries.

It still hurts every time you watch him limp off the pitch, seeing both the physical and emotional pain behind his eyes. But it fills you with unimaginable pride the way he always works relentlessly to return to playing for his club. He never gives up, even when a lot of people would - he hardly even complains, though you’re always there when he needs to vent.

Truthfully, you’re glad to listen to him and drive him to physio appointments and do everything in your power to make him feel better, because there isn’t really much else you can do. It’s an unfortunate reality of football that there are always going to be injuries, and some players suffer more than others.

These trials and tribulations only make it that much sweeter when you finally get to see your man back to doing what he loves.

They also make you feel exceptionally proud when your boyfriend comes home from training and tells you that he’s back in the starting lineup for the semi-final against Middlesborough tomorrow, back to captaining the team.

After you celebrate - which consists of lots of sweet kisses and watching one of Ben’s favourite films, since you can’t properly celebrate the night before a match - you spend the night cuddling and wake up wrapped in Ben’s arms with him pressing kisses to the back of your neck.

“Good morning, baby,” you murmur, reaching back to comb your fingers through his hair. You kind of love how long he’s let it grow out since he’s been in recovery, especially in the morning when it’s all messy and fluffy. “Happy game day.”

“Morning, love,” Ben says, gently guiding you to roll

over and face him.

You love seeing that familiar twinkle back in his eyes, knowing that he gets to play the game he loves today.

“You ready for tonight?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles with a kiss to your lips. “I have a good feeling about it.”

“So do I,” you whisper between kisses, shifting closer to him and smiling as his hand slides down your hip and pulls your leg over his. “You’re gonna kill it.”

Ben grins and pulls you even closer, gently nudging your nose with his before diving in for another kiss, then another; then another. You sink into the blissful wake-up he’s giving you, soft moans leaving your lips as his hands roam your body.

Unfortunately, it can’t go much further - both because of his game later, and because you’ve already had a bit of a lie in and you know it’s time to get ready for the day.

“What time do you have to be at the Bridge?” you ask him as you reluctantly part and rest your chin on his bare chest.

You’ve gotten used to going to his games together while he’s been out, but now that he’s back to playing and needing to be there early for warmups, you’re going with Alex, Tom, and some of your other friends.

“Not til five, but I have a haircut scheduled in a couple hours,” he tells you, making you frown slightly.

“I like your longer hair,” you pout, continuing to run your hand through it. “It’s cute.”

“Sorry, babe, gotta look fresh for my first game back in the starting lineup,” Ben apologizes with another kiss to your pouted lips. “I won’t go too much shorter, promise. Just a trim.”

“You better not,” you murmur against his lips before pulling away, much to his chagrin. “Let’s go make some breakfast, you need fuel for later.”

After you’ve made some smoothies, as well as eggs and turkey bacon for Ben, you enjoy a nice, leisurely breakfast together before facing the day.

You know you probably won’t have time to see Ben before the game by the time you arrive at the stadium, so you kiss him for luck before he goes. Once he’s got his shoes and jacket on, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his.

“Good luck tonight, Benji,” you say softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Can’t wait to watch you remind everyone how good you are.”

Ben’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and though you know how eager he was to be back, you also know he’s nervous about letting the team and the fans down when they have a chance at a trophy.

“You’re amazing, Ben,” you remind him. “And if you need a reminder of how incredible you are, just look up at your box and you’ll see your biggest fan cheering her arse off for you.”

His grin widens at that, and he squeezes your waist gently.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you after the game, yeah?”

You nod with a smile. “I love you too.”

Ben pecks your lips one more time and takes one last good look at you, still wearing only his t-shirt and your underwear, before he heads out the door.

You spend the rest of your day doing some chores around the house until it’s time for you to get ready, doing your hair and makeup before changing into Ben’s jersey and some jeans. You’ve always adored wearing his name on your back, but never more than on nights like tonight.

Alex comes over a bit before you have to leave, and the two of hang out for a while before catching an Uber to the stadium.

Stamford Bridge is full of life tonight in a way you haven’t really seen in over a year now, and you hope that it’s a good thing - a sign that things are finally starting to turn around for Chelsea. You meet Tom, Harvey, and a few other friends in the hospitality box and catch up over some drinks.

You all take your seats before the game starts, and your heart swells with pride as you watch Ben lead the team out onto the pitch for the first time in months.

“Come on, babe,” you whisper under your breath as the whistle blows and play begins.

To your massive delight, what follows is Ben having one of the best games you’ve seen in his career. His passing accuracy is nearly perfect, he nearly scores in the first 15 minutes and sets up the first goal of the match only a few minutes later. You can tell how delighted he is to be back out there as Chelsea scores goal after goal, his pure joy obvious as he celebrates with his teammates.

In addition to his skill and experience, you can see the impact his leadership is making on this young squad. Nothing makes you prouder than how much time and effort he puts into supporting and encouraging the younger players, and you know how much he loves doing it.

When he’s subbed off in the 65th minute, you’re relieved that he isn’t pushing his limits too soon after coming back, and even more relieved that he’s walking off with a smile on his face instead of pain behind his eyes.

As he’s clapping the fans on his way to the bench, he blows a kiss up at where he knows you’re sitting. Even though you know he probably can’t see you, you blow one right back.

The rest of the game passes and Chelsea emerge victorious with six goals to show for it, a very welcome turnaround from the first leg of the semi final. You’re buzzing with excitement to see him, so you and the rest of the group head down to the players lounge shortly after the whistle blows to wait for him.

It takes a bit longer than you’d like for him to do interviews and get changed, but when you finally see him emerge, freshly showered and wearing in his Chelsea joggers and matching hoodie, you run straight toward him.

Ben smiles as soon as he sees you and opens his arms to catch you as you throw yours around his neck and bury your face in his neck.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he murmurs into your hair. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Of course I did, you were bloody brilliant,” you tell him in no uncertain terms. “And on your first start back? You’re amazing, Ben Chilwell.”

Ben pulls back, beaming at you with slightly flushed cheeks.

“It’s all cause of you, you know,” he says quietly, thumbs stroking your waist. “I wouldn’t have the strength to keep going every time without you. Every game, every time I wear the armband, every time I score a goal, it’s all for you.”

You don’t necessarily agree with him, since you think he’s one of the strongest people you know and you wouldn’t dare take credit for any of his success, but his words are so sweet that you can’t possibly dispute them.

“I’m so happy you’re back, baby,” you tell him softly, running your fingers through his hair that you’re grateful he didn’t get cut much shorter. “Oh, and that absolutely should’ve been a penalty in the first half. And giving Misha a yellow for complaining? I don’t know what that ref was thinking.”

Ben chuckles, obviously not overly fussed about it since they won comfortably in the end, but loving your passion for the game as always.

“I love you so damn much,” he grins, not giving you the chance to reply before grabbing your face and kissing you lovingly.

You kiss him back with just as much affection, sinking into his warmth.

“Love you too, captain,” you smile after pulling away, squeezing his bicep where the armband rested earlier. “Now, let’s go home. I bet you need a rest after that.”

Ben nods gratefully, obviously exhausted from the most minutes he’s played since September, and wraps his arm around your shoulders so you can make your way over to bid your friends goodbye. His hand lightly grazes his last name on your back as you speak with them, never getting tired of seeing you wear it.

It’s nearly midnight by the time you get home and get ready for bed, curling up under your comfy duvet and reaching out for Ben immediately.

As your arms and legs tangle and your head finds its place on his chest, you murmur how proud you are of him one more time before drifting off into a blissful sleep.

a/n: please let me know what you thought, your feedback makes my day!! 😊

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine

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cherrycocaineee · 1 year

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31. Dally Winston - Red Hair

*Warning: fluff, cussing, bullying, whatever else is considered a warning.*

Synopsis: Your red hair makes you a constant target for bullying because of its color. Though you try to pretend that it doesn’t bother you, you’ve started to change and Dallas Winston is the only one who’s noticed. When Dally witnesses a group of Socs tugging and harassing you about your red hair, he steps in to protect you.

*Your p.o.v*

Getting up for school was harder than you ever imagined it would be; your once relaxing, euphoric morning ritual was now tainted with anxious fear of what today would hold for you. And while on the outside you looked unbothered by the constant harassment of your peers, on the inside you felt disgusting and ugly. Their words had you looking in the mirror teetering between dying your hair or dropping out of school permanently; sometimes you found yourself playing with a single strand thinking about the color. It was red, a copper red to be exact, and for some reason everyone at school found it hilarious. “Darling,” your mother’s sweet voice rang as she opened your bedroom door, “you’ll be late if you don’t get a move on it.” “Mom,” you hummed, pleadingly, “do you think I can stay home today?” Smiling endearingly, your mom glided over to you gracefully before sitting down beside you. Her movements caused you to push your body into an upright position, pulling your knees against your chest. “Is there a reason you aren’t wanting to go to school today?” She questioned. Since the bullying started, you hadn’t really told anyone about it; the only two people who did know about it were Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade, and you had made them promise not to tell anyone. You claimed that it was just them being childish and that it was nothing you couldn’t handle, but really you didn’t want to be a bother to anyone. It just didn’t seem like their problem to deal with. “I’m just a little tired today,” you lied, “haven’t really been getting enough sleep.” She eyed you for a moment as if trying to find any clues that would tell her you were lying; she was your mother after all, and she knew when there was something going on with her baby. But she also knew not to press, that doing so would only cause you to retreat more into your shell. “I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to keep you home this one time,” she stated, “it’s only Friday, so it’s not like you’ll miss too much. Try to rest."

Nodding your head, you tuck yourself back into your comforter while your mom heads back to the kitchen. Telling from the smell of bacon wafting through your bedroom, you knew your mother was cooking breakfast. Slowly, you fell back asleep relieved that you finally had a day of peace. Hours passed and you were awake again, this time feeling much better than you had earlier this morning. Even though being tired was a lie, it seemed your body actually needed a break. Fortunately, both your parents were at work leaving you alone at the house. There was a note on the fridge letting you know that there was left over breakfast inside the microwave for you. And all of a sudden you felt insatiably hungry, only noticing now that you probably hadn’t been eating as much as you should have. All of this because of your hair. Ridiculous! You’ve never been an insecure person, so why did it bother you so much that people found your red hair amusing? Shaking the thoughts from your head, you pulled out the plate of food and set it on the table before grabbing the juice from the fridge. Just as you grabbed a cup from the cabinet, there was a knock on your front door. It couldn’t have been Ponyboy or Johnny, they were still in school. You walked over to the front door, still gripping the glass in your nimble fingers, and pulled the door open. Standing on the other side was Dallas Winston, one of your other, older friends. Your parents didn’t approve of your friends, their only saving grace being that Darry was a responsible adult who assured them you’d be taken care of. And they held him to that, always popping by randomly to check in on you. Dally let his finished cigarette fall to the ground, putting out the flash of orange with his foot. “Dally?” You quizzed, your head tilted curiously to the side, “what are you doing here?” “Got a call from Ponyboy and Johnny,” he said, his voice smooth, “said you didn’t make it to school, so I came to check on you.” “You really didn’t need to do that. I was just extra tired, so I stayed home.” He eyed you suspiciously and that left you wondering if you were that easy to read, if you weren’t as bottled up as you had hoped. The thought left you nibbling on your bottom lip afraid that they knew more than you wanted them to.

“Well how about some fresh air?” He asked, “maybe it’ll be good for ya, you’re looking a bit bloodless.” As quickly as he said that, your hand reached up and touched your cheek. A smile appeared on your face as you nodded. “I guess that would be okay. I’ve just got to finish my breakfast and get dressed.” Dally nodded his head and you gestured him inside which he gladly accepted. After breakfast, you got dressed for the day and met Dally back in the kitchen. He was staring at some photos your mom had hanging on the fridge, most of them were family photos ranging from the time that you were six. “Ready?” You asked. “Yep, let’s get going.” It was a beautiful day outside, the sun was shining brightly in the sky above you, a quiet breeze rustled your hair a bit with each blow, the smell of freshly mown grass touched your nostrils and filled your senses. Everything seemed to be looking up for you; no bullying, no stress, no worries. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dally pull out another cigarette. You remembered the time you had told him to slow down because he was smoking too much but now you worried that you came off too judgemental. Maybe he didn’t appreciate the helpful advice, maybe Dally saw it as you trying to boss him around, or bully him. You never wanted to make your friends feel like that, especially having gone through it yourself, you just cared about them so much. Dally must have noticed your longing glance because he pulled his cigarette out. “Sorry, I know you told me to slow down but…” “No,” you said hurriedly, “smoke as much as you want. Please, don’t listen to me! I didn’t mean to nag you about it.” Your sudden outburst made him arch his eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?” He quizzed, shoving his cigarette into his mouth. “Nothing. I just don’t think you should feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do.” It was quiet for a moment, and for a second you felt that you had gotten your point across without exposing so much. However, by now, you should have known that all of your friends, specifically Dally, knew you better than anyone has ever known you. So you weren’t surprised when the next thing came out of his mouth.

“Have you been feeling pressured to do something you aren’t into?” It wasn’t so much as being pressured to do something, it was just constant teasing that was pressuring you to hide yourself from your fellow peers at school. “No,” you lied, hoping that it would deter him from asking anymore questions. “You are a terrible liar,” he hummed, smoke pushing past his chapped lips. He wasn’t wrong. Any time you lied, everyone knew it was just that: a lie. But despite him calling you out, you didn’t give him the real reason as to why you were acting funny. How would he react? Would you be bothersome to him, like you felt you would be? Would he start a fight with all of the people who were bullying you, get himself in trouble? There were so many possible outcomes whizzing through your pounding brain that it was starting to make you dizzy like you were drunk. Luckily, he didn’t say anything else about it and instead took the two of you to Dairy Queen and bought the two of use some Blizzards. Silence overcame the two of you as both of you dug into your sweet, summer treat. It wasn’t an awkward silence, more of a relaxing silence; one that you both seemed to welcome. Dally definitely knew you but you also knew him, and judging by the stare in his eyes he was thinking something over. So it seemed that the two of you were both dealing with something. For a while, everything seemed to be going smoothly; the two of you had started a conversation, Dally listening intently as one could as you explained the book you were reading. It seemed like nothing could ruin your day. “Ah, there she is.” The voice that came behind you sent a stinging chill running up your spine, a light shiver visibly stirring you. Standing behind you were the four Socs that typically picked on you at school; whether it was making disgusting comments about your hair matching downstairs, pulling on your hair pretty harshly and making some sleazy joke about your pain tolerance, or a stupid insult that you’ve heard a million times like whether or not you had a soul. You thought that you had escaped it, at least today. Today was what you needed to reboot your strength before going back to school tomorrow. “We missed you at school today,” one, who’s name was Billy, chirped while wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You wiggled out of his grasp.

“Leave her alone,” Dally snarled, a piercing glare stabbing into the Socs. “Mind your business, Greaser,” Billy huffed, causing his friends to laugh, “we’re just having some fun with our little redhead.” As quickly as those words came out of his mouth, you were out of your seat ready to leave. Dally got the hint too and stood with you. “Oh come one,” another, his name being Dylan, laughed, “what’s the matter red? We’re just messing around.” And it all seemed to happen so fast. All of the name calling, the shoving, the pulling, everything. Once again, you found yourself dizzy and unbalanced but this time it didn’t feel like a drunk feeling. The feeling was almost like you were suffocating. “Awh poor little red riding hood,” they mocked. Fat, overwhelming tears pooled in the corner of your eyes as you held your hands over your head. You felt someone tug your hair roughly causing a sharp yelp to escape you. Over their screaming and taunts in public, you could hear Dally trying to pull you away from them desperately. But what did it, what pushed you over the edge was one of the boys grabbing a big chunk of your hair and cutting it off with a pocket knife. Their laughs were deafening. “Maybe we should cut all of your hair off. You’ll look less hideous without it.” Those pooling, fat tears flooded your cheeks blurring your vision as you quietly sobbed, putting your hands in front of your face to hide it. When your tears became stains on your cheeks, you looked up to see Dally pounding Billy, the Soc who had cut your hair. The other two had taken off running; bystanders were too afraid to do anything, trying to keep to themselves. Billy’s face was starting to get too bloody, so you intervened; grabbing Dally’s shoulder, you pulled him off and cried for him to stop. His dark brown eyes flickered over to you, his bloodshot, wild eyes stared into your watery ones. The look on your face was enough to soften his, and even though he was beyond fucking pissed, he found the willpower to pull himself off of his victim. Wiping his bloodied hand off on his jeans, he reached over and grabbed your hand, pulling you away from Billy who was slowly getting up to his feet and holding his nose. He only glared, he didn’t make a move towards you or Dally. You now sat on the Curtis’s porch steps playing with the part of your hair that was cut. Dally, who knew where they hid the spare key, was inside washing his hands. You knew that once he was finished, he’d have some questions for you but you really didn’t feel up to answering them. This was the worst the bullying had ever gotten physically. Now they were starting to cut your hair, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had let the bullying go too far. Maybe you should have told someone, then maybe you wouldn’t have been sitting on these steps cradling your butchered hair. “You better not be blaming your damn self for what happened.”

Dally plopped himself down beside you, a fresh cigarette dangling from in between his lips. “Sometimes it’s a little concerning how well you know me,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, well not enough if I couldn’t pick up on you being bullied. Why didn’t you tell anyone?” There was disappointment, possibly a little bit of anger, written all over Dally’s face which made you feel even worse than you already felt. “Ponyboy and Johnny knew…” “Those asshole knew and didn’t fucking say anything?” “I told them not to say anything,” you fought, “I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone.” Dally’s face twisted into something besides anger, it was concerned and disheartened. He reached over and touched your chopped up hair with his scarred up hand, his fingers played with the uneven pieces delicately. “You aren’t a burden,” he assured, “you’re our friend. We care about you, I care about you.” “I know but you guys are able to fight your own battles, handle things that are bothering you without running for help. I didn’t want any of you to think that maybe allowing a sensitive, little…” “Hey, we handle things with our fist especially me,” Dally said, “we beat the shit out of our problems. We know what you are, and that’s what we love about you.” He moved closer, his outer leg touching your outer leg. “It’s what I love about you. I love that you're sensitive, I love that you're caring, generous, and bubbly. It makes my whole body buzz with happiness. So if someone’s bullying you, I need to know so I can handle it.” Dally reached over and took your hand with his, using his other hand to remove his half cigarette from his mouth and throw it across the yard. He knew you hated smoke. But you couldn’t even focus on the smoke or the cigarette, your eyes were glued to his hand entangled with yours. It was a loving, caring gesture that Dally wasn’t known for. He was an ass, a flirt, a brute, the complete opposite of loving and sentimental. “Is there something wrong with you?” You asked, quizzically, “are you sick?” “Why?” He questioned. You looked back down at your hands as if your question was obvious. When he didn’t seem to catch the hint, you continued.

“You’re just not normally like this; so sweet and soft spoken.” A quiet chuckle left his lips, his eyes looking away from you as if the reasoning for it was embarrassing. Another abnormal trait of Dally’s. “Maybe it’s because I like you,” he muttered, still keeping his eyes glued to the bright blue sky, “or maybe I feel more than just a like towards you. Like I love you or something.” Now that was Darry all the way, avoiding heart to heart conversations and trying to play everything off coolly like it didn’t matter. But your eyes were wide, like deer stuck in the headlights wide, at his confession. When you didn’t say anything, Dally looked at you. His sudden movement was all you needed to wrap your arms around his neck, burying your head into the crook of his neck as fresh tears fell from your eyes even though you weren’t sure wide. Dally, though a tad bit uncomfortable and very new to this type of affection, wrapped his arms around you and held your sobbing form. His thumbs rubbed relaxing circles into your sides, hushing what he figured was comforting words. “I needed to hear that,” you whispered, “it’s been such a long few months that I’ve heard someone else say something other than mean.” “If you’ll let me, I’ll tell you ‘I love you’ everyday and mean it.” You nodded your head, still keeping your face buried into him taking in the smell of his manly musk. Dally eventually pulled the two of you apart, climbing to his feet and pulling you with him. You wiped the tears from your face, probably looking like a red mess. “And no matter what kind of trouble I get into,” Dally continued, “I’ll protect you, I promise.” “Thank you, Dally,” you breathe, happiness flooding your body. He doesn’t say anything else, instead, he takes your hand more carefully and the two of you head off to wherever it was he was taking you. You hadn’t realized it before but in some way, you realized that you did love Dally too. The same way you worried about his safety and health when he smoked, he cared about you physically as well. At the time, you’d only thought that it was because you were his friend but after hearing him tell you he loves you, something in you clicked. You loved him. And he loved you. So maybe you and your red hair weren’t such a burden after all.

#the outsiders #the outsiders imagine #the outsider x reader #dallas winston fanfiction #dallas winston #dally winston #the outsiders oneshot #the outsiders dally #dally x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston fluff #fluff #the outsiders fluff #smut #the outsiders smut #imagines #light smut

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indestructibleheart · 2 months

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Hi, fam! Okay, so I'm going to be out at an appointment tomorrow morning, so I'm kicking this off a little bit early. It's technically Wednesday in several timezones and very nearly Wednesday in mine. I'm... also a bit eager to share this, ngl.

I know that I've shared a lot of angst lately, but I swear that's not all I'm doing. 😅 In fact, the actor/playwright AU decided to wallop me in the face out of nowhere after sitting in my WIP folder for months. I'm really excited about it, so I'm gonna share the first scene!

(Also, those of you who have been to New York with me will recognize my favorite brunch spot in this scene lmao.)

---

You probably didn't even know I was in the room, but I noticed you straight away. You were talking with your friends, happy and animated and fully alive—a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access—and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You were the center of attention, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen; I'd better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.

INT. MOM'S KITCHEN & BAR - HELL'S KITCHEN - LATE MORNING

"I'm telling y'all," Alex is saying, punctuating with dangerously large bites of his pancake burrito. "The dude's a dick."

It's been two hours since the nightmare audition, but Alex has been on this tirade since June and Nora first slid into the retro diner chairs across from him (at least forty-five minutes ago).

They're at Mom's: a restaurant-bar in midtown that can only be described as millennial nostalgia incarnate. The trio fell in love with it two years back—post-karaoke, stumbling in right before closing—when Alex saw God in their Fruity Pebble pancakes. Since then, it's been his favorite place to eat his feelings.

Mom's is just really fucking comforting in general, honestly; whether it's the televisions cycling through episodes of 'Rugrats,' 'Dexter's Laboratory,' and 'Hey, Arnold!' or the rainbow straws and Lisa-Frank-looking menus, Alex can't be sure. It doesn't hurt that they've made friends with several of the waitstaff, including an eccentric bartender, Pez, whose pink hair and painted nails fit right in with the decor.

Today, it's the combination of breakfast sausage, bacon, eggs and cheese wrapped up in a syrup-soaked pancake that's really doing something for him. It could also be the margarita the size of his face, which Pez placed in front of him before making himself uncharacteristically scarce. But it's fine. He's probably just busy.

Alex won't admit it out loud, but what really helps is having June and Nora here to talk to… even though Nora is scrolling on her phone.

"I'm sorry," June says. She pokes an ice cube with her straw, and Alex watches as it bobs around her mimosa like a buoy. "That sounds like it sucked, but if he's really that rude… maybe you didn't want to work with him anyway."

Nora doesn't look up as she pops a home fry into her mouth.

"Several sources say he's difficult to work with," she adds, evidently reading about Henry on the internet. "Though, in his defense, his dad did just die, like, three years ago… and there was that whole thing when he came out after. Remember?"

Alex does remember. Henry's grandmother, Mary Mountchristen, runs a pretty major company that used to own half the theatres on the West End. When Henry came out last year, she tried blacklisting his shows from her properties to punish him—which totally backfired when it got around. At least a dozen other queer writers and producers started talking about how they were also denied the space, and Mary was stoned on the streets of the theatre district. Like, metaphorically.

Alex, Nora, and June had just moved to New York, but between June's position at Newsday and both Alex and Nora on the audition circuit, it was all anyone in their new circles could talk about. They were some of the first to know when the Mountchristens were bought out of their properties and Henry moved to the States.

This show is the first of Henry's being produced here—and it's autobiographical, which Alex has to admit is pretty fucking baller. So, yeah, Nora's not wrong. He has reason to be standoffish. Still, it doesn't explain why Alex was only halfway through his audition monologue when Henry abruptly stood up and exited stage left as if pursued by a bear.

He shoves another forkful into his mouth. "It's just, like, they're the only people who let me into the room," he says, barely finishing chewing. "Nobody wants to take me seriously, and I really thought this was my shot, you know?"

June and Nora both know Alex is having a hard time landing serious roles after growing up on a sitcom—Nora more than most, as his former co-star. What they don't know is that losing this role, specifically, feels like a kick to the stomach. From the moment Alex saw the script, he wanted to be a part of it. He can't even explain why, and now he'll never figure it out. Henry wouldn't give him a chance.

"It wasn't your only shot, and you know it." Nora fixes him with a look. "Seriously, I get it—I do—but it's just one play, buddy."

June nods. "Something will happen for you, baby brother."

At that, Alex finally groans. "Okay, calling me baby brother doesn't help me feel better about the entertainment industry infantili—"

"—itty bitty, teeny weeny—"

Alex throws a home fry at her face.

It bounces off her forehead and into the giant gauntlet holding her mimosa with a very unappetizing splash. Just as Alex throws his hands into the air with a victorious whoop, his phone buzzes on the table.

A glance is all it takes for him to see that it's his agent, Zahra.

"Damn," he says, deflating. There goes that upswing. "You answer it."

June balks. "Me?"

"I don't need to hear how fucking badly it went. Trust me, I got the message." Alex blinks innocently, like he's six years old again, asking her to lie to their mom about that broken vase. "Please, Bug? Besides, Zahra actually likes you."

"Everyone likes me." June rolls her eyes, but she caves—answering the phone with a haughty, "Alex Claremont-Diaz's office," before breaking into a smile. "Yeah, Z. It's me… No, Alex is feeling a little sensitive today."

(He throws another home fry at her. This one misses.)

To her credit, June's face remains totally blank as Zahra no doubt tells her how Alex insulted Henry Fox's name and all of his inbred ancestors just by showing up, or whatever—which is extremely annoying and unhelpful—but, once she says goodbye and sets the phone back down on the table, her face breaks out into a grin.

"Guess you didn't suck too bad," she says. "They want you for the part."

He doesn't know if it's Nora throwing herself at him or the shock that knocks him onto the floor.

Tagging some lovelies. If you haven't been tagged and you want to be, consider this your tag!

@anchoredarchangel, @barbiediaz, @cha-melodius, @cricketnationrise, @guillermosfamiliar, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @hippolotamus, @inexplicablymine, @jettestar, @junebugclaremontdiaz, @kiwiana-writes, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @missgeevious, @mulderscully, @myheartalivewrites, @ninzied, @nontoxic-writes, @notspecialbabe, @priincebutt, @rmd-writes, @rosedavid, @three-drink-amy, @treluna4, @vanillahigh00, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript, @ships-to-sail, @stereopticons

#wip:snippet #m:wip #fic: breaking character

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putting-it-into-parc · 2 months

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jealousy, jealousy - chapter 2: he needs a smooth operation, stat

f1 fanfic: lestappen (max x charles)

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: poor carlos collapses before FP3. max and charles have a moment of tension.

chapter 2: he needs a smooth operation, stat

The Saudi practice sessions were not going in Charles’ favor. Yesterday, not one but two plastic bags had gotten caught in his tires, and he’d lost precious time trying to maneuver around them for no reason. Max had been icy to him—probably salty he finished behind both Lewis and Alonso in FP2—and pissy Max always stressed Charles out, reminding him how tenuous their friendship was. But worst of all was that Carlos was sick. Usually jovial, he was short on the radio, terse with Charles, and skipped media to go lie down in the hotel. Charles hoped things would turn around today as he made his way down for breakfast in the hotel with the grid. The smell of coffee and cooking bacon did make him feel a little more optimistic as he loaded a plate and sat down next to Alex, who was already cramming toast into his mouth.

“Carlos said he had a stomach bug,” Alex said thickly through a mouthful of bread. “He any better?”

“I dunno, I haven’t seen him yet today,” Charles said. “He did text me last night saying maybe it was a hangover from Media Day though, that’d be pretty funny. Carlos barely even drank, if anyone deserves a hangover it’s Oscar and Lando after all that bourbon.”

But when Carlos did show up, he looked worse than ever. Charles watched as he inched towards the table, forehead glazed with sweat as if he’d just come back from a practice session. Charles wasn’t sure, but he thought Carlos looked green.

“Mate,” Alex said, looking slightly alarmed. “You’re scaring me. You actually good?”

“Ughhhhh,” Carlos grunted. “No. This is just the worst stomach anything I ever have. Vomited all night. Hurts so bad. What to do, what to do…”

Charles saw Lando’s approaching figure behind Carlos, and before he could react, Lando playfully poked him in the side. Carlos shrieked in agony.

“LANDO!” Charles bellowed, slamming the table with his palm. “What the FUCK are you doing? DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

“Is okay,” Carlos muttered, wrapping his arms around his stomach and looking like he was going to vomit across the table.

“Geez mate, I’m sorry,” Lando looked taken aback at the uncharacteristic outburst. Then he saw Carlos’ hunched body, his ashen face. “Wait, are you okay—“

George returned to the table, balancing two plates of eggs and toast and bacon and somehow managing to look elegant anyway, with Max following closely behind him. Charles glanced uncertainly at Max, who nodded at Alex and clapped Carlos on the shoulder. He didn’t acknowledge Charles at all.

“Shaken the hangover yet, Carlos?”

Carlos just stared at Max with dull, unfocused eyes. And then he slowly pushed himself up out of his seat, and collapsed without a word.

“Obviously not,” Charles hissed at Max.

“HEY! Carlos is down! SOMEBODY GET SOME HELP IN HERE!” Lando’s scream was tinged with a panic Charles had never heard before.

Charles could barely register the blur of activity that came next. George gracefully set down his breakfast and sprinted out of the lounge in one fluid motion. Alex started furiously dialing emergency. Charles shook his head and willed himself to focus, rolling Carlos’ prone body onto his side and placing two trembling fingers on his neck. Thankfully, he noted the steady but shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Carlos?” Lando pleaded. “Carlos, can you hear us? Wake up!”

“I think he’s okay, Lando,” Charles said shakily. “He’s breathing and all.”

Carlos’ eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled back. George, accompanied by two paramedics, ran back into the room and rushed around him. Charles instinctively pulled forward before realizing he was probably blocking them, and quickly took a step back, knocking into someone in his haste. A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, steadying him. Charles just knew it was Max.

One of the paramedics moved to press on Carlos’ stomach.

“No no no,” Carlos moaned in protest, half-conscious. “I need a smooooth operation. No touching.”

And Lando, despite the tears welling up in his eyes, cracked a smile. Leave it to Carlos to make this decidedly terrifying situation borderline comical.

The paramedics lifted Carlos gingerly onto the stretcher and carried him out. The drivers followed them in a weird procession out to the ambulance, where several Ferrari team members hopped in with him. Charles made a move to climb in as well, but Max—who had somehow held onto him this entire time—didn’t budge. “You’re racing in literally a few hours, you’re not going anywhere.”

“He’s my teammate and we don’t even know what’s wrong with him. I don’t want to race,” Charles said despite himself. “Let me go.” He watched something flicker over Max’s face, and the Dutch driver released his grip.

“Poor Carlos,” Lando whispered morosely, and the only thing they all could do was nod sadly in agreement.

Just got word on Carlos. They’re prepping him for surgery. It’s just appendicitis, but he’s been sick for a few days, so it was pretty nasty. He’ll be OK. Ollie Bearman from F2 is replacing him tonight for qualis and race tomorrow.

Charles stared numbly at the text bubble on his phone for a minute before screenshotting and forwarding the picture to Lando. Poor kid looked absolutely miserable the rest of the morning, disappearing into his hotel room and refusing to talk to anyone but George and Oscar, even though Charles tried to tell him he didn’t do anything by poking Carlos at breakfast. For his part, Charles felt like an ass too. He had watched Carlos struggle for all of yesterday and chalked it up to a stomach bug—or a Media Day hangover—without a second thought.

He pulled on his racing suit and bent down to slip the shoes on when he heard a knock. Suit still dangling by his waist, he opened the door. Max was standing there, looking awkward. “Hey,” he mumbled.

“What’s up?” Charles probed hesitantly. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Max.

“Did you hear anything about Carlos?” Max asked. Charles didn’t think Max had to come all the way to his room just to ask about Carlos—a simple text would have sufficed.

“Yeah, apparently he’s got appendicitis. They’re working on him right now.”

“Ah. Okay.” Max took a step back. He paused, and the silence felt like an eternity. “Ah. Well. Uh, glad he’s being looked at. Hopefully everything’ll be alright.”

Charles saw Max’s black shoes turn around and start to retreat.

“Wait,” he called. The shoes stopped, heels still to Charles.

“I, ah, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier,” Charles blurted. “I was just stressed. I….I am sorry.” He forced himself to look up at Max’s face, which was strangely impassive.

“Nah,” Max waved the apology away. “I don’t know why I grabbed you like that. My bad.”

“Uh,” Charles stammered. “Well…well, okay.”

Max just looked at him. Charles felt deeply uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and said, “Well, if you want to go visit tomorrow. That’s the earliest they’ll have us. You should come with.”

“Okay,” Max said quietly.

It turned out they didn’t need to visit Carlos. The guy, less than a day out of surgery, had taken it on himself to limp to the paddock to watch Ollie and Charles race. Charles cringed watching the footage of him walking painfully with his hospital bracelet and bandages from the IV still on (why hadn’t they at least gotten him a fucking golf cart or something?) but supposed it was for the best. He couldn’t imagine how weird it would’ve been to go pick up flowers for Carlos and walk into the hospital with Max. But all of yesterday—climbing into his car, popping the champagne on the podium, brushing his teeth while Lando blasted the stupid Max Verstappen song through the thin walls—he swore could feel Max’s hands still clamped on his shoulders, and he wished with all his heart that he hadn’t so coldly told him to let go.

notes: hahaha i've been on a writing kick, but locking myself into following the 2024 arc means the next chapter's going to have to wait 😩

i feel like i could've done a better job diving deeper into their attitudes towards e/o, both of them are still fully in denial and mostly scared of the other guy since they don't want to revert to the toxic rivalry they used to have lol

i love filling in the characters of the other guys, we're leaning into lando's teenage boy trope HARD and ofc george is the rich london aunt. trying to bring pierre and yuki into the next chapter since i love them too

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stephstars08 · 5 months

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Opposites Attract

Zach Turner x Reader

Warnings: Some Adult Language, Insecurities, Anxiety, Mention of Past Trauma, Arguing, Harsh Break-up, Low Self-Esteem, Angst, Fluff, and Maybe Some Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any)

Summary: Y/N has the biggest crush on Zach but she’s too shy to even say a word to him. She also believes that since they are complete opposites he wouldn’t want to be with a girl like him but one night changes all of those thoughts.

Word Count: 2,218

It’s now been three months since the Turner family had the scare of their lives. All four members of the family have been going to therapy due to the traumatic things they went through and saw. Everyone is doing so much better especially Zach. They actually feel like a family which they haven’t felt like one in a very long time. Before Zach seemed to want nothing to do with his family and just wanted to be with his friends but after almost losing his sister and dad, he wants to spend time with them as much as he can.

Y/N is somewhat closed to the Turner family since she tutors Zach’s little sister, Emily in Social Studies so she’s always at the Turner’s household at least two days a week. However, this week is different since both of Y/N’s parents are going to be away for the week so she’s going to be staying at the Turner’s house in the guest room. Emily is so happy and excited to have Y/N stay with them since she adores her. Even though Y/N tutors Zach’s sister and they go to the same school they are complete strangers since Y/N hangs out with the smart group while Zach hangs out with the popular group.

Y/N does wish that her and Zach have some kind of bond since she does have a growing crush on him. She has noticed a change in him since the accident. He is starting to spend a lot more time with his family. Before the accident when Y/N would be at the house to tutor Emily, Zach would either not be home or he would be hiding upstairs in his room.

********************

It was Y/N’s first morning in the Turner’s family’s house. She just got getting changed into a fresh pair of clothes for school and made her way out of the guest bedroom that was located downstairs. She walked into the kitchen to see Zach and Emily sitting at the table eating breakfast while Mrs. Turner was fixing her a plate. “Good morning, Y/N!” Mrs. Turner said with a soft smile. “Did you sleep alright?” Mrs. Turner asked her. “Yes, thank you so much for letting me stay here.” Y/N said with a kind smile. “It’s no problem, dear. Come sit down and eat.” Mrs. Turner reassured setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon down in front of the empty seat next to Emily.

Y/N felt her nerves start to race since she is going to be sitting right across from Zach. This is going to be the closest she’s ever going to be near him. He probably won’t even notice her sitting there since he’s texting someone on his phone, so she walked over to the table and sat down next to Emily.

“Hurry up and eat. We have to leave soon.” Mrs. Turner told the kids and walked away so she could clean the kitchen up a little. As Y/N ate Emily was saying how excited she was to have her living with them for a week and everything they can do together. “Why don’t we watch a movie together tonight?” Emily asked Y/N. “Sure, sounds good to me.” Y/N told her and took a bite from one of the strips of bacon. “What about you Zach?” Emily said looking at her brother who was just staring down at his phone in his hands. At first Zach didn’t hear her but when she said his name for the second time, he looked up at her. “I’m sorry. What was the question?” Zach said putting his phone down onto the table next to his plate. “Do you want to watch a movie with Y/N and I tonight?” Emily asked him in a curious tone. When Zach looked at Y/N she quickly looked down at her plate of food. “Sure.” Zach said looking back at Emily with a nod.

Y/N could feel her heart race when Zach said he would join her and Emily tonight. Fuck, when is she going to get over this shy behavior.

As Y/N ate her breakfast she would sneak a glance at Zach who again put his attention back onto his phone. Y/N knew something was going on with Zach, but she didn’t have the courage to say anything. Also, even if she did ask what was bothering him why would he tell her? He barely knows her.

********************

Y/N was at school standing in the hallway at her locker. She was taking some of her textbooks out of her locker and putting them into her book bag. After she zipped up her bag, she saw Zach at his locker talking to two of his guy friends. She couldn’t help but stare. She watched him laugh at something one of his friends said to him. Her favorite thing about Zach has to be his smile. He just has that smile that just makes a girl’s heart rate speed up. Why is it so fucking hard to just say one fucking word to him?

“Okay, you seriously need to stop with the staring thing.” A voice said behind Y/N which startled her but relaxed when she saw that it was just her best friend Annabeth. “Shut up!” Y/N hissed as she looked down at her feet. “I don’t understand why you won’t just ask him out already. You tutor his little sister and you’re currently living in the same house as him for fucks sake.” Annabeth told her which made Y/N roll her eyes.

“Reason number one is that he has a girlfriend.” Y/N reminded her. “Second reason is that we associate with two completely different type of friends groups.” Y/N told her. “And third he wouldn’t want to go out with a shy and dorky girl like me.” Y/N said with a sigh. “Y/N, don’t say that.” Annabeth said with a frown on her face.

Y/N took a quick glance over at Zach and then let out a heavy sigh. “Just forget it.” Y/N said closing her locker and walked away. Annabeth let out a heavy sigh and followed her down the hallway.

********************

It was the end of the school day and Y/N just walked out of her last class of the day. She walked down the hallway to her locker so she could put a couple books of hers in there before she meets Zach outside since his mom will be picking them up. Before Y/N walked around a corner she heard a familiar voice yelling. When she saw that the voice belonged to Mila and the person, she was yelling at was Zach she hid behind the wall. She didn’t mean to ease drop but she just couldn’t help herself.

“I can’t fucking do this anymore!” Mila snapped at Zach with a fiery look in her eyes. “It’s like ever since that accident you’ve become a completely different person.” Mila added slamming her locker shut and walked away from a heartbroken Zach. Y/N couldn’t believe what she just saw happen.

Did Mila just break things off with Zach?

It all started to sense during breakfast. The reason why Zach kept staring at his phone was because he was expecting a text from Mila. Y/N saw the heartbreaking look in Zach’s memorizing brown eyes. If only she had the courage to comfort him.

********************

That night while Y/N watched a movie with Emily and Zach in the living room she would notice Zach was doing the same thing he did that morning. Y/N knew that Zach was completely head over heels for Mila that’s why he’s so heartbroken about what she said to him. It breaks Y/N’s heart to admit that, but she knows she doesn’t have a shot with Zach because they are polar opposites.

After the movie was over Zach and Emily went upstairs to their rooms for bed while Y/N went into the guest bedroom. She got changed into a pair of comfy pajamas and crawled into bed, but as time passed, she couldn’t fall asleep. No matter how many times she had tossed and turned she just couldn’t fall asleep.

As Y/N laid on her back staring up at the ceiling she heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. She decided to ignore it since it was probably just someone getting something to drink. However, when she heard a loud noise and a familiar voice let out a curse word, she decided to get out of bed to see what was going on.

Y/N opened the door to see Zach cleaning up a bag of chips he spilled all over the floor. She saw him struggling so she walked over to him and helped him. “Thanks.” Zach said in a soft voice. “No problem.” Y/N said standing up to throw the chips that she picked up into the trash. “Did I wake you up?” Zach asked as he cleaned up the rest of the mess. “I’m sorry if I did.” He added throwing away all of the spilled chips into the trash can. “No, I actually am having a hard time falling asleep.” Y/N told him. “Yeah, I am too.” Zach said with a sigh as he sat down at the table.

Y/N knew that he shouldn’t be alone at the moment, so she walked over to the table and sat down next to him. “I can sense that you need someone to talk to so if you want you can talk to me if you want to.” Y/N told him having the courage to let him talk to her. “Mila broke up with me at school today.” Zach told her with a frown. “Not to be nosey or anything but why did she break things off?” Y/N asked hoping he doesn’t think she’s nosey. “She’s mad because I’ve been ditching her to spend more time with my family.” Zach said as he looked anywhere but at Y/N.

“She doesn’t deserve you then.” Y/N blurted out which took him by surprise. “Huh?” Zach said looking at her. “I’ve noticed ever since the incident happened you’ve been spending more time with your family and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Y/N told him. “If she can’t see that family is more important than you don’t need her.” She told him as they stared into each other’s eyes. Zach didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned in and connected his lips with hers which put her into shock.

She couldn’t believe that Zach’s lips were on hers. As they kissed, they both felt electricity shoot through their bodies. When the kiss broke Y/N’s breath was completely taken away. Zach was also in shock. “Sorry!” Zach said quickly getting up and walking up the steps back to his room.

********************

A week has now passed since Zach kissed Y/N. For the rest of the week, she stayed at the Turner’s house she didn’t say a word to Zach, and he didn’t say a word to her. But Y/N would feel Zach’s eyes on her and when she would look back at him, he would quickly look away. It’s like the roles between the two of them switched. She noticed that he would do the same thing at school in the hallway.

Y/N was in her own bedroom sitting on her bed reading a book when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.” She called out as she put her bookmark into her book and closed it. When the door opened, she was shocked to see that it was Zach. “Zach?” Y/N said in a surprised tone as she sat her book to the side. “Is this a bad time?” Zach asked walking into the room. “No, of course not.” Y/N said in reassurance as she stood up from her bed.

“I wanted to talk to you about the kiss.” Zach said which made Y/N’s heart rate speed up. “When you were telling me how Mila didn’t deserve me, I just had the urge to lean in and at the time I just thought it was just the heat of the moment and that it was just an accident.” Zach said which made her heart hurt a little. “Oh.” Y/N said looking down at the hardwood floor. Zach walked up to her and picked her head up, so she was looking up at him. “But as time went on, I realized the reason why I can’t stop thinking about it is because I have feelings for you.” Zach confessed making shock shoot through her body. “You like me?” We’re like complete opposites.” Y/N said as her body was still in shock. “Well, it’s like they say.” Zach said putting his hand on her cheek which made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy. “Sometimes opposites attract.” Zach said and leaned down to connect his lips with hers.

Y/N just melted into the kiss. As they kissed, they felt that same spark they felt when they kissed the first time. Even though they didn’t want to pull away they had to so they could get a breath of air.

“Do you want to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” Zach asked with a smile as he stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. “Yes!” Y/N said with a big smile as she leaned into his touch.

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petermorwood · 1 year

Video

youtube

Here’s a dish from French Cooking Academy, another of my subscribed YouTube channels.

I like the business of stuffing each chunk of beef with a bit of garlic and bacon; I’ve done this with lamb, using garlic and lemon. Another interesting detail is the use of cinnamon, suggesting a way-back-when influence either from the Moors or having access to spices as they passed through from Dpain Spain or North Africa on the way to somewhere else.

Kokkinisto (Greek) and Tajine (Morocco) also use cinnamon - and cloves, and nutmeg, and ginger etc. etc. depending on recipe. I’ve made both, they’re really excellent.

@dduane and I got Very Interested because the use of what Mum used to call “cake spices” is also quite medieval and, in DD’s case, adaptable for the Middle Kingdoms project.

The Corsican one recommends rigatoni, cannelloni or similar large hollow pasta (presumably to hold lots of sauce!) For a more medieval approach I’d try Loseyns from late-1300s cookbook “The Forme of Cury” (that’s “cookery” without the k, so “coo’rey” not “curry”.)

*****

These are often regarded as Richard II-era ”lasagne”, though I wonder if there’s also an association with heraldic “lozenges”, easily created by cutting a sheet of pasta dough slantwise...

Either way, here’s “Tasting History with Max Miller” (subscribed of course!) having a go at Loseyns, which turn out like mac & cheese with extra spices.

Max ended up eating them with a stick because forks hadn’t been introduced yet, but IMO a better utensil would be the historical eating pick, like one of these.

...or even a spoon, especially if the loseyns were cut small with that in mind.

However eating pasta with the fingers - like many other foods - may have been done in the 1300s; it was certainly recorded in paintings from the 1600s...

...right up to the 1800s...

...though I don’t think these were dressed with anything more than oil or butter and some grated cheese, and the potential for messy eating was still pretty high. Eating small pasta rather than dangly strands with the fingers was probably much tidier, especially if diners knew the proper etiquette for doing it...

Finally, here’s something from our own store-cupboard, bought out of curiosity during a recent visit to Polonez in Dublin.

This is pasta cut into little squares; both the front and the back of the pack calls them łazanka...

...and according to Google Translate, this just means “pasta noodles”.

However...

Can any followers tell me if "łazanka” has any relationship to “lasagna” or “lozenge”? An enquiring mind wants to know! :->

ETA: @seriously-mike says “...łazanki were brought to Poland in 16th century by queen Bona Sforza (so) the relationship with lasagna might be there.” See his Reply for more info.

ETA (2): A little bell went off in my head about the shapes in the bag and I suddenly remembered seeing them as something call “torn pasta” - the Italian word is “maltagliati“ - which were made using re-rolled scraps of dough from “formal” shapes; more info at that link.

#food and drink #corsican beef ragout #spices in cooking #medieval cooking #food and cooking of the middle kingdoms #French Cooking Academy #Tasting History #lasagne #pasta

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velvetcloxds · 1 year

Note

Could I ask for a Part 2 of tipsy? Eli and Reader meeting in the morning 🥰 it’s was such a cute imagine 🥰 can’t get enough of how sweet Derek was in that fic and the little heart to heart with Eli at the end 🥺🥺

SOBER | D.H.

word count: 0.8k

warnings: age gap, reader has a slight hangover, teen wolf the movie storyline- also peep the can you keep a secret gif for the ideal dilfyness- part 1

a/n: stop I got so excited when I saw this because I really loved writing tipsy

You woke up with a headache, one you had a feeling should've been much worse considering the state of you, you were still wearing your dress from the night before but Derek was kind enough to remove your makeup and save his pillowcase in the process. The night, for the most part, was a bit of a blur, not that you didn't remember what happened, but rather how, how did you end up in Derek's bed drunk, to begin with after you tried to be careful and how did the poor man end up explaining that to his son.

You could hear the two men in the kitchen, it sounded like they were cooking, trying to at least since they probably hadn't done much of that before, their meals consisted mostly of takeout, frozen dinners, and whatever Melissa brought over every now and then. You thought it only fair to give them a bit more time to find their feet and give yourself some time to get over the sheer embarrassment of your current situation by taking a quick shower, hoping that Derek had something that would be at least slightly suitable for you to wear once you were done.

"That's not enough sugar," Eli noted after he'd heard the bathroom door shut, happy he wasn't expected to whisper anymore now that you were awake. Derek wasn't as happy, knowing that Eli would not hold back with the commentary as he continued to sift the sugar into the pancake batter.

"It's enough," he replied even though he wasn't all that sure himself, but he was not about to admit that out loud, so he stirred it through one more time, frowning at the consistency.

"It's not, look, I'll show you" the teenager argued and moved away from the frying bacon to shove his cell phone into his dad's face, the online recipe clearly stating that it needed twice the amount of sugar that Derek used. "Can you read that or should I get your glasses?" he teased, earning a raised brow of disapproval that only made him shrug.

"I can read it just fine, Eli," he groaned and despite his pride, he reached over for some more sugar, ignoring the light laugh that filled the kitchen. "You better not burn that bacon," he added and was about to dish out another order when the bedroom door opened, and barely a second later you came paddling into the room, nervous beyond measure as you pulled the sleeves of Derek's hoodie over your hands, hoping the pair of them wouldn't look too hard at the way his sweats fit you in all the wrong ways. "Morning, honey," Derek cooed and you swore you'd have missed it had he not moved over to you, a sweet kiss placed on your forehead as a gentle hand guided you further into the kitchen.

"How's your head?" Eli asked without a second of prompt, ignoring the warning glare from his father as you smiled, a giggle that sounded more like a breath leaving your lips. "Sorry, I wasn't supposed to mention that," he backtracked but you just shook your head, stealing a quick glance at Derek before looking up at Eli.

"Eli," Derek sighed in faux exasperation but he didn't miss the way your body was starting to calm down, your nerves easing slightly at how casually Eli was trying to talk to you.

"It's fine," you insisted, a gentle hand brushing over his chest paired with the sweetest of smiles as you walked over to Eli, looking over what they were trying to make, gently reaching over to turn the oven down so the bacon doesn't burn. "Can I help?" your question was aimed at Eli, the boy in question smiling brightly at the idea.

"Yes, please," he sighed and showed you the very recipe he was showing his dad, pointing specifically at the part where it shows the sugar. "Dad is severely under sugaring our pancakes," he sounded exasperated like the poor thing was fighting a losing battle to which you giggled softly, dipping a finger in the batter and nodding lightly after tasting it.

"Can he read that without his glasses?" you teased and Eli was very smug at the repetition of his joke, looking to Derek to witness the reaction the comment would receive and his curiosity was satisfied when he narrowed his eyes at him, leaning onto the counter with a sigh.

"I can read it just fine," he argued and when you noticed the tension in the room you looked between the two Hales with a knowing nod, Eli was already laughing softly as he took it upon himself to find the sugar.

"I'm sure you can, bear," you mused and he wasn't at all convincing when he tried to shake his head at you in disapproval, not when his lips were betraying him, a little grin spreading out and tilting into his face. Eli didn't buy it either, turning around with the bowl to have you taste the batter once again, it was slightly sweeter than it should be, showing he wasn't all that fond of the instructions either.

"Too sweet?"

"No, it's perfect," you lied and Derek hummed, standing up to join the two of you at the stove, not even thinking before wrapping his arms around you from behind and squeezing your waist in the process. "It's perfect," you whispered to yourself, watching Eli spoon far too much batter into the pan, not even telling him to do otherwise because he was clearly enjoying it too much.

"It is," Derek agreed and you weren't surprised by the kiss he placed on the back of your head, tightening his hold and forcing you against his chest, knowing that the both of you might've underestimated just how easy this whole thing would be- he loved you and Eli more than anything in the world, so how could it be anything other than perfect.

"Hey, dad, if you could stop fraternizing with my sous chef long enough for us to finish breakfast that would be great," you were quick to jump out Derek's arms, bumping shoulders with Eli as you took your place next to him. "Do you want to pour or flip?"

"Flipping is more fun..."

"Great, so I'll flip then," he was very pleased with himself when you managed a mocking gasp, taking the bowl and spoon from him as he searched for the spatula. "You can just stand there doing nothing, dad, it's safer, don't you think so, Y/n?"

"Definitely," you breathed and your heart soared seeing the sheer size of Derek's smile as he watched the two of you. "You can just stand there looking pretty."

"Yes, chef."

"Sous chef," Eli corrected and the laughter that filled the room was something the Hale house had been missing for quite some time and it was something that Derek hoped would never go away ever again.

#dbf! derek hale #dilf!derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale x yn #derek hale x y/n #derek hale fluff #derek hale one shot #derek hale drabble #derek hale blurb #derek hale imagine #derek hale fic #derek hale fanfic #derek hale fanfiction #right where queue left me #monique's writing events

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

Text

You go to my head, like a summer with a thousand Julys

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: THE BEGINNING of the Sarge and lil Mama universe

Warnings: fantasizing about breeding a young woman, masturbation with a stuffed animal, antiquated gender norms, slight grooming (I don’t know what else to call it even though it’s really not that and no one is under age) mentions of parental death, slightly manipulative Elvis, emotional infidelity on Elvis’ part towards his current girlfriends

Circa: 1954-57 due to playing fast and loose with the historical timeline of both Elvis’ basic training and Gladys’ death

Elvis Presley is an affectionate young man, he has a sweetness about him in all his interactions, and while he is famous and you don’t know him well he is devastatingly warm and you enjoy his attentions. He comes to your father’s studio often and he is affectionate when he does.

An affectionate acquaintance is what he is, he remains as such in a tidy little world where he hugs you during his visits and holds onto your waist as he chows down on the sandwiches you bring as refreshment for his Memphis Mafia. And there is nothing more to be said or thought. You learn to burn the bacon bound for his BLT because you like the way his eyes widen when it hits his tongue and how he groans around a bite:

“Honey, you shouldn’t’ve”.

In the coming months you learn to leave off the lettuce, too, once he’s back from touring again. Back to make another record, more juice for the machine and your father is gleeful at the unprecedented success of one of his artists. He took a chance on him and now Elvis’ life is fast, so very fast and the faces blur for him, blonde and brown and black and all of them want something he doesn’t quite feel like he can live up to.

It gets so bad he begs Wanda one night on tour just to sit with him, let him put his arm around her and just sit. When he walks back into the studio after months away and finds you there, it’s quieting. He hugs you and you smile and ask him how he is and it’s slow and steady and nice. He doesn’t have to manufacture calm with you, you are calm incarnate.

New songs mean new stages and life gets fast again. It happens like that more than a couple times. He feels older than twenty two when he’s blowing out as many candles atop a birthday cake on a movie set, his mother’s usual homemade creation missing and some fancy icinged concoction in its place. It doesn’t sit right in his belly and he tosses and turns that night wanting to be home.

Home is Memphis, the recording studio is there but he hasn’t gone yet, he takes a few days just to soak up Graceland and eat his mother’s food.

It doesn’t matter as you are not absent in his home, his mother speaks of you the first morning he is home. He shovels eggs into his mouth as she praises how you’ve grown up this summer, how you’ve been helping out at the church and took a part time job at the hospital. He’s not surprised, your father is a good fella, your mother of even better character and some kids are just born sweet -that’s how people like you get made, he figures. His mother assures him you’ve not grown into a career woman, she seems very insistent on how you’re just filling your time till you get married. She’s talked with you about it. And Elvis figures this is going down the road of how Billy and you would make a good match, and he wants to tell his mother you’re too much of a kid to be messed with by someone like Billy.

He doesn’t expect her to say, “She’s a good one Booby, the sort of girl who is bright and smart but would be happiest taking care of a man. Some gals are just built for that life, not that you’ll meet many on the road like that. But y/n? She’d make a good wife and even better mother, probably won’t really bloom until she’s had a baby. Some girls are just like that, kinda plain until they start opening up….”

The rest is lost in a blur. He is tired. It’s a perfect excuse considering he just came home. But when he goes to nap he cannot think of anything but you. You swollen and blooming with his child. You are younger in his memory, and it hits wrong. He gets angry at himself for thinking of you that way and ludicrously enraged at the suspicion anyone else might be, too.

Seeing you again will cure him, he knows that. He’ll hug you and you’ll ask him how he is and he’ll be reminded that you’re his old friend’s daughter and he’ll recall why he never bothered messing around with you. You’re steady and calm and nothing like this frantic emotion he suddenly feels at the thought of you opening up because of him… he stops trying to nap and goes to the shooting range instead.

Elvis Presley is reserved. The hug you anticipate never materializes as he steps through the door of the studio, and there is no cheeky grin when you ask him how touring was. He doesn’t smile or say much, he doesn't try to touch you at all, he is reserved. You feel cold.

But he watches. He watches you when he thinks you can’t see him, but the glass reflects and you notice his blazing eyes behind the microphone.

This has been happening to you more and more lately, men staring when they think you don’t see. Your mama says it’s because of your pretty smile. She has no answer when you tell her it happens even when you do not smile at all. You are not smiling now as you are confused, confused why he watches you like he wants to reach out to you and yet treats you like he does not, like the familiarity he usually wears like a second skin has been shed, lost somewhere on the road. Maybe he has a girl, you reason, and while that never affected his behavior before, maybe she’s a Hollywood one and a jealous type. Maybe he’s sad and tired like he says he is. He doesn’t eat the cookies you make. His voice breaks often and the session is scrapped early.

He hugs you sideways as he leaves and mumbles that he’s heard you’ve been keeping busy. You tell him you have and watch for some glimmer of approval. He stares at your lips and then flees outside to the sidewalk. Your father asks if you know what’s gotten into him. You do not.

That night, alone in his bed, he tosses and turns and refuses to touch the ache between his legs. You’d looked at him so earnestly that afternoon, trying to solve him and all he could think of was -you’re grown now. Bleeding every month, settling into a bra size, probably waking up with slick between your legs, your breasts getting sore and you don’t know why. Don’t know that all these things are happening to you so that a man can plough you open, pump you full and plant a garden inside you. He ought to be that man. He has the power to stop your bleeding, make your slick become a fountain and make you swell, filling the emptiness you register but do not understand.

He grabs the massive teddy bear sitting in the corner of his room. A fan gift, juvenile for a fellow well passed such toys, but he appreciates the thought. He appreciates the way the fur parts and rubs his weeping tip as he lays atop it and humps it miserably, pretending it’s you, pretending it’s somehow better to splatter all over synthetic fur at the thought of shocking you with his passion instead of touching himself to the thought of you swollen and dripping. He comes with a shout buried into the shoulder of the bear and registers in agony that his stiffness hasn’t gone down. He rolls over and calls up his costar. Tries to remind himself of that first, bubbly taste of a glamorous woman. She indulges him and he hates it, hates knowing what they both know: that he’s one of many, that she’d never in a million years risk her career to carry his child.

Thanksgiving morning you work alongside Gladys on the buffet line at the Methodist Children’s outreach and you ask her about her absent son. She worries for him, makes you worry in turn, is glad to have a companion in fretting, someone who understands why she can’t just “enjoy the ride.” You admit you’ve noticed a change in him. The buffet runs out of baked beans. Your mother says she’ll drive over and grab more from the market. It’s icy outside on the roads, your mother never comes back.

Your house is full to bursting that night, full of well meaning people who skip their Thanksgiving dinners to file past you and your father in a long line, awkwardly patting your arms and clasping his shoulder. They talk in subdued, measured tones about heaven and time and how they can’t imagine what you’re going through. Their restraint sets the tone for your grieving, you are subdued and rational until alone at dawn, clasping your pillow and sobbing, listening to your father do the same over the muffled noise of the TV.

When someone tells you that you’re the “woman of the house now” it feels like you’ve betrayed her again. It doesn’t sit right in your belly. You are sick with it, can’t eat from it churning in your gut, ironically you want mother to comfort you for her loss.

He comes back to Memphis in time for the funeral. He comes over to the house early, it doesn’t matter as neither you or your father sleep. Upon crossing the threshold, Elvis Presley does not awkwardly pat your father, clasp his hand or encourage him to be strong. He folds your father into a hug and doesn't let go for sometime, not until your father has wept for what he’s lost and Elvis meets your eyes over his shoulder, and he looks like he knows how this feels, like this is his worst nightmare you’re living. He is not removed from your pain, he dreads it and yet he partakes of it with you both. Gladys has brought a pot roast, she smoothes your hair back like she does her son’s before putting the meal in the oven, going back out to speak with your father.

Elvis’ eyes are watery when he approaches you, his freedom of emotion gives you courage to let loose, you sob, you wail and you babble and he cradles your head against his shoulder, swaying you in the middle of your mother’s kitchen as he mutters,

“that’s it, that’s it, you loved her didn’t ya?”

It’s the truest thing anyone has said all day.

He sits you down at the kitchen table and brushes your hair, powders your nose, brings you your black leather heels, holds out your coat for you to slip on. It’s not until years later you realize he must have taken the liberty of rummaging through your room to procure those items. It is odd that it was not his mother who took charge of such things.

At the graveside you are presentable in the manner in which he crafted you, your image is sad and tragic, but dignified and evocative.

Mother is buried in a coffin he bought, six feet under a plot of land he purchased, with a space next to it for your father when his time comes. There is no third space, and once the dirt is heaped over her you wonder where you’ll rest your bones, why he didn’t think to provide you a place in the earth, too. Your father calls him “a good boy” as the wind kicks up and the mourners disperse.

You ride back to the reception at your house, wedged snugly between Elvis and Anita. She hands you a monogrammed hanky in the back seat and it smells like rosewater. She sweetly lets you hold her hand and it’s icy from the cruel November wind while Elvis burns your right side, his arm thrown back behind your head and some thrumming turmoil roiling beneath his flushed skin. You can see the pulse thumping in his neck, above the fuzzy upturned collar of his coat and you instinctively press your free hand to it, trying to calm the flutter. He jolts at your touch and the vessel only pounds harder.

“You sick?” you ask him as your hand feels his sweaty skin. It’s wintertime and everybody at the hospital has come down with bugs and he feels like he’s raging with a fever. He doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping much either, he gets those same dark circles under his eyes as Gladys. They’ve both got them lately. Death has made you paranoid, you know.

“Nah, m’fine, it’s just from cryin.” he takes your hand down and holds it. Anita let’s go of yours, to open the car door as you arrive.

Whoever made it tradition for the bereaved family to have their house swamped by the community right after burying a loved one must've never known the bone deep desire to curl up and just process it all. Alone. So you stand again for hours and let them file past and it’s all very much the same as the other days and your stomach is in knots but you behave how your mother would’ve wanted, only occasionally sneaking off to the kitchen to load the emptying cheese trays and to just breathe. It goes on for hours, your feet ache and your throat is dry.

You escape back to the chilly sunroom to sit down for a minute and find him there, alone, sat on the wicker sofa and thumbing at one of your mother’s gardening books. If it were anyone else that would feel like a violation but since it’s him, it feels like he’s just trying to get to know her. And you appreciate that.

“Have you eaten, honey?” he asks you and nods at the apron you’ve donned as you just stand there and take him in.

“Uh, no, I’m not hungry.” you wave his frown away.

“Sit down honey, runnin’ yourself ragged like this.” and he pats the small space of cushion beside him as you think about your guests, think about how nice it would be to just relax with someone who values silence, but you can’t, you’ve gotta go back and host, it’s the right thing to do.

Except that his hand encircles your wrist and tugs and you go limply, folding into his side and he shouldn’t feel so warm, so safe, so right -you don’t know him that well. But he wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s bleeding for you and you suppose that puts you two ahead of a lot of so-called friends.

“They can eat sandwiches and make themselves feel compassionate without you hurtin those little feet any longer.” he declares and pulls you into his lap, tipping you back to cradle you like a baby, his hands running down your legs until they meet your ankles and he’s pulling off your heels with finality.

You’ve never had a boy touch you like this, you’ve never pressed your cheek against a hard chest and felt the thump, thump of a masculine heart radiate through your limbs. But he’s so final about it all, and so certain and so at ease you feel foolish for gasping and shuddering at the famillairties he takes as he rubs one hurting arch of your foot and then the other. He’s got an authority about him tonight you’d never noticed before, and you’d as soon question your pastor on a point of doctrine as question Elvis Presley on the propriety of rocking you to sleep, yards away from a substantial amount of Memphis’ most devout population.

Your last thought as you drift off is that you hope Anita understands you're just a kid to him, you hope you’re not shaming your mother on the very night of her funeral by tucking your head into his shoulder and sleeping for the first time since she died. Your stomach unwinds, your breathing evens out and your legs fall apart in your sleep, you dream of plush lips dragging along your forehead. You wake in the morning curled around a pillow, snug in your own bed, rested. Father tells you Elvis carried you up there himself before he left.

“He’s a good boy.” you agree with Father at breakfast.

He hadn’t felt boyish when he’d wrapped you in his arms. And you hadn’t felt girlish either, for all that you had been rocked and petted. Your stomach stays loose and molten for a few more hours before the grief catches up again and the newly empty house plagues you.

That’s why they invite the crowds in after a death, it takes half the city to make up for a single loved one’s absence.

You flee from the haunted space, longer shifts at the hospital and longer hours at the shelters. At night you sit and feed father your mother’s recipes, ask each other about the other’s day as if any of that matters now.

The Memphis division of the March of Dimes Charity approaches you to replace your mother on the board. Hustling you into your new position and entrusting you with the Christmas organizations all before the holiday itself is unheard of and rushed, but it all makes sense once you hear a doner put in a good word for you, requesting you be put in charge. There’s no bigger or quieter doner than Elvis Presley, so when he speaks up and asks for a thing -it happens.

Mere hours before catching a train to New York, he pops in to the event and makes the room shimmer with his presence, he kisses cheeks, chats with everyone and tosses kids who’ve been treated like glass up in the air, making them laugh for the first time in months. He signs ever so many posters and records and casts and he watches you all the while. The way you host and rustle about in your black heels and plaid taffeta crinoline as the function you put on runs like a well oiled machine. It doesn’t feel like a Christmas event without mistletoe or dancing, but it’s still a damn fine shindig, he’ll give ya that. And he notices what he suspected: when you’re busy working those grieving furrows of your brow clear and he finds he can breathe easier.

Before he leaves to catch his night train you get pulled into a photograph with him, poofy skirt crushed against his leg, arms helping balance a massive cake as he holds a kid who seems to think you want to eat globs of frosting off his fingers. You’re not about to deny a five year old boy in crutches so you slurp it off laughingly and the cameras capture Elvis watching that hungrily. The cake, not your pink tongue languorously licking white icing…

You walk him to the door and he leaves you in the warm glow of the charity function surrounded by children and folks you’re making feel welcome as only you can, and he boards the damn train that ships his ass to New York, calling Anita dutifully before slumping into the narrow bed and wringing his cock out to the thought of marrying you and keeping you full of him all your days.

You go on the date with Billy cause you figure it will get your mind off your grief and he tells you he wants one last happy memory before he leaves everything familiar and gets shipped across the world to get killed. Billy is being dramatic, as there’s no war on right now, but the draft is an atrocity all the same and you don’t mind giving Billy one last happy memory. Something in you has been curious about men since that night Elvis forced you to sleep on him by sheer masculine authority alone. You curl around your pillow at night and pretend it’s him, or someone, a man, you think. You pretend it’s a man.

You think it must be missing your mother that’s done this to you, she’d have kept you distracted but without her, and your father a reticent shell of himself, it makes sense you’re lonely and craving some stability, someone to tell you how it’s gonna be.

Billy isn’t exactly that, he can’t even decide on where to take you for this date, it’s up to you to suggest places, finally landing on the drive-in theater. It’s safe but mature enough to be a little thrilling. He doesn’t own a car so you drive in the car Elvis bought you when you became a March of Dimes board member. Father sets a curfew, and you try to soothe your nerves at the notion you might feel a man again tonight, your curiosity peaked and eager.

The theater lot is strangely empty when y’all arrive and you wonder if maybe Billy called in a favor. Halfway through the film you feel Billy’s hand on your thigh and you shudder and respond in kind, just a gentle resting on his own, but this spurs him on, soon he is ignoring the film altogether and fumbling to get under your velvet skirt and that’s a little surprising. You’re processing whether you like this or not when he leans over, pulls down your fur collar and glues his mouth to your neck like a pufferfish to the side of a tank. It’s not very romantic but it makes you flush and it shocks you and you like that. More shocking still is the blinding light that suddenly pierces the nighttime seclusion of your car cab, and there at your window is Elvis Presley wielding a police grade flashlight directly into your eyes, smiling like a shark against the glass.

“How’s it goin kids?” he grins, his breath frosting the frigid glass.

“Elvis, I-I- I’m on a date.” You laugh while stating the obvious.

“I know, I know,” he nods, opening your door and sliding in next to you, gently shoving you till he’s in front of the wheel and you're wedged in the middle, “Bill here told me you were handin out free dates to poor drafted boys, so I’m here for mine.”

“You’ve been drafted, too?” you cry out, Billy quite forgotten, “They’ll not make you with-“

-with his career you mean, but he gives you a pout and nod and that’s that. So is the way his arm slides around you and pulls you closer and you feel like you’re in the middle of a contest you didn’t sign up for. “I’ll miss you boys.” you sigh.

“Aww, you’re sweet honey, ain’t she sweet, Billy? She taste sweet, too?”

Billy mumbles something under his breath about not getting the chance and you realize Elvis has his hand gripping the poor kid’s neck.

“Elvis you're being rude.” you chide meekly.

“Nah, it’s rude to kiss a lady’s neck with so little finesse as Bill was yours, that’s what’s rude.” Elvis declares and you get that feeling again of being unable to question him. You just hush and stay put until the credits roll and he offers Billy a ride home which the kid accepts. He drives your car and you don’t bother protesting when he drops Billy off with a:

“See ya in the barracks, bucko!”

It’s rude and cocky and no one’s ever fought over you before and while you don’t appreciate him interrupting your exploration of a male specimen, it’s rather nice to matter a little to Elvis Presley. It’s heady and makes your heart thump and your legs feel heavy and you wipe your sweaty palms on the velvet of your skirt.

“How’d you know that, that I was there?” you ask him, timid now you’re alone with him and the gentleness he once showed you isn’t present, he is gnawing on his bottom lip, leg not pressing the gas is jiggling like it does before a performance and it attracts your eye by instinct.

He’s wound up and you feel a little suffocated from the warmth rolling off him as he drives you through the dark streets, back to your home. “He asked me to clear the lot out.” he confirms your suspicion, “Then your daddy asked me to look out for ya, make sure all was right and proper.”

You are surprised and a little hurt that your father wouldn’t trust his child who has been as unfailingly upright as yourself on a movie date, more strange still that he’d trust someone as, well -loose might be a unkind word- but someone as loose as Elvis Presley to enforce morality on such a night. “I don’t believe you.” you admit barely above a whisper.

Elvis’ foot slips at your little whisper and he revs over the curb outside your house with a thump, before he curses and backs up, head cranning to look out the rear window and you wanna touch his throat.

He kills the lights and turns to you and you're so ashamed by your craving thoughts you fear he can sniff them like blood in water, figure out that you wanna run your finger down his cheek, that you wanted to touch Billy cause you’ve been curious of him. “Now honey,” he admonishes you in the still dark and it’s all you can do not to shrink against the car door under the weight of his stare, “I don’t wanna have to report to your daddy what I saw in this here cab, so why don’t you tell me why it was you were lettin’ that boy touch on you so. You was leanin in, I saw ya, you was leanin in and you liked it.”

“Elvis,” you plead, face aflame and it makes him twitch in his seat to see you squirm so, “you, Elvis you know I haven’t -this was my first date! I didn’t do nothin wrong. It was exciting, that’s all.”

He looks at you sternly and it makes you angry, you're about to resume a defense when he takes his hand off the wheel to clasp your thigh, higher up than Billy ever dared. “This feel exciting, lil one?”

Your lungs feel crushed and your thigh trembles under his hot palm, “What’re you doin?” you gasp, feeling very, very wrong and near starving for it.

“This feel right to you?” he presses, unrelenting, hand rhythmically squeezing your soft flesh and you can see father’s silhouette in his usual chair by the window, reading and oblivious.

“I said exciting.” you cleared your throat, “And I said it was when Billy did it. And he never went that- that- that high up.”

“Oh nah? Hmm, well, now that I’m there, how’s it feel, honey? Hmm?”

You squeeze your eyes shut after a moment, watching his hand creep higher and nearer to where you feel your heart beat thudding between your legs proving to be a bit much.

“Ain’t right or fittin for Limp Dick Billy to be gettin a quality girl like you excited.” he shakes his head, “Save your bosom heavin for better stuff.”

“Limp Dick -what’s that mean?” you repeat him, bewildered as your world narrows to his lush lips and the searing heat of his hand near that place you’ve grown to notice more and more lately.

“Aww that’s just, that’s nothin, just a bad name we use for fellas whose uh, well, whose hair won’t uh, won’t stand up right.”

“Not everybody can have hair like you, E.” you mumble and watch the way the lamplight makes his rings glitters against the velvet of your skirt.

That’s an admission on your part that he drinks in like a dying man, happy to have some glimmer of superiority in your mind over his fellows, and he rubs his thumb soothingly over your twitching thigh as your skirt folds dip between your legs, highlighting them perfectly. He can see the outline of your little cunt between your pressed thighs and he feels rash, feels like spreading his hand a little further and brushing his pinky there against that place he’s imagined so many times.

“Elvis,” you whisper into the silent cab, “what’re you doing?”

That’s a question for the ages and one he hasn’t got a clean answer for. “Tryin to make you excited.” he admits.

“Why?” you puzzle and you’ve heard that this is why he’s called trouble. It isn’t fitting for the sexes to know too much about each other, and Elvis knows too much about women, that’s the talk anyways.

The motion of his thumb against your thigh makes you agree, he knows a little too much and you know too little.

“Tell me,” he leans in further and you feel trapped and your heart is bounding from being the object of his droopy eyed assessment, “does this feel like doin nothin?” he demands and then he’s pressing a fluttery kiss to your pulsing throat and the catch of your breath is audible in the small space.

“Don’t.” you beg, confused and wanting it to never end.

“Why not?” his breath chills the damp little spot where he pressed his kiss.

“You’ve got a girl.” you protest.

“Thought you said this weren’t nothin.” he growls.

“Alright maybe it is.” You squirm away from his touches until your back is pressed against the glovebox. “I-I don’t know. I just - I don’t think you should be doing this with me.”

“Alright then.” he smirks, “You'd best not give me reason to tell your father bout any future such nothin’s with boys, alright honey?”

“If you stop behavin in a way that would make Miss Gladys inclined to whoop you, then I will.” you fire back and he thinks he’s in love. Cause you’re right, his mama would be livid at him flustering you and trying you out without making it honest. Your supreme capabilities in social matters, mixed with your utter dumbness in regards to the slick sliding down your legs with each swipe of his thumb against velvet, makes him nearly primal in his wants.

“Deal.” he smiles, “I’ll be gone away to basic training soon, anyhow,” and he notices your little frown at that, “won’t be here to bother you or protect ya, either way. So you’d best just swear off men, ya hear me? Just for a little while till I can come back and vet ‘em.”

“You’ll be gone in the army for a couple years!” you protest his sentencing you to a nunnery.

“Yeah, yeah, and your eggs will keep a couple more years.” he laughs at what must’ve been a good joke that you missed while you were occupied trying to breathe after he patted your lower belly and got out of the car to hand you out by curfew.

On the front porch he tells your daddy a version of the truth. A version that paints you as quite blameless, himself in a starring role of protector and Billy as a no good kid who ain’t quality enough to be hanging out with nice girls like yourself. You are forbidden from seeing Billy again, Elvis is commended, your father goes upstairs to bed and leaves you alone with a young man whose lingering fingers and bitten lips make you lightheaded -you think maybe Elvis has the right idea, your father is blind as a bat when it comes to threats.

Not that Elvis is a threat, he just lounges against the kitchen counter and watches you put up dishes like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“You don’t think Anita would mind you hanging around like this?” You ask him after his lip licking stare gets a little too heavy and you feel somewhat dizzy from being so closely watched by a guy who you know doesn't mean anything by it.

It’s just Elvis’ way of things, he makes people feel and it’s not his fault.

You’ve tried to not blame him for that building feeling you get when he’s around, the one like your lower belly is made of molten lead. That’s a physical abnormality, not his fault in the slightest.

You just do worry about how people might see this, seeing him walking home from your house late at night. You've heard the older ladies on the board whispering about you and how you haven’t got a protector, how your father can’t see what’s right in front of him. You presume they mean about Billy and his straying hands or the old donor who tried to tug you into a closet with him. Elvis is just trying to fill in the slack your father’s grief has left. Anyone with eyes could tell he’s just looking out for you. He had to be pulled off the old doner before he murdered him after he heard. It’s only that you notice Anita has turned a little cold towards you, and mama always said to be careful about letting a taken man take too much interest in ya. And Elvis does seem very interested in something about you, maybe just cause people stare and he thinks it’s rude, thinks getting pulled into closets is ungallant. He does plenty of his own staring, though.

“What about Anita?” his head snaps up and he takes his eyes off your shiny little leather belt to ask you to repeat yourself.

Something about having his focus back on your face makes you feel dumb about your worries and you change the question slightly. “Y’all gonna get married?” you ask instead.

“I dunno.”

“But with you going into the army, what’s gonna happen, what’ve you two sorted out?” you press, scooting him to the side so you can put a dish away behind him.

“She says she’ll wait for me.” he replies, sounding like her faithfulness is an imposition and you get a little mad for her, “she’s always tryin to nail things down I-I-I’ve told her, I just d-d-dunno.”

“She’s been very accommodating of you, Elvis.” you plead her case the way your mother used to plead yours to your father about dance lessons.

“Yeah, sure, sure.” he agrees dryly, leaning on the counter again and staring at his feet, “Gonna put a pause on her damn career and everything, least for a year or two. Big whoop. Who's gonna take care of the babies once she goes back to work, that’s what I wanna know. No children of mine’s gonna get raised by some passel ‘a mamies like a bunch of Wall Street brats while their mother is off kissin men for a living.`` By the end of this tirade his voice is close to a shout and you think he’s shockingly worked up over a rather hypocritical grievance.

But it makes sense, “Guess a career woman isn’t the best mother.” you agree tentatively and his eyes shoot up to your face. You’ve no more dishes to dry and your hands hang uselessly by your side.

“Oh hell, look at us ruinin our evening over her,” he shakes himself, “don’t mind her she’s just being an ole biddy about it all.”

“With some reason!” you laugh, “ And the point could be made that you’re actin a bit like an ass.”

“Oh hell not you, too!”

“It’s not nice to lead a gal on like that -or two in the case of Dixie and June- and then get mad at her when you decide she isn’t what you want after all!”

“Didn’t realize you were so invested in my private life.” he sneers.

“I’m not. But the Evening Herald is.”

“Don’t let the papers turn ya onto a nagging puss, lil girl, doesn't suit your sweet temper.”

“I’m not turnin into anything, just stating facts.” you murmur and clasp your hands before you anxiously. You swear you can feel the heat coming off of him, anger you presume, “And I’m a little tired.” you add sheepishly.

“Course you are.” he murmurs, visage smoothing like magic and he comes up to you, cradling your face in his hands as you back away and bump into the stove, “Been a big day and a lotta new feelin’s, hmm?”

“Yes.” you gasp, your chest hot and his hands are so large and warm and it’s like he blocks out the rest of the world full of his girls and your father and what’s right or wrong, cradling your cheeks with his thumbs running along your cheekbones, “You gonna be good and do what I asked ya?”

Your mind is so fixated on the plump curve of his bottom lip that you surface with a frantic splutter, trying to recall what he’s referencing.

“You gonna lay off the datin’ till I get back, yeah?” he reminds you helpfully as his fingers work the back of your neck to jello, your core pulsing in a strangely distracting response as he tells you how it’s gonna be, gives the very direction you’ve been craving.

“Yes, yeah.” you breathe and your voice sounds like those gals on the screen when they’re overcome by romance, but here is none that you can find, just Elvis looking out for you and patiently bearing with your stupid naïveté when it comes to boys. He’ll make sure you land the right one, start house with a fella who’ll give you security and direction. It’s just your loneliness with father being so mellow that has you going on stupid dates with boring boys. Elvis is right. You admit it to him.

He smiles in response and it looks like the kind he gives before he punches someone in his films. It’s a promise.

You shiver against the stove and grip the dish towel hanging from the handle.

“And you’ll let me know if anybody is botherin, ya while i'm gone, right?” he rewards your obedience with the promise of security, just like all those knights in fairytales.

Women obey and men provide, it’s the natural way of things and your heart swoops at the first taste of a married dynamic. You feel like you should offer him some favor, some reward for giving you his defense. You’ve heard stories about girls who feel the way you do, who get overcome by gratitude to a fella before getting married and they are ruined. You grip the dish towel harder, unsure of what motion you might make which would ruin you, what touch it is that seals your fate, puts a baby in a girl before it’s time. It can’t be a hug, surely not just a kiss, but you wouldn’t know as you’ve never dared. You’ll wait for Elvis to come back and make sure the fella you date and marry won’t get you in trouble in any of these ways. It’s complicated and confusing being a woman, and since that night of the funeral he seems to have taken the place of your mother, and you trust him in this.

“I’ll let you know.” you swear earnestly.

He kisses your cheek gently in response. Just a dry peck. That must not be the ruinous action in question, he wouldn’t do anything to tarnish you. It’s Elvis.

Elvis is a sullen but brave boy as he boards the army bus to ship him down south where it’s more Mexico than truly civilized but the world just calls it Texas. Or that’s what you hear from Gladys. You were not there to see him off, why should you be? You are busy and you have sworn off men and there’s a great deal to do in those dismal post holiday weeks. You do not pine for distractions, you don't have much energy to lie awake at night for long and rehearse the way his hand felt on your thigh, or his lips against your throat, or his fingers grazing the little swell of your belly where your womb is housed. These are passing, fitful and frantic thoughts, that pass through your mind before sleep takes you.

And Elvis is much the same, basic training is unkind, even to a man whose performances required much stamina. He crawls into his bunk and collapses most nights, staring with hooded eyes, at the newspaper clipping of you licking that damn icing, the picture he’s shown his new army buddies while announcing to them proudly “that’s ma girl, no, no, not the sort to fool with. The one I’m gonna have carrying my babies. Soon.”

Soon.

It’s a waste in the meantime, the way he spews his seed over the panties he stole from your room that morning he dressed you for the funeral, it’s a waste of precious fuel— fuel for his dream as it impotently coats and drips from the silk and makes him angry that he can’t find it in him to tamp down that restless heart of his, just settle down. Marry you already. Be a little respectable— sounds relaxing, sounds satisfactory. Sounds like something the Colonel would love for this whole “new image.”

That sours it all and he rolls over in his bunk with the sodden scrap of silk that no longer smells of you but of him and his wasted desire.

Soon, he tells himself, soon. After a little while.

It’s tragic really, the way we postpone snagging those things we know we want, the ones our gut lurches for, our soul craves as our conscience whispers “just do it.” Put off because life is too exciting to tone down, fun and girls are in abundance, and time seems very plentiful until it runs out in a great big whoosh of sand from the hour glass, taking with it those steady, stable, sure things we’ve counted on being there for an endless little while. Like your Mother. Just gone, and the universe doesn't pause to acknowledge your world is fractured, for everyone else it’s just tomorrow. Tomorrow is here and they’re not.

The shock of it jolts you, the regret nags you, the grief strips you back down to the bare bones of what you want and need. Elvis only knows one other person who he thinks gets how this feels as his train hurdles homeward to a coffin and a future that doesn't make any sense. Mama should have gotten to see him out of the army, gotten to see him do more, hit thirty, marry. Mama shoulda been able to meet those grandbabies she’d pestered him about but he put off for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a bitter pill and he wants to spit it out, start over, refashion it just so. No more regrets, no more fighting his gut. He’d like to dig a shallow grave for a little while, fold himself into it and just rest a minute, learn to forgive his stupid ambition, catch a break. Wake up some thawed spring morning to the sight of you beside him in the daffodil covered earth, find the reason in your eyes that makes him choose to live again.

Still, he finds it in a little fur trimmed peacoat standing and waiting forlornly for him at the station.

You’re not a girlfriend, you’re not a fan, you’re just someone who lost their mama too, somebody who knows there’s not much to say, just a hug there on the crowded platform and “she was the reason for everything you ever did, wasn’t she?”

Was. She was. Now is about what is.

#reposting for masterlist purposes #since the other links are deactivated #cheers #elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #the beginning #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x you #austin elvis imagine #elvis presley #Elvis x Elaine

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fandomfuntimem · 5 months

Text

Second chances: a fnaf au

Part 2

CHAPTER 1: Wake Up

Fire. Blazing fire.

Despite the dire circumstances Michael actually felt quite calm. It was over, he and Henry had succeeded. They rounded up all the animatronics, and burned it all down. Now it is time to rest, and he was all too happy to do so...

EEEEH EEEEEH EEEEEEEEH

Michael shot up. Fire. There was no fire. Where was the fire? He wasn't in his office anymore. He was in a bedroom. His bedroom. Not his adult bedroom, his childhood bedroom. Before he could fully process anything he heard knocking on the door, "MIIIIKEEEEY!!!! TURN THAT ALARM OFF! IT'S ANNOYING!" Elizabeth? No that can't be. Michael swung his legs off the side his bed and slammed him hand down on the clock. Was it all just a dream? He wondered, no. This is a second chance.

***

Michael jogged down the stairs. If this really is a second chance he won't waste it. No more fox mask, no more scaring Evan, no more pranks. Besides, William was barely around anyways, his siblings need someone to step up and be the parent.

The house was just as he remembered it. Neet with only a few toys here and there. Family photos decorated the walls, not a single smile found in any one of them. If you're visiting for the first time you would think its a cozy average home, but it really wasn't. Michael will never forget just how cold it felt, with each life lost the house only got colder. Well that's just going to have to change, Michael thought.

Walking into the kitchen Michael saw Elizabeth trying to reach for a box of cereal. She was right there, alive, not some phsycho clown animatronic. She's alive, He's alive, Evan's alive. Everyone is back, and he could save them all. For now though, he had to act natural. So he did. He totally did. "Haaaay Lizzie. What uh... what are you trying to do?" He said, god, this was harder than he thought. It's not every day you burn in a fire and wake up in your childhood home.

Elizabeth turned and gave him an odd look, "whats up with you? Got a stick up your butt?" She proceeded to give him a snarky grin.

"Haha very funny. What are you doing?"

"Trying to get to the cereal," she pointed up at the cereal box. Cinnimon charm puffs? Michael thought, didn't those get banned in the 90s?

Michael glared up at them, they deffinately did. "Why those? Don't we have something better," he muttered walking to the fridge. Yup there was a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon. If he's gonna do things right he is gonna do them right. No more cinnomon lucky cherrios or whatever they were called. He could have sworn they got banned for having vile levels of caffiene in them. Who even puts caffiene in cereal?

Elizabeth glared, "Daddy said we aren't allowed to use the stove."

"Yeah well, father isn't here to stop me," Michael snarked, "where's Evan? He's gonna miss breakfast."

"He's in his room. This isn't some elaborate plan to scare him again is it? You arent hiding that dumb Foxy mask anywhere are you?"

Oh right. That. First thing Michael did before coming down was throw it under his bed. He didn't want to see that nasty thing anywhere near him ever again, "no. I'm uh... I'm done with that. No more pranks. No more foxy mask."

Elizabeth looked skeptical, but she went off to Evan's room anyways. Evan. Michael's gonna have to be prepaired to see him again. Will Evan cry? He doesn't want to see that again. He'll probably cry too! He has to hold it together. It's hard enough to explane his sudden change in personality, but to explain why he broke down in ugly sobs the moment the kid he bullies enters the room? Yeah, there is no good explanation for that.

"Oh. He didn't hide'" Elizabeth said behind him. Michael turned, she was holding a small bat, and behind her was Evan. Poor Evan. He looked terrified.

Michael tried to look as friendly as possible, but that only seemed to make him more uncomfortable, "I uh... I made breakfast. You can go sit at the table." The two kids seamed skeptical but sat anyway. Michael placed down three plates with some fresh bacon and scrambled eggs, "you guys uh... you-you want toast??" He asked with a grin. Elizabeth gives him a suspicious glare, meanwhile Evan held his fredbear plush close and refused to make eye contact. Silence. Ooooh the uncomfortible silence. "Oookkk," Michael muttered, "no toast I guess."

Michael drums his fingers on the table. "You know what? I could go for some toast, yeah, toast, toast sound good," he said, shuffling back to the kitchen. While rummaging through the kitchen he hears Elizabeth and Evan whispering, he couldn't make anything out, but they sounded concirned. As he placed the toaster on the counter he felt a tug on his shirt, "whats wrong with you? You're being weird." Michael looked down, it was Elizabeth. She was giving him a frustrated and pouty look. "Nothings wrong," Michael said, "am I not allowed to be a good brother for once?"

"No, but it's still weird. You're usually mean and scary. THIS IS WEIRD! What did you do to our actual brother??"

"I am your actual brother Lizzy. I just decided to be better."

"Oh yeah? And what brought on this 'realization'"

"Fire. Blazing fire."

"What??"

"It was a uh... a dream. A lot of fire. I was in hell. Definitely hell."

Elizabeth glares at him again before sitting back at the table and begrudgingly took a bit of her eggs. Upon seeing this Evan cautiously took a bite and seemed pleasently surprised when nothing was tampered with. Michael started buttering his toast, glad that he atleast made a proper and enjoyable breakfast. It's been decades since he was able to eat so he wasn't too sure if he could make something that would actually taste good. Come to think of it. It's been decades since he needed to cook at all. How did he manage this? He was litteraly a zombie living alone. How in the world did he manage to retain the skill to cook?

Just as a was beginning to get a little too deep in thought he heard a small voice call from the dinning table, "Mikey. Can you make me some toast too?" It was Evan. Holding his plush close, he timidly did his best to look at Michael. Progress, Michael couldn't help it but have the biggest goofiest grin plastered on his face. Evan spoke to him and he didn't cry or stutter. He even called him Mikey!

"Sure! You want butter too?"

Evan nodded. Its not much, but its progress. Evan is still scared but he asked Michael for something! That's deffinately progress right? No matter. He's being a good brother. Sitting at the table he handed Evan his toast and began to eat. Food! Aaaaaah finally food! He was a corpse for so long he almost forgot what eggs and bacon tastes like. Everything is going right. He's alive, Evan's alive, Elizabeth is alive, he got exactly what he wished for, a second chance.

#fnaf #five nights at freddys #second chances au #fnaf michael afton #michael afton #fnaf Elizabeth #elizabeth afton #fnaf evan #evan afton #fic #fanfic #fanfics #fan fiction #writing #this is the first fic I've made in a while #hope yall like it #i'll probably make srt for it #test post

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skull-fvcker · 8 months

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my heart, my heart wants to hold you

❥ Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/N: posted this months ago on ao3 but finally worked up the courage to post it here—this was honestly just my exploration of his character since it's the first time I've written him. Hi

Summary: In which you, a friend of Leon's, track him down and try to put an end—quite badly—to his alcohol issues

warnings: 4340 words, implied alcoholism, unrequited love, general angst and swearing, awkward as hell, written with no Leon in mind so you can imagine whichever one you want, no use of y/n

PT 2

The pub was warm, but not yet bustling. It lacked the social atmosphere in which it would once have. The only people that remained were that of single drunkards and sardonic businessmen who knew nothing more than to drown their sorrows in shitty whiskey as if that would numb the pain of their failing marriage. They knew it would not, yet the urge to drown overcame the rational thinking.

Leon thought that way, too. You knew he did. With every paid vacation that he had, he would escape to some undisclosed location and drown away his sorrows in expensive alcohol—his alcohol of choice is Jack Daniel's. God, it hurts that you know that—until he would lose all sense of clarity and become a babbling mess of a man. Lord knows he becomes even more of a sarcastic prick, those clever quips of his leaving no weight to them and making even less sense than they usually do. He doesn't necessarily become a separate person, but, an exaggerated version of himself. Truth be told, he made you feel like you should get into alcoholism. But you never told him that.

The warm air of the pub waved through your hair, the heavy scent of alcohol and overpriced cologne invading your sense of smell, making you nearly vomit as you stepped through the doorway. The men and women who lost their inhibitions and allowed themselves to verbalize their true beliefs, thoughts, and emotions were filled with each side of the pub, most of them likely accumulating on the second floor to avoid making eye contact with any poor soul that would dare to enter at this time of night. That person just had to be you, didn't it? Always chasing after the people you care for but never getting the reciprocation for your acts. Fate indeed was an unfair mistress.

Your eyes observed the pub with a heavy heart, the sorrow enveloping each and every individual weighing solemnly on your soul. Due to how late it was, you tossed away the idea that some of the people may be college students seeking to have fun. Still, your eyes anchored on a similar figure which sat at the bar, waving for the bartender to refill their drink. Leon... Of course, you recognise that choppy haircut from anywhere; even from the rear of his head. Speaking of which, his head was hanging low. From—what you guessed, anyhow—his overwhelmingly tricky career, no doubt.

Despite it all, you desired to know more about his employment, though he never would budge nor inform you any more than he deemed necessary. Some things are better left unsaid, you suppose.

Your feet moved on their own, heels dragging with each step that you brought. It was the apprehension, you assumed, that was making your hands so clammy and your ears burn up. You knew Leon so well, yet you didn't at the same time. You barely knew anything about his job. He was like an enigma to you. He knew everything about you, whereas you couldn't say the same about him. Did he have a favourite colour? Did he prefer his clothes to be folded a certain way? What about the way his bacon was cooked? Crispy, or chewy? You didn't know. You probably never would, either. Not with how secretive he was.

Leon had sat, drunk, melancholy, and desolate, handling the weight of the world pushing down on him. He seemed so lost, adrift in a sea of regrets, seeking solace in alcohol but finding none. His ashy hair covered his expression—that haircut, he never gets rid of it—with soft strands parting in many different directions. Sometimes it appeared more delicate than other days, and sometimes it seemed incredibly silky and soft.

"Leon," you abruptly spoke, striding next to Leon and sitting on the stool directly neighbouring to him. "How are you doing? What are you doing here?" Your eyes flicked to his shot glass, which was carried to his dry, cracked lips before you even finished your sentence. His cheeks were flushed slightly, and there was sweat collecting by his brows. His furrowed eyebrows pulled his taut skin near the bridge of his nose. Leon turned to face you, his expression softening, but only a short bit. He seemed a bit tipsy at best. "C'mon, you gotta come home already."

He hummed in response to your words, "I could say the same to you, y'know?" He took another gulp of his shot glass, pressing it down into the counter, his bottom lip suddenly moistened with alcohol. A piece of you wished that you could dab the burning whiskey from his skin. "You're not wrong, though." He says with a sigh, snatching the bottle of Jack Daniel's next to him—you can't believe you were right about that—and refilling his shot glass practically to the brim.

One glimpse at his face and you realised what was happening. His mind was clouded with regrets, haunting memories of the horrors he had witnessed in the past. The world's weight seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he found solace in drowning his sorrows in alcohol, hoping it would numb the ache in his heart. But it wouldn't. You know it wouldn't. He did, too. But he was too deep in his alcoholism to even think otherwise. Your eyes look down to your clammy hands, clasped together as if you were to pray.

"Yes," you breathed through your nose, eyes flicking back to glance at the man before you, "I know... I just haven't heard from you in a while, you know? I messaged you a couple of weeks ago, but you didn't respond. I was worried. What are you doing?"

"Classified information, you know that." He was quick to reply, bringing the shot glass back to his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his face pertaining to a certain perplexity that you didn't understand. "If I could, I'd tell you why I'm constantly on and off." he trails off a bit, shaking his head in defeat.

Despite yourself, you shakily reach out a hand and set it on Leon's, ignoring the twitch of his brow when you do so. "You're only human, Leon. Don't forget that."

His thoughts were a chaotic mess, filled with self-doubt and regrets. You never realised the regrets and self-doubt that plagued his psyche. You were never informed, and you never knew how much he wondered if he could have done things differently, saved more lives, or prevented that one catastrophe altogether. He reprimanded himself for not being able to protect those he overlooked and cared about, and for the mistakes he had made. And yet here you were, blissfully unaware and lending him a hand like he was the only friend that you've ever had. The emptiness inside him was palpable, and he yearned for the company of his friends who were now lost or separated from him.

Even him thinking about that when you were right there—was that not irony?

He missed the camaraderie, the laughter, and the sense of purpose they had once shared. But, now, despite all the people he surrounded himself with—you knew. You knew how many associates he had, he spoke of so many people whom of which you know not the name of, that you've lost track—he's drowning his sorrows in alcohol, trying to escape the pain that gnawed at him from within. You wondered, even for just a wee bit, if he felt isolated. Ostracized from the world itself, and that concerned you to your very essence as you showed him that bright, inexperienced smile that he used to have not so long ago.

Leon chuckled, if not for a moment, gently shaking your hand from his own, taking another drink with little to no regret. It was as if he wasn't even listening to you. It was as if you were just another pebble on the road to his alcoholism. He truly was a man that you knew you would never understand. The shot glass stayed on his lips for what seemed like forever, never leaving the pink tissue that never seemed to pull back for a smile. But, the moment didn't last forever. He soon slammed down the glass, startling you to the point of flinching, your breath hitching.

Leon stares you straight in the eyes, his calloused fingers gripping his shot glass so tightly that the tips of the digits begin to turn white.

"You know what's the worst thing about being a federal agent in this goddamn country? You're not allowed to have a bad day. Ever. You're supposed to be the tough guy, the one who can stomach everything and pull through because it's your job to handle it. I'm so tired of being caught in the middle of it. I just want to be left alone for once." He huffed, the furrow of his brow and the flare of his nostrils itching deep inside your brain.

Though you knew he worked with the government, you knew not of the specifics. You knew of Raccoon City, but not the rest. He was secretive, and you respected his privacy, discreetly hoping that he would trust you enough to brief you on the rest. That was wishful thinking, but hope wasn't too far gone. However, his words still shocked you, and you could only stay silent as his eyes gazed down at the empty glass in his fingers. His hands are so large, you loathed yourself to confess that. They were consistently warm and rough. Without much foresight, Leon reached for the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's, but you snatched it from his side over to yours before he could grasp it. He stared at the empty space where the bottle had been, his face swirling with a mix of emotions. He looked like he felt a pang of longing, a sense of loss, and a hint of anger all at once.

"Hey," he called out breathlessly, "that's mine. I need it." He reached over, only for you to glide it down the counter, your expression deadpan. Leon's face suddenly became astonished, his eyebrows raising as he blinks in disbelief. He had been savouring the rich, amber liquid, the warmth of the alcohol rushing through his veins, and now it was gone, snatched away without warning. Never in all the years that you've known Leon have you done something like this. And, deep down inside, you wished that you would have done it sooner.

You could tell that he felt a mix of frustration and confusion as if he had just lost a part of himself. The alcohol had been his comfort, his companion during the long nights when he sought solace in its familiar taste and burn, when he had no one else to turn to, not even you. And you had just snatched that away from him. You felt unfair—you did, but... it had to be done. "Leon, listen..."

He interrupted you, "You've got a lot of nerve to come in here and tell me how to live my life." He scoffed, leaning back in his stool. "Don't get me wrong. Love your company. You're a great friend," your name fell from his mouth like a curse, "but did you just come here to condemn my life choices? Is that it?"

"No, Leon, I just..." You sighed regretfully, your right arm gripping your left bicep tightly. "I was worried about you, that's all... And all of this alcohol? It can't be good for you." Your gaze does not meet his own, but you're sure that he's glaring at you. The daggers in his eyes pierce your flesh like teeth. Though he did not speak, you heard a scoff, followed by a grunt, while the words appeared to be caught in his throat.

Eventually, your eyes dart back at him, and those blue hues, his striking blue eyes—such an attractive colour, you think—stare back at you with a sense of normality and vacancy. Leon appears empty but shortly sighs and slumps his head low, bouncing it a tad before looking back at you, both relief and happiness crossing over his features. A stark contrast to the anger and disbelief he had just a moment ago. A part of you couldn't help but feel as if he was prepping you for something - but you didn't know what.

He smacks his lips, suddenly, "You're right," he seems to begrudgingly accept it, "hate to admit it, but, you are right. It's not healthy for me. You know," he paused, a breath hitching in his throat, his face lightening up, "I had been drinking all night before you came in. Thought I was going to stay here all night, honestly." His gruff voice fell to a whisper, harsh laughter wracking his chest as his head shook.

"That can't be healthy," you confessed. "Yeah, that's the point. It isn't," Leon stated matter-a-factly. It had been a long time since someone had shown him genuine care and concern. Leon took a deep breath and let out a sigh, finally feeling a glimmer of hope, though that was just how you saw the situation. It was wishful thinking, as he barely told you anything about his life. Apart from a few colleagues. "Listen, if it would make you feel any better, I can go home."

Your gaze sank to the floor, watching as the cracks in the marble begin to create vivid illustrations that gnawed on the back of your mind. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, and sighed, "Could I drive you home? It's the least I could do... I just want to be certain you get home safely since you've been drinking." You reached out a hand, setting it on Leon's shoulder. And for the first time, in a long while, you saw him genuinely smile. A grin of appreciation.

"I'd like that," your name fell from his lips a second time, though better akin to a prayer rather than a curse. It filled your heart to the brim with joy. It made you feel as if you were doing something right with your life. Especially with such a good friend as Leon.

"You gonna pay?" "It's on my tab." "That's..." "Don't worry about it."

Leon hopped off the stool with a chuckle and waited for you to do the same, which you did, though not as aggressively as he did. You walked him out of the pub, opening the door for him before he could do the same to you, to which he offered you a snarky 'thanks'. A diminutive part of you was concerned that he might make a critique of your automobile or its decorum, but you pushed those thoughts aside for more favourable ones. Leon has ridden in your car plenty of times before—you haven't ridden in his, though. Does he even have a car?—so you were sure he wouldn't say anything too mean. You could never be too sure, nonetheless. He was unpredictable, yet predictable in the worst fashion.

A tap on his shoulder got Leon's attention as soon as your car came into view, he giving a hum in acknowledgement. "You going to ride in the passenger seat like a big boy?" You joked dryly, walking over to the driver's side and unlocking the door. Leon stared at you in surprise for a moment but soon snickered.

"I don't know. You think I'm a big enough boy?" "The biggest boy, I'm sure." He laughed in response to that, a deep, robust laugh from his chest as he climbed into the passenger's side. Your car was relatively small, so the springs in the suspension system bounced slightly when he sat down. It made you wonder if the bedsprings in Leon's bed fell ill to the same fate. But those thoughts were driven away and you let out a loud sigh, pulling out your keys and puncturing them in the ignition. "Do you want to play any music?" Leon buckled up, clicking his tongue, "You think Three Days Grace is playing at this time?" "Probably not, no..." "Then no thanks." He looked outside the window in an almost dejected manner, which compelled you to laugh stiffly, if not shake your head in doubt. Leon really liked dad rock, and you'd never understand why. Maybe he was destined to be a father in another life? You never really asked him if he wanted to settle down. It wasn't your place to ask, either way. As you began to think, you couldn't help but steal glances at him from across the car. He was the epitome of everything that you knew every man wanted to be - enchanting, confident, and with a smile that could melt just about anyone's heart—did that include you, too, you wondered?—Your sentiments, purely platonic are what you told yourself, feelings for him were deep and genuine, though there was always that rat in the back of your head that told you that he would never see you as an equal.

You would always listen attentively to his performances, though he told you not much, laugh at his jokes, and be there for him whenever he needed someone to talk to. But did he feel the same way? You could only wonder if he genuinely wanted to be your friend. You gripped the steering wheel, suddenly recalling the small conversations you had with him about a certain someone. Ada Wong was her name — from the things you heard, she was absolutely gorgeous. Had a heart of steel, and a mouth of venom, but truly cared for Leon. She could've done more for Leon than you ever would have.

"Hey, we're friends, aren't we?" Your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, the lights on the dark streets at each corner blinding your otherwise perfectly fine vision. Ada understood Leon better than you ever would, and that was the unfortunate truth that you ought to face.

Leon side-eyes you, and you can tell by the slow turn of his eye. "Of course, we are. I consider us friends. Close enough to be friends, anyhow. Why?" His voice sounds fatigued.

A thankful sigh escapes you, in both relief and partial malevolence. How many times would you have to come to drag Leon out of random pubs before he actually drinks himself into a drunken stupor that he won't get out of, even with someone by his side to help him? If he didn't want to get better, then there would be nothing for you to do. You could push someone to do something for their health, but the longer it would go on, the more they would resent you because it's not what they honestly want. "Just wondering. We're here, by the way."

There was another hum of acknowledgement that came from Leon, and it made you wonder if it was all his vocal cords wanted him to say at this time. Drawing the key from your car and turning it off, you get out of the vehicle, both the passenger and driver's side doors closing at the same time. Guess Leon had the same idea as you. You watched as Leon strolled up the steps of his apartment, and, biting back your dread, you pursued behind him, locking the car—does Leon even know cars have automatic locks now? Of course, he does. What a stupid thought—behind you.

"Pardon the mess," Leon chides as you walk into what would have to be the cleanest apartment you've ever seen in your entire life. Not only was it clean, but it was absolutely empty. Save for a few knick-knacks and a sofa in the middle of the living area, adorned by a plain mat and a glass table that separated the sofa from a simple television mounted to the wall. A cosy little place; but you guess Leon wasn't the one for sentiments. Another thing you learned about him that he did not and most likely would not tell you.

You watched as he walked over to the sofa and seated himself down, spreading his legs out and groaning when he hit the soft cushions. "Hey, hey, if it's not too much, could you grab me a glass of water?" There was a juncture of stillness before he began to force himself up off the Davenport. "No, that's not fair for you. I'll fetch it myself."

"No, I'll get you a glass." You vocalised, holding your hand out as if that would preserve him from leaving. He let out a sigh but accepted your advances. You took off your shoes at the entrance—Leon didn't even take off those filthy boots of his—and made your way to the kitchen space. In jaw-dropping shock, it was equally as barren. "I have, uh... I have a question," you called out as you pulled a glass from the cabinet, turning on the cold water to the faucet as you did so.

"Shoot." "I probably shouldn't say this, but... It's been eating at me, you know?" You finished filling the glass and strolled back out to the living area. "What's with you and Ada? Ada Wong?" You observed as he gently took the glass from your hand, but sagged his head down low as if you had struck a sore spot. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have asked." "No, it's fine..." He hissed through clenched teeth, taking a sip of the cold water. "To be honest, I don't fully know myself. There's something inside of me that can't let her go no matter how hard I try, a part of me that will always be yearning for her, but... I don't know," Leon laments, taking another gulp from the glass, "If only things were different, you know? Maybe we would've made it work."

He rubs the bridge of his nose, seemingly about to pass out from fatigue, the eyebags that hung beneath his eyes make him seem at least 5 years older than he truly was. "I guess it wasn't made to be." He leans back on the sofa, a small crack of his lower spine unexpectedly catching your attention. The fat inside your cheek was caught between your teeth to prevent the pitiful whimpers that might escape. She really meant that much to him. Leon surely was a dedicated person, especially when it came to the people he cared about. That was something you were always sure of, right from the beginning.

"I think that her, uhm... the way of her living, makes her seem like she doesn't care about you. I think she cares about you more than she lets on. If the situations were different, I know that she would love to be your friend." You took notice of the yawn that escaped him after you voiced that, followed by a chuckle of disbelief. You didn't know how to comfort someone in this position.

You breathed heavily through your nostrils, "Or even something more, you know?" You crouch down near the end of the sofa, one of your hands setting itself on Leon's thigh, gripping it reassuringly. "Maybe in another life, you and Ada are together." You maintained a smile on your face, but it was beguiling. You would only hope that Leon would merely accept it as it is, and you believe that he did, given the rugged chuckle that jerked his body. "Maybe, in another life, you two are married. That's a funny thought, isn't it? Leon Kennedy, settling down. Little Leon and Ada's running around."

Leon pats your hand with his. His rough fingertips and the palms of his hands set your heart aflutter. "I would've loved that," He pauses for a moment, "I bet they would look just like me." You could see the fond expression on his face, his shoulders drooping as if he was reminiscing or recalling a tender, distant memory. One that didn't include you, apparently. Leon holds a peaceful expression on his face and closes his eyes, humming slightly to himself. He isn't quite asleep, but he seems droopy.

"I'll get you a blanket, Leon. You deserve some sleep." You pat his thigh a final time and stand up fully, staring at him for a moment before blinking and turning around, leaving him seating there as you leave. You would only hope that there was a spare blanket in the hall closet. Leon didn't seem to spend too much time in his apartment either way, so you were sure that there would be extra blankets lying around. Your hand opened the hall closet slowly, and of course, there was a thick, fluffy blanket just lying there, folded haphazardly as if someone was in a hurry. It would've been funny if it wasn't so depressing. Gently, you grasped it and started to shake said covering loosely as you sauntered over to Leon's leaning form. You allowed him to lie down on his flank, before covering him with the blanket.

"Thank you," you heard him mumble negligibly through the other dazed murmurs you couldn't quite understand as well as the rest. You would've been tired, too, after all that drinking. You gently gave him a pat on the head—despite its soft texture, his hair always appeared greasy—ruffling the short, straight locks of hair that adorned his head. You dared to never ask him the colour; the first time you did, he just plainly stated that it was blonde, despite what you thought at the time.

Leon slowly began to let out snores, to which you started frowning, dragging your hand away from his now-sleeping form. He was peaceful; he deserved it. He deserved a good night's rest. Without the sorrow and angst etched into his skin, Leon looked so at rest and like he had not a care in the world.

"Maybe, in another life, you could've been given the life you desired and deserved."

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