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fairene · 4 months

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divine / ln4

lando norris x fem!reader

reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n.

where you accompany him to a gala, but he can barely focus with you in that beautiful dress. you are utterly divine.

a/n ⋯ yes so! so! well, yes! this is a pre-established relationship, yearning lando, absolutely smitten lando. just happy and mushy, but entirely too sexy for my own good. reader's dress is loosely inspired by phoebe dynevor's met gala dress. color and style is only mentioned once. absolutely up to YOU on what you are wearing;)

music inspo ⋯ link

warnings ⋯ SMUT / 18++ minors DNI!!! language, established relationship, choking (slight), p in v (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. obsessed lando ( who doesn't love that? )

wc ⋯ 6.7k (unedited.)

the gala for this evening had been marked in your calendar for weeks. you’d be reminding lando nonstop about the event, chirping his ear off about how he needed the perfect suit to accompany your gown. what gown? he would pester and ask, but you still couldn’t decide yourself. with the gala only a few days away, you were cracking down on the little bits of time you had left.

post races in imola were always fun. italy was always fun. but you knew this stretch would be more important for lando. it was a public appearance at a charity event that mclaren was sponsoring, one that helped the youth get involved in karting and motorsport all together. lando had been excited to go, but more elated to have you at his side with him.

he doesn’t think that he could get through these events without you, though. your presence was the ultimate comfort for him, easing his rampant anxieties the moment the spotlight was on him. a simple hand on his back, his neck, his waist was enough to have his body relaxing into you.

you were a natural at these things. he didn’t know what world you were sent from, but he was eternally grateful for your presence at his side.

but it wasn’t easy for you either. you held a tight facade for lando, knowing how intensely anxious he would get. he wouldn’t even eat prior to such gatherings, and would often become dizzy and lightheaded.

you placed the poached eggs with toast in front of him this morning. the plate clattered on the table as you were hurried which had him perking up from scrolling on his phone. when you passed by him to grab your own food, you ran your fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair. he leant back into your touch instinctively.

“eat quick. we’ve got to be at the boutique in a half hour.” you kissed the top of his head, his hair smelling fresh with his shampoo.

“thank you, baby.”

lando reached back to grab one of your arms, kissing up your palm, your wrist, all the way up to your bicep. his lips were warm. he even nipped at your skin which had you yelping, pulling back and smacking his face lightly with a laugh.

he was tempted to jump to his feet and hunt you down, but he knew how important this event was for you. the last thing he needed was to be reprimanded and locked out of your shared bedroom because of his inability to keep his dick in his pants.

you loved it, though.

scarfing down his meal had been the easy part. when he finished washing off his dish, you were standing by the door with your casually chic outfit that made you look divine. whereas he, by comparison, was wearing just his mclaren hoodie and jeans.

you held out your hand for him to take as you left the villa and he took it. his grip was firm and warm, bringing you a serious comfort when you stepped out onto the streets of imola, cameras flashing in your directions.

the valet had lando’s car ready in an instant and the door was opened for you. you hopped in, careful not to ruin your shoes, and you were both off to the boutique in top notch time. you loved to be early for these things– it showed people you cared. that you would make time for them.

lando kept his hand firm on your thigh the entire ride while you were on your phone. you were scrolling through text chains from alexandra and lily. alexandra wanted to know what you were wearing and lived vicariously through you, and lily wanted to know the direction you were going in. you answered them swiftly with the rapid taps of your thumbs, and they kept texting back.

when lando pulled up to the boutique he gave your leg a squeeze which instantly had you dropping your phone in your lap, head perking up to your destination. he opened the door for you, letting you out with your hand in his.

he brought your palm to his lips, gracing it with a sweet kiss. you blushed.

“ever the charmer, you are.”

“only for you, my love.” his smile was wide, cheeky as he squinted.

the boutique manager was hasty with his gowns, ready for your picking. you had told him in advance that you were looking for a longer gown– more airy and flowy versus a heavy fabric in this on-coming summer heat. you didn’t want to be a sweating mess. ew.

lando, admittedly, had been far too excited to see you in a gown. he sat languidly on the couch in front of the dressing rooms, watching as you would go through dress and dress, rejecting some of them before you had the opportunity to try them on. you were so determined in what you wanted, it drove him absolutely fucking mad.

the first dress you had tried on was beautiful– though that was his answer for all of them. to him, there was no possibility for you to look bad in anything.

you stood in front of the mirror, shifting. “can barely breathe in this thing,” you uttered, pulling at the fabric that was practically glued to your frame. lando liked this one especially because he could see your body, but you were clearly uncomfortable with it. even if he wanted to twirl you around for a kiss, his hands itching to find their place on your hips, you comfort was his biggest concern.

“well you know i like it,” he commented with a smile which had you spinning around, barely able to shift your legs beneath the tight fabric.

“pervert,” you teased, sticking your tongue out.

he had nothing to say to that except a shrug of his shoulders and his fingers running over his stubbled chin. he looked so good here, tanned and bulky. you’ve been dating him for a few years now, and you would never get used to the sight of his blistering emerald eyes, the way his arms flexed against the fabric of the couch. he yearned to touch you. you knew it. you craved it.

the next dress was an absolute no. it was far too fanciful– a large, poofy skirt with a high neckline, sleeves– too hot for this weather. you’d be tripping over the skirts the entire night, instead making yourself out to be a fool.

“fit for a queen, isn’t it?” lando said, shifting where he sat, adjusting his pants. you looked at him from the pedestal mirror, sheepish when you looked down at the bedazzled hemming.

“yeah right,” you scoffed, hating the way it looked.

but lando didn’t. you looked absolutely regal. if you asked him to bend the knee, he wouldn’t hesitate to drop to both. even with a ring for your finger.

“looks great from the back…”

“lando!” you snapped, putting a finger to your lips to beg for his silence. his hands were thrown up in defense, although he didn’t feel an ounce bad about the truth.

the final dress you tried on was…well, it was…

“look at you,” lando stood to his feet this time, entirely too enamoured to stay seated patiently like a dog on the couch. he approached you from behind on the pedestal, his fingers careful as he traced up the fabric around your hips, your back. you shivered into his touch.

the dress had been a light pink, blush tone, sheer fabric with embroidered flowers. it had a long train behind it, fabric over a shoulder, sewn and stitched in a myriad of ways that you couldn’t follow. it was utterly perfect against your skin. it wasn’t too tight, but it was form fitting enough to be appropriate. around your breasts was where the embroidery thickened, covering your nipples from the light breeze in imola’s air.

“do you like it?” you breathed, turning your head over your shoulder to lando who was dazed as he stared at you in the mirror. he turned his head to look up at you from your heightened position on the platform. there were no words that could convey the look in his eyes– sheer heat, desire, love– that he had for you.

he swallowed. his pants were painfully hard around his cock.

you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid eyes on. the only one who could make him turn his head, make him drool, have him fall to his knees. and in this dress, especially.

“baby,” he sighed, controlling his hands the best he could from wanting to rip it off of you, fuck you in this wardrobe. “you’re divine.”

you blushed, turning your head away from him. he always had you like this. speechless, puddy in his hands. you were entirely susceptible to his charm, and it had you melting at every twist and corner of his beautifully shaped lips.

“i have something for you,” he whispered, getting your attention back on him when he offered his hand for you to step down from the pedestal. you took it, eyes widening with wonder at what he could possibly have. you raised a brow, letting your same hand grip onto his forearm.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. the chain was long, but modest, and had a glowing diamond emblem embellished at the center. stable so it didn’t fling around the entire chain. you gawked as he held it out for you. you shifted closer to him until your body was perpendicular to his, your shoulder brushing into his chest.

it was a necklace that had his “ln4” logo on it. imbued with diamonds.

your fingers reached out to trace the beautiful charm, the weight of the diamonds alone was absolutely intimidating. you felt undeserving of such a piece, but prideful that he wanted it to be yours.

“lan,...” you were breathless when you turned to look up at him, his pupils dilating with yours meeting his. “it’s beautiful.”

“you said you’ve been looking for necklaces,” that was true. your neck had been far too bare. “and i’m too selfish to let you walk around without a part of me.”

you smiled. his honesty was always refreshing. his devoting nature was so unnatural, but it was so homely. you loved him. every part of him.

“turn around for me, love.” he kept a hand on your hip when you spun, chills flying up your spine when you felt his fingers around your neck. you gulped, arching your back when you felt the contact. so receptive, he wanted to say, but held his tongue.

he was swift with the clasp but he let his fingers trail down your exposed back, sheathed lightly by the fabric. you bit your lip to consolidate any noise, but were becoming riled with his hands on you.

the necklace glimmered in the mirror when you stared agape. it sat perfectly at the center of your chest, unable to be missed by any passerby. you were his. lando norris’ girlfriend. his entire life.

“i love it,” you murmured, your fingers gracing the pendant. you turned around and threw yourself into his arms. he caught you like he always did, arms wrapping around your waist with a deadly grip. but you would die happily here, you thought. in his strong arms, loved, and content.

“you’re sure?” he questioned when his head burrowed into the side of your neck. he was nervous that you wouldn’t, thinking that he may have gone too far.

your hands found his cheeks, raising his head to meet your eyes.

“i love it.” you smiled. “want everyone to know ‘m yours.”

god

he was going to fuck you right there. right here.

if not here, then tonight. tonight he would ruin you. bring you to tears around his cock, his fingers, his tongue. if there was one thing about him, it's that he knew how you worked. it would only take you minutes to come, record time for any man that’s laid his hands on you. no one compared to lando.

and he was going to fuck you so you knew it.

“is this the one?” the tailor popped in which had lando turning to see who’d interrupt at a time like this. as if you weren’t in public.

“i think so…” you said, hands detaching from lando’s warm face and down the stretch of fabric that cupped your body.

lando didn’t hesitate pulling out his credit card.

—------

“lan–” you said into his lips when you made an effort to breathe from his kiss. he shook his head, groaning, as he refused to let the both of you out the door. you had only minutes to get into the car on the way to the event, but he was too busy wanting to make a mess of you to focus.

“lando.” you said again firmly, this time putting your hand to his neck to halt his advances. you squeezed his skin, the muscles there tensing beneath you. he let his lips brush your nose before he let out a scoff.

“just too damn beautiful. can’t help myself,” his hand stroked down your neck coming to cup your chin between his fingers. you brushed your lips down, kissing his thumb. he couldn’t help but stare at the necklace–his necklace– so plainly on your chest. it was a beautiful piece, one that you knew you’d never take off. even if he broke your heart, you feared even then it wouldn’t be enough to discard.

“‘ll help you later,” your fingers held onto the bottom of his black jacket, the fabric thick against him. but he still felt your touch.

“will you, now?” he teased, finger coming down from your chin to your collarbones, dragging them to the pendant. he twirled the chain once around, then leant down to kiss it. you gasped at the action, light air warming the presence between you two.

he glanced up at you from his position, the bruises beneath his tired eyes resonated a feeling of prowess inside of you. you didn’t like that he was so exhausted, you constantly asking him if he wanted to lay down or skip the days events, but he insisted. your thumb came to caress beneath one of his eyes and he leaned into the touch.

“always, my love.” you said softly, voice hitching in your throat when you saw his tongue rake over his lip. you almost decided there that it would be best if the two of you stayed home, but the amount of money that he spent on this dress alone made it a necessity to show off.

“come on now, don’t want to leave oscar waiting.” you raised your brows, squeezing his cheek with your thumb. he raised his head to latch his teeth over your digit and you let him, biting your skin beneath his gapped, perfect, teeth.

“he’ll be fine,” lando retorted, standing up straight. “lily’s with him.”

you rolled your eyes, grabbing your clutch and fixing the adornments on your head. “but who’s with lily?”

you were met with a laugh and a shake of his head. always the jokester. a good laugh. that’s why he fell in love with you in the first place. you may be one of the funniest people he’s ever met.

arriving to the gala had more attention than expected. it was a private event, but since the drivers were in attendance, as well as some higher up wealthy civilians, it gained traction. traction that you were ready for. at least, prepared for every waking moment that you had. media training wasn’t something that you were ready for– why, you weren’t the driver. but being a girlfriend was a different story alone. you were representing lando on all fronts. how you dressed, how you acted, how you managed yourself in a crowd all reflected on him. quite the amount of pressure, wasn’t it?

lando’s hand found a home on your lower back, warming your skin beneath the thin fabric. he guided you up the steps to the high end establishment. the ground was made of marble, the rug a bright red up the colosseum of stairs. you were sure not to trip, and lando did the same with the long train behind you.

you made sure to keep your posture straight–neck back, hands in front of you, straight face. but you could do all of those except one– straight face.

there was nothing but a smile on your features when lando was bragging about you to his fans.

“she’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he’d ask one paparazzi. “there’s no way i’d be here, tonight, without her.”

ain’t that the fucking truth, you thought, knowing that dressing him was the hardest part about your evening.

the paparazzi called your name from beside him. you turned, taking a step forward.

“tell us about your dress, your accessories!” a man shouted.

“the dress is by victoria beckham,” you said, twisting your hips to show off the sheer look of it. “and the necklace,” you placed your hand atop of it before letting it fall to your side. “a gift from lando. isn’t he the sweetest?”

the paparazzi made a move to respond, but he was interrupted when lando cleared his throat at your side.

“pardon me, gentlemen,” he wrapped his arm around your waist. “but i think we’re going to be late.”

you knew you weren’t.

you chuckled anyways, saying a polite goodbye, and let lando guide you up the steps and inside the grandeur building of tonight’s event.

once you were inside you immediately stared up at the ceiling– it was a renaissance era style with gold rimming, low hanging chandeliers, and pillars made of the finest limestone in all of imola. you were floored by the interior, never thinking that you’d seen such a beautiful place before.

you were pulled back when you heard your name being called from in front of you. it was lily– oscar trailing behind her.

“you look absolutely beautiful!” lily squealed, her own dress was a dark shade of red and had no sleeves. it suited her so well.

“oh, please, you more so!” you gave her a hug while lando and oscar greeted one another.

“oh…!” lily ran her fingers over the pendant on your neck. “new jewelry, i see?”

you nodded, blushing. lando’s hand returned to your back, rubbing light circles on your skin.

“so that means no milan, huh?” lily chuckled, disappointed that your potential outing with her in the nation’s capital may be ruined. you shook your head.

“of course we can still go!” you held onto her arm whilst you talked. “but let's sit down. i’m starving.” lily and oscar led the way hand in hand to your table. you latched onto lando’s arm as you walked, feeling entirely too attached to him this evening. but he’d never mind. your affections were the only thing he craved.

you sat down when lando pulled out his chair for you, blessing him with a small ‘thanks,’ before he seated himself beside you. the meals tonight were already preselected by the chef they brought in, so there were no menus.

“do you remember what they’re serving?” oscar asked lily, but it was open for your circular table of four for discussion.

“fish, i think.” she said, still settling in by placing her bag onto the ground beside her.

you could feel lando’s grimace a mile away.

but you were already prepared.

“don’t worry,” you whispered to him, placing your hand on his thigh. he glanced from your hand to your eyes, raising a brow. you knew he didn’t like fish. as soon as you received the email about what was being served, you rang the venue. they were happy to oblige to your request of no fish for mr. norris, insisting that they had other meal options to serve him. you were entirely too grateful and thanked them a million times.

“why not? they’re so slimy…” he began to ramble, complaining like a small child. you squeezed his leg.

“i said don’t worry.” you reaffirmed, but he didn’t understand.

the attendant at your table was quick with your drinks and plates of food. the order of the event had gone: food, auction, gallery walk. but you had to admit, you were rather excited to get home instead, even though you loved a good art show.

the fish dinner was placed before you, well seared and mixed with all kinds of vegetables. lily and oscar got the same, but lando did not, it appeared.

“and…i have a medium rare steak for mr. norris.” the waiter placed down the beef in front of lando which had him turning back to face him with a smile.

“how did you know?” he asked him.

“your girlfriend called about a month ago. said you winced at the mention of fish.”

lando looked to you, puzzled, surprised, and oh-so-full of love. you batted your lashes, shrugging your shoulders with pride. you knew him well. of course you did. he wasn’t sure anyone could know him as best you did.

the waiter took his leave and his arm slung around the back of your chair. “you did that for me?” he said, bringing his lips to your ear.

“of course i did, lan.”

“i love you,” he said into your hair, kissing your scalp. “love you so much.” he repeated, slower this time so it was engraved in your memory permanently.

you grabbed his hand that rested on his lap, entwining your fingers together. “i love you.”

the rest of the event went exactly as planned. you got a plethora of compliments on your dress, your necklace–lando was partial to those ones– and found a perfect time to escape from the festivities when his hand kept accidentally groping your ass. you had to slap his hand away a few times to avoid any wandering eyes, but eventually gave up and decided that he was getting too antsy to get home.

and it was true. lando was desperate to fuck you. he had been desperate to fuck you in that dressing room, the restaurant, hell even as soon as you woke up this morning. there was never a schedule. he always wanted you.

he yearned for you intensely. the thoughts of you were consuming day in and day out, and he loved it. the only escape he found from his stressful life was in the moments he was with you. it could be in a club, the paddock, the quiet of your bedroom and he would be entirely at ease with you at his side. nothing in the world compared to you. not even racing, self-proclaimed first love of his life.

he’d never needed you as badly as he did tonight. despite every other day you spend with him, something changed. something was different about your relationship. maybe it was you in that beautiful dress, skin tight and enough to leave interpretation, or how you nervously touched your necklace when you felt anxious, or how you called ahead in advance for this event to make sure that he was comfortable with his meal.

no one would ever think to do something like that for him. not if they weren’t being paid, anyways. your love, on the contrary, was free. your affections were free. but they were ultimately priceless in his books.

and then you were leading him to your shared bedroom in your perfect villa in imola. through the hallways with your tall heels, you were an echo of perfection. he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you when he kept trying to not trip over the train of your dress. it was perfection itself with his footwork and he was rather impressed that he didn’t fall on his face.

when you pulled him through the doorway, he lurched forward to kiss you but you stopped him. he was confused at first, but watched as you went to shut the door to your room. it didn’t matter if it had been open. it was just the two of you. yet that wasn’t your concern. you were making him wait. you’ve played this game with him before and always knew how it ended– you getting the best sex of your life.

you were starving the love of your life. a hungry predator that gawked at you from your leant position against the doorframe. lando outstretched a hand for you again, and you took the bait, shimmying out of your heels and breezing over to him. he snatched you up without hesitating and began to ravage your lips.

starved.

he had never known hunger until he met you. a brazen need to have you wrapped up in him, to have you beneath him at whatever the cost. you were so nimble, so genteel with your actions that he couldn’t help but fall in love with you all the same.

lando’s kiss was firm and intoxicating. you melted into him with your arms gripping his muscular neck, shivering when you felt him pulsing beneath your fingertips. his hands were on your hips when he sucked your lower lip, demanding you to open your mouth.

you let him. you always would.

his tongue found a second home in your mouth, expertly clashing his teeth with your own and making sure you never forgot the taste of him. you certainly never wanted to.

when he moved from you lips to your neck you gasped as he sucked on your sensitive skin. you cupped the nape of his neck, tugging at the firm curls with a moan. he’d find the most sensitive parts of you and attack them. you were his prey, a trophy he intended on keeping.

“lando…” you whimpered, catching your lip between your teeth in an effort to withhold your sounds. but lando’s hand came to grip your chin, thumb prodding at the entrance of your mouth. you opened wide for him as his thumb swirled against your cheeks, your tongue.

stay loud, the message was clear enough for you.

“what do you want, baby?” he asked against your neck, deep and gruff as he slid his hands up and down the fabric of your dress.

you writhed against his hold, your hips bucking instinctually against his groin. he tsked, shaking his head against your chin. his curls tickled.

“words.” he scolded, squeezing your lower back. you whined.

“need you,” your voice cracked.

“where?” his lips were on your collarbones, peppering your chest with his saliva.

“everywhere, lan, please…” he chuckled at your desperation, taking great pleasure in that you felt just as needy for him as he did you.

and then he dropped to his knees before you.

you stared. gawked at his form. he had never been like this before you– ‘course he’s eaten you out, kissed your thighs, but it was never like this. never so…vulnerable.

but whatever it is… you loved it.

your hand traced over his cheek, his jaw, nestling in with the curls on his head. he practically purred, leaning into your touch as he caged you between his legs.

his head rested on your naval as he stared up at you with those big, sappy green eyes. they were bloodshot. you moved some of the loose curls from his forehead and traced some hairs of his brows with your pinky.

“so handsome,” you whispered, biting your lip to hide a smile. a sheepish one of pure love for him. he was truly the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on. that fateful day years ago, you knew you had to have him. and now here he was.

on his knees for you.

his head nuzzled against the fabric of your dress, biting and nipping at your skin. lando was flustered. he made a sound in the back of his throat, then finally mustered the courage to look up at you.

“i’m so in love with you.”

you blushed even more if that was remotely possible.

“my beautiful girl.”

“lando…” you gripped the sides of his face, fingers raking through his scalp.

“never letting you go.” he muttered as he found the zipper to your beautiful dress. he undid it in one swift movement, the piece falling from your body with ease. you shimmied out of it and he pulled the rest down, throwing the beautiful piece of work across the room. you giggled, knowing that he could have done much worse, but he knew how much you loved it.

he began to kiss down your bare stomach, mumbling incoherent praises against your warm skin. his lips were hot and swollen, pulsing with the only ridicules of desire for you.

“don’t want you to.” you soothed him, pulling him by his neck closer to your burning cunt. he chuckled at your eagerness, holding you steady in place by your hips, grounding you.

“even if you tried,” he placed a firm kiss on your folds which had you gasping. one of his hands left your hip and was now slotted between your legs. he teased your entrance methodically, knowing exactly how to rile you. you wiggled in his hold. “no one could get you this wet.”

it was true. you were dripping. you caught his eye, too, staring at your clothed cunt. drool pooled in his mouth, salivating at your receptive body.

“prove it,” you whispered, challenging him. his eyes snapped up to your hooded ones. “touch me, lan. please.”

he didn’t wait anymore, tossing the idea of making you beg and sob out the window. he was simply too much of a desperate man to not have you dropping down his fingers, spilling over his tongue.

there weren’t many words to summarize what he wanted to do, so he acted. the underwear that clothed your cunt was torn from your body. thankfully you didn’t care about them anyways.

his head met your breasts, kissing and suckling around the skin of them. his fingers were on you then, stroking and teasing your entrance. you writhed again and he committed, letting one finger slip inside you. the tension was palpable. you felt relief, but there was a storm building inside your lower belly.

lando’s calloused thumb was swirling over your clit, the only man in this fucking world to ever find it. it took him no time at all when he first had you in his arms. it was magical the way he could get you to cum in minutes, and he planned on doing it now.

he pinched the sensitive bundle of nerves between his forefinger and thumb, excluding a deep moan from your chest. your hips bucked towards him, desperate for him to move his finger inside of you. he complied, curling his digit upward to stroke the sensitive spots inside of you.

“fuck,” you whimpered, almost barreling over on top of him from your weakened knees, but he supported you with his free hand, clutching your side.

there was a reason he hadn’t taken you to the bed. he wanted you to remember him like this– on his knees before you, making you shiver and shaken with only three of his fingers attached to you.

the bracelets around his wrists caught the light. one that you had gifted him was staring back at you which had you clenching around nothing. he never took it off. he was yours.

his palm was already coated in your slick, a sopping mess as it traced down his wrist. he smirked, glancing upward at your face. you were flushed, shaking, and whimpering against his hold. your knees felt like they were going to collapse any second and you were going to burst at his bare hand.

and then he added a second finger inside your cunt and you thought you’d be done for.

“come on, baby.” lando cooed, which had your release building faster and faster. you felt the heat rising. his fingers are scissoring in and out of you at a steady, hard pace. it was perfect. he curled his fingers which had you jolting, eyes rolling back automatically. you grind against him, desperate to feel more, more.

“be a good girl and come around my fingers,” he said into your chest, breathing you in deeply. you were at his mercy and a complete goner. your release came faster than you realized, coil snapping and your slick gushing from your swollen cunt. your knees gave out then and he used both his hands to clutch you upwards. he supported your body entirely as you looked down at him with your tired eyes.

his tongue poked his teeth, letting out a deep breath. “all for me baby…” it wasn’t a question, but you whimpered and nodded your head anyways. “didn’t even take five minutes.”

and then his head was between your thighs, licking and sucking at the mess you had made of yourself because of him.

the overstimulation was too much. you tried to push his head away, but your own body dejected it. instead you build his mouth closer to your cunt, grinding against his face. you felt him chuckle through your pussy, the sound having you instantly flushing once again.

“what was that?” he asked, his teeth grazing over your clit. you jumped, sharp breath inhaling through your clenched teeth. “like it when i laugh that much?” he teased, knowing it to be true.

“love it, lan.” your hands tugged at his girls which had him groaning. he continued to clean you up, swirling his tongue over your clit. “love the way you laugh.”

he was shining with your praise, taking your admission to the memory bank of his heart. you always knew the best ways to compliment him. his dress pants were wet with his dripping precum, ruining the entire set. you noticed the spot when he shifted to get more comfortable on the ground. your brows furrowed.

“bed…bed, lan,” you demanded in a desperate tone. though you were close to cumming again on his tongue, you wanted his cock even more. you knew he could take the challenge, but you wanted to feel him. wanted him to see the way his necklace shimmered on your neck. “need you… need you to fuck me.”

“all you had to say, my love.” and you were on the bed in an instant, shrieking when he began to tear his own clothes off. he struggled with the buttons on his dress shirt which had you absolutely giggling.

you helped him with the clasp of his belt, ripping the thing through the loops and onto the floor. his pants were next, his boxers, and his dick sprung free and up the curve of his naval. you were left agape, swallowing harshly at his size. it always amazed you how it could fit.

“come on now,” he encouraged with a smirk, a token trademark of his. he readjusted you by grabbing your hips and plastered your back against his front. you wondered why there was a new sudden change in position until you looked up.

a mirror.

the full-size mirror that was placed on the floor near your bed was staring back at the two of you. lando ran his hands over your breasts as you straddled him from behind, up your collarbones, and stopped at the chain of your necklace.

“look so pretty f’me, baby…” he muttered into your neck, peppering you with kisses. your head lolled back into his shoulder, his dick pulsing against your back.

“for you, just you, lan.” you reiterated and he bucked his own hips, rutting against your spine. you moaned, desperate to feel his cock through your cunt.

“fuck, baby,” he choked out, thinking that he was going to cum right then and there. but he held his breath. “ride me, yeah?”

he loved it when you were on top of him, breasts in his face so he could lather himself in you. so you raised your hips and lando’s hand came to wrap around your neck, a gesture that you found you couldn’t live without. he applied no pressure as he kept you stable, but it had you absolutely dripping onto his thighs. he felt it and shivered.

when you felt his tip slide into you, you gasped, letting out a fervent moan that had the walls shaking. your head fell back to his shoulder again as he bottom out, the imprint of his cock lucid in the reflection of the mirror.

lando’s grip on your neck tightened. you whined, eyes opening.

“eyes open, my love.” he said with a gentle tone and you obeyed, raising your head only slightly to catch the pair of you in the mirror. the sight was utterly intoxicating. you were addicted to watching his face scrunch and fall into a pattern of relief with pleasure. pleasure that you provided for him.

“so big…” you said, staring at the flexing veins of his neck. he knew you loved it.

your hips began to gyrate around his cock, over and over, until you found a steady pace at which you relaxed in. he gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises the following day, guiding you with a gentle reassurance over his cock. in and out his severed you, the feeling so fucking good. the hand around your neck dropped to stimulate your clit, and you thought you were on a one way train to heaven.

“please, please, please…” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at this point.

“look at you…” lando said into your neck, voice strained from fucking you. you did look, and what you saw in the mirror was your disheveled form, melting into his touch. you mewled, choking out a deep vibration of a moan.

tears welled in your eyes at the sensation of watching the pair of you, the pinching of your clit, and the way he penetrated you so fucking good. you knew you weren’t going to last.

“gonna cum for me?” he grunts into your ear, kissing any skin of yours he could find. “know you can baby. look so pretty in that mirror, don’t you? taking this dick so well. it was made for you.”

that was all it took to send you over the edge. he knew that. the words of sweet praise and vulgarity had you clenching tightly around his cock, letting out a mewling scream at the top of your lungs. tears fell from your cheeks that tasted salty. lando would know. he kissed them when he turned your head to face him by your chin.

he was close to his own release, sloppily sliding in and out of your tight slit. “so tight,” he grumbled, letting out his own moan when he came inside of you. the feeling of his cum was warm and fulfilling, and you didn’t complain that he spilled into your walls. he typically wouldn’t, but you welcomed the sensation.

his head fell onto your shoulder and you leaned back, your hand coming to run through his hair, pulling him close to you. you placed a kiss on the side of his head.

“i love you.” he repeated over and over into the skin of your shoulder.

“you’ve mentioned it once or twice…” you giggle, shifting from his dick still inside of you. but you weren’t upset by it. “wanna stay like this.”

lando froze.

“don’t want this to change.” you whispered, eyes locking with his. “always this, lan, promise me.”

he didn’t hesitate on your insinuation. you wanted a life with him. a future. that was more than enough. shit, it was everything.

“always this, baby.” he promised you. his finger came to twirl the chain around your neck, the pendant glistening. your skin did too in the light, flushed and beautiful.

he kissed you this time. hard and slow. full of passion, but ultimate love. you pushed back into him, cupping his cheek. and when he made a move to breathe, “always this.”

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dustofthedailylife · 1 year

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Genshin Men as Influencers

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Zhongli, Kazuha, Cyno, Kaeya, Thoma, Tighnari x (gn!) Reader

Summary: What type of influencer would they be. What do they post.

Tags: Fluff, modern AU, short headcanons

A/N: This was a random idea I got today that I needed to get out of my system. And it got longer than I anticipated, oopsie.

Alhaitham | Bookstagrammer

He is neither someone who wants to stand in front of a camera talking nor does he desire to interact with people much. Yet he has this desire to share his thoughts about the books he reads with someone. When you propose the idea of becoming a bookstagrammer to him he is at first very dismissive about the idea, but eventually caves and creates an account. As it turns out he enjoys it more than he originally thought he would. He writes book reviews, does book hauls, and critical literature commentary. Reels are not his thing and he only posts pictures. His account blew up when he posted a selfie of him while reading a book. To this day he has not the faintest idea why that is what made his account grow exponentially. He turns to you whenever he gets DMs or comments that annoy him. He will sometimes ramble for half an hour about a single comment and explain in-depth why what that person wrote is utterly stupid.

Ayato | Fashion Influencer

He is predominantly a fashion influencer and model. Frequently posting pictures and reels of outfits, hauls as well as model and runway jobs. He is often described as the influencer who "effortlessly combines casual and business chic and turns it into a fashion statement". Always the best-dressed man around, no matter where he goes. Both his enchanting looks as well as his enigmatic personality draw his fans in. He has his own clothing brand for his trademark "casual business chic" which is quite successful. Every new collection is immediately sold out a day after launch. Yet, despite his fame, you had never seen or heard of him before. You randomly met him at a local bar where he offered to buy you a drink. You talked to him all evening and had just exchanged numbers with him when his face suddenly popped up on the TV screen at the bar. You had to do a double-take and reconfirm that the man on TV was indeed the one sitting in front of you right now. He had seen your glance and was now smiling back at you smugly, visibly enamored by the confusion that was written all over your face. For once he was happy someone didn't outright recognize him and just genuinely interacted with him without any second thoughts. And he fell for you right then and there.

Kaveh | Lifestyle Blogger

This man has so many things he loves he can't just decide on one thing. So he does kind of everything and his followers love him for it. He is smart, good-looking, artistically gifted, enjoys food, drink, fashion, and is into the latest gossip. His feed is a bit of everything, art gallery visits, food posts, fashion photos including OOTD, motivational quotes and more. He has a loyal fanbase that would do anything for him. They lovingly refer to him as "babygirl" all the time. When you become a couple he incorporates you into his posts and videos as well which lands you a couple of very angry DMs of fans who have formed a parasocial relationship with your boyfriend. And while you just ignore them, Kaveh absolutely can't and won't tolerate this behavior towards you so he replies to them from your account with an angry picture and a long DM. In all honesty, he is more upset over the messages than you are.

Wriothesley | Fitness Blogger

He is your classic fitness blogger and personal trainer. He posts training videos, nutritional advice posts as well as gym pictures of himself and fitness modeling campaigns he gets invited to. And he is quite successful at what he does. When you start dating you're not at all surprised when you learn what he does for a living. A man with his physique? Of course, he would be successful. You mutually decide to keep your relationship out of the public eye. Both because he wouldn't want you to get exposed to potential negative press or hateful DMs. But of course, paparazzi are more watchful than anyone ever could be. So naturally a picture of him and you kissing soon adorns every gossip magazine front page including your name and Instagram profile (because of course they also found that out...). Not long after #WrioYN starts trending. The posts under the hashtag are a mixed bag of either excited fans and positive articles or angry fans and negative press, who say that you aren't good enough for him. Since your relationship is out of the bag now, Wriothesley decides to take you with him to the next red carpet event where he provocatively and fiercely kisses you in front of everyone to show the world what he thinks about their opinion. You're his and he is yours, and no one would ever be able to change that.

Neuvillette | Food Critic

He is one of the most famous food critics around and gets invited to various restaurants all around the world. He writes reviews for the things he eats and drinks and rates the restaurants without mercy. If your restaurant gets a bad review from him you might as well lock the door and close forever. He rose to fame through a video that went viral where he taste-tested a variety of different water brands, grading them on a scale from one to ten as if it was the finest wine. At first, people were amused by the videos and created memes about it until it eventually gave him so much publicity that he was invited to restaurants. So he organically rose to fame practically overnight without even realizing it. This already led to some less nice situations where some angry restaurant owners insulted him in public for ruining their reputation or hate comments under his posts. He didn't understand what he did wrong or why they were so upset with him and he always looked for the fault in himself, socially isolating himself as a consequence. You're always there to lend your ear and shoulder to cry on to him when situations like these arise. He may look tough but you know he has a soft and fragile heart and often takes negative comments about his person way too much to heart.

Zhongli | Food Blogger

He is a food blogger, mostly known for his expensive taste and aesthetic tea brewing videos and it even expands beyond that to clothing and his appearance in general. When watching him prepare all sorts of dishes one could be inclined to think he has all the time in the world. Doing live streams where he brews tea or cooks for six hours or more is not a rarity. His followers love his insight and knowledge about all the ingredients he uses. He always sprinkles in little fun facts, trivia and random bits of information. Being his partner therefore also means you always get the privilege to have the most delicious and fragrant food served to you. If you didn't know better you would think he is a renowned Michelin chef. Food is definitely his love language. Sometimes you and him would do couple cooking streams together and his community is all over you two. You're receiving fanart and people even write fanfics about you two. Generally Zhongli, much like himself, gathers a very level-headed, polite and loyal community around him.

Kazuha | Travel Blogger

He never stays in the same place for long, so much so that at this point his followers aren't even sure he owns a home at all. His feed and stories are filled with magnificent locations from all over the world. From sunsets over to stunning mountain views and sandy beaches. His life feels like a dream. And his followers live it vicariously through him. Always starts his day by posting an inspirational haiku in his story and with supportive words to his followers. The most sunshine and feel-good influencer around and most certainly a good role model. You accompany him on most of his travels but mostly play the role of the camera person and photographer for him since he wants to keep your relationship private. Until one day he pulls you in front of the camera during one of his livestreams and passionately kisses you on the lips before blushing and turning the stream off right after. When you ask him what made him change his mind he tells you that his heart ached due to the rumors of him and another influencer dating and he wanted to get them out of the world once and for all. Needless to say, your heart and the press are on fire the next day.

Cyno | Entertainer

Of course, Cyno is an entertainer. His intimidating looks paired with an impeccable sense of humor immediately resonated with people all over the place. He quickly garnered a large audience both on Tiktok and Youtube and uploads a new comedic skit at least once a week. He also occasionally does some pack-opening streams whenever new TCG card collections come out. You're always there to support him in his endeavors and he is extremely thankful for that. You're always the first to whom he tells his ideas and sometimes you even get cameos in his skits. Some evenings you sit together while playing cards and brainstorming about new video ideas for him.

Kaeya | Fashion Blogger

Fashionista and icon through and through. He loves the spotlight. And his smooth-talking and sly nature has people on their knees for him all over the internet. Unfortunately, that causes him to have the most obsessed and delusional fans around. He mostly posts OOTD posts, fashion inspo and clothing hauls as well as various photographs of modeling jobs. He often goes live on Instagram and Tiktok to interact with his fans. Sometimes you ask yourself how he even manages to hold a conversation with them, considering that most of the comments and chats he gets are simping. But he is just a natural-born influencer. Knowing his bold nature it doesn't surprise you when he pulls you in for a long and intense kiss on the red carpet one day. Until now you had publicly taken on the role of his manager to disguise yourself. It was an idea that came from his actual manager. The reason for that is to divert the attention away from you and spare you from the wrath of his crazy fans. Seems like he finally grew tired of the act. His smug smile, the flurry of flashing cameras around you, and the feeling of his lips pressed against yours were proof enough of that.

Thoma | Food Blogger

Another food blogger and a really good one at that. The handsome blonde mostly posts aesthetic cooking videos, cooking ASMR videos, quick meal-prep recipes for a busy day-to-day life, as well as comfort food recipes. His fans say his tasty creations aren't the only snack on screen though. Interviewers always ask him about his opinion on what his fans say about him, which always causes him to laugh with a shy smile and a blush across his soft cheeks. He also often posts stories and gives some tips for chores and various other activities like knitting, cleaning, and other useful lifehacks. Occasionally he also uploads pictures of new recipes he is working on behind the scenes in his story. All of this earned him the title of the "Malewife Blogger" quite early on in his career and he fully embraced the title. He even has merch designs referring to the nickname his fans gave him. You are always the first one who gets to hear about his new ideas or gets to review and taste-test his recipes. You often tinker around on recipes with him until late at night. You also help him with the launch of his first cookbook by typing out all the recipes and editing the cover image of him standing behind the kitchen with his signature red apron and smile. And you would agree with his fans, the biggest snack in that cookbook is right on the cover.

Tighnari | Garden & Wildlife Blogger

He blogs about all sorts of wildlife, survival tips, and environment protection and gives gardening tips. His sassy and incredibly sarcastic nature and reactions to some comments are what draw people to him. He makes people aware of how ecosystems work and how to live in harmony with them. He sometimes posts reaction videos and stitches in reply to people treating nature in a disrespectful manner and goes on entire tirades about it as well. He suggests environmentally friendly products and eventually even launches his own brand of environmentally friendly cleaning agents he produces himself. Needless to say, it's a complete hit among his fans. You are supportive of his videos and often help him with filming and editing them. You went on trips with him even before he started his social media career so seeing him become famous and successful with what he enjoys most fills you with joy.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin brainrot #alhaitham x reader #ayato x you #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader #kazuha x reader #cyno x reader #kaeya x reader #thoma x reader #tighnari x reader #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

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kittenintheden · 9 months

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Where were you, when I was new?

AO3 Version Here bonus gift art by tavplum!!

Even the masters have to start somewhere.

Rating: E Word Count: 5.6k Content: 18+, Virgin Astarion, Pre-Canon Astarion, Law Student Astarion, Young Astarion, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Intercourse, Gender-Neutral Partner (3rd Person), Unnamed Partner (3rd Person)

Astarion Ancunín is twenty years old, a law student, and a virgin. At least, he is for the time being.

It’s not as if he doesn’t know he’s an exceptionally good-looking young man, not as if no one’s ever asked before. Not as if he’s completely inexperienced. He adores kissing. Flushes with pleasure when someone plays with his long, elegant ears. Participates in a little hand stuff here and there. He even received head and gave it back, once, at some party.

Really, it’s simply that he’s had other things to do – other lessons to learn, other books to study, other concerns about his future position – and no one ever seemed worth sharing himself with fully. At least, not the first time. What can he say? He has standards.

It’s neither here nor there, to be honest, because he’s deep in his notes from a recent lecture when a friend puts a hand on his shoulder and draws his attention away. He grumbles, annoyed at being yanked out of his zone.

“What, arthehole?” he says from between his teeth because he doesn’t want to drop the pair of gold-rimmed glasses that dangle from his mouth by one temple. He never did quite outgrow his oral fixation.

His friend tilts their chin toward the large double doors that offer entry to their university’s library, which is where they’re currently holed up. “Look sharp,” the friend says. “The mock trial team from Neverwinter just walked in.”

Astarion sits up and shifts his gaze to the group of unfamiliar students following behind an enthusiastic prefect who seems to be giving them the full tour of the Grand College of Baldur's Gate. They certainly look like standard Neverwinter fare – wizard-chic robes, scrutinizing stares, Northern city attitude. He leans his cheek on his hand, lazily sizing up the competition.

There’s one that stands out and he quirks his mouth up as he observes. This student is smiling brightly, slowly spinning in place to take in the shelves around them with wonder. Their clothing is simpler than the others, more street-friendly than cosmopolitan.

“Huh,” he says to himself.

“I think we can take them no problem,” his friend says. “But what do you say about running a bit of an insurance policy? Some friendly distraction, if you will.”

Astarion glances their way. “I’m listening.”

The friend points to someone toward the front of the line. “I’ll take that one. You know I’m a sucker for tieflings with blue… everything.”

He laughs. “Have at. I think…” He folds his glasses and slips them into his pocket, training his eyes on the student who stuck out to him before. “... I’ll deal with that one.”

“Good man,” says the friend, holding up a hand for him to clasp.

***

Some time later, Astarion leans casually against a support beam in the university’s canteen with his supper in hand, waiting. It isn’t long until the Neverwinter students begin to filter in and he quickly spies his target.

They’re taking in the room and the people around them, eyes soft and gentle as a cow’s. Elven, like him, he thinks. They look over their shoulder and happen to catch his eye for a scant moment. He tilts his head and they give a polite smile before stepping forward in the queue.

Astarion examines his nails closely during the several minutes it takes the group to retrieve their food and find seats. As the elf walks along the line of chairs, he makes his move.

Before they even notice his approach, he steps just in front of them and then startles as they knock into him.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” they say, mercifully righting their tray before anything spills. “I didn’t see you.”

“No, no,” Astarion says, smiling bashfully. “My fault entirely. I didn’t look to see where I was going. I’m terrible that way. Please, join me?”

He pulls out the nearest chair and gestures for them to sit. They blink at him, wide-eyed, then lean around to look for their friends, then back at him in slight confusion.

“Ah, sorry, that’s presumptuous, I shouldn’t-”

“No, it’s fine,” they say, their face brightening with another grin. “We’re supposed to be here to meet other students, anyway, so. Yeah. Yes, I’d be happy to join you.”

“Wonderful,” Astarion says, pushing the chair in under them as they take his offered seat. Behind their back, he casts a look over at his friend across the way. They waggle their eyebrows at him and go back to chatting up their blue tiefling. Astarion smirks.

He schools his features back to neutral as he takes his own seat, giving the Neverwinter student a tight smile, playing the part of the nervy introvert superbly. Right on cue, his glasses slip down his nose a bit and he adjusts them back into place.

“Do you actually need those?” his guest says, their cheek already full of food.

Astarion’s smile drops for a second before he snatches it back and gives a laugh. “What?”

They chew and swallow their bite before pointing at his face. “The spectacles. I was just wondering if they were for show or…” They pause and their eyes go even wider than usual. “I apologize, that’s really rude of me, forget I said anything.”

His surprised laugh is genuine this time. “You know what? I don’t actually need them.” To illustrate his point, he removes them, folds them, and puts them in his jacket pocket. He leans in like he’s about to tell them a secret and quietly says, “Honestly, I just think they make me look smart.”

Immediately, they burst out laughing and he joins them. The conversation flows smoothly, after that.

“What are you doing all the way down at the Gate?” Astarion asks, placing a forkful of his own food in his mouth to chew as they answer. He now knows their name, their year, that they adore snow foxes, and that they are indeed visiting from Neverwinter.

They pick off a piece of their roll, then another. “I’m here with the mock trial group. You know that one? We playact cases like you’d find in the courts. We’re here for a competition with the Gate’s team.”

“Really?” Astarion says, the picture of innocence as he leans in closer, fascinated. “Like theater? I didn’t even know we had one of those.”

“Oh, yes, it’s a lot of fun.” They’re animatedly waving their forgotten roll around as they speak. It’s cute. “We each take the side of either the prosecution or the defense and we sort of, you know, duke it out.”

Astarion giggles. “Maybe I should come watch this thing. Which side are you on?”

“Defense,” they say with a wink. “And we’ve got a killer case.”

“Is that so?” Astarion’s grin spreads wide over his face. “I’d love to hear more.”

***

It had been quite the productive evening. His companion spilled the details of nearly everything that mattered, from their witness list to the evidence they hoped to sneak in last-minute with a legal loophole. Astarion flirted up a storm, keeping them talking. And talk they did, punctuated with laughter and light touches and a general aura of friendship .

Astarion grimaces as he organizes his notes for the trial. It should begin in an hour and he’s been hiding out in the nearby lecture hall that serves as the makeshift judge’s chambers. If he’s really, truly honest with himself… he feels awful. His opponent had been sweet, friendly, and genuinely enjoyable to be around, if a little… south of brilliant. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize he actually kind of liked them. Would maybe consider flirting with them for real, even.

If only they hadn’t been so naively trusting . That was their own fault, wasn’t it?

He swallows the sour taste in his mouth.

Around then, his friend swaggers into the room with a blooming bruise on their neck and a sleepy smile. They flop down in the seat beside him.

“Good night?” Astarion asks, cocking an eyebrow at them.

“Blue everywhere,” they say as if they’re doped up. “Everywhere, Ancunín.”

Astarion chuckles and shakes his head. “But did you learn anything useful?”

His friend doesn’t answer and Astarion clears his throat to prompt them. They focus back in on him and say, “Erm, we were supposed to be learning something? I proposed running distraction.”

“Oh for the gods’ sake.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “No matter. I got all the details from my date, anyway.” He taps his notes against the desk to straighten them and slips them into his satchel.

“You mean their team captain?” his friend says.

Astarion freezes with his hand on the latch of his satchel. Turns his head slowly to gawk at his teammate. “Their. What?”

The friend shrugs. “Guess I did learn one thing, after all. My companion said you were sitting with their team captain. Thought it was a pretty bold choice.” They wink at him. “Good for you.”

“Shit,” Astarion whispers.

His friend frowns, but before they can ask, he’s up and pulling open the door that leads to their mock chambers. The Neverwinter team is already well underway on their setup. He storms down the center aisle and sure enough, there’s his dining companion, looking polished to a fine shine with their hair properly styled and robes of deep blue setting off their elven complexion.

They turn just in time to catch him glaring at them with his jaw clenched.

“Glad you could make it,” they say with a much slyer smile than they wore last night.

Astarion has never been so simultaneously angry and infuriatingly attracted to someone in his life.

***

The first trial of their three-day competition is, naturally, a complete bust for Team Baldur’s Gate. Astarion is completely off his game and operating off of a strategy that proves totally useless. The Neverwinter team absolutely trounces them.

He got played. He got played and he’s furious about it.

Worse, he’s impressed by it. Gross.

Afterward, they come up to him to offer a genuine, friendly handshake. Astarion reluctantly accepts it.

“I’d apologize,” they say. “But honestly, I let you take the lead completely. You didn’t have to listen to a single word out of my mouth.”

Astarion sniffs. “Yes, well. Congratulations. You won.” He leans into their space ever so slightly. “This time.”

They laugh and it sounds almost the same as it did the night before. “Come on, let me buy you a drink.”

“You don’t have to rub it- wait, what?” Astarion says.

They shrug. “Secret’s out now, I guess, so I don’t see any reason for us to pretend that we didn’t enjoy one another’s company.” When Astarion doesn’t immediately respond, they put a hand on their hip and smirk at him. “At least, I enjoyed yours.”

“Well, I…” Astarion huffs and looks askance, then back at them. “I don’t even know which parts of you are real , so. I can’t say.”

The elf reaches out a finger and taps him right on the center of his chest. “You’re the one who saw someone from one of the top universities in the realm and assumed I must be some foolish bumpkin who’ll spill their guts to the first pretty face that comes along because I smile too much. I’m the one who should be concerned, I think.”

“Ugh, okay, fair,” he says, tossing his head. Then he smirks back. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Come on,” they say with a laugh and a tilt of their head toward the exit. “Let’s get that drink.”

***

Hours later, Astarion stands in front of the tiny vanity in his dorm, turning his face to examine his reflection. His cheeks are flushed from a second and then a third drink, his curls looking a bit flat at the end of the day. He pulls back his lips to examine his teeth, making sure the wine didn’t stain them. Fine. He looks fine.

He huffs at his reflection. Normally, his confidence in his appearance is, one might say, inflated . Tonight, he’s feeling unusually self-conscious about it. He pokes at the moles under his eye and grimaces.

It had been a marvelous time. True to their word, his fellow captain had bought him the first cup of cheap wine. He’d pitched in for their second round, and they’d each decided on a third. After agreeing that tonight would involve absolutely no discussion of the next day’s case, they simply let the conversation take them where it would, and took them it did.

It was… easy. Instinctive. He told them all about leaving his terribly boring hometown behind for the call of Baldur’s Gate, determined to polish himself to a high shine and enjoy everything the city life had to offer. They told him that Neverwinter was a beautiful, sparkling metropolis, but woefully lacking in people who weren’t head-and-shoulders up their own arse.

Astarion fidgets with the wooden comb and brush laid out on his vanity, smiling. Wine loosened their tongues a bit more and they’d given into the compulsion to openly flirt with one another, and it had been… good. Very good. It’s been some time since he’s felt genuinely interested in spending an evening with someone this way. If anything, he thanks his dates for the delightful makeout session and goes on his merry way.

He runs his fingers along his bottom lip, remembering being partway into that third cup and snatched up with the overwhelming desire to kiss them. The air around them felt heated and heady, their laughs going lower in pitch as the night wore on, their eyes half-lidded when they looked at him.

He’d wanted to. He’d wanted to so badly. More than he could ever remember wanting to kiss anyone. And he’d let his nerves get the better of him.

They’d bid their goodnights, he’d come back here, and now he was flopping down onto his too-hard single bed with a huff, covering his face with his hands. He sighs and drags them over his skin, looking at his wall covered in parchment, his reminders and notes to himself everywhere, a few tickets to events he wanted to remember pinned here and there.

He reaches out and taps the flyer advertising the mock trial competition, feeling a slow grin spread over his face. They’d bested him today, but tomorrow… tomorrow’s another story.

***

The look on their face when Astarion delivers his final arguments to the judges is delicious. He’s back in the game, fully and completely, using every bit of performative flair to make sure all eyes stay on him. When he wraps it up, he pays them a smug glance and they’re looking at him with lips slightly parted.

Better yet, they’re blushing .

He positively beams.

Baldur’s Gate comes out victorious, leaving the teams one-and-one. Tomorrow will decide the competition.

Tonight, they all go out together to play.

The Neverwinter team is desperately competitive and worth every bit of the name they’ve made for themselves on the university circuit, but they also love to party. The two groups find a rager of a soiree happening at the winter house of one of the Upper City students. There’s dancing, and drinking, and no small number of heated exchanges.

Astarion doesn’t waste the opportunity to rub elbows with anyone notable – he has long-term goals, after all – but most of his attention is devoted to spending as much time as possible with his new Neverwinter friend.

They share a dance or two on the trellised patio, purple and white wisteria hanging down all around them and perfuming the air. Nothing salacious… at least, not at first. That second dance ends up a bit close, with their hand on his chest and his just the tiniest bit too low on their hip for propriety.

In the twilight, they look into his face, their own expression open and affectionate, and it hits Astarion again – that overwhelming desire to kiss them. His heartbeat quickens, fluttering his pulse up along the side of his neck, and his breath catches. Heat swirls through him from the place their hand sits on his chest.

This is ridiculous. He’s never had a problem kissing anyone else before.

He’s never wanted to kiss anyone like this before, though. This thing between them… it’s chemical. Magical.

The music drifts away and they drift apart.

He does not kiss them.

***

Day three of the competition dawns and it’s the fiercest one yet. Every member of each team is out to win and they bring their very best to the table. The professors and other staff acting as the competition's judges watch the back and forth with raised eyebrows, thoroughly impressed by their students’ passion.

And no passion is so intense as the passion between the two team captains, who pace around one another like a pair of territorial wolves, seeking any weakness at all. They stand on either side of a long table, making their cases back and forth. Occasionally they address the judge, but clearly this is a battle between the two of them.

“The evidence is crystal clear,” the Neverwinter captain states, eyes narrowed. “This man is corrupt, feeding information to the highest bidder with complete disregard for any life ruined in the process. It is unconscionable, and the court must see justice through.”

Astarion slams his hands down on the table for effect and leans closer, eyes on them. “The evidence reveals he feared for his life, for the lives of his family. He performed these misdeeds under duress. The true culprit is not in this courtroom. And that…” He pauses for effect, letting the tension stretch. “... is why I move for a mistrial.”

There’s a bark of laughter behind him from his teammate and the room goes nearly to shambles under the sudden upswing in feverish whispering. Astarion grins.

Astarion stands his ground.

Astarion wins his requested mistrial .

In the end, the final judging declares Baldur’s Gate the winner of the day, but Neverwinter the overall mock trial champions – decided by a single point.

The entire mock chambers breathes a collective sigh of relief for the end of a battle well fought and new friends made. Astarion’s teammates are swarming him, slapping his back and praising his performance. He’s grinning ear to ear and looks up just in time to see the Neverwinter captain come barrelling through the crowd to catch him in a hug. He gasps and instinctively wraps his arms around them in return.

After a solid squeeze, they stand back and put their hands on his shoulders. They’re flushed with the fight, with the win. Their eyes shine a bit in the light.

“Well done,” they say, beaming. “You were incredible.”

Astarion gulps and manages to pull on a smile. “Congratulations on your win.”

“You’ll be at the party tonight?” they ask, looking between his eyes.

“Of course,” Astarion says. “I'll see you later.”

***

And he doesn’t miss it.

Astarion stands in the mock chambers again some time later, the air far less tense and much more celebratory. The teams and their judges and staff mingle amid the catered trays of sandwiches and pitchers of cheap wine. He looks around with two cups in hand, seeking out his new friend. Friend. Friend?

When he spots them, he simply can’t stop the smile pulling at his mouth. He wants so badly to be cool tonight and they make it so hard.

He takes a breath and approaches them. They turn from the person they’re currently chatting with and light up when they spot him. Their companion looks at Astarion and takes their leave with raised eyebrows, clearly aware that their conversation is now over.

Astarion clears his throat and offers a cup. They accept it.

“It’s really very bad,” Astarion says with a scoff. “But it’s something.” He takes a sip.

They continue to smile coyly at him as they bring their own cup to their mouth.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Astarion says, looking into his cup so he doesn’t have to see their face.

There’s a pause, and then softly, they say, “Yes. Late morning. We’re hoping to make it back to Neverwinter before the snows start on the road.”

Astarion takes another drink of his wine and sets it down before he looks back at them. “That’s unfortunate,” he says with a soft, sad laugh. “Because I’ve rather liked the time we’ve spent together.” He pauses and swallows. “I’ve rather liked you .”

They tilt their head, wine held aloft in one hand, and let their smile widen.

When they don’t respond, Astarion says, “That is, you’re very clever to be around. Fun. Fun to be around? I like to be around you because you’re just…” He looks around desperately like he’s going to find help for this. “... incredible.”

They turn and set their cup down on a nearby bench.

Astarion rambles on, “I only thought maybe you might be, I don’t know, interested in letting me show you what else I’m capable of.” High-pitched laugh. “Outside the courtroom.” Clears his throat and blinks rapidly. “If you want.”

With a giggle, they grab him by the lapels and pull him in, pressing their mouth fully to his in a kiss that makes him immediately swoon, his legs going a touch weak as he leans against them for support. The chatter around them goes muffled in his mind as they both adjust for a better fit and he feels his ears flush pink to the very tips.

When the kiss breaks, Astarion can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his fingertips, in his lips, in his… oh, that’s going to be an issue very soon.

They catch his eye and say, “You want to get out of here?”

He’s never nodded his head “yes” so quickly in his life.

***

They don’t make it anywhere close to the dorms.

Now that the seal’s been broken, Astarion simply can’t keep his hands off of them. They escape into the hall together and run a few steps down the way when he crashes into them, wrapping his arms around them from behind until he gets them to turn so he can kiss them again, both hands on either side of their head as they stumble.

They run a ways, kiss a ways, run a ways, and so on until Astarion yanks them down a side hallway behind the library, looking from door to door. When he finds one he likes, he gives their hand a tug and they use the momentum to slam against him until his back hits the door. The pair of them laugh deliriously as they kiss again, tongues testing and discovering, but then they break from his mouth to kiss toward his ear.

The moment they suck on the lobe, his cock goes fully and painfully hard, hips bucking out as he whines into the air beside them.

“No, no, not there,” he says in a breathy whisper. “Not unless you want to call it a very early evening.”

They bury their face in the side of his neck, giggling, and he scrambles his hand around behind him until he finds the doorknob and they both go tumbling inside.

Astarion collapses onto the floor with his companion on top and doesn’t even think before he kicks the door shut with one foot and reaches up to bring their face back to his for another kiss. This time, he uses a thumb to stroke along the length of their own elven ear and then groan into his mouth, grinding down hard against him.

Oh gods, this is happening.

He wants this to happen.

On impulse, he reaches down their bodies until his hand's between his companion’s legs, gently cupping them there, and they sit upright, head thrown back in the very low magical lantern light of this filing room, and rock themselves against it. He does his best to give them the friction they’re seeking.

A minute or so later, they tilt their head forward and meet his eyes, their eyes stormy and lustful. They take his hands and pull them both back to standing, backing him up until he slams up against the side of the nearest filing shelf. Fingers fumble with the buttons of his doublet and he tries to help, getting them undone enough that they can reach their hands inside and scrape their nails over his ribs through his undershirt. Astarion’s chest arches forward, goosebumps prickling over his skin as he makes contented noises through their kiss.

Then they kiss down his neck, giving him a little nip near the collarbone that makes him squeak, which he attempts to cover with a purr. They keep going until they kneel on the floor and work at the lacings of his trousers. His tongue feels so heavy in his mouth, and he’s about to say that they don’t have to do-

But then their mouth is on his freed cock and he throws his head back, swooning into the overwhelming sensation of wet heat surrounding him. He’s done this before, and it was fine, but it wasn’t like this . Maybe it’s because he’s so attracted to them? Maybe it’s because they’re doing… that thing… with their tongue…

He whines and pulls in a deep breath, trying to keep his wits about him, because he highly suspects that one-sided head is not how they want the night to end. Before he reaches a dangerous place, he puts his hand on their head and gently slows them. They pull off of him and look up with a smile, their eyes the exact mix of mischief and sexiness that caught him in the first place.

No one’s ever made him feel like this. Not once.

This one, though. They’ve wound their way around the very core of him.

Astarion gulps and says, quiet and shy, “I haven’t done this before.”

Their eyes go a little wider. “Really?” they say, sincere. “You?”

He laughs. “I mean, I’ve done what we just did, but I haven’t… done what I think we’re about to do.”

They give his cock one more long lick that makes him sway a bit before they stand back up and kiss him. He melts into it. He likes them so very, very much. It hurts that they’re leaving, but this is right. He knows it is. These past few days and nights feeling them take root in him… they’ve all been leading to this.

“Well, then, I’m honored,” they say, and they sound like they mean it. “If we’re about to do what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, yes, please,” he says, kissing them again.

They each separate and disrobe, their clothing building a haphazard pile between them. Soon enough, they swipe the old files off the nearest table and his playmate faces it, bidding him closer with a smile over their shoulder, almost exactly the same as the first one they ever paid him in the canteen only a few nights ago.

Astarion takes his cock in his hand, still spit-slick, and puts his other hand on their hip. They lean over the tabletop, palms flat on the surface, and spread their legs for him. His breath stutters, his legs go weak beneath him. He can’t quite believe he’s here.

Beneath him, they shift their weight so they can put their hand over his. He’s shaking, just a little.

“We can stop if you want to,” they say, their words reedy with need but sincere beneath it.

“No,” Astarion says. Licks his lower lip. “I want to do this with you.”

They give a light laugh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He nods, then realizes they can’t see him. “Okay. Okay.”

His fingers move from their hip to the middle of their back and he draws the pads of his fingers down over their spine. They shiver under the touch and Astarion swallows hard. His fingers trace all the way to where their arse begins to curve. He shudders in a breath and brings two fingers to his mouth to suck, then reaches between their legs to touch them there, apply pressure, rub small circles.

They arch and hum beneath his ministrations.

Astarion holds his breath and pushes his fingers inside them, losing his footing just a bit as he feels their heat, the pulse of them around his fingers. When he has his wits back, he moves his fingers in and out, pumping slow, listening to their breath beneath him for cues on what he might be doing right or wrong. He turns his fingers a bit, mapping their body, and they give a shuddering sigh.

Their insides grow warmer to the touch. Are they supposed to do that?

“More,” they huff. “You can do more now.”

“Right,” Astarion says, withdrawing his fingers and moving in closer, his arousal pulsing with anticipation. It feels like crossing into a new world, going somewhere that will well and truly mark him an adult. And he’s ready.

His cock rests at their entrance and with one more breath he guides himself inside with his hand. There’s a brief resistance, a pleasant pressure against the head of him, and then he’s half inside. His hips instinctively give a second thrust and then he’s fully sheathed.

He gasps and curls forward into their body just as they arch into his. Astarion’s arm wraps around their waist and he holds them tight.

“Okay?” they gasp again, their legs quivering.

“You feel…” he pants, pressing his forehead to the space between their shoulder blades. “Gods, you feel so good.”

They laugh and reach a hand behind them to tangle in the hair at the side of his head. “You too. You feel good, too.”

Astarion huffs out his breath and tries to place a sloppy kiss to their back, but it’s so hard when this feeling is coursing through him and his thoughts are going haywire because everything is different, now. He’s different, now.

He draws his hips back and rolls them forward again.

They sigh with it, signaling their approval.

So he does it again. And again. And again.

Together they build a rhythm. Every once in a while, they help Astarion angle himself this way or that, teaching him how to make a partner feel, make them shudder, make them moan. He finds a spot near the front of them that makes them squirm and he files that knowledge away. They take his hand and guide him round to their front and show him what to do, how they like to be touched.

He’s a fast learner. Always has been.

Astarion pants as he attempts to commit every second of this experience to memory: being buried deep inside, feeling the shudder and movement of his partner, the way they flush and bloom, the unbearably sexy sounds that float from their throat to his ears. Most of all, he wants to remember how this feels , how much he enjoys the person he’s sharing this with. His heart thuds in his chest, his ears flush with arousal and affection, and he is so happy to be exactly here, in this moment.

The pair of them grow slick with sweat against one another in the unventilated room, their cries stifled and sultry. The minds are willing, but the bodies are young and eager. The passion building between them swells, shivering, laser-focused on the place where they meet.

Their rhythm goes chaotic and Astarion only barely holds on long enough for his partner to fall over the edge before he goes tumbling after.

For a scant moment, the world goes paler than he’s ever seen it.

Then they’re both whimpering through the other side of their peak, movements gradually slowing to stillness.

After they’ve had an awkward disentanglement and a more awkward cleanup, they look into one another’s faces, and then they’re kissing again, touching again, losing themselves again. What youth lacks in experience, it makes up in vigor.

They do it once more, face to face this time. Slower, longer. Astarion learns what it’s like to soul kiss someone while making love to them. He likes it. Very much.

Some time later, Astarion leans against the table and stares down at his doublet while he does up the buttons. Beneath his lashes, he peeks up and sees them looking at him, their mouth titled up in a sweet smile. They’re already fully dressed.

“What?” Astarion says airily. His cheeks are warm and he’s positive he’s rosy pink with a blush.

“You are so pretty,” they say. “And funny, and clever. You’ve been lovely company.”

Astarion raises his eyebrows and looks askance, unable to stop grinning. “Yes, well. You’re delightful, as well, and you certainly gave me a night to remember. Thanks, for that.”

It goes unspoken between them, the knowledge that this is the last and only night. They’re young, they’re dedicated to their studies. There won’t be time for lovesick letters and pining, nice as it might be. No. Best that they keep this memory contained in crystal, sparkling.

His opponent, his friend, his lover walks closer and puts a finger under his chin and Astarion allows them to tilt his face so he’s looking at them. Then they lean in and give him a tender kiss.

When they break away, they stay close and look him in the eye. “What you gave me was a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

Astarion smiles. “Nor I.”

With one last kiss, they say their goodbyes. “Goodnight, Astarion,” they say. “I do hope we meet again, one of these days.”

“Me too,” he says, watching their retreat. “Goodnight, Tav.”

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gender neutral reader

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yeoldenews · 3 months

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hello! i was wondering if you (or any blogs you think might know?) had any resources for edwardian fashion, more precisely edwardian teen fashion? i'm writing a story centering on two edwardian ghosts and would like help on their style of speech as well if you can't help on the fashion aspects. thank you!

In my opinion, if you want to be able to portray the authentic feel of a time period, there is nothing better than diving head first into primary sources.

Whenever I start any large research/writing project that’s centered on a particular year, I usually spend at least a couple of days just immersing myself in the era.

We live in an extraordinary age when it comes to primary source research (especially for the early 20th century) - there are literally millions of period newspapers/books/magazines/films/recordings floating around online.

Find out what books were popular and check them out! Read the newspaper! Listen to popular music! Watch silent movies or newsreels!

For teenagers, school yearbooks are a particularly great source to get an idea of how young people spoke, their senses of humor, common slang, casual fashion, as well as the daily routines and general vibes of the time period. Most universities have their yearbooks digitized and available online and can be pretty easily found on google (try searching: [year] [location if desired] yearbook digital collections).

As for fashion - there are so many great fashion history tumblrs, that it’s pretty hard to go wrong if you just explore the “Edwardian” or “1900s” tag a bit. One thing to keep in mind though - most dresses that end up in museums were owned by very, very rich individuals. So, though a great place to start, scrolling through blogs full of museum pieces to learn about fashion history is roughly the equivalent of learning about modern fashion by only watching Chanel runway shows.

By the Edwardian era most young people were wearing pretty much the same thing as adults by the age of 14/15. You were, however, starting to see the very beginning of what would become the modern “juniors’ section” - usually termed “Misses’” for girls and “young men’s” or “collegiate” for boys. Here are a few examples of this can be seen in period catalogs from 1912, 1911 (starting on page 21) and 1908.

It’s also important to keep in mind that fashion changed much, much more quickly than it does now. A woman in 1906 and a woman in 1911 would have noticeably different styles and silhouettes. I'd recommend scrolling through some fashion plates (going to shout out chic-a-gigot here who has a great collection of French fashion plates organized by decade and year) to get a basic handle on how the silhouette changed year by year.

In my past life I was fashion history specialist for high-end auctions, so I could go on in A LOT more detail about this subject, but I'm going to end it here before this gets too long.

#asks #history #fashion history #1900s #1910s #research #teenagers #writing advice #writing #research advice

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luvs4jhutch · 9 months

Text

National Anthem

Fanfic type: Smut One Shot Word count: 2.7k+ Pairing: Josh Hutcherson x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; praising, edging, calling names (baby, sweetheart, etc), unprotected sex, dry humping, oral (m receiving), creampie, female pronouns, aftercare.. (I don't know how to write endings so i'll put it as a warning too LMAO)

Summary: In a night filled with opulence, you dressed to impress for your lover's mysterious surprise. From a chic restaurant to a lavish penthouse, you basked in the extravagance he showered upon you. The evening unfolded with decadent courses, expensive wines, and whispered promises of more indulgent encounters. As the night progressed, the dimly lit room enveloped you, its intimacy heightening the anticipation with each passing moment. The air was thick with desire as the lavish surroundings became a backdrop for an unforgettable rendezvous.

Author note: This is the first time I write something here, I hope you like it. English is not my first language btw, feel free to correct grammar and stuff. Merry christmas LMAOO<3

˝Money is the anthem of success so put on mascara and your party dress.˝

You looked in the mirror one last time and were radiant. Your hair in a half ponytail; the black short dress that was both elegant and casual; your lips... they looked so desirable... You were ready, and you knew it.

You looked at the time on your cell phone 06:54 PM. You knew Josh wasn't an unpunctual person, especially when it came to you. A message appeared on the screen of the device you were holding «hope you're ready for our surprise, sweetheart» You didn't even bother to open it.

You grabbed your expensive Louis Vuitton bag and a gorgeous fur coat, both gifts from your lover.

You checked the time one last time: 7:00pm sharp. The horn of Josh's Bugatti Veyron that you already recognized sounded twice, indicating that he was already waiting for you. You took your keys and opened the door to your luxurious residence. You couldn't see him, his windows were tinted, but you knew he could. As soon as you got close enough to the vehicle, Josh got out of it and approached you, kissed your hand and opened the door for you to get into the car. “You look stunning,” he says as he sits in the driver's side. “Thank you,” you responded, giving him a smile that maybe was fake, wondering whether to add an «I already knew that» or maybe an «I always am».

"Are you ready?" he asked looking into your eyes. You nodded at his question and smiled genuinely. "Yes I am".

Josh started the engine and the car purred at the action. He lightly placed his right hand on your thigh. This would be a long night.

You drove quickly down the highway. "Can I turn on the radio?" you asked, already knowing the obvious answer. "Yes, honey," your lover responded without taking his eyes off the road. "West Coast" by Lana del Rey began to be heard on all the car speakers.

You sang along to the lyrics, feeling the breeze in your hair. Josh smiled at you, admiring your beauty and your voice. He squeezed your thigh gently, making you shiver. You leaned closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He kissed your forehead, whispering "I love you". You said it back, even though you weren't sure if you meant it.

You wondered where he was taking you. He had been secretive about the surprise, only telling you to dress nicely and be ready by seven. You trusted him, but you also felt a bit nervous.

You looked out the window and saw the city lights. You recognized some of the landmarks. You were heading downtown, to the most exclusive area of the city. You wondered what kind of place Josh had booked for you. A fancy restaurant? A luxury hotel? A private club? You felt a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

As you approached the downtown area, you couldn't help but think about the extravagant possibilities awaiting you. The city lights reflected in your eyes, mirroring the sparkle of your designer jewelry.

Josh, focused on the road, continued to caress your thigh with a possessive grip. The anticipation grew as the car glided through the upscale streets. You subtly adjusted your dress, making sure it showcased your curves flawlessly.

The car pulled up in front of a lavish restaurant with a discreet entrance. A valet opened the door for you, and Josh guided you inside. The dimly lit ambiance and the soft music set the perfect scene for a romantic evening. As you entered, heads turned to admire the stunning couple.

Seated at a private table, the evening unfolded with decadent courses and expensive wines. Josh, absorbed in conversation, lavished you with compliments, occasionally interrupting to share an anecdote about his successful ventures. You listened attentively, feigning interest, your mind occasionally drifting to the price tags of the exquisite dishes.

Throughout the night, you played the role of the perfect trophy girlfriend, smiling for the cameras that discreetly captured your moments. The more Josh flaunted his wealth, the more you relished in the attention and the material pleasures that came with it.

As the night progressed, Josh surprised you with a small velvet box. Your heart raced with excitement as you opened it to reveal a dazzling piece of jewelry: a diamond necklace that matched the earrings he had gifted you on a previous occasion. You marveled at it, thanking him with a kiss on the cheek.

As the clock neared midnight, Josh suggested heading to his apartment to extend the celebration. Intrigued, you agreed, wondering what else he had in store for the night.

The car smoothly glided through the city streets once more, and soon, you found yourselves in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. Josh escorted you inside, the anticipation growing with each step. The private elevator ascended to the top floor, opening into a lavish penthouse adorned with city views and opulent furnishings.

The atmosphere changed, becoming more intimate as you entered the spacious living room. Soft music played in the background, and the city lights shimmered through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Josh poured glasses of champagne, toasting to the night and the surprises yet to unfold. "To us," you added, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid.

As the night wore on, Josh led you through the luxurious penthouse. He guided you to a dimly lit room where a large, four-poster bed dominated the space. You stepped into the room, your heart racing with anticipation. The soft lighting cast an alluring glow on Josh's features, making him even more irresistible. As he closed the door behind him, you could feel the tension between them escalate.

Josh slowly approached you, his eyes roving over your body in a way that made you feel both excited and vulnerable. He reached out and ran his hands to your hips, pulling you closer, sending a shiver down your spine. "Tonight is all about us." He whispered to your ear. His lips brushed against your neck, sending a wave of desire coursing through you.

He led you over to the bed, his hands never leaving your body. He sat down, indicating with a nod that you should sit on his lap, which you did. You leaned closer to his lips and closed the small distance that existed with a passionate kiss, full of desire. His hands ran possessively from your waist until they reached the top of your back, where the zipper of your dress was, which was slowly lowered, revealing the skin that shivered down with every touch and caress that Josh gave you.

He stopped kissing your mouth, starting to focus on marking, kissing and licking your neck. Your head threw back in pleasure and your hips began to move slightly on your lover's lap, feeling his erection beneath you.

"It looks like someone prepared for tonight," Josh smirked after observing a set of beautiful lingerie that you were wearing under your elegant clothing, a gift he had given you on one of your previous sexual dates. You chuckled as you began to loosen his tie and slowly unbutton his shirt. You helped him take off his shirt while he removed the luxurious diamond necklace he gave you a few hours before.

"I have to pay you somehow, right?" He approached your neck again as you said those words. "Mhm…" He responded with a sigh against your skin "I guess you do, baby." You humped faster at his cock and he bucked his hips slightly, looking for more friction.

As the room filled with their passionate moans and soft gasps, Josh started to unclasp your bra, leaving your breasts visible which Josh quickly began to massage, licking one of your nipples while playing with the other to give them equal attention. "Josh…" you moaned softly to his ear at the sensation.

The tips of his fingers began to play with the edge of your underwear, lowering it completely as he buckled his hips looking for release. He pushed you away gently to look at you in your eyes "Kneel down, baby…" he ordered and you obeyed him like his good girl. Cautiously, you began to remove his belt and unzip his pants, him looking at you with desire and lust. You helped him take off his pants and lightly caressed his crotch. He sighed at the mix of need, desire and your hand going up and down really slowly, almost tortuously. You felt him tremble at your touch and after playing for a while you pulled down his boxers, his hard cock already dripping pre-cum. You swear your mouth watered at the sight, and you quickly started licking his length, from base to tip, on which you left a small kiss before finally taking his cock into your mouth, never breaking eye contact. Her hand slid to your hair and stroked it slowly. You swirled your tongue around his tip and he leaned his head back, holding your head tighter and closer to him. You gagged feeling the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and he immediately loosened his grip, letting you go at your own pace.

"Fuck…" He groaned and you hummed to his pulsating cock in response. His hand dropped to the bed sheets, squeezing them as he felt a knot form in his abdomen warning him of his orgasm. You noticed this and separated your mouth from his cock, a thread of saliva joining them both, as you began to jerk him off with a slow pace, edging him off. He rolled his eyes back into his head once more feeling his orgasm cutting off. He cupped your face gently in his hands, lifting it up. He looked into your eyes. His previously brown eyes were quickly consumed by the black of his dilated pupils, thanks to desire. You clumsily climbed back into his lap, his hands immediately settling on your hips with a firm, possessive grip. You grabbed his dick desperately and lined it up to your cunt, feeling the tip of it rub against you before sitting slowly on it.

"Oh fuck!" you exclaimed as he slid into you, hitting your cervix "God… you're so good…" He moaned as he felt your hot, tight pussy enveloping his cock. His hands left your hips and moved to your thighs, holding onto them as he started moving his hips slowly, pushing deeper inside you. You whimpered, meeting his pace as you grinded your hips against him. You could feel your orgasm building up, your pussy clenching around his cock with every thrust. He moaned, seeing your breasts swaying in time with his thrusts. "You're so fucking sexy riding me like that." He said, feeling your tight pussy milking his cock. His hips slapped against yours as he pushed deeper and harder inside you. Your body shaking with pleasure. Your eyes were rolled back in your head, your mouth open panting. You couldn't believe the pleasure you were feeling, his hard cock stretching you open.

"F…fuck… im so close…" You whispered between a moan, your eyes rolling back as you felt an intense wave of pleasure wash over you. "Be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart…" you tried to respond, but only moans and sighs came out of your mouth. The orgasm hit you like an electroshock drawing an almost screamed moan. Your thighs trembling on top of Josh; your eyes completely rolled into your head. You fell onto Josh's chest, your head on his shoulder and he held you gently. He slowed his pace so you would come down from his orgasm. Josh held you close, feeling your body shuddering from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. His heart raced, feeling the heat emanating from your body. He kissed your forehead softly, his own breathing heavy. "You're incredible…" he whispered to your ear before leaving another kiss in your forehead.

After a few moments, his heart rate slowly returned to normal and he couldn't hold back any longer. "Ready for round two, honey?" He asked, his voice hoarse from the pleasure. You nodded, feeling completely spent but eager for more. Josh pulled out of you slowly, making sure to prolong the pleasure before lying you down on the bed, his hard cock still twitching. Your legs spread slightly. He climbed on top of you, pinning your wrists over your head. His eyes hungrily eating you up and your body trembled with anticipation.

Josh thrust into you again, his movements both fast and hard, despite his efforts to maintain control. The sensation was intense, filling you up completely. His breathing became ragged as he felt himself close. "Fuck, you feel so good… so perfect for me…". You moaned loudly, feeling Josh's rough love deep within you. Your body arched off the bed, meeting his powerful thrusts eagerly.You could feel the intensity of his movements increasing further.

"I can't hold on much longer" Josh groaned, his hips slamming against yours in an unyielding rhythm. The head of his cock brushed against your cervix, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He bit his lower lip, trying to hold off his orgasm. His eyes were filled with lust. "Fuck, you're tight" he grunted, pushing deeper inside you. You wrapped your legs around him, encouraging him to go deeper. He felt your tight muscles gripping his shaft, pulling him closer to the edge.

His movements became erratic, thrusting into you with renewed force. "I'm gonna cum…" You moaned, feeling the pressure and tightness growing inside you. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts hungrily as he slammed into you again and again, feeling his cock twitching inside you. "I need you to cum inside me… please…" you whispered, your voice sultry and seductive. Your hips bucked up against him in perfect sync with his thrusts, your breasts swaying enticingly. Your nails dug into the sheets beneath you as Josh's pace quickened even more. "Cum for me…" you moaned seductively, pushing your hips up to meet his powerful thrusts.

Josh groaned loudly, his breaths becoming ragged as he felt himself getting closer to his climax. You writhed under him, meeting his thrusts eagerly. "Fuck, you're so tight… so hot…"

His hips slammed against yours one last time, his cock throbbing inside you. eyes closed tightly as he released himself into you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. His seed filled you up, feeling both hot and thick. He groaned loudly, his face contorted in pleasure.

He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He collapsed onto you, your panting filling the room. His cock twitched inside you as he tried to regain control. Slowly, he pulled out of you, a trail of his essence leaking out.

After a few moments, his breathing returned to normal. Slowly, he rolled off you, panting heavily. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with satisfaction. "That was… intense." He said, still trying to catch his breath. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his heart still racing from the intense pleasure he'd just experienced. Josh smiled at you softly, his eyes closed. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

Josh sat up carefully, his muscles still quivering slightly from the exertion. He leaned over to grab a couple of tissues from the bedside table, returning to wipe the remaining moisture from your inner thighs and between your legs. Josh gently ran the tissues over his own lap, wiping away the mix of his own semen and your fluids. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down after the intense passion he had just experienced. After he was done cleaning up, he scooped up the discarded tissues and placed them in the trash can, then crawled back and cuddled up next to you. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his face into your hair, inhaling your unique scent.

"That was amazing and… you were incredible," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "I'm gonna have to spoil you rotten after this." he chuckled and you smiled back to him. "Aww… you don't have to…" you said while caressing his cheek. "Of course I do" He responded to your attempt of kindness, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You curled into his warm embrace, feeling satisfied and fulfilled. A small smile played on your lips as you knew that this would not be the end of their secret encounters. There were many things you could ask for from him and he would gladly give, just to keep you by his side.

The room was a quiet sanctuary and your mind wandered to the tangible rewards that awaited you after this secret rendezvous. The diamond necklace he gave you whispered promises of future luxuries and you heard them attentively before falling asleep in your rich loverman's arms.

#josh hutcherson #peeta mellark #mike schmidt #sean anderson #clapton davis #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman #mike schmidt smut #smut #fnaf smut #peeta mellark x reader #clapton davis x reader

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winedarkthoughts · 4 months

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house of addams (5)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 5.4k

— 🍄 summary: what’s better than two nerds? three nerds, obviously.

— ☕ content warnings: jimin is a shameless flirt, mentions of death/decomposition/suicide, more scientific inaccuracies, jimin joins the league of nerds, namjoon is a sweetheart

— 🕸️ a/n: thank you so much to everyone who continues to read and comment!! your kind words keep me writing :)

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 5: triple threat

october 14, 2004

"How is it? Do I look human enough?" Jimin asks on their way out.

Yoongi pauses by the front door to assess him, raising a brow when he's able to take a look at Jimin's ensemble.

"Your glamour's solid," Yoongi replies, scanning him up and down. "Dressed up, huh?" He says it with a slight teasing lilt.

Jimin is decked out in fitted pants, a green turtleneck sweater under a black coat, his signature heeled boots, and one of his more expensive leather bags draped over his shoulder.

Jimin feigns ignorance as he looks down at himself.

"Oh, am I?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes and side steps him to slip out the front door, which opens and closes without any effort from either of them.

You don't want to talk about the dreams. They're nothing to worry about, really. Just a multitude of images and sounds and sensations. Some of them worse than others.

But even still, you don't want to talk about them.

Today, you're setting out for some more fieldwork, this time with Jimin the chemist adding to your bank of knowledge.

You pick up their coffee orders as well as some pastries from the cafe and head to the meeting site.

They're three minutes late, which you wouldn't have expected from Yoongi. Not to mention that they arrive together, cresting the hill and walking down the path like they came from the same place.

"Good morning," you greet them.

"It definitely is now," Jimin casually mumbles under his breath, but you still catch it. Yoongi does too, judging from the way his eyes widen ever so slightly ad his cheeks immediately flush.

You hand them their coffees, allowing yourself one (1) indulgent look at them before you focus your mind on work and not a pair of pretty faces.

Not that you've seen Jimin's full face. Again, he's wearing a black mask and tinted glasses, so really all you can see is his (absolutely cut) jawline, the curves and contours of his neck, and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. But this time he's wearing a black pageboy hat that hides most of his silver hair, probably on account of the cold.

The fact that he looks like a goddamn model leaving his chic apartment in the middle of Paris fashion week doesn't help your one look rule.

So you look at Yoongi, and shit it does not help.

He's wearing black skinny jeans, an oversized black button up, and a pair of battered sneakers. This time, his elegant hands are adorned with a multitude of silver rings, bracelets glint around his wrists, and several sets of dangling earrings frame his face.

His hair is fluffy with a slight curl to it. Did...did he style it?

He must catch you staring at him, because then his hands are fidgeting and he's looking down at the ground.

Clearing your throat, you grab your notebook to look over your bullet points.

"Alright, to the lake," you break the silence, leading the way while chugging your coffee.

Now that you have a little more information on Sharon Mason's death, you can analyze the site with a fresh perspective. It is indeed cold, and the water is no doubt even colder.

You did a bit of research, and apparently some of the first signs of hypothermia are the "-umbles," i.e. stumbles, mumbles, and fumbles. Then, involuntary shivering, loss of motor functions, and—

"Do you think she was dead before she entered the water?" Yoongi asks suddenly.

You're doing it again, damnit. Working alone for so long has given you a habit of talking to yourself, and sometimes it's hard to know if you're doing it (very much out loud) without realizing, since no one is usually there to comment on it.

It doesn't help that the two men have already proven to be distracting enough.

"In my opinion, no," you answer. The autopsy report, as well as all of your research, flashes through your memory like so many sleepless nights.

"It's much more likely that the temperature of the water lead to her demise," you say, half to yourself. Because of the high thermal conductivity, hypothermia can occur twenty-four times faster in water than in the air. Even in non-freezing temperatures, hypothermia can cause death in as little as forty-five minutes.

"And in the moderate stage of hypothermia, one of the symptoms is irrational behavior. Like removing their clothes even though they're freezing," you rattle on, eyes on the dark undulating water of Lurking Lake.

Honestly, that's one of the only reasons you can think of as to why Mason entered the water of her own volition. Even if you were to entertain the notion of suicide, hypothermia is often a slow and painful process, and survival instincts are likely to kick in involuntarily.

But the toxicology report stated she wasn't under the influence of any alcohol or drugs that could've explained the odd behavior. It just doesn't make any damn sense.

"So," Jimin says softly, as if sensing your frustration. "What did you want me to look for?"

You shake your head to clear the cobwebs, taking a few more sips of coffee.

"Anything unusual when it comes to the lake environment," you answer. The lake happens to be the area you have the least expertise in, so you're hoping Jimin will be able to make up for it.

"Tell me about it," you invite, stepping forward to examine the waterline.

Looking at it again, you notice several things you hadn't before. There's the same curtain of fog, the same cattails and lily-pad-like plants poking to the surface, but there's also a little wooden dock a small distance away.

Almost unconsciously, you start to move towards it while Jimin and Yoongi follow dutifully.

"Well, you've probably heard that it's polluted," Jimin answers.

"So I've heard. Polluted how, exactly?" you press.

You're closer now, seeing that the little dock is half underwater, old and rotted.

"The real question is what isn't it polluted by, really," Jimin continues. "There's the lead poisoning, the PFASs, the—"

"The what?" you interrupt, rummaging around in your bag for something to write with.

A little glint sparks in Jimin's eyes, the rest of him visibly perking up.

"PFASs, or perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, they're a subset of fluorinated chemicals, so they possess strong carbon-fluorine bonds—"

"Jimin, you don't need to go into detail..." Yoongi cuts in, but not in an annoyed way, more like he's anxious that you'll get annoyed.

"No, no, please go ahead," you encourage him, pen now poised over your notepad.

You can't see it, but Jimin smiles and blushes a bit under the mask.

"So, these are sometimes called "forever chemicals," because of their strong molecular bonds that can take hundreds of years to break down," he continues, with you one step behind him jotting everything down.

"Hmm, and I'm guessing you can find many of these "forever chemicals" in pesticides," you remark.

Another smile, this time from admiration, crosses Jimin's face.

"Correct."

While you were roaming around town to interview Laplan's wife and Sharon Mason's family, you found out that many of the townsfolk use a heavy amount of pesticides and herbicides on their land. You're guessing because of the strange fungus and tree rot that's been rapidly spreading.

As the three of you roam the perimeter of the water, you listen to Jimin's explanation of the other types of pollution in the lake, from nutrient pollution (or an excessive amount of nitrogen and phosphorous that cause algal growth) and the increase of TDSs (or total dissolved solids, usually due to an increase in the saltiness of the water).

You ask Jimin to collect some samples so he can test the salinity and get a more accurate sense of what specific chemicals you're dealing with.

"What about the wildlife?" you ask, watching a few tiny fish squirm between the rocks.

There's that same twinkle in his eye as he gets into it.

"Well, there's actually a pretty invasive species of leech in this lake," he says, sounding like a kid in a candy store.

He explains that these leeches can grow up to twelve inches long (jesus christ), and while different species of leeches can feed on organic material or prey on other animals, this specific species is purely parasitic.

Yoongi wanders off to examine some of the outlying plants while Jimin excitedly rambles on, with you listening intently to every word.

He has a strangely melodic voice, sweet and smooth. It's a voice you feel like you could listen to for hours.

Apparently, leeches have a numbing agent in their saliva, so the host can't even tell when it's been bitten. They also release an anticoagulant, making the host's blood flow faster, so there's even a danger of excessive bleeding after the leech has detached.

"You're quite knowledgeable on the subject," you say, allowing your interest and admiration to shine through your voice.

Jimin shrugs it off modestly, turning to continue along the path.

"I have specific interests, I guess," he replies. "I wanted to head a research project on this location, but there wasn't enough funding."

"Ah, that's a shame," you say sincerely.

"Yoongi wanted to look deeper into the local plant life mutations, but again, lack of funding," Jimin adds.

"Really?" you respond, and something in your voice must betray the way your interest snags, because Jimin looks up at you like he let something slip.

Maybe that's why the mayor recommended him to you, maybe he contributed to the push for answers.

Jimin wanders off a bit, and yeah anybody who wants to judge you for staring at him can press charges.

It's just so easy to watch him when he's focused, Yoongi too for that matter. They always put their hands in their pockets and lean forward, head tilting to the side and eyes narrowing as they hone in on whatever they're examining.

Yoongi is collecting some more plant samples, his eyes narrowed in what looks like confusion.

Jimin is staring at a specific spot in the lake, towards the center but still visible from your position.

"See something?" you ask as you walk up to where he's standing, following his line of sight.

He points to the spot he's been staring at, and you have to lean forward and squint your eyes.

For a moment, you don't see anything, just dark water and fog. Jimin seems to notice, being as perceptive as he is.

"Unfocus your eyes a little, be openminded," Jimin whispers in your ear like it's a secret.

You do as he says. It takes you a few seconds, but then you see it. The top of a wooden post sticking up from the gentle waves. And when you look closer, you can see the top of a sign. Through the water, you can make out the words DEEP WATER.

"Huh," you let out. "So the water level is rising."

"It would appear so," Jimin replies, and something in his voice suggests that he's thinking hard.

He pulls a tupperware container from some secret pocket in his coat, snapping it open.

Your attention shifts between the algae covered rocks and the tadpoles just under the surface. Then you smell something sweet.

Another look at Jimin answers why. He's pulled his mask down and is nibbling at a cupcake with swirling frosting, flecks of pure vanilla visible even from where you're standing.

It tickles something in the back of your brain.

"I should get going," Yoongi says, checking his watch. It reminds Jimin to do the same thing.

"Yeah, me too," he adds, readjusting the mask back over his face.

You check the time. It's only two p.m. Though it is Wednesday, and you remember Yoongi having to head home at a certain time during your last outing.

"Okay," you reply, expertly hiding your slight disappointment at having your time with them cut short. Just because you're eager to work through this case. No other reason.

"Let me give you a ride," you offer while you put away your notes.

"Oh, that's okay, we'll walk," Yoongi is quick to reply. "It's not far."

They gather up their things, checking their watches often like they're late for something.

"I'll get started on those tests right away," Jimin assures you, and Yoongi gives you a shy little wave goodbye.

They start on the path together, walking almost shoulder to shoulder. You watch them go.

Just before they crest the hill and disappear among the trees, you see Jimin hold up the last bite of his cupcake up to Yoongi's mouth, who takes the offering like it's second nature.

They seem to move like the tide, pushing and pulling effortlessly as if they've known each other for years. Maybe they have, it's not like you know a lot about them.

You resume your work feeling only a little hollow inside.

october 15, 2004

The next day, you're still feeling a little empty and aimless. So you go to your favorite place in town: Magic Shop Books and Oddities.

Namjoon sits behind the desk, wearing a collared shirt under a knit sweater. There's an open book in his hands, titled Morbid Fears and Curious Compulsions.

You allow yourself to watch him for a short moment, admiring how his eyes dart around the page, how he clenches his jaw occasionally when he comes to a difficult passage.

After a while, he looks up and realizes that you're there. He doesn't even flinch at the fact that you've been watching him. A warm smile crosses his face, one that makes his cheeks crease and his dimples pop out (and oh my god is he stunning).

"Hello," he greets you in that velvet voice. "Need help finding anything?"

And as much as you enjoy his company and expertise, you aren't here for research.

"I'm just browsing today, thanks," you reply, returning his smile.

You wander around for a bit, exploring more of the nooks and crannies that make this place so charming. You come across a narrow staircase towards the back of the shop, with a little sign pointing up and stating Poetry Upstairs ↑.

You start to ascend, feet padding on the rug which has been trodden on so much that the wood of the stairs is exposed through the tears in the material.

More shelves and oddities await. It's nice to browse the tomes aimlessly, giving yourself a little break from the constant tension of mapping out the case files in your head.

There's some taxidermy animals (a raccoon playing poker, a squirrel smoking a cigar), a rack of dusty, frayed vinyl records. There's even a little corner with some displayed apparel, fur coats and vintage dresses and old lace.

You comb through the racks, curiosity drawing you towards something unnamed but still itching under your skin. Then, you find an authentic leather jacket. The inner lining is a more warm material, perfect for cold weather, and the inside is crowded with little symbols stitched into the fabric.

You try it on and look in the antique mirror leaning against the wall. It's perfectly oversized, comfortable and practical. You look for a price tag but find nothing.

"How much?" you ask Namjoon when you descent back down to the counter.

He gives the jacket a once-over.

"Twenty bucks?" he says.

"What?!" you blurt out before you can help it. A piece like this go easily go for a hundred, not to mention all the detailing.

"No way, fifty at least," you respond. Namjoon's eyes widen a bit.

"That's very generous, but you don't have to—"

"It's you that's the generous one," you interrupt. "Fifty then, alright?"

A glint of stubbornness lights in his brown eyes. Luckily, you've been stubborn since the day you took your first breath.

"Thirty-five," he counters.

"Forty-five."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Thirty-seven ninety-nine?"

You tilt your chin up in consideration.

"Fine," you say, reaching for your wallet.

He smiles triumphantly as he rings you up. As he's placing the jacket into a bag, you pretend to notice something on the shelf behind him.

"Is that real amber?" you ask, and he turns his head to what you're pointing at. You slip several bills, enough to cover the difference, into the tip jar while his back is turned.

"Yes it is!" he answers proudly when he turns back around, and his visible joy is enough to spark something in the depths of your stomach.

"Interesting," you reply, grabbing the bag and your receipt.

After you've left through the front door, Namjoon glances at the tip jar with a barely concealed grin.

"Sneaky little thing."

october 17, 2004

You're sitting in the cafe with a fresh cup of coffee and a square of cheesecake to snack on when Jimin and Yoongi enter the establishment.

Still the epitome of sleek grace, they are both dressed in black.

Jimin is decked out in a leather trench coat, wearing the same heeled boots, his hair tucked into a black cap and his face obscured by another mask. A messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, which he cradles like the contents are more precious than gold.

Yoongi is wearing an oversized coat and a bucket hat, the same skinny jeans hugging his slim legs. And no, you're not going to apologize for staring this time.

And neither is anybody else, apparently. Because every patron in the cafe has looked up, and is staring just as intently at the two men.

But Jimin pays them no mind, scanning the room like he's looking for something. He finds it when his gaze lands on your face, which is (embarrassingly) already looking at them.

He takes it as an invitation, approaching the booth you're sitting at with determination, pulling Yoongi along with him.

"Hello, ______. Mind if we join you?" he asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement.

They sink down across from you, Jimin emptying the contents of his bag. Yoongi turns to go to the counter, muttering something about getting a coffee. Heads turn to watch him go.

Jimin spreads his notes across the surface of the table. Then he flashes three test tubes before your eyes, held between his fingers.

"See anything interesting?" he asks a little playfully.

One test tube contains clear liquid, one contains a slightly murkier liquid with sediment floating inside, and one contains a greenish sludge.

"I don't know what I'm looking at," you admit.

"This," he says, pointing to the one with the relatively clear liquid. "Is a sample taken just after we arrived at the lake. It falls under the category of slightly saline water, around 2,000 ppm."

"Ppm?" you cut in.

"Parts per million," he answers helpfully, and that's one of the things you like about Jimin. Even though he's an apparent "genius," as Yoongi put it, he never sounds condescending. He answers any and all of your questions clearly and happily.

"This is pretty normal for lake water, especially a closed body of water like Lurking Lake."

You tilt your head slightly to the side, not quite familiar with the details of a "closed body of water," and Jimin catches it instantly.

"Oh, so lakes that are formed from rivers and streams will have a constant flow of water coming in, right? But the water level of closed lakes tend to decrease because of evaporation. As a result, the salinity often increases because the freshwater is evaporating away."

"Okay, so what you're telling me is this is perfectly normal sample," you say.

"Yes, but," Jimin begins. "This one is a water sample taken just before we left the lake, so roughly an hour later."

He holds up the slightly murkier water.

"This water is highly saline, around 30,000 ppm. That's almost as much as the damn ocean."

Yoongi returns just as you try to wrap your head around what he's implying. Iced Americano for Yoongi, and a caramel latte and vanilla scone for Jimin, though you don't remember Jimin telling him his order. Maybe they do know each other that well.

"So," you start, still confused. "Two samples from the same source, but one is freshwater and one is saltwater?"

"Exactly," Jimin confirms. He lowers his mask to gnash at his vanilla scone, and you see a flash of his (the only word to describe it is luscious) lips before they are hidden again.

"That's..." you want to say impossible, but your previous work has proven that almost nothing is actually so. "Highly unusual."

You don't see it, too busy looking down at the surface of the table deep in thought, but the two men give you a look of respect for your specific word choice. Because if any other group of people in this town know that nothing is truly impossible, it's them.

"What about that one?" you ask, gesturing to the test tube with the seaweed-colored sludge.

"Ah! Now this," Jimin starts excitedly, holding up the glass so the strange stuff inside can catch the light.

"This is an isolation of the lake's main sources of pollution," he explains.

A chuckle escapes from Yoongi, making you whip around to look at him.

"Oh yeah, he stayed up all night with Melancholia, testing away," Yoongi quips fondly.

"Melancholia?" you can't help but ask. Sounds like a girlfriend.

A fierce blush flames across Jimin's face, you can tell because it reaches all the way up to his forehead.

"My microscope," he says in a voice barely above a whisper.

And is it adorable that Jimin has named a piece of his equipment? Yes, of course it is.

You offer him a non-judgemental smile, and he visibly eases up.

"Anyways, this is an amalgamation of all the substances polluting the lake. High concentrations of lead, nitrogen and phosphorous from the algae, and TDSs, though we know that's from the salinity. And I found a high number of synthetic surfactants," Jimin continues.

"Explain to me what that means?" you reply curiously, igniting the same little spark in Jimin's eyes when he gets to talk about the ins and outs of chemistry.

And the more you see that look on his face, the more you want to act clueless just so he has an opportunity to express it.

"So, a surfactant is a substance that tends to reduce the surface tension of the liquid it's dissolved in. These are most likely found in cleaning products and detergents, since their molecules break down the surface tension of water in order to allow the product to spread out and clean better, as well as attaching to dirt particles and rinsing away grease more easily."

"Okay," you say, nodding as you follow along.

"But most surfactants are skin, eye, and respiratory irritants. Carcinogens, sometimes even.”

“Okay,” you say, not sure where he is going with this.

“So, your latest victim, Sharon Mason, her body should’ve reflected the effects of these toxins since she was in the water for several weeks.”

“Hmm,” you mutter. Another mystery. You would think that Mason’s body was encased in time given how little it was disturbed.

“Could that have contributed to why she was practically untouched by the local wildlife? They could smell all the toxins in her body?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs like you’re not quite on the right track.

“Maybe, but there’s a hell of a lot more toxins in the water than there probably was in Mason’s body. Really, it’s a miracle there’s any wildlife in the lake at all,” he says.

You sip at your coffee contemplatively.

“Yoon, tell her what you found,” Jimin encourages, turning to his companion.

Yoongi clears his throat and spreads out some of his notes.

“So, you know how I mentioned that the flora in Ulthar's Grove looked dehydrated despite all the recent rainfall?" Yoongi begins.

"Uh huh." You nod along, listening intently.

"Well, the flora around the lake is not only severely dehydrated, it's dying from salt poisoning."

"Salt poisoning?" you inquire.

"Yeah, so not only does too much salt affect osmosis and draw water from the plant, it can also interfere with the chemical processes used to convert sugars into nutrients."

"Acid rain?" you think out loud, but Yoongi gives a little head shake.

"Not likely. Damage like this is almost always caused by absorption through the soil, since most plants don't absorb much from their leaves and stems."

You sink back in your seat. Fungi, tree rot, lake pollution, salt poisoning. It seems like the more you try to find solutions, the more problems you unearth. Nothing but fragments of death and decay.

You're tired today.

"So, what's next, boss?" Jimin says, voice light like he's trying to cheer you up.

"What could be causing such high concentrations of salt?" you ask to no one in particular.

"Well, a number of things," Yoongi answers. "Wastewater, excess fertilizer, mining and oil extraction."

"So mainly man-made problems," you interrupt. Yoongi offers that straight-mouthed smile.

"Unfortunately, most of the environmental problems that exist today are man-made," he supplies.

You let out a slight huff. You'll have to speak with the mayor to report your most recent findings. Now that you think about it, you remember some of your research on decomposition stating that bodies decay much slower in salt water. Maybe that was the main reason why Mason's body was so preserved.

But why the fuck would the water measure fresh at one point in time and almost as salty as the damn ocean in another?

"Fuck me blue," you sigh to yourself.

Jimin bursts out laughing just as he goes in for another bite of scone, and you thought you see a flash of sharp teeth. He's covering his mouth with his hand before you can be sure.

"Anyways, I've gotta get going," you say, gathering your things, missing the slightly disappointed look from both men as you do so.

"I guess I should get to studying too," Yoongi mutters, sticking headphones into his ears.

"Thank you both for your help, I really appreciate it," you say earnestly, giving both of them a grateful look.

"Of course! Let us know if there's anything else we can help with," Jimin replies, and you can see that he's smiling because of the ways his eyes crinkle above his mask.

You can't help but glance back at Yoongi as you're leaving, as he's diving into a boring-looking science book. It's then that you notice the little chunks of chocolate that he's spread out over the page, like it's a little reward for getting though the tedious reading.

Another tickle in the back of your brain. It's the one you feel when you feel like you're missing a connection, when you're debating on if one of the many innocuous details you can never seem to ignore are important or not.

You're aware again of the several pairs of eyes that are attached to Yoongi, most of them belonging to University students.

Why are they looking at him like that?

You've never been able to hold back the beast that is curiosity, so when you exit the cafe you linger by the entrance, waiting. Not long after, a handful of students leave with their coffees and treats now in to-go containers.

"Excuse me," you say in your best non-confrontational voice.

They stop and turn. Recognition glints in one of the young woman's eyes.

"Hey, you're the journalist, right?" she asks.

Your first thought is that word certainly travels in this town. The second is perfect, run with it!

"Yes, I am," you reply, letting yourself sound a little more official. "I was wondering if I could get a few comments. You'll be credited, of course."

They comply more easily than you would've thought, given the hesitancy of the other small town inhabitants. But then again, these were college students.

You ask them about the three decedents, then about the five missing persons. They tell you more of what you already know, but you have to cover all your bases.

Though, some of them claim that there was barely any press coverage, while some claim there was some tabloid-like slander.

When you've got the formalities out of the way, you get to the questions you really want to ask. Closing your notepad, as if to say "this is off the record," you ask,

"So what's the deal with him?" You nod your head in Yoongi's direction.

"He's a complete freak," one of them quips almost immediately, and it takes you aback.

"Yeah, he lives in that creepy house on the hill," another one supplies.

"He...doesn't really interact with anyone at the university," one of them says more hesitantly. "And he talks to himself. Like a lot."

Talks to himself or talks to his plants, you wonder.

"He's just got bad vibes, like the rest of them."

That makes you pause.

"The rest of them?" you ask.

"Yeah, there's like seven of them that live up there. All creeps, if you ask me."

You've heard enough. Clicking your pen sharply, you straighten and offer them a tight-lipped smile.

Because yes, Yoongi is a little unusual, but you don't care for people who talk that way about people they don't really know. Or maybe it's because you've been called a creep one too many times. It makes you want to show them just how creepy you can truly be.

"Thank you for your time," you say, turning and leaving them standing there on the sidewalk.

october 18, 2004

It's easier to just avoid sleep. If you don't sleep, then you won't dream.

You've been particularly agitated. Maybe it was from the encounter with the college students yesterday.

You like Yoongi and Jimin, they remind you of you. So it's a little disheartening to find out that the townsfolk don't take kindly to that type of person.

And you've hit a bit of a mental dead end with Sharon Mason. More research, more deep-diving, and you can't come up with a practical reason for what led to her death, and what happened to her body afterwards.

Now, as a private investigator, you've come across many cases that resulted in lackluster, disappointing, or downright depressing conclusions.

The unfortunate reality is that humanity, including many of the things they've invented, is a disease. Religion, tradition, social constructs, willful ignorance, they're all the main purveyors of cruelty.

But that same annoying part of your brain, tucked into the furthermost back corner, won't let you let go of the notion that something is unusual about everything here. Something that cannot be explained by conventional methods.

You take an afternoon to decompress by the lake. Even though it was the location of a mysterious death and several strange anomalies, you can't help but feel that the atmosphere is somehow peaceful.

Okay, maybe you are genuinely weird.

The swirling fog is almost hypnotizing, the chill is invigorating, and you enjoy watching all the little squirming fish in the shallows. You even brought a little packed lunch and thermos of hot, frothy coffee.

It's as you're sitting along the shoreline that something unusual happens.

One moment, the air smells of musky lake water, algae and rotting wood. The next, the brisk, biting wind of the sea is whipping through your hair.

The water appears less green and more deep blue. When you look back at the shallows, they no longer house tadpoles, but anemones and small starfish.

You only hesitate a moment before you're reaching in your bag for a sample container, using a pair of tweezers to pluck up some of the organisms.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, mind reeling with possible explanations. You don't come up with many.

When you look back up at the water, a pale hand is sticking up from the gentle waves. It's held out to you, fingers curling slightly, beckoning.

Your stomach nearly falls out of your ass. The hand is only a few meters away, though you can't see anything beneath it given the darkness of the water.

A second, maybe two, though it feels like your breath has been stolen for several minutes.

The hand folds inward, and this time it's an unmistakable invitation.

Less than a blink later it's gone. The water is back to its sickly green color, and the scent of moss and festering wood is back.

Hands shaking, you linger long enough to seal the specimen container and stow it safely in your bag, then you get the hell out of there.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! I would be your best friend forever if you’d be so kind as to share some of your thoughts on the chapter! shit is starting to go down!!

NEXT UPDATE: ??

#bts x reader #bts ot7 #bts fanfic #bts series #ot7 x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts fanfiction #bts mystery #bts angst #bts poly au #bts poly x reader

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 14 days

Text

Back home p.4

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part, here's part 3 if you've missed it.

You hesitate for a moment, fingers hovering over your phone screen before finally typing out the message to Charles.

Hey Charles, it’s Y/N. I know this might sound a bit silly, but I was invited to a party tonight for the first day of school. Since they saw me getting a ride from Arthur, they figured out I know you, and they asked me to invite you. No pressure at all, I totally understand if you have other plans or don’t want to go.

You hit send, not really expecting much. Charles is busy—always has been, always will be. Arthur, on the other hand, had already agreed to come without hesitation. He'd said he didn’t want you to go alone, insisting with a protectiveness that made you feel a bit more at ease about the evening.

You sigh, standing in front of your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. The party probably wasn’t anything too fancy, but knowing Monaco, you didn’t want to underdress either. You sift through your clothes, settling on something casual yet stylish—a dress that’s just the right balance between effortless and chic.

As you start to get ready, you catch a glimpse of your phone lighting up on the bed. You reach for it, surprised to see Charles’s name pop up on the screen.

Hey, Y/N. I’m not sure if I can make it, but I’ll try to swing by if I can.

You smile at the message, a small flutter of excitement in your chest. The fact that he even responded, let alone might come, was unexpected.

You type a quick reply: No worries at all, I totally get it. But if you can come, that’d be great!

You finish getting ready, slipping into the dress you picked out. It hugs your figure just right, and with a final glance in the mirror, you add the finishing touches—some light makeup and your favourite earrings. Just as you’re adjusting your hair, a knock sounds at your door.

When you open it, Arthur is leaning against the doorframe, dressed casually but effortlessly cool, as usual. For a moment, his breath catches as he takes you in. His eyes sweep over you, lingering a little longer than usual, and a wave of possessiveness surges inside him.

"God, she looks stunning," he thinks, jaw tightening slightly. He can't help the feeling that bubbles up every time he’s near you—the desire to keep you close, to have you all to himself. It’s more than just friendship, and he knows it. But it’s easier this way, staying in the space between, rather than risking it all by making a move.

“You look…” he starts, clearing his throat, his voice softer than usual. “You look gorgeous.”

You smile, brushing off the compliment as you grab your bag. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Arthur flashes a grin, but inside, all he can think about is how tonight, he’ll have you by his side. At least for a little while.

As you pull up to the party, you’re expecting something laid-back, a small gathering of students at someone’s house. But when you arrive, your eyes widen in surprise. The “house” in question is a massive mansion, lights twinkling, and music pulsing from inside. Cars are lined up out front, expensive ones, and you can already hear the hum of a crowd, loud and lively.

“This… is not what I was expecting,” you mutter, glancing over at Arthur, who smirks, not surprised in the least. “I should’ve known it’d be something over the top.”

Arthur chuckles, keeping his hand casually on the steering wheel, but his focus is still on you. “Welcome to Monaco parties, chérie. "

As you step out of the car, Arthur stays close, his hand gently guiding you by the small of your back. You don’t think much of it—it’s just Arthur being Arthur, always looking out for you. But as you walk through the entrance, heads turn, and you can feel people watching, murmuring as you and Arthur make your way through the crowded space.

Girls start to notice Arthur, their eyes lighting up as they recognize him. A few begin to make their way over, smiling, calling his name. You watch, amused, thinking it’s funny how much attention he gets in a place like this. But Arthur seems less entertained. His hand at your back shifts, his touch firmer, guiding you more directly through the crowd.

You don’t notice the way his jaw clenches, or the way his grip on you tightens slightly as if he’s making sure you don’t slip away. To you, it’s just Arthur being protective, the way he always is.

“You’re really popular tonight,” you say with a light laugh, not noticing the flicker of tension in his eyes as more girls try to catch his attention.

He smiles down at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s find somewhere quieter,” he says, his voice low, almost like a suggestion, but there’s a firmness to it that you don’t pick up on.

You nod, completely unaware of the possessiveness behind his actions, assuming it’s just his usual concern for your comfort. As you walk together through the party, Arthur keeps you close, his protectiveness wrapping around you like a shield.

You feel safe, never suspecting that to him, this isn’t just about keeping you safe—it’s about keeping you his.

The evening progresses, and despite the overwhelming size of the party, you find yourself having a good time. Arthur stays close by your side, making you laugh, sharing stories, and keeping you entertained. Every now and then, more people approach him, eager to talk or catch his attention, but Arthur barely engages, always redirecting the conversation back to you. It feels comfortable, easy—just like old times.

After a while, though, you feel the need for a break. “I’m going to grab a drink,” you tell Arthur over the music, gesturing toward the bar. “Be right back.”

He hesitates for a moment, as if he wants to go with you, but then nods, giving you space. “Don’t be too long, okay?” he says with a grin, his tone light but his gaze lingering on you as you walk away.

You weave through the crowd, making your way toward the bar, and when you finally reach it, you order something simple, grateful for the moment to catch your breath. As you take a sip, you turn to head back to Arthur, but suddenly, a guy steps into your path.

“Hey there,” he says, his voice slurred slightly. He’s too close, his eyes roaming over you in a way that makes you instantly uncomfortable.

You try to move around him, but he steps in front of you again, blocking your way. “Why don’t you stay and chat for a bit?” he suggests, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, thanks,” you say firmly, trying to keep your tone polite but strong. “I’m with someone. I need to get back.”

But he doesn’t back off. Instead, he leans closer, his breath smelling of alcohol. “Come on, don’t be like that. Just a quick drink, huh?”

You take a step back, your heart starting to race as you glance around, but the crowd is thick, and no one seems to notice what’s happening. “Please, let me through,” you say, your voice more insistent now.

The guy chuckles, clearly not getting the hint. “You’re too pretty to leave alone. Come on, sweetheart, stay a little longer.”

Before you can respond, a sharp voice cuts through the noise behind you. “She said she’s not interested. Move along.”

You freeze for a moment, recognizing the voice immediately. Slowly, you turn around, and there, standing just behind you, is Charles. His expression is calm, but there’s a dangerous edge to his tone, one that leaves no room for argument.

The guy glances at Charles, clearly recognizing him, and for a second, it looks like he’s going to say something snide. But Charles steps forward, his presence commanding. “Leave,” he repeats, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The guy mumbles something under his breath before stumbling away, finally leaving you alone. You exhale, the tension in your body slowly releasing as Charles turns to you.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now, his concerned eyes meeting yours.

You nod, still a little shaken but grateful. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks… I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Charles smiles slightly, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze. “I told you I’d try to come. Seems like I showed up just in time.”

Tag list: @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @janeh22, @victoriaholland, @abq654, @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @anaferreira-4, @larastark3107, @itgirlofthecenturysposts, @boherahpsody, @iamkaku, @jz12

Here's part 5

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc x female reader #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc

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candyk0rn · 6 months

Note

Could you potentially do headcannons for JJK men seeing their S/O who’s normally always in baggy clothing or lounge wear in something fancier for the first time if possible? You can choose who and no need to do my request!

I love your writing so much and you’re so talented have a good day/night!! And make sure you’re taking care of yourself :D

𐬺Layers𐬻

Hey! Thanks for the request, so glad you are liking the writing! It’s always rough writing for a fandom I’ve never written for/am new to. Hope you enjoy!

‘How Jjk men would react to an s/o that normally wears baggy/casual clothing wearing fancier clothing for the first time’

Included: Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Gojo Satoru

F.Megumi:

Your taste in more comfortable clothing is actually something that drew him to you in the first place

He has a strong liking for comfort over quality or looks

Which, when the both of you begin actually going out, he made some effort to dress a little nicer

It was the first time he had taken you to lunch, he waited outside of the cafe patiently for you

His head quickly turned when he heard you call for his name,

..but blinked in confusion when he saw you

He didn’t even realize the heat rising to his cheeks when he blankly stared at you

He didn’t exactly say anything at first when you finally got to him, not sure what to say

But he knew he had to say something, so it was the truth

“You look nice.”

It’s a nice sentiment, and after he says that he smiles

Megumi enjoys seeing you dressed like this, and he’ll admit it in his own subtle way

It’s also entirely obvious that he is flustered the entire time the both of you are out

Help him 🙏🏻

G. Satoru:

Satoru is the kind of guy who believes relationships should go both ways

Which, rightfully so.

But you show up in something more tight-fit and chic

And he is FLATTERED and FLUSTERED™️

He’d say something stupid like

“Oho? Wearing that just for me?”

If it’s a day around the city, trying on different clothes, tasting different foods, seeing different popular sites

You best believe during clothing shopping he hands you clothes he would’ve NEVER showed you before

“I think I’ll like you in this one.”

“You mean “me”, right?”

“I said what I said” then he starts giggling and kicking his feet fr

He definitely understands how you’re drawn to comfort over fit, that’s how he met you after all

But he will admit to you that it pleases him when you wear something a bit more form fitting

I.Yuuji:

Hopefully Megumi is there 🙏🏻 Yuuji needs someone to pick up his jaw for him

He doesn’t care to hide his shock when he sees you dressed in finer attire for the first time

He might play around and pretend not to recognize you at first

He feels so much more protective of you

He was already keen on not sharing you with girls and guys who hit on you, but now he’s so much more so

He can’t keep his hands or eyes off of you,

Though that’s nothing new

After the first interaction, he doesn’t bring much attention to it

At least, not intended attention

He feels bad, he doesn’t wanna keep calling you out or anything

Like..maybe you didn’t want him to say anything? Maybe you just wanted to dress up?

Poor boy is stressing over NOTHING.

He’s just not a big fan of change, is all

But he likes this one a lot! Even if it’s only for certain occasions

He looks forward for all of those occasions

He will make more plans in order to see you more dressed up

Thanks for reading!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #fyp #for you page #x reader #x y/n #self insert #fanfic #fluff

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spectra-bear · 8 months

Text

future interpretation of the gang, ill prolly add jacob later on, but i really like how it came together with the help of @giantrobotslug

(notes below)

- The burners here are in their mid to late 20s

- claire officially moved into motorcity, rocking her own style (smth like cyberpunk/futurepunk? with a mix of retro space chic, and racer outfits as well, similar to the amazons episode) i will probably design more outfits for her since shes so fun to draw

- dutch works along the cablers with tennie, so he picked up a bit of their equipment into his everyday outfit (outside of driving), always has his mask and wrench on him, but also uses a coat from time to time when taking time alone to make art

- texas picks up workout, and gains weight and strength, but his suit's sleeves cant fit his arms in, so he just ties them by the waist and calls it a day lol

- julie around this time has already cut off ties from kane, completely changing her look, piercings, a nine lives cat sleeve tat on her left arm, and a burner flame tattoo sleeve on her right arm (that i forgot to add) matching mike

- mike's still holding onto his iconic jacket with a few stitched up rips here and there, loosely worn with the bottom tucked in, he keeps his sleeves folded to show off his tattoo, plus practicality, he also has his spark staff clipped to his belt

this was the second time i drew him, since his first draft looked kinda off

- chuck takes up a more loose/casual and comfy look, with a coat resembling the design for his matching ride, blonde thunder, he also has longer hair

#tattoo idea for mike was designed by @r0b0t1me #motorcity #azzy art #this was so fun to do #art #fan art #mike chilton

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amputeewomen · 8 months

Text

What do you think about this dress?

Mia: Hey, Sophie, do you think I can pull off this dress?

Sophie: Mia, you look stunning! That shade of blue is gorgeous on you.

Mia: Thanks, Sophie! But do you think it looks odd with my flat shoes? I have to wear them because of my prosthetic.

Sophie: Not at all, you look chic and comfortable. It's all about how you feel in it, and honestly, I think the flats add a cool, casual vibe to your look.

Mia: I was a bit self-conscious about it. I want to look nice but I also need to be practical.

Sophie: Trust me, Mia, you've got both down perfectly. You're rocking that dress, and the flats are a smart choice. You're showing off your unique style, and that's what fashion is all about!

Mia: You know, Sophie, it wasn't an easy decision, but I'm actually happy I chose to amputate. Those endless surgeries to save my leg wouldn't have been worth it.

Sophie: I can't even imagine how tough that decision must have been, Mia. But seeing you now, so vibrant and full of life, I think you made a brave and wise choice.

Mia: It felt like I was taking control back from my situation, you know? Instead of being stuck in an endless loop of surgeries and recovery.

Sophie: Absolutely. You took charge of your life, and that's admirable. And can I just say, your prosthetic is seriously cool. It's like high-tech fashion.

Mia: Really? I guess it does have a kind of modern edge to it.

Sophie: For sure! It's sleek, it's functional, and it represents your strength and resilience. It's part of what makes you unique, Mia. And paired with your style? Unstoppable.

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maryhadalittlehobby · 5 months

Text

Recap of IWTV Screening and Conversation at 92stY

(Please dont repost/reupload my pics or vids from here or IG anywhere else. Sharing/linkinh is ok. Thanks!)

I started the day with a fang gang meetup hosted by Black Girl Talks Fangs. The restaurant was cute and the food great. I'm not a big wine drinker but got a blood red Chateau in honor of the occasion. After, we headed over to the event space.

In my experience attending different events there, the actors typically come in just before the event starts or a few minutes into the screening.

In this case- it was both.

Eric strolled up super casual and had a convo with myself and a few other fans asking if we had read the books and what we were looking forward to. He gave a parting message that the season is amazing and he is not just saying that because he is part of it. I believe him. He was super personable and down to earth.

Delainey arrived next and again kind and generous with her time. She has a very chill energy. Her outfit was more casual this day but I thought chic and the face card never declines. Her makeup artist does her right! And can we talk about that sleek ass ponytail

She complimented my cosplay and said she thinks my beret might be the screen accurate one!

She asked to touch it and said mine was softer!

She also said Carol Cutshall gifted her the beret so she owns Claudia's.

I put this cosplay together in 3 weeks which is barely enough time. Thankfully I had the idea knocking around since October when we first saw this fit in the trailer that dropped at NYCC 23.

Myself and a few fans waited till about 15 minutes into the start of the screening before we gave up on waiting for Jam Reiderson.

While running to the screening I nearly literally ran into Rolin. I asked for a quick pic which he obliged.

The episode was amazing. Very much on par of season 1 so far. Can't wait to see the full thing. Delainey fit into Claudia seamlessly.

The panel itself was great as well. I have a few vids in my IWTV highlight on IG and a few others in an upcoming youtube video I will make AFTER the episode drops. There are some spoiler bits plus 92Y is dropping the full panel too after the ep airs.

Highlights include watching Jam Reiderson literally communicate telepathically- what was the fun on set story?!

Sam slapping Jacobs' lower inner thigh in front of god (Rolin) and everyone.

Working together is like putting on an old glove. An old sock?! Lol what. 'Is that dirty?'

Assad trauma dumping on main. "Armands lost...like me." "I'm intimidated by the cast" Sir please!

Assad also being spicy saying he thinks Armands memory of Lestat is pretty accurate. Drag him king😄

Delainey and Jacob gushing about how they immediately bonded and established their father/daughter/sibling vibes.

Eric calling Jam puppies and Jacob saying "I'm a grown man a parent"lol Sir you are a baby girl as evidenced by

Rolin saying that's a book and this is a show. To me that said was book lovers have the book and you always will but this is a new thing that respects the source but isn't tied down to every single detail.

Then Sam saying there are contradictions even within the series. Please lets talk about it.

And I love this new narrative everyone is spinning, even Sam, who seemed to be in the Lestat is right and Louis is lying boat last press go round. Now everyone is saying there is no right and wrong or truth and lies-the story is told by different people with different perspectives and that's all. Which yes! that's ALWAYS how I saw it! Just because Lestat became the main character and most favored doesn't mean he is infallible.

Jacob and that plushie. Who would have imagined he'd love it so much. Another fan was coming with their Lestat. I don't know if they had intentions of giving it to Sam but sadly they didn't make it.

After the panel I went back to the spot and aimed to get Jacobs signature on my Street of Immortality print which I managed.

I would have loved to get Sam's to but I also wanted to give other fans the chance to get photos and autos. I was already so lucky.

They signed for a loooong time. So long I thought our side wouldnt have a chance or only a few people would. Turns out fans were conducting mini interviews with them lol Someone needs to collect all the questions and answers.

Also they are the smallest cast you've ever seem. Pocketbsized. Everyone one of them is so unassuming.

Overall I had a super good time. The audience vibes were immaculate. The person beside me during the screening/panel was losing their shit then apologizing. But honestly I was here for it lol

Also you could 100% tell it was an audience full of the online fandom.

I ended the night checking out the Time Square ad. It was awesome to see our vamps represented. Hopefully we get a ton of new fans from all the amazing marketing this year.

#vampchella #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc iwtv s2 premiere #amc iwtv x 92sty #92st y #amc iwtv 92st y screening #IWTV 92stY screening and conversation #nyc #jacob anderson #delainey hayles #assad zaman #sam reid #rolin jones #eric bogosian #iwtv cast #iwtv cast and crew

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f14fun · 3 months

Text

pages and podiums (!author x op81) - chapter 2

synopsis: in which case y/n, an author hosts a signing and a read-out-loud of the final installment of her book series in new york city. oscar, lost in the big city, stumbles by the bookstore and is immediately intrigued by her (and her books).

prose (5.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | prev ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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Oscar had told me to dress nice.

That's all his text message contained. "Dress nice."

To this day, I cannot fathom why men simply lack the need to provide detail into the dress code of the night. It's as if they assume we can read their minds or that 'dress nice' is universally understood. Men seem to operate on a different wavelength when it comes to these things. While we're left deciphering cryptic messages like "dress nice," they seem content with the vague directive.

Maybe it's a test of our fashion intuition or perhaps they genuinely believe that 'nice' is a universally understood standard.

Either way, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, debating between outfits that ranged from elegant to casual, all while wondering if 'nice' meant dinner-date chic or something more formal.

Texting him a series of, "???" and a "Could you please be a little bit more specific, I'm (slightly) freaking out in my apartment right now 😭", he responded in a mere matter of minutes, while I was sitting on the stool of my makeup vanity, painting on my eyeliner to utmost precision.

Taking an absentminded glance at my cellphone while I haphazardly used a q-tip to wipe off excess mascara, he responded with, "Don't worry, you don't have to dress to the nines, just something that you are comfortable with."

His prompt reply brought a mix of relief and amusement, contrasting sharply with my frantic preparations.

As I smoothed out the edges of my makeup, I couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation—here I was, meticulously applying makeup to look effortlessly 'chic and nice,' while he nonchalantly reassured me with a casual text.

It was a reminder of the different approaches we often had towards such occasions, him opting for simplicity and me, in a flurry of brushes and cosmetics, seeking clarity down to the finest detail.

But what can I say, isn't there a famous saying that goes, opposites attract?

Settling on a silky white dress with black trim around the neckline, I draped a white blazer on my shoulders. The wide neckline beautifully emphasized my collarbones, adding a touch of elegance to the ensemble. It was a choice that balanced professionalism with a hint of chicness, perfect for the occasion I was preparing for.

The silky fabric cascaded down in gentle folds, skimming over my figure with a graceful flow. Paired with the structured lines of the blazer, the outfit exuded confidence and sophistication. The contrast of white against black trim created a striking visual impact, drawing attention to the neckline and framing my face in a flattering way.

As I stood in front of the mirror, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility and lost in my thoughts—as I often am—a sudden ring shattered the silence. Startled, I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, joking to myself that authors must have a knack for interrupting serene moments.

Curious to hear Oscar's voice after our earlier exchange, I answered the call with a smile, ready to continue our conversation.

"Hey Y/N," he answered in a low voice. There was just something about his greeting that exuded a newfound sense of confidence from the nerdy and dorky brown-haired boy.

"Hi Oscar," I replied, suddenly shy at the seemingly flirty intonation of his voice. I gulped. This was going to be a long night if I kept blushing like a school-girl every time Oscar spoke.

Not that I was complaining though.

I would love a long night with Oscar. (Dear reader, if you know, you know)

"I'm at the front of your apartment building," He replied.

"Already?!" I shockingly replied. He had told me that he would be here at 6:30 PM. It was 6:15 PM. Over the call, I could here his faint laughed at my surprise.

"Wow, you are here so early," I said, "Kudos to your promptness, I'm impressed," I joked.

"Well, you know me," Oscar replied smoothly. "When there's a chance to see you, I'm always ahead of schedule."

His confident response made me smile. "I'll be down in a minute then. Just don't let all this early arrival go to your head, Mr. Punctual."

"I'll try not to," he chuckled. "But no promises. See you soon, Y/N."

"See you soon, Oscar," I replied, hanging up the phone with a grin. This night was definitely starting off on an unexpectedly fun note. I just hoped it would end with the same amount of vigor and flirtiness.

I hastily tucked my makeup pouch and phone into my purse, swiftly crossing the hallway of my apartment complex to reach the elevator. Tapping my foot nervously—and with a touch of impatience—I looked forward to seeing Oscar as I descended thirty-seven floors. This felt like the longest elevator ride of my life, each floor passing with excruciating slowness as anticipation built in my chest.

Finally, the doors slid open on the ground floor. Stepping out, I scanned the lobby, my heart skipping a beat when I spotted Oscar standing near the entrance. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape as he took in my appearance. I couldn't help but grin mischievously at his stunned reaction.

"Well, someone looks like they've seen a ghost," I teased playfully, walking towards him with a confident stride.

Oscar blinked rapidly, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I... uh... I mean... wow," he stammered, clearly at a loss for words.

I laughed lightly, enjoying the rare moment of leaving Oscar speechless. "Cat got your tongue, Mr. Piastri?" I quipped, standing before him now, reveling in the flustered expression on his face.

He managed a sheepish smile. "You just... you look amazing," he finally managed to say, his eyes still wide with admiration.

"Well, thank you," I replied with a pleased smile. "You're not quite too shabby yourself, Mr. Piastri," I added, giving him a playful once-over.

Oscar chuckled nervously, adjusting his collar. "I... uh... well, thank you," he said, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

As we stood in the lobby, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation and a hint of nervous energy. People passed by, casting curious glances our way, but we were lost in our own little bubble of playful banter and mutual admiration.

"You know," Oscar began, his voice a touch more confident now, "I've been looking forward to tonight."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "And why's that?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Because I get to spend it with someone as charming as you," he replied smoothly.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his unabashed flattery. "Smooth talker," I teased, leaning casually against the wall.

"Only for the smoothest writer I know," he quipped back.

"Touche, touche, I'll give you credit for that remark," I responded, my eyebrows raised at his quick response.

"I have a surprise for you," Oscar said with a mischievous glint in his eye as we walked towards his car.

"A surprise? I love surprises!" I exclaimed, curiosity piqued.

He chuckled softly. "Guess where we're going for dinner," he prompted, his tone playful.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Oh no, not this again. You know I'm terrible at guessing," I replied with a smirk, remembering the countless times I'd failed miserably at guessing his job earlier that day.

Oscar laughed, a warm sound that filled the air. "Come on, give it a shot," he encouraged, nudging me gently as we reached the car.

I sighed dramatically, pretending to ponder. "Hmm... Thai food? Sushi? Maybe a cozy café with gourmet burgers?" I guessed, each suggestion more outlandish than the last.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nope, nope, and nope," he replied, enjoying my playful attempts.

"Fine, fine," I conceded with a grin. "Just tell me already."

Oscar paused for a moment, relishing the suspense. "We're going to an Italian restaurant," he finally revealed, watching my reaction carefully.

"Italian?" I repeated, surprised yet pleased. "That sounds wonderful," I admitted, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of pasta and candlelit ambiance.

He nodded, his satisfaction evident in his expression. "I thought you might like it," he said softly, opening the car door for me.

The ride to the restaurant was quite smooth, albeit we were stuck in traffic for around forty minutes but the drive was still pleasant nonetheless. Oscar distracted me from my imminent road rage as a New Yorker, and the fact that sometimes, I still felt overwhelmed by all of the bright lights and glamor that New York City had.

As we finally arrived at the Italian restaurant, Oscar found a convenient parking spot near the entrance. He held the car door open for me again, and I stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk, feeling a mixture of excitement and hunger.

The restaurant's exterior exuded a cozy charm, with warm lighting and inviting aromas wafting through the air. We walked inside, greeted by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. A hostess welcomed us with a smile and led us to a corner table with a view of the twinkling city lights through large windows.

"This is perfect," I commented, settling into my chair and taking in the ambiance.

Oscar smiled, pulling out my chair for me before seating himself opposite. "I'm glad you think so," he replied warmly, picking up the menu and handing one to me.

"Are you hungry?" He gave me a cheeky grin. Before I could respond, my stomach growled loudly. Betrayed by my body at the worst possible moment, of course.

Turning a bright beet red, Oscar let out a laugh.

"Well, my stomach answered before I could so, enough said," I rolled my eyes, still embarrassed, the red heat on my face expanding to my neck.

Oscar chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess that settles it," he said teasingly. "Let's make sure we order enough to satisfy both of us and your hungry stomach."

"How nice of you to include my big back in the discussion," I joked.

"Always a gentleman," he rolled his eyes.

Taking a look at the menu, my eyes widened at the relatively expensive prices. I still had some debt accumulated from my four years spent at NYU. My job as an author didn't even cover all of that.

Oscar noticed my hesitation and leaned closer, his voice gentle. "Don't worry about it. Dinner's on me tonight," he reassured me with a warm smile.

I shook my head, a playful glint in my eyes. "Oh no, I couldn't let you do that," I protested lightly, though secretly touched by his gesture.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "It's not a problem, really. Just promise me one thing," he said, his tone turning teasing.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What's that?"

"Promise me a signed copy of your next book series," Oscar replied with a grin. "That's more than enough payment."

"Don't tell me you would betray me by selling those books on eBay," I say, mocking him.

Oscar gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "I would never! Your autograph is priceless to me," he replied, his expression mock-serious.

"Yeah, you definitely couldn't sell it if I wrote a heartfelt message on the front flap of the book," I replied. Immediately coming up with a way to embarrass him.

"Oh please, enlighten me with your plan," he responded, making direct eye contact with me as if to challenge me. Staring at him back, I responded.

"In the front flap, I could probably write, Dear my little Pookie-Bear Oscar Cutie-Pie,-" I say, and before I can even finish Oscar choked on the water he was sipping. Both of us burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement I just said.

"Yup, I am never, saying that ever again in my life," I shook my head in mock disbelief.

"But what if I wanted you to call me that," Oscar said slyly.

"Oscar, are you seriously into that," I said, raising an eyebrow as I tried to keep a straight face (hint, I was failing), the sides of my lips quirking up as I tried to restrain my gummy smile.

"Ocassionally," Oscar said, surprising me that night once more.

"Oscar!" I whisper yelled.

"Only with you, Y/N, only with you I promise," he smirked. Rolling my eyes and blushing, I replied.

"So you would be fine if I called you Oscar my Pookie Bear," I teased, fiddling with the golden ring on my index finger.

"Only if I got to call you Y/N my Cutie Pie," he responded, emulating the same vibe.

"Deal," I challenged him.

"Shake on it?" he asked.

"Shake on it," I responded.

He reached out for a handshake, and his hand fully enveloped mine. Despite his profession as a Formula One driver and his regular workouts, his palm had a surprising smoothness that contrasted with the slight roughness of his fingertips. It was a sensation that immediately caught my attention—a tactile reminder of his strength and determination, yet with a gentleness that made me feel oddly comforted.

As our hands met, a subtle warmth spread through me, and I couldn't help but notice the way our fingers interlocked naturally, as if they had found their perfect fit. We both blushed slightly, caught off guard by the intimacy of the gesture in such a public setting. His touch felt reassuring and strangely familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

Though extremely cliche (as an author, nonetheless), for a brief moment, time seemed to slow down around us, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. It was just us, connected by this simple yet significant gesture. I stole a glance at Oscar and found him already looking at me with a softness in his eyes that mirrored my own feelings.

"Sorry," Oscar murmured, a hint of bashfulness in his voice as he withdrew his hand, but his eyes held a softness that mirrored my own feelings.

"No, it's okay," I replied softly, feeling a rush of gratitude for this unexpected connection. "I... I liked it."

Oscar smiled shyly, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Me too," he admitted, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary.

The waiter returned to our table with a warm smile. "Are you ready to order?" he asked politely, holding his notepad at the ready.

I glanced at Oscar, a playful twinkle in my eye. "I think we're finally ready," I replied, turning my attention back to the menu. "I'll have the Fettuccine Alfredo, please."

"Excellent choice," the waiter noted, jotting down my order. He then turned to Oscar. "And for you, sir?"

"I'll have the Margherita pizza," Oscar said with a nod, handing back the menu.

The waiter nodded, jotting down the order swiftly. "Anything to drink?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine," I answered.

Oscar looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll go with a sparkling water, please."

"Of course," the waiter replied, smiling warmly before heading off to place our order.

I turned back to Oscar with a grin. "Pizza and pasta—classic choices," I remarked teasingly.

He chuckled, a lightness returning to his demeanor. "Can't go wrong with Italian cuisine," he replied, his gaze meeting mine. "Especially when enjoyed in good company."

Are you saying I'm good company?" I teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Oscar's smile widened, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "I suppose I'll have to wait until after dinner to make that judgment," he quipped, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "But if this pizza is as good as they say, you might just have some stiff competition."

I laughed softly, feeling a pleasant warmth between us. "Oh, I see how it is," I replied with mock indignation. "Pizza versus my sparkling personality—may the best contender win."

Oscar chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "It's going to be a tough battle," he agreed, lifting his water glass in a mock toast. "But I have faith in both contenders."

"Speaking of pizza," Oscar began, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "I once had a friend who insisted he could make the best homemade pizza. It turned out to be a disaster." He shook his head, feigning dramatic horror. "I think I nearly choked down every bite, trying not to offend him."

I laughed at the mental image, imagining Oscar's valiant effort to endure the culinary ordeal. "Oh no, that sounds like a true test of friendship," I teased, leaning forward with interest. "How did you manage to survive?"

"Well, let's just say I had plenty of water on hand," Oscar replied, his tone tinged with amusement. "And I made sure to praise his pizza-making skills as convincingly as I could."

"Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," I mused with a grin. "But you survived to tell the tale, so that's what counts."

Oscar nodded solemnly, though a playful glint remained in his eyes. "Indeed. And now, I can appreciate good pizza even more," he said, gesturing towards the restaurant's kitchen with a nod of approval.

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in closer. "So, who's this friend of yours? Anyone I might know?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar chuckled softly. "His name's Lando," he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Also known as my annoying and slightly older but slightly shorter teammate."

I grinned, picturing the dynamic between Oscar and his friend. "Sounds like quite the character," I commented, amused. "Does he still try to impress you with his culinary skills?"

"All the time," Oscar replied with a laugh. "But I've learned my lesson. I stick to letting him handle the driving, and I handle the pizza orders."

"Smart move," I teased, swirling the ice in my water glass. "It's all about knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses, right?"

"Exactly," Oscar agreed with a nod. "And trust me, after that pizza incident, I've become quite adept at steering him away from the kitchen."

I chuckled, imagining the scenes that must unfold between them. "I bet he keeps things interesting though," I remarked, a playful glint in my eye.

"Oh, definitely," Oscar said with a fond smile. "He's the kind of guy who always brings excitement wherever he goes, whether it's on the track or just trying to cook dinner."

Curiosity sparked, I leaned forward slightly. "Speaking of cooking, do you cook?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar's expression turned comically horrified. "God, no," he replied with a laugh, shaking his head emphatically. "I leave that to the professional chefs that travel with us."

"Wait, you have professional chefs traveling with you?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "That's quite the perk."

"Yeah," Oscar nodded, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "It's one of the luxuries of the racing circuit. These chefs are like nomads, following us from race to race, making sure we're well-fed and ready to perform."

I couldn't help but be intrigued. "That's incredible," I admitted, picturing a team of chefs crafting gourmet meals in the midst of the adrenaline-fueled world of Formula One racing. "I guess it takes a lot to keep up with the demands of your schedule."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed. "They're not just skilled chefs, they're also part of the team dynamics, ensuring we have the right nutrition and energy levels for each race."

As I absorbed this new insight into Oscar's world, I found myself more fascinated by the intricate details behind the scenes of Formula One. "It sounds like a whole different lifestyle," I mused, leaning back in my chair.

"Mhm," he said, looking up at my eyes, then looking down towards my cherry-red lips.

I couldn't help but laugh at his response (or lack thereof), a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Fair enough," I said, amused. "Are you as bad as Lando in the kitchen then?"

Oscar chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I'd like to think I'm not that bad," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "But let's just say my skills are better suited to driving a race car than handling a spatula."

"Well, at least you know your strengths," I teased lightly, taking a sip of water. "And you're lucky to have Lando for the culinary adventures."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed with a grin. "He keeps things entertaining, that's for sure."

"But when I do attempt to cook," Oscar continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "I try my best to learn new recipes." He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "Key word being 'try'."

I chuckled, imagining Oscar navigating through a kitchen with the same precision he used on the race track. "I can picture it now," I replied playfully. "Oscar Piastri, the daring chef, mastering the art of... well, trying."

Oscar laughed along with me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Exactly," he said, shaking his head with mock solemnity. "Let's just say, there have been a few... interesting experiments."

"I'm intrigued," I admitted, leaning forward with curiosity. "Any memorable disasters you'd care to share?"

"Well," Oscar began, a grin spreading across his face, "there was this one time I attempted to make pasta from scratch. Let's just say it ended up resembling something closer to sticky dough than pasta."

I couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. "Ah, the joys of culinary exploration," I remarked, shaking my head fondly. "But hey, at least you're willing to give it a shot."

"And that's what counts, right?" Oscar replied with a wink. "Trying new things, even if the results are... questionable."

Our banter continued, punctuated by shared smiles and the occasional playful exchange. As we awaited our meal, the anticipation mingled with the easy comfort of our growing connection, creating a moment that felt both lighthearted and promising.

"So, what about you?" Oscar asked, his eyes curious as he leaned in slightly, genuinely interested in my culinary exploits. "Any culinary adventures or misadventures of your own?"

I chuckled softly, reminiscing about my past kitchen escapades. "Oh, plenty," I confessed with a playful grin. "There was this one time I tried to impress my friends with homemade pasta. Let's just say it turned out more like noodles stuck together in clumps than the elegant strands I envisioned."

Oscar chuckled, his expression amused. "Ah, the classic pasta mishap," he commented with a knowing nod. "It's tricky to get it just right."

"It is," I agreed, smiling at the shared understanding. "But you know, every mishap is a learning experience."

"That's the spirit," Oscar replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Did your friends at least appreciate the effort?"

"They did," I confirmed with a laugh. "Although I'm pretty sure they were just being polite."

"Well, that's what friends are for," Oscar remarked, his tone light and teasing. "To eat your culinary experiments with a smile."

Our banter was interrupted as the waiter arrived, balancing a tray laden with steaming plates of pasta and pizza. The enticing aroma filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

"Ah, here's the moment of truth," Oscar said with a grin, his eyes lighting up as he surveyed the delicious spread before us.

I couldn't help but mirror his excitement. "It looks amazing," I commented, taking in the sight of perfectly cooked pasta and the bubbling cheese on the pizza. "I'm glad we went with Italian tonight."

"Me too," Oscar agreed, reaching for his fork eagerly. "Let's dig in."

We both took our first bites, and the flavors exploded on our palates, confirming our expectations. I savored the rich tomato sauce and the tender pasta, while Oscar seemed equally pleased with his choice of pizza.

"Mmm, this is really good," I said between bites, nodding appreciatively.

Oscar nodded in agreement, his mouth half full. "Definitely hits the spot," he managed to say, swallowing before continuing. "I'm glad you're enjoying it too."

"By the way," Oscar said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "if my pasta-making skills ever fail me again, can I count on you to come to the rescue?"

I chuckled, playing along with his playful flirtation. "Well, I can't promise gourmet, but I'll do my best to salvage the situation," I replied with a grin.

"Good to know," Oscar teased, his smile widening. "Maybe we can turn it into a team effort next time."

I laughed, enjoying the easy banter and the hint of flirtation in the air. "Team cooking," I mused aloud. "I think we might just have a winning combination."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed, leaning in a little closer. "You bring the charm, I'll handle the taste-testing. It's a partnership made in culinary heaven."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playful words. "Sounds like a plan," I replied, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in my eye. "Just don't blame me if we end up ordering takeout."

Oscar laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Fair enough," he said, his voice low and teasing. "As long as we're having fun, that's all that matters."

"You know," I began, setting down my fork thoughtfully, "as much as I love writing, I also really enjoy cooking."

Oscar looked genuinely interested. "Oh? What got you into writing?" he asked curiously, his eyes focused on me.

I smiled, tracing the rim of my water glass with my finger. "It's something I've loved since I was a child," I explained. "Books were my escape, and writing became my way of creating worlds and stories that I could get lost in."

"That's incredible," Oscar replied, his tone sincere. "It must be fulfilling, bringing characters and stories to life."

"It really is," I admitted with a soft smile. "And cooking is another creative outlet for me. There's something about creating a dish from scratch, experimenting with flavors… It's like writing, but with food."

"I'm glad you think so," I replied with a smile, appreciating his interest. "Writing has always been a part of me. One of my favorite pieces that I wrote was actually a poetry anthology for a non-traditional poetry class I accidentally signed up for at NYU."

Oscar's eyebrows lifted in curiosity. "Accidentally signed up for?"

I chuckled softly. "Yes, it was one of those situations where I thought I was enrolling in a different class, but it turned out to be a wonderful surprise," I explained. "The anthology ended up being a collection of stories that my mother and grandmother had told me from a young age, stories infused with cultural ties and traditions."

"That sounds fascinating," Oscar remarked, clearly intrigued.

"It was," I continued, my voice growing more animated. "Each poem was written in different languages, reflecting the diversity of my heritage, and I included drawings and pictures alongside the text to capture the essence of the stories."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully. "So, it was a blend of storytelling and visual art," he summarized, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"Exactly," I confirmed, pleased that he understood. "It was an exploration of my roots and a way to preserve those cherished narratives in a creative and meaningful way."

"Did your family get to see the anthology?" Oscar asked, his eyes reflecting his curiosity.

"Yes, they did," I replied with a warm smile. "It meant a lot to share those stories with them in such a personal and artistic format."

Oscar grinned mischievously. "Well, I guess accidental enrollments can lead to some pretty amazing discoveries. Who knew you were a secret poet?" he teased lightly, his eyes dancing with amusement.

I chuckled, shaking my head playfully. "I certainly didn't see it coming, but I'm glad it happened," I admitted with a smile. "It opened up a whole new creative avenue for me."

Oscar leaned back slightly, his grin widening. "So, does that mean you'll be writing a poetry anthology about racing next?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow in mock seriousness.

I laughed, amused by his playful suggestion. "Poetry and racing? Now there's a unique combination," I replied, feigning thoughtful consideration. "Maybe I'll call it 'Odes to Speed and Asphalt.'"

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying our banter. "I can already picture it," he teased, leaning in closer. "Each stanza capturing the thunderous roar of engines and the thrill of the track."

"Exactly," I agreed with a playful wink. "I'll make sure to include a sonnet dedicated to the smell of burning rubber."

His laughter filled the air, blending seamlessly with the relaxed ambiance of the restaurant. "Now that's poetry I can get behind," he admitted with a grin. "You might just start a whole new genre."

"Who knows?" I replied, smiling back at him. "Maybe I'll revolutionize the literary world with my racing-inspired poetry."

"Only if you credit me as your muse in the introduction of your poetry book," he teased.

I chuckled, feigning reluctance. "Hmm, I suppose I could consider it," I teased back, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "But I'll have to warn my readers about your penchant for bad homemade pizza stories."

Oscar laughed, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eye. "Fair enough," he conceded, his smile widening. "But I expect royalties for every copy sold."

"Deal," I replied with a grin, enjoying the easy banter that flowed effortlessly between us. "Just don't be surprised if I dedicate a haiku to your pasta disasters."

"Touché," Oscar replied, his laughter echoing warmly in the cozy restaurant. "I guess every muse has their quirks."

As we settled the bill and made our way out of the restaurant, the city lights glimmered around us, casting a soft glow over our conversation. Oscar walked me to the entrance of my apartment building, where we paused under the night sky.

"So," he began, his voice warm with anticipation, "how about next time we take our creativity to your place? We can read and write poetry, maybe make some pasta if we're feeling adventurous."

I considered his suggestion for a moment, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of continuing our connection. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," I replied with a smile, meeting his gaze with genuine enthusiasm.

"Great," Oscar said, his eyes brightening. "I'm looking forward to it."

Giving me a kiss on my cheek, not too flirty or scandalous, but just the right thing to end the night, he grabbed my waist and stared into my eyes.

"I'm not sure if I told you this tonight, but you look beautiful Y/N," he whispered. Blushing, I looked into his eyes.

"You did say that earlier," I lightheartedly joked during such a romantic moment (damn it me!)

"And I'll say it over and over again," he said, resting his forehead against mine, as we both stood hugging each other, comfortable in each other's presence.

But soon, it was time to go. I had a day job, and he was still busy with Formula One.

We exchanged goodbyes with promises to text soon, and as I watched him disappear into the night, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected twist that had brought us together. The evening had been filled with laughter, flirtation, and the promise of new beginnings—a perfect blend of romance and creativity that left me eager for whatever the future held.

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taglist: @erin-odonnell04 @rorabelle15 @dramallama9 @yukimaniac

comment down below if you want to be added to the taglist! <3

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author's note:

ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

(do you guys want a part three?)

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nori-the-cat · 3 months

Text

Enhypen Jake's Ideal Type

Remember, tarot readings should be taken with a grain of salt.

Jake's Ideal Type:

Card(s): 10oC rx, 4oS, 3oW rx, KoP rx and KoW upright

Forget fireworks and butterflies, Jake's looking for a real connection. He wants someone who knows love isn't always sunshine and rainbows, but is up for the challenge. A partner who understands that relationships take work, and can navigate the good times and the not-so-good times with a cool head.

Peace and quiet are important to him too. He'd appreciate someone who's independent and takes time for themself, someone who thinks before they speak and values inner peace. Someone who goes with the flow is a plus! He'd rather not be with someone who stresses about every detail, but can roll with the punches when plans change.

But hold on, Jake isn't all about chill vibes. He also wants someone who can break him out of his shell! A partner who encourages him to try new things and embrace a little adventure. Someone who keeps him on his toes and helps him avoid getting stuck in a rut.

So, what's Jake's ideal match? Someone who's down-to-earth, takes care of themself, and can adapt to whatever life throws their way. A partner who's both reliable and exciting – that's the key to a happy relationship for him. This mix creates a connection that's both stable and full of surprises, just what Jake needs!

Personality:

Card(s): strength, 4oW rx, and the lovers

So, what kind of person might steal Jake's heart?

Based on these cards, it seems like he'd be drawn to someone who's got a cool mix of qualities. Imagine someone who's strong and dependable, but also kind and easygoing. Plus, they should be independent and maybe a little different from the crowd.

Deep connections are important to Jake, too, so they should value meaningful friendships and relationships. Basically, someone who's both strong and sweet, marches to their own beat, and cherishes genuine connection – that's the kind of person who might make Jake weak at the knees!

Looks:

Card(s): PoW, the magician rx, and KoS rx

Jake might be a sucker for someone with a youthful zest for life. Think sparkling eyes, a big smile, and someone who just lights up a room with their positive energy. Picture someone who's naturally pretty, without needing tons of makeup or fancy hair. Maybe they have a bit of an intriguing vibe, like there's more to them than meets the eye.

On the other hand, Jake might also be drawn to someone more chill. Imagine someone with calming features that make you think "smart and thoughtful" rather than "feisty." Maybe they have softer features and a more laid-back, easygoing way about them.

Putting these clues together, it seems Jake likes someone with a youthful spark (think cheerleader, not couch potato) but with a more natural, down-to-earth beauty. He might be drawn to someone who's intriguing and seems to have a hidden depth, but also someone who's calm and collected, with a gentle air.

Imagine Jake attending a casual gathering with friends. Across the room, he notices someone who immediately catches his eye with their bright, expressive smile and lively conversation (Page of Wands upright). As he gets closer, he sees that this person has a natural, understated beauty – perhaps they're wearing minimal makeup, allowing their natural features to shine through (The Magician reversed). Their eyes are particularly captivating, hinting at a depth and thoughtfulness that intrigues him. This person's demeanour is calm and composed; they listen intently when others speak and respond thoughtfully, avoiding the need to dominate the conversation (Knight of Swords reversed). Their presence is soothing yet engaging, and Jake finds himself drawn to the combination of their vibrant energy and calm, reflective nature.

Fashion/Style/Aesthetic:

Card(s): 4oC, 10oP rx, the high priestess, the magician rx, and 5oW

Jake might be a fan of looks that are low-key and thoughtful. Think simple outfits that are still super chic, with a focus on feeling comfy and expressing yourself in a more personal way, rather than just following every passing fad.

Maybe Jake would be drawn to someone who marches to the beat of their own drum, fashion-wise. Think unique pieces, bold choices, and outfits that show off your personality – not what everyone else is wearing.

Jake might also have a soft spot for styles that are polished, mysterious, and oh-so-elegant. Imagine flowing fabrics, hints of patterns, and an overall vibe that's both graceful and intriguing.

#kpop #kpop tarot #enhypen #enhypen tarot #enhypen jake #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enha x reader #jake shim

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rollinouttahere-writes · 1 year

Text

Lucky Break Chapter 2

Yandere Straw Hats x Reader

5k Words

Beginning / Previous / Next

It’s fortunate that Orange town isn’t very big. You weren’t running around for long before you saw a crowd of people partying, and much to your horror, Luffy was there. In a cage, and tied up with rope.

Creeping closer, you take note of everything going on around him. That giant ship you saw earlier is there too, so you can assume that the people holding him hostage are also pirates if their flag is anything to go off of. You’re not sure why they’re all so jovial right now, but you’re hoping that you can use this party they’re having to get to Luffy undetected.

Part of you wasn’t sure about this. It would be very easy for this to go wrong and for you to get into serious trouble. You may not personally know these people, but if they’re keeping someone in a cage, you can assume they aren’t exactly friendly. Still, regardless of the risk, it doesn’t feel right to not try and help Luffy. Especially not when he’s offered to help you despite possibly having nothing to gain from it. Even if it’s scary, you have to help him.

There’s at least one obvious problem here, you majorly stick out from these pirates. The general fashion around here could best be described as sea-faring-clown-chic, so your normal clothes made you stand out significantly. You inch a bit closer and are relieved to find an abandoned, colorful jacket. Hastily, you slip it on and untie the (still damp) bandana from your wrist. You fasten it over your head to hide your bandages, no use in trying to blend in only for your injury to call attention to you.

After checking to make sure the coast is clear, you crawl over to the cage Luffy is in. He lights up the second he notices you, “Hi Lucky! What are you doing here?”

Oh yeah, just announce your presence, why don’t you?! You shush him, “Keep it down! Why are you in a cage?” At the very least, he looked too chipper to be seriously hurt.

“Nami said she would be our navigator if I helped her out, so here I am! Not sure what the plan is though,” he says all this extremely casually, like this was the most normal way to add someone to his aspiring pirate crew.

“Who the hell is Nami?”

Luffy scooted around until he was facing a big tent close to the ship, “She’s over there, the girl with the orange hair. She’s a thief that steals from pirates, but she promised she would join us if I did her a favor!”

You couldn’t help the incredulous look that spread across your face. Surely he isn’t that naive! How did someone play him this damn hard over the course of like half an hour since you last saw him? “Luffy, she obviously tricked you!”

“You don’t know that! Just give her a chance, it’ll probably all work out,” he was way too relaxed and confident about this. “Hey, since you’re here can you go get me some food? No one’s bringing me any and I can’t reach it.”

Paying his request no mind, you cut to the chase, “Luffy, focus, do you know where the key to this cage is?”

He tilted his head and hummed as he thought about it, “Hmm, I think the captain has it, he’s the one who put me in here. He’s that guy with the big red nose!” Luffy motioned his head towards the tent Nami was in. You looked over and saw him. You’re pretty sure he is genuinely a literal clown. You can’t decide if that’s going to make stealing a key from him easier or harder.

How are you supposed to slip into a tent and check his pockets for a key? You’re trying to avoid being noticed, so that’s going to be very counter intuitive. Oh well, you’ll need to figure something out if you want to get him out of there. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

You try to leave and make your way closer to the tent, but one of Luffy’s hands clamps onto your ankle. “You’re going the wrong way,” he states plainly.

Oh god, his arm is doing that stretchy thing again. It takes all you have to not shudder at the disturbing visual. “What do you mean? I need to get closer to where he is.”

“Not that! I’m hungry, go get me some food, please!” He was full on whining now, giving you the most pitiful puppy eyes you think you’ve ever been subjected to.

“Seriously?!”

He nods his head with fierce determination, “I’m very serious about food! Oh, and make sure it’s meat!”

He’s looking at you expectantly and has made no move to unhand your ankle. Groaning, you comply and agree to get him his damn food. He is currently a prisoner, but his top priority is somehow food.

Much to your chagrin, the nearby table with all the food has a lot of people milling around it. Hopefully, if you keep your head down, grab the food, and go, no one will pay attention to you. It’ll totally be fine! Just act normal and like you’re supposed to be here and no one will look at you twice!

You casually strut up to the table, hoping to grab and go. You’ve barely even touched the meat before someone behind you speaks up.

“Who the hell are you? And why are you wearing my jacket?”

A chill runs down your spine. Oh god how could you let yourself get caught this quick? Now you’re gonna get thrown into the cage with Luffy. No! You can’t give up that easily, there has to be a way out of this.

Taking a deep breath, you put on the most annoyed expression you can and turn to face the owner of the voice. He looks hungover as all hell and is clearly pissed that you took his jacket. You scoff at him, “Are you shitting me?”

Your sharp reply takes him a bit off guard, “Wha- No, I’m not ‘shitting you’! Who even are you?”

“Seriously? I just told you my name last night and you already forgot it?” If he looks this hungover, that must mean he got really drunk last night. Hopefully, you can use that to your advantage.

“You did?” His eyes trailed upwards, visibly wracking his brain for any memory of such an event.

“Yeah,” you snap at him. “Right after I joined. Quite the warm welcome I’m getting here, being forgotten and then having you cop an attitude with me.” You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him.

“Is that why we were partying so hard last night?” He said this so quietly that you doubt he’d meant for you to hear it. “Wait, that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing with my jacket! Give it back!”

You slap his hand away when he makes a grab for it, “Hell no, I won this fair and square from you! If you didn’t want to lose it, you shouldn’t have bet it during our drinking competition. That, or maybe learn to hold your liquor better, lightweight.”

His face flushes at this, “Oh come on, I just got that after losing my last one!” He ran a hand down his face, muttering something along the lines of ‘this can’t keep happening’. Pleadingly, he looks at you, “Please give it back, I’ll make it up to you I swear!”

“No, I don’t think I will. I like this jacket, thank you very much,” you don’t like it, the colors are downright obnoxious, but you need this to blend in. Hopefully it’ll work better now that the person who it belonged to is out of the way.

Confident that you’ve successfully pulled off the greatest gaslight of all history, you grab some food and make to leave, but he calls out, “Wait!”

Shit! Did you not have him convinced? “What now?” You hissed at him.

He put his hands up in front of him defensively, “Calm down, I just wanted to ask what your name was again. I promise I won’t forget it this time!” The poor guy actually looked like he felt bad, you were starting to feel a little guilty for gaslighting him as hard as you just did.

Shifting your (Luffy’s) food to one hand, you extend your hand to him, “Just call me Lucky.”

“Lucky! Yeah that’s right, I remember now!” He lied through his teeth as he accepted your handshake. “Mine is Piero, I don’t know if I told you that or not.”

“You did, but thanks anyways, I guess,” you say dismissively.

Finally, it seems your passive aggressive attitude paid off, and he quickly excused himself. You let out a dramatic sigh of relief, almost not being able to believe you pulled that off. Now you’ve got someone on the inside that’ll vouch for you if anyone else questions your presence.

You scurry back to Luffy, who had managed to slip out of the ropes since you left him. Excitedly, he stretches his arms out to grab the food before you can even get all the way over to him. He barely gets out a ‘thank you’ before he’s inhaling what you fetched for him. At the rate he’s going, it’ll be gone in like 2.5 seconds.

Not wanting to get roped into another food run, you hurry away from him and towards the tent. Your plan for now is to eavesdrop a bit before making a real move. You grab some food and water, and make yourself comfortable on a barrel near the flap of the tent.

While you mostly got something to eat to help make you look more casual, you couldn’t help but scarf it all down at almost the same pace as Luffy. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until you took your first bite. It tasted great too, but it’s hard to tell if it’s actually good or if you’re so hungry that anything would taste like a fine dining meal to you right now.

Nami and captain clown were talking, but it was hard to understand what they were saying with all the background noise. Despite allegedly having a big blowout party last night, they were having another one today which made it basically impossible to pick up on a quiet conversation.

Chugging the last of your water, you inch even closer to the flap and lean in to hear better. It didn’t help much. You still have no idea what’s being said. Maybe you catch a word here and there, but it’s not enough to really help you.

Against your better judgment, you lean against the fabric a little bit more, but it comes loose and you tumble head first into the tent. Right in front of the captain who is going to be way harder to fool than some random shiphand.

Him and Nami gawk at you. You stare back, frozen temporarily from this stupid mistake. No, no, no, this is really bad! You force out a laugh, “Hahaha, oops! Sorry about that, captain! I’m so clumsy!”

Your attempt to stand and run away ends before it can even begin. Your leg is tangled up in the fabric from where the tent came apart. ‘My christ this is going terribly,’ you internally curse at yourself, frantically trying to get your leg loose.

Your panic only increases when the clown stands and stomps his way towards you. The second you freed your leg, you were grabbed by the front of your (stolen) jacket and yanked to your feet. He loomed over you, and all things considered, was surprisingly intimidating. “Captain? Why would someone who isn’t in my crew be calling me captain?”

Welp. Here goes nothing. “Because I am in your crew? I know I just joined, but you didn’t forget about me, did you?” You weren’t bold enough to try the aggressive approach again.

His eye twitched in annoyance, and brought you way closer to his face than you ever wanted to be, “What are you trying to pull? Do you think I don’t know who is and isn’t in my crew? Do you think I’m stupid?” He all but snarled at you. Shit, this isn’t working as smoothly as it did with Piero!

“I-I’m not trying to pull anything! I mean we did party pretty hard last night, I’ve already had to reintroduce myself to several people today!”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, but didn’t say anything, so you continued talking, “Yeah! You can go ask Piero, we were talking just a minute ago!” You’re not sure that relying on someone you were pretty mean to was smart, but you were panicking.

The clown laughed at this, he laughed so hard that he dropped you and clutched his sides as he cackled, “Piero? Anyone could convince that drunk they’re a part of this crew!” You were frantically crawling backwards to try and get away from him, but he stepped forwards and dug his heel into the jacket to stop you. “Who else can vouch for you, hm?” He had a huge condescending smile on his face, absolutely positive you wouldn’t be able to deliver.

Having made it just outside the tent, you whip your head around looking for any possible way out of this. Not far away from you, you spot your best chance.

“Richie! R-Richie knows me!” The lion perks up at the mention of his name, peering over at you. As odd as it sounds, it kind of makes sense that he’s here. Somehow, your current situation is so bizarre that a lion being a part of a group of clown pirates is the most reasonable explanation for why it’s here.

“The lion? You want a lion to back you up?” He looks absolutely dumbfounded at your choice, and you can’t blame him. In any other scenario, you would think this is the dumbest thing ever, but this isn’t exactly a normal situation now is it?!

You aggressively nod your head, “Yeah! It’s not like he would accept just anyone!” He would if food was presented, but he didn’t need to know that, “S-So if he recognizes me then you’ll know I’m telling the truth!”

He stares incredulously at you for a moment, then smirks, “Alright, go ahead. If he doesn’t eat you then I’ll believe you.” He gestures for you to go approach Richie while snickering.

Despite your previous encounter, you couldn’t help the pit of anxiety in your gut as you approached the lion. Sure, he was nice after you gave him some food, but you didn’t have any more food on you right now. For all you know, that alone would be reason enough to tear into you.

Richie watched as you approached, tail flicking back and forth as you got closer. Out of the corner of your eye, you see some guy (with bear ears on his head?) watching this interaction curiously.

“H-Hey buddy, remember me? We’re still cool right?” He tilted his head at your words, and leaned forward slightly to sniff at your hand that you had extended towards him. You stare unblinking at the animal, praying that he doesn’t start acting the way an apex predator should and rip you apart.

Instead of ending you, he simply licks your hand and rolls over onto his back. Once again, all your survival instincts are replaced with the burning desire to pet a cute animal. “That’s a good boy! I knew you remembered me!” You cooed at him while vigorously petting his exposed tummy.

You hear gasping behind you, “Richie??? You don’t even let ME give you belly rubs!” Bear ear guy cried out.

Looking over your shoulder, you see the captain slack jawed. Evidently, he had not anticipated that this would actually work in your favor. Finally, you see a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. You might be able to pull this off after all.

“Such a sweet boy! At least you didn’t forget about me!”

“Captain Buggy, who is that?” Buggy? That’s the captain’s name?

Buggy stomped over to you and dragged you to your feet again, “What the hell is going on with you? Who are you?”

“My name is Lucky, and I already told you that I joined your crew yesterday. You said that you would believe me if Richie didn’t turn me into a snack,” you were irritated that he was still pressing the issue. Why couldn’t he just go with your lies and move along?

“I’m the captain, if I want to keep questioning you then I will,” he snapped back. As he says this, your eyes are drawn to a key dangling from his belt. That must be the key to Luffy’s cage! It’s so close too, you need to find a way to get it off him without being noticed.

“I did what you said, stop sticking your nose in my business just because you forgot!”

Gasps resound around you, immediately making you question if this was a bad move. Glancing around, you see all the merriment has come to a screeching halt as they all stare at you. Some are violently shaking their heads, like you just said something wrong.

“Whaaaaat?!” Buggy shrieked. “Did you just say my nose has bigness???”

“Huh?”

“You did! How dare you?!” His voice is so high pitched now that you’re sure he’s only going to be heard by dogs soon.

“No I didn’t! I told you to keep your nose out of my business!” You over enunciate every syllable in hopes that he won’t mishear you so severely this time around. It was a lost effort.

“You said it again!” He was now shaking you back and forth in rage.

Pain shot through you with each shake, your head was throbbing right now. This was so stupid. You almost had him, and then it all goes to shit because he keeps mishearing you. You can’t let your cover get blown so stupidly! Luffy is depending on you and you have no idea where Zoro is! You’re going to have to make a bold move if you want to get that key.

Grinding your teeth, one of your hands snap forward and grab his shirt. You yank him towards you, so close that your noses are now touching. His eyes shoot wide open and his screeching stops. “Listen to me! I didn’t say a damn thing about your nose, you made that up so you could have something to get bent out of shape over! It’s not my fault you’re embarrassed that you forgot about me, so quit trying to turn this around and make it a me problem!”

It is dead silent. You could hear a pin drop from across town, you’re sure of it. Everyone is watching you two with varying levels of abject horror. Buggy’s face was already tinted red from yelling at you before, but now it was so flushed that it was blending in with his nose. His fists, which were still clutching onto your jacket, were shaking.

You could only pray that this wasn’t the dumbest move you could have made. For all you knew, this guy would kill you for this transgression. God, you hope he can’t hear your heart pounding out of your chest right now.

Finally, he shoves you off of him and spins on his heel to stomp away, “Fine! But you’re on thin ice, Lucky!”

Everyone was staring at him as he left with their jaws damn near on the ground. You cannot believe you just pulled that off. You decide to slip away while they’re distracted, not wanting their attention to turn to you. You’ve already garnered way more attention than you ever wanted to, all you want to do now is free Luffy and get the hell out of here. Now that you’ve got the key in your pocket, that should be easy enough.

Before you can make it back to him, someone grabs your arm and yanks you into an empty tent. Oh, come on! You whirl around to give whoever did this a piece of your mind, but froze when you recognized her as the orange haired girl Luffy told you about.

“Nami? What do you want?”

Her expression morphs into one of shock, “What? Wait, how do you know me?”

“Luffy told me about you,” and how she tricked him, not that he’d figured that out yet.

“You’re with him?” She gave you a once over, “There’s no way you’re a pirate, you look completely out of place.”

“What’s it matter to you?” You huffed and crossed your arms, glaring at her, “Look, if you don’t want anything, then I need to get going.”

Nami purses her lips, thinking over what to say next. She sighs before continuing, “I just wanted to know why you had enough of a deathwish to try and pick a fight with a pirate, but I suppose I know why now.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, looking terribly annoyed by the situation, “If I were you, I would leave while you can. Get out of here before you get hurt.”

“I plan to, but not before I get Luffy.”

Nami’s eye twitches, “Leave him too, nothing good will come from associating with a pirate. I don’t know how long you’ve been with him, but look at you! You’re lucky that Buggy didn’t kill you a minute ago!” She snatches your loosely tied bandana off your head, “Not to mention whatever happened to earn you that!”

You grab onto the bandana and try to pull it out of her hand, but she just holds onto it tighter. “Mind your own business! He’s helping me out, so I’m going to help him too whether you approve of it or not,” you told her very matter of factly. Who is she to tell you what to do?

She lets go abruptly, causing you to stumble back. For a moment, she fixes you with a hard stare. Then, she shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders, “Fine, do whatever you want. Don’t come crying to me when it comes back to bite you.” She walks past you and leaves you alone in the tent.

You’re not sure what that was all about. Nami really had nothing to gain from telling you to leave, so you can’t fathom what compelled her to pull you aside like that. “It doesn’t matter,” you mutter under your breath as you put the bandana back on. For now, all you need to worry about is getting Luffy out of his cage and finding Zoro so you can all leave. This place isn’t that big, so Zoro should make his way over here soon enough if he hasn’t already.

Feeling confident in your plan, you step out of the tent and look over to where the cage is, only to find a cannon pointing right at it. That wasn’t there before!

Your stomach drops at the sight, and your heart rate spikes again. Dammit, how can this many things keep going wrong all at once??? Looking at who’s standing by the cannon, you spot Nami. What?! Was she telling you to back off because she wanted to blow Luffy the fuck up???

You want to run up and stop her, but several of your “crewmates” stop you. “Sorry, Lucky. I know you probably want a chance to use a buggy ball, but that Nami chick needs to prove herself first,” one of them has an arm around your shoulder to keep you in place and another has an arm linked with yours.

It’s finally dawning on you just how dangerous pirates can be. It’s one thing to think about how they could hurt you, it’s another to see them cheering someone on to kill a guy with a fucking cannon. If Nami wasn’t the one about to light the fuse, you would think that her previous talk with you may have been genuine concern. These guys were insane!

Nami makes eye contact. Much to your relief, you can see her hesitating. Frankly, she looks sick at the thought of setting it off. You shoot her the most pleading look you can while trying to shake off the people holding onto you.

Luffy, bizarrely, looks entirely unconcerned. He’s just watching Nami with a blank expression, which then switches to a more coy one. You can see his mouth moving, but can’t make out his words over everyone chanting around you.

Apparently, Nami was taking too long to make a move, because another pirate approaches and snatches the box of matches out of her hand. Shit! You’re now frantically trying to wiggle out of the pirates’ grasps, much to their confusion. “What’s your problem? Just relax and enjoy the show.”

Several things happen at once. The pirate that stole the matches lights one and reaches for the cannon’s fuse, you break free from the pirates holding you back, and Nami whips out a staff and beats the pirate with it. She looks to you and yells over the ensuing chaos, “You have the key right?! Go get him out!”

Ignoring the question of how she knew, you sprint for the cage. Skidding to a stop in front of the lock, you pull the key out of your pocket. You jam it into the hole, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, twisting it in every direction, but nothing happens. “What the hell? Why isn’t this stupid key working?”

“It doesn’t fit? Oh, I guess that wasn’t the right key then,” Luffy says nonchalantly.

“What do you mean this isn’t the right key?! You said the captain had it!”

“I mean what I said. I said I thought he had it, I didn’t know for sure,” he shrugged his shoulders, still not taking this situation anywhere near as seriously as he should.

“You should have made that clearer!” You shouted as you violently threw the now useless key away, nailing someone in the crowd with it on accident.

“Why are you yelling so much? It’s not a- whoa whoa whoa the fuse is lit!” Luffy’s tone finally left its neutrality and became panicked. Your head snaps towards the cannon and you see that he’s right. Shit! Nami didn’t stop that guy in time!

There are some stairs behind you. Maybe if you can push the cage down them Luffy will be safe (well, safe from the cannon at least)? You put all your strength into pushing it, but it’s barely moving. There’s no way you can get it out of the way in time! Nami is trying to snuff out the light with her bare hands, but several pirates are charging at her now that she’s revealed herself to not truly be with them.

“Nami, behind you!”

You don’t know what to do. On one hand, you need to get Luffy out of here, but on the other, you don’t want to just stand by while Nami is killed after she tried to help you!

Thankfully, you didn’t need to decide what to do. Just before the pirates could deliver a blow to her, they’re brought to a halt by a green haired swordsman.

“Zoro!” Both you and Luffy cried out in relief.

Gasps ring out on the crowd and the entire atmosphere changes instantly. Everyone who was ready to rip Nami apart before was now backing away in fear. Murmurs of ‘pirate hunter’ could be heard as everyone became deeply unsure of themselves and their next actions.

“Just how many of you were planning on taking on one girl?” with the same ease you saw him disarm the pirates from earlier, he sent all four pirates hurtling into the crowd. He glances over his shoulder, “Are you hurt?”

Nami, who had definitely burned her hands only seconds ago, shakes her head and mutters out a ‘no’. Zoro nods and fixes the already tense crowd with a cold look, his mentioning that he hung up being a pirate hunter doing absolutely nothing to quell their anxieties.

Despite everyone else’s open terror, Buggy remains calm, even smirking at the situation. “I don’t care if you’re still calling yourself a pirate hunter or not, having your head would make my name even more feared,” he pulls out several knives as he walks towards Zoro, who is watching with what could only be deemed boredom.

As Buggy gets closer, Zoro sighs and unsheaths his other two swords. Much to your confusion, he puts one of them in his mouth. Now you may be a recent amnesia victim, but that doesn’t seem quite right to you. However, upon noticing the lack of confusion from everyone else here, you do find yourself questioning if maybe this is more normal than you’re remembering.

Everyone watches with bated breath as Buggy runs right at Zoro. It only takes a second for all three of Zoro’s swords to cut right through his opponent. Buggy falls to the ground in pieces and you recoil at the sight. It’s not like you were fond of him or anything, but seeing someone get hacked up like that was stomach churning regardless of personal feelings.

One could typically expect killing a pirate crew’s captain to be met with rage or sorrow, but there was something genuinely chilling about their reactions. They were laughing. Like there was a joke that the rest of you were all missing out on.

You ignore your discomfort to look at Buggy’s corpse again, and you notice something odd. He isn’t bleeding.

“Weird, his body had no resistance,” Zoro joined you in staring at the body, now also sensing something was off.

“Wow, was he really that weak?” Luffy wasn’t reading the room whatsoever. You’ve barely known this guy, but can’t help but feel like this is typical for him.

The dry chuckling erupts into downright maniacal laughter. You look around desperately, trying to figure out what was going on, and your blood runs cold when you see what it was.

A knife had been stabbed straight through Zoro’s abdomen by Buggy’s disembodied arm.

#one piece #yandere one piece #yandere #platonic yandere #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #monkey d luffy #zoro roronoa #nami #cat burglar nami #buggy the clown #mohji the beast tamer #lucky break

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