#And sometimes I still get a little worried that I am kind of a lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

davdcorenswet · 2 months

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🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them.

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him.

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours?

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: whirlwind.#thank yuuu for reading! 🥺🩷

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apoemaday · 3 months

Text

I AM 17. I HAVE A LOT TO SAY.

by Jackson Holbert

My mother was around all the time back then, always walking in and out of rooms carrying stacks of laptop computers. She spent most of her daylight hours blowing dust out of circuits, fans, motherboards, daughterboards. Sometimes her little canister would die and she’d have to use her mouth. My father was gone all day every day getting repetitive stress injuries at the newspaper. He was a journalist and everyone hated him, even his friends. Nothing really happened during my entire childhood so he ended up spending most days shooting paper footballs through a miniature goal post he kept in the locked drawer of his desk. He was rarely kind. And in the few, short instances he was, it still didn’t seem like it. Something about his mouth made everything he did seem either sinister or inept. He was completely inscrutable except for a period in the spring of 2004, when he was just sad. I was young that year and my sister was older. She came home from college for the whole summer of 2005. I was 14. She told me not to worry about other people, not to worry about war, not to worry about a thing. That was the greatest summer of my short life. I had no friends. Oh I had people I talked to at school but once summer hit it was like every school bus had crashed headfirst into a wall except the one that was carrying me and my silver trumpet. I had that tall kind of joy that you can only feel when your bones still have another few inches left in them. My sister and I would watch three movies a day and never go to the lake. Everybody says it seems like summer never ends until it does. But that’s a lie. I knew so little back then but the one thing I did know was that all my friends were coming back and I would once more join them in the hallways, in the classrooms, once more join them for hours after school in the far part of the parking lot and would continue to do so until I turned 16 and got a job cutting my fingers on the cheese grater at the Pizza Factory. After that everything was all work work work go home Jeremy get your feet off the sofa Jeremy work work math homework band-aids and on a good day a little trumpet and on the best days all trumpet. I wanted my life to be about music but in the end it was about getting B’s in subjects such as Spanish. I don’t know, sometimes it feels like those summers really did never end, they went on forever and just got progressively worse. We like to pretend that one day we just walk into our adulthood like a congressman walking into the ocean, but we all know that’s not true. What really happens is we walk into the same building day after day, but every night some crew comes in and replaces something little — a lamp housing, the chair of a conference table — until nothing is the same, until the building is not as we remembered it at all, until the building is stronger, up to code but a lot less fun, and the lighting, the lighting is fluorescent and obscene.

#poetry #jackson holbert #i am 17. i have a lot to say.

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fairyhaos · 4 months

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❖ i am all of you // lee jihoon

woozi x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: requested by @mirxzii, established relationship, producer!woozi, scriptwriter!yn, hurt/comfort

warnings: pet names (babe, darling), food mention

summary: on the days you feel exhausted, lost to the clouds of fear and fatigue, you wonder whether anything in the world will ever be fine again. not to worry, though. because jihoon always finds you, and he brings you home.

Jihoon kind of misses you.

Okay, that's a lie, because he actually misses you a lot, because even though you're right here and you say hello to him in the morning and you eat your meals together and you say “I love you” to him at night, you're still not… here.

You get like this, sometimes, where you're all stuck in your head and he can't get you out. Anything he says doesn't seem to register, not really, because you'll hum in response before drifting away again to somewhere he can't reach.

“Y/N?”

Jihoon knocks on your door, gentle. You emerged from your room to have breakfast, but you've been stuck inside ever since, and, well. It's like he said.

He kind of misses you a lot.

“Jihoon?”

“Are you okay in there?” he asks. “Just checking up on you, babe. I haven't heard from you in a while.”

“I'm okay,” you say back, and even though you're only on the other side of the door, you sound distant. “I'm just tired, that's all.”

He hums, sceptical. “Are you sure? Can I come in?”

“I don't see why not,” you say, and he opens the door and cautiously peers inside.

You’re lying in bed, pillows propped up behind your head, quite literally doing nothing other than staring emptily up at the ceiling. When Jihoon enters the room, you look over in response to the sound and wave at him from the bed looking confused but also very, very exhausted, and something in his heart twists sadly.

He walks over to you, leans over, and presses a hand to your forehead. You look up in confusion, going a little cross-eyed as you try to see his hand on your head.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for a fever,” Jihoon responds matter-of-factly. He takes his hand away, presses it against his own forehead before feeling yours once again.

“Hey, hey, I'm fine,” you say, waving his hand away. “I'm not sick.”

“Then why are you in bed?” he says. “It's so sunny today, Y/N. Normally, you'd be the one pestering me to get out of bed so we can go on those walks that you love so much. What's wrong, Y/N? Can you please tell me what's wrong?”

You fall silent, looking away.

See, he thinks he kind of knows what's wrong.

Not the exact reason, of course, but he knows that you're getting this tired and withdrawn from him because there's something in your life that's making you overwhelmed. Whether it's a situation that's happened or something you fear will happen in the future, if it scares you enough then you'll end up retreating in this way.

Jihoon knows it's your way of coping when things get too much, but it frustrates him, because all he wants to do is take care of you but you won't let him in.

“Please,” he says. Gently, simply. “Can you tell me what's wrong so that I can help?”

So he asks. He asks, and waits so, so patiently, silently begging you to please let him in.

You slowly shake your head.

“Nothing's wrong,” you say, and then shrug, like everything's fine. “I just need to take a nap.”

“I had to wake you up at noon for breakfast, today,” Jihoon points out, frowning. “And it's four in the afternoon. Why do you need a nap?”

You just shake your head again. “I just do.”

He opens his mouth, ready to refute, but you abruptly pull the covers over yourself and bury your head into your pillow again. A clear sign you want to end the conversation.

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets, and Jihoon sighs.

“I'll let you know when dinner is ready, okay?” he says, and you make a soft noise in reply. He looks over at you again, before walking out of your room and closing the door.

───────────── ⛅

It’s only thirty minutes later that he knocks on your door again.

He can’t help it. You two aren’t exactly the clingiest couple in the world: what with Jihoon’s work and your busy life, you can’t really afford to be so codependent. There have been days where you barely speak to each other, both absorbed in projects that take up all your time and leave you unable to indulge in the typical cuddly affection that other couples take part in.

This is what happens, he supposes, when a music producer and scriptwriter decide to date. Not that he minds, because he loves you, and he knows you love him too, and neither of you mind the lack of physical touch because often, the knowledge of that love is enough.

Just because you’re not the clingiest doesn’t mean that he likes not spending time with you, though.

Especially when you’re right there.

“Y/N? I’m coming in,” he says, and opens the door before you can answer. You’re lying in exactly the same position that he’d left you in, and you look over as the door opens again with a mildly annoyed expression on your face, as if Jihoon was interrupting your very precious time of doing absolutely nothing.

The mild irritation melts into confusion as you spot the things he’s holding. “Why did you bring your laptop with you?”

“Laptop and chocolate,” Jihoon emphasises, holding up the bag of chocolate coins in his other hand as he pushes the door shut with his elbow. “I’m here to do my work. And give you chocolate. Move over, will you?”

You give him a curious look, but still obediently shuffle over in bed so that he can climb in and sit there beside you, back against the headboard, opening up his laptop and immediately clicking on his emails. He doesn’t look at you, seemingly absorbed in answering whatever is sitting in his inbox, the bag of chocolate plopped onto the covers between you two.

“Jihoon?”

Jihoon hums in response.

“What are you doing?”

He glances at you briefly, and pats your head. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to drag you into doing anything. Just pretend I’m not here, okay?” He goes back to his work, and then adds, “Oh, and eat the chocolate.”

You furrow your brow, mystified by his behaviour. This is… weird. You’ve had episodes like this before, where the foreboding lump in your throat joins forces with the anxiety that sits, ice-cold, in your chest, and you end up with a bone-deep exhaustion that leaves you terrified to do anything at all. Every time, Jihoon seems to understand, leaving you to your own devices to work through the fatigue until you feel better. He might bring you soup, or remind you to brush your teeth, but never anything like this.

The soft click-clacking of his keyboard is quite soothing, you’ll admit, but it’s still not quite enough for you to stop teetering on the edge of this crushing exhaustion and finally sleep.

“Jihoon,” you murmur, looking up at him again. “Jihoon, seriously, what are you doing?”

His fingers stop moving, and he looks over at you once more, before looking at the untouched bag of chocolate coins. Wordlessly, he opens it, unwraps one, and presses it against your lips.

“I’m feeding you chocolate coins,” he says, and something about the deadpan way he says it makes you smile, allowing him to push the chocolate into your mouth. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“No, I can see that,” you say around a mouthful of sticky, warm sweetness. Hm. Eating it makes the weight in your chest feel a little lighter, actually. “I just…”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at you, but there’s no unkindness in his expression. He unwraps another chocolate for you, and you dutifully eat it, letting the overwhelming sweetness coat your teeth as you melt it down in your mouth, making the most of the taste.

“What are you doing here, though?” you ask, as your boyfriend deposits the metal wrappers on the bedside table next to him. “Babe, if you’re here to take care of me… it’s okay. I’m fine.”

He looks at you again, and smiles. “Silly. I’m not here to look after you.”

Wait, what?

“You can do whatever you need to do,” Jihoon continues, as he goes back to his laptop and starts click-clacking away again. “Rest, sleep, try to turn yourself invisible, whatever. You do you, darling. I’m just here because I want to spend time with you.”

“Jihoon,” you breathe out, touched. You are certain that there are stars in your eyes. “Jihoon, I love you.”

He chuckles, and finishes sending off the email. He jostles you around in bed for a moment, pulling you close until you’re resting against him, and though the position is uncomfortable, you don’t protest.

“I love you too,” he says, patting your head affectionately. “Now, don’t worry about what I’m doing, alright? Just let me spend time with you.”

Jihoon may pretend otherwise, but he really is soft. He gives and he gives and he gives, always, and that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s giving you all of him, under the pretence that he’s doing this for himself but you know him, know him like the other half of your heart, and your chest squeezes at how gentle he is with you, especially now. When you’re at your most vulnerable.

And instead of getting frustrated at your distance, at how far away you were floating from him, he brings your back down to Earth, pretending it’s all for him but you know, you know that he’s bringing you back to safety for you.

Pressed up against him, leaning into his side, you finally let yourself cry, the hot, stinging tears tracing paths down your cheeks. Jihoon doesn’t say anything, and instead pulls you closer, fingers threading through your hair as you cry quietly against him until you tire yourself out fully and there are no tears left for you to cry anymore.

It’s kind of cathartic—freeing, the way you let yourself succumb to the exhaustion, comforted by the knowledge that Jihoon is there beside you as your tears die down, and you lie there beside him, taking deep, shaky breaths, heartbeat finally slowing down.

And at last, you close your eyes and sleep.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @melodicrabbit

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god-i-hope-so · 3 months

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Buck receives the call from Tommy's captain himself in the middle of the night, during his shift. He's Tommy's new emergency number, he's also been at the center of a recent discussion with Tommy's captain about it, after years of not having a real emergency number except his closest coworkers.

Buck arrives at the hospital, a little frantic, still in his uniform. He knows it's "not life threatening" but bad enough for Tommy to undergo emergency surgery. Captain Garcia meets him near the lobby, his left hand in a thick bandage, his arm in a sling.

"Firefighter Buckley? Evan Buckley? Captain Garcia. I wish we'd met under different circumstances."

"Captain."

"We were on a fire near the station, the structure collapsed, probably due to a weakness we couldn't see. A rebar went through his thigh, lots of bleeding, but he should be okay."

"Should?"

"I'm not a doctor, son, but I know when a man's dying. And he wasn't."

Captain Garcia is clear and to the point, and Buck appreciates it.

Waiting alone in the lobby of the hospital in the middle of the night wasn't on his plan for this shift. He could have called Maddie but it was 2 am when he got the call. He'll call her later.

Then a woman and two very sleepy young children sit not too far from him. While she settles the kids on the seats next to her, their head on her lap, her eyes land on Buck.

"You're Evan, right?" she asks in a low voice.

Buck is surprised, he doesn't know her, doesn't recognize her face.

"I'm Sophie, er, Dan's wife, Tommy's coworker. They were together when it happened. I know we never met but I've heard of you and Philip- Captain Garcia told me you were already here."

She looks at him with kind eyes behind her tired and worried expression.

"It's- It's nice to meet you, Sophie. I'm sorry, I- I don't-"

"It's alright, I know Tommy is a very private man." She sighs. "He and Dan have been working together for seven years now. Dan has always been the kind to easily befriend people but Tommy was quite the challenge when he was transferred at the station!"

Her smile is genuine. She's picking at her nails, her hands slightly shaking.

"Can I get you something warm to drink?" Buck proposes, already standing up. He needs to move, idly waiting has never been his thing.

"Oh, coffee? Thank you."

"No problem. Anything for them?" he looks at the sleeping children, realizing they're younger than he first thought.

"Water, for later maybe, I don't want to wake them up."

"Of course."

His smile feels stiff on his own face. He shouldn't be here, meeting the wife of Tommy's coworker on the cold plastic seats of the hospital. He should be with his team, sending bad jokes and flirty messages to Tommy who would indulge him.

When he comes back from the vending machine, Sophie is typing on her phone and doesn't see him.

"Here you go," he says softly, not wanting to startle her.

"Thank you." She tastes the coffee, makes a face and sighs. "At least you know the job," she says with a small smile.

"I guess I do. But..."

"I know. It's worse sometimes, because you know what really happens." She lowers her eyes on her coffee cup, swirling the dark liquid in it. Her loose braid slowly comes undone, letting strands frame her face. "Let's meet again around a meal, when our men are better, yes?"

Our men. Buck never thought about Tommy that way, as part of "our men". He nods.

"I'd love that. Thank you, Sophie."

He wonders if that's what if feels to be a "firefighter's wife", to be the partner of a first responder, meeting around unfortunate events and making plans for better days. Sophie shares stories about the station in hushed voice, telling Buck about the people there, the others wives and partners, the children, the parties and the solidarity. Of course, everything sounds very familiar to Buck, but it's like hearing stories from another family.

Then he hears Tommy's name being called and for a second, he feels dizzy. Sophie almost gets up with him then smiles at him. He realizes he didn't ask about Dan, but he'll make sure to stay in touch through Tommy.

The surgeon is in a hurry but takes a few minutes to explain what she did and what will happen next. Tommy will be fine, his leg will recover but the muscle has been badly damaged and it'll take him some time to go back to his daily routine. Even longer before being able to go back to work.

The room is quiet when he enters, safe for a regular and reassuring beep. Buck hesitates a second, seeing Tommy like that feels crushing, even if his sleeping face looks relaxed. His fingers slip into Tommy's hand before gently squeezing it. Feeling his warmth on his palm soothes his nerves.

"Hey, babe."

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy ficlet #i just wanted to put buck into a stressing situation but with no real danger lol #sorry darling boy #i also wanted him to have a glimpse into tommy's world #the captain is an oc i have no idea what's his real name #and i wanted tommy to have a work family of his own

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iid-smile · 17 days

Text

queen-like treatment, ino takuma

x fem!sick!reader ! ino calls you "ma'am, sunshine, queen", he builds you a pillow fort (it's a castle in his eyes) ino lowkey rizzes you up with micheal jackson lyrics, kissies at the end, just fluff and silly stuff, not proofread

author's note: after seeing how starved ino lovers were, my creative juices were fr flowing!! also i just needed some cuddles

"you're hot~" ino mumbles, his cheek smooshed against your belly as his face rubs back and forth on you. he's been glued to your side ever since you called him over to help you out. has he helped whatsoever? no. not at all. he's been a total cuddle bug since he walked through those doors, making you impossibly hotter than you needed to be, and refusing to acknowledge that he might catch your cold, just touching you all the time.

meanwhile, you're stuck, sat there with multiple tissues, bottles of water and chocolate bars by your sides. your nose has been running nonstop; it's itchy, irritated, and bright red. like rudolph, he would like to say. it stung to keep your eyes open, it stung when you tried to close them, and there's multiple dry and wet streaks running down your face from your eyes watering up.

"i don't like how you're telling me that when i'm burning up and experiencing the worst fever of my life." you mumble, still running your fingers over his nape and fiddling with the material of his beanie despite how annoyed you felt towards him.

"don't worry, i meant that in a lot of different ways." he turns over so he can face you, his usual overly happy smile plastered on his face. "how could i not find my lovely girlfriend hot when her cheeks are all flushed and she hasn't moved in the past five hours?"

now you're feeling the heat in your cheeks. "ino." you warn.

what a way to expose you, huh? he's too cheeky for his own good, yet still respects you as if you're some sort of higher being in status. seriously, find a middle ground, ino. "yes, ma'am!" he exclaims, still giggling as he nuzzles into you again.

a little pout of frustration manages to find its way onto your lips. "i should be the one cuddling you, not the other way around." and your nose blocks again, so there's an awkwardly placed pause as you try to clear it out, aggressively blowing into a fresh tissue. "i'm the sick one here."

"i'm keeping you warm, aren't i?"

that wasn't what you needed, though that's kind of your fault for not explicitly telling him. "i'm literally sweating."

"well, you can sweat off all of those germs. because i!" he suddenly gets up, standing by the edge of the bed and crossing his arms. he looks... oddly determined. "your lovely boyfriend, am going to cheer you up."

silence.

"...for real?" you sound impressed, but you're more perplexed by his sudden and random declaration.

"for real real, sunshine." he smirks.

sounds like a challenge. "okay then," you push your elbows to lean up on the bed frame, quickly adopting a confident front. "amaze me, mr ino takuma."

"oh, trust me, i will. give me thirty minutes. i'm an absolute architect at stuff like this."

thirty minutes indeed went by. you wiped your nose and eyes every now and then as you listened to the clatter of noise just a few rooms away, hearing a panic or complaint come from him sometimes. he's amusing, even when you can't see him.

you weren't keeping track of time, but maybe the minutes claimed really did pass, as your ears couldn't pick up anything else going on. perhaps he was done with whatever he was doing. that was, until you heard his footsteps walking back to you.

"i just wanna touch and kiss~" you watch with furrowed eyebrows as ino slides, or rather moonwalks back into the bedroom, clicking himself a beat as he recites the chorus to "butterflies". a song he's dedicated to you, and is so deadset on playing it at your future, not-yet-planned wedding. "and i wish that i could be with you tonight~"

now you can't tell if you're still confused, or actually getting a little flustered from the sudden vocal serenade.

he dances his way all the way up to your bed again, and holds out his hand to you. "will you take my hand, my queen?" and he winked. he winked! how sappy can this guy get?

it would be a crime to decline after he just did all of that.

"you don't have to call me that..." you mutter, glancing away as you put your hand in his palm. he swiftly lifts you to your feet, and your knees buckle as his arm hooks underneath them, carrying you like a princess. "w-wait—!"

"relax! i gotta treat my queen right." with you still in his grasp, he brings you out of the coziness of your bedroom over to the living room. "and the big reveal!"

the surprise was right in front of you. a huge— no, gigantic pillow fort, spanning over the entire couch carpet and floors, the cold wood neatly covered in fluffy blankets. the pillow walls were also draped in thin covers and fairy lights, creating a soft, golden glow. "had to build you the castle you deserve, sunshine. surely this cheered you up?" obviously, he's proud, putting you down on your feet so you can explore on your own.

"yeah..." you subconsciously say, walking closer to really take in what he's done for you. you follow the little path of lights leading up to the entrance. "yeah, it did..." impressive. he did this in thirty minutes?

once again, he's by your side, gently coaxing you by the shoulders to move faster. "go in! i'm gonna come in after you."

you crawl in and sit down a little more to the left, and he comes in after you as promised, moving to the right so he can comfortably settles down in front of you. "look, all of the plushies are here too. stole all of them and you didn't notice a thing." he kidnapped your plushies! you were looking for those during your wait, wondering why your usual bundle of animals weren't atop of your pillows. no wonder he made sure he kept his front to you walking out: they were stuffed in the back his hoodie.

sneaky... "you're seriously a child at heart."

"nuh-uh! my heart is all yours." he leans forward a bit, his gaze focused on you. "it's like you're a charger constantly giving me more battery. i only got you to blame for all of my energy."

just like that, you're blushing again. you turn your head away to the side, a groan coming from you as you struggle to face him. he giggles again, but then goes suspiciously quiet. maybe you should look again?

once you peek at him, one of his eyebrows raise in smugness, but his face soon softens at the sight of your bloom. then, his eyes drifting up to something above you before looking back down, almost as if he was telling you something was up there. and there was. a poorly drawn mistletoe on lined paper, cut out with ragged edges and ripped in some places, stuck to the roofing pillow.

"it's september." you deadpan.

"can't ever be too early for christmas, can ya?" he grins, shifting to sit closer in front or you and taking both of your hands into his. "can we kiss or no?" just slightly, you can hear him mumble a little please under his breath.

how can you stay mad when he loves you like this? you sigh, yet the corners of your lips lift, betraying your annoyed facade. "kiss."

ino's been waiting for this the entire day. at least three times an hour, you'd have to reject a kiss anywhere near your face because you don't want him catching whatever you've caught, and now he finally has you! he just can't help but get a little eager, pulling you close and toppling you over, hugging you in the tightest grip he can as your lips remained pressed together.

you really weren't surprised when he called you up the next morning, complaining about a cold that seemingly came from "nowhere".

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theabigailthorn · 8 months

Note

Hi Abby! I have a question I’ve been wondering for a while, and I really hope it’s okay to ask. I’ve been a little worried about it because, idk…it’s a tough topic, and I know a lot of trans people get a bunch of bullshit flack, and I don’t want to accidentally contribute to that. That being said— do you miss anything from before you transitioned?

I’m definitely some flavor of trans, but idk what exactly 😅 and you’ve been a major hopeful figure to me. I just can’t help but wonder…is it…worth it? So many people say it is. But I’m so scared. I don’t want to lose my family or their love, even if it’s conditional. And sometimes I’m scared that I’ll miss aspects of myself as who I am now. So I wanted to ask you, because I look up to you and respect you a lot!

Sorry that this ask is a mess, I’m kind of all over the place. And obviously you don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable or if these are shitty questions to ask. However! If you’re comfortable, I’d love to know your thoughts. Thank you so much for all you do — it’s more than you know.

In my experience yes it's absolutely worth it because the alternative for me was dying, so it'd have to be pretty rotten not to be worth it! But in addition to that quite grim baseline, yes I think it's the best thing I've ever done. It's allowed me to experience so much more of the variety and wonder of being a person in a way that I couldn't have imagined when I was in the closet - it's made me more intelligent, more moral, more compassionate, and closer to the people I love than ever before. There are challenges that come with it, sometimes huge challenges - especially in this time of transphobic backlash - but if you gave me a magic wish I really don't think I'd choose to have been born cis. In terms of worrying you'll miss aspects of yourself, I had that worry too - I discussed it with Mia Mulder when my egg was cracking and she said, "You will change, but you keep the good bits."

At the same time, it's important to be realistic: transition won't solve your problems and there are no consequence-free transitions. I was lucky in that there was only one person in my old life who couldn't accept me post-transition, but it was someone I loved very much and it still hurts a little - I still hope that one day we might find a way to be friends again. Transition also comes with tradeoffs and compromises, much like life!

#transition

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vax-merstappen · 8 months

Text

F1 boys falling for you <3

these got kind of long lol, but i thought you’d rather have more of a storyline than less of one lol. Prefs are below the line :)

Lando Norris

It was your first season as an f1 driver and you had been performing surprisingly. As both the only woman on the grid and a rookie, you were drawing a lot of attention from the media.

The media wasn’t the only one paying attention to you, however. “Lando, just go talk to her!” Carlos exclaimed, walking up to his former teammate. “You’ve been staring so hard your eyes are going to fall out.”

“Shut up, mate.”

“You like her, no?”

“Of course not!” Lando exclaimed. Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Well maybe a little.”

��Then go talk to her, mate!” When Lando didn’t move, Carlos grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him in your direction. You turned to the guys, an amused expression on your face.

“Y/N, this is Lando. Lando has had a crush on you for the whole season but hasn’t got the cojones to tell you about it.”

Carlos shoved Lando in your direction and walked away. His face was bright red.

“Was he telling the truth?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Lando admitted. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I was going to tell you myself.”

“Well then tell me.”

“I, Lando Norris, have had a crush on you all season.”

You smiled at Lando. “Would you want to get dinner sometime?”

Lando’s face, less red now, lit up. “Of course.”

Oscar Piastri

It was the final concert on your tour and you were performing in Melbourne. Little did you know that a certain formula 1 driver who was a fan had decided to attend the concert.

The concert went amazing and you stepped backstage to see your best friend waiting for you.

“Y/N! You did amazing!”

“Thanks!”

“Omg you won’t believe who I saw in the crowd.”

“Who?”

Your friend smiled. “Oscar Piastri! He’s a formula 1 driver and apparently he’s a huge fan of yours. You have to invite him backstage!”

You couldn’t help but be curious about this guy and so you instructed security to go find him and invite him backstage. When he arrived, he clearly looked shy and a bit embarrassed to be there.

“You must be Oscar!”

“I am. And you’re Y/N.”

You nodded and smiled. “I heard you’re a fan of mine?”

“You could say that,” Oscar said with a gulp.

“What would you call yourself?”

“A guy who never imagined he’d be asked backstage by his dream girl.”

Max Verstappen

Max had just left his apartment to go pick up groceries when he saw you walking down the street, looking very lost. He walked up to you.

“Hey, do you need help?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m studying abroad here and I have no idea which way to go to get to the university.”

Max smiled and gave you the directions you needed and you thanked him and headed on your way. For the rest of the day, he kept thinking back to his interaction with you and how you looked so cute. He mentally kicked himself for not asking for your number.

A week had gone by, and you were still on Max’s mind. He had no way of finding you again and did not even know your name.

Fate must have been on his side, as when he walked out of his apartment that day, he saw a familiar figure walking down the street. He tried not to look to eager as he walked up to you. “Did you manage to get to the university the other day?”

“Yes! Thanks again for the help,” you responded.

“I had one problem with my directions the other day I realized.”

“You did? I made it there alright, so no worries.”

“I forgot to ask your name and number.”

Your mouth dropped open a little, surprised that the gorgeous stranger you met the other day had been attracted to you too. “Y/N,” you responded as you typed your number into his phone.

“I’m Max,” he said. “I’ll text you tomorrow and see if there’s a time we could meet up.

You nodded. “I would love that.”

Charles Leclerc

Charles was a childhood friend of yours. You had seen him grow up and become the incredible man he is today. You had always been close, but Charles had come to want something more with you. To take your relationship to the next level.

It was a warm day during his summer break where he invited you to spend the day with him. You had gone on a hike in the hills of Monaco and had laughed and chatted the whole way there. When the two of you got to the top, you stared out at the stunning view. But when you looked at Charles, you saw he was looking at you instead.

“Do you have something to say?” you asked.

“Yes. Every time I see you, I can’t help but think how beautiful you are. I want you to be mine.”

“How long have you wanted this?”

“Oh, a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You leaned over and kissed Charles. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time too.”

He paused for a second before pulling you close and kissing you back. The rest of the afternoon was spent together, happier than either of you had been in a while.

Carlos Sainz

One of the perks of being an f1 presenter was the time you got to spend with the drivers. Of course there were some you preferred to interview over others, but you enjoyed getting to know them all. What you didn’t realize was that for Carlos, one of the perks of being an f1 driver was getting to spend time with you. Before each Grand Prix, he would look for your face in the sea of media personnel. It usually wasn’t hard for him to find you, as someone so beautiful easily stood out from the crowd. Every time he saw your name on his media schedule, Carlos would get butterflies in his stomach. For someone brave enough to drive an f1 car, you were enough to make Carlos nervous.

At first you didn’t notice, but Carlos began to come up to you before every race. He wanted so desperately to show you that he liked being around you and that he really wanted to take your relationship to the next level. After the fourth week of him speaking with you before a race, you finally talked to him.

“Carlos, fancy seeing you again. You’re not on my schedule for today,” you greeted.

“I know, but I’m so sick of watching you from afar. I love to be around you and I’m sick of wanting you and not having you.”

“Oh, uh…”

“Are you free tomorrow night? To get dinner with me?”

“Are you asking me in a date.”

“Yes, I should have done so a long time ago.”

“Well since you admit that, yes I am free.”

Lewis Hamilton

As a trainer in a celebrity gym in London, you often found yourself in the company of athletes of all sorts. However, the man who had recently started coming to your gym and asking you for advice had not stuck out as anyone in particular you should recognize.

The first week you had seen him, he had asked you to help spot him with the weights he was lifting. You had agreed and helped him, without making much conversation. The second week, you had caught him watching you as he ran on the treadmill but he did not come over to you. The third week, he had asked for some advice on which machines he should use even though you could tell he already knew what he was doing.

And this week, he had come up to you with a box in hand. “I’m sorry if this is a bit forward, but I’ve noticed you the past few weeks I’ve been in here and I think you’re really cute. Would you want to go on a date with me.”

Thinking he was cute, you responded, “Sure. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Lewis. Lewis Hamilton.” He flipped open the box to show you what was inside. “I got you this bracelet. I noticed you always fidgeting with your other one and I thought you might like another to go with it.”

You smiled. “How thoughtful! I’m y/n by the way.”

“Y/N. I like it.”

Daniel Ricciardo

For years, Daniel had disliked his media duties. Of course he would put on a smile for the press, but interviews were not actually super enjoyable for him. Until he got a new PR manager and he couldn’t help but look forward to press duties.

“Ok, Daniel. So today we’ve got the press conference this morning and then an interview with sky sports this afternoon.”

“Yep! Who else is at the conference?”

“Nico, Carlos, Fernando, and Oscar,” you replied. “I’ll sit off to the side and watch so we can debrief before heading to the next interview.”

“Oh, you’ll be watching me then?”

“Yeah, Daniel, like I always do.”

“Well I’ll be watching you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t seem to keep my eyes off you. I know it’s unprofessional, with us working together and what, but going to interviews with you makes my day.”

“What are you trying to say, Daniel?”

“Would you go out with me? On a date? That’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.”

You looked down, your cheeks turning red. “You have a way of flustering me, Daniel.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes.”

Yuki Tsunoda

Had anyone asked Yuki who his celebrity crush was, he would have said you. As a famous actress, you had been in a good number of Yuki’s favorite movies and he could just never seem to get your face out of his head. Despite both of you having many connections, you had yet to meet in person.

It only took a twist of fate and a gala for a mutual sponsor to bring you together. You were starring in the latest advertising campaign for a brand that has sponsored AlphaTauri for the upcoming year. You walked into the event wearing a stunning red dress and Yuki was immediately starstruck. His celebrity crush was here in person with him.

His jaw dropped open slightly as you locked eyes with him from across the room. He had dreamed of this moment for years and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was in fact dreaming. You waved and began to walk over to him and Yuki pinched himself to snap out of that stupor.

“Hi, you’re Yuki, right? The formula 1 driver?”

“Oh, um, yes. That is me,” he responded.

“I’m y/n!” you said cheerfully.

“I’m so excited to meet you! You are my favorite actress.”

“Am I really?”

“Yes! I watched all your movies!”

You saw Yuki’s obvious excitement and decided to chat with him for a while longer. A while longer ended up becoming the whole night and you and Yuki exchanged contact information to meet again.

At the end of the night he told you that you were his celebrity crush for a long time and you responded that it was quite obvious from the start.

Alex Albon

As an f1 driver, Alex was not home a lot. But somehow every time he came home, he managed to run into you. You both were neighbors, so it wasn’t exactly weird, but Alex was sure it was fate that you kept meeting. You see, Alex had what was comparable to an airport crush on you. He didn’t see you often and only from afar, but he couldn’t help but think about you after he had gone from home.

This time, Alex was going for a jog when he saw you struggling with a pile of boxes. He paused for a minute before crossing over to your driveway.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just moving some boxes of donations to the animal shelter I volunteer at.”

The fact that you loved animals so much endeared you to Alex even further.

“Are you sure I can’t help? I was just going to jog, lifting boxes could be my exercise instead.”

You could hardly refuse the stunning man standing before you and he helped you get your car packed to go to the shelter. You found that you enjoyed his company.

“Can I be honest with you?” Alex asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ve come to like you since we’ve been neighbors. And I was wondering if you’d want to go out with me on a date? You’ve always seemed so nice.”

“Sure. Just maybe next time it can be something other than putting boxes in a car.”

Logan Sargeant

As a streamer for Quadrant, you regularly streamed and discussed Motorsport content. The only driver on the grid you had met was Lando, but little did you know another driver had been watching your content.

Logan had fallen asleep one night with YouTube on and woken up to one of your videos on his screen. He immediately loved how you looked and as he continued to watch, the thoughtful way you talked about Motorsport really resonated with him.

A few days later, after watching a bit more of your videos and one of your streams, he sent a message to Lando asking for your number. Lando, knowing the two of you would be perfect for one another, agreed to play matchmaker and gave you both each other’s contact information.

Logan was thrilled to be able to text you and soon the two of you hit it off. Logan couldn’t help but fall even further for you every time you messaged and his heart would skip a beat every time he saw you go live. Needless to say, the American man had fallen hard.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 preference #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargeant x reader

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wonijinjin · 9 months

Text

seventeen members when their introverted s/o feels socially exhausted

author’s note: i am a very extroverted person so it was a bit difficult to write this but i hope i could still make it comforting for my introvert darlings. enjoy!

synopsis: what the title says

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff, comfort | pairings: seventeen x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of food, mental health

seungcheol would be a little bit taken aback at first since his nature makes him an absolute worrier; he would be asking you if you were feeling okay. if you were out in the city he would definitely suggest going home so you could recharge your energy in peace, next to his comforting presence. you could also expect him to be extra clingy after you gave him the green light of being in your more extroverted mood again.

now jeonghan is known to get drained eventually in social situations aswell, so he would be no stranger to helping you feel comfortable. he would make sure you had a little bit of quiet, leaving you for a bit with your thoughts to really think about what you wanted, and whatever that might be he would be sure to give it to you; cuddles or alone time, sleeping or just the two of you talking mindlessly about various topics.

joshua is very observant so he would notice the signs of you getting pretty tired, that is why he would make an excuse to get the pair of you home from the friendly gathering you were attending at that time, since he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable by asking directly. after stepping inside your bedroom he would surely ask if you wanted to talk about it with him, and do as you decide to proceed.

jun is one of the more silent lovers, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be the most attentive partner to ever exist. he is quick witted so he would always have advice for you if you needed it regarding getting through a difficult time, guiding you through the ways he had solved this problem in the past. you could also expect him to buy you your comfort foods aswell, because he wants you to take care of yourself.

hoshi is a very extroverted person so he may have trouble with helping you if you got socially exhausted, but he would do everything in his power to be a fast learner. he would want you tell him whenever you needed a break from him and his friends since you hung out a lot on a daily basis, and he would gladly bomb you with long voice messages saying during you recharge period so you wouldn’t feel alone even then.

wonwoo has a very quiet way of caring for you, usually many silent acts of service included in it; the moment he saw your energy levels drop he would absolutely ask if you wanted to spend some time away from people, whispering into your ear lowly as he stroked your hair in an encouraging and comforting manner to let him know what you wanted to do next to which he would happily adjust his schedule too.

woozi doesn’t go out often so he might be a little bit confused about your feelings, but he would be desperate to understand what you mean. he would just take you to his studio where the two of you could easily lay on the couch, calming muic playing in the background while he patiently listened to your worries, cooing at how exhausted you probably looked and felt, trying to get you to sleep beside him to get the rest you deserved.

dk can be a very loud person sometimes so it would probably take some time for him to notice your change in behaviour, after you constantly going to social events, having to surround yourself with people frequently. he would be all over you (actually kind of making the situation even worse lmao) trying to figure out a way to help, to which you would gladly accept the cuddles offered by him, needing his touch only.

mingyu is also a very hyped man so he would definitely be sulking upon hearing you say that you were very drained and wanted some peace and quiet since this puppy cannot shut up. poor boy would be so careful around you, being afraid of upsetting you by making noise every minute, and you would have to tell him that he was always welcomed in your space, to which he would happily smother you in kisses.

minghao can be very understanding about your feelings, he himself likes to spend some time to take care of his mental health and well-being, this is why when you confided in him and talked about how you felt he would suggest trying meditation with him. he would also encourage you to openly say no to people when you don’t feel like letting them into your personal space or not wanting to hang out with them.

your mental health may be one of the most important things for seungkwan, since he knows how badly it can affect your mood if you are not feeling comfortable. he would baby you a lot, letting you come to him with your worries and thoughts so he won’t overwhelm you with his constant questions. he would also make sure you eat and drink enough since he no how you tend to neglect your own needs from time to time.

vernon is the perfect example of a person who can be left alone and enjoy his time without others’ presence so if you ever felt burnt out from people but still wanted to be active in some kind of way he would have many ideas offered to you about how to get that much needed recharge from the world; trying a new hobby which doesn’t include other individuals and can make you relax while doing it.

dino knew something was up with you the moment he looked into you direction, he knew you exceeded your limits and wished to rest a bit, to turn your mind off. he would take you dancing with him (even if you were just watching) to make you focus on the beatsof the music and move to it, shaking the stres away off your tired form and to physically exhaust yourself to then get into bed and sleep easily like a baby.

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months

Text

Inn Love Chapter 3

one two

cw: money issue talks, feelings of failure, james and reader being in love and idiots, a little angst (?) friends to lovers

wc: 2.6

“It’s not looking good,” you mutter to Mary, head in your hands as you go over the accounts one more time.

“It’s the off season, we’ll find something else to do.”

She’s too kind, too understanding. You wish she’d blow up at you and quit for not being able to pay her on time.

You sigh, long and hard. You have to figure it out. The Secret Garden is your baby, and even though this is your second year owning it, you’ve still not figured out how to supplement the off season so you make a profit.

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to.

“We might have to. How do you feel about starting up line dancing lessons for a little bit? Just until I figure it out?”

Mary grins, nodding her head. “I’ve missed it some. Won’t exactly be hard to get back into.”

Mary’s the best worker you have. The only one you have really, but she’s still the best.

You close up your books, and double check that all the rooms have been checked out of and begin locking up.

James is waiting for you on your front steps, hat tipped low as he leans against one of the beams.

“Hey Jamie, didn’t know you were stopping by.”

You try for chipper, a smile in your voice as you hold your tote bag on your shoulder.

“Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

You pause, reaching right in front of him. It’s instant, the way a frown fights for the space of your smile. It’s also instant the way James notices.

“What’s wrong?” He takes your bag from you, leading you to his truck.

“Nothing. Where are we getting lunch?”

James frowns a little bit, but doesn’t press. “Had Chinese dropped off to the house, got all your favourites.”

You grin, James does this a lot and it makes your stomach flip every time.

“Meet you there?”

James frowns again, then shrugs. “Yeah, darling.”

You double back to your own truck, James setting your bag in the bench seat.

You watch James pull out first and take a moment to collect all your worry and all your anxiety and stuff it deep in your chest, burying it with a bit of hay before sighing.

You can’t let James see you’re worried or anxious, he’ll sniff the information out of you and if you tell James then you’d have failed.

The first year it was understandable, the second year; you’re not sure you could tell the person who helped you build the inn from the ground up that you’ve been having months of money troubles.

You pull up behind James, sliding out of your car and racing him to the front door.

“You still cheat.” he says with a smile, you shrug while pushing open the door. Inside James’ house, you’d think it was hot, all the southern heat trapped in the walls, but it’s always cool.

He’d explained it to you once, the stone and wood kept it cool, but also he had put in a central air con to maintain the chill.

“I got shorter legs than you James, it’d never be fair.”

James shakes his head, following you to his dining table where all the boxes are already laid out.

“How much noodles am I allowed?” James rolls his eyes. You always eat most of it and he always gets you your own box because why deprive you of your favourite thing?

James doesn’t think there’s actually anything he could deprive you of.

“Does lack of sleep mess with your memory?”

You grin when he passes you an entire box, and then the rest of what you usually like.

As you eat, the talking kind of subsides, which is weird by yours and James’ standards.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” He asks when you migrate to the living room, laying out long on his sofa while he sits with your feet in his lap.

“What do you mean, Jamie?” You try hard not to stiffen your body as you respond.

He sighs, hands squeezing the arches of your feet. “I dunno, something feels wrong. Like you feel down.”

God you could cry right now. James has always been in tune to you like this, as you are with him, but it sometimes gets to be too much because lying to your best friend hurts. Especially when he can tell something is off.

“Just tired I guess.” you shrug one of your shoulders. James hums but doesn’t say anything and you feel guilt like a hot poker in your stomach.

You wiggle your toes in his lap and his hands fall back to massaging them.

“Wanna watch ‘How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days’?”

James never has to ask twice.

You don’t mean to, but you and James fall asleep right there on his sofa. Some time during the night you’ve shifted, he’s laying under you and your head is on part of his chest with your legs tangled up.

The only reason you wake up is because James’ alarm is blaring and you’ve got the worst crick in your neck.

“Make it stop,” you grumble, hiding your face in his chest as he stretches. It’s comfortable even for friends, the way James holds onto your waist as he leans over you to grab his phone.

“Shit, s’nearly four. You gotta go darling.”

You’d lasted nearly a whole three minutes without thinking about the fact that The Secret Garden wasn’t doing well.

Almost awkwardly, which is strange for you and James, you sit up. As you stretch all your joints crack and you sigh where James winces. He’s always hated how you can just crack your bones like that- he worries you’ll break them one day.

“Nah I got the day off.”

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “So the TSG is closed today?”

You wish your friend wouldn’t ask so many questions. Lying to him is hard work.

“Mary’s running the morning shift today.” James looks a little sceptical but drops it, making his way to the stairs.

“M’gonna get ready. You staying on the ranch then?”

You nod, what else is there for you to do? Plus if you use your ‘day off’ to be anywhere but the ranch, say going job hunting or to the bank, your quiet little town will somehow have your going-ons back to James in no time.

“Heat up breakfast and I’ll make us coffee.” James is back down in ten minutes, showered and changed into his wranglers, a thin white t-shirt and his work boots.

You’re sure you’ve got yours around here somewhere.

James and you work like a well greased machine, making breakfast and coffee and doing the dishes all in one go.

He tilts his head to the screen door in the kitchen that leads to his side porch.

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me and then go round do some ranch chores?”

“Still got my boots in the coat closet?” you ask and James rolls his eyes.

“When has anything of yours left this house? You’re everywhere in here.” His gaze is too intense for you to laugh it off. It also makes you feel like you’ve caged race horses in your stomach and they’re butting their fences.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Jamie.” is all you can manage before going in search of your boots.

James doesn’t think it’s a bad thing at all. Honestly, he wishes there were more of you in his house; he’s just not sure if saying that to you will cost him everything.

Shoving your feet into the boots you sigh, then take a peek out at the sky and shiver. “I’m taking a coat.”

“Take anything you want.”

This is why you can’t tell James about your money troubles. He’s going to give you anything to turn it around, but you’re not sure if anything he can give will. You also can’t use him anymore than you already do.

“Race you to the stables!” James takes off before you can even put down your empty mug.

“You’re such a cheater!” You whine as you race behind him, his laugh floating back to you as you reach the stable doors.

“Takes one to know one,” he says playfully, causing you to roll your eyes.

James holds the door open for you and as soon as you get in you head for Snowglobe.

“My baby,” you coo, already kissing the side of his face while James lets his own horse, Landslide, out.

“You’d swear he wasn’t nearly twenty three.”

“Don’t remind me Jamie.” you grab a brush and go through the usual maintenance just as James does with his horse.

“We’re riding up to the fences to check on the horses, then we’re feeding them.” James talks about his day like it’s easy, but you remember the hard work that goes into ranching. You’ve got your work cut out for you, and you’re not even doing the hard stuff like moving hay or any of that.

“Lead the way, Cowboy.”

After a couple hours, you go back to the big house and take a shower, well and truly exhausted. James wouldn’t let you haul hay, so you’d been feeding the animals, cleaning the stables and doing a bit of general cleaning up around the ranch while he and his farmhands mended parts of the fence, herded the cows and hauled the dried heaps of hay.

By the time James comes in, you’re halfway through preparing dinner- beef stew.

“I would’ve cooked after my shower, darling.” James says as he hangs up his hat and boots.

“Yeah, but now by the time you come back down, we can eat together.”

James frowns again, you’ve never been away from TSG for this long since it’s been opened and it’s worrying him that you won’t talk to him about it.

If he’s honest, you haven’t gushed about the inn since you left it yesterday- which is very unlike you. That place is your pride and joy and everyone knows it. Especially James.

He holds his tongue on his worry and nods.

“I’ll be back in ten.”

Through dinner, you’re on your phone, checking your accounts, trying to see where you can make more money or if you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to.

After your sixth sigh in ten minutes, James sets his cutlery down and reaches a hand for you.

“Darling, I know you said it’s nothing, but it’s clearly not. Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Before you can answer, Sirius bursts through James’ house.

“Did you see TSG’s been closed all day? Wonder if everything’s okay.”

You freeze in your seat when James turns to you with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

Sirius coughs to dispel his embarrassment. “Sorry doll face. But why are you closed? Is everything alright?”

You can’t even be upset with Sirius because for all of his faults, he’s always concerned about you. He feels very much like an older brother in that way, even when he’s giving you shit.

You rest your head on the table and sigh.

“Don’t be upset Jamie,” you start, slow and more than a little nervous. You don’t know how you’ll feel if James is angry with you. You don’t want to feel like a failure to him. You don’t want to fail yourself even more.

“I think I’m gonna have to close the inn.”

Sirius gasps, James frowns. “Forever or for a while?”

You lift your head, “For a while. I’m not sure how long. I’ve got to go over the account but we’re not making a profit right now.”

“Darling,” he says at the same time Sirius swears.

Tears spring in your eyes. “I know, it hasn’t been making profit or any sort of money for a couple months but I thought it would pick up again, but I guess late summer is not our season.”

James stands quickly when your first tear falls and Sirius ruffles your head.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, it happens. I can help you work through it.” You shake your head at James’ proposal.

“You helped me start it up and I can’t even keep it running through the entire year. I can’t expect you to help me every year that I have a slow period.”

Sirius tuts, “You could always sell your bakes in the off time, dollface.”

James wipes your tears away, “I can still help. I don’t mind helping out.”

You shake your head. Sirius seems to get it before James does, and what it is you’re trying to say.

“No Jamie, I think maybe working on the ranch or doing a little baking on the side would be good. Right doll?”

You nod, “I don’t wanna keep using you Jamie.”

James tuts, tilting your chin up. Sirius takes his cue and goes into the kitchen, looking through James’ pantry.

“You don’t use me. You’ve never used me.” It’s hard to argue with James when he speaks with such conviction but you know you have.

“But I did. When I was opening up TSG, it was you helping me.”

James smiles then, “Yeah I helped, darling. It was a mutual thing. We’re friends, of course I helped you. And I can help again, but if you want to do this part on your own, I’d get it.”

James wipes your tears, gentle and sweet as ever. “I need to go do a final closing for the season and set some things in place, but can I stay here in the meantime?” You force the words out, soft and whispered against the space between you and James.

“You can stay here as long as you like,”

“Thanks Jamie.”

He shrugs, dimple poking out in his cheek as he smiles at you. “You’re always welcome darling, c’mon I’ll drive you to TSG and help with lock up.”

As it turns out, telling James you’d been struggling wasn’t that bad. It was hard and you’d felt like a failure for a little bit, but he talked good sense into you and now you’re staying with him till the start of autumn.

“I can work the ranch, Jamie.” You proposed on your second night on his sofa.

“You cannot work the entire ranch.” James wasn’t even being funny about it either. You really can’t. You get cut up easily and you blister worse than he does.

“Okay, I can work the stables.”

James rolls his eyes good naturedly, tossing a bit of popcorn at you. You’d both been watching a new horror that James had seen advertising. Watching is a generous word because you both talk through all the dull parts and you squeeze his fingers in anxiety during the freaky parts.

“As opposed to?”

You giggle, “Hey, I can work the garden or help milk the cows.”

James chuckles then, his dimple on display making you want to poke your finger in it. “Same cows you’re afraid of? You can work the stables darling, you know your way around it.”

You squeal, leaning up and closer to James to kiss his cheek. You love doing it because James goes red hot and can’t stop his flush. Even as kids he’d go beet red the minute you gave him a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re the best James. The best ever.”

He grins, “I’m glad you finally noticed.” The pillow behind your head whacks him in the face as you groan.

“That was yuck, don’t ever say that again.” James laughs through your disgust, slotting your pillow behind your back again and holding your feet in his lap as the horror builds.

#cowboy!james #cowboy!james potter #jamespotter #james potter #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x reader #james potter x black reader #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter x yn #james potter x y/n

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churipu · 9 months

Note

Hey! May I request headcanons with Choso in which his s/o is like him, half human half cursed. Like their dynamic, if he’s protective, etc.

I also saw no req rules so I apologize in advance if this made you uncomfortable in anyway.

Thank you and have a great day/night🫶

CHOSO + HALF CURSED PARTNER

featuring. choso kamo x reader

warnings. choso and yuuji having sibling dynamics

note. hi anon, so sorry for how late i posted this. and don't worry about the request omg i find myself thinking about this a lot <33 bcs yeah, what if choso has a partner who is half cursed like he is? i hope you like this one! <33

CHOSO is delighted to have a half-human, half-cursed partner like him.

i feel like he's going to be extra protective of you, like he is with yuuji (maybe a tad bit more). since he won't be able to sense if you're in danger or if you're near death like how he could sense his brother's, i feel like he's going to give you extra attention.

"cho, what are you doing?" you found yourself asking him in confusion as he was baby-proofing the whole house.

everything sharp: table edges, counter edges, kitchen island edges, you name them all. choso puts a rubber on the corner so you wouldn't get hurt when he's not there to look after you.

"keeping you safe." he mutters out in concentration, earlier in the day he had asked yuuji for help with these baby-proofing materials — and of course, yuuji thought that both you and choso were having a baby.

in reality, you were the baby.

"but i am safe?"

"not when i'm not around."

i feel like you and choso would have the "dumb" x "dumber" dynamic. since you're both half-human and half-curse (heavy on working as a curse because i could see you both working with mahito and so as a result, you both lose experience on living like a normal human being), yuuji has to keep you both up on what to do sometimes.

"what were you both thinking? she could've called the authorities on us!" yuuji yells out, a little breathless as he had dragged both you and choso out of the park.

"she was being mean to you," you shrugged, looking away.

"it was my fault!" yuuji scratches his head exasperatedly, "i bumped into her and spilled her coffee."

"still, she was mean to you, brother." choso mumbles.

"we were protecting you, yuuji."

yuuji called nobara and megumi for help to look after you both after that.

choso gets angry at anything who tries to harm you. by anything, i mean even dead objects. you accidentally cut yourself with a knife? the next day the knife is no longer there. you accidentally bumped into the door? choso would pick a fight with the door. or if you were walking down the streets with him and a speck of dust makes you sneeze? i swear he fights the air when you're not looking.

"cho, look. i pricked myself," you proudly presented your index finger which was messily wrapped with a bright yellow colored bandage with rabbit motives all around it.

choso's eyes widened slightly, "who did it?"

you blinked at him, "nobody. i accidentally pricked myself with a knife earlier."

choso squints his eyes at you, "which knife was it?"

oh god, please — if he starts asking you those kind of question, tell him a lie that you threw the knife away so he won't have to do it. quick tip: don't tell him it's nothing or you're fine, because i swear choso will throw the whole knife set away behind your back just minutes after.

i could see choso being a touchy bf. so he tries to be as close to you as possible and at all times, holding hands, giving you kisses, your pinkies intertwined, anything, just let him touch you.

"are there any reasons to why you're hogging my lap?" you groan out slightly, a little burdened at the fact choso's whole body is draped across your thighs. face planted down, he's just laying there motionless.

"missed you. so much." he mutters out, his voice coming out muffled as he is laying face down, "miss your pretty face, miss your touch, miss you."

you rolled your eyes, "i was gone for fifteen minutes."

"still. i missed you."

i could also see him as an attention hogger. he wants your attention, and if you give something or someone much more attention than he's giving him, he'll do anything to try to earn your attention back. also, pretty happy when he success (which he does most of the time).

"what's wrong with you?" you ask choso, who has been sitting down, knees pulled to his chest and his face solemn.

"y'don't love me anymore?" he asks back, and you furrowed your brows in confusion to why he came up with that conclusion. no wind, thunder, rain, anything — he just asks about it out of the blue.

"why would you say that?"

"y'don't give me attention anymore." choso concludes, eyeing you and then eyeing the TV that has been on for the past two hours, hogging all your attention, "give me attention too."

he always asks you to style his hair. if you style them with cute pom-pom hairpins, he won't take them off until the end of the day (even if yuuji made fun of him for it). or if you styled his hair unevenly, he'd still leave it at that — he just wants you to style his hair. pronto.

"you kept the rabbit hairpins i used?"

choso nodded his head, "you put them on. i don't want to take them off," you can't help but to smile at him.

"did anyone make fun of you?"

"yuuji was laughing, but i assumed he finds me cute for wearing those hairpins." you chuckled a little in awe as his eyes were shining brightly talking about how yuuji finds him cute.

just, don't say anything about how yuuji was probably poking fun at him for wearing those pins.

gets you hand picked flowers. he reads somewhere once that flowers could make a partner happy — and now he brings you hand picked flowers everyday (he visits the park, finds the prettiest flowers for you and then picked a few before going home).

"flowers." he handed them to you before kicking his shoes off into a random direction.

"oh, thank you. why did you get them?" you ask him.

"because they look pretty, 'n i remembered you."

every single day, it's a different kind of flower. and if he can't find them at the park — don't even be surprised if he actually confessed about picking them from a random person's yard because they're pretty (anything for his partner).

choso loves listening to you talk and your voice in general. he'd rather listen to you talk all day than having to go out on missions, just the thought of hearing your voice makes his stomach flips. when he has to leave for a long time (a couple of hours), whether it being with yuuji or other people — he'd force them to call you so he could listen to your voice.

"hi pretty, i missed your voice."

"did you force yuuji to hand you his phone again?" choso hums, but he sounded like he didn't regret it one bit.

"y/n i swear if he doesn't get a phone, i'll buy it for him myself!" you could hear yuuji complain from the background, and then a few shuffles along with a yelp before choso has to say his goodbyes because of "circumstances" (which was just him giving yuuji a piece of his mind).

"'m gonna be back soon, miss you. i love you. bye." choso hung up, not letting you return his words back.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #jjk fluff #choso #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #jjk choso #kamo choso #jujutsu choso #choso fluff

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tofupixel · 2 months

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Thank you for getting me to finally try pixel art! I‘ve always wanted to get into pixel art but I never knew what to start with and always ended up procrastinating. Your blog and the post you made on learning pixel art were what finally pushed me to give it a go. It was really helpful and I managed this little animation in Libresprite.

I definitely want to improve and your art is like the ultimate goal lol. Do you have any tips or instructions for how to get better or on what to focus on in the future? I‘d appreciate any kind of criticism/input you are willing to give! How do you manage to make such gigantic and beautiful landscapes?

thank you!! and i'm so happy you decided to give it a real go, you're doing great already!! the rendering on the body and the pink shading is really nice.

i can help a little with animation stuff but i'm not an expert, ill write something out about backgrounds at the end

i hope you don't mind but i edited the sprite a little, just to illustrate some stuff

🤺Animation stuff

i added an extra frame near the top of the arc so it slows down. this is called ease or slow in/out and usually happens at the beginning and end of movements. u can do even more slow but this is just a quick version

i also removed the middle frame (where the tail is straight down) to make the swing appear a bit more powerful. this could be the principle of timing in the same video. you can exaggerate smears if you do this, its up to you!! lately i tend to exaggerate stuff a lot, things arent super noticable in motion

i also got a good bit of advice from nickwoz that helped me, basically when you begin to animate, it really puts the rest of the sprite being still into focus. try to think of how you could animate other parts of the body, even subtly. and sometimes if individual pixels stay still they can catch the eye in an unintended way as well, just keep it in mind!!

if you want to learn animation more, you could take a look at duelyst sprites, they have incredible idle and ability animations, i study them a lot

heres one i downloaded a long time ago. i recommend just downloading stuff you like and looking at it!! i have a huge collection of pixel inspo. slowing animations down can really help you understand whats going on. its just a bunch of simple elements put together that makes it look so good.

IF U WANT MORE RESOURCES/ARTISTS I REOCMMEND TO GO AND STUDY LMK!!! IM LIKE A WIKIPEDIA, I AM A BIG FAN of pixel art and love to share

🌿 OK lets talk about landscape stuff

it looks like you have art experience already, but im gonna talk as if youre a complete noob cos it might help some other people who read this!! ur doing great 👍

❓ how to learn: study (and practise a lot)

what i mean by study: draw it, copy it, try to understand it. you can try to change characteristics about it. changing the angle or lighting can help u understand how something works in 3 dimensions.

sometimes it takes time, dont worry, you will figure out your own style through doing studies, its all a process

❓ how to draw landscape details?

study pixel artists and how they do it recommendations: fool, slym, jubilee, deceiver

also please look at real world references!! you got to build that visual library

❓ how to learn composition?

study traditional artists or animation. i did a ton of studies of ghibli backgrounds which i think helped my growth a lot recommendations: arcane, studio ghibli, traditional painters

im gonna break down a piece as well and maybe that will help. this is one from 2022 but its still one of my most popular and its pretty simple too!!

if we remove all the fancy stuff what we have is actually really simple. just a few large, overlapping shapes that all point towards our focal point. it's the brightest area with the most contrast and many edges point into it.

go to pinterest or google and just search "pretty landscape" or "mountains" or something and you can see what i'm doing is nothing special or unique!! break it down into bigger shapes to begin with, its just different areas of material mostly.

and heres how you can make any landscape from any colours. purple sky or mountain? orange grass? ok !! it all works, it doesnt matter. i just blend the colours.

when parts of the landscape are in the distance they become closer to the sky colour as there is more "sky" in between you and it. its called atmospheric perspective. so if the sky was red, the clouds would fade towards red.

OKKK i dont know what else to say so i hope that helps!! honestly 90% of what i do is intuitive and hard for me to really explain, so you dont have to know The Rules, you just kind of pick up stuff as you go.

GL and thanks so much for showing me your art!! please keep going!! 💕💕💕💕

#qna #tutorial #pixel art tutorial #colour theory #animation

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fatuismooches · 2 years

Note

hi omg, I hope you don't mind me sending requests <3

I live for your writing sm, all of your fluffs gave me diabetes but healthier. I am a sucker for all of them, so thank you for putting your time and effort in your written works <3

I was thinking of headcanons with gn!reader and the fatui members but the reader is fragile, who can get easily sick or physically weak because of the unhealthy conditions during their childhood. I would love to think about those "meanies" (cough dottore or scara) would go insta worry mode if something bad happens to you because of your condition. Fluff or angst, I'm in love with both, I hope you don't mind about the request ^^ (you can decide platonic or romantic <3)

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. That is until they start worrying over your frail figure.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: I really loved this request, it made me really inspired! (Probably because they'd be extra soft in this scenario and I love that...) I hope you like this nonnie!

Pierro:

He doesn’t get to see you very often with his work and whatnot. But rest assured that you are in good hands, and that even if Pierro only has a spare twenty minutes of break, he’s coming to your room or wherever you are to check up on you. He doesn’t want you to be restrained. He wants you to go and experience Snezhnaya instead of being cooped up alone all the time (with the proper guards and company of course.) He is a very stoic but kind gentleman. You’d hide in his coat while walking together and no one would know until you pop out of it and scare the recruits. He holds the doors open, pulls up the blankets to the very top. When you’re tired due to your sickness he likes to use ancient Khaenri’ahn magic to make you smile.

If you died, Pierro would feel grief that he has not felt since the destruction of his homeland. He has already lost so much that his heart had become numb a long time ago, but your death made it come flooding back. He would have some kind of small figure similar to a chess piece made of you, and he’d keep it on him. In the battle for his heart, you were always the winner. What hurt the most was that he couldn’t even be with you in your final moments, to at least confirm how much he loved you despite everything. But he promises you, he will see you again in the “Old World” after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s dream.

Capitano:

He is really worried for you. It was such a sharp contrast - big, tall, in tip-top shape, hulking Capitano while little old you struggled to walk straight sometimes. If you sneeze or even cough once, he’s literally all over you asking you if you’re okay. He tries to do a lot of things for you by himself. He stabs the meat on your plate so hard it breaks. He accidentally spends an hour deciding what you should wear, because he didn’t realize you had this many clothes, so he needed to choose something that’d look the best on you, despite not really having any fashion sense. But at least he is very diligent with your medicine times. He literally hovers over you, unintentionally being menacing, while you drink it. It’s very cute but the first time he did it, you spat out the medicine in surprise because you opened your eyes and he was just standing there with no warning. (Don’t ask him to pour it though. Once you asked him to pour a little into the bottle’s cover. His hands were too big and it spilled on the bedsheets.) If you collapse on him, he would be internally panicking so hard. Poor guy thought he hurt you somehow. The kind of guy who paces back and forth and causes everyone around him ten times more anxiety with how he’s acting. Also, lots of rides where you hook your legs over his shoulders and your hands are on his head (I don’t know what they’re called.)

If you died, Capitano would feel like a monster. Yes, he didn’t kill you, but it still felt like your blood was on his hands. Or did he kill you? He brought ruin and destruction to everyone, did he curse you too? How did he even know you were happy with him? Did you regret it? Would you have been happier spending your days with someone else? Horrific questions dug deeper and deeper stabs into his sturdy body, weighing him down day by day. He would give up anything just to have you back in his arms, for you to reassure and caress him, that he wasn’t a demon. But it seemed like the monster part of him was taking over anyway.

Columbina:

The kind of lover who has a list of songs that remind her of you and also buys you the record so you could listen to it. Columbina thinks music can soothe and heal the soul. So everyone can frequently hear tunes coming from your room. She also has a very calming voice in general, so when you are in pain, she just talks to you. She’d gently croon you to sleep or get you to spill all of your fears about the future, and thus comfort you. Since she sings, I’m declaring that she’s pretty poetic and would write poems for you. They always include bravery, strength, and overcoming illness with love, complete with heart doodles around it.

If you died, she would create multiple songs in honor of you. At your funeral, they couldn’t go on with the proceedings for a long time because she sang for hours, thinking of you. Often, she would go to your coffin, encased in ice, and just lie on it, singing. I think she would take a piece of your clothing and attach it to her outfit or something. I just have a feeling that she has lost before, but she likes to hold that article of clothing and feel as though you are still with her. She would become lost in her thoughts a lot more than before. If you had a favorite song, Columbina could often be found humming it to herself alone.

Dottore:

He’s a doctor. A very unethical one, but Dottore’s still extremely intelligent. He knows what you can and can’t do, your possibilities and your limits, your good days and your bad days. He doesn’t trust anyone else to monitor your progress and health. When it’s time for your walks, Dottore personally comes with you, which baffles the other Fatui who knows that virtually nothing can come between him and his research. He tells you about how his medicine for you is coming along, and while you can’t really understand any of it, you like clinging to his arm for support. When it’s time for your medicine, he administers it himself despite your whining that it’s yucky. (For you though, he would find a way to make it a flavor to your liking.)

But even for him, illness can sometimes be unpredictable, despite his precise calculations. Which is why whenever your condition randomly takes a turn for the worse, his mood completely changes and he’s already running a bunch of tests and taking your pressure and all of the like, trying to figure out what triggered your illness. Everyone knows not to even look at him during these times. Doesn’t show it but even though he isn’t scared of anything, these little stunts are not good for him. Has notebooks dedicated to your condition and daily status updates. Nothing goes unnoticed by him. Oh, but he’ll have his clones piggyback you around when you’re too tired to walk <3.

If you died, Dottore wouldn’t show it, but he would never forgive himself. He has the power to create artificial Gods, clone himself, and so much more, but he couldn’t save you? Honestly, he would probably preserve your body through cryosleep, unable to accept your death and his failure. He keeps you in a room that no one else has access to, and just… stares at your naked body in the tube, ruminating about how much he wanted you back. Dottore’s efforts to research and master resurrection triple, and he won’t stop until he could hear your voice again.

Pulcinella:

When you’re at your lowest because of your illness, Pulcinella always comes in and likes to tell you some roundabout story that always has a life message at the end. He’s serious with you but also likes when you have fun. Reads you stories in different voices but it’s not very good when he sounds like a grandpa in all of them. He likes to set you up with different Harbingers. They’re also like family to him so he would want them to spend time with you. It would help your mental health too, he thinks. While some are fine with it, others are less interested, let's just say Papanella has his ways.

If you died, it really felt like he lost his own child. Pulcinella loved when you came to him asking for stories. When you sometimes left the country but came back with exciting stories. He liked to joke that if an old man like him could make it for this long, you’d have to as well. He really wanted you to go and experience the world and what it had to offer, just like he did. Planning your funeral was not something he was looking forward to.

Scaramouche:

Sometimes, he can’t help but think to himself, how much of a grip a weak, frail human like you has on him. A strong breeze could probably knock you off your feet, meanwhile, he has God-like powers. Yet he feels like a fool in your presence. He complains about how needy you are but in an instant, he is ordering someone to bring you a glass of water or extra blankets. Grumbles about how fragile you are but he holds you so gently, you wonder if it’s still Scaramouche. When you’re around, he tends to keep his voice down and not yell at others, since he doesn’t want to accidentally make you feel worse. Scaramouche is still his snarky self, but it’s noticeable how much he observes you, matching his pace to yours even if you’re walking slowly as hell, stopping with you to look at the scenery.

Despite all his whining, not gonna lie, if you collapse on him, he will probably freak out. If he had a heart, it would be thump-thump-thumping, but in its place is just an ache and unsettling feeling. Instantly catches you but his mind goes to the worse, knowing how fleeting your life was. Would move faster than the speed of lightning to get you help, and would not leave for side for anything. Waking up to Scaramouche’s hand intertwined with you and his head facing down into the sheets was not something you expected. In fact, he acts more vulnerable than you, ordering you (which, in reality, is more like a plea) to get better soon.

If you died, any remnants of love and kindness would just… extinguish. Anything in sight is being thrown, crushed, electrocuted. If the sickness was caused by the Tatarigami plaguing Inazuma, he would be especially furious. He would curse everything, everyone. The God, his creator, who abandoned him and let you get this sick. The doctors who were too useless to do anything. But he would curse himself the most, for being so weak, and not being able to do anything for the one person who actually gave a damn about him, now fated to wander Teyvat by himself for eternity. (But… reincarnation AU, anyone?)

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino is a silent yet watchful and hands-on partner. She observes you closely to see if your condition is acting up, or if you’re starting to feel ill. She is the kind of person who wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen since she picks up on your cues. Often times Arlecchino would scold the orphans for bothering you so much but you’d always reassure her that you didn’t mind. Whenever you try to lie about how well you’re feeling, she always narrows her eyes at you and makes you lie back down. Nothing can get past her. I also think she has a great soup recipe due to her experience with children, so you’ll definitely be fed some good food.

If you died, it would seem that there was no change in Arlecchino to the Fatui recruits. Same stone cold face and dead eyes. Same harsh voice that spat out orders. And they would be right, outwardly at least. Inwardly, however, was a completely different story. When a wound is healing, it hurts the most when it’s targeted. If her heart wasn’t hurt before, now it felt like it was completely broken, just when you were starting to piece it back together. When she looks at the children playing, she envisions you running after them too, but the only thing there is the shadows of the kids. When she’s walking through the halls, she anticipates you trying to creep up on her unknowingly and give her a back hug, but now all she hears is her own intense footsteps. When she’s doing paperwork, she expects to see you trying to sneak sugar into her coffee… but you won’t ever be here to do those simple things again.

La Signora:

La Signora treats you like glass. She is especially overprotective of you because she greatly fears losing you. You have the best maids and servants tending to your every need. She’d rather you not exert more energy than you have to. When she’s not around, she sends her little flame moths with sweet messages to you, in hopes of making you smile. She is scared about you going out by yourself since you could get sick so easily. So whenever you need a breath of fresh air, she makes sure to bundle you up in the finest coats. Also has her moths flutter around you for heat. Signora is very tall, so I think she would like to sit you on her lap and do simple things with her. I think she secretly craves a domestic life with her lover after she was robbed of it so long ago. She’d want to play with your hair, press you into her soft chest, make origami butterflies together.

If you died, the ice that previously surrounded her heart would swallow her up again. No more teasing you, hooking her finger under your chin, and kissing you. No more mock fashion shows where she helped to dress you in the most gorgeous clothes and the two of you would pose for pictures for the Kamera. It seemed as though the Gods would tear anyone she loved away from her without hesitation. She suffered the loss of her love once, but for it to happen twice? The pain was unbearable but Rosalyne sealed her feelings up once again. Coldness and ruthlessness returned to mask her true feelings, for if she didn’t, she feared she might not be able to handle it.

Pantalone:

Pantalone wants you to see and do anything you want. You want to go to Liyue to attend the Lantern Rite? He’s clearing his schedule to come with you. You want some obscure item? He’s searching all the markets and buying it, no matter the cost. You picked up some hobby to pass the time? He’s indulging you with the most expensive and efficient equipment to help you with it. He wants you to have the most stress-free, easy, and happy life, so you can just focus on recovering and getting better. Every day, you’ll be visited by a new doctor, repeating the same old questions about how you feel, but Pantalone reassures you that they’re working on something for your health. He’s thankful that his position in the Fatui allows him to stay in Snezhnaya most of the time because he worries about you every minute of the day. The kind of guy who would have a status report on your health sent to his office every hour.

If you died, behind closed doors, his smile would immediately drop, now feeling like it was a heavy burden just to quirk his lips. He had access to the best doctors, medicines, and even bought ancient remedies long forgotten. Yet it was all fruitless. The Mora that he once loved to feel slip through his fingers sickened him. What was all the money he had worth? It couldn’t buy your life back.

Sandrone:

If you want her to, she could probably hook you up with some robotic/prosthetic limbs. But she’ll never want to make you a full robot. You’re not one of her experiments, you’re her lovely lover. At first, she was okay with you going on walks. Well, it wasn’t really a walk because a Ruin Guard just carried you in its hand. But she never did that again when the robot returned with you collapsed and unconscious. Needless to say, the project Sandrone was working on is immediately dropped and now she’s taking extra precautions. I feel as though she would hook up a camera to her caretaker robots so she can be updated on your conditions at all times. When you’re sick, Sandrone likes to make cute robot animals, (which is something she never dreamed of wasting time on before she met you) to bring you little things. Maybe photos of some scenery she took might brighten your day. Or little short but sweet notes. The one that always makes you laugh is when it brings you a clipboard to fill out your daily assessment.

If you died, it would feel like she herself turned into a robot. Wake up, experiment in her lab for an ungodly amount of hours, forget to eat and sleep. Rinse and repeat. Her life was constant now that you, the variable, were gone. Sandrone had a bed for you in her lab so you could watch her while she tinkered with some mechanical parts. It was mostly you talking while she fiddled but your voice bouncing off the walls was pleasant. But now it was silent, only the squeaking of wrenches and screwdrivers remained. She felt emptier than any puppet.

Childe:

He’s the kind of person who excitedly grips your hand and tells you about all the fun and lively activities you two will do together when your health improves. He wakes you up every morning, sunlight pouring into the room and the smell of breakfast cooking (and him in an apron.) Loves to serve you breakfast in bed, spoon-feeding you while the two of you plan what the day will be like. You want to just stay in and relax? Great, he’s got some of Teucer’s favorite story books to read together. You want to go for a stroll? He’s already got the route marked and the picnic basket ready. Childe would manage to carry you and like ten other bags at the same time just to impress you. Also, he is your personal hype man. Even when you’re terribly sick, he’s there to motivate you and sing your praises about how strong you are.

If you died, he would feel lost. The abyss snatched a piece of his heart away already, but he felt even more hollow now. You were the only thing that made Childe forget about being a weapon for the Tsaritsa for a while. When he was away on missions, he enjoyed reading your letters about how you were supposedly getting better. In the middle of a battlefield he would flip through photos of you and his heart would swell in anticipation for the future. But as Teucer and his siblings wail and cling to his legs, and it takes all of Ajax’s strength to not break down in front of them too. When he’s alone though, he silently sobs into your old clothes and bed sheets.

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