#Latest News and Upcoming Twist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xbinksc · 2 months ago

Text

RUMOURS AND REVELATIONS

PT 2

⭒❃.✮:▹Nicholas Alexander Chavez

SUMMARY: singer Y/N and co-star Nicholas face rumors of romance amid their chemistry and rising fame, navigating media scrutiny while strengthening their bond. Where will all this take them?

WARNINGS: real mushy at the end, looooong

A/N: Requests are open! Still can’t figure out how to make a master list rip someone help me…Enjoy🤍

✧༺༻∞

In a surprising turn of events, Monsters star Nicholas Alexander Chavez and singer Y/N were seen enjoying a cozy night out at a popular cafe in Los Angeles last night. The duo, who play alongside each other in the upcoming series Grotesquerie, appeared to be having a great time, laughing and taking pictures with fans, sparking speculation about their off-screen relationship.

Eyewitnesses described the pair as "playful" and "affectionate," with Nicholas even wrapping an arm around Y/N during photos—a move that sent fans into a frenzy!

This public outing comes just days after news broke of Nicholas’s breakup with his ex-girlfriend, prompting fans to wonder if the split was influenced by his growing bond with Y/N. The timing has many fans theorizing that "The Boy Is Mine," Y/N's latest hit song, is a not-so-subtle nod to the love triangle drama.

Sources close to the pair have revealed that they have been spending significant time together both on and off set, which has only added to the swirling rumors. An insider claims, “They have an undeniable connection. It’s clear they enjoy each other's company.”

The pair’s chemistry has been undeniable throughout filming, leading fans to question whether their relationship is purely professional or if there's a budding romance behind the scenes. Social media is buzzing with reactions, with many supporters urging the couple to "just be together already!"

While neither Nicholas nor Y/N has officially commented on their relationship status, their fans are eagerly awaiting any updates. For now, the rumors continue to heat up, leaving everyone wondering: Is it just a friendship, or is there something more?

Stay tuned as we follow this developing story!

INSTAGRAM

@/ynuser: werk ♡

Comments

@/user gorgeous gorgeous girl

@/user I need the next ep of grotesquerie NEOW😵‍💫

@/zaralarsson trying not to say mother

- @/ynuser donatella VERSACE💜

@/user girl please tell me the rumours are true I won’t snitchhhh

@/nicholasalexanderchavez 🤓

-liked by @/ynuser

@/user my new flex is I met Nicholas and y/n last night😛

@/kyliejenner obsessed with u😍

@/user okayyyyy Nicholas I see you👀

- @/user we need a ship name ASAP

- @/user bro they’re so cute I cannot

- @/user not y’all supporting a homewrecker

COMMENTS TURNED OFF

IRL

The night was heavy with a storm, clouds gathering like dark thoughts in the sky. Nicholas sat in his living room, the flickering light of his candles casting dancing shadows on the walls. He stared blankly at the flick of his phone screen, each notification a new reminder of the whirlwind that had enveloped his life. Articles dissected every moment with you, twisting your innocent laughter into scandalous headlines.

A sudden, frantic knock shattered the stillness. His heart skipped as he opened the door, revealing you, your face streaked with tears, vulnerability spilling over in the soft glow of the hallway light.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Nicholas,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you sank onto the sofa, burying your face in your hands. “The rumors… they’re unbearable. And I keep thinking about your ex—she must hate me. I don’t want to be the reason for any hurt.”

Nicholas moved to sit beside you, concern etched across his face. “You’re not a homewrecker, Y/N. This isn’t your fault.”

“But I met her. I saw how hurt she was,” you whispered, your eyes brimming with regret. “What if she thinks I came in and ruined everything?”

Nicholas felt a pang of sorrow for both women, caught in a whirlwind of feelings beyond their control. “You didn’t ruin anything. Our relationship had its own complexities. It’s not fair to blame you.”

You looked up, your eyes searching his. “Then why do I feel like I’m drowning? Every article, every rumor, it all makes me feel like I’m stuck in this web. And I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt because of it.”

The tension in the room hung thick, an unspoken truth waiting to be unraveled. Nicholas took a deep breath, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. “Maybe we should talk about where we stand. We can’t keep avoiding it. This anxiety… it’s tearing us apart.”

Your gaze softened, and you nodded slowly. “You’re right. We’ve let this consume us. But where do we even begin?”

“Let’s start with the truth,” he suggested, his heart pounding. “What do we really feel about each other?”

The question lingered in the air, almost fragile in its intensity. You hesitated, your heart racing. “I care about you, Nicholas. More than I thought I could. But I’m scared. Scared of what this means, and how the world will react.”

Nicholas leaned closer, the space between the both of you crackling with a mixture of tension and longing. “I feel the same. You’ve become so important to me. I don’t want to lose you, but the noise outside… it makes everything complicated.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we really separate our professional lives from this… whatever this is between us?”

He considered your words, weighing them carefully. “We can try. But we need to be honest with ourselves. We can’t let the pressure of the world dictate our feelings.”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of hope igniting in your eyes. “So, we give it a real shot? Just… discreetly?”

“Yes,” he replied, a smile breaking through the weight of the moment. “We can keep our lives separate while exploring this connection. I want to see where this can lead us without the distractions.”

The relief washed over you like a balm, and you took his hand, the warmth of his touch igniting something deep within you. “You make me feel seen.”

“You make me feel understood,” he admitted, his heart swelling. “In a world that often feels chaotic, you’re my calm.”

Just as you both began to find your rhythm, the storm of stress outside began to seep in. “But what if people don’t understand? What if they twist our relationship again?” Your voice trembled, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Nicholas felt his own anxiety bubble up. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we just ignored them. We can’t let every rumor dictate our reality!”

“That’s easy for you to say!” You shot back, your voice rising. “You’re not the one facing the scrutiny every single day!”

“Neither are you! We’re in this together!” he countered, the tension escalating as your emotions collided.

You both paused, the heat of the argument hanging in the air like a taut string ready to snap. You took a shaky breath, your eyes wide. “Wait… are we really mad at each other?”

Nicholas blinked, realization dawning. “No, we’re not. We’re just… stressed. This whole situation is making us take it out on each other.”

You nodded, the tension slowly dissipating. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just all so overwhelming.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. We’re in the same boat, fighting the same storm. Let’s breathe for a second.”

“Let’s breathe,” you echoed, the weight of the moment shifting from confrontation to understanding. You took a few deep breaths together, grounding yourselves in the presence of each other.

“Maybe we should focus on what we can control,” Nicholas suggested softly. “Like how we communicate. We don’t have to let this stress tear us apart.”

“Agreed,” You replied, a small smile breaking through the remnants of tension. “We’ll work through it together.”

You shared a moment of silence, your hands intertwined, the soft rhythm of your breaths echoing in the space between you. Each pulse of your hearts seemed to sync, bridging the gap of uncertainty that had kept you apart.

“Can we just enjoy being together without all the noise?” You asked, your eyes sparkling with a blend of mischief and sincerity.

“Absolutely,” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “Let’s find joy in the little things—coffee dates, late-night talks, quiet moments where it’s just us.”

As you spoke, the heaviness of the outside world began to dissolve, replaced by a gentle warmth. Laughter bubbled between you, lightening the mood as you reminisced about your time spent on set, the shared glances and stolen smiles that had made everything feel electric.

Nicholas found himself enchanted by your laughter, a sound that felt like music, lifting them both above the fray. “You know,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes, “you owe me a karaoke night. I expect a duet.”

“Deal,” you replied, laughing through your tears. “But only if you promise to keep your mic in check. No sudden high notes!”

Your playful banter melted into deeper conversations, the night unfurling like a flower, revealing petals of honesty and vulnerability. You spoke of dreams, aspirations, and fears, each revelation drawing you closer together.

But as the clock ticked on, reality loomed like a specter at the edges of your newfound intimacy. “This isn’t going to be easy,” You said, your expression sobering. “The world won’t stop watching.”

“I know,” Nicholas replied, his voice steady. “But we have to stay true to ourselves and each other. As long as we communicate, we’ll find our way through.”

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your heart. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”

The moment stretched between you, a fragile yet beautiful thread connecting your hearts. “What if it doesn’t work out?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we’ll still have this moment,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “This is ours, regardless of what happens later.”

As the night deepened, you shared a quiet moment, eyes locked, the understanding between you solidifying into something undeniable. In the midst of chaos, you had carved out a sanctuary, a bond that felt like the softest whisper against a storm.

When you finally stood to leave, a mix of reluctance and exhilaration coursed through you. “This was… everything I needed. Thank you for being here.”

Nicholas walked you to the door, feeling the glow of possibility surrounding him. “I’ll always be here for you. Remember that.”

With a shared look of promise, you stepped into the night, the world outside still tumultuous but your hearts intertwined in a newfound hope. As Nicholas closed the door behind you, he felt the glow of possibility surrounding him.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader

334 notes · View notes

monzabee · 2 years ago

Text

how you get the girl – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and your boyfriend Charles attend a gala for a friend and run into Harry Styles – who happens to be your ex.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of a past break-up, jealousy, possessive charles, angst? (only if you squint, or maybe not I don’t know), charles being charles, google translate French, anger?

Request: “Can I request a Charles fanfic with angst? Maybe famous singer reader used to date someone really famous like Harry styles and they run into Harry and Charles is really jealous and acting up/mad?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this is my first time writing a fic, so all feedback is welcome and appreciated. i liked the idea that the anon named harry so i used him, but also i had to include taylor swift some way because she is the literal best. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You sigh, fixing the way the neckline of your dress looks and meeting the eyes of your boyfriend through the mirror. “I know you’d rather be relaxing tonight than entertaining people.”

Charles smiles softly as he keeps his eyes focused on yours, the green in his eyes shining just a little bit brighter due to the afternoon sun shining through the hotel room window. He abandons his place on the edge of the bed and comes closer to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are you trying to convince me to stay back, or convince yourself, chérie?”

His question brings a mischievous smile on your lips and you shrug your shoulders with faux innocence as you lean your head back on the Monegasque’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, chéri.” Your use of the pet name he taught you when the two of you first went on a date makes him let out a laugh – well, you don’t know if it is because of your use or your pronunciation or your use of the word in general, but you’re hoping for the latter.

“Well, I think you are.” He takes your hand in his and slowly moves you from your place in front of the mirror. “And it’s not going to work, because you—”

“Promised Helen we’d be there. I know, I know.” You huff, shaking out of his grasp and fixing his bowtie with a small frown on your face as you mumble, “I thought you F1 drivers would be into breaking the rules, but no, I had to find the only decent one.”

Charles chuckles as he places his hands back onto your waist as you continue your mission with a relentless sense of seriousness. “Aw, you think I’m decent?”

An urgency to smile snakes up onto your lips because of his question but you try to refrain yourself from doing so by twisting your lip, “Shut up, Charles.”

“I think you’re decent as well,” he takes a moment to think with an exaggerated expression, “pretty, too.”

You smile at your handiwork as you pat his bowtie twice and place your hands on the sides of your hips. “Is this your way of saying I look nice?”

He shakes his head and starts walking you towards the door, picking up your coat and bag, and ignoring your protests along the way. “But, yes of course. However, we need to go right now if you don’t want to make Helen angry at you for being late.”

“At me?” You ask, confused.

Charles laughs. “Well, yes, chérie. She loves me too much to get mad at me. You’ll have fun once we go inside.”

By the time the two of you arrive at the gala, Charles has managed to uplift your mood (mostly by promising you pizza and sweets after the two of your leave the event). When you get to Royal Albert Hall, Helen welcomes you with a big smile and open arms. The three of you decide to grab drinks together at the bar and talk about the event, your latest recording deal, Charles’ upcoming season, and Helen’s new client who is a “twat-waffle in skinny jeans, but don’t worry about me, honey, I’ve seen worse.” She leaves the two of you to welcome newcomers, who are probably looking at her to congratulate her on the event. You place your glass on the bar and turn to face Charles, who is looking at you with a small smirk on his face.

You sigh exaggeratedly and tilt your head to the side. “Fine, you were right, this is fun.”

He matches your sigh, although with a lighter tone to it. “I know, I love being right.” He quickly finishes the rest of his drink and gets up from his place to offer you his hand. “Now, chérie, allons-nous danser?” Shall we dance? You nod your head, giggling as you take his hand and allow him to pull you onto the dance floor. With the alcohol coursing through your veins, you think this might be the perfect night.

You and Charles dance through what feels like a hundred songs, but in reality, you lose the count after the third slow-paced song because the DJ decides he’s had enough of the slow songs for the evening and moves onto the fast-paced ones. Both of you jump up and down to the rhythm of the music as best as you can in your choice of heels for the evening, and Charles is there with you to do the same. He nudges your shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows when the DJ decides to play one of your recent songs, not shy to let the people around you know that it is your song. “That’s my girlfriend’s song!” he says, “Yes! It’s the new one!”

After the previous song finishes, the two of you decide to retire for a bit, walking out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You turn to Charles when you hear him chuckling and find him shaking his head. “Hey, what are you laughing at?”

“You look like a tomato, mon amour.” He’s quick to add, “A very cute one at that.”

You let out a shocked gasp, swatting lightly at his chest to cease his laughs. “It’s not funny! I never make fun of you after your races, even if you do look like a tomato.”

“That is not true, and you know it.” His laughter continues, making you join him and soon after both of you are laughing uncontrollably; with you leaning against the railing of the balcony and him with his arms placed on either side of you to cage you in. After your laughter dies down, leaving you both in heaving breaths in to calm yourselves, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places it onto your shoulders.

You gaze up at him, softly smiling through your lashes. “Thank you, my love.”

You press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but he is quick to capture your lips in his, and his eyes are the last thing before you close yours as he starts kissing you. His hands quickly start moving and he drags them up your body to cradle your face between his hands as he deepens the kiss. You let out an involuntary whimper, in which he responds by gently tugging at your lower lip. In an attempt to bring him closer, you slip your fingers through the belt loops of his dress pants, which thankfully is not occupied by a belt. Charles’ response is to bring your face even closer as he keeps kissing you. The two of you don’t realise the sound of footsteps coming from behind you.

“Oh, God, sorry.” A voice interrupts, and you quickly separate from each other, albeit a little bit unwillingly. You inhale deeply to regulate your irregular breathing, and let out a gasp as your eyes fall onto the intruder. Just as you are about to open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I can’t believe it, hi Y/N, it’s been ages!”

Although Charles’ eyebrows furrow, he keeps his gaze focused on you only to turn around to face the intruder once you say, “Hi, Harry, it’s been a while!” He gives him a once over, keeping his hands on your waist as the two of you talk about the lost time. And yes, while Charles can be a jealous man – just like any other guy in a relationship who is as besotted with their partner as he is with you – he never considers himself to be possessive. He even likes Harry’s music, he mostly encounters the songs at the paddock before a race or after while doing media stuff, but he doesn’t have any issues regarding his music or him in general just because he is dating you because he is secure in your relationship to know just how much you love and respect him and the same goes for you. But standing there with you leaning against him while talking to your ex-boyfriend, yes he know he is your ex-boyfriend like the rest of the world thanks to your very public break-up, he just wants to take you away from there any to anywhere where the two of you can be alone.

You leap off the railing you were leaning against when you feel Charles’ hands tightening on your waist and move one of your hands to cover his as you give him a slight squeeze. “This is Charles, my boyfriend.”

He watches as you give him a polite smile and attempts to do the same, but it reality his probably comes-off as a strained one. Harry offers him a handshake as he smiles at him, “Hello, nice to meet you.” And then, he watches as the Brit turns his attention once against to you.

“We missed you at the awards this season, you didn’t attend any of them!” Harry chuckles, shaking his head a little.

You shrug and answer him with the same polite smile on your face. “Well, you know me, never been fan of the award shows in the first place.”

Charles knows this, of course he does, because whenever someone starts to ask you about award season in the first place, you let them know that the awards are not the reason you write songs in the first place – the fans are. He tunes most of your conversation out as his insecurities take over his thoughts, he thinks it is funny in a way because your relationship might be the only one where he has felt like he could be himself without worrying about what you might think. Just as he is about the calm his fears by the logical side of his brain reasoning and telling him that he should probably stop acting like a fool, he hears Harry asking you about a song on your album which makes him throw all the rationality he has out the metaphorical window.

“I-uh, I listened to your new album, it was very good.” Harry says.

A wide smile finds a place on your face. “Oh, thank you, Harry! It’s nice to hear that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I liked that one song the most, what’s it called, How You Get the Girl?” He thinks quietly for a split second. “Oh whatever – it was very good. But tell me the truth, was it or was it not about me?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you that, it’s a secret.” You laugh. And he laughs. And Charles only watches the scene before him without being able to say anything because he is swarmed by all the thoughts he tried so hard pushing out of his head coming back. You must’ve notice his drastic change in mood because you excuse the two of you saying that you’re feeling a little bit cold.

“Oh sure, it was nice seeing you again.” Harry smiles at you, and then addresses Charles, “It was also nice meeting you, Charles. Take care of my girl, eh?”

“You too, Henry.” Charles replies, without filtering his response in his head and hangs his head low to avoid any awkwardness.

You wait until the Brit leaves the balcony and then focus on the man in front of you, “Charles–” you start, but he cuts you off with a low voice.

“Can we just go home?” He inhales deeply. “Please.”

Needless to say, the car ride home is quiet and tense. Charles acts like he doesn’t care, but you know deep inside that he is bothered by what happened and is probably overthinking the entire situation. The one thing you are grateful for is the fact that you didn’t drive to the venue but instead opted for a car service, thinking that you’d both be drunk by the time event ended. However in reality, neither of you are drunk and you are fairly sure Helen is going to send you a very angry text the next morning because you left early. When the driver announces that you’ve arrived at the hotel, Charles thanks him before exiting the car and you do the same before you lean over to open your door, but Charles is quicker than you and he does it for you.

He is quiet the entire way up to your hotel room, but he has an arm around you and you place your hand right on top of his in an attempt to sooth whatever negative emotions he is feeling at the moment. He is also quiet when you get to your room, and he helps you pull off your coat and his jacket underneath the coat. He smiles for a split second, seeing his oversized jacket on your frame, but the seriousness returns as he helps you out of it.

“Charles,” you say his name, “please talk to me.”

“I’m okay, chérie.” He sighs and places a small kiss to you forehead. “I’m going to take a shower before bed, okay?” He leaves before giving you an opportunity to speak, and you are left behind, thinking about the last time he called you that pet name a few hours ago, and how he was smiling.

Instead of pushing him to talk about his feelings you decide to let him cool down, hoping that he would be more open to having a conversation about what happened after his shower. So, you take of your shoes and your dress – although you struggle to find the zipper for a while – and you take of your make up on the small vanity the hotel provided for you after you put on your pyjamas for the night. By the time Charles is out of his shower, you are waiting for him sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers.

“I thought you’d be sleeping by now.” He mumbles, weaving his hands through his wet hair.

You can’t help the small frown etching on your face. “We never go to bed angry at each other.”

You can see the change in his eyes, but even though his eyes soften at the sight of you, his tone is firm when he tells you, “I’m not angry at you, Y/N.”

“See, I find it hard to believe that right about now.” You mumble, your eyes falling on your lap for a second.

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

“What? Why?” You ask, your voice wavering at the last syllable. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to go over some statistics in the living room.” He doesn’t look at you, or let you protest. He picks up his computer from the abandoned backpack in the corner of the room and presses another light kiss to your forehead before going into the living room to try to get rid of the anger by working it off.

And thus, you try to go to sleep – mainly because you know just how stubborn Charles is. His mother always tells you stories about when he was a kid and refused to go to bed in his pyjamas because he didn’t want to take off his karting suit. But you see how much he’s stubborn every single day, when he makes you get out of bed in crack-dawn of the day because you told him you wanted to start exercising with a “no, mon amour, you said you wanted to start running!”, or when he makes you eat your vegetables because “you can’t live off of chicken nuggets for the rest of your life, you’re in your twenties!”. But most importantly, you see how stubborn he is every time he pushes himself to be better; a better man, a better son, a better driver and even a better boyfriend. So, it breaks your heart to think that he is outside the doors of the bedroom, alone and contemplating things he shouldn’t have to because he knows just how much you love him. So, you get out of the bed, which isn’t very hard in the first place because it feels too empty and cold without Charles in it, and you march your way through the bedroom doors and into the living room where a certain green-eyed Monegasque driver is hunched over his computer in the low light.

He looks up and his eyes go wide when he spots you, sleep evident in your eyes and there is a permanent pout on your lips. There is a silent communication between the two of you as he pushes his chair slight off the table for you to place yourself on his lap and consequently wrapping yourself around his sitting figure.

“Chérie, you should be sleeping, it’s late.” He speaks in a low voice, encouraging you to go to sleep, but you know him well enough to read between the lines.

Your voice comes of muffled because you cuddle against the side of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep because someone refuses to talk about his feelings and made me become accustomed to his cuddles over the past year and a half.”

“Mon amour,” he sighs, “I am fine, you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?”

There isn’t any emotional strain in his voice, unlike before, but you still don’t like the fact that he refuses to acknowledge his feelings. So instead of pushing, you pick your head up again and focus on his green eyes, “You called me by my name, and you never call me by my name unless I’ve done something wrong.”

“That’s not true.” His voice comes off as a whisper this time.

“It is and you know it.” You untangle one of your arms from around his neck to cradle his jaw and let your finger wander around. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong so that I can fix it.” You think for a moment. “S'il vous plait.” Please.

Charles lets out a frustrated breath and tightens his arms around your frame – involuntarily, or maybe not, but who cares, really? “It’s mine,” He grumbles.

“What is?” You ask, tilting your head with genuine curiosity.

“The song.” Now it is Charles’ turn to pout. “It’s my song, you wrote it for me. I was there when you recorded it and you told me so.”

“Oh, Charles.” You coo, bringing your other hand up to his face and gently caressing his face as you straighten yourself up on his lap. “It is about you, my love, he was just joking.”

You let out a chuckle as you hear him mumble, “Well, it wasn’t funny to me.”

“Is this about more than the song?” You ask, continuing the movement of your hands. You smile as he lets out a dissenting mumble, “Good, because I would hate it if you thought I have eyes for anyone other than you.”

“You would?” He mumbles, leaning into your touch.

“Oh yes, I would be very upset.” You nod, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “And Charles?” You ask.

“Yes, chérie?” He asks right back, his eyes not leaving yours even for a moment.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

“It’s not your fault,” His eyes become serious for a second again, but they soften at the sight of you quickly. “Don’t blame yourself, chérie.” He mumbles as he kisses you softly on your lips. “Okay?”

“But still,” You mumble, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

He sighs, but it is not a sad sigh like before. Which makes you think it is an improvement. “I’m sorry I can’t write songs about you.”

“What?” You ask, voice shaky. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not– I can’t put my feelings into words that way.” His hands occupy themselves with the string of your pyjama pants.

“I don’t need you to write me songs, Charles, and I don’t want you to change.” You press soft kisses around his face, making him smile involuntarily. “I love you just the way you are, you stubborn stubborn man.” You thing he’s about to say something, but can’t finish your train of thought because suddenly you’re being lifted off the chair and you’re in the air. You let out a shriek, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” Charles replies, and rolls his eyes as your expression changes. “To sleep,” he emphasises the second word, “méchante fille” naughty girl. You laugh as he puts you back on your side of the and tucks you in before turning off the lights and getting into the bed himself. He is quick to pull you towards his arms and cuddle you under his weight, which you’ve become accustomed to and helps you sleep better. “Go to sleep, mon amour.” He kisses you on your forehead again.

“Charles?” You ask into the night, and continue once he lets out an affirmative hum. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” I love you too, my love. You hear him say as you’re falling to sleep. “Tu es l'amour de ma vie.” You’re the love of my life.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #harry styles makes an apperance

3K notes · View notes

theemporium · 8 months ago

Note

Hi,

I’d like to order a violet fluff with Carlos and number 19. I really like your cocktail bar idea! No worries if it’s not possible ☺️

Bye, have a nice Sunday!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

19. "If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."

Logically, you knew he wouldn’t be angry but somewhere in the pregnancy hormones and lingering doubts, you found yourself spiralling.

If there was one thing Carlos hated, it was that he couldn’t be with you twenty-four/seven for the duration of your pregnancy. He was over the moon to start this new chapter with you, even if it was a little earlier than either of you anticipated. He was excited to start a family with the love of his life. He had been so happy when you had originally told him during the winter break, so lost in the giddiness of it all that it took a few weeks before he realised he would be away from you for a majority of the pregnancy with the upcoming season.

You had flown out for a few, but Carlos didn’t like stressing you out unnecessarily. His overprotectiveness reached new levels and a busy paddock wasn’t exactly ideal during the first trimester when everything was still delicate and a secret to everyone outside your immediate families. And then, as the pregnancy continued, it didn’t seem worth the risk just to fly out for a race weekend when he would be too busy working to really be with you.

But it meant he missed important moments. He missed appointments and ultrasounds and milestones. He tried to be there for as many as he could, but it just wasn’t always possible with his busy schedule.

And one of those moments was the gender. The two of you had decided you had wanted to find out before the baby arrived. And despite your insistence that you would wait for Carlos, he encouraged you to find out at the earliest possible moment.

And you were happy when you found out you were having a girl. You were over the fucking moon.

But there was a voice in the back of your head, persistent and annoying and unnerving. And it didn’t leave you alone in the days following your appointment until Carlos had returned from the latest race. In all honesty, somewhere between pestering thoughts and baby brain, you had forgotten he was even coming home that night.

“Mi amor?”

You froze, sat on the edge of the bathtub with the latest ultrasound in your hand. You don’t even remember why you were in the bathroom, it had just happened and now Carlos was seconds away from walking in and you just weren’t ready to face the disappointment on his face.

“Amor? Where are—”

The door to the bathroom opened and you lifted your head to find Carlos smiling at you. He wasted no time in walking towards you, his hands cupping the back of your head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Hm, I’ve missed you,” he murmured the words against your skin before he glanced down at the small picture in your hands and let out a noise of excitement. “How’s our baby chilli?”

Your throat closed up and blood was roaring in your ears, with the voice on a twisted loop in the back of your mind. But you also knew you couldn’t hide it any longer.

“She’s all good and healthy,” you managed to mutter out, watching his face closely.

You barely blinked before the sight of Carlos’ huge smile made your chest tighten.

“Princess baby chilli,” he murmured affectionately, his voice thick with emotion as he kneeled in front of you, his hands reaching out to gently cup your belly. “Mi princesa perfecta.”

“You’re happy?”

Carlos looked up at you, his brows raised. “Are you…not?”

“No, no, I am. I–” you choked by the words, feeling a sudden and overwhelming wave of emotion hit you. “I was scared.”

Carlos frowned, his demeanour changing as he straightened his spine. “Scared of what?”

“That you would be upset we weren’t having a boy.” you admitted, a little ashamed but more so relieved to finally get the admission off your chest after it had been haunting you for the last few days. “That you would have wanted a mini you who could—”

“Hey, shhhh,” Carlos cooed softly, his hands cupping your face to wipe away a few stray tears you hadn’t realised had started to fall. “Baby, no. I would be happy with whatever we were having. If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."

“You mean it?”

“I mean it,” he whispered with a soft smile before he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips, and then another to your stomach. “Plus, I always thought I gave girl dad energy.”

You snorted, despite yourself. But the sound made Carlos grin wider.

“I can’t wait to meet our girl,” Carlos continued, his hands lightly squeezing your thighs before he stood up, offering his hand. “Now, c’mon. I’m going to make us dinner, whatever my girls want.”

You smiled. “Whatever we want?”

“Whatever you want,” he confirmed with a nod. “My princesses deserve only the best and that is all I’m willing to give you both.”

“You sap.”

“Always, mi amor. Always for you.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

502 notes · View notes

thrillered · 5 months ago

Text

You know I Mountain Dew it for ya Pt.1 | Spencer Agnew x F! Reader |

You started working at Smosh when you were 26, a few years after graduating college. In your down time you wrote and produced your own music. Not that you had much down time, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, you loved your job, you got to work with some of the most creative, talented, and hilarious people you’ve ever met. After working on it for months you finally finished writing and producing your latest single "Espresso". The song blows up but Smosh fans begin to wonder if the song is about her dear friend and coworker Spencer Agnew.

*Every piece of this work is fictional. I was inspired by Sabrina Carpenters song Espresso when I noticed how much it could apply to Spencer lol, I did NOT write or produce Espresso*

Pt. 1: Lunch

“Hello everyone!! And welcome back to another TRY NOT TO LAUGH!” Amanda started, a burst of energy shooting throughout the sound stage. “Don’t worry, we’ve heard your requests so we grabbed Josh to do another MUSICAL episode!”

The cast cheered, you smiled as you stayed ducked behind them. “Because we’re doing a musical episode we invited the one and only Y/N to join us!” Courtney smiled, the group— Amanda, Courtney, Shayne, Angela, and Chanse— splitting to allow you to pop up.

“Hey everyone!!” You began, the cast and crew clapping and giving whoops of encouragement. “Okay, okay, that’s enough you’re making me blush” you joked, hands behind your back and twisting your foot.

“Don’t stop blushing yet Y/N, we aren’t done talking about you.” Chanse added, shaking your shoulder.

“We may or may not have had ulterior motives for this musical episode.” Amanda continued. “We invited Y/N to join us because she is releasing a new song!”

“AND because I'm hilariously witty, right?” you joked, causing shayne to roll his eyes. “But! Yes, the day this releases my new single “Espresso” will be premiering at 10 pm PST, like, everywhere you get your music! This song is super fun so I hope you guys like it!” The group cheered and with that the round began.

With Amanda in the stool first you decided to bust out your Sarah Christ impression for a beautiful ballad about how no establishments will let you smoke in them anymore. Amanda was quick to laugh, almost spraying you in the face, followed by a compliment about how good your Sarah Christ was.

The game went by smoothly, or as smoothly as a smosh video goes, everyone making each other laugh. During your time in the stool Shayne sang, or rather yelled, one of the lowest notes you'd ever heard. You stayed strong until he had been holding the same note for probably 10 seconds and his face turned the most pained shade of red.

“Oh thank god!” He said, leaning his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, “I think I would have gone until I passed out”

The final round ended and you began the outro with applause, “That was so much fun! I demand to be invited to every musical TNTL from now on. Thank you guys so much for watching, we hope you laughed just as much as we did.”

“Don't forget to stream “Espresso” by Y/N!” Chanse added, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder.

“It’s SO good! Like, I swear to god, it's been stuck in my head since I heard it for the first time.” Angela added.

“And with that we must part ways..” You began, in a deep melodic tone. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe and check out one of these two videos on your screen! Okay bye!”

—-

That was two weeks ago and the Try Not To Laugh was being posted today. Your single premiering tonight.

You sat at your desk, anxiously bouncing your heel as you tried to focus on the doc in front of you. You were supposed to meet with the games team later that afternoon to discuss possible creatives for some upcoming live streams. But the only thing you could focus on was what people would think about your song.

You aren’t new to making music. In fact, you’ve been writing it since college and even performing it at some open mics and small gigs. But, most people who knew you online knew you from Smosh, not from your musical career. You had about 3,000 monthly listeners, which always astounded you, but this was the first time that you were releasing music that was being promoted by such a large online entity.

“Keep shaking like that and you’ll cause an earthquake” You turned to see Spencer approaching your desk, hands in his pockets. You opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off, “Everyone is gonna love your song, Y/N. You don’t need to worry.”

“You haven't even heard it yet, Spence” You retorted, having made Spencer (Along with the rest of the cast, minus Angela) swear that he would wait until the release party to listen to it. You leaned your head on your chair to look at him as he sits next to you.

“Yes, but, you would only put out something good so I trust that the song slaps.” Spencer tried to ease your running mind, only to get a huff in return. “Okay fine.” He began, standing and grabbing your phone while simultaneously turning off your monitor.

“Wha- Hey” You started, trying to stop him but reacting too slowly.

“We are going out to lunch.” Spencer said, matter of factly.

“But what about the games meeting?” You asked.

“Got moved back an hour, don’t you look at the slack?” he chastised.

“Okay, but isn’t everyone going out tonight anyway?” You questioned, remembering that some of the cast and crew insisted on going out to celebrate your song release.

“Yeah but that’s everyone.” Spencer began, already walking towards the door, “Consider this your pre-game with your best friend.”

“A pre-game at..” You looked at your barren wrist, “two pm?”

“One: you’re not wearing a watch. And two: okay, a social pre-game. Plus, I’m not taking no for an answer, so come on and let your wonderful best friend buy you lunch.” Begrudgingly you agreed. You walked side by side to Spencer's car, him opening the passenger door for you before rounding the front and getting in the drivers side.

You smiled as you realized where he was taking you. He took you to a little hole-in-the-wall ramen place you two had discovered the year prior. It quickly became you and Spencer's own little spot. Neither of you ever went there without the other unless it meant stopping by to take it to go on the way to the other's apartment for a game or movie night.

The older Japanese-American couple that owned the restaurant greeted you with warm smiles, “The usual?” the husband, Kenji, asked.

You both nodded as you took a seat in one of the four small booths that lined the wall. The comforting smell of hot broth and spices calmed your anxious mind as you closed your eyes to take a deep inhale. You and Spencer talked about some upcoming shoots and how his Baldur's Gate 3 save was going as you waited for the food to arrive.

It didn’t take long for Emi, the other owner, to bring out your food, “You two are just the cutest, such a wonderful young couple.” She cooed.

“Oh we’re not-”

“Thank you Mrs. Ito, that's so sweet, we really love coming here.” You cut Spencer off, smiling at the woman's kindness. She walked off, heading to grab an order for a driver.

You turned to find Spencer staring at you with an eyebrow slightly raised. “What?” You asked, sipping on the steaming broth.

“So you think we’re the ‘most wonderful young couple’ huh?”

“Of course I do honeybun.” You jested, leaning over the table and tapping Spencer's cheek sarcastically. Resuming your meal as Spencer rolls his eyes.

The rest of your lunch is pleasant, filled with chatter about everything yet nothing. You tried to pay for your lunch when Mrs. Ito brings the bill but Spencer insists on covering it since he wanted to take you to lunch to distract you.

“Thank you spence, I really needed that.” You said, grabbing Spencer’s hand in thanks as you walked back into the office.

He squeezed your hand lightly, “I always know what you need.” And he did, Spencer was a consistent support system for you, had been since you began at Smosh. Beginning as an editor you worked with Spencer a lot. Your friendship blossomed over a shared love of movies and games.

Over the years you got closer and closer until you were unequivocally best friends. Weekly movie nights, breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates solidified that years ago. Now there’s hardly any time you spend without each other.

You walked hand in hand to the conference room, ready for the games meeting now that your head was clear.

#spencer agnew #smosh #smosh pit #smosh games #shayne topp #tommy bowe #Spencer Agnew/reader #Spencer Agnew x Reader #smosh spencer

178 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months ago

Note

Hey have you seen the latest Mufasa trailer? It shows us Scar or Taka as he is called in the film in a positive light. He saves Mufasa, who is an orphan, and accepts him as his true brother even though the other lions in the pride reject Mufasa. I wonder if this is the history that is taught in Twisted Wonderland because the King of Beasts is also seen as a noble figure.

[Referencing this trailer!]

Yes, I took a look at it! I believe D23 happened like… yesterday? That’s the annual convention where Disney drops a ton of news about upcoming projects, and the new Mufasa trailer was one of the announcements made.

I was really skeptical about Mufasa when I first heard about it, and that snowballed into dread when I saw the previous trailer. The wording of that one basically yells us that Mufasa is an orphan with no real claim to the throne, which only serves to justify Scar’s outrage when he was overlooked for the position of king. Not only that, but it nullifies Simba’s claim to the throne since the implication is that blood apparently doesn’t guarantee that you’re next in line. The new trailer makes this issue all the more apparent, because now it seems to be completely redeeming Scar…? I think they’re trying to explain his downfall and his turn to “evil”, but from the looks of it, it instead feels like unintentionally give grounds for Scar’s hurt and rage in The Lion King. It’s definitely… a choice… and I’m not sure how much I like them adding that to the animated TLK lore.

Thar being said, I do think this poses considerations for Twisted Wonderland. I had very similar thoughts as you did, Anon! It has already been suggested that the version of history being told in their universe is “twisted” or altered from the versions Yuu/we, the audience, are familiar with. So… what we see in the new Mufasa trailer (up to a certain point) could very well be the “real” version of what is taught in Trein’s Magic History class. It fits SO well with the canon narrative we already have on hand. The King of Beasts is described as a hard worker and someone who accepted animals of all kinds, including hyenas that had once been excluded from the Pridelands. What better way to exemplify that virtue than a story of the King of Beasts himself accepting a no-name orphan cub as his own brother when all the other lions claimed the cub would never be accepted as part of the royal family???

I wonder how the story of Mufasa (if incorporated into TWST in the future) is interpreted by the characters too?? For example, Leona doesn’t think too highly about the concept of the great kings of the past in the sky, nor does he like “Hakuna Matata” (deeming it self-serving rather than as something positive). These are both things introduced in the original TLK. However, I’d imagine that Leona would actually admire the King of Beasts for his act of selflessness. (“He didn’t just talk the talk, he walked the talk too. They weren’t just pretty words, the King of Beasts lived by his ideals. The world he envisioned is one where beasts of all kinds could come together in harmony. Heh, what a guy.”) BUT AT THE SAME TIME Leona might be cynical about himself living to the legacy of the King of Beasts. He still bears resentment toward Falena and he refuses to cooperate with his older brother (despite Falena, their dad, and Kifaji all asking him) to govern Sunset Savanna. The King of Beasts wasn’t nearly so narrow-minded—he accepted a peasant and orphan as his equal. Leona in this hypothetical is, of course, tunnel visioning on his shortcomings and not paying attention to what he has accomplished: many younger students who look up to him, a dorm of students (many of which are beastmen of different varieties) that unite under his rule, and his own acceptance of “lowly” beastmen like Ruggie. I would love to see how he grapples and deals with these kinds of stories and how he reflects on his own life through them.

Anyway, the new Mufasa trailer sure sucks for Scar’s character but this has so much interesting potential for TWST 😭

85 notes · View notes

spaceshipellie · 1 year ago

Note

ok ok rockstar!ellie x actress!reader ,, ellie being like obsessed with reader and her films / shows and says smth about u during an interview. reader seeing it and talking about it in another interview. even better if readers a bit older than ellie and ellie had a poster of reader in her room when she was younger sjshsg

the blades

rockstar!ellie x actress!reader

part one (two pending)

summary: ellie’s band did a song for your upcoming movie and you both mention each other in interviews.

warnings: reader is like 5-6 years older than ellie but they’re both in their twenties

author’s note: i love this concept so much i want to write more rockstar!ellie x actress!reader in future!! tysm for the request, i hope you like it 🖤 wc: 800

“so let’s talk about your latest single, caves, which is for the new movie end of beginning, right?”

“right,” ellie nodded at the interviewer, twisting the rings on her fingers which rested in her lap. she was usually pretty nervous doing interviews, still only feeling truly comfortable in front of a crowd when she had her guitar hanging from her shoulders.

“it’s an incredible song and goes so well in the movie, i mean…” the interviewer’s voice trailed off as they turned to the audience who were whooping and cheering at the compliments. “well they certainly agree!”

“thank you, we’ve had so much fun getting to be a part of it,” dina beamed her award-winning smile.

“so were you able to meet the stars? what did they think?”

“we did briefly which was amazing,” dina carried on, “and i think they loved it!?” she turned to jesse.

“yeah they thought it was great which for us, you know, was crazy as they’re super talented people so that recognition was uh, was amazing. ellie especially loved it,” jesse said, sneaking in a jab at his band mate and best friend.

“really ellie?” the interview seemed keen to know more.

ellie stretched her arm up, nervously scratching the back of her head and tried to fight a smile off her lips. “yeah, i mean i…oh man, thanks jesse.”

“anytime.”

“i’m a huge fan so it was a trip getting to meet them,” she finally settled on.

“meeting y/n?” the interviewer pushed.

“yeah, meeting y/n was great.”

“why do i feel like there’s more you’re not telling me?” the interviewer joked.

“well,” she awkwardly laughed, “no, i mean she’s an insanely talented actress and i’ve loved her movies for years so it’s always pretty crazy meeting someone like that.”

“that, and the posters,” dina leaned into ellie’s shoulder. ellie tried to refrain from swearing on tv.

“posters?”

“yeah,” she admitted, “i had a poster of her on my wall when i was like 16.”

“was she a bit of a celebrity crush for you?”

“something like that, yeah.” ellie’s cheeks had gone bright red and they felt hot under the bright stage lights and mini interrogation she was experiencing.

“oh it’s all coming out now,” jesse laughed and dina laughed with him. ellie chuckled, embarrassed, whilst shooting them a glare.

she ran her hands down her face. “oh, i can’t believe you just made me admit that on tv.”

“she’s probably going to see this,” the interviewer said, “and she’s on here next week.”

“oh god, don’t even mention it.”

— a week later —

“so, y/n! thanks for being on the show.”

“thank you for having me!” you shot your best smile at the interviewer and the crowd, who cheered.

“you’re new movie end of beginning is out now, is that right?”

“yes it’s out now and we had the premier last week which was an incredible night!”

“it looked amazing, as did you, so stunning!”

“thank you so much.”

the interviewer went on asking you more questions about your role in the movie before bringing up ellie’s band, the blades.

“you might have already seen but last week we had the blades on our show and they said it was amazing to work with you.”

“yes! i loved the music they made for this movie, they’re all beyond talented. it was great to meet them as well, super lovely guys,” you praised.

“were you a fan before?”

“yes i am actually, i saw them live on their tour last year so yeah, i’ve been a fan for a while.”

your cheeks felt hot all of a sudden as you had a feeling where this was going.

“well, i think they were definitely fans of yours, or at least one of them was!” the interviewer prodded, smiling. you laughed shyly, not wanting to be the one to admit to anything in front of a live audience.

“ellie said you were her celebrity crush.”

“i heard, yeah,” you smiled down into your lap, trying to compose yourself.

“i think you’d made a cute couple,” the interviewer beamed and the crowd cheered. “they think so!”

“i um,” you stammered, “yeah she’s cute.”

you thought she was more than just cute! you had been a fan of her band for a couple of years and had swooned over the way her skilled fingers plucked her guitar strings over and over again. the outfits she wore. the way she sits with her knees apart and hands clasped together in interviews. the smiles and smirks she has whilst on stage. the tiktok edits you had saved.

“well make sure to invite me to the wedding,” the interviewer laughed. you shyly nodded, trying to stifle the wide grin that wanted to take over your face. you almost hoped ellie wouldn’t see this but there was no doubt that she would… she did, and she had a shit-eating grin on her face the entire time.

#anon requests 🌷#ellie williams drabble #rockstar!ellie x actress!reader #rockstar!ellie williams x actress!reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #rockstar ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #spaceshipellie asks #ellie x y/n #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams oneshot

624 notes · View notes

tieronecrush · 1 year ago

Text

hot & heavy

chapter three: show me how

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 8.3k (a long-y but a goody)

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced/virgin reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, alcohol use, pet name (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, masturbation (f & m), light voyeurism, THIGH RIDING, dirty talk, LATINO JOEL cause it's canon which means there's likely subpar spanish bye!!!

Joel is trying very hard to be a good neighbor.

He can be friendly enough when he needs to be, but he absolutely did not know the kind of place he was moving into. It’s like Pleasantville had a baby with The Truman Show. Everyone here is so nice.

Not that his previous neighborhood wasn’t filled with people who were nice, but everyone pretty much kept to their own business and gave a wave here and had a quick catch-up across the lawn there. Well, except for the Adlers.

And here, they also do neighborhood events.

Which is why he finds himself nursing a can of Budweiser that’s dripping cool condensation in the mid-afternoon Texas heat of late June, surrounded by husbands having conversations about the upcoming football season, the latest Astros game, and their wives. He can’t really add anything to the conversation because he hasn’t kept up on any sports news, was working during the last game, and he’s single.

So fucking single that he spends most nights fantasizing about you, his daughter’s nanny. Or just straight up watching you like some depraved, desperate man.

Which isn’t too far off base, cause it’s what he’s feeling right now as he steals glances of you laid out on a patio lounger next to the aquamarine, chlorinated water. You’re sitting in a white linen cover-up dress, but the thin crepe fabric leaves nothing to the imagination when it comes to your swimsuit underneath. It’s modest enough for a family affair, covering up everything appropriately but it still does something to see your skin exposed in the sunlight, a sheen of sweat coating your body.

He’s noticed some of the neighbors around your age checking you out, even some of the men older than him ogling at you. It was hypocritical to feel the burn of anger — he was eyeing you all the same but to him, it felt a little different. Like you were closer to his than anyone else’s. He saw you every day; knew little things about you like how you always twisted the ring on your right hand around with your thumb or how you always left one last sip or two in every drink you had, never fully finishing them before abandoning them on the counter or in the sink.

Knowing more about you, from tiny details to what you wanted to do with your life, made him feel like he was dipping his feet into the pool of temptation. Every bit he learned made him want more.

And every time he saw you through the window of your bedroom, he jumped in head first into that alluring pool. It felt so right, so justified in the moment to him, but as soon as the lights clicked off on your side and he looked down at his come coating his knuckles, shame slithered up his throat and coated his mouth with bitterness.

Yet, he couldn’t stop. And some nights, he swears to himself that he sees you looking, watching his actions. Like you know exactly what he’s doing and you let him. One time, mind hazed over with pleasure as he got himself off to the sight of you alone and half naked, he even convinced himself that maybe you wanted him to keep doing it.

Joel knew you were flirting at times, but at other times he couldn’t tell if there was any difference between your polite, sweet demeanor and a subtle hint that you found him attractive.

Even if you were into him, there’s no way he could do anything about it.

Joel’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels a tug on the hem of his swim trunks. His eyes flit down to his daughter, standing next to him with a pout on her face.

“Daddy, can I please go swimming now?”

Joel smooths a hand through her hair, bending down to her level to look her in the eyes.

“Can you give me just a few more minutes, Bug? I gotta talk to Mr. Clark about a job he might need help with at his house. I promise we can go down to the pool right after that.”

Joel’s cool thumb from the beer can swipes across her cheek as Sarah huffs in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest and staying put as a sign of her reluctant agreement. He smiles softly at her, kissing her hairline as he stands again, turning to the neighbor near him to answer his questions about a potential job refurbishing his deck over the weekends.

Wrapped up in conversation, Joel doesn’t notice the tiny footsteps padding away slowly at first, speeding up down the stairs. He doesn’t notice until his hand reaches for her curls, the swoosh of air under his palm tearing his eyes away from Mr. Clark. Panic sets in immediately, Joel excusing himself quickly to go to the edge of the deck to search the large party for his seven-year-old. Flip flops slap loudly against the concrete, the familiar voluminous hair bouncing as she runs towards the open water without anyone there to catch her and no safety floats on her arms.

He deposits his beer on the railing, starting to rush down the stairs to try to catch her but is stopped as he watches what plays out below him.

You saw Sarah, without her dad following behind her, and knew something wasn’t right. Joel had told you that she was still in swimming lessons — Sarah loved the water but she’d only had a few lessons last summer so she wasn’t entirely ready to be able to jump in and swim completely without aid. That pings something off in your mind, instincts kicking in as you swing your legs over the side of the lounge chair and jump up immediately to chase after her. Your arms outstretched wrap around her tiny frame right before the edge of the pool, lifting her away from the water on the other side.

Sarah is in a fit of giggles, the idea of you snatching her a playful game in her childish mind. Relief washes over you and you go along with her giggles, spinning her around and bringing her back over to your chair.

“Gotcha, little miss! You’re eager to swim, huh?”

Sarah’s giggles die down while she’s still in your arms, and as you set her back down next to your seat, Joel jogs over from the stairs to the two of you.

“Mija, you can’t just run off like that. You scared me. And you know there’s no running around the pool, and no swimming without an adult. It’s not safe, is it?”

Joel’s squatting down to look his daughter in the eyes, seriousness evident in his tone but not to the point of anger. He’s calm and collected as he reprimands with reminders and honesty, his voice not ever nearing a louder volume than his normal cadence.

God, he’s such a good dad.

It’s so attractive.

Internally, your palm is hitting your forehead at the flutter of your ovaries. Externally, your eyes roll into the back of your head in a curse to your mind.

“You were taking so long, Daddy! I want to swim now.”

Sarah’s indignant, her actions were completely justified to herself when she didn’t know how it could have ended up.

“I’m sorry that it frustrates you to wait, but you can’t go running off. Next time, give me a reminder, Bug. Sometimes I don’t realize how long I’m taking, it’s a curse your dad has for lack of time management.”

You snort a laugh out, covering your mouth as the comment goes right over Sarah’s head. Joel’s eyes find yours, soft crinkles showing next to them as he grins at your laughter.

He sends Sarah over to her bag sitting a few chairs over to grab her floaties for him to put on, standing up and facing you. Hands slip into the pockets of his shorts, shoulders raising an inch.

“Thank you for grabbing her. I just, I dunno, I just panicked at the top of the stairs. Like seeing everything in slow motion and I was stuck there. But, uh, yeah, thank you for getting to her.”

Voice thick with ignominy, guilt sheening in his eyes as he looks at you with a vulnerability you’d yet to see from the daily interactions with Joel.

A crack formed in your heart at the thought that he was scared, that he feels like he failed in the moment for his feelings overwhelming him. Your head shakes side to side, your feet subconsciously step closer to him and your hand reaches out to sprawl across his bicep with a gentle, comforting squeeze.

“It’s alright, Joel. Nothing happened. Sarah’s totally fine, and still chomping at the bit to swim,” you console, a kind smile on your face, “Besides, I probably wouldn’t be a very good nanny if I didn’t do anything when I was way closer to her. You couldn’t have reached her in time, and I stepped in for you. You didn’t do anything wrong, Joel.”

His shoulders relax, hands slipping from his pockets as he nods.

“Thank you. For all of it.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I know. But I want to.”

The words strike you in your chest, nothing profound said but the emphasis behind them warming you from the inside out like the Texas sun. You swallow, suddenly feeling parched from the heat and breaking the eye contact that Joel was holding with you to look down at Sarah as she approaches you again.

“Can you help put my floaties on?” She hands you the deflated safety devices with a toothy grin, the gap of lost tooth on the left side of her smile making you want to squeeze her from how adorable she looks.

“Course I can, girly,” you take the floats from her, finding the mouthpiece on one and looking back to Joel, continuing before you start to blow them up, “I can swim with Sarah, if you wanna keep chatting with Mr. Clark. I know he wanted to get your thoughts on his deck. You should go back and talk to him, could be an easy job with decent pay. He’s a generous guy. Go be social, charm the pants off of everyone.”

Joel nods and glances over his shoulder to the deck filled with neighbors. He turns toward you again, raising an eyebrow in question.

“You sure, sweetheart? You’re off the clock today, you should enjoy your free time.”

“Spending time with Sarah is fun. Wouldn’t want to spend my afternoon any other way. Plus, what else am I doing? Baking out in the sun like a lizard?”

Joel laughs, a genuine one that you’ve only heard a few times when a joke of yours really gets him, and he nods, bringing a hand up to gently pat your arm.

“Thanks, darlin’. I owe you one.”

The wink he sends you nearly has your knees failing you, a heat sent to your core at the subtle flirtation.

These charged moments between the two of you have been happening much more often, and with your new (almost) nightly routine waiting up for Joel in your bedroom, you’re waiting with bated breath for whatever is built between the two of you to snap and open the flood gates.

More and more, you’re imagining how it would feel to kiss him, how his hand would feel in yours, what he could take from you and what he could give you. There was so much you were admittedly naive about, but everything that you had once been intimated by seemed exciting when you thought of doing it all with Joel.

He’s kind, and respectful, and gentle. He cares. Even when he acts like a grump or teases you, you know there’s something there. There has to be, otherwise you’re going crazy for sure.

Pulling yourself away from your daydreams, you inflate the floaties for Sarah and help her get them on. You pull your cover up over your head, depositing it on the chair you were laid out on. Sarah’s small hand fits in yours, taking slow steps to allow her to keep up with you as you cross the concrete patio to the pool stairs.

The two of you climb down the stairs and into the water, Sarah shrieks and giggles from the chill surrounding her hitting Joel’s ears all the way up on the deck. He’s back with Mr. Clark, having finished hearing him out about what he wants done and offering his services, reaching an easy agreement with him about when he’ll come by to start and what Mr. Clark will pay him.

Joel wanders away from the group, grabbing another beer, this time a Miller Lite.

Not his favorite, but he’ll take what he can get to keep a small buzz around all these people. Nosy, overly polite, and fake people make him uneasy. He's virtually the opposite, and it occurs to him that you are, too.

Maybe that’s why he feels so drawn to you.

Well, that, and you’re one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen.

Cracking open the can, he leans on the railing with his elbows supporting him and watches you with his daughter. He takes a long sip, combing his gaze over the top half of your torso that’s out of the water as you stand in the shallow end. The bikini top he’d gotten a peek of under your coverup is on full display now, the sweet lilac color with ditsy florals tight across your chest.

He’s seen more of your bare skin from his window, but the bikini top sends a heat to the back of his neck and behind his ears, imagining you over him on his lap and his hand slipped under the swimsuit.

Shaking his head to pull him away from the image, he takes a deep breath and a few gulps of his beer, taking one more look at the two of you splashing around in the water with some of the other neighborhood kids swimming circles around you. He holds back a smile as he listens to your laughter mixed with Sarah’s, chewing on the inside of his cheek before he returns to be social like you told him to.

Eventually, once they’re pruny and antsy again, Sarah and the other kids get out and towel off to play tag altogether in the grassy part of your backyard. You dry off and slip your coverup over your head again, the fabric clinging to you in places that weren’t fully dry. Bare feet pad against the wooden stairs as you climb them, taking a breath to brace yourself before returning into the mass of judgy neighbors.

The contents of the cooler have dwindled, so you opt for a Corona and pop the cap off, weaving in and out of the crowd to find a lime wedge. At the makeshift bar, you grab a slice and shove it down the bottleneck, taking a sip and turning towards a group of neighbors you actually like.

Walking up to the circle, you see your brother, Chris, a kid his age from down street, Ryan, and Joel standing opposite you. Everyone’s talking about setting up a bags tournament, and you volunteer to play as well. One of the young wives offers to pair everyone off into teams, and you get set up with Chris while Joel gets partnered with Ryan.

Everyone playing meanders down to the lawn where the handful of boards are set up for play, and the four of you end up versus each other. Chris and Ryan walk to the far side, leaving Joel and yourself at the opposite end to start the game.

He bends down to collect the beanbags, handing you the blue ones with a grin while he holds the red for himself.

“You ready to lose at cornhole, sweetheart?”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“No, cause I’m ready to win at bags.”

Joel scoffs this time, letting out a short laugh and giving you a look of disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people, darlin’. It’s called cornhole. Why do you even call it bags? You’re from Austin. We say cornhole.”

“Um, I am ‘one of those people’ cause ‘those people’ are the correct ones. And there are plenty of people living in Austin that call it bags. For example, my dad who taught me the game.”

You turn away from Joel and lob one of your bags onto the board, watching as it skids across the surface and sinks into the hole.

“Your dad is from the Midwest. Doesn’t count, sweetheart.”

Joel tosses his first one, the red bag smacking against the surface and sticking to its place. You look at him with a satisfied, smug smirk.

“It does count. And even more so, everyone in Fort Worth at school calls it bags. People from Texas.”

Your next shot only lands on the board, an annoyed sigh falling from your lips.

“That’s Fort Worth. I’m talking about Austin. Your hometown. You can’t betray us by calling it bags, darlin’. You’re breaking my heart hearing that.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll always be a heartbreaker to you. Cause if I ever call this game cornhole, it’ll be the death of me.”

Joel sinks his next shot, giving you the same pompous look you’d given him.

“Now I can’t be losing you so soon, so we can agree to disagree. But I’m right.”

“Oh my god, no! I am right. And I will be teaching Sarah the correct name for the game.”

The blue bag in your hand lands on the edge of the hole, taking a second to let gravity pull it in. You cheer to yourself and hear Joel’s laugh next to you, your smile softening.

“Now that’s just too far, sweetheart. I draw the line at influencing the youth. My youth, especially.”

Your laugh pulls a smile from Joel, the shot leaving his hand to land right in the hole of the board. He looks back to you, eyes glistening with a tinge of admiration and teasing all in one.

“Fine. I will allow you to parent as you see fit, even if it’s wrong on all moral levels.”

“I can see who’s influencing her heightened dramatics lately.”

You pause, a beat of silence as you try to find a defense for yourself but coming up short. The last beanbag in your possession sails through the air, missing the board completely. A pout tugs your bottom lip out, huffing a sigh out of your nostrils and crossing your arms to watch Joel take his last turn for the round.

His hand twitches at the last second, changing the trajectory of his throw and sending the bag off to the side into the grass.

“I’ll admit, I do come up with…climactic story lines for her Barbies. But it’s to encourage her imagination!”

“I’m just teasin’ you, darlin’. You’re great with Sarah, and we both love having you around this summer. Don’t need to change a thing about you.”

He must mean the words in a friendly manner, but your heart can help but flutter at the thought of Joel enjoying you being around him often.

The game goes for a few more rounds, Joel and you keeping up with each other and tying at the end of each of your turns.

“Guess we’re a pretty good match.” You smile sweetly at him as you reach out your hand as a gesture of good sportsmanship when you and Chris take the win. Joel’s hand envelopes yours, shaking it firmly as a grin tugs one side of his mouth up.

“I think you’re right about that, sweetheart.”

“We’re quitting, this is boring! Sorry, sis! Sorry, Joel!” your brother shouts at you both, sauntering off with his buddy Ryan. Joel looks back at you, shrugging with his hands in his pockets.

“Think we’d be good partners? We could keep up the tournament together.”

A wide smile crosses your face as you nod in agreement.

“Let’s kick everyone’s asses. At bags.” You wink before walking ahead of him back to the group, getting assigned your new opponents.

You spend the next few games across from Joel, sharing knowing glances and grins, communicating with only a look for the rest of your games. You easily climb through the small, single elimination tourney and get to the winner’s game. The pressure, or as much pressure as a friendly, neighborhood game could be when you’re a competitive person, is on with the eyes of everyone eliminated on you. After a tension filled game, both in scoring, and the look in Joel’s eyes that’s sending a tingle throughout your thighs and between your legs, the two of you earn the victory 21-19.

You both cheer goofily, overly celebratory for the simple sport as you rush to the center of the pitch. Joel meets you halfway, laughing as you raise your hand for a high five. He complies, grabbing your hand when it meets his in the air, squeezing it as he drops them together between your bodies. His eyes are darker, filled with a glint of something that intensifies the feeling at your core.

At a barely audible level, his drawl curls around his words as he tells you, “Good job, sweetheart,” with a wink and a sideways smirk.

Your long dried bikini bottoms are soaked at this point, a chill tickling its way down your spine. His hand pulls away from yours, moving to your waist to guide you to the stairs. He follows you up to the deck, and you can feel the burn of his eyes on your eyes through the layers of thin fabric, imagining the subtle jerks of his arm and shoulder that you catch glimpses of from across the lawn on those late nights you unknowingly share with him. Before you can start a conversation to stay near him, or even suss out the electric chemistry that’s reaching towards a peak between you two, you both get pulled away from each other. For the rest of the night, you can’t ever seem to catch up with him, and you resign wistfully to being stuck in a boring conversation with your mom’s friends while your thoughts circulate around Joel.

The sun set an hour ago, the temperature dropping only a few degrees with the night fall. Most of the neighborhood is still mingling around your family’s backyard, those with younger kids all making their way home.

Sarah’s head rests against Joel’s shoulder as he holds her at his hip, adjusting her to hold her higher as he chats with your dad and brother about his last season on LSU’s baseball team. He feels Sarah rub her face against his shirt and glances at her, checking the time on his watch. It’s about half an hour past Sarah’s usual bedtime, and if he doesn’t get her back home, she’s going to be as grumpy as he is without a full eight hours.

Wishing your dad and brother goodnight and thanking them for hosting, he turns to make his way across the deck and glances around in an attempt to find you to say goodnight. It’s Saturday, which means he won’t see you tomorrow, and the thought of that contracts his chest. He can’t think of an excuse to go on a search to seek you out, and without a reason, he meanders back over to his house.

Joel gets Sarah into her pajamas and lays her down for the night, kissing her forehead and smoothing her hair back. He smiles to himself at the peaceful look on her face, rubbing her back gently before shutting off her bedside lamp and closing the door behind him.

Retiring on the sofa, he turns on some reruns of the latest cable show, zoning out on the screen as his thoughts drift to you.

The smell of chlorine on your hair starts to give you a headache, so you make your way inside and up to your room to shower off. Changing into your oversized sleep shirt and shorts, you fall back into bed and grab your book from the nightstand to read some pages to distract your brain before going to sleep.

You glance out your window to see if Joel’s come up to his room, like that first night you had waited for him and every time since then. When you can’t see his silhouette or any lights on in his window, you take a guess that he must be parked in front of the TV since he brought Sarah home.

After a chapter or two of your book, a vibration muffles against your comforter. The book gets discarded, probably losing your page while your hands scramble to find your device before the ringing stops. Right before it rings through, you grab the small phone and hit accept without a chance to check the contact.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The raspy drawl crackling through the line raises your heart rate, your eyes glancing to your alarm clock to see the time - 11:48 pm.

Why was Joel calling this late?

“Joel? What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Well, nothing serious. I, uh, just got a call from Tommy and he’s way too drunk at some bar downtown to drive home. I gotta go get him, but I don’t wanna wake Sarah to put her in the car or leave her by herself here obviously. So I was wondering if you’d—”

“I’ll be right over.”

Joel sighs, full of relief and breathes out his next words filled with gratefulness.

“Thank you so much, darlin’.”

You make a quick goodbye, gathering your phone and slipping out of your bedroom. Downstairs near the door to your garage, you slip on your flip flops and head over across your front yard and Joel’s. The humidity in the air has lessened, but your damp hair still sticks to the back of your neck. Your nails scrape up the hair and hold it off your neck, legs carrying you up the short set of stairs and up to the Miller front door. Your right hand knuckles tap quietly against the painted wood, letting your hair down and rubbing your sweaty palms on your t-shirt.

The door swings open with Joel on the other side, a sleepy grin on his face as he waves you in. He looks soft in his washed out Cypress Hill t-shirt and gym shorts, the vision of him in his version of PJs tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Thank you again for coming over here, darlin’. Sarah’s sleeping, should stay asleep while I’m gone. She was exhausted after tonight.”

Following Joel into the living room, he gestures to the couch and the TV that is still turned on to whatever he was watching before.

“Should be back soon, feel free to hang out here. Help yourself to anything to drink or if you want a snack, you know where everything is.” He smiles at the mention of you knowing your way around, grabbing the keys to his truck and slipping on some sneakers as you plop down onto the couch.

“Sounds good, I’ve got my cell so if you need any more help, text or call. But I’ll be camped out here until you get back.”

“Hopefully won’t need anything else, been dealing with Tommy my whole life. Always gonna be the annoying little brother,” he chuckles softly and lingers near the door, glancing around before his eyes find you again, “Guess I should head out, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Drive safe! And tell Tommy I say hi,” you add with a quiet giggle, watching as Joel shakes his head and laughs to himself, heading out the front door. The truck rumbles to life in the driveway, and you watch from the window as he heads down your street and towards the city.

The engine shuts off in the driveway, and Joel can still hear some echoes of the party carrying on from another neighbor's backyard. Getting Tommy from the bar took way longer than he thought it would, and it’s now 1:26am. Traffic was horrible attempting to cross the city ‘cause of some country show getting out right as he hit downtown, and Tommy wouldn’t answer his damn phone when Joel did get there. He sped back to Tommy’s and basically made him roll out of the car, idling to make sure his brother got inside alright. He was insufferable with his drunk babbling, and now by the time Joel finally got home, he felt a swirl of guilt in his stomach for making you come over. He thought it would be quick, and now he’s slinking inside to apologize profusely for taking an hour and a half.

The front door squeaks on its hinges, the hollow sound of the TV cracking through its speakers at a low volume. You don’t greet him as he slowly clicks the door back in place, locking the deadbolt and kicking off his sneakers into the pile of shoes in the entryway.

Sock covered feet echo muffled thuds across the wood floors of his living room, a grin tugging on his lips when you finally come into view.

Fast asleep, you're laid out on the leather couch with your legs curled into your stomach. One arm’s under the throw pillow your head rests on and the other is bent limply in front of you, fingers wrapped into a loose fist. The movement of your chest is languid and deep with your breaths, lips parted in relaxation and eyelashes resting against your skin.

Painfully angelic.

He’s frozen for a moment across the room, watching you sleep until the time reaches past 1:30am and he knows that he needs to wake you to get you back home and into your own bed. He selfishly wants to let you sleep there, doesn’t want to interrupt any sweet dreams you might be having or the rest you need after taking care of his daughter all week, after helping him too.

Sighing faintly to himself, he moves towards the couch and bends down to gently rub your shoulder to wake you.

“I’m back, sweetheart, you can head home.”

You gasp from the shock of being woken from a deep sleep, scrambling to sit up in a panic with heavy lidded eyes. Your soft touch presses warmly against his thigh through the fabric of his gym shorts, and he looks down at you as you start to fully wake.

“Joel? Oh god, I’m so sorry I fell asleep, I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, sweetheart. I took a lot longer than I thought I would,” the cozy look in your eyes plucks at his heart strings, and the touch lingering on his leg turns into an electric burn, “‘M sorry you had to sleep on the couch for a bit.”

Your head shakes with a dopey grin, fingers brushing his skin as it slips back towards your lap. The spot once covered with your touch sends a chill throughout his body. His eyes track your motion and his own hand reaches out for you. Large fingers slip between yours, Joel’s gaze returns up from your locked hands. Before you can say anything to him, and before he can overthink, he leans in and catches your lips in a fragile kiss.

Everything stops around him in the moment. The TV is muted in his ears, the chill of the AC isn’t felt with the fire alighting in his gut, his eyes close and bring him into an abyss where all he can feel is the plush of your lips against his and all he can smell is the candied scent of your green apple and lime body wash mixing in his nose with the bluebell and jasmine notes of your shampoo. It’s overwhelming, the way you have completely surrounded him with one kiss.

Your mouth is still against his for a few more beats, Joel imagining the shock you must be in and he immediately feels his stomach drop in a rush.

Fucking idiot. Why would you think it would be okay to kiss her? She’s obviously uncomfortable and now you are going to have to grovel out an apology for being creepy and completely unprofessional.

Joel’s head moves back to break the kiss, his eyes opening with dread flooding them. Scanning your own expression, he can’t quite read you.

“Darlin’, I’m so sor—”

“Do it again.”

Now Joel is still with shock, confusion contorting his face as his head tilts minutely.

“What d’you mean, sweetheart?”

“Do it again,” the smooth skin of your hand trails up his arm, across his shoulder, and wraps around the side of his neck, “Kiss me.”

His brain takes a few seconds to process your words and fire actions to his nerves and muscles, but when everything finally connects in him, he’s leaning in and molding his mouth to yours in a deeper exchange.

With hands intertwined, he reaches his other up to caress your cheek. His fingers splayed across your face, grazing the line of your jaw as you sigh into his mouth. The slight part of your lips with the exhale gives him a chance to lick into your mouth, his tongue tasting yours. Your hand on his neck tugs to pull him over you further, his back aching at the angle.

He pulls apart from you, breaths shallow as his eyes search yours for any signs of wanting to stop. When he can’t find any, he moves to sit on the couch, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you to straddle his lap.

Joel chases your honey kisses, taking peck after peck as his hands run over your back. He feels your hands scratch into his five o’clock shadow, groaning against your lips when you sit back on his thigh and the front of your shorts brushes against his semi-hard cock in his pants.

Kisses intensify, heating up again. Joel’s hands skim down your back and each grab a handful of your ass, coaxing a small whimper from your lips. The sweet sound flips another switch in Joel, his hips canting up against you as he feels himself swell more in his pants.

Against your lips, he rasps out, “Y’have no idea how much I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you, darlin’.”

“You could’ve. I’ve wanted it just as much…” you breathe out, a soft whine slipping after, “Don’t know how you didn’t—didn’t notice how much I wanted you.”

Joel’s mouth presses kisses at the corner of your mouth, along your jaw, and down your neck. He nips at your lush skin, moaning quietly and fanning out humid air at your collar. His hips grind up against you again, your inhale catching in your throat in a gasp.

“I noticed, sweetheart. Trust me, I noticed. Just couldn’t bring myself to touch you. Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” his words tumble out in a lustful haze, the taste of you and the feeling of you lowering his inhibitions, “But I wanted you so bad. Ached for you, darlin’, and when I saw you in your window from my bedroom one night, dressed in nothing but those sweet little white lace panties you got, I watched you putting lotion on and fucked my hand. Felt so good watching your hands all over yourself, wanted ‘em to be mine.”

He moves one of his hands from your ass, slipping it between your bodies and groping one of your breasts through the thin material of your sleep shirt. You moan his name louder than before, your smaller hand gripping right onto his shoulder. He catches your lips in a kiss again to stifle your noises to be sure you two wouldn’t wake Sarah.

Your lips detach from his with a smacking sound, eyes looking into his blown wide with wonder.

“I knew you were there. I did it for you.”

Joel stares at you in disbelief, lips parted as he waits for you to continue.

“I wanted you so badly, that I thought—I thought if you saw me, it would maybe make you see me. Think I’m pretty or something. So I waited for you that first time, glancing over until I finally saw you in the window. And when I noticed you staring, I started to change my clothes but that wasn’t going to be enough cause it would be over so soon. So I put on my lotion. I could see you sitting there when I looked out my window, and I just—I guessed what you were doing cause I saw your arm moving and your head tilted back a lot. And it seemed like you liked it, so I kept doing it for you, and waiting for something to finally happen.”

His cock is rock hard and throbbing for some kind of attention. He can feel a wet spot forming on the fabric of his boxers from his pre-cum leaking out of him.

You knew. You saw him getting off to watching you parade around your room mostly naked. You liked it, and you kept doing it for him.

It’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever told him.

“Aren’t you a sweet little thing, huh darlin’? You did that for me every time?”

Joel uses the hand that was on your breast to brush your hair behind your ear, eyes piercing yours. He can see the shyness in you still, the hesitancy coating your expression and shaky breaths.

“Uh huh.”

“You wanted me to feel good? All those times, I got to take care of myself, but nobody took care of you?”

An audible swallow cuts the silence you’ve created, a shrug of your shoulders before your meek voice vibrates Joel’s ears.

“Um, sometimes—sometimes I would touch myself or rub against one of my pillows after I turned out my light. Not every night, but when I really needed to I did.”

A pout juts Joel’s bottom lip out, his head shaking back and forth.

“Mmm, poor thing having to touch yourself, bet it didn’t ever feel like enough, huh? Probably were thinking about my hands, my mouth, my cock. Am I right, sweet girl? Were you wishing I would find you in your room and make you come?”

His words are shooting right to your cunt, fluttering inside of you and soaking your panties. This moment is more than enough for you to have your imagination run free, even if Joel never so much as kissed your cheek again. But his voice is addictive, his touch setting of ripples of goosebumps and making your body feel as if it’s filled with helium. You thought you would float to his ceiling if he wasn’t holding onto you so tight.

“Yes, yes I wanted that,” you close your eyes, the contact with Joel’s too much as you work up the courage to spill out the embarrassing reality that you’ve been dreading to tell him if you were ever caught in a moment like this, “I’m, um, I’ve never had anyone…”

Joel’s one hand plays with your hair and the other squeezes your bum gently. Your eyes open to see him staring at you full of doting affection.

“You’ve never had anyone touch you? You’re a virgin?” Your eyes cast down to the graphic on his t-shirt, nodding and feeling that meager inadequacy you’ve felt when the confession has come up to other guys and boyfriends in the past.

It wasn’t like you were saving yourself for any reason, it just never felt like the right moment. You never really wanted it with anyone in the past, and you took it as a sign when most guys, especially during college, would bolt after you told them. Your friends comforted you, after the first time telling you how shitty guys were and how they all had this complex that girls become obsessed and clingy with the guys they lose it to.

You braved yourself for that moment to happen now, waiting for Joel to tell you that ‘this wasn’t going to work’ or ‘that it’s getting kind of late’.

“Nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. We can do whatever you're comfortable with. Including doing nothing if that’s what you want.”

“What?”

Your head snaps up in surprise, facing writhe with skepticism. In Joel’s expression, you can’t find any signs of him being humorous or lying to you.

“I said, we can take this at your pace. I’d be happy just having you near me, pretty girl. I don’t wanna pressure you into anything.”

“No, no. You’re not,” your hands run across his broad shoulders, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to his lips, “I want it with you, all of it. What I’m missing out on.”

His chuckle fills your ears, not laughing at you maliciously but as if you’re endearing to him.

“That can all happen eventually, darlin’. Not tonight,” Joel gives you a heady, yet tender kiss, pulling you by your waist over to his right more. Your knees lay on either side of his thigh, and you stare at him when he pulls back from you.

“How about tonight, you just show me how you make yourself come? I want you to show me what you like. Wanna see your beautiful face when you come. That alright with you, sweet girl?”

“What d��you mean?”

He’s patient with you, a warm palm running along your side as his head tilts.

“You rub your pretty little clit against my thigh. Just like one of your pillows. That okay? Think you’ll feel good doin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, yeah. I wanna try it.”

Joel’s smile is sweetened as he looks at you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. He pushes you to stand from his lap for a moment, holding you up on shaky legs while one hand tugs down the waistband of your shorts a few inches. He looks up at you through his long lashes (why do men always have the best lashes?) and presses a kiss to your hip bone.

“Can I take these off for you, darlin’?”

You nod slowly, feeling the words get caught in your throat as tension builds between the two of you.

“Need you to tell me. Always need to hear your words.”

Swallowing hard, your throat clears with a barely there hem and your voice comes out thick with want.

“You can take them off. Please take them off.”

Joel moves with your consent, smoothly pulling your cotton shorts down your legs and dropping them to the ground. He leans forward and grazes his lips along your thighs with a warm exhale, ending his exploration with a suckling kiss.

“Such a sweet, polite girl. How’d anyone resist you?”

His hands grip the backs of your thighs, bringing you into his lap and settling you over his right leg again. You whimper at the feeling of your weight pressing your clit against his thigh, the moment of friction as he adjusts your positions sending a jolt of energy throughout your bloodstream.

“Alright, pretty girl, you just move your hips how you do in your bedroom alone. Right here against my thigh.”

Hands on his shoulders brace yourself as you give your hips one roll against Joel, the wetness of your cunt leaking from your panties and onto his skin. When you pull back, you can see the slightest hint of sheen on him, mouth falling open at the sight of part of you marking him, even temporarily. A slow rhythm builds, Joel’s large hand encasing one of your ass cheeks and the other on your waist to help you find your pace.

“I imagined you over me like this all the time. Y’know what I would say to myself when I was looking at you, sweetheart?” The timbre of his deep drawl vibrates against your eardrum as he leans his head in to press a kiss right under your lobe.

“W-What would you say?” your voice is high-pitched and throaty, eyes screwing shut as you focus on his voice and the feeling of your clit dragging against him.

“I would say things like ‘Quiero saborearte’ and ‘Apuesto a que te sientes tan apretada y mojada’ and ‘Quiero dártelo’. Do you know what any of that means?”

Is he really giving you a Spanish lesson right now?

When you don’t answer, his hands grip you tighter and skid your hips to a halt, a whine pulled from your lips involuntarily as you look at him.

“I asked you if you understood what I said, sweetheart. I wanna know. Then you can keep going.”

He’s being serious, and you huff out a breath in frustration before you respond.

“All I understood is ‘quiero’ which is ‘I want’ and ‘saborear’ is to savor? I think?”

Joel rumbles out a satisfied hum, removing his hands from you completely. At the freedom, you move your hips faster, your arousal forming a wet spot on his shorts and skin. Quiet moans of his name are the only thing that you can speak as you listen to him again.

“‘Quiero saborearte’ is ‘I want to taste you.’”

Oh fuck.

His hands grip you again, moving you in figure eights to grind you harder on his leg.

“‘Apuesto a que te sientes tan apretada y mojada’ means ‘I bet you feel so tight and wet.’”

“Fuck, Joel…”

His dark chuckle cuts through after your breathy adlib, the burning hot coil in your gut twists tighter.

“God, you look so pretty like this. Can’t wait to see what you look like when I have my fingers or tongue on you. I know I’ll get you screaming my name.”

Smug fucker.

“And ‘Quiero dártelo’ translates to ‘I want to put it in.’ Is that what you thought about when you were making a mess on your pillows, sweet girl? Thought about me giving you my cock?”

“Joel, I-I’m gonna—“

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Let go, come on my thigh.”

That’s when the dam breaks and you're swept up into the flood of pleasure that washes over you like a tidal wave. All you can respond to Joel is “yesyesyes” as your eyes roll back into your head with your jaw dropped, his hands continuing to slide your hips back and forth to ride out your orgasm.

“So beautiful, darlin’…”

The feeling dissipates eventually, your chest heaving breaths to slow your heart rate down. Your eyes meet Joel’s again, a Cheshire smile wide across his face as he leans in and kisses you passionately. He pulls away, pressing quick pecks on your lips and around your cheeks, coaxing a laugh from you. You press his back against the couch, grin filled with a shy affection as you stare at him. You move to stand on your knees to climb off of him, your leg brushing his bulge and feeling his cock twitch in his shorts. Eyes snap back to his, a curious expression covering your features.

“Can I do something for you?”

“Another time, sweetheart. S’real late now, probably should get back home to get some sleep.” Joel thumbs your lip as you pout, wrapping around him in a tight hug.

“I don’t wanna leave.”

“I know, darlin’, I wish you could stay with me all night. But wouldn’t be the best look for you to walk home tomorrow morning from my house in your little PJs.”

You sigh deeply, pressing a light kiss to his neck before sitting up again and nodding in understanding.

“You’re right. I should get home,” you stand from the couch and pull on your shorts, slinking over to the front door with him in tow to slip into your flip flops, “See you Monday?”

You look up at him with wide, doleful eyes filled with hope, relief washing over you as he pulls you into him and gives you a breathtaking kiss.

“Can’t wait for it, sweet girl. Have a good Sunday.”

He sends you out the door after one, or a few, last kisses, standing in the doorway to make sure you get in alright.

Feeling your mind in the clouds and floating on adrenaline, you glide up to your room and flop onto your bed. Laying with your thoughts recounting the last hour of your life, you’re only pulled out when your phone buzzes with a message.

Joel:

Think you can sit up on your bed, sweetheart?

The message confuses you for a second until it clicks and you sit up quickly, turning on your mattress to face your window.

Joel’s lights are on for once in his room, his silhouette standing in the window. One hand supports him against the glass, shirt off and shorts pulled a few inches down his thighs. His arm flexes as he jerks his cock, breath fogging up the spot he’s closest to.

A wave of arousal rushes to your core, watching him on full display unlike every other time you’ve been the one to put the show on for him. It only takes a moment looking at you sitting on your bed, even in your pajamas, before his head is rolling back, jaw dropped and hand against the window clenching into a fist as he paints his hand with his come.

You fall back onto your bed when he walks out of sight, assuming he’s cleaning up. One more buzz sounds before you turn your light out, a second message from Joel:

Need you to stay late on Monday.

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @sunakochansama43 @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain

#joel #writing #hot & heavy #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #tlou smut #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tw voyeurism

551 notes · View notes

tellyreviews · 4 months ago

Text

YRKKH Written Update 25th July 2024 Armaan dethroned

YRKKH Written Update 25th July 2024 Armaan dethroned. Armaan finds Ruhi crying. He doesn’t go to sympathize with her. He leaves for his work. Kaveri consoles Ruhi, who is broken with Rohit’s hatred. She asks Ruhi to keep her patience. Ruhi says that she can’t tolerate it. Kaveri asks her to pay the price for her deeds. She explains to her that she has to repent and fix things. Armaan meets…

0 notes

sanctum-of-ramshackle · 1 year ago

Text

“I am…You know who I am”

[TWST AU]: What if MC/Yuu was an Iron Man fan and a genius engineer who created their own iron suit?

[Gender Neutral MC/Yuu]

[Synopsis]: In this timeline, MC/Yuu is this variant of Iron Man and they are titled as “Iron Force” in Twisted Wonderland.

[TW]: Some cursing

[(A/N)]: Hi everyone. It’s been quite some time since I posted TWST magic. I have been busy with IRL stuff and working on non-TWST ideas on my main blog (@swiftyangx12). I unexpectedly took a break from the fandom, but slowly getting back into business and honestly, I miss my boys...

[AC/DC - Back in Black]

youtube

Alright, let’s see how this goes…

MC/Yuu was a huge fan of Iron Man and an aspiring genius engineer back in their home world.

After hearing about Stark’s sacrifice, they felt devastated that their idol passed on.

They coped by studying and building inventions, motivating themselves to honor their role model.

Then one day as they were walking to school in New York, something happened.

At first, they were exiting from their usual coffee shop and the next thing you know, they’re confined into darkness.

MC/Yuu: Alright. Not the weirdest thing since being dusted away for five years.

After feeling their surroundings to escape from their imprisonment, they heard somebody chatting about how heavy the door is to open up.

Then after blazing fire hued in blue, blew up the the door and this triggers MC/Yuu’s iron suit (with the latest nanotechnology) to encase them, activated to confront what was a danger to their safety.

When they’re revealed to Grim, he got scared. Because it’s not everyday to see someone in an iron suit and he just screamed as a reaction.

MC/Yuu holds out their hand ready to blast away whatever that creature was.

MC/Yuu: What the hell are you? A talking cat? Raccoon? A demonic alien from another dimension?

Grim: I’m neither of those! I am “The Great Grim”!

MC/Yuu: Who? Look, buddy. I think I got kidnapped and was somehow dragged here. I need to find my way out. *Activates their boosters and flies out of the room*

Grim: Hey wait! *Chases after them*

They basically flew out of the academy and toured around the whole world having to realize they’re not on their Earth anymore.

Then MC/Yuu return back to NRC, clumsily landed in during the Dorm Sorting Ceremony.

Every student was startled by a stranger in an iron suit.

Grim unceremoniously barged into the room.

Grim: You’ll never escape from The Great Grim!

MC/Yuu: Okay. *Holds their blaster up aiming at the menace*

Then Crowley came rushing in, putting a stop to the whole mess.

Crowley: Seize your fighting!

MC/Yuu: Uhh…Who are you? *Powering down their blaster and opens up their mask*

Crowley: I am Dire Crowley, Headmaster of Night Raven College.

MC/Yuu: …J.A.R.V.I.S., scan him.

Crowley: What-

After the chaos was settled, Crowley dragged MC/Yuu to his office for them to explain their dilemma. They also explained what they can offer for NRC with upgrades around the area.

Oh! Grim is still with MC/Yuu because after he listened to what they can do, he decided to be the greatest mage with technological advances.

Grim: MC/Yuu, who are you always talking to?

MC/Yuu: My A.I. assistant. They’re called J.A.R.V.I.S. 2.0, “Just A Really Very Intelligent System, but as my own version.” He helps me hypothesize possible outcomes when testing my inventions, and assist fighting bad guys by my side.

J.A.R.V.I.S. 2.0: I’m also their assistant for daily tasks and reminders. Grim, you and MC/Yuu are scheduled by Headmaster Crowley to pick up supplies for the upcoming NRC’s annual Magift Games at 7 p.m.

Grim: No way! I don’t wanna do chores.

MC/Yuu: You get to ride with me in my iron suit.

Grim: Oh yeah, I forgot. Let’s go!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

MC/Yuu: What kind of power source I can use around this world? *Snaps their fingers* A Mage Stone. Crowley, by any chance, are there other magical crystals back in that Dwarf Mine?

Crowley: There are, but I mustn’t let you go there since it was closed due to a “monster” you fought last time.

MC/Yuu: Alright. I’m still getting that power source.

[5 hours later]

MC/Yuu: *Inserts the mage stone in their suit* There. My very own Arc Reactor.

J.A.R.V.I.S. 2.0: Congratulations, MC/Yuu. You discovered a new element.

MC/Yuu: Definitely. Sourced a new element as this is my first.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Vil: MC/Yuu, explain this. *Shows them an online article*

MC/Yuu: *Reads the article* Oh yeah. I had an interview and became a philanthropist.

Vil: You’re basically a celebrity by this point. What did you do to become this well-known?

MC/Yuu: I just helped some people. Carrying thousands of construction materials, assist upcoming tech companies with my knowledge from my experience and gave children the best rides of their lives…Oh my god, I’m becoming like my idol. Except the rich and player parts.

Vil: You’re a celebrity, MC/Yuu. You would have plenty of Madol from all this exposure.

MC/Yuu: Okay, I’m becoming rich, but I can’t pull no bitches.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[During Chapter 2]

Iron Force: *Charges at Overblot!Leona and kicks him mid-air*

OB!Leona: *Knocked the wind out of his lungs*

Iron Force: Okay J.A.R.V.I.S., any chances?

J.A.R.V.I.S. 2.0: 90% success rate of subduing the target.

Iron Force: Then 10% avoiding this mess. *Knocks him to the ground*

OB!Leona: Why that little- *Punched in the face*

Iron Force: *Repeatedly punching him* Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

MC/Yuu: *Wearing glasses*

Azul: I didn’t know you wear glasses. Trying to appear as an intellectual?

MC/Yuu: Hm? Oh, no. My sight is fine. I just transferred J.A.R.V.I.S. in these modified frames.

J.A.R.V.I.S. 2.0: Scan completed. You have a slight iron deficiency and recommend a salad in your diet, MC/Yuu.

Azul: Did it just talked?

J.A.R.V.I.S. 2.0: Yes. I also scanned your physiology and it reveals you’re 95% suspicious of my existence and 5% envious of me for being MC/Yuu’s A.I. assistant.

Azul: I certainly do not envy your virtual assistant.

J.A.R.V.I.S. 2.0: Oddly enough, your biology categorized as relations of Cephalopod.

Azul: …

MC/Yuu: You’re an octopus?

Azul: May we change the subject?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Iron Force: *Flying around the island*

Ortho: *Flying beside them* Hi MC/Yuu!

Iron Force: What the f-?! *Halts their flight and hovers with Ortho* I didn’t know somebody else created an iron suit in this world.

Ortho: Iron suit? Oh! You mean my structure. Nii-san helped with my upgrades.

Iron Force: You’re not wearing a suit? You’re an android with highly advanced artificial intelligence?

Ortho: Yes!

MC/Yuu: …Whose your brother?

[An hour later]

Idia: *Finishing a difficult level*

MC/Yuu: *Hacks into his door as it slides open* You didn’t tell me you’re a tech genius!

Idia: *Startled* AHH! Who let you in?!

MC/Yuu: I let myself in. Buddy, we need to collaborate-

[That’s how a friendship was made.]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[Imagine H.Y.D.R.A. somehow created a portal and enter into TWST]

Iron Force: Oh boy. Thank god I made spare suits. *Activates the other suits*

Jack: You’re fighting alone?

Iron Force: Not alone. I made some for you guys to help everyone. *Closes their mask*

[The First Years enter into their respective suits.]

Ace: *In his suit* How do you work in this thing?

Iron Force: There’s an automated mode to help control your suit. You even get your own A.I. assistants I programmed in each of your suits.

J.E.R.K.: Hello, I am J.E.R.K. Your A.I. assistant, Mr. Trappola.

Ace: Really? Jerk?

Iron Force: The words behind the acronym are better.

✨[Reblogs are appreciated and helps create more content]✨

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst au #Marvel #Iron Man!MC #Iron Man!Yuu #Iron Force!MC #Iron Force!Yuu #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

303 notes · View notes

abrandnewshadow · 1 month ago

Text

upset 10/2017

"WHEN I WAS 13, THAT WAS MY PLAN GOING TO MAKE A RECORD WITH STEVE ALBINI"

FRANK IERO'S NEW EP SEES HIM TEAM UP WITH STEVE ALBINI, AND AN UNEXPECTED 4 GUEST - HIS FIVE-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER, LILY. WORDS: HEATHER MCDAID.

FRANK IERO & THE PATIENCE

KEEP THE COFFINS COMING EP

'Keep The Coffins Coming' is a glimpse at the time between 'stomachaches' and 'Parachutes',

where Frank lero and the cellabration- x-Patience worked out where they were going next. As the band now approach the post-Parachutes crossroads of 'Where next?, it feels the fitting time to release this snapshot. 'I'm A Mess' is rougher and raw around the edges, a fledgeling version of the song that would be streamlined for the upcoming album. It's got the Steve Albini touch of capturing the vibe of a room - like the basement jam version, the live version. 'Best Friends Forever' came to life years ago with Frank's kids in tow, helping with the writing and dare we say stealing the show in

the video, and here it evolves into the full band version. 'No Fun Club' leaps off with some of the 'Danger Days' swagger and Frank yells and shifts gears into the punk revelry he excels in. 'You Are My Sunshine' is sickeningly chirpy at the best of times, but put the lero twist on it, and it becomes a mellow, stripped back version of itself to close proceedings.

The EP saw Frank and co. pondering their future; it was never about perfection, but capturing a snapshot in the band's lives and a rare opportunity to work with their idols. Rarely do you see the middle step between albums, you just see the endgame transformation. But here it is - the unapologetic, raw and eclectic bridge of Frank lero's solo work, the bones of what the band moved on to be.

Heather McDaid

Frank lero knows one or two things about ticking items off the ol' bucket list. In his time with My Chemical Romance, he played a sold out Madison Square Gardens, appeared on Saturday Night Live, and headlined Reading & Leeds. He has more plaques than he knows what to do with, and that's just for starters.

"I've been extremely fortunate in the things that I've gotten to do and the bands I've gotten to play with," says Frank. "We crossed off quite a few of those bucket list opportunities with My Chem and now to be able to do that too with my solo career is unbelievable."

This latest item to be scored off the list is to work with the iconic producer Steve Albini, who produced Nirvana's final album 'In Utero, on his EP 'Keep The Coffins Coming: The obvious place to start is, how exactly do you react when you get a call saying that you're off to work with someone like Steve? "It's weird, man" laughs Frank. "I was in the middle of writing and trying to figure out the next record. My manager Paul asked for bucket list stuff, people I'd always wanted to work with. Steve was always at the top of that list."

"When I got the call that he wanted to work with us and we were booked it was like-" he bursts out laughing "-I don't think I was able to wipe the smile off my face. I'd been wanting to work with him from, jeez, like '94. When I was 13, that was my plan, I'm going to make a record with Steve Albini, I don't care how it happens, but that was the dream record to make.

"His records sound so visceral. Never before did I put on a record where I felt like I was in the room. He really is hands off in that he wants to capture the band's sound. It's a special thing, like visiting a museum and getting to be in a room with some of your favourite bands and listening to some of your favourite records. Take 'In Utero' for example, those sounds and performances are straight up what was played in that room, there's no bells and whistles or crazy magic behind the scenes. It's all about the way he likes it and the way he records it."

That was the magic Frank was excited to capture. "I kept thinking on the trip out to Chicago as I'm driving, 'Oh, man, I'm going to get the call any moment that this was a hoax and it's not going to happen!"

But it did happen, and at an interesting

FRANK IERO & THE PATIENCE

time too. Sitting between albums, Steve captured the time in Frank's career between his first solo record and the second, when he was still unsure what it was going to become. video features their vocals and adorable balaclava-clad appearances, and now it's a full-band song produced by the legendary Albini.

"They are adorable," he laughs. "Lily is the one that actually wrote the chorus to that song. Whenever she and any of the other kids would fight, she would passive aggressively stick this thing in their face, this best friends forever song and it really started with 'Best friends forever but not now. She was just like screaming at them to let them know that she was very, very upset with them." The EP is made up of four songs, one of which made the cut for the subsequent album. "I had written a couple of songs that I knew I wanted to be on the album, but I didn't know exactly what 'Parachutes' was just yet," he explains. "One of the songs was 'I'm A Mess. It might have ended up just being a standalone track, but I wanted to bring that in regardless. I knew I wanted to bring in a whole band version of the song 'Best Friends Forever' and also 'No Fun Club. I had been toying with that, and I really needed to get it out of my head. When that started to take shape, I knew that it could work as a standalone release.

"I DIDN'T KNOW IF THESE SONGS WERE EVER GOING TO SEE

THE LIGHT OF DAY." FRANK IERO

"My way of dealing with that was to take this song and make it into something. We all sat down in a circle with my guitar one day and figured out what the chording would be, wrote the rest of the song and recorded it in my basement.

I thought it would be really fun to release it and whatever profits came in can go into their college funds. I started to really listen to the structure of the song and realised, man, I can play this live, and they would get a kick out of it whenever they saw I played the song and kids sang along. I put together a full band version and thought it'd be cool to have the original version - like I did with 'Mess' - with the kids on it, and now you have this full band Steve Albini version.

That's the other thing too, a bucket list: I'm going to go in the studio with Steve Albini, someone I've wanted to record with ever since I was a young kid getting into music and punk rock and playing in bands. That mirrors my kids being young, writing songs. How cool is that? She released her first single and video at five, and I took that song and recorded it with a legendary engineer and producer. That's crazy. I knew that song needed to be done that day.

Basically what you're hearing is a stop gap where the band transforms from where we were at the end of touring 'stomachaches' and right before we really fully realised the 'Parachutes' record. That time for me is almost like this lost in translation moment. There was definitely this bridging gap between those two records - this is that hidden step. It's interesting because as a listener, you never see that step. You hear album one. wait while your favourite bands are in the studio, then hear the final step in the evolution to album two.

Exactly! Here's the thing, when we went in the studio, I didn't know I was going to record an EP. I just wanted to record these songs, whether it was just for me or not I'd be happy with it. I didn't know if these were ever going to see the light of day, it was something I needed to do."

'Keep The Coffins Coming' is a snapshot in time. It captures an opportunity beyond

Frank's wildest dreams, a crossroads where he pondered the next step, and a gift to his kids in various forms. Right now, he sits between album two and three. The question is, where next? Whether or not there'll be the chance to see the next stop gap for this particular era, we sure are excited about the upcoming ride.

An interesting side-effect of the process was double-recording songs. Frank wrestled for a while comparing the two versions of 'I'm A Mess' but ultimately grew to see they fit perfectly in their own respective worlds as two different versions. Seeing that evolution in songs is something he was also able to gift his children by including their collaborative song 'Best Friends Forever.

Frank lero And The Patience's EP 'Keep The Coffins Coming' is out 22nd September.

#I bought this for $2 lol #10/2017 upset #frank scans #frank iero #my chemical romance #parachutes era #2017

46 notes · View notes

sapootindia · 2 years ago

Text

Kumkum Bhagya 24 May 2023-:-रणबीर और प्राची ने पार्टी में किया डांस

Kumkum Bhagya 24 May 2023-:-एपिसोड की शुरुआत ख़ुशी से होती है जो शाहाना से पूछती है कि मम्मा और पापा को एकजुट करने में उसकी मदद कौन कर सकता है, और पूछता है कि क्या बड़ी मम्मी या दीदा। शाहाना कहती हैं कि किसी पर भरोसा मत करो, अभी हम आपके जन्मदिन पर ध्यान देंगे। वह कहती है कि हम उनसे बाद में बात करेंगे। ख़ुशी पूछती है कि क्या आपको लगता है कि वे समझने के लिए पर्याप्त परिपक्व हैं, और बताती हैं कि…

View On WordPress

#cast of kumkum bhagya #Kumkum Bhagya #Kumkum Bhagya 24 May 2023-:-एपिसोड की शुरुआत ख़ुशी से होती है जो शाहाना से पूछती है कि मम्मा और पापा को एकजुट करने #kumkum bhagya cast #kumkum bhagya episode #kumkum bhagya instagram #kumkum bhagya latest news #kumkum bhagya serial #kumkum bhagya spoilers #kumkum bhagya telly update #kumkum bhagya telly updates #kumkum bhagya upcoming story #kumkum bhagya upcoming twist #kumkum bhagya wattpad #kumkum bhagya written update #kumkum bhagya written updates #written update of kumkum bhagya

0 notes

lividstar · 5 months ago

Text

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎THE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Four: A Pleasant Twist

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 5k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ What started as a plan for a quiet walk in the park quickly turned eventful when you bumped into Madame Dupont, who was heading out for groceries. Choosing to assist her instead, two occurrences you didn’t see coming saw the light of the day: A. Running into Seonghwa, and B. Receiving an offer from Madame Dupont to help with your upcoming casting.

a/n: did you guys see san’s fit for the dolce & gabbana fashion show... it had me weak he straight up looked like he came from a dystopian hunger games type beat magical fantasy gods and goddesses 100k wc fic like that’s choi san from district ATE

tags: @beabatiny

The atmosphere in Hongjoong’s office was a mix of modern chic and creative chaos. The walls, adorned with framed sketches and mood boards, exuded an air of inspiration and meticulous planning. The sleek glass desk was cluttered with fabric swatches, design drafts, and a laptop perpetually open to design software. Large windows let in natural light, illuminating the room and casting a soft glow on the polished wooden floors. Shelves lined with fashion magazines featuring either his designs or Hongjoong himself, awards in varying categories, and an array of art supplies hinted at the relentless creativity that filled the space.

Hongjoong sat behind his desk, his brows furrowed in concentration as he reviewed the latest designs. Seonghwa stood across from him, tablet in hand, listing off upcoming tasks.

“We’re still months away from the fashion week, but it feels dangerously close,” Seonghwa noted, swiping through the digital calendar. “You’re still without your sketchbook, so we need backup designs just in case.”

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’s been making use of Seonghwa’s digital tablet to work on new designs, but it just doesn’t hit the same as sketching on the rough surface of a paper. Well, Seonghwa has been trying to convince him he only feels that way because drawing digitally is an entirely foreign experience to him, but he swears it’s more than that. You wouldn’t get it, is what he’d usually say. “I know. I’m working on new designs, but it’s hard to compensate for everything I had in that sketchbook. There’s so much detail and inspiration in those lost pages.”

“Well… maybe we should schedule extra brainstorming sessions with the team. It might help to get more input," Seonghwa suggested, his tone pragmatic. There’s only so much a single personal assistant could do, especially regarding important matters they’re short of time on, after all.

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against his desk thoughtfully. “Seems like a good plan. We can set up a few sessions next week. Also, I want to review the progress of our new recruits. We need fresh faces ready for the casting call.”

“Oh, speaking of recruits, have you thought about expanding our outreach programs?” Seonghwa continued, making notes on his tablet. “More workshops and seminars could attract new talent to the agency. It’s also a good way to give back to the community.”

“Yes, definitely. And I also want to collaborate with more local designers,” Hongjoong agreed, his voice gaining a note of enthusiasm. There were still a lot of things to sort out, but at least they’re no longer heading forward empty-handed, right? “It’s important to foster community connections and bring in diverse perspectives. We could host a local designer showcase leading up to the fashion week.”

Seonghwa nodded. “That sounds perfect. We should also consider revamping our social media strategy. More behind-the-scenes content, live Q&A sessions, stuff that really engages our audience. 90% of people spend more than half the average day on their phone, anyway, so it would be a good idea to improve our marketing strategies online.”

“Right,” Hongjoong replied, leaning forward and straightening his posture. “I’ve noticed our engagement has been a bit stagnant. Let’s brainstorm some fresh content ideas and maybe even a mini-documentary series about our design process.”

As they were continuing to talk endlessly about gaps they needed to fill in order to ensure the brand’s utmost and consistent success, a thought suddenly resurfaced in Seonghwa’s mind. “Oh, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but she said yes.”

Hongjoong looked puzzled, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Since when did you have a significant other?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes dramatically, not being able to distinguish whether A. Hongjoong was just trying to push his buttons, or B. His brain development had reversed throughout the night and thus, is now being outright dumb. Knowing him, it was probably the latter. “No, you stupid goon. I’m referring to the girl from Rue de la Paix.”

“Oh, alright. Wait—she said yes?” Hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise.

At that exact moment, Wooyoung entered the room with a dramatic flair. “Whoa, who said yes? Didn’t know you had it in you, Seonghwa,” Wooyoung teased. Just then, an empty folder came flying his way, nearly hitting him right at his face if it weren’t for his reflexes. “Hey, what was that for?”

“That’s for accomplishing the mission of being even more stupid than Hongjoong,” Seonghwa deadpanned, shrugging. “What are you doing here anyway, Wooyoung? I thought you had no activities scheduled for today.”

Wooyoung grinned and flopped onto the couch, stretching out comfortably. “Yeah, but Hongjoong’s office couch is comfortable and I’m experiencing back pain. Needed a place to relax.”

“And who told you you could just do that?”

“...My free will?”

Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong, who didn’t even need to hear the words come out of his mouth. “No surprises at all. He does this all the time.”

Suddenly, Hongjoong always putting in his best efforts when it comes to avoiding Wooyoung during his work hours was now starting to make sense to Seonghwa. “No wonder you’re so sick of him,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“I can hear both of you very well, you know?” Wooyoung quipped, scrolling through his phone without looking up. “Actually, nevermind. Knowing you two, you’re probably doing that on purpose.”

“Nice theory. Whatever,” Seonghwa dismissed, turning back to Hongjoong. “Anyway, what I meant by her saying yes is that she agreed to attend the casting. She didn’t say it directly, but she called me in the middle of the night to ask for further details. Plus, she replied to my message about wishing her luck and hoping she wouldn’t back out. So, I think it’s safe to assume she’s going to attend.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened with a mix of relief and curiosity. “That’s great news. I’m really curious to see what she brings to the table.”

“Who’ll bring what to the table?” Wooyoung interjected, finally looking up from his phone with genuine interest. “You both seem pretty invested in this person.”

Seonghwa leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “A girl from Rue de la Paix that I scouted pretty recently. I believe she has great potential.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. If you’re both that excited, she must be something special,” he mused to himself before looking back down on his phone screen.

Hongjoong hummed in agreement before turning his attention back to the topic at hand. He adjusted the sleeves of his tailored blazer and leaned forward, glancing at the tablet Seonghwa held. “So, about the upcoming projects, I think we should focus more on integrating sustainable fabrics,” Hongjoong said, his tone serious and thoughtful. “It’s not just a trend; it’s a necessity for the future of fashion.”

Seonghwa nodded, tapping notes into his tablet. “Got it. We should reach out to more suppliers who specialize in eco-friendly materials. I’ll set up meetings with potential partners next week.”

Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled with inspiration. The endless days of working he always had to go through were indeed tiring, but the creative process throughout it all and everything that came out of it were always worth the progressively lessening hours of sleep on his behalf. “And for the designs, I want to blend traditional craftsmanship with modern aesthetics. Something that tells a story of heritage while being innovative.”

“That’s a great direction,” Seonghwa agreed, looking up from his notes. “We could also highlight these stories in our marketing campaigns. You know, show our audience the journey behind each piece.”

Before Hongjoong could respond, Wooyoung let out a dramatic groan from the couch, rolling his eyes. “Man, hearing you two talk about work stuff when I’m supposed to be taking a break from all that is so annoying.”

Hongjoong shot him a bemused look. “Well, maybe if you wanted to take a break from your ‘work stuff,’ you should’ve considered staying home instead of lounging in a work office where work-related matters are supposed to be discussed.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes again, sitting up slightly. “Come on, can’t we set things aside and talk about casual stuff for once? It’s been a while since I last got to be in the same space as both of you, and you’re settling on talking about work?”

For a moment, both Seonghwa and Hongjoong processed his words. Then, Seonghwa was the first to chuckle, shaking his head. “Well, that’s a rather unique way to say that you miss hanging out with us.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wait, huh? That’s what he meant?”

Wooyoung shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “Well, you can’t blame me when the past few months have been nothing but busy schedules, busy schedules, and even more busy schedules for us. I chose to work under you two because I know we promised we’d stay together after college, but even being in the same workspace isn’t helping us have more time to spend together.”

Hongjoong sighed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What’s up with you and being so sentimental?” Quite hypocritical, as he’s been having the same thoughts as Wooyoung lately as well. The only difference between them is that Wooyoung is comfortable with expressing it, but Hongjoong? Well, not really.

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong and gave a knowing smile. “Don’t lie, Hongjoong. You know you feel the same way as Wooyoung does.”

Hongjoong exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. Seonghwa could always see right through him regardless of if he wanted him to or not, and sometimes, he doesn’t know if he should appreciate it or be terrified. “Alright, fine. I do miss hanging out like we used to. Things have just been so hectic, especially with all the activities scheduled for the following weeks and months.”

Seonghwa nodded, turning to Wooyoung. “Well, seems like you’re right, then. Since you want to talk about ‘casual stuff,’ why not initiate the conversation for us?”

Wooyoung’s eyes brightened. He knew Hongjoong and Seonghwa find him annoying sometimes—well, more often than that, actually—but he never really took it seriously, because he was aware that deep down, they both have a soft spot for him. Unfortunately, for the two older men, Wooyoung has a knack for using that fact to his advantage. “Alright, let’s see... How about we take a stroll around the city later tonight? Just to take our minds off all the stress.”

Seonghwa nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That sounds like a good idea. I actually recommended Hongjoong do the exact same thing all by himself a few days ago, but I figure tagging along with him wouldn’t be so bad.”

Wooyoung beamed. “See, I knew you’d catch my drift.”

Hongjoong was a bit dismissive at first, reminding Seonghwa, “You do know the only person out of the three of us who doesn’t have anything to do today is Wooyoung, right?”

Wooyoung shrugged nonchalantly. “So? I could keep lounging in here until your work hours end.”

Seonghwa chuckled, knowing Wooyoung all too well. He wasn’t one to get bored easily, no, not at all, but in a place such as, like what Hongjoong said, a work office wherein work-related matters are supposed to be discussed, it wouldn’t take longer than a second to tire his energy out. “Are you sure you won’t get bored?"

“No, totally not,” Wooyoung insisted. “I’ve even already experienced staying the night in this office without Hongjoong here, and I didn’t get bored at all. It was, like, super cool. You know those cool rich businessmen in movies who spend the night looking outside the window of their office walls on a chair with a bottle of an alcoholic beverage in hand?”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sorry, you did what?”

Wooyoung’s, however, darted nervously around the office. “Oh. I mean—”

You sat in your small, dimly lit apartment, staring at the blank walls and feeling the embrace of loneliness attach itself to you. The evening stretched ahead with no plans, no friends to meet, and no familiar faces to call. Seonghwa had been kind, but you barely knew him, and calling him a friend felt a little too early. Financial prudence also demanded caution; with the casting still a few days away and no guarantee of immediate income, you couldn’t afford to be reckless with how much you spend.

Maybe a walk outside could be nice?

You sighed and looked at the closet doors, debating whether it was worth the effort. The allure of fresh air and a change of scenery tugged at you, while the fear of venturing out into an unfamiliar city at night held you back. You thought about the headache from yesterday—how intense and strange it had been. It wasn’t a normal headache, and it lingered in your mind. Perhaps a stroll through the nearby park would help clear your thoughts.

With your decision now entirely made, you rose from your bed and headed to your closet. You chose a soft beige knit sweater, its cozy warmth comforting against the evening chill. Pairing it with a long, black skirt that reached down to your ankles and shoes of the same color as your sweater, you completed the outfit with a light scarf draped casually around your neck. You began fixing your appearance up, and once you were satisfied, you grabbed your bag and left the apartment.

As you reached the ground floor, you spotted Madame Dupont at the entrance, preparing to leave. “Madame Dupont?” you called out, quickening your pace to catch up with her.

She turned, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. “Ah, bonsoir! How are you, dear?” she asked, her voice warm and welcoming.

“I’m well, thank you,” you replied, offering her a smile. “Where are you off to?” Your eyes darted to the streets outside.

“I’m just heading to the grocery store,” she said, adjusting the strap of her handbag. “What about you? Where are you going?”

“I was thinking of taking a walk,” you said, glancing towards the door once more. “But if you don't mind, I could accompany you instead.”

Madame Dupont’s face brightened even more. “Oh, that would be lovely! Are you sure you don’t mind?”

A walk to the park may have been your initial plan, but you still weren’t entirely sure the calm atmosphere of the evening would suffice to outweigh both the thoughts inside your head and your worries about possible dangers. “Not at all,” you assured her. “I’d be happy to help.”

The two of you then began to walk together to the bus stop, engaging in light conversation. “How was your day?” you asked as you waited for the bus to arrive.

Madame Dupont smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It was quite eventful, actually. This morning, I had to chase Monsieur Frank’s cat out of my garden again. That rascal has a knack for digging up my flowers!”

You laughed softly, imagining the scene. Monsieur Frank’s féline, Pompidou, was indeed a little ball full of mischief. You’ve had your own set of encounters with him, such as waking up to hearing light scratches by your door—which once happened in the middle of the night and nearly made you consider moving back to Arcadia Bay, having him come out of nowhere and pounce on your shoes when you’re walking out the door, and more. You don’t know why his owner decided to name him Pompidou, but you figured it suits his personality very well. “That sounds like quite the adventure. He’s adorable, but has always been quite of a pain to deal with. Did you manage to catch him?”

“Eventually,” she chuckled. “But not before he managed to scatter soil all over my freshly planted tulips. And then, later in the afternoon, I had a lovely visit from my granddaughter. She’s starting university soon, you know. Full of excitement and nerves, that one.”

You smiled, listening intently. Oh, what would you give to experience starting university for the first time again—with nothing but excitement and nerves, just like Madame Dupont’s granddaughter and nothing like yourself. “Really? That’s wonderful. What’s she going to study?”

“Art history,” Madame Dupont replied, pride evident in her voice. “She’s always had a passion for it. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d spend hours drawing and painting. I’m glad she’s pursuing something she loves.”

The bus arrived, and you both boarded, continuing your conversation during the short ride. Madame Dupont shared stories about her granddaughter’s childhood, her love for art, and her hopes for the future. You listened intently, feeling a warm sense of connection growing between you.

When you arrived at the grocery store, you offered to push the cart, an offer Madame Dupont gratefully accepted. Throughout your journey of navigating through the aisles, you reached for items on the higher shelves that she couldn’t reach, earning appreciative smiles and heartfelt thanks from her.

As you placed a jar of jam into the cart, Madame Dupont continued her stories. “You know, dear, I remember when my granddaughter was just four, she painted the most beautiful landscape. We framed it and it still hangs in our living room. Whenever I look at it, it reminds me of her spirit and creativity.”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, smiling at the thought. You wonder if you had moments in your childhood that were similar to hers. But then again, how would you know? “It must be wonderful to have such a talented family member.”

“I can only imagine that is exactly how your family thinks of you,” Madame Dupont mused, turning to you with a heartfelt smile. Confused, all you could do was let out an awkward chuckle. “What do you mean, Madame Dupont?” you asked, unsure what she was implying.

“You’ve only been here for quite a short while, but let me tell you, dear, it’s easy for me to be able to tell you have a genuine soul. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I really appreciate it—having one of my tenants accompany me to the grocery store isn’t exactly a common occurrence.” She chuckled, placing her hand on top of yours that remained sat on the cart and rubbed her thumb on the back of it shortly before letting go.

“It’s nothing, Madame Dupont,” you attempted to counter, but she wouldn’t relent. She shook her head in response, finding it amusing how you seem to be struggling to allow yourself to accept her kind words. “Well, whatever you say,” was all she settled with before turning her attention back to her grocery shopping list.

While you and Madame Dupont continued to shop together, she suddenly stopped and turned to you. “Would you mind waiting here for a moment, dear? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Of course, take your time,” you replied with a reassuring smile.

“Thank you,” she said, patting your arm gently before heading towards the restroom. You positioned the grocery cart in a corner to avoid blocking the aisle, then leaned against it and pulled out your phone. Scrolling through social media, you let yourself get absorbed in the digital world. Minutes passed, the hum of the store fading into the background, when you heard a voice that seemed oddly familiar coming from the other end of the aisle.

Curiosity piqued, you turned off your phone and tucked it back into your bag. Leaning forward, you peeked around the corner to see Seonghwa, reaching for an item on the shelf.

“Seonghwa?” you called out, stepping into the aisle.

His head snapped in your direction, and upon recognizing you, he broke into a warm smile. “Hey! What a surprise to see you again so soon,” he said, his voice laced with genuine delight as he pushed his cart towards you. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled, gesturing to the half-full cart beside you. “Just accompanying my landlord with purchasing her groceries.”

“Oh, do you live around here?” Seonghwa tilted his head, half his hair softly falling down to the side he turned to.

“No, my apartment is a quick bus ride from here,” you explained. “What about you, though? What are you doing here?” you asked, this time gesturing to his cart.

“Oh, me?” He pointed to himself, smiling. “My friends and I were planning to spend a few hours at the park, and we figured we could stop by here for a moment to grab some snacks we could eat.”

“What a coincidence. I was thinking of going to the park, too,” you mused, sharing your initial plans for the night.

Seonghwa’s face then lit up. “Really? Why don’t you come and tag along with us? They both work at the agency that’s hosting the casting you’ll be attending, too. It would be nice if you could get to know them beforehand.”

You hesitated, glancing back towards the restroom where Madame Dupont had disappeared. “That sounds lovely, but I promised my landlord I’d help her with the shopping. Maybe another time?”

He nodded, understanding and not pressing the matter. “Sure, another time it is then. So, speaking of, how’s everything going with the casting preparations?”

“It’s been…” quite a challenge, was what you wanted to say. After all, there was some truth to it. Yet still, you didn’t want to show any signs of wavering. “It’s been going well. I’ll definitely be there.”

“Great! I really think you could be our turning point,” he said enthusiastically, his eyes earnest and full of hope.

You laughed, trying to lighten the mood and ease the pressure. “No pressure, right? Or else I might not show up.”

He grinned, playing along. “Okay, okay, no pressure.”

Just then, a voice called out his name from another part of the store. Seonghwa groaned, rubbing his temple with a resigned smile. “That’s my cue. This is why we can’t go anywhere together without causing a scene.”

You chuckled, amused by his predicament. “Having friends like that must be fun.” You wouldn’t know anything about it for sure, but the thought seemed nice. Maybe in the future, you’d also get to experience having your name be shouted in a public grocery store by a close friend of yours. Or, who knows? You could be the one shouting.

“Fun, yes. Embarrassing, absolutely,” he said, rolling his eyes but with a fond smile. “I’d better go. See you at the casting?”

“Definitely. See you,” you said, waving as he walked away. Almost immediately after Seonghwa left, Madame Dupont returned, looking refreshed. “Who was that young man you were talking to?” she asked, seemingly intrigued.

“Oh, just… an acquaintance,” you replied, still feeling quite hesitant over considering Seonghwa as a friend. Hopefully, one day, you’ll feel more comfortable referring to him with such a term. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Madame Dupont nodded, smiling warmly. “Alright, dear. Let’s continue, shall we?”

The two of you resumed your shopping, chatting and laughing as you navigated the aisles. You reached for items on the higher shelves, and Madame Dupont shared more stories about her family. Her anecdotes were heartwarming, filled with fond memories and lively descriptions. As you listened, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging. These simple moments, like helping her shop and hearing her stories, were making you feel more at home in this new city.

Seonghwa pushed his grocery cart around the store, his eyes scanning the aisles as he searched for Hongjoong and Wooyoung. He maneuvered through various sections, weaving past other shoppers and glancing down every row. Finally, after a few minutes of searching, he spotted them and couldn’t help but pause, taken aback by the sight.

Wooyoung was perched inside an empty shopping cart, looking quite pleased with himself, while Hongjoong pushed it with a resigned, tired expression on his face.

“Should’ve known you were only referring to yourself when you said you wanted ‘us’ to have fun,” Hongjoong deadpanned, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he sighed heavily.

Wooyoung scoffed, playfully swatting at Hongjoong’s hand that gripped the handle of the cart. “Pushing a shopping cart can be fun too! You just don’t know how to do it right. Now push faster!”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but chuckle, his amusement evident as he approached them. “Should I be surprised?”

“Yes!” Wooyoung replied instantly, grinning.

“No,” Hongjoong said at the same time, his tone flat.

“What took you so long, anyway? You said you were just going to grab a few snacks before we head to the counter,” Hongjoong asked, his movements with the cart becoming more mindless as he pushed and pulled it back and forth.

“That I was, but I came across her,” Seonghwa said with a shrug. He figured there was no need to specify who he was talking about, as Hongjoong’s eyes widened in recognition.

“The girl from Rue de la Paix?” Hongjoong inquired, just to make sure.

From his seat in the cart, Wooyoung interjected. “For how much longer are you gonna refer to her as the girl from Rue de la Paix? Aren’t you planning on, like, getting her name or something, at least?”

“Not when Seonghwa keeps forgetting to do that,” Hongjoong answered, gesturing toward Seonghwa, who now sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“I overheard you saying you got a call from her recently. You have her number, right? You could just ask for her name through a text message. Not unless you want to keep referring to her using such a long nickname,” Wooyoung suggested, shrugging.

Seonghwa nodded, considering the idea. “Yeah, I’ll think about that.”

Hongjoong shifted the conversation back. “So, what was she doing here?”

“She was helping her landlord with grocery shopping,” was what Seonghwa responded.

“Does she live around here?” Hongjoong asked, his curiosity piqued and his hands no longer pushing the cart he held back and forth.

“No, she said her apartment is a quick bus ride from here,” Seonghwa explained. “She was just being helpful.”

Wooyoung, still in the cart, dramatically sighed. “Ah, the noble deeds of the common folk.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, flicking the back of Wooyoung’s head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous but lovable,” Wooyoung retorted, grinning widely. “Come on, admit it. You missed having me around.”

Hongjoong groaned. “No, I didn’t,” yes, he did.

Seonghwa chuckled, joining in. “Alright, enough of this. Let’s finish up and get going. Wooyoung, get out of the cart before we get kicked out of here.”

Wooyoung pouted but complied, hopping out of the cart with exaggerated movements. “Fine, but only because I’m hungry.”

After what felt like nearly half an hour of waiting by the side of the streets, a bus finally came into view, and thankfully, nearly all of its seats were vacant. You took the bag of groceries from Madame Dupont’s grasp, motioning for her to get in first. Once you both settled on one of the seats by the middle, you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned your head on the window. Today didn’t go exactly as you planned, but the point of unwinding and getting a breath of fresh air was accomplished anyway, wasn’t it?

“So, about the young man from the grocery store,” Madame Dupont started, making you sit up straight and turn your head to her. “How do you two know each other?”

You then purse your lips in excitement over finally getting to tell Madame Dupont about the casting. “Remember when I asked you for directions to Rue de la Paix for my job search?” you asked, waiting for a nod of confirmation first. Once you received it, you continued speaking. “That’s where I met him. His name is Seonghwa, and he works under an agency of fashion and modeling.”

“That sounds interesting,” Madame Dupont mused, almost to herself. “How did you two meet each other?”

“I wouldn’t say meet,” you said sheepishly, remembering how Seonghwa was quite literally running in full speed towards you. “But he’s seen me before, and said he wanted to approach me back then but couldn’t. The reason he wanted to approach me was, well…”

“Well?” Madame Dupont tilted her head, intrigued. “Don’t leave me hanging, dear,” she joked, making you laugh.

“I may or may not have been casted to become a model.”

There were a few seconds of silence between both of you, and you figured it’s safe to assume Madame Dupont wasn’t speaking because she was trying to process your words. Suddenly, you’re caught by surprise when a wide smile spreads across her face as she gently grabs a hand of yours using both of hers and shakes it in excitement.

“That’s wonderful, dear! Especially since you’ve been doing nothing but search for jobs the moment you stepped foot here,” she beamed, and for a moment, you nearly believed she was more excited for the opportunity than you were. “I’m a hundred percent certain you’ll do very well and get accepted.”

“I wish I could say the same thing, Madame.” You chuckled. “I’m still really nervous, and the casting’s happening on Friday this week.”

“Friday?” Her eyes widened in surprise, and all you could do was nod. “Well, that is very close, indeed. Have you been going through preparations?”

“I have,” you said, smiling. “It still doesn’t feel real to me, though.” You didn’t want to blame yourself for feeling like this, as for a person who’s always been accustomed to staying behind the shadows, suddenly stepping into a career where the main point is to let yourself be seen is indeed a terrifying experience.

“That’s normal. It’s a huge shift, after all,” her voice took on a soft tone, attempting to ease your nerves. “Do you have anything to wear for the casting yet?”

“Oh, about that…” you trailed off, your mind going back in time to recall the photos you took of the designs from the sketchbook. “There’s a few designs I want to base my attire on, but I haven’t gone off on a kickstart about it yet. Preparations have been mostly about my confidence and less about my appearance.”

Madame Dupont smiled, leaning back in her seat. “Is that so? Well why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could help you with that, dear,” she offered.

You felt a bit hesitant. “I’d appreciate that, Madame Dupont. But I don’t wanna take up too much of your time and bother you.”

She waved your concerns off. “Oh, dear, you’ll never be a bother to me. You helped me out today, and I think it’s only right for me to return the favor.”

“Alright, but, how?” You tilted your head, confused about where she was heading to.

Madame Dupont let out a hum, eyes darting all around the bus as she pondered over what to say before fully turning her gaze back to you. “Do you know why I never get bored even when I rarely go outside unless it’s necessary?”

You shook your head. “No, why?”

“Sewing, knitting, and crocheting are some of the things that keep me company,” she explained. Seeing your puzzled expression, she added, “And I’m bringing that up because I was thinking I can return the favor by sewing your outfit for you.”

You hesitated. “Oh, but... I don’t want to turn your hobby into an obligation.” Sure, it seemed like it would be of a huge amount of help to you, but was it really right to accept it?

Seeing your hesitance, she insisted, “I would love to help you. Besides, it’s no trouble at all.” Just as you were about to politely decline, the bus stopped in front of your apartment, and Madame Dupont used it as an opportunity to wave off any further protests. “You have no other choice but to accept my help,” she said firmly.

Eventually, you gave up, letting her have her way. “Alright, Madame Dupont.” You took the groceries and let her get off the bus first, following soon after. As you both walked towards the apartment, you turned to her, “Would you like me to help with unpacking your groceries?”

“No, dear, you’ve done enough for me today,” she said kindly. “You should go get some rest—but not before you send me the image of the attire you want to use as inspiration.”

Nodding, you promised to send the photos once you got back to your apartment. “Thank you so much, Madame Dupont.”

“Don’t mention it, dear,” she replied with a warm smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing what we’ll come up with.”

Back in your apartment, you lay down on your bed, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You took out your phone and scrolled back and forth through the pictures of the designs from the sketchbook, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Each design had its own charm, but one particular outfit kept catching your eye. It was the off-shoulder dress with delicate lace detailing that had given you a headache the first time you saw it, but now that you were more... used to the sight of it, it seemed perfect. After some deliberation, you decided that this was the one. You sent the image to Madame Dupont’s contact number with a short message.

This is the one I’d like to use as inspiration. Thank you so much for your help!

As you put your phone down, you muttered to yourself, “Now that that’s out of the way, I should probably go clean up before I head to bed.” You stood up, stretching your arms above your head, and made your way to the bathroom. The warm water from the shower helped to wash away the fatigue of the day, and as you stood under the stream, you felt a sense of relief and anticipation for what was to come.

Meanwhile, at the park, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung were seated in one of the grassy areas, enjoying the peaceful evening. The sun had returned to its peaceful slumber long ago, and the park was illuminated by soft, ambient lights, creating a serene atmosphere. “So, any updates on your missing sketchbook?” Wooyoung asked, before popping a chocolate chip cookie into his mouth.

Hongjoong’s expression darkened, and he let out a frustrated sigh. “No, and I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled. “The universe might as well tell me to quit my career at this point.”

Seonghwa shook his head, refusing to encourage Hongjoong’s behavior. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a pessimist. We’ll find it eventually.”

Hongjoong turned to Seonghwa, his frustration evident. “Seonghwa, take a moment to reflect on the circumstances we’re currently under. How can I not be pessimistic? My entire collection for the autumn fashion week is in that sketchbook, along with years of work.”

Seonghwa nodded, understanding Hongjoong’s point but still trying to lift his spirits. “I get what you’re feeling, but moping around won’t do anything. We need to stay proactive.”

Wooyoung, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “Why’s the sketchbook so important to you anyway? I mean, yeah, that’s a stupid question since it, like you said, has all the designs you’ve made since college and the sketches for the autumn fashion week, but I can’t help but feel like that’s not the only reason. What’s the real deal?”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered with an emotion he quickly masked. “You’re thinking way too deeply into it,” he deflected, looking away.

Wooyoung shrugged, sensing Hongjoong’s reluctance to delve deeper. “Well, whatever.”

🪞 — lividstar.

#౨ৎ﹒ノ﹒lividstar．#kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff #ateez angst #hongjoong angst #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung

28 notes · View notes