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verstappensrealwife · 10 months ago

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Last Request - Fernando Alonso x Reader

[fernando alonso masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... reader breaks up with Fernando for the better of their relationship... until she drunk calls him accidentally. ʚɞ fluff, smut ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 1900 words ʚɞ warnings: Sex, P in V, oral (Fem receiving), swearing/cursing, drinking, being drunk

Part 2/2 part 1 here.

-୨♡୧-

You hadn't seen him since that night. Of course, you missed him, but you couldn't have him anymore. It had been almost 3 months and still he wouldn't get out of your head. You couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way he loved you, the way he held you, the way he listened to every word you spoke.

Your friends however, agreed you needed to move on- or at least get a rebound. You really weren't sure about leaving your bed, nor up for the idea of a cheap hook-up to distract you from the once love of your life, but you agreed to go out with them since you did need to get out your apartment for a little while.

You went to a club in the nearest city- well a few clubs- and after a few drinks you were officially feeling like yourself for the first time in months. You took shot after shot, drank a dozen glasses of aperol spritz, and by the end of the night ended up singing Dolly Parton to a whole club of people for karaoke.

Once you stumbled off the stage, giggling to yourself about the applause you were getting, you realised your friends had disappeared. Huffing, you walked outside the club and you pulled your phone out, hitting your friends caller ID and immediately hitting call.

After two rings she picked up. "F-Fiona? Hey Fi, where are you. I think I'm a bit lost," You hiccupped down the phone.

"Y/N?" A man said.

"Who- Who are you!" You shouted at the phone confrontationally. "Where is Fiona Harris, Mister."

"It's Fernando," He said. On the other side of the phone, he was lay in bed, at 1am. He- in all honesty- was hoping you'd called him purposely, to get back together, or to meet up for... things... He felt slight disappointment when he realised he wasn't who the call was meant for, but he didn't hang up, he wanted to hear your voice again. "Where are you?" He said, already getting out of bed and pulling the first clothes he could find, on.

"Where's Fernando- w-wait..." You laughed at yourself getting the names wrong, "Where is Fiona?"

"Where is Y/N?" He asked, already out the door.

"I am at the club!" You announced happily, "The one with the pretty flamingo on the sign."

Fernando knew, by such a small clue, "Don't move okay, my lo– Erm, I mean Y/N,"

"Okay mister man." You slurred, "Can you stay on the phone please mister man..." You asked, but then interrupted him and started talking about how much you really hated the club scene. He already knew every single thing you spoke about during the quick 10 minute drive.

When he got to the club, you were leaning against the brick walls of the club, still talking into the phone as it the receiving end of your call wasn't 10 feet infront of you. "O-Oh hey Fernando," You hiccupped, "What you doing here- hey!"

He picked you up and literally carried you to his car- to any passers by they would be inclined to think he was kidnapping you. Once you were settled in his passenger seat and fought your drunk hands from trying to grab at his face while he was trying to put a seatbelt on you, he drove you both to his home. "When did you get this car..." You asked, as you inebriatedly messed with the radio, dash board, and glove compartment.

"A few days after you broke up with me..."

"Oh- I don't like that answer... Make a new one please."

He chuckled, "A new one?" You nodded quickly and snapped your fingers for him to hurry up with his new answer. "Oh- Okay... I got it last week after a party."

You smiled and nodded. "Is it home time now?" you frowned confused.

When you got to his house, you already knew the procedure he'd make you do. He did it anytime you were drunk.

First, drink water, water and more water. Check.

Then brush teeth. Check.

Then, attempt, to wash your makeup off. Half check.

And finally, kiss him goodnight...

You stepped out the bathroom into the bedroom. He was stood stiffly with a pair of your old pyjamas in his hands and another bottle of water.

"You- You are so good." You slurred, "C-can you help me." You said as you struggled to unzip the back of your dress.

He nodded, putting the items on the bed and turning you around. His hands lingered a little long on your shoulders after pushing your hair from your back. He, slowly, dragged the silver zipper down to the bottom of your back. He shamelessly stared for a moment before turning around. "What you doing?" You asked, "Why you not looking... You've seen before?"

"I- I know I have I just don't want to intrude."

"You can intrude..."

"Not when you're drunk," He replied. You simply nodded- not that he could see- and began to dress into more appropriate clothes to sleep in.

After a few minutes, when you got into bed, he was about to leave when you stopped him quickly, "Don't leave baby..." You babbled, tiredly. Baby... "I trust you- sleep here."

"I- I don't think–"

"I think yes. Come please." You demanded.

He gave in. Lying stiff next to you. You wriggled towards him, giggling to yourself as you, in your eyes, sneakily got over to him and grabbed him. He melted at the touch of your hands on his stomach and your head on his chest. You both fell asleep quickly, it was the first full nights rest Fernando had gotten in a while. When you woke up, you had rolled over to the other side of the bed. Nothing out of the ordinary since you moved alot in your sleep.

He heard you groan under your breath as you were waking up, then a gasp. You sat up quickly and looked at Fernando next to you. "Oh my god." You mumbled. "Oh, my god, oh, my god." You repeated it a few times before Fernando shut you up.

"I didn't sleep with you, stop shouting it is early." He said, in that deep morning voice you always loved.

"Oh."

"You called me drunk about how you lost Fiona and whoever else,"

"That's absolutely humiliating." You mumbled, "S-so nothing happened? Nothing at all?"

He shook his head, "Only you tried to get naked for me so," He laughed, when you groaned in embarrassment. "Don't worry, I looked away..." He said, "You want me to make you breakfast?" He asked, before you could reply he interrupted himself, "N- no, never mind I'll get you an uber- stupid thing to ask..." He mumbled, taking his phone from the side table.

You quickly snatched his phone. He looked at you stunned. "You know how i like my pancakes," You smiled. He looked at you, almost with hope in his eyes. When you smiled at him he felt his heart burst open. He shot up out of bed.

"These will be the best pancakes you've ever tasted," He promised. You chuckled and watched as he ran out the room, then minutes later hearing a clatter in the kitchen. You rolled your eyes and ventured the house to find him.

There was a bowl on the floor, three forks and a spoon, as well as a cook book.

You stared at his back muscles, you won't lie. You didn't forget he slept shirtless. "How's the cooking going 'Nando?" You laughed, his heart skipped a beat. He spun around quickly with a nervous look on his face. He slowly shuffled to the side to reveal a mess of what looked more like cookie dough than pancake mix. "Need help?" You laughed at him, there was flour on his forehead and half an egg yolk on the counter. He nodded silently. You're smile was still on your face as your laugh died down. You stepped infront of him, first throwing whatever he had made away, then picking up the items from the floor and finally standing infront of him. "You have a little..." You pointed at his forehead, he tried to wipe it off and missed. Completely. You smiled and pressed your finger to his head, carefully wiping it off his skin. He stared at your face, eyes, nose, the few freckles on your cheeks and finally your lips. He couldn't help but imagine himself against them again.

"Kiss the cook, huh?" You chuckled.

"Huh?" He was pulled out of his trance. You pointed to his apron, "O-Oh yeah, Lance got it me... the same day we uh... yeah."

You nodded silently, you were between the counter and his body, you hadn't even realised until he got closer and you were against the cold slab of marble. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring all over your face, lingering on your lips.

You pressed your hands on his chest, he took a step back, maybe it was too far.

That was what he thought until your hands gripped the fabric of the apron and pulled him back into you.

"Is this wrong?" You questioned him.

"How can this be wrong?" He replied.

"Kiss the cook?" You asked quietly. He was quick to pick you up and put you on the counter, pressing his lips onto yours, he stood between your legs and held you by the waist, while you hands held the back of his head. "God, I missed you," you sighed.

"Not as much as me, my love." he replied, his lips then immediately back on yours. The kiss was needy, wanting and longing for you for months.

You pulled the apron off his body, putting your hands on his bare chest, wrapping your legs around his waist before he pulled you off the counter and to the bedroom. You shrieked a giggle as he carried you through the house, his lips never leaving your neck, his lips tracing the skin, savouring the taste.

He let go of you as you got to the bed, "This is okay?" He checked, to which you nodded thoroughly.

He pulled your pyjamas off your body like it was an inconvenience to him. He crawled down the bed and pushed your legs apart, licking his lips before putting his head between your thighs, your hands instinctively grabbing at his hair, your heels digging into his back as his hands firmly held the flesh of your thighs.

After pulling 2 orgasms out of you he was lining his cock up with your entrance. You nodded as he looked at you once again for a go ahead. He pushed in slowly, dropping his head to your shoulder and groaning curses. He sped up after a moment, and you quickly became a wreck beneath him.

A whining, moaning, shaking, wreck.

"F-Fernando..." You whimper, "I- I'm going to..."

You don't even get the words out before you scream and spasm, everything tingling and throbbing as you tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and heat flooding your entire body. He's quick to follow you, bottoming out inside of you before pulling out of you and rolling next to you. "Jesus." You say, before laughing a little. "That was probably the best sex I've ever had."

He nods in agreement, he's staring at you like you're God yourself. "S-So does this mean like-"

"If you'd like to, then yeah it does."

You barely finish what you're saying when he jumps back onto you and smothers you with kisses making you laugh hysterically. "I love you so so much, my love, I'm not letting you go again," He announces, before getting up, pulling a robe over himself and then going to the window of the bedroom before shouting out of it, "She's all mine!"

El fin.

hope this was enjoyable. first fic I've wrote for Tumblr. anywho.

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janaem · 7 months ago

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Let Me Rule You

Jareth x f.reader

This is chapter 1 (Entranced) | Chapter 2 (Wish)

Synopsis: She never imagined that she would once again be drawn into the enchanting world of fictional characters, a place she had not ventured into for many years. However, on a warm summer Saturday night, everything changed as she found herself captivated by the enigmatic goblin king, Jareth, while watching the mesmerizing film "Labyrinth." Word count: 5.4k (20 pages)

Warnings for this chapter: swearing and arguments

Key:Y/n= your name | L/n= last name | M/n= mom name |d/n= dog name

For visual purposes, here is the house you are living in.

Author note: It's sure been a while since I wrote something as long as this. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter as much as I did! I don't intend for this to be a slow burn, but I'm sure not rushing to the climax either. Things will definitely start to progress in the chapters to come at a reasonable pace since I'm aiming for this to be only a few chapters. I will also be publishing this on ao3 and wattpad:)

The dusk was calm, and the only movements were the swaying of the trees in the warm midsummer breeze. The dark green leaves of the trees fell sporadically on the fresh pavement street of Evansville. It is a typical upper-middle-class suburb located on the outskirts of the great city, beyond its beautiful lake. During the summer, Evansville is usually bustling with life. Kids can be seen racing on their scooters while their parents watch from the front lawn of their craftsman and single-family-style homes. Teenagers speed down Sherhigh Avenue by the Lakefront with their windows rolled down, blasting music and singing the lyrics. The beaches are always full from morning till nearly midnight.

Nestled close to the tranquil lakefront was Nordstin Street, which exuded an air of a close community feel. From afternoon till night, the neighborhood was painted with playful children and their parents' laughter on their lawns, the jingle of ice cream trucks, and frequent splashes from small backyard pools.

But once dusk faded away, it was different. The winds picked up abruptly around four thirty and leaves started dancing in a choreographed frenzy while flower petals broke free from their delicate confines. The windows of these sturdy homes rattled, adding a discordant note to the chaos. The tides of the lake were more than violent, threatening to engulf anything in their path. The crashing waves against the cluster of boulders are reminiscent of clashing symbols.

In the heart of Nordstin, a grand single-family home exudes warmth and elegance. The gray fiber cement exterior, adorned with white accents, perfectly complements the intricately decorated gray brick roof. The beautiful porch is a work of art, supported by sturdy white stone pillars, making it both practical and stunning.

In the vast living room downstairs, an eighteen-year-old, Y/n, lounged on the cream sectional sofa, surrounded by plush beige pillows of varying textures. With one pillow snug against her torso, she tuned into the news forecast, her gaze fixed on the screen as she observed the latest updates.

The male news reporter's voice filled the room, his words a solemn warning. "The winds are blowing at 26 miles per hour," he announced, his tone carrying a sense of urgency. "It's best to stay home if you don't need to be outside, especially away from water."

Suddenly, a harsh voice from the kitchen shatters the tranquility, disrupting Y/n's peace of mind.

Y/n’s mother, m/n, walked urgently from the kitchen and halted at the entrance of the living room, wearing an unpleasant expression. She holds a meticulously cleaned empty Tupperware container in her left hand.

“Y/n, did you eat the last of the lasagna?” She asked, shaking the container so it was brought to Y/n’s attention.

Y/n looked over at her displeased mother and replied dryly, "Yeah."

Her mother gives her a repulsed look, “Why? What makes you think it’s okay to eat up everything in this house and not leave anything left for anyone?”

Y/n gave her a look of offense, sitting up from her leisure posture, her voice remained level, “Those were the only leftovers I ate. And you told me that I could help myself to whatever I wanted today.”

“That doesn’t mean you eat a whole thing of lasagna, Y/n. You can’t always think about yourself!”

“It wasn’t even half of a container mom, relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax. I know what was in there.”

“Can you please stop yelling?”

“I’m not yelling! This is how I talk.”

Already feeling fatigued from the ongoing conversation, Y/n released a small, exhausted sigh, grabbed the remote, and switched from the news channel in search of something else to ease her mind.

However, the fuming woman continued, “You could’ve called me asking if you could save me some because that is a lot for one person.”

“It wasn’t.” Y/n had completely given up.

“Okay, Y/n,” m/n scoffed, walking back into the kitchen, “This is ridiculous, you think about nobody else but yourself. Your dad and I are already paying for your college, and the least you can do is not act selfish all the time!”

Y/n turned up the volume of the television, finally finding a show that piqued her interest. Unfortunately, she could still hear the immature mutters of her mother’s complaints.

“It’s all about Y/n, Y/n, Y/n…never thinking about anyone else…that’s sad…this is ridiculous!...eat something healthy…never seen anything like it…eighteen years old…”

“So fucking extra,” Y/n huffed, turning down the volume of the television. She throws the pillow from where it landed with the other pile of pillows on the couch and walks up to her room, considering watching a movie there instead. Maybe she’ll Facetime her friend to vent about how unbearable her mom was acting again.

It wasn't uncommon for Y/n and her mother to engage in disputes, which seemed to arise almost daily, creating an atmosphere of constant tension. By now, Y/n was used to it, maintaining a more composed demeanor. However, there are times when she'll mirror or even exceed her mother's outbursts. Their relationship wasn't entirely negative, but it was far from fulfilling. As for her father, Y/n's connection with him was characterized by neutrality with a more manageable dynamic. He was currently on a trip with her uncle and a few friends at Turks & Caicos and won’t be back for another five days.

Y/n walked into her room, paying no attention to the insistent buzzing of her phone on her eider white desk. She sank into her plush queen-sized bed, surrounded by a sea of pillows and stuffed animals, and disappeared under the soft covers, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction.

She didn't want to get too hot under the covers in her oversized hoodie, so she shifted to a more upright position, reached under a nearby pillow, retrieved the remote, and switched on the television. The clock on the top right-hand corner of the starting page displayed 9:45 pm. She then clicked on one of the streaming apps and started browsing through the movies, uncertain of her current mood.

Y/n, with a deep appreciation for classic films, gravitated towards the 80s-90s subcategory. The screen was filled with a vibrant array of movie covers competing for her attention. As she scrolled through the seemingly endless list of movies, Y/n's eyes eagerly scanned the colorful and nostalgic offerings.

She scrolled through rows and rows of movies of all kinds, eventually getting bored and heading over to the sidebar for a better selection. There, subcategories of the 80s and 90s movies appeared: Action, Romance, Documentary, thriller…

Fantasy.

It has been a while since Y/n watched any fantasy-related films, especially older ones with effects that she found to be somewhat uncoordinated and eerie. However, curiosity got the best of her, so she clicked on it, and a series of other subcategories dropped down: Animation, Fairy Tale, Steampunk, Vampires...

Cult films.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at the name, “Cult?” she whispered as if she was sounding it out for the first time.

As she clicked on the remote, a rush of warmth and excitement filled her chest. Her eyes eagerly scanned the screen, searching for a familiar movie. Despite having watched The Neverending Story countless times, she scrolled past it along with other movies like The Dark Crystal, Short Circuit, Big Trouble in Little China, and The Goonies.

Yet, an inexplicable urge drove her to keep searching. After a few more minutes, she suddenly paused, as if an unseen force prevented her thumb from clicking the arrow button, and her gaze settled on a movie she had never come across before.

Jim Henson’s Labyrinth.

Y/n felt an overwhelming and unexplainable sensation coursing through her body as she gazed at the movie cover and its title. It seemed to evoke a powerful wave of nostalgia, captivating her as she fixed her eyes on the glowing screen.

She clicked on the movie, reading its summary.

“Sixteen-year-old Sarah is given thirteen hours to solve a labyrinth and rescue her baby brother Toby when her wish for him to be taken away is granted by the Goblin King Jareth.”

“Poor girl,” Y/n commented as she pressed play, where the credits roll while a white barn owl flies around. Her dog, D/n, shoved the door open with their nose and climbed into bed with her, lying at her legs.

Y/n was captivated by the film's cinematic elements and grainy aesthetic. In particular, she found the character Sarah Williams, to be incredibly gorgeous. Despite her beauty and gentle appearance, Y/n observed that Sarah's behavior didn't align, from her furious stomping into the house to her tendency to catastrophize minor inconveniences.

Y/n grimaced at the first appearance of the goblins, all jumbled up as they awoke from their slumber. Their raspy and grating voices matched their grotesque appearances. When they emerged in the bedroom after Sarah's brother went missing, they appeared in various parts of the room--- under the bedsheets, inside closets, behind the door. Sarah looked around frantically, unable to catch a break. Then, suddenly, the same white barn owl from the movie's beginning barges into the room through the balcony doors and lunges at Sarah. Startled, Sarah shields her eyes, and then a human shadow emerges at Sarah's feet.

The once barn owl had been mystically transformed into a human being. Y/n took in his lithe stature, which stood in a way that excluded flamboyance and regal confidence. His long, dark, and dramatic coat, adorned with intricate designs and embellishments, billowed in the wind as he made his captivating presence known on screen.

"You're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King."

The Goblin King tilts his head, offering Sarah a proud smirk. Y/n couldn't help but notice his untamed, tousled blond locks that framed his face, enhancing his unconventional and otherworldly allure.

"Sarah…go back to your room. Play with your toys and your costumes. Forget about the baby."

His voice flowed like honey, smooth and melodious. Y/n had heard that voice before, possessed by others, yet the Goblin King made it uniquely captivating with its rich, velvety timbre.

"I've brought you a gift."

"It's a crystal, nothing more."

The Goblin King outstretched his gloved hand, and a translucent ball appeared out of thin air. Y/n's eyebrows raised in awe as he effortlessly juggled it about his hands in a way she'd never seen before. It rolled from one hand to another, from his fingertips to the palm of his hand.

"But if you turn it this way and look into it, it'll show you your dreams."

As the film played, Y/n was entirely captivated by the intricate and fantastical journey unfolding before her. She couldn't help but admire Sarah's courageous interactions with the strange and repulsive creatures, except the adorable worm at the beginning. Fairies, goblins, and monsters filled the screen, leaving Y/n in awe of the film's grungy artistry.

She started taking a liking to Hoggle, although he is a coward, he truly cared for Sarah and her wellbeing, which is the type of friend that anyone could need in such desperate times. However, above all the characters Y/n found remarkable, the enigmatic Goblin King, Jareth, captured her attention every time he appeared.

The ballroom scene, in particular, mesmerized Y/n, watching as Jareth's intense yet affectionate gaze lingered on Sarah in a way that set Y/n's nerves ablaze, leaving her breathless. Amidst the dancing figures and smooth song, Y/n couldn't help but imagine herself in Sarah's place, enveloped in the lingering sensation of Jareth's possessive regard.

As she watched, a soft sigh escaped her parted lips, tinged with wistfulness. She pondered what it would be like to be looked upon with such desire in a crowded room, to be longed by someone you secretly desired, as you sought them out in the hopes of meeting their eyes again. She briefly fantasized about being in Sarah's place, feeling the electricity of Jareth's presence, drawing her closer every second.

Y/n's growing desires and anticipation danced amongst the sea of masked faces and whispered secrets. What would it feel like to be carefully handled the way Jareth did Sarah at that moment as she nearly lost herself in his eyes? She wondered this throughout the rest of the film, as the last scene with Jareth played on screen.

“Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say, and I will be your slave.”

A sickening sweet feeling aroused in the very heart of Y/n’s chest, causing her breath to abruptly become shallow as if it were her first time trying to breathe. Eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, she took in the lithe being presented on screen in front of her. Everything in her room surrounding her began to fall and fade away—all she could see was him.

“Yes,” she subconsciously whispered, “say yes.”

“You have no power over me.” Sarah’s voice rang triumphantly, as the goblin king gave in, taking the form in his owl self once again.

As the film came to a close and the end credits started rolling, Y/n sank further into her pillows and covers.

“I feel like there should’ve been more to the film,” she said to herself, “something’s missing. I’m not satisfied.”

D/n stirred in their sleep, not paying mind to a work y/n just said. The girl sighed, seizing the remote once more to watch something different.

That was until the door flew open and her moments of peace were shattered once again by the sharpness of m/n’s tone.

“Why didn’t you help me with dinner,” she questioned, “let alone, make dinner?”

“It’s too late for dinner,” Y/n replied, “plus I’m not hungry.”

“So, you disregard everyone else in the house after you ate two servings of lasagna?”

“I guess so.” Y/n deadpanned, refusing to fuel the fire with the rebuttal about the lasagna being enough for one person.

“Unbelievable,” M/n huffed, putting her hands on her hips and looking around the room, “your room’s a mess.”

“Okay.” Y/n replied dismissively.

“No, I’m being serious, Y/n. You’re going to have a roommate in college and I sure hope you two get along through all this mess.” Her mother turned on the lights abruptly, waking up d/n and irritating Y/n.

“Mom, what the heck,” Y/n fumed, getting out of her bed, and rushing to the wall to turn off the lights, the room went dark once again, “It’s eleven o’clock!”

“I expect you to get up tomorrow and clean this room,” m/n declared, walking to the food frame, “I’m going to bed, and I want you to think about ways you can use your time more productively.”

Before y/n could fire back, M/n was already gone, shutting the lights of her room off.

The eighteen-year-old girl couldn't catch a break even before bedtime. M/n, while not overly strict, had this unspoken rule that Y/n should just think like her. It led to endless clashes between them, leaving Y/n feeling weighed down.

Talking to friends helped a bit, but the constant disagreements with M/n still felt like a heavy burden on Y/n's chest. Trying to find common ground with someone who seemed to see the world differently was tough, and Y/n knew there was little to do about it.

"It'll all be over in a few months," Y/n told herself while she returned to her bed, submerging into the covers once more, turning off the television, and falling into a deep sleep, searching for peace of mind.

It was well into the morning when Y/n woke up to the sound of a mourning dove, the clock just nearing 10:45 am. She knew her mother was already awake, perhaps reading a book and having breakfast in her room. She planned to say good morning to her later.

D/n, who was once at the foot of her bed, was now propped up, wagging their tail in excitement to see Y/n, who smiled as she melted into the dog’s soft and loving gaze as she ruffled their fur.

Y/n decided that this morning she would clean up her room and place all the unnecessary things in a giveaway bag. She immediately went downstairs, grabbed a garbage bag and a glass of water, and rushed back upstairs to get to work in her considerably well-kept room.

She wasn’t doing this because she wanted to; she was doing this so she wouldn’t be greeted by a nagging mother.

D/n remained on the bed, peering over at Y/n curiously as she continued. Y/n opened the cabinet of her desk and began rummaging through items she’d touched in recent months, setting aside everything except for one particular item. Tucked away at the back of the stacks of read novels and old workbooks rested a pristine bin.

She tossed the workbooks aside, intending to dispose of them, and placed the novels on top of her desk next to her computer, calendar, and another smaller stack of books. She then reached for the bin she hadn’t seen in over a few years. It was a simple clear plastic bin with a turquoise lid.

As she eagerly lifted the lid, a rush of nostalgia engulfed her senses. Beneath the lid lay a jumble of crumpled lined papers adorned with intricate drawings, stacked on top of older notebooks, comics, and mangas, which in turn rested upon other well-loved books from her middle school days. It was a veritable treasure trove of memories that Y/n found impossible to resist. Without hesitation, she reached for the first item on top - a character sheet.

Growing up, Y/n's love for storytelling and creativity knew no bounds. She had especially displayed a remarkable talent for crafting complex characters and their elaborate backstories. While progressing in her budding artistic skills, her true passion lay in building and immersing herself in fantastical worlds. She was engrossed in the worlds of anime, mangas, and fiction which surpassed the typical interests of children her age. Her mind was a treasure trove of knowledge, brimming with insights into various fandoms, literary works, and both contemporary and classic fantasy films.

“No way!” she chuckled, flipping through a notebook full of her drawings of characters she’d seen in anime along with anime characters she'd made up. Each page was adorned with meticulous side notes containing non-canon theories, potential romantic head-canons, and intricately woven backstories that she had crafted from her boundless imagination.

As Y/n spent the next twenty minutes soaring down memory lane, she felt a sinking in her chest, leaving her feeling empty and yearning for that same sense of creativity to ignite within her once again.

She continued sifting through the pile of memories until she reached the bottom, where she found a black velvet notebook with plain white pages. Upon picking it up, she discovered that it was empty. Feeling a bit disappointed, she placed all the objects back into the bin, carefully arranging them in the small compartment.

As she did so, she recalled the various stories she had created in the past - witches, vampires, fairies, and superheroes. She especially missed the sense of accomplishment she felt upon completing each small project, as well as the innocent crushes developed on fictional characters from specific scenes and fan fiction.

Y/n missed how she didn't have a care in the world between what was real and what was fake.

She got up and ascended the stairs once more with the garbage bin at hand and placed it at the bottom of the back door. She figured that once her father came back he’d drive it over to the Salvation Army warehouse. She walked into the kitchen welcomed by the blaring sound of the blender her mom was using to make a smoothie.

M/n stopped the blender and poured some of the smoothie into a glass cup, handing it to Y/n with a “Good morning sweetie.”

“Good morning, Mom,” Y/n replied, taking a small sip of the berry enriched smoothie, “how did you sleep?”

“Oh, I slept fine,” M/n replied, unplugging the blender and setting it aside on the kitchen’s white valley granite countertop, “the bed feels empty without your dad in it.”

“I’m sure.” Y/n agreed leaning against the counter and taking another sip.

“Did you sleep alright?” M/n asked.

Y/n nodded.

“Good,” M/n noted, about to sip her smoothie once more; she then stopped, “Where’s D/n?”

“Upstairs,” Y/n replied.

“You should always take your dog out for a walk in the morning.” M/n inputted, setting her smoothie down.

“I know, but she was asleep and I was cleaning my room and disposing of things I didn’t need.”

“So, you were up this entire time and didn’t bother to walk your dog or make us any breakfast?”

Y/n studied her mother’s furrowed expression, not sure of what to say.

“Your room would have waited, Y/n. You need to start—”

“Mom, I don’t wanna hear it, it’s too early.” Y/n interrupted, feeling her boiling blood course through her veins.

M/n disregarded her daughter's advances, “It’s nearly noon, Y/n and we’ve barely eaten. I need you to start thinking and be able to multitask and take the initiative. What you’re doing right now won’t get you far in your career.”

Y/n had heard M/n repeat this thousands of times, using as many things to say back in previous times, Y/n was now worn out.

“Whatever.” She uttered making her way to the kitchen’s exit.

“Excuse me?” M/n’s tone was sharper now.

“Nothing, Mom.”

“Y/n, I tell you these things so you can become more mature. The behavior has gotten too far. You’re eighteen years old and it’s ridiculous the way you act at such a grown age. I constantly have to repeat myself—”

“Then don’t,” Y/n argued.

“Then give me a reason not to,” M/n fired back, “I’ve never seen your age treat her mother the way you do and act selfishly and dismissively.”

Y/n sighed, “This is so unnecessary. All of this over breakfast.”

“You belittle everything, Y/n. Grow up.”

“You can relax now.”

“Grow up.”

“Telling me to grow up won’t do anything.”

“What I’m saying, sweetie is that you–”

“Okay, mom. I get it. I’ll do better.” Y/n surrendered, not wanting to ignite the flame any further. She was already getting a sickening feeling in her stomach.

She exited the kitchen and rushed up the stairs and back into her room, shutting the door behind her. She set her smoothie down on her desk and paced her room feeling a lump forming in her throat.

“It’s like she always has to start a problem no matter what I do!” She hiccuped feeling her eyes sting with tears.

“Can’t she just let me live for once, God, for fucking once!”

Tears streamed down her face, hanging at her chin, she looked outside at the clear blue sky with the sun well overhead.

“Y/n! Walk your dog!” Her mother yelled from downstairs.

“Okay!” Y/n’s seething voice cracked, “shut up.” she muttered sniffling.

“Now!”

“Give me a minute!”

More tears started spilling down Y/n’s face. She sobbed and hiccuped quietly, continuing to look out her window, which was only a few feet away. Her heart was aching, and her throat was twisted in a knot of sorrow; her chest heaved with exhaustion. She started to cry harder after she attempted to swallow her tears; she knew M/n was going to notice her tear-stricken face.

Y/n grabbed her phone and trudged over to her bed and plopped down on her back, sighing in defeat. She figured that before she walked D/n she would at least distract herself from the pang of sorrow that knocked at her chest.

She opened her web browser and typed in “labyrinth 1986,” and thousands of search results appeared, including links to websites, articles, videos, and even books and comics.

The girl's eyes widened in disbelief as she clicked on the first image that showed the same book with a striking red cover that Sarah had been carrying at the park.

“No way, there’s an official novelization of the labyrinth,” she gasped as she further searched. To her surprise, there were comics and mangas as well.

The pain Y/n was feeling suddenly subsided, replaced by a sense of wonder and excitement as she eagerly read through the summaries and reviews for each comic, book, and archived piece available.

“Finally back in print and for the first time in hardcover is the novelization of LABYRINTH written by A.C.H. Smith and personally overseen by Jim Henson. This is the first in a series of novels from the Jim Henson Archives.”

“Labyrinth: Coronation is a 12-issue comic book series written by Simon Spurrier and illustrated by Daniel Bayliss, published by Archaia from 2018 to 2019. It is a prequel to the 1986 film Labyrinth that takes place in 18th-century Venice and tells the story of how Jareth became the Goblin King.”

“You’re lying” Y/n muttered, enticed by the various series of books presented before her, she clicked on the official novelization first, seeing that it was available in her local bookstore for $30, seeing that there was only one in stock, she made a reservation to pick it up today on her walk with D/n.

“I have to have it.” She said putting in her online payment, which had been successfully authorized.

Thank you for your purchase! The book you have requested will be available within 20 minutes. You have two days to pick it up.

“Oh, shit I gotta go.” Y/n gasped frantically getting out of her bed. She rushed to her closet and grabbed a pair of gray sweats and a simple scoop navy blue cami top, throwing on white socks. She grabbed her mini purse with her wallet inside and made her way down the stairs, D/n followed.

“I’m going to the library, D/n is coming with me,” Y/n said as she passed the living room where M/n sat on her computer.

“Okay. Take the car of course.” M/n replied in deep concentration on whatever was on screen.

Y/n unlatched the garage door, the sound of its metal creaking filling the air as she stepped inside. She slipped on her comfortable slides and made her way to her car, with D/n following closely behind her. The afternoon sun poured into the garage as she settled into the driver's seat, and D/n took their place in the passenger seat. Y/n rolled down the windows, feeling the warm summer breeze on her skin as she carefully reversed out of the garage and onto the driveway.

She made her way down Nordstin Street, making a right onto Seems Street, she marveled at the vibrant activity around her, knowing that the lakefront was only a couple of streets away. It was nearly one o’clock, and the streets were alive with the energy of people going about their day.

It didn't take long before Y/n reached the library. Finding a snug parking spot near the entrance.

She turned to D/n, letting all the windows up, leaving the passenger’s side slightly cracked.

“I’ll be right back, the window will be cracked for you,” she said leaning in and giving her sweet dog a peck on the nose.

She quickly exited the car and walked up to the library and opened the dark wooden doors, where she paid no attention to her surroundings as she marched straight to the front desk, which was occupied by a lady cashier. They greeted each other warmly.

“My name is Y/n L/n and I purchased Jim Henson’s Labyrinth today.” She spoke clearly.

As the lady behind the counter heard Y/n's request, she paused, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she searched for the book. With a few swift clicks to confirm the order, she leaned down and carefully retrieved the treasure Y/n had sought. The rich, crimson book with the elegant golden title "Labyrinth" embossed on its cover was presented before the younger girl, its allure captivating her gaze.

“You’re all set Miss L/n, have a good day!” She chirped sweetly.

“You too!” Y/n returned as she made her way to the front door, her heart hammering in her chest in anticipation as she made her way back to the car. Luckily, there was a park just across the street from the library.

Y/n opened the car door and let D/n out, the leash making a jingling sound as the dog shook its fur. Y/n shut the door and grabbed hold of the leash, holding the book in another hand and the two made their way to Gillson Park.

Gillson Park was one of the more popular parks in Evansville because it was known for its stunning natural landscapes that are cherished by both locals and visitors alike. Characterized by lush greenery, serene ponds reflecting the sky, and winding walking trails on steep hills. Tall trees provide a cool respite from the summer sun, while colorful blossoms add vibrancy to the surroundings. Many may describe it as a meadow away from the bustling suburban life.

Y/n found a nice bench by an open field, letting D/n’s leash to wander about the grass and flowers. She propped herself so that she was lying across the bench comfortably, her elbow resting on the arms of the bench. She opened the first page and began to embark on her reading journey.

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child you have stolen.” She read aloud, attempting to capture the determination in Sarah’s voice, she chuckled to herself.

“For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great…”

An Owl glided over the sky unnoticed as it emerged amongst Gillson Park. A creature of pure elegance in the backdrop of the midday scenery. His plumage, a pristine canvas of a bold white, seems to shimmer with an otherworldly luminescence, catching the last rays of the afternoon sun like a cascade of fire woven into feathers. He settled on a branch of the tree that was hovered over Y/n, as she continued to focus on the compelling words in the book.

His large, dark eyes were fixed on her as she sat with rapt concentration. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes moved swiftly across the crisp, white pages. Her hands were holding the book motionless on the crimson red cover as if she was hesitant to disturb the stillness of the moment.

The Owl’s trance was interrupted by the barking of D/n, his heart shaped head turned to the direction of the galloping dog making its way to Y/n, who looked up from her book, set it on her lap, and petted D/n softly.

“This is a good book so far, D/n,” she said with a smile, “I appreciate its detail.” she leaned down and ruffled the dog’s fur, smothering her pet with the love and affection they deserved.

Unbeknownst to them, the owl had been silently observing Y/n's every move from the highest branch of the nearby tree. Y/n shut the book and got up from the bench to grab D/n's leash. As Y/n closed the book and rose from the bench, the owl maintained its vigilant watch, its piercing eyes following their every step. Y/n secured D/n's leash, and the two began their stroll back towards the library's parking lot, the owl gracefully gliding from tree to tree, never losing sight of them.

Once both were in the car, the owl perched on the concrete edge of the library's roof, its keen gaze fixed on the departing car as it merged into the occupied street.

Only when the car disappeared from view did the owl spread its feathered wings and take to the sky again, disappearing into the horizon.

#jareth #jareth the goblin king #labyrinth 1986 #jareth x reader #labyrinth movie #david bowie #labyrinth #the labyrinth #jareth fanfiction #crush x reader #crush #fantasy #fanfiction #y/n #the goblin king

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syoish-aot · 2 months ago

Text

"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 5)

eren/reader

Rating: M

2020s reincarnation of marleyan nurse reader & undercover eren

3.5k words

also on Ao3

<- chapter 4 | chapter 6 ->

*A Warm Living Room*

“Mr. Kruger?”

“Um- …yeah.”

You scowled.

Mr. Kruger looked over at you. “What?” he asked.

“Why do you do that?”

“Why do I do what?”

“Get uncomfortable when I say your name,” you pointed out.

“It’s-” his cheeks flushed pink. You weren’t used to them doing that.

In the real world they didn’t, in the real world Mr. Kruger looked at you with his expression blank, his face pale, a bandage wrapped around his head and obstructing part of the view.

But here, in this world you had found yourself trapped in, things were different.

Mr. Kruger was different.

And he looked at you with his face flushed a healthy pink as a million golden stars danced across the blues and greens of his eyes.

“Is it because that’s not your name here?” you asked when he still hadn't finished his sentence. “I can call you by your other name, if you want.”

He shifted uncomfortably on the couch next to you and you couldn’t help but want to tease him, just a bit. He was so easy to tease here and it was fun. So you leaned closer.

He froze as your hand rested against his arm. As your chest brushed his shoulder. As your lips tickled the shell of his ear when you whispered:

“Eren.”

His cheeks burned an even deeper red. It made you think about the differences between this place and reality.

Everything was so much quieter here. The city was loud, of course, but there was a peace to it. A peace that you knew you would never find in the real world. In Liberio.

The food here was better. With more flavor and more of it in general, because nothing was rationed.

There was no war. No pain. No suffering. And no red spray paint against brick walls.

And then there was Mr. Kruger.

Eren.

He looked the same (although he has both eyes and legs). With the same brown hair (although here it was cut shorter and not hanging down) and the same facial features (although his skin was less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes). He was the same height. Basic build. And had the same blue-green eyes that revealed golden flecks of stars when the light hit them just right. But…

But Mr. Kruger smiled here. He smiled and he laughed and he played with his cats while he told you about his friends.

He was alive in Liberio in the sense that he was breathing, eating, moving around and going through the motions of existence. But here, in this beautiful vivid peaceful place, here Mr. Kruger was able to live.

And there was a difference, you supposed. A difference between living and being alive.

Maybe that was what made them different people, despite all of their similarities.

Mr. Kruger was living.

But Eren was alive.

There was something depressingly poetic about the whole thing, though you didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it right now.

“Mr. Kruger,” you said and he visibly relaxed at the familiarity of it. You followed it up with: “I’m hungry.”

Mr. Kruger shot off the couch and darted into the kitchen without another word.

You smiled to yourself as you watched it, reminded of another difference between this beautiful peaceful world and reality.

He might look like him, sort of, but at the end of the day Eren wasn’t Mr. Kruger at all.

Mr. Kruger had no idea how to cook.

*???*

There’s a small living space.

Some people might hear that and immediately imagine a cottage. A cottage with vines of ivy growing up the red brick walls. A creek running alongside it. Wildflowers and baby bunnies and birds singing every morning with a beautiful melody that echoes through the woods around it; but that’s not what you mean at all. It’s not a cottage. It’s… It’s not even a house. And there certainly aren’t any woods.

It’s a small living space.

A small living space right in the heart of a bustling city.

You like the city. The chaotic business. The fact that you could step outside at any moment and be surrounded by people. Sure, it was a little dirty. Yeah, there was always noise outside your window. But you like that.

The loudness- the dirtiness- the people. It's life.

And that’s why you like it.

It’s a city.

And it’s alive.

So no, contrary to popular belief, it’s not a small cottage in the middle of the woods. Actually, you’d hate to live in a small cottage in the middle of the woods.

There would be too many bugs.

Despite the hustle and bustle outside, the inside of the warm-living-space-in-the-middle-of-the-city is cozy.

The furniture is crammed together because there’s only one bedroom which doesn’t leave enough space for all of your things. You’ve had to forgo a dining room table to make space for a (slightly scratchy but nevertheless comfy) couch.

There are a lot of plants.

Some of them are dying because even though you try your best to keep them alive, at the end of the day you’ll always have a black thumb. But that’s okay. The ones that die get replaced with new ones and if those die they’re replaced again. The cycle continues until you eventually find a plant that’s hardy enough to constantly flip back and forth between living in a desert and being drowned.

There are four cats asleep on the-

“Four?” Mr. Kruger interrupted with a short, breathy laugh.

“I-” Your cheeks burned out of embarrassment, illuminated by the glow of the setting sun that seeped through the hospital window. “Yes,” you answered firmly, “four.”

“That’s a lot of cats.”

“Well, I-... I like cats.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you scowled. “They’re cute. And they’re not messy like other pets so that’s why I want four.”

Mr. Kruger let out another short huff of amusement as the corners of his lips tugged into a soft smile. You were transfixed for a moment before he broke you out of your trance when he leaned against the wall behind him. You did the same.

You looked out at his hospital room, your legs spread across his bed.

You knew you shouldn’t have been sitting there.

It was too close but-

But you also knew that no one was going to be checking on Mr. Kruger again until morning since you were the one that was locking up.

No one would come in, so you didn’t move.

And neither did he.

“What are the cats doing then?” Mr. Kruger asked as his eyes slid closed.

It was the second question Mr. Kruger had asked you. The first one being:

‘Where do you?’

It's how he'd answered, just minutes ago, when you had asked him about the place he wandered off to when he looked at the horizon.

‘Where do you?’

So you'd told him. You'd told him all about it.

“Um…” Your back pressed against the wall behind you as you continued to stare out into the bleak hospital room. “There’s… There’s a little one that’s playing.”

“Hm…”

You begin imagining out loud again: “She’s bouncing back and forth in front of one of the others, but he’s old so he paws her to leave him alone.”

“Does it work?”

“No,” you smiled. “She’s a bit of a brat.”

You kept going. You described everything in vivid detail. From the colour of the curtains to the age of the old rug on the floor and the story of how you got it, second hand, from an old man who claimed it was cursed.

You told him every single minuscule detail about the place you’d created in your head.

The nice place.

The place you escape to, constantly, because escaping to somewhere nice like there was so much better than living somewhere terrible like here.

You’d never told anyone about this place. This nice place.

Not your friends, not your parents, not Myra. No one.

But you told Mr. Kruger. For some reason, it was so easy to tell Mr. Kruger.

You supposed it was because he got it. He understood what it was like to slip away to somewhere else. To get stuck in his head with wonderful thoughts of somewhere better.

You still didn’t know about the place he went, but you hoped one day, maybe, he’d tell you about it.

That he’d tell you every minuscule detail about his somewhere nice that he saw when he looked out his window and beyond the horizon.

“When I fall asleep at night the city is quiet,” you concluded as your eyes fluttered open. “But I guess that’s a little unrealistic to expect from a busy ci-”

You cut yourself off.

Mr. Kruger's eyes were still closed, just like they had been earlier.

But from the steady rising and falling of his chest. From the way his breaths slipped in and out of his parted lips. From the way the tension on his face was completely gone- you knew he was asleep.

Mr. Kruger didn’t normally emote much, but when he was sleeping his expression was different.

When he was awake, it was neutral.

When he was asleep he was-

…when he was asleep he was at peace.

Maybe it was because he was there. In that place beyond the horizon. The place he went off to that was warm.

His hand rested against the bed next to yours. There were a few inches of space between the two of you and the realization of this space left you feeling warm.

Like Mr. Kruger often did.

Warm.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you slid your hand across the sheets.

You stopped just before you could touch him. With your fingers only a hair’s width away, you could feel the heat radiating off the back of his hand. You were so close, but still not touching.

You wished you could though.

You wished you could touch him.

But you couldn't. Not here, anyway. Never here.

Rope. Flesh. Eldian Lover. Eldian Lover. Eldian Lover.

Not here.

But-

A warm living space in the heart of a bustling city. Life in the streets below. Warm food. Soft bed. Scratchy couch.

There.

There was where it could happen.

Tucked away in your mind where no one else would ever be able to find it. It was somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Somewhere safe.

Somewhere nice.

You imagined what it would feel like to hold his hand. To cross the forbidden space between the two of you and curl your fingers against his.

You could feel it. His calloused fingers, chipped nails, the scars against his palms.

It wasn’t happening, but you could still feel it.

As you imagined it, as you felt it, his hands became soft…

The hospital bed below you faded into that scratchy couch and the empty white walls that surround you were now covered in framed photographs of the two of you. A three legged cat hopped onto your lap, purring loudly as it made itself comfortable.

You didn’t need to reach out to touch him.

Your fingers twitched against the hospital sheets.

But you didn’t need to reach out to hold Mr. Kruger’s hand…

…because somewhere nice

you’d already done it.

*3 days later*

“I made you a cake, obviously,” you answered Mr. Kruger as you began to rebandage his head.

“What kind of cake?” he asked.

“Hmm… strawberry.”

He grimaced.

“Chocolate?”

He shrugged.

You stopped bandaging. “You like vanilla?”

“I don’t like flavors that are too strong.”

You scoffed.

“Hey,” he protested, “it’s my birthday.”

You smiled as you continued to bandage his head. “Alright fine, I made vanilla then,” you said as you expertly wrap and tuck the bandages, continuing to ramble about the made-up birthday party you would throw him in your head. Describing it in vivid detail, as if it was real.

As if it was in front of you instead of the place in your head.

You imagine Mr. Kruger’s hand brushing against the back of yours as you hand him a slice of cake.

But you didn't tell Mr. Kruger about that.

***

*2 days later*

“I would wear… a blue dress. Oh! And one of those big floppy hats to keep the sun out of my face!”

You were helping him cross the courtyard. He was sore from an intense session of physical therapy with Dr. Rall and needed more than just his crutch to get around.

Mr. Kruger grunted as you lowered him to his favourite bench where he said he was meeting a friend.

“Do you sunburn easily?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered, “all the time.”

He let out a short huff of amusement as his eyes trailed your face. “I bet you skip tan and go right to red.”

Your cheeks burned as he said it.

In your head, you were potting hanging baskets of pretty red flowers on the balcony. In your head, it was more than just his eyes that trailed your cheeks. In your head, his fingers brushed against them too.

Again, you didn’t tell Mr. Kruger about that.

***

*1 week later*

“Chamomile.” Mr. Kruger said softly as you handed him his paper cup and his three pills. You had already slipped the green one into your pocket.

You blinked away the tears that had started to well up in your eyes.

“That’s the kind of tea I’d bring you.” Mr. Kruger said. “It’s relaxing.”

You always got this way on the anniversary of his death. You weren’t supposed to be sad though. Your brother had been a traitor, so you were supposed to be happy he was dead.

But you weren’t.

You took in a shaky breath. “Would you… Would you sit with me while I drink it?”

“Yes.” Mr. Kruger took his medicine.

You imagined the couch. The tea.

You imagine letting your head fall to his shoulder and your eyes slipping closed as Mr. Kruger described the chipped cup he’d hand you, and the cat that would be asleep in your lap.

Once you were finished with your tea, he’d take the empty cup from you. He’d place it on the table and then wrap his arms around you so you could tuck yourself against his chest. He would rub your back as you cried. As he let you cry.

When you were done, he’d kiss the top of your head while you drifted off to sleep.

Like usual, you don’t tell Mr. Kruger about the end.

***

*At some point later*

The house grew more vivid. More detailed. More wonderful and into a more perfect escape with little pieces of you and little pieces of Mr. Kruger as well.

Paintings. Souvenirs. A collection of different mugs and teacups because you couldn’t help constantly buying new ones.

It became more than just your home.

Your nice place.

It became his too.

“What would you do?” Mr. Kruger asked.

It was well into the evening and several hours past the end of your shift. You should have gone home ages ago, but instead you were sitting in his hospital bed next to him- so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his shoulder.

But you weren’t touching.

Never touching.

The few centimeters between the two of you were as close as you’ll be able to get in reality.

Thankfully, you weren’t in reality right now. You were swept up in the fantasy of your small, safe home.

You were somewhere nice.

“I would read a book on the couch,” you answered. “What would you do?”

“Sit next to you,” he said. “The cats won't leave me alone.”

You laughed. “It’s because you ignore them. Cats like that, you know. They like it when you play hard to get.”

“Maybe I should play harder.”

“It’ll only make them want you more.”

The corners of his lips just barely lifted into a smile.

A silence passed over the two of you as you sank into the moment. You were staring at the wall across from you, but the hospital room wasn’t what surrounded you.

Not really.

What surrounded you was framed photos. Plants. A warm couch and the smell of a homemade dinner wafting in from the kitchen. There were people in the streets below. People at peace, because there wasn’t any war. Not here. There wasn’t war. There wasn’t pain. There wasn’t any suffering at all.

There were only nice things.

Nothing else was allowed.

It was just you and Mr. Kruger.

You leaned against him.

But, like usual, you didn’t-...

You took a breath.

You could imagine doing it, but you’d never told him about it like you had told him about everything else. But what if you did? Just this once. What if you…

“I’d move closer to you...” you told him, just above a whisper, “...so our arms could touch.”

You could imagine it so perfectly.

The brush of his arm against yours.

If you leaned over, even just slightly, you’d feel it. But that was reality.

And you weren’t in reality right now. You were somewhere nice.

You took a short breath: “And I’d-”

“I’d hold your hand.” Mr. Kruger cut you off, “...I bet it’s soft.”

You held your own hand, fingers twitching against your lap. They curled together and you imagined the sensation of his hand replacing one of yours.

Soft.

“I-...” you stuttered, “...yours is too…”

It’s soft.

Not just his hand, but everything else.

The house. The couch. The life. The people on the street below. The cat in your lap. Mr. Kruger sitting beside you.

It’s soft. It’s warm. It’s comfortable. It’s perfect. The most wonderful escape. The most amazing fantasy. You wished it was real, you really did, but at the same time you hoped somewhere like that never slipped into reality because you knew if it did it would be ruined.

Reality was thick ropes. Flesh. Bone. Red words against brick walls. Reality took the tiniest spark of something pure, of something good, and turned it into a nightmare.

Somewhere nice couldn’t possibly be real. That warm, soft, comfortable, perfect place would be tainted if it was.

So you didn’t want it to be real. Not at all. You never want it to be real. If it was real it wouldn’t be perfect.

If it was real, you could never-

“...I’d kiss you...”

You can see it so vividly, just like the couch and the food and the chipped tea cups.

You see Mr. Kruger right next to you. Holding your hand. You see yourself pull back, just enough that you can meet his blue-green eyes, before your own eyes flick down, just for one second, to his lips.

When you glance up he looks different.

His bandages are gone and he’s got both of his eyes and legs. His brown hair is cut shorter and no longer hanging down. His skin is less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes. He’s the same. He’s the same height. Basic build. And has the same blue-green eyes that reveal golden flecks of stars when the light hits them just right. But…

He's smiling.

He's smiling and laughing and talking to you so much faster and louder than he normally does he's-

He's alive.

And there was a difference, you suddenly realize, a difference between living and being alive.

Without a second thought, you lean forward.

You kiss him, cutting off whatever he had been rambling about in favour of sinking into the feeling of his warm lips against yours.

Warm.

Just like the rest of that wonderful place.

You’d spent the last few weeks describing a lot of your fantasies to Mr. Kruger, but there were still things you kept to yourself. Stolen glances. Forbidden thoughts. Feelings that you couldn’t admit to, not even in the fantasy.

But then you’d gone and said it:

‘I’d kiss you.’ You had told him, only a fraction of a second ago without taking a moment to think it over.

But you weren’t given a moment to think it over, not really, because the image of it happening flashed through your mind so quickly, and in that time, Mr. Kruger made his reply.

He took a short breath. His body completely motionless next to you.

He was looking out the window, gaze firmly set on the horizon and he whispered: “...I’d kiss you too…”

He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and kisses you back, pulling you against him on the couch.

The scratchy couch.

The warm world.

Somewhere nice.

The perfect fantasy where you’ll never live-but for once in your life you could be alive.

The next day was your day off.

Your body spent it in bed, but your head spent it somewhere else.

Somewhere with no flesh.

No bone.

No spray paint against stone walls.

Somewhere that there was just you. Your home. Your cats.

…and Mr. Kruger.

It was a beautiful place, your favourite place; but it could never be real.

Nice places like that didn’t exist.

If they did they would be ruined.

If they did they would be tainted.

Somewhere nice didn’t exist.

And you were so thankful that it never ever would.

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@xngelsau @f4irygard3n @vlsquuu @fvckingeetar @shmaptainbonky @maluvilela @gojojang @merrygo14 @ebubeu @dumdxm @janneeeexdxc @huni7857 @misshale21 @dracucil @venus1224idkpleaze @decadentprunepersonadragon @magictrump @kooromin @ilovemollyweasley @azulaenthusiast @dattebakay @suagxsugax @sky-full-of-magic @longestline @skoll1897 @hayleighloatx @datshittuebrat @br0ken-g1rl @tbzzluvr @jaeg3rb0mb @ratkidcalledallie @sieihebendh @lcve1yk3nz1e @marklover142717 @areenaa @luvs4kim @anything4yoongi @misavxz

#eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot x reader #my post #my writing #i found you too

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stnexus · 1 year ago

Text

thinking about…wash day with s.geto!

mature audiences only — fluff

suguru geto x blk!fem!reader x satoru gojo (somewhat)

warnings: alludes to nudity but nothing is happening, L-bombs dropping(?)

names uses (?): baby boy, pretty girl, princess, pretty baby

poly relationship between satosugu + reader! but mostly geto in this. most of my gojo and geto stories are set in normal modern day society unless stated otherwise.

word count: 830+

rain pitter pattered against the brick walls of the house. causing a somber feel for the three on the inside, seated on the black couch in a tangle of limbs. you were seated on geto’s lap, your back against his chest — head resting against his shoulder. while gojo’s head lay on your lap, geto’s fingers raking through his white tufts.

it was still early, eight in the morning to be exact. the old reruns of looney tunes and scooby doo ran back to back on the flat screen television. all three of you were quiet as the screen flickered through different scenes — laughing at the appropriate times.

until—

“today would be good for my wash day actually…” you hummed lazily as you peered up at geto for a split second. then tilted your head down towards gojo, your manicured nails coming up to caress his face.

“it would be, ya’ have everything you need?” geto replied lowly.

“yeah,” you spoke softly, “satoru you wanna help me again this time?”

“can i take a nap first? and will there be food involved at some point?” the man replied drowsily.

“if you take a nap you won’t wake up until midday and you know how long my wash days are…” you pouted a little as you complained. your hand that caressed his face reaching back to play with geto’s hair. until an idea crossed your mind,

“suguuuu,” you called out in a sing songy voice. only for him to hum in reply that he’d heard you.

“you want to do wash day with me, baby boy?” you tilted your head towards him as you mustered up your best smile. “i can wash your hair, you wash mine…”

—

“not the purple one, that’s for satoru,” geto spoke with his back turned to you. head reared back as far as he could go so you could reach his head. the shower water falling onto his body in a sort of rhythm.

“oh i know, last time i grabbed it blindly and he almost killed me. talkin’ bout it’s too expensive to be wasting. wait until he finds out how much my hair care products cost…”

“…how expensive are we talking..?” geto got quiet for a second, remembering that he gives you his card to buy most things. from new sets of nails, hair care products, and more.

“uh…i don’t know,” you replied a little hushed, “act like i didn’t say that. love you by the way.”

“yeah, okay, love you too. my card is staying in my wallet from now on— tss, shit (Y/N).”

a small tug on his almost waist length black hair cut his joking words short as you giggled at his reaction. shampoo lathering up under your hands. as you worked it through his hair he held his eyes shut. taking in the peaceful moments that would lead up to him washing your hair in return.

“you think satoru’s hair would turn yellow if he didn’t have this? like people who are blond?”

“probably, it’s probably why he threw a fit about it. hell, i just remembered i buy his hair care products too,” geto confessed with a laugh as he massaged shampoo over your scalp. “you two are robbing me blind.”

“it’s okay,” you hummed almost mesmerized by his fingers working the the shampoo into your head, “ ‘toru will play the next time we eat out…”

“alright princess,” geto spoke softly, “switch spots with me so i can was the shampoo out and put your conditioner in.”

doing as he asked, you moved so you were closer to the water, facing him as he reached above you to detach the shower head to rinse the shampoo out. you studied his face at he did so. both your boyfriends were absolutely breathtaking, and they had always told you the same. always gloating on about their pretty girl, their princess, or their pretty baby. it was like a competition of who could be the most breathtaking in the shared home. the mere thought pushed a laugh from your lips. causing geto to look down at you with a smile.

“and what’s going on in that pretty head? what are you laughing at now, huh,” he questioned. there he goes again, using one of their favorite words to describe you. he’d hooked the shower head back on its metal holder, and began covering your hair in conditioner.

“oh nothing,” you beamed, “just thinking about you and ‘toru.”

the response warranted no other callout from him. instead he bent down slightly. pressing a kiss into your lips, deepening it for a few seconds before he pulled away.

“did you bring your comb in so i can help you detangle?” he questioned.

“it’s right behind you,” you pointed to the black wide-tooth-comb that sat next to your bottle of shampoo on one of the tub’s shelves.

grabbing it quickly, geto ushered you to turn your back to him, “now the real journey begins, but we’ve got it, sweetheart.”

#❁ thinkin’#𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵:#geto suguru x black reader #geto x black!reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto fluff #suguru geto x black!reader #suguru geto fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x black!reader #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu #satoru gojo x reader #satosugu x black!reader #satosugu fluff

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whinypuppi · 2 months ago

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“WHO'S AFRAID OF THE BIG BAD WOLF?”

the original image link here, i'm sorry, i don't know what manga it's from! :(

based on this short — all props go to walt disney, as i (obviously) didn't create the three little pigs nor the big bad wolf!

cw: hybrid pig fem!reader x hybrid!wolf , basically just a nursery ryme turned into a silly oneshot , this is totally stupid but i couldn't get that dumb song stuck out of my head , knots , breeding kink , size kink on both ends , creampie , nipple play , dubcon , extreme amounts of dirty talk , degration & praise , nicknames , slight teasing , reader is a tad bit chubby , dacryphillia , spanking , biting kink if you squint , mating , scenting , claiming , oh my!

you had just finished building your cozy little house out of hay (which your eldest brother who used bricks warned multiple times that it wasn't a good idea), yet you didn't listen. he only cared about you since you were the littlest out of your two brothers, being somewhat of a runt, and also the only female.

playing your little flute as your brother, the middle child, used his violin to create a pretty melody between the two of you, you headed over to the eldests' unfinished home, who was using wet concrete to mold the bricks together. you both leaned against his wooden fence with wide smiles, unable to hide your giggles as you both scoffed at his constant hard work. he never took breaks, either!

“he don't take no time to play, time to play, time to play! all he does is work all day!” you both mocked him, seeing his usual scowl, and knowing he was about to tell you both off.

“you can play and laugh and fiddle, don't think you can make me sore! i'll be safe and you'll be sorry when that wolf comes to your door!” you both couldn't hold back your laughter anymore, hands on your knees as you both fell forward in giggles.

“who's afraid of the big bad wolf, big bad wolf, big bad wolf?! who's afraid of the big bad wolf?” another play of you and your brother's instruments to add to the melody, walking as you did so before locking hands once more.

if only you both noticed the big bad wolf who was ominously hiding as drool dribbled from the corners of his mouth. while you both played along and had fun, you were completely unaware of your surroundings.

he manages to tiptoe a little closer, waiting for you both to approach as you continued your sing and dance.

“who's afraid of the big bad wolf, big bad wolf, big bad wolf?! who's afraid of the big bad wolf?” the wolf who watched carefully and ran his tongue over his fangs only smirked, knowing you'd both be afraid soon enough.

“i'll punch him in the nose!”

“i'll tie him in a knot!”

“i'll kick him in the chin!”

“we'll put him on the spot!”

neither of you stopped your song, smiling from cheek to cheek as you both sang along before being stopped in your tracks to see the very big and very scary wolf for such a little pig like yourself.

shock immediately came over both of you and you scadaddled, running to your homes as you heard the echo of the wolf's laughter from behind.

your brother ran into his house of sticks, but you tripped before you made it to your own. he nearly caught you. nearly, but you managed to slip out of his grasp and finally run into your home.

after a failed attempt at opening your locked door (that also was blocked off by piles of furniture), he decided to use his voice to intimidate you. he almost found your fear endearing and loved a good chase. “OPEN THE DOOR AND LET ME IN!”

“not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!” you protested, anxiety coating your tone and being obvious with how your voice shook as you spoke.

“I'LL HUFF, AND I'LL PUFF, AND I'LL BLOW YOUR HOUSE IN!” he shouted, snarling as he intook huge puffs of air before doing just as he said and blowing your house down. you knew the hay was an obvious a bad choice of protection, but you never assumed the wolf would be a threat, so you didn't worry about it.

you squealed, attempting to run to your brother's house of sticks, but the wolf had a tight grip on your hips and made it impossible to move. his nails dug into your thick flesh as you tried to wriggle away—tears already streaming down your cheeks as you believed you met your unfortunate end.

“lemme go, le—lemme go!” you cried out, weak in his arms as he pulled you close and chuckled darkly in your ear. he inhaled your scent and sent straight chills down your spine, even causing goosebumps to form. how sick would you be if you found that a little...hot?

“ooh, poor piggy.” he played with your curly little tail and trailed a claw slowly up your spine with his other hand. “you smell heavenly. do you mind?” he asked, but he wasn't giving you much of a choice as his long tongue ran against your neck and made you whimper.

“p-puh-please, 'mista wolf—”

“puh puh puh puh what, piggy?” he mocked you, moving a hand up to play with your ears. you went silent upon that, figuring it'd be no use if you begged for your life. “i haven't bred someone in a terribly long time.”

the wolf hinted at what he wanted, making your heart race and a lump build in your throat. “i could let you keep your life. i wouldn't mind having you as my mate. not one bit.”

you debated the idea—he was attractive, after all, but totally dangerous! what would your brothers think? would they shun you? he was also huge, likely in more ways than one. would you even be able to bear his children?

“that little head of yours is running. is that a yes, piggy? time is ticking.” the vibrations of his voice on your neck made you shudder, and his fangs brushed against your pulse just to send a jolt through you. he thought this was a game, no doubt.

“i—i, just...okay. please don't hurt me.” you whispered, hoping he could at least follow through with that. he rolled his eyes, a sly grin playing on his lips. “i won't make any guarantees, but i'd rather not waste any time.”

you didn't get to speak before he was ripping off what little clothes you had, resulting in your nipples hardening as the wind hit them. he was quick to breathe in the scent of your cunt, and you couldn't help but push his head away.

“d..don't do that! 's embarrassing!” you covered your face with your tiny hands and could feel his eyes boring into you. “poor thing...no need to be shy. you look real gorgeous right now.”

you felt a little flattered but bit your lip to avoid moaning when he kneaded your tits and gently squeezed your nipples after tracing your areola. “feel nice? 'm not really one for prep, but i don't want it to hurt too bad.”

your breathing became heavier and you sucked on your bottom lip to distract yourself as he shoved down his baggy jeans, and he wasn't wearing any boxers to take off. he was already erect and pulsing with his cock out of its sheath. you gasped at the mere size and your cheeks felt a little hot. even with him hardly touching you, you felt drenched, and some of your slick was dripping down your thighs.

he didn't waste any time holding onto your hips once again, which made you wince due to the claws that were digging into you just a little while ago. he lined up his spiked, pink cock with your sopping entrance, rubbing the tip through your folds to gather up your wetness. in the process, it bumped against your clit and caused your thighs to clench, yet he held them open.

“don't hide. i like seeing all of 'ya.” you whined softly, wanting him to get on with it and fuck you already. “thought you said you didn't wanna waste time,” you mumbled, pursing your lips.

“rushin' me already, piggy? seeing you squirm gets me off.” you wanted to make a fuss at how straightforward he was, but he was already pushing his leaking cock inside you and making you squeal.

once he got past the tight ring of your pussy, he was able to bottom out, and a groan rumbled out of the back of his throat. he leaned forward to lick further at your neck, even nipping and suckling at your jaw. “taste s'good...”

his voice was a mere murmur, thrusting into you rougher than necessary. his tail swayed and thumped against the ground loudly as he panted in your ear.

each embarrassing plap! from the buck of his hips made your pussy squelch as his ears pinned back against his head and he finally bit a deep wound into your neck—mating you and officially claiming you as his. you didn't mind in the current moment, being cock drunk already, and completely willing to be his mate. he licked the blood from the wound and sped up as your legs came to wrap around his waist. “a—ah... 'mista wolf, too m..muchhh—” your eyes rolled back and you swallowed back your drool, feeling him tap on your cheek to keep your eyes from shutting.

“don't pass out on me now. i know you can take it. almost done.” his knot was popping in and out of your clenching cunt, meaning he was close. “gonna breed this slutty pussy. you like the superior species fuckin' you raw, huh? want my pups?” he teased you between hushed breaths and spanked your ass to get a reaction out of you.

“count.” he commanded, grumbling in your ear, and you hiccuped as fresh tears ran down your cheeks. he liked the sight of your fucked-out expression and pathetic tears.

“o—one, two, three...f-four!—” you were so out of it and overwhelmed by pain of his slaps that you only realized you were cumming when your vision flashed white and you suddenly felt dizzy. “attaaa girl. my own personal fucktoy.”

you babbled in response, hiccuping once more as your nose became runny, and he finally knotted you. his cock was so unbearably deep in you that it felt like a spear puncturing through your lungs and making it impossible to intake the air you needed. with a surprising whine that came out of him as hot ropes of cum spattered your insides, his veiny hand wrapped possessively around your throat.

his body fell limp as he remained inside you, ensuring of your soon-to-be swollen belly that made his cock twitch in you. “mine. all mine, little piggy. 'll give you my pretty babies over and over again.”

#nursery rhymes #fairytale au #don't copy without permission #hybrids #hybrid x reader #dark content #breeding k1nk #creamp!e #not really ocs #original idea #fanfic #fanfiction #whinypuppi

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evita-shelby · 11 months ago

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The Devil of Small Heath

Kelpie!Tommy Shelby x witch!reader

Gif by @zerenitysblog

Tw: mentions of suicide

You first see him by the cut. Wet and with a dark mane and his eyes blue as the sky.

He is a ghost, roaming the bank of the canals at night and bringing death to those who see him.

A black horse who drove all those who tried to capture him ---to see if he can grant wishes---to a watery grave.

The Devil of Small Heath.

A kelpie, a real one going by the human nature of his eyes.

You had no idea magic still inhabited this land.

Your dad used to tell you stories about a kelpie who fell in love with a romani princess with a touch of magic and that they lived in a boat until their son, a kelpie like his father, decided to live in a house of brick and wood just down the street of him.

They had beautiful and strong children, but when the kelpie left in search for cleaner waters, his wife, a witch just like you, drowned herself thinking he would return.

This was one of them, a Shelby. But which one?

“I do not seek to ride you, I only wanted to see if the rumors are true.” You speak clearly, making sure the water spirit knew you meant him no harm.

The horse stands still by the bank, huffing in warning as you come closer, so you reveal your true self.

With every step you skin gains a sort of luminosity, your nails and the tips of your fingers turn black as his shiny coat and by the time you reach him, you stand there as a witch.

“I am just as human as you.” Your father had been human, just as his mother had been. Both were lured by magic when it began to make their old blood sing.

It is an intoxicating feeling, thrilling and sweet and filling you with something akin to desire. After all, kelpies use their allure to kill their victims.

He stares, hesitant to let you come near him, hesitant to stay.

For a moment you think he has given in and let you touch him, but then he runs back to the water for safety.

You do not see him again until you pass by him in the street, but he is not in his horse form, this time he is human.

So, Tommy had been the one to inherit his father’s and grandfather’s magic? You should’ve have known it from the way misfortune clings to him like his fine coat.

He makes your blood sing just as then, only this time you are among the ladies of Small Heath who find their heads turned towards Thomas Shelby as if he were the sun.

Only this time he turns to look at you as if you had called out to him.

Magic calls to magic so it seems.

Unlike that night at the Cut he doesn’t bolt, instead he offers to walk you to your home. You accept wanting to know everything you could about the kelpie walking beside you.

“So, you are the Devil of Small Heath then?” you ask quietly as the two of you pretend this is nothing out of the ordinary, just to people wanting to get to know each other.

“In many ways I suppose.” Tommy answered regretting his decision. “And you’re the witch on 76 Watery Lane?”

“And proud of it, Mr. Shelby.” You said with a lovely smile and make a peace offering. “Your secret is safe with me as long as mine is safe with you.”

“Then call me Tommy, y/n.”

#tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x witch!reader #kelpie!tommy shelby

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kemetic-dreams · 1 year ago

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1938 - PAULINE JOHNSON and FELICE BOUDREAUX, sisters, were once slaves on the plantation of Dermat Martine, near Opelousas, Louisiana. As their owners were French, they are more inclined to use a Creole patois than English.

"Us was both slaves on de old plantation close to Opelousas," Pauline began. As the elder of the two sisters she carried most of the conversation, although often referring to Felice before making positive statements.

"I was 12 year old when freedom come and Felice was 'bout six. Us belonged to Massa Dermat Martine and the missy's name Mimi. They raise us both in the house and they love us so they spoil us. I never will forget that. The little white chillen was younger than me, 'bout Felice's age. They sho' had pretty li'l curly black hair.

"Us didn't have hard time. Never even knowed hard time. That old massa, he what you call a good man.

"Us daddy was Renee and he work in the field. The old massa give him a mud and log house and a plot of ground for he own. The rain sho' never get in that log house, it so tight. The furniture was homemake, but my daddy make it good and stout.

"Us daddy he work de ground he own on Sunday and sold the things to buy us shoes to put on us feet and clothes. The white folks didn't give us clothes but they let him have all the money he made in his own plot to get them.

"Us mama name Marguerite and she a field hand, too, so us chillen growed up in the white folks house mostly. 'Fore Felice get big enough to leave I stay in the big house and take care of her.

"One day us papa fall sick in the bed, just 'fore freedom, and he kep' callin' for the priest. Old massa call the priest and just 'fore us papa die the priest marry him and my mama. 'fore dat they just married by the massa's word.

"Felice and me, us have two brothers what was born and die in slavery, and one sister still livin' in Bolivar now. Us three uncles, Bruno and Pophrey and Zaphrey, they goes to the war. Them three dies too young. The Yankees stole them and make them boys fight for them.

"I never done much work but wash the dishes. They wasn't poor people and they uses good dishes. The missy real particular 'bout us shinin' them dishes nice, and the silver spoons and knives, too.

"Them white people was good Christian people and they christen us both in the old brick Catholic church in Opelousas. They done torn it down now. Missy give me pretty dress to get christen in. My godmother, she Mileen Nesaseau, but I call her 'Miran'. My godfather called 'Paran.'

"On Sunday mornin' us fix our dress and hair and go up to the missy's looking-glass to see if us pretty enough go to church. Us goes to Mass every Sunday mornin' and church holiday, and when the cullud folks sick massa send for the priest same's for the white folks.

"We wears them things on the strings round the neck for the good of the heart. They's nutmeg.

"The plantation was a big, grand place and they have lots of orange trees. The slaves pick them oranges and pack then down on the barrel with la mosse (Spanish moss) to keep them. They was plenty pecans and figs, too.

"In slavery time most everybody round Opelousas talk Creole. That make the words hard to come sometime. Us both talk that better way than English.

"Durin' the war, it were a sight. Every mornin' Capt. Jenerette Bank and he men go a hoss-back drillin' in the pasture and then have drill on foot. A white lady take all us chillen to the drill ground every mornin'. Us take the lunch food in the basket and stay till they done drill out.

"I can sing for you the song they used to sing:

"O, de Yankee come to put de nigger free,

Says I, says I, pas bonne;

In eighteen-sixty-three,

De Yankee get out they gun and say,

Hurrah! Let's put on the ball.

"When war over none the slaves wants leave the plantation. My mama and us chillen stays on till old massa and missy dies, and then goes live on the old Repridim place for a time.

"Both us get marry in that Catholic church in Opelousas. As for me, it most too long ago to talk about. His name Alfred Johnson and he dead 12 years. Our youngest boy, John, go to the World War. Two my nephews die in that war and one nephew can't walk now from that war.

"Felice marry Joseph Boudreaux and when he die she come here to stay with me. There's more hard time now than in the old day for us, but I hope things get better.

#african #afrakan #kemetic dreams #africans #brownskin #afrakans #brown skin #slaves #slave pic #alfred johnson #new orleans #catholic church #PAULINE JOHNSON #FELICE BOUDREAUX

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whooambouttamakeanameformyself · 1 year ago

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Rufus Junior "RJ" Firefly boyfriend headcanons.

(Gender neutral reader but I will be doing a nonbinary reader and a transmasc reader later on.)

I'm low key offended on how little RJ Firefly content there is, he's a big sweet guy and deserves all the love and attention. Please enjoy these headcanons for our favorite quiet bear man!

Warnings first!: fluff, smut?, cursing, violence, murder, mild bullying, Captain Spaulding (yes, that man need his own warning.), cute lovey moments (a warning for those who don't like romance.), honestly if you've seen House Of 1000 Corpses you know what to expect from this.

~~~~~

Rufus is a huge guy, 6'10" to be precise and built like a brick wall. That being said, he's actually the most kind and gentle out of the whole Firefly family. Literally the most gentle of giants.

He is very awkward about his size at first since you're so much smaller that him. He is so afraid he won't realize he's holding you too tight and you'll end up passing out... or worse (broken bones or dead.)

RJ is touch starved. The first time you hugged him you could feel his body tense up then relax.

He is very cautious about returning hugs at first, afraid of his own strength, but once you assured him you can handle it he hugs you all the time!

Speaking of hugs, he gives the best bear hugs! He absolutely envelopes you in the tightest, warmest hugs any chance he gets.

Rufus loves to carry you around! Doesnt matter if you're skinny or your chubby, he can pick you up with ease, carrying you all around the Firefly farm.

He loves it when you tag along on vehicle pick ups! You get to sit beside him in his tow truck, windows down, the radio blasting as the truck speeds down those long back roads.

Continuing with the last one. RJ loved teaching you how to use the mechanisms on the tow truck. He also tries to teach you how to fix cars but you tend to daydream while listening to his voice.

Oh and that voice. The voice of a damn GOD! RJ was very quiet around his family, there really wasn't much to say to them anyways. The first time he spoke to you your knees went weak and your heart skipped a beat. His voice was soft but deep, like crimson velvet. And the thick southern drawl could make any heart melt.

His singing voice is just as beautiful as his speaking voice.

Rufus loves it when you sit on his lap! He'd have you on his lap all day if he could, he just loves having you so close. (Especially when you lay your head on his chest, it just makes him melt.)

Rufus tries to protect you from the chaos that is his family, but there have been a few instances where you got into an argument with Otis that ended in a laughing fit. (You honestly weren't sure what happened but someone said something funny and the both of you fell into a fit of giggles and laughs. Needless to say he likes you.)

Baby likes you but did threaten to cut you to pieces it you hurt Rufus (which you assured her you had no intention of doing that.)

Hugo ignored you for the most part, only talking to you about TV or something.

Mama Firefly likes you a lot! you do make her son happy so she adores you, you're one of her babies now.

Tiny didn't really have much of an opinion on you, he loves you like you were another one of his many siblings.

Captain Spaulding was the one who introduced you both, he was kind of like a dad to you so you know he cares about you (regardless of his loud ass opinions of you, most of which were on 'how much of a fuckin' pussy you were being' over your nervousness around Rufus.

He likes to make you things. (Just one of his love languages.) Little carved animals, animal bone/teeth jewelry, deer antler beads and buttons....

Rufus's smiles when you tell him how much you love his gifts are just so sweet! He looks so adorable when he smiles his little smiles, getting a little sparkle in his eyes every time he does.

The first date you two went on was simple but fun. You two got fast food and rode the backroads listening to music until it got dark enough to see the stars. Rufus found a good place to park his truck and the two of you stood leaning against the hood of the truck, just watching the stars and talking.

That first date was also when you had your first kiss make-out session. When the two of you were tired of watching the stars you climbed back into the truck, intending on heading back to Spaulding's. You two were softly talking about animals (especially dogs, he loves dogs) and he turned to you, looking a little nervous. He gently took your chin, tilting your head to look at him. You gave him a slightly confused look, not quite sure what he was doing at first, but it became very clear when his lips connected with yours. His lips were surprisingly soft, and they locked together so perfectly with yours. He moved his hand from your chin to your shoulder, urging you to move closer, which you did happily. The kiss turned into a gentle make-out session, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, the other hand carefully holding the back of your head. Your own hands were tangled into his beautiful long brown hair.

That night was also the first time you two cuddled. Neither of you wanted to go home so Rufus suggested the two of you just sleep there in the truck. He moved over to the passenger seat, allowing you to crawl into his lap, which you did, laying your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, holding you lovingly.

Rufus is very warm! You never need a blanket when you sleep with him!

He loves it when you brush his hair for him. (He wants to brush yours but is so afraid of being too rough with you.)

RJ wears his sleeveless shirts open extremely often. Even more after you started allowing your hands to explore his chest and stomach every time you two are alone.

Rufus loves dogs, especially his own. He got the dog when it was a puppy, taking it from some asshole who had been beating it. He called it Brutus (In Corpses the dog doesn't have a name and it makes me really sad.)

Rufus was the first to say 'I love you'. The real first time was when he was shitfaced after a Halloween ritual. He'd been sitting on edge of the front porch, periodically drinking out of the liquor bottle that sat next to him. You came out side looking for him and found him on the porch. He pulled you into his lap and held you without a word, picking up the bottle again, but before he could take another drink you snached the bottle from his hand. He looked down at you, watching with wide eyes as you take several swallows from the bottle. You finished, handing the bottle back to him with a giggle. He took the bottle, taking a drink from it, then, without thinking, he says "God I love you."

Rufus had been sitting on the edge of the porch by himself, wanting to be away from his family, needing just a bit of quiet time. Brutus laid beside him, sleeping peacefully to the sound of the cicadas and crickets. Rufus had an open bottle of liquor sitting next to him that he was drinking out of.

You had been looking all over the house for him, eventually hearing from Tiny that he'd gone outside. You ventured out onto the porch, smiling when you see RJ sitting there with his dog. Closing just the screen door, you move to crouch down infront of him. "Howdy, everything okay?" You ask, a soft smile on your face. He nods, reaching out to grab your arm, pulling you to his lap. You happily sit on his lap, laying your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around your waist. The two of you sat like that for a while, just enjoying the night and eachother's company. After a while Rufus picked up the liquor bottle, putting it to his lips. However, you snatched the bottle before he could even take a drink. He looked down at you, his eyes widening as he watched you take several big gulps from the bottle. You handed the bottle back to him when you were done, giggling when you see the look on his face. Rufus takes a drink, letting out a gruff sigh after he swallowed. "God I love ya..."

The second time (the first time he remembered saying it.) Was after he watched you kill for the first time. You had been put in charge of watching over a victim, a woman with long blonde hair that baby had tied to a chair. Unfortunately, the victim had managed to get the ropes undone. They attacked you, knocking you to the floor, shrieking and trying to hit you. Otis and Rufus ran in just in time to watch you roughly grab the victims hair, pulling them down close enough for you to bite down onto their neck. Otis pulled the victim off you and Rufus helped you up looking terrified. It must have been the blood that covered your chin, chest, and neck. You spit out whatever blood and skin was in your mouth, letting out a laugh. Once Rufus realized what you had done the words just came out without thinking. "Shit, Y/N. I fuckin' love you..."

You were sat on a chair across from the bound and gagged blonde woman that baby had dolled up. You had been looking through a shitty magazine while you watched the victim, waiting for baby to return. You hadn't noticed the woman undoing the ropes until it was far too late. She lunged at you, causing you to jump up, reaching for your knife, but you weren't fast enough. She had knocked you over, pinning you to the ground, shrieking and screaming as she attempted to hit you.

You tried to fight her off, continuing to reach for your knife, but she was persistent. Otis and Rufus both heard the shrieks and the banging, running into the room just in time to see you grab a handful of the blonde's hair, pulling her down close enough to sink your teeth into her soft flesh. She began to thrash around as you sunk your teeth deeper into the meat on her neck, blood flowin from your mouth, down your chin, neck, and chest. Otis pulled her off of you just as she went limp, allowing Rufus to grab your arm, pulling you up quickly, a horrified look on his face.

You spit out a chunk of flesh and some blood mixed with spit as Otis dragged the body out of the room. "She shoulda stayed in that damn chair." You said with a laugh, looking up at Rufus who let out a sigh of relief upon realizing the blood wasn't yours. "Shit, Y/N, I fuckin' love you."

#rufus jr x reader #x reader #rufus #rj firefly x reader #house of 1000 corpses #headcanons

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frenchieee · 4 months ago

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sources of light

(A Gray/Haze confession one-shot! One of them is drunk for the first part so feel free to skip if you aren’t comfy 🫶🏻. Hope you enjoy!)

Gray fumbled for his keys-how did they always manage to bury themselves at the bottom of his bag? Right, that’s what was flustering him at the present. It definitely couldn’t be Haze, who somehow looked better in Gray’s jacket than he ever had. He snuck a quick glance at Haze, who was staring at the sky in amazement, moonlight reflected in his eyes.

“The moon is so cool. She makes everything silver and pretty,” Haze was somewhere between a sigh and a sing-song. His foot caught on an uneven brick, sending him crashing to the ground. Gray dropped his bag with a thud, reaching towards Haze. He’d somehow caught himself with one hand, grinning up at Gray. Haze’s grin was one of Gray’s favorite sights in the world-it was the only sunshine that didn’t hurt to look at.

“Professional dancer, bitch,” Haze slurred slightly. Gray rolled his eyes with a smile, turning back to the door.

Speckles of moonlight shone through a fluffy cover of cloud, casting an odd harmony of silver and shadow throughout the sitting room. Gray softly shut the door behind him, heading to the cabinet for a spare box of matches. While this was a usual level of light for him, Haze would likely appreciate a candle. He plunked it on the end table, taking note of Haze’s sprawled form. Sleep was a likely outcome, given the state Gray found him in. Gray placed a small trash can and pair of water bottles near Haze, the sound making him roll over. Upon seeing Gray, his face lit up.

“Should you be inclined, please throw up in there,” Gray tapped the can. Haze nodded, patting the cushions near him with pleading eyes. Sure, he could sit. It was probably preferable to a drunk Haze having run of his apartment. He settled down, earning a satisfied smile from Haze.

“You’re so pretty.”

It was so quiet Gray almost missed it, but he nearly choked. Pretty? Him? Haze was pretty, although the words Gray would use were more akin to ‘radiant.’ Gray was…fine, mostly.

“Thank you, Haze. I think you’re the pretty one,” it was a bit forward, but it felt right, like exchanging gifts.

“We’re both pretty!” Haze shot back, sitting up with considerable effort. The fog in his eyes melted into unmistakable sincerity as he continued.

“Your hair is golden and shiny and you have a really nice smile and I’ve only seen your eyes once but WOW! They’re pretty! So there! You’re pretty.” Gray blinked a few times behind his sunglasses, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Nobody ever complimented his eyes. Even while discussing his appearance, they were always a downside. Faces dropped a little the first time people saw them. It had taken years of effort to be okay with his eyes, to wear his sunglasses as a badge of honor and not an advertisement of his flaws.

“That’s…the nicest anyone’s ever been about my appearance. Thank you, Haze. You are truly kind.” Haze might not remember this, but Gray could never forget it. Haze nodded vigorously.

“It’s true! We’re both pretty and kind! You let me in your house!” Haze erupted into laughter, a sound so infectious Gray couldn’t help but join in. When the room settled back into silence, Haze rolled into the cushions.

“Night, Haze.”

“G’night, Gray.”

“Gray?” Gray was nearly out of the room when Haze piped up again.

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you when I’m not drunk?”

Gray said a silent prayer of thanks that Haze couldn’t see his face, which was somewhere between a fish gasping for air and a bug-eyed frog. It would never happen, but there was no telling how Haze would react to that in his current state. Might as well answer in the affirmative. It would just be something for the two to laugh about tomorrow while Gray choked down disappointment.

“If you still want to,” Gray chuckled, proud of how calm his voice sounded.

“I’ll leave a note for not drunk me!” Haze slapped the cushions a few times, presumably looking for his phone.

“Remind me to kiss Gray in the morning!”

“What time should I remind you?” A tinny voice rang out.

“I said the morning.”

Gray padded down the hall as Haze continued to argue with his phone. Upon reaching the bedroom, Gray slipped off his sunglasses, gasping a little as he shut the door. Wow. As he drifted off, Haze’s compliments played on an internal melody.

Gray slipped on his sunglasses before leaving the bedroom. Ordinarily, he kept his home dim enough to not need them, but he’d left the curtains open for Haze’s sake. The apartment was sure to be baked in sunlight. Peculiar. The place was still dark. Gray poked his glasses in his shirt pocket, scanning the room for Gray.

“G’morning, Gray!” Haze emerged from the bathroom hall, megawatt grin glowing in the darkness.

“Morning, Haze. I apologize if I drew the curtains-I know how dark my place can be.”

Haze frowned for a few seconds before realization seemed to dawn on him.

“Oh! No, I shut them. Open at night, closed during the day, right?”

A smile curled over Gray’s lips at the simple gesture.

“I do. Thank you. I can light a candle if you wish.”

“I kind of like it, actually. Plus, I get to see your pretty eyes,” Haze giggled. Okay. He remembered. At least he didn’t seem embarrassed.

“Truthfully, I don’t think you could have caught me off guard more,” Gray chuckled nervously. Haze took a step towards Gray, eyes full of that sincerity present last night when complimenting him.

“Not even asking to kiss you?”

There was no hiding his facial expression this time. All Gray could do was hope he didn’t look too moronic.

“Y-you-“

“I meant every word of it, Gray. You’re pretty like the moon and I don’t just think you have pretty eyes. I think they’re the most beautiful eyes ever and I’m so lucky to have seen them. I’d be even luckier to kiss you, if you want me to.”

All Gray could do was nod frantically. Haze giggled again, pulling him in for a warm embrace. Sunshine radiated through Gray’s body, pulsating from his lips and hands, which were currently wrapped in Haze’s hair. The sunshine was strong as ever as the two broke, grinning at each other in a rather moronic fashion.

Gray had a hunch the sunshine would remain for a long, long time.

#just dance fanfic #just dance fandom #just dance game #jd gray #jd haze #gray x haze #my first jd fic not featuring the fruity five #haze: can i kiss you? gray: gay panic #took a break from the sad stuff for some fluf

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seenoversundown · 1 year ago

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Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 3

Sam x Willa (Fem OC) Warnings: Cursing and some light bickering, otherwise a lot of bad luck.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit lighter on the word count, but take it as the calm before the storm 😉 (next week may or may not be a long one)

Boston - Augustana "I think I'll go to Boston, I think I'll start a new life I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather"

My blaring alarm clock jolts me from my sleep. It should be illegal to need to be awake at 4:30 a.m.; even Penelope lets out a little “boof” in protest. I rub my knuckles across my lids, trying to wipe away the sleep.

“You and me both, Penny girl.” I whisper into her fur, gently petting her face, “Rest a little longer, and then you get to go see Uncle Daniel.” Alas, I have a train to catch. I can't take the chance of driving Edith all the way to Boston. I don't even think she’d make it to Portsmouth at this rate.

Lethargy is so heavy in my bones as I drag my body to the shower. The scalding water helps to wake me up, but not enough. God, I need coffee. Regret fills me as soon as the water is off and the cold air attacks me once again.

After I quickly get dressed, I hustle through the rest of my morning routine, trying to ensure I stay on time. Finally, I wrap my scarf around my neck and knot it before slipping on my coat. “Okay, headphones, bag, camera, keys,” I mumble out loud, mentally checking things off my list. “Time.” 5:02am. At least I’m on time, calling out “Penelopeeee” in a sing-song tone. She comes running from around the corner, jumping up on me. “Woahh, down, girl.” I hook her leash onto her collar and lead her out the door, closing and locking it behind me.

It's only a short walk to Daniel’s apartment, and the morning air bites at my face. I pull my scarf up a little higher to cover the lower half of my face. My breath heats the fabric, a small salvation. Piles of snow where it had been plowed into snow banks still present, the sun not yet strong enough to melt it this time of year. Let alone this time of day. Penelope stops to sniff just about every flower she comes across, delaying my trip.

I march up the brick steps, and the porch light flicks on, allowing me better vision. The sun won’t make an appearance for another hour or so. I wrap my knuckles against the wooden door a few times before Daniel opens it. The sight of him causing me to chuckle.

“Good morning, sunshine.” giving him a beaming smile. If looks could kill, I would definitely be dead. Sweatpants slung low on his hips, fuzzy socks on his feet, no shirt on, and curls in complete disarray. He shivers when the breeze crosses the entryway.

“Of course, this is the one time you’re actually on time,” he whines. “Did you honestly have to leave so early?”

“Unfortunately for us both, Daniel, yes. There was only one train into Boston that would get me there on time, and I can’t be late for this. Miss Penny has already gone to the bathroom, so that should give you a few hours at least.” I hand him her leash and she enters the house. “As much as I would love to stay and chit-chat..” trailing off as I turn to head back the way I came.

“Come on, Penny girl, at least we get to have a cuddle. We’ll get out of Daddy’s hair so he can join the world of the employed.”

“Very funny, Asshole,” I call over my shoulder, flipping him off.

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If I was smart, I would have started Edith before I left to drop off Penny, giving her time to warm up and the frost to melt off the windshield; apparently, I have chosen the path of idiot this morning. I sit in the cab, turning the key repeatedly, and she won’t start. Panic rises in my chest, listening to the sound of the engine refusing to turn over.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I grunt out, “not today, not today.” I pause and take a deep breath, exhaling through my nose, creating a cloud in the chilly air. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” I turn the key once more, and her engine roars to life. Breathing a sigh of relief, I rest my head against the steering wheel, “oh, thank god.”

I speed off toward the train station, not wishing to waste any more time.

When I arrive, the train is already stopped, and boarding. “Oh fuck” I breathe out. Grabbing my bag and rushing to the platform, I nearly slip on a patch of ice before I make it. But I do make it. Just before the crew member shuts the doors. I breathe out a sigh of relief for the second time and find a seat in the back of the economy car I paid for, a double seat. The closer we get to the city, the busier it will get, and I don't want to have to worry about sitting near a bunch of passengers.

Jesus Christ that was cutting it too close. I wait for the train to start moving before I pull out my AirPods and put them in my ears. I scroll through my playlists looking for the right thing for this trip. Finally settling on a song, I click play. The song sounding muffled when I realize that it’s playing from my phone, shit. I turn the volume down as quickly as possible, trying to keep my eyes on my phone as I feel everyone around me look over. What is in the air today? Letting out a sigh as I pull my AirPods back out and place them back into their case. I drop my head back against the seat, close my eyes, and just listen to the sound of the train moving.

I jolt myself awake with a small gasp. Please tell me they didn’t leave me on the train, and now I’m in Canada or something. I tap on my phone, 7:55 a.m., Thank GOD. Only a few more minutes and the train is slowing into the station.

I finally make it off the train, and I’m trying to hustle through the station until I see a Dunkin sign glowing at me. My stomach grumbles as I look at it; I can grab something.. I’ll definitely make it still.

“Can I get a medium hot caramel swirl latte with oat milk and the bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.. But no bacon, please?” Met with a simple ‘mhm’ from the cashier. I pull out my phone to pay, and seeing 8:10 a.m., my stomach feels nervous again.

It only takes a couple minutes before my name is called. I grab everything and practically run through the station to find the exit. I finally make it outside and check my maps to see where I’m going, grateful that it’s not too far from here. I slide my phone back into my pocket; I only need to walk a few streets down. I carefully pull the sandwich out of the bag, excited to eat something after the morning that i’ve had. Fuck me; I see the fleshy piece of bacon sticking out as soon as I peel the wrapper away from the bagel. I stare at it for a minute, trying to decide if it’s worth the hassle of pulling the bacon out. Deciding against it, god forbid it makes my stomach feel worse while I’m here, I toss the sandwich at the next trash can I pass and take a huge gulp of my latte, hoping it fills my stomach a little. Thankfully, my drink is perfect, and at this point, I’m going to take whatever win I can get. For the love of everything holy, I need the rest of today to go smoothly.

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The building is easy enough to find. I thank the lucky stars that at least one part of this journey wasn't difficult. I open the heavy metal door and head up the steps to the main floor toward the elevator. A plaque sits between the two elevators above the recall buttons. “Boston Globe - Floor 4 Suite 213.” I take a deep breath and press the arrow pointing up. I can feel the nerves in my belly, like butterflies buzzing around. Little wings flapping, sending gentle ripples of unease through me. I can’t mess this up. I have to make a good first impression. Working in conjunction with two major newspapers in different states is a big opportunity. It would put my name in the minds of people who could help me break into this job market. One I’ve been trying to work my way into since I graduated. This has to be it. The elevator dings, and my heart skips a beat, setting my nerves on edge even further.

Once the elevator arrives on the 4th floor, I step out looking for the closest suite number to gain my sense of direction. I solidify my bearings and head toward the right. A few doors down is 213. I open the door and the first person I see is a petite blonde woman. I scan the room; everyone is staring at me. Oh, this feels awkward.

“Hi, Can I help you?” her voice is high like I expected, but much quieter.

“Uhm, I’m looking for James Boucher with the Boston Globe?” My eyes dart back and forth between her and the rest of the people still looking at me. I wring my hands together, trying to satisfy my uneasiness.

“Oh, Jimmy is down the hall. They moved his office, and it hasn't been updated downstairs yet.” Just another thing to go wrong this morning, naturally. She walks over to me, places her hand on my arm, and points me down the hall. “It's suite 222. Also Call him Jim, not James and it's ‘bou-shay’ not ‘bou-sher’. He’ll like you 10 times more if you can get his name right. You’re gunna do great.” She says sweetly, squeezing my arm. “Good luck!”

“Thank you”

I walk down the hallway, pulling my phone from my pocket and double-checking the time. Still early. Thank god. Knocking on the door and twisting the handle ,I greet the front desk girl with a wave. A pretty brunette smiles back at me. Does everyone who works here have to be pretty?

“Hi, I’m here to meet with Jim Boucher. Am I in the right place?” I say nervously.

“You sure are, sweetheart.” Her southern drawl makes her that much more attractive to me. “What’s your name? I’ll get ya checked in.”

“Samuel Kiszka.” I lean against the counter, glancing down at her nameplate. She clicks a few buttons on her computer and then rises from her chair.

“Right this way, Mr. Kiszka.” She extends her arm pointing us in the right direction.

“Sam is fine. Daisy is a very pretty name, by the way. Like the flower?” I ask, smiling gently at her. A blush forms on her cheeks. She drops her head a bit, I can no longer see her dazzling blue eyes. She’s much shorter than I am, even in her heels. I shorten my stride so she doesn’t have to work so hard to keep up.

“Thank you. I was named after my grandma, and she was named after the flower. Mamaw Daisy was the sweetest, just like her pie. Oh, she made the best apple pie I’ve ever had.” She looks up at me then, eyes bright and hands clasped together.

“I’ve been trying to replicate her recipe and I think I have it close. Uh, just this way.” She instructs us to take a left; the windows on the right cover the wall nearly floor to ceiling.

“Well, maybe I can try a slice sometime.”

She stops then and looks up at me. “Uhm, this is it,” pointing to the door.

“Thank you for the escort, Miss Daisy. I surely would have gotten lost without you.” She giggles and opens the door. The room is smaller than I anticipated. A few tables are set up with chairs. There are already a handful of people here.

“Hi, Mr. Boucher. This is Sam Kiszka. He’s here with the Portland Press Harold, from Maine.”

“Thank you, Miss Thompson, that will be all.” He waves his hand, dismissively. Her face drops a bit in disappointment. Before she closes the door, her eyes find mine with a small smile, which I match.

He doesn’t acknowledge me at all. His eyes never rise from his folder. Am I supposed to stand here or take a seat? No, I should definitely introduce myself.. Right? First impressions and all.

I gently clear my throat. “Sir?” Once again, he doesn’t move. I wait. When he finally finishes what he’s reading he looks at me.

“Sam Kiszka, Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand, which he takes, apprehensively. He’s a man of few words from what I can tell, so I do my best to convey my character through a strong handshake. He nods at me and juts his head toward a table, motioning for me to take a seat. I’ll take that as a win.

As soon as I take my seat, a familiar face enters. Her short, brown bob was perfectly tucked behind one ear. Paired with her petite stature, it gave her a bit of an elf-like appearance. She played with the proportions of her outfit to look taller, wearing khaki-colored high-waisted slacks for height along with brown heeled boots, and a tan button-up sweater tucked in. A delicate blue pattern across the top accentuates her chest and gold necklaces worn in tiers to finish it off. She looked beautiful. Why is she here?

I watch her as she introduces herself to Jim, who doesn’t really glance at her either, which makes me feel a bit better before she takes a seat on the opposite side of the room. At least it’s not just me. Daisy catches my vision, and I can tell she’s taken notice of me staring at.. Her. I offer her another small smile before I watch her close the door and disappear once more.

“Alright,” Mr. Boucher announces, grabbing everyone’s attention. “As you all know, since you signed up for it, The Boston Globe is partnering with a few newspapers in New England. We want to run a feature on what makes each state in New England special. That’s where you all come in. There are 2 candidates from each state. That’s your partner for this project, so get used to them.”

Oh god. This experience is about to go from amazing to horrific for her as soon as she finds out I'm here.

“Presentations will be on Monday, so you have a few days to do what you gotta do. We’re working with the San Francisco Chronicle as well, which means that the 3 teams that best represent their state will be flying out there Tuesday. So, if you have plans next week, cancel them.”

Looks like Jake will have to find someone else to help cover the bar this week.

“Ah shit, let me take attendance.” He grumbles, searching for the correct paper on his desk. “Here we go, let’s start from the top with Maine - Willa Clarke?” my eyes immediately shoot over to her. Willa is a pretty name. It suits her.

“Here, sir,” she raises her hand. She tilts her head to the side in anticipation. The red undertones of her hair catch the light when she moves. Okay, Sam? Calm down.

“Great,” glancing down at his paper again. “Willa, your partner is.. Samuel Kiszka?”

Clearing my throat, “Uh Here.” I raise my hand. Her eyes finally meet mine, and immediately narrow.

Annnnd, there it is.

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A few hours and a lot of paperwork later and I’m sitting opposite Willa at a table in the cafe downstairs. She’s been glaring at me over the top of her latte for 10 minutes without saying a single word to me. Slowly sipping. Intently glaring. Not speaking.

I wait.

And then give in.

“Are you stalking me or something?” narrowing my eyes back at her.

“Excuse me?” Her incredulous look is not surprising.

“I mean, I go to the farmers market and you’re there. Poking me. I go to my brother’s bar and you’re there. Then I show up here and.. Oh yeah.. You’re here. Logical explanation would lead me to believe that you’re stalking me.” Curiosity becomes me as I wait for her answer.

“I feel like you’re failing to take into consideration a key piece of information here, Salmonella,” She says, piquing my interest. I debate if I should be offended by her use of a nickname or not and settle on the latter. Why let her get under my skin when I can get under hers?

“Aw yeah? What’s that, darling?”

“Okay.. ew.” disgust paints her face as she waves her hand out in front of her. “You speak as if you’re interesting enough to stalk.”

“Ah, such a blow to my ego,” Rolling my eyes dramatically. “Someone who spends her time jabbing strangers and yelling at them when they try to help her doesn’t think I’m interesting. Whatever will I do?” She scoffs loudly and crosses her arms, turning to face her body to the side toward the windows. “I should just roll over and cease to exist right now.”

“Help me? How have you tried to help me?” She asks in disbelief. Of course, she wouldn’t view my actions on Saturday as helpful. Or nice or kind in any capacity. I swear she's incapable of thinking I’m nice.

“When I told you not to bother with Chad Von Doucher-son, which you yelled at me for. Or when I offered you a drink on the house when he ditched you. A peace offering, again which you yelled at me for.”

She huffs. “What about you then?” Raising her eyebrows at me. “ Since we’re in all the same places or whatever. Are you stalking me?”

“Oh, I’m simply incapable of giving you that pleasure.”

A wicked laugh escapes her. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve said that to a woman. How about you stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours?”

“Yes because a project in which we have to work together definitely calls for staying away from one another. Can you not pretend to tolerate me?”

“Must you ask so much of me?” She frowns intently, grabbing her purse and standing to push her chair underneath the table.

“When our careers ride on it, yes. Now play nice. No more school-yard insults.”

“Okay. Truce.. For now.. Samsquatch.”

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The rest of the day was filled with more paperwork, tours, and individual assignments, according to each home-based newspaper company. At the end of the day, knowing I have some time to kill before I have to catch my train, I stop by the front desk.

Daisy is sat with her head down looking over scheduling for the following week. I tap the counter with the pads of my fingers, the soft sounds calling for her attention. She greets me with that same wide smile. Yeah, she’s cute.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Daisy. And thank you for your help this morning,” I hold my hand out to her, and she places her dainty one gently in my palm.

“It was lovely to meet you too, Sam.” She giggles and a blush forms.

“I’ll see you next week for the presentation.” I bend down to place a kiss on her knuckles, causing her cheeks to redden even further. As I straighten I can hear ‘oh god’ behind me. I turn to see Willa standing there, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t waste your time, he’s insufferable.” She says to Daisy and storms off. I cannot believe she would do that. I know she isn’t exactly my biggest fan, but to try and cock-block me because she dislikes me is insane. I really haven’t done anything to her. How can someone you barely know have that strong of a vendetta against you?

I look back at Daisy, “Would you excuse me one moment.” I let out an awkward laugh. Before fully walking away, I stop, “Next week, pretty girl,” and give her a wink. When I leave she has a smile on her face. Successfully recovered.

I walk quickly through the hall down toward the elevator to catch up with Willa. Just as the doors start to close, I catch it and force it back open, boarding the elevator with her. Turning to her with my eyebrows raised and my arms crossed, I clear my throat.

“Can I help you?” Her eyes are locked in her phone.

“Just because you have shit luck with dates, doesn’t mean you have any right to try and ruin my chances at one.”

“Oh, please. You cannot subject her to that.”

“Subject her to what?”

“Sam, it’s actually less painful watching teenagers flirt. I’m begging you, if I’m going to have to witness your flirting through this whole experience, the least you could do is practice in the mirror a bit.” She sneers at me.

“Ya know,” I take a step closer to her until my chest is pressed against her shoulder, “I could always practice on you.” The slight intake of her breath almost goes unnoticed, almost.

“Oh god,” She lunges toward the button panel, repeatedly pressing the open door button. “Get me the hell out of hereeeee.”

Checkmate.

<- Chapter Two ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Chapter Four ->

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@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dont-go-home-without-me @literal-dead-leaf @lizzys-sunflower @threadofstars @mackalah @klarxtr @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf @ladywhimsymoon @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf @violet-hayes @anythingforjtk

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