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choerypetal · 7 months ago

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Hide and Seek / Homelander

(pt 2. of Meet and Greet)

summary ; In part two of the meet and greet, Homelander's obsession reaches new heights, leaving him unsatisfied at his core and willing to do anything to make you his.

!! read part one first! ; !!

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes, xo' (as it will be eventually corrected if needed)

tag list; @private-eye-on-you ; @lins-shenanigans ; @horrorxgorewhore @siredtom ; @certain-tragedies ; @hotchners-wifey ; @naelis-open-sea

enjoy xo'

Homelander's comment, 'You look lovely in the costume,' lingered in your mind for a week. You couldn't escape his presence. His silhouette, his maddeningly perfect face seemed to follow you everywhere—from your usual coffee shop to the special limited editions of The Vought, and even as you continued watching the show for longer periods of time. From Deep's special cupcakes to the coffee most loved by Homelander, his influence was everywhere, not just keeping the city alive but himself as well.

Although you didn't realize it, Homelander had become just as obsessed with you as he was with seeing his own face on the cup you were holding. From a distance, he watched your every move—the way your plump lips touched the cup, how you drank your coffee, and even how you covered his image with your hand. Despite finding your behavior an offense, he knew he’d eventually have to tease about it. The sadistic man that he was, wasn’t afraid to even acknowledge it. Especially during their weekly Seven meetings.

"So, I suggest we review some new recruits," Ashley said, her nervousness palpable. She wanted to please not only the public but, most importantly, Homelander. This was no easy task given recent events and the current situation. Homelander's obvious boredom showed his lack of interest, and Deep, poor thing, was just as disinterested, staring blankly at the screen and agreeing with whatever Homelander mumbled. However, Deep was secretly relieved not to have any of John’s powers. Especially right now. Because, at that exact moment, it was your face, and your face alone, that occupied his thoughts. Murmuring your name under his breath, he was fortunate not to get caught up in the moment. That of course, when a single cough from Ashley’s mouth was enough to slip his mind elsewhere.

"You know, Ashley, just pick whoever you think will fit for now. Sign their papers. My brain is going to fucking explode from this hell hole," he said, standing up without even glancing at her. Not even Ashley's whiny complaints about the complications it might cause could stop him. He paused, considering for a moment that she might convince him. "Don't come to me for the next 24 hours," he snapped, his piercing blue eyes conveying a clear threat. When wasn't he a threat, anyway? "Or I'll personally fuck up every single one of you." That was enough to make her quickly nod in response. Poor thing, she only wanted to make him proud. A satisfied grin played on his lips, mirrored by Ashley's, though hers was a little more nervous. His, however, was genuine.

You, on the other hand, had been fortunate enough not to see Homelander's face for a while. From the bookstore you frequented to the coffee shop, his presence seemed to pervade your life. Your mother didn’t help either, as she insisted on framing a picture of you with him in the living room—a gesture Homelander found endearing. On some nights, he would see you through the window, dressed in your pajamas, reading whatever caught your interest, with that picture always in the background. Unlike Homelander, it haunted your dreams.

Deep down, Homelander struggled to resist the urge to invade your personal space, not wanting to frighten you. However, when he saw your forced smile at the meet and greet, he was reminded that a smile meant nothing to him. To him and you alone. It was your scent that drove him wild. At first, he considered going undercover, posing as one of your father’s coworkers, but he realized it would be futile. Why cover his own shame, when he could let his ego take it over?

So, he waited until sunrise. When he could finally entered your room, imagining you in your shortest pajamas, which hugged your curves so perfectly, he had to bite his bottom lip to control himself. Just by the thought of his fingers sinking into your flesh as you leaned toward him for more...

"Goodbye, Mom!" Your voice echoed in Homelander's mind as he realized he'd been lurking around your house since last night. He had been trying to dismiss, the missed call records provided by Ashley, however, unable to ignore them. Fortunately, he was hidden well enough that you didn’t notice him as you exited the house.

Your hair meticulously washed, your skin fresh with makeup, and that dress. Never in a thousand years, aside from his own enemies, did Homelander think he would become so obsessed with someone. He wanted to chuckle to himself at the irony, knowing he wasn’t being the most subtle superhero. When your gaze shifted toward his hiding spot, he quickly concealed himself behind a tree, exhaling in relief when you shrugged off the feeling of being watched. You then left for work, something Homelander knew all too well. This also meant he could meet your mother, who, after all, was his biggest fan.

Fortunately, you managed to get through the day without a single client yelling at you. However, what you didn’t expect was an unexpected visit from the man himself. As you approached the door, you overheard some mumbling. Did your mother have a visitor today?

And then it hit you.

Hearing the all-too-familiar voice say, "Oh, these look lovely," with a genuine smile, you froze in your tracks. Seeing your mother so happy, even more thrilled than a fangirl, like she’d seen god himself. She noticed you immediately. "My dear! Look who came to visit," she exclaimed, taking you into her arms for a hug. Before you could greet the guest, your eyes met his—Homelander, in your own home.

"No need for theatrics, ma’am," he said with a casual chuckle, hushed by his own hand as he munched on the cookies your mother had made, casually wiping a droplet of milk with his thumb. Your mother giggled and said, "Mother is the name. We don’t have to get formal, right darling?" You blinked twice, hardly believing what you were hearing. Your mother was genuinely making Homelander feel comfortable, right inside your home. Given what you knew from your coworkers and the constant rumors, it was hard not to be creeped out by the thought that he might have done more than just a knock on the door that evening. Yet, you shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps playing the same game he did might be what he wanted after all. Like a cat and a mouse.

There was a brief pause, then an idea sparked in your mother’s eyes as she looked at John one last time. "Why don’t you stay for dinner? Tonight is roasted chicken and mashed potatoes." How could he refuse? Spending more time with you was just the beginning of his obsession with protecting you and never letting you out of his sight. He smiled, his grin seemingly bigger than before, and nodded. "If Y/N doesn’t mind?" he said, his gaze shifting to you with a more serious expression. You gulped nervously, knowing you couldn’t just say no. "Yes—yes, of course," you stuttered. Oh, how adorable you looked.

“Then, make yourself at home dear.”

Dinner was only just a few hours from now, with your father now back from work had asked for a personal photo with the Homelander, and a talk John appreciated more. Considering his own father exiling him completely, it was a breath of fresh air for him, especially when he’d be glancing a few times at you, doing whatever you had in mind before the dinner. “My daughter is going to be working for us,” your father would be saying proudly, Homelander could only nod listening actively. “She’d do a great addition I am certain.” his gaze now meeting yours immediately, when you gaze up from your book, he could notice a light shade of pink coming your cheeks. Cherishing it a little too much when your father’s voice then abrupt his mind, “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he’d said a little too proud.

She is indeed… Homelander thought to himself that same night. Just by how attentive he was with you. Even if it wasn’t much of a conversation shared, the glances were enough to please him alone. Which during the dinner, he was not afraid to show.

Dinner had passed rather quickly, you were glad it did. Considering you listening to whatever nonsense Homelander had to offer to keep your mother so relonctent toward him. Let alone, praise him as a her own god. Boosting an ego, to whom you couldn’t comprehend yourself, and that Homelander was sure to make it seem tonight.

"Thank you so much for dinner, truly," Homelander said, wiping the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving you. Your mother’s gasp was enough to momentarily distract him, and he asked if everything was alright. She quickly assured him it was and invited him to stay until her cake was done baking. Naturally, John didn't decline the offer. "Y/N," your mother called your attention just as you were about to excuse yourself, "how about you give a little tour of the house? I'm sure Homelander would appreciate it." The formality of his name seemed daunting, but John quickly corrected her. "John it is. No need to be formal, now, do we?" A shiver crawled down your spine as your mother’s eyes gleamed with hope, her slender fingers clapping together. "Oh, well, of course! Now, Y/N, make yourself useful and make John feel at home."

A sigh escaped your lips; there was no way to avoid this, was there? "Yes, of course. Where do you want to start?" Your eyes never left his, feeling yourself getting lost in them, becoming his little mouse to play with. "How about..." he began, his eyes wandering as if he couldn’t be bothered to think. "The bedroom," he finally said. You blinked twice, a third time to fully process his words. "What?" you replied, incredulous. He chuckled, amused by your reaction, and shrugged off the question as if he hadn’t meant it seriously. "Nah, kidding. Lead the way," he said.

So you did. You felt his shadow hovering over you as you both walked through the house for a little tour. John was no longer hiding his presence, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his breath. By the time you reached your bedroom, the tour was complete, and your mother’s cake would be ready. However, John had something else in mind, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. “And this is the bedroom,” you said nonchalantly, hearing an obvious scoff from him.

"Funny, isn’t it?" he said, this time his tone serious enough to make your muscles tense. His back was to you as his fingers touched the doorknob, ready to close the door. And he did, pausing momentarily. "Finally, we meet again." His remark made you tilt your head. Meet again? As far as you knew, he had been stalking you all along. But knowing who he was—Homelander, with his omniscience and twisted games—you had no say in the matter. Neither did you, especially after hearing his chuckle.

“Now why so quiet?” the question was enough to make you unsease. You wanted to tell him, to oppose to him. But you couldn’t he was now yours to torment completely. When he leaned further, scoffing once more by your vulnerability. In that precise moment, Homelander knew he won.

“Heard you were a good, fuck.” his voice so nonchanltly, a gasp leaving from your mouth as you were unable to speak more than standing right in front of him. How his eyes would wondered around your figure, approaching near to you, his fingers now leaning toward your waist. Gripping by its touch, hungry to fuck you there, in the bed. Raw.

"Thank you?" you stammered, eager to please him. His grin broadened, fighting not to turn into a frown at your response. He was so satisfied that he gently caressed your cheek with his other finger. "You need me, not just to save you, but to satisfy you." Though your heart was broken, you were a toy Homelander cherished without fear. You were his perfect little toy, as he began to lick his bottom lip, his breath drawing closer, closing the gap between you. "Mine," he growled, his voice hoarse, undeniably hinting at his intentions. He was Homelander, able to do whatever he wanted. And that included you being his. "Got it, little mouse?"

Oh, how he longed to watch you squirm between his legs, begging for more, moaning his name. His persistence knew no bounds; he would do anything—from leaving bite marks to scratches, and even hickeys if necessary. But he couldn't just stand there without having a little fun, right?

"You see," he said, his voice dripping with teasing malice. Disgust welled up in your mouth, but you fought the urge to look away. He loved watching you squirm, the fear in your eyes fueling his twisted envy of every inch of you. "How about we play a little game tonight, hmm?" His thumb brushed gently over your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

"W-what game?" you managed to say, breaking your long silence. Even he was momentarily surprised, but your stutter made it worth it. "Hide and seek," he said, pausing for effect. "You hide, and I seek. If I find you, you're mine. Got that?"

You gave a quick nod, followed by a satisfied smile from him. "Good then, I'll start counting. One, two..." You hesitated for a moment, just as his grip shifted from your waist to your arm, preventing you from fleeing your own home. When your eyes met his, they were dark with passion, lust, and a desire to capture his little mouse until its very last breath. "Run..."

Little mouse.”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander the boys #homelander imagine #homelander smut #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz x y/n #the boys #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #the boys s4 #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader

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wiishopwednesday · 7 months ago

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longing for something you can never return to

[ID: a collection of images relating to nostalgia. the first image is a genius screenshot of the lyrics to car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)." the screenshot reads "We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back." the second image is the "we got the torture labyrinth tomorrow" meme template, edited to instead say "We got missing what we can never return to tomorrow/What?/We got the beginning of the rest of our lives tomorrow/Ohhhh/Okay." the third image is a discord screenshot, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and reads "Duuudeee you missed out on those 7 days where god created earth you are fucked LOL." the fourth image is a screenshot of a piece of text, which reads in bolder font "You can never leave home." underneath it, in normal text, it reads "You take it with you no matter where you go. Home is between your teeth, under your fingernails, in the hair follicles, in your smile, in the ride of your hips, in the passage of your breasts." the fifth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user ryebreadgf, which reads "YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN BITE AND SCRATCH AND BEG BUT YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK!" the sixth image is a screenshot of a piece of text that reads, "YOU KILL YOURSELF AND IMMEDIATELY WAKE UP AS A CHILD ON YOUR PARENTS BED. YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR HALF AN HOUR. THE SUN IS SHINING." the seventh image is a picture of two uneven dark yellow boxed next to each other on a off-white background. the first box reads, in handwriting, "I'm terrified of change." the second box reads, "I'm terrified of staying this way forever." the eighth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user dakotajohnsongf, which reads "women be looking at pictures of their childhood selves and trying to find a way back to them." the ninth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user bestofgentleearth, containing a screenshot from a forum of some kind. a line of text reads "(16 hours ago) butterfly said:" underneath, an indented section of text reads "today, the world looked beautiful again. i'm starting to remember what kept me alive last summer." the tenth image is another tumblr post by user cursedsuggestion, which reads "the friend you miss comes home for good. you never see another mirror. it's summer forever and that terrible thought you keep having finally disappears." the eleventh image is a screenshot of a reddit post, with the original poster's username and icon cropped out so only the text is visible. it reads "I'm not sure how to word this, but I constantly go through this deep sense of loss. I feel like I terribly miss something I love from the bottom of my heart, but I don't know what it is, exactly. Nothing in life satisfies me, nothing makes me content, but l wouldn't say I'm depressed either. There's just this endless search for something, and at times I feel I can catch a glimpse of it - different sceneries pop into my head at times, like of a particular beach at night, and I'm moved to tears. Or I remember a dream and all the feelings that were stirring while I saw that dream, and feel entirely connected to them." the twelfth image is a screenshot of a tumblr post, but the original poster is cropped out so only the text is visible, which reads "wait i wasn't ready. i never finished that game of tag. i still need to learn how to do a cartwheel. my friends and i never finished making that bridge over the creek. i want to go back. can you carry me to bed one last time? and maybe i'll wake up tomorrow in my childhood room with my pink walls and we'll laugh over this dream at breakfast." the thirteenth image is another tumblr screenshot of a post by user heavensghost, which reads "uhhh yh sure u can go back but no one will be waiting for you there."

the fourteenth image is a screenshot of a reddit comment, with the user's information cropped out so that only the text is visible, which reads "HIRAETH (heer-eye-th) 'A deep homesickness; an intense form of longing or nostalgia for a place long gone, or even an unaccountable homesickness for a place you have never visited. A pull on the heart that conveys a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost.'" the fifteenth image is a collection of 3 rows of black boxes, with 3 boxes in each row. the first box has a white, vague form of a human. the second box pictures the human form stretching its arms and legs out. from the third box onward, the human figure starts to dissipate into white dots until it has completely disappeared and only dots remain. the sixteenth image is a tumblr post by user n1ntendos, which reads "I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST I CANNOT GO BACK TO !!!!!!! anyways." the seventeenth image is a screenshot of text that reads "I cling to everything - CDs that skip, rings that turn my fingers green, the dead ends of my hair, old love notes that turn my stomach over and over. And I'm not proud but there are still boxes under my bed. And I'm not proud but my closet is still running out of space. And nostalgia is a fucking waste of time but my heart is full with it. Tell me I won't hold this forever. Tell me there will be a day where I let gloriously go." the eighteenth image is an image of larger text that reads "It's a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world." the nineteenth image is a photograph of a large white dog standing in a dark, flowing river surrounded by a dark forest and green trees. the dog is facing away from the viewer with its mouth open. the dog appears to be glowing, likely due to a lens flare of some kind. the entire picture feels very melancholy and nostalgic. the twentieth image is larger text that reads "Nostalgia is the aching realization that you can't go back again. The longing, no matter how intense, can never be met." the twenty-first image is a screenshot of an instagram dm, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and it reads "well the time passes anyway so I have to." the twenty-second image is a screenshot of the spotify lyrics for gerard way's song "action cat." the lyrics read "Hey/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you too." the twenty-third image is a screenshot of text that reads "YOUR CHILDHOOD DOG IS ALIVE. YOUR DEAD BEST FRIEND WANTS TO GET COFFEE. YOU HAVE BEEN KIND AND GOOD. THERE IS NOTHING CHASING YOU. YOU CAN SLEEP. WHAT DO YOU DO?" the twenty-fourth image is a continuation of the lyrics from car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)" that were pictured in the first image. these lyrics read "We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/(Don't spend too much time on it)." end ID.]

#webweave #webweaving #web weaving #corecore #web weave #on nostalgia #car seat headrest #on longing #toby.txt

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corvusphilia · 5 months ago

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★ HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY HAVE A CRUSH (KARASUNO EDITION)

୨ৎ featuring: daichi sawamura, koshi sugawara, asahi azumane, yuu nishinoya, ryunosuke tanaka, tobio kageyama, shoyo hinata, kei tsukishima, tadashi yamaguchi, keishin ukai

୨ৎ notes: first post!! rq are open guys send shit IN (omg haikyuu blog in 2024!!???). also yes i plan on writing crush headcanons for the other teams as well :>

also worth mentioning this is NOT timeskip and reader is implied to be around the same age as the characters (so highschool for most and adult for ukai)

i was gonna write for the girls as well but ive been writing this for the past 4 days and im tired 😭

★ DAICHI SAWAMURA ?!

He genuinely thinks acting like he's your dad or something is a good way of flirting. Sugawara teases him about it constantly. "Do you want to ask them out on a date or to sign adoption papers?"

And I don't mean it only in the cute way. He will scold you if you forget your jacket or something. But the words quickly catch in his throat when he gives you his and you put it on for the first time. Maybe you should keep forgetting yours, actually. For no reason. No reason at all.

Will bring extra food in case you're still hungry by the end of recess. Even makes mental notes about your favorites. This guy is a GENTLEMAN.

While he does reprimand you, it's nothing like he does to his team or his friends. In fact, he seems to calm down whenever you come into the picture. Nishinoya and Tanaka absolutely take advantage of it.

Suga might be the vice-captain, but the team treats you like the second in command. Doesn't matter if you're not part of the team or even a manager. You're now the second parent by correlation.

Speaking of which, Sugawara and Asahi absolutely play wingmen. Suga will come off a bit too strongly, talking about how Daichi is such a catch and you two would make such a cute couple, while Asahi sounds like he's doing a job interview in Daichi's name, listing all his positive qualities and whatnot. Their hearts are in the right place, at least.

He doesn't hesitate much before asking you out. He doesn't want to risk ruining your friendship, but he doesn't want to live with the regret of what could have been if he gave it a shot, either.

The sun was lazily setting in the horizon, painting the sky pleasant hues of orange and pink. It wasn't unusual for Daichi to walk you home — he insisted on it whenever he had the time, even he meant he would only get to his house past nightfall —, but he was weidly quiet. He smiled calmly when you questioned him on it, giving you a look and a sigh.

He came to a stop, standing in front of you. He took a deep breath before reaching into his bag, grabbing what looked like a note and holding it in both hands before stretching it towards you and bowing politely. His grasp was slightly shaky.

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while..." He started, his voice soft, keeping his gaze on the ground. Maybe he was just being overly polite, or maybe he was a bit too scared to look you in the eyes. "You make me... incredibly happy, Y/N. I would like to do the same for you. If you'll let me, that is." He finally glanced up, looking at you through his eyelashes and his posture still low, his eyes filled equally with nervousness and hope. "I don't want to leave any doubts, so... I'll just go ahead and say it. Will you be mine?"

★ KOSHI SUGAWARA ?!

This guy is so whipped, it's not even funny. He doesn't even officially ask you out because he makes it so obvious he likes you. Like, c'mon, EVERYONE can tell he wants to marry you already.

The type to run up to you just to give you something he grabbed or bought because it made him think of you. Which happens very often, because he thinks of you all the time.

Very affectionate. Holds your hand whenever you two walk somewhere and hugs you as a greeting and as goodbye. Might even slip in a kiss on your cheek if he's feeling a little silly.

And god forbid some poor bastard mentions your name in a five mile radius of him. This motherfucker will take any chance he can get to yap about how amazing you are and how much he adores you and—

SO supportive. Genuinely, he thinks you're so talented in everything you do. If you have a specific thing you're passionate about, be ready for him to be bragging to everybody about it. More proud of your accomplishments than his own.

Straight up introduces you to people as his significant other after some time. What? He never asked to be your boyfriend? Well, it's not like you were gonna say no anyway, so...

"Y/N!" The cold winter air causes little wisps of smoke to form from his mouth as he runs over to you through the courtyard, an infectious smile on his face. He stops right in front of you, resting his hands on his knees for just a few seconds to catch his breath before holding out a bouquet in your direction. Roses, baby's breath, and cornflowers.

His smile grows even more when you grab it, a snicker escaping him at the slightly flushed look on your face. "So pretty, right? I saw it and thought of you, so obviously I had to get it." He explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Don't look at the price tag, I forgot to take it off." He adds.

He waves a hand dismissively at your 'thank you'. "Don't mention it. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't get you something nice every now and then?" He mentions casually, and lets out a thoughtful hum when you mention that you two are, in fact, not officially dating.

"I guess I did never outright say it, huh? That's my mistake." For some reason, he doesn't sound bothered or reluctant at all. Instead, he grabs your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Well, no reason to waste even more time. Come on, let me take you on our first official date."

★ ASAHI AZUMANE ?!

He doesn't flirt, let's get that out of the way. His idea of hitting on you is looking at you from a distance while praying you have more balls than him and will take initiative.

If you don't really know each other much, he's scared you'll be put off by his appearance and size. If you do, he's scared you think he's too much of a coward and have no interest.

His insecurities play a huge role in his reluctance. He thinks you're so pretty, and smart, and talented, and he's... well, himself. It's almost difficult to tell if he likes you or not, because while he is polite whenever you interact, he acts that way with everyone (who takes the time to actually speak with him, that is), and he actually seems to avoid you whenever possible, too.

Gets desperate enough he asks everyone in the team for advice. Daichi just says to "Be yourself", to which Suga gives him a side eye with a "Yeah, I don't think that'll work" comment, and the two start arguing rather than actually helping the poor guy out.

Nishinoya and Tanaka are... less than helpful, as you might imagine. Kageyama and Hinata don't know the first thing about dating, and he wasn't about to ask Tsukishima, either. Surprisingly (or not), the good advice came from Yagamuchi and Kiyoko.

It basically summed up to the fact that he needs to make his move before someone else does. Nothing too dramatic, but enough to let you know he's serious about it. At the end of the day, they had a 5 steps plan written out.

He had everything set to go, even went as far as to memorize a script he practiced in front of the mirror a few times this morning. However, when he finally stood in front of you, the sun of the afternoon hitting your features just right, his mind went blank.

"Huh..." He was slightly hunched over, absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He quickly cleared his throat, seemingly remembering he couldn't just stand there looking at you like a creep, and reached inside his bag to pull out a small, heart-shaped chocolate box. He took a deep, shaky breath.

"I-I, huh... I need to tell you something..." He starts nervously, his brown eyes finally meeting yours, filled with fear and sincerity. "I... I've liked you for a while now, and..." That is not the script he planned out. "You're always on my mind. W-when I'm with you, everything just feels right. I don't really know how to say this, I'm probably making a fool out of myself, but... I like you. A lot."

★ YUU NISHINOYA ?!

This fucking guy has no shame whatsoever. Quite literally asked you to go out with him before he even told you his name. I firmly believe he's a love-at-first-sight kind of dude.

Now, how things progress depends highly on your reaction. If you're a bit shy, he thinks it's the cutest thing ever, but he will take it down a notch to not make you uncomfortable. Will still flirt, don't get me wrong, but a bit more lowkey. If you just accept or — god forbid — flirt back, he shortcuts. A hot person?? Likes HIM??? WHAT.

Like, all of his previous bravado is out the window if you accept. He flirts with a few people, sure, but he never actually expects to go anywhere. It's just kind of a fact that he's going to get turned down. So when things actually go right he doesn't know what to do anymore.

It doesn't last too long, though. After he takes a few minutes for his mind to process what just happened, he's bouncing off the walls.

SO protective. We've seen it with Kiyoko. Anytime a guy looks at you for just a little too long he's growling and foaming at the mouth. Better keep him from biting anyone's ankles.

"Wow, you're SUPER pretty!" The boy stated enthusiastically, stars in his eyes as he stares at you intently, seemingly trying to commit every detail to memory. You've seen him around, usually near the gym, but it looks like this is the first time he has seen you.

He takes a step closer, determination written all over his face. "Will you go out with me?" He asks a bit loudly and suddenly. When your face flushes, he takes a small step back, chuckling. "Ah— I'm Yuu Nishinoya, by the way! Probably should've said that first."

He nods happily when you introduce yourself as well, his eagerness returning to the surface. "Well, you didn't really answer me, so I'll ask again — wanna go out with me?" He repeats, half cocky half sheepish. However, his entire face falls when you give a positive response.

His eyes are wide and he just stares at you, mouth slightly agape. When you question if he's feeling well, his ears flush red as he seems to have find his voice again. "A-ARE YOU SERIOUS!? You said yes!? Wha— am I dreaming? I'm dreaming, aren't I!?" Despite the disbelief in his voice, he's smiling — a huge, excited, thankful smile. He's not leaving your side anytime soon.

★ RYUNOSUKE TANAKA ?!

Since I already covered love at first sight with Noya and we've already seen how he's like with Kiyoko, I'm going down a different route: friends to lovers. Also because this specific trope with him makes me SICK /pos.

He's a friendly guy when you get to know him and past his badboy persona, so he has many friends I feel like. He initially treats you like he does the others, being his usual weird ass self we all know and love.

But one time he sees you laugh at one of his shenanigans and he just pauses. Oh. Oh. This is not good.

Have you always been so pretty? I mean, he already knew you were, but this is another level. Now you're like, angelic. Ethereal, even. What just happened.

Immediately runs to Noya because he doesn't know what to do or even think. He just sees you as a friend, right? A close friend. A hot, funny, amazing, kissable friend. Yeah, that doesn't sound right even to him when he says it outloud.

Doesn't take long for him to come to terms with it honestly and the entire team has to hold him back from proposing to you the next time he sees you.

He waits by the classroom's door, an uncharacteristically nervous look in his eyes. He sucks in a sharp breath when the bell rings and you stand from your desk, slinging your bag over your shoulder while making your way to the exit. "Y/N." He calls out to gain your attention, and his face immediately flushes when you look at him.

Your eyes are so beautiful it's unfair. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. "Will you ma—" He pauses, looking at something right behind you. You look back to see Nishinoya half-hiding behind a wall, shaking his head 'No' quickly. Tanaka clears his throat and you look back at him. "... I-I mean, will you... Go out with me? Maybe? Please?"

He sounds almost pleading and a little unsure. He stutters an explanation when he notices your taken aback expression. "I know this came outta nowhere and I know we're like, best buds or whatever, but... God, I really wanna kiss you." His face goes bright red when he realizes what he just said and he starts rambling another flustered excuse. How cute.

★ TOBIO KAGEYAMA ?!

A little like Asahi, he just kind of stares at you from a distance and hope you get the hint. Totally unware of the fact he has a major resting bitch face and is looking at you so aggressively it looks like he's thinking about beating your ass after school or something.

Completely oblivious to the fact he likes you. He's never liked anyone before. His entire life has always been volleyball this and volleyball that — he doesn't know the first thing about crushes.

Surprisingly thoughtful, though. The type to get you your favorite drink from the vending machine when he goes to grab his milk box. He doesn't even think much about it, it's just so natural to him.

Also very perceptive. He comes off as an airhead most of the time, but when it comes to volleyball, he's incredibly observant. Now he's the same way with you as well. Always knows what you're feeling before you have to say anything or if you need something.

And that's how everyone else realizes he likes you and tell him about it (because again, he genuinely could not tell that his feelings are romantic on his own. How can someone be so smart and so dumb at the same time).

He's in denial for a good while, but the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. Some teammates try to give him advice (because they don't trust him at all to do this by himself), but in the end he ignores all of it and just says what feels right at the time.

"I swear, you'd be helpless without me." He grumbles, dragging you away from the confrontation, his hand firmly but not tightly wrapped around your wrist. Karasuno had a game against another school, and one of the guys from said school apparently thought you were really cute. So much so he was trying everything to get your contact information before Tobio stepped in.

Just thinking about the situation pisses him off. He scoffs, squeezing your wrist slightly, but there's something more than just frustration on his face. Doubt, perhaps? He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "You weren't really thinking about giving him your number, were you?" He asks, his voice almost too soft before it rises in tone again.

"I mean, he's average looking at best, and a shit player, and... And I'm better!" He blurted, cheeks flushing slightly. He averts his gaze, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. "So... Just give me your number, dumbass."

★ SHOYO HINATA ?!

I need to mention, he looks like he's so easy to fall in love with. Like he's so kind and considerate and with a high emotional intelligence. Very much boyfriend material I wish more people would see him like that instead of an uwu baby yk.

Anyway, back on track. I feel like he'd fluctuate between shy and bold a lot. Like, if you flirt or give hints that you might like him back, he's blushing and kicking his feet and shit, but it is very much not uncommon for him to take initiative.

Especially after matches. The adrenaline is still pumping in his veins and he barely even registers that maybe he's being a bit forward.

If you don't know him really well it's a bit difficult to tell that he has feelings because he's just. so nice. to everyone. But if you do, it's hard to miss the tenderness in his eyes everytime he looks at you.

Insists you come to his games. It's simple math in his head: the two things he loves the most (aside from, yknow, his mom and sister and all that) are volleyball and you, so if he can just mix them together, he'll be the happiest guy in the planet.

It was a tough game — Karasuno barely managed to win right during the last set. The winning point was, of course, scored by Shoyo. The crowd was cheering, his teammates screaming loudly and gathering around him, but in the middle of the ruckus, his eyes are fixated on a single someone.

He dodged Nishinoya and Tanaka and, to the team's confusion, ran towards the stands. It wasn't until everyone say you simultaneously running in his direction that they understood what was going on. Shoyo practically pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your torso tightly and doing his best to lift you and give you a little spin, almost knocking both of you to the ground in his attempt.

His smile was bright enough to outshine the sun. He pulled away just a little so he could look you in the eyes, the two of you still intertwined. "Thank you so much for being here!" He exclaimed, like his success was solely due to you — to your presence. The look in his eyes was a little different as he leaned in slightly before hesitating. Daichi called him over so they could formally bid farewell to the other team, and he gave you a final squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. "Wait for me, okay? I'll walk you home today!"

★ KEI TSUKISHIMA ?!

This fucking guy is so in denial. No, I'm serious, he'd rather eat glass than admit that he likes somebody. He's always seen relationships and especially crushes as a waste of time and energy, things he couldn't be bothered to spare.

So he's extra mean when he realizes he likes you. Is it an attempt to push you away? Kind of. Is it because he genuinely kind of hates you for the way you make him feel? A little. Is it because he's secretly an awkward motherfucker that doesn't know a thing about how to be romantic? Mostly.

News flash: it doesn't work, independently of your reaction. If you just ignore him and don't give him a reaction, he's frustrated but grows to respect you even more for dealing with his sassy ass with that much grace. If you get sad, he feels genuinely bad for the first time in his life. If you get angry, turns out you look really damn cute when pissed off and that's not helping his case either. If you sass him back, he might just get on one knee.

So he just... gives up. He still teases and pokes fun at you, obviously, but now it doesn't sound as mean. If anything, it's friendly banter. He can't deny that he enjoys having you around.

It raised some eyebrows when Tsukishima told everyone he was leaving practice early because he was helping you study. Hinata and Kageyama had to practically get on their knees and beg him to tutor them, and even then, he always looked so annoyed doing it. With you, he almost had a little smile on his face. Almost.

He snapped his fingers in front of your face a few times. "Hey, idiot, pay attention." He scolded, pointing back to the open book in front of you. "I'm not explaining it a second time." He added, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

He can't help the small grin that forms on his face when you whine about his 'mean' treatment. "You haven't seen me being mean yet, pipsqueak." He teased, looking down at you through his glasses. He exhales through his nose in an almost-laugh, his voice dropping just barely over a whisper, a tenderness in his tone you're not really familiar with. "You're lucky I kinda like you."

★ TADASHI YAMAGUCHI ?!

Dude is SO flustered around you, like, constantly. Like can-barely-get-a-sentence-out typa shit. Kei has to verbally smack him and tell him to fucking get it together — he's not gonna win you over by being a wuss (or maybe he will, who knows what you're into).

But that's mostly during the honeymoon stage. After the butterflies in his stomach start to go away, they're replaced by a deep sense of comfort whenever he's around you.

Takeda said that Tadashi would have the least trouble out of everyone when it came to dating and he was RIGHT. This guy is such a sweetie. Always saving you a seat and sharing his lunch with you and just watching out for you in general. He's so considerate :(

You make him not so insecure anymore and that's all he could have asked for. Whenever he messes up or just acts like a dork, he feels his heart drop thinking that he messes up any chance he might have had with you, but when you just smile and reassure him he falls in love all over again.

Tadashi has been profusely apologizing to you for the past fifteen minutes now, no matter how many times you tried to insist that it's fine. He was practicing his serves and you were unfortunate enough to get a ball right to the back of the head, and he rushed you to the nurse's office immediately despite you saying it didn't hurt that much.

"I'm so sorry, I promise it was an accident!" He said for what must have been the third time. There wasn't much that the nurse could do aside from giving you headache medicine and telling you to lie down for a while, and he decided to miss practice so he could stay with you while you rested.

"Does it hurt?" He questioned, his eyes soft and full of worry, and his shoulders tensed a little at your answer of 'kinda'. He grabbed your hand, idly playing with your fingers, either to calm you or himself down. "... I want to make it up to you somehow." He stated gently, not daring to look at you. "... I'll walk you home and buy you a snack from the convenience store, okay? You can ask for whatever you want, no matter the price." He paused, then added with a sheepish smile, "Well... Maybe the price matters a little bit."

★ KEISHIN UKAI ?!

Listen. He definitely looks like he has rizz. Does he actually? No. Absolutely not. Like, he has so much negative rizz it does a full spin and actually works out. Absolute man failure.

Deadass the kind to do that yawn and arm around your shoulder thing and think he's nailing it. Like, dude you're not THAT old, c'mon now.

Fluctuates between being a gentleman and just being a scrub a lot. Will open the car door and pull a chair for you only to light up a cigarette and not notice the smoke is going straight in your direction until you start coughing.

He does try, though. Definitely makes an effort to take you on a nice date whenever his money allows it (and sometimes when it doesn't). He's had flings before, sure, but you're special and he doesn't want to mess it up like he always does.

You barely heard the doorbell ringing with the sound of the rain hitting your roof. When you opened it, Keishin stood there, absolutely drenched in a dress shirt and an undone tie around his neck, water dripping down from his hair to his face as he holds out a bouquet in your direction. He sighs deeply.

"I wanted to surprise you, but my car broke down halfway here and then this fuckin' rain hit." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck. You told him to come inside and grabbed him a towel, and he started to dry his hair before sitting on the couch when he was sure he wasn't dripping water all over the place anymore.

He glanced at you, a somewhat guilty look on his face. "... Sorry I messed it up. I wanted to do something nice for once, but..." He trailed off. You sat next to him, a hand on his shoulder as you reassured him it was okay. When you suggested watching a movie since he was already here anyway, he perked up, almost like an invisible tail started wagging behind him. "Really?" He questioned, a bit baffled before trying to hold back a smile as he relaxed next to you, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "... That doesn't sound half bad, doll face."

thanks for reading!

#୨ৎ — writings .#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #koushi sugawara x reader #asahi azumane x reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #tanaka ryuunosuke x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #hinata shouyou x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #keishin ukai x reader #headcanons

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months ago

Note

What if when Nyra gets crowned, she has a crown made for Jace? His wife could help him get ready for the coronation (I’m talking bathing, hair, dressing, everything). Maybe it’s to show him how serious she is about him being her heir

When I saw this picture (not my edit, idk who made it), I had to write something

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’The prince’s bath is ready, Princess,’’ one of the maids informed you, coming to the table where you had been breaking your fast. ‘’Does the prince needs us to assist him? I will call a male servant.’’

You thanked her for the bath, then shook your head. ‘’That won’t be necessary,’’ you replied. ''And leave the towels on the chair.''

''Yes, Princess. Should I have his morning meal brought to his chamber? He must break his fast before the coronation, her Grace said.''

You glance at the bed in the distance, seeing Jacaerys' sleeping form under the covers. He had difficulty falling asleep last night, his nerves making him restless, so you let him sleep longer. The coronation wasn't until late morning.

''I will see with him after his bath. I'll send someone to the kitchens.''

The maid nodded, then left.

After you finished your meal, you went to the bed and gently woke your husband, caressing his messy hair. It always baffled you how all over the place they get during his sleep. You pressed a lingering soft kiss to his soft cheek. ‘’It’s time to wake, my love.’’

As you expected, Jacaerys grumbled sleepily and pressed his face deeper into his pillow.

You stifled a smile, finding him endearing when he was acting like a child in the morning. On other days, you would have joined him for another hour of sleep, but you couldn’t allow yourself that luxury today. You needed to prepare for the day you’ve all been waiting for: Rhaenyra reclaiming her seat and — officially — becoming the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

‘’Your bath is ready. Come.’’ You stood, knowing he’ll try to pull you with him if you stayed seated on the bed.

Jacaerys reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. He sleepily followed you to the bathing area, his eyes still heavy with sleep and his curls sticking out in all the places. He looked adorable in his groggy state.

Like a toddler running after his mama, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. ‘’You left me alone in bed,’’ he complained, his voice still raspy from his sleep, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. ‘’It was cold without you.’’

A smile curved on your lips, and you leaned into your husband’s embrace. His lips skimmed lightly over the sensitive skin of your neck. ‘’Cold? I find that difficult to believe, my love. You were wrapped in a blanket with the fire blazing in the hearth.’’

‘’Still cold,’’ he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, making you shiver slightly. ‘’I prefer having you in my arms to keep me warm.’’

‘’And I would prefer if you disrobed and sat in the bathtub so I can wash your hair.’’

Jacaerys huffed, then released you and started to remove his night tunic. He left it in a lump on the floor, then stepped into the hot bath.

You sat on the stool right by the tub and filled the pitcher with water to pour it over his hair. ''Cover your eyes.''

He closed them, letting the water fall down his face instead of shielding his eyes with his hand.

You lathered soap in your hands and Jacaerys sighed as you began to wash his hair, finding it soothing how your fingers massaged his scalp. Before he was wed to you, he had servants who assisted him and they were nowhere near as gentle as you.

''Cover your eyes again.''

You poured more water, washing down the sods before applying oils and brushing them with a comb. It was better to brush curly hair when wet than dry. Jacaerys had learned that the hard way as a child...

Once his hair was oiled and brushed, you began to wash his back and shoulders, the hot water cascading over the light dust of freckles. He hummed pleasantly, enjoying the feel of your slender fingers rubbing the soap into his skin.

‘’I still cannot believe Mother had a crown made for me. Heirs don't wear crowns,’’ Jacaerys said, his nerves making him pick at his nails.

When the King named Rhaenyra his heir, there was no crown given to her. He only organized a grand ceremony at court to publicly declare the princess as his rightful successor.

But Rhaenyra wanted to make things different.

''Her Grace remembers your fear that a lowborn with white hair might lay claim on the Iron Throne after her passing. By giving you a crown in front of all the Lords, Ladies and other nobles, she wishes to remind you —and everyone — that you are the future rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and that no one can take your place. Being a dragonlord or having Valyrian features does not grant anyone a claim to the throne. You are the heir because you are the son of the Queen.''

Absent-mindedly, Jacaerys continued picking at his fingers, drawing blood out. He was more nervous now than he had been on your wedding night. His mind was going through all the possible and impossible scenarios of the coronation... What if something went wrong? What if he tripped in front of everyone? What if the remaining supporters of the Greens tried to sabotage the ceremony?

''Quit doing that,'' you scolded, taking his hand from him. ''A prince cannot receive his crown with blood under his nails.'' You took a brush and scrubbed the blood and dirt around and under his nails.

He apologized.

''You're nervous, it's alright,’’ you said, your eyes soft and understanding.

He sighed and reached over the tub to take the sponge. ‘’You don't need to do everything, you know. I can wash myself.’’ He lathered soap on a sponge and scrubbed his skin while you continued with his nails.

Once he was thoroughly clean, Jacaerys dried himself with a warm towel, then slipped on his robe. He never wore one before you came into his life, claiming it was for women, but he loved to lounge in one after his bath. The silk was soft on his skin and light. You had one made for him for his eight and ten nameday — a dark and rich red color with an embroidered dragon at the back.

You made him sit at your vanity table. It was unusual for him. The vanity was your spot. He enjoyed watching you sitting there in the mornings, picking jewelry and scented oils, or simply brushing your hair. Sometimes, he would even offer to brush them for you.

You combed through his damp hair, twirling his curls around your fingers to make them more defined. ''You're gonna be the most handsome prince the court has ever seen,'' you declared, tucking a last curl behind his ear, showing off his beautiful face.

Though he lacked the classic Valyrian traits, replaced by a perfect reflection of the former Lord Commander of the City Watch, the gods had blessed him with the gift of beauty. If you hadn't been already married to him, you would have been jealous of the woman he called his wife.

Jacaerys rolled his eyes and pulled you down on his lap. From this close, you could see every freckle across his nose and cheeks. His lips were a slightly darker pink, stained from the cherries he just ate. You couldn't resist kissing them.

The kiss was brief, causing the prince to pout.

You gave him another kiss, this one slightly longer, then stood when he tried to chase after your lips for more. You knew that game. You'll never be ready on time if you let him get what he wants.

''Later,'' you promised, lifting his chin and pulling down a single strand of hair, curling it around your finger.

He'll look glorious with his crown.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

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#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #prince jacaerys

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golden-cherry · 6 months ago

Text

deal - cl16 (35/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk - with Nightmare Coladas.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: love you. feedback is appreciated!

You are sitting on the sun bed when Charles rejoins you. He is holding a tray in his hands and as he places it on the floor next to you, you see that it is filled with sliced fruit. In addition to a plate of watermelon, there is a bowl of grapes, strawberries and raspberries.

“A good foundation is essential if you want to get drunk,” he grins and lies down next to you on the sun bed, a healthy distance between you.

You raise an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be better to eat something greasy then? Like fries or pizza?” you ask, helping yourself to a strawberry.

“That's just the beginning,” he defends himself and nibbles on a piece of watermelon. “There are fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets in the oven.”

You have to grin. “Sounds like lunch for a five-year-old.”

Charles shrugs and pops a raspberry in his mouth. “You'll be able to drink like a grown-up in no time.”

“Touché.”

The two of you lie next to each other in silence, enjoying the last rays of sunshine while you eat the fruit and wait for the timer on Charles' cell phone to beep. The water splashes against the sides of the boat, the smell of the sea hits your nose and if you didn't know that tomorrow is Christmas, you'd think it was a beautiful summer evening.

“What would you like to drink?” Charles asks.

You turn your head in his direction. “Do you have any sweet white wine?”

He nods. “I had Thomas bring your cheap wine,” he grins. "He didn't find it at first. Apparently you can only get it in the supermarket and not in a wine store."

You purse your lips. “Hey. The wine tastes good,” you say with mock offence, trying to suppress the thought that Charles sent Thomas out to get your favorite wine. Very thoughtful. “What are you about to drink?”

"There are quite a few drinks. Maybe I'll make myself a cocktail,” he considers, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "Maybe a piña colada? Or a sex on the beach?"

The way the word 'sex' rolls off his tongue makes the blood in your veins run hot. You bite into a piece of watermelon. “When are the fries ready?”

Just as you've said it, Charles' phone rings. He gets up and leaves the sun bed. “I'll be right back.”

You turn to him. “Do you want me to help you?” You're almost on your feet when Charles waves you off.

“ It's all right.”

While he disappears into the interior of his yacht, you also leave the sun bed to grab your camera and laptop, but instead of lying back on the sun bed at the back of the boat, you move the party around the bow, where there is another sun bed. From here, you have a wonderful view of Monaco - even if it is still some distance away from you.

You start to edit a photo of Charles when he rejoins you - fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets on a tray.

“Here you are,” he smiles, setting the food down. “I thought you'd jumped in the water and swum home.”

"Are you crazy? I'm sure the sea is freezing cold,” you reply and put your laptop to one side so you can grab a nugget. “I've already started editing a picture of you, by the way.”

Your friend plops down on the sun bed next to you. "And?” he asks. “Do I look good?”

You roll your eyes. “You always do,” you reply jokingly, hoping that he can't hear the truth in your words.

“I know,” he grins and pops a chip in his mouth. "But seriously. Do you think the pictures are any good? For my Instagram profile, I mean."

Charles is a natural model. With his big eyes, deep dimples and beaming smile, he could even advertise haemorrhoid cream and look great doing it.

“Absolutely,” you smile and push your camera over to him. “See for yourself.”

While Charles looks at the many pictures on the small display, you continue to edit some pictures on your laptop. They are all good - thanks to his looks - but somehow none of them reflect Charles as you see him. They look posed, which isn't a bad thing in itself, but you had hoped to capture him with your lens in such a way that you could almost feel the closeness to him and his warmth.

But you don't tell him that, after all he has to decide for himself which pictures he would like to put on the internet.

“What do you think of this?” he asks and shows you the display. In the photo, he is standing at the wheel, his sunglasses are perched on his nose and he is smiling broadly over his shoulder, as if someone has said something funny. It's a good picture - objectively speaking.

“It's good,” you reply and bite into a mozzarella stick. The cheese almost burns the roof of your mouth, but you try not to let it show.

Charles raises his eyebrow. “Just ‘good’?” he asks, looking at the picture again. “Okay, I'll find another one then.”

You shake your head vehemently. "No, Charles. It's a good photo, really,” you assure him.

He's not buying it. “But?”

You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders. “It - it looks so posed,” you answer honestly. "But maybe it only looks like that to me because I know it's fake, you know? Maybe I just can't see it."

He looks back from you to the display. “I know what you mean.” He presses his tongue into his cheek. "I'll take another one then. They're your photos. And I want you to feel comfortable with them too."

You smile at him. You didn't know he cared so much about your opinion. "That's nice. Thank you."

Charles pops a French fry into his mouth. "Keep eating. Your wine is cold and just waiting for you to drink it."

You continue to eat in silence - Charles continues to rummage through your camera while you edit some pictures. The silence between you is comfortable and every now and then you smile at each other to reassure each other that everything is fine.

When the last of the fries has been eaten, Charles stands up. "Very nice. Now it's time to start drinking,” he winks at you as he leaves the sun bed. “You want your wine, I guess?”

You nod. “Thomas shouldn't have made the trip to the supermarket for nothing,” you grin and cross your arms behind your head. You look at him. "But I think one glass is enough for now. Maybe I'd like to try one of your cocktails afterwards."

“Of course, Madame,” Charles replies and bows to you playfully like a servant to his queen. "Can I bring anything else? A pillow, perhaps?"

You nod, beaming. “That would be great. Then the bed here will be even more comfortable."

Without another word, he disappears, the bowls and plates in his hands, while you close the laptop and put it to the side. You consider whether you should put the camera away too, but decide against it. Perhaps there would be another opportunity to take photos of Charles later.

A few minutes later, Charles reappears. He puts your wine glass down next to you and throws you two cushions. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you'll want to stay here longer."

You look at him in confusion. “Why?”

With a nod of his head, he points to the shore. "When it gets dark - and I mean dark - Monaco lights up beautifully. And I don't want to deny you the sight,” he smiles. "I'm going to make myself a cocktail. Do you want me to bring you your sweater right away?"

“Yes, thank you,” you answer him. “And you really don't need any help?” you ask uncertainly. It's nice of him to go to all this trouble to make you feel comfortable, but you feel a bit like you're taking advantage of him.

But Charles disagrees. "Stay put. You're my guest on this boat. I'll take care of everything while you lie there and look pretty."

Before you can react to his words, he has disappeared again.

Look pretty? Charles thinks you're pretty?

You try to ignore his words, but they keep bubbling up. When he said he was afraid of losing you, he hit you hard. You would never let anything separate you again. You need him too much for that - and it seems he needs you too. Even if it's not the same way. But that's okay, you tell yourself. You'd rather have a piece of him than nothing at all.

When he rejoins you, you seem to have almost forgotten his compliment. Or at least pushed it aside.

“Here,” he says, handing you your sweater before setting some things down behind your head. There are several bottles, an ice bucket and a couple of shakers in the large basket. Then he carefully sits down next to you with his cocktail in hand. As he tastes it, he makes a brief grimace.

You have to grin. “Too strong?” you ask him.

“No,” he replies, but from the way he raises his eyebrows and turns his head away briefly, it's clear he's lying.

“What did you mix?”

“Piña Colada.” He furrows his eyebrows. “But it tastes more like nightmare colada than pineapple.” He stretches out his arm and holds the glass out to you. “Have a taste.”

Without hesitation, you reach for the cocktail - still careful not to let your fingers touch - and sip the drink once. You look at him in amazement. “I don't know what your problem is,” you reply and take a big sip. “It tastes fantastic!”

Charles looks at you doubtfully. “Are you serious?”

“Definitely,” you confirm. “I'd offer you my wine, but you don't like sweet wine.”

“Give it to me,” he says unceremoniously and grabs the wine glass as you hold it out to him. Without hesitation, he puts the glass to his lips and drinks every last drop of the wine. "Sorry. I had to get rid of the horrible taste of that cocktail."

You look from the empty glass in his hand to his face in amazement. "Wow. So you think the piña colada is that bad. If you keep going like this, you'll be drunk in no time."

Charles reaches behind your head into the basket and pulls out a bottle of wine. “That was the plan, wasn't it?” Slowly and intently, he pours some of his dry wine into your glass, careful not to waste a single drop. “Don't tell me I did all of this for nothing.” He points to the many shakers with a nod of his head.

You curl your lips into a thin line. “Are you even allowed to drive the boat tomorrow if you still have alcohol in your blood?” you ask and take a sip of his - now your - cocktail, which, contrary to Charles' opinion, actually tastes phenomenal.

“I don't know,” he replies and sips his wine. “But if need be, you and I can stay here another night.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” you remind him. "Your mom would be furious with us if we didn't show up for dinner. And then she'd kill us."

Your roommate shakes his head. "My mom loves you. She'd kill me without hesitation, but definitely not you." He leans back a little and rests his head in the pillow so that he's comfortable but still sitting upright enough to drink easily.

“I think I'd stand up for you,” you say before taking another sip.

The Monegasque looks at you, dumbfounded. “You think?”

The way he opens his eyes and looks at you, you can't help but burst out laughing. "Yeah. After all, I don't want to incur your mother's wrath. I like her far too much for that,” you say into your glass and look at him over the rim.

Charles rolls his eyes. "You're being mean. I'll take you on my boat -"

“Yacht,” you correct him.

"All right then. I take you on my yacht, where you can even spend the night, make you delicious food and offer you all the alcohol you can imagine - and you think you'd stand up for me?" Playfully hurt, he puts his hand on his chest. “Wow. I thought you'd care more about me.”

You do, you say in your mind. More than you'll ever know.

“Oh, come on.” You snuggle into your pillow too. "How many women have you taken here already, huh? Surely I'm not the only one you've spent a night with here." Realizing your choice of words, you clear your throat. “In a friendly or romantic way, I mean.” Even though you don't want to know the answer to how many women he's had here on the boat, curiosity wins out.

Your roommate shrugs. “You're the only one,” he replies quietly before taking a sip of his wine. He avoids your gaze.

Your head jerks in his direction. “Not even Annika?”

“Not even Annika,” he confirms to you. “I - I don't know - I took Annika out for a nice day at sea once, but we went home at night. This is the first time I've been on a boat with someone other than my family and stayed the night."

His answer relieves you a little. Apparently you're not the next in a line of women Charles is spending the night with on his boat. And the fact that you're the only one, according to him, makes you feel a little happy.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you start your sentence, “you're also the first person I spend the night with on a boat.” You smile at him.

“It's not that difficult if you've never been on a boat before,” he replies with a grin. “And I thought it was a yacht?”

You roll your eyes. “Don't make me regret being on a boat on the open sea.”

As the wind sweeps around you and the sun disappears behind the horizon, you pull on your sweater. You feel Charles's gaze on you. “What?”

He shakes his head. "I thought the alcohol would warm you up a bit. But apparently you need to drink more."

You look into your cocktail glass. “I've almost finished your Nightmare Colada,” you defend yourself.

"But only almost. Drink up, then I can pour you another one."

You raise your glass to your lips. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Maybe,” he grins and pulls a shaker out of the basket. "There's a little Nightmare Colada left, if you like. Otherwise there's still your wine, or Sex on the Beach, or schnapps."

You take the last sip of your cocktail and put the glass down for him to refill. Heat shoots into your face, which is almost certainly due to the alcohol - and definitely not the way he says the word 'sex'. "Your offer sounds tempting. I think I'll stick to the nightmare colada for now. We can always have the schnapps later."

Charles shakes the shaker briefly before carefully pouring the rest of the cocktail into your glass. “I haven't had a schnapps in ages.”

"Why? Is your nutritionist against it?” you ask him with a grin.

“Yes, actually,” he replies and hands you your glass. "But I'm on vacation at the moment, so I don't really care. That's why I had the chicken nuggets."

You raise your eyebrow. “I thought the chicken nuggets were there so we wouldn't get drunk straight away?”

Your friend shakes his head. "Actually, you had chicken nuggets because, culinarily speaking, you stayed somewhere between canned soup and Big Mac. That's what Lando said anyway."

The fact that he remembered that warms your heart. A little something you didn't think he would remember.

"There's also dessert, by the way, if you're still a little hungry. Chocolate muffins,” he smiles. "But maybe we'll save them for later, when we're drunk. They'll taste even better then."

“Muffins?” you ask in surprise. When Charles nods, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” His voice is soft and warm. He briefly puts his glass to one side and pulls on his white sweater.

“Are you cold?” you joke, sipping your cocktail.

“Haha.” He rolls his eyes and adjusts the bandana that is still tied around his head. “Even if the alcohol warms me on the inside, I can be cold on the outside.”

“But make me look stupid for it,” you retort playfully.

"Sure. It's just pretty easy to drive you up the wall."

“What do you mean -” you start your question, but he jumps up from the sun bed as if stung by a tarantula.

“There!” He goes to the railing in front of you and holds on tight. “I told you.”

You carefully put your glass to one side and stand up too. When you see what he means, your breath catches in your throat.

Monaco shines in front of you in the dark and the water reflects the light beautifully. Charles hasn't promised too much.

You stand next to him with your mouth open, your eyes fixed on the beautiful Monaco. “It is - breathtaking.”

“It is,” Charles replies quietly. You don't notice him looking at you. “Breathtaking.” He‘s almost ashamed at how beautiful you look to him. He has to look away.

The Monaco in front of you glistens and sparkles, captivating you so much that an idea occurs to you. With quick - and slightly swaying - steps, you walk back and grab your camera before standing on the sun bed. The cocktail has done a good job, because the cushion under your feet feels like jelly, so you need a moment to find your footing.

Charles is apparently just as fascinated by the view as you are, because he doesn't seem to notice that you've moved away from him. He continues to look ahead, towards his home, while you take a photo of him. A single photo - and when you look at it on your camera, you could cry.

“That's it,” you smile.

“Huh?” Charles turns to you questioningly. “What's what?”

You proudly hand him your camera. “This is the picture.”

He looks at it briefly before glancing at you. A smile spreads across his face. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you here.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he closes his mouth again before handing the camera back to you.

“Maybe you should hire me,” you joke, sending the picture to your phone and then sending it to him.

“Maybe I should.” His smile is warm and electrifying and luminous. He's beaming - like the Monaco behind him.

God, he's the most beautiful man in the world.

“But first -” he walks around you, staggers across the sun bed and leans forward to fish a bottle out of the basket. “But first - comes the schnapps.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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mintyjinx · 9 months ago

Text

Retro Vinyl Record Player -

Another addition to the Vintage/Retro electronics collections! Here’s the Retro Vinyl Record Player! I'll see you on the dark side of the Plumbob!

Information: ♦ Base game compatible ♦ Functional Stereo System ♦ 15 swatches ♦ Maxis Match with proper Simlish letters ♦ Found under Entertainment & Electronics → Audio

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Note(s): For any questions, requests, or if you’re having any issues with my CC; leave a comment, send me a message or ask me anything HERE.

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Download link(s) below ⤵️

✦ Ko-fi (Free) Just pick the option to pay 0$ Or ✦ Patreon (Free)

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T.O.U. & Notes for creators: ✦ You may edit any and all of my meshes. All I ask is to credit me with a link that leads to this page stating that you’ve used my mesh as a base/source etc. ✦ The previous statement also applies to conversions. You may convert my CC to be used in other games and media. Just credit me and link back to this page!

✦ You may post pictures containing my CC - Credit is not required but appreciated especially because I really enjoy seeing my CC in other people’s games. So feel free to tag me in your posts so I can see them!

✦ You may absolutely recolor my CC. If you share the recolor then please do not include the mesh but rather provide a link back to this page. For more detailed notes regarding this, click HERE or contact me directly.

#sims 4 custom content #Ts4cc #Ccfinds #sims4cc #Simblr #Maxis match #ts4ccfinds #Ts4mm #Sims 4 custom content #sims 4 cc #s4mmcc #S4cc #Sims4 #Ts4 #S4ccfinds #sims 4 maxis match cc #sims 4 furniture #sims 4 y2k #sims 4 decor

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scoutofmymind · 16 days ago

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hey loved your fics you are incredibly talented. i have a scene picture some angst reader is kinda like jo march if u watched little women and luigi is laurie in that one hill scene. basically reader prioritizes acads because of her upbringing - high achiever, academic validations, the whole package and luigi somehow is the same but he compels the reader in a magnetic way because luigi gets to be so carefree and awesome about it and turns out luigi and reader have a common thread and it's turning out rlly good but then reader is slightly scared of commitment in a relationship dare i say? because it was all acads for reader even though there were dreams of having a relationship, it all seemed abstract and unreal!! and the angst comes when luigi confesses to reader and reader reacts very defensive i suppose spitting out word vomit enumerating reasons why luigi shouldnt like her and how he's too good for her and luigi just shuts reader up by pinching their cheeks and holding them steady saying i want you all of you all that sweet stuff...this is just a thought i want to say i admire you heavily your writing is pivotal

Without Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, pining, best friends, purest love, summer, unrequited, lowkey gut-wrenching (sorry)

Wc: 6,843 (I could not stop writing)

Notes; Before we begin, I have to say, anon, I very much enjoyed writing this!! And thank you so much for sending me this request! ✨ there are only a couple bits of dialogue that match the hill scene, but I wanted to throw them in there!

This is lowkey a mini-fic, so enjoy!

Side note: If anything is badly edited, I will likely come back to do some cleaning up. But maybe not. Also I’ve started picking songs to include in requests wherever they may fit in. I want to mention too that backstory is something I just simply can’t leave out when it comes to angsty or emotional scenes, so I’m sorry I literally can’t shut up.

The cicadas weave their summer hymn through the gentle lap of water against stone, your body stretched across whisper-soft grass beside the reservoir.

This spot holds years of you both — echoes of skinned knees and bruised elbows soothed by cool spring water, of childhood dares and teenage secrets.

"You never swim with me anymore." Luigi's voice carries no accusation, just a quiet observation that somehow makes it worse. You can picture his expression without looking —that gentle, knowing thing that always sees too much. "All you do now is torch yourself in the sun."

Your back peels away from the grass, elbows bent to prop you up. Through his borrowed sunglasses — because of course you forgot yours back at the house, and of course he had a spare —you study him.

He's summer personified: water-darkened hair curling at his temples, shoulders golden in the early evening light, wearing a smile easy as breathing.

"I just don't want to get my hair wet, Lu." You say it with the comfortable certainty of someone who's had this exact argument a hundred times before.

"Well, don't then." His retort is quick, familiar. He moves through the water with an easy grace that somehow makes the old reservoir look more inviting than it ever has, though you'd never admit it.

Your shoulders are painted with freckles from all these summer days — chasing chickens in the fields, racing bikes into the city with him riding at your back, his presence as constant as the seasons.

"But then when I get out, I'll be cold." The words float between you like lazy dragonflies, and Luigi just shakes his head, spattering droplets that catch the light.

He pouts, but not like you do.

Where your pouts are theatrical productions, his is a quiet thing — eyebrows drawn together in thought, bottom lip pulled inward instead of jutted out dramatically. His gaze fixes downward at his feet beneath the crystal-clear water, methodically toeing one stone over, then another, like the placement of each pebble might solve some grand puzzle.

You watch him wage his silent war of reorganization, using nothing but his ten toes as construction equipment. It's such a Luigi thing to do — finding the smallest tasks to occupy himself instead of splashing around like he usually does, trying to tempt you in.

"Bet the water feels incredible," he murmurs, more to the stones than to you. His toes have created a perfect semicircle now, a tiny amphitheater beneath the surface. "Like that lemonade your mom makes — you know, the one with mint?"

You do know.

The kind she only makes when the temperature crawls past ninety, when the air feels thick enough to chew. Like today. You can almost taste it — tart and cool and perfect — which is exactly what Luigi intended with that particular comparison, the sneak.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are," you inform him, but you're already sitting up straighter, your legs beginning to tingle from staying still too long in the sun.

The grass has left impressions on your skin, tiny crosshatched patterns that Luigi always says look like secret maps, his fingers drawing lines upon them.

He doesn't look up from his underwater construction project, but one corner of his mouth quirks upward. "Never claimed to be subtle. That's your department, avoiding the water like it's personally offended you."

"The water hasn't offended me," you say, though you draw your knees up to your chest, putting another inch between you and the shoreline. "We have a mutual understanding. It stays there, and I stay here."

"Mhm." Luigi abandons his stone circle, wading a few steps deeper until the water laps at his knees, stood there in his trunks, the cobalt blue ones that hit just above his mid-thigh. "And how's that working out for you? Enjoying your dusty patch of grass while I'm out here living like a king?"

The problem is, he does look a bit regal out there, all long limbs and easy grace, like he was born for summer days and spring water.

You've known Lu since you were both gap-toothed and gangly, but sometimes — like now — he seems to have grown into himself while you weren't looking.

Yet, your own limbs still feel too long, too awkward, like you're wearing a costume that doesn't quite fit.

Meanwhile, Luigi wears summer like a second skin, all easy movements and natural grace, as if the universe decided to polish him up while leaving you in your perpetual state of stumbling through doorways.

"A king of minnows, maybe," you counter, but you're already uncurling, letting your feet stretch toward the water's edge. Not to join him, obviously. Just to... test the temperature.

"Ah," he says softly, watching your toes creep closer, his voice taking on a funny narrators tone, an accent thrown in that sounded similar to his fathers. "The snail emerges from her shell."

"Shell-less snails are just slugs," you inform him primly, but dip one toe in anyway. The water isn't as cold as you expected — it never is, but that doesn't stop you from putting on this show every single time. "And I'm neither."

"No," Luigi agrees, dropping the accent but keeping that amused lilt in his voice. "You're more like- like one of those hermit crabs. The ones that think really hard about switching shells but then just stick with the same one anyway."

You splash water at him with your foot, and he doesn't even try to dodge. "Fuck, Lu —That's the worst analogy I've ever heard."

"Is it?" He takes a few steps backward, deeper into the water, like he's laying out a trail for you to follow. "Because you're still sitting there, thinking about coming in, just like you do every time.“

Luigi could easily remember all the days spent here, in this very body of water together — the secret collection of precious gems that were really just polished river rocks, the fossil that turned out to be an old bottle cap, and that infamous river snake from an overturned stone that had you shrieking and refusing to dive under for weeks.

"Can't be thinking about doing it if I'm already doing it, Lu." You roll your eyes, your shins now lapping gently with clean, cool water. The trees droop overhead like nature's own parasol, their leaves casting dappled shadows that dance across your shoulders.

He's quiet for a moment, watching you with an expression you can't quite read. And then. “Remember when we thought we found actual dinosaur bones here?"

"You mean the plastic fork?"

"A very convincing plastic fork."

The water feels like silk against your skin now, and you find yourself wading deeper without really meaning to. It's muscle memory, maybe — your body remembering what your mind keeps second-guessing.

"At least I wasn't the one who tried to sell it to the museum.” you remind him, the water now swirling around your waist. Each step stirs up tiny clouds of silt that disappear into the clear water.

He splashes in your direction, grinning. "We were tweleve! And Mrs. Henderson at the museum was very nice about it."

"She gave you a cookie and a lecture about scientific integrity."

"Exactly. A win-win."

You're deep enough now that you have to lift your arms to keep them dry, though you're not sure why you're bothering. Your bikini is already clinging to you, and that familiar weightless feeling is starting to take over — the one that always made you feel brave before.

"You know what your real problem is?" Luigi quips, but this time his voice is gentler. "You forgot how to play."

The words hit harder than you expect, maybe because there's no teasing in them now.

Just truth, floating there on the surface like a leaf.

"I didn't forget," you say quietly. "I just- I put it away somewhere."

The look in his eyes tells you exactly what's coming, but muscle memory kicks in before you can retreat, your arms already up in defense position as he sends a massive splash your way, the arc of water catching sunlight like scattered diamonds before it hits you full in the face.

"Luigi!" you shriek, but you're already laughing, already moving. Your soul remembers this dance even if your mind's been trying to forget it, and the water parts easily as you lunge toward him, years of practice making your movements swift and sure.

He tries to dodge, but you know all his tricks — the way he always feints left before going right, how he can't resist staying just within splashing range.

The water battle that ensues is immediate and fierce, both of you laughing and gasping, sending waves in every direction, limbs smacking into each other at times, your body trailing away from his while he charged closer.

"See?" he manages between splashes. "The Queen of minnows!”

You're about to respond when your foot slips on a smooth stone, and suddenly you're going under.

For a split second, panic flares — but then the tranquility and silence envelops you, and it feels like greeting an old friend, your eyes open underwater, seeing the filtered sunlight create shifting patterns all around you, and suddenly you remember why you used to love this so much.

When you surface, pushing wet hair from your face, Luigi is watching you with a grin, his sunglasses pushed away from his face and atop his head instead, nestled in his damp black curls. “You got your hair wet.” He gives you one last gentle splash, his grin so carved into his features it may as well be everlasting.

Luigi, the son of Marco Mangione, whose genius lay in transforming his grandfather's modest Milan carpentry shop into Mangione Artisan Living — now a name whispered in the same breath as Fendi Casa and Bottega Veneta's home collection.

When Marco married Sofia Bernardi in the 80’s, a celebrated interior designer, they moved to America, the local papers painting it as another wealthy foreigner's passing fancy — this modernist villa rising among cornfields and weathered barns.

But Marco had seen something in these hills that reminded him of Tuscany, in the calloused hands of local woodworkers that echoed his grandfather's.

The Mangione Mansion stands like a slice of northern Italy transplanted to American soil, with its stark geometries softened by groves of imported olive trees and terraced gardens.

It's a world away from your family's farmhouse, where the paint peels in honest patches and the screen door creaks a familiar welcome, yet Marco moves between these worlds with effortless grace, discussing the merits of different wood grains with your father across the fence line, or clearing out your mother's farmer's market stall of preserves, declaring each jar Perfetto, just like my Nonna's! with the same genuine warmth he uses to greet European royalty.

Luigi, who could have been pressed into private academies and dinner jackets, groomed for Ivy League legacies and country club memberships, had instead grown up alongside you in public school — though his future was cushioned by both financial security and natural brilliance.

You can't remember a time when academic excellence wasn't your north star — every assignment a stepping stone, every grade a battle in the war for your future.

Being a veterinarian wasn't just a dream, it was your escape route from the endless cycle of farm life that had worn your father's hands to calluses and bent your mother's back.

Perfect attendance since kindergarten, straight A's through AP Biology, even showing up on Senior Skip Day — just you and Lacey Williams, the would-be neurosurgeon, bent over your textbooks in an empty classroom.

Now here you both are in the water — you with your scholarship letters and student loan applications waiting at home, him with acceptance letters from Harvard and Yale gathering dust on his desk.

Two lives that should never have intersected, meeting in the middle of sun-warmed water, your shared freckles catching golden light, limbs tangling as Luigi feints another playful attack.

•

Summer buzzes by your eyeshot like a cicada in a hurry, the season winding down with cooler, longer nights and shorter, blazing hot days.

August comes barreling through like it always does, hot and sticky air clinging to your skin as you sit with Luigi upon the sloped side of the barn, a Birds Eye view of the farm, this very spot the first place the two of you had tried smoking weed, the very first time you ogled at a traumatizing porn everyone at school was talking about — this spot, worn from years of shared moments together is the very place you create some distance.

For the first time.

“I think I want my own party this year.”

The words land like a stone in still water, ripples of hurt crossing Luigi's face before he can master his expression.

For a moment, he looks eight years old again, standing in the tall grass with his first American birthday cake — the one your mom made because his parents were still learning that birthdays here meant homemade frosting, not elegant catered affairs and grand garden parties.

"Oh," he says, and it's the smallest you've ever heard his voice. "Yeah, of course. That makes sense. We’re turning twenty-two. Not eight anymore.” His smile doesn't reach his eyes, hands fidgeting with the bracelet you’d made him years and years ago — the same nervous tell he's had since childhood. "Actually, Ma’s been saying I should do something more — you know, formal this year anyway."

The lie sits between you like a third person.

Luigi, who once convinced his parents to move his elaborate garden party to your barn because you had the flu has never cared for formal anything.

You can see him rebuilding his walls, brick by careful brick, protecting himself the way he never had to with you before.

"Send me pictures though?" he adds lightly, but there's at least fifteen years of shared candles and off-key, bi-lingual singing wrapped in that request, fifteen years of your mom's chocolate cake and his ma’s tiramisu side by side on the same table.

"Luigi, it's not-" you start, then pause, because it is exactly what he thinks it is. A separation. A gentle fracture. "I just need to figure out who I am without- without being part of a matched set. Does that make sense?"

The words feel clumsy in your mouth, inadequate to explain this need that's been growing since your acceptance letter arrived.

You watch him nod too quickly, the way he does when he's processing something that hurts.

The same way he looked when Benny, one of the milking cows had passed three summers ago, or the way he looked when you told him you couldn’t go on the Mangione trip to Italy, desperately needing the vet clinic hours.

"My party's probably just going to be pizza with my study group anyway," you continue, trying to make it sound smaller than it is, even though you've already planned every detail — your first real birthday party that isn't shaped around accommodating both your worlds. "And you should do something spectacular. Twenty-two is a weird number, but you could make it your thing.“

He laughs, but it's his polite laugh, the one he uses at his father's business dinners. "Maybe I'll rent out that new rooftop place in the city," he says, playing along with this sudden pretense that the two of you haven't spent months quietly planning your joint party like every year before. "Very grown-up."

The space between you fills with unspoken memories — dual parties with increasingly ridiculous themes, the year you both got chicken pox and celebrated in quarantine together, or the year his mother hired a magician who pulled you both on stage as assistants.

Fifteen years of wishes and synchronized candle-blowing, and you’ve put an abrupt end to it, with not so much as a warning.

"You're not mad?" you ask, even though you can see he is — not angry-mad, but hurt-mad, the kind that makes his shoulders tight and his smile too careful.

He stands abruptly, brushing invisible dirt from his shorts. "Mad? Nah, come on. We're not kids anymore." The words come out just a touch too fast, too light. "Actually, I should head back. Papa wanted to discuss something about the company tonight."

It's barely seven, and Marco's in New York City until Thursday — you both know this. But Luigi's already stepping back, that practiced social smile firmly in place, the one he uses when he needs to retreat but is too polite to say so.

"Night," he calls over his shoulder once he scales the side of the barn down to the grass again, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You watch him walk away, his usual easy stride now stiff and measured, leaving you alone with just the sound of the bullfrogs near the pond, and the chickens settling in their coops for the night.

The sunset feels colder somehow, and you wrap your arms around your knees, trying to convince yourself this is what growing up looks like as you sit there until the mosquitoes start biting, watching the space where Luigi disappeared and wondering if this is what independence is supposed to feel like — this hollow victory that tastes nothing like freedom and everything like loss.

•

The late August evening slowly begins to melt into night, the air carrying whispers of autumn though summer still reigns.

You breathe in deep — catching hints of hay being baled in distant fields, leaves just beginning their subtle shift from green to gold, and lake water evaporating off sun-warmed skin. The pontoon boat hums steadily beneath you, loaded with friends sprawled across every available surface, their laughter echoing across the darkening water.

You'd done your best to prepare them all, carefully explaining the separate celebrations to avoid awkward questions.

But Luigi's absence feels like a shadow you can't shake — in the pause after every joke, in the empty space at the boat's stern where he always sat, in the way conversations drift and fade without his easy charm to bridge them.

You're learning that some people leave gaps too precisely shaped to fill, and you catch yourself waiting for sounds that aren't coming —the full-bodied laughter that usually ricochets across the lake, the constant stream of Luigi's commentary that made even silence feel alive.

No one's standing at the boat's edge, goading others into increasingly ridiculous diving contests. The absence of these things sits heavy in your chest, like missing the last step on a familiar staircase.

"Good for you for doing your own thing this year," Mia offers, wine sloshing in her solo cup as she gestures vaguely. "Must be nice not having to compromise on everything for once."

Not really, you think.

The evening settles into dinner in the back garden, strings of lights casting warm halos over familiar faces — relatives, neighbors, friends who'd trickled in as the day aged and as if on cue, the peaceful scene splinters at the sound of tires on gravel and a booming voice that makes your stomach drop.

"Where's Luigi?!"

Cousin Tony's borrowed truck sits askew on the path, driver's door still swinging open like an afterthought.

He bounds toward you, one arm clutching what's clearly a wine bottle wrapped in what looks like yesterday's newspaper, his face bright with the anticipation of seeing his favorite duo.

The sight makes something in your chest twist.

He’s always treated you both as his own blood, never drawing lines between family and chosen family.

You're crushed into a bear hug before you can dodge it, his familiar cologne mixing with engine grease as you try to breathe through compressed lungs, but he’s still calling for Luigi over your head, each shout making the other guests shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"He's somewhere in the city, Tone," you manage to wheeze out.

Your phone burns in your pocket, where Luigi's latest Instagram story sits unopened — some rooftop view you're deliberately not thinking about.

"What'da ya mean?" His grip loosens just enough for you to see his face fall, confusion creeping into his features like a slowly spreading stain.

"We're... trying something different this year," you say, words feeling clumsy as you glance over your shoulder at the laden table — a spread that still unconsciously includes all of Luigi's favorites alongside your own. The sight of his mother's recipe for stuffed shells sitting next to your grandmother's pierogies makes your throat tight.

"Well, is he at least comin' later?"

"No." The word falls between you like a stone. "He couldn't cancel his reservation without losing the booking fee, so I just told him it was fi-"

"No, no, mia cara," Tony drags his hands through his hair, face crumpling like you've just told him the world is ending. "Potrebbe essere l'ultimo!" The words tumble out in his rushed native tongue, his distress making him forget himself.

"You just said that in Italian." Your voice sounds far away, even to your own ears, like it's coming from the bottom of a well.

"Shit — It could be your last time, cuginetta." Tony's sigh seems to come from his bones as he pulls out his phone, cursing when he sees the no-service icon.

"My last time?"

Tony lifts his head slowly from his phone screen, eyes finding yours with a weight that makes your stomach drop. "What — oh, Dio — do you mean to say he has not told you?"

"Told me...?” You brace yourself, chest aching with a sudden, sharp regret for all those breakfast lessons with Luigi's nonna, her patient voice guiding you through pronunciations you'd carelessly let slip away between coffee and lunch.

"He got big'a job in the big city," Tony's hands sweep upward, as if trying to encompass the vastness of a metropolis that stretches far beyond any gesture could capture. "Saying bye-bye forever to smelly farm." His hands fall, and his expression softens into something dangerously close to pity. "Sorry.”

"Leaving? Like — he's moving there?" The words feel strange in your mouth.

You're standing in the same garden where you and Luigi once buried treasure maps at age eight, where you learned to cartwheel together at twelve, where you shared your first illegal beer at sixteen — and suddenly it all feels like archaeological evidence of something that's already gone.

"That's where zio Marco is now, making sure Princess Luigi has all the things he need there for — uh—" Tony lapses into rapid Italian, but you've already stopped listening, the rest of his words fading into white noise.

You're hung up on the present tense of it all — Luigi’s father is there now, apartment hunting, setting up a brand new life while you stand here in your shared history, surrounded by people who apparently knew more about Luigi's future than you did.

The realization hits very suddenly.

Luigi was moving away, and he spoke not a word of it to you.

Tony manages a plate of food before borrowing your landline, desperate to track down Luigi in the sprawling city and when his truck finally crunches back down the gravel path, you feel it like a physical wound — as if he's taking a piece of you with him, torn straight from your core, yet, you maintain your composure with award-winning precision, a smile fixed firmly in place as guests filter away into the darkness.

You go through the motions, accepting kisses on cheeks, graciously receiving gifts labeled with just your name - no more Dynamic Duo or Thing 1 and 2 scrawled in familiar handwriting.

You help clear the garden, stack chairs, wash dishes that held food Luigi would have fought you for the leftovers of. You kiss your father's cheek goodnight, and tell your still-bustling mother you're heading out for some stargazing.

It's not entirely a lie.

You do end up beneath the stars, though you hadn't exactly planned to collapse here by the waterfront, where the distant dock creaks its lonely song, the splash of jumping fish and the bold croaking of nearby bullfrogs barely register — sounds that would normally make you jump now feel as distant as satellite signals.

You're lost in the undertow of your thoughts, barely noticing the warm tears tracking down your neck until your t-shirt is damp with evidence of a grief you didn't know you needed to prepare for — the silence holds you, envelopes you, and you’re almost convinced you can disappear here until-

"Hey, stranger."

His voice cuts through the cricket symphony like a knife, and you freeze, tears still wet on your face.

You don't turn around — can't turn around — because you know exactly what he'll look like: silhouetted against the moons full and distant glow, wearing that stupid designer jacket he bought last month that suddenly makes too much sense.

Big City boy.

The grass whispers beneath his feet as he approaches, each step measured like he's greeting a spooked animal.

It's funny — he used to just crash down beside you, all elbows and laughter.

When did you become something he had to be careful with?

"Tone called me," he says softly, still standing. "Said he found you but couldn't find me." There's a pause, heavy with unspoken words. "Told me other things, too."

The lake laps at the shore, a steady rhythm that used to calm you both on countless nights like this.

Now it just sounds like a countdown.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Your voice sounds small against the vastness of the lake, broken and confused, betrayed and disbelieving.

"Would it have changed anything?" His words come sharp, defensive. "Would you have suddenly decided to stay?"

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" The laugh that escapes him is bitter and unfamiliar. "You want to talk about fair? I watched you apply to every college more than fifty miles away. Watched you light up talking about leaving, about getting out. Never once asking—" He cuts himself off, his gaze turning up instead at the trees that sway and rustle in the midnight air, a chill taking your spine.

"Asking what, Lu?”

"If I wanted to come with you." The words hang in the darkness between you. "If maybe I had dreams too, ones that didn't involve watching you disappear."

"I never said you couldn't-“

"What do you think I was going to do, wait around forever?" His voice cracks at the end, brittle and broken. "God, I've spent my whole life orbiting you like a personal Pluto. I don't even remember my life before you." He paces now like an agitated zoo animal behind a sheath of thin glass, just out of reach. “And yet, you expect me to stay here without you? While you go to college, make your own dreams come true?"

The moonlight catches his face as he turns, and you see something break in his expression. "I would have waited. I would have always waited, but fuck—" His hands tremble as they rake through his hair. "You've pushed and pushed and pushed me away. Every college application, every excited story about your future somewhere else, the party -“ he watches as you stand, your posture ridged and nervous, but attentive.

"Lu, please -“

"So what do I do?" His voice drops lower, trembling. "I have to think of myself too. I have to accept that we won't always be this way." He watches as you scrub your hands over your face, your unsteady legs carrying you off the dock.

The cool, damp grass beneath your feet becomes an anchor, something real in a moment that feels anything but.

He follows, his body angled toward yours like a compass finding north. "But it didn't have to be like this." His voice softens to barely above a whisper, his dress shoes crushing the grass with each step.

"Well, what exactly did you expect?" You whirl around, wiping furiously beneath your eyes, moonlight catching the tears on your cheeks that refuse to be unseen. "We were going to play in the river forever? Did you think we'd just find our way without ever trying?" The words come out harder than you mean them, sharp with the kind of anger that's really just fear in disguise.

"I- you-" Luigi's voice breaks.

His eyes are bloodshot, the bridge of his nose red from earlier tears hastily wiped away in the party bathroom. In the half-light, he looks both younger and older than your shared twenty-two years — a boy trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers, a man facing his first real loss.

"You know, maybe it might have been that easy for you, Lu." Your eyes drift to the Mangione Mansion, its windows gleaming like jewels against the dark hills, an anomaly among the endless cornfields. "You never had to lift a finger — it always just..." You gesture vaguely, bitterly. "Fell into place."

The words taste like copper in your mouth, sharper for how unfair they feel.

Because he's always shared everything.

Those lavish family dinners where his mother insisted you sit next to her, those delicate necklaces from Rome that he'd drape around your neck with careful fingers, those shopping trips where his nonna would press dresses into your arms with a conspirator's wink.

He's never once made you feel like charity.

But there are some things that can't be shared, some advantages that run deeper than generosity.

While you pieced together credits between evening classes and online courses, fighting for every inch of progress, he'd come home rolling his eyes at another Harvard letter, another Yale recruiter calling.

You take a deep breath, feeling the summer air fill your lungs, and air that smells like it always has, like corn silk and cut grass and the all-consuming night. "Did you think we'd just stay here in our bubble, Lu?" Your voice softens despite yourself. "The only place we've ever known?"

All he can do is stand there, helpless, caught between a nod and denial.

His expression crumples into something raw and pleading — such a far cry from the boy who, just last week, had painted patterns across your skin with river mud, both of you laughing until your sides hurt.

The same boy whom you could communicate with without even speaking to, who knew exactly how you took your coffee, who was born the day before you, and who could read your silences like a book he'd memorized; yet now he's looking at you like you're written in a language he never learned to speak.

"No." The word propels you forward, feet moving before your brain catches up.

His face softens into something unbearable — like watching a star collapse in slow motion, finally understanding that this isn't just another one of your theoretical late-night talks about the future.

His carefully constructed composure crumbles, leaving behind something young and scared and achingly real.

"I love you." The words fall from his lips like muscle memory, like breathing, like the thousands of times before — whispered against your hair during movies, shouted across parking lots, mumbled sleepily during long car rides. But now they land heavy between you, a weight pressing against your chest until it hurts to breathe. "I always have, and I always will—"

"No. No, Lu." Your voice cracks on his name, and your pace quickens, bare feet crushing grass beneath desperate steps.

But he matches you stride for stride.

“My life has been so intertwined with yours, when you began to pull away - I- I panicked,” He was rambling now, quick and out of breath but keeping up with you nonetheless, the two of you navigating the vast property, moon and starlight the only thing guiding your path. “I settled on what I knew would be easiest,”

“That’s the problem.” You stop again to look at him, your chest heaving. “You don’t need to settle, Lu — you’re brilliant, you’re so fucking brilliant-“ he grabs your wrists gently, taking several steps to close the gap between you.

"I have never settled on you." Luigi's voice goes rigid, cracking in the middle like ice breaking over deep water. Each word carries the weight of years — shared secrets, dreams whispered under blanket forts, and promises made in tree houses. "You have always been my first option."

You catch your breath, the familiar warmth of his hands on your wrists suddenly feeling like shackles.

Your head shakes, slow and deliberate, as you try to pull back — but his grip steadfast remains. "How would you know of the other options?" The question comes out softer than you mean it to, weighted with everything you've both been too scared to say. "Do you know yourself without me?”

"I don't want to know myself without you."

"Luigi. Please stop-“ You wrench your wrists from his loosened grip, your feet carrying you forward through the night but he follows, like an echo you can't shake, like a shadow that refuses to fade with distance.

His words tumble out faster now, chasing the shrinking space between you and home, visible through the wavering corn stalks like a lighthouse warning of rough water ahead. "I know I'm not — I know I'm not Matthew Williams, or that guy that works the stables near the Bradshaws. And I know I’m not a perfect man, but—"

You stop once again, so abruptly this time he nearly collides with you, turning to face this strange new version of Luigi — one you've never seen before, one who wears his insecurities like an ill-fitting suit.

He's brave, you'll give him that, but he's also terrified in a way that makes your chest ache.

This boy who's never had to compete for anything in his life, suddenly listing off names like entries in a contest he thinks he's losing.

"You stop that." Your finger jabs at his chest, connecting with the expensive fabric of his jacket. "You are the most-the most magnificent person I have ever met, Luigi. And you're not perfect, no-“ You swallow against the rising bile, against the irony of having to defend him to himself when you're the one walking away. "But you're honest, and you're good — a goddamn great deal too good for me."

The last part comes out like a confession, like something you've carried so long it's carved itself into your bones — the real reason you're running, the fear that someday he'll wake up and realize it too.

The night holds its breath around you, your ragged exhales mixing with his in the space between heartbeats, and the trees shiver their leaves like witnesses to your undoing, crickets falling silent as if they too understand the gravity of this moment — this closing act.

"But-“ You step into his warmth, drawn forward like a moth to flame, even now, knowing it would burn. You’re close enough to catch the familiar scent of his cologne mixing with fresh-cut grass and summer sweat. Close enough to see the moonlight catching in his eyelashes. Close enough to break both your hearts properly. "I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The words tear themselves from your throat like barbed wire, each syllable drawing blood.

Your stomach twists inside out, acid creeping up your throat again, "I can't love you like that. I’m - I’m so, so sorry, Luigi — I just - I can’t,

His hands find your face with the reverence of a prayer, thumbs brushing across your cheekbones like he's trying to memorize the geography of your skin. "Listen to me," he whispers, his voice thick with desperation. "Listen."

The tenderness in his touch nearly breaks you — the way his fingers tremble against your jaw, the gentle circles he traces beneath your ears, the familiar callous on his right thumb from his tree-climbing habit.

His forehead drops to rest against yours, and you can feel his breath hitching, unsteady and warm against your lips.

"You've already loved me better than anyone else ever could," Luigi's voice cracks, splintering like ice in early spring. "You love me exactly as I am — not the heir, not the prodigy, not the Mangione name." His hands slide into your hair, “You have loved me even though I can’t remember to help feed the hens, but I can recite every constellation. And you’ve loved me even though I name every cull cow — even though you think it’s cruel.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and the raw hope in his gaze is almost unbearable. "Please," he breathes, the word more air than sound. "Please don't decide for both of us what kind of love I deserve." His thumbs catch the tears you didn't realize were falling, smearing them across your cheeks like war paint. "Let me choose.”

“Then choose someone else!” You shake your hands at him, helpless and wishing to disappear. “I - I’m so unsure of myself - every goddamn thing I do, Luigi. I break everything, I’m useless at being a homemaker. I’m awkward, I’m a black sheep, even all the way out here.”

You aren’t made for the big city like he is.

The moonlight catches in his dark eyes, turning them to liquid as they search yours. "I don't need perfect love. I don't need textbook romance or fairy tale." His voice breaks, raw with honesty. "I just need you. But - but I can’t live like this forever" He’s speaking faster than you’ve ever heard the smooth-talking, easy going Luigi say anything.

You try to turn away, to escape the weight of his words, but his touch holds you steady — gentle but unwavering. "Luigi — let me the fuck-“

"No," he breathes, the word ghosting across your lips. "No, don't push me away because you think you're protecting me. Don't make decisions about what I can handle." His fingers thread through your hair, cradling the back of your head. "I choose this. I choose the messy parts, the broken parts, the parts you think are unlovable. I choose all of it."

I am stopping this here. Love you 💕

#req #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfic #also thanks so so much for the compliments anon!! I’m here to serve you

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em1989ts · 17 days ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐭 2

part one. main masterlist

word count: 2.6k

summary: after meeting five in the apocalypse, the two of you have a hard time living together. can the two of you control your tempers for one particularly cold winter night to save your lives?

contains: smut so 18+! (reader and five are both 5 years into the apocalypse so they are both eighteen) grinding, dry humping, fingering

author's note: yikes, my first smut. my inbox is open and i'm taking requests!! id love to hear some ideas :) I really wanted to upload this quickly so it's not proofread but eventually i'll edit it . . . but hopefully you guys like this, enjoy!

Living with this stranger definitely changed your life. Whether it was for better or for worse, you had no idea.

The two of you walked for about an hour to his base, with very little verbal interaction reflecting the very little trust between each other.

After a little bit of prying on your part, you managed to extract a bit more background information about this guy who you would now be surviving alongside.

His name was Five Hargreeves.

He had six siblings.

They all had super powers.

They were a team of superheroes formed by their father.

When he first told you, you chuckled through the bandana over your mouth and nose, but he didn’t display the same humor.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Why would I not be?”

“Well maybe you just went cuckoo here and made up some super stupid backstory!” You replied, pretty certain that he was just nuts.

Then all of a sudden, he disappeared.

You jumped at a flash of blue light that suddenly appeared next to you. When you looked back to the area where he was standing, he was gone.

Looking around frantically, your eyes searched the dusty highway for any signs of him. But there was nothing.

Was he even there to begin with? Was he just a figment of your overactive imagination?

Your breathing grew heavy once again as you panicked, then suddenly that blue light and he was right back in his spot next to you, looking amused at your eyes that were wide with shock.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s cuckoo,” he said with a smug voice. You punched him in the shoulder before the two of you continued walking.

~~~~

His base was interesting, to say the least.

He had found a building that had only remnants of its walls intact, no roof, and used tarps to makeshift a roof and to cover the enormous gaps in the concrete.

It didn’t look trustworthy by any means, you’d probably be better off sleeping in cars like you’ve been doing for the past five years.

He lifted one of the tarps covering a significantly large hole in the wall and crawled in, letting it fall on you as you follow in behind him. You scoffed as you followed his lead.

He surprisingly had a good stash of resources. Several canned foods, boxes of pasta, and cases of water were stacked in a corner. A makeshift fireplace was in the middle, with a pot leaning next to the circle of rocks.

There was a small space in the corner. It consisted of what looked like a bundle of tarps and ashy blankets and pillows. You knew whatever happened to the world pretty much converted everything to dust, but he must’ve found those in cars, which somehow withstood some of the fire.

Since you had been sleeping in cars, you collect a couple of sleeping supplies you had found over the years. Thank fuck people decided to road trip before they perished or else you would have frozen to death ages ago.

You began unpacking your bag and wagon, but you could feel his eyes watching you intently.

Once you got settled, you didn’t really know what to do to break the unnerving awkward silence, he just sat there staring. You would tell him to take a picture since that would last longer but you're pretty sure there were no surviving cameras in the apocalypse.

The sun had set about twenty minutes ago, leaving the base to get darker as night grew closer.

He made his way over to the fire pit, and took out a lighter from one of his pockets. When he went to light the wood aflame, the lighter wouldn’t spark. He tried for a while until you couldn’t bear watching the pathetic scene anymore. You took one of the new lighters you had just grabbed today and handed it over to him. He scoffed and snatched it out of your hand, then lit the fire in one try before tossing it on the ground and quickly walking away.

You were taken aback by his childish actions. Sure, he was alone for years and only had himself to rely on, but now you were here so he shouldn’t be this upset to ask for help with a simple task.

“You know,” you started with an annoyed tone, “the only reason I’m here is so we can work together.”

“I don’t need you or your help,” he snapped.

You cocked your head, not offended but amused. You found his self-reliance ridiculous.

Sure, it would’ve done him wonders if he truly was the only person on Earth, having no one but himself to rely on.

But he wasn’t.

And you sure as hell couldn’t go back to the way things were before.

If the two of you had decided that you could continue to survive on your own once again, you would drive yourselves mad knowing that there was another human to talk to, that someone else was out there alive and that you weren’t alone.

You had to stay together to keep yourselves sane.

“Fine.”

You had too long of a day to even bother arguing with him. He’d either get used to you or die trying.

You got up from the dusty ground and tossed yourself on his soft makeshift bed, comfortably taking over. He groaned frustratingly loud, and he tossed his head back and walked outside to get away from the bothersome girl he now had to deal with.

~~~

A few months had passed since Five had encountered the girl at the gas station. That was the last thing he expected when he went out for more supplies that day.

He definitely never thought he would have to share his hard earned food supply, water supply, and base with her, but that’s exactly what happened.

She was impossible. She was incredibly sarcastic. She was such a pain.

And of course, she was a nobody. This meant whenever she got bored of staring into her gross canned beans during those nights by the fire, she would ask about his past.

He had already told her everything she needed to know, but she kept prying about how he got here, what life was like as a superhero, how his family was. At first, he would ignore her, or at least change the topic to distract her empty mind, but eventually he decided he could tell her little by little. He didn’t trust her, but he knew she wouldn’t try to kill him again.

Initially, he wasn’t thrilled about being stuck with a girl. He was focused on survival, and his alone. But he quickly realized she was incredibly capable of surviving in this long gone world. Hell, she could’ve shot him dead that first day, yet she didn’t.

He had been faced with the barrel of a gun several times in his life, yet he’d never felt the way he had when his life rested in the twitch of your finger.

Your anger did something to him. He blamed it on his teenage hormones, but he couldn’t get enough of when you would pounce at him with a clenched fist. He enjoyed bumping into you purposefully, tripping you, picking you up just to toss you away from him. His constant scowl only hid his raging smirk every time you would get up close, letting him see every detail of your face, how your pupils dilated with intense anger, just to yell about how selfish he was, knowing you were just as guilty.

If surviving on your own in the end of the world wasn’t hard enough, providing for two was nearly impossible. You had to be extremely cautious about your rations, conserving your intake only to what was deemed necessary. Oftentimes, the two of you would steal from each other when no one was watching, which would piss them off horribly, leading to even more fights. If starvation didn’t kill you, your deadly attitudes would.

Your tempers had gone through the roof once you started living together.

Walking away from a fight would call for a knife to be thrown at you behind your back. A snarky comment would result in a hand coming in and punching over your meal.

While neither of you were going out of your way to deliberately kill the other, you sure wouldn’t mind if it accidentally happened.

When the nights got colder, and autumn turned to winter, the wind would pick up, making it extremely difficult for the tarps to trap any heat into the base. No matter what the two of you did, the constant flapping drove you insane, and you had already been ticked off when he ignored every single idea you had. His bright idea of just stretching the tarp tight enough over the biggest gap in the whole base led to it ripping right in half, letting the winds fly in with no other tarp big enough to replace it.

“Great job, you dumb fuck,” you muttered as you turned to the fire, which was too small for its warmth to be felt from the beds.

Your nose felt like it was about to fall off, your fingers felt like nothing, and your lips were blue. You had put on every layer you could find and it still wasn’t enough. Surely, this was the harshest winter you’d experienced in the apocalypse.

You had usually been fine sleeping in cars, but every single one within a mile radius had been completely destroyed. The two of you would let out your violent rage on the vehicles rather than each other.

Five had stared at you from his spot by the hole in the wall, snowflakes freckling his face, holding the remains of the tarp. He did his best to cover as much as he could with the pieces then made his way over to you. He noticed how red your cheeks were, and how pale the rest of you was. You had sat down by the fire and dropped your chin between your knees.

“We’re not surviving this winter,” you said solemnly. You weren’t necessarily giving up, you would still do what you could, but you had little hope in yourself. Morale was hard to build these days, especially when all you wished was to throw yourself into the fire for even a moment of warmth.

For Five, giving in to the cold wasn’t an option. Not in the slightest.

He had an idea, maybe a bold one, but if it meant living to see another spring then he would do it. He walked over to the bed and grabbed as much as he could grab. The tarps, blankets, and pillows stuffed under his arms until he couldn’t fit anymore, and he dropped them right next to you by the fire and started laying them out.

You lifted your head up slightly and displayed a curious arch in your brow as you watched him remake his bed on the ground. The idea was so obvious you cursed yourself for not thinking of it first.

As you were getting up to grab your bed supplies, a freezing hand pulled you back down and into him. You caught your balance with your hand on his jacketed shoulder, “What the hell?-”

“Just listen to me,” he cut you off, “The only way either of us is gonna last the night is if we use our body heat. The fire’s going to help but it won’t be enough.”

You scowled, was that seriously the only option?

Instead of letting you take your sweet time to contemplate whether or not it was worth it to cuddle with him for your life, he tugged you into him and laid down with you.

His arms wrapped around your front as he held you against his chest, and holy fuck, it felt as if you had been leaning against a furnace. His heat warmed you up quickly, and you brought a blanket up to your chin to keep that heat locked in.

The proximity of the two of you was what kept you from falling asleep immediately. His chin resting in your neck made you feel something you didn’t want to admit you felt about Five. His arms around your waist made you want him to move his hands just a little bit lower.

You had an idea that could get you killed.

While pretending to adjust and get comfortable, you gently grinded your ass against him, trying to get a reaction.

Immediately, you could feel his arms tighten around you, and a bulge was already pressing into you.

He leaned closer to your ear and growled quietly, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You turned your neck to look at him, performing with the sweetest eyes you could display, “Just getting comfortable.”

Your lips were inches away from his, yet neither of you made a move to close the gap. Five still looked at you with skeptical eyes even though he knew exactly what you had planned.

Once you moved your hips again, a little harder, he pressed his face into your shoulder as he sighed and repeated the action.

You let out a quiet groan, enjoying the pressure, yet you brought the blanket up over your mouth to muffle it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He picked up his pace, lowering his hands to hold your hips firm, rolling them against his. The blush on your face grew even more red, and you could feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

His grip was tight, his groans were getting louder, and it felt like you really had frozen to death because this felt like heaven.

His hand crawled through your layered sweatpants as he reached between your legs. As his cold fingers reached the spot you needed him most, you almost cried out, desperately needing the pressure.

His other hand moved from your waist, traveled under your sweatshirts, and found its place on your breast. The freezing touch had such a strong sensation, and the pressure felt so good.

“Please,” you let out, knowing you’d be kicking yourself later for sounding so painfully desperate, “I need more.”

He moaned in your ear as his bulge pushed harder against you, “We can’t.”

“Please,” you pleaded, as his fingers circled your clit.

God, you felt pathetic but it felt so good.

He groaned as he gathered your wetness.

“It isn’t safe,” he said, disappointed at the fact that you just couldn’t risk that in the apocalypse.

Before you could beg, he plunged his long fingers into you, soft moans spilling from your throat at the motions.

His actions grew faster and so did his panting, you knew he was getting close and you were too.

You turned your neck to face him, looking up at his flush face. He met your dazed eyes, admiring how your face glowed with pleasure. His eyes locked onto your lips as he moved closer and captured them with his.

Moaning into each other's mouths was just too much for you both, as he came in his sweatpants as you came around his fingers. He let you both ride out your highs before he gently pulled out his fingers.

He looked at you unusually sweetly, and as you turned to ask what that face was about he shoved his fingers into your mouth, sliding your juices onto your tongue, letting you taste yourself.

You were surprised initially and groaned at the action, then bit his fingers which caused him to scowl and quickly pull them out.

“This doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course not.”

~~~

tags: @groovydazephantom

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starlighttsv · 9 days ago

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Live - paige’s sister

💌 Syn: uconn wbb live with taylor!

»»— warnings: it’s not in order of the actual live

»»— notes: finally bringing these over from wp, but the editing did nothing and i still hate this and the others 🫠

»»— word count: 1.4k

»»— pair: paige x sister!oc || taylor bueckers

Paige and KK are sitting on the couch catching their breath after they just did self defense lessons for the viewers on the live. KK's now explaining why she was mad in the car on the live they did earlier with their crumbl cookie review.

"They left me in the mall-" kk started but got cut off "NO I texted you to meet us at the car. I said and I quote 'taylor got scared from the fans screaming and wanting pictures, meet us at the car.' Paige cut in

"And I'm a GIRL!! somebody could just walk behind me and BOOM SNATCHIES!!" KK defended, making everyone laugh at her yelling 'boom snatchies' and then said "tays my girl, so I understand p leaving to take her to the car when she's scared, BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN JANA AND ICE HAD TO LEAVE ME!" Making jana and ice laugh and start defending themselves while Paige try's to focus back on her schoolwork

While KK, Jana, and Ice are arguing defending themselves on live and Paige is doing her schoolwork, Taylor walks out of Paige's room with her fuzzy stitch blanket, Olaf stuffed animal that Azzi bought her on her 1st birthday, her sketch book and her crayons and walks into the living room at the time kk walks over to ice and hugs her and Paige records it

Taylor walks to the couch and sets her stuff next to Paige and starts trying to climb up it while kk yells at ice to hug her back

Kk walks away from ice after they hug and her and Paige both see Taylor struggling to climb up the cushion, Paige immediately sets the phone down and lifts Taylor up next to her before she can get hurt. While Paige helped Taylor, kk sat back in her seat and propped the phone back up, all the comments that where laughing and joking about the kk and ice hug are now greeting Taylor

"Baby Bueckers, wanna say hi to the fans?" Kk asked Taylor while Paige was helping her get comfortable by placing her blanket on her and making a little more room so she has room to draw

Taylor looked at kk then the phone where she can see kk,herself, and Paige and then looks at Paige questioning if she can. Paige nods and says "it's ok go ahead" making Taylor look back to the camera and shyly say hi while waving slowly, making paige and kk laugh a little bit and the comments start gushing about her and how shy she is, seeing as paige the least shy person on the planet is her older sister.

"Isn't she just the cutest" kk somewhat yelled and pinched her cheeks, making taylor giggle but pull away. Eventually the focus goes on to debating if they’re gonna do a talent show and while they’re doing that, Taylor’s drawing paige and the uconn girls for Paige. While Taylor was in Paige's room earlier she also finished a drawing for geno and cd.

"That's cute. Who's that for baby?" Paige says softly while kk is looking for someone to add, for the talent show. "It was supposed to be a surprise." Taylor say sadly "it's for you. Do you like it?" She adds on

"Oh I'm sorry baby, I didn't know. I'll act surprised when you give it to me alright? And I think it's absolutely beautiful. You did so good on it." Paige says softly to Taylor while a fan is singing “before he cheats”

"It's ok, I just have a few more things to add and then you can have it." She replied and Paige nodded and looked away to focus on the talent show, giving her the privacy to finish the drawing.

"DONE" she yelled cutting off the person now screaming because she got accepted into the live, making everyone laugh after kk kicked the fan off "whys everyone laughing? Did I do something?" Taylor says making everyone calm down there laughing

"No, you didn't do anything babe. It was just a funny time to yell. That's all" Paige said making her make an 'ohhh' face, before grinning and shoving the drawing into Paige's chest

"Oh wow for me? did you make this all on your own? This is amazing!" Paige says shocked, making Taylor giggle knowing she's acting "this is you! that's kk and Jana, ice, Azzi, Caroline, Aubs, ash, Sarah, morgy, Allie, yanna, that's Kaitlyn with q, and I did nika over there and Aaliyah over there with ines and amari!" She points everyone out excitedly, making kk, Jana, Aubrey, and ice the only other people in the room to move closer to see the drawing.

All of them saying how good it is, and that they want one for them making her say she'll work on them over summer. Kk grabs the drawing excitedly and shows the camera saying "guys I don't think we need to have a talent show anymore. Taylor obviously wins!" Making Taylor giggle "I don't count" she reply's making kk gasp and put her hand over her heart dramatically "what do you MEAN you don't count? It's a talent show. You showed your talent. You WIN!" Kk said

"Noooo someone on the phone has to win! You don't know them, you know me, that's a disadvantage!" Taylor says making kk look at her with wide eyes "WHY IS THIS 4 YEAR OLD SAYING SENTIENCE'S LIKE THAT?! WHO TAUGHT HER THE WORD DISADVANTAGE?!" Kk scream's making Taylor giggle again and the others to laugh

"She's a smarty pants. She loves learning new things." Paige replies "she knows how to count to 100 too" Paige adds making kk even more shocked

The comments are blowing up, so while kks on her ranting spree, Taylor was focusing on the comments "sissy why are they saying your fine? What happened? Are you ok?" Taylor questions confused, with her saying that made the room go silent for a few seconds before kk breaks the silence by bursting into laughter making the others do the same.

"Alright Alright, no more comments for you. Let's look away from the camera alright?" Paige says trying not to laugh cause she sees taylor is now genuinely concerned "you didn't answer. Why are they saying your fine? Why are you sad?"She said making kk laugh again, Paige leaned forward and smacked kk on the back of the head, glaring at her

"I'm good baby, I'm not sad alright? I don't know what there talking about." She tries to comfort while also not informing her what the fans where actually talking about. "You sure?" She says hesitantly, making Paige nod her head "I'm ok. Promise." She says

Taylor nods and then go on to ask her different questions and things unrelated to that whole situation, making Paige let out a sigh of relief that she dropped this conversation. Kk goes on back to the live adding more people, kicking more people off, that whole routine.

"Sissy can you let my hair down? It's to tight" taylor say halting the conversation about all the places she gets to go to this summer "yeah come here" Paige says while moving her computer to the side and setting Taylor in her lap, starting to take out all the hairties, rubber bands, and bobby pins. When completed Paige massages Taylor's scalp a little bit to relieve the pain from the tight up-do her hairs been in all day, making her lean into Paige more.

While that's happening, kk starts singing pyramids. Paige takes her hands away from Taylors head but she still leans into Paige more, suddenly tired. She yawns making Paige look at her "tired?" She asks and Taylor shakesher head no but then shakes her head yes.

Paige moves her sketch book and crayons to the table, and grabs her blanket and Olaf. Handing Taylor the Olaf, Paige lays Taylor in her arms with Taylor's head in the crook of Paige's elbow, face pressed against her stomach and feet curled up against Paige. Paige tucks the blanket around Taylor making sure shes comfortable before starting to rub her back to help her fall asleep.

Once she fell asleep, paige told kk to keep it down a little bit which she did do for awhile, with her making the fans be a little quieter when they joined. Eventually kk was asking someone to sing sexxy red with the fan asking kk to dance to her singing... Taylor woke up grumpy and Paige had to get her back to sleep

@melpthatsme @rebecca-woso

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x sister!oc #paige buckets #starlighttsv’s works ✍️

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