#he's in his 'i need to get fit' era and he was planning on just eating unseasoned rice and chicken breast
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hischierhoney · 1 day ago
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I Know Places
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Jack Hughes x actress!reader // masterlist
title & inspo from I Know Places by Taylor Swift. written for the Eras Tour fic challenge! thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this on!
Summary: When the press catches Jack leaving your apartment, things seem set to crumble. But Jack has different ideas. 4.2k words
Warnings: mentions of press/pressure from the media, some mild angst but it’s fixed by the end!!
It’s past 2am when you stumble your way into your New York City townhouse, eyes bleary and tired, limbs even more so. The lights are off, besides the one in the hallway, and you don’t bother to turn any of them on. You just shuck off your jacket and shoes, shuffle your way down the hallway, up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. There’s one thought in your brain, and it’s bed. Warm, cozy, soft, full of blankets and pillows and a man-
You nearly scream at the sight, the gentle slope of shoulders under your fluffy comforter. You press your hand to your racing heart as it all comes flooding back. You, on a layover between Los Angeles and New York, stuck in an airport for longer than planned, on the phone with your boyfriend Jack Hughes.
Jack, who’d promised to pick you up from the airport until your flight got delayed. Jack, who has morning skate at 7am and needs his sleep. Jack, who, in a moment of sleep deprived, airport lounge tequila induced delirium, you had told about the key you keep in a potted plant, and suggested that he let himself in. Suggested he crawl into your bed and fall asleep. Just in the interest of sleeping next to him, of maybe having a couple moments with him in the morning.
You don’t get much time with him. Not nearly as much as you’d both like, at least. The two of you are too busy, too full of your own obligations, with his job and your job. Star hockey player and America’s sweetheart actress- it’s like a pairing from one of those Hallmark movies, the ones with perfect houses draped in fake snow that look like they’d smell like warm cookies. Except this is real. And he’s here.
He looks peaceful, you think, as you pad across the room to be closer. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, on his stomach on the bed, laying in a spread eagle position that’s going to leave it difficult for you to find any space. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths puffing out between them. Jack sleeps like the dead, you’ve found, from the now many times you’ve slept in the same bed. He says he’s trained himself into it, with hockey and all. You’ve witnessed his pregame naps, watched him fall asleep in seconds flat. It’s impressive.
You make your way to the bathroom, doing what little you can muster of your nightly routine. When your eyes start to close on their own accord, you shuffle your way back to the bed, in your pajamas now, and study the scene. How best to handle the boy in your bed, how to fit yourself against his body so that you can finally fall asleep like you’ve been aching to do.
Before you get the chance, there’s the shrill sound of a phone alarm, and Jack sits bolt straight up in bed. You stumble over your own feet, hand over your heart again, breath stolen from your lungs. Jack scrambles for his phone. It’s 2:30 am.
He’s rubbing at his eyes when he scans the room and finds you. Then he mirrors your position, eyes wide, hand over his heart.
“Why th’ fuck are you already here?” He mumbles out.
You choke on a laugh. It’s a hell of a greeting. “What?”
He groans. “Set an alarm. T‘go pick you up.”
You blink at him, half his face illuminated in the pale moonlight that spills in through your window. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and makes him shiver- he’s left the window open slightly, the way you like to sleep. Goosebumps raise on his bare skin. You tear your eyes away.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, bewildered. “I told you to just go to sleep.”
“Yeah, but. I set an alarm,” he repeats. He digs the heel of his palm into his cheek, his lips pulled into a pout. “For 12:30. So I could pick you up.”
You cock your head. “Well, it’s 2:30, so I think you set the wrong alarm.”
He groans loudly, brows furrowed, and then lets out some string of gibberish. He checks his phone again, then sets it down on the nightstand. You watch with curiosity as he flops back down onto the bed, on his back this time, blankets pooling around his waist. He’s bare from the waist up. Not for the first time, you have the urge to press yourself against every inch of his skin.
He seems so untouchable, here. Like in this room, he’s only yours. It’s a heady feeling, to watch him sigh and pout about missing his chance to pick you up from the airport. It’s private, normal, domestic. So few things in your life fit any of those descriptors. It tugs at your heartstrings.
“C’mere,” he calls out, spreading his arms across the mattress again. “Come cuddle.”
You don’t argue. Sleep tugs at your bones the second your head hits the pillow. He tugs at you until you’re plastered against him, the heat of his sleep warm body spreading over you. When he ducks his head to kiss the crown of yours, you sigh happily.
“How was th’ flight?” He asks, his voice still laden with sleep.
“Fine,” you mumble. You’re not really in the mood to talk about it. “Missed you.”
He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling with it under your head. “Missed you more.”
You feel his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. You blink through your exhaustion to meet his gaze, and you sigh happily when he kisses you, for real this time. His lips are warm and soft, his little bit of stubble scraping against your skin in an almost hypnotic fashion. This is why you told him about the key. You wanted to come home to him.
The rest of the world melts away, and you’re left with just Jack.
….
You wake up at 11:30 the next morning to an empty, cold bed, a hoodie folded neatly on the end of the bed with the number 86 on the shoulder, and a barrage of notifications on your phone. They’re still rolling in, chiming every so often. Your heart lurches.
There are a billion from your manager- something about being careful and bad look and you didn’t even get in until 2:30 so why was he there- and your stomach sinks even further. When you open twitter, there it is. A grainy, blurry set of photos, of Jack’s shoulder and back as he leaves the townhouse, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his white sneakers bright in the blue early morning light. You can’t see his face in any of them, the hood of his jacket pulled up around his head, which is topped with a beanie and sunglasses. He’s almost unidentifiable, but you know the internet. They’ll figure it out.
It’d be easier if you’d never been seen with him in public before, but you have. Months ago, now, at a charity event hosted by a mutual friend. There’s been a photo of you and Jack from that night, chatting away near the bar in the venue, smiles on both your faces. There’d been a barrage of posts and notifications, then, too- eager Devils fans who were excited to see you talking to him, eager fans of your own who had similar feelings, the other way around. And a text from your manager, reminding you of your upcoming movie, of your male costar who you were supposed to maybe-potentially-possibly be in love with. For the press. For the ratings. But Jack had captured your heart that night, with a teasing joke about Hollywood and a soft little grin on his face, and you’d been unable to forget him.
Now you’re here, in your empty bed while Jack is at practice or meetings, or something in between. It’s not the first time. But it feels like it could be the last.
Jack’s a private person. You are, too, when you can be. When you’d first gone out with him after that first night, he’d seemed wary of all the precautions you took to hide from the press. You’d smiled ruefully and told him that if this was going to happen, he’d have to get used to sunglasses indoors and private rooms and stay at home dates. You’d expected it to scare him off. It usually did- you can’t blame any of them, really.
But it’s been months now, and Jack woke up in your bed this morning. So the scaring didn’t really work as planned.
Text me when you wake up.
That’s the text from Jack. No emojis, a period at the end, no life to it. You fight the urge to roll over, press your face into the pillow, and go back to sleep. Try again later. Hope this is a nightmare.
You text him back, something equally as lifeless. He’s probably busy, he probably won’t have time anytime soon, so you’ll have to wait until then to figure this out-
The phone rings. It’s an echo of Jack’s shrill alarm hours ago, except he’s not here to rub at his eyes sleepily and smile at you and make you feel better. Now it’s his contact, the simple “Jack” flashing across your screen. You sigh and swipe to answer.
“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks on the single syllable, gravelly from stale plane air and travel and disuse.
“Hi,” Jack echoes. His tone is warm. Soft.
You swallow. “I’m-“
“-sorry,” Jack says, talking at the same time as you, saying the exact same words. You blink up at the ceiling above your head.
“What?” You ask, a bit bewildered.
“What?” He repeats. “Why are you sorry?”
You blink again. “Why are you sorry?”
He lets out a huff, one you can almost picture. “I fucked up.”
And this is how it goes. You’d thought of all people, Jack would have the decency to do this in person. To wait until you’re not seconds past waking up. That maybe he’d give you a bit to process before he called it quits, before he says what everyone else has said before him.
It’s too much.
You’d warned him, back when you’d seen him for the 7th time. You’d been laying in his bed, half on top of him, drawing patterns on his bare chest with your pointer finger. He’s asked about labels and how serious this was and if you were seeing anyone else, and told you he wasn’t. All very brave of him, really. You’d been afraid to say anything for weeks.
“Not seeing anyone else,” you’d admitted. “Where would I find the time?”
He’d huffed out a laugh and tucked you close. “Can we maybe keep it that way?”
It should’ve been a red flag. Not on his part, but on yours. You know how this ends, you’ve been down this road before, and you’d known, even then, that this wouldn’t end any differently. Things go smooth until the media catches wind, and then they figure out who he is, and then everyone picks apart every little bit of him until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto. You can’t blame them, all the people you’ve lost to this curse.
You hate the media enough yourself. You can’t imagine subjecting anyone you care about to it.
You’d tried to warn him. About the secrecy that would be required, about how if anyone ever caught wind of it, he’d be subject to the worst scrutiny of his life. He’d tried to insist he understood, that nothing could be worse than his rookie year, that this mattered enough to him to put up with the pressure. But now the pressure is drilling down on the two of you, and he’s crumbling, just like they always do-
“I knew better than to leave out that door,” he says. “There’s always a pap there, you’ve told me about it before,” he says. “I was just. I was in a rush, because I was so comfy this morning, and I forgot, so. I’m sorry.”
You frown. “It’s okay, Jack.”
You’re the one who told him about the key. Who let him stay over, fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to see him, even just for a little bit. You’ve gone and contributed to your own demise. God, you were going to let him pick you up from the airport. What kind of idiot are you?
“Are you okay?” You ask him.
He scoffs. “They don’t even know it’s me.”
Your gut twists, again. “They will.”
“Mm, maybe my powers of camouflage have worked,” he says. “Maybe I’ve stumped them.”
You don’t bother pointing out that if the press haven’t already figured it out, his fans will. Someone’s bound to point out the grainy Devils logo on his hoodie, the characteristic swoop of his hair. Someone’s bound to have followed him to his car, and they’ve probably already looked up his license plate. They’re probably running it through whatever system they use, and even if Jack is leasing the car he’ll still show as connected to it, and then they’ll dig their claws into him.
“They’re never stumped,” you tell him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”
“I know,” he says, voice softer this time. “So. What do we do?”
You pry your eyes open. What do we do? We.
“We?” You choke out.
Jack scoffs. “Yeah, we. I mean. Do we come out and tell everyone, just to take it away from them? Do we lie?”
We. It’s never been a we, before. Not like this. It’s always been flight, never fight. Like everyone before Jack hadn’t thought it was worth it to even try. Had thought you weren’t worth it.
“Jack, you don’t understand,” you tell him. “They’re gonna tear you apart. They’re gonna tear us apart.” Until there’s no us left, you think. “We- we don’t do anything. There’s nothing to do.”
“Not to stop them, no,” he agrees. “But you’ve had this before. How did you and those people handle it? I mean- I can avoid interviews for a while. Nico will take them, he’ll understand. And the All Star break starts soon, so then-“
“They didn’t,” you cut in.
He pauses. “Who didn’t what?”
You sigh, again. “They didn’t handle it, Jack. They broke up with me and left me to handle it and kept going on with their lives. So. Nobody will blame you if you do the same, let alone me. I get it.”
Jack stays quiet for a few moments. The silence hangs between the two of you, heavy and thick. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say it. Because you always let them do it. No matter how much you’re to blame here, you can’t be the one to end it over this. Not when things were going so well with him.
“I’m coming over,” he says.
You blink. “What?”
“Just- stay put. Stay there. I’m on my way,” he says. You hear the jingle of his keys.
“I’m not going anywhere,” You tell him.
“Me neither,” he says.
You don’t bother to warn him that there’ll be added media attention, that the place is probably swarming with people with cameras. You don’t think it’ll change his mind- Jack is stubborn when he’s set on something. And it’s a little late, anyways.
He shows up an hour later, probably having had to fight through insane traffic to get there. You’re back in bed, having only gotten up to brush your teeth before retreating to the safety of it. He lets himself in with the key, and you hear him come up the stairs and shuffle over to your bedroom door.
He stands there, haloed by the hallway light. You roll over to look at him, barely able to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Maybe he’s just waited to do it in person. Maybe he’s trying to let you down easy. It’s never easy. To lose a relationship like this, before you’re ready.
Things were going so well. You think of nights spent in your kitchen, making dinner together, sharing a bottle of wine. You think of all the hockey games you watched from hotel rooms while you’ve been doing press, and the way Jack answered all your questions on the phone afterwards, never letting on how exhausted he really was. You think of breakfast delivered to your door while he was at away games, and the way he spoke so fondly about his family and friends, how they’d all love you and you’d love them. And now, you’ll never get the chance.
Jack, standing in the doorway, sighs.
He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches a hand out to rest against your cheek. You sigh in response. Wait for him to open his mouth, for it to hit. You wait, and wait, and-
“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options,” he says. You blink up at him. “We can just go public, take away the hype about it. We could pretend we have no idea what they’re talking about, just ignore it. We could wait for them figure it out and handle it then. Or-“
You sit up slightly, and he pauses. You know the confusion is written on your face. His gaze softens, blue eyes warmer than they’ve ever been.
“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says. “I don’t run when things get tough. Come on, you know me better than that.”
You want to tell him you’d thought that about everyone, only for them to run from it all, run from you, at the drop of a hat. But you don’t, because you can tell from the hard set line of his jaw, from the determined bend in his brow, that he means it. That he’s not going anywhere. At least, not without you.
“I wanna run away from it all,” you tell him. “I want to take you somewhere they can’t find us. I want-“ you cut yourself off with a wry laugh. “I just want you, that’s all.”
A smile creeps across his lips, and he leans forward to press them to your forehead. Warmth spreads over your body, all the way down to your fingertips and toes.
“We can make that happen,” he says. You can feel the smile against your skin. “If that’s what you want. I know a place.”
You let out a laugh, one that’s mixed with tears. But when he lays down in the bed and pulls you close, you’re inclined to believe him.
…..
The “place” Jack knows takes hours of travel to get to. It takes packed bags and ditching responsibilities on both of your parts, and dodging questions from your friends. But as he pulls the car into the driveway, you think it’s worth all the hassle. The house is blanketed in soft, fluffy snow, hanging off the branches of the trees and over the edges of the roof. He opens the garage and pulls in, and when the door closes behind you, you breathe out a sigh of relief.
When he’d suggested his Michigan house as the getaway location, you’d been skeptical. Anywhere that was linked to him would be a risk once they figured out who he was. But he’d told you about the security of the neighborhood, the gate at the entrance, and that they’d never been bothered there before. He’d suggested that the two of you could just stay in the house the whole time, and it wouldn’t matter. The press finding out about Jack is inevitable, at this point. But as you walk into his house, you remind yourself that they can’t touch you here. You’ve left them all chasing their tails in New York City and disappeared.
Besides, the snow is coming down harder now. Even the paparazzi wouldn’t brave the weather.
Jack insists on carrying your bags in, and then he shows you around. The living room is first, decorated with photos of him and his brothers. The house is full of hockey memorabilia, you realize, as he shows you around. But it’s also warm. Personal. Home. There’s a photo of him and his brothers as little kids hanging over a fireplace. It makes you smile, the way you recognize the light in Jack’s eyes, the determination on his face. He hasn’t changed a bit. You’ve been in his apartment in New Jersey, but you know now that this is what he considers his real home.
He takes you up to the bedroom before the rest of the house, so you can get settled. You change into even comfier clothes than your travel ones while Jack heads back downstairs and tells you to meet him when you’re ready.
You call out to him a few minutes later when you pad your way down the stairs, and he calls back from a room you haven’t been in yet. When you walk in, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, setting out a bottle of wine. There are fresh flowers in a vase- Jack had said he’d ordered groceries to be delivered, and he must’ve gotten those, too. It’s a sweet touch.
You walk into the middle of the room and look around, a bit in awe. It faces towards the lake, with a large sitting area connected to the open concept kitchen. The lights are low and warm. Along the back wall, there are floor to ceiling picture windows, giving you the perfect view of the icy lake, the snow covered sloping bank, and the houses that dot the shore all around you. Like a postcard, or a hallmark movie. Jack pads his way across the room to you.
“Oh, wow,” you say, quietly.
He nods, his hands falling to your hips from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Pretty, right?”
You nod. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Still. Quiet. A billion other words pass through your mind. But most of all, it feels safe. Like the whole world could be chasing after you, but here, it’s just you and Jack and the snow. You could run out into it, fall flat on your face, and there’d be nobody there to see it. Or to care.
“Can we go out in it?” You ask him, carefully. Not wanting to break the calm. “It looks so-“
“Yeah,” he agrees, eagerly. “I think we’ve got a pair of boots that’ll fit you.”
Ten minutes later, you waddle through snowdrifts that cover your calves in boots one size too big. You can’t bring yourself to care about the snow in your socks, or the notifications on your phone, or the fact that by now, they’ve probably figured out who Jack is. Because Jack is standing in front of you, and you know who he is far more than they ever will.
He’s the kind of person who stays.
He lobs a snowball at you. It hits your shoulder and crumbles, and he laughs. Pure, loud, happy. You reach down with your mismatched mittens, stolen from their bin of miscellaneous outdoor gear, and form one of your own. You look at him, lining up your aim. Look at his flushed cheeks, his wide grin, the way the snow sticks to his hair and melts on his nose.
“Come on baby,” he says, taunting, arms spread wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”
You drop the poorly formed snowball at your feet and launch yourself at him instead. He’s laughing again by the time you both hit the ground, the snow cushioning his fall. He laughs more when he rolls you over and pins you under him. There’s snow seeping down the back of your shirt, and it makes you shiver. And then he kisses you, and the cold doesn’t matter anymore.
Nothing does, except this.
He’s never kissed you anywhere close to the public, both of you too cautious. So much of your relationship has been hidden away. You’d never had a chance like this in New York- no kissing in the rain, under streetlights, no cheek kisses between glasses of wine at fancy restaurants, no holding hands while you walk down the street. But now you’re out under the cloudy sky, surrounded by peace and quiet, and he’s kissing you. You never want to leave this place.
You shiver, again, and he laughs into the kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You think yours are too.
“Come on,” he says. “We should get you warm before you catch hypothermia.”
He suggests a shower. You agree eagerly and pull him under the spray with you. The cold melts away, along with the rest of your worries.
Later, you’ll drink wine and make dinner and watch some old movie he’s been insisting you need to see. Later, you'll curl up basically on top of him in bed, surrounded by him, feeling more at peace than you have in months. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up before you do, and come back with coffee from his favorite place in town, and wake you up in bed with it, made just the way you like. And you’ll look at him and thank him. Not just for the coffee, but for bringing you to a place that means so much to him. For letting you in on his little bit of comfort.
You won’t have to say it out loud. He’ll already know.
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venomwrites · 1 day ago
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I don't know where this idea came from. Probably because if there is a way to incorporate Vi's red jacket to Caitlyn's girlboss era I will find it. Speculation for Act II Caitlyn realizing she has made a mess. This works as a stand-alone but also fits in with The Cycle
Kiramman money has always been the lifeblood of Piltover’s institutions. 
Blood is always there. Thrumming under the skin. If you can’t see it, you still knew it was there. Carrying life along familiar paths, fueling the form around it. In many ways the goal is to not see it. If you see it, then something has gone terribly wrong.
The banners are a gash across the sky. 
Kiramman blood has always been here, Caitlyn does not know why seeing the crest seems strange. She also finds it does not matter. This is her mother’s city, her mother’s money. Caitlyn wants to peel back the skin and reveal everything. She wants the whole world to bleed in memory of her mother. Until they are also screaming for justice. Until the blue wave comes to her shore and puts Jinx in her hands. 
People work around her looking at what can be used. Blue and red they sort and inspect. Like the chambers of a heart they pump her mother’s blood and sort what is useful to turn the tide. What can be made into weapons? Caitlyn moves silently through the chaos. She makes her way up to Jayce and Viktor’s old lab, where their greatest chance of finding things are. 
The mess catches her off guard.
The lab has always been messy. Jayce’s chaos wars with Viktor’s precise organization in a constant struggle. When they work well together, there is a harmony. Now it is just chaos. Viktor’s order has been reduced to a single frame that now lies empty. Jayce’s fingerprints are all over his drawings. 
Ambessa has made the world bleed. She has not sat around and waited for the world to give her what she needs. She has gone out to take it. The grief in her eyes pales in comparison to the fire in them. Caitlyn wants that shift. She will have it. She knows the importance of a mentor. Especially when one trods on unfamiliar paths. 
But the mess—
“Be careful!” She barks, “these plans are paper. If they are found damaged it will be your head,” something crashes to the ground, “everyone out! I will look myself.” 
They hesitate a moment. As though her orders are insufficient. Caitlyn sees red. She is the one in power, she has command. Yet they hesitate, just long enough to be noticeable. Long enough to be annoying. She is not a child, she is in charge here.
“I command you to leave!”
They depart when she yells. 
Caitlyn hates the adrenaline that hits her. She hates the way the look at her. Caitlyn has always been aware of her family’s power. Always tried not to abuse it because it was never hers, she hadn’t earned it. It was her family’s power. She hoped that one day she would earn it with her own two hands. Now it has fallen into her hands. Not under her own power but y her mother’s death.
It was always going to happen one day.
Caitlyn just thought she would have earned her own power before then.
Now she doesn’t care. 
She stands in the mess and just thinks about how much her mother would hate the chaos. How she always wanted Jayce to clean up. Take his shoes off. Not trail soot everywhere. Jayce is—was—always a misfit in one way or another. He wore it with so much pride, like the soot under his fingernails was his most treasured possession. 
Would that have been how Vi acted?
Caitlyn shoves her thoughts away from that line of thinking. Vi never would have stayed longer than she had to. The second push came to shove, she was gone. Seven years in prison, getting stabbed—Caitlyn knows Vi can handle pain. The butt of her rifle was nothing in comparison. This was a choice. A choice to betray her when Caitlyn needed her. Betray her and insult her. Like Caitlyn’s grief made her stupid. The only stupid thing Caitlyn had done was believing Vi’s bullshit. 
She casts her gaze around. 
You always keep the most important things in arms reach.
The cot has been overturned, a hole gouged through the pallet. Too obvious anyway. Caitlyn crouches where she vaguely remembers the cot was and stretches out her arm. Within reach. Her eyes light on the old blackboard. The one that was in every lab and apartment he’s ever had. It’s been thrown across the room but she knows it was here. She runs her fingers over the edge and finds a hidden latch. She undoes it and sees blue. 
The victory makes her smile, as only solving a good puzzle can. 
She quickly unfurls them to see all three of them are there. 
The Claw.
 The Hammer.
The Gauntlets. 
Pain unexpectedly laces through her chest at the sight of them. The blue paper makes her think of the blue light that filtered down the last time she saw them. Laying limp next to Vi’s form as she choked out a sob of misery. Caitlyn felt a vicious pull of victory at each sound. Vi lied about so much. Now she could truly feel a sliver of the monstrous pain that cracked Caitlyn’s heart. 
Promise me you won’t change.
She was not the one who changed. Vi did. Vi stopped being honest with her. She lied and the betrayal stings. That is what they do down there. They don’t know anything of dignity or honor. It’s just what they can take. Vi took all of the trust Caitlyn put in her and fell apart with a blow Caitlyn knows she could handle. Caitlyn already healed that wound. Just like she did everything for her. If she wanted to betray her, that was fine. Caitlyn would leave her there. 
She still has them? Why?
The gauntlets hadn’t even been a thought.
Not until Ambessa asked the question. Her eyes flashed for her prize. It was only then Caitlyn realized she hadn’t given the matter any thought. They hadn’t even registered as something she should send people to retrieve. She hadn’t thought about them at all. She had only ever seen the gauntlets on Vi’s arms. She moved like they were an extension of her and Caitlyn stopped thinking of them as two separate entities. She had wanted Vi to hurt. To suffer. To get the hell away from her. She did not want to kill her. 
She still doesn’t. 
She just never wants to see her again.
She thinks about the plans. The weapons. It would be so much easier to get Jinx with them. Ambessa would have her prize. Something would be set right. But then she thinks about how Vi fights. How she will fight if soldiers appear to take her gauntlets. How she will fight if they appear with the gauntlets. The image of her laying twisted on the ground gasping for air as death sinks its claws into her makes Caitlyn’s chest ache again. She will fight either way. One has a much higher chance of killing her. 
Footsteps. 
Ambessa’s footsteps. 
Caitlyn freezes. Like she’s a child hearing her mother approach when she’s doing something she disapproves of. When she was a child she would have cried. Now she just remembers the feel of Vi under her shoulder. The fire that stirred in her heart. This was right, this was right and her parents could not take it from her. Take her from her. Her fingers dig into the plans. She deserves her revenge. This could be it. But it won’t be her precise shot that would miss Vi, it would be a wrecking ball that wouldn’t. 
In two quick motions Caitlyn shoves the plans down the back of her pants and pulls her hair over the edge. 
“Ah, Commander Kiramman, did you find them?”
Straight to it. 
Miners can work longer, without fatigue!
The plans burn down her spine. She becomes aware of how bent hers is. How long has it been that way? Now the plans burn a line down her spine. They draw it back into its proper, erect form. Like someone has dug through her and found the parts buried by grief. Caitlyn thought they were crushed. Gone. But the plans down her back say otherwise. 
“I found their hiding place, but he must have destroyed them,” she says, “or Viktor must have taken them.” 
Ambessa looks at the space. 
Looks at Caitlyn. 
All Caitlyn can do is hold herself steady under that gaze. For the first time she realizes something is terribly wrong here. Ambessa looks at her as though Caitlyn is little more than the mess that surrounds them. Another obstacle in her way. Ambessa looks at the board, the open compartment, then back to Caitlyn. There’s a whistle through the air.
The board cracks in half. 
That is what Ambessa does with obstacles. 
She looks through the sides and then straightens up. Behind her, Caitlyn hears Rictus move forward. Prepared to re-enforce her without question, without thought. He’s close enough for his breath to pass across Caitlyn’s face. Caitlyn waits for the blade to split her, but it doesn’t come. 
“They will need to be reverse engineered when we find the girl,” she says, “we will need to re-direct some of the search parties to—“
“No!” Caitlyn cuts in. Both of their eyes lock on her, “we are close to catching Jinx,” she steps forward and the plans brush against her back. Gird her spine, “we will extend marshal law and increase the curfew to find her sooner.”
The plan pleases neither of them, but after a moment Ambessa’s features shift. 
“Of course, Commander,” she says. Now Caitlyn can hear the way she says the title. The flattery behind it that suddenly feels so false, “as you command.”
Commanding Commander. 
She is a fucking joke to this woman.  
“If Viktor has the plans he will not listen to a curfew,” she continues, “he will be easier to find.”
Something in Ambessa’s face relaxes slightly. 
“It would be helpful to take these,” she says, motioning to the papers. Caitlyn this of all the things she has from this place. All the things Caitlyn has given her. She nods, “excellent. I shall dispatch your new orders.”
Caitlyn’s entire world narrows to the plans down her spine. It’s her only thought as they settle against the seat of her pants. Only their high waist keeps them against her skin as she makes her way home. Maddie is lingering by the door when she gets there. Caitlyn wants nothing more than to embrace her warmth and pretend this is not happening. But the gentleness on her face feels like a lie. Especially with the plans shoved down her back. 
“I’m tired tonight,” she says. Maddie moves forward anyway and she puts her back to the wall. Feels the plans creep up, “I saw Jayce’s lab,” she says, “I need to be alone.” 
“Of course,” she says, “tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Caitlyn agrees because she is apparently lying to everyone now. 
How long has she been lying to herself?
She shoves the question away as she enters her room. She locks the door to be very clear with her wishes. She undoes the fastening at her throat and pulls off the cape. The plans feel like a bomb in her hands. Though she tries not to, she thinks of Jinx. How she must feel before every bomb goes off. There’s no precision nor aim. Just a terrible choice to make. 
Caitlyn throws the plans into the fire. 
It feels like the first choice that’s hers. 
Her heat is thumping in that same pleasing way it was when she found the plans. But more than that, this is a decision she knows is right. These plans should not fall into Ambessa’s hands. For reasons that have nothing—and everything—to do with Vi. This is the right choice. It feels so different from most of her decisions lately. 
The plans are ash when she sees the stain.
She had not thought to take any care about how she rolled up the plans. There hadn’t been time. The paper Jayce used is special, copiable. But it stains everything blue if one is not careful. She was not and now there is a bright blue stain where the cape hits her spine. It feels like she’s being tattled on. Caitlyn knows this will be impossible to get out but it’s fresh. There is a chance. She brings the cape into the bathroom, wets an old black shirt and scrubs. She cannot have more blue on any fabric. The stain goes darker with water. Caitlyn blots it with another piece of the fabric and inspects her work. 
Violet stares back up at her. 
She’s turned the stain violet. 
The old anger slams into her. She’s just saved Vi’s life again and all Vi can do is leave a stain on her. A stain that gets her into all kinds of trouble. How is Caitlyn supposed to save the world from one sister when the other keeps leaving stains on her? She must keep wearing the cape and now violet is going to be at her spine. 
Vi is going to be at her back.
She’s going to betray her again. 
Caitlyn throws the cape aside and strides to her wardrobe. She shoves aside the portion of clothes she does not want to see. The dresses for endless parties and cotillions. A life she is supposed to have but has always warred against. Behind all of them, she finds it. Her fingers snag the material and she rips it down, walking back over to the fireplace without looking. She is going to rid herself of all of this. She is not going to be made a fool of for one second longer. 
The red jacket hovers above the flames. 
All Caitlyn has to do is let go. 
She holds it there over the flames, willing her fingers to open. But they stay clenched tightly around the fabric. The warmth seeps into her hand and arm. Starts to build. Starts to turn painful. Her bicep throbs and her eyes burn as she stares at the flame with her arm outstretched. She waits for something to give. Maybe if her arm gives out, the jacket will just fall the impossible distance into the flames. All she has to do is let go. 
Her fingers tighten. 
Release.
Then she snatches the jacket back before it touches the flames. Panic surges through her as she looks for any sign of damage, but the only thing that greets her is the sight of dirty, warmed leather. Relief surges through her. Her knees turn jelly like and she drops onto the floor. It’s so familiar to sit here. Vi always sat near the fire, usually on the floor. Especially when it started to get cooler at night. Sometimes she’d convince Caitlyn to join her, like sitting on the floor was normal when there were so many chairs around. Caitlyn hesitates only a moment before she lifts the jacket and puts her nose into the neck. 
Of course Vi’s scent lingers there. 
The jacket is warm enough for Caitlyn to pretend it’s from her skin and not the fire. Warmth that wrapped around her when Vi caught her after her mother’s death. It smells like her. Like how she smelled when Caitlyn breathed her in as they kissed. She didn’t expect Vi to kiss so gently. So sweetly. So much like she could love her. 
There’s a burning in Caitlyn’s eyes she cannot blame on the fire. 
She wipes at her cheeks and finds them dry. It’s not safe to cry. If she starts to cry she will never stop. The only time she has cried was when Vi held her. When it felt safe. This is not safe. All the same Caitlyn draws the jacket over her shoulders. She wishes it took more to remember what Vi felt like. But the wound is new and fresh. It aches in a way her mother’s death does not. 
Caitlyn does not know how long she sits there in front of the fire with Vi’s jacket over her shoulders. Eventually she crawls into the bed they laid on together. Another place that Vi has stained. She had them change the drapes ahead of their usual seasonal rotation. It didn’t matter. She tried kissing someone else in this bed. Also, it did not matter. 
Now she allows herself the moment of weakness to lay there and hug the jacket close. To stroke her fingers down the leather like she touched Vi’s face. She was a fool to trust like she did. Now her foolishness has led them to this point. She’s always known Vi is ashamed of her, that’s why she’s stayed away. 
For the first time, she thinks her mother would be ashamed of her as well. 
Once the tears start Caitlyn does not know how to make them stop. She buries her face in the leather and just weeps. She’s never felt so small in her entire life. Usually when she cries someone is there to comfort her. Now she weeps alone in her bedroom and knows if Ambessa hears about it—and she will—Caitlyn will be reprimanded. It feels as though—
Who the hell are you?
A tiny, miserable noise pulls from her lips and she muffles it in the jacket. Ambessa will hear about it because she is always there. Because Caitlyn willingly walked into a cell. Her cell. She walked in and let Ambessa throw away the key. She is such a fool. Caitlyn pulls the jacket close, seeking comfort. How twisted is she that she longs for comfort from someone who betrayed her so easily? Who could have prevented all of this if she just trusted Caitlyn to make the shot? Vi didn’t believe in her, why should she want comfort from her? Why should she want to protect her?
Her heart knows the answer. 
Caitlyn refuses to listen. She tightens her grip in the jacket. Vi is a traitorous fool. And if she survived seven years in prison then Caitlyn can figure her way out of this mess. In a good and honorable way. She will find her way out of this mess. She keeps the jacket close when she drifts off and wakes with renewed determination. The jacket goes back in the closet. The cape with its violet stain goes back on he shoulders. Every time she thinks of it against her spine, she stands a bit straighter. When she sees Ambessa, she does not trust her anymore but that is irrelevant. 
She is going to win. 
And no-one will ever try making a fool out of her. 
Never again.
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xx-sharpfawngz-xx · 7 days ago
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Currently making my coworker roasted veggies for tomorrow because he just. Doesn't eat vegetables and I'm hoping to turn him to the dark side
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isuckatwritingsobenice · 10 months ago
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Infernal Shadows 02
Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.
Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.
Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)
A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.
Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(
Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote
Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.
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Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.
Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.
“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.
“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.
“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.
“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.
Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.
“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.
“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”
In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.
“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.
“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.
“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.
“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.
“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.
“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.
“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.
“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.
“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.
“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.
“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.
“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.
Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.
“Maybe if I sing-“
“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.
“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.
“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.
With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.
“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.
“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.
Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.
“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.
“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.
“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.
“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.
“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.
“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.
“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.
“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.
“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”
“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.
“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.
“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.
“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”
At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.
The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.
“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”
The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.
Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.
Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.
Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.
Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.
Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.
“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.
“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.
“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.
“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.
“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.
“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.
“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.
“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-
“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.
“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.��� Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.
“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.
Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.
“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.
“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.
“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?
“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.
“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.
“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.
“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.
“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.
Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.
“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.
“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.
“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.
“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.
“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?
“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.
“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.
“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.
“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.
“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.
“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.
“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.
“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.
“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.
“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.
“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.
It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.
“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.
“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.
“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.
“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.
“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.
“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.
“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.
“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.
“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.
“She left a card on the folder.”
At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.
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pedrospatch · 2 years ago
Text
weakness
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
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summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.
word count: 5.7k
“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”
You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”
“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”
You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 
“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”
“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”
“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.
“But Frank—”
“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”
Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 
“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 
“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”
Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”
Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 
“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”
You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 
Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.
You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 
Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”
You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 
Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”
“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”
Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.
What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?
What’s he going to think?
Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.
“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”
You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”
“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.
“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”
Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”
Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”
“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”
“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”
He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”
“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.
“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”
You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”
He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”
You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”
Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”
For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 
Could Frank actually be right? 
Do you actually mean something to Joel?
No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.
“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”
“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”
Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”
Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”
“You are his weakness.”
He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 
“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.
“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”
“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.
When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”
Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.
“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.
As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”
“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”
Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”
“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”
Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.
“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.
Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.
“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 
Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.
“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”
You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”
Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”
His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 
Had he actually meant that?
“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 
Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”
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Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 
Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.
 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 
As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 
Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.
About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”
“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 
You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”
Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.
A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”
“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”
Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”
“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 
“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”
You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”
“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”
Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.
You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 
When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.
“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”
“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”
Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”
You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”
Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”
The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.
“What? But what about you?”
“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”
Bill and Joel being neighbors?
Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.
“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”
“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”
You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”
The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.
The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.
“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”
Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”
“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”
Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.
“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”
“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”
“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”
You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 
Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 
He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.
Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.
“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”
Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”
You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”
“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”
Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.
He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.
Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.
“Joel…” 
Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.
“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”
Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.
You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.
Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.
The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 
“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.
His face remains just inches from yours.
“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”
“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.
Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”
You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”
He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.
This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 
Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.
“Well, well, well.”
Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 
“How long have you been standing back there?”
“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”
You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.
So maybe he’d been right after all.
Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 
But he was yours too.
11K notes · View notes
fangirl-dot-com · 11 months ago
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🪩Track 1 - The Beginning of an Era
welcome to reputations...want to continue?
December 1, 2023
williamsracing has posted
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williamsracing freshman year loading...
we are thrilled to announce that theopourchaire21 will be joining alexalbon as our driver line-up for 2024!
liked by formula1fan, logansargeant, alexalbon, and 75,284 others
lolo2024 this is not what I needed today, tomorrow, or ever
log4n_sarg um, lets rewind and go back to the post where Logan was supposed to be signed for 2024
logansargeant I'm so happy for theopourchaire21, no one deserves it more than him!
f1_fanatic I know he was sobbing writing that L2-nation his PR team probably had tears when they told him formula1_today I feel so bad for him
user2 did they even tell Logan that they weren't signing him?? this seems so rushed and I thought Williams told Logan that he'd have another chance...
oscarpiastri so happy for you mate! can't wait to have you on the grid!
what-the_f-is-a-kmeter the ultimate betrayal right here
formula1_power well, my 2023 was just ruined
arrowmclaren has just posted
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arrowmclaren we are happy to announce our diver line-up for the 2024 IndyCar season! With Pato O'Ward, Alexander Rossi, and David Malukas, we have a strong season ahead of us!
liked by racer.y/n, indyxf1, carsgozoom, indy5hundred, and 89,238 others
indyxf1 first Logan and now Y/n??!! What has this world gone to?!
arrowML uhhhh, this was not on the 2023 bingo card
o-wardo I mean, I like Rossi, but L/n was such a beast this season. doesn't make sense that they drop her after her rookie year
Dave-dives4arrows boooooo - we didn't ask for this
mclarenall-round exactly! Y/n was the perfect fit for the team! y/n.fan well, I mean...our girl was kind of outcasted by the others. maybe this is just a new beginning y/n_nation true, I'm thinking maybe NASCAR maybe? fan-f1 now here me out...Formula 1?
racer.y/n thank you for all the memories! welcome to the family alexanderrossi - you deserve it
indyfan2 I know she has tears in her eyes as she writes this logansarg3ant Y/n and Logan's pr teams will need therapy after December 1, 2023
Logan&y/n Y/n and Logan really are "the outcast rookies" club
f1 with Lamborghini_Racing has posted
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f1 something new is coming for the 2024 season...
formula 1 is happy to announce the arrive of new constructor team: the Royal Automobili Lamborghini-Andretti Formula 1 Team. They will be headed by Team Principal Michael Andretti.
They will be backed by high-end sponsors such as Dior, Armani, Hermes, Fendi, and Panerai.
However, we are saddened by the leave of the HAAS Formula 1 team. We wish them well as they are planning to enter next year's IndyCar Championship.
liked by formoola1, lamb0, chrisncars, kart-ing, y/n-lover, and 90,298 others
formula1-fanatic and suddenly, 2023 has a come back after Williams's and ArrowMcLaren's posts
fan-f1 PLEASE SIGN LOGAN AND Y/N - THEY DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE PLEASE I'M BEGGING
fan-f1 ok - I'm done f1-f1-f1 now hold on, you might be onto something
America_in_f1 I'm sad that HAAS is leaving, but will we be able to still hear the Star Spangled Banner if Andretti wins?
user-fan-75 technically no since Lamborghini is the main constructor and they are an Italy based manufacturer what-the-f_is_a-kmeter BOOOOOOOO logansArgeant2 now, hear me out - we get Logan AND y/n and up the possibilities by two
indy-fan I came here for Y/n, now you all need to sign her RN
y/n-nation what even is F1? but I want my girl to be in it
f1_power welcome to the family!
haas_fan awwww I'm going to miss Kevin and Nico, will they be signed automatically?
haas-fan2 I don't think so. Andretti hasn't put out an official statement yet but I think he'd want to start fresh
y/nxlogan all fans of the "outcast rookies" rise, we've found our opening
Email
To: y/n.l/npr.email.com CC: Logan.sargeantpr.email.com
To whom it may concern,
We would like to invite the two of you to come to Sant'Agata Bolognese, Italy for a few days of testing. I personally cannot confirm a seat for the 2024 season, but we've have our eyes on the two of you since early spring.
Please let us know by the end of the week if either of you are interested. We are in need of time if everything goes well. If it does, and the two of you would like to join the Royal Automobili Lamborghini-Andretti Formula 1 team, contracts could be signed as early as next week.
My sister Marissa will be in touch for a check-in if these emails weren't correct.
She says that you both need a Reputations Era, or whatever that means.
I personally look forward to hearing back from the two of you. Have a blessed day.
Team Principal Michael Andretti
TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy
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dannyriccsupremacy · 8 months ago
Text
suburban legends | CL16
| charles leclerc x fem!exgf!reader smau
| summary : charles doesn't do enough to keep his girlfriend and when the internet finds out, they are less than happy.
| faceclaim : christina nadin
| part one here ! part two here !
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youruser just posted a story!
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yn, her bff, chloe, julia and amelia all sat at a cafe by the water catching up. their drunken plans from the club bathroom that night had turned into a reality, and they were all so excited to see each other- and follow each other on social media.
as they were chatting, giggling with each other, your bff suddenly gasped and scoffed.
"whats that for?" yn asked, slighting laughing at her antics.
"ex-o'clock." she said sipping her drink, "yours, not mine."
"what?!" yn exclaimed, giving her bff a look, "definitely him?"
your bff nodded, rolling her eyes. the other three girls were avidly looking at everyone in the vicinity, trying to work out which man was eliciting this reaction from the duo.
"brown hair, sunglasses, white shirt, two o'clock." your bff answered their unspoken question.
the trio's eyes landed on the man at the same time, and amelia suddenly went white. soon the other four's attention was on her, concerned.
"miels, what's wrong?" julia asked, placing her hand on amelia's arm.
"oh, n-nothing." amelia shook her head.
"no, honey, what's wrong?" chloe questioned, her curiosity peaking.
"i feel awful. i didn't know, i swear." amelia apologised frantically.
"know what?" yn furrowed her brows.
"he's the one i'm talking to right now. charles is the one i'm seeing. and yn, your the ex he isn't over yet." amelia blurted, cheeks turning pink.
"amelia... i am so, so sorry." yn apologised, a sympathetic expression on her face.
"yn! do not apologise. especially not for a man!" amelia scolded, laughing slightly, "i was going to break things off with him anyway. he is well and truly still in love with you."
yn smiled sadly, taking another glance at the man, only to find him already staring at her, love still shining in his eyes.
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liked by lilymhe, sacreskin + 90,367 others
youruser bros b4 hoes 😉
view all 16,324 comments
yourbff words of wisdom
user omg is this about that one tweet??
ameliahobart bros 4ever
user in her post breakup popularity era
user yn is so hot
juliaverner marry me pls!!
↳ chloedarren she said no hoes maam 🚫
user i bet charles misses her
lilymhe no hoes here 🙅‍♀️
↳ alex_albon lily???
↳ carmenmundt get over yourself albono. sucks 4 u
↳ georgerussell63 carmen???
↳ youruser please no hoes in the comment section. read the sign.
↳ francisca.cgomes yeah scram
↳ pierregasly kika???
↳ user i love the unhingedness in yns comment section
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amelia sat across from yn, a slightly embarrassed look on her face.
"look, yn, i really like you and i really want to stay friends with you, so i just really need to tell you this so i don't think that our entire friendship is built on lies." amelia blurted, causing the confused look on yn's face. yn nodded for her to continue.
"basically, charles hired me. i'm an aspiring actress and i answered a call he had put out for someone that fit my description. when i sat down and met him for the first time, he explained that he wanted someone to pretend that they were his girlfriend to make his ex- you- jealous." she explained, wringing her hands together.
"when i first met you, i didn't know you were the ex, but he told me to keep up the act with everyone since monaco is such a small place and everyone talks." she took a breath, "but then when your bff pointed out him as your ex, i wanted to say something, but i really liked you so i didn't want to ruin the friendship we had already created."
yn sat in silence as she took in the girl's words. "okay."
"okay?" amelia was nervous, "just okay? is that like a bad okay, or is it a good okay?"
"a good okay," yn smiled, "i really want to keep being your friend so i'm so happy that you told me now. i definitely would of had to re-evaluate the relationship if it happened later down the line."
"oh thank god!" amelia let out a sigh of relief, at which yn laughed, "but i do want to let you know that charles still truly loves you. like he would not shut up about how amazing you are. i have only heard his side of the story, but if i were you, i would definitely get back together with him."
"he kissed me in a way that screwed me up forever, then i broke my own heart because he was too afraid to do it." yn responded, thinking back on their relationship.
"sounds like you were born to be suburban legends!" amelia giggled.
"i think i might." yn grinned.
"now i did meet his friend lando... what's his deal?"
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liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff + 95,375 others
youruser our mismatched star signs surprised everyone 🤷‍♀️
view all 21,598 comments
yourbff pop off ig
↳ youruser slay
pierregasly at least he doesn't mope around anymore
↳ youruser aw honey you moped?
↳ charles_leclerc FALSE. LIES. MISINFORMATION.
user MY PARENTS!!!! ARE BACK TOGETHER!!!
↳ user NO LONGER A CHILD OF DIVORCE!!!
user i cant believe theyre back together
user honestly... i would too
ameliahobart the cutest couple!! (set me up with ykw pls!!)
↳ juliaverner dont manipulate them
↳ ameliahobart but i manipulated them together 😔
↳ chloedarren 🎶 cause [she's] a mastermind 🎶
user NATIONAL TREASURES.
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authors note i literally took so long to get this part out i am so sorry!! but this will be the last part. a spin off may occur 👀
@allywthsr @sunny44 @coolio2195 @multi-fanss @babyliz43-blog @redbullgirly @smnthnclj @d3kstar @living-with-ghost @noonesgoneuntiltheyregone
471 notes · View notes
fuctacles · 3 months ago
Text
Remember late bloomers ?
Love popping into my wips and finding finished stuff I should have posted ages ago
Jeff gently informs him that getting running gear for the first date is a bit of an overkill.
“There is so much wrong with that idea. First of all, you hate running. Exercising, in general. And second, this is kinda pathetic.”
Eddie gasps.
“How dare you!”
“Dude, you just officially met today. Why would you waste money on something you might use once and then never again?”
Jeff was, of course, none the wiser that Eddie was about to enter his fit era. He’s going to jog every morning from now on, he’ll get cute matching sets with Miss Stephanie, drink smoothies, and get a gym pass. He’s going to turn his life around, lose the tummy fat he’s been harboring all winter, and turn it into a sixpack. Their fans are going to love it. Stephanie, too. They’ll run off into the sunset—or sunrise—together, they’ll make and raise the healthiest little babies—
“Are you planning your wedding or something?” Jeff interrupts his daydreams with a scoff.
Eddie bristles.
“I’ll be planning your funeral if you don’t start supporting your perpetually single friend,” he bites back.
Jeff raises his eyebrows.
“You sure that’s what you should be saying to the only friend who can lend you some jogging clothes?”
“Uh…”
“Thought so.” And Eddie hates his satisfied smirk but he’s desperate so he bites his tongue. “So, what you really need are good running shoes…”
He feels all kinds of stupid in his sporty get-up. He’s wearing his old Reeboks he wears only when his shitkickers are in repair (he will wear them to his grave), Jeff’s tracksuit pants, and his lucky Ozzy t-shirt. He woke up extra early today and his mug of coffee was almost empty by the point she, Stephanie, rounded the corner.
His mind goes blank when he recognizes his hoodie.
Maybe he hasn't woken up yet. What other explanation was there for this beautiful creature, backlit by the rising sun, to be walking up to him, decked in bright-colored leggings, and tank top and his hoodie, clashing unforgivingly with its blackness?  How else would he get a date with her if it wasn't a dream?
"You're actually dressed for running," she observes. No 'hello', no 'good morning', just her eyes roaming over his body from above. He quickly jumps up from the porch steps.
"Yeah! Lemme just..." He motions to the door with the mug, then quickly gulps down the last mouthful. "Want some water?" he asks, hand on the door. 
Stephanie's eyes snap up to his face.
"Yes."
It's weird, the way she says it, the way her eyes wander over his body. There's no way he's looking that good in borrowed sweats. They have some ugly gym logo on the side too.
"I don't really own gym clothes, but my friend was nice enough to share his," he explains, letting her in. She hums absentmindedly and follows him into the kitchen. He puts the mug in the sink and grabs a glass to fill it with freshly filtered water. When he turns around she's right there, now without the hoodie which she hung over on one of the chairs. Her tits are right there, but he holds her gaze, like a gentleman.
"Thanks." She takes the glass from him and takes a tiny sip, not breaking eye contact. Then puts it aside, on the counter behind him. "What's your stance on making out on the first date?"
Eddie's brain starts screaming.
"Not opposed to it," he answers and is immensely proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.
"Great," she says, almost relieved, as if he could give any other answer than an enthusiastic "ravish me, lady," and gently grabs his face, thumbs rubbing on the stubble along his jaw. She gives him a second to back away before leaning in.
She kisses his lips, just a little peck, a gentle caress. Dives in for another, and one more. Eddie reaches up to run his hands from her elbows up to her shoulders and feels little tremors running through her body. He frowns.
"Steph...?"
She groans instead of answering and her little kisses turn to kitten licks. When he parts his mouth for her, she licks across it, tongue pulling on his upper lip. He yelps in a pleasant surprise.
"I come here with innocent intentions," she says, her voice a bit strained, dipping into lower registers. "And you sit here, with your scrawny little ass in gym sweats." She lets go of his face so her hands can squeeze his waist minutely, before hauling him up onto the counter behind him. He squeaks, less dignified than the sounds he made before, holding onto her. Stephanie presses in and he opens his legs for her without hesitation. "And your dirty old sneakers, ready to jog with me. Eager like a puppy."
Eddie whines at the comparison.
"I'm not," he protests. He's just an adult man confronted with a beautiful woman out of his league.
"You're not?" she asks condescendingly against his ear. She's been rubbing her cheek against his stubble, nosing along the bones like she's the dog, trying to rub her scent all over him. Now she leans back to pout at him. Her lips are plush and pink and they haven't been kissed enough yet. "But I like strays."
Eddie's brain short-circuits.
"Uh... bark?"
She laughs and grips his thighs before capturing his mouth. She dominates the kiss without struggle and Eddie lets her use his mouth to her heart's content. He just wraps his arms around her neck and takes it, moves his tongue where she guides him. He can feel her hands on his thigh itching to touch more, but he doesn't want to part long enough to let her know she can, that she can take whatever she wants.
Eventually, she slides her hands up, thumbs digging into the crease of his thighs, and he mewls. His face immediately goes red at the sound that just left him.
"Well, that's something I'm not gonna un-hear."
Stephanie freezes and moves to pull away, but he traps her with his legs around her waist and presses his face against her shoulder, to hide his shame. Of course this is when Jeff decided to get up and walk into the kitchen.
"Uh, I'm sorry? And, good morning," Stephanie offers, seeing as her actual host won't be of any help. He makes a little wounded sound against her shoulder and she swats his thigh. 
"Good morning," Jeff offers back. "Stephanie, right?"
"Yeah."
"Jeff. I live here too, unfortunately. I was under the impression you were going out for a run, though?" He raises his eyebrows. "Did I lend him my exclusive membership sweats for nothing?"
"They're yours? Can we keep them?" she asks immediately. Eddie presses his nails into her skin not to make a sound at how she said 'we'. "He almost has an ass in them."
"Hey!" It's the first thing he says since Jeff walked in and the first time he moves away from the safety of Stevie-shield. Thankfully, his friend looks mostly amused, not angry or disgusted.
"Please," he makes a face. "I don't want them anymore."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Eddie's eyes narrow, the familiar back and forth giving him enough courage to release Stephanie from the clutch of his legs. She doesn't move far, just enough so the three of them can look at each other and chat comfortably. Well, considering the situation.
"I just saw you dry humping in them and you dare ask me?" Jeff scoffs.
The two culprits start protesting over each other with "We weren't dry humping!" and "We were just kissing?!" but he stops them, raising both his hands.
"I don't care! Just take them and leave the kitchen! I need some caffeine before work and the only bodily fluid I want in it comes from cow tits."
"Ew, dude," Eddie groans, but Stephanie lets out a surprised snort. 
"We're leaving!" she promises, pulling Eddie down from the counter. He scrambles to find balance but she grabs his hand to steady him. Despite them just making out, that's what makes his heart skip a beat. "it was nice to meet you, Jeff!" she offers, waving on her way out of the kitchen.
"Likewise. Good luck on your run!" he calls after them.
"Thanks!" 
Through the windows, he can still see them, Stephanie fixing Eddie's rumpled t-shirt while he's staring up at her with the dumbest expression he's ever seen. And he's seen a lot of them from his friend. 
"Good for him," he mutters to himself with a fond smile. 
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mythicmanuscripts · 4 months ago
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Hiii! I read your post-Rook’s Rest Aegon angst story and omg it was so perfect!! I loved it so much! I have a weakness for angst and you write it so well!!
If your requests are still open, could I ask for some more Aegon angst or hurt/comfort? I would love your take on his struggles during season 1/pre-coronation!
Thank you so much for all the wonderful little stories and headcanons you’re putting out there, I’m reading and enjoying each and every one ❤️
Oooo great question!! Honestly I somehow didn’t even consider the angsty side of this so I’m so glad you brought it up! And thank you so much for the kind words, they mean so much and help me stay motivated. So without further ado, here’s the angsty season one aegon thoughts :))
(While there’s nothing sexual in these thoughts, there are definitely dom/sub undertones, specially sub!Aegon so bare that in mind before you continue reading.)
So firstly, I think you’d be introduced to Aegon a few weeks before he actually became king. Everyone knew that his father’s health was declining, and that Aegon would soon be king. And, everyone knew how ill equipped Aegon was to be king.
Originally, Aegon was supposed to marry Helena. That plan was cancelled pretty soon when Allicent realised that Helena was not at all up to the task of managing and controlling Aegon. Because that’s exactly why she needed to marry him. She was as fast losing her influence over him and he has not at all ready to be a ruler, so she had to find him a wife who would be harsh and strict with him and who would be able to control him.
Even worse, Allicent doesn’t hide this desire from Aegon at all. She openly tells him that she’s arranged a wedding with the daughter of another house specifically because this daughter has a reputation of being firm and unwavering and not taking nonsense. Allicent spells out to him that she doesn’t think he can rule so she has had to find a bride for him that will be able to control him and stop him from making a fool of himself.
Aegon doesn’t think he’s ever felt as humiliated as he did that dinner when Allicent announced this to him. He always knew that his mother and father both didn’t think he was fit to rule, and his brother was certainly counting down the days until the weight of crown becomes too much and he has to drop it.
But this… hearing his mother openly planning on the best way to control him? And of all the relationships for her to exploit, she wants to use his future wife? As much as Aegon tries to act all cool and nonchalant and like he doesn’t care about anything, the truth is that he has a soft soul and is a romantic at heart. He always dreamed of meeting his wife and slowly building up a good, strong relationship.
His dreams of that are crushed before he even meets you.
Because of all of this, Aegon doesn’t even get to see you before the wedding, nevermind speak to you. He asks to see you, multiple times, but Allicent won’t budge. She says him seeing you won’t make a difference, he’s marrying you either way.
He’s so dejected on his wedding day. When you look into his eyes for the first time, you just see such a deep sadness that it makes your chest ache. You try to be kind to him that night, try to compliment him and listen to him. It does very little and he remains cold the whole evening.
When it’s time to consummate the marriage, Aegon shows you to your new quarters with him and slowly begins to undress like he’s a robot. You stop him immediately. You tell him that it’s just the two of you here now, no one else. He doesn’t have to pretend or follow his mother’s orders, she’s not here.
He’s confused then.
“You don’t want to have sex?” Asks, confused, “Didn’t my mother tell you to get pregnant immediately?”
You chuckle and say that she did, but you don’t care what she said, she’s not in this marriage.
Allicent made one crucial era when she chose you, she assumed your courage and knowledge and independence would mean you agreed with her. But no, no it didn’t. It meant you thought for yourself, and it meant you realised just how sad and hurt the soon to be king is.
You stick your head out the door and tell the guards find you a stack of cards. The guards are, of course, very confused but you are now officially the future queen so they can’t exactly say no.
Once you have the cards, you put them down on the bed and sit on the other side. Aegon smiles when he sees that. A real smile, not the fake one he kept during the wedding.
You realise pretty quickly that the absolute best way to help Aegon at first is actually to be more of his friend than his wife? You listen to him and offer him occasional advice but you also play card games and trade family stories and discuss your dreams. Aegon has never had a friend before. At least, he’s never had a friend not somehow influenced by his status as future heir.
When he’s alone with you, he doesn’t feel the future disappointment everyone else seems to see. He just feels like himself.
It takes him a very long time to admit that he’s not fit for all the requirements of being ruler. He’s not ready for it and he doesn’t even want to be ready for it.
You listen to him, of course, and then you remind him that even though the two of you have mainly just played cards, you are still his wife. You swore an oath to love and protect him and you have no intention of breaking it.
That gets a smile out of him, and ends in him kissing you, giggling against your mouth every now and then because he’s finally accepted that he’s not alone in this expectation anymore.
Pretty soon the two of you work out what your dynamic is, and Aegon is genuinely so thankful to have you in his life. Because while yes, you most certainly help him and offer him advice and even tell him when he’s outright wrong, you never make him feel stupid. That’s the difference. He can ask you things and voice his frustrations because he knows you won’t belittle him for it. He’s happy to follow your advice because you don’t make him feel bad for needing advice.
You always treat him with love and care, always open your arms when he needs.
Once he’s crowned, he removes Allicent from the small council and adds you.
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tanoraqui · 10 months ago
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obviously the Historical Figure Episode(TM) of Doctor Who that I’d write would of the Noted Author subset endemic to the RTD Era; it’d be called “Spiders in the Trenches” and be set in the middle of World War One ft. one Lt. John Tolkien.
idk if the main aliens are spiders or if they're just using giant robotic spiders as soldier-minions. Either way, Tolkien is a little too defensive when he says he's not afraid of spiders.
The alien invaders want some sort of shiny mcguffin, maybe as a power source for their ship? Or for a mega-weapon? We do not want them to get it, at any rate. Race to find the Shiny Power Jewel-Thing which has been lost somewhere in this like 20-mile radius of the Western Front.
When our heroes narrowly beat the spiders to the SPJT, Tolkien realizes that the spiders only ever attack at night because light hurts them somehow, so he holds the SPJT up as it flares and shouts, "Get back, foul creatures! Back into the shadows from whence you came!"
(They're from the dark side of a tidally locked planet, and made for extremely low-light conditions? The SPJT flares because it's controlled telepathically and it connected to Tolkien's mind when he touched it?)
Ideally Tolkien's first encounter with the Doctor is that he wakes up in the trench one day (after losing some men to a mysterious monster in the darkness a couple nights ago?), and there's 2 random strangers in weird clothes idly singing and playing an instrument which they stole from someone a couple bedrolls down. (This works well with Fifteen & Ruby's established inclination to music!)
We do need an Eowyn Moment, because that's iconic, but I'd split it: for dialogue, at one point the head boss evil alien boasts, "No human can defeat the Tenebrarachnid Empire!" and the Doctor replies, "Good thing they've got me, then."...
[I don't know if this is a Fifteen line yet. I know it's a very Eleven line]
...and there's a soldier in Tolkien's unit who is revealed to be secretly a woman! Who disguised herself as a man in order to enlist for ??? reasons, and who dramatically pulls off her hat to reveal her long hair.
The third notable local character is the sort who inspired Sam Gamgee, "...the English soldier, [like] the privates and batmen I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”
^those two can have a romantic subplot if it fits (comrades-in-arms is also extremely good). Tolkien, however, at some point shows Ruby the picture of his wife Edith which he carries at all times, she of the black hair and bright grey eyes, and is obviously ready to monologue about how wonderful she is.
In the same scene(?), Tolkien looks up at the stars and says their brightness shining afar, clear of all the horrors on the ground, is always a source of hope and strength to him.
Maybe also in the same scene? Tolkien is shown to make up stories for fun, or to read them in his little spare time - fairy tales and mythological epics. Maybe he tells them to the men around the fire, maybe he keeps a little notebook, maybe he just admits to daydreaming... When asked why, he paraphrases his quote from later life, " Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?"
At some point (Star-watching scene? when the Doctor inevitably has to explain that aliens exist? when they're all saying goodbye in the end?) there's a line drawing attention to the Doctor's parallels with Eärendil - eternally wandering figure of hope, sailing the stars in a ship with a light on top, not quite mortal...
Tolkien DEFINITELY tries to figure out the alien language, in writing or speech.
Something the aliens are doing is making people sick. Maybe the attacking robo-spiders are venomous, maybe there's a toxic byproduct of the alien ship, maybe it's a deliberate first assault of the planned invasion... By the end of the episode, Tolkien is very ill. The Doctor has figured out an antidote and given it, but Tolkien says goodbye to him and Ruby only to stumble to a medical outpost - from where, the Doctor explains to Ruby, he'll be sent home with this bad case of what's assumed to be trench fever. Between the fever and the brief psychic entanglement, and unentanglement, with the SPJT, he won't even remember most of this, and what he does remember, he'll put down to fever dreams amidst the horrors of war.
But he'll remember some things! He'll remember an eternal wanderer of the stars, unaging and undying and ever-hopeful, heralded by light (and a vworrrp vrorrrp noise).
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rubytuby · 4 months ago
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surprise
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patrick zweig x fem!reader 
word count: 3.3k (LOL)
warnings: established relationship with patrick because i'm lazy, art is your best friend, mentions of getting drunk but it's college so like to be expected… also allusions to sex haha but um i just love to write a cutesy plot.
note: i am normal about patrick zweig, i feel so normal about him #needthat. jokes, but i am in love with him its so bad, i wish he was real. also please don't be offended by my tashi erasure, still love her, but she didn't exactly fit in here. obv this is not canon bc you're dating patrick in stanford era instead of tashi, anyways, hope you enjoy <3.
FEBRUARY 23 2007, STANFORD
The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the tennis courts as you and Art wrapped up your practice session. Both of you were drenched in sweat, Art slung his tennis bag over his shoulder and jogged over, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin.
“So uh, want to walk back to the dorms together?” he asked, sounding overly eager.
You squinted at him, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Sure, but I need to shower first. You know, make it seem like I haven’t been pushed to my physical limits,” you said, gesturing to your sweaty attire.
Art laughed. “You have a single, why don't you just wait until you get back to your dorm?”
You groaned, shoving your racket into your bag. “That's the problem. The maintenance guy showed up at 7:30 this morning to tell us they’re shutting off the water from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. only on my floor for some urgent plumbing issue.”
“Damn, that sucks. Are they even allowed to do that without giving anyone notice?”
“That's what I asked, but apparently, giving us 30 minutes notice is considered adequate. So, technically, they can,” you replied, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I’ll be quick, though. Just need to rinse off. If you don’t wanna wait for me to chill, you can walk back to the dorms. I won’t be offended.”
Art shook his head. “I’ve got time, I’ll wait. I’ve gotta call someone anyways,” he said plopping down the bench and pulling out his phone.
“Alright weirdo, if you’re sure,” you said, dropping your tote bag next to him. “I’ll be super quick.” With that, you darted off to the girls' locker room.
As soon as you disappeared, Art pulled out his phone and dialed Patrick’s number. The phone barely rang before Patrick answered, his voice tense with impatience.
“Are you guys on the fucking way yet or am I going to have to wait longer?”
“Hello, sunshine!” Art greeted cheerily. “Your beloved is taking a quick shower. We’ll be there in about 25 to 30 minutes.”
Patrick groaned loudly. “Why didn’t you just tell her to shower in her dorm? I’ll lick the sweat off her if it means not waiting any longer.”
Art grimaced at his best friend’s comment. “The water’s out on her floor. She said she’s literally only rinsing off and changing. Just be patient. I’ll text you when to leave so we can time it perfectly.” A sigh rang out on the other line.
“If this plan doesn’t work and I’ve been hiding from my girlfriend for a couple hours for no reason, I’m going to seriously hurt you,” Patrick grumbled, staring out Art’s dorm window.
“Well she definitely thinks you're in New York visiting your parents,” Art paused, “I just had to talk her down from buying a plane ticket, so I think we’re good.”
“I told her I just got into the city a couple hours ago when I actually got to SFO. She was so upset yesterday when I said it’d be five days until we saw each other. She called me a fucking asshole, so I dont know what to do anymore.” Patrick said as he flopped onto Arts bed.
Art scribbled on his worksheet, humming in response. “Well, at least you know that she definitely misses you.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she misses me or just wants to slap me in the face,” Patrick replied, exasperated.
Just then, Art saw you coming out of the locker room, chatting with one of your friends on the team. “Hopefully not the latter. Anyway she’s out. See you at 15. Don’t be late,” Art said flatly before hanging up, knowing Patrick and his unfortunate untimeliness. 
Art smiled up at you as you approached. “Who was that?” you asked, eyebrows raised.
“Our shared lover,” Art replied with a laugh, haphazardly shoving his worksheet and phone into his bag as he stood up.
“Aww, any exciting updates from Pat? He still stuck with his parents for another five days?” you teased, sticking your tongue out playfully.
“He just got to the city. He mentioned playing on the East River courts and paying someone to hold a spot for him,” Art lied smoothly.
“Sounds about right,” you said, sighing. “Anyway, I was talking to Nathalie over there…” you squinted, linking arms with Art as the two of you started the walk back to your dorm. “She mentioned a frat party happening tonight. Since Patrick’s trapped in New York, I figured why not go?”
“There’s going to be a keg stand, a ton of alcohol, and some shitty DJ or something,” you added, glancing at a group of students touring the campus before turning back to Art.
Art nodded, slightly wincing at the mention of the keg stand. “Wow, sounds like a lot of fun,” he replied sarcastically, earning a nod of agreement from you.
“I was planning on skipping it, but Nathalie really wants me to go. I thought if you came with me, it might actually be fun. Better than wallowing in my room wishing Patrick was here,” you admitted, biting your lip.
"Well, we had fun at that party last Friday, you remember right?" Art asked, smirking.
"Remember is a strong word," you replied, shaking your head with a laugh. "I think I have bits and pieces from that night. I do remember waking up still drunk at noon with my t-shirt on backwards and you snoring next to me in bed. Also like 5 missed calls from Patrick."
Art flashed you a lopsided grin. "Well, your bed's comfy, but I thought I was going to roll off in the middle of the night."
"Well, I stayed in my corner, I was flush against the wall as you were all sprawled out making yourself at home on my bed," you teased, nudging him playfully.
As you approached your dorm building, you noticed Art’s phone buzz. He glanced at it quickly, fumbling to put it away as a smile grew on his face. “What’s with the grin, weirdo?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing. Just a funny text,” Art replied too quickly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.
You rolled your eyes. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”
“Who, me? Who said I’m lying, I’m the picture of innocence,” Art said defensively.
You shook your head. “Sure you are. Anyway, I think I’m gonna drop my stuff on the floor, crawl into bed, and maybe take a nap. Maybe we can think about that party, I can call you at 11 so we can pregame.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Art said with a nod. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
You smiled gratefully as the two of you ascended the stairs to your floor. Art talked animatedly about his plans for the weekend while you half-listened, preoccupied with thoughts of collapsing onto your bed and taking a deserved long nap.
"Yeah anyways, I'm thinking of catching up on some studying, this english class is kicking my ass," Art continued, unaware of your drifting attention. "Maybe I’ll go on a run later though. You could join me if you wanted, if you’re up."
"Maybe," you replied absentmindedly, reaching a hand into your tote bag sifting for your keys.
As you reached your door, frustrated with your bag, you dropped your tennis bag and lifted your whole tote up, practically sticking your face in it to find your keys. "I hate these fucking tote bags, I can’t find shit," you grumbled to Art, feeling a tap on your shoulder.
Startled, you turned around with a scowl— until you saw Patrick standing there, a mischievous grin on his face. "Patrick! What the fuck? What are you doing here-” you exclaimed, letting your tote bag fall to the floor and throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.
Patrick laughed, hugging you back just as tightly. "Surprise" he exclaimed, holding you close, smiling at Art over your shoulder.
You pulled back slightly, giving him an incredulous look. "You asshole! Trapped in New York with my parents, my ass!" you shook your head, playfully hitting him on the chest.
Patrick held his chest dramatically and leaned in, kissing your cheek lightly. "All part of the plan," he murmured. “Plus, I had a little help," he added, nodding towards Art, who was standing nearby with a smug expression.
You turned in Patrick's arms to face Art, scoffing in shock. "Art, you were in on this? You’re such a liar," you exclaimed.
Art shrugged. "Hey, I was just hosting him at my dorm while we were at practice. Technically, I didn’t lie—I just omitted a few details," he explained, grinning.
"How could you do this to me? Traitor!" you said dramatically, though a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.
Patrick wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer against him and resting his head on your shoulder. "Come on. You know it was worth it," he said, his tone teasing.
You sighed playfully, shaking your head at the pair of them. "I guess I can forgive you both this time," you conceded.
Patrick’s hand gently brushed through your hair as he settled his head into the curve of your neck. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me,” he said softly.
As you lingered in Patrick's embrace, you paused. "Wait, where's all your stuff?" you asked, pulling back slightly and turning to look up at him.
Patrick grinned, nodding towards your door. "In your dorm," he replied casually.
“Wow, Breaking and entering," you quipped, crossing your arms squinting at Art.
Art interjected with a laugh, "Actually, perfectly legal entering. You're the one who gave me a spare key."
You shook your head, "That's for emergencies, Art," you retorted, shooting him a mock glare.
Patrick turned you around to face him, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "Come on, admit it, you're impressed," he teased.
You sighed, "I'm shocked you guys were able to pull this off, honestly," you admitted, shaking your head with amusement. Patrick laughed softly, rubbing your back soothingly.
Reluctantly pulling away from Patrick's arms, you grabbed your tote bag from the floor, turning to face Art and Patrick. "As much as this hallway talk is very exciting, I seriously need to find my keys. I'm exhausted," you declared half-joking.
After a brief search through your bag, you finally located your keys nestled among your belongings. Patrick picked up your tennis bag with a playful grin, indicating his readiness to follow you inside.
"Alright, Art, thank you," Patrick called out over his shoulder as you unlocked the door.
Art waved casually. "Have fun, be safe you two. I'll see you later," he replied as he walked down the hallway.
As the two of you entered your dorm room, you barely had enough time to place your bags on the floor before Patrick closed the gap between you and him and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands pulled you against him as he pressed your back against the door, placing his hands on either side of you almost boxing you in. His kisses were sloppy, teeth colliding as his lips moved against yours, hands desperately roaming your body, as if he couldn't get close enough to you.
You responded eagerly, melting into his embrace, your own hands finding their way into his hair, tugging him closer. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his tongue tracing your lower lip, hands roaming over your back, then up to cradle your face, pushing strands of hair away as he deepened the kiss.
"Patrick," you managed to gasp between kisses, your chest rising and falling with each breath. "I... I need to put my stuff away," you painted, reluctantly pulling back
Patrick leaned back, a mischievous smirk on his face, moving over to lean against your desk. "Sure," he murmured, his gaze lingering on you as you took out some things from your bag. "So, how was practice?" he asked, his voice low, as he looked you up and down.
You scoffed, a hint of satisfaction playing on your lips as you organized. "Heinous. I keep getting paired with this girl on the team who can't return any of my serves," you replied exasperatedly, glancing over at him.
Patrick raised an eyebrow, "maybe you should just go easy on her."
You shook your head, clicking your tongue in frustration. "I've tried to go easy on her, but she can't even play me when I do that. She acts like it's my fault she can't play for shit," you paused to sigh.
Patrick grinned, tracing a hand up and down your arm. "We both know you're too good for stanford women's tennis," he murmured, moving from the desk to stand behind you, his hands coming to rest on your hips and giving them a quick squeeze.
You whipped your head around, rolling your eyes and scoffing at his comment. "Careful," you say firmly.
Patrick put his hands up in mock surrender, his cocky grin never faltering. "Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad," he said. "You're right."
As an unspoken apology, Patrick moved closer, his hands gently moving up to your waist as he leaned in to kiss your neck softly. His lips left a warm trail on your skin, "I missed you," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your ear. “So much.”
You tilted your head slightly, allowing him better access, closing your eyes briefly to savor the sensation. "I missed you too," you hummed, your voice softening as you turned to face him fully. Your hands came to rest on his chest. "You know, I wish you would’ve just told me you were coming," you teased, carding your fingers through his hair.
Patrick's playful demeanor softened as he gazed into your eyes, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Sorry again," he murmured sincerely, his breath mingling with yours. "Do you still love me?" he asked, clearly teasing and testing you.
You couldn't help but smile, your fingers threading through the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. "I still love you, even with your elaborate lies," you replied, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "But I have to say I knew something was up. Art was being weirder than normal."
Patrick hummed, his hands gently caressing your sides as he leaned in for another kiss.
"Hey? Are you even listening to me?" you asked, blinking up at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.
Patrick paused, his forehead resting against yours as he looked into your eyes. "Sorry, what did you say? I was a little distracted," he said, smiling.
You laughed softly, giving him a light shove. “I said Art was acting weirder than normal. I could tell he was hiding something.”
He shook his head and grinned, suddenly, he scooped you up over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised laugh from you as he carried you to the bed. Playfully flopping you down, his hands on either side of your head as he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips warm and insistent.
"So, what's our plan for tonight?" he asked between kisses, his fingers tracing light patterns on your sides.
You sighed softly, your words catching in your throat as his kisses became more fervent. "Well, there's this party my friend invited me to," you managed to say, struggling to speak coherently. "But last time I went out with Art, it was a shit show," you paused, trying to focus as his lips trailed down your collarbone, "but you're here, so we can do… whatever you want," you finally managed to say, your voice breathless with desire.
"Can we?" Patrick teased, his tone dripping with innuendo, his kisses becoming more urgent and needy.
You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. "You know, you're impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "But yes, we can."
Patrick grinned triumphantly, his hands roaming over your body as he leaned in to kiss you again, his hunger for you evident in every touch and movement. "Good," he murmured against your lips. "I think I just want you to be myself tonight."
"Freaky," you quipped, biting your tongue to hide a laugh.
With a self-assured grin, Patrick swiftly removed his T-shirt, revealing his lean and tan body. His gaze never left yours as he leaned back in, his lips finding yours with intensity. Your fingers traced lightly over his chest as you meshed together, and through kisses, you opened your eyes for a moment, gaze fixed on the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.
"You've got more freckles," you observed with a playful smile, pulling back slightly, teasingly tracing each tiny mark with your fingertip.
Patrick grinned warmly, his eyes crinkling as he removed his lips from yours pulling you into a tight hug. "You're so cute," he murmured, squeezing you against him. His hands gently moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he pulled you closer, lips looking for another kiss with a soft sigh of contentment slipping out. His gaze, filled with adoration and longing, locked onto yours, silently expressing his deep affection.
"Fuck, you're so pretty," he whispered, his voice low and filled with awe. You locked eyes with him, your own expression softening as you smiled, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.
Without breaking eye contact, Patrick's hands moved to the hem of your T-shirt, his touch almost insistent. He lifted the fabric, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze, with the T-shirt slipped over your head and thrown to the floor, forgotten. His gaze traveled downward, taking in the sight of you, bare-chested in front of him, a cheeky grin began to spread across his face. 
You rolled your eyes, whacking his arm. "Are you 13?" you teased.
Patrick laughed, unfazed as his hands and mouth roamed your newly exposed skin, his lips moving back to your collarbone, placing soft kisses along its length. Your remaining clothes were shed in a flurry, falling to the floor as you both moved with urgency desperately reconnecting.
Finally, as your kisses slowed and the two of you were breathing somewhat heavily, you rolled onto him, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you close, with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
"I love you," Patrick murmured softly, placing a lovingly sweet kiss onto your forehead.
You met his gaze with a soft smile. "Is that just because we had incredible reunion sex?" you teased lightly, a playful challenge in your voice. "Or do you love me all the time?"
Patrick laughed, his fingers moving up and down on your back. "Only for the sex, it's usually worth the plane ticket," he teased back, with a smile. "Just kidding. I love you all the time," he replied earnestly, as a grin started forming on his face.
Leaning up from his chest, you pressed a sloppy kiss against his mouth, your hands tangling into his hair as you felt the corners of his lips curve into a smile against yours. "I knew it," you murmured against his lips, a hint of amusement in your voice.
"Say it back," Patrick urged with a playful grin, attempting to deepen the kiss, but you playfully pulled away before he could capture your lips again.
Rolling your eyes theatrically, you feigned annoyance, though your smile betrayed your true feelings. "Fine," you replied, leaning in to kiss him once more. "I love you too, freak."
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ashtheketchum · 7 months ago
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●Night swimm●
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Daryl Dixon X fem.Reader
Era: Season 1
Summary: Daryl has a crush on you since he saw you. Merle kept teasing him that Daryl should finally talk to you, but the archer never had the courage. One day you were taking a bath at night and Daryl saw you.
Warnings: +18 CONTENT, FEM.Reader, unprotected sex, shy Daryl, Merle being a tease/asshole, in the water, one slap on the ass, Daryl being a lil perv, tits sucking
Words: 3.5k
Masterlist!
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PoV Daryl:
Our small group had come together at some point and we all had tasks. There was me and my brother, Merle, we looked after the food for everyone, Shane the 'leader' who ran everything. Lori, Carol, Jacqui, Andrea and Amy took care of our laundry and the children were still learning things from school. And then there was (Y/N). She somehow took care of everything at the same time, she defended, caught us fish, taught the children new things and also helped with the laundry. She really was strong.
Unfortunately, sometimes I caught myself staring at her sometimes, and not in a harmless way. She always wore shorts and a top, with a lumberjack shirt. The shorts fit her ass perfectly and her top hugged her breasts perfectly too. Her loving yet stern smile turned me on again and again, so that I had to satisfy myself that same night. Inside, I felt incredibly embarrassed for staring at a woman so much that even my brother noticed and annoyed me about it.
Merle had tried to flirt with (Y/N) many times, but she always ignored him or turned him down. However, after he noticed the looks I kept giving him when he flirted with her, he actually stopped, but not because he was begrudging me and being a good brother. No, he did it to tease me. “Hey, her ass is hot, but don’t stare so obviously, little brother.” “Maybe we can share the little one? You get her every Monday and I get her the rest of the week, okay?” “Hey, slap her ass! Let’s see how she reacts.” He told me again and again, no matter when and no matter where. While hunting, while eating, and he even stands outside when I sat in my tent and masturbated. But one day he really went too far.
It was another one of those days where I stared at (Y/N) and today I would also talk to her about the food. I wanted to ask her if she wanted anything specific, whatever it was I would get it for her. So I slowly walked towards her, her back was turned to me and she was hanging up the laundry with Lori. (Y/N) had bent over slightly to pick up a basket, so I had a perfect view of her ass for a moment, but I had to pull myself together. I was standing just two meters away from her when I suddenly saw Merle. He walked between us as quietly as he could and slapped (Y/N) hard on the ass. Before she could turn around, however, he had disappeared again and (Y/N) was now staring at me.
Unknowingly, I stared after Merle for a moment before looking at her. Her look made me pause, all the color in my face disappeared and I only now checked what had just happened. Merle had slapped her ass and now it looked, to her, like I had slapped her ass. “Daryl?” She just said confused. I looked at her uncertainly, like a child who wanted to ask an adult something but didn't dare. She still looked at me confused, although I didn't see a trace of anger in her eyes. “You need something…?” When she asked me this, I shrugged together and realized why I wanted to go to her in the first place. And now my entire face turned bright red and I could now feel Lori's gaze on me. She looked at me confused, just as did (Y/N). “N-nah… s-sorry…” And with those words I walked away from her. In my head, I planned to stay in the forest for several days until this situation might calm down.
As I went to my tent to get my crossbow, I saw Merle staring at his hand. It was the hand he had used to spank (Y/N)'s ass. Merle had a satisfied grin on his lips before he looked at me. "And? Does she have a wish for the food?” His innocent question got on my last nerve, but I decided to just ignore him and disappear into the forest. Merle just laughed loudly before following me.
PoV (Y/N):
I looked after Daryl confused, I could still feel the stinging on my butt cheek. My eyebrows furrowed a little, but I slowly turned back around to pick up the basket to get the next load of laundry. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” I heard Lori ask. I jumped and looked at her with wide eyes, completely forgetting she was still here. So I gave her a quick little smile before nodding and then walking away.
However, nothing seemed to fit together in my head. Of course, I had noticed that Daryl stared at me sometimes and that he had trouble being alone with me, but I never expected him to slap my ass. A strange tingling sensation formed in my chest, but I ignored it and instead picked up the next load of laundry.
<Time Skip>
The sun was slowly setting and the temperature dropped a little, but still not enough. It was incredibly warm and sleeping naked or just in underwear these days was too dangerous. With the apocalypse, however, things changed and many things could no longer be done. And showering or bathing was one of those things. It wasn't that I really needed to wash, but I was longing for some grooming after a month of going without.
So I grabbed a few clean clothes, two towels and thick socks before I went to this huge pond. The water was pleasantly cool, clean and no walkers would come because I had searched this area twice today. The water shone in the moonlight and I was already smiling slightly.
I put my clean clothes on a stone before I started to take off my dirty clothes. It was risky because someone could see me at any time, but I hurried so that my body was quickly in the water. I also checked again to see if anyone in my small group was nearby. Since no one was there, the cool water greeted me very quickly and I sighed quietly. I briefly submerged myself completely so that my hair would get wet too. I gently massaged my scalp and body to rub away all the dirt.
PoV Daryl:
The world really wasn't on my side today. On a day when I wanted to stay in the forest for a long time, Merle and I found a deer and three rabbits. Merle had already brought the animals to camp and then gone to sleep, but I didn't want to lie down yet. I wandered around in the forest for a while, kicking some stones around and looking around. But suddenly I heard a loud splash, as if someone had gone into the water. I immediately raised my crossbow and I slowly moved towards the pond, which was right next to our camp.
I slowly walked through the trees until I suddenly tripped over something. I looked down in confusion before kneeling down and picking up the strange material. But as soon as I realized what material it was, I turned bright red and held my breath. It was a bra and not just any bra. No, it was (Y/N)´s bra, I sometimes saw the straps on her shoulders, through her top or when she bent over slightly. So I immediately looked around to see her, maybe something had happened to her, maybe she was kidnapped or someone forced her to take off her clothes. But when I looked into the pond, I turned even redder. She stood there, naked and wet. She was in the water up to her cleavage, but I could see the slight hint of her breasts. I saw her side perfectly, her fingers running through her wet hair.
Even if it was wrong, I hid a little more behind the tree, but only so that I still had a perfect view of her. It became incredibly tight in my pants and I had the uncomfortable need to touch myself again. She looked around briefly, which is why I hid completely behind the tree. I even held my breath. After a few seconds I looked back at her and my eyes widened more. (Y/N) had stood up and was now letting her hands slide over her perfect breasts. Her nipples had become a little hard from the cold water. My cock was throbbing incredibly hard, it was already painful.
Just as I was about to reach for the bulge in my pants, I stepped on a branch and it cracked far too loudly. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, hoping (Y/N) hadn't heard. But I was wrong. "Hello?"
PoV (Y/N):
I heard a branch snap, which made me immediately go under the water again. I stayed quiet for a moment to hear any grumbling or growling noises, but I heard nothing. So it was a human. Fuck and right now I didn't have my knife in the water with me. "Hello?" I called out in the direction from which I heard the noise. There was a moment of silence before someone stepped out from behind the tree. It was Daryl and he raised his arms innocently, slowly lowering his crossbow to the ground. My cheeks immediately turn bright red, but my shoulders relaxed. I sighed quietly before standing up again, more unconsciously than consciously. “Daryl-?” Before I could say or ask anything else, the archer interrupted me. “I-I can explain tha’…” He murmured quietly, his face bright red.
It didn't fit together again. First he slapped my ass and then he watched me how I take a bath? Or were these all just coincidences? So I looked at him waiting, but I was too far away from him. We would have to talk too loudly and probably wake everyone up. So I crossed my arms over my chest so he could barely see them and I stepped more out of the water. I came out until the water only covered my waist and everything below. I could tell Daryl wanted to sink into the ground. "Yeah?… I'm waiting…" Although I didn't want to push him, I did want to get this all over with as quickly as possible. "I-I… I was… huntin' and then I saw ya… I'm sorry…" He didn't lie. Daryl wasn't the type of guy who liked lying, nor was he good at it. So I smiled slightly before relaxing a little more.
Daryl was attractive, I really had to say that. His arms, his blue, intense eyes and his physique in general always attracted me. Sometimes I felt really honored that he was staring after me. So I took a risk. “You wanna join?” My question immediately made him look up, but he immediately closed his eyes when he saw my naked body. I really had to hold back a chuckle, he was really cute. I slowly walked closer to him until I was completely in front of him. I gently grabbed his hand and I gently pulled him towards the water. “Come on… We can talk a little bit…” I then suggested. Daryl just grumbled under his breath before turning away and unbuckling his belt. I bit my bottom lip briefly before turning around and slowly walking into the water. I went low again until my breasts were now hidden again by the water before turning around and looking at Daryl.
He was now up to his stomach in the water, but he kept his top on. I looked at him briefly, confused but also amused, but I decided not to ask him. As he stood in front of me, his eyes wandered everywhere. To my eyes, to my shoulders, to my collarbone, to my lips, to my cleavage and then back to my eyes.
“Soo… why exactly did you slapped my ass?” I then asked teasingly. The tips of his ears now turned bright red and he cleared his throat quietly. His gaze shifted to the side and he took a few deep breaths. "Tha'… wasn't me tho… 'was ma brother…" He then admitted quietly. I tilted my head slightly to the side in amusement and I smiled softly at him. It was kind of clear to me that Daryl hadn't slap me on the ass, but I wanted to hear it from his mouth again. “And…why were you spying on me?” He shrugged again and looked down at the water.
I came a little closer to him so that my breasts were now pressed against his chest and he then looked deep into my eyes. His blue eyes lit up briefly and I could have sworn I felt his cock against my thigh. But I didn't mention it. Not yet. "I-I was… huntin'… just as I said…" Giggling, I placed my hand gently on his cheek and stood slightly on my tiptoes so that I was closer to him. With my other hand I grabbed his wrist and I put his hand on my hip. His other hand followed automatically and now he held my hips. “It’s okay… but next time just ask if you could join me, alright?” My suggestion made him gulp.
I looked briefly at his lips before looking back into his eyes. My hands went to his shoulders and I pulled myself up slightly until I could wrap my legs around his waist. Now his shaft was pressing against my pussy and I moaned softly before I came closer and closer to him. Daryl took a short, sharp breath before looking uncertainly into my eyes. “W-wha’ are ya doin’…?” He asked me uncertainly. He looked excited, almost afraid, but your grip on my waist pulled me a little closer to him. My eyes sparkled briefly with excitement. “I just want to spend some time with you… you don’t have to…” I whispered again quietly to confirm that he really wanted all of this. When the archer shook his head slightly and then nervously licked his bottom lip, I grinned wider and then pressed my lips gently against his.
The younger Dixon growled briefly before returning my kiss sloppily. I wrapped my arms around his neck and continued to grind my pussy against his shaft. A strangled groan escaped him and his grip around my hips tightened. “You’re so hard…” I giggled softly against his lips before placing my hand on his cheek. "'m sorry… 'm jus'…" Before he could say anything else, I kissed him gently again. “Don’t apologize… I like it…” I then purred softly against his lips. Swallowing hard, he nodded briefly before I reached down between us and gently grabbed his shaft. Daryl immediately gasped quietly and he also looked down. I bit my lower lip lightly, while I rubbed the head of his penis between my folds until it hit my entrance.
“You want that…?” I asked, just to be sure. The archer nodded again and he pushed me down slightly until his tip was inside me. I immediately inhaled sharply and pressed my face into his shoulder. I already knew that I had to stop myself from screaming. I lowered myself deeper and deeper onto him until he filled me completely. His pubic hair tickled my clit slightly, but as I pressed myself harder against him, I felt his abdomen against my sensitive skin. Without realizing it, I had bitten his top and narrowed my eyes. Even though I tensed incredibly hard, a loud whimper escaped me and I was breathing heavily.
“Ya okay…?” I heard Daryl ask quietly. I felt his rapid heartbeat against my bare chest and his breathing was incredibly fast. I wondered if this was Daryl's first time, but I immediately shook the question out of my head. “Y-yeah… It’s just… I haven’t fucked with anyone in a long time…” I then admitted quietly, which only made Daryl grumble. His one hand went to my ass and he massaged it gently. The touch immediately made me tremble and I felt him lift me up a little, only to immediately press me back against his pelvis. “Fuck, woman… ya’r so tight…~” He growled softly against my skin. Whimpering, I clutched at his top and quickly realized that it was bothering me. So I tugged on it gently, but right after I did, he bit my neck hard. Squeaking loudly, I tensed up. He lifted my pelvis faster and faster. "No…~" Was all he growled.
I understood what he meant, but I whimpered loudly. “Daryl, please…! Faster~…” My lips found his neck and I covered his skin with gentle but passionate kisses. He listened to my request and moved my pelvis against his faster and faster, the water around us sloshing around wildly. With my eyes closed, I enjoyed the feeling while placing thick hickeys on his neck. “God, ya feel so good~…” Daryl's deep voice made me tremble for a moment before I moaned softly into his ear. I kept whimpering or moaning his name, making him twitch. His cock twitched and throbbed more and more and the tip of it constantly brushed against my special spot. A tingling sensation spread through my stomach and I breathed faster and faster.
I leaned away from him so I could look Daryl in the eyes. His blue eyes looked deep into mine, his pupils were much wider so that you could barely see his blue irises. He bit his bottom lip hard and looked closely at my features. I had my eyebrows furrowed slightly and my mouth open in an 'O' shape, my eyes staring deep into his. “Fuck, why haven’t you ever spoken to me?” "'Was afraid… god, ya're just so pretty…" He lowered his head and moved me much faster now, my clit rubbing over his shaft again and again.
His sweet words sent a chill through me and I had great difficulty suppressing my voice. My inner walls hugged his shaft much tighter and they sucked him greedily, which only made the archer moan loudly. His gaze went to my bare breasts, which were bouncing up and down due to the movements. Water slowly ran down my breasts and my nipples became hard. Suddenly he pushed my upper body closer to him and he sucked greedily on my nipple. I immediately gasped loudly and grabbed his short, dark blonde hair tightly. “God, Daryl~…! Yes, just like that~!” My words made him growl and he twitched again inside me.
He flicked his tongue over my nipple and moved his pelvis slightly against mine. “Ya’re driving me crazy, woman~…” I had to grin, but another loud gasp escaped me as I felt myself getting closer and closer to my orgasm. “I’m cumming~…!” I whimpered loudly. Daryl growled briefly before letting go of one breast and moving to the next. As his lips wrapped around my nipple, he sucked hard again and I arched my back. "Fuck, Daryl~!" With his name on my lips, I came around him and I gripped his top tightly.
Daryl immediately growled loudly and pulled out of me. In the same second he shot his sperm into the water and he moaned my name. I was still in his arms, my pussy still throbbing but calming down a bit before Daryl slowly carried me out of the water. Once we got out of the water, he put me on the ground to put his pants on himself. I could briefly see his cute ass and a grin crept onto my lips. “Cute butt…” “Shuddup…” He must have been embarrassed. Once the archer was properly dressed again, he helped me get dressed and then picked me up bridal style. I just wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. “Do you wanna sleep in my tent?” I then asked him quietly as his footsteps led us to my tent. Daryl seemed to think for a moment before looking at me. "If ya want…" “I wouldn’t ask you if I never wanted that…”
Daryl snorted briefly and a slight grin briefly appeared on his lips. He then let me down to the ground in front of my tent and opened the tent. I quickly climbed in and then looked back at Daryl. “'m gonna get some clothes… gonna be back again…” And with those words he disappeared briefly. Smiling, I closed the tent slightly before lying down in my tent bed. I looked patiently at the tent door until Daryl opened it again and walked in to me. He had new clothes on. “Ya tired?” "Yeah… a little… you fucked me good." I teased him.
The archer looked away briefly, a visible blush forming on his cheeks. "Tha´ was nothin´, hun..." Giggling, I then moved to the side a little to give him some space. He very hesitantly climbed into the tent bed and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Well… was tha’ now jus’ a one-night stand or…?” Before he could continue, I pressed my lips to his. "No… I love you, Daryl…" He snorted briefly in amusement before kissing my lips gently. Even though he didn't respond to my words, I saw in his eyes that he loved me too. And that's how we fell asleep. With the knowledge that we loved each other and cuddled together too.
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valuunit · 5 months ago
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after midnight
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summary: some steamy sex after dancing at the club with harry in his frat era.
title because im obsessed with chapelle roan, as you should
Content: She/her pronouns. smut (mdi), alcohol consumption, hair pulling, using a tie as a way to muffle sound ;), oral (m receiver), finguer fucking, clothed sex?, oh, a photo taken during sex, this oc is really stupid and horny, don’t show you’re face in an explicit pic of yourself wit someone new. that’s it ig :)
Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if there’s any mistake I'm sorry, please let me know so i can correct it :D
y/n
why did i agree to this? jesus, this is the shitiest-
“y/n, my miracle is here!” the strong mature voice of Patricia sends shivers down my spine.
“hi” i quietly say, accepting her hug.
“here, i want you to met someone.”
fuck. social interaction.
i’m so so tired for this, i just want to pet my beautiful dog and sleep cuddling with him.
“Michael! here she is, y/n, y/n that’s Michael Young, owner of the record label i told you.” she whispers the last bit. my attitude automatically changes, another rich man who wants more money.
a very well preserved old man turns around, he’s like the definition of daddy if i were attracted to him, he gives me a gentle handshake. “nice to meet you miss, i’ve heard great things about you.”
“thanks, it’s very nice to meet you too.” after that he kisses Patricia’s cheek and excuses himself, promising to get back a little later.
“well, that didn’t go as planned.”
i chuckled. “maybe in a bit will go better, he said he was coming back”
“that’s the equivalent of a guys promising you he’s calling you back after fucking.”
“oh, then forget about it, let’s drink!” i smile eyeing the open bar.
“you do you, honey, i’ll be here if you need me.”
“okay mother, thanks.” i love that woman even if she’s in my monthly payroll.
“love ya.”
i pass some people, looking for the edge of the bar, and fortunately it was empty. “hi, can i take an old fashioned, please?” the bar tender nodded. life like this is kinda good.
harry
“that girl, she’s fit.” louis said.
oh i know lou, i’ve been watching her since she stepped in the club.
“who?” niall said genuinely curious to look at a cute girl.
“there, in the leather jacket at the edge of the table.” louis kept trying to get a better look at her.
“you should go talk to her.” niall says after also looking.
“i think that harry’s job here, he’s been drooling here for her.”
“what?, no, i didn’t even saw her before you mentioned her.” you fucking liar. you even know her name and music.
“okay, then i’ll take the word from nialler here and go count that lady.” you’re a good player louis, but not the best.
he’s testing me to push myself to go there.
“no, not at all.” i simply reply.
“ehh! louis, louis, louis!” niall cheers.
and there he goes, confident steps but playing with his hands.
y/n
i feel a pair of eyes on my back, i try not to think to much about it, i’m here to enjoy myself not to pay attention for others.
“hi” a particular voice says.
i don’t reply, maybe it’s not for me, i don’t want to embarrass me.
“hey, you like it old fashioned?, you’re like a dad?” okay, maybe that is for me.
“yeah, i probably have someone pregnant rounding around the world. i’m at that stage of my life.” i simply replied.
they laughed “i might like you. i’m louis, nice to meet ya”
“hi, y/n” this is louis tomlinson, one of the most famous boys at the moment. if this was happening a couple of years ago i would probably pass out, but i’ve slowly realized that doesn’t matter you ‘status’, you should be treated as kindly and respectful as anyone.
“aren’t you going to invite me a drink?” he says offended, playin, obviously.
“yeah, because i’m the one who approached” i said smiling. “what would you like? it’s on me.”
“oh, becoming my sugar mommy, i get it. i’ll get a shot, tequila.”
“yeah, the free aspect does play a roll here.” he laughs again and looks to where he came from. “four shots of tequila please, extra lime.”
“two rounds, i for sure like you now.” he immediately takes one of the caballito, waiting for me.
“i was just hopping you’d get pleased with that and leave.” i also take one, he hums and aproches for slice of lime.
“damn, that’s tough, if you want me to leave you’re not going to achieve it giving me drinks.” he talks quickly, then proceeds to cheer and gut down the little but dangerous liquid. i follow.
“oof, party animal, aren’t ya?” a deep and also british voice comes in.
“harry!, your finally came, i thought i was gonna stay here all night mate.” he looks at me “not that i would mind”
i completely turn around to look at a curly haired guy, he’s also really handsome, and how not? he’s harry styles.
“ah, yeah, thanks man, see you?” his confused comment makes me laugh.
“yeah, whatever you say. it was really nice to meet you, y/n, hope we can finish this round one day.” he pats the back of his friend and gets out. damn, what the fuck.
“am, i’m really sorry ‘bout that, i’m harry though, you’re y/n?”
“yeah, no it’s fine, if you want you can finish the shots with me?” i say also confused, he looks so nervous and i don’t know why, i'm not that scary am i?
“sure, thanks.” and it becomes silent. well, the conversation with louis was better, that’s for sure.
we swallow the drinks and when i reach out for the fruit i find his hands in the same one i was about to grab, i quickly change my election, and he does as well, i laugh at the awkwardness. he smiles at that.
“i heard your album. it’s amazing.”
“what? you’ve heard my album.” a say fascinated while sucking the last bit of sour liquid.
“what? are you surprised i listen to good music?” he smiled and smooths his chin.
“i wouldn’t say that, i just thought it didn’t reached that many people for you to listen to it.”
“what do you mean? it’s hit after hit, it’s really popular.”
“well, i don’t often look at the logistics of it. but thanks, i wasn’t really sure about it, nor my record label i almost got dropped.”
“well, they’re losers, it’s great.” he smiles and i also do, it’s really nice to heard that from someone who doesn’t know me, it feels genuine.
“i feel like i have to return the compliment but i haven’t heard 1D in like one year, ahm, i really love c’mon c’mon.” he and i laugh.
“yeah, i don’t blame you.” he suddenly looks uncomfortable.
“i’m really sorry.” i try to read his eyes, he was looking at a light above, but now his eyes are back on mine, he doesn’t look as happy as some people seem when they talk about something the love, like music. “you’re not satisfied, are you?”
“you could say that in a lot of aspects.” he smirks.
“okay, i don’t wanna hear it.” i say laughing nervously.
“let’s not talk about this depressing stuff. wanna dance?”
“sure, i’d love to.”
he takes my hand to make sure i don’t get lost in the crowd, he pauses for a second to give louis a warning look when he makes quiet wolf whistles.
“he’s an idiot, sorry.”
“i figured, no problem.”
promiscuous is blasting across the club, this song is sexy and i’m with a sexy guy, i must be a little sexy.
i’m against his chest, the room between our bodies is none, and the space we have to dance is limited, but we can make it work.
i see him starting to sway his shoulders first, trying to get used to the beat. i put my arms on his obliques, also starting to sway my hips, looking at his chest tattoos.
his hands go under my leather jacket and stay in between my hips and my waist, following me. i hear him pant, his mouth is slightly parted and his forehead falls to mine.
“can i take this?” he grabs the tie that hangs loosely in my neck, trying to distract himself for the erection i feel near my left hip.
“sure” we separate out heads and he puts it around his neck, the red looks good on him.
harry
she’s the hottest, most gorgeous person i’ve met.
her lips are as bright as the tie i just grabbed from her beautiful neck, i really want to kiss her. but maybe she’s not into me in that way.
“fuck, how are you so hard, a minute has hardly passed” her voice is deeper than before. i feel slightly embarrassed, but also no.
“that’s the reaction my body has with you.” i say honestly. some say that fake it till you make it, and that what i’m gonna do, fake confidence, maybe it’ll let me somewhere good.
she hums and looks at me in the eyes, to the lips and back at my eyes, with a bright smile and a dark look.
she grabs the tie, pulling me to her, we’re centimeters apart. when i’m about to kiss her she speaks.
“may i kiss you?” she whispers. this might be the hottest thing she’s done so far, or maybe the tie thing it’s.
“of fucking course.”
y/n
this kiss is as alex turner would say, were teeth collide.
is desperate, full of the sexual tension we’ve managed to build, and i couldn’t want it any other way.
we dance, grind, kiss and even moan, at least me, for what seems like the entire night, but when we take our make out session to the back of the building it seems like it barely 12 in the morning.
“jesus, love, i would love to take you home.” he says between wet neck kisses, all i reply is a fervent nod.
after that i feel his warm and big hand on my cheek, making me look at him, then is when i reply with actual words. “we can go back to my place, it not far and it’s alone.” i smile.
“you sure?”
“yeah, if you want.” he smiles and pecks my lips, i don’t know why his hand here makes me wanna melt against it.
“of course, love. it’s better than a shared hotel room.”
“yeah, probably.”
we decide to walk, it’s like i said not far away. the walk was definitely less heated, but it was something.
he asked if he could borrow my purse or my jacket to hide his boner, i laughed so much at that. but the outfit ended up amazingly on him, with the red tie and the also red small bag in his hands contrasting with his all black base.
as soon as i get home blake jumps, almost to the height of my head.
“i’m sorry, honey, i had somewhere to be.”
i think this might kill the mood, maybe not.
“who is this little bud?” harry asked when blake started sniffing his legs. i hang my jacket on a chair and take my purse from harry’s hand, leaving it in the same spot.
“blake, i hope he doesn’t bother you.”
“what, how could he.” he kneeled petting his puffy black hair. “right bud?, you’re adorable” blake turned into his back, to get some love in his belly.
okay, this is really cute, i feel bad for getting wet at the sight of him like this, being sweet to my dog.
“want a drink?, water, vodka, tequila?”
“no, i’m fine. i would prefer to get back were we left it.” blake has lost his interest on him and went to his bed.
“okay, you can go to my room, i’ll be there in a minute.” he looks around the house looking for the destination, “upstairs.” he nods and heads up. “blake. i have some… stuff to do, so please don’t cockblock me, please love, you’ll get a lot of treats tomorrow.” his ears move when he hears ‘treats’.
i grab a cushion from the couch and put it at the beginning of the stairs, hoping he can’t jump over it. “love ya, i’m really sorry if you hear something!” i whisper-scream.
getting near the door i smooth my skirt out and take may hair out of my face.
when i enter harry is sitting at the edge of my bed, he’s cheeks look very red now that i see them in a different light. i smile at him and he smiles at me.
“you look great in red. in your cheeks and my tie” i whisper as i sit in his lap.
“thanks, i might borrow it for another day.”
“you’re still, you know, hard?” i say almost laughing at how cringe that sounded to me.
“you’re wet?” he says. i nod, desperate to kiss him. “perfect.”
his hands crawls up my knee, ass and thigh, reaching my underwear, which was very much soaked.
“i feel flattered, love, i haven’t touched you and look at this” he makes me stand in my knees and slides my panties down my legs, finally showing the mess i made. “we’re gonna keep the skirt if that’s fine with you” i nod and he kisses me.
as soon as the kisses starts it becomes a kiss full of passion. he undoes my white shirt and i do the same with his black shirt.
he’s now laying down, his legs hanging from the bed and im right in top of him, my core against his belt, which feels weird in a good way.
i moan when he sits down, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling it backwards. “your really pretty when you’re all flustered.”
he slides the shirt down my shoulders and for my bralette he slides it upwards, passing through my head.
“i feel like you have an advantage here.” i look down his opened shirt and pants, hell, he even has his shoes on.
“take whatever you want.” he smiles and kisses the in middle of my breasts.
i hug his neck with both of my arms, letting him please me with his kisses and bites in my chest.
he pays equal attention to both, i think he gave the same amount of bites to each, i don’t know, i was enjoying myself to much to care.
when i fell his mouth starting to separate from me i begin to go down his body, taking the tie and the shirt off, kissing his shoulder, chest, stomach and his boner from above the denim material.
he groans desperately but doesn’t move, just seats there with his hands on each side of his body. “you’re really a tease, baby.” he whispers.
“i think it will be worth it.” i say, quickly undoing his jeans and sliding off his boxer, leaving his cock free.
i think of what to do for a second, i could do a handjob or a blowjob, i finally decide in a hybrid.
i first take his length in my right hand, slowly feeling his body react, his legs move a bit and his body leans back. i then start to move down, making my eyes align with his crotch, and with my hand still in the base i start by wrapping my mouth at the tip. his makes a beautiful sharp gasp.
“god’s fucking sake.” he decides to look down at me, looking deep into my eyes.
harry
her eyes are gonna be the death of me. she can look evil but also innocent. and that makes me want to take her right now and leave her dumb fucked.
my dick disappears in her mouth, over and over again, i don’t know how she manages to keep a consistent move in her hands and in her mouth, including her tongue and her head. the guitar must help her multitasking abilities.
“love, t-that s-sss amazing. ah, but i w-won’t last a lot longerr and i will like to do sooo… much m-more with y-ya…”
she gets my dick out of her mouth, god that’s so dirty, an i love it. but yeah, she does so, chuckling a bit with a sense of pride, some drool goes down her chin, she’s perfect.
“okay, next time i guess.” fuck yeah, hopefully.
“now it’s my turn” she come back up, sitting her naked clit into my semi, this little minx jumped into my dick, and she knows it, she smiles.
“sorry.”
“you’re not.” i smile.
“no, i’m not.” she smiles.
“but you will.” i grab her hips from under the washed denim mini skirt and switched our position, leaving her laying down on her chest and me above her, looking at the greatest fucking view; her face was looking at me over her shoulder, he naked back and her skirt rolled up, leaving nothing to the imagination, her ass was in perfect alignment with my eyes.
i decided to be a little wild and spank her, she moaned, but i quickly turned to look at her “was that okay?”
“yeah… fucking perfect.” she moaned more.
“who would’ve thought…” i say, giving her another one, this one harder, making her cheeks giggle.
i pull her skirt even further, and also pulled from her hips to make her stick her ass up, giving me better access to her clit. i begin caressing her outer lips, soft touches to get her desperate and my fingers getting lubricated.
i inserted one of them, the ring finger to be specific. she moans softly, pushing her hips back. “more…”
“patience, love, want to cherish the moment.” but i do what she says, i enter another and begin to diversify my movements. when i get to a specific and wet point i feel her body shake.
“t-t… there.” she sighs “right therrre.” she purrs.
she looks so angelic like this: baby hairs stick to her sweaty forehead, eyes closed, mouth open full or profane sounds, i also see her stimulating her breasts, just like she could read my mind.
when i put my third finger in i feel her lips stretch, so i turn my hand, she screams at my move. “shh… we don’t want to scare blake, or anyone for that matter. would hate for someone to interrupt, right?”
“mhm” she opens her eyes, they are watering now, i don’t know whether to worry or to be turned on.
“everything okay there, baby?” i ask pulling her hair to the side to look at her fully.
“gr-great!” she sights when i touch her newly founded button.
i feel some more palpitating, some more stretching and i see her jaw being clenched. she’s close.
“you’re getting there, aren’t you?”
“yess! i’m goo…” sight “gonna cum.” her hips push against my hand, i took my index finger out because it felt like i couldn’t move my hand at all.
“patience baby, let it all out” i groan at her cunt stretching around my hand.
she screams my name, might be my new favorite sound of all time. it’s a mix of a hoarse and sweet voice.
she stops moving her hips i see a bit of liquid being thrown against my still moving hand, she squirted. i try really hard not to cum also.
she pants and groans. one hand reaches to mine, telling me to stop.
“good job, love” i slowly take my hand up and taste her discard. i then lean to kiss her cheek.
“want you inside of me” she whispers against the mattress.
“of course baby, just waiting for you to catch your breath at least.” i chuckle. she pouts but stays still.
“i’m fine. i just want you to fuck me.” she looks at me undress completely. biting her lip as she check me out.
“ouch, wouldn’t thought you’ll just use me like that, love, thought this was real.” i say jokingly offended and also a bit nervous. maybe this is just a one night thing, and i wouldn’t like it to end like this.
“maybe it is, but i would really like you to fuck me good so i can consider you as a potential candidate.”
nice answer, miss y/n.
“fine, firstly, do you have any condoms?” she sakes her head no.
“i’ve got iud and clean. if you’re up and clean we can make it raw.” she says nonchalantly.
“fucking hell” i go to kiss her mouth, gripping her cheek harshly, “i’ll make you scream really loud, so i think we could put this to some more use”, i say taking the tie from the floor.
she smiles, curious. i hover over her body again, pass the tie through her head to stop at her mouth, tightening it.
“wow” she barely says.
“you can grip me at the arm of you want to stop, okay?” she nods. “show me” she takes my forearm and tightens her grip around it two times. “good girl.” i kiss her cheek again.
i look down, she still has that fucking skirt i hope every time she uses it she remembers who fucked her in that, i direct my dick into her clit. i soak my tip into her cum and wetness.
and finally i enter, our mouth open at the contact, i thrust slowly and fully, i stay there “goodness, this is g-ood.” i whisper in her ear, she moans quietly.
“look at me angel.” she deserves the nickname. i could take a picture of this obscene and artistic piece. “can i take a picture?, i promise ill protect it with my life…”
she hesitates a bit, but when she looks at me in the eyes she nods “yeah”.
i lean over to the bedside table, take my phone and quickly snap one time.
“move?” she says.
“as you wish.” i let my phone slide off my hand and focused solely on her.
i put one hand next to her face , the other went to her hip. giving me the base i need to get her good.
my hips roll against hers, looking at her face to her ass and back and forth.
i quickly gain a fast, hard and pleasing pace.
she hides her face into the pillow and grips the bedsheets tightly. her muffled moans and screams, my groans and screams and the sound of our bodies colliding is the only sound i listen to, and maybe in a 1 mile radius.
“doing good, l-love?” i ask her, my breathing is shaky, maybe not that sexy.
“mhm.” she turn her face to look at me “y-yesh…”
“look so fricking good like this…” i wished i could look at her full face.
she screams something that sounds like my name, and i know i need to she her climaxing around my dick.
“we’re g-gonna turn…” groan “you around, ‘right?”
“yeahyeahyeah” she said.
“h-hug, hug your leg darling.” i pat her left leg , she struggles a bit but makes it. with the force i have i turn her almost limb body.
she moans when her back hits the mattress and i thrust into her faster, while kissing her face, she entangles both her hands in my hair, pulling. fuck.
“hmm. c-c… cum!” she sights into my neck.
thanks love, i wouldn’t like to burst before you.
“perfect. relax, baby…” i groan, struggling to keep that fast of a pace, she’s squeezing my dick so hard and i might come way too fast.
“ha… haffy!” she screams again.
“i’m cu…ming love.”
i feel her groaning at the overstimulation, so i give a final thrust and let it all out.
y/n
i’ve been talking with harry for probably 30 minutes, after last night fucking midblowing fuck i barely was awake, but harry made me change into some pajamas and then he changed the bedsheets. it was the best aftercare ever.
“would you like to go for a coffee later in the evening?” he says looking at me with his beautiful green eyes.
“yeah, as long as blake can come.” i say jokingly.
“of course, love, little man is always welcome.”
“see? that’s what makes me want you every day and every night!” i hit his chest lightly, he chuckles. “you can’t say shit like that, i’ll get attached.”
“is that something wrong?” he smiles. “i also want you, i really like you, and it might be too soon, but i would like to get to know you and be something else.”
“i would love that too.”
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stevesjockstrap · 1 month ago
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Helping Hands
Written for @stevieweek Stevieween prompt “This is what you’re doing on Halloween?”
Rated M • Stevie/Eddie • female, confident, bisexual Stevie, platonic stobin, modern era, no UD, meet ugly, happy ending • wc 700
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She hadn't really planned to be at the laundromat on Halloween night, it had just sort of happened. It was empty, everyone apparently joining in the festivities. But it was a Thursday this year. She worked tomorrow morning.
She was bored, though. Pulling up Robin in her phone to FaceTime, she got an immediate soured look on her face. "This is what you're doing on Halloween?"
Stevie rolled her eyes. "Yes, mom, I'm trying to get fucked this weekend and I needed to wash my mattress cover." She laughed as Robin made fake gagging noises at her.
"You're at work, not doing anything fun either," she reminded her.
"I guess. But everyone knows I live vicariously through your adventures. I hate the laundromat," Robin groaned dramatically.
"God forbid one night of my life is unglamorous, Bobbi," she laughed. "I'm bored, though."
Robin huffed at her fake pout, pretending to be annoyed but putting her phone on the holder that was just for these scenarios, so she could still work on her computer while gossiping with her friend.
"You know what else is unacceptable? Why can I deep throat dicks but I gag when I brush my tongue?"
Robin snorted so violently she sent herself into a coughing fit, doubled over out of sight. Stevie grinned and, enjoying wreaking havoc, continued. "Speaking of dicks," — there came a louder groan amongst the coughing — "Guys are always so into girls squirting, but they've never been the ones to actually get me to. It's only been girls."
Before Robin could catch her breath from the increased laugh/coughing, a man appeared around the corner from her.
"Uh, excuse me miss, but a-are these yours?"
They both looked down at the small scrap of red fabric in his hand. Her lace thong.
He continued, his face nearly as red as the underwear, "They were stuck in the dryer."
Stevie blinked, just realizing she hadn't heard this person come in and didn’t know how long he'd been listening to her inappropriate conversation.
But she had never been shy about these things. She smiled cheekily and flicked her hair over her shoulder, reaching out and feeling the roughness of his hand as she took her panties from him. "Oh, thank you…?"
He flicked his eyes over her quickly and she held back a grin.
"E-Eddie, I'm Eddie. I work here, I mean — I-I help the owner out sometimes, w-with the machines. I'm good with my hands." He winced, probably not meaning that to sound the way it did, especially with what he had just overheard.
"Is that so, Eddie?" Stevie purred, sliding closer.
He ran a hand through his own hair nervously, and she took her time looking him up and down. He was in some sort of work jumpsuit, with letters on a patch she didn't recognize. His hair was long and wavy, a little tangled and messy in a way that actually worked for him. It made her want to yank it. He had full lips and big brown button eyes. He was also quite a bit taller than her, which she definitely liked.
"I know that look," Robin called out from her phone. She'd forgotten about her. "Go ahead and ask for her number, buddy. Trust me, she's a sure thing."
"Hey!"
They both ignored her though, Eddie’s cheeks reddening.
“Better yet, ask her if she needs help putting the waterproof mattress cover back on her bed!”
Stevie quickly hung up on her alleged best friend. Leaning in again, she instead decided to go for broke. “So, Eddie.” He looked like he was about to swallow his tongue. “Tell me, what is your stance on chocolate chip pancakes?”
Eddie surprised her with a chuckle and a wry grin. “I have to say I am pro pancakes of any species.”
The diner down the road was just as empty, and she agreed to bring Eddie to her apartment when it was clear the waitress was trying to close but didn’t want to be rude.
He did end up helping to wrestle her mattress cover back on, and proved it wasn’t just girls who could put it to the test. Good with his hands, indeed.
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Dividers by @/enchanthings & @/fuctacles
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ckret2 · 5 days ago
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I'd been meaning to do this since I found your account but today I read through the entirety of your Goldielocks fic (or at least, what's available) and all I can say is WOW !!!!!
You're really fucking good at writing these characters, capturing the lighthearted-yet-somehow-serious tone of the show, and the stuff you make up for worldbuilding fits right in with canon stuff. As a lover of making things canon-compliant and in-spirit-of-canon, this fic is like a dream come true. You're an amazing author !
I really look forward to your post-TBOB edits of the eclipse arc and the flatworld arc, I can already kind of guess where you're gonna go with it, but it's still exciting to think about what direction you might take things.
I'm also wondering, are you planning on changing anything about the Death Valley girls, what with the info we got about ciphertology and the like ? Or keeping them relatively the same ?
(I stayed up till almost midnight reading this - I'm so glad I don't have to be anywhere early tomorrow)
Thank you!! I've discussed my TBOB edits of the eclipse arc already, you can see some of them here if you want.
For the flatworld arc, I actually think basically nothing's going to change. Spoilers, but: Bill's world was never gonna be like Flatworld. It was gonna be a big reveal late in the fic ("big" for the characters, not the readers lmao) that Bill's world was actually pretty okay—like yeah, a few flaws, but not "barely-exaggerated satire of Victorian-era ableism/sexism/classism" flaws—and everything the kids read in Flatworld that made them pity Bill was 100% bullshit. It was going to turn out that Bill's world is actually...
... pretty much fucking exactly like Euclydia ended up being in canon—up to and including baby Bill getting medical trauma over having a super-rare cool-ass eye mutation that lets him see the stars of the third dimension.
I was gonna have Bill go "oh yeah, that's why I drove the author insane, I was that pissed at him for making my home world look that bad. I didn't correct you guys because I thought it'd be useful if you pitied me."
I did this because, before TBOB came out, I knew that no matter what I wrote about Bill's home dimension, probably a good 20% of readers would just push it to the side and automatically assume that his dimension was exactly the same as Flatland—like, occasionally readers were making comments about my fic talking about how triangles ***ARE*** oppressed in his home dimension like it was a canonical fact and taking it as a given that I was writing that. For that 20%, it seemed to me like the best way to ensure it got through to them that whoa, this isn't Flatland would be to have the characters assume his dimension is exactly the same as Flatland so that I could say, in story, "no that's totally wrong."
Post-TBOB, a lot fewer readers are gonna make that assumption. But having the characters assume his dimension is a lot worse than it really is is still a part of the story—it ties into the narrative of them slowly growing to expect him to be something more sympathetic/heroic than he actually is, a la Dipper's assumption that the Axolotl poem is a prophecy about how Bill will help save them—so there's no reason for me to take it out.
So yeah, tl;dr: Flatworld doesn't need to change because it was always going to be wrong.
I'm only gonna change the Death Valley girls a little bit. Everything I've currently written about them stays the same; except I'm also gonna mention that, yes, they are a Ciphertology sect, and yes, all the girls in the cult are Cipherwives.
So now I also get to crack jokes about Bill being both flattered and a little creeped out that even after he mostly ditched the cult they just kept inducting new recruits as "cipherwives" whether he showed up or not, like wow, you're just gonna marry him off in absentia to some lady he's never met??? What if he doesn't wanna marry her? What if he doesn't like her haircut?? Every time he shows up he finds out he's got a new wife! He loves the attention, but jeez, girls! At least send him a letter with his new bride's picture and wait for him to mail back an "OK" or something!
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hwaddist · 10 months ago
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i gonna be so real and honest here and say that some of you do not know how to read:
QSMP2024 is still the same damn server with the same damn lore and they are STILL ON THE SAME DAMN ISLAND
Phil pointed out yesterday how they were 200k blocks away, today Luzu tried using the waystones but they were deactivated because the waystones in the og spawn and surrounding areas are still there, when Cucurucho was going around talking to the islanders he asked “how are you liking THIS PART of the island”
there wasnt no lore restart nor this is a new server, the lore is still there, but this is day TWO of this new era of fucking course theres no lore, bad even said that today on stream that “there could be lore at any point.” the eggs even have immunity!
yes! it was kinda shitty that Richas and Pomme went without Phil to rescue Cellbit and Baghera but maybe, just maybe, you guys should remember that this people have lives outside of the server and maybe phil couldn’t make it to the recording of the video!
Willy pointed out today that the reason he stopped logging in when he first joined the server was because everyone else was already way too OP with literal castles and armor so tough they would barely get scratched by mobs when he barely had diamond armor, so he got discouraged and didn’t logged on again. Now that everyone is back at being balanced he wants to log in again! Maybe even tell Vegetta to log in again!!
edit but also general minecraft knowledge: they probably traveled so far out to get new world generation because they jumped from 1.18 to 1.20 (from what i can see because the spawn wouldn’t generate stuff like deep dark don’t generate on already loaded chunks), so that is why they are 200k+ blocks out. also the create mod didnt got taken out, its just disabled at the moment because the admins probably dont want another tubchunk.
you guys SERIOUSLY need to stop doomposting and trust in the admins and in Quackity.
UPDATE: Baghera has talked about having planning issues and thats why they had to cancel the rescue mission with Phil!
and Fit said that his lore is STILL ONGOING
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